《Eternally Regressing Knight》 Chapter 1 - My Dream Was to Be a Knight. Chapter 1 - 1 - My Dream Was to Be a Knight. Prologue A flash of light pierced the air. Enkrid couldn''t comprehend what was happening. All he felt was a sharp pain, like a searing skewer thrust through his neck. He realized that the leather-padded armor he wore was utterly useless. As red-hot liquid gushed from his body, consciousness faded. And then, his eyes opened again. Another day had begun. It wasn''t a dream. He had experienced it countless times already. He didn''t know why it kept happening. It was simply the way things were. *** The clanging sound of a ladle banging against a pot signaled the morning. The night watch was rousing everyone awake. It was the third morning of the same routine. That''s when Enkrid finally grasped it. "Again?" Every time he died, the same day repeated itself. *** Chapter 1 - My Dream Was to Be a Knight. Enkrid''s teacher, who taught him the sword, was a kind-hearted man who rarely uttered harsh words. "You." The teacher leaned on his sword, still sheathed, standing it upright on the ground, and called out to Enkrid. "Go back to the village. If you hate farming, join the local militia. You''ll probably end up as its captain." Had he listened to the advice of that seasoned veteran, things might have been different. But he didn''t. The root of the problem lay in one comment he''d heard as a child. "Enki, you''re a genius." When he was eleven, he effortlessly bested an older boy in a wooden sword fight. It was then, for the first time, that someone called him a genius. Back then, he didn''t realize that the boy was simply terrible at swordsmanship. At fifteen, he defeated a village elder in a sparring match. The confidence this instilled in him was immense. In his small village, there was no one truly skilled in swordplay. The closest was a one-legged ex-mercenary who had wandered into the village. He taught basic swordsmanship to the local kids, including Enkrid. "You''re a genius." At fifteen, Enkrid heard those words for the second time. This time, they came from the mercenary, who claimed to have given up a knight''s title and lost his leg for a lady''s honor. "I must be a genius," he thought. He dared to dream. He would become a knight¡ªa knight who would serve a ruler destined to unite the warring continent. A knight who would bring an end to war. Around that time, a bard''s song spread across the continent, reaching even Enkrid''s remote village. The melody enchanted listeners, but the final verse stirred hearts: The knight who will end this war! The knight who paints twilight over the battlefield! We shall call him the Knight of Dusk! The Knight of the End! The bard''s song ignited the hearts of many young boys and girls. Enkrid was no exception. "I will be that knight," he thought. At eighteen, confident that no one in his village could match him, he left. He had no family¡ªno parents, no siblings. He had a few friends, but his obsession with the sword had always kept others at a distance. Alone, he ventured into the world. Thus began his life as a mercenary. He wasn''t bad at it. His dedication to improvement was commendable. But it took only two months for him to realize he wasn''t a genius. Defeated by an ordinary, unnamed mercenary, he was told, "You''re not ready." Believing a good teacher could make all the difference, he worked tirelessly, risking his life against bandits to earn enough money to enroll in swordsmanship schools in big cities. He learned diligently. He wasn''t unlucky; his instructors were honest and fair. One advised him to abandon the sword altogether. "No, I won''t," Enkrid replied resolutely. "You''re tenacious. I''ll give you that," people often said about him. Hard work never betrayed him. His palms blistered, his arm muscles trembled, yet he swung his sword countless times. In circles of similar people, he stood out as an exceptional hard worker. By the time he turned twenty-five, he had some reputation as a mercenary¡ªenough that small-town folks might vaguely recall him. Still, a sliver of hope remained. Perhaps he could still improve. Then, at twenty-seven, that hope shattered. An altercation during a journey proved it. In just five exchanges, his sword was knocked from his hand, and a blade pierced his stomach. Pressing his wound, he asked, "How old are you?" "Twelve." He couldn''t believe it. This was true genius. "Sorry, it was my first real fight," the boy said. He wasn''t a noble or a commoner but a serf''s child, holding a sword for only six months. "Take this for your medical expenses," the boy''s teacher said, tossing a coin pouch. The wound wasn''t fatal; it hadn''t damaged his organs. Still, Enkrid pocketed the pouch. From age eleven to now, sixteen years of relentless training had led to this moment¡ªa twelve-year-old defeating him. He felt a pang of despair but didn''t let it consume him. "What''s the point of sulking? My limbs are still intact." Though he knew he wasn''t a genius, he didn''t give up. He continued wielding his sword. Ten years as a mercenary taught him that he could never be a great knight or swordsman, but perhaps he could become a skilled soldier. Quitting mercenary work, he joined the military¡ªthe best option left to him. At thirty, he found himself in the Cypress Division of the Kingdom of Naurilia. Fourth regiment, fourth battalion, fourth company, fourth platoon¡ªalso known as the "Four-Four Platoon." Enkrid held the position of squad leader''s deputy. Clang! Clang! Clang! The night watch banged on metal, rousing the entire barracks. "Damn, what a messed-up dream," Enkrid muttered as he woke. "What''d you dream about?" a subordinate asked lazily, pulling on his boots. "My entire life." "Depressing." As the soldier found a bug in his boot, he shook it out, crushed it underfoot, and spat on the remains. Enkrid got up, donned his armor¡ªa breastplate with throwing knives embedded near the heart, arm guards, shin guards, and layered leather armor over thick fabric. The armor wasn''t much against a sharp blade, but it was better than nothing. He prepared for another day of repetition. "I heard the last Squad Leader had a dream like this before he died." Enkrid mumbled, recalling a rumor he''d heard. "Does that mean it''s my fate to die today?" When one of his subordinates laughed, he smacked the back of the man''s head. "I''m not dying. Don''t jinx it." He stood, poured water into a pot, and tossed in a few strips of dried meat. After that, he added some vegetables to make it into a simple stew. It was their breakfast. "Any plans for combat today?" One of the subordinates sitting nearby asked, and Enkrid shook his head. "Who knows?" He was just a lowly Squad Leader. Above him were four other Squad Leaders, reporting to a single Platoon Leader. And even that Platoon Leader probably didn''t know much. Enkrid''s swordsmanship was mediocre, and he wasn''t a noble. That''s why he remained a mere Squad Leader. But his experience on the battlefield far surpassed that of most Company Leaders. His subordinates respected him for that. "So, when you were young, what did you want to be?" One of his men approached him and asked casually. "A knight." "...Would you hit me if I laughed?" "I won''t hit you." "Pfft." "You''re laughing anyway? You little punk." Enkrid kicked the man in the rear. The subordinate pretended to be in pain as he replied, "Still, a knight, huh?" What did it mean to be a knight? A knight was someone who could turn the tide of a battle. A monster who could face a thousand foes alone. A hero who could slay hundreds of enemies single-handedly. Even their division was named after a knight: the Cypress Division, named after Sir Cypress. A knight as a dream¡ªit seemed so lofty. "That''s a bold dream you had." "Dreams are supposed to be bold, you fool." Enkrid casually gathered the dishes. Today, it was his turn to do the washing. In other squads, perhaps things were different, but in Enkrid''s team, everyone shared the chores equally. Being a Squad Leader mostly meant receiving and relaying orders. Usually, the strongest fighter in the group would take the role. In that regard, Enkrid was unusual. He wasn''t the strongest in his group. But he had the ability to unite people who had been cast out from other squads. That''s why other squads referred to his team as the "Troublemaker Squad 44." Enkrid was the leader of that "troublemaker squad." "Let me help you." "Then shut up and follow me." "Sure thing." His subordinate laughed. What kind of life had this man lived to end up here? Though curious, Enkrid never asked. His men appreciated that about him. He didn''t pry into their pasts, nor did he judge their present. Nor did he demand much from them. Perhaps that was why they followed him. As they clattered through their dishwashing, his subordinate splashed water at the stream and asked, "Why did you want to be a knight?" The man had come to "help" but was now playing around. Should he say it was because of a bard''s song? Would that make him laugh? Enkrid thought for a moment before answering, "I wanted to be good with a sword, and if I was going to do that, why not become a knight?" "A bit of a romantic, aren''t you?" His subordinate chuckled. "Shut that mouth of yours." "Was that why you practic swinging your sword morning and night?" "Effort never betrays you." The countless hours of practice had left his palms covered in calluses. "Even now?" Do you still want to be a knight? Could he? Of course not. He knew that better than anyone. But he hadn''t given up. He simply endured and kept moving forward. Enkrid understood reality well enough. But dreams didn''t care about reality. They remained, even as they were torn apart. "Once you''re done washing, let''s go." "Got it." It was a trivial conversation. They returned to the barracks. Would they engage in a skirmish with the enemy kingdom? Or would they be sent to deal with the bandits who had been targeting supply lines? He didn''t know. ''The air feels heavy.'' The battlefield air always did. But today, it felt especially so. The waiting was long. With nothing better to do, he considered practicing his sword but ended up taking a nap instead. Some days, you just didn''t want to do anything. ''I can''t do as much as I used to.'' He had worked tirelessly. And this was the result¡ªa Squad Leader, no better than a third-rate mercenary. When the sun was two hand spans past its peak, the Squad Leader finally called out. "Squad 44, assemble!" It was time for combat. The company gathered, forming part of the army''s ranks. Enkrid''s squad was no exception. A cold tension filled the air. Enkrid grasped a talisman hanging from his neck before tucking it back into his shirt. ''This is supposed to save my life?'' Nonsense, but soldiers often believed in such superstitions. For Enkrid, it wasn''t belief but the memory of the old woman who had given it to him, her desperate tone convincing him to take it. ''It can''t hurt, right?'' The reward for risking his life had been this flimsy talisman. He''d survived that monster hunt half by luck. If things had gone wrong, he''d have been the one to die. It had been a dangerous task, even for him. A small farming village, unable to pay, had begged him for help when he''d passed by. ''What a joke.'' Risking his life out of pity¡ªwhat madness. But he didn''t regret it. Because that''s what knights do. Dreams might fall silent under the weight of reality, torn to shreds, but traces remained. He had wanted to be a knight. To be a hero of war. But now, he was just another soldier. "Waaaah!" A roar erupted. Enkrid joined in, veins bulging in his neck as he shouted. The opposing army surged forward like a tide. The setting sun painted the sky with a long streak of red. The two forces clashed beneath that crimson glow. Enkrid charged forward. "Let''s fight to live another day!" His ever-smiling subordinate shouted as he rushed ahead. Soon, spears and swords collided, ripping through flesh and blood. Today''s battle was hand-to-hand combat. Chapter 2 - Lantern Chapter 2 - 2 - Lantern Chapter 2 - Lantern Through the eye slit of a leather helmet, a black dot appeared to be flying toward him. Enkrid raised the shield fixed to the back of his left hand. Thunk. A heavy impact resonated through his arm. He had aimed to deflect the blow while striking back, but only half succeeded, leaving his forearm tense and throbbing. Enkrid slashed down with his blade over the helmet of the man who had lunged with a spear. Crack. The man reflexively twisted his neck, but the blade fell hard on his shoulder. The dull thud of the impact on his scapula sent a stinging vibration through Enkrid''s grip. "Urgh... You''re dead, bastard," muttered the enemy, gripping his spear closer and swinging it in a short arc. It was a skilled move, well-practiced. Without a second thought, Enkrid kicked the man squarely in the stomach with the sole of his boot. "Ugh!" The enemy staggered and fell, losing his balance. Close combat in a chaotic battlefield¡ªit was a brawl at best. When the frontlines of ally and foe collided, chaos ensued. Falling meant death, plain and simple. Enkrid turned his gaze away from the fallen enemy, gripping his shield''s handle tightly as he searched for allies. Losing one''s composure and charging blindly was a sure path to death. Imitating a berserker in the melee didn''t make one a berserker; it made one a corpse. Why had Enkrid survived this long despite his meager talents? Because he knew his limits. Don''t overstep, he reminded himself. A blade swung in from nowhere, and he intercepted it with his shield. The edge struck the rim of the shield, denting the iron band. The oiled wooden shield began to warp under the strain. At this rate, it wouldn''t last more than a few more strikes. Keep attacks short and simple. After blocking, Enkrid tightened his grip on his sword and swung. Thunk. The satisfying impact of a solid blow echoed up his arm. An unlucky enemy crumpled sideways, his head struck hard. Before the fallen man could rise, an ally''s spear drove deep into his chest. The thickly layered gambeson couldn''t withstand the force of the spear''s thrust, and the tip plunged inward, piercing the flesh. The wounded man thrashed, desperate to survive. Thud! Thud! Thud! The allied soldier struck repeatedly, relentless and mechanical. Eventually, the spearhead punched through the armor entirely and buried itself in the enemy''s torso. "Guh." The man vomited blood, trembling as he clutched the spear lodged in his body. "Let go! Damn it, let go, you bastard!" The enemy clung stubbornly to the spear even in his final moments, forcing the allied soldier to discard the weapon and grab another from the ground. Satisfied with what he''d seen, Enkrid stepped back, catching his breath. "Whew... whew... whew." He took in his position, the location of allies and enemies, and the shifting battlefield in his mind. Step forward, and you''ll die. Charging into the enemy lines would mean becoming fertilizer for the battlefield, no different from the enemy with the massive hole in his abdomen who had just fallen. Perhaps that man had grown overconfident from cutting down weaker or less fortunate foes in previous battles. Or maybe he was simply unlucky to have crossed blades with Enkrid at the wrong moment. The ground was rock-hard from days without rain, resembling stone more than earth. Even though blood had been spilled over it, the dryness remained oppressive. The lack of rain had parched everything. The taste of blood rose in Enkrid''s throat, dry and metallic. Swallowing thickly, he scanned the field for his squad members. Not that it mattered¡ªthey wouldn''t be visible in this chaos. Instead, a scream erupted nearby. "Uwaaah!" Two steps away, an allied soldier thrust forward with his spear. What''s he doing? The thrust was fine, but he tripped over his own feet, his right foot catching on his left, and fell flat on his face. Thud. The clumsy motion disarmed him, leaving his weapon scattered on the ground. Are you praying to be killed? The sight of the fallen man lifting his head looked like he was bowing in supplication. Shaking off the thought, Enkrid acted. He advanced, raising his shield and bracing his muscles as he held his breath. Thunk. Crack. An enemy blade crashed into his shield. The impact reverberated through his arm, spreading to his entire body. Though he blocked it in time, the oiled wooden shield splintered from the force. Enkrid hurled the broken shield forward, putting all his strength into wide, sweeping slashes. One from right to left, then another from left to right. Whoosh, whoosh. Clang! On the second swing, his blade caught the enemy''s weapon. The clash sent sparks flying, and the enemy''s weapon slipped from his grasp. Enkrid seized the opportunity. He didn''t trust his mediocre swordsmanship but relied on the brute strength he had honed through rigorous training, more intense than that of most elite mercenaries. That strength had created this opening. Still, he didn''t rush forward recklessly. In battle, opportunities often came with hidden dangers. "Uwaaah!" Disarmed, the enemy hesitated before raising his arms and charging like a bear. Enkrid feinted a slash but instead threw his sword to the ground, crouched, and lifted the charging man onto his back. The weight of the man''s armor, weapons, and body pressed heavily on his back. His waist and thighs screamed in protest, but Enkrid ignored the pain and stood upright with all his might. "Urgh!" The enemy flipped over his back and landed hard on the ground with a thud. Enkrid didn''t look back. He knew his position was just inside the allied line, where three types of enemies typically appeared: The unlucky fool pushed forward into the vanguard. The overconfident idiot blinded by past victories. The true warrior who commanded the battlefield. The man he had just thrown was the first type, an unlucky fool. Enkrid retrieved his sword from the ground. Nearby, the clumsy allied soldier was picking himself up, his helmet split cleanly in half. Blood trickled down his head. Lucky bastard. Moments ago, he had almost died, only to be saved by Enkrid''s actions. He even recognized the man. "Bell, did getting your head split make you lose your senses?" Enkrid asked. The soldier, Bell, wiped the blood from his face and grumbled, "Damn it... Barely made it out alive." "If you''re alive, watch my back." Ordinary soldiers couldn''t grasp the bigger picture of a battlefield. Squad leaders like Enkrid served as intermediaries, relaying orders rather than commanding strategy. Yet, Enkrid could sense it. This isn''t good. Years of blood and steel had sharpened his instincts, if not his swordsmanship. Something''s about to go wrong. "Alright, alright," Bell muttered, picking up his weapon. Taking cautious steps, he advanced two paces. Thwack. A flash of light streaked through the air and pierced his head. The arrow struck through the gap in his broken helmet, embedding itself deeply. The impact dislodged his eye, which rolled off and struck Enkrid''s leather armor. Ah. Bell died without a sound, his lips parting in a silent gasp. Enkrid averted his gaze. Far above, in the indistinct expanse of the sky, a fleeting flash of light caught his eye. In that instant, he knew. The next arrow was meant for him. Enkrid closed his eyes. How many people can remain composed at the moment of death? Enkrid was no exception. The moment he closed his eyes, fragments of his life, like the vivid details of a dream from the night before, surged forward. His past flickered by in the commonly described manner of a life review. Time seemed to slow. The noise of the battlefield faded, and even the sensation of breathing felt sluggish. Thump. Thack! That fleeting sensation vanished as quickly as it came. The life review disappeared, and the battlefield''s clamor returned, along with the reassuring awareness of his own breathing. "Praying out of gratitude for being spared?" It was one of his subordinates speaking. One from his squad. The soldier had shoved him, causing an arrow to embed itself harmlessly in the ground. "Rem." Enkrid called out his name. "That damn ''Hawk-Eye'' or whatever he''s called is in this fight, so watch out for arrows." "You think dodging will make a difference?" "I''ll deal with it, so just hold on." This guy was also uniquely unhinged. Enkrid thought so as he gave a small nod. "You''re not planning to give up on life, are you? I saw you skipping training and napping earlier today." Rem''s words jabbed at him. "Are you regretting it now?" "I''d feel uneasy if I saved someone eager to die." "Damn it, who the hell wants to die?" Living by the sword wasn''t the same as seeking death. "You always fight just fine, but at critical moments, you close your eyes." "You think I do that on purpose?" He felt like he''d already responded to something similar earlier. Rem held a battle axe in his right hand and a broken spear in his left. With his versatility in handling weapons¡ªbe it a sword, axe, or blunt weapon¡ªthis mix suited him. He scratched his helmet-covered head with his axe hand. Though, scratching his helmet didn''t seem particularly satisfying. "Damn, this helmet reeks like hell." "Can''t argue with that." "Focus harder when it feels like you''re about to die." Rem''s words were familiar. Enkrid knew what they meant. Rem often said: In those moments when death feels imminent, when your life flashes before your eyes, people tap into a transcendent state of focus. Use that in battle. Damn it, but was that even possible? That was talent¡ªfacing the brink of death with open eyes, staring down the enemy, and doing what needed to be done. "Focus, my ass," Enkrid muttered. "Well, you''d figure it out after dying a few hundred times, but you''ve only got one life. Anyway, see you out there." Rem chuckled and sprinted back into the fray. What a fighter. Enkrid refocused on the battle. He fought with allied soldiers at his side, over and over. Enkrid thrust his sword forward. If lucky, he''d skewer the enemy. If not, they''d dodge. And if neither? Thunk. The sword would land a blunt blow, unable to pierce the enemy''s armor, merely pushing them back. "Hm." The struck enemy groaned and staggered back, only for a passing ally''s war hammer to smash into their head. Bang. Enkrid cleared his mind of distractions. The constant effort to block, dodge, and counter the onslaught of blades, spears, and clubs wore on his nerves. Without a shield, he felt exposed, so he picked up a fallen axe to use as a makeshift one. With his allies still nearby, he blocked, struck, and stabbed. When opportunities arose, he executed clumsy sword techniques he''d learned. Stepping forward with his left foot, shifting his weight, and extending his sword tip without losing control of his arm. A thrust. With just the right tension in his muscles, sufficient focus, and an eye for openings, it should have worked. Ting. Tch-tch-tch-tch. Enkrid''s thrust only partially succeeded. "Damn." He''d aimed for the gap between the enemy''s helmet and chest plate, but they moved, and his strike veered off. A long gash appeared on their neck¡ªnot a fatal wound, though. The bloodied enemy locked eyes with Enkrid. Their gaze brimmed with malice. They clenched their jaw with a grinding noise. Danger. The instinct honed on countless battlefields screamed at him. As Enkrid stepped back, an ally filled the gap. The enemy crouched silently, striking the ally''s shin with a weapon-clenched fist. Crack. A bone-snapping sound followed. "Argh!" As the injured ally collapsed, the enemy drew a dagger and drove it into the fallen soldier''s throat. The swift stab-and-pull motion felt almost rehearsed, as if part of a grim play. Blood sprayed, staining the enemy''s armor. They shoved the dead soldier aside. Ah. A fleeting life review. The boundary between life and death. Images flooded Enkrid''s mind like an illuminating lantern casting shadows. Those shadows depicted his life. Like the dream he had last night. At the edge of it all, as everything slipped away, the enemy''s blade drove into Enkrid''s neck. The enemy had mirrored his thrust¡ªperfectly. A flawless strike. At least, it seemed so to Enkrid. As fiery pain coursed from his neck through his body, Enkrid faced the moment between life and death. He realized what Rem''s "focus" meant. But it was too late. "Do you have to die to learn it?" He silently cursed Rem as his eyes shut. His thoughts wandered. Longing. Yearning. Desire. "I wanted to master the sword." "I wanted to be a knight." "I wanted to be a hero." But Enkrid hadn''t achieved any of it. He was destined for a modest life, earning enough to settle in a quiet village and live out his days. Yet, he couldn''t bring himself to do that. The fire in his heart wouldn''t allow it. To the very end, he spent every coin earned on the battlefield on training schools. "I could''ve done better." If only he had more time. He believed that if he practiced more, sacrificing sleep and leisure like prodigies and geniuses, he could''ve succeeded. As the final images of his life faded, a face appeared¡ªthe first and only person he''d ever saved alone. "The talisman will act on your wish, sir knight." It was a gift from the village elder, an old woman with missing teeth whose words whistled as she spoke. Regret and longing filled his heart with a new emotion¡ªone he''d never felt before. Regret. "Would things have been different if I swung my sword a few more times?" The weight of death pressed down. Beyond his closed eyes, a black river loomed. Enkrid regretted taking a nap instead of training that day. Perhaps, if he had trained, his final thrust would have succeeded. *** A faceless ferryman sat on a small boat in the black river. The ferryman asked, "Do you truly believe that?" Huh? "You''re amusing." What? "Then let''s do this." The ferryman''s voice seemed to come from nowhere. Beneath their black hood, where a face should be, there was only shadow. Enkrid couldn''t say a word. He passed out and then opened his eyes again. Clang, clang, clang. The sound of a night guard striking metal. Or rather, hitting a pot with a ladle. The familiar sound of morning. "..." Turning silently to the side, he saw... "A bad dream, huh?" Rem, grumbling, pulled on his boots while sitting on his cot. "Damn bug." A bug in his boot. Enkrid blinked. Everything in his dream had been so vivid it felt real. "Spit." Rem shook out the bug, spat on it, and crushed it underfoot. The ground bore the messy remnants of bug guts and spit. Chapter 3 - A Day Chapter 3 - 3 - A Day Chapter 3 - A Day The same day as yesterday. "Was it a dream?" It felt so vivid¡ªwas it really just a dream? Enkrid was dumbfounded. Dream, or reality? The day unfolded almost identically, leading to the battlefield. Another skirmish. Fighting in a similar spot made the phantom of yesterday overlap in his vision, as though he were reliving it. "Didn''t this happen yesterday too?" He shook his head to dismiss the thought. It must be a distraction. Just a dream. Perhaps he was lucky to have experienced a precognitive dream? "Does that even count as lucky?" He didn''t know. He couldn''t know. Enkrid was confused. Especially when the greased shield shattered. "Damn, that was close." When Bell muttered those words, the feeling intensified. "Bell, did getting your head split make you lose your senses?" He reflexively repeated the exact words he''d remembered saying before. "What nonsense are you talking about?" Bell grumbled as he got back on his feet. Enkrid glanced at him, deep in thought. Bell was about to die. Should he just watch? And he did. It felt unreal, so he let it happen. A flash burst through, shattering Bell''s skull. His eyeball popped out, striking Enkrid square in the chest. "What''s with the dazed look?" Rem saved him again. "What?" "Have you finally gone mad?" Rem twirled his finger by his temple while holding an axe in his other hand. "Today, that hawk-eyed bastard or whatever he calls himself is showing up, so I''m off to deal with him. Try to keep it together, alright? I swear, leave you alone for a second, and you''d be dead." "Take care of yourself first." The words spilled out instinctively. Rem tilted his head in confusion but walked off. "Seriously, just focus already," he muttered before disappearing. Enkrid picked up a discarded axe in his left hand instead of a shield and gripped his sword in his right. He stood on the battlefield, feeling unsettled. As he endured, an enemy soldier closed in from the front. It happened in an instant. The man was skilled with his footwork. One of his swordsmanship instructors had once said that seventy percent of swordsmanship was in the footwork. The blade gleamed as it approached, and Enkrid once again faced the brink of death. In that fleeting moment, his focus sharpened. A dot appeared. The dot grew smaller, then suddenly larger. Enkrid watched it intently, right up until it turned into a blade piercing his throat. "Ah." There was no scream, no groan. His neck had been impaled. A hissing sound escaped his throat as air leaked out. Agonizing pain spread from his throat to his entire body. Gripping his neck, Enkrid collapsed to the ground. Blood gurgled and spilled. "I''ll show mercy." The enemy soldier murmured as he watched briefly, then plunged his sword into Enkrid''s head. Darkness came again. And then, Enkrid heard it once more. Clang, clang, clang. The sound of a ladle striking a pot. "Why the hell do you look so out of it first thing in the morning?" It was Rem, sitting next to him, holding his boots. Another day. The same day. "Was that a dream?" "Did you have a nasty dream or something?" "Right. Just a dream." "Ah, damn bugs." Rem shook a bug out of his boot, spat, and crushed it underfoot. It was the third time Enkrid had seen that scene. He sat there, unarmed, unarmored, staring blankly. "This is a dream?" The day began again. Bell died. Rem saved him. Rem left to hunt down a hawk-eyed archer. And a skilled enemy soldier blocked Enkrid''s path. "Who are you?" Enkrid asked. The enemy didn''t respond, thrusting his sword instead. That thrust¡ªso precise and elegant¡ªit always amazed him. Thump. His heart raced. His focus peaked. Enkrid could see the tip of the blade more clearly than before. He twisted his body to evade. Rip! The result wasn''t ideal. The graceful thrust didn''t pierce his neck but tore a deep gash along its side. Burning pain radiated from the wound, spreading through his body. Once again, he fell to the ground. Blood poured out. "I''ll show mercy." The blade came down on his head. Clang, clang, clang! "Argh!" He woke up screaming. The pain was still vivid. He touched his neck. "Nightmare? Did some witch take your virginity in your sleep?" Rem cracked a crude joke. "There''s a bug in your boot." Enkrid covered half his face with his hand as he spoke. The pain of dying was terrible enough. But what the hell was going on? He couldn''t fathom it. "What? How''d you know that?" Rem shook the bug out of his boot, spat, and crushed it. "Just did." "Are you some kind of prophet?" "No." He waved the question away. Enkrid finished preparing for the day as usual but stopped before heading out. "Rem." "What now?" "My head hurts. Sort out breakfast yourself and tell anyone looking for me that I''m in the barracks, unwell." "Lazy much?" Rem chuckled. He was quick to laugh. If this wasn''t a dream... If he was truly reliving the day each time he died... Was that even possible? Could such a thing happen? Enkrid needed time to process. He returned to the barracks, removed his gear, and sat down. He thought and thought again. How could this happen? "What''s the cause?" A thought struck him, and he fumbled through his belongings. The necklace the village chief had given him was gone. "Is it because of that?" Desire? A wish? "A blessing?" No, could this even be called a blessing? It was just the same day repeating over and over. Even among the Blessing-class artifacts, Enkrid had heard tales, but none of them mentioned anything like this. "Isn''t this more like a curse?" He rubbed his neck absentmindedly. The pain was horrifying. Each death hurt worse than the last. The weight of his thoughts felt like it might crush his head. By lunchtime, Rem brought him food. "What''s wrong with you? Are you really just slacking off?" His expression suggested he didn''t think that was likely. Enkrid was known for his diligence. "Yeah." "Really?" "Yeah." Enkrid nodded twice. "Strange. Well, rest up then. There''s a battle later this afternoon, so make sure you''re ready. I''ll cover for you until then." Rem left. Time passes. Yet, there''s no way to organize his thoughts. This isn''t something that can be sorted out by thinking about it. *** A shout pierces the air. The ground trembles. The battle begins. Enkrid had no intention of stepping out. If he went out, he''d die to that piercing strike. So he chose to endure. But he couldn''t keep holding out forever. No soldier in a battlefield, even one in pain, could shirk their duty indefinitely. "Everyone, gear up and move out! It''s a battle!" A sentry making rounds shouted the command inside the tent. Enkrid donned his equipment and stepped outside. The fighting began anew. This time, he stayed much farther back than the day before. Neither Bell nor Rem crossed his path as he endured. Suddenly¡ª The frontlines wavered, rippling with disarray. The enemy''s movement was unusual. The allied forces were being pushed back. Before he knew it, Enkrid stood at the very front. And there, he encountered that man again. Was it coincidence, or was it fate? He didn''t know. But one thing was clear¡ªno matter where he went on the battlefield, he''d either die or face this man. Thus, the question wasn''t "why" but "how." Not why they kept meeting, but how he''d survive. The piercing strike. The blade came flying at him. "What was that technique''s name again?" Rem had once insisted he focus on learning techniques, saying even mastering just one could save his life on the battlefield. He''d also told Enkrid to keep calm even if trapped in a monster''s den. What Enkrid was attempting now was something Rem had taught him. Something about a heart. The name flitted through his mind, elusive. But even without fully remembering, the technique shone once again. Enkrid noticed he was holding his breath as he stared at the incoming blade. Thump. His heart pounded. He analyzed the timing and angle of the blade as it approached his throat. He flung his body sideways, rolling clumsily across the ground. But he survived. His relief was short-lived. Thud! A blow struck the back of his head, followed by searing pain. His mind went hazy. He didn''t even realize he had fallen. An enemy from behind had slammed his helmet with an axe. As he lay there, dazed, he looked up¡ª "I''ll show mercy." The piercer stabbed him again. Thunk. The sound of hammers pounding echoed once more as Enkrid opened his eyes. Another day, another repetition. "Don''t think about it." Whether the talisman was a blessing or a curse¡ªhe wouldn''t think about that. He wouldn''t dwell on what was happening to him. He only focused on two things: Surviving the battlefield. And doing whatever it took to achieve that. "There''s a bug in your boot." "Huh? Are you a prophet now?" "What was that thing you tried to teach me before?" Blinking, Rem thought for a moment before replying, "Heart of the Beast?" Yes, that was it. The Heart of the Beast. No mere human heart could remain steadfast amid the spears, swords, and axes of the battlefield. But with the Heart of the Beast, it was possible. So he must make it his own. Rem''s words resurfaced in his mind. "Teach me again." "What?" Rem looked flabbergasted. Enkrid understood his reaction. Once, he''d been desperate to learn, and Rem, charmed by his enthusiasm, had been equally eager to teach. In the end, Enkrid had learned nothing, and Rem had taught nothing. The training started with a simple principle: never close your eyes in the critical moment. But keeping your eyes open until the brink of death wasn''t something just anyone could do. And merely keeping them open wasn''t enough. In Enkrid''s eyes, Rem''s skill surpassed that of most elite mercenaries. The core of the training was watching and dodging until Rem''s axe was already halfway through the neck. "Let''s do it. Train me." Enkrid''s eyes burned with determination. A fire ignited in his chest. "Does it matter if this is a blessing or a curse?" He had no talent¡ªhe knew that. And time was fair to all. Thus, a dullard could never outmatch a genius. But what if time wasn''t fair? Blessing or curse, it didn''t matter. This was a lifeline, a rope to pull himself forward. "You''ve got guts today. Seeing you fired up like this gives me energy too," Rem said, standing. "Right after breakfast." "Agreed." After eating and washing their bowls, they shared idle dreams of becoming knights. Rem laughed at the notion. Then came the training. "You remember the method?" "Perfectly." The training had been so intense it haunted Enkrid''s nightmares. He could never forget Rem''s axe carving through his neck in those dreams. "Let''s get started." The premise was simple. When the axe came to cleave his neck, he''d open his eyes wide and dodge. If Rem made a mistake, Enkrid would die. That fear had once held him back. But now things were different. "If I die, I just hear the banging again." It was a time of fearlessness. Enkrid drew on the focus he had gained through countless deaths and awakened the Heart of the Beast. His heartbeat steadied. What once raced in panic now calmed, bringing tranquility. The beast didn''t startle easily. The slowed heartbeat granted clarity and composure. This composure let him track the axe''s trajectory. Dodging wasn''t hard. His body had been conditioned through constant training. When the axe swung, he stepped back, his right foot retreating as he leaned away. The axe swept past his face. "Have you been practicing in secret?" Rem asked. "A bit." "Good. But your timing is a little early. Wait until the last moment." The training was about thickening the metaphorical hide of the heart. Rem swung the axe again. Enkrid waited until the blade was practically kissing his throat before dodging. "Ha! Even in my tribe, only a few could master this. Impressive." Morning training concluded. Rem patted Enkrid''s shoulder. "Well done. You should handle average fighters on the battlefield just fine now." "And those who aren''t average?" "What are you asking?" "What happens when I face one of them?" "Are you seriously asking that?" Enkrid''s silent stare prompted Rem to continue, though he looked bemused. "You run." Exactly. You flee. Challenging someone stronger than you on the battlefield was lunacy. Survival required awareness of your own limits. And yet¡ª "What if I trained against someone better?" "You''d die a hundred times over, and it still wouldn''t be enough." Rem chuckled, shaking his head. Enkrid, hearing that laugh, thought to himself: What if my life had just multiplied a hundredfold? Blessing or curse, it didn''t matter. "If it''s useful, I''ll use it." That''s how he''d lived so far. And that''s how he''d keep living. Even if it meant confronting that piercing strike again. What better training partner could there be? The pain of death was excruciating, but the rewards were immense. For the first time in over a decade, Enkrid felt the joy of growth. A sense of fulfillment unlike any other¡ªa high no drug could match. Chapter 4 - Heart of the Beast Chapter 4 - 4 - Heart of the Beast Chapter 4 - Heart of the Beast "All units, assemble! Fourth platoon, gather!" The platoon leader''s shout echoed in front of the barracks. It had been a day filled with a sense of fulfillment, but as the day drew to a close, dusk began to settle. The sun was already descending toward the western horizon in the late afternoon. "Simply put, this isn''t something you learn through practice alone. Training a thousand days won''t make a difference. Yet, seeing what you''ve managed to achieve during training, it''s hard to say you lack talent." As they moved in response to the platoon leader''s call, Rem spoke with an unusual seriousness. "Really?" Enkrid only asked in return. It was hard enough to believe the events unfolding around him, let alone that they would lead to anything good. And if word got out? Unless it was truly divine blessing, even a slight misstep could bring the Inquisition knocking at his door. Would a meeting with those inquisitors end well? Not a chance. At best, it would be the stake; at worst, a torture party awaited. No one wants nails driven into their body or their fingernails torn off¡ªnot Enkrid, either. During his days as a mercenary, he''d seen many suffer unjustly under the banner of heresy. Some he''d even quietly helped, though it was dangerous work. If anyone had known, they''d have mocked him, saying he''d chosen his own death. It was that perilous. Still, he did it because it felt right. Without that, there''d have been no reason to live as a swordsman. "What''s with that smugness? It''s irritating. Did you strike gold today? Planning to desert and keep it all for yourself? Don''t you know that''ll only bring trouble?" Gold... He had found something better than that. "Shut up and move." The assembly order had been given; it was time to act. Enkrid wiped the sweat dripping from his forehead with his sleeve. If he put his helmet on now, it would stink to high heaven, but there was no time to wash at the stream. Standing next to him, Rem wasn''t even sweating. How could someone train and remain so composed? Enkrid, part of the fourth platoon, moved to his designated position. "Will it work?" Mastering something in a single day was a stretch, but he''d grasped some basics¡ªthanks to the experience of being stabbed to death. "We are!" The platoon leader''s voice rang out. "Victorious!" The platoon leader was an unremarkable but reliable figure, adept at following orders from above. The battlefield loomed once more as the sun dipped further west, twilight descending. Enkrid''s heart trembled. Why? He asked himself and found the answer quickly: fear. He''d been stabbed to death three times now. That pain, that overwhelming dread¡ªit wasn''t something one could ever get used to. Enkrid rubbed his neck. Though unscathed, it felt sore, as if he''d swallowed a blade. "What''s the matter? Losing your head already?" Rem whispered beside him. "Stay sharp. This is the battlefield," Enkrid said as he stepped forward at the command, "Advance!" Rem matched his stride. "Tension stiffens the body. Didn''t you learn from me to avoid that?" He wasn''t wrong, which made it all the more irritating. The Heart of the Beast. Few could truly learn it, even if taught. Enkrid suppressed his racing heart, aligning his breathing with each step. "That''s the way. Let''s see you survive today, dreamer." Hearing Rem''s taunt, Enkrid resolved not to share his ambition of becoming a knight if he died again today. The battlefield beckoned once more. Hand-to-hand combat began. Another identical day unfolded¡ªhis fourth "today." Enkrid decided against saving his shield from breaking. A shield''s purpose wasn''t to be preserved but to block enemy blades, spears, and axes. Saving it was laughable. Instead... His thoughts ran too long. Suddenly, something came flying at him. Without time to even cry out, he leaned back, thrusting his shield forward. Thud! A spear tip struck the shield''s edge. Barely a successful block. His left shoulder ached. The spear carried weight and power. The enemy retracted and thrust it again. Normally, his stiffened body would''ve failed to respond, leading to a series of crises. But his calm mind allowed him to see the spear''s movement. The thrust was twice as slow as the one that killed him. It was avoidable. Focusing on the spear tip, Enkrid tilted his head aside. Whoosh. The spear grazed his helmet. It was his first attempt at something resembling a stunt. The Heart of the Beast doesn''t excite easily. It allows for minimal movements in evasion. This newfound composure gave him clarity. Enkrid saw the gap between the enemy''s helmet and breastplate¡ªa slit wide enough to expose the chin. Not much of an opening, but enough for a blade. He gripped his sword and thrust upward. No grand technique required. Squish. The blade pierced from chin to throat. "Gurgle." The enemy spewed blood and bits of severed tongue. Exploiting a gap doesn''t require great strength¡ªa lesson his swordsmanship instructor once taught. "Evade with minimal motion, and the rest becomes easy." It was an expensive training school, yet the lessons were few. Back then, Enkrid dismissed them as nonsense. "Money well spent," he thought now. Short evasions followed by precise strikes were effective. He kicked the enemy''s abdomen and withdrew his sword. More blood gushed from the hole under the chin. The soldier crumpled backward. "You bastard!" Another enemy charged from behind. Enkrid didn''t rush to breathe or react. "Six steps." He counted the distance, slashing the straps securing his shield. Rip. Rip. Two cuts freed the shield. Wrapping it around his forearm had been a trick he learned to survive, ensuring it wouldn''t be easily dropped in chaotic skirmishes. But now, it was unnecessary. The enemy closed in. Enkrid hurled the shield. Thud! The shield startled the spear-wielding soldier, forcing him to pull back his hands¡ªand the spear¡ªinstinctively. His movements slowed. For a moment, the broad shield blocked his view. Taking advantage of this, Enkrid sidestepped two paces left. Helmets protect the head but narrow peripheral vision. Enkrid had often lost sight of enemies abruptly on the battlefield. Now, he exploited that blind spot, crouching low and preparing to topple his opponent. It was the same thing he had done the first time he died. This time, however, he executed it with greater precision. He targeted the opponent''s right side. Before charging, Enkrid observed the enemy soldier''s grip on their weapon. The front of the spear shaft was held with the left hand, while the right hand gripped the rear. The soldier was right-handed. He noticed things that would normally be overlooked. A clarity of vision granted by his composure. These were techniques he occasionally utilized in duels or small-scale skirmishes, but rarely during the chaos of a full-blown melee. It was a form of insight honed through survival as a mercenary. A right-handed spearman would struggle to swing to the right with their spear. The soldier who had blocked his shield frantically turned their head left and right in search of Enkrid. They were startled¡ªunderstandably so¡ªbecause their opponent had seemingly vanished. The enemy soldier''s eyes eventually locked onto Enkrid. While they had been searching and panicking, Enkrid had positioned himself behind their head and brought his sword down in a diagonal slash aimed toward their chest. Thwack! The soldier''s armor had a protective section covering the back of the neck. The thick fabric and the thin leather covering it prevented the sword from completely severing their neck. The blade lodged halfway into the back of their neck. "Urgh, guh, ah..." The enemy soldier''s eyes widened in shock, round with disbelief. Blood gushed from the half-severed neck, spilling profusely. Even as their neck was partially severed, the spearman reflexively swung their weapon. The shaft of the spear struck Enkrid''s right shoulder with a light thud. The impact was negligible. The soldier, half-dead, had swung at an awkward angle, making it impossible to deliver a forceful blow. Enkrid raised his sword and yanked it free. Crunch. It had been embedded in bone and required significant effort to extract. As the blade came loose, chunks of flesh and blood clung to it, dripping down. Surveying the battlefield briefly, Enkrid picked up a shattered shield from the ground instead of his axe. He now had the luxury of time to make such choices. "This is working." It was almost too easy. On a battlefield, it''s rare to demonstrate even half of one''s usual abilities. That''s natural. How could anyone fight as they normally would in the heart of death and carnage? While some went berserk, most faltered. Until he experienced death three times, Enkrid had been the same. But now, things were different. "I can manage this." That thrust¡ªperhaps it was something he could contend with. What Enkrid did wasn''t enough to change the tide of the battle. He was merely a single soldier fighting slightly better. There was no shift in the broader flow of combat. But for Enkrid personally, this was a significant breakthrough. After dispatching a few more enemy soldiers in the same manner¡ª "Ugh!" Bell stumbled again. This time, Enkrid had enough leeway to pull him back to his feet. "You okay?" "Damn it, there''s a rock sticking out here." It was an open plain. It wasn''t unusual for a rock to jut out. But Bell had tripped over his own feet. That made him the fool here. "Get it together." Enkrid grabbed Bell''s hand and helped him up. "Thanks, man." Without loosening his grip, Enkrid tightened his hold on Bell''s hand. "...You mind letting go?" Bell muttered awkwardly. Through the split, blood-streaked visor of Bell''s helmet, his eyes were visible. The glint was a flash¡ªan arrow. The arrow pierced Bell''s skull. Enkrid knew this moment well. In the chaos of battle, spotting incoming arrows was nearly impossible. It was far too difficult. Enkrid tried to pull Bell forward by his hand. Bell staggered, struggling to maintain his balance before managing to plant his feet. Thwack! Bell''s head shattered. The arrow had smashed his skull. Blood splattered across Enkrid''s chest plate. As soon as Enkrid saw Bell''s head burst, he ducked. A chilling whistle passed just over his head. An arrow, no doubt. The arrow buried itself with a dull thud into the corpse of a dead ally behind him. "You prayed to Lady Luck or something?" Rem''s voice called out just as Enkrid dodged. He hadn''t been able to save Bell''s head, but he had saved his own. Of course, if he hadn''t, Rem would have saved him anyway. It was the same as before time. "Something like that." Enkrid answered vaguely, earning a faint chuckle from Rem. Through the gap in his helmet, Rem''s teeth were visible. For someone with such delicate features, his mannerisms and speech were rough to the extreme. "Good for you. They say it''s the Hawk-eyed bastard who fired that arrow. I''m going after him. Better pray ten more times to your goddess." "Don''t get yourself killed out there. I''ll pray for you too." "Much obliged. Don''t forget this." Rem tapped his left chest with his axe handle and headed back into the fray. He was off to hunt down the falcon-eye¡ªor whatever he was called. Enkrid nodded, hoping he''d be able to ask Rem that evening whether the archer had been taken down. As Rem disappeared, allies and enemies swarmed into the space he had vacated. The gap began to close, and Enkrid judged the battlefield flow as anything but favorable. He had experienced this three times already. The allies were being pushed back. But there was only one thing to do. Survive. Enkrid felt a peculiar thrill rising within him. It wouldn''t be long before he encountered that skilled soldier again. And soon enough, it happened. That thrust once again aimed for his head. Instead of dodging, Enkrid met the incoming blade with his own. Clang, clang, clang! Sparks flew in the air. Their eyes met. "You blocked that?" The enemy soldier''s gaze seemed to ask. "You''re pretty good," the enemy remarked, thrusting again. Once, twice, three times. The first was blocked with a shield. The second dodged with a roll to the side. The third was met with a counter-swing. Enkrid''s blade traced a short arc through the air. And as the soldier pulled their arm back, something struck Enkrid in the waist from behind. Thwack! "Urgh." He bit back a scream. Another thrust came at Enkrid. This time, he intentionally shifted his weight forward, collapsing into a roll. The idea was sound, but his timing was off. Thud. The blade smashed into his collarbone, piercing through. It felt like a red-hot iron branding his flesh and bone. "Guh!" The pain was so intense he couldn''t even scream. As he reached for the embedded blade, the enemy swiftly retrieved it. The blade was impossibly sharp, likely cared for meticulously. The withdrawal was accompanied by an even sharper agony. The pain turned his vision white. Enkrid clenched his teeth and turned to face his attacker. A hulking enemy soldier stood there awkwardly, holding a club. That must''ve been what hit my waist. "I''ll show mercy." The one who had killed him three times before uttered the word, raising their blade vertically and driving it down. That was the end. Darkness seeped into his vision as his eyes closed. *** Bang, bang, bang. The sound of a ladle striking a pot echoed again. "The fifth time." Damn it. He thought he had it this time. "What''s the fifth time?" Rem asked from beside him. "A bug''s in your boot." Enkrid replied as he stood. He had died again, but he had learned something. After all, the lesson he''d paid for with gold coins at the training grounds was this: Nothing works the first time. So what do you do? If once isn''t enough, try ten times. If ten times isn''t enough, try a hundred. Ordinarily, dying once would be the end. Fortunately, Enkrid could repeat this as many times as it took. Chapter 5 - Valen-Style Swordsmanship Chapter 5 - 5 - Valen-Style Swordsmanship Chapter 5 - Valen-Style Swordsmanship "Uh? Huh? How did you know?" "I''m not a prophet." At Enkrid''s response, Rem shook out the bug from his boot onto the ground and spoke confidently. "Did you put it in there?" "I didn''t." "Sure." Rem kept his suspicious gaze fixed on him. Enkrid didn''t care about Rem''s accusatory look. That wasn''t the issue at hand. He stomped on the bug that Rem had dropped. Squelch. A distinctly unpleasant sensation spread from the sole of his boot. "Ugh." Spitting onto the ground, Enkrid rubbed the remains of the bug into the dirt and said: "Can you teach me the Heart of the Beast?" "Huh? You remembered that?" Rem straightened his boots and stood up. "That''s not something easy to forget." "Didn''t stop you from drowning your guts in booze, wanting to forget." Back then, he''d kept seeing the scene of his head being cut off by an axe in his dreams. Life felt unbearable. "Can you teach me, or not?" "You''re fired up today, huh? Alright, let''s do it." Rem nodded. "Jaxen, can you handle morning duty? I''ll take over tomorrow." Since they needed strength to train, wasting time on chores like cleaning dishes was unnecessary. "Sure, no problem." Jaxen, a squad member who was always cheerful and got along well with others, replied. He had such a mild personality that it was hard to understand why he was part of this unit. When Enkrid first met him, he assumed Jaxen was some sort of mediator within the squad. Jaxen casually dusted off his reddish-brown hair and stepped out of the tent. Watching him leave, Rem snorted and blew his nose. "That guy always gives me a bad vibe." It was true that if Jaxen had been an effective mediator, Enkrid might never have ended up in this squad. Jaxen got along well with other units but didn''t get along with the Fourth Squad members¡ªexcept for Enkrid. For some reason, Enkrid had a knack for earning his squadmates'' trust. Whether it was because he silently took on all sorts of tasks or because of his mediocre skills that seemed destined to keep him as a low-ranking squad leader, even Enkrid didn''t know. He just figured it had to be one of the two. Rem headed out of the tent, and Enkrid followed. "That guy feels off. Something about him doesn''t sit right with me. You should keep your distance." And what about you? Enkrid only asked the question in his mind. Was this the same guy who broke his superior officer''s jaw in his last unit, giving advice about keeping distance? Rem might have been his benefactor, but to others¡ªespecially those from his former unit¡ªhe was a walking disaster. The first squad members glared daggers at him whenever they crossed paths. No one would warm up to someone who''d done that to their squad leader. Enkrid didn''t argue. It wouldn''t change anything. Time wasted arguing would be better spent practicing the Heart of the Beast. There was much to learn from Rem beyond that technique. "Especially since he''s close with the First Squad members. That makes it even worse." Alright, if you say so. When Enkrid didn''t respond, Rem stopped in his tracks. "What?" "Squad leader, you''re acting weird today. Normally, you''d have something to say by now." That was true. Normally, he''d have remarked on how ridiculous it was for someone who broke his superior''s jaw to give advice. Or maybe he would have suggested ignoring Jaxen entirely if friendliness wasn''t possible. Instead of encouraging them to get along, Enkrid preferred to keep people apart to avoid conflicts. That was his secret to leading the chaotic, death-laden Fourth Squad. "Nothing to say." Enkrid cut the conversation short. Rem scratched the back of his head. "Strange day, huh." They ate breakfast and made their way to a clearing outside the barracks. Training on the battlefield might seem odd to others, but for Enkrid, it was routine. Those who knew him wouldn''t see it as anything unusual. Even passersby didn''t spare them a second glance. And so, the Heart of the Beast training resumed. "Have you been secretly learning from someone else? Not that you''d have had the chance." "I just practiced what I''ve been taught." "Practice alone got you this far?" Each near-death experience brought a new layer of understanding. Enkrid found it easier to focus than before. Rem eyed him suspiciously but eventually shrugged. "Fine. If you say so. Squad leader, you''ve got talent, I''ll give you that." Rem echoed a sentiment he''d expressed the day before. Talent, huh? That would have been nice. Moments ago, Enkrid failed to evade Rem''s axe again. The blade had stopped just shy of his throat. A mere flick of the wrist would have left a deep scar on his neck. "That was close," Rem chuckled. He seemed pleased with Enkrid''s progress, his laughter tinged with satisfaction. Enkrid noticed it, too. "What kind of trick lets you swing an axe like that?" That axe strike just now¡ªit was faster than the thrust that had killed him before. The axe blade had approached so quickly, it felt like it would graze his skin any second. Even though Enkrid didn''t blink, he couldn''t track its movement. "Talent?" Enkrid was reminded once again what an irritating bastard Rem could be. He''d always been like this. "If training were enough, everyone would be a master swordsman, wouldn''t they?" Rem laughed heartily. Just as Enkrid had picked up on his satisfaction earlier, he now realized Rem took delight in teasing him. He was an odd one. Then again, was anyone in this squad not odd? "What if I train more? Work harder? Practice endlessly, even without sleep?" Enkrid''s question came out instinctively. It was a dilemma he''d grappled with for a long time. If he lacked talent, should he give up? Enkrid chose not to. Instead of giving up, he pressed forward. If geniuses could take ten steps at a time, he''d take a quarter-step at a time, but he''d keep going. "Man, you really are strange today. Did you drink some potion of seriousness or something?" Rem chuckled, hanging his axe on the strap at his waist. "No." "Squad leader." Rem''s tone grew serious as he called out to him. Their eyes met. After a brief silence, Rem spoke. "If you don''t sleep, you''ll die." Thud. Rem''s words were followed by his cheeks trembling as he struggled to hold back laughter before bursting out. It was his answer to Enkrid''s earlier question about practicing without rest. "Screw you." Enkrid responded with the universal gesture of disdain¡ªraising his middle finger. Rhem chuckled and suggested they head for lunch. Enkrid didn''t plead to learn more. You can''t fill your belly in one bite, and he understood that truth better than anyone. After lunch, he reviewed his swordsmanship. Thrusting, slashing, and swinging¡ªbasic techniques of swordsmanship. After mastering these fundamentals, he learned the Valen mercenary swordsmanship. It wasn''t subpar. He had invested significant time and money into learning it¡ªfar beyond what a handful of silver coins could buy. Valen mercenary swordsmanship. Though it didn''t reach knightly levels, it was renowned among mercenaries, and Valen''s swordsmanship stood out. If categorized, it would fall under the "Illusion Sword" style. The original manner in which Valen used it was unknown, but Enkrid had incorporated several techniques into his repertoire. He poured his effort into mastering them. "After death, each day repeated itself, but the lessons etched into the body remained." The Heart of the Beast was not learned with the mind but ingrained into the body. This meant that what his body retained stayed intact. He pushed himself to exhaustion, wielding his sword until the calloused skin of his palms, already thickened, split open anew. Ordinary soldiers didn''t use swords; spears were their primary weapons. His role as a squad leader granted him the privilege of wielding a sword. And Enkrid had no intention of letting it go. He trained relentlessly. Despite the pain in his grip, he endured. Even as his stomach churned from undigested food, he persisted. He focused all his senses on the tips of his toes and fingers. Illusion Sword techniques revolved around deception. They encouraged the use of any means to mislead an opponent. Some of Valen''s swordsmanship techniques had already spread throughout the mercenary world¡ªfor instance, feigning a fall to deliver a surprise thrust. Call it dishonorable if you like. Why would survival tactics be considered disgraceful? If someone claimed knights wouldn''t stoop to such tactics, Enkrid wouldn''t argue. They had their values, and he had his own. The half-day allocated for training passed swiftly. His legs didn''t tremble; if they had, the daily physical conditioning he had undergone would have been meaningless. Enkrid''s legs were sturdy. "A strong body is quite the asset." Rem commented as Enkrid returned. A messenger had just arrived. This was the sixth repeat of the day, and by glancing at the sky, Enkrid could estimate the time. "A body trained for over 20 years," Enkrid replied casually, moving back to his squad''s position. "Make sure that sturdy body doesn''t end up as just another training dummy," Rem quipped before battle, his laughter ringing again. "You''re on duty tomorrow," Jaxen added nearby. One seemed to mock him, while the other appeared resolute not to take cooking duty two days in a row. No matter the tone, both seemed to want him to return alive. "See you later." The sixth day began anew, and Enkrid killed enemies more efficiently than the previous one. The first enemy lunged, but Enkrid tripped him and smashed his head with a shield edge. The second fell to a feint before being stabbed. Valen mercenary swordsmanship wasn''t common knowledge; he had sought it out and paid to learn it. The wavering tip of his sword became a mirage, obscuring his enemy''s focus. His efforts bore fruit. He felt the satisfaction of growth, a fulfillment filling his chest. Even amidst the repetitions, his progress wasn''t negligible. Despite his death and resurrection, Enkrid didn''t squander a single day. Quite the opposite¡ªhe fought more fiercely, immersed himself further, and honed his focus. He lived with yearning and fervent hope, never letting opportunities slip away. And so, Enkrid fought, cutting down enemies, striking, and toppling them. The repetition of battles granted him new experiences. "The Heart of the Beast." He began to perceive what had previously been invisible. Eventually, he reached the moment where Bell fell. Fighting daily at the same location, he always saw Bell fall. He couldn''t retreat or relocate at will. Recklessly crossing the frontlines was tantamount to suicide; it was no easy feat to alter one''s position on the battlefield. "I''m not at that level." Enkrid knew himself well. Though he had grown confident, he wasn''t capable of weaving through enemy ranks or attempting reckless gambits. He couldn''t yet foresee the flight of a seasoned archer''s arrows. Thud! Bell''s head exploded once again. "Damn it." He had resolved to save him this time but failed again. Immediately, Enkrid ducked. An arrow whistled through the air as if preordained, its piercing sound lingering in his ears. His movements were almost instinctual, as though he had anticipated it. "You''re sharp today, aren''t you?" Rem commented as he approached. "Go slit the throat of that archer." "Was planning on it anyway. Stay sharp." Rem departed, leaving Enkrid to face another enemy. This time, a soldier thrust a spear at him. Enkrid failed again. He evaded a club swung from behind but was struck by a throwing axe from another direction. It was infuriating. Morning broke for the seventh time. "I put a bug in your boot." Enkrid told Rem. "Are you insane?" "No, I''m not. Staying calm in such situations¡ªthat''s the Heart of the Beast, right?" "Hmm?" "Teach me." When the day restarted, Rem blinked, then agreed. Enkrid trained, practiced, and wielded his sword. This time, he didn''t try to save Bell. To save him, he needed to predict the flight of arrows. If he couldn''t, he''d have to rely on luck. How did Rem dodge those arrows? With that question in mind, Enkrid moved his body. Another thrust led to his death. "I''ll show mercy," he muttered bitterly. That cursed mercy. And so he died. Through the eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh, twelfth... Over a hundred deaths later, Enkrid continued to repeat the day, always beginning with his death. Chapter 6 - His grip should have been torn apart. Chapter 6 - 6 - His grip should have been torn apart. Chapter 6 - His grip should have been torn apart. Another repeating day. Enkrid spent each and every one of those days meaningfully. Not a single day was wasted. ''I''m an ordinary man.'' In terms of swordsmanship, he couldn''t be called a genius or even a prodigy. He certainly wasn''t a genius. After the eighth failure, Enkrid thought. ''I tried to finish a meal with just one stab of a fork.'' He was nowhere near being a genius, a prodigy, or even an outstanding person. Enkrid divided his work. ''I''ll take half-steps.'' There was no dull moment. The repeating days, and at the same time, his growing skill. It was like a drug. Enkrid found this situation thoroughly enjoyable. ''There are many good things.'' Above all, the best part was that he could constantly experience real-life combat. Moreover, it was a vivid experience gained at the cost of his life. Enkrid fully utilized that, and until he stepped onto the battlefield, he made sure to live each day to the fullest. He trained the heart of the beast. He learned a new style of swordsmanship. The repeating time made him memorize the events happening around him. A good example was the gambling scene in the adjacent barracks at breakfast. "Damn it! You cheated, didn''t you?" "Cheated? You''re just unlucky, you bastard." It was a familiar mornig sight. It wasn''t cheating. After seeing it several times, Enkrid knew. The dice always landed on the same numbers, and he was well aware of it. He passed by, spending another day. Repeating. The endless battles expanded Enkrid''s understanding. To be precise, the time to think made his mind broaden. ''I don''t need to see the arrows to save Bell. That''s something a top-tier mercenary would do. Enkrid cleanly gave up, and through that, he managed to save Bell. Bang! It was just a matter of getting a sturdier shield. The arrow lodged itself into the round shield. No matter how skilled the archer was, it was impossible to pierce the soldier''s skull hiding behind the shield. "...Where did you pop up from?" Bell, who had fallen, asked with wide eyes. "When will you stop rolling on the ground? Get up quickly." Enkrid wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and kicked Bell''s backside. Bell, who had his backside patted, once again headed towards the battlefield. ''If I save him here, will I see his face tomorrow?'' He didn''t know. He was simply making this his first goal. The small goal Enkrid had set was to stir up the battlefield and save Bell. He achieved that on the twenty-fifth day. "Wow. The mother of the monastery''s here. When you have time, save me too, instead of wasting time on the other fools." Rem suddenly popped up from behind and spoke nonsense, as usual. Every time Bell was saved, Rem spouted crazy remarks. Enkrid played along with him each time. "Mother" referred to the nun in charge of the monastery. "You''re excommunicated. You''re disgusting." Monasteries don''t accept anyone who isn''t a believer. "Excommunication" means being told to leave the monastery. It was a fairly high-level joke between Enkrid and Rem. "The filthy world that discriminates by appearance, ha!" Rem, as always, didn''t back down and ran off. Enkrid knew he was off to catch that hawk-eyed fellow, even without being told. And yet, despite repeating fifty times or so, Enkrid couldn''t defeat the piercing enemy soldiers. Though by chance, he had blocked multiple attacks, there were always those who came from the side with hammers, and his skull was crushed. "There''s no time to waste." The one who crushed Enkrid''s skull spoke. Enkrid didn''t even know how it happened. His vision suddenly spun, and the ground rushed up to meet him. He didn''t even have the strength to shake his head. He only felt the sticky liquid running down his face. When he came to his senses, he realized he had dropped his sword and was kneeling. "It must hurt. I''ll show mercy." The blade quickly pierced his neck, and Enkrid had to writhe in pain. The blade sunk into his neck. The pain, something he couldn''t get used to, spread throughout his body. The pain from the heated iron rod stabbing his neck ravaged his brain. As he died, Enkrid blinked. The world turned red because of the blood that had entered his eyes. Beyond that red vision, he could see the red eyes of an enemy soldier holding a sword through the visor of his helmet. It wasn''t literally red, but that''s how it appeared at that moment. A thin gleam of pleasure flickered in the enemy''s eyes. He had died so many times that he could see the smallest details. That was thanks to the heart of the beast. ''That pervert.'' His intention wasn''t mercy. He killed for the thrill of it. The enemy would always shove the blade into the neck slowly, savoring the last breath that escaped from the victim. Perhaps, it wasn''t even aware that it aroused him. Enkrid remained composed, even though he realized that. Having faced death countless times, courage naturally settled in his heart. That was simply how it was. And then. "Where did you sneak off for a secret rendezvous?" On the eighty-sixth day, Rem suddenly spoke. Enkrid frowned at Rem''s words. What kind of nonsense was this? "What?" "The heart of a beast. You learned it from me, didn''t you? But you couldn''t have trained like this on your own." The axe''s blade had stopped just a finger''s width from his eye. If it had been any closer, the shockwave alone would have damaged his cornea. Thanks to that, Enkrid''s vision was obstructed by the sharp edge of the axe, with only half of Rem''s face visible. Yet, even in this situation, Enkrid''s breath remained calm. It was the strength granted by the heart of a beast. The courage that allowed him to endure the coming pain. Enkrid stared into Rem''s eyes, which were filled with questioning, beyond the axe''s blade, and thought. ''This could happen too.'' Through the repetition of days, the heart of a beast had been trained, and now, from the perspective of the person who taught it, it might seem absurd. He only realized this now because Rem was always the type to speak without thinking. Rem talked a lot of nonsense, but when it came to matters like the heart of a beast, it was a different story. It was something Enkrid himself had taught. Enkrid didn''t make any excuses. There was no need to. After thinking it over all day, he could handle it in the next day that began anew. Thud. Rem pulled back his axe. Enkrid''s sight cleared. Not a single scratch marked his face. Rem handled the heavy axe as if it were his own hand. He scratched his head with the end of the axe handle. "I don''t get it. I was wondering if you learned from someone else, not just me." Even as he said that, his face showed he wasn''t sure if it made sense. Enkrid was the squad leader, and this damn squad would never listen unless he was around. He had never left the squad after learning the heart of a beast from Rem. So, even if he wanted to learn from someone else, there was no time for that. Rem had been watching Enkrid all this time. Maybe, if he had been standing guard and secretly learning, it might make sense, but that too was equally unreasonable. Rem didn''t know it, but somehow, it felt like there was an edge to his words. "I''ve faced death more than eighty times," Enkrid answered roughly, thinking to himself. He knew he couldn''t teach Rem the Heart of the Beast. There was no response that could completely resolve the question coming from that barbarian man. ''I can''t just say that every time today repeats, I learn from Rem himself and get better while dying in the process.'' But the question could be ignored. Rem wasn''t the type to press hard for answers. Indeed, that was the case. No time was wasted. "Alright, let''s say that''s true. Sometimes, even the goddess of fortune drops a coin or two without realizing it." A common saying to soldiers who survived by some chance. But does that apply when learning a trick like this? Maybe it doesn''t. But it didn''t matter if Rem let it slide. "Thanks to that, it''s more fun than before. Your skills have improved. What have you been secretly doing?" "Doing things that hurt so much I could die." Enkrid wasn''t lying. "Yeah, a man needs a few secrets. That''s what makes him a man. I know it." Rem didn''t even care about that. He just said what he needed to and picked up his axe again. "One more round?" Rem, with axe in hand, asked. Enkrid silently grabbed his sword. If his first goal was to save the soldier Bell who had fallen... His second and final goal was to kill the perverted bastard who found pleasure in every life he took. Preparations for that were already in place. That was how the hundredth and thirteenth day of their battle came. The day for their match. Enkrid tightened his muscles, pulling his arm back. He stretched his left leg forward, aiming to step on Rem''s foot. Rem, quick as ever, withdrew his foot, and seeing that, Enkrid twisted his body around his planted left foot and slashed with all his might. The foot was a feint. It was a move aimed at luring Rem to back off. Enkrid flexed his muscles, striking with his sword. In that brief moment, Enkrid saw Rem''s arm whip around like a whip. It was such an unreal sight that even the axe in his hand seemed to bend. Clang! It happened in an instant. The axe''s edge bent and shot up like lightning. And it hit the sword Enkrid was holding. The sword flew up. The sword slipped from Enkrid''s hand, soaring upward, spinning in midair before falling with a sharp thud onto the ground. The sound was from the blade striking a rock embedded in the ground. Enkrid saw the sword roll across the floor. "Let''s see." Rem immediately approached and grabbed Enkrid''s wrist. The shock from losing the sword caused his hand to tremble. Rem looked at his hand, clicked his tongue, and spoke. "This should''ve made you bleed." "What?" If you''re going to swing an axe like that, you should at least control your strength, and what is this nonsense? "That thrust wasn''t bad, but it wasn''t quite right. I can''t explain it well, but that should''ve torn your grip open. You shouldn''t have lost the sword." "You mean I should never release my sword, even if I die?" Enkrid raised his voice as Rem held his right hand. He had heard that many times from his swordsmanship instructor. Counting the days that pass is a hard task. Enkrid remembered it by making small changes to the start of each day. Since he was always good with his memory, it helped a lot in swordsmanship. It hadn''t helped much until now. But now, it helped. Especially when he recalled the teachings from his instructors. He spoke with that memory in mind. "That''s nonsense. If I need to, I''ll even throw the sword at my opponent''s face. This is... Ah, let''s keep it simple. What was your target with that thrust earlier?" Enkrid couldn''t immediately answer. That thrust was his trump card. It was a technique he had stolen after being stabbed in the neck more than a hundred times by enemies. He had stolen and mimicked everything¡ªfrom the posture to the placement of the feet, the shift in weight when wielding the sword, the movement of the muscles, the direction of the toes, and even the way the hands gripped the sword. "That last strike¡ªon the surface, it seemed fine, but that damn... it''s hard to explain. Look here." Rem lowered his axe and drew a large circle in the dirt. It was about the size of a human head. "Let''s say our target is somewhere here." Saying that, Rem spun the axe around the circle and marked a spot with a tap. "But actually, you''re going for here." At first, Enkrid didn''t understand what Rem was talking about. But somehow, thanks to the time he spent learning swordsmanship, despite the clumsy explanation, he understood it instantly, as if it were a sour pickle wrapped in a sweet fruit. ''Target point.'' What had been hidden in the thrust he made earlier? Had he wanted praise for doing well? Did he want to acknowledge that he had some talent, even just a speck, for mimicking? What was the point? What is a sword for? To slash and pierce¡ªit''s a weapon for killing. Among those, thrusting is the basic technique for targeting a single point. Especially in fencing. There are knights who specialize in using thin blades to pierce through the gaps in armor. "I really can''t explain it anymore. I thought you''d obviously dodge or block, so I let the sword go easily. But that thrust earlier had to be perfect. It had to say, ''I''m going to pierce you. You can''t dodge.'' It needed to be shown clearly." After saying that, Rem seemed to reflect on whether he explained himself well. Being the type of person who does things at his own pace, explaining things wasn''t his strength. But if the other person understood, then even a dog''s barking could be a great explanation. For Enkrid, it was a great explanation. ''Because my sword lacked certainty.'' The thrust from earlier had been a second-rate mercenary''s strike. On the hundredth and twenty-third day, Enkrid realized it. And by the hundred and twenty-fourth day, Rem''s lightning-quick axe strike had torn through Enkrid''s grip. It wasn''t just torn¡ªit exploded open. Blood poured from his hand. Seeing that, Enkrid smiled. Because he had achieved what he wanted. "Are you completely insane now? Don''t you know that the most dangerous thing on the battlefield is a mad ally? No, why do you keep laughing?" Rem, seeing it, showed rare signs of panic, but Enkrid couldn''t hold back his laughter. "Shit, stop laughing. You really are a crazy bastard, huh?" Seeing that, Rem spoke. It was the hundred and twenty-fourth "today." Chapter 7 - It was a triplet Chapter 7 - 7 - It was a triplet Chapter 7 - It was a triplet Unable to keep laughing any longer, Enkrid soon stopped smiling. Seeing that, Rem grabbed Enkrid''s wrist and quickly wrapped bandages around it. "Stay behind me today. With your hand like this, you''d be dead in an instant. If the platoon leader finds out that this happened during sparring, he''d throw a fit." "I''m fine." "Fine? What do you mean by fine? With this hand, you''ll die on the battlefield. Are you secretly planning to commit suicide? If so, I won''t stop you." It wasn''t an unreasonable statement. With such a hand, one could easily die on the battlefield. However, it wasn''t a huge problem for Enkrid. If he died again, that was it. Then the 125th morning would dawn. ''It''s not boring though.'' He could end today''s repetition. Enkrid had not only trained in swordsmanship during the past days. By repeating the day for the 124th time, he had also come up with ways to navigate through ''today.'' It is often said that when an ordinary soldier survives the first battle, it''s due to luck¡ªhe has simply picked up a coin dropped by the goddess of fortune. If one doesn''t have exceptional talent, luck is often a key factor in staying alive. In Enkrid''s calculations, in order not to die, some luck was required at least a few times. ''But I can''t rely on luck alone.'' Enkrid didn''t need to do that. He knew what was happening on the battlefield, especially the things around him. Therefore, he could prepare and anticipate. On the 124th today, Enkrid died again from a thrust to his neck. His palms were in such a state that he couldn''t even properly parry with his sword. Still, he didn''t want to waste even a single day, so he took in the thrust of the enemy and endured the pain. He did it. "It''s going to hurt. But I''ll show mercy." As the enemy spoke, Enkrid endured the sharp pain of the blade through his throat. Something caught in his tongue, and before he died, he spat out a broken molar. The pain came from having clenched his teeth tightly. Yeah. It wasn''t something boring. He spent the repeated day meaningfully, and so it was even a bit enjoyable. But, no matter how one tries to justify it... ''I don''t want to die.'' There''s no way dying would be enjoyable. Especially when he had to die at the hands of a perverted bastard who enjoyed inflicting pain on others. If he could end it, he would. The moment he realized he was trapped in another repeated day, Enkrid had made that decision. And then... Clang! Clang! Clang! The 125th morning arrived. *** Enkrid got out of bed and grabbed Rem''s shoes, shaking them off. "What are you doing? Those are mine." "I know. They smell awful. If I throw them at the enemy, the smell alone will take down fifty of them." "Why are you being so annoying this early? Did you have a good dream or something?" A bug fell from Rem''s boots. Enkrid squashed it with his foot. "I saw it entering this morning." "...T-thank you." Rem chuckled and fixed his boots. With Rem behind him, Enkrid pulled back the tent flap and stepped outside. The dawn had just broken, and the sight of the blue from the early morning mixing with the yellow of sunlight was visible. The busy sentries were too preoccupied with stirring their pots. Newly awakened soldiers rubbed their eyes, either grumbling or silently getting to work. "Stop banging on it. I''m going to crack your skull." "Who drank themselves to sleep yesterday?" It was from the back barracks. "Shut up. If they catch you drinking, you''ll be disciplined." "Shut your mouth." It was a conversation between the sentries and some of the soldiers who had drunk too much the previous night. Listening to that, Enkrid turned his head slightly to look at the drunk soldier''s face. It was the squad leader of a different unit, and the guy had a good mother. On the 66th day, in order to remember that day, Enkrid had talked to him and pretended to be friendly for no reason. "Aren''t you on morning duty?" "Do it yourself." While glancing back, Enkrid suddenly said to Rem. "Why me?" "You should do it at least once. I''ve done it more than five times for you." "Are you counting that kind of thing?" "Yeah, just yours." "Why just mine?" "Because you''re annoying." Over the 125 days, Enkrid hadn''t been able to scratch Rem even once. But there was no resentment. If there were any feelings, it was only gratitude. Anyway, Rem would do it. Letting Rem take over the morning duties was the pattern that had the highest survival chance and the best conditions to start the day in the repeated days. "Alright, damn it. I''ll do it." After moving his body roughly to warm up, he didn''t feel the chill of the morning air. While twisting his body this way and that, Enkrid stayed in front of the barracks. One by one, the soldiers began to step outside. The first was Jaxen, a diligent member of the squad. He gave a brief nod when their eyes met. Enkrid responded with a slight nod of his own. Several others followed suit. Enkrid, squinting as he came out last, caught a soldier with his half-closed eyes. "Big Eyes." "Hmm?" Nickname "Big Eyes," real name Krais Olman. A handsome squad member. Despite being called a fool, he was one of the squad''s members, though still the only member with less than average combat ability. To put it more precisely, he would get pummeled if he fought Enkrid. "Sigh, why? Early morning is torture for high-class personnel like me." Krais grinned, his face still free from sleep, looking as good as he always did. He had a handsome appearance that might catch the eyes of those interested in men. "Get me a few things." Krais tilted his head in confusion at Enkrid''s request. It was unusual for Enkrid to ask for something like this. "Did you want to learn something new? Or is it alcohol? No women, though. I can''t bring one at this time." Krais was the squad''s black-market dealer, who could get almost anything. "Do you think I''m looking for a woman?" "No. Then what do you need?" "Five throwing knives, oil-treated leather, a large needle, deer leather gloves, and finally, about ten white flowers and a handful of alum." As Enkrid mentioned the leather, he roughly estimated its size with his hands. It was large enough to wrap around an adult man''s torso. "...I don''t know what you''re planning with all that." "Can''t you get them?" Krais looked at Enkrid for a moment before nodding. "There''s nothing I can''t get. But, no matter if you''re a squad leader, it won''t be free. You know that, right?" "How much?" "Seventeen silver." What a scam. The five throwing knives would cost a silver or two at a forge. Of course, if the price of iron was high, it could go over three coins, but generally, that was the case. Besides, Krais wouldn''t be bringing in pure steel-made items. Still, he would at least get some usable knives. As for the leather, the price depends on the quality, but he wouldn''t be bringing top-quality stuff from famous workshops. The only part that would cost more silver here was the needles and deer leather gloves. Those definitely requires at least three silver, no matter how much you haggle. The white horse flower? Well, you can get that for just a few pennies if you head to the village. As for the alum, if there''s a leather workshop nearby, you can get that without spending much. Enkrid was knowledgeable in these areas, but he didn''t argue. First of all, the first reason was that they were within the unit, meaning it was something hard to get unless you were Krais. The second reason was the somewhat ambiguous price of seventeen silver, which was probably the optimal value Krais had set. There was another reason. "Do you think I can get it right after breakfast?" "Are you telling me to skip breakfast?" "You haven''t been eating well anyway." "True, but, um, I''m guessing the squad leader doesn''t have enough, right?" Krais made a round shape with his thumb and index finger. "Not right now." Although he saved up his salary, he''d spent it all on a new sword recently. Now, he was broke. Once the battle was over, he would get his pay, but if he asked for it now, he''d be treated like a deserter. "This is troublesome." Upon hearing Krais''s words, Enkrid smiled. It was the kind of calm only someone with strong faith in their position could show. "Lend me five krona." Krais typically didn''t trust people easily. But with Enkrid, it was a different story. ''He''s the squad leader, after all.'' Enkrid had never been the type to do anything foolish, and above all, he was the one who had saved his life. Krais pulled out five krona and handed them to him. Enkrid, spinning the clinking coins in his hand, headed straight to the nearby barracks. Inside, he found a few men already gambling, setting up their game early in the morning. They were the kind of soldiers who preferred gambling over the night watch or sleep. When they saw Enkrid, their surprised eyes quickly turned into questions after recognizing his face. "Hey, isn''t that the 44th Squad Leader?" "You''re up early, huh?" Krais, seeing that, was impressed. He disliked gambling. He hated the idea of losing hard-earned money to chance, but more than that, he disliked the idea of relying on luck to gain something. If you lost, the money you had worked for would vanish in an instant. He thought gambling was something for people who didn''t know better. But Enkrid was joining in. "Can I join too?" "Here?" It was the night watchman from the barracks next door. He looked around briefly, then nodded in agreement. "Sure." There was always room for a sucker at the table. As Enkrid crouched to sit down, Krais grabbed his sleeve. "Are you going to throw away my five kronas here?" Krais''s eyes were still a little bleary, but they were sharp as they looked at Enkrid. ''He must have made quite a few women cry.'' Enkrid thought to himself and pushed Krais''s wrist away. "If you lent it to me, it''s my money now." With that, Enkrid took his place at the table. The gamblers shifted their positions to make room. "Do you know how to play dice?" One soldier, who was rolling dice made from pig bones in a wooden barrel, asked. "If the same number comes up, it''s double. Bet on higher or lower numbers, and you win what you bet. Right?" Enkrid glanced over their shoulders, having seen this game a hundred times. He knew it well. There were three dice. The total was 18. So, he just needed to call either higher or lower than 9. The one sitting in the center was the dealer. Enkrid would roll the dice while the others placed their bets. "Let''s get the first round going." It was a quick game to pass the time before breakfast. The stakes weren''t high. The minimum bet was five krona, and the maximum was two silver coins. Enkrid placed five krona on the table. "Lower." "Higher." "Lower." "Lower." "Higher." "Higher." "Lower." In less than ten minutes, Enkrid''s hand was holding two silver coins. The charm of dice games is in the speed. It was a fast-paced, high-energy game where the bets came thick and fast. They played that way. At first, Enkrid just paid attention to the numbers that came up, curious to see if the dice would always roll the same way. Despite the repeating day, things around him subtly changed, so he wondered if the dice were different every time. But he knew better. The numbers on the dice were always the same. "Looks like the goddess of fortune must have kissed the dice today." As Enkrid''s hand held more than ten silver coins, the dealer soldier said. "Isn''t this cheating?" Normally, another soldier would speak up, but the dealer spoke for himself. "Cheating? Nah, I''m just lucky today. It''s like the goddess is whispering in my ear." Enkrid shrugged off the suspicious looks. They couldn''t say anything. The dice were rolled by the dealer. Even if there was some cheating involved, it was hard to call it out. By now, Enkrid had started to bet along with them, subtly influencing the game to his advantage. "Cheating? You''re the one rolling the dice." "Are you muttering some kind of incantation?" "Wouldn''t put it past him." "Normally, you''d keep playing after winning big. No stopping just because you''re unlucky." A soldier who had won some money from Enkrid chuckled. The dealer, having understood the situation, kept playing a few more rounds before calling it. "Last round. We''re out of time." Soon, it was almost time for breakfast. *** Enkrid spun the ten silver coins in his hand. He had started with five krona, and now he took all those guys'' money. "This was fun. It''s the last round, so how about we go all in with the ten silver coins and go? I want to clean out and head out." The maximum bet was usually five silver coins. The dealer furrowed his brow, thinking there was no reason to accept Enkrid''s offer given his high success rate today. "Well, then let''s match the amount and call it quits." Before the dealer could reply, Enkrid spoke again. What were the odds of three dice coming up the same? The soldier rolling the dice had never seen it happen in his life. It was something he''d only heard about in stories. So, Enkrid''s comment was a joke, implying that he''d lose the silver coins and leave. At least that''s what it sounded like to him. The dealer rolled the dice with a loud clatter, making sure not to risk any mishaps. "Let''s see." With a smile full of expectation, the dealer opened the dice container. "...What the hell?" "Looks like the goddess of fortune is truly with you." "Seriously, is this even real?" Everyone, except Enkrid, was shocked. The dice came up all threes. It was a triplet. Chapter 8 -Snake, alcohol, flowers, knife. Chapter 8 - 8 -Snake, alcohol, flowers, knife. Chapter 8 -Snake, alcohol, flowers, knife. The surface-level reason is not wanting to die further. Enkrid felt a different kind of fear as he repeated "today." It was the fear of becoming complacent, the fear that if he did, such an opportunity might never come again. That was fear for Enkrid. "Is this what I wanted?" To settle for today was to live a life of stagnation. A life where one couldn''t move forward. Hoping for tomorrow was a natural human instinct. Enkrid, after all, had been a person who dreamed of a better tomorrow despite his lack of talent. And there was a reasonable and sound reason for that. "I''ve learned everything I needed to." No matter how much more he trained here, there was little to be gained. If that was the case, then it must be time to move forward toward tomorrow. "What happens if I survive?" Does that mean today ends? He had pondered this countless times. To put it simply, he didn''t know. He didn''t know what would happen after surviving. "If I can move forward." Then, let''s move forward. He had lived his life this way. Above all, Enkrid needed conviction. Could he truly see tomorrow after repeating today? He didn''t know. Therefore, he challenged it. The mindset of a challenger was a part of his everyday life. Today would be a long day. He would need to use everything he had built up until now. "How did you do it?" "Luck." "Is that something you can just call luck?" As soon as they exited the tent, Krais asked, eyes wide open, even more than usual. The dealer, who had rolled the dice, was in a daze. But instead of causing a ruckus, he didn''t question it. It was his own hand that had rolled the dice. Thanks to that, Enkrid was able to calmly stand up and leave. There was nothing to feel guilty about. He had never cheated. He simply had known all the numbers the dice would throw, like mimicking an oracle. "I''ll buy you a beer in the village later." A soldier, who had made a good profit thanks to Enkrid, slapped him on the shoulder as he passed. "Really, it''s just luck. I''m no good at gambling." As Enkrid turned to walk, Krais quickly followed. "If not having a talent for it means that, then talented people must all be buried in krona." "Sometimes luck just follows." "...If you get this lucky twice, your pockets won''t just be full, they''ll burst." While walking, Enkrid handed Krais seventeen silver coins. Clink. The sound of silver coins clinking made Krais quickly pocket them. Krais took the coins with a nonchalant expression, as if saying, "Well, it''s none of my business." Then, he suddenly stared at Enkrid and rolled his big eyes. "I figured it out." Figured what out? Enkrid asked with a glance. Krais smiled broadly and continued. "You''re trying to seduce the commander who''s coming tomorrow, aren''t you? That''s why you want flowers? Though, roses or lisianthus would have been better than white horse flowers." Gambling aside, the things Enkrid had asked him to get were quite peculiar. "...Do you think that''ll work?" What''s going on in this guy''s head? There were rumors that the new battalion commander arriving tomorrow would be a woman. Right, they had said a woman was coming. But do you think giving a bouquet of flowers would make her fall for him? That wouldn''t even work on a village girl. Of course, if someone with Krais''s face was involved, maybe it would, but... No, it still probably wouldn''t. It would be a gamble. At best, he''d break even, and at worst, it could lead to an instant execution for insulting authority. "The squad leader also has a pretty decent face, though." "Do you ask all sorts of things when I ask for something?" If he didn''t run around to find the things he needed, he wouldn''t be able to get them in time for lunch. Looking at Krais, Enkrid silently gave him the signal. Krais nodded and turned, knowing exactly what needed to be done. He would have to move quickly. Enkrid would also need to move swiftly, depending on how much time Krais spent gathering the items. Now, it was time to rest. Enkrid leisurely ate breakfast. The meal was a soup made with crushed barley and wheat, hard bread, and dried meat. The meat only came once every three days. Fortunately, today was one of those days. If it weren''t, he wouldn''t have seen any meat for days in the repetitive cycle. Normally, he''d break the bread into the soup and eat it, letting it dissolve in the broth. After a few bites, the broth thickened, and though it was tasteless, it was at least satisfying. Once the dried meat was torn up and mixed in, the flavor became just right. Enkrid chewed thoroughly. Eating was the fuel for action. Regardless of skill, soldiers who had eaten well performed better than those who had been starving for days. The warm broth slid down his throat, settling in his stomach. After repeating that a few times, the bowl was empty. "Tasty? The flavor of exploiting your comrades for food?" Rem came over, grumbling. "Very." "Yeah, I suppose it''s fine to eat without being picky. I''ve never seen anyone who''s picky about food living long. We''ve got one of those in our squad." "Though, that person seems to keep surviving well." "Not for long." Rem, who had been muttering curses about a squad member, soon grabbed his bowl and walked off. It was time to scrub the dishes quickly. After filling his stomach with thick soup and bread, Enkrid took out a greased cloth and carefully wiped his sword, then dried it with a clean cloth. The new sword wasn''t made from famous steel nor crafted by a renowned blacksmith, but it was quite usable. Its weight distribution was solid, and the blade was sharp. It was sharp enough to cut through thick cloth armor or thin leather armor. After finishing with the sword, Enkrid stepped outside the tent, and Krais appeared. He came walking, his head swiveling from side to side, and Enkrid called out to him. "Big Eyes." Krais came over, holding a bundle in his hand. "Here." The bundle, as expected, was the item Enkrid had asked for. When Enkrid received it, it was exactly as he had hoped. Five throwing knives, mixed with some impurities. The quality was poor, but the leather was well-oiled, and there was a large needle. "I only managed to get one deer-skin glove." Enkrid rubbed the blade of a throwing knife with his finger as Krais spoke. It was true. Instead of a pair, there was only one left-hand glove. "So here." Krais handed him a coin. "It was two coins for the deer-skin gloves, so here''s one back." That Krais, he really knows how to make money. Enkrid already knew this. He could have insisted on the full price, but that would waste time, and there was no need for it. Better to focus on today''s tasks. There wasn''t much time to waste. Krais had brought him dried white horse flowers. "It wasn''t even worth confessing to that girl, was it? She couldn''t even get me fresh ones." That swindler. Enkrid nodded. He had expected this. Who on the battlefield would get a dozen fresh flowers? "Instead, I got twelve stems." At least he was an honest swindler. "And here." Krais pulled out a small pouch. When he opened it, white powder was inside. If the deal had gone wrong, Krais likely intended to pretend he couldn''t get the powder, only to later claim he had just managed to acquire it. It was a transparent trick, but Enkrid didn''t mind. He had everything he needed. "Good work." "But what exactly are you going to do?" Krais was genuinely curious about what this good-natured squad leader might do next. "I was thinking of doing some sewing and maybe brewing some alcohol." At that, Krais couldn''t help but tilt his head. Sewing? Brewing alcohol? Why all of a sudden? "Well, I guess I understand." Krais didn''t press further and left, while Enkrid carefully strapped his knife to his waist and tossed the rest into the tent. Then, he walked with purpose. His steps were already set toward his destination. Without slowing, he headed toward the outer edge of the barracks. A soldier, spotting him, called out. "Hey, what''s up? The 44th squad leader? If you''re going to take care of business, don''t go over there." "Why?" "Someone peed over there yesterday and got bitten by a snake. A venomous one. Not particularly deadly, but he''s been scratching himself all day in agony." "I''m in a hurry. I''ll be quick." "I warned you." It wasn''t the soldier''s job to actively stop him. He let Enkrid go. ''As long as his luck isn''t too bad, it should be fine.'' The soldier thought to himself as he turned away from Enkrid. Enkrid walked slowly, glancing around. The outer edge of the barracks had been designated as a restroom area. A few foul-smelling pits and some large trees stood surrounded by dry leaves. Enkrid carefully avoided the stinky area and scattered the white powder. He then crouched down in an area devoid of grass, picked up a nearby twig, and sharpened one end with his throwing knife. Using the knife''s edge like a saw, he repeatedly scraped at the twig, then used force to shape the tip by shaving off the sides. After several strokes, the end of the branch split in two, forming a spear-like point. From the outside, it might have looked like he was just wasting time, but his true intentions were different. Even as he worked, Enkrid kept an eye on the dry leaves around him. No more than a few moments passed after finishing his work and sipping a cup of tea when the leaves rustled. Snakes dislike white powder. Since he had spread some in one area, it was natural for the snakes to avoid it. Snake hunting was something he occasionally did. If you caught a good venomous one, you could sell it for a decent price. Once, while selling snakes to a drunkard in the city, Enkrid had asked what the drunkard used them for, and the drunk had chuckled and replied: "You''ve never tried snake alcohol? Don''t speak if you haven''t tasted it." A hearty drunk, indeed. Shasha-sha. A snake wriggled, emerging from the dry leaves. It had a brown body and a suitably angular head. Enkrid pressed the twig to the snake''s neck. Thunk. With that simple motion, he combined a learned thrust. The snake couldn''t escape. He then struck the snake''s head with the back of his knife, knocking it unconscious. ''One down.'' Enkrid repeated the process several times. After scattering all the remaining white powder, he kept going until no more snakes appeared. It didn''t take long. Before the sun had fully passed overhead, it was done. Enkrid had caught five snakes. He carefully held each snake by the mouth and pressed it into a flask lined with thin leather. The snakes, having woken in a panic, started leaking venom from their fangs. After repeating the process five times, he stuffed the remaining snakes into a thick leather pouch. "Constipated? I was just about to go check if I''d been bitten by a snake, because you were not coming out." It was the soldier from earlier, looking serious, as if genuinely concerned. "Thanks to you, I''m feeling better." Enkrid mumbled something in passing and quickly walked off. Behind the barracks where Enkrid was, a squad leader''s had been doing needlework. This squad leader, with decent skills, had learned sewing from watching his mother, and his craft wasn''t bad at all. But he never considered making a living from sewing and enlisted instead. On top of that... ''He''s got a serious love for alcohol.'' That was what Enkrid knew about his squad leader. Enkrid tossed a bundle of leather in front of the hungover squad leader. "Got a minute?" Though the squad leader didn''t look great, his sewing skills were undeniably useful. Enkrid had already had him patch things up for him a few times. Even if the squad leader threatened to report it to the company commander, he''d still do the job, though with subpar stitching. "Make me some pads for my hands, knees, and elbows with this." "Why should I?" The squad leader frowned. It was a natural response; they weren''t exactly close. But Enkrid didn''t have the luxury of time to explain. He needed the work done fast to ensure he''d have it before the battle. "You got any hidden alcohol?" At the mention of alcohol, the squad leader''s face shifted. His temper flared, and his brows twitched. With his boar-like appearance, it wasn''t hard to imagine him being quick-tempered. Still, it was surprising that someone with such a rugged look could be so delicate with needlework. "If you make some with this, it''ll taste amazing." Enkrid set down the bundle with the wriggling snakes on the table. The snakes began to dance wildly across the leather. "Snakes?" The squad leader didn''t even look inside but spoke up. "Ever had snake alcohol?" The squad leader nodded, clearly familiar with it. "You know it tastes incredible, right?" Enkrid hadn''t tasted it himself, but he knew from the boisterous drunkard. "If you haven''t tasted it, you wouldn''t know the flavor." Enkrid repeated, and the squad leader vigorously nodded. "I''ll give you some snakes.So make this for me." "How''d you know I''m good at sewing?" "I overheard the company commander talking about it." That wasn''t true. The squad leader had been drunk and confessed it directly. But that didn''t matter. "Shut up, you loudmouth." Despite the grumbling, the squad leader grabbed the needle. It was a fair trade. "Then, I''ll leave it to you." "Fine, fine, I get it." The squad leader''s eyes didn''t leave the wriggling snake pouch. He must really like snake alcohol. Enkrid returned to the barracks, grabbed what he left before, and headed toward the training ground where Rem was. No one spoke to him along the way. In moments like this, being part of the 44th Squad was nice. It was a unit that served as both outcasts and misfits. Behind a small hill, where few people passed by. Enkrid, wearing the deer-leather glove, crushed white dead flowers against a stone. He repeated the process until the white petals turned dark green, then mixed in the snake venom. Normally, snake venom only caused mild itching, but when combined with white horse flower, it was different. Seventy-seven days ago, an enemy soldier who had fallen victim to this venom, was paralyzed and started laughing at Enkrid. It was a process Enkrid had learned well. After crushing the flowers, mixing the venom, and creating a sticky green liquid on a flat stone, Enkrid coated his throwing knife with it. The blade shimmered under the sun, reflecting a dull greenish hue. ''Now, it''s ready.'' *** Thud! Thud! "All units, assemble!" A loud call rang out from inside the barracks. Enkrid knew well from repeated experience. It was the summons for the battle order. Chapter 9 - A Different Man Each Day Chapter 9 - 9 - A Different Man Each Day Chapter 9 - A Different Man Each Day The order to prepare for battle was given, but it wasn''t a detailed strategy briefing. All they were told was to be ready. As soon as Enkrid received the order, he headed to the rear barracks. By now, the master of needlework, who had skipped the squad leader meeting claiming to be ill, would have completed his work. "You didn''t give me any thread." Indeed, he had not. Enkrid was greeted by hand, knee, and elbow guards made of sturdy leather, crafted with care. "Thread?" Feigning ignorance, Enkrid watched the alcohol-loving squad leader huff in frustration. "What was I supposed to do with just the leather?" Well, ''You''re resourceful enough to unravel some blanket threads and weave them properly,'' thought Enkrid. This wasn''t the first time he''d done something like this. Even without being provided with thread, this man, who always responded enthusiastically to gifts, had worked wonders. "Forgot about it." "Doesn''t look like you forgot at all." Despite squinting from the remnants of his hangover, he was sharp. "No, really. I forgot." "Hmm." His expression said otherwise, but Enkrid didn''t care. He casually gathered the leather guards. The stitching was meticulous. Though Enkrid had crafted similar items himself, this friend''s handiwork was undeniably superior. Enkrid was satisfied. "Feels like I''ve been duped." "Good job." He gave the man a pat on the shoulder and returned to the barracks. Upon returning, Enkrid simply mentioned the afternoon battle and busied himself at his station. Swish. Enkrid drew his sword and gripped the deer leather glove in his hand, slicing back and forth with precision. After shredding the leather into strips, he stretched them out and quickly crafted a sheath for his throwing knives. Finally, he made long cuts at the ends of the leather to create tassels for tying and fastened it around his waist like a belt. This wasn''t his first time. Having repeated this task dozens of times, Enkrid''s hands moved with practiced ease. Rem, observing from over his shoulder, asked, "What are you doing? You''ve got smaller knives. Why use that one?" "Testing the blade''s sharpness." "You''re good with your hands. Hope your swordsmanship is just as sharp." This guy always managed to get under his skin. It wasn''t offensive, but it often poked at moments when Enkrid wasn''t making progress. Enkrid ignored him. "I went through all that trouble to get it, and you just shred it up to make a knife sheath?" From the other side, Krais popped his head over Enkrid''s other shoulder. "Why are these guys so interested in what I''m doing?" Were their brains wired to see him as their mother? "That''s disturbing." "I don''t get it. Did you eat something weird out there today?" "Speaking of which, you were running all over the place earlier. Something up?" "Nothing." Enkrid brushed it off casually. He polished his blade once more and sat quietly with his eyes closed. He began to recall the countless battlefields he''d faced. Like a panorama, the scenes played in his mind. He''d been through 125 battles. Enkrid reviewed them in his mind. Preparations like these were for survival, not for honing swordsmanship. ''The battlefield is not a training ground for swordsmanship.'' Even if his sword skills lacked polish, his extensive experience of survival couldn''t be ignored. What had kept him alive during those years? Not just his sword. It was situational awareness, luck, preparation, and composure. Blending them all together had ensured his survival. Thus, today would be no different. ''The same as always.'' He would do whatever it took to survive. Enkrid resolved to make it through today. *** "Charge!" The cry of allies rang out. Enkrid was thrust into the heart of the battlefield. He didn''t panic. Nor did he charge forward in reckless excitement. Instead, he raised his head, surveyed the battlefield, and controlled his breathing. Hoo. A short but steady exhale. He saw the enemy. He saw his allies. The enemy surged forward, and the allies scattered. Swish. Enkrid drew his sword. And then, an enemy spear came flying at him. Enkrid deflected the spearhead with the shield in his left hand. Thunk! It was a motion he''d repeated countless times. There were no mistakes. He knocked the spear aside and stepped forward. "Hup!" Caught off guard, the enemy stumbled as Enkrid''s right foot slipped behind their heel. He bent his knee, bracing for impact. Everything happened in a single breath. As if in a prearranged drill, the enemy tripped and fell backward. Thud! Landing headfirst, the enemy blinked in confusion. They didn''t even understand what had happened. They''d tried to thrust their spear and retreat but ended up tripping and falling. It had happened in an instant. As Enkrid passed the fallen enemy, he delivered a swift kick to their jaw. Crack! A sharp sound accompanied fragments of teeth and blood spilling from the enemy''s mouth. They were out cold. No need to kill them. He pressed on, raising his left arm. Bang! Clang-clang! A spiked club slammed into his shield, grazing his elbow. Scrape! The club had embedded spikes, but his leather armor absorbed the impact. "Grr!" The enemy gritted their teeth, visible under their half-covered helmet. Their clenched jaw revealed taut facial muscles. This one would require effort to deal with. Enkrid shifted his grip and stepped forward with his left foot. It was the Valen-style quick-draw stance. Their eyes met. Drawing his sword would commit both to a decisive clash. Both knew it. In their shared gaze, an unspoken agreement was formed. Sword against club. The enemy''s eyes fixated on Enkrid''s right hand. Swish. Before his sword was fully drawn, Enkrid''s left hand moved first. A throwing knife shot from his waist, slicing through the air. Caught off guard, the enemy raised their arm. Thunk! The knife embedded itself in their arm. Even with a gambeson, the fabric over the arms was thinner to allow flexibility. The knife had struck flesh. "You coward!" The enemy shouted. There''s no such thing as honor in survival. Silently, Enkrid slid his sword back into its sheath. The Valen-style quick-draw wasn''t just about drawing the sword¡ªit was also about feinting to throw knives or stones. "You bastard!" The enraged enemy charged, veins bulging on their forehead. That only hastened the venom''s effect. Mid-charge, they collapsed forward. The paralytic poison had taken hold. Thud! They fell face-first into the ground, gasping and writhing. Enkrid walked past without a second glance. The next enemy was dispatched with a kick to the groin, and another was pushed forward into an ally''s hammer swing. Smack! Even with a helmet, a mace strike to the head was fatal. Enkrid didn''t do anything extraordinary. He simply took the actions needed at each moment. Yet those actions led to small victories for his allies. "Thanks for saving me." An unfamiliar voice spoke. Enkrid nodded indifferently and moved on. It wasn''t a big deal to him. "Thanks, man." "S-Squad leader! Was that skill or luck? Either way, drinks are on me later!" "Shit, thought I was dead." Such comments came from more than a few. Compared to his first battle, his growth was immeasurable At the center of it all was, naturally, the Heart of the Beast. ''Calmly.'' And steadily. The Heart of the Beast does not beat recklessly. Possessing its wild nature allows one to gaze upon everything with composure. Amid the chaos of the battlefield, Enkrid walked on, attuned to the rhythm of his heart. This was the battlefield he had faced dozens of times. That didn''t mean he wasn''t tense. ''The more familiar it becomes, the more one falls prey to the unexpected.'' Even if today repeated itself, not everyone he met would act the same way. Their actions would shift depending on how Enkrid responded. Thus, he walked slowly, prioritizing observing his surroundings. ''Here, about now.'' A faint swish. A dagger was swung upward from below. An inventive strike aimed at his leg, delivered as the attacker feigned a stumble during combat. ''I''ve fallen for this one before.'' There were times he tried to avoid it. Then he discovered an easier way. It was like blocking an arrow. If you couldn''t avoid it, you blocked it. Thunk. The dagger struck the leather greave, failing to cut into Enkrid''s shin. It was only natural. "Huh?" The startled gasp of the foolish enemy soldier became his final words. With the metal edge of his shield reinforced, Enkrid drove it into the back of the soldier sprawled on the ground. Crack! "Argh!" The scream was brief and faint. "Waaaargh!" Instead, the deafening roar of the battlefield filled the air. Enkrid''s prowess alone could not change the tide of battle. All it did was offer a modicum of relief to those fighting nearby. ''I can''t save everyone.'' This was the battlefield, where dozens or even hundreds fell. Charging in with the intent to save everyone was the height of naivety and folly. "Come at me, you bastards!" The cry came from a spearman in another squad. Enkrid knew who it was without looking. As Enkrid moved forward, he''d already dispatched over five enemy soldiers. That boastful fool had, in truth, died dozens of times over. If not for Enkrid stepping in, he''d be dead today as well¡ªslashed across the leg and rolling on the ground before meeting his end. Straightening his back, Enkrid took a deep breath in and exhaled. ''That''s step one.'' This was a battle he''d fought countless times. Enkrid had established his own criteria. The first goal was to reach the frontlines unscathed. ''No injuries.'' He''d just achieved that goal moments ago. The second step was this: ''Find a familiar face amidst the melee.'' Of course, even amidst the chaos, avoiding injury was paramount. Only then could he properly face that sadistic bastard. Having fought through this battlefield over a hundred times, Enkrid''s thoughts always came back to one thing. ''I want to fight at my best.'' He wanted to see if all he''d learned, repeated, and trained for could make a difference. To see if he could triumph over that sadist who favored mercy as a pretense for cruelty. To see if his efforts could get him through today. Thump. His heart beat faster. Apart from the boldness granted by the Heart of the Beast¡ª ''I will surpass today.'' With his goal clear, his purpose unwavering, Enkrid''s heart raced. He walked through the battlefield once more, sometimes breaking into a run. "Waaaaargh!" "Damn it, spare me!" "Come on, you scum!" "You bastards!" Amid the duet of curses and battle cries, Enkrid swiveled his head around. ''The one crouching, skulking, and watching.'' That was who he sought. It didn''t take long to spot him. A burly figure slinking between enemy lines. ''The first target.'' Before confronting the sadistic stabber, there was a task to complete. ''The clubber who goes for the back of my head.'' A foe Enkrid had even nicknamed. If left alive, he''d repeatedly club Enkrid''s head mid-fight. Call it fate, if you will. But Enkrid didn''t believe in fate. ''That everything is preordained from birth? What a load of crap.'' If his sword broke, he''d use the broken blade. If he had no weapon, he''d fight with his fists. If his arms broke, he''d bite them. If he had no teeth, he''d use his gums. If talent wasn''t enough¡ª ''I''ll climb up this way.'' What does it mean to be a knight? What is the power that changes the tide of battle? An unattainable dream becomes a delusion. But if it''s within reach, it becomes a goal. Enkrid never gave up on his dream. "Hoo." He exhaled. Flick. He drew a dagger and pulled his arm back, preparing to throw. In the midst of the chaotic battlefield, he felt the weight of the dagger in his hand, locked onto his target, and traced an imaginary line. It was a throwing technique taught to him by a former dagger-throwing contest champion he met in a tavern. He''d practiced it countless times during his repeated days. He lifted his left foot slightly, stepped forward, turned his waist, and extended his right hand. Finally, he snapped his wrist, focusing on the sensation at his fingertips. Swish! The dagger flew straight along the line Enkrid had visualized. "Urgh!" The dagger embedded itself in the clubber''s shoulder. The foe''s armor was shoddy¡ªit wasn''t a difficult shot. "Which bastard¡ª?" The man cursed, scanning his surroundings. There was no need to make eye contact. Without a priest or antidote, the man would soon collapse. Sure enough, the target fell, and Enkrid casually began searching for the second foe. This time, it was the one who liked to throw axes. That pest had often interrupted with his well-aimed throws. Dealing with him in advance would prevent interference during the duel. "By the gods!" The fervent cry of a devout ally soldier reached his ears. Meanwhile, curses and bloodthirsty shouts echoed from every direction. Enkrid walked steadily, looking for his next target while surveying his surroundings. He blocked minor attacks with his shield. When he spotted an opening, he tripped enemies or struck their heads with the flat of his blade. For those foolish enough to wear helmets, he struck down from above. These actions eased the burden on his nearby allies. ''Three daggers left.'' The axe-thrower wasn''t in sight. ''His position changes every time.'' Still, this general area was correct. ''First, I''ll save him.'' It was time to rescue an ally about to have their head pierced by that hawk-eyed bastard. ''To the right.'' He walked in that direction, moving with his allies. Along the way, he blocked several attacks before discarding his damaged shield. No matter how many times he repeated the day, the shield always broke. ''Around here.'' Having fought through this battlefield over a hundred times, certain patterns had become familiar despite the chaos. A shield rolled along the ground. Enkrid stepped on the edge of the shield. The shield, wedged against a rock, popped into the air. He caught it mid-flight with ease. Though it was almost a trick, the motion had become second nature after countless repetitions. "...Impressive." A nearby ally soldier remarked in passing. "Enemy behind you." This one had died many times before, distracted by watching Enkrid. After hearing Enkrid''s words, he spun around. He found himself facing an enemy soldier armed with a spear. "You sneaky rat!" The two clashed in a fight for their lives. The ally soldier would win. Enkrid had seen it happen at least twenty times. There was no need to watch. On this battlefield, familiar to the point of monotony, Enkrid mentally mapped out the terrain. ''Let''s save Bell first.'' He moved with purpose. "Argh!" Bell tripped and fell. Thunk. A shield blocked an arrow. "Huh? I''m alive?" "Keep your head down and crawl back. More arrows are coming." Bell obediently followed the advice. In many of these repeated days, a second arrow had pierced Bell''s head. Crawling was the safer choice. "...Did you strike a secret deal with the Goddess of Luck?" It was Rem. That barbarian. He spouted blasphemous words that would make a devout priest faint. "Not a scratch on you, huh?" Enkrid''s ultimate goal for today was to face that sadistic bastard at peak condition. "Go do your job." "I will. But something''s different about you today." "Every day, I''m a different man." There were no identical days in these repeated battles. Each day was one of growth. "...You might need some medicine, captain." With that, Rem departed. ''Was that too much sarcasm?'' Perhaps. But it was the truth. Just then, Enkrid spotted the axe-thrower. An enemy soldier with axes dangling from his waist. Why wait? Enkrid drew a poisoned dagger. Chapter 10 - The blade struck Chapter 10 - 10 - The blade struck Chapter 10 - The blade struck "Ghhk." The man with the throwing axe let out a death rattle. A poison-coated dagger pierced his side, and a spear tip buried itself in his throat. "Grrraaaagh..." His eyes dimmed as he choked on blood and foam. That was the end of him. Enkrid stepped back, watching the life fade from the enemy''s eyes. "Waaaaah!" An allied soldier nearby bellowed ferociously. In response, an enemy soldier ahead roared back, "Raaaargh!" Both men were towering figures, their collision akin to a pair of charging wagons. Locked in a ferocious grip, they spun in a deadly dance. Watching them, Enkrid stepped further back. What must one do to survive? The lessons learned over 120 close brushes with death were countless. Survival on the battlefield meant one thing: avoid combat as much as possible. Enkrid held back, letting others clash around him. "Die!" "Bastard!" Swords, spears, axes, and clubs swung with curses rather than war cries. "Don''t you dare harm my brother, you bastard!" A dying soldier left behind his final words. "Save it. I''m not taking responsibility for your brother," came the cold reply of a comrade pretending indifference. "Kill! Kill!" A frantic rookie, driven mad by the chaos of war, screamed nonsensically. "Look at that maniac." "Leave him be; he''s trying to play berserker," a veteran advised, protecting his squadmates. "My name is Bar¡ª" Thunk! An enemy soldier, caught up in flair, died while shouting his name. An ally sneered while withdrawing his spear from the fallen foe. Thud. A step disturbed the ground, stirring a cloud of dust. The sun''s rays illuminated the floating particles. Beside the drifting dust, an enemy soldier spewed blood. Nearby, an allied soldier lay with a shattered skull. Flesh scattered across the ground, blood staining the earth. Even with caution, survival was impossible without action in the heart of battle. Inhale, exhale. Short breaths in, long ones out¡ªEnkrid regulated his breathing. As he steadied himself, a spear''s glint darted through the dusty air. Enkrid gripped his shield lightly, deflecting the spear with a clang. The loosened grip let the force pass through without resistance. Simultaneously, a club swung diagonally at him. Crouching forward, Enkrid dodged the club and launched himself at the wielder. Thud! He slammed into the enemy''s chest with his shoulder, toppling him. Drawing his dagger, he drove it into the enemy''s thigh. Rip! The blade tore through thick fabric, carving a deep gash in the enemy''s leg. "You bastard!" The enemy shouted, shoving Enkrid away. Using the momentum, Enkrid regained his footing and swung his sword horizontally. The enemy, crippled by the leg wound, couldn''t evade and took the blade to the neck. Thunk! The blade partially lodged itself, but Enkrid yanked it free with a forceful pull. Crunch. Muscle, nerves, tendons, and bone gave way as the blade tore out. Blood gushed as the soldier clutched at his throat. As expected, his hand couldn''t staunch such a wound. Enkrid didn''t look back. Someone else would handle the spearman who''d struck his shield. "You bastard!" It was Bell. Saving him earlier wasn''t a waste¡ªBell now guarded his flank. A loyal ally. Clang! Clang! The clash of steel echoed continuously. Ignoring the felled foe, Enkrid picked up a stone from the ground. He immediately hurled it. The enemy fighting Bell hesitated after the stone struck his back. Whack! Bell seized the opening, slamming his spear shaft into the enemy''s head. A solid blow. "Guess that evens the score," Bell panted. "Do you really think so?" Settling a debt of life that easily? "Maybe just halfway," Bell admitted, scratching his bloodied helmet. Not exactly satisfying. Bell stepped back, showing more caution after being knocked down once. Enkrid moved with the battlefield''s flow, shifting step by step. "Help me! Gurgle..." A soldier choking on blood pleaded for his life. Enkrid recognized him¡ªa compulsive gambler who''d escaped death numerous times. "I can''t save you," Enkrid stated calmly. Despite countless attempts, it was simply impossible. Treading carefully, Enkrid scanned the battlefield for the perverted enemy who reveled in stabbing. It wasn''t difficult to find him. The moment he spotted the target, Enkrid drew his last dagger. Timing his steps, he threw it in rhythm. Thunk! The dagger sliced through the air, a near-impossible trajectory for most to evade. Clang! The enemy twisted, taking the dagger to his shoulder. The blade deflected off his scapula. Despite the instinctive move, it was near-perfect defense. Their eyes met. The enemy immediately located Enkrid''s position. This one was no ordinary soldier. The stabbing fanatic charged, dirt flying from his bloodied boots with every step. The distance between them was minimal. It was time to test everything Enkrid had learned through his repeated deaths and rebirths. His body felt sharper than ever¡ªhe was ready. The enemy slashed downward. Enkrid raised his shield. Thwack! The blade struck with substantial force, sending vibrations through the shield. "Swordsmanship''s foundation? Strength," one instructor had declared. "Overcome strength with technique? Hah, try beating a Frog with just technique." "Ever heard of someone parrying a Giant and surviving?" "The basics of swordsmanship are muscle. Muscle means survival." That instructor''s harsh lessons had forged Enkrid''s body well. Enkrid held firm, matching the enemy''s strength. "Hmmph!" The stabbing fanatic scoffed, kicking at Enkrid''s ankle. Enkrid blocked with his shin guard. The steel-reinforced boots turned the kick into a weapon of their own. Thud. Pain shot up his leg, but the bones remained intact. That was enough. He shoved the shield outward and slashed upward. Whoosh! The enemy anticipated the strike, retreating just out of range before lunging in deeper. The opening from Enkrid''s slash was precisely what he''d waited for. "Hah!" Enkrid roared, swinging his shield like a club. The stabbing fanatic tucked his chin just in time. Smack! The shield struck his head, sending him sprawling sideways. Enkrid prepared another slash but retreated as the enemy, still on the ground, swung a dagger diagonally. Had he pressed forward, the blade would have struck just above his shin guard. Even in a split second, the enemy had calculated the weak spot. The world called such precision talent. Enkrid had to die repeatedly to learn the heart of the beast. This enemy hadn''t. Still, there was no polished mastery here¡ªonly raw ability. Enkrid recognized the signs. This was a novice, perhaps someone with little battlefield experience. Otherwise, he wouldn''t charge so recklessly. He had nearly fallen to Enkrid''s stabbing earlier as well. Raw talent, radiant but unrefined. Enkrid wasn''t envious. "I can do it." Confidence surged within him. He had a gut feeling that all his efforts leading up to today hadn''t been in vain. It was time for his struggles, intertwined with death, to bear fruit. "You bastard." Venomous eyes glared back at him. The opponent stood up slowly. In the brief interval, another ally stepped in between Enkrid and his enemy. The "Stabbing Maniac" crouched without hesitation and used the hand holding his sword to strike the ally''s shin. Crack. The sound of bone breaking echoed. Whenever an ally intervened, the sequence was always the same. Right after the strike to the shin, the dagger would pierce the ally''s neck in a single fluid motion. A seamless attack pattern, like flowing water. But Enkrid already knew this pattern. The dagger moved toward the shocked soldier, who could do nothing but widen his eyes. Just as the blade was about to pierce his neck¡ª Whisk! The soldier''s body was yanked backward. Scrrrch, crunch. Instead of stabbing through the soldier''s throat, the blade grazed his cheek, skimmed his temple, and scratched his helmet. "Gasp!" The startled ally fell backward, landing on his rear, so shocked he couldn''t even speak¡ªhe just gasped for air. Enkrid stood in front of the soldier, flexing and unflexing the hand that had grabbed the ally''s collar instead of his sword. "Fall back." This was his fight. That was his opponent. The person who would confirm what he had achieved. Thump. His heart pounded. Enkrid was overwhelmed by a flurry of emotions¡ªwondering if it was right to face this moment head-on, doubting if he could defeat his opponent, and yet brimming with an irrepressible fighting spirit. Deep down, he felt an inexplicable conviction: to progress forward, he had to overcome the enemy before him. "No holding back." The Stabbing Maniac sneered. ''Look at him, such foolishness.'' It was proof that, despite his talent, he lacked experience. If he were truly serious, he wouldn''t have wasted time talking¡ªhe would have created an opening instead. But since he hadn''t, Enkrid decided to do it for him. Huff, huff. He deliberately exaggerated his breathing. He flinched at every gesture the opponent made. The once-fiery red eyes of his enemy seemed dull brown now. And those brown eyes glimmered. The Stabbing Maniac stepped in and slashed his sword. Whoosh! The speed was on an entirely different level than before. Thud. Enkrid''s heart raced. But he didn''t panic or shut his eyes. The heart of the beast is always bold. "Watch until the very end and just dodge." That''s what Rem always said. At first, Enkrid thought he was teasing, but now he understood. He could see it. Enkrid shifted his weight to his ankles and twisted his body. The blade narrowly grazed his shoulder. After dodging, he swung his sword horizontally. Ting. The enemy raised his dagger vertically to intercept. Enkrid''s sword and the Stabbing Maniac''s dagger formed a cross. Ting, ting, ting! As Enkrid pushed against the dagger, sparks flew from the friction. The Stabbing Maniac angled his dagger and redirected the blade to the side. Enkrid abandoned the attack and raised his shield close to his body. Bang! The blade struck the edge of the shield, scattering more sparks. The Stabbing Maniac had withdrawn his sword in an instant and swung again. But Enkrid had seen this pattern before. He turned his head sharply, noticing that the enemy had disappeared from view. Without hesitation, Enkrid raised his sword vertically and slammed it into the ground. The Stabbing Maniac, who had been charging low, halted. The sword pierced the blood-soaked ground with a thud, and the opponent froze in an awkward crouch, lifting only his head. His eyes radiated a chilling intent to kill. "Cheap tricks." He ground his teeth audibly. ''Tricks are still skill, you bastard.'' Enkrid didn''t respond. Instead, he kicked dirt toward the enemy with the tip of his boot. Fwoosh! "Ugh!" The Stabbing Maniac quickly shielded his face with his forearm. Even now, he reflexively reacted. It wasn''t the first time Enkrid had seen such a scene, and it wasn''t impressive anymore. "You bastard!" When the enemy had the upper hand, he gloated and spoke of mercy. But when he was cornered, he lost his temper instantly. Enkrid had long since figured out his personality. The Stabbing Maniac lunged again, closing the distance. Clang! Clink! Thud! Enkrid blocked a relentless series of strikes with his shield. The shield creaked under the pressure. The opponent closed in further, switching to his dagger, aiming for Enkrid''s side. It was the same move that had killed him in the past. This time, Enkrid raised his elbow. Thunk! The dagger stopped, caught against the tough leather of his armor. At the same time, Enkrid leaned forward and thrust his head. The Valen mercenary technique: headbutt. Smack! "Urgh!" The Stabbing Maniac staggered, and Enkrid''s head spun briefly. In the past, this would''ve been the moment when another enemy struck him from behind with a club. But not today. There was no one throwing axes either. Instead, there was Bell. "Damn it, I''ll help!" Bell shouted. "Stop anyone else from interfering," Enkrid replied. This is my fight. Suppressing the urge to vomit, Enkrid steadied himself, hearing his enemy curse. "You crazy bastard." If I''m dizzy, you must be too. The dizziness passed quickly. "I''ll enjoy watching you struggle as you die." The Stabbing Maniac took a stance¡ªone foot forward, the other back, like a charging cavalryman. From that stance came a thrust as swift as an arrow. The tension constricted Enkrid''s heart. He steadied his breathing to release it. Stay bold. Could today''s repetition overcome the wall of talent? The answer awaited. The Stabbing Maniac moved. He was nothing more than a point, moving faster than sight. He became light, a blade poised to pierce Enkrid''s body¡ªor so it seemed. Enkrid narrowly dodged. Swish. The blade grazed his side, leaving a fiery pain behind. Ignoring it, Enkrid stepped forward, pulling his sword arm back as though nocking an arrow. Shifting his weight onto his left foot, he balanced himself. He''d learned by watching, by enduring stabs, and by sparring with Rem. Tap. Balance, not brute strength, guided his advance. He poured his will into the blade. Pierce. His resolute will imbued the sword, and as he unleashed his taut muscles, the blade struck. Thunk! The well-sharpened sword pierced through thick leather and cloth, reaching the enemy''s heart. The sword, his hand, and his arm felt like one. Finally, he could savor the fruits of his labor. "Hey!" Someone shouted. But Enkrid didn''t hear it. Before he could bask in victory¡ª Wham! A colossal force struck his left side, launching him into the air. What? This was something he had never experienced in any of the 125 iterations of "today." "Frog!" Whether it was Bell or someone else, he couldn''t tell. The shout echoed faintly as Enkrid''s vision went black. He passed out. Chapter 11 - Frog Chapter 11 - 11 - Frog Chapter 11 - Frog "Damn it." Rem spat on the ground and twirled his axe skillfully, spinning it in his hand like a toy. He had just lost track of that "Hawk Talons" or "Sharp Eyes," whatever the bastard was called. It felt as irritating as not wiping after finishing a big job. ''I can''t even remember the last time I failed a hunt.'' The archer had been quick-witted and even quicker on his feet. The moment the guy sensed Rem''s presence, he bolted. And as he fled, the arrows he fired had been sharp and relentless. Rem touched the faint mark on his left side where one of those arrows had grazed him. There was no wound¡ªjust the irritation of failing to completely evade it. It left a bad taste, but what''s done is done. He had charged diagonally into the enemy''s formation, disrupting them as much as he could. Now, it was time to fall back to where he belonged. "What''s with this guy?" "Kill him!" There were hardly any allies nearby, mainly because he had plunged so deep into enemy territory. Not that it bothered him much. Instead of grumbling or swearing loudly, Rem simply swung the axes in his hands. The one in his right hand was something he had picked up from an enemy mid-fight, so its balance was terrible. But that didn''t matter to him. If it became useless, he could just throw it away. Whoosh. Thud! With a single swing of the axe in his left hand, he split the jaw and throat of an enemy blocking his path. Blood gushed out like a fountain. Rem sidestepped the spray and then hurled the unbalanced axe with all his might. Whirr¡ª Even though it wasn''t designed for throwing, the axe flew straight and struck its target with brutal precision. Crunch! It embedded itself into the enemy''s skull, splitting it clean in half. After wreaking havoc within the enemy formation, Rem returned to his own lines. ''Hope the captain''s still alive.'' That guy wasn''t the type to die easily. In all his life, Rem had never met anyone as stubborn. ''Not even among my tribe was there someone like him.'' The captain was probably holding his ground, albeit barely. He wasn''t someone who deserved to die here, even if the battlefield didn''t suit him. ''If only he could awaken the Heart of the Beast... But his talent is sorely lacking.'' Rem had even taught him parts of his tribe''s secret techniques out of pity. Not because he wanted to be a mentor¡ªhe simply didn''t want to see that guy die in front of him. If he died elsewhere, it couldn''t be helped. Back in the allied line, Rem heard someone speak. "Messing around and accomplishing nothing, huh?" It was Jaxen. One of the defining traits of the Troublemaker Squad was that, apart from the squad leader Enkrid, no one got along with anyone else. That this squad still managed to function was a testament to the inexplicable charisma of its leader. "What? Are you picking a fight? Want me to split your skull with my axe?" "Thanks to you losing track of that archer, the battlefield''s in chaos." That was definitely a provocation. Even without surveying the entire battlefield, it was easy to tell. But it wasn''t because of the archer. I t was because of the Frog warrior wreaking havoc somewhere on the field. For better or worse, Rem hadn''t encountered that Frog yet. "Shut it. If you don''t want to die, don''t talk to me." "Crazy savage." The two turned away from each other. It was a chance encounter, nothing more. Their brief exchange of insults was just another routine in the squad. The 444th didn''t bother maintaining formations. Everyone fought their own battles. Even without formations, they stood out on the battlefield. ''Except for Big Eyes.'' Rem himself had likely drawn some attention while tearing through the enemy lines. As for Jaxen, his specialty was appearing suddenly and silently. From a distance, Rem spotted several other squad members. Each of them was doing their part. A guy lazily swinging his sword. Another, stiff as a board, bludgeoning enemies to death. Not a single one of them was ordinary. But the standout among them all was the squad leader. Living on through sheer determination despite lacking talent. Who could call that "ordinary"? ''Just in case.'' Rem decided to watch the squad leader''s back. He didn''t plan on getting noticed, just quietly covering him from behind. Because, to him, the squad leader was still someone who shouldn''t die here. ''He''s the first person on this continent to learn my tribe''s secret techniques.'' With those thoughts in mind, Rem moved. Soon, his eyes landed on Enkrid. ''Huh?'' In the moment he was distracted, an enemy rushed at him. Reacting instinctively, Rem tripped the attacker and smashed his jaw with the axe handle. The man spat out broken teeth. Spinning half a turn, Rem followed with an elbow strike. Crack. Snap! The sound of a thick log breaking echoed as the enemy''s neck snapped. Rem casually rolled his shoulder, his gaze fixed elsewhere. Even while dealing with the attackers, his focus remained on the squad leader. ''Skilled?'' It was a side of Enkrid he hadn''t seen before. That display of skill kept Rem watching rather than rushing to assist. Enkrid was fighting a competent enemy soldier, displaying an uncharacteristic calm and confidence. ''How?'' How could someone change so much overnight? "Surprising, isn''t it?" It was Jaxen again, appearing beside him. Why did their paths keep crossing today? Had he come to watch the squad leader''s back too? "I''ve been watching all day, while you were goofing around." "And?" "It''s like he''s robbed the Lady Luck herself." "What?" "He''s lucky, I''m saying." Luck alone couldn''t explain what was happening. "And his skills? They''ve improved so much." Jaxen, who rarely spoke with him, seemed genuinely astonished. That alone was telling. And Rem was just as shocked. Soon, Rem witnessed something even more astonishing. Two things, to be exact. First, the way Enkrid dodged an enemy''s thrust and retaliated with a near-perfect counter. "Beautiful!" Rem found himself exclaiming, and Jaxen gave a faint nod. Years of relentless effort. Knowing how hard the squad leader had worked, Rem couldn''t help but feel a surge of support. Talent was a strange thing. Sometimes, it allowed someone to leap several steps ahead in an instant. Both Rem and Jaxen had experienced it, so they didn''t find Enkrid''s sudden leap strange. It was clear. The squad leader had climbed several rungs on the ladder overnight. "He won." The opponent was no pushover. Of course, if Rem were the one fighting, a few swings of his axe would have been enough. For the squad leader, however, it was an opponent he would lose to ten times out of ten. Yet, the bastard had won. Though it didn''t seem like an easy victory. Small wounds were visible, and the shield in his left hand had been reduced to splintered junk. The leather guards protecting his knuckles and knees were torn and ragged. Judging by his labored breathing, he was clearly exhausted. "Heart of the Beast." Rem quickly assessed the squad leader''s condition. Courage and composure. It was undoubtedly the secret technique Rem had taught him that formed the foundation of his resolve. "To think he''s mastered it this much." It was surprising how skilled he had become. Rem decided to set everything else aside and crack a joke. "Frog!" Just then, someone shouted. It was another soldier, standing right behind the squad leader. What was his name again? Bell? The name stuck because it sounded similar to his own. Just as the soldier had warned, a dark shadow darted forward¡ªFrog. Frog, the humanoid amphibian. Its face resembled that of a frog, and its skin was the same. Their slippery, oily skin deflected both blades and blunt weapons. To kill one, you had to pierce its heart or burn it with magic or sorcery. Neither task was easy. Frogs were a superior combat species, naturally gifted in strength and battle instincts. Whatever weapon they held, they mastered it in mere days¡ªa race born for combat. The Frog, now parallel to the ground, leapt with astonishing speed, delivering a powerful kick to the squad leader''s side. It didn''t seem like an attack meant to end things in one strike. The squad leader was sent flying sideways from the blow, and the Frog landed heavily, quickly stabilizing its stance. It reached back, and in its hand appeared a spear. If left alone, the squad leader would die¡ªwithout a doubt. At the sight of the dark shadow, Rem immediately sprang into action. Boom. The ground cracked under the force of his step, sending dirt flying like a small fountain. In an instant, Rem closed the distance to the Frog''s side. Whoosh! Without a word, he swung his axe in a wide arc from above, transferring force from his shoulders and arms down to the blade. But the Frog displayed incredible dexterity instead of throwing its spear. Shifting its right foot aside, it swung the spear shaft upward like a stick springing back. It adjusted its stance and parried the axe in a single, fluid motion. Clang! The axe collided with the spear shaft, sending a sharp resonance through the air. "Gruh, an interfering ugly human?" "You damn frog bastard, that''s our captain you just hit." "...Isn''t it true that the captain should be stronger than the subordinates?" The Frog immediately recognized Rem''s skill. The charge, the axe swing, the judgment¡ªit saw it all. The Frog was a natural warrior species. If its combat prowess was exceptional, so was its insight. Its protruding, rolling eyes could discern an opponent''s strength at a glance. It was a race blessed with the talent to assess talent. The Frog rolled its eyes briefly before retreating. "Enough. I''ve calmed down now." "What the hell are you saying?" "Ugly human, that guy killed a human I had my eyes on. It got me worked up for a moment. But still, I trained him, damn it. Anyway, we''re done here. I''m not about to risk my life fighting now." The Frog''s keen senses weren''t limited to judging talent. Its combat instincts also allowed it to assess the flow of a battle in an instant. While Rem didn''t think it was necessarily at a disadvantage, he preferred to avoid a fight if possible. Fighting a Frog for mere scraps of pay? It wasn''t worth it. Rem could even understand the Frog''s reasoning to some extent. As long as their heart wasn''t pierced, Frogs could regenerate their limbs. Perhaps because of this, they were particularly sensitive about the word "heart." Seeing someone die from a pierced heart could drive them mad. A berserk Frog was terrifyingly ferocious. Only Frogs with a certain level of training were even allowed on the battlefield. Rem reflected on these facts. "Damn, I must be getting used to this place." The fact that he could casually recall so much about Frogs meant he was adapting to life on this continent. The Frog tapped its chest armor. A heart-guard, also known as "Heart Armor," designed solely to protect its heart. Seeing it wear that confirmed it was a properly trained Frog. The Frogs'' city wouldn''t even let poorly refined individuals out into the world. Heart Armor was their proof of identity. "See you around, ugly human." Why did it keep calling him ugly, though? Frogs loved jewels and had unique tastes in aesthetics. They preferred attractive humans. "Too good-looking to kill," the Frog muttered, flicking out its long tongue like a frog catching a fly. That was likely its version of a smile. It glanced at the captain before slowly retreating. Female Frogs liked handsome men. Male Frogs liked beautiful women. That was just how Frogs were. Although their standards for mating within their species were different, for some reason, they admired attractive humans. It wasn''t something Rem particularly cared about. "You still alive?" Jaxen was cradling the squad leader. "A single hit to the side cracked his ribs. But in that brief moment..." "Yes, he blocked it with his arm." Impressive. It made Rem feel his teaching had been worthwhile. Blocking in that moment of impact meant the Heart of the Beast had come into play. Rem couldn''t help but feel proud. "The shock from the impact seems to have rattled his head. He might survive, but he could still die if left untreated." "The battle seems to be winding down. Carry him. Let''s take him back." "You carry him. I''ll clear the way." "...One day, I''ll bury my axe in your skull." "Be careful your back doesn''t sprout a dagger first." Rem exhaled sharply through his nose, but it didn''t escalate into a fight. At least the captain had proven himself. That was enough for now. Rem hoisted Enkrid onto his back. Jaxen moved ahead, clearing a path with his sword and shield. At a glance, his skills didn''t seem exceptional. But on closer inspection, it was clear he was holding back most of his strength while clearing the way. "This cunning alley cat bastard." Rem cursed Jaxen internally as he walked. The captain on his back simply wheezed softly, as if he were sleeping. Chapter 12 - The Ferryman Chapter 12 - 12 - The Ferryman Chapter 12 - The Ferryman The frog reflected on the scene captured by his eyes. "I thought he''d win." He was a guy Frog had trained himself, someone with considerable talent. Though his personality was unpleasant, that wasn''t Frog''s concern. A soldier trained specifically in thrusting techniques, he had decent potential. He wasn''t the kind to die on such a minor battlefield. Had he been left to his own devices, he might have at least reached the skill level of a company commander. Frog pondered the reason for the soldier''s death. "Was it lack of experience?" No, that couldn''t be it. He had trained plenty of soldiers using similar methods before. This guy shouldn''t have died so easily. "Was it because of a bad opponent?" In that case, it was just bad luck¡ªLady Luck had turned her back on him. The frog chuckled with a guttural grruk-grruk sound. "Luck is a skill, too." When Frog entered the allied camp, his adjutant approached. "I''ve been looking for you, General." "Ah, is that so?" "Did you venture into enemy territory?" "I just went out for a bit of fun." "You seem to be in good spirits." "I saw someone who got stabbed to death there." For Frog, the word heart was taboo. Just seeing someone die from a wound to the heart was enough to make him sick. But here he was, laughing about it. The adjutant wondered if something was wrong with the general''s head. Yet he refrained from questioning it. An experienced soldier like Frog might occasionally utter the word heart. And the Frog standing before him was a seasoned military man. If he wanted, he could easily say the word without hesitation. Thus, it wasn''t surprising that Frog could laugh after witnessing such a death. More precisely, Frog laughed when he saw something even more intriguing than death by a stab to the heart. "You must''ve seen something interesting." "Well, just a curious fellow." It wasn''t likely an ally. If it were, Frog would''ve brought him over long ago. Frog shrugged it off and strode forward. His soles were thick and tough, rendering boots unnecessary. Some Frogs even embedded nails into their soles for better grip, but Frog wasn''t fond of such practices. With proper training and skill, slippery soles could become a weapon. "He mimicked the thrust." It wasn''t talent¡ªit was sheer effort. Frog could assess an opponent''s mastery of techniques just by observing them. He had seen that soldier thrust and had immediately understood. "A skill tempered and refined through countless trials." It wasn''t just learned¡ªit was a survival technique, honed under life-threatening circumstances. Not a matter of talent, but relentless effort. "He had minimal talent." Luck might pile up dozens, even hundreds of times, but surviving to that extent seemed implausible. Even if the rest of his skills were subpar, his thrust was passable. But how? "With such meager skill?" Had he repeatedly survived on the battlefield? To learn like that¡ªto risk death and emerge alive¡ªwas proof of facing countless stronger foes. How was that possible? It wasn''t. That''s why it intrigued Frog. "It''d be nice to see him again." But Frog doubted that would happen. Lady Luck was unfair. She was a blatant favoritist, granting fortune to some while depriving others. And even luck had its limits. "He must''ve used up a lifetime''s worth of luck." There''d be no next time. Not that he''d die today¡ªFrog had kicked him, and he somehow managed to defend himself. Plus, the two who came to his aid suggested he wouldn''t die on this battlefield. Still, his survival wouldn''t last long. Facing stronger opponents might improve his skills, but only if he had hundreds of lives to spare. "General." "Let''s eat." Frog set aside his thoughts about the man and shifted focus. It was time to eat and strategize. The golden-haired adjutant nodded at Frog''s words. "Understood, sir. I''ll prepare the meal." *** A ferryman came into view. Enkrid became aware that he was seated in a small boat. "A dream?" This had happened once before¡ªa long time ago. When was it? "When I first woke up again." A ferryman without a mouth. A voice filled with curiosity. Faint memories stirred. "Back then..." He''d dismissed it as a meaningless dream. What significance could a ferryman in a dream hold? "You made it through another day, huh?" The ferryman spoke. As before, Enkrid couldn''t respond. It seemed all he could do was listen. "Though you have eyes, you cannot see; though you have a mouth, you cannot speak; though you have ears, you cannot hear properly." The ferryman''s words carried a melodic rhythm. Enkrid couldn''t even blink. His senses and body were beyond his control. "What can you do now?" If this was a dream, shouldn''t he be able to cast spells or something? It felt like a dream, but it wasn''t. Realizing this, Enkrid understood that listening was all he could do. "Can you endure? Will you continue, even as walls stand before you?" The words made no sense. Hadn''t the ferryman just said he couldn''t properly hear? "You can''t even hear my name yet." Enkrid stared at the ferryman. A blurry image formed through a black haze, like morning dew obscuring his vision. Everything was dark. At first, Enkrid thought the ferryman merely lacked a mouth. But there was nothing¡ªjust darkness. "What you hear now is merely my whim and goodwill." The ferryman chuckled. It wasn''t visible, but Enkrid somehow knew he was laughing. ''So what''s the point of all this?'' "Child, nothing is over yet, and you cannot escape. The ''walls'' before you will remain, becoming your destiny." The word wall felt strange. What the ferryman actually said sounded different, yet it registered as wall. What was this? "Can you survive?" Nonsense. "Of course I will." Wait¡ªhe could speak now? There was no time to question it. The ferryman seemed more surprised than Enkrid. "You..." The ferryman muttered something before Enkrid''s consciousness began to fade. Splash. The small boat vanished. Enkrid sank into deep waters. Beyond the black haze, a will¡ªrather than words¡ªwas conveyed. "You won''t remember this. But." A faint chuckle. The ferryman continued. "You''re an amusing one." And with that, it ended. Enkrid sank deeper into the abyss, losing consciousness as he descended into the profound darkness. *** "...Who is the hero of this battlefield?" "Cypress!" "Who is the master of this battlefield?" "Cypress!" "Who races toward tomorrow?" "Cypess!" "Who delivers the judgment?" It was a song¡ªlively rhythm, robust voices, a cadence perfectly in sync. A military song? No, it wasn''t. Since joining this unit, Enkrid had learned a few military songs, but this wasn''t one of them. What they taught here weren''t songs, but chants meant to inspire¡ªa rhythmic rallying cry. "We will win! Blessed by the sun that never sets! Empowered by the divine!" That sort of thing. No melody, just shouts that doubled as a roar. But this¡ªthis had melody and rhythm. And it sounded oddly familiar. The bard''s song. Not all bards are the same. Some align themselves with a cause, joining armies to boost morale. This must have been one of those instances. Who would write a hymn praising Cypress otherwise? The bard probably hadn''t even met the knight called Cypress. "Awake yet?" A voice pulled Enkrid''s attention. He turned to see Rem. His side throbbed violently. When he raised a hand to touch it, Rem swatted it away. "Relax. It''s not broken, just bruised. Your head, though? Took quite the shaking. Now, how many fingers am I holding up?" Rem wiggled a few fingers in front of his face. "Go eat dirt." Enkrid struggled to make sense of everything. ''Today'' was over. Acknowledging that was disorienting enough. Rem''s teasing was hard to entertain. "See? Still dazed. I''m Rem¡ªyour eternal companion." "Crazy bastard." "Forget me already? That''s harsh, captain." Enkrid closed his eyes briefly and opened them again. The day was done, meaning a night had passed. His thoughts were scattered. His dreams, chaotic. Wasn''t I told I wouldn''t remember them? Yet they remained, vivid and haunting. Black water, a tiny boat, and a faceless ferryman. Even the ferryman''s words lingered in his mind. They felt distant, like events from long ago. Enkrid''s memory had always been sharp since childhood. He remembered it all. "I haven''t forgotten¡ªnoble killer." Recalling one of Rem''s old nicknames made him grin. "Shh, that''s a secret!" The banter ceased, Rem giving a mock glare. His eyes asked why Enkrid brought that up. Shaking off his lingering disorientation, Enkrid focused. First thing''s first. "What happened to me?" Only then did Rem get serious, explaining. The death of the stabbing pervert. Enkrid''s suddenly improved skills. And the Frog. A Frog intervened? After years as a mercenary, it was his first time seeing one in person. And certainly his first time being struck by one. He was lucky his ribs weren''t entirely shattered. What would happen if you faced a Frog on the battlefield? "Run." "Hide." "Die." Three seasoned mercenaries, three different answers. But the conclusion was the same. If you couldn''t run or hide, you died. That''s how dangerous and fearsome Frogs were. All combat races were like that. Giants, dragonkin, faeries¡ªeach naturally superior to humans. But when it came to reaching the level of knights, humans led the numbers. That''s why humanity dominated this continent. "After that, I carried you out of the battlefield myself. Through hell, no less. Nearly died doing it." If it had truly been life-threatening, Rem wouldn''t be bragging. "I owe you one." "Good. Ten shifts washing dishes should cover it." This guy. Enkrid sighed inwardly but nodded. When their conversation ended, Enkrid told Rem to leave. But Rem lingered, still smiling as usual. "Practicing alone, huh? When I wasn''t looking?" What was he on about now? "Your heart¡ªit''s ripened." What? "Think I wouldn''t recognize my own teachings?" Ah! Enkrid realized Rem had been watching him. Of course, he''d been watching. Otherwise, he wouldn''t have arrived in time to help. "Something like that. A few brushes with death, and I just... got it." He''d rehearsed plausible excuses dozens of times. This one was the most convincing¡ªand true, in part. He left out how close he came to actually dying. "Well done." Rem finally stood. "Rest up. You need to heal before there''s a ''next time.''" Enkrid glanced around. He was in the medical tent, surrounded by other wounded soldiers. He tried to sit up but was stopped by a soldier with a weak, raspy voice. "Don''t move yet. You''ll make it worse. Your head took a hard hit." Ordinary soldiers didn''t often get medical attention. If a comrade skilled with herbs wasn''t nearby, you were on your own¡ªor dead. I made it to the medical tent somehow. How didn''t matter for now. He could find out later. What mattered was¡ª I survived today. A new day had begun. At the tent''s entrance, light seeped through the gaps. It wasn''t sunlight. The flickering glow of torches and moving shadows. The bard''s song continued outside. "Who is the hero?" "Cypress!" The soldiers'' voices echoed in response. He survived today. He lived to see tomorrow. Though unconscious all morning and afternoon, waking only in the evening. "Just a day?" He asked the attendant medic. "A day? No, it''s been two." The shock must have been worse than he thought. Enkrid closed his eyes. Regardless, surviving today was what mattered. He had defeated that spearman. He had won¡ªby skill. Enkrid''s thoughts drifted back to the ferryman. He replayed the words, mulling them over. He couldn''t help it. The ferryman had said it would repeat. Which meant¡ª If I die, today starts over. The ferryman had delivered it like a sentence. But¡ª Why does the ferryman consider it a punishment? To Enkrid, it wasn''t a penalty. It was a reward. Chapter 13 - Reflection Chapter 13 - 13 - Reflection Chapter 13 - Reflection Enkrid, who had been unconscious for two straight days, slept for another half-day. When he woke, there was bread and soup set before him. A long shadow passed over the bread and soup before disappearing. Turning his gaze to the half-open tent entrance, he guessed it was dawn. There were no sounds of people coming and going, and only a few torch stands seemed to have been set up. The light entering the tent was much dimmer than before. Everyone inside the tent appeared to be asleep. Enkrid reached for the bread. "At least my arm moves fine." Taking advantage of the motion, he tried to shift his body halfway upright. Zing! Pain shot up from his side, enough to make the back of his head throb. "Still, this much is manageable." Rem had said nothing was broken. Enkrid''s own assessment agreed. Though his head had been shaken enough to knock him out, fortunately, there didn''t seem to be any serious damage. He wasn''t dizzy, and his eyes, nose, and ears were all in working order. Rip. He tore off a piece of bread, dipped it into the cold soup, and popped it into his mouth. "Even my tongue''s fine." He must have been quite hungry, as even this simple meal tasted good. His tongue reacted to the subtle sweetness of the flour, while the soup¡ªseasoned just slightly better than plain water¡ªwas sufficient to fill an empty stomach. Enkrid chewed the bread and soup as if savoring a delicacy from a proper restaurant, deliberately and thoroughly swallowing each bite. "If you eat too fast after fainting, it''ll upset your stomach." This was something he knew from experience. Normally, it would be the duty of a medic tent soldier to explain such things. The soldier he''d seen the previous evening, however, had looked too indifferent to bother. Was a soldier assigned to a medic tent even necessary? "Probably has connections." Otherwise, why would someone perfectly healthy be stuck watching over injured soldiers? Once his stomach was full, Enkrid forced himself into a seated position. Lying down right after eating wasn''t good for digestion. If one was injured, eating well and resting were crucial. Proper digestion was part of eating well. "Phew." With a small sigh, Enkrid stared blankly at the flickering light outside the tent entrance. His gaze was on the swaying torchlight, but his mind was elsewhere, crowded with thoughts. The repetitive days, today, and the day he had finally surpassed. Enkrid reviewed and re-reviewed that "day." He relived that moment repeatedly, even in his dreams. In terms of the thrust itself, it was excellent¡ªa flawless strike, even by his own standards. "Reaching that point in the fight wasn''t bad either." He owed much to the Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship. It was thanks to the countless repetitions he''d drilled into himself for this day. But that didn''t mean he''d done everything perfectly. "It was still rough." This was the conclusion he reached after countless reflections on that moment. Someone passed by the tent. Fwoosh. The shadow of a soldier stretched long as it moved in front of a burning torch. The elongated shadow transformed in Enkrid''s imagination into the enemy he had thrust at. ''When I thrust.'' What if his opponent had evaded? In his mind, the shadow dodged the thrust, then spun and counterattacked. The blade easily sliced through the neck of the shadow representing Enkrid. ''Then it''s me who dies.'' He had claimed to be prepared? What a joke. ''It wasn''t enough.'' If his opponent had been slightly smarter, slightly more experienced. If they had lived just a little longer to see another battlefield. "No, that''s going too far." That was an exaggeration. Thinking like that led nowhere. The shadow that had been fighting disappeared as he cleared his thoughts. Enkrid stopped dwelling on what had already happened. ''Instead of dwelling on ''what if,'' think about the next step.'' Rem had said he needed to put his full force into his thrusts. But that didn''t mean every attack could be like that. He pondered. Show the thrust only once. Before that, keep unsettling the opponent. When they fell for the provocation and tried to thrust, counterattack. ''Relying entirely on a single thrust.'' If it failed, it would mean death. Was that truly the right approach? A fight shouldn''t be handled that way, and Enkrid knew it. If things didn''t work out, how would he face the next "today"? "If the thrust didn''t work, should I have relied on luck?" No, he couldn''t. That wasn''t acceptable. Not luck, but skill. Enkrid believed skill was the best way to seize the opportunities given to him. Reflecting didn''t lead to self-pity. He was simply revisiting the facts, distinguishing between his shortcomings and successes. As he always did after a fight or sparring session. ''If you fight until you''re half-dead and survive, that fight becomes your asset, Enki.'' The old swordsman had been a teacher at a seaside town, teaching children swordsmanship. Judging by skill alone, he wasn''t even good enough to make a name for himself in a small commercial city, let alone a large one. But as a teacher, he wasn''t bad. At least for Enkrid, he had been an excellent mentor. "If you plan to live by the sword until you die, digest everything you gain from battle. Absorb it, process it, and absorb it again. That''s your way to survive." The old teacher''s wisdom was born from experience. He limped on his left foot. His body was covered in scars. Lessons learned through a lifetime of hardship. That teacher had charged a hefty tuition fee. It had been worth it. Those lessons had been invaluable. Now was the time to revisit what he had learned from him. ''There has to be another way.'' He couldn''t put everything into every thrust. If he did, it would be his life on the line. Rem wouldn''t fight that way either. But when sparring with that madman, every swing of Rem''s axe carried a crushing weight and palpable intent to kill. ''How can that be?'' The joy of successfully executing a thrust was fleeting. Enkrid didn''t let himself get carried away. He was happy, of course. Breaking through the wall with his effort brought great satisfaction. But he didn''t stop there. Naturally, Enkrid began envisioning tomorrow. After the thrust succeeded. The future that had been invisible until then became clear. He reached for that future''s sun and kept moving forward. "What if I thrust with all my strength but not my entire intent?" He was drawing closer to the answer. There was only so much he could figure out by thinking alone. That was fine. This moment wasn''t all the time he had. The faceless boatman had said so. This wasn''t the end. The walls would keep appearing. ''The boatman said it would repeat?'' Then he would bet his life and challenge them again. Knowing such moments would come again made his heart race. A strange warmth started from his lower abdomen, spreading through his body. Now wasn''t the time to be pushing himself. ''Rest first.'' His throbbing side told him that he needed several days of complete rest¡ªeven his own untrained diagnosis could confirm that. ''But how did I even end up here?'' What usually happened when a soldier was injured? Regardless of the severity, they''d either receive treatment in their assigned barracks until they passed or¡ª ''If they''re lucky, they might have a physician nearby.'' Or, if fortune rained down in heaps, perhaps a priest''s prayer could heal them. Sacred healing, after all, required a combination of luck and strong connections. It was something only the upper ranks truly had access to. But Enkrid wasn''t any of those cases. Which meant that someone must have intervened to bring him here. ''No clue who.'' As the occasional burp escaped him, it seemed his digestion had settled. Enkrid lay down and slept. He slept deeply. Eating and resting were the best remedies for injuries, after all. The next day, when he opened his eyes, they were met with a pair of large, round ones staring back at him. "Move your face away." He pushed at Big Eyes'' face with his hand, but Big Eyes withdrew before he could touch him. "I didn''t want to wake you since you seemed so sound asleep. Good timing, though." "Sure." If he hadn''t, it wouldn''t have been a surprise if this guy had woken him with a kick instead. "Come on, who do you think got you in here?" Big Eyes puffed out his chest as he spoke. So it had been him. Of course, there weren''t many others among the squad capable of pulling off such a maneuver besides Big Eyes or Jaxen. "I had to open my purse for this, you know. You owe me." Not that he''d asked to be brought here. Still, credit where credit was due. The medical barracks had better food, were situated in the rear, and best of all, excused him from all duties. If he weren''t here, he''d likely have been hobbling around, clutching his side, trying to manage his squad. ''But will the squad run smoothly without me?'' That was unnecessary worrying. The weakest member of Squad 444 worrying about the others? How absurd. ''Ah, wait. The weakest member is this guy.'' Big Eyes was hopeless in combat. That didn''t mean he was talentless. Somehow, whenever battle broke out, he''d conveniently retreat to the rear as part of some "special unit." Impressive, really. And this time, Enkrid had benefitted from those very talents. "Should I bow my head in gratitude or something?" "No need for grand gestures. Just don''t forget this." ''Why does it matter so much if I remember?'' "Fine." "Good. Well, I''ve got things to do. See you around." Even with his supposed busyness, Big Eyes had found time to visit. How considerate. It wasn''t just Big Eyes and Rem who had come. Jaxen, passing by, tossed him a small jar. "Rub this on your side once a day. Should help with the pain. Just don''t mention where you got it." "Especially not to our squad, right?" Jaxen shrugged and walked off. The small green jar looked like it contained crushed herbs. If it had been made specifically for him, it was a touching gesture. Of course, it wasn''t. He''d seen this sort of ointment a few times before, though this was his first time using it. Dipping his fingers in, he spread the salve over his side. Each movement sent sharp pain shooting through him, but the area soon grew warm, and the pain dulled noticeably. ''This is good.'' Deciding to use it sparingly, he carefully sealed the jar and placed it under his bed. ''But wait¡ªare the medical barracks near ours? Doesn''t seem like a casual detour.'' Not that it mattered. He had the ointment now, and that was enough. More squad members trickled in throughout the day. "Sorry, brother squad leader. Wish I could do more for you," said one, sounding like they''d held back on helping him. "Without you, the squad''s a mess. Here, take this." Another tossed him half an eaten apple before leaving. The last visitor was clearly just passing by¡ªthis guy frequently got lost. He''d overheard the soldier outside muttering, "The captain''s in the medical barracks? Why?" ''Didn''t even know I was injured, huh?'' Raising a squad was a thankless job. ''Not that I raised them.'' Every single member, aside from himself, was perfectly capable in both fighting and retreating. ''I should focus on my own problems.'' Even if the squad was in chaos, it couldn''t be all that bad. They''d manage. They always did. What mattered more now was¡ª "You, bastard." A new visitor. The unwelcome guest entered around midday. The medical barracks were spacious, capable of housing over ten patients. Yet only three currently occupied the space: Enkrid, with his aching side, a platoon leader staring daggers at him, and a blonde man idly twitching his fingers as he stared at the ceiling. The platoon leader, glaring at him, spoke first. "Bottom-tier soldier, ex-mercenary, and somehow a squad leader? Do you take turns offering your ass to your men? How''d you land this position?" This guy. The platoon leader was familiar¡ªfrom a neighboring company, this guy seemed to thrive on antagonizing him. His name was Vengeance. Whoever had named him must have had a sense of humor. Why did Vengeance hate him? No idea. From their first encounter, he''d been growling like an angry dog. "And now you''re lounging in the medical barracks. You''ve got it easy, huh?" ''Can''t argue with that.'' Enkrid''s life was admittedly quite comfortable¡ªexcept for the fact that Vengeance was here. "Good to see you, platoon leader." "Oh, it''s ''good'' to see me?" Would "terrible" be better? Enkrid was an adult. He knew how to wear a mask. "Yes, a little." "A little?" "Not overly thrilled, to be honest." "You bastard." Vengeance''s temper flared, though he made no move to attack. Not that he could. Word was, he''d taken a deep cut to the thigh in a previous battle and could barely stand. Which meant¡ª ''Now''s the perfect time to mess with him.'' Enkrid was an adult. He knew how to wear a mask¡ªand how to rile up a foe. Chapter 14 - Knight Chapter 14 - 14 - Knight Chapter 14 - Knight "Come here, you!" "Lower your voice. This is the infirmary." "So what, you punk?" Though he growled, even the fiercest beast posed no threat when kept at a distance. "It seems we''re bound by some sort of connection. Wasn''t the first time we met in the lower village?" It was a bad connection¡ªan ill-fated one that brought them together again and again. "Why are you acting chummy, you unlucky bastard?" The one to start the conversation was Vengeance. Enkrid didn''t bother pointing that out. He wasn''t petty enough to argue over such things. "Fine." Instead, he turned his body. The ointment Jaxen had given him was highly effective. Even when moving like this, he barely felt any pain. "What are you doing?" "You told me not to act familiar, so I''m pretending not to know you." "You think this is funny, punk?" Vengeance yelled furiously. Had he realized it was a joke, he might not have gotten so angry. But then again... ''Maybe it''s because I''m always surrounded by such savage squadmates.'' Seeing Vengeance after so long felt almost endearing. Watching Rem, Jaxen, and the other squad members squabble often felt like it was shaving years off his life. "Ah, you caught on. As expected of the platoon leader, the future of the Cypress Division." "You... you!" Vengeance''s forehead veins bulged as he picked up his boot and hurled it. Enkrid quickly caught it. "A gift?" "I''ll kill you, you punk!" Rem once said something along these lines: "I may be pretty good at pushing people''s buttons myself, but..." "I wouldn''t dare trade words with our squad leader when he decides to go all out." Holding the boot nonchalantly, Enkrid''s calm demeanor made Vengeance huff in frustration. And then¡ª "Bwahahahaha!" A soldier who had been idly passing time by staring into the air burst into laughter. It was the kind of laugh that seemed like he might lose his mind from sheer joy. Vengeance''s sharp gaze swung around to the blond man who was now wiping tears from his eyes with a hooked finger. "No, but ''a gift?'' That was just too good. I held back until now, but wow." Crrrunch. Enkrid figured Vengeance''s molars would probably crack before he turned forty. Grinding teeth was bad for the gums, too. He debated whether or not to bring this up. Any further and Vengeance might lose control, blood rushing to his head, and end up memorialized as "the soldier who died of rage." "What''s your affiliation?" Vengeance''s tone was calm. Instead of cursing, he asked for the other man''s unit. "Me? Hmm, just a passing soldier." Oh? Enkrid admired the man''s confidence. At least Enkrid was a squad leader. This guy seemed to really be just an ordinary soldier. But that attitude... Still, the way he phrased it made it seem like he was intentionally hiding his rank and unit. And Vengeance, not being a fool, caught on. "So you''re saying you can''t disclose your affiliation?" "It''s not that, exactly. But yeah, I forgot my unit. The soldier part''s true, though." Such carefree audacity. To Enkrid, this blond man radiated an air of nobility. Because if a simple soldier forgot his own unit, he deserved to be beaten to death. So the attitude he exuded now could only be called dignified. Crunch. Crunch. Vengeance found himself trapped, unable to act one way or the other. "But instead of worrying about me, you might want to check behind you." Both Enkrid and Vengeance had been focused on the blond man. So they both turned their heads to look behind them. There was someone there. ''When did they¡ª?'' Enkrid wasn''t particularly sensitive, but as someone who had survived the battlefield, he had decent instincts. He usually noticed when someone approached. Yet now, he hadn''t heard a sound or felt their presence. "This is it? Where the Fourth Squad Leader is?" The voice belonged to a woman. Her figure was slender, her eyes sharp, and her ears pointed¡ªa race distinct from humans. A fairy. She stared at the blond man and spoke. Her tone was natural, suggesting she was of higher rank. Enkrid raised his hand and spoke. "Fourth Squad Leader of the Fourth Platoon, Enkrid, at your service." Only then did the fairy woman''s gaze move away from the blond man. At the same time, a soldier guarding the infirmary tent stepped inside to add context. "Yes, that''s the squad leader over there." "A fairy?" Vengeance, seemingly shocked, finally reacted. The fairy didn''t so much as raise an eyebrow, only turning her head. "Does the 2nd Company teach its men to state someone''s race when addressing a superior? I''m more aware than anyone that I''m a fairy." ''Incredible.'' Enkrid saw in her a natural charisma that could crush someone with a single word. "A-apologies! I am Platoon leader Vengeance of the 3rd Platoon!" "I have a request." "Yes!" "Platoon leader Vengence, please keep your mouth shut while I''m here. You don''t even need to answer this request. If you open that mouth, I might end up planting a knife or fist in your face. Understand, platoon leader Vengence?" Enkrid didn''t bother correcting her mispronunciation of Vengeance''s name. Vengeance clamped his hands over his mouth, his face twitching with restrained fury. "I''ve heard your squad has some amusing members." The fairy''s gaze returned to Enkrid. "Yes, thank you." There was no benefit to getting on her bad side. He responded politely. Through their brief exchange, Enkrid found himself wondering: ''Why is she even here?'' The conversation was entirely pointless. She praised his performance in battle, which, while accurate, wasn''t noteworthy enough to warrant a visit. "Yes, I survived an encounter with a Frog, but it was sheer luck." "Luck is also a skill. The goddess of fortune doesn''t drop coins for just anyone." "Thank you." She then turned to the blond man. "And you, what''s your name?" "Uh, well, it''s Krang." As he answered, his eyes darted around, and his brow furrowed. ''Made that up on the spot.'' The name was obviously fake. "I see." The fairy gave a calm response and left the tent. Vengeance, who hadn''t even dared to breathe properly, finally exhaled deeply. "Damn it." "Oh, platoon leader." Startled, Vengeance spun around, only to realize it was just a passing soldier. "You punk!" The man calling himself Krang burst into laughter again. The guard at the infirmary peeked inside, baffled by their antics, and then slipped back out. Enkrid looked at Vengeance and thought that at least he wouldn''t get bored while he was here. *** Enkrid reflected on the previous battle. He focused on two things as he considered his future path: "To strike with all his strength without pouring all his heart into it." It hadn''t even been a day since he found a clue, and already, his body itched to act. Yet, he couldn''t exert himself immediately¡ªhis side still ached. The only training he could manage was grip strength exercises. Enkrid worked on his fingers and forearm muscles. At a glance, it might have seemed foolish. "The body is the foundation of all techniques." Even the smallest leaf has weight, and even a drop of water can pierce stone given enough time. Thus, this seemingly insignificant effort would bear fruit in the future. Enkrid believed this wholeheartedly and had built his tower of discipline on such a foundation. "You''re working hard, huh?" It was Krang. Two days had passed since the company commander left. Other than reflecting on the fight and his grip strength training, Enkrid did nothing. He focused entirely on resting. After all, rest was important too. The only thing that had changed was Krang¡ªa half-crazed soldier who introduced himself and claimed to have forgotten his affiliation¡ªloitering around him. "Why are you so intense?" Krang spoke casually to everyone, including Enkrid, and even to Vengeance. "I''m a platoon leader! Show some respect to your superior!" He even teased Vengeance, which made it clear he wasn''t recovering from injuries here. It seemed he had considerable skill as well¡ªhis playful steps near Vengeance, always evading capture by a hair''s breadth, made that apparent. "What?" Since the other was just a soldier, Enkrid responded informally. "All you do is clench and release your hands all day. Other than that, you just stare into space like you''re lost. What are you thinking so hard about? And why are you so focused on clenching your hands?" He was curious, like an eight-year-old. But it wasn''t particularly annoying. "I''m a bit bored too." Teasing Vengeance only worked a couple of times. Having someone to talk to, even for small talk, was a good way to fend off boredom. "This is grip strength training. As for staring into space, I''m reviewing the mistakes I made in the last battle." "Why bother doing all that?" Why? "So I don''t die in the next battle." "Never seen a soldier go to such lengths just to survive." "Then, have you seen any soldier like that live a long life?" "Hmm, a few?" What kind of life had this guy lived? Enkrid suspected Krang was playing some civilian''s game. Not that it changed anything. If the other wanted to engage in such things, Enkrid could humor him. It didn''t cost him anything. He didn''t envy others for having what he lacked. If he had, he''d have driven himself mad long ago over someone''s talent with a sword. But Enkrid didn''t. He had his path forward, and the joy of growth fulfilled him. "I just need to practice my thrusting technique more." Full-power strikes still required training. The Heart of the Beast remained one of Enkrid''s pillars of strength. One step forward. One step every day. Even if today didn''t repeat, the path wouldn''t change. Of course, not everything stayed the same. "What do you want to become?" Krang asked. It reminded Enkrid of when Rem had asked him the same. The memory surfaced. "Why does it feel like that was so long ago?" That day no longer existed. It had vanished because Enkrid had died. The playful ambition he had once spoken of disappeared just as lightly. If he opened his mouth to speak of the future or dreams now... "Would today disappear again?" It wouldn''t. Even if dreams were devoured and shredded by reality, traces remained. Traces¡ªyes, just traces lingered around his heart. He used to think that. But now? "Are only traces left?" Enkrid looked at his hands. His palms were rugged, marred with calluses that had formed, burst, and scarred over many times. The hardened skin on his fingers would likely never fade. It was the proof of his efforts. "Is that really all?" He asked himself. And found the answer. It wasn''t. It couldn''t be. Even during the times when all that remained were traces, Enkrid had never given up. "To be a knight." A lower-class soldier from a third-rate mercenary background. At best, a squad leader. It was a meager position with little skill to boast of. Yet he aimed for the summit¡ªknighthood. Vengeance, listening nearby, was ready to burst out laughing. But Krang spoke first. "Ah, a knight." It was strange. Vengeance wanted to mock him, but Krang''s demeanor stopped him. Not by force, but instinct told him it would be wrong. Though his tone was calm, it carried weight. Krang took that absurd dream seriously¡ªhe listened with his full heart and strength. It was a level of attention that was almost staggering. "Looking at you, I think I''m starting to figure out how I want to live." Krang''s words were simple. Enkrid shrugged. The odd atmosphere that had filled the infirmary vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. "Pfft, a knight? How ridiculous!" And so, Vengeance mocked to his heart''s content. But it seemed laughable. Neither Enkrid nor Krang paid him any attention. "I outrank you!" Vengeance tried weakly. Of course, it had no effect. Exactly a week later, Enkrid''s side no longer hurt. "Is it thanks to the ointment?" He healed quickly. As bedtime approached, Krang asked, "You''re heading back tomorrow?" "Yeah." Today had been uneventful. The minstrel who returned after a week sang a hymn to Cypress right next to the infirmary in the morning. The soldier on guard duty overslept. While on a light stroll at midday, Enkrid saw Krais. Big Eyes didn''t look well. Before he could ask anything, Krais walked away briskly. The rest of the day passed without incident. As infirmary patients didn''t stand watch, Enkrid had been able to rest thoroughly. "Sleep well, Enkrid." "You too, Krang." "Once we''re back, I''ll deal with both of you," Vengeance chimed in with his usual farewell. With that, Enkrid closed his eyes and fell asleep. And then¡ª "Cypress! Cypress!" The minstrel''s singing woke him. "Again today?" He had heard the minstrel never stayed in one place for more than two days, moving from barracks to barracks. Today, the song should have come from farther away. Why was he here again? "Damn it, where''s breakfast?" Vengeance grumbled upon waking. Hearing him, Enkrid''s hair stood on end. He had heard those exact words yesterday. No, in the repeated today. "Did the soldier oversleep this morning too?" Enkrid asked. Vengeance gave him a strange look before laughing. "What nonsense is this? Yesterday, breakfast came on time." Enkrid let out a sigh of disbelief. It was clear now. Today had repeated itself. This meant¡ª "I must have died in my sleep, without a sound." Chapter 15 - A Single Word Chapter 15 - 15 - A Single Word Chapter 15 - A Single Word ''I was killed while sleeping?'' Enkrid was so baffled he couldn''t even laugh. ''Was I really that careless?'' Careless enough not to notice even being stabbed in my sleep? That couldn''t be. If he were that oblivious, he wouldn''t have survived this long. He struggled to piece together how he had died. Enkrid recalled the moments just before he fell asleep. There was nothing unusual. No premonitions or signs. He had fallen asleep. And never woke up. Did he hear insects in his sleep? Toss and turn? No. He had slept deeply. It had been the final night before returning to duty. Without a care, he had simply slept, thinking it was his last chance to rest. And after that? It felt like he had been possessed by a ghost. Still, he didn''t allow himself to wallow in confusion. Panicking could freeze his thoughts¡ªand that would mean death. This was just the start of another day. Having been through this once, Enkrid knew what to do and where to focus his thoughts. Two questions needed answers. First, "how." Whether his throat had been slit or his nose and mouth sealed shut. How had someone managed to kill him without him feeling a thing? Second, "why." ''Why me?'' He had been taken down without even knowing the moment of his death. It wasn''t the work of an amateur. If the culprit was an assassin, they were top-tier¡ªperhaps even beyond that. If it was an enemy soldier, ''They''d have to be more skilled than a first-rate assassin.'' The medical tent was in the rear lines. For someone to sneak in and slit a throat here without being caught... They would need the skill to slap a knight in the face and walk away alive. The answer to the "why" seemed partially clear. In the tent, aside from Enkrid, there were only Krang and Vengeance. ''No one of this caliber would come just to target Vengeance.'' So the answer was clear. Krang. The clueless soldier who claimed to have forgotten his unit''s name. Someone like that couldn''t possibly be an ordinary soldier. The "why" was settled. The "how" could wait until tonight. Oddly enough, Enkrid had always thought the excruciating pain from dying at the hands of that stab-crazy maniac was the worst part. And that the sight of the maniac''s eyes filled him with the most disgust. ''But this is worse.'' The fact that he had died without even knowing how left him feeling utterly filthy. The kind of filth that couldn''t be compared to stepping in dung¡ªmore like rolling in it. ''What a miserable...'' Feeling. It didn''t change anything, though. Enkrid dismissed his emotions and focused on what needed to be done. ''The "how" will reveal itself tonight. The "why" is clear¡ªKrang is the target.'' That left one more question to ponder. Beyond the "how" and "why," there was the question of "who." Who was the assassin? If it wasn''t an enemy soldier, then it had to be someone who knew the location of the medical tent, knew how to stay hidden, and was skilled in assassination. Someone who had already identified their target and had easy access. One name came to mind. ''The company commander?'' It was a logical suspicion. Elves were quiet, nimble, and swift¡ªthe perfect assassins. And since the commander had business here, it made sense for them to come and go. Even the pointless chatter a few days ago could make sense if their true goal was this tent. The pieces fit together neatly. "What are you doing?" Vengeance''s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Enkrid reflexively replied. "Thinking." "Thinking? So curt. Have you completely lost it, you crazy bastard?" Vengeance, limping slightly as his thigh wound had improved somewhat, got up. "Oh, I thought it was Krang. My mistake, platoon leader." "A mistake, huh? That''s all?" "Apologies." "An apology and that''s it?" He''s latched onto that. "How about I get us something to eat?" Ignoring Vengeance''s outburst, Enkrid stepped out of the tent as if nothing had happened. Behind him, Vengeance''s shouts and Krang''s lazy reply, "I''m not hungry!" echoed. Despite having died because of Krang, Enkrid didn''t resent him. He was still annoyed and in a foul mood, sure. But it wasn''t Krang who killed him. Ultimately, his death came down to his lack of skill¡ªor just rotten luck. That''s how Enkrid saw it. ''If you''re aware, you won''t get caught off guard.'' An assassin creeping in under the cover of night¡ªjust creating a commotion would summon nearby allies. Catching a prowling cat in the dead of night didn''t require much effort. Before long, Krang appeared before Enkrid, rubbing his eyes. Dragging his feet, he radiated a perpetual air of laziness. This guy''s consistency never failed. "You''re late, and now the platoon leader''s pissed." "He''s pissed because of me? That''s because you keep teasing him, Squad Leader." Officially, Krang was also a squad leader. Which meant the two of them held equal ranks. "A lowest-ranked soldier acting all gutsy, huh?" As they walked back together, Krang casually asked, "So, what''s with you always picking fights?" Despite the truncated phrasing, the question was easy to understand. Why keep provoking others? "Vengeance?" "He''s a mid-tier soldier." The Cypress Division and the Naurilia Kingdom military used a rank-based system for soldiers. It was akin to a reward system to boost morale. If you proved your skills, you earned a rank to match. This system motivated soldiers to train hard. Ranks were divided into five levels: lowest, low, mid, high, and top-tier. Enkrid thought it was a practical system. In Naurilia, where martial strength was revered, most commanders were high-tier or above. Knights, however, were excluded from this ranking system. Knights transcended the limits of ordinary humans. Thus, they couldn''t be bound by such a framework. Squad leaders were usually low or mid-tier soldiers. But exceptions always existed. Enkrid, a lowest-ranked soldier, was one such exception as a squad leader. His subordinates were at least mid-tier. "You''re an odd one," the soldier remarked absentmindedly. Enkrid felt a strange twinge at that comment. ''Me?'' He''d been told his entire life he was either ordinary or lacking talent. "Two portions will do for the meals," Enkrid said. The soldier, mumbling something about how peculiar Enkrid was, prepared only two portions. Returning to the tent, Enkrid pacified Vengeance, had breakfast, and reviewed the last battle after their usual training. Krang skipped breakfast and disappeared. So only Enkrid and Vengeance ate. "Krang said he''d be away for a while, right?" "Yeah, I think so." Vengeance orderly responded nonchalantly to Enkrid''s inquiry. Although the elf company commander was a suspect, The sentries outside were also strong contenders. ''These guys can enter and leave this tent whenever they please.'' ''Let''s not jump to conclusions.'' Even if everything added up, settling on a conclusion could cloud his judgment. It was better to keep all possibilities open. After lunch, Krang returned. It was a routine day¡ªexcept for Enkrid. "You''re busy, huh?" When Enkrid addressed him, Krang tilted his head in puzzlement. Then, with a subtle smile, Krang approached and asked. "Do you know something?" It was a sudden question, and Enkrid frowned slightly, unsure of what Krang was getting at. "What?" "This is the first time you''ve spoken to me first." ''Really?'' Now that Krang mentioned it, it seemed plausible. But Enkrid hadn''t paid much attention to it before. "Guess it is. So what?" What''s the big deal about that? Krang chuckled softly and plopped himself down on the edge of Enkrid''s bed. Enkrid hadn''t been particularly curious about Krang''s true identity before. Or rather, he hadn''t cared much. But thanks to this enigmatic soldier, the day had started repeating, piquing his interest. What sort of man was this Krang that assassins would come after him? While he could try to coax the truth out of him with some clever maneuvering, Enkrid chose another approach. Sometimes, it was better to convey sincerity directly than to beat around the bush. Sitting beside Krang, Enkrid met his gaze and asked directly. "What''s your real identity?" Vengeance, who had been dozing off nearby, woke up, saw the two sitting close, and almost jumped in to interrupt. But he stopped himself when he heard the question. He, too, was curious. Enkrid waited patiently for an answer. Krang smiled, but this time it wasn''t the relaxed smile he usually wore. Instead of speaking, he stared into Enkrid''s eyes for a long moment, still smiling faintly. ''Does he want to have a staring contest or something?'' Enkrid waited leisurely for Krang to open his mouth. As the silence stretched, Vengeance couldn''t hold back any longer and began to speak. "Hey¡ª" But Krang interrupted. "Hmm, I can''t say." "Why?" "Because it would ruin the fun. And I have a promise to keep." "Is that so?" "It is." Enkrid nodded at Krang''s refusal to answer. From the back of the room, Vengeance, who had been listening to the entire conversation, was left dumbfounded. What kind of nonsensical exchange was this? Why ask the question if he was just going to accept the non-answer? If Krang had a hidden identity, then there must be a reason for keeping it a secret. Could he be an enemy spy? Finally, Vengeance spoke up, his voice sharp. "Are you a spy?" "I''m a squad leader!" Enkrid replied indignantly. "Not you, idiot. Him!" "Me? No," Krang said, shaking his head with a smile. But then, without another word, he stood and walked to the center of the infirmary. Enkrid quietly observed as Krang moved. One of the guards stationed at the infirmary glanced at Krang with bleary eyes. "I can''t reveal my identity, but I can tell you one thing," Krang said, standing in the middle of the room. There was an odd quality to him. The way he walked, his posture, his gestures, his tone of voice, even the faint smile on his face¡ªall of it seemed perfectly orchestrated, as if he were an actor on a stage prepared just for him. He commanded attention without trying, and Enkrid found himself unconsciously focused on Krang''s lips. "I cannot betray this kingdom," Krang said. His tone was neither fast nor slow, but it carried an undeniable weight. It was the sort of statement that could be a lie, a throwaway comment, or even a fleeting confession. But coming from Krang, it felt like an unshakable truth, as inevitable as the changing of the seasons. Enkrid felt as though he were seeing an illusion. The infirmary seemed to expand, its walls disappearing to reveal a vast, open plain. And in the center of it all stood Krang, his presence dominating the expanse like a lone figure in an endless wilderness. ''He''s not ordinary.'' There was no way to classify him within any standard rank. ''A knight?'' No, even the skill of a knight couldn''t explain what Enkrid was witnessing. It was instinct, a gut feeling¡ªKrang was no knight. "Well, if you don''t trust me, that''s fine," Krang said, his voice light. The illusion vanished. The infirmary walls returned, and Krang appeared as he always had, his presence no longer larger than life. "But if you do trust me, I''d appreciate it." "I think I have to," Enkrid replied. "Do you?" "Yeah. Because you said it like you meant it." Enkrid couldn''t fathom Krang''s true identity. But in the end, it didn''t matter much. All that mattered was stopping the assassins. Vengeance, who had been holding his breath, let out a long sigh. He started to say something to Krang and Enkrid but stopped himself. "Damn it," he muttered, turning away. Whatever Krang''s true nature was, it was clearly extraordinary, leaving Vengeance at a loss for words. Seeing this, Krang burst into laughter. "Don''t worry, platoon leader. Right now, I''m just Krang." "...Who said anything?" Clicking his tongue, Enkrid found Vengeance''s flustered reaction oddly endearing. For all his bluster, Vengeance only ever picked fights with him, while keeping quiet around others. ''Come to think of it, I wonder why he only acts like this with me.'' Enkrid let the thought drift as another identical day began. "Sleep well, Enkrid." "You too." For once, Vengeance skipped his usual snide evening remark, perhaps fearing the consequences of his words. How dull. That night, Enkrid stayed awake. As a former mercenary, his endurance and wits had saved him more often than his swordsmanship. The night deepened, and the guard changed twice. Vengeance snored softly nearby, while Enkrid''s thoughts kept him alert. Just as he considered getting up, a sharp sting pricked his neck. Instinctively, he reached for the spot and found a thin, wooden needle embedded in his skin. ''A dart? Poisoned?'' As numbness spread from the wound, Enkrid''s body grew heavy, his senses dulling. ''Damn it.'' He strained to keep his eyes open, determined not to let the day end like this. Through the haze, he saw a small figure approaching¡ªa woman or perhaps a child. The figure raised an arm, and darkness swallowed him. *** "Cypress! Cypress!" The hymn echoed, signaling the start of another day. It was the third. "What the hell is taking them so long with breakfast?" Vengeance grumbled, just as he had the previous mornings. This time, Enkrid didn''t waste any effort. "I''ll go check." Stepping outside, he began preparing for the next encounter. If the assassin came again, he would be ready. Chapter 16 - Lack of Skill Chapter 16 - 16 - Lack of Skill Chapter 16 - Lack of Skill The third "today." Enkrid carried out grip strength training and combat reviews as usual. He did not waste time. It was another ordinary day with nothing happening during the day. At least, on the surface. "I just didn''t notice it." Today felt different. Krang skipped breakfast and only returned after lunch. Even the medic stationed at the infirmary was absent for an unusually long time. Typically, the soldiers assigned there would never leave their post. Other than that, everything seemed the same. The nearby infirmaries had a few patients, which was typical. Enkrid sat in front of the infirmary, observing the soldiers coming and going. Being stationed in the rear, the number of combat troops was naturally fewer than at the front lines. One of the wheels of a supply cart broke, causing the cart to tip over. From various directions, groans of pain could be heard from injured soldiers. A harsh wind blew, prompting some soldiers to grumble complaints. Considering everything, the security was not particularly tight. "Still, it''s not lax enough to let a few assassins slip through." His objective remained unchanged. Cause a commotion while confronting the assassins¡ªsimple enough. Enkrid steadied his resolve. The rest of the day passed just like any other. "Don''t you get bored of this?" Krang''s routine question. "When we get back..., just wait, you bastards," muttered Vengeance aimlessly. Night fell deeply. Lying in bed, Enkrid got up and sat on the edge, his legs dangling. He reviewed the information he knew. The assassins'' expected time of arrival: "After the third watch change." Their weapons: poisoned needles and blades. Their appearance: resembling women or children in physique. The most suspicious person: the newly appointed company commander. Their target: likely Krang. That was all he knew. It was enough. They weren''t after him, and all he needed to do was cause a ruckus. Watching the guards change shifts, Enkrid got up from his bed. "Yawn¡ªheaded to take a leak?" One of the guards asked, yawning. "No, just couldn''t sleep," Enkrid replied. "Tomorrow, you''re heading back to the main unit, right?" The guard smiled faintly. He had freckles, droopy eyes, and a gentle expression. Enkrid, as a squad leader, outranked the average soldier. "Yeah." "Nervous about it?" "No, just the moon''s too bright," Enkrid said. The freckled soldier tilted his head up. It was a pitch-black night. Thick clouds completely obscured the moonlight. The stars twinkled faintly, but the darkness was so deep one couldn''t see a step ahead without a torch. "The moon?" "Just kidding." Enkrid glanced at the nearby tent where another watchman stood guard. Even with strict discipline, such soldiers inevitably existed. Leaning against the tent pole, the guard nodded off. "Haha." The freckled soldier chuckled dryly. "Actually, it''s the torches. Too bright for me to sleep." "You''re sensitive," the soldier replied. "I''ve been like this since I was a kid." It wasn''t an empty remark. Enkrid was more sensitive than most people. He could hear better, smell better, and distinguish flavors more sharply. His senses were sharp. "And yet, I''ve already been caught off guard twice." The opponent was exceptionally skilled at stealth. Well, what kind of assassin wouldn''t excel in stealth and infiltration? It was dark. Staring at the starry sky and the torchlight on the posts, Enkrid exchanged a few meaningless words. He asked about the soldier''s hometown, how he ended up in the army¡ªtrivial things. The freckled soldier shared freely, without reservations. Enkrid didn''t listen closely. While conversing, his attention remained on the back. And he kept touching his neck. "The poison worked instantly because it struck my neck." If it had hit his arm instead, he might have had time to react. Preparation was key. As long as he stayed awake, he could at least scream for help. "Laura''s waiting for me back home¡ª" The freckled soldier was mid-sentence, talking about his girlfriend. Suddenly, thwack! Something pierced the soldier''s throat. "A blade!" A finger-length blade protruded from the front of his neck. Blood didn''t gush out. Until that blade was removed, it served as a stopper for the bleeding. The soldier staggered, his mouth muffled as he collapsed silently. Ping! Something shot toward Enkrid. All this happened in a single breath. Enkrid reacted instinctively, raising his hand to cover his neck. A sharp prick followed as a poisoned needle lodged in his hand. It was time to shout. There''s an assassin here! Attack! Or even just a simple: Aaaaah! But¡ª Something clamped over his mouth. No sound. No warning. Enkrid felt someone grab his neck and twist. Crack. Then, a searing pain in the back of his neck as a blade slid deep. Having been stabbed so many times, he could now estimate the depth and severity of the wound as if by instinct. This one would kill him shortly. Enkrid collapsed, blood pouring from his neck, soaking his chest. The assassin didn''t deliver a final blow. Enkrid lacked the strength to confirm their situation. ''Krang? What about Vengeance?'' Bleeding out, Enkrid saw two bodies before him. One was the freckled soldier. His throat was pierced, and blood pooled on the tent floor. "What was his name again?" They''d talked so much, yet Enkrid hadn''t paid attention. Inside the tent, Vengeance also lay sprawled, his eyes wide open. His neck seemed strangled. But Krang was nowhere in sight. Summoning his last ounce of strength, Enkrid raised his head to peer deeper into the tent. The movement caused the blade in his neck to shift, sending waves of agony. "Grrrk." A groan escaped involuntarily, but he persisted, lifting himself. He saw her¡ªa slender woman. Through the torn tent, a fairy-like woman blocked the way. ''It''s you, isn''t it?'' The newly appointed company commander. No matter how oblivious, this was unmistakable. "You already¡ª" Another voice mixed in. That was the last thing he remembered. *** "Cypress!Cypress!" And just like that, today began again. "Damn it." A hollow laugh escaped his lips. The opponent was an assassin. What good were things like the Heart of the Beast or Valah techniques? There was nothing he could do. He had to face them to even attempt anything. But without a word, they went straight for the neck and launched poisoned needles. Kicking off his blanket, he stood. "You''ve gone crazy first thing in the morning?" Vengeance, half-covered by the flying blanket, asked. "No, sir." That wasn''t the point. "Fine, you''ll die for this. Mutiny, right?" Ignoring Vengeance, who was struggling to rise, Enkrid stepped outside. "Hey! Running away? You''ll die if you get caught!" Vengeance''s shouts followed him. "What''s with all the noise this early?" Krang''s voice joined in as he woke up. Once again, the same day repeated itself. "Come on, then, assassin." *** Enkrid prepared for the fourth night. This time, he brought a few daggers as well. He also convinced the freckled soldier to come into the tent with him. "Everyone you need to protect is right here, aren''t they?" It wasn''t hard to persuade him. This honest rural youth was easily swayed by Enkrid''s words. He brought a torch stand inside and set it up. The inside of the tent lit up brightly. ''Alright, assassins. Let''s see if you can operate in such a well-lit place.'' It turned out they could. He didn''t even notice when they sneaked in. Nor how they approached so close. An assassin suddenly dropped from above with a thud. The shadow that fell landed needles tipped with poison in both the freckled soldier''s and Enkrid''s necks. Right before he died, Enkrid saw the tent being sliced open with a clean swipe. A white blade. A dark silhouette beyond it. The light from the torch inside illuminated the face of the figure. It was the newly appointed company commander. *** "Cypress!Cypress!" The fifth repetition of today dawned. "Alright." He had seen it coming, and yet he fell for it. Again. This was the fourth time. It was beginning to irk him. He decided to try the same strategy again, but this time, he would focus all his nerves. The result was not much different. The bed in the tent was elevated slightly from the ground. From beneath it, a dark shadow emerged and hurled a short dart. It was a throwing dart, a type of hidden weapon. The dart tip was coated in poison. A deadly venom. The pain that followed was on a completely different level than being stabbed by a knife. It felt like ants were gnawing on his heart. His breathing came to an abrupt halt, cutting off his air. Thus, he could do nothing before dying. The sixth repetition of today was much the same. Occasionally, there were minor changes. Right before his death, he heard the assassins muttering something. "You, ho..." "You''re..." "This is wa..." "Fair..." Of course, hearing that didn''t change anything. There was no way to make sense of it. At best, he caught a few words here and there. Even when he tried to piece it together, it didn''t make any sense. Frustrated, Enkrid tried all sorts of different approaches. Stubbornness can be a virtue, but in situations like this, it could also be a disadvantage. The age-old truth remained: if you''re not smart, your body suffers. Relentless effort isn''t always the solution. Thankfully, Enkrid wasn''t an idiot. After twenty failures. ''Even shouting is pointless.'' The assassins'' skills were simply that exceptional. Once, he tried shouting an alert before they even made a move. The soldiers from nearby tents rushed to his tent. He even saw Krang rubbing his eyes as he got up. This was roughly after the third watch had begun, so his preemptive strike could be considered well-timed. "An attack? Where?" In the end, all he got was a kick to the shin from the neighboring squad leader. If you yell first, nothing happens? Would that mean he''d just get through today unscathed? If that were the case, a kick to the shin was a small price to pay. After the commotion subsided and Enkrid excused himself by claiming it was just a strange dream. "How did you know?" For the first time, Enkrid heard the assassin''s voice. It was a man''s voice mixed with a metallic rasp. And then he died. A blade plunged into his neck. There had been attempts like this and others. "Platoon leader Vengeance, are you angry because of me, by any chance?" "What the hell?" "It''s not me, it''s Krang, isn''t it? You''re upset because Krang keeps talking nonsense, aren''t you?" Enkrid tried light banter to distract and warn them. "An assassin will come tonight." "...You''ve lost your mind, you lunatic." Vengeance didn''t believe him. "Are you secretly from the royal bloodline? Why would assassins target you?" Krang didn''t believe him either. They were faithless people. It was a failure. No matter the variation in attempts, the root cause of failure was the same. ''Lack of skill.'' It all boiled down to that single reason. The assassins'' skills were simply too superior. He needed a solution. Neither the Heart of the Beast nor Valah mercenary swordsmanship was of help now. ''Should I bring Rem in during the night?'' That might be a solution. If it were Rem or other squad members, they wouldn''t fall so easily. ''As long as it''s not Big Eyes.'' They wouldn''t fall. But how could he bring them here? He had no means to do so. He was merely a squad leader, and they were regular soldiers. Regardless of skill, their ranks were set. Could he ask the lieutenant in charge of the medic squad? ''As if they''d agree.'' What excuse could he use? Some things were possible, and some weren''t. Bringing his squad members was out of the question. Was there another way? There was. The repetition of today. Enkrid knew the time and place when he could meet Big Eyes. ''Should I ask for advice?'' All his squad members were terrifyingly skilled. ''Even if I can''t bring them along.'' He could at least hear their opinions. That would be better than enduring this out of sheer stubbornness. Enkrid got up to seek Big Eyes. "Where are you going?" Platoon Leader Vengeance called out from behind him. Krang was also absent from the morning lineup, so perhaps that''s why he asked. Enkrid tilted his head at the question and answered with a question of his own. "Are you lonely?" "What the hell?" "Never mind, then." "You, you son of a..." Ignoring him, Enkrid walked out. "Just you wait until I''m better!" Vengeance yelled from inside the tent, but Enkrid just rubbed his ears. Finding Big Eyes wasn''t difficult. His expression was sour as always, but what did that matter? This was the twenty-first repetition of today. "Big Eyes." Big Eyes, who had been walking briskly, turned his head at the call. He frowned, then recognized Enkrid. "Squad Leader? You''re looking better now." "Can we talk for a moment?" "I''m a bit busy. If you need someone to talk to, Jaxen is over there." Big Eyes seemed genuinely busy, gesturing with his thumb before hurrying off. There wasn''t even a chance to stop him. Not that Big Eyes was the goal¡ªhe''d planned to have someone else from the squad call him instead. Enkrid followed Big Eyes'' gesture to the indicated tent. It wasn''t one of the large ones but a smaller tent. It was a maintenance tent for broken supplies, not often visited by people. There, nestled among the repair tents, was a small one. It looked like it could fit two people at most. "Squad Leader?" Jaxen was inside. Reddish-brown hair and brown eyes tinged with red. A squad member with an unassuming smile. And according to Rem''s evaluation... The guy most likely to have a filthy backstory. One who enjoyed exploiting openings to strike, a total pervert. Enkrid scratched his head with a finger and asked. It seemed he might''ve come at an awkward time. "Do you have a moment?" Jaxen casually nodded. Behind him, a woman with curly blonde hair briefly peeked out of the tent before disappearing. "Just finished my business." Jaxen stood up, loosely draping a shirt over his shoulders, its buttons undone. Chapter 17 - Enkrid’s Resolve Chapter 17 - 17 - Enkrid''s Resolve If one were resourceful, even within this confined area, it was possible to meet with a courtesan. Rumor had it that courtesans preferred being inside the military camp over being in cities or rural villages. First of all, they could earn higher fees than usual. And though it might be whispered about, this was not something officially sanctioned within military law or discipline. Men encountered here, whether soldiers or officers, went out of their way to avoid causing a stir. No one relished the hassle of getting caught for summoning a woman. Thus, this place was practically a goldmine for the women. ''Even so.'' It''s quite the skill, really. After all, not everyone can do this, no matter how much they might want to. ''Big Eyes must have arranged it.'' "Man, that''s impressive. Really impressive." "Well, there''s no need to live frustrated if you don''t have to, right?" Not wrong. If you can, there''s no harm in indulging. Jaxen walked along, buttoning his shirt. The woman left behind in the barracks was likely just a business transaction¡ªhe didn''t even glance back. A faint red kiss mark was visible through the shirt he fastened, evidence of a heated encounter. Jaxen''s reddish-brown hair fluttered slightly in the breeze. He had a strangely appealing look¡ªnot particularly remarkable, but undeniably attractive. Yeah, it''s no wonder women gravitate toward him. "What''s the matter?" Jaxen turned to Enkrid, asking casually. As usual, his demeanor was easygoing and unassuming. Jaxen, a member of the squad. Rem''s assessment of him: a deviant who enjoys exploiting vulnerabilities. For a moment, Enkrid recalled Jaxen on the battlefield. If Rem resembled a rampaging beast, Jaxen... ''Not quite.'' Enkrid had never truly seen Jaxen in action. Apart from what Rem said and a fleeting image of Jaxen stabbing an enemy in the back with a spear. That was all. Still, it was possible to infer his skills. Even Rem, who often sustained minor injuries, couldn''t deny Jaxen''s near-unblemished record. He rarely got hurt, and when he did, it was barely anything. "You''re not planning to fight properly?" Occasionally, Rem would growl these words at him. When that happened, Jaxen would mock Rem openly. "I''m not the type to relish the sight of blood." "If you don''t enjoy it, just get lost or don''t stick around here, you sneaky bastard." "That''s none of your business." "Fine. Should I split your head or your torso first?" "Before that, I''d leave two thumb-sized holes in your heart." And that''s where the exchanges ended. Enkrid would step between them¡ªRem, bleeding from his forearm with his axe in hand, and Jaxen, quietly rising from his seat. "If you''re so eager to kill each other, why not take it to the enemy side? Why here?" Though they would glare at each other like they wanted to kill, they never actually fought. Verbal spats didn''t escalate when Enkrid physically placed himself between them. How many times had he broken up his squad members like that? Rem called Jaxen a sneaky alley cat. Jaxen called Rem a deranged savage. Enkrid had also seen Jaxen use a scavenged spear to stab an enemy in the back. Even after being stabbed, the enemy couldn''t pinpoint Jaxen''s position. While looking around, they were tripped by a crouching Jaxen, sending them sprawling with the spear still lodged in their back. That vivid image lingered in Enkrid''s mind. Curious about how Jaxen pulled it off, he once asked during a quiet moment. "Their focus was entirely on the front. That''s why it worked." Jaxen''s explanation was succinct. Rem, on the other hand, was generous in sharing his knowledge. But the same couldn''t be expected from Jaxen. Still, Enkrid didn''t give up easily. "Squad leader?" Jaxen stopped walking. At some point, they had arrived at the medical barracks where Enkrid was. Hearing the question, Enkrid drifted into thought. The answer required no deliberation. Enkrid hadn''t schemed to become the leader of the troublesome Fourth Squad of the Fourth Company. Who could ever plan for relationships like these? So, there was no need to overthink. If something was curious, he asked. If something was needed, he demanded it. That''s how Enkrid treated his squad. "If someone like you stabbed me in the back, how would I defend myself?" Jaxen instantly understood what Enkrid meant. How many times had this man pestered him for tips on sneaking up behind someone? His persistence was unparalleled. Every few days, the same question was repeated. If he had whined, it would have been easier to deal with. Jaxen could have scared him off with a few threats. But the squad leader didn''t do that. His eyes burned with curiosity and a desire to learn. Though Jaxen wasn''t impressed, one thing was clear: If left alone, this man would keep asking the same question every few days for as long as he was in the squad. If Jaxen somehow knew Enkrid for a lifetime, he would be pestered for a lifetime. Jaxen didn''t throw the term "tenacious" around lightly. He knew too well the limits of human endurance. He understood the futility of terms like mental fortitude, conviction, or determination. And yet... To Jaxen, Enkrid was a truly relentless man. His passion for swordsmanship and martial arts burned hotter than anyone''s. Was it that passion that drove him like this? "Why are you so eager to learn?" "Because knowing that could increase my odds of survival." Jaxen almost asked what he intended to do with the life he clung to so desperately, pouring all his earnings into training. But he held back. What good would it do to know? After all, wasn''t this just another fleeting acquaintance? Eventually, though it wasn''t easy, Jaxen explained everything to the best of his ability. Not that the squad leader could master it. Naturally, it wasn''t suited to his "style." Yet today''s question was slightly different. "Do you think you broke my ribs because your oponent was too strong¡ªor was it unexpected?" Jaxen found the question reasonable. If Enkrid thought he got kicked by the Frog in the last battle because he didn''t sense it, he was sorely mistaken. "No, it''s not because your opponent was ridiculously strong." "Then what?" The questioning didn''t stop. Enkrid responded with a question of his own. He knew Jaxen well enough. Jaxen wasn''t the type to be curious. He kept everyone at arm''s length, neither drawing too close nor pushing them too far. No one considered Jaxen a close friend. Except for the 444th Squad, no one particularly disliked him either. Jaxen stood up, loosely draping a shirt over his shoulders, its buttons undone. A suitable distance¡ªthis was Jaxen''s usual demeanor. Asking such questions might have felt awkward to him. However, Enkrid knew that posing questions this way would compel Jaxen to answer without pressing further. Their dynamic hadn''t been deliberately shaped, but through their interactions, Enkrid had become well-acquainted with the responses and stances of those around him. "No, not at all. If someone tries to stab you with a spear from behind, you just have to notice first." As expected, Jaxen''s explanation was terrible. Though Rem claimed he was bad at explaining, compared to Jaxen, Rem could easily pass as an esteemed fencing instructor. Fortunately, Enkrid had met and learned from a variety of instructors over the years. Some were better teachers than practitioners, while others, despite their competence, were terrible at teaching. From every teacher and every moment, Enkrid extracted his due. Thus, he had an abundance of ways to learn effectively. "How do you notice first?" Enkrid asked. "Always keep an eye on your surroundings." "What if you''re attacked despite that?" "Check more often." "You can''t just turn your head all day, can you?" "If you''re the squad leader, you can." "No, that''s impossible." Sometimes, Enkrid thought Jaxen was some kind of weirdo. Unlike Rem, who joked around, Jaxen was completely serious. Through experience, Enkrid had learned the best way to respond: a firm refusal. Perhaps this decisiveness influenced Jaxen, as he scanned their surroundings before casually moving to a pile of supplies stacked beside the medical tent. He perched himself atop the pile, leaning slightly against a nearby tent, and said, "This might take a while." "Well, today''s already a long day," Enkrid replied. At least until bedtime, he had plenty of time to spare. "You should eat, though, right?" "Missing one meal won''t kill me. I''ll even take over your meal duty for life¡ªwell, as long as we''re in the same squad." It was a promise that would disappear after today. Enkrid often made such fleeting promises. "If you''re joking, it''s not very funny," Jaxen remarked. Amusingly, everyone in the 444th squad hated tasks like dishwashing and meal duty the most. They all preferred battle over those chores. Why? Because they hated preparing meals for other squad members and cleaning up after them. They were all equally crazy, but there was much to learn from them. At least on the battlefield, their teaching was unparalleled. If Jaxen couldn''t address this issue, Enkrid figured he''d spend this time focusing or seek advice from Rem or another squadmate later. A soldier who left no traces on the battlefield¡ªwhether Jaxen''s skills were truly exceptional, Enkrid couldn''t say for sure. He had never witnessed them firsthand. However, conclusions drawn from Jaxen''s results spoke volumes about his prowess. Rem''s attitude toward Jaxen was evidence of his skill. So, there must be something worth learning, even if it didn''t help immediately¡ªit might be valuable later. The "Heart of the Beast"? That hadn''t been useful from the start, had it? "I don''t have time to waste on empty words," Enkrid said. "Didn''t you just say you have all day?" "That''s a different matter." "Fine. You''ll keep your promise, right?" Enkrid nodded and settled down right in front of Jaxen. A few passing soldiers glanced their way but didn''t engage. Amid the flow of soldiers and supply carts, the two faced each other. Though Jaxen sat higher on the pile of supplies, the difference wasn''t enough to bother Enkrid. Jaxen felt a strange unease. Enkrid had plopped himself down on the ground and was now looking at him. With the gravel and uneven rocks beneath, it must have been uncomfortable. Not to mention the dust kicked up by passing carts, yet he seemed unfazed, entirely focused on Jaxen''s words without a hint of doubt. The sincerity in Enkrid''s gaze prompted Jaxen to speak. "Humans have five senses." "Sight, smell, hearing¡ªthat kind of thing?" "Yes. Sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch." Why bring that up now? Shouldn''t Enkrid have questions? Yet, Enkrid''s expression showed none of that¡ªhe simply listened. It was an admirable attitude, enough to elicit unexpected words. Originally, Jaxen had planned to say, "Just train your senses," but he began explaining instead. The words came not from his head but from his heart. "If you can''t keep turning your head, you need eyes on your back." While heartfelt, the words weren''t exactly kind. Even Jaxen thought they sounded absurd. His explanation had been poor. "Got it," Enkrid said with a nod. ''Seriously?'' Jaxen carefully chose his next words. He hadn''t expected to teach this, but there was no harm in trying. He knew from observation that the squad leader was ordinary¡ªhis senses were nothing special, naturally gifted in no way. Still, that was fine. The training Jaxen intended to teach was effective even for average individuals. With consistent effort over three to four months, it would yield notable results. Typically, this training was conducted in confined spaces like caves. Of course, the ideal method would involve repeatedly surviving assassination attempts, but that wasn''t realistic. "You can''t always rely on your eyes to watch your surroundings, but your ears can do the job." His explanation still felt lacking, but Enkrid quickly grasped the point. "Ah, right. Sound doesn''t discriminate between front and back," Enkrid noted. "Precisely. To be more accurate, sound does have directionality. By learning to distinguish sounds, your hearing will develop. It''s a practice you can start right here, even while sitting. Try it now¡ªlisten carefully." Various sounds filled the air: The creak of rolling carts, the murmurs of grumbling soldiers, groans from the infirmary, the indifferent voice of a medic urging patience, and the flapping of banners as a strong westerly wind swept through. After a brief pause, Jaxen spoke. "Today''s wind is from the west. The medic is stationed three tents ahead from here. That cart''s left wheel joint is loose. If they''re lucky, it''ll last two days; if not, it''ll break today." True to his words, the cart wheel soon gave way with a crack, collapsing to one side. "Ah, come on!" the driver exclaimed in frustration. "By distinguishing sounds and identifying them, you can constantly survey your surroundings," Jaxen concluded. Enkrid was astonished. Was such a thing really possible? Clearly, Jaxen had just demonstrated it. "Installing eyes on your back¡ªthis is auditory training. Can you do it?" This auditory training relied on environment rather than difficulty in methodology. It was merely a matter of distinguishing sounds. Of course, that didn''t mean it would be easy. "Repeating the same sounds and distinguishing them will help, right? And once you''re used to that, you move on to other methods?" As expected, Enkrid, though unexceptional in martial arts or swordsmanship, excelled at listening and comprehension. His ability to listen well translated to quick understanding. "Correct. For example, one method of detecting an assassin''s silent approach is to distinguish the subtle sounds of shifting air. If you know a skilled assassin, have them attempt to sneak up on you¡ªthat would be the best training." Jaxen''s following comment was partly in jest, delivered with a faint smile. It was a joke, yet somehow unnecessary. Enkrid''s knack for grasping Jaxen''s inadequate explanations had led to the statement slipping out unintentionally. It seemed like a notion irrelevant to Enkrid''s life. Yet¡ª "Is that so?" Rather than dismissing it, Enkrid''s eyes gleamed with interest. What an inscrutable person, Jaxen thought as he evaluated Enkrid. Chapter 18 - Sounds of Survival Chapter 18 - 18 - Sounds of Survival Chapter 18 - Sounds of Survival "Still alive?" By nightfall, Enkrid tried to pick up the sound of an approaching assassin. It was pointless. There was no sound, no trace to be sensed. "Let''s stick to this for now." No hesitation lingered. Once a training method was set, he just executed it, like a plowing ox. And so, Enkrid did. Before the poisoned needle could be fired, the assassin would surely enter the tent. The goal was to hear that faint trace. Each night, he would lie down and wake up to the same morning. That didn''t mean he ignorantly focused solely on nighttime training. If possible, doing his best in all areas was ideal. During the day, he sought out Jaxen. The very next day after learning about auditory training, Enkrid waited modestly outside the tent. He had arrived too early compared to usual. Hearing faint whispers inside, he didn''t move closer. He didn''t care what intimate words were exchanged¡ªit wasn''t necessary to eavesdrop. After waiting, he met with Jaxen. "Let''s take a walk." As they walked, they talked. The same questions, the same demeanor. Even though Enkrid heard the same words each time, he unconsciously adopted the attentive posture Krang had shown him. Good listening was deeply tied to good learning. One had to listen well and understand before taking the next step. Though he wasn''t fully aware of it, Enkrid instinctively knew the importance of listening and did so diligently. In this way, the habit of attentiveness proved to be an excellent tool. Jaxen repeated himself often, and Enkrid sometimes pretended to be a genius. "Eyes in the back of your head¡ªthat''s listening, isn''t it? Picking it up with your ears?" "...Doesn''t seem like further explanation is needed." "Sounds have directions too, right? Front, back, left, right¡ªyou can differentiate based on where and how strong the sound is, correct?" "Are you a genius?" "What?" "Nothing. You''re sharper than expected." "Did I look like a fool to you?" "Not at all." And then the day would end again, starting anew with Vengeance''s complaints. "Hey, no breakfast? Where''s that bastard gone?" "Yes, being hungry does make one irritable." "What?" "I''ll go find breakfast so our dear platoon leader can stop whining." "...Have you lost your mind?" Not really. Since words didn''t hold much meaning, he decided to start the day with some teasing. He observed those around him as they went about their routines, using some of their actions as markers to make subtle changes to the repetitive days. Enkrid half-jokingly dealt with breakfast before diving into another round of training. Five times, ten times. Repeating this over and over, he grew accustomed to dragging Jaxen out of the tent. At first, it felt awkward, but after overhearing the intimate exchanges inside, he became shameless. Today, they praised one spot; last time, they praised another. They talked about preferred positions. In these repeated days, Enkrid boldly lifted the tent flap. "Jaxen, got a moment?" "...What is it now?" "If you''re going to continue, i''ll step aside." "Even if I wanted to, you ruined the mood." "Then get out." The woman beside Jaxen stared at Enkrid with incredulous eyes, as if thinking, "What''s with this guy?" At first, even Enkrid felt embarrassed, but as he grew used to it, he became unabashed. He simply ignored it. Most importantly, Jaxen didn''t particularly express displeasure with this behavior. He was just curious about Enkrid''s intentions. That curiosity was always resolved in the same way. "Curious?" "No, never mind." The same went for training. As Enkrid became more adept at hearing sounds, Jaxen raised a question. "...Have you learned this before?" "My grandfather taught me a little as a child." Enkrid was a war orphan. He had no grandfather, let alone parents. "I see." Jaxen let it slide, even with such a flimsy excuse. Enkrid always spent his days meaningfully. When practicing thrusting techniques, moving his body was his focus. Now, sitting still was the task. There were results. Though slow, Enkrid made steady progress. "Let''s follow what I''ve learned." If a full step wasn''t possible, take half a step. If half a step wasn''t possible, take a quarter step. And if even that was impossible, start with wiggling his toes. After repeating the same day for about twenty times, "I hear it." He could hear the wind brushing against feathers. Creak. He could hear the unpleasant sound of a carriage wheel. It was like the broken gears of a damaged spring. "A breaking sound." Sounds came in different types. Some carried information as if speaking. For example, the sound coming from a flag did so. "Finding out it''s position is simple. Check where you''re seated, locate the north, then follow the direction of the flag''s fluttering sound." Easier said than done. Few could accomplish this in one go. Repetition, then more repetition. As always, dividing each day into smaller moments, maintaining an unchanging resolve. Everything synergized. "Follow the sound of the fluttering feathers." Based on his seated position,he could discern the direction of the wind. It wouldn''t be particularly practical in everyday life or on the battlefield. After all, one could sense the wind''s direction from where they sat. But identifying it solely through sound carried its own significance. He could distinguish voices of intent,gauge their volume, and measure distances. "If mastered, this could be quite useful in battle." Come to think of it, Jaxen always managed to avoid dangerous battlefields. Did he listen, judge, and act preemptively? Could such things really be done? That was something Enkrid couldn''t determine yet. Distinguishing sounds was the first part of this training. The second was measuring distances by sound. Enkrid had just completed these two steps. The third step was to discern and focus on faint, subtle sounds. The best training for this, they said, was to detect the presence of assassins. "Ridiculous, but..." It was an ideal environment. Not knowing what was happening before suddenly dying was far worse than he had imagined. That sudden moment of helplessness, with no chance to resist, was the worst. Still. ''Could this be an opportunity?'' The thought came naturally. Enkrid didn''t get up from his bed. Tangling with the freckled night watchman always seemed to lead to his demise in past encounters. There was no need for that now. He closed his eyes and focused while remaining lying down. For now, he listened. What would come next could be thought about later. During the day, he listened to the sound of carts rolling, wooden pegs breaking and wobbling, or perfectly intact carts. He distinguished between flags and tents swaying in the wind, and the voices of people. What might seem tedious and exhausting to some was something entirely different for Enkrid. ''This is fun.'' For Enkrid, even small progress brought him joy. It wasn''t like learning the Heart of the Beast through grueling physical effort, but it was mentally taxing. When he focused too much, splitting headaches would pound his skull. But by the thirtieth attempt, he was fine. Each day brought subtle growth, making it different from the day before. Enkrid found immense satisfaction in that. On the fifty-sixth night, a quiet sound pierced through the usual nighttime noise. The crackling of torches burning in their holders. The sound of a drowsy guard startling awake and jabbing the ground with his spear. The freckled night watch occasionally peeking into the tent. Amid those familiar sounds, something small and distinct crept into Enkrid''s ears. A faint, whizzing noise like air escaping. ''I heard it.'' It was different. Enkrid''s trained ears caught the subtle variance. The moment it reached him, he rolled to the side without hesitation. ''I dodged it.'' Initially, his plan had been to dodge and then shout for help. But he couldn''t. A sharp hiss cut through the air behind him. There was no time to reach for the dagger hidden in his clothes. He rolled forward again. Hisses, whooshes, and faint rustling noises filled the space. Relying on the direction of the sounds, Enkrid narrowly avoided the relentless attacks, though one blade nicked his thigh. ''That was lucky.'' If his timing had been slightly off, his thigh would''ve been slashed. And against an opponent using poisoned needles, even a graze could be fatal. Enkrid kept rolling and dodging, relying on the Heart of the Beast. Despite the repeated close calls, his heart stayed cool and steady. There was no need to panic. If all he needed to do was listen and evade¡ª ''I can manage.'' By abandoning counterattacks, he could continue to dodge. A blade slashed vertically, aiming for his back. The intent was clear¡ªto force a graze at least. Enkrid rolled toward Vengeance''s cot, ramming his shoulder into it. Thud. The impact sent a sharp jolt through his shoulder muscles, but Vengeance remained unconscious. ''Poison.'' The squad leader wouldn''t wake up¡ªlikely due to some paralyzing or sleep-inducing toxin. "Tough bastard." This time, the assassin muttered under his breath, their urgency evident as they clicked their tongue and stepped forward. Though Enkrid''s breath came in short gasps, his response was swift. The assassin thrust a knife with their right hand while hurling a poisoned needle with their left. It was a near-flawless strike. But Enkrid, despite his labored breathing, reacted quickly. He evaded the knife and used Vengeance''s arm as a shield against the needle. Thud. The needle lodged in Vengeance''s forearm. The assassin hesitated, their confidence shaken, giving Enkrid a chance to roll toward the tent''s entrance. His heavy breathing had been a ploy. ''This is the Valen Mercenary Style¡ªfeigned vulnerability.'' He''d baited his opponent into thinking they had an easy opening, then exploited their reaction. It worked perfectly. As he rolled, Enkrid used the momentum to half-rise and made for the tent''s exit. The assassin lunged at him. That too was a feint. Instead of the entrance, Enkrid turned toward the tent''s wall, drawing his dagger to slice through it. If he could cut through and escape, victory would be his. But¡ª Rip! The tent wall was slashed from the outside before he could act. Through the torn fabric, glowing green eyes emerged. "You''re a bit late," came a voice. It was the Fairy Company Commander¡ªthe mastermind behind the assassination. Reflexively, Enkrid attempted a thrust. Though he held only a dagger, his countless drills had made the motion instinctive. Pivoting on his left foot, he twisted and extended his right arm like a spear. The Fairy Commander''s glowing eyes narrowed as they stepped inside, deflecting the thrust with a casual motion of their right hand. Clang! The trajectory of the dagger was disrupted, and the commander kicked Enkrid''s supporting leg. The world spun as Enkrid hit the ground. What followed was inexplicable. Click. The commander yanked Enkrid''s cloak, using it as a shield. Thud-thud-thud. Poisoned needles embedded themselves in the fabric. "You okay?" Through the confusion, Enkrid saw Krang crouching just outside the tent. "A guard, huh?" The assassin''s voice wavered, betraying their unease. "Assassinations leave a foul taste in my mouth," the Fairy Commander remarked, letting the cloak fall. Enkrid struggled to process the scene. ''Not an assassin?'' She was here to protect, not kill. So, the face he saw during his near-death moment had been an ally arriving late? "You don''t seem hurt." "Just startled," Enkrid replied to Krang, turning to assess the situation. The assassin, now aware of the Fairy Commander''s presence, shifted their weight backward, clearly preparing to flee. The commander made no move to stop them. Moments later, the assassin slipped out of the tent, their steps eerily silent even as they ran. "Well, this is awkward." Krang chuckled as he entered the tent. The commander dragged the unconscious freckled guard inside, dumping him unceremoniously on the ground. They glanced at Vengeance''s still form before turning to Enkrid, their glowing green eyes locking on him. A brief silence. Then, tilting her head, the Fairy Commander spoke. "You''re alive?" Her tone carried a hint of surprise. Chapter 19 - Fire Chapter 19 - 19 - Fire Chapter 19 - Fire Endure today. Repetition of training and discipline. Enkrid had always lived this way. But it was the first time today''s repetition had brought him to this particular moment. "Am I going to die?" That was the first thought that came to him in response to the company commander''s reaction. He quickly corrected himself. ''If she wanted me dead, she would''ve done it earlier.'' When did Krang slip away? He hadn''t even sensed Krang''s presence leaving. "Tch." Even now... "I''m still lacking." Enkrid felt the inadequacy of his trained hearing. It was in his nature to notice such things. This realization caused him to miss the timing to respond. The newly appointed company commander, a fairy woman, was staring straight at him. "You''re alive, huh?" she had said. What was he supposed to say to that? Enkrid opened his mouth. "...Should I have died?" "No, not at all," she replied, her lips barely moving. The company commander stared at him for a while longer before turning around. She then retrieved the poisoned needles scattered on the ground and began checking the condition of Vengeance and the sentries she''d brought along, rolling their eyes back to examine them. ''Is she checking to see if any of the soldiers died in the chaos?'' Afterward, she brought one of the poisoned needles to her lips and lightly tapped it against her tongue. ''She must be well-versed in herbalism.'' He''d occasionally seen mercenaries do similar things. Given the fairies'' deep connection to nature, it wasn''t surprising that some had a strong understanding of poisons and medicine. Enkrid remained slumped on the ground, merely watching her. He had no intention of getting up. Of course, if someone were to target his neck again, he''d roll or twist away to evade. But for now, exhaustion weighed on him. While this wasn''t as draining as the first day of repetition, it was still grueling. If the first day had drained his physical stamina, this time, it felt like his mental strength had been utterly depleted. He''d evaded countless attacks solely by relying on sound. Not a single scratch had marked him. Naturally, that was no coincidence. How many times had he been caught off guard in the past? Though he''d been ambushed silently on occasion, he''d also narrowly evaded initial attacks several times. Repeated patterns were something one could learn. Even assassins had patterns in their movements. Enkrid had instinctively learned them. ''So, I''ve experienced this once already.'' Would it be easier the second time? No, absolutely not. Anyone who witnessed the repetition of Enkrid''s day, who went through it alongside him, could never make such a claim. But there was no one who could. In the isolation of his repetitive days, he was always alone. Enkrid pressed his temples with his fingers as he sat there. The excitement hadn''t worn off, and his head throbbed faintly. He had a sense that this would eventually turn into a headache. Instinctively, he could feel it. Rustle. Suddenly, Enkrid sensed something being pointed at his neck. He reflexively twisted his body to the side and extended his palm. There, Krang stood, mimicking a motion as if to chop at Enkrid''s neck with his hand. "Do you actually have eyes on the back of your head?" Krang asked with genuine curiosity. "This doesn''t seem like the time to be joking," Enkrid retorted. The nerve of this carefree guy. Krang smiled lazily, speaking in his relaxed tone. "Ah, my bad." Was the assassin really after this guy? ''If so, why didn''t they just kill him? Why come after me first?'' Was it just bad luck? Could it really be that simple? No, it couldn''t be. The assassin must have been targeting Krang. It didn''t make sense for an assassin to go after Vengeance or Enkrid. "Killing me or Vengeance would only invite unnecessary suspicion." Sending an assassin to eliminate two powerless soldiers? That would be overkill. The purpose of an assassin was to kill swiftly and silently. If they wanted to clean up the aftermath, they could have simply set the tent on fire. No one would question stab wounds on a corpse burned beyond recognition. Even if that wasn''t the case, there were countless ways to dispose of bodies. They could erase all traces of blood and toss the bodies in a remote area. The assumption would be desertion, not abduction or murder. Especially in this remote field infirmary. It wasn''t a place for officers, just a temporary medical station for lower-ranked soldiers. Nobody paid much attention to such places. Of course, even reaching a place like this wasn''t easy. "They were probably after me," Krang said. It was when the company commander finished tidying up inside and peeked out of the tent. Krang, crouching beside Enkrid, casually muttered. "Hmm. Why?" "You don''t seem too surprised," Krang said, glancing at her. "I am. Believe me," she replied. "Good poker face you''ve got there." Was this really the time for this conversation? Enkrid almost chided him but stopped himself. He knew from experience. This man had an unflappable personality. ''Of course, maybe he gets serious when the time comes.'' Though Krang wouldn''t remember it, the sight of him delivering a speech that drew in everyone''s attention had been burned into Enkrid''s memory. "Are you going to tell us who you really are?" The company commander''s voice, silent and sudden, broke the air. Krang shrugged lightly and responded. "I''d say sorry, but no." If that was an apology, it didn''t feel like one. Krang stood, dusted himself off, and glanced around, locking eyes with the company commander. "I''m not in a position to give orders, so I''ll ask for a favor instead." It was strange. He spoke casually, even to someone of higher rank. This was the sort of behavior that could get him killed if he wasn''t a high-ranking noble. He didn''t just talk, though. With a single step forward... That was all it took. The air shifted, just like before. The same suffocating presence from when Enkrid had asked about his identity enveloped the space. Krang silently held their gazes. Two spectators, one performer. But the performer was like a vortex, pulling everything around him into his orbit. "Will you do it? Consider it a debt I''ll repay." "Go ahead," the company commander replied with a respectful nod. Krang offered a gentle smile. "I hope no one else dies today." It was small, but his voice carried a quiet yet unyielding strength. If magic could imbue words, this was how it would sound. A tone and delivery that made you want to obey. How could he evoke such feelings? Enkrid felt an odd sense of de?ja? vu. Perhaps it was because he had experienced this once before. The vortex that drew everything in quickly dissipated. Krang extended a hand to Enkrid. "Legs gave out?" "No, not quite." Enkrid grasped his hand, his feelings a tangled mess. "...Did you change your mind about something?" Watching the two, the company commander asked. "Let''s just say I did." Krang replied, leaving Enkrid clueless about their conversation. Not that he felt like asking. "They probably wouldn''t tell me anyway." The company commander sighed quietly and turned to Enkrid. "Can you keep what happened today to yourself?" "Yes, of course." Given the way she asked, as if ready to slit his throat for a different answer, what else could he say? He''d glimpsed her skills earlier. Just one move. ''But how could she parry like that?'' With a single motion, she had deflected Enkrid''s attack, sending him sprawling. He''d love to see that technique again. But if he did, it would mean his death. And so, the repetition of today would begin again. If he refused to stay silent now? Would she let him live? No, that wouldn''t happen. There are many ways to keep someone quiet without killing them. Killing would''ve been pointless, not to mention suicidal. "I''m counting on you." More than anything, Krang''s words carried weight. Though Enkrid had only spent a few days and shared a handful of conversations with Krang, he felt a connection. The bond they had formed wasn''t insignificant, transcending the brief time they''d known each other. The two had become strangely close, as if time played no role in their camaraderie. "Keeping secrets is my specialty." It wasn''t an empty boast. Within the squad, there were several secrets Enkrid had entrusted to him. Some were critical, others trivial, but none had ever been revealed. "Well then, we just need to settle this situation." The company commander spoke, glancing at the torn tent and two fallen soldiers. "When you say no more deaths, are you including those two as well?" Krang''s question was met with a casual nod from the commander. No one here truly knew what had transpired. But if they found out? Judging by the atmosphere, it seemed best to keep Krang''s identity concealed. The company commander appeared deep in thought. "When that guard wakes up, will he remember being attacked?" Enkrid dusted the dirt from his seat as he spoke. "He probably won''t. Even if he does, he wouldn''t have seen anything." The commander spoke with partial confidence, and Enkrid agreed. After all, how many times had he been caught off guard himself? The freckled sentry likely fainted without realizing what had hit him. "Well then." "Can you carry one of them outside?" The company commander turned to Enkrid at his suggestion. "I have a simple and convenient solution. However, it might get me into some trouble. If that happens, I''ll need you to cover for me." Enkrid explained his plan. Krang chuckled upon hearing it, while the commander nodded without a hint of humor. *** Whoosh! "Huh?" The sentry in front of the barracks, dozing off during his shift, suddenly felt a sharp sting on his cheek and woke up. As he opened his eyes, a warm heat brushed against his skin. Half-asleep, he turned his head, only to freeze in shock. ''Fire?'' Yes, it was fire. Flames were climbing up the front of the tent, embers scattering in the air. Clink. The spear he had been holding dropped to the ground, jolting him fully awake. "F-Fire! Fire! Fire!" The startled guard shouted, his tongue stumbling over the words in his panic. "Fire! Fire! Fire!" He couldn''t even manage to shout "Fire!" properly, repeating the word in a panic-stricken tone. But his urgency was enough to grab the attention of others nearby. "Fire!" A patrolling sentry shouted, his voice echoing through the camp and clarifying the situation. "The infirmary tent is on fire!" The observant patroller''s announcement rang out loudly. "Fetch water!" At last, soldiers began sticking their heads out and assessing the scene. "Damn it, is there anyone inside?" "Yeah, there''s that one soldier!" The fire that had started at the front of the tent quickly spread upward, engulfing the entire structure. The chaos of the night had begun. Thick black smoke and flames rose into the sky. Even the bravest soldiers hesitated to rush into the burning tent. "Get water, now!" The supply company commander shouted, spurring those who were already scrambling for buckets of water. Splash! Water splashed onto the flames, momentarily causing smoke to billow, but the fire barely faltered. "Form a line for bucket passing!" The commander barked orders, drawing on his experience with logistics to implement an efficient solution. Soldiers formed a chain, passing buckets filled with water along the line toward the fire. Thud! One clumsy soldier dropped a bucket, spilling its contents. "What the hell? Pick it up, now!" "Understood, sir!" The commotion continued as the flames lit up the soldiers'' faces. The supply commander stomped his foot in frustration. The fire spreading to neighboring tents would be a disaster. For him, containing the fire was far more critical than saving any lives inside. As the coordinated efforts began to douse the flames, the commander sighed in relief. ''But what caused this fire?'' The weather wasn''t particularly dry, so it wasn''t a high-risk season for fires. Thankfully, the flames didn''t spread. The fire seemed to know its limits, consuming just the one tent before dying down. "There''s someone inside!" A soldier with sharp night vision pointed out. "Bring them out! It''s a relief they''re alive." The supply commander uttered the words, though he cared more about the fire being contained than the survivors. Enkrid laid the freckled guard next to Vengeance, whom the commander had carried outside. "Over here!" He called out, drawing people over. "Are you alright?" "Suddenly a fire..." "What happened?" Enkrid, his face smeared with soot, coughed as he answered. "I''m not sure either... coughcough... It just happened so quickly." *** The late-night fire incident was ultimately written off as an accident. Hoo-oo-oo. An owl''s distant call echoed from the direction of the forest. It was likely from the woods nearby. The fairy commander, guided by the sound, compared the map in her head to her current location and moved forward. She reached her destination¡ªa pebble-strewn stream not far from the camp. Once there, she spoke. "If not for that squad leader, things could''ve been dire." Just from inspecting the barracks, the commander discerned the assassin''s intent. ''Eliminate the ones at the entrance, then go straight for the target.'' The one at the entrance had been Enkrid. Thanks to him, Krang survived. Had he faltered even slightly, both he and the target would''ve perished. "I see." Krang exhaled deeply, observing her. The commander turned away. "Well then." With that, she offered a simple farewell. Her fairy-like footsteps made no sound as she disappeared into the shadows. She was the commander of the 4th Company, 4th Battalion, Cypress Division. It was time for her to return to the camp. The fairy disappeared into the darkness, vanishing from sight. Watching her go, Krang thought of Enkrid''s dream. ''A knight, huh.'' "You''ve given me an idea of how I should live my life, too." Krang''s words to Enkrid after hearing his dream were genuine. Though he could deceive others, he had never uttered an insincere word to someone who approached him with sincerity. Krang had a secret tied to his birth. But he neither liked his lineage nor the secrets it entailed. He had avoided them until now. ''Maybe it''s time to face it.'' Krang recognized Enkrid''s talent at first glance. Despite the odds, Enkrid dared to dream of knighthood. Most people would dismiss the idea as absurd. Some would mock it outright. Yet, he pursued it. Krang sensed in Enkrid''s resolute fists a determination that would not waver. People like that rarely changed. "What an amusing friend." A strange sense of closeness lingered. As the clouds above cleared, moonlight began to shine once more. Krang continued walking, sensing that a different life awaited him. Chapter 20 - Squad Leader Enkrid Chapter 20 - 20 - Squad Leader Enkrid Chapter 20 - Squad Leader Enkrid Between the tents stood a torch stand. The supply tent had oil, of course. They had been training for days, repeatedly listening to sounds and honing their awareness. By now, Enkrid could identify everything around him and its location even with his eyes closed. "Let''s take care of this quickly," he murmured. It was a simple task: locate the patrol soldiers by sound, sneak into the supply tent to grab some oil, and spread it haphazardly around the tents. The next part was even easier. He kicked the torch stand, toppling it. Avoiding watchful eyes, Enkrid crawled stealthily in the shadows, pulling the stand inward until it fell over. The embers at the tip eagerly embraced the oil, flaring up with a fiery greeting. "Well, aren''t you talented," the company commander commented nonchalantly. Was that a compliment? Enkrid took it as such and set the tent ablaze. Naturally, the flames started where the oil had been spread. Enkrid dodged the spreading fire, smudging soot on his face and inhaling some smoke. It was far easier to genuinely react to the situation than to feign it poorly. "Cough, cough!" He hacked and carried a freckled soldier who had collapsed to the ripped side of the tent, exiting the same way the company commander had entered. Looping around the tent, he dropped to the ground near the medical station. That was enough for now. "Fire!" The timing was deliberate, ensuring the flames erupted as the patrol soldiers approached. The sentry at the neighboring tent, though, was a master of standing asleep and didn''t stir. Enkrid almost suspected the assassin had shot him with a poison dart too. This didn''t require much preparation. He merely stole oil from a supply tent he already knew well and knocked over the torch stand. However, both Krang and the company commander, who witnessed it all, seemed rather impressed. "If you''d joined a band of thieves, you''d probably be their leader by now," Krang had said just before they parted ways. Enkrid wasn''t sure if that was meant as praise. Running a hand through his hair, his fingers snagged on a curl. "Guess I should trim my hair too," he thought, lying down without even bothering to wipe the soot off his face. It wasn''t a big fire, and no one had died. He had even come up with a decent excuse for the sentry''s negligence. "I''ll deal with it tomorrow. Tomorrow." For now, he just wanted to sleep right there and then. It had been a long night. A truly exhausting day. His headache had dulled his thoughts into a hazy fog. He wanted nothing more than to stop thinking altogether. "Survivors?" "There. Though, hmm, looks like he just fainted." He knew the words were about him but chose to ignore them, closing his eyes. Fatigue enveloped him. It wasn''t anything particular about the freckled sentry, but Enkrid felt an inexplicable fondness for him. "He wouldn''t know but...." he mused. Enkrid had spoken with him, learning about his hometown, the girlfriend he left behind, and why he joined the military. Today, at least for Enkrid, was another day they lived through. That alone forged a sense of camaraderie. And none of the fire or ambush was the sentry''s fault. So, Enkrid fabricated an excuse. The soldier had shouted when the fire broke out and tried to rescue those inside before succumbing to the smoke and fainting. He was a newly trained recruit, after all, and they hadn''t exactly trained him for tent fires. It was a plausible enough story for everyone to accept without question. "Did I really do that?" The soldier, lacking any memory of the event, was understandably confused. "Looks like the smoke got to your head," the supply company commander remarked casually. Enkrid had worried someone might suspect him, but no one did. Perhaps his explanation was too perfectly timed. The supply commander seemed more relieved that the fire hadn''t spread to the supply tent than concerned about anything else. Since the situation had played out as planned, Enkrid considered it a success. The next morning brought a new day. It wasn''t a repeat of yesterday. Although he woke with lingering headaches, Enkrid felt a sense of satisfaction. At least he had survived ''today'' once more. "You saved me?" Having washed his face, changed out of his smoke-stained clothes, and trimmed his hair with a dagger, Enkrid met Vengeance. Vengeance sat atop a supply crate, staring at him. "I couldn''t just let you burn to death before my eyes," Enkrid replied. Vengeance muttered under his breath before asking, "...Why?" Did this really require an explanation? With his pounding headache, Enkrid wasn''t in the mood for a lengthy discussion. "We''re comrades." Vengeance''s expression hardened. A sharp inhale followed. Noticing this, Enkrid added, "The flower of the battlefield..." "...is the infantry," Vengeance finished. It was the infantry unit''s creed. With that, Enkrid turned away, recalling the order to return. "You are nothing but trouble," Vengeance grumbled faintly behind him. Normally, such mutterings wouldn''t have reached his ears. ''Hearing training.'' Enkrid reflected on the skill he had honed and thought about the fairy company commander deflecting his blade last night. He also recalled dodging the assassin''s thrusts and stabs. A curious thought emerged. "Am I still standing in the same place?" It wasn''t a deep concern, just a passing curiosity. How much had he changed between yesterday and today? A sudden urge to spar with Rem struck him. "But first..." He decided to return to the main camp and rest. His headache hadn''t subsided. "The weather''s beautiful." Noticing his long shadow stretching to his right, Enkrid looked up. The sky was a brilliant blue canvas dotted with fluffy white clouds. The breeze was cool, and the sunlight warm. Today was an exceptionally clear day. Walking under such a sky felt as if it might chase away his headache. *** Krais outwardly remained calm, but internally, he let out deep sighs. Enkrid had been gone for exactly a week. "What on earth did we do back then?" Faced with the current situation, Krais''s mind sought refuge in past memories. He thought back to the time when Enkrid wasn''t around. "So, I''m the squad leader here, which means you all have to listen to me. That''s why I''m telling you to gather in front of the tent now." The squad leader, who repeatedly stammered "Well, you see...," had once displayed a commanding presence. He met an untimely death on his first battlefield. "Follow me!" It was evident he had bought into some strange rumor. Something about how, though the squad of troublemakers might be small in number, their skills were exceptional. Did he genuinely believe such individuals would meekly follow his lead? He charged ahead alone, only to have his head skewered by a spear. When his helmet flew back toward them, Rem kicked it away with a casual backward swing. The next squad leader. "I hear some of you are quite skilled. Care to prove it? Anyone up for a duel with me?" This one was reportedly a noble''s child. Rumor had it he was serving in the military as punishment for some crime, though no one knew the details. He claimed he''d only be here for a few months before returning to his previous life. The noble was confident, but he had no experience. "Is it really okay to spar with the squad leader?" Rem asked, scratching his head. "Hmm, not you. Let''s see... you there, the one with the reddish-brown hair." He picked Jaxen. Rem, with his rough demeanor, looked like trouble incarnate. Clearly someone who could fight. Calling on Krais, however, would''ve been too much, so the noble must''ve thought Jaxen seemed manageable. Of course, it was a grave mistake. "Me, sir?" "Yes, you. Come here. Let''s spar. Ha! I''ve never lost before." "What happens if someone gets hurt during the duel?" "A man shouldn''t fear such things! It''ll be water under the bridge." The arrogant, cocky noble faced his challenge. "AAAGH!" And promptly broke his forearm. "I figured he''d dodge," Jaxen said flatly. Usually laid-back, Jaxen could turn into a complete maniac on occasion. The squad''s teasing didn''t help. "You should''ve stepped forward with your left foot back there." "Ridiculous. Just trip him outright and end it." "He''s gripping his sword too lightly. Hold it tighter, or you''ll get hurt." "Pathetic. Can''t even knock someone off their feet? I''d have finished this ages ago. What a bore." Jaxen''s calm demeanor shifted dangerously, and the noble squad leader paid for his arrogance with a broken arm. The company commander exploded in anger. "You attacked your superior?" "He insisted on the duel and promised it''d be water under the bridge." "Exactly! A man''s word is his bond!" "Though his word changes with every sentence. I beg forgiveness for my sins." With every remark from the squad, the commander found himself unable to retort. Facts were facts. Unsurprisingly, the noble squad leader slunk away with his tail between his legs. Back in his family''s domain, he probably had plenty of well-paid swordsmen willing to lose to him. But this was the battlefield. The company commander hadn''t intended to drag him into combat anyway¡ªhis "squad leader" title was purely ceremonial. Subsequent squad leaders weren''t much better. One particularly hot-headed leader had a quiet talk with Rem outside the barracks and requested a transfer shortly after. The others left for similar reasons. The ones who stayed got along no better than strangers passing on the street. Krais turned at the sound of a sigh behind him. "Finally." He saw the face and muttered with relief, "What''s with the state you''re in?" It was Enkrid, massaging his temples as he approached. Enkrid glanced at the two squaring off in front of the barracks. "This is what happens when there''s no squad leader. I''m the de facto leader, so do as I say. Got it, Ragna?" "Don''t call me by name. Use my family name and add ''sir,'' you barbarian." "Hah, since when did you start pretending to be a noble?" "I simply find it offensive for an uncivilized beast to address me by name." "Oh, really? You need a savage beast to knock some sense into you?" Rem''s hands flexed, veins bulging, as if he might split a skull with his axe at any moment. Ragna, however, stood casually, his arms at his sides. This was his usual stance. Jaxen watched with disinterest, while another squadmate quietly prayed for peace. "Brothers, violence solves nothing," the praying soldier said. "Step aside, preacher." "Stand back. Blades don''t discriminate," said both Rem and Ragna simultaneously. "The squad''s a disaster," Krais muttered. It had only been a week, yet chaos reigned. "Got any spare meds, Krais?" asked Enkrid nonchalantly, ignoring the escalating tension. "Nope. Busy as I am, you''ll have to deal with it," Krais replied before addressing Enkrid. "Wait a second," Enkrid said, stepping between the two combatants. Stopping a fight here required more than words. It required action. Enkrid moved directly between them. "What kind of idiot steps into this mess?" Rem muttered, though the tension in his hands dissipated. With visible annoyance, both Rem and Ragna stepped back, but not without trading parting shots. "Don''t die on the battlefield. I want to kill you myself." "What''s that? Tomorrow? You''re dying tomorrow? Can''t wait to split your skull." "Enough," Enkrid muttered, shaking his head. Why were these two always at each other''s throats? No one knew. It had always been this way. "Honestly, so much happened while you were gone," Krais said from behind. "Clearly," Enkrid replied, observing the disarray. Krais wasn''t kidding when he called the barracks a mess. Though he had expected it, Enkrid sighed inwardly. Nothing he hadn''t survived before. A little chaos was nothing compared to what he''d been through. Missing meal duties. A punch-up with a neighboring squad. Ignoring orders to report to the platoon leader. "Isn''t this a bit much, even for just one week?" Krais continued to chatter. Enkrid nodded absentmindedly, until something Krais said caught his attention. "A curse?" "Yes. They say the entire camp is cursed." What nonsense is this? The absurdity of it made even his headache seem trivial. Chapter 21 - Sparring and Reflection Chapter 21 - 21 - Sparring and Reflection Chapter 21 - Sparring and Reflection Crash. A bolt of lightning split the clear sky, followed by the soft patter of raindrops. "Ugh, this ruins the mood," grumbled Ragna. "Hmph," Rem replied curtly. The heated argument between the two fizzled out as they averted their gazes, avoiding further confrontation. That was the end of their spat. Together, they sought shelter from the rain, retreating into the barracks. The sudden downpour was bizarre, especially since the skies had been so clear. It seemed the weather had taken a turn for the absurd. Late autumn was no time for unexpected showers, and this kind of rain¡ªvoid of even a single dark cloud¡ªwas a rare sight. "Rain out of nowhere," Krais muttered, staring at the raindrops falling from the seemingly clear sky. Enkrid also glanced upward, replaying events that had occurred in his absence. The idea of a "curse" still lingered, though he dismissed it as mere superstition. "So, would they say even this rain is part of the curse?" "Maybe," Krais said with a shrug. "Over the past three days, one scout tripped and broke his nose, another fractured his arm, and Rotten got bitten by a snake." All three were part of the reconnaissance team. The first scout, though agile enough to perform somersaults, probably shouldn''t have tried such stunts in full armor¡ªit was a miracle his broken nose was the extent of the damage. The second, Jack, had a foul mouth and an overconfidence in his spear skills. His broken arm came from a sparring match, and Enkrid was willing to bet his opponent had deliberately targeted it. Finally, Rotten, despite being in the reconnaissance unit, lacked a cautious nature. It wasn''t snake season, but there were areas of the plains where the creatures were prevalent. In short, all these incidents were explainable. "And let''s not forget the guy who burned himself on a pot." Krais''s tone was one of amusement rather than concern. If he truly believed in the curse, he wouldn''t be speaking so lightheartedly. To him, it was just idle chatter. "Oh, and the medic tent caught fire. Weren''t you there, squad leader? Hear anything about it?" The medic tent fire¡ªwas that being attributed to the curse too? "Yeah, I saw it burn," Enkrid replied nonchalantly. Krais whipped his head around. "You actually saw it? Did the fire just suddenly flare up? I heard rumors about an infiltrator." ''No,'' Enkrid thought. ''I set it on fire.'' The infiltrator theory held some truth, as there had been a raid. But whether the raiders were truly enemies remained unclear. Krang''s identity was still a mystery, though Enkrid suspected he was at least a noble''s illegitimate child. If so, the attackers might not have been enemy soldiers but allies in disguise. As for curses? There was no point discussing nonsense. The leadership would soon crack down on such rumors¡ªno commander would tolerate them spreading within their ranks. "Hey, squad leader! Did you see anything or not?" Krais pressed him for an answer. Enkrid met his wide-eyed gaze, deliberating. Krais was too much of a blabbermouth to hear the truth. Even if he weren''t, there was no reason to explain. Enkrid had already decided to keep quiet. "All I saw was the tent burning," he finally said. "Huh?" "Didn''t you know?" "Not at all! So, no enemy attack? It really just caught fire out of nowhere?" "A sentry fell asleep, a gust of wind toppled the torch stand, and the oil barrels nearby caught fire. From there, the flames spread to the tent." Enkrid mimed a spark igniting and flames spreading with his hand. "Nothing special, then." "And you''re not worried that I almost died in the blaze?" "Well, you''re standing here, aren''t you?" ''Is that supposed to be reassuring?'' Enkrid wondered. "So, if you''re alive and well, does that make you a ghost, squad leader?" Rem chimed in from behind, laughing. ''Does he think that''s a joke?'' Enkrid thought as he turned toward him. "''And so the Lord says, let the restless spirits rest,''" recited one of the more devout squad members, as if performing an exorcism. If Enkrid had actually been a ghost, he imagined those words would be rather unpleasant. "Only my hair got a little singed," he muttered. The scorched ends of his bangs had been hastily trimmed with a knife, leaving his hair looking noticeably uneven. "With black hair, it''s not even noticeable," Rem teased with a grin. "And what about your ash-colored mop? Is that just a pile of cinders?" "Ah, you got me! My hair''s just a pile of ash." Was this genuinely amusing to him? Even though no one else was laughing, Rem continued to crack jokes. Soon, the rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun. The idle chatter ended there. Krais left to tend to some business, and Enkrid lay down to nap, lulled by the soft drip of water from the edge of the tent. It was a sweet, restful sleep. When he awoke, the headache that had plagued him earlier was gone, and his fatigue had dissipated. Enkrid stretched, twisting his waist from side to side. The pain in his ribs was completely gone. He felt refreshed and invigorated. The barracks were empty. From outside, he could hear footsteps and muffled voices of soldiers grumbling about the erratic weather. "What''s with the rain starting and stopping like that?" Enkrid pushed aside the tent flap and stepped out. Most of the squad was scattered around, taking advantage of their personal time. Not seeing Jaxen or Krais was no surprise, but the others were nearby. Spotting Rem scribbling something on the damp ground, Enkrid approached him. "Looks like you''re free." "Does it?" Rem replied without looking up. "You''re right. I''m so bored I was just debating whose skull to crack next." Rem''s talent for picking fights with squadmates was one of his specialties. His hobby involved provoking someone until they snapped, then beating them senseless. Since Enkrid had joined, this behavior had become less frequent, but Rem hadn''t abandoned it entirely. "Then spar with me," Enkrid suggested. "Sparring?" "Yeah. A match." Rem shrugged and nodded. This wasn''t anything new. Enkrid''s sparring requests were a regular occurrence. "Fine by me." The two headed to the clearing behind the barracks. Thanks to the strange weather, no one else was around, and even if they were, no one would care. Enkrid stood ten paces away from Rem. Rem grinned, rolling his wrists. The sunlight glinted off his axe blade, freshly sharpened and ready for use. Though the rain had stopped, the air was thick with humidity and carried the earthy scent of wet soil. The ground was soft but not muddy, offering decent footing. The sunlight, partially obscured by clouds, wasn''t blinding. "A perfect day for a fight," Rem remarked. "Is it?" Enkrid replied as he awakened the Heart of the Beast. He refused to let time go to waste, striving to make every day count. Physical training, sharpening his senses, and honing his mind were all part of his regimen. ''Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship won''t work here.'' After countless bouts with Rem, he''d learned that thrusting attacks were ineffective against him. The question was, what approach would work? Considering his weapon, the pressure Rem exuded, and his own experiences, Enkrid calculated his strategy. How could he land an effective strike? Now was the time to test the answer he''d reached after much deliberation. With a soft scrape, Rem stepped forward, planting his foot confidently. There was no hesitation in his movement, only bold assurance. "So, I have to make the first move?" Enkrid didn''t reply. Instead, he focused on Rem''s breathing, stealing his rhythm. Inhale. Exhale. Rem''s breaths were long and steady. The moment Rem exhaled, Enkrid closed the distance in an instant. Enkrid propelled himself forward with a powerful push from his hind legs. As the distance between them closed¡ª Whoosh! The sword in his grasp slashed horizontally through the air. Rem leaned back, arching his waist as if lying down, narrowly avoiding the strike. It was a feat only possible due to his precise anticipation of the sword''s trajectory. Even while half-reclined, Rem''s gaze never wavered from Enkrid. Enkrid, noticing this, reflexively pulled his sword back to guard himself. Whoosh! Clang! A flying axe struck his blade. The impact wasn''t overwhelming. No matter how strong Rem was, an axe thrown from a reclining position couldn''t carry much force. Still in that position¡ª Whoosh, whoosh! The axes kept flying. Clang! Clang! Clang! Enkrid gripped his sword tightly with both hands, blocking each strike. He tried to find a moment to regroup and launch a counterattack, but Rem didn''t give him the chance. Enkrid felt as if he were standing beneath a relentless guillotine. The torrent of axe attacks only stopped when Rem fully rose to his feet. Though there was a brief pause, Enkrid neither retreated nor adjusted his stance. As Rem straightened his back, he pulled his arm backward. Instead of stepping back and steadying his breath¡ª Thrust! Enkrid lunged forward, delivering a thrust he had practiced countless times. It was a precise extension of his blade from his current stance, determined to land the strike. Everything happened in an instant. The blade shot forward, aiming for Rem''s midsection. But as it neared, Enkrid''s vision suddenly caught a mix of blue sky and an inverted image of Rem''s face. "What?" Rem''s upside-down face filled his vision. Whoosh! In the moment of the thrust, Rem had kicked Enkrid''s ankle. The instantaneous move threw off the blade''s aim, causing it to slice through empty air. Instead of swinging his axe, Rem released it entirely, grabbing Enkrid by the collar and hurling him to the side. "Urgh!" Rolling to the ground, Enkrid quickly pieced together what had happened. It had been a trick. Rem had only pretended to prepare for another axe swing, using that moment to his advantage. "Phew..." Sprawled on the ground, Enkrid shook his head in disbelief. The sheer strength was overwhelming. Enkrid prided himself on his strength, believing few could match him. Yet, Rem had thrown him with one hand as if he weighed nothing. Sure, he wasn''t wearing armor, making him relatively light, but this was still a show of monstrous strength. Looking up from his seated position, Enkrid saw Rem''s face. His expression was unusual. Normally, Rem smiled throughout their sparring sessions. But not this time. His lips were set straight, and his face was calm. He wasn''t smiling. "Hey, what''ve you been eating behind my back?" Rem asked with a serious expression. Thinking about it, the reaction was natural. Rem likely had no memory of assisting him with thrust training. After all, during that first session, Enkrid had only been assigned to kitchen duty. "I thought it before, but your skills have grown quite a bit. That thrust¡ªpretty good. Not bad at all." "Really?" "Yes. I don''t flatter." "Sure you don''t." Enkrid dismissed it as a joke, coming from someone who was always spouting nonsense. "I''m serious." "Got it. Let''s review, then." "...You really never change, do you? How is it that you''re always so consistent?" Post-sparring reviews were a routine for Enkrid. No matter how little there was to gain, he would doggedly analyze the session, determined to learn something. While most opponents often had little feedback to offer, that wasn''t the case today. Things had changed. Today''s spar had left Rem with plenty to say, a testament to how much Enkrid had improved. "For starters, waiting for my axe was too obvious. Even if I don''t fall for it, you should at least try to deceive me." Rem started to speak, and Enkrid nodded attentively, as always. Rem chuckled at the sight of Enkrid''s focused demeanor. He always began with the main points, leaving minor details for later¡ªa style Enkrid deeply respected. Enkrid listened intently to every word. For three days, there were no battles. During that time, Enkrid sparred with Rem three more times. "You should work on your lower body. Something about your balance feels off," Rem remarked. Though he often made offhanded remarks, Rem had a sharp eye for identifying core issues. Enkrid took those words to heart and reflected on them deeply. Afterward, he threw himself into even more rigorous training. While others rested during their free time, Enkrid trained. During personal maintenance hours, soldiers often engaged in their own activities¡ªwriting letters or focusing on rest. But apart from eating and sleeping, Enkrid devoted everything to honing his skills. To an observer, his lifestyle might seem extreme. To Enkrid, however, it was a state of peace. The gradual improvement he felt each day brought unparalleled satisfaction. Even the increased strain on his body from the training didn''t faze him. "What a relentless guy. Back at it as soon as he''s out of the infirmary," someone remarked. "He seemed quiet lately, but now he''s back at it again." "If I trained like that, I''d be a knight by now." "Hah! What nonsense." Amid his grueling exercises, Enkrid focused his hearing to distract from the pain in his muscles. When his body screamed in agony, concentrating on external sounds made the suffering fade. Nearby, he overheard the idle chatter of two soldiers from another squad. Though they were part of the same platoon, the distance between them felt significant. Pushing his hearing further, Enkrid strained to pick up more distant sounds. The rustling of fabric behind him hinted at movement, and he tried to guess what action it corresponded to. Listening to footsteps, he attempted to identify who they belonged to. He guessed wrong half the time, but he could recognize familiar steps. Light, swift, yet with an oddly lively rhythm against the dirt¡ª "Big Eyes." He was right. "Still training? You''re insane," Krais said, approaching. Enkrid ignored him. As he repeated a squat motion, his legs began to tremble. Sweat trickled from his scalp, pooling at the tips of his eyebrows. The erratic weather had finally cleared, returning to its usual dry, arid state. On such a day, sweating profusely might seem odd. Especially in a battlefield, where a fight could break out at any moment, such rigorous training seemed out of place. But for those around him, this was simply Enkrid''s way. "Doesn''t that exhaust you? How do you keep it up every day?" Krais asked, sitting nearby and chewing on a piece of jerky. A droplet of sweat slid down Enkrid''s brow, falling to the ground. A dull ache radiated from his thighs, his muscles trembling violently as nausea crept in. He had reached his limit. Finally, Enkrid collapsed, drenched in sweat. As he sat there with his eyes closed, the cool breeze brushed against his damp forehead and ears. Another day''s training was complete. As he basked in the wind, enjoying the moment¡ª Thud, thud. Heavy footsteps approached from behind and came to a stop. "You''re as relentless as ever." Tilting his head back, Enkrid looked up at the source of the voice. A shadow stretched over his face, blocking the sunlight. Though the man''s face was obscured by the backlight, his rugged beard was unmistakable. "Got a moment to talk?" It was the leader of the 4th Squad. Chapter 22 - Reconnaissance Chapter 22 - 22 - Reconnaissance Chapter 22 - Reconnaissance The 4th Platoon leader threw out a casual remark. Enkrid responded indifferently, sensing that this man had something to say. "If you have something to say, go ahead." He was currently enjoying the cool breeze after being drenched in sweat. The timing was perfect¡ªa moment of relaxation accompanied by a pleasant breeze. So, he hoped the man would quickly say what he needed to and leave. "...We''d like you to join the reconnaissance unit and carry out missions," the 4th Platoon leader said, crossing his arms. It wasn''t the firmness of a commander that came through but rather a defensive posture. Enkrid thought for a moment. Reconnaissance unit... This wasn''t a typical request. Moreover, Enkrid was well aware of his ambiguous position. The only reason he could remain at a squad leader''s level was because this was the 444th Squad. And now, they wanted to move him to the reconnaissance unit? "Is it alright to take our squad leader?" Rem suddenly interjected from behind, leaning his chin on Enkrid''s shoulder. Given the small height difference, it was a somewhat natural posture for leaning. "Are you serious?" Half-laughing, Rem''s question sounded more like a protest against taking Enkrid away. "It''s an order, Rem." The 4th Platoon leader glared at him, but it was clearly just posturing. Enkrid noticed immediately. Rem was a troublemaker, a reckless berserker who swung his axe at the slightest provocation. Invoking the authority of a commander on someone like Rem was meaningless¡ªboth Enkrid and the 4th Platoon leader knew this. "Rem." Before his axe-loving squad member could say anything further, Enkrid called his name and shrugged him off his shoulder. "Well, do as you like." Rem grumbled and backed away. "I can go instead," Ragna said nonchalantly, observing the scene. "...You want us to find ourselves behind enemy lines?" Hearing this, Rem chuckled, and Ragna flared up momentarily but swallowed his anger. It wasn''t a wrong observation. Ragna had no talent for navigation. Even with a map and directions, he would still end up in the wrong place. Nor was he particularly skilled at coordinating with others. Wasn''t that why he ended up here, ignoring orders and fighting his own way in every squad he''d been in? He had too many shortcomings to be selected for a reconnaissance role. "You''re not an option, Ragna," the 4th Platoon leader said, shaking his head. While the entire situation gave Enkrid a bad feeling, he thought: All things considered, I might be the most suitable for this. His ambiguous position had significance only among the 444th Squad members. Even during the week he was away due to injury, his absence caused considerable commotion. And now, they were specifically calling for him? That implied they had no better option. The talk of a curse had quickly died down, but its effects lingered. Bo, Jack, and Rotten¡ªall former members of the reconnaissance unit¡ªwere gone, leaving them short-staffed. "Sigh, it''s a headache for me too. One of the squad leaders has food poisoning and can''t move," the 4th Platoon leader said. It almost seemed reasonable to believe in a curse¡ªespecially since this was happening exclusively to the reconnaissance squad. The 4th Platoon leader looked utterly drained, clearly not enthusiastic about calling Enkrid. This feels oddly off. As Enkrid stared at him, the 4th Platoon leader finally relented. "Don''t look at me like that. I''ll explain everything." "Huh?" "I said stop looking at me like that." What did I do? He had just been staring, but the 4th Platoon leader sighed heavily, overreacting. "Seriously, stop glaring like that. It''s unsettling. Sometimes you need to consider how the person on the receiving end feels, especially if they''re your superior," Rem said, snickering. Reacting to Rem''s joke would lead nowhere, so Enkrid decided to listen to the 4th Platoon leader instead. "To reinforce the reconnaissance unit, they promoted a squad leader to platoon leader. But we''re still short on numbers, so we were ordered to draft suitable individuals from other squads. Your name came up during the selection process." "From the higher-ups?" "The new company commander. You''re not in trouble, are you?" Could this be about silencing me for knowing too much? If they wanted to eliminate him, there were simpler ways. No, there was no need for such measures. It seems like a casual suggestion. Enkrid judged it to be just that. "It''s an order from above. Just go along with it." Behind him, Rem sharpened his axe while Ragna insisted again that he could go. Meanwhile, another squad member stood in front of the barracks, head raised to the heavens, praying fervently. "Oh holy Lord, do not take my small and precious squad leader from me. Do not test your fragile servant." The 4th Platoon leader was dumbfounded. Who''s taking him? And who''s small and fragile here? The praying soldier''s bulging arm muscles seemed to flex with every word. His arms alone were the size of an average soldier''s thighs. If this devout warrior was considered "fragile," then few in the world could be deemed sturdy. "This is just a one-time thing. Winter will arrive soon, and this campaign will likely end with it," the 4th Platoon leader explained. By the next campaign, the reconnaissance unit''s roster would be reshuffled, and the 444th Squad leader wouldn''t likely be included. Enkrid understood the reasoning. Wars rarely continued through winter. So, there was no need to overthink it. These temporary assignments were common. While he lacked exceptional talent for combat, he excelled in other areas, including reconnaissance missions. However, due to his recent absence, his squad seemed particularly unwilling to let him go. I really am the best fit for this. It wasn''t baseless confidence. If he ended up in a dangerous situation, he could always reset the day. This mission was uniquely suited to him. "Your orders, Squad Leader," the 4th Platoon leader said. His words sounded less like a command and more like a plea for help. Enkrid glanced back. Rem was sharpening his axe. Ragna was again offering to go. And the last squad member continued murmuring prayers to the heavens. What a sight. If he came back injured, these guys might riot together. Were things always like this? No, it hadn''t been this way when he first joined. When did it change? Did they struggle a lot while I was gone? Even Big Eyes shook his head in exasperation. But orders were orders, and no matter how unruly his squad was, Enkrid wasn''t like them. "Looks like I have to go." He exhaled deeply as he spoke. The higher-ups had decided, and defying orders wasn''t an option. While there might be ways to get out of it, they weren''t worth the trouble. With Enkrid''s single statement, the atmosphere settled. It was only natural. No matter how much of a mere title it may be, he is the leader of this squad of only six. "Do as you like," Rem said, puffing up and letting out a huff, responding. "I told you I can go," Ragna insisted, but that wouldn''t change anything. How could a scout, who gets lost even within the camp, possibly be trusted? Enkrid found it more surprising how Ragna had managed his life of wandering. Hadn''t he claimed to have gone all the way to the easternmost sea? Wasn''t it possible he got there by getting lost? It was a reasonable question, but it was one that didn''t need asking. As always, Enkrid kept a certain distance from the group. If they didn''t want to talk about it, he wouldn''t pry. That was the nature of Squad Leader Enkrid. "Fine, whatever," the platoon leader said and turned to leave. His steps were lighter than when he had arrived, as though the burden on his shoulders had been lifted. While platoon leader was away washing and resting, a small stir began in the barracks, starting from an innocuous remark. "Have you been practicing what you learned?" The question was posed by Jaxen, who lay half-reclined on his bed. Jaxen''s bed was at the farthest end of the barracks, while Enkrid''s was at the front. Everyone in the barracks could hear Jaxen''s voice. Enkrid reflexively nodded. Having learned the discipline of enhancing hearing from Jaxen, he had spent each repetitive day training. He thought it was the right time to ask. But then, Rem showed a displeased reaction. "What did you learn?" Throughout this time, Enkrid had learned a little from many of the squad members. He had picked up bits and pieces from Rem, Ragna, and even the devout squad member. All of them were survival techniques for the battlefield. Enkrid had learned eagerly, though he never mastered it all, and mostly just used what he picked up. Some things were too difficult to learn perfectly. At least, now, the Hearth of the beast seemed to have finally settled within him. But he had never learned anything from Jaxen. "What did you teach him?" Rem, who had been lying down, sat up and asked. "Keep at it. It will help," Jaxen said, fully ignoring Rem. Flames of anger flickered in Rem''s eyes. "Is this guy serious?" "Stop it." Enkrid grabbed Rem''s shoulder, which was now ablaze with fury. "What could you have learned from that sly bastard? You can''t learn anything good from just anyone." "Heh." Jaxen, who had been listening to their conversation, let out a laugh. "Oh, right. I suppose it''s your time to die. Today''s the day. You want to become food for the monsters wandering the plains, right? Isn''t that so?" Jaxen remained indifferent. Enkrid sighed deeply and pulled Rem''s arm. "Just cool it. We''re not here to kill each other." "Don''t worry. I''ll survive," Rem said, as if nothing could stop him. No, that''s not what I meant. "Who''s going to survive?" "Oh, lord, should I send this foolish, faithless soul up to be comforted by the divine? If you allow it, I will do so," "Don''t do anything unnecessary and don''t waste your energy." Enkrid began to regret whether taking the reconnaissance mission was the right choice. Is it right to leave them behind? "Don''t worry too much. It''ll never come to an end. They just clash a few times with their weapons," Krais said, counting silver coins from his pocket. That''s the problem. The "few times" with weapons. To an outsider, it would seem like a deadly fight. Despite being such troublemakers, their commander still didn''t dismiss them. Why? Because of their exceptional abilities. In battle, they were certainly soldiers with superior combat capabilities, worth more than ten ordinary soldiers. So it was right to pull them into the reconnaissance unit. ''I won''t be a drain on their strength,'' Enkrid thought. But they weren''t the same. As soon as this thought crossed his mind, Enkrid became acutely aware of his own shortcomings. ''I have no talent.'' He had even lost to a twelve-year-old child. No matter how much of a genius the child was. A grown man who couldn''t even handle the weight of a sword properly, stumbling while wielding it, lost to a child holding a sword. It wasn''t a matter of pride. There was no reason to despair. It was simply a moment that made him reflect on himself. But had he given up? No. He had just rethought the situation, thoroughly understood it, and accepted himself. Was that the end? No, that wasn''t it. If there''s no talent... ''Someday,'' If one step is too much, take half a step. As long as you don''t stop taking steps forward, it''ll be fine. And Enkrid had never once stopped moving forward. Feeling like sleep wouldn''t come, Enkrid grabbed his sword and stepped outside. He thought swinging his sword and breaking a sweat might make him sleep. Ragna saw this and got up to follow him. "Let me see your stance after a long time." "Am I not here?" Rem, who was late to stand up, said. Their eyes met, and a fierce tension filled the air. At the point where their gazes met, it seemed like a vortex would form. "Consistent practice will help. More than any half-baked swordplay," Jaxen, who had been lying in bed, said. The moment their eyes locked, both of them shot their glares at Jaxen. "Half-baked?" Rem said. "Swordplay?" Ragna continued. "You both, didn''t you say you''d watch my stance?" Enkrid interrupted, standing between them. After finally calming the two, Enkrid went outside the barracks. Following their half-compliments, half-lectures, he swung his sword repeatedly. The day passed, drenched in sweat. When the morning sun rose, Enkrid had to temporarily switch to the reconnaissance unit and head out. He wasn''t too worried. He didn''t think it would be difficult. After sweating it out, it seemed like everyone''s discomfort had passed. Having sweated and bathed by the stream, Enkrid fell into a peaceful sleep. *** "Platoon leader, why did that guy choose to join the reconnaissance unit?" The fairy platoon commander, noticing the first platoon leader standing near the signal pole, asked. "Step away from the signal pole. It could cause a fire if you fall." "Yes?" "Move to the side." "Yes." The first platoon leader took a few steps to the side. The platoon commander''s tent was taller and wider than the usual tents. It had a signal pole in the middle to light a fire. Although rudimentary, there was also a table for meetings. This was the place where they decided the route for the reconnaissance mission. Meanwhile, the first platoon leader had asked a question. He had every right to ask. The first platoon leader also served as the platoon commander''s assistant, a long-standing tradition in the Cypress Division. "He''s quick-witted and knows how to look after himself. Thought he''d fit in well." "Ah, I see." It wasn''t a heavily weighed judgment. It was based on intuition. No further explanation was needed. If anyone asked, the answer would simply be, "Just because." Of course, the judgment was correct. The fairy''s intuition was sometimes sharper than a prophet''s words. Chapter 23 - The Thread of Gnu Chapter 23 - 23 - The Thread of Gnu Chapter 23 - The Thread of Gnu "Listen for sounds that are more unnatural than usual." The scouting party set out in the blue dawn, long before sunrise. As Enkrid was quietly packing his belongings alone, Jaxen, who had been standing watch as the final sentry, spoke up out of nowhere. "Suddenly?" Confused, Enkrid asked what he meant. "You once asked how to avoid getting hit by a sword on the battlefield." Enkrid recalled the moment. The infirmary, the assassin''s ambush, the fairy unit commander, Krang, and the fire. After wrapping up all the chaos, he had returned to find his unruly squad in the middle of a brawl. His mind had been scattered. And yet, as Jaxen reminded him, the memory resurfaced. Before all the commotion, before his final dance with the assassin, he had asked in passing: "Sure, I get that you need to listen carefully, but you can''t stay focused on listening in the middle of a battle, right? How do you dodge without even looking?" Honing one''s hearing¡ªfine, that made sense. But that required intense focus. Could one truly listen so intently amidst the chaos of the battlefield? "Sounds impossible." He knew because he had tried. Perhaps, with enough practice, one might manage movements bordering on miraculous against multiple opponents. But one thing was certain: simply listening well wasn''t enough. Jaxen was diligent. He didn''t brush off a passing question and answered earnestly. And Enkrid was even more diligent. He didn''t miss an opportunity to learn. "So, you''re saying I should sense the oddities?" "It would be good to attune yourself to unfamiliar sensations, but that''s not easy. So instead, if you''re in a grassy field, focus on the sound of the grass rustling and find the noise that doesn''t match." The scouting area was a grassland¡ªa field filled with grass that ranged from ankle to eye level. It felt as though Jaxen had tailored his advice to their mission. As Enkrid listened to the thoughtful explanation, a question popped into his mind. "You''re pretty detailed about this, huh?" At that, Jaxen stared directly into Enkrid''s eyes. It was a gaze that seemed to say, You already know, so why ask? When Enkrid tilted his head in confusion, Jaxen finally added: "Because the squad leader is relentless." "...What?" Where had the conversation gone off track? Why suddenly call him relentless? Jaxen was referring to Enkrid''s tenacity, his passion for the sword. But Enkrid was utterly clueless. He considered asking further but closed his mouth. Did the reason even matter? The whims of his unpredictable squad were hardly unusual. So the reason didn''t matter. Right now, there was a teacher willing to teach and a student willing to learn. If the content held value, that was enough. Since he was about to be dragged off to join the scouting party anyway, reflecting on what he''d learned while training along the way wasn''t a bad plan. Thus, he ignored the unnecessary details and pressed on. "How do I distinguish between different types of sounds?" Erasing his momentary confusion, Enkrid returned to the core topic. Jaxen''s gaze grew peculiar, as though he were witnessing a three-headed dragon. "Why?" "Nothing." Jaxen continued his explanation. What constituted a strange sound? How should one utilize their hearing? It was excellent advice¡ªa joy to learn. Enkrid set off on the path, deeply satisfied. "So, that''s how it works, huh." Jaxen still looked at Enkrid with an odd expression. But Enkrid didn''t notice and turned to leave. "Well then, I''ll be off." As Enkrid walked toward the outskirts of the camp for his scouting mission, Jaxen thought to himself: It doesn''t make sense. Recently, he had seen the squad leader react to footsteps from quite a distance. His hearing range was remarkably broad. While others might miss it, Jaxen couldn''t be fooled. There was just something off about it. Based on every training method and every individual he''d seen trained in the same way, honing one''s hearing meant continually distinguishing between different sounds. That process helped one identify the type of sound. But what about the squad leader? His ability to hear is top-notch, but his skill in distinguishing sounds is that of a novice. It was as though he''d undergone short-term, intensive training focused solely on listening. But could that even work? If someone had dozens of spare lives, maybe they could train like that. How peculiar. The squad leader was indeed a strange person. Still, it prompted Jaxen to share as much of his knowledge as possible. And the squad leader would likely absorb the lesson immediately. Honing one''s hearing was challenging, but distinguishing and categorizing sounds was merely supplementary. When Jaxen finally finished his watch and entered the barracks, Rem was there, lounging on his side with a sly grin, propping his head up with one hand. "Your face pisses me off." Jaxen offered his morning greeting. Rem chuckled softly and replied. "Falling for the squad leader''s charm, are you? You just want to teach him everything, don''t you?" "It''s a fair trade. I owe him, so I''ll get equivalent value in return later." That was Jaxen¡ªthe embodiment of equivalent exchange, as the unit nicknamed him. But even as he said it, Jaxen knew. Teaching the squad leader wasn''t about demanding something in return. It had been an impulsive decision. Maybe the squad leader''s recent battlefield feats had left an impression. Jaxen didn''t dwell on it. Sometimes, he knew, it was fine to act on impulse. So the matter ended there. "Shut up, you bastard. What kind of man gets shy about this stuff?" Rem cackled and lay back down, pulling his blanket up to his chin. Soon, his breathing steadied as if he had succumbed to warmth and slumber. At times, Jaxen couldn''t help but wonder. What gives this insane brute such unshakable confidence? "Go lie down. If you try anything while I''m sleeping, I''ll split your head open." Rem spoke, feigning sleep. Jaxen ignored him and found his spot. Arguing with Rem was pointless¡ªit only invited more words. "Typical bastard. Never answers me." As expected, Rem muttered complaints after his own remarks. *** The scouting party, which had set out at dawn, started off on the wrong foot. "If we run into those Aspen bastards, I''ll split their heads open. Got it?" So said the squad leader in charge of the small reconnaissance unit. Enkrid almost blurted out, Do you even understand what scouting is supposed to be? But before he could, the squad leader spoke again, turning to him: "Loose cannon squad leader, you''re just a soldier right now. If you''re going to disobey orders, say so now. Let''s settle it with skill. Unlike some, I didn''t get promoted by kissing ass, so I''m confident." The tone was anything but friendly. Enkrid wasn''t offended, nor did it sour his mood. Praise like this wasn''t new. Simple insults from those who didn''t know him meant nothing. Besides, creating unnecessary friction wasn''t worth it. Better to quietly patrol, reflect on what he''d learned, and return. "Even if it''s annoying, just put up with it. Seems like they''ve got a bit of a brash personality." The soldier walking closely beside him spoke with a gravelly voice, showing his age. "Don''t worry about it." "Glad to hear that." The soldier smiled humbly, avoiding the squad leader''s gaze. Not a bad impression. "All right, let''s move out!" The ten-man patrol unit, doubling as a reconnaissance team, set off. Being part of a reconnaissance team didn''t always mean infiltrating enemy territory. This particular plain, known across the continent as the Green Pearl, was a vast expanse of grassland. To the east, there were a few gentle hills and low mountain ridges, but overall, the view was open and unobstructed. To the west flowed the Pen-Hanil River, considered the lifeblood of Naurilia, and a shared resource with the enemy, the Duchy of Aspen. Because of the geographical openness, ambushes were nearly impossible in battles on this plain. So what did reconnaissance teams do? Their tasks involved scouting enemy territory and patrolling nearby areas, watching for groups attempting to move unnoticed, tracking any signs of enemy cavalry, or identifying suspicious activities. They also confirmed key strategic locations during their patrols. Naturally, reconnaissance was a dangerous job. Encounters with enemy forces could happen anytime, and clashes between reconnaissance teams often escalated into full-scale battles. Such confrontations weren''t frequent, though, nor should they be. "Let''s go show the world the might of Naurilia''s infantry!" To Enkrid, the youthful squad leader was a fool drunk on his own abilities. Perhaps he was an illegitimate child of some noble or had backing from someone in the command structure. Nineteen, maybe twenty at most. A quick promotion for a squad leader in Naurilia''s regular army. But compared to true geniuses, soldiers like him were a dime a dozen. The role of the reconnaissance team seemed entirely absent from the squad leader''s thoughts. Some soldiers even echoed his sentiment. "Of course, sir. With your skills, a few foes won''t be an issue!" "Show us the strength that took down five mercenaries!" ''That brat''s head will swell so much it''ll burst.'' Even without being told, it was obvious how things ended up this way. Recon squads likely faced frequent injuries, leaving them shorthanded. That''s how Enkrid and these fools ended up here. Still, this group was below par, even by low standards. Yet, there wouldn''t be much trouble. Reconnaissance routes were predetermined: Patrol in a circular path centered on allied bases. The specifics were up to the squad leader, but Enkrid assumed things would be fine unless the squad leader did something drastically foolish. "This is a gnu''s footprint." The squad leader noticed tracks while passing by. The gnu was a herd animal resembling a cow, often seen running in groups of twenty to fifty across the plains. "Let''s track this and have a barbecue tonight." ...Chasing twenty gnus? Seriously? What was even more absurd was that these weren''t gnu tracks at all¡ªthey belonged to a gazelle. "Sure, why not," murmured a soldier with a good impression, smirking as he stared at the back of the squad leader''s head. On the first day, the patrol wasted time searching for nonexistent gnus. Naturally, no animal willingly surrendered to a group radiating hostility. "Damn it," the squad leader cursed in frustration. If they''d caught something, would the idiot have actually lit a fire? If so, it would''ve been quite the spectacle: a reconnaissance team starting a bonfire. Might as well announce, "We''re total fools!" Fortunately, they caught nothing. Before nightfall, they found a campsite near a hill with four large trees and prepared to rest. "Where are you from, Squad Leader?" It was the soldier with the good impression who asked. More than anything, his eyes were filled with contempt for their squad leader. "Border Guard." "A career soldier?" Enkrid nodded. Border Guard was a fortress city on the frontier, a military town filled with training facilities and professional soldiers. "I''m from a mountain village and pride myself on my hunting skills, but calling those tracks gnus shocked me. They were clearly gazelle tracks." Enkrid shared the sentiment. The two found common ground in their disdain for the squad leader. The hunter''s name was Enri, an easygoing soldier with no love for their commander. "Tomorrow, I''ll teach you something fun. On the plains, animals follow distinct paths, even if they aren''t obvious at first glance." After chatting for a while, Enri quickly fell asleep. During his third watch that night, Enkrid recalled lessons from Jaxen. Though he didn''t draw his sword, he practiced mentally, replaying the duel he had with Ragna and Rem before this mission. "Always incorporate thrusts into your stance," Rem had said. He''d also emphasized leg training. Recon teams walked a lot¡ªinevitable for infantry. "Walking''s fine," Enkrid mused. It wasn''t bad for building leg strength. Sustained by jerky alone, he should''ve felt empty, but his mind stayed focused on training: sword techniques, the auditory exercises Jaxen taught, and hunting tricks Enri promised to share. Enkrid genuinely enjoyed learning and mastering skills¡ªand applying them even more. ''Once I return, I''ll spar again,'' he thought. Throughout his watch, Enkrid trained his ears while contemplating his next steps, eventually waking the next guard before sleeping himself. On the second day, the patrol resumed their march at dawn. That morning, Enri taught him to identify animal trails. Hearing the rustle of grass against their calves, Enkrid thought: So much to learn. He genuinely enjoyed the practical hunting knowledge Enri shared. "Over here," the squad leader led the group into a field of tall weeds. This seems fine, Enkrid thought, the path aligned with their mission. But, as expected, the squad leader shattered his expectations. "We''ll cut through this field and track enemy scouts. What do you think?" Is this guy insane? Enkrid nearly said it aloud but held back. How would they navigate in the weeds? And what guarantee was there of finding enemy scouts this way? All they needed to do was check for anomalies or signs of ambush. "Don''t interfere. Not all squad leaders are the same," a subordinate said dismissively, stepping in. Well, well. Enkrid wasn''t angry¡ªjust debating whether to let this play out. The decision came quickly. He let it go. If things went south and they all died, he''d reassess tomorrow. If not? "They''ll just waste time and head back," he concluded. Either way, it wasn''t his loss. Chapter 24 - Three Chapter 24 - 24 - Three Chapter 24 - Three "The wind is blowing this way, right? But these short grasses here are flattened in the opposite direction, forming a circular shape. Do you see that?" Enri stepped on the base of a tall grass stalk, pushing it aside to reveal the shorter grass underneath. As he uncovered the traces left in the grassland, Enri began to explain with ease. "Ah, I see." Enkrid responded, studying the ground closely. It made sense when explained, but finding it alone would have been challenging. This place was known as the Tallgrass Meadow. Looking around, it was an endless expanse of green. A bard traveling across the continent once gazed at this plain during the height of summer and named it "Green Pearl," signifying its lush, verdant beauty. Among the greenery, the tall grasses appeared darker, like the depths of an ocean. It was an apt name. This damned grassland wasn''t a pleasant place for humans to roam freely. If one let their guard down, the swaying grasses would slap against their face and eyes. Bugs clung to every part of the body. Crickets and grasshoppers leapt about, while frogs occasionally appeared in pools of water. Seeing a frog brought to mind the Frog who had once kicked him. Of course, Frogs claimed they were entirely different creatures from actual frogs. Killing a frog in front of them elicited no reaction, but threatening to crush their heart would ignite a fierce response. "Just one hit to the side." Even though he had reflexively blocked it, one strike had been enough to knock him down. How much time would he need to match the strength of a Frog? Not yet, but someday, perhaps he could face that Frog in battle. Doubt lingered. It was inevitable¡ªpersistence didn''t always mean an absence of doubt. But there was no time for doubt, either. Instead of wasting time questioning, he''d rather swing his sword one more time. As soon as negative thoughts crept in, Enkrid pushed them away. There was no sense in worrying over what couldn''t be resolved immediately. With that, he focused again on Enri''s explanations. The soldier, a former prairie hunter, exuded positivity. Even when the squad leader acted like an idiot, Enri simply shrugged it off, telling Enkrid to endure it. Not that Enkrid needed to¡ªhe was used to shrugging things off himself. Enri, ever the hunter, observed their surroundings even in this situation, pointing out details. It made for an engaging listen. "There''s not much animal droppings here. Why''s that?" Enri tilted his head, puzzled. "Is that an issue?" Enkrid asked, pushing aside the thick, tall grass leaves falling over his head. "This grassland might look like useless weeds to humans, but it''s a haven for creatures that rely on this grass as their staple food. Normally, there should be more signs of animals, yet there are few here." Fewer animals. Why? Enkrid brushed off an insect clinging to his cheek with his fingers. It wasn''t a leech, but it extended a sharp proboscis as if to suck blood. Looking at the bug and the obstructive grass around him, he felt an overwhelming urge to grab a sharp scythe and cut it all down. "Shh, you talk too much," the reconnaissance squad leader said, glancing back. He frowned at a cricket leaping past but made no complaints. ''That''s unexpected.'' Enkrid had thought the leader would be full of irritation, ranting about the inconvenience of the grassland. Instead, the man kept quiet. Though the sea of green dominated, patches of grass had turned pale brown¡ªa sign of the coming autumn. When winter arrived, the flourishing grass would vanish, leaving only traces behind. With the return of warmer days, the tall grass would grow again, nourished by the remnants of the previous year. The cycle repeated every year. ''Death, then regrowth.'' Was it nature''s law? What about the events unfolding in his life? Today''s repetition weighed on his mind, no matter how much he tried to shake it off. Daily monotony couldn''t be ignored. But Enkrid had already decided on his approach. ''Use whatever can be used.'' This was no exception. He didn''t see it as a blessing. Even if it were a curse, nothing would change. After trudging through the grassland for a while, someone tapped Enkrid''s shoulder. It wasn''t Enri. It was the soldier sticking closely to the squad leader. "Our squad leader might seem childish, but try to understand. He has his reasons. He needs to make achievements, but they keep assigning him to reconnaissance duties. He''s frustrated." And what was this all of a sudden? "You''re a squad leader too, right? Forget about the nonsense earlier, please." An odd timing, to say the least. Still, Enkrid accepted the apology without much thought. There was no benefit to harboring resentment while on a mission. Not that there was anything worth getting angry over. Enkrid still believed the same. Rather than waste energy on such things, he''d devote more time to training. "Fine." "You''re generous, squad leader." The soldier smiled. His faded blond hair and sharp features gave the impression of someone skilled in combat¡ªa complete opposite of Big Eyes. Simply put, he couldn''t be called handsome. Nodding briefly, Enkrid turned and instinctively tuned his hearing. It was then he caught an unusual sound. Rustle. Hiss. Crack. Thanks to what he''d learned from Jaxen and consistent training, the effort paid off. ''That sounds different.'' The ten members of the reconnaissance team walked close enough to see each other''s backs but not quite touching shoulders. By now, he was familiar with the sound of tall grass being parted. But the noise he heard now was different. It came from farther away. It was the sound of someone moving through grass. Intermingled were the hisses of beasts and the crunch of footsteps. Humans. They weren''t allies. The tallgrass meadow itself held little value¡ªit was simply a barrier to cross into enemy territory. But beyond the meadow was a plain with no place to hide, making it foolish to traverse. Did their opponents have an equally foolish squad leader who sent a reconnaissance team here? "There''s someone else besides us," Enkrid said. The sharp-featured soldier ahead blinked, confused. "What?" His expression asked, What are you talking about? Frowning, he tilted his head. "I think I hear it too," Enri chimed in from the right. "What?" When Enkrid stopped walking, the reconnaissance squad leader stepped back, asking, "What is it?" "Enemies." Enkrid''s immediate response was clear, but recognizing the threat was a separate matter. Ping! Thwack! Before they could fully grasp the situation, the enemy''s attack had already landed. "Argh!" The squad leader stepped back, and a short bolt lodged itself in the leading soldier''s skull. Enkrid quickly identified the direction of the shot by the sound and examined the bolt''s form with his eyes. Bolt. A short arrow, ideal for close-range use. It wasn''t meant for longbows. Crossbow. The conclusion came swiftly. As the leading soldier collapsed with a hole in his head, Enkrid shouted immediately. "Get down!" At the same time, he grabbed the squad leader by the collar and pulled him down. "Urgh!" The squad leader let out a gasp. As they pressed themselves flat to the ground, the dying cries of other soldiers echoed. Front, right, and left. Even if they avoided the initial volley by lowering their stance, death was inevitable. So what should they do? They had to charge out. Choose a direction and break through. There was no room for hesitation. Enkrid, lying flat with his stomach nearly scraping the ground, threw himself toward one side. Rustle! The bushes parted, signaling his movement to the enemy. Predictably, bolts from crossbows came flying toward him. "Foolish!" Enri shouted in alarm. It looked like a suicide move. Thwack! Half by luck, Enkrid avoided most of the bolts. One, however, struck his left shoulder, but he could now see the enemy. The attackers had cleared some tall grass to create a space for movement. Among the bushes, he spotted a figure dressed in green, holding a crossbow. The moment he saw them, Enkrid drew his sword. Always strike with your best attack, in any stance, at any time. He acted as he''d been trained. He propelled himself off the ground, closing the distance. The enemy tried to reload their crossbow. A fatal mistake. As soon as Enkrid reached striking range, he planted his left foot and thrust his sword. The tip of his arming sword pierced through the air and grazed the enemy''s neck. The blade cut through the thin skin of the neck, leaving a sharp line of blood that burst forth, soon flowing in thick streams. The soldier clutched at their neck before collapsing. Enkrid didn''t stop. He immediately darted to the left. It was too close for bolts. A spear tip aimed for his chest. Feigning a charge, Enkrid abruptly stopped, letting the enemy''s spear stab at empty air. A short spear wielded by a soldier came into view. The soldier''s eyes mixed excitement and surprise¡ªa seasoned fighter''s gaze. Crossbows, spears, green uniforms. The gear was meant for an ambush. Enkrid absorbed the information in a flash and took another step forward, swinging his sword horizontally. The spearman retreated, dodging the arc of the blade, then thrust their spear again. Instead of dodging, Enkrid pivoted on his right foot, spinning halfway around, and stabbed his sword again. A seamless combination of offense and defense. The sword pierced the enemy''s torso, a dull resistance registering in his grip. The enemy''s armor was thick cloth, easy to penetrate with enough force and a sharp blade. "Ugh..." The soldier groaned, dropping their spear and grabbing Enkrid''s sword with both hands, blood dripping from their palms. I can''t pull it out. His thoughts were brief; his actions quicker. That''s the rule for survival on the battlefield. He released the sword and picked up the fallen spear. Whizz. Another enemy swung a crossbow like a club. Thanks to his crouched position, it skimmed over Enkrid''s head, dislodging his arming cap. The cold air against his scalp brought a sharp clarity. Enkrid drove the spear into the visible top of the enemy''s foot, decorating it with a new injury. Thud! "Argh!" The scream drew attention. Screams had their uses¡ªthey demoralized the enemy. Enkrid lunged at the injured man, grabbed his uninjured knee, and twisted it backward. Snap! "Ughhh!" It was a technique he''d learned from a devout squad member, crude but effective. He grabbed the short sword from the fallen man''s waist, straightened up, and used the injured enemy as a shield while catching his breath. One side''s cleared. The three-way encirclement had one gap now. If things went south, there was room to escape. "...Lowest-tier soldiers, you said?" Enri had approached from behind, speaking in disbelief. "That''s right." Catching his breath, Enkrid replied. Enri shook his head. "That level of skill for the lowest tier?" "Damn it, I''m just an idiot!" The recon squad leader spouted nonsense, seemingly unaware of the situation. "Don''t go ahead. Stay back." One of the surviving soldiers, who looked competent, stepped in front of the squad leader. Only four of them remained. The rest of the recon squad had been wiped out. Over twenty enemies glared at them with murderous intent. "...What the hell?" One of the Aspen soldiers muttered, looking astonished at Enkrid and then at the three dead bodies on their side. Enkrid paid no attention to their surprise. As always, he focused on finding the best course of action. The crossbows remained a threat. The enemy vastly outnumbered them. And he had lost his sword. "Run!" This was the moment for the mercenary tactic: retreat. Without hesitation, Enkrid turned and sprinted. Chapter 25 - Tallgrass Plains Chapter 25 - 25 - Tallgrass Plains Chapter 25 - Tallgrass Plains "This is it¡ªwe''ll cut through the grasslands and track the scout party''s trail. What do you think?" The scout squad leader''s eyes gleamed as he spoke, radiating excitement, confidence, and just the right amount of tension. It was a new kind of day. To cut to the chase, their escape attempt failed. Enkrid, upon waking up, spent the new day reflecting on the previous one. Where did it go wrong? Heading east might have been a mistake. No, things were fine up to that point. Replaying events in his head was a habit for Enkrid. Fleeing east, they ran into a crossbow unit. He ended up riddled with bolts and collapsed. Lying on the ground, writhing, a final bolt pierced his skull, killing him. The pain of that moment was something he never wanted to remember. But without revisiting it, he knew he would keep dying¡ªand that was even worse. So, he replayed the day, over and over, to identify the problem. I heard it first, which gave me an opening. He''d caught an unfamiliar sound, a skill honed thanks to Jaxen. After that, the Heart of the Beast let him calmly assess the situation. He had to break through one direction. He failed, but... If I try again... He thought he could do it. After all, they hadn''t been caught by the pursuing unit but had run into a stationed unit by sheer bad luck. I just need to find another route. As Enkrid was deep in thought, someone tapped him on the shoulder. It was Enri. Enkrid realized he''d been lost in his own head. "Just keep your cool and follow along. That''s all," Enri said. What was he supposed to be keeping calm about? "Your face doesn''t look good," Enri added, glancing ahead. Turning to look, Enkrid locked eyes with a soldier trailing behind the squad leader, a rough-looking man. Though his gaze seemed sharp, it wasn''t meant to pick a fight. If Enri''s asking for patience, he must be someone reasonable. The rough-looking soldier likely planned to bide his time and address Enkrid tactfully. Deciding that talking wouldn''t help just yet, the man averted his eyes first. Acknowledging this, Enkrid gave Enri a nod and kept walking. Pushing aside the grass with his hands, he stepped further in. Soon, a familiar sight greeted him: towering green grass that severely restricted visibility. It was clear that fighting an ambush here would be unfavorable. Risking one''s life to venture in was something no one in their right mind would do. What if we just avoided this place? That wasn''t an option. The squad''s entire mission was to scout the tallgrass plains. Ignoring that and turning back would invite all kinds of questions. Claim they sensed an ambush before entering? Even if they tried to change the scouting direction, there was no way all ten of them would agree to lie about it. It was unavoidable. Most "new days" began like this anyway. Still, if someone asked if he was worried... Not really. He had only fought once, but... Enri had questioned how such an inexperienced soldier could survive, and the squad leader had disparaged his own skill. One real battle. It had only been a single encounter, but that single moment had been invaluable. The Heart of the Beast had left no room for hesitation. He''d slashed and stabbed, predicting the enemy''s movements. In between, he applied what he''d learned. His heart raced. A thrilling sensation coursed through him. This is a great opportunity. Before the mission, Rem and Ragna had both critiqued his swordsmanship. He could now apply what he''d learned from them and what he''d figured out himself. "Do you see this? The trampled grass?" "Looks like animal tracks." Enkrid knew how to use what he''d learned. Feigning knowledge, he made a comment. Enri, catching his words, rolled his eyes and asked, "So, you''ve got hunting experience?" He didn''t. He''d learned from Enri. "Just picked up some things here and there," he answered honestly, continuing to chat lightly while quickening his pace to move closer to the squad leader. Now directly behind him, Enkrid observed the formation. The squad leader led at the front, flanked by two soldiers on either side. A rough-looking soldier followed directly behind him, with the rest trailing further back. Not bad. It was a well-thought-out formation, ideal for responding to sudden attacks. Of course, against a crossbow unit, formations hardly mattered. In the previous day''s failure, the scout squad leader hadn''t acted foolishly. He had followed Enkrid''s instructions without hesitation. And he wasn''t a bad swordsman either. The rough-looking soldier was highly skilled. At least intermediate level. By Naurilian standards, both the squad leader and the rough-looking soldier were quite competent. Enri wasn''t bad either, walking with a short bow in hand and capable of firing rapid shots. Not enough to survive dozens of bolts, but still impressive. Avoid crossbow units at all costs. Enkrid intentionally stayed close behind the squad leader. The rough-looking soldier, perhaps mindful of his superior, didn''t try to start a conversation. Rustle. Hiss! Crunch. Then, he heard the sound again. "Get down." Grabbing the squad leader by the collar, Enkrid yanked him back. Previously, only four had survived. This time, he intended to save more. "Ugh!" The squad leader fell back with a startled yelp. "Enemy!" someone shouted as bolts came flying. In that moment, Enkrid kicked the legs out from under two soldiers. Bolts whizzed past above their heads as they hit the ground. Enkrid, too, spread his legs wide, crouching low. A startled grasshopper leaped away in a panic. Pushing off with the elasticity of his thigh muscles and erector spinae, Enkrid stood up and threw a knife. With a sharp ping, the knife cut through the air. Though it didn''t hit, it forced the enemy to flinch momentarily. That brief hesitation was enough. Thunk. He lightly struck the squad leader''s forehead with his elbow. "Focus." With that, he sprang forward. Thump-thump-thump. His boots crushed dirt and grass as he drew his sword. All-out effort. He aimed to pierce his target without losing muscle tension afterward. How to deliver full power yet retain control? "You''ll get the hang of it eventually¡ªjust keep doing it," Rem had said during training. Enkrid was applying that advice here and now. Thunk! The blade punctured the enemy''s chest. Twisting it as he withdrew, the steel split muscle, nerves, and heart. Feigning a horizontal slash, he stepped in close and swept his leg at another enemy''s shin. This one had just raised his crossbow to aim. "Urgh!" The soldier doubled over, and Enkrid slammed the back of his head with the sword''s pommel. Crunch! It felt like splitting a solid piece of wood. Having downed two enemies, Enkrid spotted another rushing toward him. The man wore thick cloth armor and carried a large round shield. Ping-ping-ping! Enri fired three arrows in rapid succession. The arrows couldn''t pierce the armor; one wobbled before falling uselessly to the ground. The arrow had been fired too hastily, failing to fully harness the bow''s draw strength. Enkrid quickly switched the sword to his left hand and swung it with force. Clang! The blade clashed with the edge of the shield, sending sparks flying. Although the strike dented the shield''s frame, Enkrid''s hand was left numb from the impact. "Graaaah!" The enemy roared, bringing a heavy strike down toward Enkrid''s head. Thump. A fleeting moment of distraction could mean death here. Panic would only guarantee demise. Such was the battlefield. Moments like these were when the Heart of the Beast shone brightest. It granted him the composure to stay calm even in the heart of chaos, his robust heart of muscle and will fulfilling its purpose. Enkrid could clearly see the trajectory of the shield descending toward him. "Observe well, and evade well." That was Rem''s teaching. Observe and dodge. "There are no unnecessary parts to a sword. From the hilt to the blade''s tip, everything must be used." This was Ragna''s lesson. Watching carefully, Enkrid stepped back at the very last moment, narrowly avoiding the shield as it whooshed past, close enough that the wind from its swing ruffled his hair. "Huff, huff!" The enemy gritted his teeth and strained his muscles to lift the shield once more. Enkrid could hear the heavy breaths from behind the shield, and he noticed the tension in the man''s shoulders and movements. Through the slits above the shield, the enemy''s eyes rolled frantically as they fixed on Enkrid. Continuing to fight against the shield would only prolong the battle. Enkrid flipped his sword, grasping it so the hilt faced upward and the blade faced down. With a swift rotation of his waist and knees, he swung the sword with all his might. The motion was so quick and decisive that the shield-bearer had no time to react. Whoosh¡ªThud! The pointed blade struck beneath the shield''s edge, embedding itself in the enemy''s eye. Blood burst from the pierced eye, accompanied by a clear liquid streaming down the enemy''s face. "Aaaaaargh!" The now one-eyed soldier screamed in agony. Despite his bleeding hand from gripping the blade, Enkrid drew a short sword. With precision, he stabbed the thrashing, blinded enemy in the neck and withdrew the blade. Spurt! Blood spurted in time with the action, forming frothy bubbles in the man''s throat as he collapsed to the ground. "Over here!" The sheer brutality of the scene left others stunned and speechless, staring at Enkrid in disbelief. How many had he killed in such a short span? Retrieving the sword that had pierced the eye, Enkrid wiped the blood-stained hilt roughly and moved on. This time, six men followed him, two more than before. "...What are you?" The reconnaissance squad leader, sticking close to Enkrid as they ran, asked in awe. "Do you really not know?" It wasn''t a time for talking¡ªrunning was the priority. Enkrid sprinted eastward once more, cutting down every enemy he encountered. Even as he delved deeper than before, something felt wrong. ''I''ve misjudged the direction.'' He was certain the east wasn''t the way out. This time, he faced fifty spearmen¡ªa unit the size of a platoon, far too much for them to handle. Having already lost the others, only the reconnaissance squad leader and a gruff-looking soldier remained with him. "Unlucky," muttered the gruff soldier. "Damn it," said the squad leader, scanning their surroundings with a distressed look. Enkrid, however, simply muttered, "I''ll take five of them down." And he charged forward, resolve in his every step. From the perspective of the spearmen, he must have seemed utterly mad. Charging into fifty armed soldiers? Such reckless behavior was the mark of a lunatic. Even the way he wielded his sword showed he wasn''t extraordinary¡ªskilled enough to be called experienced, but no more. Yet, in the span of that mad charge, Enkrid slew three spearmen. And then he was impaled by a spear. It was excruciatingly painful. His final memory was of the long banner lying behind the spearmen as his vision faded. *** "This way. If we kill the enemies beyond the grasslands, it''ll count as merit, right? Or maybe capturing them alive would be better?" As he listened to the squad leader''s words, Enkrid once again reviewed the day in his mind. A reflection. ''There''s no way out in the east.'' This time, he resolved to head north. Practical combat was excellent nourishment. Even Rem and Ragna, despite their hostility toward each other, agreed on this. And didn''t Jaxen say it too? The best way to hone one''s senses was to fight for one''s life. In the face of death, human focus could surpass its limits. Enkrid was living proof of those words. ''I''ve improved.'' It wasn''t arrogance or overconfidence¡ªit was an objective truth. He had grown significantly. And he continued to grow even now. In the repeated days that followed, Enkrid died nine more times in the north, six more times in the east, and twelve more times in the west. The battles continued. Skills didn''t improve in an instant; that was inevitable. But progress, step by step, was achievable. Enkrid felt joy. He was growing. Today was better than yesterday. "Uraaah!" Thwack! In one of the repeated days, the sharp tip of a brave soldier''s spear grazed Enkrid''s cheek. It was a strike he wouldn''t have been able to avoid before. It resembled the thrusts of a master spearman, yet he evaded it. And he didn''t stop at evasion. The countless battles had ingrained good habits into him. As he dodged, he brought his sword down vertically, slashing from above. Thunk. At that moment, Enkrid felt something strange. The sensation in his hand was faint, almost nonexistent. Though the blade had clearly severed the soldier''s arm, it felt as though he had cut through a rotten branch. It was effortless. The severed arm flew cleanly through the air without a sound. A flawless strike¡ªwhat many called a silent cut. The kind of strike achieved by those hailed as geniuses. "Ah." For a brief moment, Enkrid''s concentration wavered in astonishment. It was the first time he had experienced such a thing in battle. He could feel the solid weight of the sword in his hands, the electrifying sensation filling him with ecstasy. "Ha, this is amazing." Covered in blood, he laughed uncontrollably, overwhelmed by satisfaction. "You crazy bastard!" To the enemy, he was nothing short of a madman. Regardless, Enkrid died countless more times. And he repeated the same day again and again. Through the endless repetition, the lessons he had learned in training seeped deeply into his body. Chapter 26 - The Bow Chapter 26 - 26 - The Bow Chapter 26 - The Bow "Should''ve dodged back there." Enkrid once again chewed over the events of his peculiar yesterday, which existed only for him. "No, dodging wasn''t the issue. I got too fixated on landing a single blow." Dodge when needed, strike when necessary. Hadn''t he heard time and time again about the importance of split-second decisions? From countless swordsmanship instructors, and from Rem as well. "What good is it to see well with the Heart of the Beast if you make the wrong choice? You''re just digging your own grave." It almost felt as if Rem were standing nearby, cackling in mockery. If that bastard Rem knew, he would''ve said exactly that. Enkrid mulled over the moment, over and over again. "This time, I''ll take a slightly different route." He changed his path daily. The privilege of someone stuck repeating the same day. ''Let''s ambush the enemy scouts past that tall grass. How does that sound?'' True to form, the reconnaissance squad leader was once again leading them all toward ruin. Stopping him wasn''t even a consideration. No, Enkrid knew changing the patrol route was futile. Whichever path they chose, it would be the same. ''The enemy''s already swarming this area, lying in ambush.'' The enemy forces were scattered thickly across the tall grasslands. If survival was the goal, the best option was to return the moment he opened his eyes. ''But that''s not an option.'' Doing so would mean defying orders, which could lead to severe punishment, even summary execution. Should he abandon the squad of nine and desert on his own? Should he survive that way? ''Was that why I learned the sword?'' A knight, a general, a hero. Even now, he swung his blade while dreaming of such titles. But could the right choice really be to abandon these people, knowing they would all die? Was that truly the best he could do? ''No.'' Everyone has something they can''t compromise on. Enkrid knew he was neither a good person nor a saint. But this was one thing he couldn''t let go. Some might call it conviction. Others, stubbornness. And Enkrid didn''t care what they called it. ''This is my decision.'' If he had lived by someone else''s standards, he would have long since given up and settled into a quiet life as a layabout in some backwater village militia. Desertion wasn''t an option. The goal was to find a way out of this today. Fight again. Bleed again. Kill the enemy again. This time, he used his sword as a shield until it shattered. A spear struck his head. The world spun. Of course, death followed. Whether it was the spear impaling his chest or the blow to his skull that killed him, he couldn''t be sure. And then it repeated. He died. Over and over. Through these life-or-death battles, he digested what he had learned from sparring. He reflected on what he already knew. During all this, Enkrid focused on only two things. One, how to fight better. Two, how to escape today. To reach tomorrow. Enkrid knew relentless effort was necessary for that moment. He had survived two of these repeating days before. But this time, it was different. "I don''t see a way out." Everywhere he turned, it was nothing but enemies. Locusts, crickets, tall grass obscuring his vision, and this swampy, humid terrain¡ªwhat made it worth stationing so many soldiers here? "Relentless bastards." To make matters worse, every one of them was well-trained. They weren''t ragtag mercenaries fighting for coin or conscripts forced into service. These were all salaried soldiers. Some might even consider them elite. In large-scale battles, the term "elite" might carry a different meaning. But on a battlefield of this size, professional soldiers counted as elite. If soldiers who trained to fight while eating regularly didn''t qualify as elite, then who would? "This is going to be a headache." With a surprise attack, he could kill three or four. Beyond that, it would be too much. Especially with crossbowmen ready to fire, retreating while fighting would be even harder. "Enough power to kill them all." Could he achieve that by repeating this day endlessly? Could he gain that kind of power? No. He already knew the answer. Back in the first repeated day, he had tried to push past a mere spearman to reach tomorrow. "There''s a limit to what I can learn in frozen time." Enkrid knew himself well. To improve and feel the thrill of growth, he needed good mentors and opportunities. That didn''t mean he wasted these repeated days. He trained his hearing, honed his swordsmanship, and reviewed his battles. He repeated this process endlessly. Though progress was slow, he was still growing. "I''m good with a bow, but my hands shake when the fighting gets chaotic," Enri said beside him. It was something Enkrid had heard several times before. Though he claimed to be a coward, he was confident in his archery skills. "Can you hit an apple on someone''s head from a hundred paces?" Enkrid teased, looking to lighten his mood. "Not a hundred paces, but thirty paces is doable. If you put an apple on the squad leader''s head, I''ll give it a shot." "Shame, I don''t have an apple." "Shame indeed," Enri chuckled. Enri knew how to enjoy a joke. "But really, within thirty paces, I''m pretty confident. Maybe not the apple, but I could hit the head." Enri''s tone was serious now. "If you take down ten enemies with headshots, it''d help," Enkrid said, glancing at Enri''s quiver. The flat leather quiver at his hip held about ten arrows. It was securely strapped to his waist and thigh with leather cords, which also tied the arrows together. When loosened, the arrows could easily be drawn. True to his background as a plains hunter, Enri seemed skilled with both his bow and his gear. "Hey, what''s so funny? We''re on reconnaissance duty, you know. Tsk," the squad leader snapped, glaring. Enkrid ignored him. The squad leader''s occasional interjections were nothing new in this repeated today. ''It''d be nice to take out a few with arrows to start,'' Enkrid thought, watching the hostile soldier following behind the leader. The man shot him a glance that seemed to say, Don''t respond, just stay quiet. Same as before. There was no need to cause a scene, so Enkrid let it slide. ''That''d make it easier to launch a surprise attack'' he thought, letting his mind simulate the battle ahead. With the information he''d gathered through repeated days, the scenarios he envisioned were strikingly accurate. In the end, he would die. Most likely, he would die. Even with a clear skill advantage, the numbers were overwhelming. And they weren''t outmatched in terms of equipment, either. "That''s not an advantage we have." What would Rem do? There would be no hesitation. He''d charge in with axes swinging in both hands. With Rem''s skills, he couldn''t kill all hundred. But he could kill enough to escape. That was the kind of explosive talent Rem had. "Funny, someone like him is just a soldier," Enkrid mused. Though Rem himself didn''t seem to mind. In some ways, Enkrid felt like he was the only one in their troublemaker squad with ambitions. He seemed to be the only one who wanted to rise above being a mere squad member. What was the point of thinking about a squadmate who wasn''t even here? Enkrid shook off the thought. A small snake slithered through the short grass. The grass underfoot was getting taller, a sign they were nearing the tall grasslands. ''I''m not Rem,'' he reminded himself. As he imagined the coming battle, another thought struck him. "What level of skill does the squad leader have?" Up until now, Enkrid hadn''t had the chance to properly assess the situation. He had merely considered things as "not bad." The scout squad leader, the gruff soldier, and Enri. Even the rest of the squad members. Thoughts chained together, leading to a clear answer. "I don''t have to protect everything myself." "Huh?" Enri asked, puzzled, reacting to what seemed to be an unintentional mutter. "Nothing." Enkrid had been foolish. Until now, he had approached everything with the mindset of tackling it alone. He fought as if he had to protect everything on his own, passively responding when encountering enemies. As a result, he thought he had tried every option available, but there was one more left. A way to completely change the game. Crack. Crack. Enkrid tilted his neck side to side, loosening up. There was still some distance to the grassy field ahead. Striding forward, Enkrid grabbed the gruff soldier by the shoulder and pulled him back. "Huh?" The soldier instinctively tensed up. "What is it?" "You were glaring at me earlier, weren''t you?" Of course, he knew. It wasn''t a glare but rather a look seeking consent. But for someone with such an intimidating face, even a look could feel like a glare. "No, listen, it''s not like that¡ª" "Your tongue''s too long." Thwack! Enkrid swung a punch, but the soldier dodged by leaning his head back. "...What''s wrong with you? Have you lost it?" The scout squad leader asked in disbelief from the front. "Fight me." Ignoring him, Enkrid swept a kick toward the soldier''s ankle, but it was dodged again. The soldier frowned. "You seemed like a perceptive guy." "Being perceptive means I noticed your irritating look." Rem had once admitted that if there were a continental competition for verbal provocation, Enkrid might win. "Come on, fight me, you ox-faced bastard no cow would look back at." The effect was immediate. The soldier''s experienced face flushed red from just a few words. "Fine. You''re asking for it." The two fought. Instead of drawing swords, they used fists as blades, feet as clubs. The fight was fairly even¡ªno, truthfully, Enkrid was slightly on the losing end. He''s good, Enkrid thought. By kingdom standards, the soldier''s skill ranged between intermediate and advanced. "I thought you were just a low-ranked soldier?" The soldier, whose lip was bleeding, spat and asked. "I am. Lowest rank." "They say promotion comes with money. Why don''t you go for it?" Enkrid knew he wasn''t actually a low-ranked soldier. From the moment he joined the military, he wasn''t bound by rank. But he didn''t feel the need to advance¡ªhe understood his own skills and limits. Of course, his mindset had shifted somewhat now. If the opportunity arose, he might pursue promotion. But it wasn''t his top priority. What did it matter, whether it was the criteria for mercenaries or soldier rankings? What truly mattered was the outcome. "You''re skilled," Enkrid admitted genuinely. A fight like this was satisfying. The soldier was better than he''d expected¡ªlikely someone who excelled in real combat. The squad leader, his face red with anger, stepped in. "What are you doing?!" he yelled, his eyes blazing as if ready to leap at Enkrid. But Enkrid spoke first. "It''s sparring. Good warm-up." The scout leader faltered at Enkrid''s audaciously straightforward response. "Leave it be," the gruff soldier interjected. "There''s no bad blood here." Enkrid shrugged. "Watch your mouth, leader. Your tongue''s gonna get you in trouble someday." "That''s for me to worry about," the leader retorted. Enkrid returned to his spot, ignoring further comments. Beside him, Enri looked at his swollen cheekbone. "Aren''t you supposed to be a low-ranked soldier?" "I am." Why was everyone so surprised? Even a few of the other scouts glanced curiously at Enkrid. "You fought too well for that," Enri commented. "I trained hard," Enkrid replied. It wasn''t a lie. Despite the commotion, the squad leader led them toward the tall grass field. There had to be something valuable hidden there¡ªa treasure, or perhaps a lover. Crunch! Crack. The familiar sound signaled approaching enemies once more. This was only the beginning of another day. "Enemies," Enkrid muttered through a split lip, nudging Enri. "Shoot." He wanted to see Enri''s archery skills, but the boy hesitated, freezing at the mention of "enemies." In the ensuing skirmish, Enri''s skills were unimpressive. His shots lacked conviction, and he moved clumsily in battle. While observing, Enkrid concluded: I can''t work as just another squad member. Leadership was crucial; orders had to be followed. But Enkrid hadn''t built those dynamics with the team. He set the thought aside for now. Repeating another grueling day, fighting desperately to survive. Through these repetitive days, Enkrid learned more about his squad leader''s skills. The leader wasn''t bad. His swordsmanship bore signs of proper training. "I''ll accept your challenges anytime," the leader declared. Humoring him with playful defeats brightened the leader''s mood. Through these exchanges, Enkrid memorized his habits and patterns. Lacks real combat experience, he thought. The gruff soldier''s babysitting role made sense now. When asked, the soldier casually replied, "He''s the son of someone I respected." This soldier reeked of loyalty. His sole reason for being here was to protect that kid. "A noble?" "Fallen nobles don''t count." So, the scout leader was from a fallen noble family. "I see." Letting the conversation drift, Enkrid glanced at the sun overhead. It was midday. The weather was mild¡ªnot too hot, not too cold. Scouts were all in light armor, necessary for speed and agility. Light gear, basic equipment. Enkrid took note of everything: the weather, wind, terrain, allies, enemies. If he could synchronize these elements, the battle would become clear. Chapter 27 - Why Is He considered Lowest-Ranked Soldier? Chapter 27 - 27 - Why Is He considered Lowest-Ranked Soldier? Chapter 27 - Why Is He Considered Lowest-Ranked Soldier? The name of the reconnaissance squad leader was Andrew. His full name was Andrew Gardener. Once a baron, he was now the sole heir of a fallen family. Andrew had one dream: to restore the Gardener family during his lifetime. "Andrew, you are our hope." Those were his mother''s last words, uttered as she succumbed to illness, and they remained vividly etched in his mind. His mother had worked tirelessly, sewing for wages and serving as a maid in others'' homes. Every penny she earned was spent on Andrew¡ªon his swordsmanship lessons, food, and clothing. While his upbringing wasn''t affluent, it wasn''t lacking either. Eventually, the strain of work took its toll, and she fell ill and passed away. Her wish was just as clear as her words: "Continue the family line and become an honorable person." Andrew resolved to honor her wish. To restore his family''s glory, he had only one viable path. It was, after all, an era of war. Fighting and proving his skills on the battlefield was the key. At a crucial time, when he needed training and connections, help arrived. Before her death, Andrew''s mother had reached out to a man who had once been like a sworn brother to her late husband. "You have potential," the man had remarked. Thus began Andrew''s grueling training, followed by his enlistment in the army. He started as a career soldier and, at a young age, rose to the rank of squad leader. "I need achievements," he thought constantly. Andrew was confident in his abilities, bolstered by the experience of killing several enemy soldiers in combat. "Always be cautious." His advisor and supporter frequently nagged him to the point of irritation. But Andrew didn''t dismiss the advice lightly. "Staying alive is crucial too." After all, he needed to survive to restore his family. Yet he couldn''t give up on living a daring life either. Those who abandoned challenges were destined for failure¡ªhis father was a prime example. His father, lacking talent, had spent his days swinging a sword but achieved nothing. Eventually, he gave up on restoring the family''s glory and squandered their remaining wealth. He was stabbed to death in a brawl with a gambler. "A life without a future is bleak," Andrew thought. Thus, while dreaming of his family''s revival, he also valued his own life. That didn''t mean there weren''t annoyances along the way. Among them was the troublesmakers squad leader who had caught Andrew''s eye. Andrew had earned his position through skill and relentless effort toward his noble goal. But what about that man? A soldier with the lowest level of skill, a payroll thief who had somehow landed in the squad leader''s seat through sheer luck. Could such a person even be considered fit for a career in the military? Andrew saw shades of his father in the man''s behavior. "He''ll probably just coast through life collecting his pay until he dies," Andrew thought. Pretending to train by swinging a sword aimlessly was laughable enough. And carrying a sword and scabbard to hone his skills as a mere foot soldier was even more absurd. Of course, if Andrew had known Enkrid better, he wouldn''t have thought so. Now, the troublemaker squad leader was staring directly at Andrew. Their eyes met. An unpleasant tension flowed between them, culminating in Andrew narrowing his brows. "What''s with those eyes?" he thought. As he prepared to speak, the troublesome squad leader beat him to it. "Your glare is annoying," the man said. Huh? Was he talking to Andrew? Andrew''s brows furrowed even more, his expression darkening in response. One of the soldiers accompanying Andrew stepped forward. "What did you just say?" The soldier had a scar on his forehead, a relic of his time as a brawler. Andrew had once said to him: "Follow me. I''ll give you a better life than being a thug." Since then, the man had become one of Andrew''s loyal subordinates. Though his skills were still rough, and some of his thuggish habits lingered, he was a decent fighter. Andrew had brought three such men into his fold. Now, those three quietly rose to surround the troublemakers squad leader. *** Enkrid had reached a conclusion after reliving the same day multiple times. "This won''t work as a squad member." To ensure his comrades followed his orders and moved as one, he needed to earn their trust. How could he do that? How did knights inspire loyalty the moment they stepped onto the battlefield? The answer was simple: skill. They commanded respect through their abilities. So, what did he need to make his squad of ten move as a single unit? What was required to earn their trust? He couldn''t forge personal connections or camaraderie in just one day. The only option left was overwhelming force. "Seems like your mouth is the problem. Want me to carve a pretty tattoo on it?" The scarred soldier sneered, his eyes gleaming with menace¡ªa face that had likely intimidated a few people in the past. "Your lines never change," Enkrid thought, glancing at the positions of the three men. For them, this might be a first, but for Enkrid, it was a scenario he had repeated multiple times. Why the repetition? The reason was straightforward. Force and intimidation were most effective when they were overwhelming. To achieve that, experience was essential. Setting aside his Valah mercenary blade style, he had to rely solely on his raw skills. The first hurdle to overcoming the repetitive cycle of today was subduing the three thuggish soldiers. "Cat got your tongue?" the scarred soldier jeered. Enkrid decided words were unnecessary. So he took action. He stepped forward silently. The men reacted, flinching as one reached for his short sword. Enkrid''s left foot moved slowly at first, giving them just enough time to wonder what he was doing. By the time they started questioning his actions, it was too late. His right foot hit the ground with explosive force. Mixing slow movements with fast ones naturally made the actions seem quicker. It was a simple trick and a tactic to secure the initiative. And it was incredibly, no, overwhelmingly effective. "Ugh!" The scarred soldier attempted to thrust his fist, holding his breath. But Enkrid was faster, delivering a sharp kick to the soldier''s shin. Thud! As the shin was swept aside, the soldier''s stance crumbled. Enkrid immediately followed up, striking the opponent''s temple with his reinforced glove. It was a clean, decisive swing. Crack! "Ugh!" With a short cry, the soldier staggered and fell to the side. Enkrid''s movements flowed seamlessly afterward. He turned to avoid an incoming shortsword aimed at an exposed spot. As though choreographed, he grabbed the wrist of the soldier wielding the weapon and twisted it. The key was to apply just enough pressure without causing serious injury. Snap. Crack. Twisting the wrist and striking at an angle under the soldier''s chin rendered the second opponent unconscious. He caught the falling soldier, carefully laying him on the ground. Then, as he stood, Enkrid picked up the dropped shortsword and, without a change in his breathing, asked: "Anyone else?" The last remaining soldier among those who stepped forward was drenched in cold sweat. It was their side that had drawn weapons first. Even if Enkrid struck now, no one could argue against it. "What''s the meaning of this?" The reconnaissance squad leader, who had been silently watching, finally intervened. "I didn''t like you from the start. A brat barely out of diapers pretending to lead." Enkrid ignored the frightened soldier, turning to face the squad leader. If it didn''t warrant anger, he could usually let things slide. He rarely assigned much weight to others'' words or actions. That was how it had been until now. But if anger was justified? Then he had no reason to hold back. "I just don''t want to end up wiped out on a pointless recon mission under a leader like you. Let''s settle this with skill." Defying a superior was a serious offense. However, the situation was unusual. Enkrid was, in fact, a squad leader by rank. Had the opponent respected that, things might have been different. Instead, they outright dismissed him, letting their displeasure show. No one could fault Enkrid for not tolerating it. Even the higher-ups wouldn''t care who led the recon squad between the two. Hadn''t the platoon leader departed with a simple "Take care of the young squad leader"? Now was the time. Not just watching his back, but stepping forward to take charge. "...So, whoever wins the fight takes command of the squad?" The recon squad leader frowned and asked. "That''s right. I have no intention of working under someone weaker than me." In truth, except for Krais, most of the troublemakers in the squad were stronger fighters than Enkrid. But excuses were just that¡ªexcuses. It was better if the opponent took the bait and lashed out. "Come at me, you wet-behind-the-ears brat. Have you even been with a woman? Or is your boyhood still incomplete?" Andrew''s expression hardened. He had yet to experience his first time. He had spent that time training his body instead. The remark felt like an insult to his dedication, his efforts, and everything he''d done to reach this point. Clang. The squad leader drew his shortsword. "Feel free to draw your weapon. Length doesn''t equal skill." "Well..." A gruff soldier nearby initially tried to intervene, but then shook his head and sighed, stepping back. He had worked as a mercenary for quite some time. Situations like this weren''t uncommon. There had been friction from the start. It might be better to resolve it now. Lingering resentment would only cause more problems. Besides, he knew Andrew well. He had even taught the young man swordsmanship. Though still a rookie in some ways, Andrew knew how to handle a blade and had a straightforward, grounded nature. Above all, he could distinguish right from wrong. "This won''t be easy," the soldier thought. If it came to it, he would step in. One thing stood out: the so-called troublemaker squad leader didn''t seem ordinary. His stance, foot placement, and the thick, calloused hands told a story. They were marks of hard-earned experience, not something gained overnight. "Fine. I''ll fight barehanded." "This bastard?" Enkrid''s opponent was incensed. That was his weakness¡ªletting emotions take control too easily. The gruff soldier made a mental note to address it later. For now, he decided to watch calmly. This wouldn''t be a quick fight. Neither of them was exceptional, but neither were they sloppy. Still, he secretly bet on Andrew. Though emotional, Andrew had a solid foundation and natural talent. The troublemaker squad leader gestured for Andrew to attack. Enkrid rushed in. And then¡ª Crack! "...One hit?" What was that? The gruff soldier''s eyes widened in disbelief. As Andrew charged, Enkrid made a faint motion with his left hand. Sensing it, Andrew slashed with his shortsword. But the opponent read the sword''s trajectory perfectly, striking the blade flat with the leather gauntlet on his left hand. In that instant, Andrew''s chest was exposed. The squad leader stepped into the opening and moved with explosive precision in the tight space. Smack! Using the ground to pivot, he twisted his body and drove his elbow into Andrew''s solar plexus with pinpoint accuracy. It was over in one blow. "Urgh..." Andrew let out a strangled groan. His legs buckled, his breath caught in his throat, and his limbs went limp. That was the nature of a vital strike. With a choking sound, Andrew curled over, his back arching like a shrimp. In a real battle, he''d have been dead. "What... kind of strength..." The gruff soldier could only gape in astonishment. The force had penetrated through thick fabric armor. The troublemakers squad leader''s skills surpassed those of most mercenaries. And yet, a question lingered. "Why is someone like this ranked as a mere low-tier soldier?" Chapter 28 - Ambush and Blue Eyes Chapter 28 - 28 - Ambush and Blue Eyes Chapter 28 - Ambush and Blue Eyes Enkrid let out a sigh of relief as he watched the staggering reconnaissance squad leader. "Just barely made it." His trick of deflecting a blade with the back of his hand succeeded only about half the time. But practice had made him more adept, though it wasn''t an easy feat. It was possible only because he had studied his opponent''s peculiar habits. Without that, such a maneuver would have been unthinkable. From Enkrid''s perspective, it was a precarious gamble, but to any observer, it appeared as nothing less than a showcase of overwhelming skill. He batted away incoming blades without flinching, followed by a swift strike to the solar plexus that rendered his opponent incapacitated. It was the kind of feat that only someone vastly superior in skill could achieve. "Are you seriously just a lowest-rank soldier?" How many times had he heard that now? It was becoming tiresome. "I never took the promotion test. Didn''t think I needed it," he replied, preemptively addressing the inevitable follow-up questions. He then stretched his wrist to relieve the stiffness. No damage had been done. Years of training with the sword had covered everything he needed. Strength training was a given, and Enkrid''s physical prowess was among the best in his unit. That level of preparation explained his consistent results. "From now on, I''m the squad leader," Enkrid declared. It was as if he had conquered a mountain. The previous squad leader didn''t protest. He simply stared blankly at Enkrid before mumbling, "Y-you, uh..." and falling silent. No one else objected either. Even the soldier with the most influence after the squad leader¡ªthe one with the menacing appearance¡ªquietly followed Enkrid''s lead. As expected. The path to finding an escape route continued. "Enri, what''s your dream?" Enkrid, now leading the formation, walked alongside Enri. It was shortly after the chaos had subsided, and Enri, still shaken, quickly regained his composure at Enkrid''s words. "Huh?" "Is there something you want to do?" Enri blinked a few times, caught off guard, before nervously revealing his rather specific aspiration. "Uh, well... Survive, settle down, and run a flower shop with a widow." Of course. Everyone has their own goals. "Then you need to make it back alive. What about you?" Enkrid turned his gaze to the soldier behind him. It was Andrew, whom Enkrid had deliberately placed directly behind him when reorganizing the formation. Enkrid had even allowed Andrew to keep his weapon. Watching this, Enri thought, This guy must be fearless. What if Andrew held a grudge and stabbed him in the back? Though Enkrid could simply restart the day, Enri didn''t know that. Andrew let out a long sigh. "Fine. I concede." "That''s not what I asked. What do you want, soldier?" Andrew, now demoted to "soldier," had no room to argue. The difference in skill was too evident. "The revival of my family," he answered. So, he was from a fallen noble family. "Then you need to survive and return too," Enkrid said. The newly appointed squad leader continued to ask similar questions, delivering the same response each time. "You have to make it back alive to earn money," he told one soldier who dreamed of opening a shop. "Your lover''s pregnant? If you don''t want your child to grow up fatherless, you''d better return too," he said to another, a rough-looking soldier who turned out to be an expectant father. "Everyone''s got the same goal, huh?" Enkrid remarked. "Then let''s all make it back alive." Though his intentions baffled the squad, no one objected. Enkrid met each soldier''s gaze one by one. Normally, such actions might seem trivial, but his earlier words had planted seeds of purpose. Even Andrew, along with the other soldiers, began recalling what they had left behind. Enkrid wanted them to find their own sense of purpose. Though it began with force and intimidation, now he needed them to fight willingly. He had used this approach many times before: instilling a desire to survive. It was an effective strategy. Moving as a cohesive unit of ten was far more advantageous than fighting alone. In fact, with this level of motivation, they could even attempt an ambush. If the ambush succeeded, everything could change. "It just might work." As long as there was a chance, he would keep trying. Accepting death was simply part of the process. Through repeated attempts, Enkrid memorized the enemy''s positions and numbers. *** Another day of knocking out the squad leader passed. "What''s your dream?" That day also ended with the same question. It might have been monotonous, but Enkrid approached each day with unwavering focus. Eventually, he obtained two key elements: the plan for an ambush and a clear goal. "Let''s do this." Now was the moment, built on countless repetitions of the same day. He had trained enough through repetition. "Let''s all make it back alive," he said. When Enkrid turned around, the entire reconnaissance squad nodded. Though they didn''t see the mission as particularly dangerous, Enkrid''s persistence stirred something in their hearts. "Then let''s go." Enkrid no longer moved cautiously. He didn''t need to. He had already memorized the enemy''s general locations. "Have you been here before?" Enri, the former plains hunter, asked as they walked side by side. "A few times." Not admitting it would seem strange, given how confidently he navigated the terrain. "Oh, I see." After walking a bit farther, Enri asked another question. "Were you a hunter?" "No, but I learned a few things from one," Enkrid replied, referring to skills like reading tracks and identifying the direction grass was bent. Of course, it was Enri himself who had taught him those skills in earlier repetitions. As they moved, Enkrid glanced back and noticed a rough-looking soldier sticking close to Andrew. In the field, such a soldier might make an excellent bodyguard. Enkrid thought to himself, In a fight, that tough-looking soldier will definitely stick with Andrew. Even while walking, he mentally mapped out their escape route. When they reached their destination, Enkrid raised his fist to signal the squad to stop. "Phew." He took a deep breath where they stood. The squad looked around, puzzled by the halt. They had just reached the edge of the grasslands. But no one spoke up. Enkrid''s leadership style left no room for debate. "Shoot," Enkrid commanded, pointing in a direction. Enri, armed with a crossbow, blinked at him in confusion. "Huh? Where?" It was a question he had heard countless times. "Shoot. I won''t say it twice." Enri wasn''t slow to catch on. Enkrid''s tone was cold, leaving no room for argument. He had pointed beyond the tall grass. Nothing was visible, and no presence could be felt. Still, orders were orders. Enri had seen Enkrid fight. Despite the rumors, it was clear he wasn''t an opponent to be taken lightly. Pulling the bowstring taut, Enri nocked an arrow. The string stretched with tension. Cautiously glancing around, Enri released the arrow in the direction Enkrid''s finger pointed. It was a command from the squad leader, after all. The arrow whizzed through the air, and a soft thud was followed by a gasp of pain. "...Huh?" Enri was startled. In that moment, only two people remained unfazed: the grizzled veteran soldier with the sour expression and Enkrid. "Follow me, Andrew." Having Andrew stationed directly behind him was for this exact moment. Although Andrew lacked real combat experience, his skills were more than adequate. If a soldier had talent, it was wise to make good use of it. Enkrid had learned from past mistakes¡ªhe had been trying to handle everything on his own for far too long. Now, he understood that wasn''t necessary. Enkrid darted forward, and Andrew instinctively followed. The grizzled soldier cursed under his breath and followed behind them both. When the three soldiers pushed through the brush, they found a corpse with a bolt lodged squarely in its forehead. Surrounding it was a group of soldiers. It was a squad from Aspen''s crossbow unit. There were about ten of them. Enkrid opened with a lethal strike. Driving off his left foot, he twisted his body, and the tip of his sword pierced through the neck of an enemy soldier. "Guh!" Blood flowed freely from the wound. The soldier, now with a gaping hole in his throat, feebly reached out for the blade. Enkrid quickly kicked the corpse in the stomach, pulling his sword free. A dark cavity was left behind, and blood gushed out in waves. Meanwhile, Andrew swung his shortsword. His movements were clumsy. It was clear that being called to action so suddenly had thrown him off. Reacting purely on instinct, Andrew struck at an enemy. Clang! The enemy, abandoning his crossbow, drew a dagger to block the attack. "Amateurish." Still, it was fine. Enkrid hadn''t brought Andrew here without a reason¡ªhis true value lay in what came next. The grizzled soldier moved. Without yelling a war cry or making a dramatic gesture, he slipped behind the enemy blocking Andrew''s sword. With his right hand, he grabbed the soldier''s jaw, and with his left, he gripped the top of the enemy''s head. Then, with a sharp twist in opposite directions¡ª Crunch! The enemy''s neck twisted at an unnatural angle. Naturally, he was dead. The grizzled soldier drew his shortsword from his belt and spun like a top. Whoosh. The blade sliced cleanly into the neck of the enemy directly behind him, right between the helmet and the chest plate. The skin split wide open in an instant. Shhhhk. Blood gushed out from the severed neck. Seeing this, Enkrid swept the legs out from under an adjacent enemy. The soldier, focusing on the blade in Enkrid''s hand, toppled sideways. Enkrid swiftly kicked the fallen enemy''s head. Thwack! Crack. The sickening crunch of a breaking neck was accompanied by a faint, garbled cry before the soldier went limp. "A sneak attack!" "Enemies!" Shouts of alarm finally erupted from the enemy soldiers. Around this time, allied reinforcements, including a former thug known for his fighting skills, joined the fray. "Eliminate them all," Enkrid commanded. Thunk! Even before the words settled, Enri''s arrow found its target. The arrow embedded itself in an enemy''s chest, piercing through the gambeson with a wet thud, releasing a stream of red. "You damn¡ª!" The enemy tried to curse, but Enkrid didn''t allow him to finish. With a swift thrust, Enkrid drove his blade into the soldier''s throat, creating another hole. "Phew." Exhaling deeply, Enkrid allowed his overworked muscles a brief respite. The sound of clashing steel echoed all around. There was no need to take on everything alone. This newfound understanding was reinforced as Enkrid turned to move, only to hear a guttural growl three steps ahead. He had seen this scene countless times before. The wary cry of a beast. Turning his gaze, he spotted it. Black fur glinted under the dappled sunlight. This creature was the reason the enemy crossbow unit stationed here had let their guard down. Enkrid had scouted multiple ambush points in preparation for today''s assault. He had chosen this spot, risking his life, for a reason. It was because of that creature. The small black beast wandering the grassy area had distracted the enemy unit. It was enough to warrant such attention. Enkrid knew this well. Though unintentional, the creature had helped them. Its blue eyes locked onto Enkrid. His own blue eyes stared back. Their gazes met. One of the enemy soldiers clicked his tongue and thrust a short spear toward the black-furred creature. "Owing it my life, I suppose." Enkrid had no intention of letting it die. He swept his hand across his chest, pulling out a knife, and hurled it forward. The knife flew through the air and embedded itself in the enemy''s shoulder. The soldier flinched, giving the creature a chance to act. Roar! The tiny beast, no larger than a forearm, let out a ferocious cry before sinking its teeth into the enemy''s calf. Blood and flesh splattered from the wound. But it didn''t stop there. The beast clawed at the injured spot, smearing blood across its fur, before darting away. "You damned mutt!" The soldier with the injured leg jabbed his spear at the ground, but the black beast had already retreated. ''What a remarkable creature,'' Enkrid thought. It was a fiercely intelligent and vicious young black panther. The soldier with the knife wound didn''t even have time to struggle before the grizzled soldier ended him. Appearing behind the enemy, he swiftly slit his throat with practiced ease. The last remaining enemy fell to Andrew, who stabbed repeatedly with his shortsword, driving the soldier to the ground and finishing him off with a thrust to the face. Breathing heavily, Andrew looked around. He wasn''t alone. The sound of ragged breaths filled the clearing. "W-what is this?" One of the allied soldiers, familiar but nameless, muttered in disbelief. Enkrid didn''t answer. Instead, his eyes searched the fallen bodies, locating their own dead among them. One soldier had died with a spear through the face. It was an ugly death. Despite repeated attempts to save him, this soldier had always run away in the middle of battles, leaving chaos in his wake. This was simply his fate¡ªa truth Enkrid had come to accept through the repetition of countless battles. "They''re enemies. Were you not prepared for something like this during a patrol mission? Remember, survival is paramount," Enkrid declared, rallying the squad. "This way." The grizzled soldier tried to stop him. "That''s deeper in, squad leader." "Are you defying me? If you wanted to resist, you should''ve done it earlier." Enkrid dismissed the protest and pressed forward. His silence was an unspoken command to follow. There was no other option. There was no time for explanations. As he ran, his eyes met the young black panther''s once more. Deep, blue eyes like a tranquil lake. Enkrid turned away. Now wasn''t the time to connect with a beast. Survival came first. Chapter 29 - I Want to Live Too Chapter 29 - 29 - I Want to Live Too Chapter 29 - I Want to Live Too "Are you saying we should keep going forward? This is madness," said a rugged-looking soldier close behind Enkrid. After their initial ambush succeeded, the reconnaissance team, initially Andrew''s squad and now Enkrid''s, attempted two more ambushes. The second battle was against a group of five soldiers, and in the third, they faced more than fifteen. Both encounters were grueling. In the second, one of the enemy soldiers was exceptionally skilled. In the third, they were simply outnumbered. Now, only seven soldiers remained alive. Two more had been lost. "I can''t save anyone else." Some things simply can''t be done, no matter how much effort is poured into them. Enkrid knew he wasn''t some saintly figure. Repeating today endlessly just to save the three who had already died was nothing but a fantasy fit for fairy tales. It was already a miracle that they had survived this far, largely thanks to Enkrid''s efforts. Of course, the other soldiers fought fiercely as well. One had lost an eye but survived. Andrew had taken a cut to the face, now bandaged with linen over his left cheek¡ªa wound that, if they made it out alive, would be a badge of honor. Despite this grim situation, Enkrid pressed deeper. It seemed like a reckless charge with no regard for retreat. From a conventional perspective, it was indeed madness. The rugged-looking soldier wasn''t lacking in skill or experience. Even in these dire circumstances, he hadn''t entirely lost his sense of direction. He noticed that Enkrid was heading further into enemy territory. Seeing this, Enkrid silently nodded to himself. "Not bad." Compared to Rem or others in his squad, this soldier fell short, but he was still quite capable. With some training, he could at least become a platoon leader. "We''ll get a bit of breathing room soon," said Enkrid. The rugged-looking soldier frowned deeply. "That''s not what I meant," he retorted. "As I said earlier, insubordination..." "Insubordination or not, if this is a march to our deaths, I''ll stab a knife in the back of whoever''s leading us¡ªeven if it''s you¡ªto find a way to survive," the soldier interrupted. This guy spoke dangerously without restraint. What would he do if they made it out alive? How could he face everyone after saying such things? Even under Enkrid''s piercing gaze, the soldier didn''t flinch. He was shameless. And maybe he had a right to be. What mattered most was survival, not the mission. Especially for someone like him, serving with a specific purpose. Andrew''s life, his own life¡ªthose were his priorities. Enkrid looked up to check the position of the sun before coming to a halt. Naturally, the squad stopped as well. All ears turned to Enkrid and the rugged soldier''s exchange. Enkrid spoke amidst the soldiers catching their breath. "If we turn back now, we''re dead anyway. Behind us is nothing but an enemy force clustered like rabid wild dogs." As he spoke, Enkrid loosened the straps of his hand guards. The leather-padded gear was practical, but wearing it for too long made his hand muscles feel crushed. Loosening it too much, however, posed its own dangers during combat. "How do you know that? They shouldn''t even know we''re here, so how could they already have blocked the retreat?" The rugged soldier glanced at Enkrid''s hands, his frown deepening at Enkrid''s calm demeanor. Enkrid had already experienced this moment dozens of times. This was another iteration of the day he had repeated countless times. The enemy forces were numerous, and the moment they confirmed an ambush, they relentlessly cut off any escape routes. Their obsession with ensuring no leaks of their presence was consistent every time. Whoever commanded them seemed desperate to keep their ambush site hidden. The squad crouched low amidst the tall grass, their unease palpable. They followed Enkrid''s lead for now, but the conversation between him and the rugged soldier painted a picture of the peril they faced. Still, none stepped forward. They simply pricked their ears to listen. Enkrid glanced up again, mentally calculating the time. In about three or four hours, darkness would fall. That would be their chance to escape. But until then, he needed to convince these men. He couldn''t rely on brute force; these weren''t the type to be cowed by that. His prior use of coercion had brought them this far, but this was the limit. Ambush, retreat, ambush¡ª The constant pressure had pushed his squad to their breaking point. Now, they needed to wait. But waiting gave rise to doubt. Enkrid didn''t feel the need to persuade them with flowery words. "You realize it''s already too late to turn back, don''t you?" he said. He was right. They had delayed too long. Turning back now would be suicidal. The rugged soldier chewed on his lips. He seemed ready to retort with "What kind of lunatic are you?" but instead, he rolled his eyes and asked, "You have a plan, right?" Enkrid met his gaze, then looked around at the others¡ªEnri, Andrew, everyone. Their eyes were filled with doubt and unease. As they caught their breath, a semblance of calm returned, allowing their minds to wander. They likely realized it was too late, yet doubt persisted. Enkrid wasn''t about to explain the truth. He couldn''t very well say he had seen the future by reliving today over and over. Or that the only way forward was to trust him unconditionally so they could move toward tomorrow. No one would believe him. So, he said the one thing he could. "I want to live too." A short but profound statement that said it all. He wasn''t fighting to die. The desire to live wasn''t exclusive to them. He was the same. Of course, even if he died, Enkrid would simply repeat today. "I refuse to stagnate." No matter who guided this flow or how high and solid the wall before him stood, he would not stop. For Enkrid, this endless today was a mountain to climb and a challenge to conquer. And so¡ª "Trust me. This isn''t a death march." Without further explanation, Enkrid sought their trust. He would rely on their belief to twist fate, to escape today and survive to see tomorrow. The desperation for life, the toll of repeated battles, and the anxiety that followed the adrenaline¡ªit was human nature to cling to even the faintest glimmer of hope in such dire moments. Enkrid''s two simple words carried an unshakable conviction that stirred an indescribable sense of trust in the group. He wanted to live, and so he told them to trust him. Moreover, they instinctively knew there was no alternative. What could they do here and now? The enemy scoured the tall grasslands, swarming in numbers, while every possible escape route seemed sealed. At times like this, putting faith in someone else felt like the only option. "I... I want to survive too." Enri murmured, breaking the silence. His words set the tone. One by one, they nodded toward Enkrid. The soldier with the stern face tried to maintain composure, but even he had no solutions. Among them, Andrew was the most shaken. Beyond Enkrid''s skills, his character seemed complete, as though he embodied the person Andrew once dreamed of becoming¡ªcalm and steadfast, even in such a crisis. ''Even in moments like these, he''s unwavering.'' Enkrid had earned everyone''s trust, refusing to give up. What a remarkable achievement that was. "I... I believe, too." Andrew spoke at last. Unconsciously, he dropped the formal tone, but it didn''t feel awkward. A fervent energy surged among the group, drawn toward Enkrid. "Then, everyone," Enkrid said, drawing their collective gaze. "From now until my signal, lie low like moles and don''t make a sound." It was time to put their trust to use. Enkrid led by example, pressing himself flat against the ground and silencing his breath. The others followed suit. They didn''t fully understand why they weren''t escaping yet, but they trusted him, having shared something profound only moments ago. This was the time to honor that trust, even if only for five minutes. The soldier with the stern expression watched as a tiny insect hopped off his nose and vanished. ''This guy''s a master tactician, isn''t he?'' Enkrid''s ability to guide and inspire people was extraordinary. Perhaps this was how he managed his unruly unit all along. The thought came naturally. Rustle. The sound of footsteps on grass reached their ears. Everyone began breathing as quietly as possible. There was movement nearby¡ªnot too close, but within range. The tall grass provided good cover, its density making it difficult to spot anyone without closing in completely. The sound of footsteps grew louder, moving from front to back. Though the group couldn''t see the situation, an incredible scene was unfolding. If a bird had flown above and caught a glimpse, it would have marveled at the sight. The grass quivered and swayed all around Enkrid''s squad as the enemy moved through, yet the patch where they hid remained untouched¡ªa solitary, safe haven in the midst of danger. No amount of luck could have created such a gap within the enemy''s trajectory. This wasn''t fortune. It was the result of relentless repetition, a trick Enkrid had mastered by living today over and over. As the sound of footsteps faded, becoming indistinguishable, Enkrid finally spoke again. "Move out. Form a single file and advance." It was time to act. Enkrid straightened his crouched form, walking slowly to ease his numb legs. He thought about the sensory training he had learned from Jaxen¡ªit was proving invaluable. Judging distance by sound and discerning direction wasn''t something most could learn through ordinary training. Enkrid, however, had entrusted his life to an assassin to learn it and refined the skill further through endless repetitions in the grasslands. ''We''ve passed the second checkpoint.'' Their strategy involved ambushes and evasions, leaving enemies behind as they moved. This was the second core element of his escape route. Now only the third remained¡ªa goal that required time. As the numbness in his legs wore off, Enkrid picked up the pace. The group followed without complaint, even as they marveled internally. How was he leading them so effectively past an enemy that seemed to swarm everywhere? Reflecting on their previous battles, it felt uncanny. Every skirmish began with a surprise attack, as though Enkrid knew exactly where the enemy would be. Thanks to his leadership, they had consistently fought from advantageous positions. In each of those battles, Enkrid had stood at the forefront, fighting like a man possessed. The squad members knew this: he risked his life for them, bearing the greatest dangers himself. Amid the stillness of the grasslands, a strange heat simmered. It wasn''t external but a fiery resolve ignited in the hearts of the surviving allies. Enkrid remained unaware, focusing only on what lay ahead. ''Up to this point.'' It had been easy. To be honest, it wasn''t difficult¡ªand it couldn''t afford to be. He had already experienced this "today" more than fifty times. This outcome was inevitable. But why had he endured over fifty iterations of this day? It was all for what came next. They were the few against the many. Their enemy''s intent was clear¡ªthey aimed to leave no survivors. In the first few attempts, he had gritted his teeth and tried to force a breakthrough. Every time, he failed. Would things change with help from his squad? Not a chance. So he changed his approach. ''What if something worse than catching us demanded their attention?'' The sun began to set. The golden-orange glow of twilight bathed the grasslands, creating the illusion of wading through a luminous lake. For now, it seemed fitting to call it the "Orange Pearl" instead of the "Green Pearl." The sky was unusually clear, and the warm sunlight was serene as it painted the horizon. But the sun soon dipped beyond the western edge, giving way to darkness. It was time to pursue the third and final objective of Enkrid''s escape plan. Chapter 30 - When Is It Time to Make Darkness Your Friend? Chapter 30 - 30 - When Is It Time to Make Darkness Your Friend? Chapter 30 - When Is It Time to Make Darkness Your Friend? When is it time to make darkness your friend? If that''s the question, the answer was easy. It''s when you''re in a place you know well. A place where the terrain is as clear as your own backyard. It would be even better if it were a place where you lived until recently. Just a vague sense of the surroundings would allow you to roughly figure out your location. The more familiar, the better¡ªsay, a place you used as a training ground until yesterday. This was the case for Enkrid now. It should have been an unfamiliar place by all means. "This is..." It should have been a moment of surprise, but instead... "Damn it." When he saw the size of the enemy, he should have been filled with despair. But that was not the case for Enkrid. He had been here many times before. And not just visited¡ªit wasn''t his first time coming. He had tumbled and fought many times here. Every time, the team members who came with him changed a little, but the core composition remained the same. Andrew, the grim-looking soldier, Enri, and the other squad members. Among them, the two gangsters from the squad had often proven useful. They emerged from the tall grass and onto an unexpected scene. Some squad members thought the retreat route had been blocked, so this new path might be the only way out. It was Enri who thought so. He had a good sense of direction, just like the grim-looking soldier. He hadn''t earned his reputation as a plains hunter for nothing. Enri thought that since the enemy had ambushed in the tall grass, this area might be empty. But his prediction was wrong. And that made it all the more despairing. Enri felt his legs go weak. The first thing he saw was a flaming torch. And then a wide, thick cloth that half-blocked the light. As soon as he saw it, Enri stepped back a step. Looking up and widening his view, the structure of the object revealed itself. It was a tent. Why was there a tent here? Relying on the dim light, Enri tilted his head to the side and saw the torch burning next to the tent. Beyond it, torches were lined up in the distance. There were at least ten of them. The gaps between the torches were wide enough that only the faintest light of the moon and the torches illuminated the surroundings. What they saw was a row of tents. There were over twenty tents running along the edge of the tall grass. This was on the opposite side of their camp. So, the tents in front of them were the enemy''s camp¡ªthe Aspen Dutchy''s forces. "What the hell is this?" One of the gangsters instinctively muttered under his breath. "Damn it, this is where we end up?" Enri let out a dejected voice. "Shh, quiet." In that instant, the grim-looking soldier reacted first. If they were discovered by a sentry right now, a battle would break out. And in that case, they would be killed in no time. In the dim light of the torches, they could also see several moving lights far away. It was obvious that these lights were carried by sentries. "Keep your mouth shut." The grim soldier spoke while scanning the surroundings. If they slipped up, they would die. His veteran instincts kicked in during moments like this. He acted based on his experience. He lowered his posture and tried to sense the sentries'' movements. He would hide and assess the situation, looking for an escape route. If he was lucky, there might be a chance. It was nighttime, and though it wasn''t his plan, he had moved in the opposite direction of what the enemy would expect. They were deep in enemy territory now, but as long as they weren''t caught, there was still a chance to escape. He concluded that he could survive even if they fell into the midst of a monster horde. "Don''t draw your weapons, stay low." He acted like he was the leader. Most of the squad followed his orders. Except for two. One of them, of course, was Enkrid, and the other was Andrew. "He must have a plan. The squad leader is Enkrid." Perhaps due to a misunderstanding, the only one siding with Enkrid was the guy who had been beaten earlier that morning and lost his position as squad leader. "This isn''t the time for jokes." The grim soldier, hunched over, turned his head back. His voice was low, but there was a growl in his tone, like a beast. He was feeling the pressure. They were deep in enemy territory now. It was much more dangerous than facing the ambushing enemies in the tall grass. At any moment, enemy spears could come flying from beyond the tent, and there would be no time to react. In such a situation, what use was thinking? The grim soldier''s response was reasonable. Enkrid had thought the same thing about this soldier many times. ''This guy''s no joke.'' His skills, experience, judgment, and decisiveness were far beyond the level of an ordinary soldier. If he hadn''t been so confident or if he hadn''t repeated today''s situation over and over... He would have made this man the squad leader and fought alongside him. But now, there was no need for that. Although the other squad members didn''t know it, everything that brought them here had been Enkrid''s plan. Time, location, and place¡ªeverything. How many nights had they spent here already? How many lives had been thrown away? How many "todays" had they repeated? The three dull soldiers were passed out in front of the tent. They still had some time before encountering the patrolling soldiers. Knowing all this, Enkrid made his move. With a swift motion, he unsheathed his sword and slashed at the tent. The sword reflected the moonlight as it cut upward. "You crazy bastard." The grim soldier gasped in shock. And at that moment, Andrew reacted to Enkrid''s action. He rushed into the torn tent and drove the tip of his shortsword into the stunned enemy soldier''s throat. Thunk! Then, Enkrid followed him in. As the enemy soldier tried to get up, Enkrid forced the blade down, slashing the soldier''s throat. The sound of leather tearing echoed, and soon the smell of blood filled the tent. The last enemy soldier was finished off by one of the former gangsters, who plunged a dagger into his heart. "Grrrk, grrk." The soldier, who had been stabbed in the heart, crawled on the ground, reaching out. He was a tenacious one. The light from the torches outside illuminated the soldier''s head as he reached out. And above it, a dark shadow appeared. It was the grim soldier. He kneeled on the enemy soldier''s back, grabbing his neck and twisting it. With a dull sound, the soldier with a broken neck stuck out his tongue and died. "Hey, you." The eyes of the soldier with a fierce expression glowed sharply in the darkness. He glared at Enkrid. He was lucky, or else, if things had gone differently, he would have been surrounded and wiped out in the middle of the enemy''s ranks. This was, in his eyes, a gamble. "Move to the side." Enkrid ignored the gaze. Before the soldier could say anything, Enkrid extended his sword. "You crazy bastard." The soldier with the fierce expression growled in a low voice. He could feel the deep frustration and anger. From his perspective, it was an endless crazy act. Enkrid slashed the side of the tent with his sword and turned his head back. He didn''t show the slightest sign of worry about what the soldier might do to him. Even though he was living this dangerously? With only a patrol''s soldiers attacking the enemy base, an atmosphere as tense as lightning crackled between them, causing the others to watch their every move. "What''s your name?" "What?" "Your name." Was it because of Enkrid''s nonchalant attitude? Was it because of the calmness that didn''t react to the murderous aura? The soldier, still holding his sword down, spoke as Enkrid asked without a change in his expression. "Call me Mac." Even as he spoke, he didn''t retract his killing intent. Enkrid shifted his gaze and said, "Mac, I won''t tolerate insubordination." "What?" Boom. Enkrid finished tearing the rest of the tent wall and moved out. The only choice left for the others was to follow. "Hah, what''s going on." Mac mumbled to himself, locking eyes with Andrew. "Yes, we''re going." Mac responded to that gaze. For now, they had no choice but to follow. The next tent was empty. It seemed like all the soldiers in the tent had gone out for some night patrol duty. "Does that even make sense?" The tent was large enough to hold more than ten people at least. It was at least a squad size. If they squeezed a bit, two squads might fit in. The traces inside the tent showed signs of more than ten people. "Forward." After passing the tent, the reckless squad leader didn''t even bother tearing the tent wall. He peeked out of the tent entrance, scanning left and right, before pushing forward. The squad followed him. By now, clouds had gathered, obscuring the moonlight. With only the torchlight, it became difficult to see the surroundings. Despite blinking his eyes repeatedly and trying to adjust to the night, it was still pitch dark. In such a place, Enkrid moved forward without hesitation. The only sound heard was the breathing of the squad members trailing behind him. "This way." A voice echoed in the darkness. It was not a quiet voice. If there were enemy soldiers nearby, it would have been loud enough for them to hear. Mac felt a chill run down his spine. "That bastard is serious." Yet there was no movement. No sign of enemies that hadn''t been detected. If they had been spotted, there would have been words like "Who''s there?" by now. Enkrid moved again. Now, even Mac couldn''t tell the direction anymore. In the tall grass fields, it wasn''t hard to tell direction with the sun still above. But now, everything was dark, wasn''t it? "Does he know where he''s going?" It seemed so. Enkrid''s steps showed no hesitation. He moved, and only when he saw two torches next to a tent in the distance did he stop. Using a tree in front of him as cover, Enkrid gestured towards the back. Mac could barely see his hand gesture with eyes adjusted to the darkness. Mac felt like he was haunted by a ghost. "How far have we walked?" He wasn''t sure. But by counting the tents, he estimated the size of the camp. "Did we go through it?" It seemed like they had walked through the enemy camp. But no one noticed? Why hadn''t they triggered any alarms? It was no wonder he felt like he was haunted. "Wait here." Enkrid turned around and whispered. Looking at the tent he referred to, there were four soldiers guarding it. Despite the silence of the enemy camp at night, this tent seemed to be more crowded than the rest. Whoosh. As the wind blew, the torchlight flickered, and the shadows of the soldiers moved in different directions. Someone inside the tent appeared to say something, though Mac couldn''t hear it from the distance. The soldier nodded in response to the words. "What are they guarding?" So, the reckless squad leader had aimed for this? Only then did Mac understand the situation. Or rather, he guessed. A thought suddenly struck him. ''It''s a secret mission.'' A mission given only to the reckless squad leader, excluding him and the other squad members. That must have earned the squad leader the trust of the commander. Mac recalled what Andrew had said. He had mentioned that the squad leader had joined based on the orders of the company commander. Only now did everything make sense. Enkrid, the squad leader, was carrying out a secret mission. ''Was it like that?'' It was a misunderstanding. Mac realized something, but he didn''t say it out loud. And Enkrid, knowing this misunderstanding had formed, would not have bothered to explain. There was something more urgent to do. "We''ll set the fire in that tent." Enkrid raised his finger. The tent in front of them had only four soldiers guarding it. Chapter 31 - Set Fire Chapter 31 - 31 - Set Fire Chapter 31 - Set Fire ''It feels like my specialty has become setting fire to tents'' Enkrid thought, briefly explaining the plan while holding a piece of wood. No one in the squad added anything and just listened. At this point, it was like they were already caught in the arrow once it was fired. Then Enkrid moved. "I''ll go first." He stepped quietly, without making a sound. Eventually, he lowered his posture, lying flat and crawling on the ground. The entire squad watched as Enkrid crawled. His plan was simple. A basic trick¡ªyell from the east and strike from the west. The group shouting was Mac and the rest of the squad. Only three were absent from the shouting side. Enkrid, Andrew, and the soldier with a history as a thug. "I''ll do it." Mac stepped up first, taking on the role of attracting the soldier''s attention. There were no complaints, and he spoke up without hesitation. Enkrid thought little of Mac''s sudden change in attitude. It was fine as long as he followed orders. Mac slowly loosened up in the dark, picked up a rock, and threw it. The rock hit the thug''s helmet. Thud! The rock bounced off the helmet, and the soldier screamed in pain. "...Damn it." "What''s that!" The four soldiers on guard turned their bodies toward the sound. Enkrid held his breath and watched them. There was no need for words. "Intruder!" The soldier shouted. Chaos ensued. At that moment, Enkrid tried to move closer to the tent. "You little rat." He was caught. There was no need to panic. He had learned from today''s events. ''Can''t do this alone.'' A soldier holding a spear next to the tent glared at him. Before the soldier could charge, Enkrid rose to his feet. The dirt on his chest fell to the ground. Without even a battle cry, the soldier with the spear lunged. Enkrid watched the spear fly and twisted his body to avoid it. No, it wasn''t just about avoiding. He gambled with half his life. The hearth of the beast gave him the courage to do something reckless. He dodged and moved forward. The spear grazed his shoulder. He barely avoided it. He felt a burning heat from his shoulder. Instead, Enkrid had closed the distance to his opponent. The moment he gained distance, he slashed upward with his sword. The enemy soldier, seeing the sword, lowered his spear to block with his shield. At the same time, Enkrid thrust his hidden left-hand knife toward the soldier''s collarbone. Crack! The blade pierced both bone and flesh. "Ugh!" The enemy soldier groaned. Enkrid slammed his forehead into the soldier''s nose. Thud! The soldier fell backward without even letting out another sound. It was the Valen-style mercenary swordplay, the three-sword method. The first sword was a trick; the real attack was the knife in the left hand and the headbutt. He had gambled half his life to rush toward the spear like this. He had taken down the enemy soldier. But, since he had already been discovered, starting a fire in the barracks was no longer feasible. Another soldier appeared behind the fallen one, holding a torch and a sword. The man with scars around his eyes looked formidable. Just his stride and attitude told Enkrid everything. He wasn''t a rookie. "Pathetic." He clicked his tongue before speaking. There was a sense of ease in his step. He had just witnessed an ambush in the dark, but there was not the slightest hint of fear in his demeanor. "Hah, that took a while." Enkrid muttered. The man furrowed his brow at his words. Flames were rising behind him. The tent had caught fire. "...Put it out!" The man shouted. Seeing this, Enkrid rushed forward and thrust his sword. He pushed off the ground with his right foot and planted his left foot firmly. "Everything begins with the feet." This was the basic swordsmanship shared by Rem and Ragna. Enkrid did just that. With his feet. He kicked the ground and moved forward. In an instant, he saw the soldier holding both a sword and a torch, and the gap in his stance was clear. Enkrid thrust his sword. A thrust that carried all his body''s power, the same thrust that had killed so many soldiers before. Thud! The sword cut through the air and reached its target. It was a moment, an instant. Out of all the thrusts he had performed, this one was the best. Even considering all the repetitions from today. Enkrid thought he had killed the enemy. As he focused, everything seemed to slow down. The world around him, the soldier''s hand, and even his own sword¡ªall moved slower. In this slowed world, the enemy soldier''s hand twitched. Soon, the soldier''s sword rose from below, aiming upward. Clang! Thud! Enkrid swerved past the man, his body bouncing sideways as he stopped, clutching his side. The enemy soldier, who had been facing away, turned back to face him. He looked at Enkrid and raised his eyebrows. "Arrogant bastard." The enemy seemed to be boiling with rage. Of course, the anger was no problem for Enkrid. The real issue was the incredible sword skill. ''At that moment?'' The thrust had been perfect. It had been flawlessly satisfying. It was the kind of thrust that even Rem wouldn''t have dared to stop unless he had an axe that bent like a whip. Yet, the enemy had avoided it. There was a faint cut on his neck, but it was far from a fatal wound¡ªit could be considered a mere scratch. Meanwhile, the enemy''s reflexive counterattack had sliced Enkrid''s side. It wasn''t a deep wound. The bone wasn''t damaged. He wouldn''t die from it. ''Let my guard down for a moment.'' But this was the result. After all, how familiar had Enkrid become with ''today''? Still, it felt as though a great river lay between him and the enemy. The enemy could cross it and strike or kill him at any time, but Enkrid felt like all he needed to do was dip his feet in the river, and that would be the end of it. There was a clear gap in skill between them. So what? When had he ever fought only against weaker opponents? Enkrid steadied his breath and gripped his sword. If this was the turning point of today, all he could do was give his best. The skill gap felt overwhelming. But it didn''t change anything. While others would see the gap as despair or a precipice, Enkrid saw it as a staircase. A staircase that, one day, he would climb. A thrilling euphoria filled him, starting from his toes and spreading to his chest. Look. How is repeating today a curse? By overcoming countless days like today, he would eventually defeat that overwhelming powerhouse. It will happen, without a doubt. He would never settle for today. That''s why the euphoria surged. Enkrid''s heart, filled with this feeling, was evident on his face. "You''re smiling?" The face of the enemy soldier holding a sword twisted in anger. While Enkrid''s face displayed euphoria, this one showed nothing but rage. "I''ll tear you apart and feed you to the dogs." Enkrid sensed death. He couldn''t win against the opponent right now. But he had no intention of submitting quietly. He braced for pain, refusing to retreat. As he gripped his sword, his resolve strengthened. Whoosh. A flame erupted behind the man. The earlier fire seemed like a joke compared to now, as though a dragon itself had spit fire. The flames quickly spread across the entire tent. Sparks flew in all directions, sizzling and crackling. From beyond the flames, frantic voices rang out. "These bastards! Put out the fire!" "Someone poured oil! Platoon leader!" "The torch fell over!" Oh, they were efficient. Enkrid had deliberately drawn attention to the tent to ignite it. Once by Mac and the squad members. Another time, with his own actions. The fire had been set by Andrew and the thug-turned-squad member. The thug-turned-squad member showcased his skill, learned from causing trouble in the city. "The flagpole''s burning!" A man shouted as he watched the flames rise beside the tent. He had a strange tattoo on his face. "Platoon leader! Don''t you know what''s important right now?" He scolded the man standing in front of Enkrid. Seeing this, Enkrid took a small step back. Even though his skill was inferior to the opponent''s, he wouldn''t die easily from one or two sword strikes. The enemy knew this too. If he held on, he could outlast the flames as they consumed the tent and the flagpole inside it. Honestly, Enkrid didn''t understand why someone would risk their life over a flagpole. The only thing he knew for sure was that the opponent valued it. More than the lives of a few enemy soldiers, much more. "You''ll regret this." The enemy, a platoon leader from the Aspen unit, glared at Enkrid before suddenly turning around. Rather than facing Enkrid, he judged it more urgent to handle those setting the fire in the rear. Enkrid exhaled a quiet sigh of relief inside. It felt like he had just come back from the dead. The feeling of dying, no matter how many times he repeated today, never got easier. If this was a curse, then it was truly a curse. Having to face that horrific moment over and over again. But the pain and death he faced weren''t the real problems for Enkrid. If this could push him forward, if it could make him stronger, why couldn''t he endure it? "We need to go." As Enkrid stood on alert, Andrew''s voice came from behind. Looking over, Andrew''s face was covered in soot. "We retreat." Enkrid spoke and moved. The thug-turned-soldier followed him. As they ran, Andrew pulled out a flute and blew into it. Screee, screee! After blowing twice, Mac arrived with the remaining squad members. Enri was bleeding, and no other soldiers followed Mac. The original ten-man squad had been reduced by half. And now, Enkrid''s escape route had opened. "They''re getting busy. The enemy doesn''t have a large pursuit force, right?" Mac seemed to ask, perhaps to confirm his suspicions. He too had a gash on his forehead, blood trickling down. "Probably not." Enkrid answered, moving his feet. Blood continued to flow from his side. It wasn''t a deep wound, but without any bandages, the blood refused to stop. For now, he pressed it down with his hand and kept running. From this point on, it was a new day, so Enkrid stayed alert to their rear. The enemy was in pursuit. Five of them were chasing them. "You crazy bastards!" The pursuers seemed relatively unscathed. Though soot marked their faces, none of them were injured. These five were more than enough for Enkrid, Andrew, and Mac. Enri had a hole in his abdomen, staggering from the blood loss. The thug soldier helped him, but couldn''t fight properly. "Dammit, we''re all gonna die at this rate. Get a grip!" The thug soldier yelled at Enri but didn''t abandon him. Enkrid, while fighting off the pursuers, felt his side wound tear further. It wasn''t life-threatening, though. Mac had injured two of the pursuers, but his thigh was cut in the process. Still, he quickly wrapped a bandage around his thigh and stayed with the group. Andrew seemed to have rapidly improved in combat. ''No,'' Enkrid realized it wasn''t that Andrew had suddenly become stronger. It was more accurate to say his original skills were now showing, honed through intense battle experience. If Andrew hadn''t fiercely swung his sword, killing two of the pursuers in a single strike, their escape might have failed. Or it could have become even more perilous. Blood was seeping from the wound on Andrew''s cheek again. Everyone was battered, but none of them were dead. As they continued fleeing through the night, Enri whispered weakly, almost dead. "If we head west from here, we''ll reach the fox and snake habitats. They won''t catch us there." The Green Pearl plains were home to many animals. Among them were foxes and snakes. The foxes weren''t the problem, but there were many venomous snakes, making it dangerous. "We''ll end up getting killed by venomous snakes before we shake off the enemy." Mac grumbled. Then Enri, with a faint smile, spoke up. "There''s an area where the fox and snake habitats overlap. I know it. It''s a boundary zone, so it''s safe. It''s a hunter''s path." Enkrid couldn''t help but think how strange it was that Enri was smiling so faintly under such dire circumstances. Guiding them through the forest in this condition? His mental strength was extraordinary. Everyone looked at Enkrid. It was his decision to make. "We''ll follow your lead." Enkrid spoke and moved. There was no hesitation. As he walked, his thoughts drifted. ''The first time I saw him.'' The enemy platoon leader''s face lingered in his mind. Had the platoon leader shown up every time, Enkrid would have been too busy fighting for his life. But this was the first time. Perhaps he had only appeared because Enkrid had pushed him to this point. ''Or not.'' Upon further thought, Enkrid realized he had heard that voice before. After repeating today a few times, when they had taken refuge in the tent the enemy had set fire to. As he barely entered the tent guarded by the enemy, Enkrid witnessed a strange sight. The flagpole, the flag. Strange smoke rising, a man with tattoos on his face. He had even kicked the flagpole in frustration. At that moment, Enkrid realized the flagpole must have held great significance to the enemy. Then, from behind, someone had struck Enkrid''s neck. "Who the hell are you?" Upon reflection, Enkrid realized the voice belonged to the same man. Lost in thought, Enkrid followed Enri''s lead, and soon the surroundings began to turn blue. The light from above surrounded them, heralding the start of a new day. It was dawn. The sky began to brighten. Enkrid realized he had passed yet another today. As the sun rose and the surroundings grew bright, Enkrid''s scout unit met with the main reconnaissance team. "What happened to you guys?" As soon as they met, the scout leader asked. Enkrid had more pressing matters to address than explaining. There were many injured. The report could wait until they were on their way back. For now, surviving was enough. "Phew, I''m passing out." Enri murmured from behind. Enkrid said nothing in reply. There was no point in speaking to someone who had already lost consciousness. Chapter 32 - Dreams, Reprimands, Responsibilities Chapter 32 - 32 - Dreams, Reprimands, Responsibilities Chapter 32 - Dreams, Reprimands, Responsibilities "How''s the flag?" "It''s fine." The captain of the Aspen Duchy didn''t like the operation currently underway. But what could a mere commander do when orders came from above? If they said do it, then he had to do it. And so, he was doing it, though a small problem had arisen in the process. A few rats from Naurilia had infiltrated the barracks and set fires. Even though more than half of his troops were stationed in the tall grass, the invasion had been allowed. No matter how much he disliked it, the operation had already begun. At this point, his pride was on the line. Failure was something he couldn''t afford. "You should have been more thorough with the defenses." The owner of the flag spoke. His words made the captain''s forehead vein throb. It was annoying to hear someone who would drop dead in an instant if he pulled his sword and struck at his throat. But what could he do? There had indeed been a hole in his unit''s defenses. "True." Flap! The captain said that, then stormed out of the barracks, swiping the door with his hand. He couldn''t understand this situation. ''Does this even make sense?'' Was it possible for the enemy to notice this place? Fine, let''s say they could. But what about next? Did they really sneak past his troops lying in the tall grass, fewer than ten in number, and attack the main flag? The captain trusted his unit. Of course, he did. His nickname was the Demon Captain because of how harshly he trained his men. He believed that if you didn''t cough up blood during training, you''d cough up blood and die on the battlefield. And this was the unit he had built. ''Can they really break through this?'' While soldiers could lose a battle, there were no soldiers who failed at keeping watch. The captain truly believed that. But would he reprimand his own troops? He couldn''t just do that. Whoever planned and executed this had to be extraordinary. The courage to infiltrate enemy lines with so few soldiers. The skill to fight and survive against his own platoon leader. And the perfect execution of setting fires and retreating. Even though the squad leader had to let them go due to the fire spreading behind. ''Luck is also skill.'' The captain, who had spent a long time on the battlefield, knew the importance of luck. He spoke to his waiting adjutant. "Except for the squad leader on duty, bring all the commanders here." "Yes, sir." His unit was part of the regiment but had its own command authority. It was an independent unit. And in most cases, independent units had nicknames. This unit''s name was "Gray Hounds." In the Aspen Duchy, the Gray Hound was a dog with gray fur, known for its persistent personality. The Gray Hound, once it marked a target, had to stick with it, whether it was for love or a fight. Because of this, the Gray Hound unit was also called the "Persistent Lovers." Now, the leader of this unit had marked an unnamed enemy scout leader. "I will definitely hunt them down." The Gray Hounds had locked onto its target. The captain repeated his resolve in his heart. He would catch and kill them. Above his head, in the tent, clouds began to form, likely due to the sorcery of the shaman present. It looked like it was going to rain. Recently, the rains had mostly been the work of the shaman inside the tent. And this shaman was the key to this strategy. Though he still didn''t like it, there was no denying it was an efficient operation. If this plan were nonsense, the commander of the independent unit, the Gray Hound, or the "Persistent Lovers," would never have participated in it. A battlefield where victory was guaranteed. Despite the thirst for vengeance, it did feel somewhat uninteresting. *** "You''re telling me that after accidentally discovering the enemy''s ambush, you just happened to stumble upon the enemy''s main camp and while you were at it, set their camp on fire?" It did sound strange when put that way. Enkrid didn''t nod but added a few words. "Yes, I thought it was the right decision at the time, and it happened to turn out that way." The scout squad leader blinked in confusion. What was he even saying? The guy was about his age but had somehow managed to become a squad leader. His skills were poor, and he swung his sword at every opportunity¡ªhe was an idiot. That was the general outside opinion of the troublemaker squad leader. But now, hearing what he had done... well. It was shocking even to Enkrid himself. The surviving squad members had more to say, and it was even more ridiculous. "Rumors aren''t trustworthy. If possible, I''d like to learn more from you." Back then, Andrew had seemed arrogant, and the scout leader had worried about sending him off. Now, after the guy had forcibly taken command of the scouting unit, saying it was only natural. He even said he wanted to learn more. Was this the same Andrew he knew? "As far as skills go, I think he''s above average for a mid-level soldier." Next came Mac, Andrew''s mentor. The scout leader knew Mac''s abilities. It was partly because he trusted Mac''s skills that he had given Andrew the command of the scout unit. And now, Mac was giving him credit. For skill. "He knows a lot. I just told him what to do, and this is what happened." Lastly, came Enri, a plains hunter. The squad members all agreed. They followed him, believing in him. They wouldn''t all lie about it. So this really happened. Enkrid had taken over the scouting unit, snuck past enemy soldiers lying in wait in the tall grass with fewer than ten men and set the enemy''s camp on fire before returning alive. ''Does this even make sense?'' It didn''t, but they had set the fire and gathered intel, so what could he say? Sorting through everything he had heard left him flustered. He was told he stood still among the enemy and managed to avoid detection. He moved through the enemy camp in the dark without anyone spotting him. "Well, I guess he was just really lucky." In the end, the scout leader could only say that. Enkrid thought that was a fair assessment. Thanks to repeating today, he couldn''t say he had memorized the enemy''s movements and camp positions. "Yes, luck was on my side." If it was luck, it was certainly no ordinary luck. The goddess of fortune had not just kissed him but had slept with him. But there was really no other explanation, either. Since it wasn''t something to hide, rumors began to spread through the scout unit. The troublemaker squad leader Enkrid was a lucky man, the man the goddess of fortune had entrusted her coin to, pure luck itself. Or, they said, he had used up all his luck in this scouting mission. There was nothing else to report on the return trip. During their half-day walk, the only thing that happened was a light drizzle. The rain fell from a clear sky. It was rare, but it wasn''t an unheard-of sight. *** Throughout the return journey, Enkrid was absorbed in one thought. "Was that the best option?" It was a question he asked himself. If he could repeat "today" a few more times, would it have led to a different result? Regret always lingers in every situation. Enkrid had learned that since he was young. What matters is the choice, and the process of making that choice. "I thought it was the best." Since he could repeat today, other thoughts naturally arose. The doubt of whether that was the best decision, and the lingering thought that there might have been other options. "Only four." The number of people who returned alive. Including himself, that made five. Half of the unit had died. The result posed a question to Enkrid. Was this the best outcome? Could it have been avoided? "Five died." Those five were neither his family nor his friends. They were just comrades with whom he had shared a short period. Their presence or absence made no real difference. They were merely his responsibility for that moment, for that today. The long-held dream that had guided him, the conviction that had kept him steadfast until now, reprimanded him. Was that the best he could do? Could he not have saved more? "What kind of knight do you want to become?" Enkrid, as a young boy, was captivated by the title of "knight." The boy, enchanted by the songs of minstrels about knights of old, had grown into an adult. Over time, Enkrid realized he was a man of modest talent. He had rolled through the battlefield and recognized his own limits. Yet, he never gave up on his dream. Even if that dream had torn and frayed like old leather. Even if it had been shredded to pieces by the reality of life. He never gave up. Therefore, he could not end up merely captivated by the word "knight." A knight is a protector, a knight is one who takes action, a knight is one who shows his will. "What kind of knight will I be?" Through repeating today, Enkrid was able to step beyond his limits. In that case, he should protect something he had seen and heard, something he had learned and established through his own eyes and ears. "What kind of knight did I want to be?" The dream torn apart by reality, the word "conviction" reprimanded him. Enkrid accepted that reprimand. By doing so, he decided to move past what had already passed. Even if repeating today could have saved five more lives, it was no longer something he could change. That "today" was over. To dwell on it was foolish. "Main unit ahead." One of the soldiers walking with him spoke. "Phew, we made it." Enri, who had been supported from behind, muttered. "So, when we return, will you rush straight to the flower shop widow?" "I can''t go until this battle is over, right?" Enkrid replied, and Enri answered with a bright smile. The joy of having survived, of returning after breaking through such dangers, filled his heart. The same was true for everyone else. Especially for the former thug soldier. He spent the whole journey thinking over and over again about what had happened during the mission. How had he managed to survive? He had always thought he would die living as a thug, but somehow he ended up joining the army. And somehow, he ended up serving Andrew as his lord. And then this reconnaissance mission. He had learned much. As the former gangster soldier hobbled over with his injured leg, he approached Enkrid. It wasn''t intentional, but he hadn''t spoken a word the entire journey. "If you don''t repay your debts, you''re no better than an animal." That was what an older brother had told him when he took him in as a child. That brother had long since died, but his words had become a guiding principle in his life. Even though he had lived roughly, the gangster knew how to repay a favor. "I apologize for my bad manners. I will repay the favor of saving my life if I get the chance." Enkrid, who had been staring at the soldier who approached him suddenly, nodded. Had he really saved his life? If anything had gone wrong, it could have easily been Enkrid''s last moment. The soldier''s survival was more luck than anything. In fact, during today''s repeated cycle, that soldier had died many times. It was just that, on this day, in this moment, Lady Luck had momentarily smiled upon him. "Do as you wish." Enkrid answered nonchalantly, then turned around to see Andrew and Mac. "Thanks." Mac spoke first, his expression more friendly than usual. Andrew''s gratitude was even more noticeable. "I hope we can meet again someday." Enkrid had once thought he was an arrogant brat, but now his attitude had changed. His gaze had turned respectful. Enkrid, feeling the pain in his side, pressed his palm gently against it and said, "If we''re on the same battlefield, we''ll meet again. The flower of the battlefield." "Infantry." The infantry''s slogan became their farewell greeting. The reconnaissance squad leader, who had been watching from the side, came over. "You''re all clear to return. Injured ones, report to the medical tent. Everyone did well. And, well, no. Forget it." The reconnaissance squad leader had intended to discuss achievements and rewards but stopped himself. "I''ll report it first." It wasn''t something that could be easily believed. It was too early to discuss it when even the higher-ups might doubt it. "Then." As the pain in his side subsided, Enkrid decided he didn''t need treatment and immediately moved forward. It was time to return. "I hope nothing''s wrong." Though he had no time to think about it in the tall grass, as he neared the camp, he wondered if his squadmates had been behaving. Had they gotten into a fight with someone else? Or maybe they had been fighting among themselves? There was bound to be some trouble. That''s why they were called the troublemakers of the unit. Just before they reached the camp, the sound of a loud clang rang out. The trained hearing he had gained through Jaxen kicked in. He pinpointed the source of the noise immediately. It was coming from the main camp. Enkrid quickened his pace. As he approached the camp, he saw a crowd gathered. In the center, two figures were locked in combat, axe and sword clashing. The location was in front of the troublemakers'' tent. The one wielding the axe was Rem. The one holding the sword was Ragna. Chapter 33 - The Objective Chapter 33 - 33 - The Objective Chapter 33 - The Objective The emerald-green eyes of the company commander gleamed with curiosity as she listened to the squad leader''s report. "With just ten men?" The events involving other squads during the reconnaissance mission were relatively uneventful. The only notable incident was an encounter with an Aspen infantry reconnaissance team on the plains. Instead of engaging in combat, the two sides simply kept their distance and parted ways. It wasn''t unusual to run into Aspen reconnaissance units on the plains. After all, it was expected that they''d be operating as well. If anything, it was stranger that they''d only crossed paths once. However, what Enkrid''s unit had accomplished was on an entirely different scale. The enemy had set up an ambush in the tall grass. They were up to something. Discovering such intel was understandable. But to infiltrate the enemy lines with just ten soldiers and set their camp ablaze? "What kind of lunatic is he?" At the center of all this was Enkrid. Even during the previous assassination incident, the same name had surfaced. Wherever things seemed to go awry, there he was, the squad leader named Enkrid. Should this be dismissed as mere bad luck? But for someone supposedly cursed by misfortune, he was remarkably resilient. Not only that, he often achieved unexpected results¡ªif not outright success. Wasn''t it because of that squad leader''s endurance during the assassination attempt that the target could be protected? And this time? The feat of infiltrating enemy lines and gathering information alone warranted more than a hundred commendations. "Yes, that seems to be the case," the squad leader replied. Ten men had infiltrated enemy lines, and while five had perished, the remaining five returned with unbelievable achievements. This wasn''t some elite unit trained by the Cypress Division but a reconnaissance team led by a mere lowest-ranking soldier. The company commander couldn''t help but feel intrigued. ''Enkrid, Enkrid.'' What kind of lunatic was he really? His skills were average at best, so how was this possible? She decided there was no need to overthink it. "Luck." It could only be attributed to luck. If not, what else could explain it? Unless he had memorized the enemy''s positions as if he''d walked into their commander''s mind, which was absurd. That hypothesis was even more implausible. The idea that Enkrid could be a spy trained by the Aspen Principality was a more plausible theory¡ªbut it was just as ridiculous. What kind of idiot would train a spy to be a mere squad leader with mediocre skills? "Should I summon the squad leader to confirm the facts?" "If he''s stupid enough to lie about something like this, he''d already be dead." The company commander leaned on her fist, lost in thought. The squad leader named Enkrid might just be lucky. But what were the Aspen forces aiming for? For now, she needed to inform the battalion commander. That was the proper course of action. With her decision made, she stood. "Where are you going?" Who had chosen this idiot to lead a squad? She shoved the fool aside and said, "To the battalion commander''s tent." After all, reporting this incident took priority. *** Rem was bored. There were no skirmishes, no tasks to occupy him. Both armies were locked in a standoff, glaring at each other from their respective positions. Rumors began to circulate within the unit that this might be how the war would end. "Well, that''s likely. Winter''s coming, and these plains battles rarely conclude quickly. They''ll probably pick it up again next year," said Krais, his sharp ears picking up bits of gossip and piecing them together. Rem, however, didn''t care about Krais''s chatter or the rumors themselves. The idea of this battlefield repeating itself year after year, or that Aspen and Naurilia had once been allies? It didn''t matter. "This is so damn boring." He spent his time sharpening his axe and juggling it for entertainment, but the monotony remained. Rem was going out of his mind with boredom. Everyone else seemed to have something to do. "Are you crazy? That price for cigars? Did an arrow pierce your brain or something?" Big Eyes was busy hawking goods. With income likely to dwindle after the battles, he claimed he had to make the most of it now. What a hardworking soul. "What? You arrowhead like bastard?" Occasionally, some fool would glare at Big Eyes, mocking his small stature. Rem had taken up the hobby of intimidating such fools. A single gesture¡ªlicking the edge of his freshly sharpened axe¡ªwas usually enough to end it. Not that the axe was overly sharp. If it were honed to the point of slicing at the slightest touch, the edge would chip easily. Without magic or a craftsman''s touch, this was the best maintenance method. So, licking it wouldn''t actually cut his tongue. "...Come to think of it, my helmet did take an arrow in the last battle." The fool backed down quickly. "Look, cigars are hard to come by. How many boxes did you need again?" Krais raised his voice, fully embodying the role of a shrewd merchant. Meanwhile, the sneaky stray cat-like Jaxen wandered outside instead of sticking to the tent. The religious zealot? He was busy praying with an unsettling fervor, often banging his head on the floor with a grim expression. And always muttering, "Oh, father, grant me answers." The guy reeked of a mad zealot. Watching him was enough to put anyone off. Lastly, there was Ragna, who spent his time either staring blankly or sleeping. Wasn''t he bored? How could he spend all day zoning out or napping? "With the captain absent, this is just too boring." Rem grumbled internally. He even wondered if the squad leader might have died. Reconnaissance missions were dangerous. Although the captain had improved a lot, by Rem''s standards, his skills were still embarrassing. If he had died? It would be a shame. A big one. "Have I gotten attached?" From what Rem had observed, the man was too valuable to let die. But following him around to protect him? That''d be ridiculous. Who was he, anyway? No one special. Just a random person he''d taken a liking to. "A random person I like?" Now that he thought about it, people like that were rare in Rem''s life. If possible, he''d like him to return alive. Not that he was anxious about it. The squad leader wasn''t someone who''d fall to weaklings. Lost in these idle thoughts, Rem could no longer sit still in his boredom. Whether the squad leader was dead or alive, he needed to fix the monotony of the moment. "Do you feel like dying?" Rem decided on a simple solution. He kicked Ragna, who was lying down idly, and spoke. Ragna stared up at him with a look that seemed to say, "What the hell is wrong with you?" "Do you have a death wish?" Ragna sounded serious. "I''m bored. Let me crack your skull." No more words were needed. Jaxen briefly glanced at them as he passed by but ignored it. The zealot continued his bizarre prayers. Krais was elsewhere. The two of them agreed and headed outside. Clang. A light clash of axe and sword signaled the start of their duel. With that, they began to swing their weapons at each other. Whoosh! Rem''s arm swung powerfully, his axe descending with terrifying force. Ragna dodged the blade, twisting his body as he thrust his sword forward. The thrust far sharper than the countless attacks he''d shown before, aimed straight for Rem''s abdomen. Rem pushed himself backward with a powerful leap, landing with a thud that left a clear footprint where he had stood moments ago. If anyone with a discerning eye had witnessed this exchange, they would have been astonished by the level of skill on display. Enkrid arrived just as the two combatants reached the climax of their battle. "Kill him!" An excited soldier shouted, his voice carrying over the growing crowd that had gathered to watch. The squad was known as troublemakers, and for good reason. They were a collection of individuals with all sorts of issues. But why did the unit keep such a troublesome group? The answer was simple: their undeniable skill. With two of them now displaying their talents, it was no surprise this had become a spectacle. Clang! Sword and axe collided, sending up a cloud of dust around them. Whoosh! Despite the swirling debris, neither took their eyes off the other. Scrape. The axe blade, which seemed to fall from above, suddenly dragged along the ground, scattering bits of stone as it went. Ragna avoided the sweeping axe with a downward slash of his sword. Swish. The sword''s trajectory was so fast it was invisible, yet in the blink of an eye, the blade was at Rem''s neck. Clang! Again, the axe and sword met, sparks flying as they clashed. "Unbelievable," muttered the Second Platoon Leader of the Fourth Company, clearly impressed. Even a casual observer could tell their skill was leagues above his. Other soldiers who prided themselves on their abilities also found themselves humbled. Among them were a few who had aspired to advanced ranks, now realizing the gap in their skills. Some, however, misjudged what they saw. ''I could handle that.'' ''I would''ve ended it already.'' Such thoughts stemmed from the mistaken belief that this display was the entirety of their abilities. Enkrid, meanwhile, stood frozen in place, his eyes wide as he watched. The chatter around him faded into silence. His focus was entirely consumed by their movements, their weapons, and the flow of the battle. He was so engrossed that sweat dripped down his nose, his entire body drenched just from observing. Sometimes, watching alone can foster growth. Unintentionally, Enkrid realized something in this moment. ''This approach won''t work anymore.'' Every person has a form that suits them, whether in swordsmanship or physical training. Enkrid had something others lacked: the curse of repeating days. The endless walls described by the ferryman without eyes. Thus, ordinary methods of training or discipline were insufficient. He needed something new, tailored to his circumstances. As he observed the axe and sword wielded by the two before him, the method began to take shape in his mind. Excitement and revelation came swiftly, only to cool just as quickly, like water poured over a boiling pot. Watching the sparring match¡ªnot quite a duel¡ªEnkrid had to admit the truth. He had never drawn out such skill from either of them. Neither Rem nor Ragna had ever shown this level of intensity during their training with him. It wasn''t just their power or speed; it was their expressions. Rem was smiling, his face radiating pure enjoyment. Ragna, too, looked animated¡ªa rare sight. How many "todays" had he repeated? How many times had he skirted death? And yet, in this moment, he could not hope to face either of them seriously. That was his current standing. But he didn''t despair. If he were one to give up so easily, he wouldn''t have started down this path in the first place. Instead, he found it thrilling. He now had a clear goal. ''That expression.'' As he continued watching, he resolved to one day see them make those faces while fighting him. The determination felt deeply satisfying. A new path had appeared before him, and he had the time to walk it. The joy he felt was beyond words. Ring! The axe and sword scraped against each other, producing an eerie sound as both fighters pulled back. Sweat poured down their faces. Beads of it rolled down Ragna''s brow. Rem exhaled heavily, then grinned. "For someone who sleeps all day, you''re not bad." Ragna scoffed at the remark. "And where do you get off evaluating me, you brute who bullies weaker opponents?" Despite their sharp words, they both lowered their weapons. They understood each other''s state without needing to speak. Any further would turn into a fight to the death. Although both had been fired up, this wasn''t the moment for that. They had spared some strength for this sparring session. Even while fighting, they had noticed a familiar face among the spectators¡ªEnkrid. A sign of their control and awareness. "Enjoying the show? If you''re going to stick around, why not spar with me?" Rem suddenly quipped, causing the crowd to quickly disperse. Left standing amidst the scattering onlookers was none other than Enkrid, looking disheveled. "You''re back?" Rem greeted him warmly, while Ragna acknowledged him with a glance. The fight was over. And Enkrid had returned safely. Soon, the red-haired Jaxen emerged, groggily running a hand through his messy hair, and Krais rushed toward the squad leader. "You''ve returned?" "Squad leader!" "Our lord has blessed us." Even the religious squad member acknowledged him. There were six of them in total¡ªthe full extent of what should have been a ten-man squad. Rejoining his group, Enkrid announced his return. Chapter 34 - Why Go That Far? Chapter 34 - 34 - Why Go That Far? Chapter 34 - Why Go That Far? "Is the reconnaissance I know different from what the squad leader knows?" Rem twirled the axe in his hand as he spoke. "What are you talking about?" "You look like you''ve been halfway to dying and then came back." "A scratch on the side, that''s all." "If that''s just a scratch, does getting a cut mean you die instantly?" Rem laughed heartily after saying that. This guy hasn''t changed a bit. Not that he could have, anyway. It''s only been a few days for him, even though it''s felt like months for Enkrid. "Sure, I almost died." Enkrid touched the wound on his side as he spoke. Though, in truth, he had faced death countless times. But that wasn''t something he could openly admit. "Let me see." Jaxen approached and peeked at Enkrid''s wound. Enkrid shifted, raising his shirt for a better view. "And what will you know by looking?" Rem grumbled, but Jaxen ignored him and inspected the wound. "It''s nothing serious," Enkrid said. "The bones aren''t affected, but if you underestimate it, it''ll cause trouble," Jaxen replied. He wasn''t wrong. "I''ve already applied ointment." "Good to hear." Jaxen nodded in approval. "Was there a skirmish during the recon?" Big Eyes glanced at Enkrid''s ragged appearance and asked. His hair was greasy, his eyes hollow from lack of rest, and his body bore the marks of continued marching after battle. Given the mission, there hadn''t been much opportunity to wash, eat, or drink properly. Looking disheveled was inevitable. ''A skirmish? More like I tore through the enemy''s camp,'' Enkrid thought. But there was no need to say everything. He simply nodded as if to confirm. Having arrived only to watch Rem and Ragna''s sparring match, his body was now drenched in sweat and felt utterly exhausted. "Got any food? Or water?" It was time to eat and rest. Truthfully, he wanted to wield his sword right away, but his current state left him limited. Besides, after seeing the enemy gathered in the tall grass, it didn''t seem like the battle would end here. He''d likely return to the battlefield soon, so he needed to prepare his body. "Wash up first. Then we''ll serve you a royal feast." Rem grinned as he spoke. Enkrid nodded and headed toward a nearby stream. The infantry camp wasn''t placed here by chance. The stream at the back made it convenient to secure drinking water and clean up. As he dipped his hands into the water, a sharp chill crept up. ''It''s getting colder.'' The season for dropping temperatures had arrived. Enkrid splashed water on his face, stripped down, and scrubbed away the blood, oil, sweat, and grime on his body. ''That guy...'' As he washed, memories of the recent mission filled his mind. The tall grass, the ambush, slipping past the flagpole, and finally, the man with the sword and torch. ''I feel like we''ll meet again.'' It was an unavoidable premonition, a sense that he would face the man again under inescapable circumstances. ''Is this the wall?'' The blind ferryman had warned him¡ªwalls would endlessly block his path. It wasn''t worrying, though. When a wall appeared, you simply climbed over it. To be honest, part of him was even looking forward to it. He regretted not settling the fight with that guy. If they had fought, he''d likely have died. But even knowing that, he didn''t want to avoid it. He wanted to face him. The moment he saw him, an inexplicable competitive spirit had ignited. Sometimes, there are people who make you feel this way. It''s like falling in love at first sight, except instead of love, it''s an urge to win against them. When he returned, his body clean and refreshed, a hearty meal awaited him: warm soup, bread, and skewers of perfectly roasted meat. It wasn''t quite a royal feast, but it was a rare luxury on the battlefield. "Rabbit?" At Enkrid''s question, Rem proudly answered, "Personally prepared by yours truly." "No way, I''m the one who caught it," Big Eyes interjected with a glare. "Right, thanks," Enkrid said before devouring the food in no time. "Every time I see you, Squad Leader, you always eat so well." "You need to eat well to fight well." "You''re the most unique human I''ve ever met." Rem crossed his arms, spouting nonsense as he watched Enkrid eat. To hear "unique" from someone whose hobby was assaulting allies? Enkrid couldn''t believe it. "You''re the last person I want to hear that from." Rem burst into laughter again at his response. After that, the squad members scattered. Jaxen left, saying he had errands. Big Eyes declared it was time for his business dealings. The religious squad member knelt in prayer, while Rem idly lingered outside the tent, likely pestering passing soldiers with jokes. Meanwhile, Ragna silently watched Enkrid. He could feel his gaze. "What?" Annoyed by the attention, Enkrid turned to ask. "Just looking." Ragna answered casually, half-reclined. When Enkrid tilted his head in confusion, Ragna turned away, saying it was nothing. He seemed like he had something to say but wasn''t ready to share. Experience told Enkrid it was pointless to press. He''d bring it up eventually if it mattered. If not, well, it wasn''t worth worrying about. Having just returned from a mission, Enkrid was exempt from both sentry and meal duties. He ate well and slept soundly. Jaxen''s ointment worked wonders. His side wound healed quickly. With two days of rest, he''d be back in top shape. Even while resting, Enkrid didn''t waste time. ''Ten out of ten, I''ll probably lose.'' Seated, he repeatedly swung his sword in his mind. First, Rem. Then, Ragna. Finally, the enemy from the tall grass. He pondered and pondered some more. An old swordsman in a coastal town once told him: "If you don''t want to die to a blind blade, you''ve got two choices. First, pray to the goddess of luck like your life depends on it." The first was to rely on luck. "And the second is to think. Think endlessly." The old swordsman used to say that if you survived a fight with half your life hanging by a thread, that battle became your asset. To survive those battles, what must you do? Think. Ponder. Strategize endlessly. If you ever face an enemy without a plan, then all you can do is put everything on the first option¡ªthe goddess of luck. "Think and plan if you don''t want to end up like that." ''He was a good teacher.'' It had been advice perfectly suited to Enkrid at the time. Even now, that advice shone brightly. Enkrid contemplated and strategized. What must be done to win? At the very least, what should be done to avoid defeat? The desperate measures Enkrid took to find the answer were what became known as the Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship. Though some dismissed it as crude trickery, that very swordsmanship was Enkrid''s core skill. Deceptions, headbutts, three-sword techniques, dagger throws, and even drawing techniques designed to throw stones¡ªmethods that seemed absurd and anticlimactic after the fact but proved highly effective against first-timers or less-skilled opponents. In his mind, Enkrid wielded his sword. He assumed a thrusting stance, then threw a stone. Pretending to draw his sword, he hurled a throwing knife instead. Rem deflected it all with his axe, while Ragna evaded it with agile footwork. Meanwhile, an opponent holding a sword and torch ignored the flying stone, charged forward, and thrust his sword into his own heart, splitting it. Reality might not play out exactly as imagined, but at least in Enkrid''s vision, this was how things unfolded. ''Again.'' He rehearsed endlessly. Enkrid spent the entire day contemplating and fell asleep the moment his head hit the ground, utterly exhausted from the grueling mission. The next morning, Krais brought breakfast rations: watery soup, salty jerky, and crumbly bread. "You''re on duty?" "Yes. You slept soundly." "I was exhausted." Krais rolled his large eyes and asked, "What happened? Tell me." Krais, also known as Big Eyes, was the battlefield informant. Enkrid hesitated briefly before deciding there was no need for secrecy. The matter would soon be widely known anyway, and it wasn''t classified. However, he limited his explanation to mentioning that the enemy was ambushing near the tall grass. "Damn it. If they''re ambushing, they don''t intend to let us pass easily. But what''s the point of ambushing there?" Though Krais knew little of strategy, he often hit the mark. ''There isn''t one.'' Had the reconnaissance route not passed through the area, the ambush would have gone unnoticed. Without Enkrid''s foresight, it might have ended with the annihilation of the scouts. An ambush is a tactic for countering an attack. But the army wasn''t advancing toward the tall grass, so it was pointless. "That''s the thing; it doesn''t make sense." "I don''t know yet." That was the correct answer¡ªhe didn''t know. He assumed the higher-ups had some plan. What was certain was that the enemy was up to something, judging by their troop formations and the fierce intent to annihilate approaching forces. Normally, such troop deployment would be overkill. The conclusion was clear: the enemy was preparing for something. "Damn it, I thought this would be over." "Orders will probably come today or tomorrow." Not long after their idle chatter, someone shouted from outside. "Move out! Fourth Company, move out!" It was the voice of the Fourth Platoon Leader. "Your leg''s not injured, is it?" The man stuck his head into Enkrid''s tent. "I heard you went through hell." "Where''d you hear that?" "Rumors are spreading. They say you''re the hidden child of Lady Luck." Since the whole affair was attributed to luck, such a reaction was expected. "Then who''s my dad?" "How would I know?" The platoon leader chuckled at Enkrid''s joke and added, "You must be tired, but the unit''s moving eastward. Let''s go." Enkrid rose to his feet. East meant heading toward the tall grass. Knowing about the ambush, they wouldn''t enter it directly. "Feels like a fight''s brewing. The air''s different." Rem suddenly appeared beside him, speaking quietly. "Think so?" "Don''t get cocky just because you''ve improved. You''ll get yourself killed." Was that concern or a curse? Not just the Fourth Company, but the entire infantry battalion was moving. That meant most of the six hundred infantrymen mobilized for this battle were on the move. With the rhythmic sound of footsteps, the infantry advanced. There was no battle that day. After moving, they set up a temporary camp, lit fires, and settled in. No commander in their right mind would order a charge into the tall grass while risking an arrow to the head. The relocation seemed more like preparation for unforeseen circumstances. By the next morning, Enkrid''s side wound barely bothered him. Orders came to handle meals within each squad. Enkrid''s squad of six gathered around a pot to cook stew. "I caught a lizard on the way," Jaxen announced, adding the drained lizard meat to the stew. "For once, you''re doing something useful," Rem said, pleased. Jaxen didn''t respond. Rem growled, annoyed at being ignored, but Jaxen simply brushed it off. ''Strangely, they seem to complement each other.'' One talked, the other ignored¡ªit somehow worked. Marching, eating, and resting were exhausting tasks in the military. During all this, Enkrid noticed a peculiar gaze fixed on him¡ªRagna''s. "You''ll wear out my face," he joked. Ragna averted his gaze. "It''s nothing." It was clear Ragna had something to say. The tension remained high, as though a battle could break out any moment, but another day passed without incident. Enkrid used his spare time to practice the techniques he had visualized. Some were easier than expected; others were not. As he swung his sword in a quiet corner that morning, Ragna approached. "Why Go That Far?" It was an abrupt question, yet Enkrid understood it perfectly. In the military, people who couldn''t communicate were common. Ragna wasn''t eloquent, often speaking as he pleased. It fell to the listener to make sense of his words. Enkrid scratched his forehead with a finger. Chapter 35 -Genuine joy Chapter 35 - 35 -Genuine joy Chapter 35 -Genuine joy The troublemaker squad members were all highly unique individuals, but they shared a common trait: a general lack of interest in their surroundings. Among them, Ragna stood out even more, being the type who neither paid attention to others'' gazes nor cared much about them. "A life of half-hearted eating, fighting, and living." Ragna lived such a carefree life, often accompanied by an abundance of sleep. Given this, Enkrid had been quietly surprised when Ragna volunteered to join the reconnaissance unit not long ago. Ragna volunteering to scout? Has our lazy squad member changed? That wasn''t the case. Ragna was capricious, acting on whims. Even if he had been caught up in the mood at that moment, he probably would have backed out in less than half a day. Knowing this, Enkrid hadn''t sent him out anyway. It wasn''t for nothing that Enkrid often handled the troublesome tasks for the squad himself. Ragna''s personality was, in many ways, the complete opposite of Enkrid''s. Ragna generally lacked enthusiasm, while Enkrid was the type to dedicate himself to honing his swordsmanship down to the last second. Of course, Ragna did occasionally wield his sword¡ªsometimes sparring with Rem, as Enkrid had observed after returning, and at other times performing well on the battlefield. Though, on such occasions, Ragna would often mutter, "It wasn''t intentional." Knowing this about Ragna, Enkrid found it curious that he was showing interest in him now. Why the sudden change? It was a rare occurrence. Ragna might occasionally ask questions or make demands, but he had never shown this kind of persistent observation or meticulous preparation before speaking. Enkrid lowered the hand that had been scratching his forehead. Among the squad, Rem was relatively active, but even Rem engaged with people only within certain boundaries. Up close, it became apparent that Rem was the type who wouldn''t let others cross into his inner circle. In some ways, such guardedness made Rem even more challenging to deal with than a laid-back person like Ragna. Still, Rem at least spoke his mind. Ragna, on the other hand, rarely said even the necessary things. And now, Ragna was asking questions. That alone made it intriguing. Enkrid met Ragna''s gaze, their eyes locking in silent understanding. A quiet stillness stretched between them before Enkrid tilted his head upward. The sky was clear, without a single cloud in sight. After a stretch of frequent rain, the vibrant, cloudless sky was a refreshing sight. It made his chest feel open and free. As he gazed at the sky, Enkrid''s thoughts about why Ragna was acting this way, what reasons might lie behind his questions, and whether his guesses were correct, all vanished. He set aside his concerns. A question had been asked, so he would answer. He applied the same principle to swords and people alike¡ªalways giving his all. Since when have I even worried about such things? Even when giving his all, his goals remained distant, leaving him constantly yearning for more. Ragna had asked why he went to such lengths. It was likely about the constant sword practice, his relentless refusal to cut corners, or his unwavering determination despite his meager skills. So Enkrid answered with a question of his own. "If I were good with a sword, what do you think would''ve happened?" Standing outside the temporary camp, with sunlight wrapping around them, Ragna''s gaze lingered on Enkrid''s face. Enkrid spoke again. "What could I have become if that were the case? What might have been possible?" Enkrid''s voice was fluid, like a well-tuned instrument. At least to Ragna, it sounded that way. It wasn''t heated with passion, nor was it tinged with despair. It was calm and steady, as if reading a storybook to a child. "I wield a sword to survive. But that''s not the life I want." With those words, Enkrid swung his sword¡ªa vertical slash from top to bottom. Whoosh. The blade sliced the air, releasing its distinct metallic scent. The battlefield''s aroma, mingled with steel, tickled Ragna''s nose. Enkrid continued his training, unfazed by whether Ragna was there or not. He practiced swordsmanship: top to bottom, bottom to top, diagonal, then horizontal slashes. Imagining a phantom opponent, he mimicked binding swords, pulling them in, and delivering a backhand strike. Ragna watched the squad leader intently without responding. Ragna, the lowest-ranked soldier of the Naurilia Kingdom, knew that the squad leader''s skills were above the bare minimum. But that didn''t make him a top-tier swordsman or warrior either. Even if he joined the mercenary world now, he would barely rank as slightly above average. For a mercenary, being average was hardly exceptional. Having been deeply involved in the mercenary world before, Ragna understood this well. When it came to swords, Ragna possessed innate insight rivaling that of a Frog. He assessed the squad leader''s skills and saw his limits. It''s already too late. The foundation was flawed from the beginning. He should have focused on the basics when first picking up a sword. Lack of talent had stripped away his opportunities. And now? As Enkrid said, his skills, honed for survival, were holding him back. Among the squad leader''s abilities, only two stood out. The first was what the barbarian Rem had taught him¡ªit was rough, but effective. The second was a sudden improvement, marked by a powerful thrust. Beyond those, his skills were riddled with shortcuts born of inadequate fundamentals. These shortcuts were the issue. Ragna, fully aware of this through his insight, chose to address a different concern instead. "If you get better with a sword, then what will you do?" Enkrid stopped swinging his sword. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping down to the ground. The droplets soaked into the dry dirt beneath his feet. Beneath the sunlight, with sword and wind surrounding him, Enkrid spoke a dream he had repeated to himself countless times. "I want to be a knight¡ªa knight who charges toward the end of the battlefield." "Why?" Ragna asked again. To him, it was an obvious question. Ragna could see the path ahead clearly¡ªa road where the destination was visible even without experience. But could such a road be enjoyable? Even upon reaching the destination, if there was nothing to do and nothing to desire, there would be no will to walk that path. That was Ragna. He was a wanderer, seeing the destination and path yet unwilling or unable to walk it. "Do I need a reason to want that?" Enkrid countered. This was his dream, his romance, his life, and his past. It was also the dream of his youth, when he had been captivated. He had repeated it countless times over the years. There was no need for a reason to want something. But that didn''t mean he planned to end it as just a wish. "I want to live according to what I believe is right. To draw my sword for the poor and sick, for honor, and for the people I love." What does it mean to be a knight? Is it merely a killing machine, skilled in death and combat? Knights were often described that way. Specialized weapons of war meant to kill. But if the knight Enkrid dreamed of were just that, he wouldn''t have continued wielding a sword. A knight was someone who expressed their will through their sword with honor and faith. A sword imbued with chivalry, something most had forgotten. As he spoke, Enkrid thought of Krang. Why did his words carry such weight? How did they draw everyone in? Now, Enkrid felt he understood a little. It was sincerity, the genuine heart behind the words. That was the foundation. So, Enkrid spoke with all his heart. This revelation struck Ragna deeply. Of course, he didn''t show it outwardly, so Enkrid remained unaware. Ragna asked himself a question: Why did he need a sword if he wanted to live by what he believed was right? The answer was simple¡ªwithout strength, it would be hard to realize his beliefs. A lingering emptiness had always gnawed at his heart, the source of his helplessness. But now, as he conversed with Enkrid, a different kind of flame began to burn within him, replacing his sense of powerlessness. Cradling the flame that had ignited in his chest, Ragna sank deep into thought, sitting down on a patch of grass on the plains. What does it mean to be a knight? What is a sword? As the questions cascaded, he arrived at a conclusion: "I won''t know unless I walk the path." He found a reason to tread the path. Enkrid, meanwhile, left him alone and resumed swinging his sword. The silence between them was filled only by the sound of the sword slicing through the air, the sky, and the wind. Though faint, the distant noise of soldiers in camp could be heard, but otherwise, the quiet was unbroken. The silence didn''t last long. "Do you want to learn the sword?" Ragna spoke while staring blankly at a sharp stone embedded in the ground nearby. Thwack! Enkrid froze mid-thrust, sweat scattering in the air, his gaze fixed on the tip of his sword. Without moving, he replied: "Yes." His tone was calm and straightforward. For Enkrid, it was natural to seize an opportunity to learn. Ragna was startled by his own words. "Why did I say that?" He quickly realized the reason. Half of it was the desire to show the right path to the reckless squad leader before him. The other half was for himself. "If the squad leader is around..." He unconsciously found himself moving with greater vigor. Watching Enkrid live his life was a source of stimulation for Ragna. Ragna needed that stimulus¡ªsomething to push him along the long and monotonous road ahead. To him, the squad leader''s presence was that stimulus. With Enkrid around, Ragna would find himself awkwardly but earnestly training. Seeing Enkrid grow and improve ignited a vitality he hadn''t felt before. He had sparred with the squad leader, volunteered to take on reconnaissance, and even warmed up alongside Rem. These were rare occurrences for him¡ªat least, they had been. Now he wondered: what would happen if he taught the squad leader? It was an action motivated more by self-interest than altruism. Enkrid, for his part, didn''t question the offer. "What''s with him?" Enkrid hadn''t asked for help or training, yet here Ragna was, offering to teach him swordsmanship out of the blue. When learning the Heart of the Beast from Rem, Enkrid had badgered him endlessly to the point of annoyance. The same had been true when he learned from Jaxen. He had always been the one to take the initiative. But this time was different. After watching Enkrid for several days, Ragna had approached, asked a few questions, and then offered to teach him the sword. Enkrid saw it as a great opportunity, so he didn''t bother questioning the reasons. Ragna, after all, had never spoken about swordsmanship outside of sparring. Enkrid, when it came to swords, was like a ravenous wolf. He had pressed Ragna with countless questions and attacked with relentless fervor during their duels, only for Ragna to dodge his inquiries. Now, however, Ragna was suddenly offering to teach him. "Well then..." Ragna dusted himself off and stood, his lips moving as if carefully choosing his words. Enkrid lowered the tip of his sword, patiently waiting. As he waited, Rem''s words surfaced in his mind: "Teaching the sword isn''t really my thing." Rem was skilled not just with the axe but also with the sword. Enkrid had witnessed him effortlessly cutting down and stabbing foes with it numerous times. "I swing it purely by instinct. Teaching something like that doesn''t make much sense. You''d be better off learning in a more structured way." It hadn''t seemed like an excuse to avoid teaching. Nor did it seem like Rem was withholding knowledge out of selfishness. If that were the case, he wouldn''t have taught him the Heart of the Beast either. At the time, Enkrid had simply let it go. As he mused, Ragna finally spoke: "That thing you learned from the savage about a beast''s guts or conscience..." ...Heart of the Beast. How did that turn into "beast''s guts"? If Rem had heard that, he''d have probably swung his axe on the spot. "And the thrust." Ragna continued, meeting Enkrid''s gaze. "Anything other than that, you''ll need to rebuild from the beginning. Can you handle that?" Enkrid tilted his head, momentarily unable to understand. "In other words, you''ll need to strengthen your fundamentals. Are you willing to start from scratch?" Ragna only knew one way to teach and learn the sword. Enkrid hesitated. "Why?" The mercenary sword style of Valen¡ª No matter what anyone said, it was a solid technique. "If you keep using that style, you won''t be able to improve much beyond your current level." Ragna elaborated, his explanations clumsy and vague, but Enkrid quickly grasped the core idea. It came down to this: His current approach had clear limits. He could still improve with his current training, but progress would be slow, and he wouldn''t break through his barriers. When he asked why, Ragna explained it was because he had learned too many disparate techniques. "The issue is that your fundamentals are lacking." Hearing this surprised Enkrid. Even at training halls where he''d paid silver or gold coins, instructors always emphasized the importance of basics. He had spent considerable time honing them. Reflecting on it, he realized the criticism wasn''t entirely off the mark. He''d never had time to solely focus on fundamentals. Instead, he''d practiced what he considered the basics¡ªslashing and thrusting¡ªon his own. That had been the problem. A brief moment of enlightenment struck him, filling him with elation that resonated through his entire being. His hand holding the sword trembled uncontrollably. Because now, he could see the path ahead. Though the wall and darkness that had always loomed before him remained, a crude but clear path had opened up. This exhilaration was incomparable to anything else in life. As his hands shook, Ragna spoke cautiously: "Now it''s time to choose. Will you start anew, or will you settle for what you have?" Ragna believed Enkrid would give up. After all, starting from scratch meant discarding everything he''d built so far and rebuilding from the ground up. This would effectively reduce him from a mid-tier mercenary to a novice. Could he endure that? Especially as someone who lived by the sword on the battlefield? Unless he had multiple lives to spare, it seemed impossible. Even if he wanted to, it wouldn''t be easy. In the heat of battle, he would instinctively revert to what was familiar. "You''ll need to wager a few lives to make it work," Ragna added, his voice gruff but tinged with concern. Enkrid nodded. His unclear response prompted Ragna to look at him questioningly. Enkrid finished his thought aloud: "I''ll start anew." "Are you serious?" Ragna was stunned. There wasn''t a shred of hesitation in Enkrid''s answer. Even though he had been trembling moments ago, seemingly in frustration, despair, or hopelessness, Enkrid''s reaction was the exact opposite of what Ragna had expected. "Yes." Genuine joy radiated from him. Chapter 36 - Mist of Massacre Chapter 36 - 36 - Mist of Massacre Chapter 36 - Mist of Massacre Ragna was taken aback but quickly stopped overthinking. ''He''s always been an odd guy, anyway.'' In his eyes, Enkrid wasn''t exactly normal to begin with. "So, from now on?" Enkrid asked. "Let''s do it," Ragna replied. Under the clear sky, the two began anew, starting not with swords but by selecting the right weapons. "With your strength, there''s no reason to stick to a light weapon. A heavier longsword would suit you better. Let''s swap," Ragna said, handing over the sword hanging at his waist. Enkrid found this unexpectedly generous. Would anyone normally give away a weapon they were accustomed to? "I haven''t used it enough to get attached," Ragna added. It wasn''t a great sword, as Enkrid discovered upon receiving it. His previous weapon seemed better, but he accepted it nonetheless. After all, it was Ragna teaching him now, and he decided to follow his advice. "Alright." From an arming sword to a longsword¡ªit had a longer grip for two-handed use, an extended blade by a hand''s breadth, and greater weight. Though not crafted from the finest materials, the sword''s balance and finish were respectable. "Place your right hand forward, left hand back," Ragna instructed. After switching weapons, Enkrid learned anew how to grip and handle it. He became deeply engrossed in the process, and so did Ragna. Teaching someone like Enkrid was stimulating in itself. The two spent hours immersed in their training, losing track of time until well past midday. It wasn''t until Rem appeared that they noticed their missed meal. "Skipping lunch for playtime? What are you guys doing?" Only then did Enkrid realize how long they had been training. "Now that you mention it, I am hungry," Ragna muttered. "Hey, did you mess with our captain, you punk?" Rem asked. "Shut up, you barbarian." "Why don''t you shut up, you lazy bastard?" They bickered as usual while Enkrid, drenched in sweat, let his sword hang low. He was exhausted. While he''d resolved to start fresh, it wasn''t something that could be achieved overnight. ''Not enough.'' Time was his biggest obstacle. Originally, he had planned to focus on refining techniques to improve over time. However, today''s training revealed the opposite. "Basic skills are lacking." It was something he hadn''t anticipated. Moreover, having an expert like Ragna guide him made a profound difference compared to practicing alone. "Why is your stance like that?" "You''re losing grip strength." "Are you trying to stab or slash?" "What''s your intent right now?" "You''re hopeless. Let''s start with learning to walk properly." The downpour of criticism was relentless, yet each comment became a valuable asset. Pausing his bickering with Rem, Ragna suddenly asked Enkrid, "Don''t you have any ambition to flaunt your sword skills?" Ragna remembered why he first picked up a sword as a child. Surely, Enkrid also harbored pride, competitiveness, and desire. After all, his daydreams included standing as a lady''s protector and receiving her favor¡ªa handkerchief, perhaps. Of course, he wanted recognition. It was human nature. "Plenty. I want to show off, big time," Enkrid admitted. He yearned for cheers and dreamed of becoming a bard''s hero. Naturally, such desires were part of him. Ragna nodded, sensing the honesty in his words. "What are you rambling about? Anyway, get ready. Orders have come in. The enemy''s been spotted." Once again, it was time for battle. Enkrid nodded as Ragna glanced at him, feeling a pang of regret. ''Can he survive today?'' With an unfamiliar weapon and inadequate fundamentals, Enkrid was bound to be in danger. Ragna believed the man lacked natural talent. Mastery wouldn''t come in a day. For a moment, Ragna blamed himself. ''Am I sending him to his death?'' He sighed with a mix of regret and determination. ''I''ll stay close.'' For today, he resolved to protect him as much as possible. "The enemy!" Before they could even fortify their makeshift defenses, enemy infantry emerged from the tall grass and fields ahead, advancing rapidly. Their march was unusually swift, and their formations stood out. Groups of soldiers carried tall banners, and their flags flapped in the strong winds suddenly blowing from the enemy''s direction. Squinting through the gusts, Enkrid sensed something ominous. His instincts, honed for survival over the years, screamed that this battlefield wouldn''t be easy. That intuition proved correct in moments. "What the hell?" Vengeance, a platoon leader muttered in disbelief. Now, thick fog began rolling in between the Vengeance and Enkrid, spreading across the battlefield. *** "We''ve been ambushed!" Even before her lieutenant reported it, the fairy company commander had already sensed it. The battlefield itself seemed to warn her through her heightened fairy instincts. ''Magic? Sorcery?'' Thick mist enveloped the battlefield, clearly unnatural. As a creature attuned to nature, the commander could feel its artificial origin. The mist grew denser until visibility dropped to zero. "Commander!" Hearing the panic in her lieutenant''s voice, the commander realized an unsettling truth. ''No one''s prepared for this.'' The sudden blindness must have thrown everyone into chaos. It wasn''t just her unit; the entire army would be affected . If this mist was a deliberate strategy, it wouldn''t stop here. Her fears materialized swiftly. Thwack-thwack-thwack! Bolts and arrows rained down, invisible in the fog¡ªa deadly surprise from unseen attackers. Soldiers fell as quarrels struck them. Even the lieutenant collapsed with an arrow to the head. The commander leapt back, narrowly avoiding the same fate. Two arrows deflected off her blade as she retreated, pulling a fallen soldier''s body in front of her for cover. Without such measures, she would become a blind target. Mist and arrows. ''A well-prepared strategy.'' They had been utterly outmaneuvered. *** "Got them!" The commander of the Aspen Principality''s forces felt exhilaration swell in his chest. Soon, he would decorate this battlefield with the name of victory. The resources expended to reach this moment were no small matter. Failure was not an option. As the mist thickened, the commander shouted, "Fire!" The command, tinged with joy and excitement, rang out, and the prepared arrows and quarrels rained down upon the enemy. What Aspen had prepared was a sorcery. A spell known as the "Mist of Massacre," capable of blinding their foes. At the commander''s cry, the sorcerer grinned with satisfaction. The spell had worked. It was a sorcery created using the blood of one hundred newborn lambs, calves, and foals, as well as water untouched by human hands from a pristine lake. The materials used were anything but ordinary. Much had been sacrificed for this sorcery, though the commander wasn''t aware of it. Regardless, the sorcerer had devoted himself entirely to the task. The terrain, the weather¡ªall those rituals to summon rain had been for this moment. The wet ground was crucial for the spell''s activation. The blood-soaked banner and pole served as the spell''s medium. The soldiers protected by the pole were unaffected by the mist¡ªthis was the crux of the sorcerer''s efforts. But to dismiss this as mere trickery would be wrong. Though the enemy could not see, Aspen''s troops could. Even an imbecile would understand how decisive this advantage was in a large-scale battlefield. The sorcerer cared little for the outcome of the battle or its stakes. He was content with the spell''s success. "Happy, are you?" The platoon leader guarding the pole asked. He was the same skilled swordsman who had cornered Enkrid before. "Of course. It was nearly a failure," the sorcerer replied, recalling the enemy''s prior night raid. The spell''s preparations had almost been undone by the attack. Thinking about it still made him shudder. The platoon leader, listening to the sorcerer, thought of the bastard who had led the raid. "That bastard." As a member of the Grey Hounds and a relentless romanticist, he wanted to kill that man with his own hands. Somewhere in the enemy ranks, that man was undoubtedly lurking. The Aspen platoon leader hadn''t forgotten his face, illuminated by torchlight¡ªa fair and delicate visage. He longed to meet him again. *** As the thick mist rolled in, a damp smell filled the air. At the same time, visibility vanished. Vengeance, visible moments ago, was gone. Not just him¡ªRagna, who had been right beside him, had vanished as well. "Sorcery!" Someone shouted. No, it was Rem''s voice, laced with frustration. "Which damned bastard?" Sorcery? What Sorcery? Enkrid ducked instinctively as the thought crossed his mind. Arrows and quarrels rained down from above. "Stay low. Do not lift your head," a voice beside him said. It was Ragna. Thud! Thump! The sound of impacts echoed overhead. The ominous feeling became a reality. Still crouched, Enkrid pondered. "Sorcery, huh?" Why would there be a sorcerer here? Even among the indigenous tribes of the western frontier, sorcerers were exceedingly rare. Why here, of all places? But questioning it was meaningless now. Enkrid dismissed the thought. Suddenly, a spear tip lunged toward him out of the mist. Thump. The Beast''s Heart reacted. Boldness surged within him. Without it, his body would have frozen, and he would have died. Enkrid twisted left reflexively and swung his sword upward. Clang! The oil-soaked spear shaft resisted the crude slash. The spear deflected away. The tip had emerged from the mist without warning. Enkrid gauged the spear''s origin and attempted to advance. But another spear shot toward him. Clang! He barely deflected this one as well. He realized his stance was off and his weight poorly distributed. The only thing he had done right was gripping his sword tightly. Everything Ragna had scolded him about during training seemed forgotten. "How troublesome," he thought. He had never expected to master it all after one lesson. What now? "Back," Ragna instructed. Enkrid moved in the opposite direction. Thanks to Jaxen, his hearing had sharpened. Though he couldn''t see, he could hear. "Argh!" "Ugh!" "Kill them!" "Dammit!" Amid the screams and curses echoing around him, Enkrid dashed forward. "...Squad Leader!" Ragna''s startled shout came from behind. And then¡ª Squish! A spear pierced through his neck. "Dead on," he thought. Better a clean death than a crude wound. A wave of excruciating pain spread from his neck to his entire body. Darkness began to descend over his vision. "Crazy bastard," the soldier who had stabbed him muttered, startled by Enkrid''s sudden charge. "Die already." The soldier kicked Enkrid, pulling the spear out. The second wave of pain was even worse. Enkrid felt death closing in. A few more breaths, and darkness would consume him. And he welcomed it. What were agony and the fear of death when compared to this? "It''s enough," he thought. Today had begun with learning the basics from Ragna. And he had loved every moment of it. "Heh." Bleeding profusely, Enkrid laughed. The enemy soldier shivered at the sight. Truly, this man was insane. The darkness came. When he opened his eyes again, a new day had begun. "Why go that far?" Ragna asked. This time, Enkrid scratched his head before answering. "Because I want to wield a sword well." It wasn''t the original answer, but the destination was the same. "Do you want to learn the sword?" Of course. Ragna offered again, and Enkrid accepted. The second day of learning the basics began. And then, they stood on the battlefield. The mist spread once more. "What the hell?" Rem cursed again. This time, Enkrid deflected spear shafts three times before letting the tip pierce his neck again. Unluckily, it grazed him. His neck bled, dripping onto the ground. "Damn it." The thought of bleeding out felt unbearable. Before he could dwell on it, another enemy soldier thrust his spear. He was grateful. Thud. And he died again. Thus began the third dawn. Chapter 37 - What is the Medium for Sorcery? Chapter 37 - 37 - What is the Medium for Sorcery? Chapter 37 - What is the Medium for Sorcery? "Where did you learn that step?" Ragna asked bluntly on the fifth iteration of today. Of course, you taught me that. But Enkrid couldn''t be that honest. "I''ve attended over twenty training schools." Among them were fraudsters, but there were also many legitimate instructors. "Hmm." Ragna nodded. As Enkrid moved based on the steps Ragna had taught, a vibrant expression gradually appeared on Ragna''s face. He was clearly enjoying the moment. Strictly speaking, Ragna wasn''t an excellent teacher. He couldn''t be. A genius doesn''t look at their own feet. Thus, it''s difficult for them to teach the path they''ve traversed. How can one explain something that simply comes naturally? When he says, "Swing the sword downward," he assumes the action itself suffices. He doesn''t explain the necessary footwork or the shifting of balance in between. In truth, he can''t explain it. He was the worst type of person to run a swordsmanship school. Enkrid realized this during the first iteration of today. Still, it didn''t matter. If the teacher was terrible, the student just had to excel. And in that regard, Enkrid was arguably the best on the continent. "Where should my foot go? What direction should the tip point?" "Do I have to explain even that?" It wasn''t a tone of reproach¡ªhe was genuinely curious. "Yes." Ragna corrected his posture while explaining the direction of the foot and showed his own stance. That stance was the epitome of the basics. Anyone with an eye for talent would drool at the sight. For Enkrid, just observing Ragna''s stance repeatedly was instructional. "What about my center of gravity?" "Yes, shift it at that timing." Enkrid asked, and Ragna answered. Throughout twelve iterations of today, Ragna focused solely on teaching Enkrid steps and posture. "Footwork and stance come first. Basics follow." "Occasionally, you manage a decent swing." "Right now, you''re not even good enough to chop firewood." "If an enemy soldier dies from that last downward swing, thank him three times for dying." "So, were you dancing just now?" "Yes, I suppose it was a dance. Holding a sword while doing it might make it a sword dance, but let''s not get fancy. Let''s call it ''stick dance.''" Ragna delivered sharp remarks in his usual calm tone. "Was he always like this?" Enkrid wondered. Rem had been a far gentler teacher by comparison. Though his occasional comments made Enkrid question his sanity, Rem''s lessons were still satisfying. Every day felt like breaking out of an egg and being reborn anew. When Enkrid began practicing diagonal slashes, Ragna explained, "The line connecting your opponent and yourself is called the attack line. This line is usually the shortest distance between two people and the path your weapon takes when attacking." "Blocking the opponent''s attack line while extending your own is also fundamental. Do you understand? No, you don''t look like you do. Ah, is this that thing? Your mind gets it, but your body won''t listen?" "Let me rephrase. The squad leader only understands with his mouth." Ragna couldn''t teach without throwing barbs. Learn, and learn again. Twenty iterations of today passed. Then twenty-five. "...I thought your basics were awful, but at least you know how to use your feet," Ragna said on the thirty-fifth iteration. By this time, Enkrid''s behavior had slightly changed. When the mist settled, he no longer died immediately. He dodged the first spear thrust and rushed in before dying. Spears would pierce him like a porcupine. But it was a decent approach. Sometimes, one spear would miss. Why bother pulling the spear back when the target is asking to be killed? It made sense. Facing someone begging to be killed must have been bewildering. When a spear missed, Enkrid would writhe for an hour before succumbing to death. That hour was a relentless chain of excruciating pain¡ªa series of unbearable moments. Each time, Ragna would call out to him. "Squad leader!" "You idiot!" "Hey!" Eventually, when the situation became urgent, Ragna would just yell, "Hey!" Enkrid filled each iteration of today with determination. "Your stance is better than expected." Step by step, he improved. Each time he changed, Ragna furrowed his brow. "Until yesterday, you were clearly..." He would murmur things like that. "...Where did you learn all this?" Around the hundredth iteration of today, Ragna asked, "Who are you?" Enkrid gave him a puzzled look. "Up until yesterday, you were a mess. How did you improve so much in a single day? Magic?" Ragna was surprised, and Enkrid burst into laughter at his reaction. "Why? Surprised I''m better than you expected?" "It''s more than that. I''m starting to wonder if you''re really the squad leader." Ragna''s skepticism was evident. This squad was full of troublemakers, and Ragna himself was eccentric to say the least. "So, will you stop teaching me?" "No." Ragna resumed reluctantly. After that, they began practicing with imaginary sparring partners, swinging their swords. The concept of the attack line, proper grip, and using a sword defensively were covered. "If the sword is of high quality, you can block with the flat side. Otherwise, block with the edge." "Slashing, thrusting, cutting¡ªthese three are the basics. Your footwork and posture aren''t bad, so focus on these fundamental techniques." Ragna''s steps were numerous¡ªadvancing, passing, closing in, evading, circling sideways, turning back, and making wide turns. Memorizing them alone was overwhelming, but through repetition, they started to stick. Even for someone slow to learn, having such a high-level instructor dedicated to teaching 1:1 improved Enkrid''s skills. What seemed minor to a genius brought Enkrid immense joy. "Visualize your opponent in your mind. Then swing your sword." Clang! Through countless iterations, Enkrid continued learning. Diagonal slashes, blade binds, twisting strikes, slicing cuts, horizontal overhead slashes, side glances, crown strikes, counters, half-swording, parrying, deflections, continuous strikes, closing in, and drawing cuts. As time passed, Ragna''s sharp remarks diminished. "You''re better than I thought. Where did you learn that binding technique?" "One of my previous instructors drilled it into me." "Excellent." Ragna was pleased. The same method was applied to other techniques. "Previously, every instructor told me my horizontal overhead slash was a mess. If you''re going to teach swordsmanship, maybe start with that." "...It feels like you''ve already decided what to learn." "Not exactly." Shrugging, Enkrid prompted Ragna to conduct a short test. And soon enough, Ragna followed his suggestions. "Let''s do that." Ragna, oblivious as ever, would unknowingly teach Enkrid the same thing over and over, only to dismiss it as sufficient and move on. Each time, Enkrid advanced to the next lesson. Under the blazing sun, their endless practice left them drenched in sweat. For some, such repetition would be mind-numbingly tedious, but not for Enkrid. When the two hundredth day of this routine had passed¡ª "Hm?" Upon opening his eyes, Enkrid saw a black river. What was going on? A boatman came into view. Though his lips didn''t move, his voice resonated clearly. "Are you insane? Coming here to die over and over again? You foolish creature." The boatman''s tone was calm, but his words were far from it. Before Enkrid could respond, he woke from the dream. Another familiar day awaited him. Enkrid lay still, eyes open, lost in thought. "Did you have a wet dream or something? What''s wrong with you?" Beside him, Rem made a remark that sounded like a playful growl. Ignoring him, Enkrid rose from where he lay. ''Let''s just assume he wanted to call me crazy.'' Even if Enkrid wanted to ask why, there was no way to pose the question. Some problems are pointless to dwell on; answers won''t come no matter how hard you think. Enkrid stood and asked, "Do you know anything about sorcery?" At the mention of sorcery, Rem turned sharply. "Sorcery?" "If you know something, share it." Whenever fog gathered, Rem would occasionally make cryptic comments related to sorcery. He must know something. Up until now, Enkrid had been too preoccupied mastering the basics of swordsmanship, but now he had some breathing room. His training had become second nature. Even Ragna, who often watched, couldn''t help but be amazed at how much he had improved. Though Enkrid hadn''t tested his skills in actual combat yet, he felt confident that he was far better than before. "Sorcery is sorcery; what else would it be?" "Explain what you know. It might be interesting." It was rare for Enkrid to initiate a conversation like this, prompting a grin from Rem. "What''s got you curious all of a sudden? Fine. I''ll keep it simple. Do you know the difference between magic and sorcery?" "Magic''s more common." While rare, magic-users could still be found here and there. But sorcery? Despite wandering across the continent, Enkrid had never encountered a sorcerer. That''s how scarce they were. "Not wrong, but not entirely right either." Rem casually tidied up his bedding, tossing his rolled-up blanket aside, slipped on his boots, and stepped outside. Enkrid followed him. The day outside was the same as any other. Yet, Enkrid never found it tiresome. Every day was a delight in its own way. As they walked, Rem continued, "Sorcery needs a medium. Sure, magic sometimes uses conduits, but for sorcery, the offering or medium is incredibly important. Without it, nothing starts." "Did your tribe use sorcery?" Rem hailed from the western frontier. That region had become a settlement after the Central Continent Empire''s victorious war, over a century ago. Before that, it had been the land of indigenous tribes. Although people still referred to them as barbarians in disdain, the general understanding was that sorcery originated from the west. That was common knowledge. "I''ve seen it a few times. But true sorcerers? There aren''t many. Most of the ones wandering the continent are just tricksters, peddling false sorcery." If Rem said so, it must be true. Enkrid nodded and turned to his routine tasks. "Where are you going?" "Training." He headed off to meet Ragna to continue refining the basics. By the two-hundred-fiftieth day of their repetitive practice, Ragna remarked, "Were your fundamentals always this solid?" Ragna''s red eyes widened as he brushed his golden hair aside. "From the looks of it, you seem to have made the longsword your primary weapon." That sounded about right. This sword had been his tool throughout the training. Though it felt awkward at first, it had become second nature after countless repetitions. A familiarity born from unrelenting practice. "It''s time to test your skills in real combat," Ragna said after their session. Enkrid nodded, acknowledging the suggestion. *** "Why are you still hanging around? They''re calling for us," Rem shouted. On their way back, Enkrid grabbed some bread from Krais and chewed on it, dipping the hard loaf in water before forcing it down, followed by jerky. He checked his gear, then marched to the battlefield. The longsword he''d swapped with Ragna swung lightly at his side. "Didn''t you pay a lot for your old sword?" Rem asked. "This one feels better." "I''ve seen plenty of men switch weapons and meet their end soon after." Was that a curse or a warning? "Mind your own business." Exhaling deeply, Enkrid steeled himself. While the Heart of the Beast granted courage, he couldn''t rely on it alone. If this was to be real combat, it should serve as preparation for "tomorrow." Before the enemy came into view, Enkrid reflected on Rem''s earlier explanation. "Sorcery requires a medium, and that medium is crucial." If the enemy lingered in the tall grass for concealment rather than ambush, was it because they were hiding something? Enkrid had already caught a glimpse¡ªflags and poles. When they set one tent on fire, the enemy didn''t prioritize killing the intruders but rushed to extinguish the flames. Soon, the enemy came into view. Nearby, a spear-wielding soldier from the 3rd squad muttered with a frown, "What''s with their formation?" A formation clustered around flagpoles offered no tactical advantage. Its significance was likely sorcerous. Six flags and poles rose above the enemy. The mediums of their sorcery. "Ah!" Mist spread, obscuring their vision. Well then, let''s see how it feels to navigate the sorcerous fog. Enkrid''s ears twitched. Time to let the keen hearing he honed from Jaxen take over for his eyes. Chapter 38 - The Flag Flutters and Soldiers Dance with Swords (1) Chapter 38 - 38 - The Flag Flutters and Soldiers Dance with Swords (1) Chapter 38 - The Flag Flutters and Soldiers Dance with Swords (1) "Do You really have to learn swordsmanship?" Ragna had once asked this. His tone was sharp, dripping with sarcasm. It was his way of saying his body wasn''t up to the task, and he was right. Enkrid wasn''t born with talent. His body was clumsy, and he survived on sheer determination and effort. Even so, he had spent countless hours learning swordsmanship, meeting numerous instructors, and pondering techniques on his own. This had made his thinking flexible and his adaptability exceptional. While learning something new was challenging, once he grasped it and entered real combat, the story changed. In truth, he did possess a kind of innate talent. Flexibility and adaptability¡ªthose were Enkrid''s strengths. ''Just use whatever works, however it works, whenever it''s needed.'' By the standards of the Naurilia Kingdom, his skills were at best intermediate or slightly above. In the mercenary world, he was also at an intermediate level. Wherever he went, his abilities would be considered average. ]That was the current state of Enkrid''s skills. But his prowess in real combat was exceptional, independent of his skill level. Having lived a life constrained by limited talent, Enkrid had learned to make the most of what he had. A soldier''s spearhead came flying toward him. His sharpened ears caught the faint sound of the air being pierced. Though his sight wasn''t perfectly precise, he discerned the direction. He mentally mapped out the opponent''s movement. ''A step to the side.'' Enkrid moved his feet. The Heart of the Beast lent him boldness. With his left heel pressing down and his right foot retreating, he spun his body. The spearhead zipped past him with a sharp whistle, missing him by a hair. Even as spearheads emerged suddenly from the mist, Enkrid didn''t falter. There was no need. He had already dodged that exact attack hundreds of times. By now, he''d evaded that first thrust more than two hundred times in practice. Instead of drawing his sword, Enkrid grabbed the middle of the spear shaft and yanked it toward him. The enemy soldier, caught off guard, gasped in surprise. "Huh?" As the soldier''s head emerged from the mist, Enkrid seized it and twisted. Crack. The soldier''s neck snapped. A broken neck meant certain death. The lifeless soldier crumpled to the ground, and Enkrid picked up his spear. He envisioned the enemy formation in his mind, recalling their positions before the mist had spread. They were all clustered together. ''No matter where I throw this, it''ll hit someone.'' With a firm stomp of his left foot, he hurled the spear with all his might. The spear sliced through the air and struck something with a dull thud. "Gah!" A death rattle echoed. "What was that?" "Damn it!" The shouts of the startled enemy soldiers followed. Listening closely, Enkrid crouched low and charged forward. Even if the enemy had the ability to see through the mist, spotting someone darting low to the ground would be difficult. Thud, thud, thud! Quarrels and arrows whizzed overhead. "Ah!" "Urgh!" "Damn it, arrows!" From behind, the cries and curses of his allies rang out. His hair should have stood on end, but it didn''t. This was familiar territory. The real problem was the lack of tension. Enkrid closed the distance and drew his longsword. Using his hearing, he judged the distance precisely. Schring! With his sword in both hands, he swung it, altering the horizontal slash into a downward one. The original move was designed to block an opponent''s blade and counterattack. But Enkrid, as always, adapted it to suit his needs. The stance was similar, but he shifted his grip to a thumb-up position, holding the blade at head level parallel to the ground. This turned what was meant to be an upper-body horizontal slash into a low, horizontal sweep. Though the stance was unconventional, and the power of the swing was diminished, the unexpected strike caught the enemy off guard. Swish! Thud! Thwack! The blade met resistance. "Agh!" "What''s happening?" "It''s the ground!" So they noticed quickly. Breaking through the mist, Enkrid leaped upward, finally catching sight of the enemy soldiers. Though his field of vision was limited to the reach of his blade, even that was enough. He could see the enemy, their weapons, and his own sword. The situation had shifted. Three soldiers with bleeding shins limped, their legs slashed. All three were armed with crossbows. One gritted his teeth and raised his crossbow. Enkrid sidestepped diagonally forward with his left foot, his right following in quick succession. Thwip! The quarrel pierced the air where he had been. Enkrid didn''t stop at dodging. He brought his longsword down in a heavy overhand strike. The crossbowman instinctively drew a shortsword, crossing it with the longsword to block. But Enkrid pressed down with brute strength. Clang! The shortsword gave way, its tip denting the soldier''s leather helmet and crushing his skull beneath. It wasn''t a clean cut but a brutal smash. Crunch. Foaming blood spurted from the shattered head as the soldier toppled backward. Red curtains of blood streamed down his face through the dented helmet. "Urgh..." The mortally wounded soldier slumped, his eyes glazing over. Enkrid recovered his blade and sidestepped, moving just as another soldier''s spear hurtled toward where he had stood. The spear grazed his left side, tearing his cloth armor slightly¡ªthat was all. Dodging, he swung his sword, slowly rather than quickly. The spearman reflexively drew back, attempting to block with the shaft. Clunk. Blade met shaft. The sword slid down the spear''s length as Enkrid advanced. With a binding motion, he followed up with a slash. Scrape, scrape, scrape! The sound of the spear shaft being carved echoed. Thud! The blade pierced the soldier''s chest, shredding flesh and shattering bone. Enkrid withdrew the blade, and blood gushed forth. Blood sprayed onto his chest. Crouching slightly, he straightened his posture. Until now, he had only mastered the basics. It had been a time of shedding bad habits and building a new foundation. Truthfully, he had just barely regained his former level. However, having honed his swordsmanship with the fundamentals of Valen-style mercenary swordplay, he was in a league of his own. It was like giving wings to a lion. Enkrid''s flexible thinking produced results that exceeded his abilities. Amid the remaining soldiers, his blood-soaked blade danced silently. Enkrid performed his deadly sword dance. *** "Damn it!" The battalion commander of Naurilia thought he was trapped in a nightmare. ''They''ve outmaneuvered us.'' If the enemy had prepared for this, so had they. But losing their entire force here meant all preparations would be for naught. "Retreat! Retreat!" Cries to fall back echoed from all directions. The battalion commander was far from composed. "Gah!" Even as their troops retreated, quarrels rained down from behind. ''Damn crossbow units!'' A sense of dread overtook him. It was astounding how they''d managed to hide such a number of crossbows. But where? The reconnaissance reports had already hinted at the answer. ''The tall grasslands!'' Now wasn''t the time for idle thoughts. The commander''s mind tried to escape reality. "Get it together! Regroup!" Two competent company commanders attempted to rally the troops, but the enemy was no ordinary force. The unit harrying them from behind was the Gray Hounds¡ªa fiercely independent company of Aspen Dutchy. The commander realized they had been utterly outmaneuvered. He fought desperately to regain his composure. "It''s the Mist of Massacre! Aspen deployed a sorcerer!" Those bastards. "How do we dispel the fog?" Few of his aides had answers. "Bring me someone who knows!" Visibility was nearly zero, and their troops were being pummeled on both sides. At this rate, they would be annihilated. No, annihilation was inevitable. Soon, an aide returned with an answer. "We must destroy the medium of the spell!" The medium? The banners. "Charge for the banners!" The commander shouted. "...We don''t know where they are," the aide responded bleakly. The enemy''s initial positions had shifted like clockwork gears, spinning in circles, making it impossible to pinpoint their location. The commander couldn''t erase the word "annihilation" from his mind. While he struggled in anguish, the fairy company commander in charge of the 4th Company realized the enemy wouldn''t let them retreat so easily. She was right, and it was not good news. ''Without a reversal, we''re all dead.'' She thought the battlefield needed a new wind, but no such wind blew. The battle ended in a crushing defeat. Barely escaping death, the fairy company commander survived. As she fled, the fog dissipated. Their forces were annihilated. Fewer than fifty allies survived. *** Clang! Enkrid had fought valiantly¡ªexceptionally, in fact¡ªand he was satisfied. Though their forces were nearly wiped out, he alone had felled close to twenty soldiers. Blood dripped from his hand gripping the sword. A gash on his forearm from earlier left him weak. ''I can''t muster any strength.'' He had spent all his time mastering the basics. Ragna had told him not to spar recklessly until his bad habits were corrected¡ªuntil he was fully ready. And then, almost as an afterthought, Ragna had said, "Though this isn''t exactly battlefield advice." Even Ragna must have realized how absurd that sounded. Avoid fighting to fix bad habits in the middle of a battlefield? That was as good as telling him to die quietly. But Enkrid managed it. Instead of simply surrendering his life, he excluded death from the equation. And today, for the first time, he showcased his skills in real combat. ''It''s different.'' Until now, he''d fought using mercenary swordsmanship and whatever means necessary to survive. That part hadn''t changed. What had changed was the swordsmanship at the core of his technique. ''I want to learn more.'' His hunger for mastery surged. He couldn''t settle for just the basics. Having singlehandedly decimated two squads, Enkrid stood his ground. The enemy hesitated to approach. For some reason, holding his position allowed Enkrid a clearer view. The sorcerous fog no longer obstructed him. He saw the enemy forming a semicircle before him. Each one held a crossbow. "Fight me like a man, one-on-one," Enkrid taunted, eager to test his skill once more. "You lunatic," muttered someone who seemed to be the enemy squad leader. Twang! The crossbows sang, and quarrels pierced his body. A bolt embedded in his eye brought searing pain. ''It hurts.'' Yet he felt a strange satisfaction. As death loomed, Enkrid recalled his purpose amidst this endless cycle of combat. Ragna had always emphasized the fundamentals. "Train and train again. Fight for your life, and eventually... well, someday it''ll stick." It was an irresponsible statement, yet it held meaning. Enkrid needed more real combat experience. Death''s shadow loomed over him. In his final moments, an enemy soldier looked down at him and said, "What a tenacious bastard." Even then, Enkrid''s grip on his sword remained firm. His blood pooled beneath him. "No matter what, even if you''re dying, never let go of your sword. That''s rule number one." Countless instructors had said it. Ragna said it. Rem had said it. And Enkrid obeyed. "Spit!" An enemy soldier, enraged over his fallen comrades, spat on Enkrid''s face. And that was the end. Morning came. Another new day began. Enkrid reflected on what he had gained from yesterday''s battle. ''I need more real combat experience.'' That was his conclusion. He sought out Ragna once again for guidance. "Your basics are solid, but you fight like someone who''s spent their whole life training alone. Where did you learn swordsmanship?" It was true, as Enkrid had also realized. What he needed now was actual combat. "Here and there." "...Here and there? Hmm, fine, let''s go with that. Anyway, it''s better to train until your body naturally remembers the moves. And whoever your teacher was, they did a great job." That teacher was you. Ragna unknowingly praised himself. Enkrid simply nodded and devoted himself to sparring. And oh, how he enjoyed it. Through repeated battles, Enkrid eventually cut down thirty soldiers on his own. It wasn''t pure skill alone¡ªarrows and bolts rained down constantly. He dodged them, weaving through chaos. Again and again, the days repeated. And he swung his sword once more. Eventually, the so-called basics became a perfect, seamless part of him. "When it comes to fundamentals, there''s nothing more I can teach you." Even Ragna admitted as much, acknowledging Enkrid''s remarkable progress. Chapter 39 - The Flag Flutters and Soldiers Dance with Swords (2) Chapter 39 - 39 - The Flag Flutters and Soldiers Dance with Swords (2) Chapter 39 - The Flag Flutters and Soldiers Dance with Swords (2) "Eyes, feet, hands." Ragna said. "Start with your eyes, move with your feet, and finish with your hands. The sword." Following those words, Enkrid did just that. By seeing with his eyes, he predicted his opponent''s movements, moved with his feet to adjust his position, and let the sword finish the attack. Hmph. In the next battle, Enkrid put that into practice himself. Instead of merely dodging by sight, he predicted and dodged, so his opponent''s strike missed its mark and Enkrid''s own attack landed. The sword''s thrust was merely a confirmation of the attack''s success. Thud! The sword pierced through the opponent''s throat. With a swift motion, Enkrid pulled the sword out, and blood poured out as muscles, nerves, and blood vessels were severed. Immediately after killing the opponent, Enkrid rolled to the ground and struck the shin of another soldier with his pommel. Crack! Since he wasn''t wearing any additional protection, the bone was bound to break. "Ugh!" The man fell, squirming. Enkrid pulled out a quarrel from his side and thrust it into the soldier''s heart. The armor caused the arrow to sink only halfway in. As he stood, Enkrid pressed it down with his foot. Thud¡ª the sound echoed as the quarrel lodged completely in. Enkrid lifted the dead soldier with one hand and tilted him to the side. Thunk¡ª bolts got embedded in the corpse. But Enkrid made a small mistake here. A bolt grazed his thigh with a flick. If his mobility decreased, it would be harder to fight amidst the enemy. Still, he pushed on as far as he could. Thirty-two. He had killed two more in one day, despite a mistake in between. ''Eyes, feet, hands.'' Predicting with his eyes, moving with his feet, and finishing with his hands¡ª it seemed like it would be good to practice this in real combat a few more times. Enkrid continued, and through today''s repetition, he had more or less figured out the enemy''s movements. ''They defend the flag.'' They circled one side. If he charged straight ahead one day, he would rush to the left the next. He had never broken the flag, but he had come dangerously close. Enkrid felt thirst. He felt something was missing. ''Can I not do this alone?'' If that were the case, he could bring along Rem or Ragna, but a sense of stubbornness arose in him. He had learned proper swordsmanship, had honed it. He wanted to take a step further. It wasn''t impatience, but the thought that it was time to move forward kept repeating in his mind. ''I''ll try.'' If this was driven by stubbornness, he could reconsider later. Enkrid had the opportunity to keep going, thanks to today''s repetition. "Who are you?" After several battles, Enkrid came face-to-face with an enemy squad leader. It was a face he didn''t recognize. The man had a rat-like beard. "What do you think?" Enkrid chuckled and answered. Facing death, there was no room for fear. The rat-like bastard of the Aspen Duchy swallowed his saliva and thrust his spear. "You''re a troublesome one." After dying and waking up, it was time for training again. "Complete recovery and fast recovery." Once the concepts of eyes, feet, and hands became familiar, Ragna moved on to the next step. What had started as getting used to the basics had somehow evolved into understanding the history and concepts of swordsmanship. "Luckily, the squad leader and I share the same teachings." It was obvious¡ªRagna had taught him. "I followed the techniques of one of the best instructors. I must have been really lucky." Enkrid spoke words that didn''t seem quite right, but Ragna had no reason not to believe him. Otherwise, it wouldn''t make sense. It was understandable that his skills had improved in a day. He had trained the basics on his own but hadn''t known how to apply them, so this could happen. Of course, this was a very unusual case, but if you didn''t care about it, it was no big deal. The basics of the northern-style longsword had settled in his body, just like moving forward in a concept. What good would it do to analyze it? The squad leader had never questioned his past. Therefore, he had to do the same. "Do you know? Complete recovery and fast recovery." At Ragna''s words, Enkrid nodded. Complete recovery and fast recovery. The concepts of proper sword, heavy sword, swinging sword, fast sword, and soft sword. To explain it further... A perfect, precise sword. A heavy, forceful sword. A mesmerizing, swinging sword. A fast, quicker sword. A soft, flowing sword. Five hundred years ago, a peerless genius was born. He was from a small farm, and he was truly a genius among geniuses. This genius killed a band of marauders who had attacked his farm with nothing but a wooden stick when he was just nine years old. At just nine years old, he killed twelve adult bandits, armed with swords. "This is swordsmanship." The nine-year-old child was precocious. It was said that he had lost his parents when he was young. Seeing the bandits wielding swords, the boy realized the principles of swordsmanship. Later, a nobleman who heard of the boy killing twelve bandits with a wooden stick went to find him. He adopted the boy as his own. Thus, the boy took the family name Oniac. Leonesis Oniac. The genius gained his name in this way. Leonesis had the talent bestowed by the heavens, but he also had the misfortune of an unfortunate body. When he was around ten years old, he contracted a disease that caused his limbs to lose strength. It was an incurable disease that no mage, doctor, or healer on the continent could treat. By the time he was twelve, his entire body was paralyzed. Despite his illness, the Oniac family did not abandon Leonesis. The unfortunate genius was almost forgotten. But when Leonesis turned twenty, he left his mark on the continent''s swordsmanship history, paralyzed. He compiled all the sword styles of his time into five categories, creating a new school of swordsmanship. That was the foundation of complete recovery and fast recovery. Proper sword, heavy sword, swinging sword, fast sword, and soft sword. Despite being unable to move his body, he reshaped the history of swordsmanship. This is also how Oniac became the most powerful family in the empire. The swordsmanship school Leonesis founded was passed down through generations and became the standard. Today, it is divided into five styles: the northern-style longsword, the central-style proper sword and soft sword, the western-style fast sword, the southern-style swinging sword, and the eastern-style technique sword. The continent was divided into five parts, and the development of weapon skills differed in each region. "To use the northern-style longsword, I have developed a technique. It will be more useful than the beast''s guts or whatever." It was yet another sunny and windy day. On this day, Enkrid learned a new technique from Ragna. Rem had taught him the heart of a beast. Jaxen had taught him how to listen. And Ragna taught him the importance of focus. "The principle is simple. Forget everything around you and focus on the opponent with your eyes, focusing solely on what you''re doing. Don''t let anything else enter your vision." The explanation was all over the place. "The basics of the longsword are grounded in the fundamentals. It''s the sword that breaks even when blocked, the sword that cannot be avoided even when known, and the sword that pours all its power into a single strike. That''s what it is. Focus and do it." If you could do it with focus, what would happen to those who couldn''t? "I''ll teach you a bit of the trick." With those words, Ragna''s sword became a beam of light. Even after switching to a different sword, it hadn''t even fully become familiar in his hands, yet the blade was invisible. The arm, which whipped like a whip, couldn''t even be seen. It was just a flash, and something passed by Enkrid''s neck. The blade brushed against the nape of the neck. It was so fast that the realization came only after the neck was cut. The back of the neck became warm. Blood trickled down. "Are you bullying the captain, you bastard?" Rem appeared out of nowhere and glared. Enkrid placed his hand on his neck. ''I almost died.'' It was that dangerous of a strike. The invisible speed had sliced through the skin. "They say that in the moment of death, humans become dozens of times more focused. I''m just helping." "You crazy bastard, what use is learning that kind of skill after you''re dead? You must not know the squad leader. Learning the Heart of the beast took a really, really long time. Huh?" Why emphasize the strange part? Isn''t ''really, really'' too long? Before Enkrid could respond, Ragna snorted. "It''s because the teacher was bad." "Huh? What did you say? You want me to stick an axe in your head?" Rem raised one hand and placed it behind his ear as he spoke. "I''m not an ignorant barbarian. My training methods are rational." Rational, huh? Enkrid pondered the meaning of the word. Both Rem and Ragna were the same to him. "But aren''t you from an extreme northern ethnic group, basically a barbarian?" Ragna''s skin was pale, and his eyes were red¡ªcharacteristics of northern peoples. "Don''t lump us with the western barbarians. It''s unpleasant. Very unpleasant." "...Fine, just die then. After you''re dead, I''ll personally go to the north and bury you." It seemed like another argument was brewing, but Enkrid intervened. "You know what I''m going to say, right?" Even as he interrupted, Ragna cast a glance beyond Enkrid. "I know the squad leader is as slow as a northern ox, but I didn''t know he had this much basic skill." "What''s this? Stop dodging and answer me. I''ll stick an axe in your head." "You crazy barbarian bastard." The northern ox minimizes its movements to withstand the cold. It''s a metaphor used for describing slow humans. Enkrid had been called slow countless times, but there was nothing unfair about it. "You''re supposed to teach me the trick." Enkrid held Ragna back with words and turned his head toward Rem. No words were needed. A simple look was enough. Rem huffed, and when he noticed Enkrid staring at him, he snorted and shouted. "We were told to gather!" Then he turned around and strode toward the barracks. "We should go back." Seeing that, Ragna spoke. As he tried to retrieve his sword, Enkrid grabbed his wrist. "What about the trick?" The thirst for learning was what moved Enkrid. And now, wasn''t he in a position to be taught something new? A single point of focus. Concentrate, it was a technique that Ragna had improved from an ancient method. Enkrid felt a surge of desire. "It won''t be easy." The basics weren''t easy. Adjusting your posture, learning new steps, abandoning what you had, and relearning how to strike and thrust. None of it was easy. Even so, it was enjoyable. A joy followed. The pleasure of growing each day filled his entire being. He had dreamed of becoming a knight, but perhaps it was just because he loved the sword that he had come this far. When he held the sword and swung it, Enkrid was so lost in the joy that he forgot everything else. As he held Ragna''s wrist, Ragna spoke flatly. "You''ll have to face death. When you think you''re going to die, your nerves will become razor-sharp. You have to repeatedly experience that sharpness." It was similar to when he had learned the Heart of the beast. However, while the Heart of the beast sought boldness even in the face of death, the technique Ragna spoke of, the one-point concentration, was the opposite. You had to fight desperately to avoid death. The fear of death would sharpen your nerves like needles. ''Let''s practice alongside real combat.'' Enkrid made a plan in his mind and moved. "Just learning the trick won''t be enough." "Once you learn, let me know how it feels." "It feels like everything around you disappears, and the sword moves as you wish." Ragna answered calmly. Enkrid looked at Ragna''s red eyes. For the first time, he saw a seriousness in them. ''What''s got into him all of a sudden?'' Ragna was unpredictable, but this was the first time he had shown such passion. Hidden passion, burning deep within his eyes, Ragna spoke. "It''s time to go." Enkrid nodded. "Let''s go." *** The battle began again, and mist filled the air. "Sorcery? You bastards." Rem shouted in anger. "Lower your posture!" Ragna shouted at Enkrid, who was charging forward. Before, he would have been busy stopping them, but not now. Now, he knew he wouldn''t be caught off guard by some clumsy soldier. Enkrid ran forward, once again facing enemy soldiers with his eyes, feet, and hands in perfect sequence. ''Start with the Crossbow squad.'' The difference now was that after repeating so many "todays," he had become familiar with the enemy formation. Well, to be precise, it wasn''t that he recognized it with his eyes. He had naturally memorized it. Before the first enemy could thrust his spear, Enkrid closed the gap and thrust his dagger upward. With a sharp thrust, the dagger pierced the chin and roof of the enemy''s mouth. He discarded the dagger and pushed the fallen enemy aside with his shoulder. "Ha!" "Ugh!" The pushed enemy was caught off guard. Taking advantage of that opening, Enkrid threw two daggers. The daggers flew through the air, taking out two enemies by the neck. It was a masterful display. He then drew his longsword and executed a diagonal slash. Clang! A spear''s shaft blocked the blow. Expecting it to be blocked, he used the rebound force to retrieve his sword and cut the enemy''s neck on the other side. Swish! The well-sharpened blade cleanly sliced through the enemy''s neck. Once again, it was a fight. Another battle. The same repeated "today." He fought again and again, and again, people died. And Enkrid fought desperately. The moment he learned the trick, he understood. It wasn''t about boldly facing death; it was about desperately fighting to stay alive. That was the key. Ultimately, death couldn''t be avoided. But that was okay. He would get what he wanted, no matter what. Of course, amidst it all, there would be things he had to do. ''The Flag.'' He had to attack the flag, the medium of the sorcery. Adding a goal to real combat. Enkrid rushed forward. Through repeated "todays," Enkrid had come to understand the movements of the enemy soldiers. The enemy soldiers, trusting the mist, were thrown off by a single surprise attack. Enkrid made full use of that. Chapter 40 - The Flag Flutters and Soldiers Dance with Swords (3) Chapter 40 - 40 - The Flag Flutters and Soldiers Dance with Swords (3) Chapter 40 - The Flag Flutters and Soldiers Dance with Swords (3) Each day began with a lesson from Ragna, focusing on a single point of concentration, followed by plunging into live combat. This had become Enkrid''s routine, repeated endlessly. Countless repetitions. Despite teetering on the edge of death repeatedly, the technique called "a single point of concentration" always seemed within reach yet just out of grasp. Don''t rush. Enkrid shifted his mindset. Let''s start by breaking the flagpole. As the battle resumed, Enkrid pondered ways to minimize losses. Thinking and strategizing¡ªthese were among his greatest strengths. Once again, the mist rolled in¡ªdeathly mist. Appropriately named the Mist of massacre. Of course, Enkrid didn''t know the name of the spell. He only recognized that succumbing to it wasn''t an option. When the mist enveloped them and before Rem could shout anything, Enkrid''s voice rang out first: "Get down!" The warning caught everyone off guard. Even the squad leaders instinctively lowered his head. "Shields up!" When Enkrid shouted again, his allies reflexively raised their shields. Feeling vulnerable without one, he grabbed a shield for himself. Running low to the ground, he angled the shield diagonally. A volley of bolts and arrows thudded into its surface with sharp thunks. The oil-soaked shield performed its job admirably. I should''ve grabbed a shield sooner. In past battles, he''d started fights after being struck by arrows or bolts while charging forward. But those experiences had also taught him how to navigate while dodging projectiles. Thinking as he ran, Enkrid knew from experience that escaping the mist''s influence required closing the distance with the enemy. And so, he pressed on. Suddenly, he sprang to his left, narrowly dodging spear thrusts aimed at where he had been just moments ago. Whoosh! Whoosh! The spears sliced through empty air. He had memorized this pattern. Facing death intentionally just to execute the single-point focus was pointless. He decided instead to fight with every ounce of his being. After dodging the spears, Enkrid rushed forward until he was almost nose-to-nose with the enemy. It was only then that he could make out the figures through the mist. A soldier, face full of shock, peered out from beneath his rounded leather helmet. Enkrid kicked the soldier''s ankle. "Argh!" The man lost balance and fell. Enkrid smashed the edge of his shield against the man''s head. Crunch! The sound of wood splintering rang out. If the soldier survived that blow, it would be sheer luck. Passing by the fallen man, Enkrid drew his longsword. As he unsheathed it, he swung wide, startling three or four nearby enemies trying to close in. Watching them flinch, Enkrid mapped his next route in his mind. This was his reality, repeated daily for over 300 days. He could navigate the terrain blindfolded, knowing the positions of the flagpoles and enemy formations. To the enemy, Enkrid''s movements likely appeared ghostly. *** Ron, a soldier of the Grand Duchy of Aspen, was caught off guard by the movements of a Naurilian soldier who charged forward as soon as the mist descended. Appearing suddenly from the left, the soldier cut down three or four of Ron''s comrades before disappearing¡ªno, it wasn''t vanishing. Upon closer inspection, the enemy was merely crouching low. "Urgh!" "Below us! Watch your feet!" Ron knew the mist surrounding them was a spell or magic. While it didn''t obscure the vision of their allies, thicker patches of mist did obstruct certain areas¡ªlike the ground. In other words, while everything above chest height was clear, the floor was hidden. The enemy seemed to exploit this advantage with precision. "Kill him!" "Damn it!" The chaos was palpable. The enemy moved as if they had ten bodies. Ron tightened his grip, ready to strike the moment the enemy appeared within range. The tension was suffocating. "Argh!" "Gah!" "There he is!" The soldier roamed the misty ground as if it were his domain. Ron swallowed hard, his throat dry. He half-expected a blade to appear before him any second. He even felt the urge to relieve himself. But the enemy still hadn''t shown up. Just as the tension reached its peak¡ª "He''s breaking the flagpole!" A scream erupted from behind. Ron whipped his head around. The squad leader was collapsing forward, and next to him, the enemy rose, parting the mist like a skeleton warrior emerging from the grave. Was he alone? Could one person have caused this much havoc amidst the mist? The enemy gripped his sword with both hands and swung at the flagpole. Thwack! The flagpole snapped in two with a heavy blow, and the banner toppled to the ground. The fabric, once flapping noisily in the wind, now lay silent and still. A puff of dust rose as the flag hit the ground. Through the dust, the enemy appeared to tilt his head as if in curiosity. At least, that''s how Ron perceived it. Then the enemy moved again. "Kill him! Kill him now!" Someone clung to the enemy''s leg, sacrificing themselves to hold him back. It was a noble, selfless act befitting Aspen''s elite troops. The others swarmed him like bees. With two spears impaled into his left side and five quarrels lodged in his thigh, the soldier bled profusely but managed to ask, "Why hasn''t the mist dissipated? Isn''t the flag its medium?" The squad leader''s deputy scoffed in response, taking the fallen leader''s place. "Idiot, do you think there''s only one flag? There are six decoys, and only one is real." The deputy didn''t mince words, knowing the enemy was as good as dead. "So five were fakes, and only one was genuine, huh?" "Crazy bastard." "Why is this single-point focus so difficult? Then again, nothing''s ever been easy." "What nonsense are you rambling about?" "Focus... focus..." "Lunatic." Crack! Ron couldn''t hold back any longer and swung his spear at the enemy''s head. The blow landed, splitting the head open and splattering blood. The soldier convulsed on the ground, spitting blood foam. "Guhhh..." Turning away from the dying man, Ron moved on. This one soldier had disrupted an entire flag unit from completing their mission, but the outcome of the battle was already decided. The Grand Duchy of Aspen was victorious. With the mist in play, defeat was impossible. *** Pain flooded his body as death approached. To escape the agony, Enkrid drifted into thought. How did I learn Heart of the Beast again? The Heart of the Beast was honed by rolling across the battlefield on the brink of death. But the single-point focus still eluded him. Is the boldness granted by the Heart of the Beast getting in the way? No, that didn''t seem to be the issue. Had it been easy, Enkrid would''ve been deemed exceptionally talented. Though it might''ve frustrated others, Enkrid remained calm. There was no need for impatience. If it doesn''t work, I''ll keep trying until it does. Resolute and steadfast, despair and frustration were foreign to him. Death came, and morning followed. He awakened to sunlight and wind, preparing himself anew. "It''s called single-point focus. Will you learn it?" Ragna''s teaching continued like clockwork, and Enkrid nodded each time. No matter how much he learned, he couldn''t fully grasp it. Using the northern-style longsword, he refined its fundamentals under Ragna''s guidance, gaining small insights along the way. One such realization: everything must be learned properly from the beginning. Does fear of death heighten awareness? No matter how hard he tried, it still felt like wearing ill-fitting clothes. That''s when he asked. "How did you learn it?" "I just did." Ragna replied kindly. That made him even more annoying. Why be kind now? It felt better when he was spitting sharp words. "Just like that?" "Yes, I forgot everything around me, focused, and became one with the sword." It wasn''t a boast. His tone was calm and composed. "Is that so?" "Yes, it is." What seemed trivial to Ragna felt like an unreachable star to Enkrid. Still, jealousy or envy didn''t rise. If his spirit was fragile enough to break over this, he wouldn''t have dreamed of becoming a knight in the first place. They repeated the same exercise over and over. Ragna, stopping his sword inches from Enkrid''s face, tried to make him feel the fear of death. In terms of sheer speed, Ragna seemed faster than Rem. When watching them duel, Rem appeared quicker. That duel between them was still vivid in Enkrid''s mind. But facing him firsthand, Ragna felt undeniably faster. "What are you doing? The battle''s calling. What about you? Using the squad leader as a practice dummy because you''re still mad about losing to me last time?" "Who''s losing? Your thick skull?" Why did these two always fight the moment they met? "Let''s just go." Once again, it was the battlefield. Enkrid had learned much through brushes with death. One thing was clear: out of six flags, five were false. "It''s all about making the right choice." It was time to test his luck. This time, he charged toward the enemy before the mist even rose. "...Squad leader?" Ragna''s startled voice came from behind. To anyone watching, his actions must have seemed absurd. "The squad leader''s lost it!" Even Rem shouted. The others muttered, wondering what had come over him. At that moment, the mist rolled in. "What?!" "I can''t see!" Enkrid shouted as he ran. "Get down! Shields up!" He expected them to follow his command instinctively, just like before. But the outcome was different this time. The allied response was delayed. Arrows and bolts rained down, tearing through their ranks. Enemy soldiers armed with spears closed in, thrusting at the panicked allies. "Why?" It was a matter of timing. He had to allow them a moment to catch their breath after their initial shock. He already knew this mistake all too well. It was fine. He''d do better next time. Others might joke that Lady Luck had kissed him or handed him a sack full of coins. But Enkrid knew himself well. He wasn''t particularly lucky. The second flag required an intense battle. Even without achieving perfect focus, his skills improved as real combat layered over his newly acquired basics. "Still a long way to go." For Enkrid, the standard was always Rem and Ragna. It took three grueling days to take down the second banner. When he finally broke it, a dagger-wielding enemy officer coughed up blood while laughing mockingly. "It''s a decoy!" "I know." Enkrid nodded, even as two arrows pierced his thigh. "...What?" "Four more to go." "What did you say?" "Focus. Focus." Was he failing because of his lack of focus? Perfect concentration was still beyond his reach. Ignoring the enemy officer''s taunts, Enkrid summoned every bit of focus he could muster. With daring movements, he deflected enemy spears, dodging and counterattacking with precision. His upward slash, far more refined than before, split an enemy''s jaw, cleaving from mouth to nose. A bolt suddenly struck his side with a dull thud. Thanks to his armor, he wasn''t fatally wounded, but five crossbowmen stood nearby, their weapons aimed. Around 80 enemies guarded the banner. It was an overwhelming number to face alone. "I''ll have to attack the flag while planning my retreat." He thought carefully, calculating his options. To break the flag, to achieve perfect focus, he needed to surpass death itself. The third flag cost him five days. The fourth flag demanded seven. "If I were the enemy commander..." He would hide the final flag in the safest place. Before the mist could roll in, he spent two precious days scanning the enemy formation. And finally, he saw it. The unit protecting the last flag, hidden deep within their lines. This time, Enkrid warned his allies clearly and dashed forward. Everyone stayed low and kept their shields up. "Rem, follow me!" He brought Rem along. "Follow you... what?" "Just follow me!" Shouting, he sprinted forward, and Rem followed reluctantly. "What insane plan is this?" Instead of answering, Enkrid charged toward the flag-guarding unit with Rem at his side. "Just the two of them?!" Enemy soldiers roared in fury. Enkrid skillfully shifted aside, using the mist for cover and leaving the brunt of the fight to Rem. "Who''s casting the spell?" Rem''s voice, cold as icy flames, rang out as he swung his axe. When Enkrid glanced back, he barely saw the axe before an enemy''s head was sent flying. Blood sprayed like a fountain before the body crumpled to the ground. "I''ll get answers from the next one." Rem unleashed his fury. While observing him, Enkrid mentally mapped the enemy''s movements. It took five grueling days to reach the unit guarding the innermost banner. Using his wits, Enkrid avoided a head-on clash, sneaking around the side and keeping low. As he approached the banner stealthily, someone blocked his way. "Am I dreaming?" The man blocking him spoke. Who was this guy? "By the grace of the gods, my wish has been granted. I''ve wanted to kill you with my own hands." Enkrid tilted his head, unable to place the man. "...Forgot me in just a few days?" For this man, it had only been days, but for Enkrid, repeated battles had stretched this campaign into what felt like a year. "Apologies. Could you introduce yourself?" Enkrid asked politely, making veins bulge on the man''s forehead. "Platoon leader of the Grey Hounds, Mitch Hurrier!" Even hearing the name, Enkrid drew a blank. "I see." Nodding, he further enraged Mitch, who glared daggers at him. "You bastard..." Seething, Mitch drew his sword. The sound of steel rang out as he pointed it at Enkrid. Something about it jogged Enkrid''s memory. "Where did I see him...?" "Wait a moment." Enkrid raised a hand, halting Mitch. "What is it?" "I truly don''t remember. Who are you again?" "You''ll remember once I stab you!" Mitch lunged at him, and Enkrid drew his longsword to meet him. Clang! Their blades clashed, the sound echoing as steel sang against steel. The two exchanged blows, and Mitch couldn''t hide his surprise. "This bastard...!" Enkrid''s skills had grown immensely. Chapter 41 - A Single Point of Focus Chapter 41 - 41 - A Single Point of Focus Chapter 41 - A Single Point of Focus Tat-tat-tat-tat. The blade pierced toward the eyes, slashed the shoulder, and then swept downward toward the thigh. Enkrid took everything in: the opponent''s gestures, the movement of his hands and feet, and predicted the next attack. Matching his defense to the predicted trajectory, Enkrid successfully blocked each strike. Sparks flew between them, clearing a portion of the fog. Through it, his opponent''s glowing eyes shone. "The shoulder." The next attack aimed once again at his shoulder. Enkrid swiftly pulled his left foot, which was positioned half a step forward, back. His left shoulder tilted away just as the opponent''s blade shot forward with ferocity. Rotating on his right big toe, he turned his body sideways, narrowly avoiding the strike. The sword brushed past his shoulder with a sharp whizz. Seizing the opportunity, Enkrid shifted into a modified middle stance. From this oblique posture, he swung his sword upward. In swordsmanship terms, the blade''s edge facing the opponent is the "front edge," and the one facing oneself is the "back edge." Swinging upward from a lowered position brought the back edge into play. The back edge of Enkrid''s sword targeted the opponent''s jaw. Expecting his opponent to dodge, Enkrid thought to himself: "Even if he dodges, it''ll create an opening." With this opening, he planned to guide the fight toward his intended conclusion¡ªa skill honed through countless battles. A single step and a coordinated strike were enough to seize victory. "Cocky bastard!" Enraged, the opponent swung his sword horizontally instead of retreating after the thrust to Enkrid''s shoulder. Enkrid ducked quickly to avoid the attack, abandoning his rising strike. Tat-tat! Rather than follow through with his abandoned attack, Enkrid pulled his blade close to his body and raised it above his head to block the next strike. The opponent feigned the horizontal slash, instead lifting his sword and bringing it down in a vertical chop aimed at Enkrid''s crown. Barely deflecting the blow, their swords locked. "Do you think you can take me down with just one step?" the opponent sneered as he pressed down from above. "Why, can''t I?" Enkrid retorted, his voice calm yet sharp. The opponent, who had introduced himself as Mitch Hurrier, flared with anger. He had a knack for expressing his rage through his face alone, his emotions plain for all to see. "You really don''t want to die peacefully, do you?" "Nope. My wish is to grow old and die naturally," Enkrid replied without missing a beat. When it came to provoking others, Enkrid could hold his own against even Rem. No, perhaps he was better at it. A thick vein throbbed visibly on Mitch''s forehead. "Fine. I''ll cut off your limbs and throw you into a cesspool to live until you rot." "Wrong again. I''ll die of old age with my great-grandchildren by my side." "You little¡ª!" Thud! Mitch aimed a kick at Enkrid, who countered it with his own foot. The clash forced both men to retreat, putting a two-step gap between them. Without hesitation, Enkrid swung his sword to close the distance, while Mitch charged forward, relying on his speed. Mitch''s rapid advance left a streak of afterimages, almost as if his body was tearing through space itself. Noting this, Enkrid adjusted his sword''s trajectory and brought it down in a diagonal slash. Clang! Their blades collided once more, the grinding of steel echoing as sparks flew. Enkrid tried to push Mitch back with brute strength, but Mitch''s sword clung to his like glue. In an instant, Mitch twisted his wrist, raising the tip of his blade toward Enkrid''s head. Using the stronger portion of his blade near the hilt, Mitch trapped Enkrid''s sword and shoved forward with precision, even as his ragged breaths betrayed his fury. Ting-ting-ting! The scraping of metal filled the air. If Enkrid didn''t act, his throat would be pierced. Mimicking Mitch''s move, Enkrid twisted his wrist and raised his sword. Ting! The locked blades parted, and sparks flew once again. Mitch immediately deflected Enkrid''s sword, forcing him to block the next relentless strike. This time, Enkrid initiated the attack. From the upper right to the lower left¡ªa diagonal slash. It was a textbook strike, polished through endless training and refined in countless battles. The flowing arc of the slash shone brilliantly as it descended toward Mitch. The step, the timing, the posture, and the strike¡ªall came together in perfect harmony. But Mitch intercepted the slash with his own blade. The moment their swords met, Enkrid felt as if he had struck something soft, like cotton, rather than a blade. Mitch''s sword deflected Enkrid''s strike with a gentle curve, then reversed direction. Its back edge now descended toward Enkrid''s head. Mitch traced a small circle with his wrist, redirecting the momentum effortlessly. "Hup!" Enkrid inhaled sharply, realizing he had no time to block. He twisted his body to the side just in time to avoid the blow. Whoosh! Mitch''s blade slashed through the space where Enkrid''s head had been, leaving him off-balance. The next strike grazed Enkrid''s right forearm, leaving a shallow but bleeding wound. There was no time for words. ''The abdomen.'' Enkrid deflected the thrust aimed at his gut, evaded the next diagonal slash targeting his thigh, and retaliated with a horizontal slash to create distance. But Mitch didn''t relent. Instead of retreating, Mitch swung upward, closing the gap between them. Their swords danced in an intense exchange of blows. Enkrid was forced into a defensive stance, barely managing to block and dodge each attack. ''Upper strike, diagonal, thrust.'' He poured everything he had into his movements¡ªthe foundation of his training, honed through battles. He slashed, thrust, retreated, and pressed forward. He even used his feet when necessary. But Mitch read every move, blocking or evading as needed, leaving Enkrid with only minor opportunities. The wounds on Enkrid''s body accumulated: his arm, shoulder, and thigh all bore cuts. His movements slowed as the injuries piled up. Even his helmet was knocked off, a strike grazing his forehead and leaving a bleeding gash. Blood streamed from his forehead, splattering with each movement. ''The shoulder.'' There was no time to breathe or think¡ªonly to react, defend, and counter. Enkrid managed to land a few strikes, but only at the cost of taking several himself. Still, he remained focused. Each breath was a fight for survival. Mitch, too, felt the strain. When Mitch first encountered this madman attacking their camp, he thought him unskilled. The man''s limits were obvious even after a few exchanges. But now... In just a few days, this same man had grown so much that Mitch wondered if he was even the same person. "Is he a twin?" Distracted by the thought, Mitch almost paid dearly when Enkrid''s blade narrowly missed piercing his throat. "This bastard." Shaking off the distraction, Mitch focused entirely on killing his opponent. And so did Enkrid. They were locked in a deadly rhythm: evade, block, counter. Openings appeared but were too dangerous to exploit. Hesitating in this battle was akin to boarding the ferryman''s boat on the River of Death. But even if he were to die today, Enkrid resolved to live each moment with purpose. That was why each passing day mattered more. ''The chest. No, the abdomen.'' Enkrid evaded a deceptive thrust. He deflected and diverted the blade, which fell from above like an eagle swooping down. The deflection was clumsy, lacking refinement¡ªit was closer to blocking than truly diverting. Enkrid''s use of the heavy sword style relied heavily on overpowering the opponent with raw strength. In contrast, he occasionally mixed in precise sword styles and flowing techniques. The precise sword style followed strict patterns, cornering the opponent into counterable situations. The flowing sword style, on the other hand, diverted attacks to create openings. Clang. Blades met, emitting a heated resonance. Enkrid was fully focused, unable to let his guard down for even a moment. Even a blink could spell defeat. In this exchange of blows, nothing else mattered. Thoughts of flags, victory, or swordsmanship evaporated. All that remained was the act of slashing, thrusting, and swinging at the opponent before him. The world faded, leaving only one thing: the sword and himself, himself and the sword. The opponent''s blade, the sword, and the opponent. Eventually, even himself and his opponent disappeared. Lost in the moment, Enkrid achieved a state of selflessness. Only the sword remained. The rhythm of swinging, cutting, thrusting, blocking, and evading filled every fiber of Enkrid''s being. An endless euphoria rose, fueling an insatiable desire. Clang! Clang! Clink! Bang! Shiiing! Steel met steel in countless variations, each clash producing a symphony of noise. But nothing lasts forever. Knowing this, Enkrid thought, Just a little longer. He instinctively understood that this wasn''t a moment that could easily be recreated. He had felt this once before¡ªcleanly cutting through an opponent without resistance. It was a perfect strike, an experience he had spent years trying to replicate without success. Even now, while he wished this moment would last forever, he knew it wouldn''t. Bang! A heavy sword strike descended, imbued with Enkrid''s full intent. His opponent skillfully diverted the force, creating an opening in Enkrid''s guard. Thud! The opponent didn''t miss. A blade, like a heated skewer, pierced Enkrid''s chest. "Phew..." With a sword embedded in his chest, Enkrid''s arms stopped. His limbs trembled from the strain of full exertion. Lowering his weapon with trembling hands, Enkrid looked up to see his opponent, drenched in sweat. "I remember now," Enkrid said, blood trickling from his lips. "Finally?" "You''re the guy from the fire, aren''t you?" Being struck seemed to jog his memory. The encounter had been memorable. "Mitch Hurrier. Platoon Leader of the Aspen Principality." "Enkrid, Squad Leader of the Naurilia Kingdom." Both men were drenched in blood and sweat, as though caught in a storm. They stared at each other in silence. For the first time, Enkrid felt no animosity toward the man who had stabbed him. He only yearned to fight him again. Mitch''s face remained stoic, but his eyes betrayed a change. The rage had subsided, replaced by something indescribable. "The dream is over," Mitch said. A dream? Oh. "It was a lie. What kind of swordsman wishes to die of old age." "Right. Now die already." With that, Mitch withdrew his blade. The searing pain spread, making Enkrid''s mind go blank. He dropped to one knee, blood pouring from his mouth. "Is it an enemy attack?" Aspen soldiers had encircled them. One of them stepped closer, speaking. When did they get here? Enkrid glanced around. The area was swarming with enemies. "Yes, he slipped in to strike from behind. It seems he''s skilled in ambush tactics." "Pity, isn''t it, Platoon Leader?" "...No, it isn''t." Mitch stared at Enkrid. Truthfully, he felt a pang of regret. Finding an opponent of this caliber was rare. The fight had brought him to a realm he had never experienced before. Regret was inevitable. Yet, Enkrid''s expression was devoid of such emotions. Instead, he looked relieved, like a child holding a wooden sword for the first time. "What are you?" Mitch asked, confused. But Enkrid wasn''t listening anymore. He was dying, and a single thought consumed him. Ragna, you fool. It''s not the fear of death you need. What was necessary wasn''t the intensity of near-death focus but an opponent who could push you to your limits¡ªsomeone who could elevate your skills and emotions through mutual risk. A true rival. In that sense, Mitch Hurrier was perfect. He was a rival worthy of the title. As Enkrid lay dying, he realized this. The sensations and clarity he had experienced moments ago were what Ragna referred to as a single point of focus. He had achieved it. And he now knew he could chase that experience again. That fleeting moment could be recreated, though it wouldn''t be easy. Mitch Hurrier''s existence made it possible. Knowing this, how could he not smile? Seeing the path ahead, Enkrid died with a grin. "Was he insane?" Mitch could only tilt his head, puzzled by the sight of Enkrid smiling in death. Chapter 42 - A Stroke of Luck Chapter 42 - 42 - A Stroke of Luck Chapter 42 - A Stroke of Luck Ragna, while discussing the Single focus poing technique, asked: "Are you going to learn it?" "Of course." Enkrid didn''t hesitate. When did he become this skilled? The foundational techniques of the northern-style greatsword were solidly ingrained in him. Not merely as postures learned by swinging in empty air but honed through combat, seamlessly integrated into his body. Impressive. The squad leader was a truly fascinating individual. Just yesterday, he had relied primarily on the Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship. Today, however, he displayed a rock-solid foundation. "Where did you learn your swordsmanship?" "It cost a lot of money." He hinted at having trained under a swordsmanship instructor. It must''ve been a fortune, thought Ragna. That much was evident. Even if he had personally intervened, the results wouldn''t have been better than this. Thus, it made sense to teach him beyond the basics¡ªhence the introduction of the "Concentrated Point" technique. Still, Ragna harbored doubts as he explained it. Learning doesn''t mean mastering. Although he had developed the technique, it was originally a secret passed down within his family. Naturally, he hadn''t revealed the technique in its pure form¡ªhe''d modified and refined it before teaching. So, calling it his creation wasn''t entirely inaccurate. Not that I''ve ever seen anyone succeed. In all his years wandering the continent, Ragna had encountered fewer than five individuals who could enter the state of absolute concentration. More like three, he corrected himself. Of the supposed five, two had merely stumbled upon success by sheer luck, like arrows hitting a wolf''s head by accident. Only three had truly mastered it. Achieving this level of focus required talent¡ªa rare gift. Forgetting one''s surroundings and immersing oneself completely wasn''t an easy task. This ability wasn''t limited to swordsmanship. Scholars in their fields, for instance, displayed such focus when studying and learning. Those truly skilled could even consciously put themselves in such a state when needed. However, achieving such focus during a battle was an entirely different challenge. It''s near impossible. Even Ragna, who had mastered "Concentrated Point," did so only after a significant ordeal. Enkrid wouldn''t find it easy. Yet the glimmer in Enkrid''s eyes told a different story. "Aren''t you going to explain? Skip the basics¡ªI already understand those. Just teach me the ''Concentrated Point.''" How could someone be so steadfast? Ragna felt as though he were gazing at a mighty tree¡ªone that stood tall against typhoons and lightning strikes, unmoving and unyielding. Despite the technique being akin to chasing clouds, the squad leader declared he would learn it, nodding as if he already grasped its essence. It almost seemed believable. Enkrid had always been sincere, whether training, swinging his sword, or tackling any task head-on with his best effort. Perhaps that dedication was why Ragna decided to teach him. "I think I get it," said Enkrid. Ragna nodded, though he suspected Enkrid might have misunderstood. It was an encouraging nod. Ragna was well aware of the limits of talent. Most geniuses never looked down to see the ground beneath their feet, but Ragna had wandered the continent, observing the struggles of those below. He had ventured underground, conversed with its dwellers, and crossed blades with them. Talent. How many had fallen victim to those two syllables? The squad leader would likely be no different¡ªit was the natural order of things. Yet his refusal to give up inspired Ragna. It was selfish, but Enkrid''s determination allowed Ragna to keep walking his own path. Thus, he resolved to teach him with all his might. "Forget your surroundings, forget yourself, and focus solely on what remains. That''s ''Concentrated Point.'' It''s similar to how people say their past flashes before their eyes in life-threatening moments. That experience could be a useful reference." "I see. Got it," Enkrid replied. Strangely, he seemed to brush off the explanation. That''s not like him. He wasn''t someone to give up because he thought something was impossible. Despite Ragna''s attempts to push Enkrid into a state of focus¡ªby using his sword to heighten the tension¡ªEnkrid failed to achieve it. "Alright, let''s go." Still, Enkrid stepped onto the battlefield with a bright expression. Seeing this, Ragna felt a surge of motivation. "Guess I''ll put in some real effort today." Ordinarily, Ragna would have lazily swung his sword, embodying the stereotype of a lethargic genius. But not today. Enkrid watched Ragna with a calm gaze. What''s gotten into him? Well, taking the fight seriously wasn''t a bad thing. Leaving the determined Ragna behind, Enkrid focused on his own actions. Another day had begun. Ragna''s training method for "Concentrated Point" was flawed. Or rather, the method¡ªdeveloped and mastered by a natural genius¡ªdidn''t suit him. Then is my way correct? Only time would tell. What''s the solution? I''ll test it. *** Enkrid moved along a familiar route, directing allies to take positions with shields and calling for Rem. "Rem! Who''s their shaman?" Rem, busy deciphering enemy sorcery, seemed agitated. "Follow me!" Enkrid tapped Rem on the shoulder. "Huh?" "Charge." "What? Squad leader, are you crazy?" Despite his words, Rem followed. Unexpectedly, Ragna joined as well. "Is this a charge? If we''re breaking the enemy vanguard, I''m in." "What''s wrong with both of you?" Rem muttered, but Ragna ignored him and charged ahead. Though the area was shrouded in mist, it barely hindered their movements. Rem moved like a storm, dual axes crushing everything in his path. He seemed ready to mow down an entire infantry unit of eighty soldiers alone. Ragna resembled a massive battering ram, demolishing the infantry line as if it were a castle wall. Slow yet unrelenting, he showed no mercy, cutting down everything¡ªfrom flying bolts to incoming spears¡ªwith a single arming sword. At least high-tier. In the Naurilia Kingdom, "high-tier" referred to soldiers surpassing the advanced level. Above high-tier lay peak-tier and then top-tier. Or perhaps peak-tier. Enkrid wasn''t sure of his own level yet, making it harder to gauge theirs. Regardless, this wasn''t the time for idle speculation. Following the same route, Enkrid confronted Mitch Hurrier. "Let''s settle this." This time, he initiated the challenge. Mitch, momentarily surprised, laughed. "You''re insane, walking to your death like this." He wasn''t wrong. Killing Mitch wouldn''t guarantee survival. But it didn''t matter. Enkrid wasn''t here to die¡ªhe was here to give his all. "You came for me? Unbelievable. This is a first." Mitch seemed genuinely baffled. "Why? Is this your first time being confessed to? I fell for you at first sight," Enkrid joked. Mitch chuckled but quickly narrowed his eyes. "My squad, the Grey Hounds, are relentless pursuers. It''s been ages since someone pursued me first." "Feeling left out? Should I hide so you can hunt me down?" "Enough nonsense." Mitch charged. Enkrid steadied his breathing, trying to enter a focused state. He failed. The fight ended quickly¡ªMitch outclassed him in skill, willpower, and talent. A single technique wasn''t enough to challenge such an opponent. "What made you think you could take me on? How did you even get this far?" Enkrid''s lungs and intestines were shredded by Mitch''s blade. His insides felt as though hot coals had been shoved into them¡ªa searing, unbearable pain. "I trusted myself. I made a mistake this time, but I''ll get it right next time." Reliving the same day wouldn''t make repeating this experience any easier. "What?" "Next time, I''ll succeed." Just as he had once entered a focused state and attained enlightenment, Enkrid now felt a faint glimmer of realization. "Even if I let you go, you''ll die. What''s the next move?" "Isn''t he insane? Don''t engage, Platoon leader." Swish! One of the enemy soldiers beside him drew his sword and pressed it against Enkrid''s neck. Without waiting, Enkrid twisted his neck, letting the blade cut deep into him. Rip. The blade had been sharpened well, leaving a searing pain as a deep wound opened on his neck. The agony from his neck and stomach flared simultaneously, a pain so intense it felt like death itself. Barely holding on, enduring what felt like the threshold of death, Enkrid opened his mouth. "See you again." Leaving those final words, he bled out and died. The day began anew. Enkrid sought out Mitch Hurrier again. "Nice to see you, my friend." "...You came looking for me, didn''t you?" "Yep. That''s right. I''m here for you, the tenacious lover and Grey Hound platoon leader. Let''s have a go." "You''re out of your mind." They clashed again. This time, Enkrid realized his mistake. ''You can''t force it.'' If you think too hard about focusing, you end up trapped in those thoughts. Then what''s the answer? It''s simple: go back to the beginning. Move with the opponent''s blade, let your sword match their rhythm as if in a dance. Fight and fight again. It took eighteen resets of the day using the same approach. Only then did Enkrid manage to regain that state of focus. It was such an overwhelming joy that even as one arm was severed and he fell to the ground, he couldn''t help but smile. The joy eclipsed the pain. "You''re smiling?" Seeing this, Mitch swung his blade, ending it. Another reset. And so it went, again and again, until success. If someone had been watching, they''d call him relentless, tenacious beyond measure. But for Enkrid, this wasn''t about persistence. Entering that state of focus¡ªperfecting his swordsmanship through real combat against a worthy opponent¡ªwas pure satisfaction. After 28 iterations of today, Enkrid had a grasp of focus. After 48 iterations, he could summon a pinpoint focus deliberately. After 94 iterations, he could call upon that focus whenever he wanted. A perfect focus. It was complete control over his sword and body. With that achieved, his strength was paired with finesse. Once he had mastered pinpoint focus, he took it a step further. "Teach me." He returned to Ragna to learn more. When he demonstrated his newly honed focus, Ragna frowned. "What''s this?" "Why?" "It feels like you''ve already learned this somewhere. But this isn''t something that can just be taught. Are you... a genius?" A genius? He''d had the sheer luck of grueling experience and over a hundred repetitions to finally ingrain it. Enkrid knew he lacked natural talent, but he didn''t dwell on it. All he felt was joy in the moment. And so, repeating today again, he replied with words that now felt second nature: "Just lucky." "You call this luck?" Ragna was incredulous. Watching him, Enkrid realized it was time to leave this endless loop. Having distilled the essence of pinpoint focus, he feigned being a genius and, after leaving Ragna with this impression, turned away. "Where are you going?" "To see the company commander." Ragna didn''t stop him. He couldn''t help but marvel at the uncanny precision Enkrid displayed¡ªlike a meticulously crafted sculpture made from endless effort, not something grasped at a glance. "How is that even possible?" Pondering, Ragna soon dismissed the thought. There was no answer to be found in idle musings. Better to leave it alone. Watching the captain like that was enough to ignite his own determination. Enkrid, noticing the renewed fire in Ragna''s eyes, thought to himself, "At least today''s given him some motivation." ''I need to focus on my own task.'' There was no time to dwell on Ragna. In this battle, no matter what, their side would face near-total annihilation unless two things happened: First, the mist of massacre had to be lifted. Second, the allied forces needed to take cover while the fog cleared. Both couldn''t be done at once. Enkrid had only one body. Breaking the enemy''s flagpole was just one problem; even after a surprise attack, he''d have to escape the heart of enemy territory. He had no intention of being trapped in today. He would break through the enemy''s strategy and shatter it completely. "I need to see the company commander." He approached the 4th platoon leader. "...Now?" With the approaching battle palpable, the entire unit''s nerves were taut. Asking to meet the company commander now was bound to raise eyebrows. The platoon leader, reclining on a field bed with his spear leaned against the tent wall, stood up. "Yes, now." "Why?" "I remembered something from our last reconnaissance mission." The 4th platoon leader studied Enkrid carefully before nodding. Cracking sounds came from his knees as he stretched, then he asked: "What is it?" "It seems the Aspen is hiding something¡ªa curse." "A curse?" "Yes." The platoon leader hesitated, skeptical, before recalling that Enkrid wasn''t one to spout nonsense. He quickened his steps. If something needed saying, it had to be said. Judgment would be up to the company commander. Soon, they arrived at the commander''s tent. "You wanted to see me?" The green-eyed fairy commander asked. The tent was cozy, with a short torch crackling softly. Enkrid nodded. "Yes." "What is it?" The fairy''s tone was cold, suggesting this had better be important. "A curse." Enkrid didn''t mince words. "A curse?" "A flagpole and flag, along with someone in the enemy ranks¡ªa shaman." Thanks to the countless repetitions of today, Enkrid''s memories were clear, though faint. He adjusted his words slightly to make his claim persuasive. If this wasn''t convincing, he''d simply try again. ''That''s the privilege of someone who repeats today.'' Fortunately, the fairy commander listened intently. "Tell me more." "Of course." He explained hearing enemy soldiers shouting about their shaman. The fairy commander''s eyes gleamed. Enkrid avoided mentioning the mist; that would be too much. Curses were secretive arts, rarely shared beyond their practitioners. Recognizing one at a glance was implausible. He stopped there. The rest was up to the commander''s judgment. Returning to his position at the frontline, Enkrid prepared himself. It was time to surpass Mitch Hurrier and break the flagpole. "This is as far as I can go." The rest was up to the leadership. "Hoo." Now was the time to break free from today''s loop. Chapter 43 - Mitch Hurrier Chapter 43 - 43 - Mitch Hurrier Chapter 43 - Mitch Hurrier The Duchy of Aspen was governed by three prominent families, with the Hurrier family representing martial strength. Every child born into the Hurrier family, regardless of gender, was taught martial arts. After assessing their talents, only the most promising children were selected for advanced training. Talent, by its nature, is capricious, a game of chance dictated by the whims of fortune. To gather such talent, the Hurrier family sought individuals from both direct and collateral branches without discrimination. Mitch Hurrier was one such individual. Born into a collateral branch, he had a different family name initially, but now, he was one of the Hurrier family. Mitch Hurrier had shown extraordinary talent from a young age. At fifteen, he could take on multiple adult soldiers. The following year, he surpassed the standard of a regular soldier. By eighteen, he proved his skill by defeating a swordsman at the village-level in a one-on-one duel. By twenty-two, he could spar with individuals renowned across a city and hold his own. Those who could rival him in swordsmanship were few, even rarer among his peers. Such an environment nurtured arrogance in him. "Why bother with relentless training when I can achieve it after a few tries?" Why should he train until his thighs ached and swelled? Why should he swing his sword until his palms bled? He didn''t want to. He was content with the present. Unlike the early days of wielding a sword, he no longer put in much effort. Even so, his innate talent alone placed him among the top three fighters in the Grey Hounds. For Mitch, this situation was unprecedented. Clang! The downward strike of his sword was deflected from below. Distracted for a moment, he felt the opponent''s blade graze his shoulder. Mitch retaliated by thrusting his sword and kicking at his opponent''s shin. This was a tactic he often used against weaker opponents. It wasn''t easy to block a kick aimed at the legs while preoccupied with the sword. Even if the kick was intercepted, it would create an opening. However, his opponent dodged the thrust by twisting their shoulder and blocked the kick by lifting one leg, maintaining perfect balance. This opponent had solid fundamentals. "This wasn''t his level a few days ago," Mitch thought, recalling their earlier encounter. The opponent had approached without hesitation, casually saying: "Hello, nice to meet you. Shall we risk our lives on a duel?" He recognized the face¡ªit was that soldier. The one from the enemy unit that had launched a surprise attack. Despite the obscuring mist spreading across the battlefield, how had they made it here? There was no time to ponder further. The opponent lunged with their sword, extending it in a straight line. Clang! Blocking the strike, Mitch thought it might be another feint operation. Thus, he instructed his men to protect the rear while he handled this foe. If the flag fell, the operation would face significant setbacks. Protecting it was his duty here. The enemy soldier countered with a strike aimed at Mitch''s head. Mitch intercepted the sword, deflecting it diagonally in a cross-pattern. Tiiing! The blades screeched as they slid past one another. Both fighters pushed with force, creating a gap of over five paces between them. Before either could strike again, Mitch spoke. "Were you hiding your skill?" "It just turned out that way." "What''s your name?" "Enkrid." This was the person Mitch had been dying to face¡ªa foe he needed to kill to feel satisfied. And now, they had come to him of their own accord. Mitch licked his lips. "Alright, Enkrid. I''ll remember your name." "No need to. I can always remind you later." "Crazy bastard. You''re going to die here." Mitch raised his sword above his left shoulder. Having clashed several times, he had gauged Enkrid''s skill. It was now time to showcase his full strength. He believed he could sever Enkrid''s neck within five exchanges. And so, five exchanges passed. Mitch furrowed his brows. Frustration crept into his expression. This was a first for him. The opponent wasn''t overwhelmingly superior, yet they managed to keep up, just barely. Yet it felt as though they knew all his habits¡ªblocking, enduring, and countering his attacks. Mitch increased his speed and threw in feints, but the battle still didn''t end. As the clash dragged on, his focus narrowed. The world faded, leaving only the sword and his opponent. Mitch Hurrier felt as if he were holding a sword for the first time again. That sensation when only he and his blade existed under the vast sky. When every strike felt as if it would cleave the opponent, and every thrust felt as if it would pierce them. Mitch fought with that same clarity. He struck downward, curved his attacks, extended his reach, thrust, and spun his strikes. And his opponent did the same. Enkrid entered a state of heightened focus, exchanging blows with Mitch in that state. The countless repetitions of that day had made Mitch''s habits glaringly obvious. Blocking the kicks and parrying the sword strikes became second nature. But then, the opponent''s swordplay changed. The strikes grew fiercer, sharper¡ªthrusting, twisting, slashing, with the blade spinning. Clang! Bang! Thud-thud-thud! When the blades clashed with full force, sparks flew. Several strikes grazed Enkrid''s shoulder and side, drawing blood. Though the wounds weren''t deep, droplets of blood splattered into the air, and at least three moments passed where his life hung by a thread. In those moments, Enkrid''s focus deepened. Deeper still. He intentionally drove himself further into the state, discarding awareness of his surroundings. He and his sword became the entire world. Every fiber of his being was fully attuned. Only Mitch Hurrier''s sword filled his vision. Likewise, Mitch Hurrier saw only Enkrid''s blade. The two fought like madmen. Every strike was a gamble for their lives. Even the spectators were breathless as deadly blows were exchanged. Having failed to decapitate each other, both bore fresh cuts on their necks. In his concentrated state, Mitch deployed his ultimate technique. He shifted his stance, stepping back with his left foot and forward with his right, creating an unfamiliar distance. He let his sword hang behind his hip, obscuring its tip. "Hup." With a short breath, he tensed his muscles. This technique combined defensive and offensive elements. It was a devastating reverse swing called Wheel Slash, drawing a wide arc from below. By altering his stance to conceal the sword''s starting point, Mitch created an unblockable strike. Enkrid, now in an even deeper state of immersion, had gained more than just swordsmanship from this duel. "I see it." He couldn''t visually perceive it, but every movement Mitch made played out vividly in his mind. His sharpened hearing caught every detail¡ªthe sound of shifting feet, the controlled breaths as Mitch adjusted his stance. The countless times he had faced Wheel Slash in the past imprinted an unmistakable image in his mind. He felt as though he could see the hidden blade and even hear Mitch''s breaths. All this information came together to predict the timing of the Wheel Slash. Whoosh. The blade carved through the air, rising from below with a deadly arc. In his hyper-focused state, Enkrid instinctively brought his sword down to meet the strike. Enkrid''s sword collided with the incoming blade of his opponent, Mitch, with a sharp clang. The sheer force of their clash caused a crack to form in Enkrid''s weapon. Mitch''s momentary surprise at his countered strike disrupted his focus, but Enkrid remained unwavering. Taking advantage of the opening, Enkrid allowed his blade to slide along Mitch''s, producing an eerie, screeching sound as the metal surfaces scraped against each other. Mitch instinctively tried to lift his sword, but Enkrid pressed down with superior strength, leveraging his training and physical power. The downward force overpowered Mitch''s upward resistance, sending Mitch''s weapon off balance. In a swift follow-up, Enkrid lunged forward, his sword tip piercing Mitch''s chest. Though Mitch wore armor, the impact drove deep, leaving a bleeding wound. Retrieving his sword quickly, Enkrid stepped back to catch his breath, his body trembling from the exertion. Mitch staggered, blood pooling from his chest wound. He managed to stay on his feet, glaring defiantly at Enkrid. "I should''ve countered... If I''d deflected and created an opening, I''d have had the upper hand. You agree, don''t you?" "Victory is determined by results," Enkrid replied. "Fair enough," Mitch admitted with a bitter laugh. "Still, it stings. I should never have neglected my training." His vision blurred as blood loss took its toll, but before Enkrid could deliver the finishing blow, reinforcements arrived. A burly man with a thick mustache blocked Enkrid''s path, slamming a weapon onto Enkrid''s sword. The impact forced Enkrid back a few steps. "Protect Mitch!" the mustached man shouted, as soldiers moved to shield the wounded Mitch. One of them applied a powder to his chest, quickly staunching the bleeding. Enkrid analyzed the mustached man. His breathing was labored, but his stance revealed no openings. It was clear this man had experience. Even so, Enkrid wasn''t here for duels; he had an objective. "You think bigger conduits for sorcery are more flawed, don''t you?" Enkrid asked, watching as Mitch was carried away. His question caught the mustached man off guard, his eyes narrowing. Enkrid seized the distraction, kicking up dirt and grass into the man''s face before bolting toward the enemy banner. Crossbow bolts whizzed through the air. One grazed Enkrid''s shoulder, but he pressed on, weaving through the enemy lines. As he neared the banner, he grabbed a discarded throwing knife and launched it at the flag. The heavy fabric resisted the blades, leaving only minor damage. Undeterred, Enkrid reached for a fallen spear, hurling it with all his strength. The spear pierced the banner, tearing a hole in it. The magical conduit was compromised, disrupting the enemy''s sorcery. A veil of mist began lifting from the battlefield as Enkrid took a deep breath of relief. The mustached man, enraged by the sight, roared, "You think you''ll escape alive after this, you madman?" Enkrid raised his sword, aligning it with his body for defense. There was still work to be done. Chapter 44 - The Blue-Eyed Savior Chapter 44 - 44 - The Blue-Eyed Savior Chapter 44 - The Blue-Eyed Savior The fairy company commander twitched her ears. At the same time, the events unfolding around her became vividly etched in her mind as if she could see them directly. The heightened sensitivity of her five senses was a natural gift of the fairy race. Relying on her hearing, she took two steps to the right. Swish. She positioned herself directly in front of an enemy soldier thrusting a spear. Her location placed her at the vanguard of her allies. The fairy company commander struck upward at the enemy''s spear shaft. At the exact moment the shaft was deflected, the blade in her hand sliced through the air like a leaf riding the wind, piercing the enemy soldier''s neck before retracting. Thunk! Squirt! Blood spurted from the punctured neck. She flicked her sword downward, scattering the blood on the blade to the ground. Then she continued moving. Staying in one place would only make her a target for quarrels. As she ran, the fairy company commander wielded her leaf-shaped sword. Ting! Two bolts struck her blade and ricocheted off. The weapon she held was called "Naidyr." Shorter and sharper than ordinary swords, it resembled a sleek leaf, a design unique to the fairy race. With a hilt that seemed to seamlessly emerge from the blade, the weapon brought to mind a small boat or leaf when unsheathed. Fairy swordsmanship blended three forms: flexible, precise, and rapid techniques. Naidyr was a weapon tailored to this unique style. What the company commander displayed now was a masterful demonstration of such swordsmanship. No soldier could withstand her ability to deflect, parry, and strike as quickly as a beam of light. "This isn''t good." Even while dispatching enemies with precision, the fairy company commander felt a grim sense of foreboding. Had sorcery always been this dangerous? She had once faced a berserker cursed with a spell. Berserkers, charging heedlessly despite their wounds, were dangerous and violent but temporary. They were not the kind of threat that could overwhelm an entire battlefield. Her knowledge of sorcery was limited to that. So when the fog rolled in, she was caught completely off guard. How could this be sorcery? Thankfully, her preparation had paid off, and her response was timely. The moment the fog appeared, she commanded her unit to form a tight circular formation. When shouts of "Get down!" and "Shields up!" rang out, she ensured those orders were executed without hesitation. Her sub-leaders frantically repeated her commands like parrots, helping to maintain order amidst the chaos. Suddenly losing visibility was enough to send anyone into panic. It was no wonder the situation seemed dire. Still, the fairy company commander did her duty. Breaking formation, she single-handedly attacked the enemy vanguard, cutting them down and piercing through their ranks. If she didn''t act, her allies would soon face annihilation. While the 1st Company might hold, others wouldn''t last long. "Damn rotten bastard." She silently cursed the battalion commander. Rotten potato sprouts were poisonous, and the fairy race often used botanical metaphors. When potatoes sprout, the sprouts must be cut off before consumption. If not, the poison would accumulate in the body. The current battalion commander was just like those sprouts. In such a situation, the command unit should be devising a strategy, but the battalion commander issued no orders. No signals, no shouts¡ªnothing. He had always led with complacency, relying on his connections. She had warned him countless times about preparing for sorcery, but he never seemed to take it seriously. This kingdom was like a moldy peach¡ªrotten to the core. How could they deploy someone so useless as a battalion commander to the frontlines? "Even with luck..." Would even ten out of a hundred soldiers survive? The fog blinded her allies¡ªa fatal disadvantage. As she predicted a grim outcome, the fog suddenly lifted. "Huh?" The fairy company commander halted, Naidyr in hand. She was startled. The fog had disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared. The enemy soldiers were even more bewildered than she was. "Huh?" The enemy spearman directly in front of her froze, unable to thrust his weapon. Her confusion was brief. She had fought well even amidst the fog. Without hesitation, she swung Naidyr. Tracing a perfect arc in the air, the blade sliced through the enemy''s throat. "Urk!" Another enemy fell. The company commander judged this as the decisive turning point. There was no time to ponder why the fog had vanished. "Everyone, turn around! Counterattack!" Her shout ignited a chorus of responses. "Charge! Charge! CHAAARGE!" "Kill them! Kill them all!" "You bastards!" "We''ll slaughter every last one of you!" "The flower of the battlefield!" "Infantry!" The shift in morale transformed the tide of battle. The fairy company commander reclaimed her place, allowing her unit to surge forward. "Company commander!" The leader of the 1st Platoon called out. "Wipe them out." She replied, her voice firm. The platoon leader responded with a battle cry. "Arghhh!" The oppressive atmosphere that had weighed on the allies lifted in an instant. Only then did the fairy company commander wonder why the fog had disappeared. "Could it be...?" That squad leader? Though she had no concrete reason, she instinctively thought it might be him. Her intuition, sharp as ever, pointed to him. *** The commander of Aspen Kingdom''s independent company, Grey Hounds, was blocking the retreat path. It was precisely where the fog ended. All he had to do was kill the fleeing enemies. Panicked soldiers running for their lives were easy targets. But then, the fog dissipated. "What''s this? Why did the fog clear?" "Commander, the enemy is turning around." The Green Pearl Plain offered no cover to obscure vision. From their position, the Grey Hounds soldiers could clearly see Naurilia Kingdom troops reversing their charge. The commander quickly assessed the situation. Whether the sorcerer had bungled the spell or it had backfired, something had gone wrong. If things continued like this, their strategy would fall apart entirely. "Attack their rear! Don''t break through; slice through their flanks as we advance! Follow me!" The commander sprinted forward, leading his men to strike the rear of the Naurilia forces. By doing so, they intended to assist their allies in retreating from the frontlines. "Whoever disrupted this fog..." The Grey Hounds commander cursed under his breath, vowing to punish the culprit severely. *** Enkrid realized his calculations had been severely off. A bolt lodged in his right shoulder blade rendered him unable to wield his sword effectively with his right hand. His opponent was slightly better than Mitch Hurrier in skill. Even when he tried to focus on a single point, spearmen suddenly lunged at him from behind. No, spearmen targeting his back were the least of his worries. Five crossbowmen were trailing him, relentlessly aiming at him. One bolt had already struck his thigh. ''With this leg, running is out of the question.'' His cracked sword had already broken in half. His opponent wielded a heavy sword, relying on powerful strikes. Enkrid was drenched in a mix of his own blood and his enemy''s. Seeing him holding his ground with a broken sword in such a state, the mustached man couldn''t help but admire him. He was the enemy, had mocked him endlessly, and had disrupted their sorcery, but his tenacity was remarkable. Even now, he showed no signs of surrender. "What are you holding onto?" The mustached man asked. Enkrid, catching his breath, kept his eyes on the crossbowmen behind him as he replied. "What?" "Why haven''t you given up yet?" Enkrid answered as if it were obvious. "Phew, I''m a squad leader." "So?" "There are two of the guys in my squad named Rem and Ragna." "Hmm?" "Those two fight so well it''s hard to believe they''re just squad members." "Are you saying they''ll come to save you?" "That was one of the possibilities." Having come this far, he expected them to be nearby. But no, they weren''t. He hadn''t seen them yet, even though he thought they should have shown up by now. If they hadn''t arrived by now, they weren''t coming. That was the reality. At the same time, Rem had obliterated an enemy unit and was cutting through tall grass. Ragna, having stopped advancing due to the fog, had rejoined the allies and was unaware of his squad leader''s location. The mustached man stepped closer with his sword. Enkrid, dragging his injured leg, retreated. Still, his eyes were fiercely alive. What was he aiming for with that body? Could he really escape in this condition? Enkrid glanced at the man with the mustache and thought, What a meticulous bastard. Still, he hadn''t given up on today. If I die, I''ll just start over. He knew this truth all too well. But he also knew he hadn''t suffered a fatal blow yet. Above all, if he had wasted all the todays he''d endured, the current Enkrid wouldn''t exist. Up until the moment of death, Enkrid was determined to resist. He would give his all to survive today. Never giving up, fighting until the very end¡ªthat was who he was. "You''re too good to be an enemy," the mustache muttered, taking another step forward. Enkrid could retreat no further. Behind him, a soldier armed with a spear stared at him menacingly. Enkrid glanced back and then refocused on the mustache, who was now gripping a longsword with both hands. The blade of the bastard sword, longer than a regular sword, reflected the sunlight breaking through the dissipating mist. Right? Left? Which direction should he dodge? Whichever way he chose, a fatal wound was unavoidable. But Enkrid had no intention of dying quietly. If I can''t avoid it... He tightened his grip on the broken sword. If left or right weren''t options, and retreat was impossible, then the only choice was to move forward. As the blade descended, Enkrid made his decision. He charged forward the moment he resolved himself. Thunk! The sound of a bowstring snapping rang out, followed by a bolt embedding itself in his left shoulder. While his attention was on the mustache''s sword, another soldier had fired a crossbow. Enkrid gritted his teeth against the pain and muttered, "How cheap." "Thanks for the compliment," the mustache replied, devoid of any humor. Even if they managed to kill the man in front of him, the battle''s tide had already turned against them. One soldier''s life versus the outcome of the war. Even an eight-year-old child could understand which held more value. But letting him go was even less of an option. Whoosh. The mustache brought down his sword¡ªa heavy strike with a large blade. Enkrid didn''t close his eyes. He stared at the descending blade, unflinching. The Heart of the Beast gave him courage. Without blinking, Enkrid pondered. If my body were in peak condition, how would I block this? Even in his final moments, his focus remained on swordsmanship. Then, just as the blade was about to strike his forehead¡ª "Aargh!" A scream erupted behind him. Simultaneously, a black shadow struck the mustache''s sword. Bang! Enkrid couldn''t immediately discern what the shadow was. It wasn''t a sword or an arrow. If it had been, it wouldn''t have struck the blade in mid-air and twisted in the air before landing. "What...?" Enkrid identified the source of the shadow. Blue eyes and fur as black as silk. It was a black panther. In an instant, a distant memory surfaced. A memory that, under normal circumstances, wasn''t so far removed, but felt hazy after reliving so many todays. A memory he should have forgotten but hadn''t. Seeing the black fur and blue eyes brought it back to him vividly. It was the beast he''d met in the tall grass. "You?" Grrr. The black panther was slightly larger than when he had last seen it. The creature stared at the mustache and then let out a fierce roar. "What the hell is this now?" The mustache''s eyebrows shot up in disbelief, followed quickly by an angry scowl. In response, two crossbowmen aimed at the panther and fired. "Hey!" Enkrid shouted in alarm. The panther twisted its body gracefully, dodging the quarrels with ease. It leaped a few times, evading them all. Then, with a powerful push off the ground, it lunged forward. The mustache instinctively swung his sword downward. But the panther didn''t even get close to him. Its movements were so fast, it looked like a streak of black silk extending across the battlefield. Instead of the mustache, its target was the crossbowmen. "Gah!" With a swipe of its claws, the panther tore through the Achilles'' tendon of one soldier. Blood spattered everywhere. A leather boot was no match for claws that sharp. Clang! When the panther attacked, another soldier drew a short sword. What happened next was even more astonishing. The panther didn''t go after the soldier¡ªit targeted the crossbow. With a swift kick, it broke the crossbow''s string. It leaped again, snapping the strings of several more crossbows with its claws and back legs. Was this intentional? One or two might be coincidence, but cutting the strings on all five crossbows couldn''t be accidental. "You damned beast," the mustache growled, his face now red with fury. The panther didn''t confront him. Instead, it dashed back to Enkrid and bit down on his nape. Grrr! It exhaled heavily, as if annoyed, and began running. The beast was astonishingly strong. Though Enkrid''s legs and body dragged on the ground, they moved as fast as if he were running himself. His back ached, and cuts appeared on his limbs as they scraped against the ground. As he was dragged, he felt something warm trickling down from his nape. He wanted to check, but he had no time. "After them!" the mustache bellowed. Even so, escaping this battlefield seemed impossible. "Run," Enkrid said. Of course, the panther didn''t respond. The warm liquid continued to flow from his nape as the mustache gave chase. Dragged along the ground, Enkrid felt the futility of the escape. The panther''s limits were clear, and the mustache seemed determined not to let them go. "Run, I said," Enkrid repeated, just as a dark shadow loomed overhead. "I''m here to save you." "Huh?" Unexpected reinforcements. A comrade, drenched in blood. It was someone Enkrid recognized¡ªa platoon leader he used to tease relentlessly. "Platoon leader Vengeance?" "Yes. It''s me." Vengeance raised his sword, blocking the mustache''s advance. And he wasn''t alone. A group of allied soldiers followed him, surging forward. Somehow, one squad had broken through and reached them. Enkrid¡ªor rather, the panther¡ªhadn''t bought time in vain. Chapter 45 - Countless Battles (1) Chapter 45 - 45 - Countless Battles (1) Chapter 45 - Countless Battles (1) "Come on!" Vengeance, the platoon leader, shouted as he swung his sword down. The mustached man held his sword horizontally to the ground and executed a middle guard. The clash of their swords resounded. Clang! As soon as the swords collided, the mustached man stepped forward, pressing his weight against his opponent to push him back. Focused solely on swinging his sword, Vengeance was helplessly flung backward. "Ugh!" Losing his balance, he not only stumbled but rolled backward several times. A cloud of dust rose where his body came to rest¡ªright beside Enkrid. Vengeance''s and Enkrid''s eyes met. A brief silence hung between them. A cold breeze whistled through from somewhere. Vengeance''s face turned bright red. Carefully choosing his words, Enkrid finally spoke. "...You came to save me, right?" Vengeance''s pupils quivered violently. "Why is that guy so strong?" Enkrid let out a bitter laugh. No, seriously¡ªhe came to save me, so why did he go down in one hit? Vengeance rolled himself upright again, grabbed the sword lying on the ground, and assumed his stance once more. "You damn bastard," he spat, glaring at his opponent before yelling out. "Shoot!" Half of Vengeance''s squad were archers. "Shoot him down!" At his command, arrows flew through the air. "Block them!" "Raise your shields!" Several enemy soldiers trailing closely behind the mustached man stepped forward, raising their shields. Thud, thud, thud! The arrows struck the shields. The timing was impeccable. Peering over the top of a shield, the mustached man glared menacingly at Enkrid. Then, he snatched a shield from one of his subordinates. You''ve got to be kidding me. Gritting his teeth, Enkrid forced himself to his feet. Burning pain flared from the bolt embedded in his leg and back. There was no time to groan. Growl. Beside him, a panther bared its fangs. Meanwhile, the mustached man was closing in with the shield in hand. "You lunatic!" Vengeance cried out in shock. Enkrid, suppressing the pain, drew the short sword from Vengeance''s belt. Shing. By then, the mustached man was almost upon them. There was no room to retreat. Whoosh. Vengeance slashed diagonally across to intercept the opponent''s sword. His intent was to halt the charge with sheer force. Feigning a collision, the mustached man twisted his wrist and pulled his sword back, diverting Vengeance''s strike. Swish. Vengeance''s blade sliced through empty air. Behind him, the panther leaped. But the mustached man wasn''t like ordinary soldiers. Angling his shield downward, he blocked the panther''s trajectory and shoved it aside. Clang! The panther let out a cry and was sent flying. All of this happened within mere seconds of the clash. Enkrid tightened his grip on the short sword, focusing his mind entirely. In that moment, everything else faded, leaving only him and his opponent. A singular focus. The pain, the relief, and the surge of emotions triggered an intense state of concentration. Time seemed to stretch. Through this heightened awareness, Enkrid could see the bloodshot eyes of the mustached man. He could also see his hand. The man had gripped the pommel, just above the hilt''s end, extending his sword''s reach to deliver a decisive slash. Raising his blade, he swung downward in a sweeping arc. When did he even lift his sword? The blade was already falling¡ªa guillotine descending. The mustached man''s strike seemed to demand, "Repeat this day again and again." Enkrid refused. Holding his breath, he had no room to exhale. There was no time to whine about the pain. He couldn''t rely on the basics Ragna had taught him this time. Then... What among the dozens of techniques he had learned, practiced, observed, and mimicked could he use now? Countless battles, relentless research, and the constant effort to learn and adapt had led him here. His body moved instinctively, raising the short sword. He knew it couldn''t withstand a direct clash¡ªit would shatter. The mustached man was certain of his victory. He believed he could finally take the life of the detestable opponent before him. Whoosh. Ting, chiiing. Crack! In the end, the mustached man''s strike failed. He managed to cut only Enkrid''s shoulder. Blood poured from the deep wound, but it wasn''t fatal. He hadn''t succeeded in delivering a killing blow. "You..." The mustached man froze instead of striking again, his eyes wide in disbelief. "Where did you learn that?" he demanded. Enkrid answered honestly. "From fighting." Mitch Hurrier had shown Enkrid countless instances of flowing techniques, of deflecting attacks. The man''s technique was exquisite, and in that perilous moment, it had unconsciously surfaced within Enkrid. As the mustached man''s blade fell, Enkrid had intercepted it with his short sword, deflecting it to the side. He''d absorbed the force with the center of the blade and loosened his grip to redirect the attack. Timing, distribution of force¡ªif any element had been off, he would have been dead. His shoulder wouldn''t have been the only casualty. Enkrid himself was astonished. "So it works." Though he''d studied and endured countless blows, this was the first time he''d used it successfully. For someone like Enkrid, who lacked extraordinary talent, it was almost miraculous. For the first time, his heart raced with excitement. The flowing technique he had just pulled off wasn''t something most could replicate, no matter how much they trained. "You bastard!" Behind the mustached man, Vengeance swung his sword at empty air before turning and charging forward. The mustached man pivoted, deflecting Vengeance''s strike and raising his shield again. Thwack! An arrow lodged into the shield. A skilled archer had aimed for him, but he blocked it. Clang! Clang! The mustached man exchanged a few more blows with Vengeance while glaring at Enkrid with fiery eyes. Enkrid, meanwhile, stared down at the short sword in his hand. There was no way he could launch another attack and kill his opponent now. Realizing the danger of lingering any longer, the mustached man turned around. "Retreat!" He called out and began to withdraw, but not without turning back to address Enkrid one last time. "I won''t forget you." Enkrid replied sincerely, "You can forget me." He meant it. There was no reason for the man to remember him. Vengeance''s squad didn''t pursue further. They had already advanced far ahead of their allies. To go deeper now would risk annihilation. "Hey, your shoulder!" Vengeance, glaring at the retreating mustached man, turned back to Enkrid. Blood was dripping down Enkrid''s shoulder. Though he had deflected and redirected, it hadn''t been perfect. Still, Enkrid smiled. ''So it works.'' He echoed the thought he''d had when the technique succeeded earlier. Enkrid tried to recall how he had deflected his opponent''s sword, but the memory eluded him. His body had simply moved on its own. Elation surged through him¡ªit was the first time he''d felt this way. "You idiot, is this the time to be grinning?" Vengeance approached, wrapping Enkrid''s shoulder tightly with a cloth. "We''re out of bandages! Fall back to the rear, to the Third Platoon!" Vengeance ordered his platoon to retreat. The battle was already won, but the company commander had instructed them to pursue the enemy rear cautiously, not too deep. They had been badly burned by enemy magic earlier and needed to regroup. "You''ve lost too much blood," Vengeance muttered as he supported Enkrid. Enkrid, leaning on him, spoke through gritted teeth. "We need to take the panther with us." They had saved each other''s lives. Leaving the beast behind was not an option now. "You''re insane. Worry about yourself first." Despite his words, Vengeance also took care of the fallen panther. Inspecting it for injuries, he noticed blood seeping from between its fangs. "So that''s what was trickling down my back..." Even while bleeding from its gums, the panther hadn''t let go of him. Enkrid cradled the panther in his arms. It wasn''t heavy. How could a body like this possess such strength? A faint whimper came from the panther in his arms. "Let''s move!" Vengeance supported Enkrid as they withdrew from the battlefield. Halfway through, Enkrid drifted in and out of consciousness from the blood loss. The ferryman of the Black River appeared in the void, asking, "Why are you pushing yourself so hard?" The excessive blood loss had made him see things. Unable to answer, Enkrid merely stared at the figure, who continued speaking. "If you fail, just start over. It repeats endlessly, doesn''t it? So why go to such lengths? You''ll relive today anyway¡ªwhat''s wrong with taking it easy? Rest, stop, polish yourself, and prepare for the next perfect today. If you die, you''ll start an even better today, won''t you? Oh, are you afraid of death? That fades with time. Half-ignore it¡ªwhat''s the harm? No one''s watching. That today is yours alone." Enkrid lacked the strength to speak, barely able to drag himself forward as Vengeance half-carried him. So he answered silently. Why should I settle? Even if it repeats, even if I get another chance, why wouldn''t I give my all today? Otherwise, I''d remain stuck, always in the same place. Living like that would trap me in today. Without tomorrow, there''s no dream. Without a dream, there''s no meaning. ''I refuse to stop.'' Even if his steps were slower than others, even if his progress was minuscule, he wanted to keep moving forward. He wanted to live that way. Even if he couldn''t become a knight, he wanted to fight for the chance. Thud. When he finally lost the strength to walk, he stumbled over a rock. "Don''t die on me," Vengeance muttered close to his ear. His vision blurred, and the world faded. At some point, the ferryman of the Black River vanished. Enkrid felt he finally understood the nature of this curse. "If you could start over, couldn''t you do better?" When you live the same day over and over, such thoughts naturally arise. But not for Enkrid. He always aimed for tomorrow. Instinctively, he knew that a failed tomorrow was better than a perfect today. ''To stop is to end.'' This is why the curse was no blessing. Repeating today forever meant never reaching tomorrow. At the edge of consciousness, Enkrid asked himself: ''Was this truly my best?'' He didn''t know. Only the gods might know what a perfect today looks like. The "today" he had lived was partly due to luck. There was no guarantee that luck would carry over to a restarted today. In that case, as always, all that remained was to keep walking toward tomorrow. Warmth radiated from the creature in his arms. He glanced down through dim eyes to see the black panther gazing up at him, its lake-blue eyes meeting his. Enkrid passed out, thinking he might die. If so, he''d just start over. Even if he couldn''t reach tomorrow, he wouldn''t despair. He''d fight and claw his way through the day again. Darkness enveloped him, pulling him into unconsciousness like a wandering soul invited to the world of shadows. "Did I choose wrong?" The ferryman of the Black River appeared again. Enkrid overheard his muttering. The ferryman turned his head, his polished, mirror-like black face reflecting nothing. "Let''s wait and see." With that single line, Enkrid awoke to the sight of a tent ceiling. "Hey, you''re alive? I really thought you were a goner this time." Rem''s voice reached his ears. His shoulder, back, legs, and side throbbed with pain. There wasn''t a single spot on his body that didn''t hurt. His head spun. "The last wound on your shoulder was the worst. I don''t know who did it, but they got you good," Rem said, rambling on. Enkrid, still half out of it, blinked a few times. He soon realized warmth at his side and reached out. A dull ache shot through his shoulder. His hand met soft fur. A low, contented rumble came from the black panther. ''I made it through today.'' "You''re making a habit of passing out," Rem teased. "Like I have a choice. I''m thirsty." "Is that so?" Through blurry eyes, Enkrid saw Rem sitting with arms crossed. Behind him stood Big Eyes, who handed over a canteen. A few sips felt like rain on parched earth, soothing his dry throat. "See? Our squad leader''s tough. Alive and kicking," Big Eyes said, watching him drink. "You''ve lost too much blood," Jaxen commented nonchalantly. A pious squad member prayed in the background. "Lord, thank you for answering our prayers," he murmured. Ragna silently observed before speaking. "Are you alright?" "I''m not dying," Enkrid replied. Because he had survived, he could say those words. Because he had passed today and greeted tomorrow, he could smile faintly before lying down again. Chapter 46 - Countless Battles (2) Chapter 46 - 46 - Countless Battles (2) Chapter 46 - Countless Battles (2) Enkrid''s body was riddled with stab wounds and punctures. He had heard that a healer had already tended to him. "Fortunately, there won''t be any permanent damage. You''re lucky, squad leader," Big Eyes said with a grin. "You sound like you were hoping I''d get hurt," Enkrid retorted. "No, I''m just concerned. You should feel honored. You''re the first man I''ve ever worried about," Big Eyes replied, still smiling. "Alright, fine." Enkrid had expected to be pulled back soon, but their forces were still facing off against the Duchy of Aspen. Would there be another battle? Even if there was, it wouldn''t concern Enkrid. It was impossible for him to return to the battlefield in his current state¡ªunless it was just to watch. *** Big Eyes had left behind an apple, which Enkrid was lazily chewing when Rem entered the tent. The rest of the squad was away, leaving the tent empty. Rem sat beside him, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his clasped hands. He stared intently at Enkrid without saying a word, his lips pressed in a straight line. "If you''re planning to confess, I''ll save you the trouble and reject you now," Enkrid teased. "Don''t you know I like women? If you and a random girl I''ve never met fell into a river, I''d save the girl¡ªas long as she''s pretty, of course." "Don''t worry about me. I can swim just fine. I''ll survive on my own." "Now that I think about it, I''m not great at swimming. So be sure to save me if need be." What was this idiot thinking when he said he''d save a drowning woman? Typical Rem. "Sure, I''ll throw you a rock," Enkrid joked. Their usual banter carried on until Rem suddenly stopped talking and stared directly at Enkrid. His gray eyes held an unusual seriousness. "Do you have something to say?" "How did you know it was sorcery?" Rem asked. Huh? Enkrid hadn''t expected this question here and now. "I saw it during reconnaissance." "Just from seeing that, you guessed it was sorcery? You seemed to know the flagpole was the thing keeping it together." He was right. That had been the goal. Enkrid knew everything, though he couldn''t exactly admit it was because he had lived through the day repeatedly. He needed a plausible excuse. While considering a mix of lies and explanations, Rem''s piercing gray eyes unsettled him. Even if he told the truth, Rem wouldn''t believe it. But did he have to lie entirely? A poor lie would be obvious to someone like Rem, and Enkrid didn''t want to treat him that way. So he spoke a half-truth: "I used to know someone from the western tribes," he began. It was true. Rem himself was from the west. "I picked up a lot from them." Also true¡ªRem had shared things about sorcery with him. "So I thought about it and made some guesses." This part wasn''t entirely true but close enough. Instead of thinking it through, he had figured it out by physically repeating the day over and over. "The flagpole seemed like the medium for the sorcery. I noticed the enemy''s formation looked strange before the fog rolled in. After that, I charged in." "Hmm." When truth is mixed with lies, it''s harder to detect deceit. That''s because the speaker believes in what they''re saying. Enkrid spoke with sincerity, hiding only what he couldn''t reveal. Rem believed him¡ªor at least didn''t challenge him further. "That''s how it was, huh? It''s impressive you figured it out so quickly." "So, what about sorcery?" "I was going to tell you not to meddle with those kinds of things recklessly," Rem replied. "Got it." Rem nodded. Enkrid suddenly remembered that Rem had been absent during the battle. He''d assumed Rem would come to his position after the charge, but he hadn''t. Instead, Rem rejoined the squad later. "Where were you during the battle?" Enkrid asked. "Nothing much. I was curious about who put up the flagpoles, so I went to check it out." "You checked it out?" "Yeah, he had a chat with my axe," Rem said with a grin before leaving the tent. Enkrid thought back to the moment he had destroyed the flagpole. The sorcerer had been shaking a bell and disappeared almost immediately afterward. Enkrid had been too focused on destroying the flagpole to think about it. It seemed the sorcerer had retreated but had run straight into Rem''s axe. Enkrid dismissed it as nothing unusual¡ªRem''s reckless behavior was nothing new. In a previous battle, Rem had charged into the enemy lines, claiming he wanted to take down some Hawk Claw or other. The platoon leader had given up on keeping Rem''s squad in line, treating them as an auxiliary force instead. This time was no different, except for one detail: Enkrid himself had broken formation first. "Hey, you alright?" The platoon leader entered the tent. "Checking in on me? Are we heading back soon?" Enkrid asked. The platoon leader shrugged. "No orders yet. We''re all on standby." Winter was approaching, making prolonged battles unlikely. While the position wouldn''t be entirely abandoned, their battalion had done the heavy lifting here and was due for a rotation. The delay in orders felt odd. The platoon leader scratched his head, looking at Enkrid. "You." "Yes?" At the time, the platoon leader hadn''t thought much of Enkrid breaking formation¡ªjust figured he''d finally lost it. But then came the shouted orders to duck and raise shields, which saved them from the fog. Later, he learned that the fog was sorcery, dependent on a medium¡ªsomething that had to be destroyed or the sorcerer killed to lift it. The company commander had asked him directly: "Who do you think did it?" The platoon leader had thought of Enkrid. It wasn''t hard to guess that his squad had played a role, especially since Enkrid had charged out just before the fog rolled in. And the voice shouting those orders had sounded like Enkrid''s. The platoon leader finally spoke: "That fog¡ªit was sorcery, right?" "Yes, I reported it," Enkrid replied. "Right. You did," the platoon leader muttered. The platoon leader glanced at Enkrid briefly, then rose after advising him to rest well. ''Impossible.'' He knew Enkrid''s abilities. Certainly not the lowest, but at best, he was only fit to lead a village militia. Among his subordinates, there were some fearsome fighters, but Enkrid wasn''t one of them. The medium for the spell must have been located deep within enemy lines¡ªno competent foe would place it elsewhere. That meant someone would have had to infiltrate that far. "Through that dense fog?" While facing barrages of bolts and arrows? And it was that troublesome squad leader? Unthinkable. On the off chance, he asked if Rem had done it, but it wasn''t him. As for Ragna, it was out of the question. By the time the fog had cleared, Ragna had been fighting nearby as though he''d always been there. That left the other squad members, but they had also been fighting as part of the rear squad formation. "Could reinforcements have come from the main force?" Pondering this, the squad leader stepped outside the barracks. The sharp drop in temperature made the cold bite at him. "Are we ever retreating?" He, too, missed the city air. He wanted to see his home, his wife, and his daughter again. He longed to roast potatoes over a fire and sleep soundly. *** After two days bedridden, Enkrid was finally able to move around. "Don''t overdo it," warned Big Eyes, though Enkrid''s condition was surprisingly good. "That beast is gone, right?" Big Eyes asked. Enkrid, who had been sitting upright on the bed, nodded while glancing around. "Seems so. I don''t see it anywhere." "It looked like it followed you well." "Weren''t you scared?" "Of course, I was! It''s a beast! A beast." "It seemed like a cub to me." "You know that hunter, Enri, who used to go scouting with you? He was out with the squad leader," Big Eyes suddenly said. Enkrid nodded, musing on how well-connected Big Eyes seemed to be¡ªhow did he even know Enri? "That guy''s from the Plains Hunting Guild," Big Eyes continued. Enkrid knew that better than anyone, having learned much from Enri personally. "Enri said there are many beasts on the Green Pearl Plains, but the most notable of them all¡ªdo you know what it is?" "What?" "A black panther with blue eyes, called a Lake Panther. They say its eyes resemble lakes, hence the name. While it hunts gazelles and gnus, it primarily feeds on the energies of the earth. It''s a spirit beast, and just one of its claws is said to be worth over ten thousand krona." Krona was the empire''s currency. One bronze coin was worth one krona; a hundred bronze coins equaled one silver coin, and a hundred silver coins equaled one gold coin. Ten thousand krona equated to one gold coin¡ªmore than Enkrid''s salary. "You think you could pluck out that claw while it''s slashing your throat?" "...No thanks. I''m not that greedy." Big Eyes waved his hands dismissively. Moving around a bit brought a light sheen of sweat to Enkrid''s forehead, along with a dull ache. Still, this wasn''t bad. After experiencing death so often, gauging a wound''s severity by its pain was second nature to him. "Overdoing it will make it worse," warned Jaxen, who had been observing. With everyone else gone, it was just him and Big Eyes remaining. "I''m pacing myself." As Enkrid moved again, the memory of deflecting the mustached man''s strike resurfaced. How had he managed it? Could he do it again? He wasn''t sure. Maybe... but if he tried a few more times, it might come to him. Lost in thought, he noticed Rem and Ragna returning. "Walk a little farther away from me. Laziness is contagious," Rem quipped. "And why are you always so eager to die?" Ragna retorted, doubling the intensity of the squabble. Before their argument could escalate, Enkrid spoke up. "I have a question. About swordsmanship." Both men turned their attention to him. "Speak." "If it''s swordsmanship, I''m the one to answer." As they resumed glaring at each other, Enkrid quickly explained. It wasn''t a complicated story¡ªhe had observed an enemy several times, and it had become ingrained, manifesting unconsciously. He spoke as plainly as he could. "Well, isn''t that just something that happens with practice?" Rem replied first. "That''s an interesting experience," Ragna added. "I wouldn''t call myself special, having grown up with it, but for someone like you... hmm, yes. It must be divine providence. The goddess of fortune must''ve tripped and spilled a bag of gold coins over you." Neither response was particularly helpful. After some more bickering, the two offered additional insights. "Sometimes, your vision opens up in battle. Usually, it takes countless, and I mean countless, repetitions in real combat for that to happen even once. If you''ve achieved pinpoint focus, the odds improve." "The Heart of the Beast probably stuck with you a bit. It gave you the ability to stare your opponent down without blinking. If you had the chance to watch someone wield a sword right in front of you, you might''ve seen their technique or how they distributed their strength. Then, your body could''ve instinctively reacted. But that''s only if you''ve mastered the basics." "Basics aside, you''d also need hundreds of grueling battles." Hearing this, Enkrid came to a realization. "Ah." For some, today was just another day. But for Enkrid, today was the culmination of hundreds of relentless battles. Not a single one wasted. Each moment had been a desperate struggle, lived to the fullest, endured and savored. That wealth of experience had granted him what others might call luck. But it wasn''t luck. It was a natural outcome. The price he paid¡ªstudying and experimenting even while being slashed, stabbed, and wounded¡ªhad borne fruit. At its foundation were the Heart of the Beast and singular focus, granting him daring and clarity. "Thank you," he thought, feeling gratitude anew. These two had given him so much. Ragna, in particular, had rebuilt the foundations of his swordsmanship. The fight with Mitch Hurrier, the pursuit by the mustached man, today''s battle on the field¡ªthey all coalesced into one desire. He wanted to wield his sword again, to swing it and see how much of that last deflection had become second nature. "I want to spar." When Enkrid muttered this, both Rem and Ragna shook their heads. Rem added, "I''ve been called insane since I was a kid, but you, Captain, are even crazier than me." That was the last thing Enkrid wanted to hear¡ªfrom Rem of all people. This was a man who bullied soldiers for fun and tried to decapitate his superiors. To be deemed crazier than him? "I have to agree," Ragna said. "Sparring in your condition is absurd." Was wanting to spar so wrong? Enkrid felt deeply wronged. "It''s too much for you to spar in your condition, Squad Leader." The tent''s flap parted, and a voice interrupted them. Looking up, Enkrid saw the fairy company commander stepping in. As Enkrid struggled to stand, the commander strode toward him. "Was it you?" Before Enkrid could even salute, the commander''s sharp, cold, statue-like beauty loomed over him, piercing him with her words. Enkrid licked his dry lips before answering. He''d expected this question¡ªnot from Rem, but from her. How had he broken the spell? After all, that was a question for the command. Chapter 47 - Squire or Apprentice Knight Chapter 47 - 47 - Squire or Apprentice Knight Chapter 47 - Squire or Apprentice Knight The fairy company commander learned after the battle that the medium for the sorcery was the flag. So, who destroyed that flag? Tracing the battlefield situation backward led to the answer. "That reckless squad leader." That was why she was here. It was something even the battalion commander hadn''t paid much attention to. He didn''t seem to care who destroyed the medium for the sorcery. He simply thought the foolish sorcerer had failed. In truth, considering how many frauds existed among the continent''s sorcerers, that assumption sounded reasonable. Even so, the battalion commander likely didn''t have the luxury to think straight. A figure higher than his direct superior had come to the unit. "What do you mean?" She answered the implied question about whether it was him. "Sorcery, flag, medium." With just three short words, she conveyed everything she wanted to say. Enkrid, for his part, hadn''t been asked and thus hadn''t denied it, but he also wasn''t the type to insist on credit. "Yes, I did it," he admitted. "How?" The short question came back. "I picked up a spear and threw it." "There were five decoys." There had been six poles in total, but only one was real. "I guessed." "You knew the flagpole was the medium?" "I observed some things during reconnaissance and had some prior knowledge of sorcery." His answers were confident and without hesitation. The fairy''s sharp instincts confirmed he wasn''t lying. However, even without those instincts, it was evident he wasn''t sharing everything. It was as if he didn''t mind admitting what he''d done but was reluctant to elaborate further. The fairy company commander nodded as she studied Enkrid''s blue eyes. "Understood." "Did you come here just to ask that?" "Yes, and to see your face." The commander paused briefly, gathering her thoughts before speaking again. "It seems we are destined to be connected." She left after saying those words, leaving behind a statement ripe for misunderstanding. Enkrid was left stunned, and Rem jabbed him in the side. "What''s your secret?" "What?" "Tell me how you managed to charm a fairy. I''m all ears." "Impressive," added Ragna. "It''s probably not what it looks like," Enkrid replied. Even Big Eyes acknowledged Enkrid''s looks. Women occasionally took an interest in him when he was in the city, even without effort. It went without saying that he wasn''t inexperienced. Enkrid wasn''t nai?ve or clueless enough to mistake the signals exchanged between men and women. But that conversation? It wasn''t about signals. If anything, it left a sense of unease. Especially considering she was the superior of his direct superior. "When would he have even had the time¡ªoh, I get it. Was it then? When he was in the medical tent? That''s the only possible time!" "No, you crazy bastard." Rem continued to tease him for the next four hours, while Ragna eventually took a nap midway. Later, Jaxen arrived, nodded meaninglessly, and somewhat eased Enkrid''s mood. When Big Eyes arrived, he started to say something but then leaned close to Enkrid after hearing what Rem had said. "That''s why I told you to quit rolling around on the battlefield and join me in opening a noblewomen''s salon." "No way, you lunatic." Big Eyes'' dream was to save up enough krona to open his own shop. His vision? A salon where charming men would chat with noblewomen. His plan was clear: sell drinks and snacks at exorbitant prices, knowing the clientele would come anyway. He''d once pitched this idea to Rem, nearly getting beaten for it, and rarely brought it up since. Now, it resurfaced. "Don''t talk to me about it. I''ll split your head with my axe." Rem smiled menacingly from behind. "Ah, fine. Forget it," Big Eyes replied, his voice near a whimper. "Always acting like a barbarian at times like this," he muttered under his breath, lacking the courage to say it louder. To his credit, muttering it at all was bold. There was no way Rem hadn''t heard it. Rem glared, but Big Eyes quickly clapped his hands together. "Oh, right! I almost forgot what I came here for. Got distracted by the squad leader talk." Distracted, indeed. He''d rushed to speak before Rem could retort. Enkrid decided to let it slide, thinking that any story, as long as it wasn''t about a love story between him and the company commander, would be better. "He''s coming." "Who?" "He''s already arrived." Big Eyes leaned in and whispered, his expression unusually serious, drawing Enkrid''s attention. "A knight''s squire." "...From the Crimson Cape Knights?" Enkrid asked. "Yes." Currently, Enkrid and the others were part of the Cypress Division. That was also the name of one of the knights of the Crimson Mantle Knight Order. Typically, a military division bore the name of a knight who belonged to the knightly order. And naturally, knights were rare talents even across the continent. Thus, not all members of a knightly order were knights. Some were those who aspired to be knights in the future: squires, both attendants and apprentices. After their apprenticeship, if recognized by a knight, they became semi knights, officially joining the knightly order. Squires usually didn''t participate in battles independently. The fact that one had come to the battlefield meant only one thing. "They''re about to become a semi knight." What does it mean to be a knight? A minstrel once said: "Thinking of knights as the same as ordinary people is a grave misunderstanding. Yes, that''s right. They''ve transcended human limitations, reaching beyond what is possible for most. Otherwise, how could they stand against beings like Frogs?" Knights were said to surpass human limits. And junior knights? They were individuals who approached those limits. The squire that has come would soon become a junior knight and officially join the knightly order. Enkrid was curious to see their skills. Becoming a knight wasn''t just about earning an honorary title. In this era, knights were symbols of strength. And a part of that symbol was here. "You look like you''d die to see them." Rem observed Enkrid''s expression. "Wouldn''t you?" "I heard they''re already ready for deployment." Big Eyes added. "They came alone?" Rem asked, crossing his arms. Big Eyes nodded. "Yes, they said one was enough." With that, Enkrid understood why their army hadn''t withdrawn. "If Aspen has prepared sorcery..." Then their side was taking out their trump card. Both Naurilia and Aspen had done the same. Every year, the same dull skirmishes played out in this region, but now, a variable had been introduced. ''Is this a bid to seize part of the plains?'' If the sorcery had taken effect as intended, even the squire arriving on the battlefield would have been powerless to make a difference. But that was no longer the case. The spell had been thwarted, and now, victory was firmly in their grasp. Had the squire arrived just a day or two earlier, the enemy would have been crushed outright. ''They were a little late.'' By now, the enemy had reorganized and regained their footing. "Prepare for deployment! The entire army moves out at once!" Enkrid''s drifting thoughts were interrupted by the sounds outside. It was the platoon leader''s voice. Moments later, the leader stuck his head into the tent. "Hey, you heard that, didn''t you? Of course, you did." After spotting Krais, the platoon leader answered his own question. "We''re all moving out. The plan is to push the forward lines on Green Pearl Plain as close as possible to the enemy''s position." "Is it wise to discuss strategy so openly?" Enkrid asked, looking at the platoon leader. "There''s nothing to hide. We''re heading out now, aren''t we? You coming?" "I''d like to see how things unfold." Enkrid struggled to his feet. His injuries hadn''t fully healed yet, and under normal circumstances, he shouldn''t even be contemplating the battlefield. "I''ll stay by your side." Krais raised a hand, volunteering. He always made sure to stick to the rear and prioritize his own safety. If Enkrid stayed with him, things should be manageable. The platoon leader didn''t particularly care for Enkrid, viewing him as more of a burden. With his advanced age and the unruly squad he led, clashes were inevitable. Even so, he couldn''t stomach the thought of Enkrid dying. Despite the ridicule he faced, Enkrid was relentless in honing his swordsmanship and never let a moment go to waste. Watching someone like that become a corpse would leave a bitter taste. "Take care of yourself." The platoon leader muttered before stepping out. "If you''re curious, you might as well join." Rem nodded. Meanwhile, Ragna began preparing for deployment, gathering his gear methodically. Jaxen fastened his sword and tucked a few throwing knives into his belt, an unusual sight since he rarely armed himself so thoroughly. "I''ll stay by your side," Jaxen said. "By my side?" Rem teased, but Jaxen shook his head. "You stink. Sharing a barracks with you is bad enough." While Rem excelled at lighthearted teasing, Jaxen had a knack for delivering sharp, stinging remarks. "Platoon leader, I think I''d rather bash this guy''s head in than fight Aspen''s troops. What do you think?" "Hold it. Let''s just watch. Aren''t you curious to see how well the squire fights?" "They''ll fight exceptionally well, no doubt." Rem grabbed his axe, grumbling. As Enkrid limped toward the deployment area, Vengeance approached. "Are you out of your mind? Do you have a death wish?" After the previous battle, when Enkrid had thanked him, Vengeance had grumbled, claiming he''d repaid a debt and that it was all behind them now. When Enkrid asked what debt he was referring to, Vengeance had retorted, "The medical tent fire. Don''t tell me you forgot." "How could I forget?" But Enkrid had, in fact, forgotten. Repeating the same daily grind had dulled his memory. Even so, it wasn''t something he could entirely erase: the assassin, the fire, and Krang. The fire had been Enkrid''s doing, though Vengeance believed he''d saved him from the flames, when in truth, Enkrid had saved him from the assassin''s blade. ''A debt is a debt.'' If it made things easier for Vengeance to think that way, so be it. Thanks to that belief, Vengeance had charged to his rescue unhesitatingly. Watching him glare at the enemy from the battlefield, Enkrid spoke up. "Who wants to die?" "Then why are you out here?" "I wanted to see something." "See what?" "They say a squire has arrived." "Oh, right. Don''t push yourself. I''m not saving you twice." With that, Vengeance returned to his formation. "What''s with him acting all buddy-buddy? Didn''t he used to pick fights with you all the time?" Rem asked. He had, once. There was a time Vengeance couldn''t stand Enkrid. "He''s not ''that guy.'' He''s the platoon leader. Turns out he''s a decent person once you get to know him." "Don''t go soft on people. If you let your guard down and get stabbed in the back, it''ll be too late to cry about it." "Worry about yourself." The formation quickly assembled and began marching. It wasn''t a clean, tight formation, but a loose, radial one. At the vanguard, someone stood alone. A crimson cloak fluttered in the wind. The figure walked forward, their cloak billowing with each step. Despite the unimpressive appearance, their gait hinted at something extraordinary. "Hmm. Judging by their steps, they''ve got skill," Rem said, arms crossed, squinting at the figure. "More than just skill. Their posture is perfect. Unless the enemy has a Frog on their side, this won''t even be a contest," Ragna added. Jaxen''s gaze followed the figure in the crimson cloak, studying their movements. Meanwhile, Krais muttered to Enkrid, "We should fall back now. If we don''t, we''ll get caught in it." Krais seemed to sense the moment to retreat. Suddenly, the crimson cloak flared, catching the wind. The cloaked figure surged forward. Enkrid blinked, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The figure''s movements left afterimages. How fast does one have to move to leave a trail like that? "They must''ve infused their legs with Will," Ragna murmured. Enkrid didn''t fully grasp the meaning but didn''t bother asking. Now was a time for focus, not questions. The enemy, startled, loosed a volley of arrows. Unlike before, there were no crossbowmen stationed separately. Instead, a dense cloud of arrows darkened the sky. At least a hundred archers must have fired in unison. The arrow storm rained down on the cloaked figure. The squire didn''t swing their sword but accelerated instead. Boom! The ground exploded as dirt and debris flew, and the cloaked figure closed the distance to the enemy. Simply outrunning the range of the arrows was a feat beyond human limits. It was clear. This was no ordinary movement. Chapter 48 - If There Was an End, Crawling Was Enough Chapter 48 - 48 - If There Was an End, Crawling Was Enough Chapter 48 - If There Was an End, Crawling Was Enough In small-scale skirmishes, such a level of force had never been deployed before. Just as the enemy had prepared their sorcery, this side had prepared a Squire. The impact of that Squire on the battlefield was nothing short of catastrophic. Dodging the rain of arrows with forward momentum, the squire unsheathed his sword and slashed. Whing! As a silver arc carved through the air, the heads of three soldiers blocking the front rolled to the ground in unison. The Squire retrieved his sword and swung it down from above. Like a bolt of black lightning, the blade struck downward and immediately rebounded upward. The head of a spear-wielding infantryman was caught in its path. Crack! It wasn''t just cut¡ªit was shattered. The force of the sword''s impact crushed the soldier''s skull. And then the blade, as if taking flight like a butterfly, sliced through the air. The fluttering wings of that butterfly transformed into a fearsome requiem of terror. The piercing slashes of the blade sought out openings, snuffing the life from the enemy soldiers. Two soldiers with heavy wooden shields stepped forward, blocking the path. As they covered themselves entirely with their shields, the butterfly''s wings were halted. The sword struck the shields repeatedly, leaving deep dents in their surfaces. "Close in!" One of the enemy soldiers shouted, sweat pouring from his face, doing his utmost to command. But no amount of effort could free him from the clutches of death. The crimson-cloaked figure gripped his sword with both hands and swung horizontally. Boom! Crack! The blade battered the shields. While the metal reinforcements on the shields held and prevented them from being sliced through, the hands of the soldiers holding them could not withstand the impact. "Aaagh!" The wrist of one soldier twisted and broke, the bone piercing through the skin. As the shield fell limply to the ground, the blade cleaved through the soldier''s torso. His upper body was severed, and his innards spilled onto the ground with a sickening thud, blood splattering everywhere. Terror seeped into the eyes of the surrounding soldiers. "Damn it all..." One soldier from the Grand Duchy of Aspen muttered a curse, his voice trembling. The cloaked figure''s nose twitched, as though catching the sound, and he immediately sprang forward. As fearsome as his swordsmanship was, his most terrifying aspect was his footwork. The moment his feet touched the ground, he would disappear in a flash, reappearing to decapitate a soldier or pierce a hole through their body. Even raising shields or armor against him seemed utterly futile. "Shoot him!" One of the commanders gave a decisive order. It was a bold decision. Thirty crossbowmen, stationed nearby, loosed their quarrels. Dodging all of the close-range projectiles was impossible¡ªor so the commander thought. But the cloaked figure shattered that certainty. Bang! Before the quarrels could reach him, he leaped into the air, soaring upward. The bolts sliced harmlessly through empty space. What goes up must come down. Arcing gracefully through the air, the cloaked figure landed ten paces from the Duchy''s commander. The heart of the enemy formation. "...Stop him!" The Duchy''s top commander''s cry was pitiful. If the Grey Hounds unit were still present, it might have been different. But they had already withdrawn, burdened with the responsibility for the defeat, injuries to Mitch Hurrier, and other complex circumstances. "Hoooo..." The cloaked figure exhaled deeply and swung his sword once more. From above to below, then from below to above. Whoosh! The blade, bending like a whip, tore through the bodyguards around the commander. Thwack! Crackle! The thick leather armor of one guard was completely split. Another guard, wearing a steel helmet, was struck in the head by the flat of the blade and thrown aside. Thud! The guard, knocked to the ground, bled profusely from his nose. Though he appeared intact outwardly, the impact had fractured his skull, killing him. Having dispatched the guards, the Squire plunged his sword into the commander''s throat. Squelch. Alone, the Squire killed the enemy commander in the heart of their formation and turned to retreat. Even his retreat was remarkable. With a single kick to an enemy soldier, he launched himself forward, sprinting across the battlefield in a series of bursts. From a distance, the red figure seemed to carve a straight line through the heart of the battlefield. Enkrid and his companions had watched the fight unfold from start to finish. Rem, observing the cloaked Squire, couldn''t help but acknowledge his skill. "He knows how to put on a show." A man who could wreak havoc in the middle of enemy lines, showing no mercy, instilled fear by demonstrating his overwhelming power. Through that fear, he rendered the enemy formation utterly helpless. Particularly impressive was how he evaded the ambush of crossbowmen. ''If it were me, I''d have charged straight into the crossbowmen first.'' Clearly, he was well-trained. It was no accident he was called a master of combat and war. Instead of neutralizing the crossbowmen, he left them untouched. Then, when they aimed for him, he displayed his reserved strength. He leaped into the air and struck at the enemy commander. He was like a flying tiger. A winged predator. Ragna assessed the opponent''s skill level and compared it to his own. This was someone who had already traveled the path he himself was walking. "At that level..." It wouldn''t take long for him to reach it. There was no need for shortcuts or grueling training. Rem had analyzed his strategy, while Ragna evaluated his level of ability. "His swordsmanship is sharp." A hybrid of quick swordplay and heavy strikes. At first glance, it seemed like he used orthodox techniques, but it was all sleight of hand. Quick and heavy techniques intertwined seamlessly. Clearly, he had an excellent sword instructor. Normally, mixing two styles like that would result in sloppy basics. But the crimson-cloaked Squire showed no signs of such flaws. "Well, he is a Squire, after all." Ragna felt a strange lack of motivation. The path was clear, and the destination was visible. Watching someone who had already gone ahead didn''t stir competitiveness within him. All that remained was to keep walking, enduring the monotony of training. The tedium of honing his blade in a state devoid of emotion¡ªthis was the burden of his exceptional talent. Jaxen, meanwhile, evaluated the gaps in the enemy''s actions. "At least five times." The enemy could have eliminated the cloaked figure at least five times. It wasn''t an issue of ability but of strategy. The commander''s foolishness played a part, as did the shock of an unexpected assault. If Jaxen had been in their position, the battle would have ended before reaching that point. The religious zealot among them, watching the Squire''s movements, nodded. "A brother who skillfully leads souls to the lord''s side." A high compliment for his combat prowess. "We don''t even need to step in now." Krais, watching the battlefield, clicked his tongue. It was astounding that just one man could dominate the flow of the battle. Victory seemed assured before the fighting even began. And Enkrid... "This is what it means to be a knight." He was moved to his core. His heart pounded furiously, and his body trembled. Goosebumps rose on his skin, and he felt a chill down his spine. At the same time, a burning heat rose from his abdomen. His gaze never left the Squire. In the current continent, Squires and junior knights formed the backbone of knightly forces. They were one step away from knights who could singlehandedly change the tide of war. A killing machine had just swept through the battlefield, slain the enemy commander, and returned unscathed. "How can someone like that exist?" The cloaked figure wasn''t a beastkin or a Frog. Yet, how could he possess such power? The symbol of might, capable of cutting down a thousand foes alone¡ªthat is what it means to be a knight. What makes such a feat possible? What drives someone to push the boundaries of human limitations? Enkrid didn''t know. Perhaps that very ignorance made him marvel all the more at the Squire''s movements. At the same time, he felt something explode within his mind, a sudden spark of inspiration. "Sometimes, learning is as simple as watching," echoed the words of a swordsmanship instructor from the big city, passing through his thoughts. As his initial excitement subsided, an unintentional yet pure focus took hold of him. Once his concentration sharpened to a superhuman level, he began to understand the purpose behind the Squire''s steps and the intent of each swing of his sword. ''Middle Sword Technique.'' The strength of the middle blade. The ability to wield a sword with great power inherently meant the ability to swing it swiftly as well. The opponent had fused the essence of the middle sword with the speed of a quick blade. Enkrid could finally see it now. ''He shifted his footing.'' It seemed like the Squire was subtly stepping back, as though defining the range of his attacks. ''No, he''s not defining it¡ªhe''s already defined it.'' The northern-style middle sword that Ragna had taught him was built upon establishing an attack line as its foundation. The Squire''s method was slightly different. He drew a circle around himself as his focal point. It was swordsmanship rooted in the Central Continent''s foundational techniques. The Squire carved a circle with his body at the center and slaughtered anyone within it. If they entered, they were cut. If they approached, they were pierced. At a glance, it appeared as though he was using footwork to dominate his opponent, but the reality was different. ''He''s guarding his range.'' He only used his feet when necessary. Though a few impressive sword strikes caught the eye, most of his attacks were thrusts. Enkrid observed repeatedly, gathering the details his eyes absorbed and organizing them in his mind. ''Does middle swordsmanship always have to rely on raw power to strike downward?'' The ultimate move displayed by Mitch Hurrier wasn''t an advanced or light technique¡ªit was a decisive strike in the middle sword style. The Wheel strike, which cuts through anything in its path. Why did he choose that as his trump card? To deceive his opponents? No. Dividing swordsmanship into five methods didn''t necessarily mean they were entirely distinct from one another. All five styles shared intersections. The middle sword didn''t always have to rely on sheer force to slash downward. Enkrid''s eyes darted about. His mind churned. His fingers twitched involuntarily. "Enjoying the show? Hm?" Rem casually tried to start a conversation but quickly stopped. Ragna, finding the Squire''s movements no longer intriguing, turned his attention to the voice behind him. "Leave him be," Ragna whispered. He could immediately tell what state the squad leader was in. In battles, taverns, alleys, or even the embrace of a lover¡ªepiphanies often struck like a prank played by the goddess of fortune. Suddenly, abruptly, without warning, they would arrive in silence, shaking one''s very core. "Guard the flanks," Jaxen suggested, stepping forward. Ragna moved to the right, while Rem took the left. The squad''s cleric silently moved to stand behind Enkrid. Big Eyes whispered, "What''s going on?" Rem answered in a hushed tone, "Looks like the squad leader''s breaking through his shell. About time, too. All those nights practicing alone are paying off." Rem acknowledged the squad leader''s efforts. He deserved this moment. Of course, this wasn''t mere luck. It was the natural result of countless battles, rigorous training, and a constant return to the fundamentals of swordsmanship. Ragna, now more intrigued by Enkrid''s state than the Squire''s, thought to himself, ''How is this possible?'' What drives a man like the squad leader to push himself so relentlessly, despite knowing his limits? It was an enigma to Ragna, more fascinating than any opponent tearing through a battlefield. Shortly after the knights returned, the commanding officer''s rallying cry echoed through the air. "Chargeee!" The allied forces surged forward en masse. Their shouts mixed with war cries, and the earth trembled beneath the stampede of infantry. And yet, Enkrid stood still, his gaze lost in the void. He remained in his trance-like state. The squad of troublemakers, thanks to their exploits in the earlier battle, could afford to stand aside as mere observers. No one dared to question their inactivity. Even if someone had wanted to speak up, the sheer intensity emanating from the four¡ªexcluding Big Eyes¡ªwas too overwhelming to approach. Though the Squire''s feats of strength on the front lines drew awe, those close enough to witness the troblemakers squad agreed¡ªthey were far more terrifying. Thus, as the war hurtled toward its conclusion, the squad remained untouched. This winter and the following spring would surely be busy. Supplies would see them through the colder months, but fortifications would need to be rebuilt. The borders between Naurilia and Aspen would be redrawn. While the allies charged ahead, Enkrid replayed the fundamentals he''d learned. Intersections, swordsmanship, Valen-style mercenary techniques, northern-style middle swordsmanship. Everything was a weapon in his arsenal. There was no need to confine those weapons within the rigid framework of "fundamentals." A middle sword could deflect and divert. Binding, the technique of attaching swords, was the foundation of parrying. When he first learned it, he hadn''t even noticed. Though his state of enlightenment didn''t instantly elevate his skill, it provided clarity. His innate talent was modest, so he couldn''t instantly embody what he had realized. However, Enkrid had identified his limitations. That realization carried immense significance¡ªit meant that, given enough time, he could train to his limit and even surpass it. The impossibly high cliff, its peak shrouded in mist, had begun to reveal its summit. When the wall before you is too tall, too broad, and its end is unseen, you cannot climb it. But if you can glimpse its end, no matter how distant or daunting, you can scale it¡ªeven if you must crawl. Enkrid understood this now. "Ahhh." The joy overwhelmed him, even causing him to drool slightly in his trance-like state. "What''s with the drooling, seriously?" Rem quipped, unimpressed. Enkrid snapped back to reality and scanned his surroundings. He realized there wasn''t a single allied soldier nearby. "They''ve all charged forward. If you''re tired, rest in the barracks. Don''t doze off standing here," Rem chided. "Ah." "Ah, nothing. Let''s head back. Seems like the battle''s wrapped up without us." And so it was. The crimson cloak squire returned to the main camp. The battle had ended. The enemy forces were retreating¡ªno, fleeing back to their homeland. It was time to withdraw. Time to return to the city. As Enkrid turned, his eyes lingered on the setting sun. The Squire''s overwhelming strength had reignited a flame within his chest. His destination, his ideal, stood before him once again. And with it, an old dream resurfaced. ''What does it take to become a knight?'' It wasn''t just about honing one''s strength. He would first need to prove his skill. The time for remaining a low-ranking soldier had ended. Enkrid silently vowed this to himself. Chapter 49 - Madness, Heat, Greed, and Desire Chapter 49 - 49 - Madness, Heat, Greed, and Desire Chapter 49 - Madness, Heat, Greed, and Desire "We won." "Damn it, we won!" "Take that, you Aspen bastards!" Victory brought cheers. Cheers ignited heat. Heat bred madness. The fiery excitement intertwined with the battlefield, enveloping it in a feverish storm. When does the greatest triumph on the battlefield occur? When pursuing the tails of a fleeing enemy. Naurilia fiercely bit down on Aspen''s retreating rear. "Uraaaah!" The joy of victory overtook the mourning for the dead, sweeping through their allies. Madness became inevitable. Just days ago, they had been on the brink of annihilation. The fear of death, delivered by the mist, was still deeply engraved in their hearts. And yet, on a battlefield where they carried that fear, their allies achieved an overwhelming victory. "Glory to the Crimson Cloak Knights!" "Long live Naurilia!" The squires did not reveal their names. Instead, the name of the knight order resounded high in their place. "Glory to the Crimson Cloak Knights!" Those cheers, that heat, that madness. At the forefront of the battlefield, basking in all those accolades, stood the center of attention. Flap. A squire, his symbolic crimson cloak fluttering, raised a hand to respond to the cheers. "Uraaaah!" Some soldiers, drunk on the thrill of victory, even shed tears of joy. Everyone shouted, intoxicated by the madness. Watching this, Enkrid muttered quietly to himself. "Me too." No one heard his words, yet within them lay his long-held dream. The madness and heat were infectious, and Enkrid''s heart beat faster. As the battle ended and the final night of the battlefield arrived, despite the number of lives lost, Enkrid felt exhilaration. He recalled the words of a sword instructor from a major city, a man missing three fingers. "A guy with no talent who still wields a blade? He''s one of three: someone who enjoys the battlefield, someone who enjoys killing, or someone who lives thoughtlessly." "I guess I''m the type who enjoys the battlefield." He envied the cheers. He craved standing before them. It wasn''t enough to simply wield a sword; he wanted to tear through the battlefield. His dedication to martial arts hadn''t solely stemmed from a love for the sword. Reflecting on his contributions in this battle, Enkrid realized his actions were nothing more than desperate struggles for survival. While he did earn merit by tearing the enemy''s banner and breaking the curse''s medium, it too was ultimately a frantic effort to survive. Yet, the surge of elation stirred something in him¡ªsomething he had long buried due to a lack of talent: Ambition and desire. "Knight." I will become one. I must become one. This was a moment of renewed determination. "So damn noisy." Rem wandered the battlefield absentmindedly, digging his ear. He didn''t seem to enjoy either the battlefield or killing. There was no exhilaration in him. Beside him, Ragna yawned. "Yawn. Isn''t this over? Can''t we just retreat tonight?" As if they would retreat tonight. This guy must also be one of those thoughtless types. Meanwhile, Jaxen was wiping his sword with leather, already tending to his weapon. Though he didn''t express it outwardly, was Jaxen one to enjoy something as well? Who knew? He was incredibly skilled at hiding himself. "Damn, the battle ended so easily. Think it''ll sell as a story or a song?" "Do you write songs, brother?" "Nope. I''ll just get a bard to do it." "But isn''t it fraud to write a song about something you didn''t even witness?" "Fraud? Oh, please, Audin." The exchange between Big Eyes and the devout squad member suggested they might even profit from the battlefield. It was said that on the day Enkrid tore apart the curse''s medium, the devout squad member''s body was drenched as if he had bathed in blood. The implication was clear¡ªhe had fought ferociously. He seemed quiet and composed, but his raw power was undeniable. Why he stood on the battlefield remained a mystery. Enkrid''s thoughts trailed off. He imagined what might have happened if it had been one of his squad members in his place. If it were Rem. He wouldn''t have just ended it by piercing and tearing the banner. If it were Ragna, Jaxen, or Audin. They all would''ve fought better than he did. "Next time, I''ll do more." The thrill of the battlefield squeezed his heart, and the reaction gave rise to ambition within Enkrid. As night fell after the battle, the command provided liquor and food. Salted rabbit and venison were served, along with potent spirits from large oak barrels. "Alcohol, booze!" Rem and Ragna went wild at the sight of it. "I only drink wine," said the devout member, refusing the strong liquor. Jaxen didn''t touch alcohol at all. "Women are better than booze," he shamelessly declared. Despite comments like this, women still flocked to him. Why? "Must be the face," Enkrid thought. Even without trying, Enkrid attracted women too, thanks to his face. His well-trained, sculpted muscular physique was practically a weapon against women''s hearts. "This cheap liquor? I''m not drinking it." Big Eyes had refined tastes. As the night deepened, the battalion commander entered the barracks. "Squad leader of the 444th?" Hearing his name, Enkrid rose. The fervor had died down, and most were preparing to rest. Enkrid hadn''t touched the liquor due to his injuries, sparing him the embarrassment of failing to recognize the battalion commander. "Injured and drinking? Injured and indulging in booze? Drinking when you''re wounded?" Rem scolded him. "It''s better to refrain. Focus on recovering," Jaxen advised. Ragna silently shook his head. Big Eyes chuckled, amused at the scene. What a squad of lunatics. Outside, the battalion commander, reeking of alcohol, waved off any salutes. "So, the flag was the medium for the curse? And you were the one who tore it apart?" The implication was clear. They had found the one responsible for breaking the curse and making a decisive contribution to the battle. Crackle. Sparks from a nearby fire floated into the air. "Yes," Enkrid answered calmly. "You''ll be rewarded when we return. Well done." The battalion commander patted Enkrid on the shoulder¡ªa sign of how significant his actions had been. Since becoming squad leader, it was the first time the battalion commander had spoken directly to him. This alone showed how monumental Enkrid''s achievement was. His actions had changed the course of the battlefield. However, few knew about it. Only the command was aware. Most likely, the credit for overcoming the curse would go to the command. Enkrid didn''t mind. He would still receive a handsome reward. "I''m not disappointed." It wasn''t something to regret. After seeing the squires and knights, his thoughts had shifted. Compared to the ambition he had gained, the minor recognition meant little. "Good face on you," the battalion commander remarked before leaving. As Enkrid turned to return to the barracks, he heard the soft tap-tap of footsteps on the ground. "What is it?" When Enkrid turned toward the source of the voice, a pair of emerald-like eyes met his. Seen under the moonlight, they gave off an eerily ghost-like feeling. A beauty beyond human standards. It was the fairy company commander. "I won''t let the reward for tearing down the flag be anything less than proper." That was all the commander had to say before turning to leave. However, just as it seemed they were departing, they turned their head slightly and spoke again. "Aren''t you going to salute?" Enkrid belatedly raised his left hand in a motion mimicking pressing down on a weapon. The fairy commander waved it off. "That''s enough. I''m leaving." What kind of fairy was that? When Enkrid entered the barracks after the commander''s departure, Rem was lying on his side, propped up on one arm. "Don''t go abandoning me just because you''ve become popular, captain." "Are you drunk?" "I''m not drunk." It was a playful remark. The night wore on as Enkrid closed his eyes, replaying in his mind everything he had observed and sensed about the Squire. There was much to do once his body fully recovered. *** The Naurilia infantry battalion set off for Border Guard at dawn. After four days of marching, they finally arrived at the city fortress of Border Guard, its walls rising imposingly before them. The fortress city was built on a plateau higher than the surrounding terrain, featuring long walls and three towering watchtowers. This was the last bastion standing against the Duchy of Aspen. The fortress at the frontier¡ªBorder Guard. The appearance of the Squire from the Crimson Cloak Knights had the potential to alter the battlefield''s dynamics. Until now, the localized skirmishes on the Green Pearl Plains had remained small in scale due to an unspoken agreement not to deploy knightly forces there. Yet Naurilia had broken this unspoken rule by sending out the Squire as their trump card. Naurilia had crossed the line. Regardless of the Squire''s status as someone transitioning to knighthood, breaking the precedent was breaking the precedent. *** "Those bastards!" The Aspen''s Duke exploded in fury, his eyes reddened and veins bulging on his forehead. "Send ours out too!" But it wasn''t so simple. It was winter. Starting a full-scale war in winter would lead to extreme national depletion for both sides. If the skirmishes were to escalate into total war, Aspen would need to rally its forces. More importantly, Aspen''s main military strength was currently absent due to an ongoing operation. Proper preparations required time. Even at the height of rage, with a metaphorical volcanic eruption brewing in his head, the impending winter demanded restraint. Naurilia likely anticipated this, deploying their forces only in the final stages of the war. Conversely, Aspen''s decision to deploy their sorcerer had also considered the winter timing. However, while Aspen''s blade was blocked, Naurilia''s dagger had pierced deeply, wounding Aspen. So much so that losing the arm entirely seemed a possibility. "At least apply diplomatic pressure. Sending knights to the battlefield is a problem, isn''t it?" The Hurrier representative''s reputation for fiery temper was evident as he seethed, though his voice didn''t rise to a roar. It carried the simmering fury of boiling water. The Duchy of Aspen was a country founded on the strength of three houses: The ruling Aspen Duke. The martial house of Hurrier. And the administrative and diplomatic house of Ekkins. Handling diplomacy fell to the Ekkins family. The Ekkins minister was in a bind. Naurilia had sent a letter, conveniently timed with the deployment of the Crimson Cloak Squire. This perfect timing suggested that Naurilia had carefully prepared their excuses. The letter claimed that a General Frog from Aspen had appeared in enemy territory, and the squire was deployed in response. It was a plausible reason. Too plausible. Why did that damned General Frog have to show up there? Frogs were inherently whimsical beings. Putting them in military uniforms had always risked such issues. ''Even without the general, they would''ve found another excuse.'' The Ekkinse minister wasn''t naive. Naurilia''s deployment of the knight wasn''t a spur-of-the-moment decision. General Frog had merely provided a convenient pretext. Without him, they''d have concocted another. The bottom line Aspen had been outmaneuvered. The root of all this trouble was the failure of the sorcery. Had the mist of massacre succeeded, the prolonged skirmishes on the Green Pearl Plains would have ended in a decisive Aspen victory, without the need for knights. The minister recalled a report that claimed a single enemy soldier had thwarted the sorcery. "Failed vigilance, blaming it on one enemy soldier? Does that even make sense?" Those involved in the failure would face consequences. The sorcerer, retreating after the failure, had been found dead. A bandit group had apparently crossed paths with the retreating party, leaving the sorcerer and their escorts all severed in half. "Nothing is going right. Nothing." "Are we just going to let this slide?" The Duke''s decorum shattered as he shouted in frustration. What had begun as a secret weapon proposed by the Ekkins family in autumn had turned into a disaster. The stalemated skirmishes on the Green Pearl Plains ended in Aspen''s defeat. *** Ten days later, Enkrid felt his body had fully recovered. The first thing he did upon waking was seek out Rem. "Rem." "What''s up?" Rem, having just returned from guard duty, stood before Enkrid. "Let''s spar." "What?" "Spar with me." "Didn''t you just recover?" What did that matter? Enkrid''s body was itching for action. His expression conveyed his thoughts clearly¡ªan ability in its own right. Using just his eyebrows and mouth, he communicated his unshakable determination. "Alright, let''s do it. If you''re eager, who am I to stop you? But don''t cry when you get beaten." "Bring it on, you arrogant barbarian." "Oh, you looking to get your legs broken this time?" Rem responded to Enkrid''s provocation with a grin, and the two headed outside the barracks. Watching them go, Ragna couldn''t help but agree with one part of what Rem had said: Among all the crazy people Ragna had met, the captain was the most insane. For someone with minimal talent, how could he wake up and immediately demand to fight? Less than thirty minutes later, Enkrid re-entered the barracks. "Ragna, come out. It''s time for me to break your neck." The squad leader was exhilarated. Despite a crust of dried blood near his temple, his expression was bright. "Fine, fine. Let''s do it." Ragna saw no point in arguing, knowing it would only drain his energy. A few rounds of sparring would suffice. This was their daily routine. Chapter 50 - "Surely" Catches People (1) Chapter 50 - 50 - "Surely" Catches People (1) Chapter 50 - "Surely" Catches People (1) After the battle ended, Enkrid fulfilled his duties as part of the Border Guard''s standing army. He stood watch, patrolled the city, and spent every other moment wholly focused on his sword. For someone new to Enkrid''s routine, it might seem monotonous, but to everyone around him, it was an unremarkable, peaceful daily life. Even if someone had been paying attention, Enkrid wouldn''t have cared. He immersed himself inwardly, wrestling with a single question: "How can I win?" Or, "How can I wield my sword better?" It was a time for self-reflection and re-evaluation. Observing the knights'' skills only fueled a burning desire to surpass them. Yet, he wasn''t impatient. Step by step, slowly but surely. Progress, no matter how gradual, was Enkrid''s specialty. "Heart of the Beast, Sense of Evasion, Pin-Point Focus." To move forward, he relied on everything he had learned from Rem, Jaxen, and Ragna, pouring it all into his sparring sessions. At first, he mainly sparred with Rem. Later, Ragna joined, and eventually, Jaxen occasionally joined in as well. "I''ll give you a reality check before your brain turns entirely to muscle." "Huh? Was that directed at me?" A stray comment sparked tension between Rem and Jaxen, but to Enkrid, it was just another part of their peaceful routine. Sparring with Rem was intense. It demanded quick thinking and improvisation. It required boldness and focus, with no time for hesitation¡ªhis body had to move before his mind did. Ragna''s approach was different. His duels revolved around pure swordsmanship, where even an initial offensive could turn into a desperate defense if one let their guard down. Throughout, one had to remain attuned to the overall flow of the battle. Jaxen''s style was distinct from both of them. Jaxen relied heavily on deception¡ªusing sounds, subtle footwork, hand gestures, or even the faintest shrug of his shoulders to mislead his opponent. Every movement had to be scrutinized, turning the fight into a battle of reflexive wits. "Clear your mind. Focus on the present," Jaxen often reminded him. The knights faded from Enkrid''s thoughts as he threw himself into daily repetition. *** Two weeks after his return to the Border Guard, a ceremony was held to recognize the participants of the recent battle. "These individuals contributed to our victory against the treacherous Aspen!" The battalion commander distributed rewards, with Enkrid receiving the largest share. "A special reward is granted for identifying and dispelling the enemy''s sorcery!" The adjutant proclaimed Enkrid''s accomplishments for all to hear. They''re really announcing all this? He had expected the leadership to claim his credit for themselves, but they openly acknowledged his achievements. Among the company commanders standing beside the battalion commander, one stood out¡ªa fairy with emerald-green eyes. What role did that commander play? Enkrid didn''t know, and he doubted he''d get an answer even if he asked. "Our victory!" the battalion commander bellowed again. This time, however, there was no frenzy like on the final night of battle. The soldiers led by their squad leaders clapped politely. When Enkrid returned to his place, a few soldiers behind him glanced his way, whispering. "Sorcery? Did he really destroy that banner on his own?" "Probably one of his squad members did it." "No way he did it alone." "So, the mist was sorcery, and he dispelled it? I can''t believe it. That squad leader?" It was the kind of remark one would make if they were familiar with the old Enkrid. And Enkrid understood that. But Rem did not. "Looks like some of the young ones are craving my axe," he remarked with a blank expression, a chilling weight in his voice. This was a man who, even under normal circumstances, enjoyed smacking soldiers upside the head for sport. "Why do they even bother with these ceremonies? They could''ve let us sleep instead," Ragna grumbled, glancing back with annoyance. The battalion commander''s speech was tediously long. Enkrid, as their squad leader, tried to calm him down. Meanwhile, the commander droned on about his role in the battle¡ªhow sending the recon team was his idea, how he immediately recognized the flag as sorcery. It was a parade of nonsense. The whispers behind Enkrid grew louder, mocking him with increasing boldness. "What if that squad leader''s sneaking into the battalion commander''s quarters?" "Ha, what nonsense. He''s no courtesan." The soldier who uttered the last remark laughed uproariously at his own words. Enkrid had heard such comments before, back when he was struggling to survive with the help of his squad. When his skills were subpar, he didn''t let such words get to him. Now, he''d reached a point where he didn''t even register them. But his squad members thought otherwise. "Having fun, are we?" It was Jaxen. At some point, the red-haired squad member had quietly moved between the two offending soldiers, slinging an arm around each of their shoulders. Enkrid hadn''t even noticed him move. The soldiers flinched visibly. Jaxen leaned between them, speaking softly. His words were inaudible, his lips unreadable. Whatever he said, the soldiers fell silent, their faces pale. Jaxen casually returned to his place. "What did you say?" Rem asked, curious. Even Ragna perked up his ears, while Big Eyes and the Audin subtly leaned toward Jaxen. Though indifferent to gossip, Enkrid, too, was curious. "Just some life advice," Jaxen replied nonchalantly. "Sure, funny guy," Rem scoffed. Though Enkrid and Big Eyes didn''t see it, the others did. Jaxen''s hands, resting on the soldiers'' shoulders, each held a short knife. Its sharp tip had been poised against their necks¡ªenough to send a chill down anyone''s spine. "Need any advice yourself?" Jaxen asked Rem casually. His tone was calm, but the tension was palpable. Veins bulged on Rem''s forehead as he laughed it off. "Quiet. The commander''s still talking," Enkrid interjected, defusing the situation. Even after Jaxen''s subtle display of force, the resentment toward Enkrid lingered. Jealousy and bitterness simmered, directed at someone who was once a nobody¡ªa soldier barely scraping by at the bottom. But now, that same soldier had dispelled sorcery, earning recognition from the battalion commander and a royal reward. While some celebrated his achievement, many let their envy fester, embodying the serpentine malice often described in Naurilia folklore. The word "surely" became the embodiment of disbelief, mingled with scorn, jealousy, and contempt. "Surely, that squad leader didn''t really do it," they said. Even Big Eyes, usually unbothered, couldn''t help but comment, "They sure like to talk." The battalion commander''s speech finally ended, and Enkrid found his reward pouch heavy. It wasn''t just small coins¡ªthis was a considerable amount. Enkrid decided to buy a new sword with it. "Dismissed! Time for shift rotation!" The adjutant signaled the end of the tedious ceremony. "Care for a sparring session now? Do you have a shift?" Enkrid asked Rem as the group dispersed. Rem stared at him, dumbfounded. "Have you thought about dealing with those loudmouths instead?" "Those guys? Why bother? What''s the point?" Enkrid''s single-minded focus on his sword made Rem chuckle despite himself. How could someone remain so consistent? "Let''s spar," Rem agreed, recalling the first time he''d met Enkrid at the Border Guard. Back then, he was a pathetic swordsman, relying on tricks to get by. And now? Memories of their recent bout flashed through Rem''s mind. Where did he pick up such solid fundamentals? The middle-style swordsmanship Enkrid displayed was as polished as if he had been trained by a renowned family. "You''ve improved a lot," Rem admitted. Rem offered a single comment before shifting gears himself. He had to; casual sparring like before was no longer sufficient. While Rem took it lightly, Ragna was genuinely surprised after sparring with Enkrid. "I couldn''t have taught him better myself." The squad leader''s skills had improved significantly. His fundamentals were sharper, and the focused concentration¡ªsomething Ragna had briefly explained¡ªwas applied with remarkable proficiency. But this wasn''t an extraordinary development. Focused concentration was akin to entering a trance state, pushing oneself to the limit. With enough talent, one could master it in a single day. Ragna himself had done so. The squad leader achieving it might have been astonishing, but... "It''s not impossible." This line of thinking¡ªbelieving that if he could do something, so could others¡ªwas typical of a genius. Ragna used this logic to make sense of Enkrid''s current state. Jaxen, meanwhile, found joy in sparring with a much-improved squad leader. ''Is this... fun?'' A sword, a spear, or even a dagger¡ªwhat were they, if not tools designed to kill? Jaxen had always seen weapons as mere tools throughout his life. Yet, oddly, after crossing blades with the squad leader, he felt a strange sense of relief. So much so that, for a brief moment, he forgot his own personal goals. It was puzzling, and because of that, Jaxen wanted to support the squad leader even more. On the other side stood Audin Fumrei, a devout squad member, staring intently at the squad leader. Audin''s perception was sharp. "To improve so much in a single day..." Had the squad leader always been this gifted with physical abilities? If so, his skills should continue improving at this rate. But now, he seemed to have plateaued. All learning and practice inevitably hit a stagnation point, and Audin knew this well. Yet, whenever he observed the squad leader, something felt oddly out of place. "There''s something strange about this." Still, he dismissed it as nothing worth dwelling on¡ªor perhaps a blessing from the gods. After all, Enkrid was someone who trained relentlessly, to the point that a single day often felt too short. If such a person didn''t deserve divine blessings, who did? With these thoughts, Audin embraced the questions surrounding the squad leader. God and man, blessings and curses¡ªhe pondered everything deeply. *** "Seems like a good one." Enkrid purchased a sword. "It''s better than ''good''! That blade''s mixed with Valerian steel!" the blacksmith said, veins bulging on his forehead. "Is that so?" Enkrid replied, inspecting the blade closely. There was no bluish sheen typical of Valerian steel. Noticing Enkrid''s expert examination, the blacksmith added, "I said ''mixed with,'' not pure Valerian steel." "I see." Valerian steel was a renowned metal across the continent. Known for its high elasticity and resistance to breaking, a weapon forged from it rarely chipped. Once sharpened, it became a durable and reliable weapon. On the battlefield, a sturdy blade was as valuable as a dependable ally. Thus, Valerian steel weapons were highly sought after. While Imperial steel was another option, it was never exported outside the Empire. This made Valerian steel the best available alternative. "I''ll take it." Spending half his reward money on the sword, Enkrid drew a shake of the head from Krais, the "Big Eyes." "Why spend so much on a sword? You could just grab something off the battlefield or request from supplies." "Wouldn''t it feel unfair to die because of a subpar weapon?" "...Well, when you put it that way, I can''t argue." "So, are you heading straight for the rank advancement now?" "Yeah." Having honed his skills through countless sparring matches, Enkrid felt ready to test himself. "How far can I go?" Currently at the lowest rank, he judged himself capable of reaching at least the mid-tier. But what about the upper ranks? The top tier? The elite? To boost morale among soldiers, Naurilia had implemented a ranking system. To advance, one simply had to defeat someone of a higher rank. Challenges were always accepted, and there were designated officials within units to organize such matches. It was a simple but effective system. "Alright, let''s go." Krais, who often coordinated these matches, saw it as another lucrative opportunity. Betting was a common practice during these sparring matches, and the higher-ups turned a blind eye to the money changing hands. Some commanders even placed bets themselves. "I''m betting on the squad leader''s victory," Krais declared. It wasn''t a statement of confidence in his own judgment; it was based on Rem''s advice: "Always bet on the squad leader." That was all he needed to hear. And since Rem didn''t say such things lightly, Krais trusted him. "Just don''t let me lose," he thought. Though he wouldn''t confront Rem directly, Krais knew better than to cross him. When Enkrid approached the platoon leader to request a rank advancement match, the leader nodded. "Fair enough. No need to stay at the bottom rank." With the platoon leader''s approval and Krais''s coordination, the match was set up in the central training ground. At first, only a few idle soldiers gathered to watch. After all, it was just another sparring match¡ªuntil they realized who was involved. It was none other than the infamous squad leader. The one who shattered the Mist of Massacre. The one rumored to have licked his squad member''s... well, an embarrassing tale that kept the soldiers entertained. Naturally, more spectators trickled in, curious about the notorious squad leader. Soon, over twenty soldiers had gathered. Facing Enkrid was a curly-haired soldier, a former mercenary. "I''m mid-tier. So you went straight for the mid-tier rank, huh?" "Yeah." "You''re pretty cocky." After a brief exchange, they clashed swords. Clang! The sound of steel meeting steel echoed as Enkrid blocked the soldier''s downward slash. He waited, expecting the soldier to launch another attack. That''s how it always was¡ªwith Rem, Ragna, and Jaxen. They exploited every opening during their sparring sessions. In real combat, it was no different. Even the depraved foes who favored thrusts, and the lunatic Hurrier of Aspen, never left any gaps. But this opponent was different. Clang! Clang! After a few more exchanges, Enkrid frowned. "Is this a joke?" His opponent''s skills were far below expectations. It was hard to tell if the soldier was serious or not. "Haah!" The "mid-tier" soldier swung down again, leaving an absurd number of openings. Enkrid pretended to block before sidestepping and hooking his foot around the soldier''s shin. Thud, whump, swoosh! The soldier''s right leg lifted awkwardly as he tumbled to the ground with a loud crash. "Argh!" A misplaced hand during the fall had the soldier clutching his wrist in pain, groaning on the ground. The outcome was unexpected. Enkrid''s eyes filled with questions. "Why are they so weak?" It baffled him. Chapter 51 - "Surely" Catches People (2) Chapter 51 - 51 - "Surely" Catches People (2) Chapter 51 - "Surely" Catches People (2) "You''re lucky." One of the soldiers observing the duel muttered. He was a fellow former mercenary, and one of the men who had complained to Enkrid during the recent awards ceremony. With a frown, the soldier stepped forward. "You''re not tired, are you? How about another round?" To earn a promotion, one had to be acknowledged by three mid-level soldiers or defeat them all in combat. Facing one opponent alone wouldn''t suffice. "Uh, Squad Leader?" Krais looked around nervously. Judging by the growling coming from the challenger, the atmosphere was tense. Enkrid cast a puzzled glance at the soldier he had just defeated. Was this right? All it had taken was a single trip, and the fight was over. The fallen soldier stood up, clutching his wrist. "Lucky bastard." The soldier withdrew, still clutching his wrist, his expression showing pain so sharp it brought tears to his eyes. Well, it probably hurt. But not enough to make someone cry, surely. Enkrid shifted his gaze to his next opponent, adjusting his stance. "I''m not tired." "Good. Then I''ll be your next opponent." Enkrid quickly replayed the previous fight in his mind. "It was luck." His opponent had been so unprepared when he fell that he made no effort to protect himself. He hadn''t anticipated being taken down at all. "Why?" The carelessness stemmed from underestimating his opponent. But could a single misstep decide the outcome? Was that even possible? No matter. He''d just try again to confirm. The new opponent drew his spear. The infantry battalion stationed at the Border Guard was composed of two primary unit types: Light infantry and heavy infantry. Those who wielded long spears were typically heavy infantry, soldiers the Border Guard had invested significant resources in training. They held a higher status compared to the light infantry and were better trained and skilled. The opponent aimed a short spear designed for personal combat at Enkrid, spinning its tip in tight circles. Enkrid didn''t let his focus be drawn by the spear''s motion. "When fighting, keep the entire body of your opponent in view," Ragna had once told him. Enkrid adhered to that advice. Whoosh. The spear lunged for his side like a hawk diving for prey¡ªa swift and precise thrust. "Too slow." Compared to the piercing attacks from the earlier spear-fighting enthusiast he had faced, this was sluggish. The trajectory was clear and easy to dodge. Shifting his weight onto his left foot, Enkrid twisted his body, sidestepping the spear while trapping it under his arm. Thunk. With the spear pinned, the opponent tried to pull it back, but Enkrid leapt forward, matching the motion. "Huh?!" The soldier, expecting resistance, was caught off guard as Enkrid''s sudden momentum threw him off balance. Startled, the soldier raised his left arm to block. Feigning a strike to his opponent''s eyes, Enkrid extended his foot, hooking the soldier''s shin. With his right leg, he locked the shin in place, extending his left leg forward while twisting his hip to shove his shoulder into the soldier''s chest. Thud. The sound of the soldier''s collapse echoed as he crashed heavily to the ground. Enkrid didn''t even need to point his sword at him. He stood over his fallen opponent, gazing down. The mid-level soldier from Heavy Infantry, 1st Company, 1st Platoon, lay on the ground staring up at Enkrid. This squad leader looked twice as big as before, an illusion brought on by the psychological pressure of being utterly subdued. "Damn." Even as his breath was knocked out of him, he cursed the fellow who had labeled this squad leader a troublemaker¡ªand himself for believing it. "What''s ''bottom tier'' about this guy?" Enkrid looked down at him and asked, "More?" "No, no, I''m done." With the second opponent defeated, it was time for the third to step forward. "Idiots," someone muttered among the soldiers watching Enkrid''s promotion bout. It was Andrew, the same Andrew who had accompanied Enkrid on reconnaissance missions. Andrew had already concluded back then that Enkrid''s skills exceeded the mid-level standard, and now he seemed even more polished. His swordsmanship had matured significantly. Andrew silently congratulated himself for betting all his kronas on Enkrid, then wondered how a duel between them would go. He''d been training relentlessly since their last mission. Beside him, Mac turned to Andrew. "What happened to that guy?" "Why?" "He''s improved way too much." "How much?" Mac shook his head at Andrew''s expression. "He''s not the same." After their reconnaissance mission, Mac had advised Andrew that if he wanted to challenge the troublemaker squad leader, he''d need more experience. Now, he''d have to take that back. "If I fought him now, it''d be tough. Really tough." Mac, a skilled swordsman who had mentored Andrew, admitted his difficulty. Andrew nodded. This was how it should be. After all, this was the man who had defeated him in a single strike¡ªthe first person Andrew had ever felt compelled to follow naturally. Not far away, Vengeance observed the match as well. He had just returned from duty when he noticed the commotion in the training yard. The sparring ring, with its soft dirt floor, was abuzz. "What''s going on?" One of his subordinates explained. Vengeance rested his spear on his side, hooked his helmet onto its tip, and watched. Enkrid had fought twice and defeated both opponents. It sounded simple in words, but anyone with an eye for combat could see the truth. "If that''s luck..." Then the Goddess of Fortune herself must have been reborn as a man. The third challenger hesitated to step forward. Only then did Krais realize his squad leader was far more capable than he''d thought. Krais, ever the opportunist, took the chance to intervene. "You there, 2nd Platoon! How about a match?" If there was nothing to trust, that was one thing. But if there was something to believe in, Krais could become a bold provocateur. He was the kind of man who could taunt and draw out his opponent if necessary. "Me?" The number of spectators had grown considerably. It wasn''t exactly a pleasant sight to get beaten up in front of a crowd. "Who else could it be? Why, you seemed so bold when you were mocking him behind his back, calling him a whore and all." Krais sneered as he spoke, curling his lips to ridicule his opponent. At this point, there was no avoiding stepping forward. "Bah, fine! I''ll do it." The rough-mouthed soldier spat on the ground and stepped forward. Standing on the soft soil, he looked at Enkrid. Enkrid had just finished reviewing the second fight. ''I''ve been putting myself through far too many difficult fights,'' he thought. This opponent was too easy. Rem and the squad members had often commented on how flawed the soldier grading system was. "Can all intermediates really be considered the same level of intermediate? Sure, maybe the advanced soldiers are somewhat reliable, but even then, the gaps are huge. Besides, do you think battles for survival are won solely based on skill? There are plenty of people who use their brains to kill stronger opponents across the continent," Rem had said. Even so, if Enkrid wanted recognition here, he needed to rise in the ranks of the soldier grading system. "Or, stand above the grading system itself." Those who stood above the grading system. They were the owners of the crimson cloaks. The unit stationed in Border Guard consisted of two battalions. Rotating between deployments to Green Pearl, where they were stationed for fieldwork, the city usually housed one battalion and a reserve unit. Currently, the first corps, to which Enkrid belonged, was stationed in the city. Half of the second corps was out in the Green Pearl plains for field operations. Even when not fighting enemies, they were naturally expected to defend their positions. Every winter, the two battalions alternated in their defensive duties. That was the role of the Border Guard''s standing army. In a city with fewer than ten thousand people, there were two infantry battalions and the royal army''s direct unit. Although it was the first time a member of the Red Cloak Knights had taken to the battlefield, knights were occasionally dispatched to the Border Guard as well. This was all possible because Border Guard was under the direct jurisdiction of the kingdom. In the past, when relations with Aspen were amicable, Border Guard had been a trading hub where various goods, including spices, passed through. After Aspen began its invasion wars, the city transformed into a military and fortress city. The low city walls were raised higher, and watchtowers were built. The three towers symbolized Naurelia''s watchful gaze upon Aspen. As a result, most of the garrison troops in the city were of high caliber. This was a border city where veteran forces with extensive battle experience were gathered. Thus, even the soldier standing before Enkrid should possess a fair amount of skill. For this reason, no opponent should have been underestimated. When the battle began, that had certainly been the case. This place had been filled with more than enough opponents to challenge Enkrid. "Hey, were you daydreaming?" The opponent asked. "No." Enkrid flinched but quickly shook his head. Never underestimate your opponent. It was advice given by countless swordsmanship instructors. To honor that advice, Enkrid reflected even on the city''s transformation into a strategic stronghold. Never underestimate them¡ªit had once been advice that didn''t resonate. ''Who am I to look down on anyone?'' But now, he had to steel himself to honor those words. He didn''t smile. He simply felt satisfied. This was a different kind of exhilaration than the joy of growth. The thrill of proving his skills and showcasing them. That was what brought joy to Enkrid. "What''s so amusing?" The opponent asked again. Enkrid realized he wore a faint smile. "I enjoy fighting." "You''re mad." The opponent steadied his breathing and attacked, slashing downward with his sword. Enkrid tracked the blade''s trajectory with his eyes and moved. From the foot planted firmly on the ground, he drew strength through his knee, channeling it to his waist. Using that momentum, he swung his sword and struck the opponent''s blade. Clang! A sharp metallic sound rang out. The opponent''s chest opened up. Enkrid retrieved his blade and feigned a thrust, prompting the opponent to retreat and assume a defensive stance. Enkrid only pretended to thrust. Instead, he raised his sword tip and closed the gap. Then, locking eyes with the startled opponent, he pressed his blade against the opponent''s and stepped forward with his left foot, hooking it behind the opponent''s heel. With force in his sword hand, he pushed forward. The opponent barely managed to pull his sword back to guard his chest. Blades locked together couldn''t be used for an attack. The soldier was utterly helpless. Thud. The opponent, tripped by Enkrid''s move, fell onto his backside. Enkrid placed his blade against the fallen soldier''s crown. It all happened in an instant. With this third fight, Enkrid had clearly demonstrated his skills. The fallen soldier looked up, his eyes verifying the blade hovering above his head. "...I lost," the soldier admitted. Naurelia had long revered strength. It wasn''t called the land of knights for nothing. Andrew, Mac... Even Vengeance, who had been watching silently. The fairy company commander who had arrived unnoticed. Rem, Ragna, and the troublemaking squad members. Even the soldiers who had once insulted Enkrid behind his back. No one spoke. The sunlight, angling from above, reflected off the blade and illuminated half of Enkrid''s face. The faint sunlight, the stretching shadows, and the cold air that made his breath visible created an eerie spectacle. It felt like a strange illusion. In the center of the battlefield, Enkrid seemed to emerge from the torn flags that had been used as mediums for sorcery. The truth that everyone had refused to acknowledge had now solidified in their minds. The one who had shattered the mist of massacre and the sorcery that had threatened them was the man standing before them. "I thought it was impossible..." Someone murmured. It was an admission of the truth. When his skills were unknown, they could criticize him, but not now. Even the one who had insulted him spoke up. "I was out of line. I apologize," the second defeated soldier said. Enkrid nodded silently. Border Guard''s standing army was filled with such individuals. A rough unit that couldn''t tolerate weakness in its ranks. That was the strength of Border Guard''s forces, the Swords of the Frontier. Conversely, once proven by skill, respect came swiftly. Enkrid had overwhelmed intermediate soldiers and proven himself. "Spell Breaker." Someone murmured. There was no applause¡ªit wasn''t the right atmosphere for that. But it seemed the nickname would stick. "Spell Breaker?" Enkrid thought it was excessive. As he pondered what to do next, he opened his mouth. "Looks like it''s time to face an advanced soldier." Three intermediate soldiers had been defeated with a single trip maneuver. So, what was left? What else could it be? Advanced soldiers, of course. Was he really thinking about fighting again? Krais''s wide eyes grew even wider. He thought Enkrid was truly an uncontrollable squad leader. Should another fight begin right away? As the thought crossed their minds... Whistle! A whistle broke the air as a soldier stepped forward, smiling faintly. "This is getting interesting," the soldier said. He wore an eagle emblem on his epaulet, signifying that he was part of the royal army''s Frontier Defense Force. This unit was as renowned as Aspen''s independent company, the Grey Dogs. The Frontier Slaughterers, as they were called¡ªa brutal and merciless force. With a total of 200 soldiers, all advanced rank or higher, this royal direct unit was feared even within the rugged Border Guard. And one of them had stepped forward. Chapter 52 - The Turtle and The Frontier Slaughterer (1) Chapter 52 - 52 - The Turtle and The Frontier Slaughterer (1) Chapter 52 - The Turtle and The Frontier Slaughterer (1) "Why don''t you try me?" A soldier stepped forward as he spoke. His appearance was unassuming. He was slightly shorter than Enkrid but had a stocky build. In his lowered hand, a short sword with a sharp blue blade gleamed, reflecting the light. The Frontier Slaughterers¡ªthis was no ordinary unit. The Border Guard''s defensive force was small yet elite. Despite having only two hundred soldiers, the battalion commander and the Frontier Slaughterers unit leader were of equal rank. According to Naurilia''s military structure, this unit was part of the royal army. This meant they operated under a separate command structure, distinct from the first and second infantry divisions stationed at the Border Guard. The Frontier Slaughterers soldier stared at Enkrid with dull eyes. It wasn''t a provocative look. It was closer to the gaze of someone looking down from a position of superiority, tinged with arrogance. That expression stirred Enkrid''s fighting spirit. It made him think, This will be interesting. Enkrid was thrilled. I can fight. Gone were the days of collapsing immediately under superior skill or being crushed by overwhelming talent before even beginning. Compared to his past self, who could only dream of competing, the transformation was exhilarating. Perhaps because they thought Enkrid hesitated, murmurs spread through the surroundings. "Spell Breaker!" "The troublemaking squad leader." "Let''s see what he''s got." "Being from The Frontier Slaughterers doesn''t make you invincible." Despite having had only three short sparring matches, voices of support rose for Enkrid. It was an unfamiliar experience for him. He had never encountered such a situation before¡ªnot even once in his life. "Let''s go!" "Show them!" "The flower of the battlefield is infantry!" Now, they were even chanting infantry slogans. It was amusing since his opponent was also infantry. Still, the earnest support was palpable. The desire to fight and win burned within him. The mere thought of battling against an average soldier no longer satisfied his thirst. The combined morale of the infantry gathered behind him surged. A tingling sensation spread from his toes to his entire body. Observing from the sidelines, Vengeance understood the soldiers'' cheers for Enkrid. It''s no wonder. Even Vengeance had shouted encouragement to Enkrid. A lowest-ranking soldier who spent sleepless nights swinging his sword. A squad leader managing a group of troublemakers. His position had been insignificant, his skills pathetic compared to his efforts. That had been the general consensus. Others likely thought the same. But now? Enkrid, the troublemaking squad leader, was showing a completely different side. By displaying exceptional skill, he had proven himself. By breaking curses, he had saved allies and changed the battlefield''s outcome¡ªan undeniable reality. Even knowing this, no one had dared to believe it. But now the unbelievable had become reality. Now, everyone knew. The greatest contributor in the previous battle was none other than Enkrid. The battalion commander''s commendation and a pouch of kronas were tokens of recognition. As with any military, the higher-ups took their cut. The current battalion commander, notorious for his poor reputation, was no exception. Rumors abounded that he saw soldiers as mere expendables. Among the soldiers who had started noticing Enkrid''s skill was Bell, one of those he had saved with his shield from a deadly arrow. I knew it! From the moment Enkrid saved him, Bell had recognized his potential. The troublemaking squad leader was destined for greatness. Absolutely. It wasn''t just Bell. Everyone who had unknowingly formed bonds with Enkrid now united in their support. At this moment, Enkrid represented the ordinary soldiers of the Border Guard. Buoyed by their cheers, Enkrid tapped his sword tip with his foot and steadied his stance. Simultaneously, he suppressed the electrifying excitement surging through him and calmed his breath. "You''re ready?" "There''s no reason not to be." Enkrid''s composed response made Torres, The Frontier Slaughterers soldier, think to himself, Interesting. The Frontier Slaughterers¡ªthere was a reason for the unit''s nickname. Yet his opponent wasn''t backing down. Instead, he stepped forward with a faint smile on his face. Amused, intrigued, and slightly annoyed, Torres wanted to show the clear difference between a regular soldier and a special forces operative. With a swift motion, Torres charged first. His speed was terrifyingly fast. Enkrid waited and thrust his sword straight at the center. A solid move¡ªit forced the opponent to dodge left, right, up, or down. As soon as Torres evaded, a powerful follow-up would strike. But Torres didn''t dodge. Instead, he aimed his short sword at Enkrid''s incoming blade. When the blades met, Enkrid tried to overpower him, but Torres skillfully countered. Clang! Clang! Sliding his blade along Enkrid''s, Torres twisted it upward, creating an angle that deflected the downward force. It was a textbook deflection maneuver. As sparks flew from their clashing blades, Enkrid didn''t hesitate. He stepped forward with his rear foot and kicked. Thud! Just before his kick connected, Torres blocked it with his palm. The distance closed¡ªto the point where even their swords couldn''t fit between them. Torres dropped his short sword and lunged deeper into Enkrid''s space, crossing his arms to grab his collar. He intended to choke him. Unbothered, Enkrid pulled his sword upward from between his legs. It was a bold upward slash aimed at Torres''s back. Even if he got choked, he could leave a significant mark on the special forces soldier. But Torres twisted away, releasing Enkrid''s collar and shoving his chest instead. Enkrid resisted the push, redirecting his sword into a horizontal slash. With Torres unarmed, the outcome seemed certain. Yet, in that moment, Enkrid experienced something new. His opponent vanished. Vanished? For a split second, his concentration faltered. The opponent had disappeared right before his eyes. Not even a sound remained. Then, instinct kicked in. A survival instinct forged through countless brushes with death guided Enkrid. He tilted his head back, exposing his chest. A flash of light erupted from below his chin. Swish! The flash grazed his cheek. Within the briefest moment, Enkrid regained focus. If I lose sight of him, I''ll die. The warning etched into his instincts was clear. The light soared upward and then fell. Enkrid caught it with his left palm while lifting his knee. Thwack! Thump! Pain seared through his palm. In the instant before impact, he saw Torres''s eyes twitch with shock. Blood dripped from Enkrid''s left palm, which had just intercepted the blade of a dagger. The sudden injury came as a result of Torres discarding his short sword and swiftly drawing his dagger for a lethal strike. A drop of blood hit the ground with a faint plop, followed by a slow, steady trickle. Torres exhaled sharply, miming the act of sheathing his blade, and Enkrid released the dagger''s edge without resistance. Pain surged through his left hand¡ªa searing, burning ache. A similar sharp sting spread across his cheek, accompanied by the warm flow of blood from a cut sustained earlier. Had that strike landed fully, it could have split his jaw. It seemed luck was on his side¡ªor perhaps it was something more instinctive. ''Terrifying...'' thought Enkrid. "You''ve got some luck, huh?" Torres remarked, his voice cutting through the tension. At some point, Rem had moved behind Torres, his axe resting on his shoulder. He stood close enough that a swing would reach. Beside him, Ragna was poised, his left hand placed on his sword, his left foot shifted half a step forward¡ªa stance that unmistakably signaled readiness for a draw strike. "You shouldn''t take it any further," Ragna muttered. Torres wasn''t just surrounded by the two of them; Jaxen, the squadmate with auburn hair, stood at his flank. Jaxen held no weapon, but his presence felt even more dangerous than Rem or Ragna. The culmination of their earlier sparring had left Enkrid''s instincts hyper-aware, warning him of the risks around every corner. And there was more. Enkrid''s gaze dropped between him and Torres to find a slender, leaf-shaped blade¡ªclearly of fairy craftsmanship¡ªwedged between them. "That''s enough, platoon leader of The Frontier Slaughterers ," came the calm but firm voice of the fairy commander. Her blade had slipped between them unnoticed. "Why so tense? It''s just sparring. A few more seconds, and I''d have been full of holes," Torres quipped, retrieving his dagger. He rubbed his abdomen where Enkrid''s strike had landed, raising both hands in mock surrender. Finally, the onlookers, who had been holding their breath, exhaled in relief. "Damn, that was incredible!" "Are you kidding? How is he ranked as a low-grade soldier?" It seemed no further evaluation was needed; the audience recognized what they had just witnessed. "At least mid-grade! No, higher!" Even soldiers in the crowd could tell the difference. And Torres¡ªhis reputation well-known¡ªspoke first. "I''m Torres, platoon leader of The Frontier Slaughterers." He tapped his insignia and extended his hand. Enkrid sheathed his blade and extended his uninjured right hand to shake it. "Enkrid, 4th Company, 4th Platoon, 4th Squad Leader," he replied formally. Torres grinned, his demeanor friendly, as though they hadn''t just been at each other''s throats moments before. "I''ve heard of you¡ªthe troublemaker squad leader," Torres said, laughing. Those within the city who knew of Enkrid knew him well. "You''re skilled. Let''s spar again sometime," Torres said as he turned to leave. As Torres walked through the crowd, soldiers instinctively parted for him. His title as one of the Frontier Slaughterers commanded respect, even among allies. The fact that someone of his stature had acknowledged Enkrid spoke volumes. But the soldiers weren''t merely impressed by Torres. "Why does he have to look good doing it too?" someone muttered, watching Enkrid brush his damp bangs aside. The spectators, who had gathered at the training ground, now viewed Enkrid in a new light. It hadn''t been intentional, but the event shifted perceptions. From that day forward, no one casually dismissed Enkrid. Gone were the whispers questioning his competence. Anyone doubting him was swiftly rebuked: "Are you serious? That''s the guy who saved the battalion in the last campaign." Even those returning from leave, oblivious to the recent events, couldn''t help but fall in line. "You don''t know? He destroyed the curse! You think that just happened on its own? Idiot!" Enkrid''s feats had become the stuff of legend. Witnesses stepped forward, bolstering his reputation further. "I was nearly skewered by an arrow, but he stepped in and blocked it just in time," Bell recounted. "Not to mention he charged headfirst and shattered the curse. I saw it with my own eyes!" Andrew confirmed. Even Andrew''s caretaker, Mac, added, "He always took on the riskiest missions during recon. And his swordsmanship? That''s not for me to judge¡ªit''s on a whole other level." The shift in atmosphere was undeniable, though Enkrid remained focused on his duties. When his promotion was finalized two days later, it barely changed his routine. "You''re something else, Squad Leader," Rem teased during a shift at the southern gate. "Why?" "People can''t stop talking about you. Don''t act like you don''t know." Enkrid shrugged it off, focusing instead on his training. After their shift, as they prepared to leave, a man intercepted them. The stranger''s presence was unsettling. "Let''s talk," he said, his tone sharp. Before Rem could retort, Enkrid intervened, dismissing his companion. "Go ahead without me." Rem hesitated but eventually relented, muttering as he walked away, "Fine, but don''t forget about me!" Once alone, the man scoffed. "Discipline is a mess in your squad." "Wouldn''t be called the troublemaker squad otherwise," Enkrid replied calmly. The man walked along the low walls of the barracks, and Enkrid followed. "You know who I am?" the man asked. "You''re the First Company Commander," Enkrid replied. The man nodded, his reputation preceding him as the leader of the formidable turtle infantry of the Border Guard Battalion. Chapter 53 - The Turtle and The Frontier Slaughterer (2) Chapter 53 - 53 - The Turtle and The Frontier Slaughterer (2) Chapter 53 - The Turtle and The Frontier Slaughterer (2) "Don''t you want to transfer?" It was just five steps outside the barracks. Transferring personnel directly within a unit wasn''t a common occurrence. ''Is it because I''ve been promoted to a higher rank?'' That might be it. There weren''t many senior or elite soldiers within the unit. Or perhaps there was another reason. The Spell breaker. Currently, that name was the most talked about within the unit. Being noticed and receiving attention was a new experience. But it wasn''t something to get all giddy and wild about like a fifteen-year-old kid. It was enjoyable, yes, but there were times when you had to let certain things slide precisely because they were enjoyable. Enkrid had experience. Surviving on the battlefield and eating soldier''s meals up until the age of thirty was no small feat. "Do you mean the First Company?" "Do you think I''d come all the way here to assign you to that idiot Palto''s company or Rayon''s company?" Palto and Rayon were the captains of the Second and Third Companies, respectively. "Join my company." Enkrid''s promotion duel had left a deep impression on everyone. Among them, Graham, the comander of the First Company responsible for the heavy infantry, had taken a particular liking to Enkrid. Graham was already well-known within the army for valuing talented soldiers. He was even considered a candidate for the next battalion commander. Coming from someone like him, this proposal was no small matter. The First Company, famous for its heavy infantry, was the core of the Cypress Division and an elite unit within the army. But Enkrid shook his head. "I''m sorry." It was a polite yet unmistakably firm rejection. "Rejection? Why? If you''re worried about souring relations with your current commander, I can smooth things over." "It''s not that." Enkrid''s reply was so calm that it bordered on detached. There wasn''t even a hint of hesitation. Graham furrowed his brow before relaxing it again. "You don''t seem the least bit interested." "Do I?" Graham gazed at Enkrid, who returned the look as if wondering if there was more to say. "You really don''t." Graham realized this wasn''t a matter to be resolved through pressure or persuasion. "Very well, then." Enkrid placed his left hand on his left waist and gave a military salute with a slight bow. Graham mirrored his gesture precisely, as if reflecting Enkrid''s actions in a mirror. Placing his left hand on his waist, he returned the salute. Then he spoke. "Thanks." Thanks? As Enkrid looked at him quizzically, Graham added, "For saving my life. It''s only right to say thank you." The Spell breaker. That mist had been horrifying. The more capable a commander was, the more its power struck them to their core. The fairy company commander had cursed the battalion commander profusely during the battle. Graham, too, had hurled insults at the commander, just as harshly. "Idiot! Absolute moron!" He''d shouted it openly in the middle of the battlefield. When there was no immediate danger, a commander could get away with only looking out for their own interests. But in a crisis, a leader''s true competence became evident. The battalion commander was incompetent. At least, that was what Graham thought. The most infuriating part was that the commander had subtly claimed credit for the recent battle''s achievements. Everyone in the unit who needed to know was well aware of the truth. The top contributor to the battle wasn''t the battalion commander. The two men holding their salutes silently relaxed their postures. Graham extended his hand first, and Enkrid took it, shaking it firmly. Their handshake carried gratitude, lingering regret, and a mix of emotions. "Go on, and don''t forget how disappointed I am." "Should I send Rem in my place?" Enkrid joked. "That bastard? No way!" Graham feigned anger, glaring exaggeratedly. Both men parted ways with smiles. ''He seems like a decent guy.'' It was the first time Enkrid had exchanged such words with the commander of the heavy infantry. He felt a sense of affinity with Graham. Although the barracks were right behind him, Enkrid decided to walk a bit more. He strolled through the city, taking in its sights for the first time in a while. Before he realized it, he had reached the edge of the marketplace at the city''s center. Even in a military city, it was natural for merchants and farmers to come and go. In reality, there were far more wandering merchants than people working in agriculture. Border Guard was known as a military city near the frontier. The stationed troops alone exceeded a thousand. For every soldier, the city should ideally have at least ten civilians, meaning a population of over ten thousand. But that was unrealistic; the actual population barely reached five thousand. Even so, the city operated just fine. This was a royal territory under the direct control of the royals. Thanks to royal support, Border Guard could sustain itself as a military city. That didn''t mean the city could rely entirely on the kingdom. Agriculture and trade also played a part. The effort to attract trade caravans had reportedly been quite successful. Recently, even a few royal-sanctioned trade caravans had arrived, which might explain the marketplace''s unprecedented bustle. The innkeepers must have been thrilled. Big Eyes had been going on about it non-stop. ''No wonder they''re so happy.'' The influx of people was obvious. More trade meant more joy for innkeepers. After all, one of Border Guard''s main industries was lodging. ''A key trading hub.'' One of the city''s strengths was its robust security, made possible by the overwhelming number of professional soldiers. The surplus of patrols and guards ensured safety, making the city a prime location for major trade transactions. Though the population wasn''t large, the city saw a constant flow of people. A military city with the characteristics of a trade hub¡ªthis was the true nature of Border Guard. Enkrid glanced briefly at the entrance to a narrow alley where disorganized buildings created a chaotic maze. Feeling as if someone was watching him, he turned back to look. But there was nothing there. Turning away, he returned to the barracks. Shortly after he left, a filthy beggar with a ragged blanket pulled over their head crawled out from the depths of the alley. The beggar sat down on the ground and began to beg, but the sharp gleam in their eyes under the shabby blanket was far from ordinary. If someone were to take a closer look, they wouldn''t see a mere beggar. *** Before Enkrid even stepped into the barracks, Rem''s voice hit his ears like a whip. "Our squad leader is planning to ditch us. Everyone, prepare yourselves." That madman. "Is that true?" As soon as he entered, Big Eyes scurried over, his face full of concern. "No." Enkrid denied it outright and was about to explain, but the sharp, accusing gazes from the others made it clear that words alone wouldn''t suffice. Ragna, half-opening his eyes, spoke in a calm tone. "If you''re going, let me come along too." His tone was indifferent, almost natural. Yet, Ragna, being inherently lazy, wasn''t the kind to follow orders readily, let alone suggest such a thing. Was there any squad that would willingly take in someone like Ragna? "Squad transfers are a common thing," Jaxen chimed in, casually checking his belongings as if ready to pack up and follow at a moment''s notice. Jaxen was slightly better, but still... ''Not by much,'' Enkrid thought. After all, there was a reason why they were in this troublemaker squad. Though Jaxen adhered to his duty hours, he often skipped training or disappeared without notice, making him a frequent subject of search efforts. ''He''s friendly, sure, but only to a select few.'' Jaxen''s selective warmth made it clear he wasn''t someone who easily blended into a unit. Unsurprisingly, few commanders welcomed him. "You''re all mad. Who''s going to accept you lot? Even if they take the squad leader, you''re poison to his career. Stay here. I''ll follow him alone and clear the way for him." Rem puffed out his chest and stood in front of Enkrid, his booming voice filled with bravado. ''No, you''re the biggest problem here,'' Enkrid thought, stifling a laugh as he watched Rem''s broad back. No commander, especially the captain of the heavy infantry, would accept Rem¡ªa man infamous for assaulting his superior officer in the 1st Battalion. Many in the unit didn''t just dislike Rem; they outright hated him. As for Ragna and Jaxen, they probably wouldn''t be accepted either, but if someone were to rank liabilities, Rem topped the list. "You''re definitely not right in the head," Ragna remarked lazily, scratching his hair, which looked like it hadn''t been washed in days. "I''ve seen guys like you before. They never make it past thirty." "Does that mean he''s about to die?" Jaxen quipped, picking up Ragna''s comment effortlessly. Strangely, the two were in perfect sync during moments like this. ''Was Rem really thirty?'' Enkrid glanced sideways at him. The man, a rugged migrant from the western tribes, was clearly annoyed, his lips twitching with barely contained anger. "Squad leader, how about we kill those two and leave together?" Rem asked, deadpan. Where would they go? And why kill anyone? "No," Enkrid said firmly. It was best to de-escalate things before a full-blown fight broke out. "I''m not going anywhere." As he tried to calm the situation, Big Eyes nodded. "Really?" Despite his assurance, the others were slow to back down. Just as Enkrid was preparing to physically intervene, there was a knock at the door. The squad''s religious member wasn''t in, but it wouldn''t have been him knocking on his own door. That meant it was a visitor. Enkrid signaled Big Eyes to open the door. "Who is it?" Krais asked. Turning toward the door, Enkrid saw Torres, a member of the Frontier Defense, standing beyond the flimsy wooden frame, his uniform adorned with the eagle insignia. "We meet again," Torres greeted, raising a hand casually. Enkrid saluted with his left hand, pressing it to his waist. "Can we talk for a moment?" "With me?" "Who else?" Enkrid blinked a few times, pointing at himself, then nodded. As he turned to tell the others to stay put, he froze. Rem, Ragna, and Jaxen had silently risen and stood behind him. Their movements were so quiet and swift that even Enkrid hadn''t sensed them. "It''s that grabby guy from before," Rem growled. Ragna and Jaxen simply stared, silent but watchful. Raising both hands in mock surrender, Torres said, "I''m not here to fight." The air between the four men grew tense, heavy with the unspoken threat of violence. Torres was the first to break the silence. "So this is the infamous troublemaker squad. No hesitation, no reasoning¡ªjust ready to pounce, huh?" Annoyance flickered across his face, but Enkrid stepped between them, shielding his squad from Torres'' gaze. "Let''s talk outside," Enkrid said, keen to avoid any unnecessary chaos. As they left the barracks, Rem let out a derisive snort behind them. Walking a few paces ahead, Torres frowned and muttered, "What''s wrong with them? They all seem pent-up. If they''re so worked up, send them to the red-light district instead of spilling blood." Torres had seen something Enkrid hadn''t¡ªthe moment the door opened, Rem had moved first, his steps heavy with menace as he positioned himself behind Enkrid. Next, the man who had been lounging on the bed stood, gliding silently into place. In that instant, Torres saw an impenetrable shield form before Enkrid. And the last one, the red-haired man, had moved so quickly that even Torres missed it. By the time he realized, he too was standing guard, his gaze drilling into Torres. The killing intent was palpable, slicing through the air like a blade. ''From mere foot soldiers?'' The troublemaker squad''s reputation was well-known, but their skill had caught Torres off guard. Had Enkrid not intervened, the situation could have spiraled out of control. "Let me be direct," Torres said, steadying his breath. He delivered his mission with confidence. "Join the Frontier Defense." The offer wasn''t just any transfer¡ªit was a chance to serve in the kingdom''s elite forces, a step above the cumbersome heavy infantry. "Well? What do you say?" Torres'' pride as a member of the Frontier Defense was evident in his tone. Enkrid studied him silently before asking, "What does the Frontier Defense stand for?" What could he achieve as a soldier there? Where would it lead him? Enkrid wanted to know. Chapter 54 - The Turtle and The Frontier Slaughterer (3) Chapter 54 - 54 - The Turtle and The Frontier Slaughterer (3) Chapter 54 - The Turtle and The Frontier Slaughterer (3) Direction is about having a goal, a purpose, or an objective. A hawk, flying over the green plains, passed overhead. The sound of the hawk''s cry brushed between the two. It was a winter afternoon that wasn''t too cold. Leaning against the wall of the camp, Enkrid responded to the suggestion with a question. Torres hesitated. He pondered for a moment before speaking. "The soldier ranking system may seem foolish, but at least it sets one clear standard. What is a special-class soldier?" His voice was quiet, deep, and resonant, as if he could sing a low-toned chant. His usual thoughts solidified into an answer. Torres spoke with sincerity and conviction. "It refers to someone who has reached the limit of human potential. They split their sleep and swing their swords until their hands bleed, right?" As Torres spoke, he pulled Enkrid''s hand. Enkrid willingly let his hand fall into Torres''s. Turning Enkrid''s palm over, Torres said. "Look." The palm was hardened, with calluses so thick they had cracked, evidence of countless days spent swinging a sword. "There are many who put in this kind of effort. But how many of them have talent to go with it? Very few." Torres shook his head slightly as he spoke. His words were true. Enkrid knew well that he lacked the talent, which is why he had worked tirelessly for so long. "Soldier who have both effort and talent, who have reached the limit of human potential, come together in this group! That''s the Frontier Defense Force. You want to improve your skills? Come join us. It''ll fill the gap you''re missing." He was asked about direction, but Torres said the group would fill the missing pieces. Enkrid had found his answer there. Looking into Torres''s eyes, filled with passion, desire, and belief, Enkrid spoke. "I''m sorry." It was a rejection. It could have been an excellent opportunity. It was a perfect opportunity on the road to a dream that had been torn but never forgotten, or rather, a dream he couldn''t forget. But Enkrid couldn''t go. The Frontier Defense Force could be a step toward a higher place, but it couldn''t lead to the world he was aiming for. ''Stopping at the limit is unacceptable.'' Reaching the limit wasn''t enough. The Frontier Slaughterers, a group stationed in the Border Guard, was the most exceptional in terms of killing ability. But didn''t one of its own members just say it out loud? The Frontier Defense Force was filled with those who had reached human limits. Enkrid''s dream was higher than that. Of course, thinking that someone who hadn''t reached their limit could surpass it was nothing but arrogance. But he couldn''t leave without first pushing forward, not stopping midway before even reaching the destination. Enkrid shook his head. "You know the characteristics of our unit, right?" They turned regular soldiers into excellent killing machines in no time. He knew. There was no point in pointless training. This group was one that trained soldiers to a level far beyond the ordinary. But the method was the problem. In truth, the question Enkrid had been asking was a single one. Had anyone in the Frontier Defense force become a knight? No. They learned the most convenient and efficient methods of killing. That''s why they were called the Frontier Slaughterers. If one compared it to swordsmanship, their style was all about shortcuts and tricks, not fundamental techniques. You couldn''t become a knight using only tricks and shortcuts. He knew that, and that was why he couldn''t go down this path. "You''re an idiot." But to others, this might seem like the case. Torres relaxed his eyes. "I hear that a lot." "Ha, I never thought I''d be turned down by a man. Can I ask why?" Should he say it? Would it only invite mockery? He had almost always been laughed at when mentioning his dream. Oh, wait. ''Krang was serious.'' There was no one else. Rem had just teased him for fun. The others hadn''t reacted well either. Some instructors had even given him a look that clearly said "crazy." "I want to go to a higher place than the Frontier Defense." But Enkrid said it honestly. He had nothing to hide or conceal. "A higher place?" "I want a cloak." It didn''t have to be a crimson cloak specifically, but it was an appropriate metaphor. The Order of Knights of Naurilia was the only one of its kind. They were the king''s guard, draped in red cloaks, and they symbolized Naurilia''s military might. They were also the only unit authorized to bear the king''s insignia. On their cloaks was the emblem of the kingdom¡ªthree swords crossed, shining brightly. The crossed swords and the mythological creature, the round-headed sun lion with a flame-like mane, were Naurilia''s symbols. He was saying he wanted to be a knight. Torres understood this well. And that''s why he was taken aback. "...That''s a bit much." Torres evaluated Enkrid''s abilities. He was outstanding. At thirty, he had become quite skilled for someone who had just discovered his talent. But that was about it. In fact, his skills were on the edge of being insufficient for the Frontier Defense Force. Unless he was talking about Enkrid''s squad members he had encountered earlier in the barracks. ''They won''t make it.'' They were problematic for other reasons. They were all troublemakers. No matter how much trouble they caused, they still had to listen to orders to be soldiers. They weren''t up to standard in that regard. If the blade I wield hurts me too, it''s not a good weapon. It''s something that needs to be discarded. "Are you serious?" "Of course." He had been completely rejected. Torres nodded. He didn''t want to crush the other''s hopes with harsh words, but this one had to be said. "You''ll regret it." "Maybe." Enkrid replied earnestly. Not all choices were the right ones, so he might regret it. Torres, the platoon leader of the Frontier Defense Force, turned away without a military salute. He looked like he was upset, but his shoulders seemed light. Enkrid watched Torres walk away, then turned and walked toward the barracks. As he trudged along, Enkrid recalled the conversation he had with Ragna. "Are you talking about the member of the Red Cloak Knight Order? Are you wondering how he moved like that?" The shock he had received from seeing the members of the Red Cloak Order was not small. What was a knight? How could they move like that? If he didn''t have questions about that, it would be a lie. After all, the member was only a squire. "It''s too early to know that now." Ragna had said that, and Enkrid quietly waited for the next words. As he expected, Ragna continued. "Knights don''t only handle strength. Their bodies carry a very special power. That power isn''t something we should discuss right now. It would only be a hindrance." "Just point me in the right direction. I want to know if I''m heading down the wrong path." It might have been an unreasonable request, but as Enkrid''s abilities grew, he realized that none of his squad members were ordinary. Among them, he had learned swordsmanship from Ragna and, in the process, had noticed something. If he had to pick the person closest to a knight in the squad, it would be Ragna. "Fundamentals are simple and brutal techniques. If you fight, you''ll know. Do you think it''s faster to develop your skills based on the mercenary swordsmanship, or to train your fundamentals?" Why are shortcuts called shortcuts? Why are tricks called tricks? If all it takes is to fight well, Valen''s mercenary swordsmanship was far better than learning basic techniques of a heavy sword style. "To advance further, you must take the correct path. That''s the right way. I think this answers your question." It was an overflowing answer. Through the basics, moving forward. Overcoming countless walls in front of him and walking the right path. That was what had to be done now. Enkrid concluded this. "Krung." As he entered the lodging, he was met by a beastly sound. The place was a mess. A bed pushed aside, a toppled table, and in the middle of it all, Big Eyes, with scratches on its face, was looking miserable. "Ah, right on the face." "Quick." "Panther meat is awful, but meat is meat." Behind Big Eyes, Ragna and Rem added their comments. The beast was a black panther. A young panther with blue eyes, the same one that had fought alongside them before. He had suddenly disappeared, and they thought they''d never see it again. Apparently, it had made its way here. The panther raised its fur and glared at Ragna and Rem, but as soon as Enkrid walked in, it turned and jumped into his arms. Rem scratched his head with his thumb, holding the axe in his hand, and asked, "If you''d been a little late, that axe might''ve cleaved the panther''s neck." "Was that the squad leader''s pet?" "Hm, was it?" Ragna, a man who was always serious and heavy when talking about knights, returned to his usual lazy demeanor. He sheathed the sword he had been holding and collapsed onto the bed that had been pushed aside. Seeing this, Rem lowered his axe. "Was it the squad leader''s?" Big Eyes, sneaking a glance at the panther, asked, "Did it scratch you?" "I was just trying to pet its head." Big Eyes gauged the injury with his hand, and Rem, chuckling, replied, "You tried to check if it was male or female and got that result." "Kark!" The clever panther seemed to understand and stuck its head out, baring its fangs. Seeing this, Big Eyes jumped back, startled, but stepped on a fallen water pouch and slipped. With a thud, he fell on his backside, and Rem burst into laughter. "Are you alright? How''s your face?" Enkrid also chuckled and asked. He used to boast that his face was a blessing brought on the Kingdom of Naurilia. "It''s fine. I''ll apply holy treatment or some ointment so it won''t scar." Holy treatment for such a scratch? It''s something only if Krona doesn''t rot away. "Well, yeah," Enkrid replied vaguely, then looked down at the panther nestled in his arms. The one that had bared its fangs was now quietly lifting its head. It wasn''t light, nor small, but holding it now made it feel lighter and smaller than expected. "Did you come to play?" Enkrid asked. The panther seemed to understand. It blinked and let out a small purr, rubbing its head against Enkrid''s chest. The silky fur felt quite pleasant. Seeing Enkrid petting the panther''s head, Rem said, "Are you raising it? Guess you won''t be bored." Surprisingly, Rem was lenient with animals. Ragna and Jaxen had no interest. The religious squad member, Audin, had no interest either. Only Big Eyes was still very interested. "It''s a female." "Hmm?" "You think I just got scratched on the face and it ended there?" Big Eyes crossed his arms and said proudly. ''Oh, really? How impressive.'' "Mm." Enkrid answered and casually started cleaning up. Rem raised the fallen table, sat on it, and asked, "Seems like everyone''s looking for you now that you''re a stronger soldier. What do you think? Frontier defense doesn''t sound bad." Sometimes, Enkrid wanted to peek inside that scheming man''s mind. Though he was playful all day, he suddenly hit the mark with questions like this. "I''m not going." Enkrid answered straight away. He didn''t want to cause any unnecessary noise with this. "Why?" It was Jaxen, and his words were brief. "Sir." He belatedly added formal language. "Just because." No need to elaborate. He tried to move past it, but Rem interrupted. "Is that the real reason? Even though the soldier rank system is a stupid system, you''re past the acceptable level now. You turned down being directly under the kingdom?" "Well, I guess that must be why." Ragna, having inferred from previous conversations, joined in, but it only worsened the situation. "...What the hell, is this bastard trying to act like he knows something? He seems to be acting like he knows." "Why?" Jaxen asked again. This time, the respectful tone didn''t follow. His gaze was impudent. "Lord, please grant wisdom to these ignorant ones," Audin said, pouring oil onto the fire, and the atmosphere ignited. It was a situation that couldn''t be ignored. Leaving it unchecked would lead to a pointless fight. Enkrid knew this from experience. Those who throw tantrums in the squad always find solutions through displays of force. "Frontier defenses end goal is to train to reach human limits. That''s what the unit is for." "Is that a problem?" It wasn''t something to be upset about. When he had discussed the path to becoming a knight with Ragna, Ragna had added one last comment. "If you''re a born talent, a genius, you don''t need to learn the basics and engrave them into your body. It''ll just happen on its own." Being a knight was about being a genius. Among those who are born with martial talent, only a few are selected. From those, only those at another level of genius is chosen. Only those can a small part of them become knights. So, is it a dream that can''t even be dreamed? Something that should never be wished for? Even if it gets torn, shredded, and vanishes without a trace. If you haven''t discarded it, that dream still remains in your heart. That''s why Enkrid dreamed. "It''s a problem. My goal is higher." Everyone stared at him blankly. Enkrid''s lips parted. In a tone and voice as casual as when saying there would be lamb for breakfast tomorrow. "I will become a knight." It had been the subject of mockery before. In fact, Enkrid''s dream had always been a subject of ridicule. So this reaction felt odd. "You have to pass through a few walls, but well, if you want to, we can do it." Rem spoke first. Ragna showed a fiery look in his eyes. Jaxen simply asked, "Is that so?" Big Eyes, mouth agape, couldn''t close it. Audin clasped his hands and prayed, "Though dreams and hopes may seem in vain and unseen, may grace be granted to the ones that clings to them through effort." There was no need to be moved by the prayer. In truth, even if they mocked him, nothing would have changed. Enkrid was that kind of person. What was more important than others'' mockery and scorn was the dream he held. High ranking soldier. A rank that was recognized properly within the soldier ranking system. In reality, this was just the beginning. Building up his skill and making his name known to become a knight. Kyarung. The panther cried out and poked Enkrid''s cheek. It felt almost like encouragement. "Smart one." Rem chuckled upon seeing this. Even though it didn''t matter, Enkrid''s heart jolted. It was the first time he received encouragement instead of mockery. ''Lately, a lot of things are happening for the first time.'' No matter what anyone said, it was a joyful moment. *** Enkrid spent the next two days as usual, training. On the third day, he went on a market patrol. Whoosh. Then, he was stabbed in the belly with a dagger. It was a fatal wound. It felt like a hot metal skewer had pierced his abdomen and shredded his insides. "Damn." Enkrid chuckled with blood dripping from his mouth. It was an utterly unexpected strike. Ahhh! A scream from a passing woman echoed in the market. As Enkrid, dying, heard the scream, he closed his eyes. Chapter 55 - The End of Persistence Chapter 55 - 55 - The End of Persistence Chapter 55 - The End of Persistence It really wasn''t a big deal. City patrol duty was a routine task, something that happened frequently. In fact, it was a rotational duty that could come up three or four times a month. And besides, where was this? Border Guard. A royal territory known for its impeccable security, where even minor trouble wasn''t tolerated. It wasn''t without reason that major trading companies considered it a prime location for their dealings. Although it was a border city in the far east of Naurilia, bordering Aspen and located near battlefields, its security was unparalleled. This was thanks to the large number of stationed troops who worked tirelessly in shifts, day and night. Border Guard had a square at its center, marked by four inns surrounding a well. These inns formed a crossroads and a market square in the heart of the city. The city itself was built on a plateau. Leaving its outskirts, one could see gentle slopes descending below, with a river flowing beneath the northern incline. The Pen-Hanil River. It provided water to most of the surrounding towns. Along the riverbanks were farmlands, scattered with occasional farmhouses. This past summer, the river had flooded, breaking one side of the embankment. Workers were now busy rebuilding the structure. Most incidents occurred between people. Although patrols occasionally dealt with farmland inspections or magical creatures, today''s duty was market patrol. "I''m Jack, and this is Bo," one soldier said. Patrols were conducted in groups of three, so two soldiers joined the team. Enkrid, Jack, and Bo¡ªthis was the trio heading toward the market. "That mist was sorcery? Damn it, I almost died because of those Aspen bastards, but I survived thanks to you. Much appreciated!" Jack spat on the ground as he spoke. Holding a standard-issue infantry spear, he swaggered as if his gratitude wasn''t entirely sincere. Enkrid nodded nonchalantly. "I almost died without spending my saved Krona." Bo also expressed his gratitude. He seemed like a particularly cheerful soldier. Big Eyes had once mentioned that Bo was quite talented. ''This combination seems familiar somehow.'' But no particular memory surfaced. Since it wasn''t significant, Enkrid didn''t try to recall it. The three of them walked toward the market in good spirits. Enkrid wasn''t much of a talker, but Jack and Bo were in the same squad. As they chatted, they occasionally praised Enkrid. "A high rank soldier, huh? You must be really skilled. Damn, let''s spar sometime. I''d love to see what a senior soldier is capable of." Jack tapped the ground with the butt of his spear as he spoke. "Sure." Enkrid didn''t refuse sparring. He believed every duel, no matter the opponent, had something to teach. "You promised, damn it." Jack punctuated his words with a customary curse. "I heard you succeeded in a reconnaissance mission too. Squad Leader Andrew couldn''t stop singing your praises," Bo chimed in, lifting Enkrid up even more. "Just got lucky." "Modest, too," Bo said, giving him a thumbs-up. No one disliked compliments, and Enkrid was no exception. The two chattered incessantly, laughing as they walked. Reaching the market''s edge, they passed several single-story buildings before entering the market itself. On one side, someone was selling wildflowers they had picked, while on the other, tanned leather goods were for sale. From the opposite side of the market, where Enkrid had entered, the faint clang of metal being struck echoed in the air. It came from a blacksmith''s shop. Although located on the outskirts of the market, the sound of iron meeting iron faintly stimulated the ears. "No, if you sell it for that price, there''s nothing left to profit!" A merchant''s voice rang out. "Freshly baked bread here!" A boy standing by the roadside called out, inviting people to his stall. Rumble, rumble. Carts moved through the market center. It was chaotic, as markets usually were. The bustling scene was familiar. "Dried apples taste great," one merchant said. Enkrid''s eyes met those of a vendor selling various dried fruits. "No thanks," Enkrid replied. The merchant quickly turned away. It was an ordinary day. Once the patrol was over, maybe he could convince Jaxen to spar, or he could spend time with Jack instead¡ªit might be fun. The weather had grown noticeably colder, stiffening his body. Walking felt better than staying still. "Should we walk a bit more?" "Yes, yes," Jack and Bo replied, sticking close on either side of him. Just as Enkrid wondered if they were huddling together because of the cold, a child in tattered rags stumbled and fell forward. Enkrid instinctively caught the child. Thud. A searing pain followed. He tried to twist his body immediately, but the cold had stiffened him, delaying his reaction. Had the dagger struck at a slight angle, it might have been bearable. Instead, it pierced his organs without hesitation. After stabbing his insides, the blade unerringly aimed for his heart, delivering another blow. An excruciating pain surged through his mind. As the dagger struck, a cry or groan was about to escape his lips when someone behind him covered his mouth with thick fabric. The market was busy. Even if someone staggered and fell, it was barely noticed. Jack and Bo hid Enkrid with their bodies. "Whoops, had a bit too much to drink so early, huh?" Jack joked. "Exactly," Bo agreed, matching his tone. What the hell is going on? Enkrid couldn''t make sense of the series of events. The final punctuation was delivered by the child who had stabbed his abdomen and heart. "A persistent lover never forgets." It wasn''t a child. Beneath the rags were large ears and jewel-like eyes. The features were peculiar. One eye was green, shining like a gemstone, while the other was brown, dull by comparison. It was a heterochromatic gaze. The green eye was so clear that the brown eye seemed exceedingly murky, like dirty oil mixed into clean water. Their skin was mottled like a spotted cat, with deep wrinkles around the mouth and eyes. Although the facial features were quite attractive individually, together, they gave off an unsettling impression. ''A mixed-blood fairy.'' Enkrid recognized the figure''s identity, but that changed nothing. Blood streamed onto the ground while his mouth remained gagged. His arms were pinned, and Jack and Bo offered no gaps to exploit. "Farewell," the mixed-blood fairy said. Judging by the wrinkles on their face and the tone of their speech, they weren''t young. Their small build resembled that of a boy around twelve or thirteen years old. ''This... I really didn''t expect this.'' An assassination attempt? And a "persistent lover"? Wasn''t that the name of Aspen''s Independent Unit? Rumored to be relentless, they had sent assassins after the war. ''They''re utterly insane.'' The resources and effort required to send an assassin were substantial. Targeting a mere soldier for such a purpose was madness. From the perspective of the victim, it was infuriating. As Enkrid tried to tilt his head backward, the person gagging him tightened their grip. "Let him go. He seems to have something to say," the fairy said. Perhaps it was an elven intuition, but the diminutive, aged, mixed-blood elf seemed to have read Enkrid''s intentions. The thick fabric strangling his neck loosened. "Did Aspen send you? Are you, Jack and Bo, spies?" Enkrid swallowed the sharp pain crawling up his body and asked. "Something like that." "Who''s the behind me?" "Why do you care? You''re dying anyway." "I''d hate to die ignorant. I''ll be waiting for you in hell." "Rotten." The last word was whispered behind him. Rotten? That bastard''s name was familiar. Jack, Bo, Rotten. Weren''t they all from the reconnaissance team? As death loomed closer, his mind spun wildly, dredging up old memories. The reason he''d been sent on that reconnaissance mission during the Green Pearl battlefield. Jack had claimed a broken arm, Bo a smashed nose, and Rotten had supposedly been bitten by a snake. All of them had faked their way out of the mission. "Those bastards." A bitter laugh escaped him. "Persistent, weren''t they?" The fairy spoke before slipping aside like a shadow. The figure darted nimbly toward the outskirts and disappeared into an alley. Jack and Bo, who had been holding him down, quietly let go and moved away. Rotten? Needless to say, he was already gone. Enkrid used up all his strength exchanging just a few words. He didn''t even have the energy to shout. Not that he would have, even if he could. Instead, he collapsed, trying to catch a glimpse behind him. Rotten, they''d said. But what if it was someone else? How did Rotten even look? He couldn''t remember his face. As the thought struck him that it didn''t matter, Enkrid let his body go limp. Blood dripped from his mouth, and his insides felt like they''d been churned with kindling. Pain soaked his body, blood the ground beneath him. The chill wrapped around him even tighter. His body shivered violently. ''Bastards, if you''re leaving, at least finish the job.'' Bleeding out like this was the worst. Better to die in one swift blow. "Aaaaah!" A passing waitress screamed at the sight of the blood pooling on the ground. That was the last thing he heard. Enkrid closed his eyes and welcomed death. *** A flash. Morning greeted him as his eyes opened again. He shot upright, startling Rem, who was bundled in blankets nearby. "Nightmare?" "No. Just wanted to start the day with some energy." "It''s disgustingly cold." Rem grumbled from the moment he woke. Though a large bonfire blazed in the camp''s parade ground and the night guards brought in heated stones for the soldiers, it wasn''t enough to stave off the cold. If they had an abundance of krona, they might''ve bought furs or magical heaters. But such luxuries were out of reach for ordinary soldiers. Not that they needed a magical heater. Even a beast''s hide, said to emit a subtle warmth, would''ve been enough. But even that was an expensive dream. To sum up, all of it was wishful thinking. "Krais, aren''t you cold?" "Freezing. Absolutely freezing." Rem asked Krais for no reason. Big Eyes was the only one here with an abundance of krona. "How about a magical heater?" "Do you think we can use something nobles have? You''re dreaming. Why don''t you try becoming a noble tomorrow instead?" "Oh? Are you asking for a blow from my axe?" "Resorting to violence every time isn''t a good habit... Squad Leader!" Big Eyes ended the conversation by calling out to Enkrid. "Don''t bully him." Enkrid''s gaze shifted to Audin Pumrei, the burly soldier in their squad with a religious streak. For some reason, he''d ended up in this squad of misfits. Today was exceptionally cold. Jaxen was out on leave for some reason, while Rem, Big Eyes, and Ragna showed no intention of getting out of bed. Even bundled in blankets, it was cold. "Since you''re up, Squad Leader, could you bring us some warm stones?" The heated stones left by the bonfire overnight would help somewhat. "Sure." Despite his answer, Enkrid didn''t move. Instead, Audin stepped out of his bed and approached Rem with long strides. "Brother, staying in bed because it''s cold will make your body stiff. Moving to generate heat is how you defeat the cold. Come on, follow me." "Get lost before I warm my body with your blood after chopping you to pieces." "That''s not a good attitude, Brother. Someone might find that offensive." "Offended? Good. That''s what I was going for." "Do you wish to go to heaven, Brother?" Ever consistent, wasn''t he? Normally, Enkrid would''ve stopped him by now. But today, he just stared at Audin and spoke. "You mentioned a training method to preserve body heat. Teach me." Audin, who''d been staring at Rem intently, turned back to him. "You mean the unarmed training method?" Audin probably wasn''t immune to the cold either. But he was undoubtedly better at enduring it than the rest of them. He''d once mentioned a training method to keep the body from freezing up in the cold. For some reason, Enkrid recalled it now. It seemed useful. Jumping in place to stay warm wasn''t practical. Learning a method to prevent his body from stiffening sounded like a good idea. It was impulsive yet logical. Enkrid was always eager to learn. "Yeah, that." "Teaching it is easy. Do you have time?" "Now." "You can grasp the basics in a day or two. It''s not hard." Audin smiled, seeming pleased that Enkrid wanted to learn. As Enkrid prepared to start immediately, Rem mumbled from his bed. "Squad Leader, bring the stones first. I''m cold." Oh, right. Enkrid fetched the stones first. They had two hours before the shift. Enough time for breakfast and some training. Enkrid did just that. The unarmed training method was grueling but effective. Afterward, he went on duty again. ''How did I end up on shift with those two?'' Clearly, someone had meddled. "Ha, what an honor. Standing guard with the Spell Breaker himself." Jack replied, and Enkrid nodded. When they entered the marketplace, Enkrid was already prepared. He noticed the fairy approaching before anyone else. Jack and Bo tried to grab his arms, but Enkrid struck out with his fists on either side. Thunk, crack! Jack took a hit to the chin, while Bo dodged reflexively, sidestepping quickly. Bo was fast. He stepped back and reached for his waist, where a shortsword hung. The fairy was still far away. That meant Bo had to be dealt with first. Enkrid gripped the hilt of his longsword. Drawing it, he swung, sharpening his senses and boldness into a blade. At that moment¡ª Whoosh! He heard a strange sound. He tried to dodge, but whatever was flying at him was faster. Thud! Enkrid''s breath caught. He looked down to see the tip of a blade protruding from his chest, near his heart. It was a throwing knife¡ªno hilt, no decorations, just a double-edged blade. An exceptionally difficult weapon to master. "A persistent lover never forgets his prey." The fairy, now close, whispered before stepping back. ''I was prepared.'' But he hadn''t anticipated a thrown weapon. Even if he had, it would''ve been difficult to block such skilled precision. Enkrid closed his eyes, thinking he''d need better preparations. And thus, his third day began. Chapter 56 - A Wall is a Wall Chapter 56 - 56 - A Wall is a Wall Chapter 56 - A Wall is a Wall "Think of it as stretching your muscles, Brother," Audin said. Audin''s barehanded training method was all about isolating and stretching each muscle in the body. "Ugh..." A groan involuntarily escaped Enkrid''s lips as the muscles at the back of his thighs felt like they were about to snap. To make matters worse, Audin climbed onto Enkrid''s bent back, adding more pressure. In a seated position, Enkrid stretched his hands down to his toes and muttered, "Just die." "Is that a treath?" "I''m saying I''m going to die." His voice was barely above a whisper, as though the strain on his body would genuinely tear his muscles apart. Just as he felt he might pass out, Audin finally got off his back. "This is just the basics," Audin repeated multiple times. He bent one leg inward, pressed against his hip muscles, and used a nearby column to twist his body as he leaned halfway down. He twisted, stretched, and wrung his body. Yes, wrung was the perfect word. Like wringing out laundry, every movement squeezed his body. Afterward, sweat drenched him completely. Wasn''t this some form of torture? If this was just the basics, would the advanced training involve dismantling a person entirely? Such thoughts briefly crossed his mind, but the results were undeniable. The exercises Audin taught were incredibly effective. Though painful during the process, his body felt significantly lighter afterward. Not just lighter¡ªhis entire body felt energized. His heart pounded, circulating warmth throughout him. Even the cold became bearable. "Eat well, rest well, and move well. That''s how you endure the cold, Brother squad leader," Audin said with a smile. Enkrid nodded. Physical training was just another part of his daily life. And enduring physical strain sharpened his mind. A clearer mind brought focus, leading him back to the thought of the assassin who had come to kill him in the repeated day. ''That technique...'' He hadn''t even seen how the throwing knife was launched. Enkrid considered himself skilled at throwing knives, but... ''Not even close.'' The assassin''s skill was exceptional. But it was still manageable. Their first pattern involved approaching and stabbing. If that failed, they threw knives. ''For a wall, it''s thin and low,'' he thought. The ferryman of the Black River often said that walls will keep appearing in Enkrid''s path. ''If it''s this much...'' It seemed easy. That confidence was why he could take his time. "Look at this! Difficult? This?" Suddenly, Rem leapt off his bed and perfectly replicated one of Enkrid''s movements. With smooth, unhindered motions, his body extended effortlessly. His flexibility was remarkable. "Learn some flexibility, will you?" That bastard was insufferable, as usual. "This is hard for you? Really?" Rem kept mocking him, but Enkrid chose to ignore him entirely. Half-lidded, he observed Rem''s antics when Ragna, who had been silently watching, finally moved. Ragna was also a natural when it came to using his body. Mastering swordsmanship beyond a certain level required a complete understanding of one''s body, and Ragna demonstrated that mastery perfectly. He deliberately performed the same movements Enkrid struggled with, adding a touch of arrogance to his flawless execution. "Have you developed a hobby of twisting your body?" Jaxen, who had just returned from outside, entered and commented. From his perspective, this was a den of madmen. Enkrid, drenched in sweat, caught his breath. In front of him, a mad savage was bending over and touching their toes with a grinning face, while a slacker sat casually with their legs split open. Had they all lost their minds together? "We''re learning exercises to endure the cold, Brother," Audin explained. Jaxen showed no interest, sidestepping them to reach his spot. As it was time for Enkrid''s shift, he stood up and asked a question purely out of curiosity. The dagger the assassin used had an unusual design. "Have you ever used a throwing dagger shaped like this?" "What''s that?" "Nope." "Never, Brother." As he described the dagger without a handle, meant for throwing, Rem, Ragna, and Audin voiced their ignorance. Naturally, Big Eyes said nothing, while Jaxen frowned slightly. "Where did you see that? The dagger?" Jaxen asked, still standing. He hadn''t even taken off his coat yet. "I didn''t see it exactly," Enkrid replied. He was about to see it again soon. "Did it have a round groove near the hilt?" Jaxen inquired further, coat still in hand. "Yeah." He didn''t have to think hard; the image was vivid in his mind after being struck by the blade in the repeated day. A round groove at the end¡ªit had been there. "Why do you ask?" Rem questioned as he crawled back into bed. "Just something I heard about," Jaxen said, turning away. At that moment, a black panther with striking blue eyes emerged from Enkrid''s bed. The creature had spent the night curled up beside him, finally waking. It was a creature that seemed to adore both beds and sleep. Still shivering from the cold, it stretched out its body from head to tail. Enkrid ran his hand along its back, from its head to the tip of its tail, when Jaxen spoke up. "Avoid it if possible. That''s called a Whistle Blade." "A Whistle Blade?" The name was unfamiliar. "It''s nicknamed for the sound it makes when thrown. Assassins favor it. Hard to wield, but if you meet someone skilled with it... well, run." Jaxen''s tone, as always, was cold but considerate. The problem was the content. Run? It''s just a dagger, after all. The panther let out a pleased purring sound as Enkrid scratched it. When Big Eyes tried to pet it, the panther immediately bared its fangs in a vicious snarl. "Fine, fine! I get it," Big Eyes said, backing off. Any closer, and the panther would have bitten him for sure. Initially, Enkrid had worried the panther might harm his squad, but those fears quickly dissipated. No matter how agile the panther was, it couldn''t possibly handle someone like Rem or the others. Big Eyes just needed to be cautious, though the panther seemed unusually intelligent. After spending a few days with it, there were no issues. Enkrid gently stroked its head and said, "Don''t hate him too much. I''ll be back after my shift." Enkrid rose from his seat. "Continue your unarmed training exercises. They''ll be helpful, brother." He didn''t specify what they would help with, but it wasn''t hard to figure out. What was Enkrid always immersed in? The sword. It was clear he meant it would benefit swordsmanship. "Not wrong," Rem nodded. Ragna and Jaxen also followed with subtle nods. When it came to Enkrid, their reactions were always earnest. It was a curious thing. They usually didn''t care about much else. Enkrid stepped out of the barracks for his duties. He thought it would be the same routine as usual and relatively easy, but Jaxen''s words complicated his thoughts. ''Evade? Run away?'' With his current abilities? Even if he fought head-on? He should''ve asked more questions. No, he would find out soon enough by trying. The cost would be his life and the day itself. But there would be gains as well. It wouldn''t be a waste. Even after facing death countless times, Enkrid never let any day pass meaninglessly. Even on days sacrificed out of necessity. In such situations, he always aimed to gain something, no matter how small. This repeated resolve had shaped an instinct within him. That instinct whispered now. That strange-looking half-blood fairy assassin would not be an easy opponent. "Ah, High-ranked Soldier, the Spell breaker!" Jack always brought a lightheartedness to the atmosphere, making the mood more relaxed. If he hadn''t known better, it might''ve worked. But knowing the intention behind it, it was clear. It was a calculated move. Excessive flattery to inflate egos and disarm vigilance. ''When I see it this way, he''s rather meticulous.'' An assassin targeting an ordinary soldier like this? Was he a perfectionist? As thoughts of the half-blood fairy''s face swirled in his mind, trying to gauge his personality, Enkrid arrived at the market. "Wow, it''s disgustingly crowded," Jack quipped as he approached from one side, closing the distance. "Yeah, it is," Enkrid replied, spotting a ragged figure moving toward them from the front. Suddenly, Enkrid spread his arms wide. Thud! Once again, Jack took the blow, while Bo dodged. Enkrid deftly twisted his body aside. His muscles were stiff from the cold, but Audin''s exercises had helped. He wasn''t as rigid as he was on his "first day." Without even drawing his sword, Enkrid grabbed Bo by the collar. Bo reflexively threw a punch. With the boldness granted by the Heart of the Beast, Enkrid predicted its trajectory by following it to the end and tilted his head to dodge. Tick. The fist grazed his earlobe. Then it was Enkrid''s turn. Strengthening his grip on Bo''s collar, he twisted, choking off his breath. "Urk!" Bo groaned. Hup. Enkrid inhaled sharply, spinning Bo to use him as a human shield. Despite his light frame, the weight of an armed adult man bore down on his arms. He lifted and twisted his waist, utilizing centrifugal force to swing Bo. As he pulled Bo halfway around, Enkrid''s eyes caught the half-blood fairy throwing off his rags. The moment their gazes locked, the fairy seemed to smirk. Why in this situation? Enkrid had just secured a human shield, after all. The fairy should''ve been alarmed. The target had anticipated and reacted to the assassin''s setup. Yet, the half-blood fairy remained composed. Smirking, he merely waved his hand. The instant his dangling hand reached his chest, it happened. A flash of light. Lightning. A dagger flew with speed invisible to the naked eye. The assassin''s hand had barely touched his chest before the blade launched forward. Before Enkrid could even position Bo as a shield, the dagger struck near his heart. Fweeeet! The delayed sound of the whistle pierced his ears. A thud followed by intense pain conveyed what had just transpired. The assassin had thrown a dagger, and it had pierced his heart. "So, that''s how it is." His instincts had been right. The enemy wasn''t ordinary. Just the skill in throwing that dagger was enough to say so. But what if he prevented the enemy from throwing more daggers? Even with a dagger lodged in his body, the only thing bystanders perceived was two soldiers fighting. "Let go of me!" Bo shouted, kicking Enkrid in the stomach. The grip on his collar loosened. Enkrid had taken a hit to the abdomen and released Bo. A dagger lodged in his heart¡ªit was strange he could still move. Blood welled up and spilled from his mouth. As he fell to one knee, barely holding himself upright, the half-blood fairy approached. "You expected this, didn''t you? Was their acting that bad?" Even as screams erupted around them, the half-blood fairy paid no mind. To him, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them. "...Why?" Enkrid asked, saving his last breath. Despite the chaos, the assassin heard him clearly. "Why ask? Because I''m curious. It seemed like you knew and reacted accordingly." Enkrid nodded faintly, gathering his last strength. "The acting was awful. Even a stray dog would''ve laughed." The fairy nodded and flicked his hands sideways. Thunk. Two daggers flew at close range. Enkrid caught sight of their blades embedded in Jack and Bo''s foreheads. Two grooves, whistling blades¡ªwhistle daggers. "Wha..." "They...what..." Neither could finish their sentences as they collapsed backward. The half-blood fairy stopped there, sparing any further action. Enkrid knew Rotten was nearby. But Rotten didn''t rush in during such situations. He was probably hiding somewhere. The half-blood fairy didn''t bother with Rotten¡ªfor now. Perhaps he''d chase him down once this was over. Either way, it didn''t concern Enkrid anymore. "The persistent lover never lets prey escape." At those words, Enkrid nodded. "True." "Aren''t you surprised?" "Should I be?" "Well, most would be." Sorry, but this is my third time already. Instead of showing surprise, Enkrid grabbed the dagger stuck in his chest and pulled it out. Schlick. As the blade left his heart, a wave of excruciating pain followed. Blood gushed out from the gaping wound. Enkrid''s vision quickly blurred, and the assassin remarked, "You''re an interesting one." Is that so? ''I''ll make things even more interesting.'' As he closed his eyes, Enkrid thought to himself. With darkness came the sight of the ferryman. "Keekeke." The ferryman cackled without saying much, seemingly amused. His features¡ªhis eyes, nose, and mouth¡ªwere indiscernible, as was his form, but the sense he conveyed was unmistakable. The ferryman''s laughter was brief. Darkness receded, and a new morning dawned. "Good morning." Enkrid shot up, grabbed Audin, and quickly learned some exercises before catching sight of Jaxen returning. Without hesitation, he seized Jaxen''s sleeve and dragged him outside. The moment Jaxen felt his sleeve grabbed, he almost pushed away, but stopped when he realized it was his squad leader. "Eh? Where are we going?" Rem called from behind. "I have some questions." Jaxen, nicknamed the Merchant of Equivalent Exchange, surprisingly knew a lot. While Big Eyes was knowledgeable about general information, more critical insights often came through Jaxen. The nickname stemmed from his knack for trading information¡ªalways giving and expecting something in return. "You know Whistle Daggers, right?" Jaxen furrowed his brow. "Where did you hear about those?" Observing Jaxen''s reaction, Enkrid concluded the Whistle Daggers weren''t ordinary items. "Tell me about them." "...Is this a trade?" This wasn''t Jaxen the soldier now, but Jaxen the Merchant of Equivalent Exchange. "Yes." The cost didn''t matter. This conversation would vanish when the day repeated. Chapter 57 - Soundless Blade Chapter 57 - 57 - Soundless Blade Chapter 57 - Soundless Blade After seeing it, he wanted it. It was a sudden question, but Jaxen wasn''t the type to get flustered. As always, his expression remained stoic. For a brief moment, Jaxen seemed ready to speak but hesitated. He appeared to be mulling something over. Enkrid stood quietly with his arms at his sides, waiting for Jaxen to open his mouth. There was no point in rushing him. The hesitation didn''t last long. Soon, Jaxen exhaled, a puff of white breath dispersing into the cold air. "Whistle Dagger. It was once known as the Soundless Blade," Jaxen began, scratching his cheek as he spoke. Considering his initial hesitation, his explanation flowed smoothly. "The Soundless Blade¡ªit''s a weapon so fast that only the sound is left behind. It moves faster than the human eye can follow, making it difficult to deal with. Most victims die without even knowing what struck them. That''s what the Whistle Dagger is." "And if someone had to face it?" Was there a way to avoid an assassin? Probably not. It didn''t seem like it. The assassin was meticulous in their preparations. They had exploited spies planted within Enkrid''s allies and executed their plans with precision. At least, that''s how it looked to Enkrid for now. He was bound, hands and feet shackled, forced to move wherever his captors pulled him. It was time to figure out how to escape. "If someone had to?" Jaxen tilted his head, as if the question itself was strange. "Yes, if they had to," Enkrid repeated, emphasizing the point. Jaxen stared intently into Enkrid''s eyes. Blue eyes met reddish-brown ones, their gazes clashing in midair. It felt like Jaxen was silently asking, Why would you even need to know this? Enkrid ignored the unspoken question. Jaxen was someone who traded in necessary information, not someone who asked "why" of his clients. Eventually, Jaxen''s expression hardened, and he said, "This information won''t come cheap." "The more expensive, the better," Enkrid replied earnestly. After all, today wasn''t likely to be the last day of his life. If the morning came and this knowledge turned out to be something Enkrid already knew, its value would plummet to nothing¡ªat least, to him. Jaxen''s face grew more serious, as if his mood had soured. Enkrid ignored that, too. Jaxen''s feelings weren''t the priority right now. "You need to watch their hand movements before you hear the sound. Everything hinges on how they move their hand," Jaxen explained concisely. Don''t be fooled by the sound. By the time you hear it, it''s already too late. You have to keep your eyes on the enemy''s movements. "You can''t lose sight of them for even a moment. Especially if the opponent is a top-tier assassin¡ªthey''ll know how to throw without being seen." The Whistle Dagger''s defining characteristic was its paper-thin blade. The blade was sharpened to such an extent that it could pierce even steel breastplates under the right circumstances. In the hands of a skilled user, it could even penetrate thick armor. Some experts layered multiple thin blades to amplify its lethality, Jaxen added. Jaxen explained that there were two primary ways to throw a dagger: One method involved a wide swing to maximize power. The other focused on concealing the throw entirely. "You''ve seen me throw daggers before, right?" Enkrid asked. Throwing daggers was a skill he''d once trained in obsessively. "Yes, it was on the level of throwing rocks," Jaxen replied bluntly, dismissing Enkrid''s skill with a single remark. He might as well have said that throwing actual rocks would be more effective. Rocks might at least deal some damage, unlike Enkrid''s daggers, which barely hit their mark. "Harsh," Enkrid thought. Even though Enkrid was used to brushing off criticism, Jaxen''s words were sharp enough to cut through his indifference. It wasn''t quite like taking a dagger to the heart, but it felt like one had lodged itself somewhere in his arm. "Then teach me properly. How to throw them," Enkrid muttered, slightly annoyed. "Fine, let''s do that. I''ll add it to the trade list," Jaxen replied. "Hm?" "Don''t want to?" Enkrid didn''t dislike the idea. He was always hungry for knowledge, and this offer was like an oasis in the desert. Thirsty as ever, Enkrid nodded. "No, I want to." "Start with how to hold it." With the patrol shift approaching, their lesson was brief¡ªbarely half an hour. In that short time, Enkrid found himself reassessing Jaxen. "Without practice, this won''t mean much," Jaxen said, teaching him how to grip and throw blades of various weights: thin knives, hand axes, and heavier daggers. Each weapon required a different grip and throwing technique. Once again, Enkrid realized how much there was to learn. As he turned to resume his patrol, Jaxen spoke. His voice was small but firm. "Don''t create situations where you have to face them. That''s the first step." After treating him with subtle irritation the entire time, Jaxen ended with a note of concern. For a moment, Enkrid wondered what he had ever done for people like Jaxen, Rem, and Ragna to make them act this way. Why are they so kind to me, without reason? They weren''t romantically involved, nor did he think of them as deep friends. Yet their behavior felt like they were looking after a child by the water''s edge. No, that''s not quite it. They never insisted on following him to the battlefield, after all. It was a fleeting thought. "Sure," Enkrid muttered. In truth, he had no intention of avoiding such situations. Some battles couldn''t be avoided, no matter how much one wished to. "Was it you on patrol today? I heard you got promoted to high-ranked soldier. Hey, congrats!" It was Jack, accompanied by Bo. "Let''s go," Enkrid said. And so, he plunged once more into the waves of today. The biting cold wind howled, but he was dressed in one more layer than yesterday, as if wrapped in cloth armor. The extra clothing, coupled with the exercises Audin had taught him, kept him warmer. The cold didn''t feel as harsh anymore. "I won''t sell it for that price!" The same scene played out in the bustling market. Enkrid had grown accustomed to using the leather merchant''s angry shout as a marker. Right about now, the rag-cloaked half-elf would make their appearance. At the same time, Jack and Bodo closed in on either side of him. Enkrid had no intention of letting the day slip by aimlessly. Of course, he had plans. With a quick motion, he tripped Jack''s foot with his left. "Wha¡ª?" Jack stumbled forward. The moment Jack fell, Enkrid drew his sword from his right hip¡ªa broad, sturdy blade known as a guard sword. Its thick, wide blade could double as a shield. Chiiing, seogeok. "...Crazy!" Bo shouted in surprise from the side, and rightly so. The wide blade of Enkrid''s drawn dagger cleanly severed Jack''s neck. "Grrk." There wasn''t even a proper death cry. Jack, his throat severed, collapsed face-first onto the ground, clutching his neck as he writhed. Blood pooled on the floor. Those who saw Jack''s collapsed body screamed. "Kyaaaah!" "Uwaaagh!" The crowd of merchants instinctively backed away. No one wanted to die by a stray blade. Meanwhile, Bo flinched. However, Enkrid didn''t give Bo the chance to move. The wide blade in Enkrid''s hand moved again. A strike aimed downward at Bo''s collarbone. Clang! "You bastard!" Bo swiftly drew his dagger to block. The weapon had a thin blade, clearly designed for thrusting. If things had gone according to plan, Bo likely would''ve stabbed Enkrid''s side with it. Enkrid pushed down on the dagger he blocked, forcing Bo to retreat backward. Without missing a beat, Enkrid bought himself time and shifted his body, guarding his chest near his heart with the broad blade. All of this unfolded in just two breaths. Without preparation, such an encounter would have left anyone too flustered to react. ''Up to this point...'' Everything had gone as planned. Enkrid''s gaze fixed on the assassin. The man threw back the rags covering his head. A bizarre, discomforting appearance came into view. His eyes glimmered with curiosity and excitement. Then, it began again. ''Forget sound, focus on movement.'' Enkrid shut out the noise and focused every fiber of his being on his sight. He predicted his opponent''s next move based on the visual information in front of him. It was a countermeasure Jaxen had taught him. Thud! Enkrid assumed his enemy would naturally aim for his heart. If not there, then his head. With his focus razor-sharp, he could almost see the light reflecting off the assassin''s blade as it moved. However, he couldn''t see where the blade would ultimately land. Thus, he guarded his heart and turned his head aside. Instead, the assassin''s whistling throwing knife embedded itself in his right forearm. A burning pain surged as his forearm muscle tore, rendering his fingers powerless. His nerves were damaged, making it impossible to recover without divine healing¡ªa grievous wound. "Heh." A hollow chuckle escaped his lips. It was a strike he hadn''t anticipated. Protecting his heart, the assassin instead targeted his arm. The goal wasn''t to pierce the shield but to deal with the one holding it. A novel perspective. ''This isn''t some amateur assassin.'' The realization etched itself further into his mind. Whiiiiing. The second whistling blade struck, embedding itself in his heart. Was this assassin harboring some deep grudge against Frogs? It seemed he wouldn''t rest until he lodged a dagger in a heart. "Gahh." Blood filled his cough. A crimson tide gushed out, spilling over. Down on both knees, propped up only by his left arm, Enkrid saw a shadow loom over him. "You''re an amusing one. A persistent lover never lets his prey..." "Get away." Enkrid, summoning every ounce of his strength, interrupted the assassin. Raising his head, he met the gaze of the half-blood fairy. The man''s face was frozen in shock, his lips quivering as if unable to process the interruption. Finally, he blurted out a single incredulous word. "You?" Surprised? Of course, you''d be. You always acted like you predicted everything. Watching your expression crumble like this was satisfying. Enkrid felt content. "See you again." The assassin wouldn''t remember, but Enkrid would. From today, he''d remember and meet him again. The assassin recoiled at Enkrid''s words. "Was this a trap?" The half-blood fairy looked around. Hiring a first-class assassin just to kill a mere soldier? It seemed excessive. If it were a trap, it would make sense. The idea that Enkrid had some trick up his sleeve, planning to survive, came to mind. Of course, it was all a misconception. There was no trap. With a sickening thud, Enkrid''s head slumped. Another day ended. The ferryman appeared again, smirking mockingly as always. ''Does this bastard have nothing better to do?'' Enkrid thought bitterly as he welcomed the same day once more. "Ugh, it''s damn cold." From the early morning, Rem''s grumbling echoed. "Move around and warm yourself up. It''ll help." Enkrid stole the words right out of Audin''s mouth and said them first. Then he stood and began loosening his body. A body warmed by light exercise always performed better than one left stiff. That was certain. In that sense, Audin''s stretches were certainly useful. After finishing his warm-up, Audin approached him. "Where did you learn that?" From you, of course. But he couldn''t admit that outright. "From a traveling priest." Audin had once mentioned that the origins of these exercises lay in the temples. Specifically, it was a method used by monks who trained in unarmed and weapon combat as part of their discipline. "You learned it well." Audin chimed in, joining the stretching session again. "When it''s cold, isn''t it better to just wrap yourself in a blanket? Why don''t you fetch us some heated stones? A squad leader should take care of his men''s warmth, don''t you think?" Enkrid playfully bantered back at Rem''s grumbling. Before long, Jaxen returned. "Let''s talk." Jaxen abruptly took Enkrid aside. "Where are you going without me?" Rem''s whining echoed in the background. "I want to learn how to use whistling blades." One thing Enkrid had realized from living this repeating day was that it was better to simply state what he wanted outright rather than trying to be cunning. "Where did you hear about that?" "You pick up things when wandering around. I want to learn it." "What''s your price?" "Anything you want. I''ll even sign a blank check." A famous merchant guild occasionally issued promissory notes, but none were as legendary as those issued by the Rengadis Merchant Guild. The head of the Rengadis Guild, after losing his only son to a monster extermination expedition, had issued a blank check to the imperial knights who saved his son. The story became a metaphor, symbolizing a willingness to give anything except one''s life. Jaxen furrowed his brows. "That''s not something to say lightly." "I mean it." Enkrid''s response carried weight. He was serious. He craved the half-blood fairy''s throwing knives. He wanted to learn their use. The desire burned within him. Jaxen looked into Enkrid''s eyes and nodded. Within them, he saw flames of unrelenting desire, ready to destroy and consume anything in their path. Chapter 58 - Once he possessed it, he could see clearly. Chapter 58 - 58 - Once he possessed it, he could see clearly. Chapter 58 - Once he possessed it, he could see clearly. There was a time when even the act of desiring something was forbidden in his life. Dreams were dreamed, and hopes were harbored, but knowing they could never be achieved, life was merely a struggle. Such was Enkrid''s life. But not anymore. Now, he could reveal his desires and pursue them. In fact, doing so was an advantage in this moment. After warming up his body with some exercises, it was time for a short lesson from Jaxen on how to throw a dagger. "I want to learn more." "You seemed like a complete novice," Jaxen muttered after watching Enkrid throw a dagger. Enkrid replied nonchalantly, "I saw someone do this on the battlefield and learned by observing." Jaxen stared at him with a blank expression. "Believe me, it''s true." "Is that so?" Of course. Geniuses can do these things, can''t they? During his life as a dullard, Enkrid had witnessed countless so-called geniuses and talented individuals perform such feats. Now, he simply pretended to be one of them. This pretense of being a genius was something he could manage, as it was a part of repeating today over and over again. Revealing one''s desires worked to his advantage because it meant maintaining such an attitude. What is a genius, after all? Geniuses are those who recognize what they need to seize and express their desires without hesitation. And above all, Enkrid''s desire to learn was genuine. In terms of the sheer will to learn, Enkrid was unrivaled on the continent. "Very well." As always, Jaxen''s decision was swift. After a brief moment of deliberation, he taught with sincerity. It was quite an enjoyable session. Enkrid repeated the methods of gripping and throwing the dagger. In a short amount of time, sweat drenched him. "You mentioned you have a shift, didn''t you?" "It''s fine." After all, this was just light exercise, not overexertion. And so, today began anew. More precisely, it was the seventh iteration of today. Instead of walking between Jack and Bo, Enkrid took the far-left position. "I need to walk on the far left. It''s a superstition of mine." When Enkrid insisted, what could they do? Jack and Bo had no objections. "If you say so. That''s... unusual." "Well, walk wherever you feel comfortable." Though the sweat had quickly cooled, the warmth inside his body remained. Despite being the seventh repetition of today, the air felt strangely different. The sun pierced through the cold wind and touched his skin. The chirping of winter birds brushed against his ears. The sensation of soil underfoot and the resonance of the earth with every step was pleasant. The air, the ground, the soil, the wind¡ª Everything wrapped around him, brushed against him, warmed him, lingered momentarily, and then flowed away. The sky was clear. Even in the biting chill of winter, the fourth season of the year, as it heralded the end of a cycle with its bone-piercing winds, That very wind brought more freshness than coldness. Though today was a repetition, Enkrid had always endured it with intensity. Yet today, for some reason, he felt a little more relaxed. Peace seemed to envelop him. Not that he had forgotten the intensity required¡ª He simply felt comfortable. The path he walked, this moment¡ªeverything was. ''Why do I feel so at ease?'' He didn''t know. Even though he was aware of his impending death. The agony, the moment when he would have to struggle against death, was drawing near. Dying never became familiar, no matter how many times it happened. "Throwing is instantaneous. Before that, relax your entire body. Let it go limp and focus in a state of calm. It''s not easy," Jaxen had said. He was only half-right. It was indeed difficult, but it wasn''t impossible. It was challenging, but doable. Courage¡ªthe gift of The heart of the beast¡ªwas the reason for this capability. Courage allowed him to confront death and observe everything to the very end. And Pin-point focus, allowed him to perceive the same situations in entirely new ways. The combination of courage and focus brought Enkrid to the brink of talent. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn''t have attained such courage or focus, but in his current state, he had both threads to hold onto. ''I can do this.'' With just a few lessons and repetitions¡ª A mere three or four practice sessions were enough to ingrain it into his body. Luck played a significant role. Under normal circumstances, even countless repetitions wouldn''t have sufficed, yet he grasped it effortlessly. That fragile thread was a source of immense joy for Enkrid. An unprecedented sense of elation. "Are you all right?" Bo asked beside him. With his vacant expression and random grinning, he probably didn''t look fine. At least he wasn''t drooling. "Ah, um, I''m fine. Sorry for the unsightly display." Enkrid wiped his mouth for no reason and kept walking. Jack and Bo exchanged glances as they watched his jaunty steps. With a gesture, Jack asked, ''This guy''s a bit crazy, isn''t he?'' ''I think so too,'' Bo replied with a look. They communicated through subtle glances and gestures¡ªan old habit from their time in the Thieves'' Guild. "Nice weather," Enkrid commented. "It''s freezing out here," Jack replied, pouting. Normally, he would flatter his opponent to lull them into a false sense of security, but Enkrid was so disarmed that Jack felt instinctively rebellious. This guy was something else. "Of course it''s cold¡ªit''s the last season of the year." Winter was harsh, but one mustn''t be deceived by its severity and miss its charm. Relaxing the body wasn''t as simple as just thinking it. Images of Jaxen''s demonstration floated through his mind. And overlaid upon them was the image of the half-blood elven assassin. To relax the body, the mind had to relax first. Mental burden, threats, and anxiety¡ª Enkrid discarded all of it. In that relaxed state of mind, he repeatedly recalled the half-blood elf throwing a whistling dagger. In truth, it wasn''t much different from today''s repetitions. What did he learn from defeat? What had he learned in countless life-and-death scenarios? He had passed the stage where he had to gamble his life to gain something. He repeatedly asked himself countless questions. With a suitably relaxed body and mind, his gait felt strangely fluid. He walked, but the solemnity of patrolling duty was absent. Before he knew it, he was in the market. "Hey, Squad Leader, what''s making you so happy?" Jack asked, stopping in his tracks. He wasn''t genuinely curious; his subtle shifts in posture showed he was preparing something. Bo also adjusted his steps, both moving into positions to close in. They subtly angled their bodies to obscure the view and poised themselves to draw their weapons at any moment. Enkrid, keeping both of them in his peripheral vision, steadied his breathing once. And then he moved. With the tip of his foot, he tapped Jack''s shin. Though he thought his body and mind were relaxed, his movements were more precise than ever. It was an uncanny, perfectly timed kick, leaving his opponent with no chance to react. Thud. "Argh!" Jack doubled over, clutching his shin. Enkrid, with light, almost playful steps, pressed down on Jack''s head with his left hand and brought his knee up. Smack! The sound of dough being slapped echoed. Jack''s head snapped back up, his nose bridge broken and face covered in blood. "You bastard, I''m not selling at that price!" The move had been a beat faster than planned. It was an instinctive action, unrelated to the plan they had laid out for today. It wasn''t intentional¡ªhis body had simply acted on its own. ''It doesn''t matter, does it?'' Enkrid didn''t care. It felt as though he had taken a drug that made his mind hazy while flooding his body with euphoria. Even if he had consumed actual drugs, it wouldn''t have mattered. His body felt that light. "What the!" Bo''s startled reaction was clear. Enkrid''s hand was already reaching for Bo''s nape, catching him off guard. "Tch!" Bo pulled his neck back, just as Enkrid had expected. Whenever he moved to exploit the element of surprise, Bo always reacted in one predictable way. Having seen that pattern more than five times now, Enkrid was thoroughly familiar with it. Instead of his extended left hand, he planted his left foot firmly and twisted his body in the opposite direction. Using his left foot as the pivot, he spun, not to face Bo directly but to turn sideways while extending his right hand. In an instant, his arm''s reach extended, and his right hand connected with Bo''s retreating face. The touch was not the end of it. Boom! The impact of the punch echoed like a drum tearing apart. Enkrid''s fist, charged with strength, speed, and focus, shattered Bo''s face. "Gah!" Clutching his face, Bo stumbled back several steps. Enkrid calmly turned his body back around. Perhaps he had started a bit too early, but that didn''t matter. Even on a day that repeats itself, events do not always unfold the same way. Anything could change. Enkrid understood that better than anyone. His gaze shifted to the half-blood elf. Though still wrapped in rags, the elf''s hand moved. From below to above. A beam of light streaked forth, following the motion of the elf''s right hand. Enkrid had no defensive measures prepared for it. Yet. "It doesn''t matter, does it?" Time seemed to slow. For Enkrid, this was the second time he experienced such a phenomenon. This was the moment when concentration broke through its limits¡ªa crack in time often encountered by those at the pinnacle of genius. The same sensation had shone through during his final battle against the mustached soldier in Aspen''s last war. It was happening again now. Of course, Enkrid wasn''t fully aware of it. His mind remained half entranced. That half-dazed state, burning concentration, blade-sharp senses, and the audacity of a beast... Together, they allowed him to see the beam of light and predict its destination. "Can I dodge it?" No, there wasn''t enough time. The fleeting crack in time closed as Enkrid''s brain spun at high speed and reached an answer. Thwack! Screeeech! He blocked with his arm. The blade of light pierced his left arm, shielding his heart. The whistling dagger emitted a shrill noise as it buried into his forearm, followed by a surge of pain. The heavy impact and searing ache from the blade radiated through his arm. The pain felt distant, almost numbing. The chaos around him faded to a faint murmur. Seeing the attack made him want to have it. Having it made him see. Enkrid''s eyes could now trace the dagger''s trajectory, allowing him to block it. He raised his head to face the enemy. The half-blood elf had discarded his rags and was relentlessly moving both hands. He was like a living, rapid-fire crossbow¡ªor fiercer still. Enkrid had failed to dodge the first attack, but now he could evade. He tracked the movement of the elf''s hands and predicted the trajectory of the incoming light beams. Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Two were evaded perfectly, and one grazed his cheek. The whistling daggers produced a peculiar harmony as they sliced through the air. Enkrid pulled the dagger from his forearm. Though blood poured from his wound, it wasn''t debilitating. The area struck wasn''t the one his opponent had aimed for, but one Enkrid had deliberately chosen to block with. Thanks to that, he had a gash on his arm, but it didn''t hinder his movements. The leather armor on his forearm had also served its purpose. "You bastard." The half-blood elf, now visibly enraged, closed the distance. Even as he advanced, he continued unleashing beams of light from his concealed stash. Dodging every one was impossible. Or perhaps he could have held out longer¡ªif today had been like any other. But today was different. Before Enkrid realized it, Rotten had crept up behind him. Rotten shoved Enkrid. Thud. And that was the end of it. Three daggers sang through the air, striking Enkrid¡ªone in the heart, another in the side, and the last in the neck. Agonizing pain surged through him. Enkrid''s body slowly crumbled. Forcing himself to kneel on one knee, he felt a searing warmth rise from deep within his throat. Unable to hold it back, he opened his mouth, spilling bloody foam. Aaah! Only then did the surrounding screams pierce his ears. His hazy mind returned to clarity, and the pain hit him in full force. The half-blood elf assassin approached the fallen Enkrid. His expression was anything but pleasant. "You." He uttered a single word, then fell silent. A persistent lover never spares its prey. But he didn''t continue speaking¡ªno, he couldn''t. The assassin''s gaze fell on Enkrid''s face. "This bastard." His eyes bulged with fury, like a toad filled with venom. Enkrid was laughing. "Heh, heh." Even as he spat bloody foam, he laughed. The elf mistook the laugh for mockery, but Enkrid harbored no such intent. As he neared death, he thought: ''Only seven times.'' Today had only repeated seven times. Yet it wasn''t just a breakthrough he had glimpsed¡ªit was a path far beyond that. Only seven times. No, it wasn''t just "only." Because he had known neither despair nor resignation, focusing solely on tomorrow, this was possible. An unremarkable talent created a tireless human. That endless effort allowed him to grasp the fringes of genius. It wasn''t a miracle. Miracles didn''t exist. This was a reward for persisting through countless repeated days without succumbing to despair or defeat. One day, in the repeated today, Enkrid believed he would bring it to an end. "This crazy bastard." Thwack! The elf thrust a long blade into Enkrid''s throat once more. And that was the end. The moment of death. As darkness consumed the world, Enkrid saw the boatman riding the river. Hee-hee! The boatman laughed at him again. Enkrid couldn''t wait to see the boatman next time. What kind of expression would that mocking laugh take then? "Good morning." Morning came, and Enkrid woke once more. Rising with ease, he felt renewed. He hadn''t mastered it perfectly, but he had learned how to throw whistling daggers. Not flawlessly, but he had also learned the basics of a monk''s calisthenics from Audin. "Freezing cold out here. What''s so good about it?" "I had a great dream." A truly, utterly wonderful dream. It had been a hazy day, one where he wandered in a trance. That day, that today. Enkrid had caught a glimpse of a life with talent. And he was deeply satisfied. At the same time, he saw the path forward¡ªthe way to surpass the wall blocking his path. Chapter 59 - Dagger Throwing Technique Chapter 59 - 59 - Dagger Throwing Technique Chapter 59 - Dagger Throwing Technique Enkrid took a quarrel to his side during his eighth attempt at today''s events. The bolt pierced through his ribs and tore into his organs. "This is unexpected." It happened after he had dodged all the whistling daggers and kicked Rotten, who had attacked him from behind. In that brief moment of vulnerability, the bolt came flying. Dodging it was impossible. "They were thorough in their preparation." Pulling the bolt out would likely worsen the injury. When he looked up, he saw the grotesque face of a mixed-blood fairy looming before him. Were all mixed-bloods this hideous? He had no idea. This was the first time he''d encountered such a being in his life. He knew most of them weren''t treated well. "You''re unusually perceptive, aren''t you?" The fairy spoke from above, clearly enjoying the moment. "I get that a lot. Hah." Enkrid responded while steadying his breath. He calculated the fairy''s position and distance in his mind, preparing for one last desperate move. Ping! In a flash, Enkrid drew a broad-bladed dagger and thrust it upward. The blade, known as a guard sword, grazed the fairy''s cheek with a sharp zing. The fairy tilted its head sideways, dodging, and then kicked Enkrid in the abdomen. Thud! "Ugh..." Instead of a scream, a groan escaped him. The arrowhead lodged in his guts twisted painfully. The agony was unbearable, worse than anything he''d experienced while moving. His vision blurred white from the pain. "Going somewhere?" The fairy was efficient and sharp, giving Enkrid little time to suffer. When the blade slit his throat, Enkrid closed his eyes. On the next repetition of the day, Rotten, Jack, and Bo attacked alongside the fairy. Though Enkrid was overwhelmed, he managed to kill Jack and Bo and sever the fairy''s arm. The final blow, however, was once again to his heart¡ªthis time from a concealed stiletto at the fairy''s waist. After nine grueling repetitions of this day, the tenth dawn finally broke. After completing his exercises with Audin, Enkrid met Jaxen, continuing his relentless preparation. Each day was crucial. Nothing could be wasted, so Enkrid gave his all once again. "Mind checking my stance?" Indifferent to any notion of equivalent exchange, Enkrid demonstrated his dagger-throwing technique to provoke insight from Jaxen. The skill he now wielded was far beyond what he had when he first learned it. It was a technique he''d refined by clinging to the edges of his talent. His movements now had precision and power unmatched by his earlier attempts. Enkrid activated a single point of focus, relaxing his body before unleashing his full strength in a single explosive motion. His hand sliced through the air, and the dagger shot forward with a whizz. It wasn''t fast enough to be called a flash of light, but it was several times quicker than before. "Your arm and hand act as the launcher, utilizing your body''s elasticity. I understand that well. Do you notice anything lacking in my stance?" Enkrid was stunned when he saw Jaxen gape, his jaw dropping wide open for the first time. This was the usually stoic, composed squadmate, one who rarely showed any emotion. Yet here he was, visibly shaken. The moment passed quickly, and Jaxen''s face returned to its calm, neutral state. "Jaxen?" "Where did you learn that?" "On the battlefield. I saw someone with a phenomenal dagger-throwing technique." "And you learned just by watching?" "More or less." Jaxen echoed Enkrid''s words like a parrot. It was understandable¡ªthis wasn''t a skill that could be mastered through simple practice. This was beyond basic training. Without innate talent, learning such a technique was nonsensical. Jaxen understood this and was shocked. The squad leader''s recent improvement in skill had been noticeable, but this was on another level entirely. Jaxen, after observing Enkrid for a moment, offered his advice. "That''s good enough. There''s no need to delve deeper into this technique. However, since your dagger has some weight, it''s better to focus on imparting a sense of heaviness rather than lightness." Jaxen chose his words carefully and shared them without reservation. Enkrid nodded. "It''s called the ''Explosive Blade Technique.''" Jaxen introduced the name abruptly. Though not inclined toward sharing knowledge freely, Jaxen wasn''t stingy about teaching useful skills. Enkrid adjusted his posture. He had long ingrained in himself the discipline to listen, even learning from Krang how to express attentiveness fully. Listening itself was an art he had mastered. Seeing this, Jaxen felt an unusual sense of joy. Who else would treat dagger-throwing with such seriousness? Had Enkrid not shown such dedication, Jaxen might have disregarded him as squad leader altogether. "Years ago, a legendary assassin named Geogr developed the basic framework for this technique. There''s speculation that he was inspired by Leonesis Oniac''s five sword styles, but the details are unclear." The technique had history. Enkrid''s focus deepened as he absorbed every word. Jaxen explained further, offering insights into its origins and potential. The "Explosive Blade Technique" wasn''t limited to throwing daggers; it encompassed all types of projectile weaponry. Unprompted, Jaxen even mentioned the infamous "Whistle Daggers." "There''s a throwing dagger called the Whistle Dagger. If you ever encounter one, avoid it at all costs. They''re incredibly difficult to counter. The reason Geogr''s Explosive Blade Technique is named like that is directly tied to the Whistle Daggers." He elaborated further. The Whistle Daggers were constructed with layered blades. Geogr''s ultimate goal had been to craft a dagger so thin it required only a single layer. Such a blade wouldn''t whistle in flight¡ªit would be completely silent. How many layers was that? Enkrid instinctively recalled the Whistle Daggers thrown by the mixed-blood fairy. When one embedded itself in his arm, he''d seen it clearly¡ªthree layers. "Hey, isn''t today your shift?" Bo appeared outside the barracks, calling for Enkrid. Enkrid had been so engrossed that he didn''t notice his shift was about to start. "Ah, I forgot. Let''s go. This is the shift we''re on today, right?" "Yes, it''s market patrol," replied Bo. "I know. You''re part of the scouting unit," Enkrid replied casually before turning to Jaxen. "I''ve learned a lot," he said. "Have you?" Jaxen didn''t think of himself as overly talkative, but he had to admit that he always seemed to talk more than usual in front of the squad leader. Even if he only said what was necessary, it was still a lot. ''Did I go too far with the Whistling Blade?'' Why did I bring that up? Looking back, it made sense. It was relevant. It was because of the stance Enkrid had demonstrated. ''The throwing technique looks the same.'' Although Geogr''s blade technique wasn''t strictly a throwing art, there were basic forms to it. But the stance Enkrid had shown earlier was a textbook example of the Whistling Blade, as if someone had guided him. Jaxen wouldn''t have known it, but the person who had taught Enkrid that stance was none other than himself. "Let''s head this way." Enkrid unilaterally changed their patrol route. "Wait, the orders were to patrol the market. We''ll get reprimanded for this!" protested Jack. "I''ll take responsibility," Enkrid said firmly. He was the squad leader, a recently promoted senior soldier, and a talent coveted by both the First Company and the Border Defense Corps. At thirty, he was a late bloomer who had just started garnering attention. The two soldiers from the scouting unit had no choice but to follow his lead. "I said I''ll take responsibility. We can take it easy for once. Let''s go." Enkrid strode ahead, expecting them to follow. "Leaving the patrol route is a disciplinary offense," Bo murmured, glancing at Jack. Jack gestured rapidly. What do we do? I don''t know. Bo shook his head. Even without looking, Enkrid could sense their whispered conversation. But no amount of discussion would change things. Some situations couldn''t be helped. If the superior officer said to jump, you jumped. And right now, he was the superior. The assassin had prepared the place, time, and people. But did he need to follow their script? ''I''ll change the location.'' There was no reason to step into the assassin''s carefully prepared stage. This was the answer Enkrid reached after some deliberation. He moved as he pleased, wandering near the city gates rather than the bustling urban areas. Jack and Bo were clearly uneasy. They tried persuading him to head toward the market, but Enkrid remained resolute. After about thirty minutes of wandering, Enkrid suddenly stopped. "Huh? Why are we stopping?" The pair, who had walked two steps past him, turned back, puzzled. By now, they had given up on entering the market and had secretly left coded signals in various places along the way. It was time. Enkrid quietly observed them before asking, "Why did you do it?" Jack and Bo exchanged bewildered glances. What''s he talking about? Beats me. "Huh?" Bo asked, puzzled. "I said, why did you do it?" "What are you even saying? Speak clearly!" Jack snapped irritably. "I''ve thought about it several times but can''t figure it out. What''s the point of espionage at your level? Is it for Krona? Money?" At his sudden question, Jack and Bo instinctively recoiled. Then, after an awkward exchange of glances, Bo scratched his head and spoke. "What are you talking about?" "Yeah, are you seriously accusing us of being spies?" Jack growled. "When you retreat and place your hand on your sword hilt, doesn''t that strike you as a feeble excuse?" At Enkrid''s words, the two exchanged another glance. And then¡ª Shing! Both drew their weapons. Bo wielded a thin stiletto-like dagger, while Jack held a thicker short sword. Enkrid didn''t move. "Guess he''s sharper than we thought," Jack muttered. "Looks like you''ll have to die here," Bo added. The plan had gone awry, but their objective was clear. After a brief nod, the two lunged forward. Enkrid unsheathed his longsword with a smooth motion. Shing! The blade gleamed in the sunlight as he took a wide step forward, drawing a semicircle with his sword. The sweeping strike forced Jack and Bo to back off instinctively. But Enkrid didn''t stop there. As the momentum of his swing created an opening, Bo seized the chance and charged in. He was a soldier known for his agility, and he propelled himself forward, closing the gap in an instant. Enkrid seemed vulnerable, shifting his weight to his right as he gripped the longsword with both hands. Just as Bo''s short sword reached striking distance¡ª Thunk! A blade suddenly emerged from Enkrid''s left armpit, piercing Bo''s throat. It was a mercenary-style technique called Shadow Thrust, involving a feint to draw the opponent close before striking with a concealed blade. Bo, overly reliant on his reflexes, had closed the distance too eagerly, playing right into Enkrid''s hands. With a gurgling sound, Bo collapsed, blood pooling beneath him. "Dammit, that''s brutal," Jack muttered, pale-faced. He neither had the will to fight nor the courage to flee. "So, why did you do it?" "Why do you care, you bastard?" Jack spat, defiant to the end. Enkrid didn''t see a need for mercy. Their fight ended quickly. A deceptive feint with the longsword turned into a horizontal slash, carving a deep wound into Jack''s side. "Ah... damn it," Jack cursed before collapsing. Enkrid stood still, catching his breath with his sword planted in the ground. Not long after, reinforcements arrived. A bolt flew toward him with a sharp whizz. Enkrid tilted his head to dodge, spotting a hesitant Rotten, and a cloaked assassin. Leaving his sword embedded in the ground, he asked, "Are you all coming at once?" A one-on-one fight seemed out of the question. Another bolt was aimed his way. Enkrid exhaled sharply, relaxing his entire body. His arms dangled like pendulums before his right hand snapped upward, flinging a dagger. Whizz! The thrown blade struck Rotten square in the forehead. The half fairy assassin beside him flinched momentarily. "Interesting," Enkrid muttered, echoing the assassin''s thoughts. Chapter 60 - Just Ten Times Chapter 60 - 60 - Just Ten Times Chapter 60 - Just Ten Times "It''s fun? That''s what I should be saying." "You''re really amusing." The half-blood fairy draped in rags licked its lips with a flick of its tongue, arms drooping limply. From beneath the rags, pale white hands peeked out. It was evident at a glance¡ªthis was a preparatory stance. The moment those hands moved, a chilling whistling sound would resonate. ''Don''t look at the projectile; it''ll be too late. Watch the hands instead.'' Jaxen''s method for countering the whistling throwing knives was also the key to handling anyone skilled with throwing weapons. Catching a flying arrow with your eyes alone is almost impossible. ''Unless you''re truly a knight, it''s extremely difficult. However, even if you''re not a knight, there''s a way to avoid incoming arrows.'' It''s called the selection eye technique. Even if the hands are cleverly hidden, it''s impossible to completely obscure the movements of the arms. Focus on the enemy in front of you. Watch their hands and arms closely. Then take in their entire body and dodge accordingly. That was the essence of the technique. Jaxen''s calm and precise explanations were easy to absorb. When Rem taught something, he relied on action first. He was the type to lead with physical demonstration rather than words. Jaxen was the opposite. He delivered meticulous explanations first, ensuring intellectual comprehension before moving on to physical practice. Ragna, on the other hand, was haphazard until something piqued his interest. Once engaged, he combined demonstrations and explanations seamlessly, adapting to the flow. Audin was similar to Rem, but his tone carried an almost godly optimism. Perhaps the most frustrating approach of all. "You can do it, brother." "It''s fine, brother. That''s not nearly enough to reach the arms of the divine." "Does it hurt? Good, you''re making progress." Learning gymnastics from him had been anything but easy. But it had paid off handsomely. Now, beneath the shadows of the city wall, where the air was much colder than in the sunlight, Enkrid felt comfortably warm. His body showed no signs of stiffening, thanks to the gymnastics he''d learned from Audin. Even as his thoughts wandered, Enkrid''s eyes never left the half-blood fairy. The way to avoid whistling throwing knives was to focus on the fingertips. Hands might move faster than eyes, but it was impossible to hide the motion of an arm in full swing. You track its trajectory, feel it, and see it. If you see it, you can dodge it. He''d done it countless times already. The key now was to keep watching¡ªsomething Enkrid was doing diligently. His own hands were also hanging loose by his sides. The half-blood fairy mirrored his stance. Though not quite at the level of whistling throwing knives, their throwing techniques were formidable. ''How do I land a single blow?'' The half-blood fairy was exhilarated. At first, this had been a dull, routine job¡ªan assignment to kill a mere soldier. Hardly the kind of task to spark interest. The assassin harbored two peculiarities. The first was exploiting an enemy''s carelessness to strike their heart. The second was killing elite warriors head-on. Both were passions of his. Initially, this job seemed likely to require the first. But now? "This is going to be fun." His focus had shifted to the latter. The half-blood fairy kept licking his lips¡ªa habit he had when concentrating deeply. His eyes scanned Enkrid for an opening, but none appeared easily. He felt it clearly in his mind. No matter how he threw his knives, the opponent would dodge them. But that was fine. "You''re expecting me to throw the knives, aren''t you?" The opponent had somehow seen through his plan, countering it with the simplest of measures¡ªchanging the location. Things had gone awry. Three people were already dead, and while the commotion had drawn no one yet, the original assassination site¡ªa bustling marketplace¡ªwas now useless. Bustling places slow perception. Two disposable accomplices, Jack and Bo, were meant to create a distraction with their trivial antics. There was also a crossbowman hidden, a man named Rotten following in secret. All those preparations unraveled with a mere change of location. Now, there were no buildings to hide behind. Before the mission even started, two fools were dead, and the crossbowman had been eliminated by an unexpected knife throw. "Did he plan all this?" Once again, the fairy licked his lips. His concentration had peaked, leaving his lips perpetually dry. He retraced the target''s actions up to this point, trying to discern his intentions. "Yes, he planned it all." He had calculated everything. The how didn''t matter¡ªthe outcome did. Jack and Bo were dealt with, and the crossbowman had been swiftly dispatched. "Impressive." The opponent''s calculations, methods, and precision were flawless. ''He''s in the same line of work as me.'' Or so the fairy thought. But it was a mistake. The opponent had simply read and dismantled his assassination tactics head-on. Even with leaked information, this level of response was indicative of someone with extensive experience in such matters. ''So, what can I use now?'' He still had options. There were three poisons hidden in his clothing. On his back was his specialized weapon¡ªa long needle the length of a forearm. Called the Needle, it was one of the weapons favored by fairies alongside knives. Draw and thrust. That was all it took. Only one target had ever survived this method¡ªa Frog, to be exact. A damn Frog. "Why are you so disgustingly ugly?" That insane Frog had casually insulted his appearance. The half-blood fairy had a deep-seated inferiority complex about his looks. Fairies were meant to be beautiful, but as a half-blood, he had been denied that blessing. Since that day, every job he completed ended with him piercing his target''s heart¡ªan act now ingrained as habit. He licked his lips again as he thought of the Frog. Killing his opponent by splitting their heart seemed easy enough. "Close the distance, then pierce him with the Needle in one strike." While the opponent might have skill with a sword, that only applied in direct combat. The fairy trusted in his secret techniques. Now, how would he close the distance? Enkrid''s senses screamed alarms of danger as if they were going mad. "How many do you have?" Enkrid adressed the half fairy, keeping him engaged in conversation, then raised his voice toward the front. The fairy shrugged, as if to answer what was likely a question about the number of daggers in his possession. "I only have two," the fairy lied, having already wetted his lips multiple times in preparation. "I''ve got one," Enkrid responded honestly, despite knowing everything. "Seems like I have the upper hand, doesn''t it?" "That''s just what you think." The daggers Enkrid carried were a secret weapon he''d coerced out of Krais since morning. He''d asked for something thin and light, and Krais had delivered. The result was a soldier who had been forced to give up a carving knife and Enkrid gaining a throwing knife, though its blade had been sharpened so excessively it was now as short as a finger. "You''re quite amusing, aren''t you?" muttered the elf. Enkrid agreed silently. The tension coursing through his body burned like fire. A single misstep, even a blink, could allow death to tighten its grip on his throat. Yet it exhilarated him¡ªthe anticipation of measuring his skills against an opponent. Pitting his own moves against theirs, feeling the thrill of competition. He felt his heart fill with a fierce desire to win, a sensation he hadn''t easily experienced before. In the past, had there ever been a moment to even think about winning? He''d been too preoccupied with simply surviving, clawing his way out of death''s grasp. But now? Today, repeated over and over¡ªan endless cycle of walking the line between life and death¡ªhad changed more than just his swordsmanship. Once, he had been unable to entertain thoughts of victory against a skilled opponent. But now? "I can win." Not only did he want to win, but he believed he could. It was a shift in mindset, a newfound confidence. The fairy selected the most rational, efficient, and effective option available. "This is inside the city. Won''t patrols come by this way soon?" He was right. Time was on Enkrid''s side. Once the patrols arrived, it would be over. Facing him would not only expose his disguise but also make survival near impossible. His back was damp with sweat, evidence of his tension. ''When did he get this strong?'' His movements slowed as he kept his gaze locked on Enkrid, his steps cautious. ''Move carefully. That bastard can''t throw daggers.'' Whistle! Four daggers sliced through the air, the high-pitched sound ringing loud. Even as Enkrid hurled his blade, his eyes never left the fairy. Not once did he blink. Because of that, he could track the trajectory of the incoming blades. He instantly dropped into a low position, feet apart, body almost prone as his hands touched the ground. The whistling blades sliced through the space where his head and chest had been moments ago. This sequence unfolded in the span of a half-breath. During the remaining half-breath, the fairy acted again. After the first wave of four blades, he sent another two, targeting Enkrid''s head and thighs. Instinctively, Enkrid rolled to the side. Thud! The daggers embedded themselves into the ground. Rolling onto his feet, Enkrid immediately scanned for his opponent. Missing the fairy''s movements now would spell the end. His eyes darted, but his gaze failed to find him. The elf was nowhere to be seen. His instincts, preoccupied with finding a position for a counterattack, had overlooked the fairy''s approach. In that moment, the fairy was already closing the distance, low to the ground. His ears twitched, alerting him to the sound of footsteps striking the earth. Enkrid''s eyes finally caught sight of the fairy, just a few steps away. Using the fluttering cloth to distract and closing the gap, the fairy executed his plan. His opponent likely hadn''t anticipated such an approach. His assumptions proved correct¡ªEnkrid''s face showed pure surprise. Yet, even then, Enkrid moved. Ping! ''Bastard,'' the fairy cursed internally, conveniently ignoring his own earlier lie. The fairy, focused entirely on closing the distance. Two steps away. He reached for his weapon as Enkrid desperately drew his longsword. But before he could ready it, the fairy''s short, needle-like blade plunged toward Enkrid''s heart. Clang! Crack! "What? Blocked?" The fairy was shocked¡ªthis strike shouldn''t have been stopped. It was his trump card, a fatal blow. But it was blocked because Enkrid had seen this exact move in his ninth death. Instead of drawing his longsword, Enkrid had deflected the needle-like blade with the guard sword he had drawn earlier, turning the strike away. Though not a perfect execution of the defensive technique, it was effective enough. The broken blade fragments scattered as Enkrid abandoned the guard sword and fully unsheathed his longsword. In one seamless motion, he raised it high and brought it down with force. The fairy barely managed to raise his weapon to block. Clang! The longsword shattered the needle-like blade, completing its arc and splitting the elf''s face in two. The grotesque visage of the elf was no longer recognizable, cleaved apart in one decisive strike. "Haah," Enkrid exhaled, releasing the breath he''d been holding. After retrieving his sword, he reflected. Ten¡ªjust ten times. That''s all it took to end today''s cycle. The shortest iteration of this endless day he had experienced so far. Chapter 61 - Fairy’s Jest Chapter 61 - 61 - Fairy''s Jest Chapter 61 - Fairy''s Jest Enkrid gathered the corpses in one place, waiting for the patrol soldiers to arrive. "This is work, too," he muttered, tidying up the mixed-blood fairy''s body. As he reached out to move the assassin''s corpse, his fingers brushed against something unusual near the chest area. Tracing the sensation with his fingers, he discovered an object extending toward the side. Opening the assassin''s coat, Enkrid found a sheath strapped to the body containing four whistle daggers. They were no ordinary weapons. "Almost forgot," he thought. These were excellent weapons, and since he''d recently learned how to throw them, they would be useful. He had firsthand experience of their deadly effectiveness. He took the sheath and rummaged through the belongings of the other corpses, collecting any valuables like coins. Among them, he found a leather pouch containing some powder with a strange smell. It seemed dangerous to touch it recklessly¡ªit might be poison, possibly toxic upon contact. Without a readily available antidote, it was a risk he wasn''t willing to take. Enkrid left the poison pouch untouched. It was no surprise that the patrol soldiers who found him later were shocked. The troublesome squad leader, who had disappeared mid-shift, had reappeared with four corpses. "What''s this?" one of the soldiers exclaimed, initially pointing a spear at Enkrid in alarm. "Spies," Enkrid answered succinctly, which was enough of an explanation. "I recognize that one," said a patrol soldier, gesturing toward one of the bodies with a crossbow. "He claimed to be a merchant''s errand boy four days ago." Merchants typically carried manageable loads, traveling between locations¡ªa plausible disguise. "Didn''t you check their identification badge?" "We did. It was flawless." A meticulously forged identification badge was not something anyone could easily produce. While one soldier poked through the half-fairy''s belongings with a spear, grimacing at a split skull, the company commander of the 4th unit¡ªa fairy¡ªarrived. After inspecting the assassin''s belongings, she confirmed, "Poison. They''re assassins." Her conclusion was based not only on the poison but also on the assassins'' physiques. Enkrid explained the assassins'' presence and left it at that. During his account, the patrol soldiers cast suspicious glances his way, but their doubt was short-lived. "You caught four? One of them must''ve been quite skilled." "This trio was Jack, Bo, and Rotten," one soldier noted. Jack was known for his spear skills, Bo for his agility, and Rotten for being a formidable fighter among the common soldiers. Despite facing such opponents¡ªalong with a half-fairy assassin¡ªEnkrid bore only minor scratches. "...Alone?" one patrol soldier asked, forgetting the presence of the company commander in his astonishment. "Things just worked out that way," Enkrid replied, glancing at the fairy commander. The fairy commander said nothing, her expression unchanging as her jewel-like green eyes studied Enkrid. "Understood. Return to your post." "Yes, ma''am." Enkrid saluted and turned to leave. "You abandoned your post. You''ll have to make up for it later," she remarked, her tone sharp. Even in such circumstances, she criticized his dereliction of duty. The patrol soldiers exchanged glances, unsure of what to say. Enkrid, however, simply nodded. "Yes, I understand." Arguing with a superior officer would be pointless. Some within the unit were sticklers for military law and protocol. The fairy commander might not fit that type exactly, but orders were orders. "Then go," she concluded. Enkrid finally left the scene, his stride composed. *** Two days later, two soldiers from the frontier defense unit sought out Enkrid. They were tasked with investigating the scene within the city. Enkrid cooperated fully, answering their questions. "They attacked suddenly," he explained. "Did you leave your post because you suspected something?" "No. I noticed their odd behavior but mainly stepped out for some air." "And your absence happened to expose spies? Two of them were killed in a single stroke." "They attacked immediately." "And yet, you subdued them without taking significant injuries?" The soldiers'' questions were sharp, but Enkrid remained calm. Having survived the encounter, he was the only living witness¡ªnaturally, their questions would focus on him. "Yes. I was lucky," he replied. "Two strokes of luck could topple a fortress," one soldier joked dryly. "That means the skill gap must''ve been significant." It wasn''t a genuine accusation; they weren''t doubting him. Their investigation into Enkrid''s background had already been thorough, completed when the frontier defense unit considered recruiting him. "Well done," one soldier said. "I hear you were promoted. Congratulations." "Thank you." Both soldiers outranked him, but their remarks carried no condescension. "Still not interested in joining us? Your skills are a waste here." "No." The curt response ended the conversation. "Oh, well," one muttered, somewhat disappointed. Enkrid returned to his quarters. As he opened the door, something fell from above. He instinctively dodged, rolling to the side. He barely avoided it, though some of his hair was cut in the process. Looking up, he saw Rem grinning. "Passed the ambush test!" Rem announced, holding his axe¡ªthe culprit. "Rem, you crazy bastard." Enkrid cursed as his severed hair floated to the ground. A moment''s delay would''ve left a scar across his neck¡ªa gruesome "tattoo" of sorts. "Relax. Even if you missed, I''d have only cut your hair," Rem said cheerfully. "Don''t even start." The world was full of madmen, but the most deranged were in his unit. Enkrid had long accepted this fact. "With assassins showing up, you should learn to handle ambushes, don''t you think?" "Great excuse," Enkrid muttered, shaking his head. "Looks like it''s time for a haircut anyway," Rem teased. Admittedly, it was time for a trim. The fringe of his bangs subtly covered his eyes. When facing the mixed-blood fairy before, he was in a high state of concentration, and didn''t notice due to the need to deceive the opponent with several strategies. But now, it was becoming bothersome in everyday life. "Please do something about this." Enkrid spoke. It wasn''t Rem who stepped in, but Krais approached from behind. "Yeah." Krais was surprisingly skilled with his hands. While the others handled weapons like swords and axes with finesse, when it came to cutting hair, they left bizarre shapes behind. "I''ll trim the bangs a bit shorter, and tidy up the rest." Krais''s tools were a small dagger, scissors, and a comb made of horn. "Ten copper coins." "That''s expensive." "I''ve gotten better at it. If you don''t like it, you can go to a barber in the city." He certainly didn''t want that. Barbers in the city were expensive and lacked the skill compared to Krais. There was no reason to spend twice as much for something subpar. However, the city''s barbers excelled at tending to injuries, which made them more often sought out by those with wounds rather than for haircuts. "Alright, let''s begin." The sound of hair being cut began to echo in his ears. Sitting in a chair right in front of the lodging entrance, snowflakes began to fall from above. Rem, who had been watching Enkrid, muttered. "Devil''s shit." When snow falls, everyone would soon be busy clearing the unit grounds and drainage ditches. It was something that affected everyone equally. Whether it was Rem, Ragna, or anyone, nobody could escape the labor. If the snow wasn''t cleared, trouble would pile up. "I don''t like it." Soon, Ragna also came out, his shoulders wrapped in a blanket. "It is cold, isn''t it?" Jaxen, who was nearby, agreed. "Even when you warm yourself, this cold is hard to bear, Brother." Audin stepped out as well. Why were they all coming out to watch? Normally, snow would make things a little warmer, but today, the temperature had dropped unusually low. Sitting outside, his lips began to turn blue. "Ugh, my hands are shaking. I might accidentally cut off an ear." Krais, who was cutting hair, commented. "I can hear that." "I''m concentrating." Krais focused on cutting hair, warming his hands with a moderately heated stone. Enkrid, watching the falling snow, was thinking about the spies. ''How did they get in?'' The mixed-blood fairy had infiltrated quietly. Gorder Guard was harder to infiltrate than expected. Forgery of identification was a serious crime. Both were not easy tasks to accomplish. Most of all, it was strange that Jack, Bo, and Rotten had switched to being spies. ''Where did they come from again?'' He seemed to have heard it somewhere. "Do you know the three who died?" Enkrid asked. Krais nodded, realizing that he had been standing behind Enkrid, out of sight, and answered. "Yes, I know." "Do you know where they came from?" "Jack was caught pickpocketing and served time, Bo was charged with insulting a nobile." "Sounds like he was a good guy." At the mention of insulting the nobility, Rem added his comment. "Sure he was." Enkrid sneered at Rem. Rem pretended not to hear, and Krais continued. "Rotten was a guard for some merchant guild." "What guild?" "It was an old guild that collapsed, what was it called again?" All three came in around the same time. About a year ago. Krais, being an information gatherer, knew a lot. ''If someone intentionally infiltrated...'' Forgery of identification, familiarity with the city''s underground, and connections to criminal groups. Could such a group be common? Within Gorder Guard, there were a few obvious places. The largest of those groups might be... ''The Thieves'' Guild.'' It was a group involved in various crimes, not just thievery. Hadn''t it been said that there was a complete overhaul about a year ago? He''d heard that rumor somewhere. When asked, Krais said that such rumors were circulating, but he couldn''t dig deeper into it. Enkrid''s gaze shifted toward Jaxen. "Do you know anything about the Thieves'' Guild?" It was a direct question. Jaxen silently stared at Enkrid. "Why are you asking me?" "Because I think you know." Why? From how he threw knives to how he trained his senses, Enkrid could guess Jaxen''s background. A thief or someone involved in assassination. Or something similar. So he had to ask. Jaxen remained silent for a moment. Enkrid stopped Rem from speaking with a glance. Ragna, as usual, stared with half-closed eyes. Audin silently clasped his hands and seemed to wait for an answer. The sound of Krais cutting hair broke the silence. "I''d like to know too. You think the assassination attempt on the squad leader started there, right?" Krais was sharp. Those who had experienced the situation firsthand might be suspicious too. Anyone with a functioning mind would think so, especially Krais. He was quick-witted and had likely learned a lot from his time in the lower class. Thus, Enkrid''s suspicions seemed justified to Krais. Soon, Jaxen opened his mouth. Enkrid had expected him to ask for something in return, but that wasn''t the case. "Around a year ago, the guild underwent a change. I don''t know anything about what happened after that. All my connections were cut off." It was worth looking into. Enkrid thought so. "That''s done." Krais soon finished cutting the hair, and as he did, the snow began to fall heavily. "Ugh, I really hate this." "I hate it too." "Agreed." "Brother, it''s a trial sent by the gods." "Seriously, it''s so annoying how it''s pouring." Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, Audin, and Krais each voiced their complaints about the falling snow. Enkrid, watching them, said, "I think we should set up an operation under the squad leader''s authority. Instead of clearing the snow, we''ll head out immediately." At those words, everyone''s ears perked up. Ten pairs of eyes stared at Enkrid like hungry wolves. It seemed they would do anything, as long as it didn''t involve clearing snow. "First, I need to get permission from the company commander." Enkrid shook off the hair that had fallen on his face. "Go ahead." "Why are you still here? What are you waiting for?" "Over here." They urged him to go, and Enkrid, thinking it was best to leave before being hassled by those murderous glares, got up and went straight to the company commander''s quarters. *** "You got your hair cut. But why are you here? Were you ambushed again?" The mention of an ambush made him wonder if the company commander was joking. "It''s not that." "Then?" "I suspect the Thieves'' Guild. I want to investigate." The fairy squad leader, standing in her single room, looked outside at the falling snow, hands behind her back. "What do you mean by that?" "I''d like to conduct an operation on my own." "Hmm." The fairy squad leader continued to gaze out the window and then asked, "Is it because you don''t want to clear the snow?" "It''s not that." Half of it was true, but the other half was also true. There was nothing to feel guilty about. "Alright." The fairy squad leader gave her permission. "You''ll need to be careful. The criminal guilds in the city are really good at what they do." She raised her right index finger and pointed at the ceiling. In a military city, there was the battalion commander instead of a mayor, but there were other people besides him. Nobles sent by the country for administrative duties were among them. They were key power figures in Border Guard. "Don''t get on their bad side." It was odd hearing politics from a fairy, but Enkrid accepted the advice. "Understood." "When you leave, take the long way around and avoid the watchtowers. This is my room, so don''t start a fire while leaving." There was a short torch in the squad leader''s room, making the air warm. "Yes, I''ll be careful." Even as he responded, Enkrid thought it would take time to get used to the fairy''s jokes. Chapter 62 - A Knight’s Integrity Chapter 62 - 62 - A Knight¡¯s Integrity Chapter 62 - A Knight''s Integrity "Wait for a moment. I''ll send someone." Even with permission, it wasn''t time to depart just yet. When he returned to the lodging, the squad members were like chicks waiting for their mother bird. "Get ready." With a single word, the situation was understood. "Ah, I knew it! I trusted you, Squad Leader! I knew you''d make it!" "Good." Rem and Jaxen added their words, and the rest of the squad began to move. At least they should prepare their equipment, even if it''s just a little. Anything said now would be warm and encouraging. For once, all the squad members were in harmony. Thud. Even when Ragna and Rem accidentally bumped into each other while moving, neither paid it any mind. Not a word was exchanged. "You sly alley cat, don''t you have an extra cloak? It''s terribly cold." Rem especially disliked the cold. In response, Jaxen shook his head. Normally, this situation would have escalated into a fight, but it passed smoothly. ''They''re getting along well.'' How nice it would be if they could live like this, with each of them giving way just enough each day. Of course, that was just a wish. Watching the busy squad members, Enkrid sat on the edge of the bed. Soon, someone sent by the company commander arrived. "What''s going on? The entire squad is being called for a mission?" It was the 4th platoon leader, a messenger from the company commander. "We''re going to follow the assassin''s trail. It''s the Thief Guild." "...Be careful. A dagger in the back, even a knight can''t avoid dying. Thieves are dangerous." The platoon leader added a worried remark, sharing an old story. A dagger in the back. Once, a general who ruled the continent was killed by the dagger of a subordinate he trusted deeply. A story that might not even be a legend, just an old tale from the past. It might not even be true. Enkrid nodded, acknowledging it, but then... "No, a knight can avoid it." Ragna spoke. "Even if you''re not a knight, you can dodge." Jaxen agreed. "If you get stabbed from behind without even resisting, you''re an idiot." Rem finished off. Before the platoon leader could finish speaking, the three of them cut in. "Let''s not talk about it." The platoon leader shook his head and left. ''Crazy bastards.'' Anyway, permission had been granted. "Let''s go." Enkrid stood up. The weather was colder than yesterday, and the inside of the lodging felt like an icebox. Their gear was sparse¡ªRem only had a hand axe. Ragna had the arming sword he had exchanged with Enkrid before. Jaxen had only a short sword. Audin carried two small, oil-soaked and dried clubs, tucked into his belt. "Stealing is wrong. Let''s go send them to the lord, he shall teach them better." Audin spoke as he stepped forward, and Rem chuckled at his words. "Exactly. It''s wrong." Though their gear was minimal, Jaxen was bundled in thick furs, making him look bulky. Ragna wore a patched-up, hole-riddled cloak made from layers of cloth¡ªone that even a beggar would hesitate to covet. But the most striking was Rem. "Are you really going like that?" Jaxen, of course, was within acceptable range, and Ragna''s outfit could be deemed generous. But this was something else. Rem had wrapped himself completely in a blanket. He looked like a walking bed. He didn''t even seem to want to stretch his arms, only his toes barely poking out. "I hate the cold." Would he listen if I tried to persuade him? Enkrid decided to take the efficient route. He ignored Rem. "Let''s go." The troublemaker squad headed out toward the market. "It seems dangerous." Krais mumbled to himself as he followed. Whether to clear the snow, his arms swollen from shoveling, or to risk danger, he chose the latter. He really didn''t want to clear the snow. After any fight, Enkrid had the habit of reflecting and reviewing countless times. It was his old habit, a means of survival. This time was no different. The half-elf caught everyone''s attention with his whistle and Rotten. ''A trick.'' Simple, but effective concealment. What he aimed for after that was close combat. A single strike, a killing blow to end the fight. For some reason, the half-elf had a fascination with hearts. This made it easy to predict where he would strike, and through repeated encounters, Enkrid had already experienced his weapon form. He could calculate and fight accordingly. ''What if I failed?'' Enkrid pondered. ''Did I rely on luck?'' The half-elf might not move as expected. For him to move as planned, luck had to be involved to some extent. Enkrid asked himself. The first time, when he killed the stabbing pervert. Enkrid had used his stabbing technique as his weapon. It was a reckless gamble, putting his life on the line without thinking of the aftermath. He replayed that moment in his mind, reminding himself of the mistake. Had he made the same mistake this time? No, not this time. ''I used a different move.'' In the end, he was the one who won. Even in personal tactics, he had overwhelmed the enemy, and in previous skill, he was confident he could do the same. Even if the half-elf had decided to fight seriously and Rotten had remained behind. ''My chances of winning are higher.'' Of course, it wouldn''t have been as clean as it was now, with no injuries. Reviewing, reflecting. He repeated it over and over. He walked, imagining the scenario and applying it to other situations. The patrolmen who found Enkrid were taken aback twice. First, they were shocked by the corpse, and then they were shocked again seeing the troublemaking squad leader, now at the level of a high ranking soldier. They called him a senior soldier. How many regular soldiers have demonstrated such skill in reality? It''s even more remarkable considering that his skills were practically nonexistent before this battle. To cut to the chase, the conclusion is that he is no longer at the bottom of the swordsmanship spectrum¡ªhe''s no longer scraping the floor like he once was. Still, Enkrid pondered. ''There might have been an easier way.'' It was hard to believe he had such an attitude, given the repetitiveness of today. But it was precisely this attitude that might explain why he always faced tomorrow. His thoughts spiraled as he remembered the dream from the night before. ''Was I doing nothing?'' It was clearly an inexplicable presence. He was thinking of the ferryman of the Black River. The ferryman in his dream didn''t mock him as before. He simply stared silently and muttered one thing. "What are you?" The voice of one without a mouth. Yet the emotion carried by the voice was clearly conveyed. No, it was intentionally conveyed by the ferryman. Enkrid instinctively sensed this. The emotion contained in that single phrase was puzzlement. It was pure curiosity, devoid of any trace of disappointment or anger. Enkrid couldn''t offer any answer. After all, it had been a dream. Although, it certainly wasn''t an ordinary dream. "Squad leader." So lost in thought, Enkrid didn''t notice someone gripping his arm from behind and calling his name until he stopped walking. "Sorry, what did you say?" He had let the words spoken to him earlier slip by unnoticed. "You''re asking to get stabbed by a thief with that mindset," Rem said. It didn''t seem like a very long sentence. More importantly, Rem, who had spoken, was dressed in a way that made it look like he might get stabbed and wrapped in a blanket if they proceeded like this. Jaxen ignored Rem and spoke. "Do we have a plan?" A plan? What kind of plan? Enkrid''s eyes narrowed, recalling the same confusion he''d felt from the ferryman in his dream. "What, are you planning to just track down the thief guild and raid them without any plan? Do you even know where their headquarters is?" Jaxen asked, folding his arms. Despite the bulky clothes making his elbows stick out in a comical way, he remained unfazed. The opponent was a criminal group that dealt with pickpocketing, human trafficking, and more. The guild''s name was Gilpin. It literally meant the organization led by Gilpin. It was commonly referred to as a thief guild, but in reality, it was just a criminal organization. Would such people reveal their base of operations and operate openly? No. Like parasites in the city''s shadows and alleyways, they kept themselves hidden. "I don''t know." "I think we need to come up with a plan first." "Were you really thinking of nothing?" Rem chimed in again. Ragna didn''t say anything, just blowing out puffs of breath as he stared at the sky. Audin gave only a small smile. "Really, no thoughts at all?" Krais, with his large eyes, asked, looking directly at Enkrid. "I thought you might know where their base is." "Even I wouldn''t know the location of their guild. If I were to approach to figure it out, I''d get myself killed." As he spoke, Krais mimicked the motion of slicing a throat with his hand. A criminal guild killing the standing army? Was their position that powerful? They weren''t likely to do such a thing. Honestly, Enkrid didn''t care. He had no time or energy to concern himself with such things. "Have you never run a small-scale operation before?" Once again, Jaxen asked. It seemed he was criticizing the idea of moving in without any strategy, as if they were just winging it. Enkrid was gradually running out of things to say. What had his life been like until now? He had been too busy struggling to survive. It was a daily battle to carve out time to swing his sword once more. In all that time, there had been no chance to learn about strategy. Of course, he had experience as a mercenary. He had served as a squad leader before. He had participated in small-scale operations many times. But small-scale operations on the battlefield and in external settings were entirely different matters. In the battlefield, like when he led the previous scouting team, small-scale operations were familiar ground, but now, the situation was different. Not to mention... ''That was...'' Those were the results of struggling to survive, not moves based on careful planning. Everything had been learned by putting his life on the line. So, should he do the same this time? Should he risk his life and repeat today''s cycle? Enkrid stopped walking. A freezing wind sliced through his cloak and brushed against his side. It was a chilling wind. ''I don''t want that.'' He didn''t want to repeat today as a method. The pain of death was not something he welcomed. Above all, his instincts told him he didn''t need to. So what should he do? He hadn''t come here with no plan. He had considered ordinary methods. "Isn''t it easy to find out by asking around? Even if they hide well, the locals know." There are no secrets in this world. Secrets are only sealed by death. If the only one who knows the secret dies, no one can learn it. A criminal organization couldn''t hide itself completely. So, someone must know where they are. "That won''t work. The Gilpin folks are good at cutting off their tracks. They''re famous for being ruthless. Even if you capture low-ranking members and try to interrogate them, they won''t know anything. And if they accidentally reveal something they know, Gilpin will rip off their limbs and cut out their tongues." They ruled their organization through fear, punishing any betrayal. Then what? Enkrid had no immediate solution. He could struggle to survive and come up with ways to do that. But this wasn''t a battlefield. "Squad leader, give the orders." As he lost himself in thought, Ragna, who had been staring at the sky, spoke. Enkrid''s gaze shifted to Ragna. A swordsman with genius-level skills¡ªsomeone who would be a formidable opponent in any fight. This was Ragna, from Enkrid''s perspective. On a regular day, Ragna was lazy and careless. He often got lost or dropped things from his pockets. But occasionally, very rarely, Ragna could pinpoint the heart of the matter, digging deep, just like he would with a sword in hand. "A squad leader just gives orders. Let those who know how to carry them out handle the rest." That single sentence. The words murmured by Ragna were like a heavy weight to Enkrid. A squad leader, he said. That had been his position all along. He was the squad leader, the one who leads the squad. So, had he been leading the squad all this time? ''Was I really the squad leader?'' No. A person with no skill, struggling to survive, could never be the leader of a team. Especially not when every single member of the squad was a top-tier fighter. But Ragna''s words changed the situation. "Let''s do it." Rem acknowledged it. Jaxen gave a subtle nod. "We''re doing it. You''re right, brother. The captain gives the orders." Audin supported him with a smile. "Yeah, you''re right. What''s the matter?" Only Krais seemed to be out of sync with the mood. He had always thought of Enkrid as the squad leader in his heart. "That''s right. You''re right. Jaxen, do you have a plan?" Jaxen was the information merchant, a master of trade in exchange for knowledge. While Krais''s information was shallow and widespread, Jaxen''s was narrow but deep. "I do." "Tell me." "If you take the inn at the market and wait there, I''ll be back before sunset." Instead of giving an answer, he suggested stepping away. "Leave it to me, and I''ll find out." "Alright. Let''s head for the inn." Once a decision was made, there was no turning back. Enkrid proceeded with determination. On the way to the inn, still not reaching the market square, with few people around, Enkrid continued speaking his mind. "We''ll find their headquarters and wipe them out in one go." After all, they were a criminal organization. There would be no need for further discussion when it came to trampling them by force, even if they had no charges against them. Of course, it would end up as a matter of nobles or captains pocketing the profits. ''What''s it to me?'' A knight, after all, doesn''t let shame settle in their heart. He had seen, heard, and dreamed of it all as a child. And he had lived accordingly. Even now, that was how he intended to live. Chapter 63 - Knock Chapter 63 - 63 - Knock Chapter 63 - Knock It didn''t take long. As expected of Jaxen. By the time the sun was overhead, the unit had set out, and before the sunset had even touched the earth, Jaxen returned. "You''re quick." It was after finishing a meal of pumpkin soup and well-cooked pork hind shank. Rem patted his stomach, seemingly teasing them about how satisfying the meal was. Jaxen didn''t even glance at Rem, instead directing his words to Enkrid. "I''ll guide you." He seemed ready to set out immediately. "Sit down." Enkrid, still seated, spoke. Jaxen hesitated briefly. Though the location had been identified, delaying too long could alert the target that their trail had been discovered. The enemy might hide or even prepare a countermeasure. Or worse, they could sever the trail completely and disappear without a trace. Taking unnecessary risks wasn''t wise. If it had been up to Jaxen alone¡ªif he were the one to decide and act¡ªhe wouldn''t have hesitated. As thoughts churned in his mind, the squad leader''s voice cut through. "The pumpkin soup here is good." Who didn''t know that? The inn was called Vanessa''s Pumpkin Soup, after all. It was known for having the best food among the four inns located at the marketplace crossroads. "Krais even opened his own wallet. Let''s eat first." Only after Enkrid repeated himself did Jaxen sit down. For some reason, neither Rem, Ragna, nor Audin said anything either. Jaxen brushed the snow off his shoulders and head. The warmth of the fireplace quickly melted the remaining snow, dampening his outer clothes slightly, but it wasn''t enough to be uncomfortable. "One serving of pumpkin soup and the barbecue we had earlier, please." "Your party member has arrived! Right away!" The waitress responded cheerfully. She was an upbeat individual. Most of the squad seemed to like the Pumpkin Soup Inn. Good food has a way of earning favor. While it might not be fair to the unit''s cooks, as Ragna once put it, the food back at the camp often felt like torture for the palate. Occasionally, it was decent, but generally, it left much to be desired. In contrast, the meals at Vanessa''s Pumpkin Soup Inn were exceptional¡ªbeyond exceptional, even. It was rumored that the best chef in Border Guard resided here. "It''s not good to stall for time," Jaxen said as he sat down. Enkrid nodded in agreement. "It''s still snowing." Even Enkrid wouldn''t want to endure grueling work in such weather, especially if it wasn''t sword or martial arts training. To him, snow was nothing more than the devil''s nuisance. Likely, the entire unit shared the sentiment. If they attacked the thief guild and returned now, the accumulated snow would be waiting for them like an unwelcome guest. That''s why Rem and the others didn''t object. It also explained why Krais had opened his wallet. Realizing this, Jaxen nodded. "I see." He then focused entirely on eating. By the time twilight crept across the land, everyone, including Enkrid, stood up and prepared to leave. "Let''s go." "Come back again!" The cheerful waitress called out. Krais gave her a slight nod in acknowledgment. The two seemed to know each other. Throughout their time at the inn, they had been seen whispering to each other frequently. "Do you know her?" Enkrid asked. "Her name is Reysa, seventeen years old. Her father''s a cobbler, and her mother''s a weaver. Neither has ever joined a guild." A cobbler crafted shoes from leather or other materials, while a weaver made cloth. Both were common professions. Even though manufacturing and woodworking guilds existed in the city, not joining them likely meant the couple''s skills weren''t particularly remarkable. "Her dream is to someday open her own inn in the capital. For now, she''s focused on learning the culinary skills of Vanessa''s Pumpkin Soup Inn." "She''s ambitious." Rem chimed in. It was true¡ªrunning an inn wasn''t an easy feat. Beyond the substantial funds required, hiring armed guards was a necessity. Selling food and drinks often led to rowdy behavior, and while the snow today had kept things relatively quiet, under normal circumstances, fights would likely have already broken out. Even earlier, when they left, the armed guards had been keeping watch. To Enkrid, the guards looked like retired soldiers. Hiring former soldiers as guards was common in the Border Guard since they could handle most disturbances discreetly. For more significant issues, however, military police would still need to be summoned. Having ties within the military allowed for quicker response times, which was why employing retired soldiers was a practical choice for establishments in Border Guard. Running an inn here also came with high taxes. By Border Guard standards, an inn needed not only guest rooms and dining facilities but also conference halls, private training grounds, and even a tavern. Without a lord or manor in Border Guard, inns often served as venues for both minor and significant gatherings. Although the unit had its own meeting rooms, they were part of a military facility and off-limits to outsiders. Given such circumstances, inns flourished. However, setting up such an establishment in the capital was an entirely different matter. It was an ambitious goal, but not impossible. "You know her in detail," Enkrid remarked as he followed Jaxen, who led the way. "Pretty women are all potential future customers." Krais, after all, aimed to open a salon exclusively for women¡ªstaffed entirely by handsome men. The man had a unique imagination, intending to empty noblewomen''s purses using charm and wit. Krais, uneasy, spoke up again. "Do you think the Lake Panther will be okay? It doesn''t even seem cold. Why won''t it move when we tell it to follow us?" "Still aiming for its claws?" "No, I gave up. Trying that would get me killed. There''s a reason they''re so valuable." Enkrid chuckled softly at Krais'' words. His tone suggested he''d given up, but it was obvious he hadn''t. "Why don''t you give it a name? We''ll probably keep bringing it along." Enkrid nodded slightly at Krais'' suggestion. He couldn''t keep calling it "that thing" forever. As they chatted, they found themselves deep in a shadowy alley, walking for quite some time. They had taken so many turns that even Enkrid, with his sharp sense of direction, was beginning to feel disoriented. "You didn''t take a bribe from the Thieves'' Guild to lead us into a trap, did you?" Rem sneered mockingly. Jaxen ignored him, staying silent. "This guy always brushes me off," Rem grumbled, clearly irritated. Still, Jaxen remained consistent in his silence, even ignoring Rem''s complaints. "Enough," Enkrid interjected, cutting off Rem before he could say more. "What, playing favorites now? You know I get bored easily, right?" When Rem turned his frustration toward Enkrid, it was a good sign¡ªhe was dropping the argument. After that, the group fell quiet. Ragna, seemingly bored, kicked at the ground as he walked. "Winter sure is cold." Audin, seeing a group of beggars sprawled out on the frosty ground, offered only a single remark. The snow had stopped, but a thin layer remained atop the hardened dirt. By noon tomorrow, the sunlight would melt it, leaving a slushy mess behind. "Here we are." After wandering through alleys for half an hour, they reached a weathered wooden door. It was the kind of door you''d find anywhere in Gorder Guard. Though the sun had set, the gentle glow of the moonlight lit their way clearly. As Enkrid reached out to push the door open¡ª "You taking the left?" Rem asked, standing still, his back to the moonlight. "I''ll take the right. Gotta earn my keep somehow," Audin replied. "Suit yourselves. As long as no one bothers me, I don''t care," Ragna yawned. "You lazy bastard. Squad Leader, we''ve got company." At Rem''s words, Enkrid turned to see them¡ªscruffy figures draped in rags. A closer look revealed they were the same beggars they''d passed on the way here. For a brief moment, the image of a half-breed fairy flashed through his mind before vanishing. "Twice the size," he thought, absentmindedly brushing his hand against the knife strapped behind his belt. The blade wasn''t ordinary. It had been taken from the body of the half-breed fairy he''d killed. He also had a sturdy dagger tucked into its sheath on his chest. The fairy''s blade wasn''t something easily crafted. When such a thing came into your possession, there was only one thing to do: take it. "You must not have learned as a kid¡ªnever wander into places like this after sunset." One of the beggars spoke, revealing yellow-stained teeth that appeared nearly black in the dim light. The stench from a few paces away was enough to make their presence unbearable. "Shut it," Rem replied, moving forward. His steps weren''t hurried, but he closed the distance with steady strides. The beggar in the lead pulled a small pocketknife from his sleeve. The blade was barely the length of a handspan, and he made a stabbing motion with it. "Die, you bastard." Those were his final words. Rem didn''t stop. As the knife came toward him, he grabbed the beggar''s wrist with his left hand, pulling him inward. Then, with a sharp movement, he drove his right elbow into the man''s skull. Crack! It was a decisive, brutal strike. The beggar''s neck twisted at an unnatural angle as his head snapped back. Simultaneously, on the other side, Audin reached out with just his thumb, index, and middle fingers, grabbing another beggar by the jaw and twisting. With a mere three fingers, Audin snapped the man''s neck. His monstrous strength turned the simple act into a devastating blow. "You crazy bastards!" "Shit!" Two of the remaining three shouted, veins bulging in fury, while the last one tried to slip away. Rem and Audin''s fights were brief and efficient. They closed the distance, disregarded the knives, and delivered single, crushing blows. Rem struck one in the throat with the edge of his hand, then finished with a punch to the temple, knocking the man unconscious. Audin kept it even simpler. With a step forward, he twisted his hips and threw out a straight punch. Thud, crack! The sound of the punch echoed. The force, starting from his toes, traveled through his body in a perfect motion. The beggar''s face caved in, his nose obliterated. He dropped to his knees before collapsing sideways. The one who tried to flee was stopped by Enkrid. Thud, thunk! "Guh!" A dagger embedded itself in the back of the escaping beggar''s neck, sending him sprawling forward. Rem, who had just begun to give chase, paused, turning his head back. Audin blinked a few times, while Ragna, who had seemed half-asleep, opened his eyes wide. Jaxen''s furrowed brows relaxed as he noticed the cold, heavy air around them. "Wow," Krais muttered in awe. Enkrid lowered his hand from its outstretched position and spoke. "Why? Chasing him would''ve been a waste of time." "When did our Squad Leader get so good at throwing knives?" Rem asked. "Practice makes perfect," Enkrid replied. "Fascinating," Rem murmured. "This isn''t the time to focus on my knife-throwing skills, is it?" "Fair enough." Rem nodded in agreement. Despite facing five armed beggars, none of them seemed surprised. Even Krais remained unfazed. "You''re not shocked?" Enkrid asked. He''d already deduced what was going on just by observing the beggars'' movements and positions. It wasn''t something a seasoned mercenary would overlook. Krais replied, "Shocked? Not really. What kind of beggar goes after armed soldiers? Their excuses were weak. This confirms it¡ªthis place is either the Thieves'' Guild''s base or they''re hiding something." Was this an obvious conclusion, or was Krais particularly sharp? Likely the former. Still, Krais was bold. While he might dart around the battlefield to avoid direct danger, he had seen his share of combat up close. This situation was nothing new to him. "They''re surprisingly organized for a gang of criminals." "What do you mean?" "The way they moved¡ªit was like they were taking shifts. Pretty meticulous for a small-time crew. This ''Gilpin'' guy must be quite capable." Krais had a knack for seeing the bigger picture based on small details. "Good point." While they exchanged a few words, Jaxen stepped back from the door. His hand rested on his sword hilt as though preparing to cut through it. Audin intervened. "Let me knock." This was the base of a criminal gang. Knocking wouldn''t make them open the door. Bang! But Audin''s "knock" was different. "Ha! Well done, our holy friend," Rem said with a chuckle, clearly impressed. Even Enkrid silently admired it. Audin twisted his body, pivoted on his left foot, and struck the door with the palm of his hand. It wasn''t just a strike¡ªit was a precise, cutting blow. The door, along with its hinges, bent inward and collapsed. In other words, he''d knocked it down. It was an exceptionally "cheerful" knock. Chapter 64 - One Strike Chapter 64 - 64 - One Strike Chapter 64 - One Strike As the door opened, it was Rem who first stepped inside. "What the..." He tried to say something while entering, but there wasn''t even time to finish his sentence. Something dropped from above onto Rem''s head. As if he had anticipated it, Rem swung his axe vertically. A blinding flash from the axe''s arc cut through the darkness of the room. No sooner had Rem swung than he launched himself sideways in a swift, almost reflexive motion. It was all so fluid, as if choreographed in advance. Thud. The corpse that hit the ground was the only evidence of what had just occurred. "What the hell?" Krais peeked his head inside, startled. The attacker had been hiding in the ceiling. Holding short knives in both hands, the man had been cleaved from his chest to his crotch by Rem''s axe, spilling his guts and blood onto the floor. The stench of blood and death filled the room. "And here I thought it was just some petty crime guild." Krais muttered to himself. "These bastards..." Rem twisted his lips into a crooked smile. "How cute." With that, he strode further inside. The interior was spacious, with brick walls reinforced by earth and straw. A passage turned to the right, visible just beyond the walls. As Rem walked ahead¡ª "Is it you?" He suddenly spoke and swung his axe. The merciless strike claimed a second life. This time, the victim had been hiding by the corner of the passage. He had tried to jab at Rem with something resembling a skewer, but it was futile. Rem''s axe was faster. The enemy was part of a crime guild¡ªpickpockets and extortionists at best. On the other hand, this group was a band of seasoned soldiers, fighting for a living. Moreover, Enkrid himself was a high-ranking soldier, and the others were even more skilled. ''I thought we''d have the advantage, but seeing it firsthand is something else.'' The crime guild members were skilled at stealth and ambush, striking with knives in the shadows. Even so, Rem dismantled every single surprise attack. He wasn''t just rampaging; there was a quiet, restrained madness in his actions. A madness that screamed ''Come at me, and I''ll split you in half.'' And as Rem moved, he kept speaking. "Is it you?" He would ask with each kill. "It''s you, isn''t it?" Slash! "Is it you?" The fifth ambusher had his head split open before Rem asked again. "Dead men don''t talk." Enkrid quipped from behind. Rem, gripping his blood-drenched axe, scratched his head with the handle. "I know that, but since the living aren''t answering, I might as well try?" The answer must lie with someone else. The passage turned right, revealing two more rooms¡ªone on the left and another on the right. Beyond them lay a space resembling a reception area. The structure wasn''t complicated: the reception room, two bedrooms, a storage room for provisions, and a kitchen. That was all. And five ambushers, all dead. None had spoken a word. "For a crime syndicate, they seem unusually prepared. These might actually be the ones targeting the squad leader." Krais examined one of the bodies and spoke while scrutinizing the face. "Don''t recognize this one." Enkrid nodded, agreeing both that the face was unfamiliar and that these individuals were likely the culprits. ''Is this good luck or bad?'' To be honest, this was half an excuse to dodge trouble. While it was logical for a crime guild to forge identification and employ assassins, ''Against professional soldiers from the Border Guard?'' For anyone wanting to survive in this city, that''s not a move you''d make lightly. And yet, they did. They must have had their reasons. Of course, those reasons didn''t matter to Enkrid. They had stumbled into this place almost by chance, like shooting a random arrow that happened to strike a boar right between the eyes. "Is that it?" Rem asked as he searched the area. Five attackers, five dead. The job was practically over with just Rem''s rampage. "That can''t be all. If Jaxen''s intel is solid, there''s more." Krais lit some straw with a flint from his pouch. The crackle of sparks set the straw alight, casting light in the cold, lifeless house. Using the makeshift torch, Krais searched the surroundings thoroughly. Soon, he stomped on a corner of the reception room floor. Thunk. A hollow sound echoed. The floor was empty underneath. "I''ll handle this." Audin stepped up. The area was covered with cheap fur and weighed down by a chair. He grabbed the fur and tossed it aside. The chair fell with a heavy thud. Then, Audin crouched and gave a hearty knock. Bang. His fist drove straight down, creating a hole in the wooden floor. Reaching through, he unlatched the hidden lock. "Where does it lead?" "Their base." Jaxen answered Krais''s question in a calm tone, as if he had expected this. Rem glanced at Enkrid. The flickering torchlight turned Rem''s originally gray eyes crimson. "Let''s keep going." Enkrid spoke before Rem could say a word. If they had started this, they might as well finish it. This wasn''t just about taking down a petty crime group. This was a guild, large enough to warrant the name. Not a ragtag bunch of misfits calling themselves a guild, but something far more organized. If they were behind the assassination attempt, Enkrid needed answers. Only a fool would let those who sought their life roam free. And Enkrid was no fool. "Of course!" Rem eagerly took the lead. The tunnel wasn''t long. In less than half an hour, they found a path leading upward. The cold was biting, but Rem had discarded his cloak long ago when he''d encountered a vagrant. Watching Rem''s shivering back, Enkrid couldn''t help but sense the simmering rage in his posture. "There''s someone up there." Jaxen, walking just behind Rem, spoke up. It meant the entrance was guarded. "They were expecting us." Krais remarked from the rear. "We can''t let bandits run rampant in the city." Audin, once again, stepped forward. Breaking doors seemed to be his specialty¡ªor maybe just a hobby. Skipping two earthen steps at a time, he twisted his body upward, slamming into the door with his shoulder and back. It was an unusual technique. Enkrid''s eyes gleamed as he watched. Boom! The sound of an explosion echoed. Or perhaps it was a fire spell detonating. The door flew off its hinges, soaring into the air. "Ugh!" The guards'' startled cries rang out. And then, it was Rem''s stage again. "Is it you?" Shouting his usual, cryptic question, Rem leapt forward. His first step landed on the stairs, the second on Audin''s thigh, launching him into the air as he swung his hand axe. From below, Enkrid could only see Rem''s back end. But the results were evident. With loud thuds, bodies fell, and blood spilled over the jagged edges of the broken entrance. "That brother has no manners. Walking on someone else''s thigh like that," Audin remarked, brushing off his thigh before stepping forward. Jaxen and Ragna followed, with Enkrid and Krais bringing up the rear. *** As they advanced, a blaze of torchlight surrounded them. "Ah, so it''s you crazy bastards," came a voice from the shadows. Enkrid surveyed the area. More than thirty armed men stood before them, each wielding a weapon: spiked clubs, shortswords, spears, and even blackjacks made of sand-filled leather pouches. The variety of weapons underscored their readiness. The torchlight brightened the scene, and Krais tossed his makeshift straw torch into a nearby hole. He let out a low whistle of admiration. "Wow, that''s quite a crowd." Enkrid shared the sentiment. "You''re soldiers, aren''t you?" he asked. Amidst the armed men stood a lone figure, draped in fine silk and a coat made of monstrous leather. He leaned casually on a jewel-adorned cane, a luxury item meant to flaunt wealth rather than aid mobility. "Are you the Gilpin gang?" Enkrid countered a question with another. The finely dressed man frowned, clearly offended. "Why is everyone so eager to die?" "I''m here about the ambush at Border Guard," Enkrid replied firmly. Before he could finish, Rem stepped forward. His question was direct and sharp. "Was it you?" The meaning was clear, Rem was asking if this man was behind the assassination attempt on Enkrid. ''That''s just like Rem,'' Enkrid thought. ''But who would actually confess to that?'' The man''s reaction was bold, not flustered. "I have no idea what you''re talking about." The confidence only deepened the squad''s suspicion. "It''s him," Jaxen muttered. "Yeah, looks like it," Ragna agreed, staring intently at the man. Unlike his usual half-lidded gaze, Ragna''s sharp focus was almost piercing. Audin stepped forward, his massive frame casting long shadows in the torchlight. His towering figure, nearly two meters tall, was a wall of pure muscle. Even Enkrid''s impressive stature of nearly 180 cm paled in comparison. "Brother, did you really target our brother squad leader?" Audin asked. His voice was calm but carried a weight that made nearby men flinch. The man sneered, but his words betrayed a flicker of unease. "What nonsense! Why would I bother sending assassins after some lowly soldier?" "You just admitted to using assassins," Enkrid noted, his tone cold. The man stiffened momentarily but quickly recovered. "So what now?" The gang of thirty was ready, their confidence bolstered by their numbers and preparation. But to Enkrid, it didn''t matter. He drew his longsword, letting its tip carve a line into the frozen ground. "Anyone here who has never killed the weak, who''s willing to surrender quietly, and who doesn''t want to die¡ªthrow down your weapons and cross this line," he announced. This wasn''t a battlefield but a massacre waiting to happen. Even criminals deserved a chance to avoid needless slaughter. "Think carefully. Otherwise, you''ll all die here tonight." His words drew laughter and mockery from the gang. "Who''s gonna die, huh?" "Has he lost his mind from fear?" The criminals jeered, but none stepped forward. Rem, watching silently, finally spoke. "What are you doing?" "I gave them a chance," Enkrid replied calmly. "Brother, their eyes are clouded by evil. They won''t believe without seeing," Audin murmured. Enkrid nodded and took another approach. "Who among you is the best with a blade?" A show of strength might change their minds. Enkrid stepped forward, sword in hand. "Come on, then," he challenged. The gang leader chuckled and motioned for someone to step forward. A mercenary-looking man, grizzled and battle-worn, accepted the challenge. "You''re overconfident, kid. I''ll make this quick," the mercenary sneered. Without warning, he lunged with a spear, employing a trick Enkrid recognized from his own mercenary days. But Enkrid had grown beyond his past self. Sidestepping smoothly, he closed the distance and thrust his sword upward in a single, decisive motion. The fight was over in one strike. The mercenary gurgled as blood poured from his wound. Enkrid shoved him aside and withdrew his blade. The man collapsed, his life spilling onto the cold ground. The air grew still, the gang''s mocking laughter replaced by silence and unease. Enkrid looked up, his voice steady. "Anyone wants to cross the line?" Chapter 65 - Those Who Will Cross Over Chapter 65 - 65 - Those Who Will Cross Over Chapter 65 - Those Who Will Cross Over ''He predicted the enemy''s actions.'' Jaxen attributed that ability to the effects of the Sense of evasion. Seeing how thoroughly his teachings were being applied, he felt a ticklish warmth in his chest. It pleased him. However, Jaxen didn''t face these emotions head-on. He wasn''t accustomed to examining his feelings and didn''t know how to process them. ''What''s so special about him, anyway?'' Someone you''d notice if they died right before your eyes¡ªthat was the extent of it. What could that person possibly mean to him to warrant such concern? Nothing. That''s what he decided. Jaxen thought this amateur soldiering nonsense was trivial. His goals were clear, after all. Even as he told himself this, a faint sense of discomfort lingered. It was because of that. Jaxen stared intently at the guildmaster behind Enkrid. "I don''t like the way he looks." He found an appropriate excuse. It had absolutely nothing to do with the squad leader. It was just that the guildmaster''s appearance irritated him. So, if they made a move, they''d die. He would stay faithful to the mission here. Rem observed how Enkrid wielded the Heart of the Beast, using it as a tool for boldness. The way he dove into the enemy''s reach as they thrust their spears at him¡ª A few months ago, such a display from the squad leader would have been unimaginable. At some point, his skills had improved dramatically, and Rem''s teachings had been at the center of it all. "Of course." It filled him with satisfaction. And yet, assassins targeting Enkrid? "Just kill them all." Rem wanted to tear them all to shreds. Ragna noticed traces of his own swordsmanship in Enkrid''s techniques. "Where could he have learned that?" Impressive. Shifting his center of gravity, lifting his feet, thrusting the blade¡ªeverything. Though Ragna had occasionally given him pointers, reaching that level of mastery required grueling training. "Fascinating." Someone once deemed talentless suddenly displaying exceptional skill¡ªit intrigued him. Ragna had always held a certain fondness for Enkrid. The man''s relentless drive was a source of inspiration for Ragna. And now, assassins¡ªcriminal scum¡ªhad targeted such a man? "Killing them all would be easier." Forgetting his usual laziness, Ragna resolved to wipe out the entire criminal guild. Still, the authority in this matter belonged to the squad leader. Ragna intended to follow his lead. Audin''s eyes scanned Enkrid''s body as he tapped his thigh with his fingers. ''A well-trained body.'' But it wasn''t a systematically trained one. The monks of the temple prioritize building the body before honing their techniques. It was a secret to physical discipline. Audin had refined it several times, creating his own method. "With proper conditioning, he''ll improve further." The squad leader was someone who knew how to put in steady, honest effort. A thought surfaced in Audin''s mind. Why didn''t the gods grant talent to such a diligent person? "The will of the divine is beyond the grasp of mere mortals." A sentiment that felt like a dagger to his heart. Whenever it surfaced, a dull ache spread from his chest throughout his body. Yet here stood someone striving to overcome the barriers of talent through sheer effort. Disregarding divine will, believing solely in himself. "My Lord," Audin prayed inwardly, "Watch over him. May the one who dreams of shining not meet a blind blade and die in vain." His prayer carried genuine sentiment, much like his irritation toward those targeting Enkrid. The idea of someone like Enkrid being taken down by a knife in the back was far too tragic. However, Audin harbored no desire to kill anyone. "Breaking their legs will do. The leader could take an arm." Taking anything but their lives would suffice. A single exchange. The impact Enkrid had made was significant. Even so, no one dared to cross the line. "It''s not enough." To overwhelm with force, one must deliver consecutive shocks. Enkrid understood his position. He didn''t always need to take the lead. "Rem." "Yes?" "Kill three of them." While it might be an excuse to avert his gaze, this was also a tactic and part of the mission. Enkrid was the squad leader. Rem moved without hesitation. Before the shock of Enkrid''s initial blow had even worn off, He twirled the two hand axes in his hands and darted forward. He moved so swiftly it seemed as though he had vanished. When he reappeared, he was in front of a brute with a spiked club. It was a sight often witnessed. Rem''s arms swung like whips, the axe blades at the tips flashing brilliantly. Whang! Thud! Whup! Crack! Crunch! The first swing severed the brute''s neck. The second cleaved the head of the thug to his right. Finally, with a twist of his waist, Rem swung the axe handle at the thug to his left, striking his neck. A severed neck, a split skull, and a broken neck. After killing the three, Rem slashed his axes diagonally downward, letting the blood drip onto the ground. Drip, drip. The blood scattered across the floor, and he casually turned his back on the guild members, striding back. "Three down." Enkrid believed two rounds of shocks were sufficient to create an opportunity. "Those who will, cross over." This was the third time he''d made the offer. If they didn''t take it now, there was no helping it. He couldn''t afford to show mercy to those who sought his life. It was a kill-or-be-killed era. Surely, they knew that attempting to kill others meant they risked death themselves. "...Frontier Defense Force?" The elegant guildmaster asked. "No." Enkrid led a modest squad¡ªalbeit one with extraordinary members. "We''re infantry from the Cypress Division of the Border Guard." He revealed their affiliation with a loose grip on his sword. There was no reason to hide it. As some of the thugs hesitated and began lowering their weapons, the guildmaster glared sharply. "Try going over the line. Let''s see if I let you off easy." It was a command to his subordinates. Krais'' words came to mind. The guildmaster, Gilpin, was said to rule through fear. Breaking limbs or cutting tongues when displeased. "Don''t be swayed by the mood! They''re just men like us. They''ll die if we stab them. Can''t you see they''re not even properly armored? Kill them! No one can survive a mob!" He could even string words together. Enkrid thought to himself that the logic wasn''t wrong. Overwhelming with numbers¡ª That method typically worked. Trained soldiers are most effective in collective combat. In smaller skirmishes, even a common thug could kill a soldier. If they found an opening and struck with a blade, who could survive? If it''s a fight between small groups, thugs might have the upper hand. Of course, this isn''t true when dealing with knights or those who''ve transcended human limits. And even now, it didn''t hold. "Don''t do it." Enkrid warned. The Madmen Squad weren''t ones to adhere to strategy or tactics¡ªthey fought however they pleased. They were the kind who could face overwhelming odds in battle, revel in the chaos, and return unscathed. For such warriors, thirty armed men¡ªuntrained and far from soldiers¡ªpicking a fight was tantamount to suicide. "Let them be. Some people only cry when they see the coffin," Ragna commented. "Brother, it seems time for divine retribution," Audin added. "Stand back and watch," he continued. Even Jaxen, without a word, stepped forward. With a metallic clang, he unsheathed his sword, taking a deliberate step. A rash figure from the opposing side darted forward, brandishing a scimitar. The man swung, a sharp whoosh cutting through the air, the blade aiming for Jaxen''s head. Jaxen calmly raised his sword, letting the scimitar glide along its edge. Using the momentum, he shifted and swung downward. Schlck. His blade slashed through the man''s abdomen, cleanly cutting through. Despite seeming effortless, it was enough to reveal the man''s entrails as he collapsed to his knees with a guttural groan. And that marked the beginning. "Kill only those who attack," Enkrid instructed. Rem obeyed, swinging his axe in place, but it was no less than a meat grinder. A thug wielding a flail swung clumsily; Rem cleaved the weapon in two mid-arc. Before the man could retreat, the axe split his head, sending him crumpling backward, blood and brain matter trailing behind. Ragna mechanically swung his arming sword, cutting down enemies with each motion. There were no intricate techniques, only raw force. Heads split, shoulders severed¡ªeach swing left a new corpse. Audin moved with blinding speed, wielding two clubs to parry incoming blades. The air echoed with the staccato clack-clack-clack of deflected strikes. Closing the distance, he shattered the legs of his opponents. Crack!Snap! "Arrghhhh!" Screams of agony filled the clearing. It seemed loud enough to summon the city guards, but this part of town was eerily desolate. Krais observed the carnage calmly. "This far out..." The gang''s hideout was on the city''s outskirts, likely in an upscale manor district developed by wealthy merchants. The location was ordinarily deserted. The enemy, being a criminal syndicate, had undoubtedly bribed the authorities. Ensuring no patrols or witnesses approached made it easier to handle. Krais felt no fear or surprise at the enemy numbers. After all, he was part of the Madmen Squad. He understood the caliber of his comrades. ''Everyone here is at least Frontier Defense level,'' he thought. And with that, the answer was clear¡ªthere was no way the enemy could win. As Krais''s mind spun with plans, he noted that everything was unfolding as he intended. ''I even leaked the information deliberately...'' Much of what was happening, including the ambush, was part of his scheme. If anyone noticed his manipulations, it might be the squad leader. Despite his gruff exterior, the man was sharp. Rem, being unfamiliar with urban affairs, was unlikely to realize. And as for Ragna and Audin? They wouldn''t even bother questioning it. By now, the corpses piled up, and Audin''s side resounded with frantic screams. "Arrghhh!" Audin never stopped at breaking just one leg. He''d return to shatter the other while delivering a sermon. "I''m not asking you to become saints. But at least stop living lives that harm your neighbors." Not a single thug could comprehend his words amidst their agony. Still, Audin remained consistent in both action and principle. Meanwhile, Enkrid watched intently. At first, he was captivated by Jaxen''s restrained movements. ''Orthodox swordsmanship.'' Jaxen''s style adhered to the fundamentals: parrying and countering through precise sword paths. Yet, it wasn''t just orthodoxy¡ªhis quick strikes blurred the line between offense and defense. His blade was a tool of calculated murder, and there was much to learn from it. Then, Enkrid''s gaze shifted to Rem. Rem''s axe arcs seemed erratic, yet they painted an unpredictable pattern in the air. ''How can he manage that?'' It was entirely instinctual. If one had to classify it, it was akin to mystic axe technique. And Ragna''s greatsword? It embodied the peak of basic swordsmanship¡ªcrushing through any defense with brute force. Each strike broke skulls and cleaved shoulders without fail. Audin, however, offered the most to study. Close combat was the foundation of swordsmanship, and Audin''s mastery of proximity fighting with clubs was unparalleled. Every move was precise, each strike shattering bones. Enkrid''s eyes darted between his comrades, absorbing their techniques. Translating what he saw into practice was another matter, but there was no doubt¡ªhe had much to learn. The battle didn''t last long. Many foes lost their will to fight. Jaxen, uncharacteristically determined, cut a path through the chaos, heading directly for the guild leader. The leader drew his weapon¡ªa sword concealed within his staff¡ªonly to meet Jaxen''s unrelenting blade. Clang! Sparks flew as steel clashed. Two bodyguards moved to intervene, but Rem and Ragna blocked their way. "Stay out of it," Rem growled. Faced with the carnage left in their wake, the bodyguards hesitated. Realizing resistance was futile, they dropped their daggers and knelt in surrender. "You cowards!" the guild leader bellowed, furious at their betrayal. But survival trumped loyalty. Jaxen''s expression remained cold as his eyes locked onto the leader. "I surrender!" the leader pleaded. Jaxen didn''t respond. "I''ll pay you! Just stop this madness!" The man''s desperation only grew as Jaxen''s strikes quickened. Clang! Clang! Clang! Finally, Jaxen''s voice broke the tension. "Your face annoys me." The guild leader''s last thought was one of disbelief. Schwick. Jaxen''s blade cut through the man''s neck, silencing him forever. Chapter 66 - Offered a Second Job Chapter 66 - 66 - Offered a Second Job Chapter 66 - Offered a Second Job "Let''s kill them all." Some had already dropped their weapons, and others had even wet themselves. Standing before them, Rem held a bloodstained axe and spoke. "P-p-please, spare us." Their terror was understandable. They had already lost the will to fight. Rem believed they should be killed. As a person from the west, often derogatorily called a barbarian, Rem had spent his childhood in the western lands. In the harsh frontier, leaving loose ends was never an option. "Seems like they''re the ones who sent assassins, so what''s the point of debating who''s guilty? Let''s slit their throats and end this cleanly." The terrified men couldn''t even open their mouths. With Rem standing between Enkrid and the kneeling criminals, axe in hand, it seemed like he could strike at any moment. They stayed silent. "Where did you throw your blanket?" Rem was ready to handle things himself if Enkrid refused, but the question caught him off guard. "What?" "Your blanket." When he had left the lodging, he had been wrapped in a blanket. At some point, though, he had discarded it. "Near the alley entrance, I think." That was before encountering the beggar. His instincts¡ªbeastly and sharp¡ªhad made him prepare for battle. "Then, how do you plan to sleep tonight?" Rem didn''t understand why Enkrid kept asking about such trivial things, but he had a plan from the moment he discarded the blanket. "I''ll just use the blanket of someone who spends every night out. Don''t worry. I won''t take yours, squad leader." "Touch my stuff, and I''ll kill you. No, I will kill you." Jaxen, the one always spending nights away, understood and reacted. Jaxen had many women and often left the lodging whenever they entered the city. "Stingy bastard, you don''t even use it." "Don''t touch it, barbarian." "Typical sneaky stray cat, always so petty." As their bickering began, Enkrid clapped his hands to gather their attention. "That''s unnecessary, Rem." From the beginning, Enkrid had a plan for targeting the thieves'' guild. Half of it was due to suspicion that they had sent assassins; the other half was for a different purpose. ''This is unexpected.'' More than half of him thought they might not actually be behind the assassination. After all, wasn''t it clear that Aspen was the one behind it? If someone had bet money on whether the guild was the mastermind, the odds would have favored them not being involved. Even if the bet was lost, it wouldn''t have cost much. Regardless of whether they were behind the assassination or not, there was a bigger plan at stake. "The night''s pretty cold, don''t you want to stay warm?" Rem tilted his head, unsure of where this conversation was going. "Huh?" Only Krais, with his sharp intuition and quick thinking, understood. He blinked his large eyes and looked at their squad leader in disbelief. Enkrid gave a slight nod. Years of hard labor in the mercenary world had taught him more than just swordsmanship. For instance, the philosophy that "if a thief tries to rob you, it''s only right to empty their pockets first." Enkrid made up his mind. This wasn''t going to derail his dreams. After all, these were criminals. Their accumulated wealth wasn''t exactly obtained by honest means. There were concerns about loose ends and other issues, but¡ª ''Doesn''t matter.'' With his growing skills, he felt confident in solving whatever came his way. Breathing out visible condensation in the cold air, Enkrid spoke again. "Let''s loot them. Maybe we can even set up some heated monster pelts back at the lodging." The silence that followed was due to sheer surprise. Then Rem burst into laughter. "That''s right. Anything found on conquered land is mine." A very Rem-like way of putting it. "Warmth, huh?" Ragna reacted, too. Nobody liked the cold. "Ha! The scriptures say, ''Take from thieves and use it for good,'' after all." Would such a thing actually be written in the sacred texts? Or taught at the temple? Probably neither. But Audin, with unwavering conviction, made his argument sound righteous. "Not a bad idea." Jaxen also nodded. "Are we just looting, though?" Krais added a more ambitious suggestion. "Let''s discuss inside. It''s freezing out here." The air was cold enough to quickly dissipate the heat from the blood and entrails of the dead. The group soon entered the mansion. Those who hesitated and lingered were urged inside by Krais. A few with broken legs were left behind. "Help everyone inside," Krais ordered, addressing the stragglers. They exchanged uncertain glances, wondering if running away might be the better option. Their hesitation was obvious. "If you run, we''ll hunt you down. Either the axe wielder or the guy who enjoys breaking legs will catch you." Ragna and Jaxen had fought well, but for the gang, the true nightmares were Rem and Audin. "Do you think you can hide from the Border Guard''s standing army? Or explore the wilderness at night during this end-of-season cold? You''ll either freeze to death or be devoured by beasts. We won''t kill you. Just come inside." Krais had a way with words. As Enkrid entered, he overheard Krais and offered a compliment. "You''d make a great conman." "Is that a compliment?" "Yes." "Doesn''t feel like one." Inside, a fire was already burning in the fireplace. The warmth and the presence of the criminals'' belongings confirmed that someone had lived here. Above the fireplace, two blunt swords and a shield were mounted in a cross pattern. On either side of the room, a few paintings hung on the walls. "Are they valuable?" Glancing at the paintings, Enkrid asked. Krais dismissed them without a second look. "No. They''re cheap junk. I can''t imagine why anyone would buy those." Even to Enkrid, who had no artistic sense, they seemed awful. "I could paint better than that with my feet." Rem seemed to agree with the idea. As they gathered by the fireplace, their long shadows stretched behind them. "Light the torch stand. It''s dark," Enkrid said, warming himself by the fire. His words weren''t directed at anyone in particular. No one moved. He added, "Gilpin''s dead. The next guy, step up and do it." "Gilpin isn''t dead." One of the uninjured men stepped forward¡ªa man with a bald head like a white sand dune instead of hair. In the daylight, it would''ve been blinding. A long scar ran above his eyebrows, but even the combination of the scar and bald head failed to make him look threatening. His drooping eyes and thick lips made him appear anything but intimidating. Wait, what? "Gilpin isn''t dead?" Could he have some kind of monstrous regeneration ability? Like, surviving after having his neck cut? That corpse in the clearing outside the mansion? No way. The bald man spoke again. "I''m Gilpin." What was this situation? "So, he''s not the leader? Ah, I get it now¡ªlike a lizard cutting off its tail?" Krais gestured outside, answering his own question. Enkrid recalled stories he''d heard while working as a mercenary and sharing drinks. "Sometimes those criminal guild bastards pull stunts like naming their group after a subordinate." "Why?" "So they can sell out the subordinate and run if things go south¡ªlike when the army shows up to wipe out criminals. A cowardly tactic." "And how do you know so much about that?" "Spent some time in that crowd. Anyway, scumbags who pull that kind of stunt aren''t common. They''re the worst of the worst." Enkrid had never encountered someone who actually did this. Typically, leaders named their groups after themselves for pride or recognition. Using a subordinate''s name suggested the dead man outside was a sly, conniving bastard. "What a scumbag." As Enkrid muttered, Ragna asked for an explanation, and the quick-witted Krais filled him in. Enkrid''s plan had been simple but effective: raid the thieves'' guild, take their cooperation in exchange for leniency, or beat them senseless and take what was needed. Sure, messing with a thieves'' guild might lead to retaliation, but he was confident his unit could handle any backlash. Now it turned out these thieves were linked to the assassins targeting him. So what? ''Why should that matter?'' "Are you really going to warm things up for them?" Rem whispered from behind, uncomfortably close. "Get lost," Enkrid muttered before turning his attention back to Gilpin. The bald man nervously rubbed his head before speaking. "If you''re going to kill someone, just kill me. Spare the rest. Some of them are just struggling to take care of sick mothers." "Struggling doesn''t justify stealing from others." No amount of hardship granted the right to threaten others and profit from it. "Still, I''d appreciate it if you let us live." Enkrid, standing straight with his arms crossed, scrutinized Gilpin. The man had a certain resilience, even asking to be the sole sacrifice. So why hadn''t he fought earlier? When asked, Gilpin replied, "Why would I fight for some guy who would ditch me at the first sign of trouble?" The two bodyguards who had barely survived nodded in agreement. The way things were shaping up, the deceased leader was clearly a schemer. "Willing to cough up what you''ve got? Then we''ll leave it at that," Enkrid said, sticking to the plan. "Sure, if handing it over means we can avoid being killed," he agreed, shrugging. The others didn''t argue. "Well, the safe''s key was hidden by that bastard, the dead guy," Gilpin said. "Don''t worry about it." After all, they had a mage who could unlock any door with just a knock. A safe wouldn''t be a problem. Gilpin, being pragmatic, handed over all the amassed loot. "Whoa, heated leather!" "Take everything, and the ones guarding the streets will all die." Gilpin was referring to the beggars in the alleys. They had already been dealt with on the way in. Apparently, their ragged clothes were lined with monster leather. When Krais learned this, he remarked, "Can''t use it if it''s bloodstained." Taking it off the dead beggars was no longer an option. Enkrid couldn''t help but reevaluate Gilpin. Despite the situation, the man seemed to care about his subordinates, ensuring their well-being even at his own expense. "Leave some," Enkrid ordered, ensuring there was moderation in their actions. Fortunately, no one seemed particularly greedy. Well, except Krais¡ªhe was the unit''s resident hoarder. Yet, strangely, Krais didn''t pocket anything this time. "You''re not taking anything?" "No, but I do have something to discuss, Captain," Krais said, his large eyes blinking in mock innocence¡ªa telltale sign he was scheming something. Though Krais was clever and knew how to use his looks to his advantage, Enkrid was immune to such tactics. "What are you up to this time?" Krais''s question, however, hit home: "Don''t you need Krona?" Money was always needed. Equipment was costly, and while this haul eased immediate concerns, funds would be a recurring necessity. "This, we keep for ourselves," Krais said matter-of-factly. And just like that, he proposed a second job for Enkrid. Chapter 67 - Taking Over the Guild Chapter 67 - 67 - Taking Over the Guild Chapter 67 - Taking Over the Guild Krais evaluated the situation and quickly identified the most efficient way to turn it into an advantage. "Even if it''s called a thief guild..." When you look closely, it''s essentially a business. Collecting protection fees, eliminating petty thefts, and leveraging only the positives could turn it into a proper enterprise. More importantly, Krais already had business ideas centered around the thief guild. This was Border Guard, a place known for its strict law enforcement. Normally, a criminal guild wouldn''t thrive here. But this wasn''t the case now. Gilpin''s Guild had managed to establish itself quite effectively. Whatever they had done wasn''t achievable by ordinary means. For instance, the thermal pelts¡ªhow much were those worth? And here were over a dozen of them. There were also coins and notes worth more than 100,000 Krona. Although some IOUs turned up, they didn''t seem particularly useful. If Krais could consolidate his plans with the resources of this guild... "There''s no way I''d lose out." This involved money, and Krais applied his wisdom, worthy of a sage, to assess and accept the situation. "Become thieves?" Enkrid repeated the suggestion, staring at Krais. He had said his dream was to become a knight, to reach greater heights. Proper training and quality equipment would require Krona. Knights were, after all, professionals who also earned through war. They weren''t called "masters of slaughter" for no reason. "You don''t need to think of it as a bad thing. Gilpin''s crew is finished now. How long do you think it will take before another thief guild takes its place?" Krais''s mind was racing, calculating. Blood pumped through his brain, fueling its rotation. Given Gilpin''s setup, this was a golden opportunity. "At most, a month." Enkrid nodded instinctively, agreeing with the assessment. "It''s so warm!" From the side, Rem exclaimed, wearing a coat made of thermal pelt. "Well, of course, it''s warm!" Ragna scolded him for stating the obvious. Krais''s voice brought Enkrid back into focus. Calm but with a subtle intensity hidden beneath, Krais spoke. "In that case, we leave Gilpin, who seems decent, in charge. Then we reform the guild into one that doesn''t kill or steal." It was a plausible idea, genuinely tempting. Preserving honor as a knight? Even that required Krona. Enkrid was well aware of reality. Sure, knights of a certain skill could have wealth come to them naturally. But there were also knights who worked for money. Enkrid believed that a knight''s honor was about following one''s principles. Krais''s suggestion didn''t conflict with that. Viewed positively, it even seemed like a better option. "If it improves people''s lives, even slightly..." Then fewer children would cry. Parents raising their children would have less to worry about. Every city had its share of people struggling to survive. Perhaps this would provide them with some comfort. Initially, they had only been looking for firewood to survive the winter, but if this opportunity allowed them to help others... There was no reason not to take it. "Doesn''t sound bad, does it?" "Not at all." "I''ll divide the profits appropriately and give your share, Squad Leader. In return, please keep the other squad members in check." Enkrid realized why Krais was so focused on convincing him. It was because of Rem and the others. If Krais announced his intentions to take over the guild, they wouldn''t simply let it happen. "What''s in it for you?" Enkrid was curious. Why go to the trouble of taking over a thief guild and even paying dues? Did Krais know how much profit he could actually expect? "Information." Enkrid was once again impressed by Krais''s sharp intellect. Information was valuable. Even trivial details within a city could translate into useful resources for the unit. For instance, even knowing the name and hobby of a flower shop girl could have people lining up to buy that information. There were countless other ways it could be utilized. "You catch on fast. That''s why I like you, Squad Leader." Krais extended his fist, and Enkrid met it with his own. That sealed the deal. Enkrid would gain Krona and keep the other squad members in line. Krais would secure the guild for himself. When Enkrid returned to the fireplace, "I don''t mind. Let Krais take it," Jaxen said first. ...A terrifying man. His hearing was unnervingly sharp. They had spoken at least ten steps away, but he still overheard. "Gilpin, sort out the corpses and identify anyone who has committed murder, inflicted significant harm on the weak, or could cause future problems. We''ll take them to prison." This didn''t mean they''d let things slide as they were. "Hm, seems like you''ll have to hand over a few people." "And from now on, this guy is the guild leader. You''re free to stay, but if you quit and start another guild, we''ll meet again." "I wouldn''t dare." Gilpin habitually scratched his sandy-blond hair and asked hesitantly, "But, uh, soldier?" "What is it?" "I think disbanding is the better choice. If we stay, we''ll all end up dead." Dead? Why? Enkrid''s gaze demanded an explanation. Gilpin hesitated but eventually explained the situation. It turned out that the deceased guild leader had been working as an agent for Aspen, not just a spy but someone who handled various tasks for them. "There''s someone who regularly checks on the guild''s situation. Otherwise, we would''ve disbanded and disappeared long ago." Despite his seemingly gentle demeanor and care for his people, Gilpin was still part of a thief guild. He wasn''t in his position by mere chance. The visitor, however, was the problem. "If the dead guy doesn''t show up, it''ll cause an uproar. We were already planning to sell off the estate at a low price and disappear entirely." "How many people are we talking about?" "It''s just one person, but..." "But?" "They''re a Frog." The children of heart-stopping terror. A race with physical strength far surpassing that of humans, bred for combat. Enkrid had once been kicked by a Frog and ended up in the infirmary for it. "A Frog, coming here?" "Yes." Now, what should they do? But why would a Frog monitor a small thief guild in a border city? There''s a saying that any Frog found outside their territory is already a recognized elite. By Naurilia''s military standards, they would be at least a special-grade warrior. "What''s so special about this place?" "Only the dead guy would know the full details. What''s certain is that the Frog always brought funds¡ªKrona¡ªfor operations." Not taking money, but giving it? Seriously, what is this? Even Krais couldn''t deduce the reason. "How curious." Everyone else was equally puzzled. So, what now? "The guild is ours." Nothing changed. There was still time before the Frog arrived. Whatever came next, they would deal with it when it happened. Or perhaps, when the time came, they could disband and abandon their plans altogether. And so, they decided to take over the guild completely. Gilpin had no complaints. He considered himself fortunate just to be alive. Enkrid, however, couldn''t shake the thought that although these thieves agreed now, they might pose problems in the future. Would such a group really stay obedient indefinitely? Of course, this was Krais''s problem to handle from now on. He had agreed to take responsibility, and Enkrid left it at that. "This one''s mine." Jaxen collected a few rings and ornaments, likely intended for a woman. Rem grabbed a heated coat and some furs to use as bedding, then began rummaging through the vault to see what else it held. Ragna briefly examined the swords amassed by the guild, dismissing them all as junk. After that, he showed no further interest in wealth. Audin was the same. "They say a gaze fixed on riches blinds the soul." He simply offered a prayer. But when Enkrid asked for his help, Audin complied. "Could you open the vault?" "Yes, brother." The guild leader''s vault was securely locked with a heavy padlock, wrapped tightly in chains. Audin stepped forward and took hold of the lock. Crunch. What followed was practically a feat of superhuman strength. With his bare hands, Audin crushed the lock. It was almost unbelievable. "Well, aren''t you a strong one," Rem remarked in awe. Once the lock was destroyed, the chains were no longer an issue. What would have required hours with a hacksaw was finished in an instant. This was the strength of a squad member capable of opening locked doors with just a knock. Curious about what the vault contained, Enkrid walked over briskly. "Are you going to open it yourself?" Rem asked, looking at him. "Why not?" Pure curiosity drove him. As he approached the vault, Enkrid posed a question. "So, when is that Frog supposed to arrive?" Walking alongside him, Gilpin replied, "When the first season begins. They come once at the start of the four seasons and once in the third season." Once in spring and once in autumn. That meant there was still time. Enkrid nodded and positioned himself before the vault. What could be inside? He was eager to find out. With a flick of his fingers, he lifted the latch. Screech. The rusty hinges made a grating sound as the lid was pushed back. Thunk. The heavy lid fell open, hitting the vault body with a loud clang. The sound reverberated faintly in Enkrid''s ears. Thoom. Thoom. Thoooom. He felt something indescribable envelop him. It couldn''t be seen or touched, but he sensed something wrapping around his body. A sudden isolation from the world overwhelmed him. Everyone around him seemed to vanish. When he tried to blink, his body didn''t respond. ''What is this?'' Even opening his mouth was impossible. "What''s in there? Something good?" Rem''s voice snapped him back to reality. Enkrid blinked and opened his mouth, finding himself unharmed. "Did something feel... odd just now?" "Squad leader, you''re always a bit odd. I know that well," Rem replied with his usual quip. No one else seemed to notice anything unusual. Dismissing Rem''s nonsense, Enkrid chalked it up to his imagination. "Let''s see what we''ve got here." He shook his head lightly and examined the contents. Inside the vault lay a leather cuirass. "What''s this?" Enkrid voiced his curiosity and looked at Gilpin. "I''m not sure. I just know the dead guy treasured it." When he picked it up and pressed a finger into it, he felt its remarkable elasticity. "Looks like valuable leather. Squad leader, you should take it. Keep that belly of yours from getting punctured." "It seems like a good piece of gear." At Rem''s suggestion, Krais examined the item. He had an eye for quality. They decided to keep it. A well-crafted piece of armor was worth far more to someone living by the sword than most weapons. "This one''s mine." No one objected. After sorting out the spoils, they left the remaining work to Krais. "Think they''ve cleared the snow by now?" Rem stepped forward again. Enkrid considered the time and glanced out the window. The snow hadn''t melted yet. If they returned now, they might spend the night shoveling snow. It wasn''t a tough decision. Enkrid murmured his thoughts, seeking his squad''s consensus. "Our mission ends tomorrow morning." By then, they wouldn''t have to deal with the snow. "Works for me. Seems there''s plenty to do here still," Rem agreed, settling in by the fireplace. For now, he was uncharacteristically docile. That was understandable. Rem was savoring the warmth of his heated coat and the fireplace, immersed in thoughts of comfort and happiness. "True, there''s still much to do." On the other side of the fireplace, Ragna had also found his spot. "Yes, to spread the word of the divine." Audin added his thoughts. "I''ll return by morning, then." Jaxen requested permission for some solo activities. At times like this, no one objected. They worked together seamlessly. If only they were always this cooperative. It was a recurring thought during this mission. "Squad leader." Krais called out to Enkrid and gave him a subtle thumbs-up, a gesture of high praise. *** "All squad members present and accounted for. We located the thieves'' guild and wiped it out." Enkrid reported, addressing the company commander wrapped in a thick coat. It was the commander''s private training ground. Even with fires lit on two tall poles, the day remained bitterly cold. On the frozen ground that felt like solid stone, the commander turned and questioned him. "Wiped out?" What did this man know to ask such a pointed question? Enkrid answered flatly. "Yes, wiped out. We sent the ones fit for prison there and executed the rest who resisted." "I see." The commander rotated her shoulders as if loosening them up. Did she truly know something? Of course, Enkrid couldn''t openly say, "Krais took over the guild." "We brought back the goods from their base as well." "Good." Aside from a few heated furs and ornaments, everything was handed over to the commander. That was standard procedure. Any incidental gains from operations belonged to the unit. Of course, skimming a little here and there was an unspoken tradition. "Well done." Fortunately, the commander didn''t press further. Instead, her emerald-green eyes locked onto Enkrid''s blue ones as she made a proposal. "A bout?" "...Pardon?" "Don''t you want to test the Fairy''s Sword?" "A sparring match?" "I hear you never decline." The Fairy''s Sword¡ªlight yet sharp¡ªwas well-renowned. Enkrid had faced it a few times during his mercenary days. Encounters with fairies weren''t uncommon in that line of work. But back then, his skills were laughable. Their sharp reflexes had rendered his mercenary blade useless, leaving him embarrassed to even call it a proper fight. "Yes." A sparring match. It would be a rare opportunity. He had recently come to believe one thing: ''The more you fight, the more you gain.'' Enkrid knew he wasn''t naturally talented. Experience was his best asset. Each battle honed him for the day when his skills would truly shine. Even without such rationale, he would never have declined. That was just who Enkrid was. "Let''s do it." "Good. Come at me." The fairy commander drew her sword. Shing. Nadyr, the blade of the fairy. A real sword for a real duel. Enkrid unsheathed his own blade. Clang. Their longsword and Nadyr met in a swift clash. Ping. Both stepped back two paces simultaneously. Enkrid was cautious. He remembered the fairy commander effortlessly toppling him once in a medic''s tent. How much had he improved since then? He didn''t know. Now was the time to find out. Chapter 68 - A Dream of Embracing a Woman (1) Chapter 68 - 68 - A Dream of Embracing a Woman (1) Chapter 68 - A Dream of Embracing a Woman (1) Whoosh. The world spun. Thud. As his back hit the ground, the air was forced out of his lungs. "If I threw you a bit harder, your ribs and internal organs might be damaged." Through the pain, Enkrid grimaced, and above him, the commander''s musical voice rang out. "Done?" "One more time." If he could, Enkrid would have gladly risked being beheaded to repeat this over and over. He knew he was outmatched. Rem had once glanced at the Fairy Commander and commented, "That one''s a straight-up monster." Ragna had assessed, "The best among the commanders." Audin had added, "A finely honed body." Knowing he couldn''t win didn''t change anything. Enkrid gripped his sword with both hands. "Come." The Fairy Commander remained the same as ever¡ªcalm and emotionless. Her sword came curving in. The Nadyr, crafted by the fairies, was a weapon that cut like a curve and, at some point, pierced like a dot. Earlier, he''d tried to dodge a thrust but allowed the Commander to close the distance. This time, he stepped back and swung his longsword upward. In terms of strength, he had the upper hand. If he struck upward and deflected the fairy''s sword, an opening would appear. He visualized the course of the battle in his head. Countless real battles, ones where his life was on the line, had honed this natural ability to predict fights. He anticipated his opponent''s reaction and prepared for it. For the talented or those who perfected their skills in combat, this instinct was second nature. For Enkrid, it was a hard-earned weapon forged through near-death experiences. Shhhk. Just before the Fairy Commander''s blade collided with his longsword, it bent fluidly. The nickname "Leaf Blade" was apt¡ªit moved as if it had become a literal leaf. Softly, the blade curved. It was a feat of the Commander''s wrist¡ªtwisting and shaking to manipulate the blade. Enkrid, seeing the curve of the blade, exerted more strength to counter it. Ultimately, the upward swing missed, the blade slipping past. Enkrid cut nothing but air. It was a swordsmanship skill that could only be called an art. The Fairy closed the distance again. This time, they came in close, right to his chest. Enkrid raised his knee in anticipation. Smack. The Commander didn''t evade. Instead, she pressed down on his knee with both hands. Before Enkrid could apply any real force, her pressure disrupted his balance. He knew it was coming but fell for it anyway. He thought grimly, I knew she''d go for close combat, and yet... Desperately, he tried a headbutt, but the Commander tilted her head to avoid it and countered by ramming her shoulder into his forehead. What followed was similar to before, only the strike had changed. The Commander clasped her hands together and struck Enkrid near his heart. Thud! For a moment, his breath caught again, and his limbs lost strength. If this had been a fight to the death, he might have bitten his tongue to keep going. But it was a spar. At this point, he''d already lost. "Gah... huff... huff..." Enkrid staggered back a few steps, then dropped to one knee, gasping for air. When he finally raised his head, he saw the Commander''s green eyes. "More?" she asked. Enkrid''s chest ached fiercely, but he grinned. He was genuinely delighted that she hadn''t stopped just because she''d won. And so, he charged again and again, getting beaten, collapsing, and charging anew. *** "Got beaten up for not clearing the snow? Is that it?" Back at the barracks, Rem, wrapped in heated leather, was the first to react. "What?" "Why do you look like that? Who did it?" Despite his words, he clutched his heated leather even tighter. Yeah, it was warm. Enkrid knew that. It was an especially cold day. "What happened?" Ragna asked. For some reason, Jaxen, who was at the barracks today, also stared intently at Enkrid, silently asking the same question. Audin muttered quietly, "Why do you always come back beaten up, brother?" When you say it like that, it makes me sound weak, Enkrid thought. He answered, "It was a spar." "With who?" "The Commander." "Our Commander?" Nod. "Why? If you wanted to get beaten up, I could''ve done it." That bastard had a knack for irritating remarks. Enkrid ignored him. He had just finished cleaning himself up with superhuman willpower. Fortunately, the barracks had baths that provided hot water in exchange for a small fee. If not, he might have skipped bathing altogether. His entire body ached, and even moving a finger took effort. But it didn''t matter. He could rest now. A couple of days of rest would suffice. He had no duties or training scheduled, so there was plenty of time. ''To recognize your efforts in maintaining order in the city, you are granted a four-day leave. No bonus.'' The Commander''s words after their spar flashed in his mind. No duties meant no obligations. There was no bonus, but Enkrid considered the spar itself a reward. Besides, he still had the loot he''d taken from the crime guild. How many times was it? The number of times he''d sprawled on the frozen ground. His body had suffered, but he''d learned something. What I lack right now. The Commander hadn''t spoken much but had used her sword and fists to teach him. Refining his swordsmanship, focus, and the senses of a predator were fundamental. More importantly, Enkrid realized what he needed to fill within himself. "You''re dull," the Commander had said, her final words cutting like a knife. But that didn''t hurt him. His previous instructors had said far worse. "If you must learn, then learn. Otherwise, go home and farm." "I can''t teach someone who''s destined to die as a third-rate swordsman." The better the teacher, the harsher the words. The Commander had called him dull, but even within that dullness, Enkrid had found what he sought: A lack of technique. Specifically, a lack of skill in controlling his body. The Fairy Commander had repeatedly thrown him down in the same way. She taught through her actions, and Enkrid absorbed those lessons through his body. He didn''t miss a single opportunity to learn, like a hawk hunting prey. What I need. Wrestling, martial arts, hand-to-hand combat, grappling¡ªall techniques for battle. Just because you wield a sword doesn''t mean you fight only with a sword. Using your hands, feet, and body was just as important. Enkrid had employed these methods before, but... It''s clear I''ve never properly learned them. The Commander''s techniques were exceptional. The way she dashed in like she was crawling across the ground, disrupting balance in an instant, then locking and breaking knees¡ªhe had no way to counter it. What if he tried to draw a dagger and stab her? No, she''d disarm him, break his knee joint, and withdraw before he could. Not easy. It was a difference in skill¡ªa disparity in what they had learned and mastered. But it was fun. His body ached as if broken, but he''d gained something valuable. More importantly, that knowledge had opened a new path for him, filling Enkrid with joy. As he moved to lie down, a panther poked its head out, its blue eyes staring at him. I did promise to give it a name, didn''t I? It would be troublesome if I didn''t have a proper name to call it. As I leaned into the bed, the panther burrowed into my arms. A warm sensation spread through me. Somehow, the warmth seemed to ease my aching body, and I felt slightly better. "How about calling it Heater since it''s warm?" "Is that really a name?" Rem chimed in from the side. This guy really never misses an opportunity to interrupt. "Is it strange?" "Is that even a name?" Ragna replied from the other side of the bed. He was lying down and couldn''t be bothered to get up but was still managing to speak. "Do you dislike the panther, brother?" Even Audin was getting in on it now. "Dislike it?" Enkrid asked the panther, and the creature smacked him on the cheek with its front paw. "It really must dislike the name." Enkrid muttered as he pulled the panther into his arms and fell into thought. What should I name it? I never thought I''d be agonizing over something like this. Blackie? No, it sounds like a puppy''s name. Since its eyes are blue like a lake, how about calling it Blue Eyes? That doesn''t sound too bad. The panther nestled closer into my arms, and with its chest tapping against mine, it almost seemed like it was reading my thoughts and rejecting everything I was thinking. Do you dislike Blue Eyes too? Then, what should I call it? How about Black Panther? That would be easier, I guess. Thud. The leopard pressed its paw firmly against my chest. Seeing it repeatedly nuzzle me, it seemed like it really didn''t like the idea. ''Can you read my thoughts?'' *** During an external operation, I had spent the night with the comrades of those I had killed. It was strange that Rem, snoring like a dead man, and Ragna, who appeared to be in a similar state, could sleep so soundly in such a situation. Some level of tension was necessary. That''s why I couldn''t get a proper rest at the thieves'' den. I had only managed to doze lightly, barely getting any sleep. Upon returning, I had reported right away and immediately engaged in training. That too was a series of brutal sparring sessions, rolling on frozen ground. As a result, my body was exhausted. After washing with warm water, I wrapped myself in heated leather and covered it with a blanket, feeling the warmth seep into my body. The warmth from the panther helped too. Its gentle pawing and rhythmic pressing made it hard to stay awake. Enkrid was half asleep, his mind wandering. ''What''s your name?'' This state, half in a dream and half in reality, could be called a semi-conscious state. In that state, when I fell asleep, I dreamed. In my dream, a beautiful woman with dark hair and blue eyes appeared. Her wide, sharp eyes and straight nose seemed to reflect her proud personality. I thought she was an aloof beauty, flawless and unyielding. A vast meadow full of white, red, yellow, and blue flowers. She stood alone in the middle of it all, shining like a star among the flowers. A star that illuminated all the flowers. ''She''s beautiful.'' Enkrid muttered. His voice reached her across the meadow, a peculiar feature of dreams. And then, "My name is Esther." She spoke. That voice also reached Enkrid, crossing space and distance. The meadow vanished, and so did she. Half-asleep, Enkrid muttered in his sleep. "Esther, let''s call you Esther." "...Were you dreaming?" Rem asked from the side, but Enkrid, already asleep, didn''t answer. Rem tilted his head, watching the squad leader sleeping soundly. Even if someone were exhausted, they wouldn''t fall asleep that deeply. "Must be really tired." Rem muttered. It seemed like the company commander had worked the squad leader hard. And he didn''t particularly like it. The fairy company commander was an enigmatic one. Why would she push his squad leader around like that? Who gave her permission? "Grumble." As if reacting to the name Esther, the panther in the squad leader''s arms let out a pleased sound. "Yeah, we''ll call you Esther. You." Rem said it jokingly, and then closed his eyes, content with the warmth. He hated the cold. It was absolutely dreadful. Wasn''t there supposed to be no duty for three days? Rem thought he wouldn''t leave his heated leather unless it was for food or necessities. The Lake Panther, Esther, picked up a familiar scent from Enkrid. It was a fragrance tied to spells, mystery, and secrets. In truth, if one got too close, it would be near a curse. ''It only stayed on the surface.'' The mysterious force called a curse around Enkrid had no effect and left only traces. From her experience, it seemed like a spell trap someone had set had been activated. It triggered but didn''t work. Why the curse only lingered, she had an idea. Though it was just an idea. With her current body, she couldn''t prove anything. She wanted to know more, to dig deeper, but now was not the time. To be precise, it wasn''t something worth investigating. She savored the energy from the spell''s lingering scent, drawing in the remaining power without affecting Enkrid. The cursed thoughts and will had vanished, leaving only pure energy¡ªmana. Esther drank it all in. It was a sweet fragrance. A part of the world of spells that she hadn''t tasted in so long. In the meantime, she projected herself into the man''s dream, trying to force a name upon him. "My name is Esther." She made sure her name was properly delivered. She couldn''t leave it like this. In the world of spells, a name held great significance. Especially now, with her condition not being the best. If she were given a new name in her current state, the curse would deepen. Thus, she had to reveal her true name. That was the reason she appeared in his dream. Was it because of the mana left in Enkrid''s body and the image she projected in his dream? For a moment, Esther regained her original form. Naked, she was cradled in the arms of the man she had chosen. "Mm." The man drew her closer. Esther blushed furiously, as she had never allowed anyone to hold her so intimately. But no one saw her. The man''s strong chest muscles were just inches from her face. Esther only exhaled quietly, not daring to move. It wasn''t the time to make noise. Her original form only lasted a moment. The man''s eyelids fluttered open. His eyes were heavy with sleep, not focused. The moment their gazes met, Esther was so startled she forgot to breathe. "Hm?" The man gazed at her blankly, then slowly closed his eyes again. Still half asleep. During that time, Esther transformed back into a panther. It was magic''s mystery. When the man opened his eyes again, he closed them and fell back asleep. "Esther, Esther." He muttered her name in his sleep. He wouldn''t remember, would he? She was glad she reverted to being a panther. Being naked in the arms of a man¡ªwho was, strictly speaking, not a complete stranger¡ªwas not something she ever wanted to imagine. And then, Esther regretted it. ''Thank goodness for the curse.'' She didn''t even think of making a mistake like that. But since it was her first time in such a situation, she didn''t know how to react. The panther hesitated for a moment, then stayed still. The mana left in the man''s arms continued to draw her in. She thought it was only the mana influencing her and buried herself in his warmth. Just as Enkrid felt the warmth of the panther, the panther felt his warmth too. For a brief moment, she had regained enough strength to take some action in her panther form. It would take more time to fully return to her original self. ''Soon.'' It was just a matter of time. If she stayed with this man, it would happen. If not, she never would have sought him out. ''His face isn''t bad.'' Even Esther had to admit Enkrid was a rare beauty. Though she didn''t think that was the important thing. Chapter 69 - A Dream of Embracing a Woman (2) Chapter 69 - 69 - A Dream of Embracing a Woman (2) Chapter 69 - A Dream of Embracing a Woman (2) Enkrid had a dream. There was a field of flowers and a woman. "I''ll be staying for a while, so just know that." She was a woman of mysterious charm. Even though Enkrid wasn''t the type to pay attention to women, she seemed unlikely to be easily forgotten. The dream was chaotic. It shifted from a field of flowers to a black river, then a ferryman appeared, followed by the woman, and suddenly, a panther showed up. ''What are you doing here?'' He thought to himself, but the panther shook its head, then, perhaps in annoyance, turned its head sharply away. It was so cute that Enkrid couldn''t resist scratching the panther''s head with a finger. Grrr. The lake panther was said to be a wild beast, but in moments like this, it was more like a cat. It made a contented purring noise. The sound was endearing, even to Enkrid. Then, for a brief moment, his eyes opened, but it was hard to tell whether this was a dream or reality. In front of him, the woman from the flower field and the black river was in his arms. And she was naked. When he blinked, the woman was gone, and he saw the leopard''s head instead. It seemed like it had been a dream after all. ''But it still feels...'' The heavy feeling from holding something remained. The scent and warmth, something he couldn''t get from a small panther, lingered, making it feel even stranger. ''This dream felt too real.'' He was drifting back to sleep, and this time, he didn''t fight it. When he woke up in the morning, the panther, which never left his arms before he was awake, was nowhere to be found. "Panther... Esther." Enkrid was about to call out casually when he remembered the name he had come up with in his sleep. Then, from the side, he saw the lake panther standing upright, moving. It was perfectly hidden in the shadow of the lodging, hard to spot unless you looked closely. It had eyes like a lake and fur as dark as ebony. It stepped lightly, clicking its claws on the ground, then sat down in a rather aloof manner. It sat on the leather mat Enkrid had set up for it in a corner of the lodging. Naturally, it was heated leather. ''I''ve gone from being comfortably well-off to living in luxury.'' Even the panther was now grooming its claws on heated leather. Whether it had been placed there by Big Eyes or Rem, there was dried meat laid out. The panther lazily chopped the meat with its claws and began chewing it. But something felt empty. Was it because the little creature that had kept him warm in his arms was no longer there? Or was it because the dream had felt too real? He felt like he could even draw the woman from the dream in detail, though his drawing skills were terrible. But the memory was vivid enough. ''She was beautiful.'' Her beauty was exceptional. As impressive as the fairy commander, who boasted the beauty of a non-human. "What are you thinking so hard about?" "I had a dream, and it stayed so vividly in my mind." Esther looked at Enkrid, and the panther''s gaze was strange. When she spoke her name in the dream, it might have left a stronger impression than she had thought. If he had weaker willpower, it could have even caused mental stress. So, what should she do now? Should she figure out how to handle it while in panther form? The panther looked serious. "What kind of dream was it?" Rem asked, still curled up on the heated leather mat. "Are you a caterpillar?" "Correct. I''m a caterpillar. A caterpillar with a big mouth. So, feed me breakfast, or this weak little caterpillar will starve to death." This guy was definitely bat shit crazy. Enkrid let Rem''s words go in one ear and out the other. He was the type who could handle that. "So, what kind of dream was it?" Rem asked again. Enkrid scratched his chin and answered. "It was a strange dream." "Strange?" Rem tilted his head. Since only his head was visible, all his expressions were conveyed through his face and head. It was a skill, if anything. "I saw a naked woman." "Ugh! Choke, choke!" ''Hmm?'' Enkrid''s eyes turned toward the panther. The panther seemed to be choking, probably because a piece of dried meat had gotten caught in its throat. "Esther?" The panther didn''t respond, keeping its head down, ignoring him. It was the same panther who radiated mystery from its entire body when they first met. A beast among beasts, the owner of the Green Pearl. A panther with eyes like a lake, the lake panther. Now, this beast was lying down on the floor, salivating and coughing. "Ugh!" At this rate, he wondered if it was going to die. "I''ve never seen a panther choke on dried meat before, but was she pretty?" She was very beautiful. But Enkrid didn''t answer. What was the point? It had been just a dream. "Are you too slow because of the winter, Rem?" Enkrid stood up and began to move. Once he was standing, he realized there wasn''t a spot on his body that didn''t hurt. Moving was painful. But if he stayed still, his body would just deteriorate further. He knew this from experience. Not that he needed training. In the past, he would have been too eager and pushed his body harder, but he had learned that would only damage him more. Now he knew to avoid that. He wasn''t in a rush anymore. ''Rest is also part of training.'' That was something he had heard from countless swordsmanship masters. If he loosened up today, tomorrow would be easier. The Monk exercises he learned from Audin were enough to do that. "So, was she pretty?" "What''s the point? It was just a dream." He gave a vague response and left. It was cold again today. His whole body hurt, but he started stretching. His mind wasn''t busy. In fact, after rolling around in training, things became clearer. It had always been a question. ''What should I do next?'' For those with talent, those called geniuses, the path seemed to open up whether they wanted it or not. Finding what was needed, what was lacking, was also a form of talent. But what about those who don''t have talent? They try this and that. That''s where the time gets spent. The starting line is different. That''s why a good teacher is necessary. A teacher who can point out what''s lacking is always like a treasure. This time, the fairy commander had helped with some of that. Now, the rest needed to be filled by someone else. "Audin." In the morning, Audin would come out. Cold? He wasn''t the type to worry about such things. Was it any wonder they called him the praying bear? Surely, it wasn''t just because of his massive frame. "Yes, Brother, it''s a fine day, isn''t it?" A biting wind howled between the two. The Border Guard stood in the far north of the Pen-Hanil continent¡ªan especially cold region even within its frigid boundaries. The overcast sky made the morning appear mottled and dull, though such details hardly mattered to Audin. He was the type of man who greeted each day as it came¡ªrain, shine, or snow. Granted, he never went so far as to wish anyone a good morning when snow was falling. "It is," Enkrid replied. What difference did the weather make? Actually, it was a good day. Any day spent learning something new was a good day. "Teach me wrestling." Enkrid was always the same¡ªdirect and unwavering. He pursued his goals with a clear purpose and relentless determination. That was why he''d built such strong bonds with his squad members over time. Audin tilted his head in curiosity. This man¡ªthis squad leader¡ªwas truly unique. Watching Enkrid''s skills improve noticeably in just a few days made Audin wonder what kind of fortune drove such progress. To Audin, Enkrid was like a blazing flame, burning so brightly that it consumed everything around it, perhaps even unaware of its own destruction. But that flame also provided warmth and light to those in its presence. When Audin first joined the squad, he had been at a low point¡ªdisillusioned, nearly defeated. And then he met Enkrid for the first time. "What are you doing?" It was their first encounter. Enkrid had been swinging a crude club outside the barracks¡ªnot just any club, but a makeshift one bound from three waterlogged logs tied together with string. "Strength training," Enkrid replied. Swinging something heavy didn''t necessarily guarantee strength gains. If anything, it risked injury. Audin figured Enkrid would give up after a few days. But he didn''t. Enkrid''s persistence was unwavering. Whether on the battlefield, during guard duty, in the rain, or under snow, he carved out time to swing his sword. Audin thought back to the man he had been then¡ªtwo words sufficed - utterly broken. One day, his curiosity got the better of him. "Why do you do this every day, even though your skills are lacking?" "They''ll improve eventually," Enkrid answered, his expression calm. He simply resumed his training, unbothered by the question. Watching him, Audin felt like he''d been struck by lightning. How is he like this? What drives him? What faith sustains him? It wasn''t religion. Effort was a talent in itself, but without a foundation to build on, even effort wouldn''t last. Yet Enkrid defied that logic. He was someone betrayed daily by his own efforts, yet he kept moving forward, one step at a time. Who are you? Audin began observing his squad leader more closely. In doing so, he realized how trivial his own despair had been. Faith isn''t something you give with the expectation of a reward. That day, Audin resumed his prayers. "Brother, you''ll destroy your joints at this rate," he said, beginning to offer advice on Enkrid''s training regimen. Audin had a keen eye for human bodies, honed through tireless observation and effort. Some compared him to Frogs, who were naturally gifted talent appraisers. While Frogs identified innate potential, Audin could gauge the condition and training of the human body with precision. What he saw in Enkrid confirmed that this man faced greater physical challenges than most. His skeletal frame and muscle quality were far from ideal for a warrior. But giving up? That wasn''t who Enkrid was. "You''ll need to build your body first. Are you ready for that?" Audin asked, the cold wind still biting at them. Since the day he resumed praying, Audin had decided every morning was a good one¡ªexcept when it snowed. "Of course." "It''s going to hurt." "That''s fine." Dying would be worse, Enkrid thought. "It''ll be painful," Audin emphasized. "No problem." It wouldn''t hurt more than being stabbed and dying on a battlefield. "What I''m about to teach isn''t just some monk''s calisthenics. It''s a technique I developed¡ªthe Isolation Technique." The ominous name didn''t deter Enkrid. If he was going to learn, he wanted to learn it properly. "The Isolation Technique," Audin explained, " involves training both the mind and body. Ready?" "Ready," Enkrid nodded. And so it began. *** A low groan escaped Enkrid''s lips as he struggled with the excruciating exercises Audin put him through. "This is just the start, Brother," Audin said calmly. Enkrid began to wonder if Audin worshipped some kind of demon. The initial stretches were deceptively simple¡ªjust loosening the body, or so Audin claimed. But soon, Enkrid found himself in contorted positions that felt like his muscles were being torn apart. "Relax and press your heels to your hips," Audin instructed, pushing down on Enkrid''s legs with an iron grip. "Imagine dying twice," Audin added. Enkrid already was. The training continued relentlessly, with Enkrid enduring wave after wave of pain. "Your limits are clear to me, Brother," Audin remarked. Why do you know my limits better than I do? Enkrid thought bitterly. But despite everything, he smiled. Because even amidst the agony, he felt a glimmer of hope¡ªan expectation of growth. A month passed, and the changes in Enkrid''s body became undeniable. Though the initial agony had nearly broken him, the progress was worth it. And so, the flame continued to burn, brighter and steadier than ever. Chapter 70 - The Isolation Technique Chapter 70 - 70 - The Isolation Technique Chapter 70 - The Isolation Technique The foundation of the "Isolation Technique" was simplicity. It was about enhancing physical capabilities by repeatedly performing movements while carrying heavy loads. This wasn''t just about building raw strength; it was a practice to develop holistic physical control and endurance. "Shall we begin?" A month had passed, and the chill lingered in the far corner of the training ground. Enkrid proposed a sparring session, and Audin nodded with a smile. "Do you prefer your arms or legs, brother?" It was a signal¡ªhe was planning to target one or the other. "Your tongue is sharp, Audin." Both were barehanded. They hadn''t spent the entire month solely on the Isolation Technique, though. The two squared off, their gazes locking. To meet Audin''s eyes, Enkrid had to tilt his head upward, the difference in their physiques glaringly apparent. Yet, it was Audin who moved first. With a soft thud, he pushed off the ground, lowering his stance as he charged forward, moving so fast that he left an afterimage. It was uncharacteristic of someone nicknamed "The Praying Bear." In the past, Enkrid''s best response would have been to raise his knee defensively. But now, things were different. Enkrid also lowered his stance, clenched his fist, and raised his thumb, pointing it forward as if ready to pierce. If Audin charged head-on, he''d risk his eyes being gouged. Audin abruptly halted his charge and shifted to the side, his massive frame bouncing like a leopard''s agile leap. Despite his size, his speed and reflexes were akin to Esther''s¡ªswift and precise. Not allowing his back to be taken, Enkrid repeatedly turned to face him. At some point, Audin''s fist shot forward, reaching Enkrid''s range without warning. When the distance had been closed, even Enkrid wasn''t sure. In that concentrated moment, Enkrid acted decisively, tilting his forehead to intercept the punch before it struck fully¡ªa wrestling technique to mitigate damage. However, Audin opened his palm mid-strike, grabbing Enkrid''s hair instead. Yanking it downward, he drove his left elbow into Enkrid''s back, using his weight to press him down. For a moment, Enkrid resisted Audin''s strength and weight. Not content with merely enduring, he attempted to flip Audin over his back. But Audin wasn''t one to passively mount his opponent. Adding pressure, he pulled Enkrid''s hair forward. The perfectly timed tug disrupted Enkrid''s balance, making him lose control of his body. With no options left, he fell. Thud. Enkrid shielded his face with his hands as Audin pinned him down. "You sacrificed your body instead of your arms or legs, Brother squad leader," Audin laughed heartily. "If this were a battlefield, I''d have a helmet," Enkrid replied, referencing his hair being grabbed. Still pinned, he spoke, and Audin answered with a grin. "Then I''d have used another method." It was true, and Enkrid wasn''t complaining. He''d only asked out of curiosity about the alternative. "If there was a helmet, I''d grab the nape or press the back of the head to pin you instantly." "I see." Even under the crushing weight of the "Praying Bear," Enkrid prioritized absorbing the lesson. Audin eventually stood up, brushing himself off. For Enkrid, the past month had been a routine¡ªnot monotonous, but methodical. Mornings were dedicated to the Isolation Technique, followed by wrestling after lunch. Until evening, he practiced swordsmanship. After dinner, he revisited everything he''d learned. The Heart of the Beast, the Sense of the Blade, and Singular Focus¡ªall had room for improvement. If there was potential for growth, why stop? Still, progress was slow, even with these techniques supporting him. Thus, Enkrid crawled forward¡ªlike a slow-moving snail or a tortoise on land. "You''re improving at a snail''s pace," Audin remarked, adjusting his clothes, white puffs of breath rising into the cold air. Both were drenched in sweat from their efforts in the Isolation Technique and wrestling. Enkrid replayed Audin''s teachings in his mind, finding them invaluable. One particular lesson stood out: "Reading through the body." The body carried all the information one needed. For example, a right-handed swordsman typically had a more developed right arm. By analyzing physique and muscle development, one could gauge their opponent''s experience and training. This was a revelation Enkrid had gained through his training in the Isolation Technique. What followed was equally valuable. After building his foundation, he learned wrestling from Audin. Audin categorized wrestling into strikes, joint locks, and throws. "If your opponent is smaller, simply throwing and slamming them makes the fight easier." "What if I''m the smaller one?" Enkrid not only listened attentively but also asked many questions, never glossing over anything. Audin admired this trait in his squad leader. "In that case, you''d fight as a smaller person should. Master joint locks, strikes, and grapples to use their strength against them. Counters are a prime example of this." It reminded Enkrid of the technique used by the Fairy Company Commander¡ªthe effortless gesture that had toppled him. Audin demonstrated such techniques with precision. He was kind, despite being devilishly strict during the Isolation Technique. While teaching wrestling, he was calm and patient. "Apply more pressure here, and their arm breaks. Without divine healing, the damage would be permanent." A single mistake could result in Enkrid''s dismemberment, so wrestling became a careful endeavor. "Strength and speed are essential, but so is understanding vital points, takedown techniques, and breaking bones or joints. None of these can be half-learned. So instead of learning new things, you must repeat what you''ve already learned. Do you still crave something new?" Audin occasionally scolded him, and rightfully so. Enkrid preferred learning a wide array of techniques over mastering a single one. ''This is the right way.'' Enkrid believed in today''s repetition. It was impossible to master any technique immediately. While Audin might see him as overly ambitious with a body unable to keep up, to Enkrid, this was the correct path. Audin''s voice interrupted his thoughts. "Why do you think your hair was grabbed earlier?" "The distance." Enkrid answered plainly¡ªhe hadn''t been caught off guard. "Exactly. The distance. Despite countless reminders, you remain slow and dull, Commander Brother." Enkrid was unfazed. Words like that didn''t hurt him¡ªhe didn''t have the time for it. He was too busy replaying what he''d learned today. Joint locks alone came in dozens of varieties, and memorizing and embedding even a fraction of them into his body was overwhelming. Enkrid had to master both throws and strikes, engraving the basic principles into his body. "I''ve told you many times: stamina is essential, reading distance is no different from swordsmanship, and without agility, everything else is meaningless," Audin said. Audin was an excellent teacher¡ªnot because his methods were remarkable, but because of his persistence. ''He doesn''t know how to give up.'' Even when progress was slow and almost invisible, Audin taught steadfastly. For someone like Enkrid, such a teacher was a perfect match. Persistent instruction left even a small imprint on the body and mind, and Enkrid, in turn, learned with equal determination, setting mastery and refinement aside for the future. "Stamina, distance, mobility," Enkrid repeated Audin''s words to himself. Be it swords, spears, blunt weapons, or wrestling, strength and speed were indispensable. While Enkrid had grown familiar with measuring distances, Audin was still more adept, often catching him off guard. *** "Did you end up rolling in the dirt again today?" After finishing his wrestling session, Enkrid returned to find Rem waiting for him. "Taking a break today?" It was the same question as always. "No." This time, it was the sword. Although he still practiced with a wooden one occasionally, he now preferred a real blade. The longsword he was accustomed to wielding aimed at Rem''s entire body. Enkrid didn''t always spar with Rem. On some days, it was Ragna. "Watching you makes me want to give it a try, squad leader," Ragna would say. On other days, it was Jaxen. "I''ve got time. Grab your sword and come out." None of them ever declined Enkrid''s requests. Still, they shared similar thoughts. Take Rem, for instance: ''What a waste of talent. Does he need more combat experience?'' On the battlefield, his skills had improved rapidly, but back in the city, he seemed stagnant. Though he had undeniably improved compared to before, there was no dramatic growth. That much was clear to Rem. What had improved were his Heart of the Beast, his focused mind, his sense of the blade, and his Isolation Technique. The Isolation Technique was altering his muscle quality, but even after a month, there were no drastic changes¡ªonly small, incremental progress. He advanced like a slow snail crawling forward, step by painstaking step. Ragna had similar thoughts. ''His fundamentals are solid, but why is his advanced technique progressing so slowly?'' Wasn''t he supposed to have a breakthrough in his thirties? Why was he regressing to being a fool? It was a mystery. And yet, Ragna remained motivated. Enkrid had a way of inspiring those around him. Every day, regardless of duties or other circumstances, he repeated the same grueling training. If he had morning duties, he would lift rocks and hold peculiar postures late into the night. The same went for wrestling and swordsmanship. When duty called, he would serve, then return to resume his training. He carved time out of his sleep and meal breaks. During group drills with the regular army, while Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, Audin, and Krais sometimes slacked off or went through the motions, Enkrid gave it his all. Afterward, he returned to the training grounds to continue his personal regimen. His consistency was almost frightening. That''s why Ragna found himself motivated by the captain. Jaxen felt the same. ''The sense.'' Enkrid''s hearing was sharp enough to feel like he had eyes in the back of his head, yet his overall sensory acuity hadn''t advanced beyond that. ''Why?'' Was it Jaxen''s fault as the teacher? Or Enkrid''s fault as the learner? ''It''s the learner''s fault.'' Having taught numerous others, Jaxen knew this well, and it left him amazed. Enkrid''s progress was painfully slow, yet he never gave up. ''It''s unique.'' Jaxen nearly smiled in satisfaction but reverted to his usual expressionless face. ''Why should I care so much about the captain?'' Still, he always gave his best effort. Teaching in turns had naturally established a rotation, and Jaxen was the most diligent among them. Esther watched the man she had chosen. The black panther''s blue eyes followed his every move. How could someone be like that? There was a time when Esther, too, had been consumed by the world of spells. Back then, she needed nothing else¡ªnot food, not sleep, not even desire. ''And that''s how I ended up like this.'' Lost in her past for a moment, she turned her gaze back to Enkrid. ''He''s different from me.'' His daily routine was simple and repetitive. Even eating, sleeping, and resting seemed to be part of his regimen. He was someone who "rested earnestly." Watching him, she found herself thinking: ''If there''s a way to help, I want to.'' He was that kind of person. Unaware of these sentiments, Enkrid was too occupied to notice anything around him. He was busy engraving various techniques into his body. A training fanatic by nature, his intensity had only grown recently, thanks to the Isolation Technique. ''The quality of my muscles is changing.'' He almost wanted to strip down and admire himself in the mirror. Who would notice the change most keenly if not Enkrid himself? When movements that used to be difficult became smooth, the joy was nearly overwhelming. From thrusting techniques to the basics of heavy swordsmanship, everything felt different with his changed body¡ªsmoother and more fluid. Even the techniques of soft swordsmanship had become somewhat second nature to him. Clang! The swords met, and Enkrid redirected Rem''s axe to the side. "That''s a bit better." Rem acknowledged his deflection. It wasn''t perfect, but it was an improvement. ''It''s better than before.'' Enkrid, too, could sense the refinement in his techniques. All of it stemmed from the body-crafting method¡ªthe Isolation Technique. "Do you regret not learning it sooner?" Audin had once asked him, wondering if he thought it was too late to reshape his body. "No." Enkrid had shaken his head. He held no regrets for the past. If he did, he''d already be trapped in "yesterday." What he had learned back then was vital for that time. Thus, being fully present in "today" was the right choice. Once, during that month, he dreamed of the Ferryman. "You live as if trapped in ''today,''" the Ferryman had said, exuding boredom as he leaned on his chin before vanishing. The same one who had mocked him so fiercely before was now nowhere to be seen. The Ferryman''s words rang true. Enkrid''s days were a repetitive cycle. Only the duty schedules and weather changed. "If you would have learned it earlier, your body wouldn''t have been ready for it," Audin had said, but Enkrid paid it little mind. What mattered was today, and now. Eventually, the harsh winter, the fourth and most grueling season, reached its midpoint. *** "Let''s talk for a moment." One day, amidst these routines, the Fairy Company Commander came looking for Enkrid. Standing outside the barracks, the Commander, with his green eyes and back to the cold, said bluntly: "It''s a mission." The Border Guard reserves were often mobilized as needed. Their duty wasn''t limited to fighting on the battlefield. "Understood." "You''ll escort the heir of a merchant guild. Pick one from your squad to accompany you." The Commander delivered the orders. It was a directive from above, and Enkrid had to comply. An assignment and a mission. He didn''t particularly enjoy such tasks. But now, he had begun to take an interest in earning merits. Mastery and accomplishments¡ªthese were the steps to knighthood. Chapter 71 - Rumors Fly on Wings of Light Chapter 71 - 71 - Rumors Fly on Wings of Light Chapter 71 - Rumors Fly on Wings of Light "That body of yours, it''s finally worth looking at, Brother." "This level of skill isn''t bad for the basics." "You won''t be falling to just any blind sword now. Your responses are decent¡ªjust that much." "Heh, looks like your sword is finally sticking to your hand? And has the Heart of the Beast ripened as well?" These were the words of each squad member. Without needing to dwell on it, all their comments pointed to the same conclusion: his skills had improved. For Enkrid, such growth held a profoundly special meaning. It was the thread tying him to his dreams, the moonlight piercing through his darkest nights, and the dawn that heralded a new morning. A sliver of light had seeped into his tattered and faded dreams. That sliver of light became the foundation to revive his dreams. A knight is a name built upon honor and perfected through skill. Enkrid didn''t aspire to be a mercenary or warrior of knightly caliber¡ªhe wanted to be a knight. If asked why, he might struggle to provide an answer. There was a faint itch in his chest, though it wouldn''t easily find its way into words. He could lie, but even that he disliked. Enkrid was stubborn in matters like these. The injustices he had witnessed during his mercenary days fueled his refusal to abandon his dream. Yet, that wasn''t the only reason. Why does one dream? Simply because one longs for it. He wanted to hear others cheer for him. He enjoyed the time spent honing his swordsmanship. He cherished the moments of banter with those around him. And, he desired to confront those who had once dismissed and cast him aside, showing them how much he had changed. A tangle of desires, intertwined and mixed. The human heart is never simple. For Enkrid, this bundle of desires culminated in one word: Knight. It was his dream. Even if he lacked the skills now and the path ahead seemed distant, as long as a path toward his dream existed, he wanted to walk it. Thus, building honor became part of his purpose. He also wanted to test himself. "Just how far can my sword take me?" Though sparring was constant with his squadmates, he had defeated Mitch Hurrier in battle, won his promotion duel, and survived an assassination attempt by a half-blood fairy. Still, today''s Enkrid wasn''t the same as he was then. He clenched and opened his hand. "I want to fight." He yearned for a moment when he could wield his sword purely to prove himself. He had been promoted to a high soldier rank. Even so, disparities existed within that rank. His growing skills bred both ambition and curiosity. He craved to test his abilities in real combat. That was when the mission came in. And with the company commander accompanying them, it wouldn''t be an easy task. "Why, though? Why is the company commander coming in person?" That was Enkrid''s question. Surely others had similar doubts. For the company commander, it was just a detour on his way, nothing more. But for other platoon leaders, it seemed unusual. In particular, for Enkrid''s direct superior, the 4th Platoon Leader, this was a perplexing matter. Though it was purely coincidental, some people struggle to see coincidences for what they are. The Border Guard''s standing army often provided its military services to citizens and merchant guilds. This was one of the dual policies established by Naurilia. The first was the soldier ranking system, and the second was the soldier-mercenary system. Instead of relying on mercenaries, soldiers would undertake missions. This system, along with the ranking policy, had become one of the kingdom''s most successful strategies. "Border Guard soldiers are reliable," became a common sentiment. Replacing mercenaries with soldiers to handle missions naturally gained the approval of citizens and guilds alike. Mercenaries were rough and unruly, whereas soldiers were disciplined. Like any well-regulated unit, they followed orders diligently. Moreover, their services were cheaper than those of large mercenary guilds. "Shouldn''t escorting citizens for city security be an obvious duty? Charging krona for every little thing feels excessive, doesn''t it?" Occasionally, grumbling merchants would raise such complaints. But after using the escort soldiers even once, those complaints disappeared entirely. The Border Guard''s standing army engaged in two local wars annually. Stationed in a military city near the frontlines, their soldiers naturally underwent constant filtering through battle and death, raising the overall standard of skill. Cost, skill, safety¡ª all three factors contributed to high satisfaction, marking the policy as a success. The company commander''s decision to accept the mission was part of this system. "But why?" Many still pondered the same question. This mission wasn''t significant enough for the company commander to personally intervene. Even the platoon leaders, despite keeping their mouths shut for propriety, understood their commander wasn''t someone of average caliber. "Couldn''t she even face off against the Frontier Defense leader?" The Frontier Defense Captain was the strongest in the Border Guard. Leaving the battalion commander out of the equation, of course. "The Heavy Armor Company Commander should be a fair match." "The Fairy Company Commander has already proven her combat prowess in the field." "I''ll take this mission myself." So, when the Fairy Company Commander chose to take on a mission, no one could object. "Why are you taking this on personally?" asked the 4th Platoon Leader. "To bring along our troublemaking squad leader." That was her answer. A mission is just a mission¡ªnothing remarkable in itself. The issue lay with who was accompanying him. The Spell breaker, Enkrid, now a high ranking soldier. The 4th Platoon Leader, who had risen purely through wit, pondered deeply. Once the Fairy Company Commander left, the 4th Platoon Leader combed through his memories. Cleverness stems from information. Lagging behind in understanding the surrounding circumstances would harm his prospects for promotion. Dutifully, he recalled the past. "Didn''t she visit the medical barracks back then, too?" The Fairy Company Commander had personally visited Enkrid right after his appointment. She even went out of her way to visit the medical barracks. Later, she held several private meetings with Enkrid. Furthermore, private meetings with other platoon leaders were rare, if they happened at all. It was fortunate to get any proper answers. The company commander had once interfered in Enkrid''s promotion match. The 4th platoon leader had witnessed it as well. "It was during that fight with the border defense troops." Back then, it had appeared to the 4th squad leader that the commander stepped in to protect Enkrid, who seemed to be in danger. Moreover, on a snowy day, the commander had specifically ordered the troublemaker squad to go out. They only returned the next morning after clearing all the snow. "And they even brought heated leather." What had they been doing? The operation was classified, and the details were only reported directly to the commander, so he didn''t know. It was also said that the two had sparred alone in the private training yard. But why? The infirmary meetings, private encounters, the promotion match, the snowy day mission, the sparring sessions, and even their assignments... All the information blended together, forming a conclusion in the 4th platoon leader''s mind. Chills ran down his spine at his own speculation. Although his reasoning was misguided and filled with misunderstandings and foolish thoughts, he felt a strong sense of conviction about his theory. Thus, one thought came naturally. "Could it be... the two of them?" He imagined the fairy and the troublemaker squad leader standing side by side. Surprisingly, the picture seemed to fit well. "Nah, that can''t be, right?" Even though he felt deeply convinced, he muttered to himself in denial. "What can''t be?" A subordinate nearby asked. It was a mundane moment during guard duty. The 4th platoon leader cautiously shared his suspicion. Had it been dismissed as nonsense, it would have ended there. "...Whoa, no way." The subordinate''s reaction was peculiar. His pupils trembled as if he was genuinely shocked. He seemed equally shaken. While Border Guard wasn''t a small town, rumors spread quickly. Certain kinds of rumors, in particular, traveled faster than winged horses. The idlers in the unit, especially the women managing the baths and preparing meals, thrived on this kind of gossip. Thanks to them, the rumor gained "wings of light" and spread swiftly through the unit. In less than a day, no one in the unit was unaware. *** "Squad Leader! I heard you''re going to be a dad soon. Is it true?" Krais, who had returned to the unit after three days, asked directly. Where had it gone wrong? Enkrid tried to figure it out, but he couldn''t pinpoint the cause. The rumor had already spread. At Krais''s words, Rem clutched his stomach and burst into laughter. He laughed so hard that his heated leather shifted, exposing his bare feet. "Keh-hahah! That''s right! A dad! Big Eyes, did you hear about the mom too?" "Y-yeah, I thought the rumor was ridiculous. I figured the kid part was exaggerated, but when did the commander get you wrapped up like this? Truly impressive, Squad Leader." When Krais gave a thumbs-up, Enkrid grabbed his thumb and pushed it back down. "It''s a misunderstanding." "A misunderstanding?" "Someone started a strange rumor." It was the 4th platoon leader, but Enkrid didn''t know that. Even Krais, who was adept at handling information, hadn''t pieced it together. If they really tried to track down the rumor''s origin, it wouldn''t be impossible. But was it worth the effort? It wasn''t life-threatening, after all. "Hmm, not a bad deal, though. If you make her your partner and swordsmanship teacher..." Ragna chimed in. What on earth goes on in that guy''s head? At times, it seemed worse than whatever nonsense Rem spouted. Was he seriously suggesting marriage as a way to improve swordsmanship? "Heek¡ªkeeii!" Next to them, Rem was laughing so uncontrollably that it now sounded like a beast''s cry. "Don''t get too attached. It''ll hurt more when you''re rejected later." Jaxen spoke while folding his clothes nearby. "Why is rejection already a foregone conclusion?" The premise seemed completely skewed. "Blessings, brother." Everyone was teasing while fully aware of the truth. They all knew Enkrid''s routine. He barely had time for anything, let alone relationships. "Let''s drop it." It was just a baseless rumor. He thought so, reaching out to Esther. Snap! For some reason, Esther rejected his hand today. "I''m not Krais," Enkrid said, feeling wronged. But Esther glared sharply at him before stretching out on the heated leather. Why was she suddenly acting this way after spending all day nestled in his arms? "She must be jealous. Comfort her a bit," Rem quipped, then doubled over in laughter again. Rem was undoubtedly insane. "Thanks for the entertainment. Anyway, when are we leaving?" "For where?" "For the escort mission. You can only bring one person, right?" "And?" "Of course, it has to be me." Rem flapped his leather cloak dramatically, half-rising as he spoke, confidently pointing to himself. The heated leather draped across his shoulders, spreading like a cape before settling there. "Are you doing this because I teased you? Let''s be rational. Squad Leader, that icy Jaxen? If the escort says something snarky, it''ll be chaos. Do you want to see a feral cat clawing at the escort target?" Is this guy even hearing himself? Enkrid was stunned but kept his face neutral, signaling for him to continue. "A lazybones like Ragna wouldn''t even care." Ragna rarely volunteered for missions unless absolutely necessary. "And you''re not seriously considering Big Eyes, are you? Would you take on an extra escort target?" That much was true. Krais was never an option. "And sure, the lump¡ªAudin¡ªis decent. But what if he starts mumbling prayers next to the escort target? All day long? The escort wouldn''t appreciate it." Rem''s smooth-talking ability was impressive, especially for a Western immigrant. His argument made it sound like the only viable option was himself. But... "You''re the biggest problem." Why did he assault his superior? Because of his temper. If it were a situation where beating the escort target to protect them was acceptable, fine. Rem might work. But if that wasn''t an option? If the escort target was even slightly temperamental? Rem was out of the question. Not even half a day would pass before disaster struck. If Enkrid wanted to complete the mission without paying hefty penalties, Rem was the worst choice. "You''re out. Absolutely." There was no need to think further; his answer was firm. "...Wow, I''m hurt. Especially the absolutely part. How do you plan to deal with this wound you''ve left on a grown man''s heart?" "Still no." "I''m going to go rogue." Enkrid ignored him. Rem often spouted nonsense as if his brain were filled with pebbles. He scanned the unit. "If you insist, fine." Ragna, who met his gaze, said casually. As if. If Ragna went, the mission wouldn''t be an escort¡ªit''d be a nap break. Ragna, who loved his morning sleep, would be impossible to wake up. "Can''t send him alone either." He''d get lost. Ragna''s sense of direction was abysmal. The only choices left were Audin and Jaxen. The decision was obvious. "You''re it," Enkrid said. Chapter 72 - Because I Trained Every Moment (1) Chapter 72 - 72 - Because I Trained Every Moment (1) Chapter 72 - Refined Through Constant Training (1) It was an obvious choice, so Jaxen was selected. When it comes to assignments, it''s only logical to work with the one most capable. Jaxen had taken on the most assignments among the Troublemakers Squad. This meant he had the most experience and, consequently, the most demand. His heightened senses were invaluable for escort missions¡ªthis didn''t need repeating. Compared to the other squad members, the odds of him clashing with the escort target were also significantly lower. "Understood." Jaxen nodded naturally, while Rem protested loudly, unable to accept the decision. Then Ragna chimed in, expressing doubts about the logic of it all. Audin added his own comment, questioning whether this aligned with divine will. Predictably, this led to Ragna and Rem bickering. Jaxen, observing from the side, made a sharp comment aimed at Rem. Ragna withdrew, leaving Rem and Jaxen to argue instead. Enkrid tried to mediate repeatedly, but by the end, he simply ordered them to avoid even looking at each other. "If you''re going to spar, do it with me," Enkrid concluded, wrapping up the day with one-on-one training sessions with the squad. One might expect mental exhaustion from such routines, but for Enkrid, this was standard. After all, someone who had endured long years wielding a sword despite his lack of talent wouldn''t be fazed by this. If such mental strain had affected him, he''d have abandoned the sword long ago in favor of a plow. "As expected of the squad leader," Krais remarked, once again giving a thumbs-up. It was another round of praise for Enkrid''s steadfastness. He nodded slightly in acknowledgment. The escort mission was set for the following day. It involved a mid-sized merchant group dealing with a succession dispute, requiring escort within the city. Three personnel were assigned: the fairy company commander, Enkrid, and Jaxen. There was no need to move at dawn; the escort target wasn''t expected in the city until midday. *** The next morning, after a good night''s sleep, Enkrid woke to find Esther nestled against him. "Why did you act like that yesterday?" Half-asleep and groggy, he asked, only for Esther to give his chest a soft tap with her paw. Although the reason for her anger was unclear, it seemed like her way of making peace. "Alright, take it easy today." There wasn''t much Esther needed to do. At night, she''d crawl into bed. In the morning, she''d laze around until she got up. Occasionally, she wandered outside, likely hunting mice near the city. Enkrid didn''t usually prepare meals specifically for her but did hand out jerky as a treat. Surprisingly, the entire squad doted on Esther. Krais, in particular, was especially attentive. "Lake Panthers shed their claws when the time comes. You won''t mind if I collect them, right?" Apparently, claw-shedding was akin to molting. Krais had a practical reason for his affection. "You little rascal." "Meow." Her nonchalant head turn was endearing. Amused, Enkrid scratched the top of her head a couple of times before getting up. It was breakfast time. "Let''s see how well you manage without me," Rem quipped. His glare caught Enkrid''s attention, prompting a reflexive punch. Thud. Rem blocked it with his palm. "Do you really think breaking an arm is no issue? Picking a fight first thing in the morning?" "No, it was reflexive when I saw your face." "That''s even more insulting." Fair enough. Despite his words, Rem didn''t retaliate. After all, it was mission day. No point risking injury beforehand. Breakfast consisted of flattened, grilled pork tenderloin and boiled potatoes¡ªa bland combination. "This is good for you. Meat strengthens muscles, brothers," Audin remarked. Isolation Technique emphasized building the body, and proper nutrition was key. Though it was unappetizing, Enkrid ate it without complaint, knowing the importance of proper sustenance. After spending the remaining time conditioning his body through Isolation Technique, it was time to depart. Enkrid washed at the well and geared up. He donned the leather armor he''d taken from the raid on the Gilpin Guild. It was a simple, flexible piece that only covered his torso but wasn''t restrictive. Over the armor, he strapped the knife sheath for his Whistle Daggers. "That?" Jaxen asked, gesturing toward the sheath. "I picked it up from an assassin I killed." "Thrifty, aren''t you?" If that''s how it seemed, so be it. In any case, it was a useful tool, so it had been worth keeping. Weapons of this sort were always better in surplus. After layering on a thick gambeson, Enkrid completed his preparations and stepped outside. He walked alongside Jaxen toward the city''s inn district. Along the way, Jaxen offered tips on observation and listening skills. And of course, he couldn''t resist adding, "You''re so dull." Enkrid remained unfazed. He was well aware of his limitations. At the central crossroads, where four inns were located, the company commander was already waiting. "Has the escort target arrived?" Enkrid offered a brief military salute and asked. "Not yet. Should be here soon." Rumor had it the escort target had quite the personality. That bit of information had come from Krais, who seemed more attuned to gossip than ever since joining the guild. "They''re here to settle a succession issue, right?" Though curious about their temperament, Enkrid wasn''t overly concerned. Few could rival Rem in unruliness. Spending a month with the Troublemakers Squad would make even the most troublesome individuals seem harmless. Enkrid remained at ease. Jaxen had no particular thoughts. To him, a job was just a job. The task was simple: provide protection for three days. Once the succession meeting concluded, the mission would end. Ensuring safety within the city wasn''t a complex matter. The company commander, observing Enkrid''s composure, reflected on why he''d been brought along. The troublemaker squad leader was a target of Aspen''s assassins¡ªa testament to his clean record. Moreover, his handling of the thief guild and subsequent actions had left a strong impression. He''d kept the bribes flowing and transformed a criminal guild into an information network. This avoided conflicts with higher-ups, who would''ve been displeased if the bribes had stopped. The commander had considered intervening if issues arose, but Enkrid had made that unnecessary. "Not going as planned, but not bad either," the commander mused. As they waited for the escort target, the commander spoke. "Were we involved at some point?" Enkrid, resting his hand on his sword''s hilt, momentarily froze. He turned his head slowly and asked, "What do you mean?" "Well, if I can hear the rumors, you probably know them too." "It''s a misunderstanding. Just baseless gossip. Things have been slow lately, so people fill their time with nonsense." "Is that so?" "Yes." "So, what is our relationship?" "It''s the one between a superior and a subordinate." "I see." He dismissed the topic lightly. Rumors certainly spread far and wide. "Ahem." Jaxen cleared his throat next to him. A quick glance revealed his twitching lips, evidence of suppressed laughter. "You find this funny?" He mouthed the words silently. "I didn''t laugh." Jaxen mouthed back. The company commander, a fairy, caught their silent exchange with a mere sidelong glance. Lip-reading was no challenge for a fairy. "You must have been troubled." "Not at all." Enkrid answered immediately. "You seemed troubled." "I wasn''t." "Then, did you enjoy it?" Why was she doing this? "Not... yes." His reply came out unusually drawn out. It would have been nice if he''d cracked a smile afterward, but his face remained impassive. Moreover, he didn''t even meet her gaze, instead staring off toward the distant city. "Fairy humor," he thought. It was something he never quite got used to. "They''re here," Jaxen''s words rescued Enkrid from the awkward situation. Their escort target had arrived. Thud, thud. As the two carriages approached, the ground trembled slightly. Enkrid figured dealing with the escort target would be far easier than handling the company commander. "That was amusing," the commander whispered behind him, sending a chill down Enkrid''s spine. Even though he was wearing a cloak lined with heated leather, he felt a shiver. The carriages stopped, and a figure disembarked. It wasn''t what Enkrid expected. Rather than the puffed-up cheeks of a greedy toad, the person was a striking woman with long blonde hair and reddish-brown eyes. Her beauty was immediately striking. With a sharp click of her boots against the ground, she descended from the carriage, directly meeting the fairy commander''s gaze. "Please take care of me," she said. No introduction about her being the escort target from the standing army was necessary. From that moment on, she only conversed with her own entourage. The middle-aged woman by her side, likely her nanny, relayed the blonde''s instructions to the escorts. She was said to be twenty years old, but her peculiar temperament was still a mystery. "You''d have to talk to her to know," Enkrid thought. Having never exchanged even a glance with her, he couldn''t say much. "This job looks easy," Jaxen remarked. Enkrid nodded in agreement. They had wondered if she would arrive alone, but five armed escorts accompanied her. Three carried shields, and two wielded thin rapiers. Enkrid applied what he had learned. "Age, posture, positioning, gaze¡ªeverything is information, brother," Audin had said. By observing their stances, he formed an outline of their physical capabilities and made educated guesses. "Could I be right?" He wasn''t sure. Frogs were said to instinctively gauge their opponent''s strength, but humans required knowledge and experience. "It comes with practice, brother," Audin had reassured him, though it was clear this wasn''t something mastered overnight. Enkrid wasn''t impatient. He carefully observed the five escorts. One was left-handed. When sitting down, their chair creaked under their weight, suggesting they wore heavy equipment. However, no one wore chainmail armor. It was winter¡ªthe end of the season, often called the harshest cold. Who would wear metal armor unnecessarily? Walking alongside the carriage as an escort, a thick gambeson was the more practical choice. This group had followed that logic. Experience and common sense, paired with what he learned from Audin, allowed him to deduce much. Judging by their posture and equipment, they were all less capable than border guard''s. In terms of soldier ranking, they were below high level. Enkrid reflected on his observations. "Not bad." Judging skill from posture and equipment was something he''d never dared to attempt before. Feeling this growth brought him joy¡ªa feeling that never dulled. Each time it was new and exhilarating. Whether in swordsmanship, combat techniques, or martial arts, the progress was a source of relentless satisfaction. Even if there were no opportunities to draw his sword during this mission, simply applying and refining what he had learned brought immense joy. "Shall we try a fun little game?" Jaxen''s suggestion piqued his interest. It wasn''t merely a game; it was a training method. "Sound matching," Jaxen explained. "Let''s do it," Enkrid replied. Like Audin and the others, Jaxen had an intense passion for teaching. It was an invisible, cold flame, but it was impossible to miss. Since Enkrid was the beneficiary of that zeal, he couldn''t refuse. As expected, it wasn''t just a game. Jaxen proposed one of the training methods for sharpening their senses to blade movements. Of course, it wasn''t easy. "The sound of a tongue clicking," Jaxen said, and Enkrid frowned. "Too slow." Escort missions were typically uneventful, especially here at Border Guard. Calling in reinforcements when private escorts were already present made it clear¡ªthey wanted to deter anyone daring enough to attack. The Border Guard was under direct royal command. Challenging the royal forces within their own territory? Even the renowned Rengadis caravan, known for their blank promissory notes, wouldn''t dare. "Third man at the left table," Jaxen noted. How could he discern that just by listening? Enkrid was also honing his awareness, almost as if he had eyes in the back of his head. It was a simple yet challenging game. Jaxen named a sound, and Enkrid focused on identifying its source. "The sound of a blade being sharpened." The kitchen? No, it''s higher up. Enkrid activated his full concentration. Sweat dripped from his forehead despite the chill in their corner of the inn. "Above." "Direction''s correct. Which floor?" The inn had three floors. Should he guess? No, that wouldn''t be proper training. "Room 102, perhaps?" Jaxen revealed the correct answer. The key was timing¡ªresponding promptly. After a few rounds, the fairy commander joined them. "Let me play." Her participation raised the stakes. With sharper senses than humans, fairies were a formidable challenge. "The short blade, sheathing and unsheathing repeatedly." The question was posed again. Enkrid missed repeatedly, while the fairy commander answered without pause. "Outside the inn entrance." "The sound of concealed breathing." How did she even notice that? Although incredulous, Enkrid couldn''t deny her accuracy. "Just beyond the window." "Someone crouching, holding their breath." "Under the table to your right." "Someone sneaking glances." "Behind you." At some point, the game turned into something else entirely. The escort target, heir to a trade caravan, had brought personal guards and occupied part of the inn''s main hall. And then¡ª "An attack is imminent." "I agree." Enkrid finally grasped their conversation''s meaning. Jaxen stood abruptly, pushing his chair back. Scrape!Thud! A gasp escaped as the back of the chair struck someone''s thigh. A startled man holding a blackened dagger was revealed. Thanks to the sound training, Enkrid had been on edge. He turned swiftly, catching sight of another assailant with a dagger ready to strike. Startled, the attacker froze momentarily, allowing Enkrid to grab his wrist. Crunch. Twisting the wrist outward and pulling, Enkrid brought the man closer and struck his sternum with an elbow. Thud. The assailant dropped his dagger as his chest cracked. Enkrid caught the falling weapon and flung it toward a wooden pillar, where it stuck with a solid thunk. Someone might think he narrowly avoided the attack, but Enkrid had anticipated it all along. "Everything''s a lesson, after all," he thought. Chapter 73 - Because I Trained Every Moment (2) Chapter 73 - 73 - Because I Trained Every Moment (2) Chapter 73 - Because I Trained Every Moment (2) The assailants'' methods were eerily similar to those of common thieves. Their primary weapons consisted of black-painted daggers, crossbows, and throwing knives. "Really now..." However, their skills were inferior. "They aren''t even on the level of the Gilpin Guild," Enkrid thought. "Dodged it?" The astonishment in their voices when Enkrid evaded their daggers was enough to betray their lack of professionalism. Assassination clearly wasn''t their forte. Enkrid grabbed a dagger from the hand of a fallen assailant and spun it deftly in his palm. Adjusting its position with a flick of his fingers, he gripped it between his thumb and forefinger, then extended his arm in one fluid motion. The action yielded immediate results. With a sharp thunk, the thrown dagger buried itself in the forehead of one of the masked attackers. He collapsed backward, his head striking the ground with a dull thud as crimson blood began pooling on the inn''s floor. "Aaaahhh!" Terrified screams erupted from a few patrons who had been eating their meals. They fled the inn, while the innkeeper''s assistants dove beneath the tables for cover. The attack brought chaos and panic, but not a single scratch was inflicted on Enkrid''s party. "Kill them all!" one of the attackers yelled. "An ambush! Fight back!" "Grab your weapons!" The caravan''s guards quickly took up arms in response, their swords hissing as they were drawn from their sheaths. Listening to the clamor, Enkrid remained acutely aware of his mission. "I''ll handle this," he informed the fairy company commander, turning on his heel. Someone needed to secure the safety of their charge. If there was chaos on the ground floor, the upper floor was likely no better off. While close guards had been assigned, the situation here would inevitably become their responsibility as well. "Whoever orchestrated this must be utterly insane," Enkrid muttered as he made his way upstairs. The attackers were foolish to assault a caravan guarded by an armed force stationed at the border. On his way up, no one stood in his way. This was thanks to Jaxen. He had grabbed a chair and wielded it like a shield, blocking every incoming dagger with ease. Before long, the chair resembled a bizarre work of art, studded with knives and quarrels. When projectiles failed, some of the attackers approached with shortswords or clubs. Jaxen dispatched each of them with a single, precise stroke of his blade as they entered his range. His movements were immaculate. Although his swordsmanship seemed ordinary at a glance, none of his opponents managed to block his strikes. Clang! One attacker narrowly deflected his blade, but Jaxen had anticipated this, following up with a lightning-quick thrust that pierced his opponent''s face, shattering his nose and creating a gory wound. Jaxen withdrew his sword and resumed his grim work. He used the chair to block incoming daggers and slashed at anyone who got too close. While his throwing skills surpassed Enkrid''s by several magnitudes, there was no need for such finesse in this situation. "What the hell is this guy?" one of the attackers cursed. Jaxen didn''t bother to reply. He saw no reason to converse with those who were about to die. The fairy company commander took advantage of the distraction Jaxen created, stepping into the thick of the assailants. She drew her leaf-blade, and as it danced, attackers began clutching their throats and collapsing. Slash after slash, blood spattered the air, painting her face and clothes with crimson. None of the attackers could match her graceful yet deadly movements. Their group lacked anyone capable of countering her skill. "If this is all you''ve got, I''m disappointed," she said, balancing on one foot while raising the other slightly off the ground, her blade poised as if ready to begin a deadly dance. Though her voice was clear and cheerful, to her opponents, it must have sounded like the call of a grim reaper. One masked attacker involuntarily stepped back, cursing under his breath. "Damn it..." The leader of the attackers, observing the chaos, came to a conclusion. "As long as the objective is complete..." They had stalled long enough. Whether or not their mission on the second floor was a success, lingering here any longer would mean certain death. The caravan''s guards were far more skilled than he had anticipated¡ªalmost as if they had brought killers from the frontier. He didn''t need to know more. It wasn''t his concern. "Kill them all!" the leader shouted before making a break for the exit. His plan was to escape while his subordinates bought him time. To him, the mission was already a success. "Glory to Aspen!" one of the remaining attackers cried, their voice fading as the leader fled. They were remnants of spies planted in the city. While the rank and file sacrificed their lives for the mission and their country, the leader was in it purely for the money. That''s what loyalty was meant for, after all¡ªto be wielded at moments like these. Jaxen watched the leader''s retreating figure with mild interest, his hand briefly moving toward a thin blade concealed at his waist before reconsidering. "It''s not worth it," he thought. Killing the man wouldn''t change anything. Letting him go wouldn''t cause any major consequences, either. Shrugging off the thought, Jaxen returned to his task¡ªslaughtering the attackers who dared to challenge him. He stood at the stairs leading to the second floor, ensuring no one could pass. Though it wasn''t a role that suited his usual demeanor, he fulfilled it with ruthless efficiency. None of the attackers could best him, as his skill was second only to the fairy company commander in the inn''s main hall. Despite her relentless assault, the commander occasionally glanced toward her squad. Among them, one member stood out¡ªnot Enkrid, but the squad member holding the line at the staircase. "Impressive," she thought. The so-called ''troublemaker squad'' lived up to its reputation, boasting a member who even outshone their leader. Such cases weren''t unheard of, but in this instance, the disparity in skill was striking. "At least city-level," she mused. While different regions measured skill differently¡ªvillage, city, or continental level¡ªshe found the categorization familiar from her wanderer days. Was this someone capable of making a name for themselves in a village? Or someone whose skills could bring them renown across an entire city? To gain fame across the continent, what level of power is required? From her perspective, a continental-level powerhouse would need to be at least knight-class. Without mastering the "power" they wield, it''s impossible. Of course, excluding con artists hiring bards to spread false tales. "Interesting." She murmured. To those she had ambushed¡ªparticularly one man who had just lost four fingers on his right hand trying to block the daggers¡ªit was a cruel remark. "Ugh... what?" Tears streaming down his face, the man stared in disbelief. The fairy company captain silently struck the back of his head with the pommel of her dagger. Thunk. He collapsed. Should she stop the bleeding? No, it wouldn''t matter. Let him live or die¡ªeither way, it was irrelevant. There were plenty of mouths left to testify. Not everyone had been killed. Jaxen, too, had spared a few. Among those spared were those who seemed young or loose-lipped, left incapacitated with slashes to their thighs or knocked unconscious. Even the one who had first shouted "Aspen!" was kept alive. They could be useful later. ''What about above?'' While fighting, the fairy threw part of her focus upward. Her heightened senses picked up the situation above. A strange smile spread across her face. ''How amusing.'' The thought came again. It reminded her of the first time she wielded her daggers as a child. She had felt this exhilarated back then, too. With that thought, her blades moved again. By now, the number of attackers had been halved. Enkrid ascended the stairs two steps at a time. Each step felt light beneath him, his movements almost effortless. ''Isolation technique.'' Though Audin claimed it was slow, Enkrid could feel the difference¡ªit was clear as day. His body felt lighter, more responsive than ever. As he reached the second-floor corridor, an assassin armed with a blade dropped from above. This one was less skilled than the assassins he had faced before. Their presence was almost tangible, allowing Enkrid to sense their approach. In the narrow corridor, he twisted his body and pressed against the wall, evading the assassin as they crashed to the floor. The fallen attacker looked up, their gaze meeting Enkrid''s. Enkrid gripped his longsword in his right hand, bending his knees slightly into a ready stance¡ªMiddle Swordsmanship''s unsheathing posture. The assassin regained their balance, holding their short sword vertically in a defensive stance to block a horizontal slash. It would have been an excellent defense against a Middle Swordsmanship unsheathing strike. But against the vertical slash Enkrid executed with the short sword hidden in his left hand, it was utterly inadequate. Thunk! He feinted with his right hand and stance, then split the assassin''s skull with the short sword in his left. It was a dual unsheathing maneuver¡ªa Valen mercenary blade technique. The assassin''s eyes trembled in disbelief, but they couldn''t utter a word. Dead men tell no tales. "Are you insane? Hiring assassins here of all places?" A woman''s voice rang out. "Stop right there!" Another woman''s voice followed. Enkrid leapt over the corpse and sprinted down the narrow hallway. A room door, slightly ajar, came into view. Standing before it was a masked figure. "Idiots." The figure saw Enkrid charging toward them and flicked their hand. A throwing knife whistled through the air. Compared to a Whistle Dagger, it was laughably slow. The Heart of the beast granted Enkrid courage to face the incoming blade directly. His pin-point focus slowed its trajectory in his perception, allowing him to read its path with the sensitivity of his blade sense. Combined with his reflexes and muscle memory, he simply tilted his head to the side. A feat unimaginable before this repeating day. Back then, he could only dream of dodging like this¡ªpurely acrobatic in nature. In the past, he had failed to dodge an arrow on the battlefield and had to raise a shield. Now, he felt confident he could evade even that arrow. The knife whistled past his ear, and Enkrid continued forward. The assassin, wide-eyed, moved to throw another blade. Feigning another charge, Enkrid lifted his right arm in a sweeping motion. Whistle! The sound of a Whistle Dagger echoed as it pierced the assassin''s neck. "Guh..." Blood spurted from their neck as foam bubbled from their lips. Reflexively, the assassin completed their motion, but the dagger they threw dropped harmlessly to the floor. Dodging and throwing all happened in a few heartbeats. Enkrid didn''t slow, slamming his shoulder into the dying assassin and sending them crashing into the opposite wall. Thunk. Crash. The impact rattled the door behind the assassin, eliciting a startled cry from within the room. This was an inn. Of course, there were guests. Though it wasn''t broad daylight, this was still the heart of the city. For someone to attempt an ambush here¡ªthey either had nerves of steel or were utter fools. "Bastards..." Enkrid muttered as he charged into the half-open room. The moment he stepped inside, he saw a guard collapsing, stabbed in the stomach. The masked assailant turned their blade toward the guard''s charge¡ªa young woman of the merchant caravan. In that split second, Enkrid hurled another Whistle Dagger. Whistle! Thunk! The dagger struck its target, disrupting the assassin''s attack. It hadn''t been a full-strength throw, but it served its purpose, creating an opening. Enkrid closed the gap with a swift charge. The assassin ignored him, swinging their weapon toward the merchant''s heir instead. ''Persistent bastard.'' Cursing internally, Enkrid mimicked a move he''d seen a squire use on the battlefield. He couldn''t replicate it perfectly, but in this small, confined space, a crude imitation was enough. Lowering his stance, he pushed off the ground, closing the distance in one explosive movement. Instead of throwing another Whistle Dagger, Enkrid lunged, interposing himself between the blade and its target. Thunk! The assassin''s blade struck his back, cutting through his gambeson and slicing into his lower back. Grimacing, Enkrid twisted his body to deflect the blade. The merchant heiress stood before him, not wide-eyed and pale as he expected, but gritting her teeth, her expression resolute. This was his duty. The mission was everything. Enkrid endured the pain, silently thanking Audin for his lessons. ''Thanks, Audin.'' "Learn to take a hit¡ªthat''s the first step," Audin had said. Body movements that let one deflect even the sharpest blades. It had felt impossible during training, but now, it was saving his life. "Stay back!" Enkrid ordered, pushing the heiress aside. The woman bit her lip but obeyed without a sound. She seemed tougher than expected. "You bastard." The assassin, wielding a gladius, glared at Enkrid. "Let''s take this outside," Enkrid said, turning to charge once more. The assassin lunged, aiming for his forehead. Enkrid evaded, crouching low, and grabbed the assassin''s leg. With a burst of strength, he lifted and charged toward the window. Crash! The wooden frame shattered as they both tumbled out of the second-story window. Chapter 74 - Because I Trained Every Moment (3) Chapter 74 - 74 - Because I Trained Every Moment (3) Chapter 74 - Every Moment Was Training (3) Even though it was the second floor, it wasn''t particularly high. Still, falling from that height with the weight of an adult man, coupled with the armor he wore, was practically a suicide attempt. Enkrid shoved the assassin with the crown of his head and balanced himself mid-fall. The sudden tackle left the opponent defenseless, and with a thud, both of them hit the ground, bodies tangled. Enkrid landed on top, while the assassin lay beneath him. "Cough!" The assassin spat out blood upon impact. Rising and brushing off his opponent, Enkrid exhaled deeply, checking his own condition. "No injuries." No joints or ligaments were damaged. That was good enough. The first priority of a bodyguard was to create distance between the assassin and their target. The path to the second floor was blocked by Jaxen, and the remaining minor issues would be handled by the fairy company commander. As he assessed himself, Enkrid also realized his back had no injuries. He had somewhat accounted for taking the opponent''s blade head-on. Armor. The armor was a treasure he''d acquired when raiding the Gilpin Guild, its true value recognized by Rem. "Seems like it won''t tear under most slashes. Yep, with such rare beast leather, make good use of it. The one who left this lying around without wearing it must''ve been out of their mind to die like that." Originally, the chest storing the armor was cursed, and the deceased guild leader had been unable to remove the curse, merely keeping the item. For some reason, the curse didn''t affect Enkrid, and now it allowed him to deflect his opponent''s blade without shedding a drop of blood. However, even though the armor could block sharp metal, it couldn''t completely absorb the impact. For that, Enkrid was grateful to Audin. The Isolation Technique had shaped his body, teaching him wrestling to utilize it effectively. With the skills honed through countless training sessions, Enkrid had protected himself. Every moment of training, repeated over and over, made such feats possible. Avoiding the blade and subduing his opponent¡ªall of it was the result of not wasting a single day. If he had neglected even one day, would this moment have been possible? No. He could say that with certainty. "You''re insane." The assassin, blood staining the mask over his mouth, pulled it off as if it was suffocating him. Enkrid didn''t recognize the face, which was unsurprising given the 5,000-strong population of Border Guard. How could he know everyone? Still, the man''s face seemed vaguely familiar, like someone he might''ve passed by. "Cough." The man coughed again, blood spraying and staining his beard before dripping onto the floor. Even as he spat blood, his glare remained fixed on Enkrid, brimming with killing intent. Screech. Enkrid drew his longsword. The assassin unsheathed a gladius in one hand and a short sword in the other. Dual-wielding. Despite spitting blood, the man''s stance was perfectly balanced. His internal organs were likely damaged, but the fierce light in his eyes remained unyielding. This was a man who had experienced the battlefield¡ªEnkrid''s instincts screamed as much. His face bore signs of age, suggesting he was well over thirty. Surviving that long on the battlefield meant he probably had a hidden trump card. "He''s likely to use a peculiar sword technique," Enkrid thought. It wouldn''t be standard swordsmanship¡ªsomething odd and unexpected would come his way. "Urgh, phew." The man cleared his nose of blood with a sound akin to a pig''s grunt, then spat out the mixture of blood and mucus before asking Enkrid: "Which unit are you with?" "Why do you want to know?" "If you''re in the standing army, you might be my junior." Junior? Enkrid''s expression showed doubt, though his eyes never stopped scanning the man''s entire body. The man''s stance was solid, leaving no obvious openings. "I was a squad leader once," the man added. Enkrid believed him but didn''t let his guard down. After all, there were countless reasons men left the army¡ªsome as cripples, some dead, some discharged after causing trouble. Few left intact. Those who did often had reasons like serving as an alternative to prison and choosing to be discharged once their mandatory service ended. "Are you with the Slaughterers?" the man asked again. Enkrid lightly shook his head, answering only to bait a mistake from his opponent. But the man''s guard remained steadfast. ''He''s good,'' Enkrid thought, subtly lowering his sword''s tip. Noticing the shift, the assassin adjusted the positions of his weapons in response. A formidable opponent, Enkrid''s instincts and reason both confirmed it. "Finally," the man said, exhaling. "The dizziness has passed. I''ll kill you and the woman upstairs, then leave." His tone was casual, as if picking up a coin from the ground. Enkrid didn''t respond. There wasn''t time. As the man spoke, he charged. Fast. The gladius and short sword danced in chaotic yet deliberate movements. Left and right, each hand moved to a different rhythm. Valen-style duet. Enkrid recognized the technique. Though he lacked the talent to attempt it himself, he had studied it. Two blades moving to different beats, each aiming for lethal strikes. The man''s footwork and swordsmanship were both top-notch. Enkrid gripped his sword with both hands, lowering the tip to his left hip as the man rushed in. Seeing this, the assassin''s eyes gleamed. But Enkrid remained composed. The Heart of the Beast granted him courage. Valen-style movements were unpredictable, but not undefeatable. Tap. He stepped forward with his left foot, moving to his own rhythm, unaffected by the assassin''s. The two blades carved arcs through the air, aiming for him. Before they could land, Enkrid moved. "Your strength is exceptional," Audin once begrudgingly admitted, despite criticizing everything else about Enkrid. Strength and heavy sword techniques were the keys to shattering Valen-style. Whomp. The longsword slashed horizontally, its blade forged with Valery steel cutting through the air¡ªand more. Thunk. Splatter! A mid-level horizontal slash. Technique met force. Countless sparring matches had honed this strike, and Enkrid''s training had greatly expanded his range of skills. What he couldn''t see or sense before, he now perceived through the Heart of the Beast, the sense of the blade, and pin-point focus on the tip of the blade. He internalized these observations, drilled them into his body, and rebuilt himself using the Isolation Technique. Dodging the daggers with a mere tilt of his head was no coincidence. This time, however, he swung his sword with intent. Using his crafted body, he twisted his muscles and swung from his left foot as a pivot. The entire process unfolded in an instant. The blade that split the opponent''s torso had nearly cleaved them in two. The opponent had attempted to block with one sword and counterattack, but their skill was crushed under sheer strength. A complete victory of brute force. Enkrid gazed at the one whose body was partially severed, hot steam rising from spilled entrails. "Farewell, senior." Despite being half-severed, the man demonstrated a remarkable tenacity for life, his eyes brimming with lingering regret. He trembled, muttering words through quivering lips. Enkrid read the shapes formed by his mouth. "For the glory of the homeland." Was it all loyalty to the country? Was that what had driven him to assassination? He didn''t know. But it seemed worth verifying. Swinging his sword to shake off the blood, Enkrid sheathed it with a sharp shring. Only then did the fairy company commander and Jaxen emerge from outside. "You fought quite theatrically." Jaxen''s gaze swept over Enkrid''s entire body. There didn''t seem to be any visible injuries. Only minor scratches from breaking through the window. "If you were my lover, this much would be expected." The company commander uttered savage words in her usual blunt tone. "Others might misunderstand if they overhear," Enkrid replied, flustered. The sequence of his words came out reversed. "Is that so?" The commander brushed it off casually. "Did you capture any of them alive?" "Yes." Nodding at Jaxen''s report, Enkrid stepped inside. On the first floor, several individuals had already been restrained. Scanning the surroundings, he noticed that few of the merchant caravan''s escorts were present. Some must have been killed. ''The attackers'' skill level...'' Not particularly high. But that was by Enkrid''s standards. For ordinary merchant caravan escorts, they would have been formidable foes. Most notably, the last opponent he killed was a retired soldier. A couple of amateur mercenaries wouldn''t have stood a chance. Where had such a group come from? The question arose naturally. On the first floor, the target of their escort¡ªthe young lady of the merchant caravan¡ªhad already descended. Blood and corpses littered the surroundings, some of the bodies belonging to their own side. It was the middle of a battlefield. Over twenty attackers had participated in the ambush. More than half of them had been killed or captured by the company commander and Jaxen. Several members of the caravan were retching nearby. It was understandable. The pervasive stench of blood, corpses, and spilled entrails was overwhelming. Yet, despite the carnage, the young lady merely furrowed her brow, appearing composed. She approached, her boots clicking sharply. "What''s your name?" She stopped in front of Enkrid and asked. He pointed to himself with a finger. When she nodded, Enkrid spoke. "Enkrid." "Are you alright?" She gestured toward his back as she asked. Enkrid nodded. He owed it to his leather armor. As Rem had said, it wouldn''t be cut by a mere slash. He had quickly assessed his opponent''s skill and decided he could block it with his body. Had the circumstances been different, he would have used another method. Perhaps he wouldn''t have recklessly blocked with his body, but at the time, it seemed the best choice. "Good. I''ll see that you''re compensated later." He hadn''t done it for any reward. "It''s fine. It was my duty." The woman pursed her lips a few times before finally speaking. "Leona." "Yes." He already knew her name. After introducing herself, she glanced around, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. "Ensure compensation for the families of the deceased." "Yes, milady." A trembling nanny approached to respond. She seemed more shaken than Lady Leona herself. The vomit clinging to her lips indicated she had already been sick after surveying the scene. She consciously avoided looking at the ground. In contrast, Lady Leona... ''She''s composed.'' Was she surprisingly indifferent to such things? No, it was her resilience. Or perhaps she had prepared herself. Enkrid observed those cleaning up the scene before withdrawing. Leona did not speak further. As Enkrid moved toward one corner of the inn, he noticed the innkeeper''s distressed expression. This must have been the first time he had encountered something like this. Enkrid couldn''t help but wonder what kind of madman had orchestrated this attack. ''For the glory of the homeland.'' Rumors of Aspen spies within Border Guard had circulated. "The presumed ringleader escaped." Jaxen spoke from the side. "Why didn''t you capture him?" "Why would I?" He was here to guard, and guard he would. That was the proper attitude of a dutiful soldier. Jaxen conveyed his point through both words and demeanor. Enkrid didn''t reprimand him. It was better than bringing Rem or other squad members into this mess. "Well done." "Two days remain." Jaxen''s comment reinforced their focus on the mission. Duty was duty. His words were correct. ''Still, I''m curious about who''s behind this.'' The incident had occurred in the early evening. As darkness fell, the air reeked of blood. Most of the remaining guests packed up and left the inn. As the innkeeper''s face contorted further, Lady Leona spoke. "The caravan will cover your losses." She spoke with her back turned, exuding confidence. She didn''t seem like a frightened bird. She was composed. She must not have grown up sheltered in a caravan. Enkrid silently observed her retreating figure before asking. "Are we staying up all night, Commander?" "Would you like to?" "No." "Then take shifts. Rest first." "Yes." Without hesitation, Enkrid headed upstairs. As he ascended, he clenched and unclenched his hand. How skilled had the opponent he killed been? At the very least, they were as capable as the stabbing maniac he had encountered earlier on the battlefield. Since he had forced his opponent into injury by falling from the second floor, they had fought with a disadvantage. ''Their insides were damaged.'' Their limbs must have lacked strength as well. Still, the brilliance of victory was not dulled. ''I would''ve won even if they were at full strength.'' Confidence¡ªsomething he had barely possessed since birth¡ªbegan to sprout within him. Though he might continue walking like a turtle, his steps would be different from before. Enkrid felt he had taken a step closer to his dream. It was a small, almost invisible step, but it was progress. And that fact alone filled him with satisfaction. "Thanks for saving us." One of the escorts descending the stairs addressed him. "If we hadn''t requested help from the Border Guard..." The female escort''s complexion was pale. She had been responsible for guarding Leona up close. Despite having a hole in her abdomen, she was already walking. Was she eager to die? "It wasn''t deep. Barely missed the vital organs." Sensing his gaze, the escort spoke. "That''s fortunate." After an awkward exchange of glances, Enkrid passed her and continued upstairs. "Thank you again." The female escort repeated. Enkrid accepted it indifferently. It was something he had to do. That was his duty and his mission. Enkrid rested for half a day and woke up early in the morning. "Shift change, Squad Leader." The commander''s call came. He was already awake, though. The commander, Enkrid, and Jaxen shared a single room. Taking turns sleeping wasn''t an issue. After all, they were soldiers before anything else. Even with the Border Guard''s escort, an attack had occurred. And that attack had led to this. Outside the inn, two squad-sized units were dispatched. They belonged to the second company. "I''ll kill whichever bastard is behind this," one of the confident platoon leaders remarked. It was said they had taken the captured attackers with them. Enkrid descended alone. Despite efforts to clean up, the hall still carried faint traces of blood and an unpleasant odor. The dim glow of candlesticks illuminated the empty hall. There was no one else. The few remaining guests had long since moved to other inns. The result was a deserted main hall. Enkrid claimed a table and sat down. He began reflecting on the day''s events. It was a habit for him. Even without repeating today, this was a regular part of his routine. As he reflected and engaged in light training exercises that could be done while seated, dawn broke. Just before sunrise, someone descended the stairs. "You''re up early." It was Lady Leona, the escort target. Chapter 75 - The Enigmatic Squad Leader Chapter 75 - 75 - The Enigmatic Squad Leader Chapter 75 - The Enigmatic Squad Leader The candelabras affixed to the inn''s hall walls flickered weakly, their flames barely clinging to life. No guests around¡ªperhaps an attempt to save on candle expenses. The dim shadows this created stretched Enkrid''s figure long across the floor. Throughout the early hours, he had been practicing the Sense of The Blade. The quiet interior, the sound of soldiers standing guard outside, the faint clink of a drink being poured by the person under his protection¡ªEnkrid sharpened his senses, focusing completely. He listened while simultaneously honing the edge of his awareness. Detecting presences, counting the people nearby, gauging distances by the cries of nocturnal birds in the far-off distance¡ªhe reflected on the range he could perceive. "If it''s within five paces..." Within that range, he could read even the slightest presence. He could hear the soft rustle of clothing. Yet, a thought lingered in his mind: "Is this truly achievable by sound alone?" He recalled the conversation between the fairy company commander and Jaxen right before the ambush. The two had already anticipated the attack. How had they managed that? Surely not by relying solely on their ears. He resolved to ask Jaxen later. If it was something that could be learned, he wanted to master it. "This time, it wasn''t a wall." By now, he doubted he''d face another similar event with the same lack of readiness. Yet he didn''t entertain the thought of recklessly repeating today''s mistakes to trap himself in the present. Enkrid remained steadfast. "For the sake of tomorrow." He always moved forward, refusing to be trapped in the present. The crackle and pop of a log snapping in the fireplace sent embers flying. Amid his reflections on battle, random thoughts flitted through his mind. Enkrid, resting his chin on his hand, thought about the people he had killed. ''Glory to the homeland.'' Could this have been Aspen''s spy unit? What was the mastermind, capable of mobilizing such a force, thinking when initiating such a scheme? What was their goal in causing this level of chaos within Border Guard? Would there be another ambush? Would they break through the two squad formations, or perhaps send an assassin? As these questions crossed his mind, he thought catching the one who fled might be easier than expected. At that moment, Leona descended the stairs. "You''re up early." "I''m on duty, so it''s a shift rotation." "Ah, I see." Leona nodded and approached. The remnants of last night''s events still lingered on the floor. She seemed to be trying hard to maintain her composure. Ironically, such efforts likely only heightened her awareness of it. Focusing on something else might have been easier¡ªEnkrid knew this from experience. "Is this your first time at Border Guard?" "Pardon? Oh, yes." Didn''t Big Eyes mention that this woman''s personality was rather peculiar? She seemed composed, possessing a certain resilience, but hadn''t yet shown the unhinged tendencies of someone like Rem. ''No, wait. Comparing anyone to Rem is unfair.'' That would be impolite. "There are many legends about the Pen-Hanil River. Have you heard the tale of the sword forged from its waters?" Minstrels'' tales often stirred the heart. Enkrid had memorized a few such stories¡ªnot only were they good conversation starters, but they also helped pass the time during duty. Right now, it was nothing more than idle chatter to him. But to someone hearing it for the first time, it might have felt fresh. "Please, tell me." Leona''s interest was piqued; she nodded with a smile. Despite it being a trivial tale, Leona listened with bright eyes, responding with smiles and enthusiasm at intervals. "And so, while there was a brief trend of forging swords from river water, none ever summoned the river spirit, as the legend claimed." "You''re a good storyteller." "I''ve been told that." Even Rem had admitted that no one could provoke others with words as well as their squad leader¡ªEnkrid himself. As Enkrid nodded at the thought, Leona suddenly spoke. "Would you like to join me?" Enkrid tilted his head and asked back. "Pardon? Where?" She was still his escort target. Even though the inn was now under the control of two squads due to the earlier ambush, leaving it empty, his mission wasn''t over. There were still two days left on her request. Wherever she went, following her was his duty. "I''m inviting you to leave Border Guard with me when it''s time to depart." The sudden suggestion felt well-prepared, carrying the subtle air of someone accustomed to managing others. Calmly seated, her red lips parted. "Come with me." Her confidence, born from the belief that her offer was superior, was evident. Leona genuinely thought so. What kind of place was the Rockfreed Trading Company? Though it lagged slightly behind larger trading companies like the Rengadis Trading Company, it held considerable influence in the local region. They had dealings with groups like the Shepherds of the Wilderness in the northernmost reaches of Pen-Hanil, the Black Leather Guild¡ªa hunting collective capable of capturing even wyverns with sufficient preparation¡ªand the Glacier Rangers, a group living deep in the mountains, at one with nature. Their core trading partners were these three groups. Moreover, the Rockfreed Trading Company possessed maps enriched by the travels of their predecessors across the Pen-Hanil. These trade maps¡ªRockfreed''s most treasured assets¡ªdetailed the specialties of various regions and the fastest routes, making them invaluable treasures. Stealing and selling such a map would provide enough wealth to last a lifetime. This was the kind of company Rockfreed was¡ªone anyone would covet. Especially if they were of the bloodline of its predecessors, they might see it as rightfully theirs. Such thoughts likely spurred yesterday''s bold ambush. "To draw a sword here, of all places." It enraged her. Why did they have to act so brazenly now? Though she shared no blood with the predecessors, she worked tirelessly to honor their legacy. Why did the other side disregard it all? Yes, if not for their legacy, she wouldn''t have come this far. And what was that legacy? ''Before killing or being killed, try to reach an agreement first. Will you do that, Leona?'' The predecessor¡ªsomeone who raised her as a daughter. But also someone she could not easily call "father." ''Neither the company nor my bloodline.'' This legacy was one she could not abandon. Leona understood the predecessor''s heart. He had raised her to grow the Rockfreed Trading Company, yet could not entirely abandon his own bloodline. That was why she found herself here now. At the Border Guard of Naurilia, the final bastion of negotiations without drawing swords. If not for the will of his predecessor, the succession struggle would have ended long ago. And now, an ambush in such circumstances. To think of drawing swords at the Border Guard? "Fools." That was the conclusion of his scattered thoughts. The man who had saved her in her moment of peril came into view. The first thing she noticed was his eyes, reminiscent of a lake¡ªthose blue eyes. They were so captivating that they seemed almost imbued with magic. Black hair, blue eyes, and a body honed through training. And on top of that, a handsome face. It was natural to feel intrigued. "Truly a fine appearance." Moreover, his skills were extraordinary. The way he had stormed into the room and subdued the enemy in an instant. And what about his personality? A man who sought nothing in return. After rescuing him, a single word¡ª"Duty"¡ªhad made Leona''s heart race. It started from that moment. She wanted him. She wanted to take him with her. "I promise you a better position and better treatment." Enkrid had no reason to hesitate. After all, hadn''t he already served as a guard for a merchant guild? If his sole purpose was simply to earn krona... "That wouldn''t be too bad." Living as the sword of a growing guild could be a reasonable path. But he had a dream, a path he was walking, even if slowly. He had no time for distractions. "No, thank you." His hands rested on his thighs as he sat upright, his back straight. A clear response given with unwavering posture. It was best to be firm when rejecting offers; experience had taught Enkrid that. Leona''s pupils wavered slightly. "Clinging to someone who''s said no is unbecoming." At some point, Jaxen''s voice came from behind. "I see. It''s unbecoming." The fairy company commander''s words followed shortly after. "Is that so?" Leona neither raised her voice in anger, showed irritation, nor snapped. She simply nodded calmly. "You''re satisfied with your current position, then." That wasn''t entirely true. It was just that from here, he could see the path to climb higher. "Sigh, business really is tough." The innkeeper, who had appeared unnoticed, sighed heavily. The blue light of dawn was gradually giving way to the golden hues of morning. It was morning. "We''ll cover the damages from the guild." Leona spoke again, as if it was a natural follow-up to her initial offer. "Oh, that would be wonderful." The innkeeper, wringing his hands, responded eagerly. Leona nodded as she watched. "Don''t worry. Some guests will arrive by noon; please prepare for them." "Understood." She seemed accustomed to giving orders while seated. Soon after, a nanny came down from upstairs. Leona excused herself, saying she needed to rest, and left. Jaxen then approached Enkrid and spoke. "There are plenty of pretty women in the city; don''t go messing with the merchant guild''s successor." He hadn''t. He had rejected her. Enkrid had plenty of experience dealing with interested women. His face wasn''t exactly forgettable, after all. And a well-trained body was always a magnet for attention. "Enkrid, high ranking soldier." It was the company commander. From her usual spot, with the same posture and tone as ever, she called out and asked: "Are you prone to womanizing?" "...No." "Do you flirt with every woman who crosses your path?" "No." "I see." "Yes." It was undoubtedly a joke. A joke, surely. But her expression remained deadly serious, her gaze unnervingly calm. That made her hard to deal with. "I wish you''d stop this now." "Understood." The commander nodded. Hoping to catch his breath, Enkrid stepped outside, where a squadmate from the 2nd Company, 3rd Platoon, greeted him. "If you flirt with every woman, what happens to people like me?" That was supposed to be a friendly comment, right? "Who are you talking about?" "First the commander, then Lady Rockfreed. Wow, you''re irresistible, aren''t you, Squad Leader?" The one marveling at him was the platoon leader, someone he had crossed paths with before during various missions. "It''s nothing like that." "Of course, it isn''t." "He says it isn''t." "He insists it isn''t." Several soldiers echoed his words in unison, almost like a chant. Apparently, being stationed to surround an inn in the city wasn''t keeping them busy. They seemed bored enough to entertain themselves with gossip. Though there had been no further ambushes and no signs of one either. While he could understand their boredom, ''I''d prefer it if they didn''t use me for their amusement.'' Rumors could be dangerous. As expected, it wasn''t long before new rumors spread. When Krais arrived at the inn, he said: "So, I heard the Squad Leader slept with the merchant guild leader in just one day? How did you manage that? Even I''d find it hard. Lady Rockfreed is known for her high standards and prickly demeanor." "She''s not prickly." "Oh, come on." "If you''re here, then get to work." "Huh?" Enkrid decided to cut the nonsense and gave Krais a task. Clearing up misunderstandings wasn''t worth the effort. Krais was teasing him knowingly, anyway. "One of the ambushers escaped. Find him." The one who had fled¡ªit piqued Enkrid''s curiosity. The Aspen spy who had died by his sword had shouted about the glory of his nation as he fell. But to let the mastermind behind this plot escape? That wouldn''t sit well. "He must pay for his actions." That was the natural order and the right thing to do. It was also a matter of justice. And it wouldn''t be long before the unit received formal orders to track him down. Letting him roam freely wasn''t an option. If you orchestrate something, you should take responsibility. Leaving your subordinates behind and running was unacceptable. Given that he had revealed himself as an Aspen spy, releasing him was not an option either. "Understood." With the guilds of the night operating in the city, finding one person shouldn''t be too difficult. "More krona flows in each time, anyway." With the money he planned to save this time, he considered upgrading to a proper short sword or guard sword as his secondary weapon. He had found the guard sword particularly appealing when he used it before. Ragna had also suggested he try using a shield, but it hadn''t come naturally to him. If necessary, he would learn, but his specialty lay in utilizing his strength. "It''s better to grip the sword with both hands and swing it. But having a shield on the battlefield is an advantage." That was Ragna''s advice. As a light infantryman, Enkrid was proficient enough with a shield. The military''s strength lay in a standardized force rather than exceptional individuals. Two skilled swordsmen in a ten-man squad couldn''t match the strength of a uniformly trained squad. Standardized training included group formations with shields, something Enkrid had diligently practiced, though his improvement had been slow. "It just doesn''t feel natural." That was his thought every time he held a shield. Like wearing an ill-fitting suit, it felt more natural to wield his sword with both hands. Using or not using a shield¡ªif he ever became someone who could break the rules of standardized forces, it wouldn''t matter much. Not long after Krais left, a man with sullen cheeks and about a dozen soldiers arrived. Among them was a figure who stood out: a man with slanted eyes and drooping arms. He carried a slender, long rapier at his waist. "He looks fast." That was the impression he got immediately. The man made no effort to hide himself. It seemed to stem from confidence. ''I use a fast blade. But knowing that won''t help you stop it.'' His posture and demeanor seemed to convey that message. The man with cheeks puffed in displeasure was named Polid, a rival to Leona in the succession struggle. Upon entering, Polid took a seat at a table and said, "Hey, bring Leona here." The "hey" was directed at Jaxen. Naturally, Jaxen ignored him. Chapter 76 - The Carmen Collection Chapter 76 - 76 - The Carmen Collection Chapter 76 - The Carmen Collection "Hey, are you deaf? You with the auburn head." Jaxen ignored the comment again. Watching this, Enkrid thought it was fortunate that he brought Jaxen along. What if it had been Rem? "Are you talking to me now?" Accompanying the words would probably have been a flying axe. Jaxen, on the other hand, simply ignored the provocation. That was a relief, though the person being ignored would undoubtedly feel otherwise. "You bastard, I''m Polid Rockfreed!" And so what? Jaxen''s eyes conveyed his thoughts clearly. Fortunately, before things escalated further, Leona descended the stairs. Leona arrived with her nanny and greeted them with a radiant smile. "You''re late." "Late? What about that guy you brought along as a guard¡ªwhat''s he even doing?" "You sent him, didn''t you?" ''Huh?'' Leona walked gracefully toward Polid, cutting off his complaints with a question. Polid tilted his head, confused, wondering what she meant. Then, Leona''s hand cut through the air. Smack! ''Wow.'' Enkrid admired it inwardly. Without any warning, Leona delivered a crisp slap across Polid''s face. The swing was clean, and the impact was solid enough to leave him speechless. Polid, his head turned to the side, glanced at Leona with wide eyes. "You said it yourself, you crazy bastard." Leona''s clear and delicate voice rang out. Enkrid reconsidered his earlier thoughts when talking to Krais. That woman wasn''t just sharp¡ªshe was downright ruthless to others. Clang! The sound of weapons being drawn echoed through the hall. While Enkrid didn''t draw his weapon, he positioned himself behind Leona. Jaxen stood by his side, and the fairy company commander remained silently in place. "You crazy bitch! Do you want to die?" Polid clutched his stinging cheek as he finally managed to speak. "If anyone''s dying, it''ll be you. Do you even know where you are? Did you think you could just spend money and employ troops here without getting caught?" Enkrid watched with growing curiosity. What was all this about? It seemed things were about to get very interesting. The inn at Border Guard sometimes served as a venue for guild meetings. Since the troops didn''t have official barracks, the inn business thrived. That was why this group had gathered here. The innkeeper, guarding the hall, widened his eyes at the unfolding scene¡ªan unexpected slap followed by drawn weapons. Even someone as experienced as the innkeeper looked troubled. After a few moments of thought, he made his decision and turned toward the kitchen. He''d given up. The man was wise enough to know he couldn''t stop this and had no intention of getting involved. Luckily, all damages here would be compensated under the name of the Rockfreed Merchant Guild. That''s why he remained calm. As he retreated into the kitchen, the innkeeper shot a glance at Enkrid. ''This won''t get too out of hand, right?'' Enkrid, familiar with the innkeeper Allen, gave him a subtle nod. Leona wasn''t reckless. She wouldn''t allow things to escalate into a full-blown fight. Despite the tense atmosphere, this commotion was all there would be. "You''re so stupid. That''s why the previous leader didn''t entrust the guild to you," Leona said. She appeared completely unbothered by Polid''s protests or his threats of force. Her entire demeanor radiated confidence, as if daring anyone to lay a finger on her. Enkrid found her attitude fascinating. ''Bold.'' How should he describe this? She had a knack for cutting off any chance of resistance or response. "Do you even know where you are? Say it." Grinding his teeth, Polid growled in frustration but unconsciously answered. "Bor-Border Guard." "Exactly, you idiot. This is Border Guard. And you hired some back-alley guild to do dirty work here? Even knowing I''m under the escort of Border Guard''s standing army?" "I-I didn''t¡ªno, I mean, I didn''t know about the Border Guard escort until after¡ª" Polid''s voice faltered, his bravado crumbling under her pressure. His trembling hands betrayed his fear. Shing! Clack. A man standing behind Polid partially unsheathed his sword but then slid it back with a click. The sound seemed to snap Polid out of his stupor. He changed his tone in desperation. "I didn''t do it! I''m being framed!" Judging from the situation, the truth was clear. ''He must have planned his alibi before coming here.'' But the intense atmosphere almost made him confess everything. Click. Leona clicked her tongue, pulled out a chair, and sat down. Crossing her legs in her leather pants, she took out a cigarette. "Fire." Her nanny brought a candlestick and lit the cigarette for her. "Sit down. Aren''t we here to discuss succession?" This was the same woman who had caused weapons to be drawn. She exhaled a puff of smoke as if nothing had happened. Polid dragged a chair noisily and sat as well. Starting a fight here would clearly not end in his favor. Did he not realize where the two squads outside were stationed from? The two began a heated discussion. They exchanged points and counterpoints, preparing their respective claims for succession. For Enkrid, it was a barrage of words he could barely follow. "You want to inherit the guild but can''t even interpret the trade codes or decipher the maps? Have you memorized the guild''s cipher language?" "Th-that''s something the steward can handle! Besides, I''m the legitimate heir! What right does an outsider like you have¡ª" "The previous leader acknowledged my qualifications to inherit the guild. Are you saying you''ll go against his decision? Claiming legitimacy by blood alone won''t convince anyone when you lack the ability to lead." Enkrid listened with half an ear. Leona clearly dominated the conversation, both in tone and content. ''So, was the assassination attempt his last desperate gamble?'' Border Guard happened to have groups willing to take on such jobs. Was this clever planning or sheer stupidity? The two bickered for quite a while longer. From what Enkrid observed, Leona seemed to be using this meeting as an opportunity to mock Polid. "Are you really the son of the previous leader? You don''t look like him at all. Makes me suspicious." "You... w-what? Are you saying my mother might have... someone else''s child?" Enraged, Polid stammered and slammed the table with a loud bang. "That''s not what I meant. But if that''s how you interpret it, well, what can I say?" Leona exhaled another puff of smoke, completely in control. Was she always like this? Reserved and quiet, wasn''t she? Who knew? They''d only spent two days together, and they''d exchanged fewer than fifty sentences. People were complex, after all. No one was simply one thing. "This damned woman!" "Watch your mouth, you ugly bastard." "You wretch!" The man, who had held back even when his mother was insulted, reached for the shortsword at his waist when called ugly. Seeing this, Enkrid lightly gripped the hilt of his sword. This was a place where the Border Guard ensured safety, and unsheathing a sword for a fight here was unthinkable. One of the reasons the Border Guard elevated the city''s value was its guarantee of civilized discussions without resorting to violence, whether for merchants or nobles. Of course, backdoor dealings and assassinations still occurred, but drawing a sword openly? That was tantamount to requesting death. Jaxen stood to my right, and the company commander observed from a step behind as if watching a show. I placed my hand on my sword grip, covering Polid''s bodyguard within my weapon''s range. ''First step to the left.'' I would unsheath the sword and slash downwards at his crown. With no time to assume a proper stance, the draw and the strike had to be simultaneous. Polid''s guard, who was within my range, reacted. With a subtle motion, he extended his arm further. What kind of swordsmanship would he use? For a moment, Enkrid wished the man would attack. Logically, he knew it wouldn''t happen, yet he couldn''t help but hope. ''How fast is he?'' Was he faster than Rem''s axe? Or the hybrid elf''s whistle dagger? He wanted to experience it. To face it. To measure his skills against his opponent. This was pure competitive spirit¡ªa burning desire to test his mettle. The heat of it coursed through his body. If the man attacked, Enkrid would strike him down. A strange tension filled the air between them. Meanwhile, Polid broke out in a nervous sweat. His thoughts raced: could he draw his sword here? Would he seem cowardly if he didn''t? Leona despised people like him. If you''re going to draw your sword, do it. If not, resolve it with words. If neither, don''t even start. Without the last will of her predecessor, she would have avoided dealing with him altogether. The tense standoff rendered the inn eerily quiet. And then¡ª Thud. The sound of the inn''s door being flung open broke the silence. The thick wooden door swung wide, striking the wall with force. The person who had burst in expanded Enkrid''s field of vision. Both he and his opponent relaxed slightly, retreating half a step in unspoken agreement. ''What was I thinking?'' This wasn''t like Rem, who would draw a weapon without regard for the situation. For a moment, Enkrid had nearly lost himself. He sighed inwardly and turned his head. A familiar face appeared¡ªTorres, from the frontier defense forces. Behind him were five others in similar attire: tunics over checkered brown leather armor, topped with dark brown coats adorned with eagle-crested shoulder patches. "We are the Royal Frontier Defense Forces. We''ve come to arrest the instigator who hired Aspen''s spies to stir up trouble." "Eek!" Polid let out a foolish squeal. His bodyguard grabbed his shoulder to steady him. Enkrid found himself curious about their relationship¡ªit didn''t seem to be a simple employer-employee arrangement. "You dragged Aspen''s dogs into the succession battle?" Torres'' words caused Polid to pale, but Leona remained unfazed. ''Who called the frontier defense forces here?'' Enkrid silently observed the situation unfold. "All present will be detained," Torres announced. Neither Polid nor Leona reacted. Instead, a calm man with brown hair and a modest appearance stepped forward from behind Polid. "Are you saying you''ll detain people without evidence? This man is the heir to the Rockfreed Trading Company. Surely you haven''t been bought by the opposition?" His words, insinuating bribery, made Torres frown briefly before breaking into a faint smile. "...Quite the cheeky bastard," he said, openly expressing his displeasure. But the man wasn''t wrong. The reason a major trading company was discussing succession in Border Guard was precisely because the Border Guard''s standing army maintained strict neutrality. If trouble arose within the city, the standing army would inevitably intervene. But their commitment to neutrality meant that without solid evidence, they couldn''t detain anyone, leaving them open to misinterpretation. ''A calculated move.'' The opponent had played their hand wisely. Torres, aware of this, couldn''t simply cut down the "cheeky bastard" outright. A tense silence followed. Leona broke it. "Bribery? Of course not," she began, denying the man''s implication. "Though it''s possible someone from the company may have involved Aspen''s spies," she added, prompting Polid to flinch in shock. Seeing his reaction, even Enkrid nearly sighed. He might as well confess outright. "We don''t know yet, which is why I called the frontier defense forces," Leona continued. Who called them? Enkrid was genuinely surprised. Leona explained further. "Until this is resolved, I request both heirs be detained. We''ll uncover the evidence in the meantime." She scanned the room. Her ability to steer the situation with a few words was impressive. "I heard there''s a ringleader who fled. Let''s capture him and have him confess." It was a checkmate¡ªa gambit leaving no room for escape. Could the fugitive withstand interrogation if captured? The current detainees had all claimed ignorance, stating only that the leader knew everything. And that leader had escaped. "Very well, Lady Leona. But what if the fugitive doesn''t show up?" asked the brown-haired man, now addressing Leona directly. "Then it wouldn''t be the frontier defense force''s concern," Leona replied. "After that, it would become an internal matter for the trading company, and the major figures would decide the heir''s qualifications." The brown-haired man grinned, understanding the implication. ''Once they leave the city...'' Could Leona handle Polid''s guards? Enkrid doubted it. "I''m a merchant. I don''t ask for favors without compensation. Whoever captures the fugitive first will receive this." Leona produced a dagger, placing it on the table. A long, slender blade sheathed in black leather¡ªa stiletto dagger. "The Carmen Collection?" Someone recognized it. Enkrid noticed Jaxen stepping forward. It was rare for his usually stoic friend to react to something as simple as a dagger. Not that it lacked value. ''Unexpected.'' Carmen was a renowned assassin who had made his mark with custom-crafted weapons. While his assassination skills were notable, his craftsmanship was unparalleled. The weapons he crafted were known as the Carmen Collection, and the dagger Leona revealed was one of them¡ªsaid to pierce and withdraw without leaving a trace of blood. "Why are you giving that away?" "This is mine. A gift from the previous generation chief," Leona replied firmly, ignoring Polid''s protests. "It''s whoever brings him in." A bounty had effectively been declared. Enkrid couldn''t help but marvel at Leona''s cunning. ''She summoned the frontier defense forces to buy time, declared a bounty to incentivize others, and ensured everyone gained something.'' Everyone except Polid. Still, the reward was enough to set many eyes aglow. "I''ll bring him in," someone declared unexpectedly. It was Jaxen, volunteering confidently. Enkrid nodded, surprised. Jaxen rarely acted so decisively. ''He must really want that dagger.'' The task wouldn''t be difficult. In this city, the underworld was controlled by the Gilpin Guild. Its leader, Krais, was one of Enkrid''s subordinates. Enkrid had already ordered them to keep an eye out, making the fugitive as good as caught. Chapter 77 - Two Days to Resolve Chapter 77 - 77 - Two Days to Resolve Chapter 77 - Two Days to Resolve "When bored, practice sparring." Torres summarized the situation. "Then, we''ll stay here for two days. If the issue isn''t resolved by then, both of you will be escorted to the unit. Once witnesses or evidence are collected, we''ll address the matter accordingly." Polid attempted to protest, but a grinning man on his side grabbed his shoulder, whispered something in his ear, and restrained him. Leona remained indifferent. "Fine." She nodded, seemingly unbothered, as if this was what she had been hoping for all along. Enkrid, observing the unfolding situation, nudged Jaxen in the side. The ever-alert Jaxen intercepted the gesture with his palm. "What is it?" "You''ve got a thing for collecting knives?" This was news to Enkrid. He''d never seen Jaxen display such behavior before. All of Jaxen''s belongings in the quarters were standard-issue supplies. The man didn''t even bother with personal items. "It''s Carmen''s stiletto," Jaxen replied matter-of-factly, as though that explained everything. Enkrid wasn''t well-versed in such things. He''d only heard in passing that Carmen''s collection was both famous and exorbitantly expensive. Jaxen elaborated when he noticed Enkrid''s lack of comprehension. "Even with dozens of gold coins, it''s nearly impossible to acquire. Do you know who Carmen is? The title of ''master craftsman'' isn''t given lightly. A single blade from Carmen can spark deadly fights on the black market. A few years back, Carmen''s third work, the Katar, surfaced and caused chaos among assassin guilds." Enkrid didn''t know the specifics, but the chaos Jaxen referred to wasn''t an exaggeration. Many professional killers lost their lives over that blade. It was later reclaimed by the continent''s top assassination group, rumored to be the Dagger of Geogr. "The stiletto is Carmen''s fourth work," Jaxen continued. Carmen had crafted seven unique blades, each tied to a story: First Kill ¨C a pocket knife, used to murder a slave trader, Carmen''s master, but was reportedly destroyed. Stick Sword ¨C a thin and long cane sword, used to stab the soldier who violated Carmen''s sister. Katar ¨C used to kill the squire of the noble who led the soldiers. Stiletto ¨C used to pierce the noble''s heart. Hunting Dagger ¨C used to slit the throats of the noble''s followers. Sword Breaker ¨C to shatter the noble''s treasured blade, symbolizing the completion of Carmen''s revenge. Invisible Blade ¨C a weapon said to vanish in daylight. Its true purpose remains a mystery. Some speculate it was meant to kill Carmen himself, while others believe it failed its final purpose. "That''s quite a story to carry around," Enkrid remarked when Jaxen finished recounting it in a calm, deliberate tone. Jaxen responded with indifference. "It''s not memorization; I simply know it." Enkrid couldn''t help but feel that Jaxen had shifted the topic to avoid lingering on his enthusiasm. "Are you planning to sell it if you get it?" Enkrid teased. "Why would I sell it?" Jaxen retorted, his eyes unusually wide. Clearly, the stiletto wasn''t just a treasure to him¡ªit was a genuine desire. Enkrid found it odd but didn''t press further. He had always kept a respectful distance from the personal lives of his squad members. It was one of the secrets to his success as a unit leader. Across the way, Polid''s group huddled. A plain-faced man, a laughing scoundrel, and a swordsman with drooping arms whispered among themselves. The man with the rapier briefly locked eyes with Enkrid before averting his gaze. Enkrid''s thoughts shifted. He''s someone I''d like to test myself against. *** "This complicates matters." "A poor choice, it seems," said the swordsman, his tone dull. "Perhaps inevitable," replied the plain-faced man with a resigned smile. "Was it?" The swordsman''s interest seemed minimal. His gaze wandered to the fairy and her companions. Interesting people. The fairy, in particular, caught his attention. Known for wielding the "Sword of Speed," she seemed a worthy challenge. The others weren''t lacking either. The red-haired one walked with silent confidence, ready to draw his blade at any moment. "They''re worth cultivating," the swordsman mused, imagining them under his command. "What now?" "When things got complicated before, what did we do?" "We resolved it with brute force." "Then do so again." The swordsman''s gaze flickered to Enkrid, noting the soldier''s fair face and steady demeanor. Not so young, but interesting nonetheless. It felt like watching an excited kid gripping a sword for the first time. Showing such blatant fighting spirit... To claim it didn''t stir something within would be a lie. When someone flaunts their confidence, isn''t it natural for a swordsman to want to answer the challenge? "Please, I''m counting on you." The brown-haired man gave a slight bow before turning to Polid, trying to calm him down. "Don''t lose your temper. There''s no need to worry. After all, if there''s no evidence, it''s over. Besides, once we''re back in the city, whose side do you think the merchants will take?" "But... but what if they catch them?" "It''ll still be fine." The brown-haired man smiled with his eyes, soothing Polid''s anxieties. Polid remained uneasy but had no choice but to force a grin. "Trust me." Polid squeezed out some courage and added, "Once we''re back, it''s over. Everyone is my father''s man, so they''ll all back me up. That harlot will be done for. If it''s a shame to waste her, maybe I''ll even take her as a concubine." Would that really happen? The brown-haired man thought Polid was an idiot but kept it to himself. Leona silently observed the two. She couldn''t hear the conversation clearly. The brown-haired man had faith in the strength of the enforcer. The enforcer, meanwhile, was entertaining the idea of whether knocking out the soldier flaunting his fighting spirit could lead to a fight with the fairy. Jaxen overheard their conversation but paid it no mind. To him, it seemed like an act to put Polid at ease. His only interest lay in acquiring Carmen''s stiletto. Krais. He hoped Krais had successfully swayed the guild members. Jaxen trusted him. Though Krais was physically inept, his resourcefulness was exceptional. Having spent time together in the same unit, Jaxen had seen this firsthand. There was no need for concern. If it doesn''t work out... The dagger could always be acquired through other means. As Enkrid stepped aside to respect Jaxen''s peculiar hobby, Torres, having wrapped up the situation, approached him. "How have you been?" "No reason not to be fine." "True. Looks like we''ll be wasting two days in this inn." Torres had a point, but was it necessary to idly waste time? Enkrid trusted Krais to do his part. In the underworld, rules governed their domain, and it was best to leave matters to experts. Krais was one of those experts. Why else would he have chosen to enter the "Madmen" unit directly? There were many possible reasons, but the clearest one was simple: he didn''t have to fight. The atmosphere in this unit was fundamentally different from others. Krais had found his place and surely had a plan in mind when he decided to seize control of the guild. Enkrid believed in him. Sure enough, by evening, someone sent by Krais arrived. "Is there someone named Enkrid here?" It was a boy, barely a teenager, his voice just beginning to deepen. Nervous, he glanced around, wary of his surroundings. A guard stationed at the inn motioned toward the interior. At that moment, Enkrid, who had been training in isolation techniques using the tables and chairs in the hall, stepped forward. Bare-chested, he draped a large cloth over himself as he walked out. The cold wind chilled the sweat on his forehead almost instantly. The air was biting. "That''s me." The boy, dressed in a makeshift coat, stared at Enkrid and said firmly, "I have a message for you." The boy''s tone was resolute. Enkrid pulled out a few coins from his pouch, sensing the boy''s nervousness and figuring he could use some spare change. The boy''s determined attitude left a favorable impression. However, the boy refused the coins. "No need. I''ll receive my payment from the guild." Instead, he handed over a small note. It was an impressive gesture, one that suggested Krais had a firm grip on the guild. A mere errand boy declining coins¡ªremarkable. "Who is he?" One of the guards stationed around the inn asked as he approached. "He''s from Krais," Enkrid replied candidly. "What''s he up to now?" Krais was known for dabbling in various ventures, handling information, selling tobacco, and arranging courtesans. Hiring a kid for errands was nothing out of the ordinary. Enkrid returned to his room and unfolded the note. "Before the morning, two days from now." Though brief, the message was clear. Krais would have their target soon. "What are you up to all day?" Torres asked as Enkrid tossed the note into the fireplace. "Training." "During a guard mission?" "It''s not like anyone will attack us right now." "And the client doesn''t mind?" "As you can see." "Fair enough." Even Leona seemed unbothered, watching him with interest. Enkrid paid no attention to her or anyone else. Audin''s advice echoed in his mind. "Isolation techniques build your body like a fortress, one day at a time. Dedicate yourself today to lay the foundation for tomorrow." He admired how elegantly Audin had phrased it. Missing even a single day would be a disservice to himself. Enkrid was a man of resolve. He incorporated isolation techniques into his daily sword training. "Don''t you ever get bored?" Not at all. Watching himself improve day by day was exhilarating. The training helped him maintain his blade''s edge and focus. The "Heart of the Beast" technique, however, wasn''t something he could use lightly during training. As he continued his practice, shirtless once again, Torres commented with a smirk, "You must have no sense of modesty, being the daughter of a merchant family." Leona simply smiled lightly in response, her eyes fixed on Enkrid. His face, his body, and even the sweat dripping from his efforts¡ªeverything aligned perfectly with her preferences. Unfazed by the stares, Enkrid focused on his movements. Watching him intently, the fairy company commander asked Jaxen, "Does he enjoy being the center of attention?" "Not sure," Jaxen replied curtly. The commander didn''t press further, her gaze returning to Enkrid. A well-trained body and a handsome face were always a welcome sight. Enkrid gripped the chair''s sides, lowering himself until his body hung below it before pushing himself back up, his forearm muscles flexing with each motion. As Torres observed, two border guards joined him. "Is that him?" "The one who took down the curse? Yeah, that''s him." Speaking loud enough for Enkrid to hear, the guards chuckled. Enkrid, finishing a cycle of his training, turned to Torres. "Bored? How about a sparring match?" With plenty of time to kill and a spacious yard behind the inn designed for mercenaries and swordsmen, it was an ideal setting for a friendly duel. "Your lady''s quite generous," Torres said, glancing at Leona. She nodded without hesitation. "This should be entertaining." Her quick approval left Torres no room to object. The guards welcomed the idea even more enthusiastically. "Isn''t he supposed to be only high rank?" "You''re up first, Captain Torres. This kind of thing starts from the bottom, right?" The growing excitement pleased Enkrid. "Why not all at once?" Thus began an unexpected sparring frenzy. To avoid turning the duel into something deadly, they snapped branches to use as makeshift swords, though everyone took the practice seriously. "Count me in," said the company commander, joining the fray. By then, everyone in the inn had become spectators. "They''re insane," muttered one of Leona''s bodyguards, shaking his head. Yet, with Leona''s permission, there was no stopping them. Chapter 78 - Painted with Passion Chapter 78 - 78 - Painted with Passion Chapter 78 - Painted with Passion Torres still possessed outstanding skill. When sparring with him, Enkrid lost seven out of ten bouts. "Your skills have improved," Torres said, standing still and catching his breath. A sudden thought struck Enkrid¡ªwhat would happen in a real fight with sharp blades? He had no idea. Enkrid was not the type to face battles with absolute certainty. No matter how skilled one was with a sword, a single stab to the heart from a seven-year-old wielding a dagger could end it all. Skill aside, the outcome of a life-or-death battle was impossible to predict. "Do you think so?" Enkrid replied while lying flat on the ground. Then, he sprang to his feet. "Next is me." "Bring it on." Despite the season''s cold breath visible in the air, sweat flew and heat rose in the clearing behind the inn. How had it come to this? Somehow, everyone was taking turns fighting Enkrid. It was a series of sparring matches, a valuable experience for him. The frontier defenders, including Torres, excelled in unconventional combat techniques. That didn''t mean their fundamentals were lacking. With a snap, a defender broke a branch and held a piece in each hand. "My specialty is daggers. Be careful not to get hurt." He held two short sticks, each about half the length of a forearm. "Let''s both be careful." "That''s what I''m saying. Let''s be careful together." The defender grinned. His smile radiated pure competitiveness, free of malice. Snap! Branches clashed, and Enkrid engaged in another fight. After exchanging a few moves, Enkrid expected his opponent to close the distance. Instead, the defender crossed his two short sticks to catch Enkrid''s sword, twisting it aside. Then, unbalancing Enkrid, he threw one of the sticks, hitting him roughly in the torso. "In a real fight, that would''ve been your eye," he remarked. This man was remarkable¡ªalmost on par with Torres. It became clear why the frontier defenders were given special treatment. Enkrid silently nodded, acknowledging yet another defeat. It was time for a brief rest. Everyone naturally paused for a break. Leaning casually against the door connecting the clearing to the inn was Jaxen. As Enkrid stepped inside, Jaxen spoke. "If your opponent uses a dagger, you shouldn''t be so focused on closing the distance. Just because your fundamentals are solid doesn''t mean you should rely on them alone. When an opponent crawls toward you on the ground, is stabbing them with your sword the only option? Why not kick them instead?" Whether Enkrid won or lost, Jaxen always had something to say. It was a teaching moment, though some might dismiss it as nagging. For Enkrid, it wasn''t. He listened carefully. "I didn''t expect him to use those tactics with daggers," Enkrid admitted. "His primary weapon is likely a sword breaker," Jaxen explained. A sword breaker was a blade with a serrated back designed to snap an opponent''s weapon. This man specialized in disarming opponents. "It was good that you didn''t give up your distance, but you should''ve prepared for what came next." Jaxen reviewed the sparring session in detail. Enkrid always gave his best effort. Had he allowed the defender to close the distance, he would''ve been overwhelmed. By maintaining the gap, he''d at least seen the sword-breaker technique in action. "You did well there," Jaxen noted. "Think about how to counter it next time." Training in swordsmanship basics, physical conditioning, and mastering techniques¡ªall were important. But addressing situations that arose during sparring was a task only Enkrid could tackle himself. That was Jaxen''s advice, and Enkrid agreed. It took hundreds of repetitions for a movement to become second nature. To make anything his own, Enkrid had to ponder and review it. Reflection and study¡ªthese were Enkrid''s true weapons. And so, he did. "After the break, it''s my turn." Another defender spoke, one skilled with both sword and kicks. He didn''t merely step forward; he seamlessly incorporated kicks into his moves. Though challenging to face, each match was a learning experience. Six defenders, including Torres, sparred with him in rotation. While their techniques shared similarities, they also showcased unique skills. Each had individuality, yet all excelled in the basics. There was much to learn. In the past, such sparring sessions might not have been as beneficial. It was inevitable¡ªsomeone who hadn''t climbed a mountain couldn''t fully appreciate the view from the summit. But now was different. "Focus on a single point more." The technique Enkrid learned from Ragna shone through. It was only natural that the Heart of the Beast formed the foundation of his daring. "Keep your senses sharp at all times," Jaxen advised, emphasizing the need for constant vigilance. Enkrid nodded. As he wiped sweat from his brow, Leona approached. "You must really enjoy this," she remarked. "Enjoy what?" "Using a sword." "Does it seem that way to you?" "Yes." Leona often struck up conversations, though they were usually trivial. To Enkrid, her manner seemed like a spider observing prey, never letting it out of sight. ''Though comparing her to a spider doesn''t quite fit her looks.'' Anyone could see she was a stunning beauty. "Is it because of the fairy company commander? You don''t seem very sensitive to a woman''s appearance." "It''s not entirely that." "So, am I just not your type?" What did she mean by that? Her playful expression hinted at mischief. "A man who can ignore the beauty of someone like Lady Leona is rare, don''t you think?" Enkrid''s roundabout reply conveyed his lack of interest. After their brief exchange, Leona smiled demurely and sat next to the commander. "Be careful. He''s got a way with women," the commander quipped. To this, Leona chuckled. Did she actually understand the fairy''s jokes? The teasing that left Enkrid flustered only seemed to amuse Leona further. "You''re the wittiest fairy I''ve ever met," she said with a laugh. "That''s something I hear a lot." Where on earth? While preparing for the sparring, I almost twisted my ankle. As I sharpened my senses, their conversation reached me naturally, loud enough to be heard even without paying attention. "We even have a child." "Pardon?" "There are people in the unit who believe that." Wouldn''t that deepen the misunderstanding if they said it like that? I was worried, but... Leona smiled and let it slide, whether she believed it or not. "Won''t you do it? Are you tired now?" Enkrid pushed aside his worries as he glanced at those waiting for him. Rumors would spread regardless. Thanks to Leona''s sudden confession earlier, even worse rumors would probably spread. "The demonic squad leader." Those stationed outside often called him that. "The demonic squad leader who destroyed the curse." "The demonic squad leader who can''t just leave women alone." He was starting to get tired of hearing it. "Demonic squad leader, huh?" Even Jaxen had uttered the words. "Hm?" "Isn''t it the case that the entire garrison is watching only the squad leader?" Indeed, that''s just how it happened. He had spent the whole day fiercely sparring. The awkward air that had settled around them at first was now gone. They had all bonded through swords and sweat. As a result, Enkrid had bruises all over his body. "Does it hurt?" When the one who struck him asked, Enkrid shook his head. "No." The strike from earlier had been spectacular. He was replaying it over and over in his mind. He blocked the downward slash by feigning to block from below, using his forearm to deflect it. The split-second decision, the timing, the boldness¡ªeverything came together. What he had absorbed in that moment was an experience he had never had before. ''Ah.'' Enkrid was once again overcome with a sense of exhilaration. He was intoxicated by what was happening now. Sometimes, the platoon leader would step forward for something like wrestling. Now and then, Leona would also speak to him. "How enviable. I should have learned that too, I guess." She said this after watching the platoon leader grab his own arm in mid-air and hang from it, putting pressure on the joint. In fact, Enkrid was busy trying to endure the technique by falling. "Use wrestling. Soldier." The platoon leader chimed in with his own advice. Enkrid wasn''t sure if it was because he had been listening to Jaxen or if it was just out of goodwill. Even now, he didn''t know why, but it didn''t matter. Enkrid kept a listening posture, respecting the advice given to him. "Your balance is a bit off. Who''s watching your body conditioning?" It wasn''t just the platoon leader. The Frontier Defenders said the same thing. Auldin had said the same thing too, and now the border guards were echoing it. The imbalance in the left and right. Since he was right-handed, it was only natural, but... "The first step to reaching the limits of a human is conditioning the full body muscles. You have strength, though." Torres also gave some advice. "You only thought of closing the distance with the dagger, didn''t you? Try pulling them in closer instead. What do you think they''d do then? Imprint an evil spirit on their head." It was a way to confuse the opponent''s mind. "You have some bad habits. Trying to deceive the opponent is fine, but don''t forget the basics. Where are you placing your center of gravity?" They pointed out mistakes made during sparring. Enkrid wasn''t sure how this all happened, but... He was completely immersed in everything, listening attentively. It was different from sparring with his squad. Was this fun? "Will you spar with me?" Polid''s guard stepped forward. He unsheathed his rapier and placed it beside him, asking. Enkrid nodded instinctively. It was something he had been longing for. "You''re an interesting guy. Sparring like this during a mission." "I value time very highly." During the escort mission, they had seen blood due to the succession issue of a large merchant family. Despite this, Enkrid grabbed his sword and swung it. He had to. Because the time of others was different from Enkrid''s time. Those with talent and those without could never be equal. Thus, for those who needed to make up for what they lacked, there was never enough time. The rapier''s owner found it fascinating. ''He doesn''t grow his skills instantly.'' But he was a soldier with the charm to draw in those around him. Especially the change in the relationship between the border guards and Enkrid was intriguing. The wariness that had been there between strangers had melted away, and it dissolved into camaraderie. They had gained favor in an instant. It was a miraculous sight, even though it had unfolded right in front of him. ''A rare talent.'' But it wasn''t his talent for swordsmanship that stood out. The owner of the rapier, a skilled fighter, could see that his current skill was at its limit. Enkrid''s talent lay elsewhere. Having met many talents in his life, he could think of it clearly. If he had heard that Enkrid''s dream was to be a knight, he would have immediately shaken his head. But still, Despite his talent, ''I want to teach him.'' It was an endless passion. Every word, every action, was done with purpose. His talent might not be great, but he exuded a heavy, intense energy. He had a knack for inspiring those around him with his passion alone. Even the instructor who had taught Enkrid had felt something similar. Everyone knew it wouldn''t work out, but still, they tried to impart everything they had to Enkrid. They taught and taught, never giving up. His passion and guts made "giving up" seem like a foreign word. "Will you spar with me?" That was what pushed him to speak up, to take the first step. "Eh?" His teammate, who had come along, looked at him in surprise. He was surprised too. He was an enemy, after all. It seemed strange to step forward here. And if the opponent rejected him, would it be even more embarrassing? But the truth was, he hadn''t thought that way at all before he spoke. Enkrid nodded. "Now?" His arms were bruised, and his whole body was drenched in sweat. The cold wind blowing across the open area couldn''t compare to the heat radiating from his body. Hot steam rose from his shoulders. He must have been tired. Winning or losing didn''t matter. The point was that he was enjoying the sparring for what it was. "Good." The swordsman spoke, almost unconsciously. Jaxen was suspicious of his opponent''s intentions. The platoon leader nodded with interest. All the border guards were ready to strike if anything went wrong. They weren''t going to sit by and watch anything happen to Enkrid. And Enkrid... ''Quick sword.'' He was busy picturing his opponent''s sword in his mind. How should he respond? What kind of fight would give him the best chance of winning? Could he win? "Don''t hesitate!" Rem had once said that those who fight with victory and defeat on their minds rarely survive. Instead of doubting the outcome, "Have confidence. That''s the first step." Sharpen the confidence like a blade. The heart of the beast embraces boldness. Enkrid raised the tip of his sword towards the sky. His hands gripped the sword as if to concentrate. In that moment, everything around him shifted. His focus blazed, turning the surroundings into the battlefield. He could see the armor around his opponent''s body. He could see the thin sword in his hands. If he didn''t dodge, he would die. At that thought, Enkrid became fully absorbed. Chapter 79 - Dealing with an Idiot Chapter 79 - 79 - Dealing with an Idiot Chapter 79 - Dealing with an Idiot A thin twig and one person. An arm drooping, the twig almost touching the ground. It looked like a sword. A sword sharper and more pointed than any blade. After that, there was no need to think, breathe, or do anything else. Everything happened in an instant and ended in an instant. Enkrid saw a vision of the battlefield. The moment the enemy moved their foot, he instinctively struck with his sword. Whoosh. The twig Enkrid held cut through the air with force. It only sliced the air. Then the enemy''s twig touched his neck. Thud. ''How?'' He replayed the scene in his mind. He had seen it. So, it could be said that he was struck despite seeing it. "It seems everyone says something after it''s all over, so I will too. It was about timing." The man spoke. The enemy had used a quick strike and applied it like a textbook of orthodox swordsmanship. It wasn''t that the enemy moved first; Enkrid''s downward strike was countered. ''Not a block, but a counterattack.'' Enkrid''s gaze shifted to the enemy''s feet. The soft arc of the dirt below his boots came into view. ''Twisting the body to hide the centerline.'' It was a basic move. One could even say it was a simple technique. Twisting to dodge and thrusting with the sword to finish. ''If it were a battlefield.'' It would have been similar to the first thrust Enkrid had experienced. Even though he believed he was at a completely different level now. The gap was vast. The enemy''s skill was overwhelmingly superior. A normal person would realize their own limits and be engulfed by despair and frustration. The difference was obvious. All it took was a single swing of a stick. "You don''t seem that young." The man casually remarked. Since it was a question implied, Enkrid responded. "Thirty. One more round?" "One more round?" He nodded. "Ha." At Enkrid''s nod, the man let out a bitter laugh. In his eyes, Enkrid was not quite normal. He had shown the difference between their prowess. The man had been filled with passion and set out, but seeing the clear limit, he wanted to spare Enkrid the waste of time. Defeat was painful for anyone. And it would hurt even more when facing an overwhelmingly superior opponent. What does it mean to lose? What happens to someone who faces defeat? They fall into despair and anguish. Some may refuse to accept it and struggle. ''Struggling?'' But that wasn''t how it appeared. "It seems like you''re stealing the timing to strike. How did you do it?" He was actually asking to be taught. There was no sign of embarrassment. Just like when he first tempted him, his eyes were filled with a silent flame, only watching everything with an intense gaze. ''This guy''s insane.'' The thought crossed the man''s mind, but he assumed his stance again. Even though he could see the enemy''s skill and limits. He still wanted to give it another go. They sparred again, and as expected, Enkrid lost. He lost four more times. He never gave up and accepted every blow from Polid. "You''re still not at the level to face him." Jaxen gave words of advice instead of consolation, but Enkrid didn''t particularly need consolation. Losing, defeat, he had faced it countless times. He had been beaten by younger talents. He had been overpowered by mercenaries who took up the sword later than him. He had even lost to a guy playing vigilante in the village. He had lost to bandits too. When he worked as a mercenary, he had been beaten by a bastard who proved that character and skill didn''t matter. He had run away from monsters or beasts countless times. When a harpy''s talon pierced a comrade''s heart, he was too busy fleeing. Had he hung his head each time, Enkrid wouldn''t have been here now as a squad leader. Such things never wounded him. However. "It was fun." He was just enjoying it. Enkrid was honest. "...Sometimes, the squad leader is too weird." Enkrid really didn''t want to hear such things from his own subordinates. Jaxen, who he had brought along because he seemed the most normal, was not exactly an ordinary soldier either. When he had completely ignored him Polid earlier, that wasn''t normal. Even now, Jaxen was completely ignoring Polid. Whenever Polid tried to sneak up, he would say. "You, soldier, I remember your face. I''m going to be the next head of the Rockfreed clan." But Jaxen would ignore him completely. "Hey, hey, why aren''t you answering? What''s the matter? Are you too scared to speak?" Still, he ignored him. "You little... I''ll make you regret this later." And Jaxen still ignored him. So consistent. Eventually, Polid had even complained to Enkrid. "Hey, why does that guy keep ignoring me?" Because Jaxen treated him as if he didn''t exist, Polid seemed like he was about to go mad. Enkrid thought Polid looked like someone who would start crying if prodded. Seeing him pitiable, Enkrid gave him some advice. "Because you''re speaking to him." A wise answer to a foolish question. Isn''t it because you''re speaking to him that he''s ignoring you? You shouldn''t have spoken to him in the first place. Enkrid nodded to himself, proud of his kindness. The moment Polid heard this, he trembled. "You, you, you." Unable to finish his sentence, Enkrid cheerfully walked past him. "Soldier, you''re hopeless." The company commander said as she watched from the side. There couldn''t have been a more courteous gesture. Leona had once spit out her tea while overhearing that. "Hmm, I''d like to say once again how much I truly appreciate this." And with that, she left those words behind. But why was she reacting like this after Enkrid showed such kindness with his answer? *** The repeated sparring sessions ended after a full day. Now it was time to wrap things up. The frontier guards, the company commander, and the unnamed swordsman all made an impression. Everyone, including Jaxen, could only admire his passion. But for Enkrid, it was an invaluable experience. ''Especially.'' The swordsman had shown him what a quick sword was, how to counter it, and what one could do by using speed. There was nothing etched in his mind like a lightning strike just yet. ''It''s fine.'' It would prove extremely useful when he hit a wall. After wiping off the sweat, warming himself by the hearth, and checking his gear, the next morning arrived. "Squad Leader." Krais opened the inn''s door. Behind him was the balding Gilpin, holding a man whose face was nearly destroyed. It seemed unlikely that one would be able to recognize the man after being beaten like that. "That''s him." The company commander recognized him immediately. It seemed that the fairy''s senses were different from the rest. "Ugh..." The foolish Polid hiccupped. Enkrid wondered how such a man was put in charge of a top merchant guild. He was curious about what went through the heads of those under him. ''Is he just a puppet to be used?'' If that were the case, then fine. If not, why would such a swordsman be here by his side? There didn''t seem to be any evidence of him being blackmailed. "S-show me mercy..." The captured man spat bloodied saliva, which dripped onto the floor. He had certainly been beaten badly. "This man was a bit rough at first, but after a conversation, his temperament softened." Krais said. Of course, Krais didn''t mean they had a conversation with words alone. It involved fists and feet. And it seemed that a knife was also involved. Looking at the arm, there were visible cuts. The man had been wrapped in a ragged linen bandage, but the signs were clear. "I''m the leader. Yes, it was me who caused the trouble, blinded by my obsession with Krona." The man spouted something without being asked. "Hold on." Everyone focused on the man''s beaten-up mouth, but it was Leona''s voice that brought attention to the room. "I''d like to know who gave the orders. The responsible one for the interogation is Special Sergeant Torres, right?" "...That''s right." There were a lot of eyes on them. Torres nodded, and two frontier defenders placed their hands under the man''s armpits. They started heading upstairs. Soon, Leona, Polid, Torres, the smooth-talking brown-haired man, and the swordsman who had sparred with Enkrid were all headed upstairs. Enkrid and the company commander also joined the group and decided to ascend together. "You two, please finish the guard duties." With that, Jaxen stayed behind. To be more precise, he didn''t seem to want to part with the Carmen collection''s stiletto that was right in front of him. As everyone was moving, Krais approached Enkrid, who was about to go up, and quietly asked him. "What''s going on?" "Are you asking because you don''t know, or just for confirmation?" "Let''s say I''m asking because I want to get what''s mine." This crazy.... big-eyed Krona hoarder. It was only natural to expect compensation after working. But he wasn''t about to hand over the stilettos. "This month''s pay from the guild is yours." Krais had seen Jaxen''s lips twitch slightly when he captured the man, as if considering giving the stilettos away. Taking Carmen Collection from Jaxen''s hands was beyond even a skilled person''s reach. That wasn''t the plan, though. Nor was there any intention of wiping his hands clean after sending someone on a task. Enkrid had no problem offering up the pouch he would receive from Krais. "It''s a promise." If Krais found out that the payment was Carmen Collection, what would he do? Would he let it go? There was nothing to think about. He would let it go. That''s because it was Jaxen''s coveted item. Krais knew his place within the squad. Surviving within the squad wasn''t something that Enkrid was the only one who learned. Jaxen, Rem, Ragna, Audin¡ªall of them. If they wanted something, Krais would cleanly step back. He never did anything foolish, like sticking his hand in a dog''s mouth to check if it would bite. "We''ll meet again later." Enkrid gently pushed Krais''s forehead and made his way upstairs. The group claimed a room. In the middle, the leader of the spy group knelt. Torres stood by the man, hand resting on his sword hilt. Polid was with three others, and Leona was by herself. When Enkrid joined the company commander and Leona, the arrangement finally made sense. Once Enkrid arrived, Leona spoke. "I know we need to interrogate him separately, but may I ask a few things first?" She directed the question at Torres. "Go ahead." Torres''s attitude had been the same since the first day. He had always been stiff with outsiders from Border Guard. Leona didn''t seem to care about that. She was once a target of assassination. Even if it wasn''t an interrogation, she had every right to ask a few questions. It all started with the issue of succession. The man who had been beaten into pudding. Leona bent her knees and looked the kneeling man in the eye. "Who ordered this?" "I... I don''t know. All I know is that they told me to use available resources to target the lady at the inn..." The man answered, trembling, but spoke clearly, as if he knew that if he didn''t, it would be the end for him. "Do you recognize anyone in this room?" The man glanced around, briefly eyeing everyone, including Enkrid. He shook his head. He likely hadn''t been the one to directly order this. Such operations usually involved a few more people in the middle. From here on, it would be interrogation time. Polid had been the one to target Leona. Once that was revealed, the succession issue would be resolved. Enkrid suspected that would be the case. "Well, it seems like a few fools who got greedy for my purse decided to cause this trouble." Leona began to speak unexpectedly. "...What?" The leader of the captured spy group tilted his head. "I didn''t do it!" Then, the foolish Polid displayed his wit. He didn''t even properly listen to what Leona had said before blurting out. "Who''s saying that?" Leona retorted. "Eh, no, I mean¡ª" Polid''s eyes began to wildly shake. It seemed he had completely forgotten about slapping her cheek during their first meeting. Now, he was acting like this. Enkrid thought that if he had been in Polid''s position, he would have been thoroughly embarrassed. In the end, Polid stammered, unable to continue, and instead made the dumbest noises his tongue could produce. Torres frowned. Everyone else from the guild side, except for Polid, remained calm. The situation took a strange turn. They all thought that the blame would fall on Polid. "Bold," the company commander whispered from behind. Only Enkrid could hear it clearly. Bold? What does she mean? Enkrid didn''t immediately understand the situation. Curious, he started thinking things through. When someone acts strangely, there is usually a reason behind it. Of course, members of the squad, including Rem, often acted without reason. But Leona wasn''t like them. Enkrid began to reflect on the situation. Rockfreed Guild, Polid, Leona, the succession issue, the attack within Border Guard, frontier guards, the captured man, Aspen''s spies. He took in all the facts he knew and looked back. Only then did he realize something and nodded inwardly. It was something he hadn''t thought about while immersed in the sparring and training. That moment of realization had come. Chapter 80 - Leona Rockfreed Chapter 80 - 80 - Leona Rockfreed Chapter 80 - Leona Rockfreed "Are you trying to cover up a crime under Aspen''s name?" When Leona asked again, "That''s enough. Beyond this point, it''s our jurisdiction." Torres interrupted her. "Is that so? In any case, the misunderstanding has been cleared up." Leona smiled sweetly, her expression seeming to say, ''I''m pure, innocent, and clueless.'' Of course, she was none of those things. She knew everything and was anything but naive. Instead of answering, Torres grabbed the man by the shoulder and said, "Let''s go." Without even sparing Enkrid a glance, he shoved the man¡ªhis face already a mess¡ªby the shoulder and glared daggers at him. "Spare, spare, please spare me!" "Shut it. A spy for the enemy shouldn''t talk." "I''ll tell you everything I know. I''m not a spy! This is a misunderstanding!" "Don''t worry. Cutting out your tongue will be the last thing I do," Torres said. The man''s legs gave out beneath him, but he wasn''t even allowed to collapse. Two of Torres'' subordinates grabbed him under the arms, lifting him like a sack of grain. Torres'' irritation was evident, likely because things weren''t going as he''d expected. ''So there was some kind of mind game.'' Too preoccupied with his sword, Enkrid had failed to notice the dynamics until now. Why didn''t Leona pin the blame entirely on Polid? What would happen if it were revealed that Polid was behind it? ''Would that responsibility lie solely with Polid, or would it extend to the Rockfreed trading company?'' If the trading company were held accountable, would Leona gain more by acknowledging it or denying it? If she was confident the company was entirely hers, denial would be advantageous¡ªespecially if she didn''t need to cut off a fool like Polid over this issue. Enkrid had assumed Leona would sacrifice Polid to secure her position as successor. That way, Border Guard could leverage the situation to demand compensation, using the company''s dishonor as an excuse. After all, the city''s reputation was intertwined with the military''s. ''Did she make this decision for the trading company''s sake?'' Could it be that she valued her trading company that much? "Why? Have you suddenly fallen for my beauty?" Enkrid realized he''d been staring at her face. What kind of woman was she? Her face now looked far brighter than when she''d slapped Polid. She exuded confidence, and yet there was no vulnerability in her posture despite her relaxed demeanor. She wore the expression of someone whose calculations were complete¡ªa true merchant. Her attitude suggested there was no need to sacrifice any part of her company. She must have a trump card. It wasn''t the Border Guard standing army, that much was clear. What an intriguing woman. "No," Enkrid replied matter-of-factly. "That''s disappointing." Leona smiled again. Had he thought her beauty didn''t suit a spider? He''d need to correct that opinion. The smile she wore now, free from the mask of innocence, was that of a spider savoring its prey. "Thank you for everything," Leona said, marking the end of the mission. At the inn, she packed her belongings, with Polid grinning beside her. Perhaps he thought he''d won either the argument over succession or the assassination attempt he''d orchestrated. Still, his grin seemed to declare he was now the master of the trading company. "You there, soldier. You''ll be clinging to my coattails before long," he sneered. ''Didn''t he start by picking a fight with Jaxen?'' At some point, he''d redirected his hostility toward Enkrid, consistently targeting him. ''Should I have ignored him?'' Perhaps it was a problem born of politeness. The thought crossed Enkrid''s mind briefly. Polid''s face was a study in smugness¡ªgrinning lips, eyes full of certainty, and even flaring nostrils betraying his inner excitement. "I won''t cling to your coattails, but I can cut off your ankles," Enkrid muttered under his breath. Only Jaxen, the commander, and Leona, who were nearby, caught his words. "In that case, go for the neck. It''s quicker," Jaxen advised. "Even men find you popular, soldier," the commander teased. "My apologies," Leona added with a smile. "What? What did you say?" Polid, having missed Enkrid''s remark, demanded an explanation. Enkrid ignored him entirely. Perhaps he shouldn''t have bothered being polite from the start. Polid briefly lost his temper at being ignored but quickly calmed down when the plain-looking man behind him tugged at his sleeve. After that, Polid continued glaring at Enkrid, his confidence unshaken. ''It''s obvious he''s planning something.'' Whatever it was, it didn''t matter. Any further disturbance within the Border Guard would no longer be tolerated. ''They''ll probably try to attack me the moment we leave.'' Considering the faces in Leona''s group outside the inn, Enkrid wondered if they''d truly be able to handle their opponents. Lost in thought, he barely noticed Leona approaching him. "It feels like I''m being escorted," she said. It wasn''t just a feeling. Escorting her was part of the mission. Polid may have revealed his hand foolishly, but Leona was the opposite. What was she relying on? This newfound curiosity started gnawing at him. Leona''s demeanor showed not a hint of worry. "I will never forget the debt I owe you for saving my life. If the opportunity arises, I will surely repay it." The nanny, who had narrowly escaped death from the retired soldier-assassin on the second floor, approached and spoke. "Understood." Enkrid didn''t pay it much mind. In such a vast continent, the chances of meeting again were slim. However, the onlookers thought differently. Two squads, which had been guarding the entire inn, still lingered. They had even decided to take on additional escort duties, as a matter of accountability for the incident at Border Guard. "Charming every woman in passing." "Casting the venom of allure on every lady that brushes by." "Thy name, the seductive squad leader." Were they composing poems instead of doing their jobs? "...What are they doing?" The nanny blushed as she asked. "They''re practicing to become bards after retirement. Let them be," Enkrid said offhandedly. Meanwhile, the captain leaned closer to Leona and whispered. Enkrid''s keen hearing caught her words. "You''d better be careful. That soldier has a knack for seducing every woman in sight." Seducing? Enkrid hadn''t even been near a woman in ages. He''d been too busy dealing with endless chaos to entertain such thoughts. "Are you leaving? It seems like it''s about time." Enkrid politely saw off the two squads. As if truly aspiring to be bards after retirement, they quickly composed a song about the "seductive squad leader" and sang it aloud. They were madmen. The incident left the Torres faction, specifically the Border Guard, with a headache, while the soldiers here remained unfazed. And understandably so. They were simply following orders. Thinking about the Border Guard reminded Enkrid of Leona''s exceptional cunning. "Does this mean we''ve indebted the Border Guard?" With a few words, she had turned the situation around. Whether the Border Guard acknowledged it was another matter. She framed the attack as a city security issue. If the assault stemmed from the succession dispute within the merchant guild, it would be Rockfreed''s responsibility. If it was a targeted attack for Krona, it became a matter of city security. "Truly remarkable." Everyone knew Polid had orchestrated this, but with the assassination target denying it, the matter was left ambiguous. Perhaps this was the mark of a natural-born merchant. Now that the outcome was clear, it was easy to see, but without hindsight, it could have gone unnoticed. After the Torres faction left, Krais, who had remained at the inn, filled in some gaps. "The Border Guard will deny it in the end. Still, the situation favors them. You said those were Aspen''s spy units, right?" When Enkrid asked why that was a disadvantage, Krais had explained smoothly. "If you start assigning responsibility for problems caused by Aspen''s spies, who benefits? Aspen''s spies targeting the merchant guild versus trying to incite chaos within the city¡ªwhere do you think the emphasis lies?" Krais''s explanation made sense. The moment Aspen''s name entered the picture, the situation tilted in favor of the merchant guild. In the end, one could say they owed it all to the spy who had proclaimed national glory and died. Listening to this, Enkrid realized Krais''s mind worked nearly as sharply as Leona''s. He''d always known Krais was clever, but... ''He could easily rival the heir to a major guild,'' he thought briefly. Intelligence aside, what was the use? Krais''s dream was to run a salon for swindling noblewomen. Lost in thought, Enkrid eventually reached the city gates. The guard on duty turned as Enkrid and his companions approached. "Enkrid, wasn''t it?" The voice came from the swordsman of Polid''s faction who had approached unnoticed. "I didn''t catch your name," Enkrid replied. "My apologies. I''m not in a position to reveal it." "..." The swordsman stared at Enkrid before directing his words to someone behind him. "I just want to exchange a few words. You can drop the killing intent." Standing close to Enkrid''s right, Jaxen had approached unnoticed. "You''re perceptive. Killing intent, you say?" Jaxen responded. The man who had previously dismissed Polid was now surprisingly talkative. "Don''t worry. I don''t need killing intent to sever someone''s head." When had the commander arrived? She stood behind the swordsman, silent and poised. The swordsman glanced at them both before dismissing them and focusing on Enkrid. "Put down the sword," he said abruptly. "There are things passion alone cannot achieve." It had been a long time since Enkrid had heard such words. Give up. You lack talent. You''re wasting your time. You''re walking a path that doesn''t exist. Must you feel pain to understand it? Don''t you already know that being cut by a blade hurts? The more time you spend training, the more apparent your lack of talent becomes¡ªwhy can''t you see it? Of course, he could see it. He''d heard it countless times before. Even if words didn''t throw him into despair, Enkrid knew one thing. He could never become a knight. That much was true at one point. And yet, he wielded his sword. He refused to give up. He had lived, clutching at the shattered fragments of his dream. He hadn''t even been able to see the wall blocking his way, surrounded as he was by darkness. Even then, he had swung his sword until his palms bled. Would these words change anything now? Heart of the Beast, Sense of Evasion, Isolation Technique, and the basics of swordsmanship¡ª The Valen-style mercenary sword techniques, endlessly practiced. Today''s repetition, tomorrow''s training, the steady improvement... A turtle''s slow progress might seem trivial to others, but to Enkrid, every small step was significant. And so, without realizing it, he smiled. "Are you smiling?" The swordsman murmured, noticing his expression. "An unnecessary concern," Jaxen interjected. The commander silently observed Enkrid. The swordsman awaited a response, and Enkrid gave the answer he had long held within. "The next time we meet, I might win." It is arrogant to presume to know someone''s future. That was Enkrid''s reply. "I see," the swordsman said, refraining from forcing his perspective on someone unwilling to listen. It was a small commotion at the city gate. "Thank you for your efforts," Leona said, turning to address the group as they approached the city walls. Just as it seemed they might leave, Enkrid noticed the guards looking uneasy, glancing between the party and the outside. What was the problem? Beyond the city walls, an armed group had gathered. The moment Enkrid saw them, he understood. If the other side relied on force, what could they rely on? This was Leona''s ace. Those outside the city walls were her trump card. "Mathis of the Rockfreed Merchant Guard is here," said a lone figure who had entered the walls. A man with a neatly trimmed mustache, his steps light and his coat dusty from travel. No merchant guild could rise on this continent without military strength. Without it, they''d be devoured by bandits, marauders, monsters, and beasts. The man was the commander of the Rockfreed Merchant Guard. His mere presence commanded attention. Enkrid felt an odd sensation. His vision seemed to focus entirely on Mathis, leaving no room for anything else. The man''s aura was overwhelming, drawing all eyes to him. "Interesting companions you have," Mathis remarked, kneeling before Leona. "The guard is here, Master," he said to her. It was only then that Enkrid looked beyond him. The Rockfreed Merchant Guard¡ªa force of over thirty armed soldiers¡ªstood stationed outside the city gates. Chapter 81 - Striving for Excellence Chapter 81 - 81 - Striving for Excellence Chapter 81 - Striving for Excellence Since Mathis''s arrival, a certain question hung in the air. "Why is she the merchant leader?" This naive query from Polid was quickly answered by Leona. "While we were here spending time, everything inside the merchant guild was already concluded. Oh, and the inauguration ceremony will be held once we return." Leona''s straightforward response silenced further questions, and as the situation unfolded, Polid''s group began showing signs of unease. Observing this, Leona beckoned to them with a simple gesture. "Come. I''ll accept you." Although those were not her exact words, to Enkrid, they carried no different meaning. It was as though she was saying, "Let''s all live together under the name of the guild from now on." However, two people did not move¡ªthe man with an unassuming demeanor and the swordsman who had previously told Enkrid to lay down his weapon. Polid remained as well, though his reaction was far less composed. With a loud thud, he dropped to his knees, his strength seemingly drained. "Why? I''m his son, aren''t I? Everyone in the guild worked for my father!" Why indeed? The behavior of those who had sided with Polid suggested their decision-making abilities might be questionable at best. Enkrid''s gaze shifted to the two remaining figures. It seemed likely that the real scheming had come from their direction. The two, however, did not appear to be in any distress. Even as everyone else turned their backs on them, they remained calm and collected. "It''s over," said the swordsman. "Indeed," replied the unassuming man. Both ignored Polid entirely. When Polid cried out in desperation and tried to approach Leona, Mathis intercepted him. "Take one more step, and I''ll cut you down. Former merchant leader''s son." Curt and blunt¡ªMathis''s words put an end to the matter. The two who had seemed the most suspicious quietly withdrew, while Polid sank further into despair. His reaction became a live demonstration of how panic and despair could transform a person, as he knelt on the ground, drooling uncontrollably. The bystanders, including merchants, city guards, and even beggars near the gate, all watched the scene unfold. One of the guards seemed unsure of how to proceed, but Leona took charge. "Take him away. We can''t let the former merchant leader''s son die on the street like this." "Yes, ma''am." At her command, Mathis gestured for someone outside, who came in and dragged Polid away. The guards even cleared a path to make the process smoother. "Hold on a moment." Leona stopped Mathis briefly and then approached Enkrid. "Did you give Carmen''s stiletto to your subordinate?" The tone of her question gave Enkrid the odd feeling that she was upset about a gift meant for him being passed on to someone else. Though he couldn''t pinpoint why, it left him slightly uneasy. "... He really wanted it, so yes, I did." Glancing back, Enkrid saw Jaxen standing silently. When he had first handed the stiletto to Jaxen, the reaction had been unexpectedly subdued. Enkrid hadn''t anticipated tears of gratitude, but Jaxen had simply taken the weapon without much fuss, muttering only one enigmatic remark: "Why train the senses? How do you dodge a dagger flying from behind without even seeing it?" To some, it might have sounded nonsensical, but to others, it could have been the long-sought answer to their questions. "This will be in the next lesson." That was all Jaxen had said, but it was enough. He was someone who understood the art of negotiation. "I see," Leona said with a faint smile, nodding. Despite her pleasant expression, Enkrid couldn''t shake the feeling that he somehow owed her. A truly peculiar woman, he thought. Leona studied Enkrid''s face for a moment before speaking again. "I''m a merchant, and negotiations begin with understanding what the other party wants. You gave away a high-value item, and even with two beautiful women around, you''ve shown no interest." Leona had spent time at the border guard post observing the intriguing soldier. What did this man want? He showed no particular reaction to treasures that others would covet, even looking slightly annoyed when listening to Jaxen recount the stiletto''s history. Though he didn''t seem entirely without ambition, he also wasn''t someone consumed by greed. Leona, who was well aware of the advantages her appearance afforded her, had even attempted subtle flirtation. "There''s a fairy who warned me about his notorious history with women," she mused, recalling the occasional interruption. Still, even when given opportunities, Enkrid had remained unmoved. ''What does this man desire?'' Her pride as a merchant was piqued. A merchant''s job is to facilitate transactions, no matter the circumstances. Leona belonged to the Rockfreed Merchant Guild, an entity known for striking deals even with reclusive groups like wilderness shepherds, shadowy leather guilds, and glacial rangers. She loved her guild and took pride in it. Though Enkrid was just a low-ranking soldier, something about him was undeniably captivating. ''What is it about him?'' Her observations finally revealed the truth. ''It''s not an object he wants.'' He sought something far more profound¡ªhis future. Better swordsmanship, greater skills, unmatched strength. This was why she brought Mathis into the equation. The best warrior in the Rockfreed Guild and a former city-renowned mercenary captain. "How about training under Mathis? You could cultivate your future here." It was a tempting offer for anyone drawn to the idea of improving through intense training under a skilled mentor. Of course, Leona didn''t know about Enkrid''s squad. ''Impressive though he seems,'' he thought. Jaxen had commented, "In a small city, he''d be considered top-tier. That''s about it." When asked to compare him to Torres, Jaxen had replied, "By soldier rankings, he''s above elite but not a knight." That assessment was blunt but accurate. Among Enkrid''s team, however, such "above-elite but not knight" individuals were abundant. Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, and Audin¡ªall of them were on par or beyond. Having already proven themselves in various ways, they had nothing to gain from Mathis''s training. "I''ll decline." Enkrid''s refusal came without hesitation, leaving Leona visibly caught off guard for the first time. "This is the first time I''ve ever failed to close a deal on something so tempting," she admitted. Enkrid found himself liking this resourceful and stunning merchant leader. ''What I like most is that she doesn''t resort to clumsy tricks.'' When he thought about it, it was rather amusing. Of the people he''d met during this ordeal, one had demanded he lay down his sword, while another had asked him to join her side because she found him intriguing. The contrast couldn''t be more stark. "Must I stay by your side?" Enkrid opened his mouth to respond. Since the other''s interest in him wasn''t entirely unpleasant, Enkrid treated them with similar goodwill. Leona blinked at his words. "That''s true. The task is done. So, how about we become friends? Spending a day with a friend doesn''t sound too bad, does it? What do you think?" Though it wasn''t quite a proposal for friendship, it was an offer to remain amicable. "...Excuse me?" "If you refuse, this poor girl might be heartbroken." Poor girl? Who was the poor girl here? She was now the owner of the Rockfreed Trading Company. "Mathis, may I stay in the city for just one more day?" "As you wish." Mathis stepped back. "I suppose you need the unit''s permission?" At Leona''s follow-up, the company commander answered in Enkrid''s place. "As compensation for completing the mission, you''re granted one day of leave." It was an unexpected answer. "Why? You don''t want to?" Leona teased with a mischievous smile. Her charm was striking; even such expressions seemed endearing. A spider who devoured an entire trading company now wore a cute face. While Enkrid mused on that thought, he nodded. "I don''t mind." He had encountered countless instructors, and they all agreed on one thing: rest when you can. Swinging a sword endlessly and overworking one''s body wasn''t the answer. Enkrid understood this well. Moreover, he felt a peculiar sense of debt to Leona, which he wished to repay. "Alright, then." Leona turned back to Mathis. Meanwhile, Jaxen approached, prompting Enkrid to speak first. "Don''t spread strange rumors." "That''s something you''d say to a barbarian. Do I look like someone who would do that?" Enkrid silently thanked his decision to bring Jaxen along. If it had been Rem, baseless stories would have already circulated. "Good work, soldier." The company commander''s lack of objection to leaving Enkrid and Leona alone indicated that his earlier words were mere jokes. "If you miss me, feel free to come back, soldier." Even so, he couldn''t resist adding a fairy-like joke. By now, Enkrid was so used to such remarks that they hardly fazed him. "Sure, I will." As Enkrid nonchalantly brushed it off, Jaxen slyly added: "By the way..." "By the way?" "If you find more of the Carmen Collection, use your charms to bring them back." Was this a joke or a genuine request? It was harder to discern than the company commander''s fae humor. "It''s a joke." At least Jaxen claimed it was, though there seemed to be a hint of sincerity. The Carmen Collection¡ªhe clearly desired it deeply. "I''ll be off now." With Jaxen and the company commander gone, Leona finished wrapping up her matters and returned. "Let''s go." What followed was an enjoyable day. Wandering through the market, dining at a restaurant Enkrid had scouted for its excellent food, they filled their stomachs. "This is truly delicious!" Leona raised a thumbs-up after tasting herbal pie and Vanessa''s pumpkin soup¡ªsignature dishes of an inn known for its exquisite cuisine. "That''s tasty too, isn''t it?" They exchanged jokes, shared laughs, and found joy in a seemingly insignificant day. As night fell, they shared a couple of drinks. "I had a great time." Though they spent the night together, there was no physical intimacy between them. "Alright, from today, we''re friends." "Sounds good." Thus, they became friends, chatting until morning before parting ways. Enkrid occasionally appeared lost in thought, but it was clear the time had been enjoyable for both. *** "To think such a thing would happen." Mathis found it highly unusual. Leona was not the type to take breaks. She was tenacious, thorough, and extraordinarily capable. Without those traits, she wouldn''t be where she was today. In other words, Leona was nothing like Polid, her predecessor''s incompetent son. It was no wonder rumors claimed he was a bastard, given his idiocy. Leona had lived a life entirely different from Polid since childhood. For her to linger over a mere man for a day? It was rare. That didn''t mean Mathis disrespected her. "The future of the company is bright." Under Leona''s leadership, the Rockfreed Trading Company would surpass its former heights. Mathis trusted her fully. After her day off, Leona returned with a refreshed demeanor. "Let''s go." The company resumed its journey, fulfilling the former head''s will and securing their future. Leona consumed everything in her path¡ªher way of answering the call. Her predecessor had saved and raised her. By sparing Polid''s life, she considered the debt repaid. She knew well that this was the true intention behind the will. As the carriage rolled on, Leona chuckled, recalling the previous night. "That was fun." How many times had she engaged in aimless chatter? Meaningless conversation¡ªso unlike her. And yet... "Enkrid." His name lingered in her mind. *** A man with a plain appearance and a swordsman wielding a rapier exited Polid''s group, heading outside. No one stopped them, though Mathis cast a sharp glare. "Let them go." Leona''s single command settled the matter. The two ventured beyond the city gates. Despite the season nearing winter''s end, it was a harsh road for two travelers. Magical beasts could appear at any moment. Yet they seemed unfazed. "Why did you do it?" They belonged to the same nation. The swordsman was an exceptional warrior, unfazed by most monsters. The plain man found it curious that someone as indifferent as him had intervened for a stranger¡ªone who could easily be considered an enemy. "I just thought it''d be a shame to let it go." Not everything in life ends neatly. Some things are worth stepping into. "I see." The plain man nodded. It was time to return. Though their ploy had failed, they had gained valuable insight into the exceptional capabilities of the next head of the Rockfreed Trading Company. Information was always invaluable. *** Enkrid returned to his unit by morning. "You look like you''ve had a good time." Rem greeted him enthusiastically. He already knew everything. That much was clear from his opening remark. "Was it good?" It was easy to misinterpret. Though he had merely spoken with Leona, whatever answer he gave would lead to nonsense. Rem was that kind of person. Instead of replying, Enkrid grabbed his sword. "A duel?" "You''re on, you barbarian." Rem eagerly picked up his axe. He enjoyed being Enkrid''s first sparring partner after a return. This time was no different. As they faced off, Enkrid reflected on the day he spent with Leona. It was an odd experience¡ªrest, a break. For once, he had forgotten about swords and simply relaxed. They talked all night, engaging in what might be called meaningless chatter. Yet why did it feel... "Like it might work." Spending time with Leona, Enkrid felt a strange sensation, as though he''d realized something. It wasn''t a sharpening of his focus or a newfound clarity. It simply felt achievable. The path of his sword, the steps leading to it, the movement of his shoulders¡ªeverything seemed to coalesce into an answer. What did it mean to be fast? A question he''d pondered since facing a rapier-wielding opponent seemed to reveal itself, albeit imperfectly. Chapter 82 - The Concept of Speed Chapter 82 - 82 - The Concept of Speed Chapter 82 - The Concept of Speed "You seem a bit different." "I''ve seen a lot lately. Especially regarding speed." That swordsman was the catalyst, but it started even earlier¡ªthings I''d always observed. Every moment faced during sparring sessions, like axe strikes bending like a whip. The swordsman''s blade, Rem''s axe, and the experiences and realizations gained on the battlefield. Everything I trained for in solitude and with the Isolation technique. All of it coalesced, settling in my mind. An indescribable sensation took root within me, and Enkrid entered a state of singular focus. A world where only the sword and I existed. Even the feel of the hilt faded. All that remained was the connection of points into a single line. Strength, the essential element to draw that line. The moment I met Rem''s eyes, I unleashed it. The tip of my sword traced the shortest path between two points. The blade pierced his neck. An illusion unfolded. So vivid it felt real. In the vision, my blade had punctured Rem''s neck. He collapsed, blood pooling beneath him. His eyes wide open, frothing blood at the corners of his mouth. No grudge, only pure astonishment in his gaze. "Damn, that was really fast." The expletive-laden comment shattered the illusion like glass, pieces scattering to the ground. Beyond the shattered remnants, I saw Rem''s astonished expression. It softened quickly, his eyes lighting up like a child discovering a new toy. "What did you just do?" A faint mark marred his neck where the blade had grazed. "Almost sent me to my grave." Enkrid responded, "Sorry, nearly killed you." "I never thought I''d say this, but our little squad leader''s got serious skills." "Pretty sure I''m older than you," Enkrid retorted, his height also exceeding Rem''s. "Interesting guy, aren''t you?" With a playful grin, Rem suddenly thrust his axe forward. Reflexively dodging, I watched as the axe followed my cheek with an unrelenting whip-like motion. Sparring resumed. For the next stretch, I danced between life and death at the mercy of Rem''s axe strikes. "Do you understand now what it means to swing fast? Good. Let''s keep going." Was this retaliation for the earlier graze? Or was there some underlying grudge? Regardless, I didn''t back down. "Worried you''ll kill me again? Don''t be. I''ll make sure to finish you first." Rem''s eyes gleamed fiercely, and his arms moved with precision, not as whips but as beams of light. Where I had barely evaded before, the axe now found its mark on my neck. Yet it left no wounds, not even a scratch. The axe''s edge grazed and pulled back. Its bluntness prevented injury, leaving only a cold imprint. "If you cannot completely control the weapon in your hand, you''re a fool," Rem declared, signaling the end of the sparring session. Lying on the cold ground, I reflected on the lessons gained. What is speed? My current understanding is trajectory¡ªmovement between points. The act of connecting these points in a single motion. Visualizing the line in my mind and executing it seamlessly requires the body to follow . Strength and training were the foundation. The whip-like motion of Rem''s axe came from this very basis: muscle, conditioning, and physical prowess. The same attributes Audin had drilled into me. Strength is the foundation for wielding a weapon swiftly and with precision. Embedding the concept of trajectory into motion creates speed. This is speed. Fast as lightning. It was part of the quick sword technique. Despite the day''s repetition, near-death encounters, and escaping the ferryman''s grasp, I smiled. "Phew." I felt a surge of pride¡ªnot because someone taught me, but because I realized it on my own. A life spent being called talentless, never once imagining I''d reach such heights. The sense of accomplishment was overwhelming. ''I can go further.'' Seeing a path forward made my heart race. Rem''s parting words became a seed to ponder. Reflection and deliberation were needed. It was time to delve inward. "If you don''t want to freeze, it''d be best to head inside." A voice broke my thoughts. Jaxen, returning from outside, approached me with his usual composed demeanor, the fur-lined mantle on his shoulders billowing in the wind. I nodded from where I lay, rising to my feet. Sheathing my sword, I stretched my stiff neck and followed Jaxen into the shelter. Suddenly, a shiver ran down my spine. Goosebumps erupted across my skin, and my body tensed. The sensation was primal, a response born from instinct. I spun around, drawing my blade reflexively. Clang! The metallic ring of steel scraping against the scabbard filled the air. Holding my breath, I exhaled only after confirming my opponent. The source of the killing intent stood three steps away. J axen, as calm as ever, but with his right arm hanging loosely at his side. "Not bad." His words left me puzzled, though I understood he''d done something. Could releasing intent alone suffocate a person like this? "Karmen''s stiletto is an excellent dagger," Jaxen remarked, and I realized he was adhering to his promises. "Why do you keep honing your senses? How can you avoid a dagger flying from behind without even seeing it?" Those were Jaxen''s words. And now, what he demonstrated was likely the pinnacle of stiletto mastery. "When one resolves to kill their opponent, an unconscious momentum often accompanies it. We call that killing intent." Momentum, killing intent, malice, and willpower¡ªall similar concepts. Enkrid recalled Mathis, the bodyguard swordsman. When Mathis announced his name, his aura alone drew everyone''s attention. Jaxen had assessed him as someone on the level of a city-level warrior. "Perceiving killing intent is key. What you just saw was so blatant even a passing child could feel it and panic. It''s only natural. Keep feeling it. Use every sense you have¡ªthis is the next stage of ''Blade Sense'': the ''Door of the Sixth Sense.''" Thud. Enkrid''s heart raced again, as it had when he first conceptualized the essence of speed. "I understand." His answer was calm, but his heartbeat betrayed his excitement. He felt as though he might go mad from joy. This newfound passion was perhaps the most significant change in Enkrid. Each day had become an unrelenting delight. The thrill of growth he had never experienced before acted as both a whip and a carrot, urging him forward. "You can do more. You don''t have to stop here," it seemed to say. For what purpose? The goal was clear. Knight. That dream remained a shining star within his heart. "Let''s go inside," Jaxen said, heading into the quarters first. When Enkrid followed, Audin greeted him with a question. "Finished training for the day?" "Not yet." It was a task yet to be completed, one that would hurl his entire body into a sea of pain. But it was pain he no longer dreaded. The sweetness of the fruits that followed the torment was too alluring. Physical agony transformed into pleasure. "Let''s begin." He and Audin then began the Isolation Technique. After their training, Enkrid, thoroughly drained, washed up and returned to his bed. But Esther was already sprawled across it, resting her head on her forepaws. Enkrid reached out to stroke her head. "Ka-ang!" Just as his fingertips neared her crown, Esther swiped at his hand, her claws grazing his knuckles. If she had been serious, she could have severed his wrist instead of merely scratching his hand. Her action was nothing more than a playful protest. "What''s with you again?" He couldn''t understand her behavior. Krais chuckled nearby. "She''s been like that since the ''Enchanting Squad Leader'' song." Apparently, the jokesters in the unit had composed a ridiculous ditty about him. "Yoo-hoo, the conqueror of every woman in town!" "The hunter who targets every passing lady!" "The enchanting squad leader!" Krais started the first verse, and Rem chimed in. The lyrics and melody were atrocious, hardly qualifying as a song. "Kyah!" Esther despised the song with a passion. At its sound, she let out a shrill cry of protest. "Is it because of Krais?" Krais sang terribly, while Rem''s deep, manly voice made his parts bearable. "What''s the story with the squad leader and all these women? Enchanting squad leader, huh?" Ragna joined in, pretending to be curious but only adding fuel to the fire. "Shut up." It was better to let the rumors die down naturally than to deny them and risk further escalation. "Did you or didn''t you?" This needed an answer¡ªit was a matter of Leona''s honor. "I didn''t." "...You sure about that?" "I wouldn''t lie about something like this." What was the point of lying? Knowing Enkrid''s straightforward nature, Rem nodded, satisfied. "Are you impotent? When did you lose it? Is that why?" This bastard... "It''s fine, Brother Enchanter. God loves everyone, even those who''ve lost something." Audin chimed in, inexplicably attaching the ''Enchanter'' title before ''Brother.'' "Pfft." Krais laughed. Jaxen suppressed a grin. And Ragna, never missing a chance to provoke, added, "Then what about the commander?" "Crazy bastards," Enkrid muttered, frustrated by the abnormality of his squad. Still, he found solace in the fact that this was preferable to internal discord. "Something''s changed," Rem remarked, observing Enkrid as he lay down. "I think so too," Ragna added, with others silently agreeing. Changed? Enkrid reflected on their words. Had he really changed? "You smile more often these days. And there''s something else..." Had he not smiled much before? Enkrid thought back to his former self. He couldn''t remember much, but one thing was clear: Back then, he was clawing through darkness with no end in sight. Now, he could faintly see a path ahead¡ªa path that brought immense joy. "Always a sword-obsessed madman, but recently, it''s been more intense. Smiling, improving¡ªsomething''s definitely changed," Rem concluded. The squad agreed, though Krais quipped, "Maybe just a little crazier than before." Enkrid disagreed. He was nothing extraordinary¡ªjust someone who trained a bit more and dreamed a bit bigger. "Not that it''s a bad thing," Rem added, but Enkrid ignored him, closing his eyes. Later, Jaxen and Krais left for their duties, and Enkrid quickly fell asleep, as always overwhelmed by fatigue. Esther found him infuriating. ''Why is it that every time he leaves, there''s always some woman involved?'' Even within the unit, trouble arose. How could he look at other women when she was right there? Once, she had been the epitome of allure. Men lined up to offer their devotion. But now, she was a panther. ''Why do I care?'' It was a trivial, unnecessary thought. Her goal was clear¡ªto rid her body of the accursed burden. With that resolve, Esther leaped silently into Enkrid''s embrace, pressing against him. "Ow. Go to sleep, Esther," Enkrid muttered, pulling her closer. ''He''s so shameless,'' she thought, before using her ability to siphon away a fragment of his fatigue, casting it into the void. It wasn''t much, but for someone who pushed himself to the brink daily, it made a difference. Chapter 83 - Heat Chapter 83 - 83 - Heat Chapter 83 - Heat As the ferryman of the Black River had mentioned, Enkrid''s days were akin to an endless repetition of today. Each day was wholly dedicated to training. "Control, control, and more control." The sparring sessions with Rem focused on Enkrid achieving absolute mastery over his body and sword. The chilling sense of malice that occasionally gripped him came from the piercing gaze of Jaxen, lurking somewhere in the shadows, observing him. Jaxen had a knack for making one''s body freeze up just by staring. Even the slightest lapse in vigilance felt like it could lead to death. Jaxen himself did nothing more than stare, yet that alone was maddening enough to drive Enkrid crazy. Finding Jaxen, who constantly exuded killing intent, became a regular part of Enkrid''s training. To achieve this, Enkrid tried expanding the scope of his hearing and other senses but failed repeatedly. The concept of the "Door of the Sixth Sense" remained elusive to him. "It doesn''t come easily." Jaxen persisted with the same unyielding practice. Meanwhile, Enkrid began losing weight, a testament to the grueling nature of the training. Difficult as it was to endure, Enkrid never told anyone to stop. "Take it easy, you sly stray cat. You''re seriously annoying." "Did a barbarian sense my killing intent? My finesse must be lacking." "You let it slip on purpose and still talk like that. Now, where''s my axe? I''ll split that stray cat head of yours wide open with my aaaxxe!" Watching Enkrid wither away, Rem occasionally threw snarky remarks, which inevitably led to more quarrels. Then, as if it were routine, Enkrid would hold Rem back, stopping him from rhythmically searching for his axe. "This is my choice," Enkrid would say. "Damn it. Just don''t overdo it, alright?" Coming from someone who said "don''t overdo it," it was ironic that Enkrid rarely had a day without bruises covering his body. This was thanks to Rem''s fists and axe. Rem didn''t know how to hold back, either. Though it seemed hypocritical, Enkrid never told him to stop. Had it not been for his training in the Isolation technique, he wouldn''t have been able to endure any of this. Audin would often check in. "If it''s too much, you can take a break, brother." This guy wasn''t a saint; he was clearly a demon''s priest whispering. "Take a break if it''s too hard" and "It''s fine to stop" were his constant refrains. But those were the whispers of the devil himself. "Maybe I should." When Enkrid showed even the slightest sign of giving in¡ª "Well then, we should train your mental fortitude," Audin would say, immediately launching into another bout of relentless exercise. "Mental strength comes from physical power. This is a secret, but I''ll share it with you, brother. Mental resilience is actually born from muscles." This offhand remark led to an increase in the day''s training weights and a more intense combination of Isolation techniques and wrestling. The unhinged priest seemed to take pleasure in tormenting people while imitating a demon. Yet, surprisingly, Enkrid didn''t resent him for it. Occasionally, just occasionally, when the training became unbearably grueling, Audin''s demonic whispers served to reawaken Enkrid''s resolve. "I feel like taking a break today." Knowing full well how Audin would respond, he sometimes said this deliberately. And Audin, with a wide smile, would reply, "You must be feeling quite capable, then." This provocation was inevitably followed by another grueling session as Audin prepared a regimen that pushed Enkrid to his limits. Exhausting. Unbearable. No one could call this anything but arduous. Yet, the results of his training were beginning to accumulate in his body. Even though he still couldn''t perfectly defend against Rem''s axe when it moved like a beam of light, He could now block two out of three strikes without losing balance. In sparring with Ragna, his ability to read moves had improved. Previously, he could barely anticipate the immediate next step; now, he could string together several feints to manipulate his opponent''s actions more precisely. Though Ragna and Rem were vastly different opponents, both contributed significantly to Enkrid''s growth. However, detecting Jaxen''s killing intent remained an insurmountable challenge. "The Door of the Sixth Sense, huh." He had experienced countless moments when his entire body broke out in goosebumps. No matter when or where, he felt the need to brace himself for Jaxen''s gaze and the malice behind it. The thought was chilling. It was as terrifying as the idea of dying from endlessly repeating today. Enkrid had encountered assassins twice before. Each time, the situation demanded he repeat today''s pattern. Yet, the malice he felt then never matched this intensity. They say well-trained assassins hide their killing intent entirely. Enkrid recalled the assassins he''d faced. The first had attacked him at the medical barracks. "There was noise rather than malice back then." Was that assassin just clumsy? The second time, he had faced a half-elf who threw whistling knives. Back then, Enkrid had focused entirely on tracking every movement, every flick of the fingers. His eyes had been wide open, staring as if to pierce through his opponent. Neither instance aligned with the notion of using the sixth sense. *** As the brutal winter of the season''s end began to give way, the air subtly changed. It wasn''t warm yet, but the chill seemed to be lifting slightly. Rain fell when snow was expected, hinting at the arrival of spring and the start of a new year. Though the cold would linger for a while longer. This region was known for its prolonged winters. Thinking about assassins naturally led his thoughts to them again. "They were said to be relentless, but have they stopped coming?" The Grey Hounds, Aspen''s famed special forces, were notorious for their persistence. Hadn''t he experienced their tenacity firsthand? "To send assassins after one soldier..." Though it remained on his mind, there was no sign of any further attacks. To be honest, Enkrid wondered if he could even react, given how consumed he was by training with Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxen. "Whatever happens, I''ll deal with it." For now, worrying about the Grey Hounds¡ªor whatever else¡ªwasn''t a priority. "It''s a gift for tomorrow''s me." The time he poured into his body today would be a gift he''d enjoy in the future. Tomorrow''s Enkrid would embrace today''s pain as a source of joy. *** Mitch Hurrier stood at the center of the training ground, sending the chill of winter into the air. Moving his body and swinging his sword, steam rose from him as the cold was forgotten. He focused solely on the sword, himself, and his opponent. Swing after swing, he continued. Having risen from his sickbed and regained his strength, Mitch Hurrier behaved like a man possessed by his sword. His practice weapon was a thick, weighted blade designed for training. The sword carved several lines through the air before halting, its tip angled sharply toward the sky. Then Mitch''s arms bulged with effort as the blade cut downward through the air. Swish From above to below. Anyone with a discerning eye would have shivered at the precision of that strike. The sword drew a perfect vertical line, its tip unwavering. Even after swinging such a heavy weapon for hours, Mitch delivered a flawless strike, astonishing in its precision. Mitch Hurrier had turned his defeat into the foundation for growth. ''That''s why I can''t allow myself to die like that.'' While he lay bedridden, he heard someone had sent an assassin after the man who had defeated him. That knowledge infuriated him. Yet, the assassination had failed. And that made Mitch happy. ''You should die by my hand.'' On the battlefield, no less. Since his loss to Enkrid, surpassing him had become Mitch''s reason for living and his ultimate goal. "It looks impressive, but it''s also a disgrace." His father harshly criticized him, claiming Mitch had become a madman swinging a sword mindlessly. Such behavior wasn''t what the family patriarch expected from a member of the household. But what did that matter? Better to be an obsessed swordsman than to tarnish the family''s honor by sending assassins in the name of the Grey Hounds. "I''m far more respectable." Mitch smirked. He eagerly anticipated the day he would meet his foe on the battlefield. It wasn''t a futile dream. Considering how Aspen was mobilizing its forces after the last defeat, a rematch seemed inevitable. "See you on the battlefield." The face of his opponent was etched vividly in his memory. It was one he would never forget. It had been the first time Mitch had lost like that. That defeat had turned him into a training addict who refused to leave the sparring ground. The Grey Hounds'' commander, seeing Mitch''s current state, had stopped further assassination attempts. "Can you capture him if you meet again?" "I''ll meet him. And I''ll kill him." Satisfied with Mitch''s response, the commander decided to let the matter rest. There would be no more assassins sent after that soldier. *** "Let''s retract the comment about you changing. That seems more accurate." Rem spoke after their sparring session had concluded. "It feels like you''re in a slump." The foul-mouthed barbarian rarely threw sharp words at Enkrid, but this time, he did. "Is it a habit of yours to stop progressing as soon as you improve?" Enkrid chose not to argue back. It wasn''t hard to understand why Rem was acting this way. It was the nature of his growth: just when his instructor began showing enthusiasm, his progress would come to a halt. For an observer, it could be incredibly frustrating. Rem wasn''t the only one to feel this way. "It''s strange how you can''t seem to adapt. You absorbed the basics so quickly, yet when it comes to applying them, you''re stagnant. Normally, a sudden improvement is a sign of talent, but with you, it feels like you''re just barely keeping up," Ragna remarked sharply. Even Ragna, typically indifferent, voiced his opinion, echoing Rem''s thoughts. Audin also chimed in with similar sentiments. "Brother, making your body move as you envision requires training. Repetition is key. Usually, that''s all it takes. But... Brother Squad Leader, you''re a bit slow." A roundabout way to say he wasn''t making progress. Jaxen said little on the matter. After all, the issue of the "sixth sense" was one that Enkrid had yet to even grasp at. *** That morning''s training session saw the soldiers, professionals in their craft, dedicate themselves to honing their bodies. As career soldiers, physical conditioning was their livelihood. In the midst of the training hall, Rem abruptly halted. "Let''s call it a day." "Fine." Leaving Enkrid behind, Rem headed to the barracks. It wasn''t a matter of giving up. Not at all. He simply realized that simple sparring wouldn''t suffice for what they needed now. "Real combat," Rem muttered as he entered the barracks. Esther lifted her head slightly to glance at him, and the rest of the squad also cast their eyes toward him. For the first time since joining, Ragna, Audin, Rem, and Jaxen all agreed. When Enkrid eventually entered, Jaxen grabbed his arm. "Take a mission." "Huh?" "It''s time for some real combat. Throw yourself into a battlefield and survive¡ªif only we could..... But since that''s not possible right now..." Rem added, "It''s necessary." It was clear they were all of the same opinion. Enkrid was genuinely surprised by their united stance. ''I knew they wouldn''t give up on me.'' But he hadn''t expected them to come together like this. That even the lazy Ragna was taking the lead amazed him. For the four of them to act as one was a sight Enkrid never thought he''d witness, not even in his dreams. "Nyaa." Esther mewed at his feet. Enkrid picked up the panther and said, "I was thinking the same thing." It wasn''t about recklessly throwing his life away. Enkrid had always refined his skills and tested his blade on the battlefield. For someone lacking natural talent, overcoming stagnation required nothing less than relentless effort. ''If I''m blocked and stuck...'' He''d keep pushing forward, clawing his way through, just as he always had. "Starting tomorrow morning, let''s take a mission. A beast hunt would be ideal." "Apparently, there''s one available," Enkrid remarked. Enkrid had already looked into it. "You had the idea of combat experience in mind already, huh?" Jaxen said. Enkrid scratched Esther''s head with his fingers as he responded, "Yeah." Jaxen had often explained what the "sixth sense" entailed. To unlock it, one had to step into the realm of instinct. "Fighting with all your senses sharpened to a razor edge, repeatedly confronting life-and-death situations, teaches you how to predict, perceive, and respond on a primal level," Jaxen had explained. Even a knight could attain this ability with the right training. Encouraged, Enkrid resolved to face beasts, whose instincts would undoubtedly challenge his own. Their raw killing intent would be sharper than Jaxen''s. But of course, not everything would go as Enkrid planned. *** "The mission? Handle this for me first. We''re short-staffed right now," the squad leader of a neighboring platoon interjected the following morning as Enkrid searched for a beast-hunting mission. A shoemaker had reported strange noises coming from his workshop at night. The suspicion was an undead-type monster living beneath it. "If something like that existed in the city, there''d already be chaos." "I know, but still. Completing a mission gets you merit points, right? Just take care of it. You''ll be doing me a favor," the squad leader added, reminding Enkrid of a previous encounter involving a stitching job. Reluctantly, Enkrid agreed, planning to reassure the shoemaker and quickly move on to the beast hunt. As he prepared, Jaxen casually asked, "Not going for the beast-hunting mission?" "I''ll head there after this," Enkrid replied. This bout of real combat was sure to help. ''Whether it''s my blade, senses, or how I use my body...'' He felt that fighting beasts would reveal something crucial. *** The shoemaker''s workshop was an ordinary place¡ªuntil the owner revealed a hole in the floor leading to a tunnel. "Look here! I found this underneath!" Surprised, Enkrid peered into the hole to see an artificial cave below. "Let me check it out first," he said. Descending into the dimly lit tunnel, he noted six branching paths. "What kind of lunatic made this?" The tunnels reeked of deliberate design. Enkrid chose the leftmost passage. The faint hum of vibrations reached him as he walked deeper inside. Soon after, a burst of light and sound erupted. Boom! The heat and force engulfed him, and as his consciousness faded, Enkrid realized, ''I died.'' The last thing he felt was the searing heat. Now, he had to figure out how it happened. Chapter 84 - A World of Life and Death Chapter 84 - 84 - A World of Life and Death Chapter 84 - A World of Life and Death Deciding to save someone revealed a gap. ''Ignite.'' It was an explosion. He relived the moment repeatedly in his mind. It had happened so suddenly, without warning. Even during the previous attempt by the mixed-blood fairy assassin, there had been at least some last words exchanged before death. This time, there was nothing like that. Only the searing pain of burning heat, the agony of a fiery death, remained. Being stabbed by a sword or spear often felt like being impaled by a heated skewer. This time, however, it was truly death by fire. ''A trap? Judging by the explosion, it must have been a magical one.'' "What''s got you so deep in thought?" "Just thinking about taking on a task." *** After finishing his morning meal and responding to Rem''s question, he headed back to pick up another job. "Please, I''m begging you¡ªtake care of this for me." The squad leader, known for his stitching duties, didn''t hesitate to plead for help. Did he even know about the state of that place? From his sunken eyes and haggard expression, it didn''t seem like he was trying to pull a fast one. He merely looked like a soldier worn down by exhaustion. "Things seem rough lately?" "The troublemakers at night have decreased, but we''ve had an uptick in external threats like monsters and beasts, so more soldiers are being diverted to handle those." The desperation in his voice was genuine. Honestly, even if he was lying, Enkrid could simply refuse the request. And even if he accepted, as long as he didn''t step inside the cobbler''s shop, he wouldn''t face the same dangers. ''This seems like a wall I can easily avoid.'' Thinking so, Enkrid asked, "What if I don''t go?" "Then we shelve it." Some tasks were essential for the soldiers to handle, while others could be delayed or ignored. This one fell into the latter category. "Yeah, it''s not absolutely necessary. But the cobbler isn''t the type to talk nonsense. I''d go myself, but the platoon leader keeps watching me, and I can''t get away." He seemed sincere. When Enkrid didn''t respond right away, the stitching squad leader pressed on. "You remember, right? That time with the bundle of leather? Remember?" "I remember." He had wondered if the man had gone back to drowning in drink after returning to the city, but here he was, diligently working instead. "I''m worried. Just go take a look. He''s someone I''ve known since I was a kid." "Fine." He decided to at least check it out. He''d figure out what was going on and decide from there. If it were a standard trap, it would have been poison darts or something of the sort. Yet there had been no telltale sound or signs of a trap activating. Which meant magic. ''If it''s magic...'' There wasn''t much he could do about it. Thinking about it wouldn''t solve anything, though. By the time he reached the cobbler''s shop, later than usual, he knocked on the door. No answer. "This is the Border Guard Standby Force. Open up." After knocking harder and calling out, the door finally opened. Instead of the cobbler, a young woman with long braided brown hair and a face full of freckles stood in the doorway. "The Standby Force?" Her wide, deer-like eyes blinked at him. "For a request," he said, glancing inside. The cobbler was nowhere to be seen, only a gaping hole in the floor. "My father said there was something under the shop and went down there." Damn it. "Stay here," Enkrid muttered, brushing past her and stepping inside. He saw dirt falling from the edges of the hole. ''Impatient bastard.'' The cobbler had apparently grown tired of waiting for help and decided to go in himself. "You shouldn''t go in there. He said it''s dangerous," the freckled girl said, her face drawn with worry. She bit her lip and added, "I''ll go in and get him." "I''ll handle it. You stay here." "No, I''m going too." It was clear she wouldn''t back down. Rather than waste time arguing, Enkrid dove into the hole. Gripping the edge, he slid down the slope feet-first. Every movement was fluid and controlled, thanks to the mastery he had gained through the isolation technique. But this wasn''t the time to dwell on such thoughts. As soon as he reached the bottom, his trained ears caught the sound of footsteps. Ahead, he saw the cobbler hesitantly stepping onto a path. Behind him, the cobbler''s daughter rushed past Enkrid. "Father!" Enkrid grabbed her by the waist, pulling her back and shouting, "Stop!" The cobbler turned around, tension and confusion etched on his face. Before anyone could react further, the cobbler took another step forward. With a deafening boom, the air compressed and slammed into Enkrid. It all happened in an instant. Fire, heat, and explosions. Fwoosh. "Agh!" The cobbler''s final cry was cut off as the flames consumed him, along with his daughter. Boom! As Enkrid''s body burned in the aftermath, he thought about how the explosion would ripple upward. It was a hollow death. As the pain faded and darkness engulfed him, he awoke once more to greet the morning. "Had a bad dream or something?" Rem''s question came from beside him. There was no way he could call it a good dream. In the dream, the ferryman on the black river had smiled faintly at him. When he had relived days of the past, at least he had started and ended them by his own hand. This time, it felt unjust. It was an unavoidable force, one beyond his control. ''If left alone, they''ll die.'' The father first, then the daughter. Who knew how far the consequences would reach? Not that it mattered. The moment they died, the task was a failure. ''I could just ignore it.'' If Enkrid turned away, the two would surely die. And so what? It was a world of death and killing. It was a time of chaos. Enkrid, a soldier by trade, had taken countless lives on the battlefield. However, he thought, "Those people didn''t step onto the battlefield to kill or be killed." They were just trying to make a living, running their little shop. Enkrid understood that the kind of knight he dreamt of being wasn''t the chivalrous hero sung about by bards. He had to face reality, especially in a world that had changed so much. Even so, "I don''t want to lose." He could have turned a blind eye and walked away. After all, what was the big deal? Just a craftsman and his daughter dying, nothing more. But it was happening right in front of him. And only Enkrid knew about it. If this were a war¡ªsomething beyond his power to stop¡ªthen maybe he could have let it go. But here, "I can stop it." If it was something he could prevent, then he couldn''t just stand by. He wouldn''t call it chivalry. He''d call it stubbornness. But that didn''t diminish his idea of what being a knight meant. Even if no one noticed, if there was something worth protecting, a knight should protect it. Because those who dream cannot betray their dreams, Enkrid decided to visit the craftsman and his daughter. "Damn it," Enkrid muttered irritably as he started his day. He was annoyed with himself, with the slow steps that had allowed the craftsman and his daughter to die the day before. "You must''ve had a really bad dream," Rem remarked from behind him. Starting his day anew, Enkrid ate and mulled over his plan as he went to take on a new assignment. "Should I check each passage one by one?" There couldn''t be a worse way. He had no idea how many traps the tunnels might contain. But he couldn''t think of another solution. It wasn''t like he could ask his squadmates for help. What would they think if I told them a shoemaker said there''s an undead creature beneath his shop and asked them to come along? At best, they''d mock him. At worst, no one would come. He could force someone to join him, but he didn''t want to. Would he lean on his squadmates every time something happened? Or would he face things alone? Is my dream of being a knight one where I stand behind others, running my mouth? Or is it one where I take the lead, wielding my sword? This time, it might not even involve swords. But still. "I''ll do it alone. I''ll protect them." This wasn''t something he could rely on his squadmates for. *** "The shoemaker''s been on my mind. You know me," he said. "I know. How was the snake wine?" "Delicious." After receiving another task from the sewing squad leader, he practically ran to the shoemaker''s shop. "Where are you rushing off to?" Jaxen asked as Enkrid headed out. "To save a damned commoner at a shoemaker''s shop." "Shoes and boots tormenting the common folk?" No, it''s the underground passage, Enkrid thought but didn''t say. He headed straight for the shop. Before he reached the door, he heard the sound of a hammer striking the ground¡ªbang, bang. When he knocked firmly on the door to announce his arrival, the craftsman, sweaty from work, appeared. "Come see! There''s a hole here!" "There is. Let me take a look." Enkrid helped open the hole, hammering and using an iron rod as a lever to lift the planks. "Wait here while I go down." "If a monster appears..." "I''ll take care of it." Before descending, Enkrid lit a torch. Flare. Just seeing the flames made him shudder. Once burned alive, twice was more than enough. As soon as he stepped down, an eerie feeling washed over him¡ªa primal instinctive aversion born of the fear of death. Enkrid didn''t want to enter the tunnel. But he didn''t turn back. He pushed through and stepped forward. If he turned away just because he didn''t want to, he''d live a life of running. He''d run from death before and regretted it every time. He didn''t want to feel that regret again. So, Enkrid pressed forward. The first passage felt foul the more he looked at it. Six tunnels branched off, leaving five more to check. "Where is it?" Surely they wouldn''t trap all the tunnels while leaving one clear. The second one might be safe. Carefully holding the torch, Enkrid examined the floor, walls, and ceiling. Nothing obvious stood out. Just identical paths, all dark with no end in sight. Whoever built this crazy space beneath the city... It might even connect to the sewers. Thud. Dust fell from the ceiling above. The passage didn''t seem hastily constructed, but would it collapse and bury him alive? For now, he had to focus on the task at hand. He was curious about the person who built this. "Let''s go." He moved to the second tunnel. The first had erupted in flames. Would this one be different? Standing before the second tunnel, that foul feeling rose again, but he ignored it and stepped forward. His first cautious step yielded no explosion, no fire, nothing. He inspected the surroundings carefully, torchlight revealing nothing unusual. "Looking won''t help me figure it out." He lacked the expertise to identify traps. He''d only picked up dungeon exploring through mercenary work, but proper trap detection required training. "There''s no solution to this." He had no choice but to move forward. The ominous feeling weighed on him like a predator waiting to devour him. As he steeled himself to press on, a voice startled him. "What are you doing?" The craftsman had followed him down. That one question dulled the sharp edge of fear and made the next step feel less daunting. Moments earlier, he''d felt so much, but now it was fading. "Don''t come any closer," he warned. Burning alive with the craftsman once had been enough. As he took another step, that unsettling feeling returned¡ªsomething indescribable, like he''d made a mistake. "I shouldn''t have taken that step." And he was right. Whoosh. Like the first tunnel, it exploded in flames, consuming everything. He didn''t know what lay at the end of these passages, but the traps were clear. Bang. The noise and fire consumed him. Death was inevitable. "Ah." As he died, Enkrid let out a brief sigh. Even amidst the pain, his instincts as a beast gave him clarity to assess his situation. After the third "today" ended, Enkrid found himself strangely enlightened as he began his fourth. Chapter 85 - The Door of the Sixth Sense Chapter 85 - 85 - The Door of the Sixth Sense Chapter 85 - The Door of the Sixth Sense "Jaxen." As soon as Enkrid woke up, he called for Jaxen. "What is it?" "The Door of the Sixth Sense¡ªdoes it instinctively sense danger?" "That''s where it begins." This was why Jaxen had recklessly unleashed his killing intent before¡ªit stemmed from a survival instinct. The primal urge to live, shared by all living beings. If that was the starting point... This must be it. The tingling sensation brushing against his heart, subtle yet distinct. It was fleeting and faint, yet unmistakable. Still, it wasn''t something that could be etched into his body in just one attempt. He lacked the talent for that. But Enkrid did not waste time lamenting his shortcomings. Reaffirming his lack of talent wouldn''t change anything, so he simply moved forward once more. Rising to his feet, he embraced the start of another day¡ªit was time to keep moving. "Let''s go." *** Taking on the same request, he grabbed a torch and headed to the cobbler''s shop. This was his fourth visit. This time, he arrived before the first hammer strike had even fallen. "Let''s break through this together." "What? Break through what?" Ignoring the cobbler''s confusion, Enkrid joined forces with him to carve a hole into the ground. Thus, he found himself once again facing the six branching paths. At the first and second passages, the tingling sensation returned¡ªa feeling of foreboding that couldn''t be ignored. Enkrid couldn''t help but smile. So, this is it. This place¡ªwhere he''d entered out of a simple inability to stand by and let the cobbler die. A place he would have sealed off after a few unsuccessful attempts if not for the spell traps lurking within. But Enkrid had no intention of being trapped by this "today." This was merely an accident, and accidents could be avoided with determination. He could easily drive the cobbler and his daughter out by force and call for a military unit to investigate the hole. Of course, that was the last resort. Entering blindly would guarantee death because of the spell traps. Even if he wasn''t the one dying, Enkrid couldn''t simply stand by and let others perish. However, calling for a mage¡ªsomeone worth their weight in gold¡ªwasn''t an option either. No mage would respond to a mere squad leader''s request, and who would even believe his claim of spell traps? Perhaps my squad or company commander would believe me, he thought. Regardless, this was his conclusion: This place was perfect for honing the Door of the Sixth Sense. Realizing this sent a thrill through him. It had taken only four attempts to create a crack in the gate. Now, all that remained was to pry it open. So he stepped into the third passage. At that moment, a searing pain shot through him. An invisible blade seemed to slice vertically through his body from above. It was excruciating¡ªunbearable pain, the sound of whistling wind, a chilling sensation spreading through his body, and blood gushing onto the ground as all his energy drained away. Every part of it was agony. And yet, the traces of newfound experience dulled the torment. This is why the repetition of "today" was not entirely dreadful. He was merely struggling and pushing forward for the sake of tomorrow. On the fifth morning, Enkrid resolved not to settle for the present. He set his goal: To open the Door of the Sixth Sense and make it through this tunnel. Anyone who knew would call this madness. But to Enkrid, it was simply another moment of training. To move forward. To grow. This was something different from merely struggling for tomorrow. *** "Why are you smiling about a hole beneath my shop?" The cobbler asked, confused by Enkrid''s grin. "I enjoy exploring the unknown," Enkrid replied casually, brushing off the comment as he prepared to descend again. "Be careful. I heard something moving down there," the cobbler warned, grabbing his arm. "Sure, I''ll be careful." Enkrid had many things he wanted to test. He descended, facing the passage once more. This time, his sixth sense didn''t immediately scream danger. It''s as if the gate is partially open, he surmised. From here, he intended to open it completely. Throwing himself blindly into traps had proven ineffective. He had learned that much. This was his fifth attempt. Even if he couldn''t finish it here, he would continue to struggle. He refused to waste this moment simply because it could be repeated. Not even for a second. So, what was left to do? Enkrid spent the entire day walking the passage slowly, deliberately. From the first to the second entrance, from the second to the sixth. Back and forth, over and over again, until all five of his torches had burned out. Even as the day stretched on, nearing its end, he persisted. "What exactly are you doing?" The cobbler, initially bewildered, eventually offered him lunch. "At least eat something while you''re at it." Even the cobbler''s daughter came to express her curiosity. "Why is he pacing back and forth like a duck in a stream?" By evening, the herbalist from a neighboring shop had joined them to watch. It seemed like a pointless exercise. But Enkrid focused all his attention on finding even the smallest anomaly. How did the sixth sense detect danger? According to Jaxen, it relied on the instinctive processing of sights, sounds, smells, and sensations. The sixth sense identified danger before the conscious mind could. He worked tirelessly to pinpoint that sense of unease. Despite his efforts, nothing happened. Then a thought occurred to him: What happens if I don''t die and today ends? It was a curious realization. After countless circuits through the passages, Enkrid hadn''t gained any answers. The tunnel was about one and a half times his height and extended far underground. He hadn''t ventured deep enough to know how far it stretched. The walls and ceiling, though dusty, were sturdy. It felt humid, but there was airflow, and even with a torch, the depths remained shrouded in darkness. What else? The air carried a faint metallic scent, though not overpowering. Was there an undead creature lurking? A priest might have been able to sense it, but Enkrid, who had devoted his life solely to the sword, lacked such talents. He continued his search. Endlessly observing until a sense of discomfort arose. By the time night had fallen, he had found nothing. "Aren''t you heading back?" The cobbler''s voice called from the slope of the passageway. Turning around, Enkrid saw his face peeking down from the incline. Climbing up, he responded. "I''m not sure what''s inside, but it doesn''t look dangerous at the moment. Let''s block the entrance and wait until tomorrow. I''ll bring reinforcements." "Wouldn''t it have been better to call for reinforcements instead of lingering around?" That would have been the right thing to say, normally. But if reinforcements are called and someone enters the tunnel to cause an explosion, wouldn''t that be the end of it? It would be a path to death for all of them. "I have something to check." Pretending to be an expert, as if accustomed to this kind of situation, the cobbler nodded, though with suspicion. Once again, they blocked the hole and headed back to camp. *** The moon was visible above. It was a full moon. The weather, which had warmed a bit during the day, turned chilly again as night fell. Enkrid, tightening his monster-leather coat, glanced behind him. It seemed the cobbler had not managed to break through the floor and go down. He appeared to be quite curious. ''If he had, there would have been an explosion.'' This raised another question. What happens when the night passes like this? It wasn''t even something that could be considered an additional task. Today, repeating as usual, there would eventually come a moment when it would have to end. ''I should have tested it earlier.'' But up until now, the environment hadn''t been right for testing. It had been the battlefield where death was a constant threat. The day was spent avoiding assassin''s daggers. When encountering such days, it might feel dull, but Enkrid remained indifferent. He had trained the same way every time, repeating the same patterns. It wasn''t any different from "today." "You should be off to hunt monsters, right? But instead, did you go to kill boots? Did you kill them?" When he entered the lodging, Rem asked. She seemed to already know where he had gone for some mission. Shaking off the dust from his pants, Enkrid replied. "I killed about three. It was a fulfilling day." "...Let''s stop talking." Rem wisely avoided starting an argument he knew he would lose. If he had tried, Enkrid would have easily won with his sharp tongue. Though he worried that someone might try to kill him to repeat the day, nothing happened, and he slept peacefully. The next morning, when Enkrid opened his eyes and observed the situation, he muttered to himself. "It''s repeating." It was the same as the day before. Waking up or dying, perhaps it was all the same. Thus, today began again. Enkrid wandered again in front of the fork in the road. Though there was no pain of death today, he was still consistent. He still did his best and still fought desperately. Being bound to today was the worst possible scenario for Enkrid. So how could he break free from this? He knew even without the ferryman telling him. ''It must be about getting past this place.'' As the torch went out, the surroundings seemed dark due to becoming accustomed to the light. Clink. Enkrid struck a flint to light the torch again and held it. He gazed at the six forks in the road. ''In this case, one of these six must be real, right?'' The easiest way would be to throw himself into each one and check individually. Instead of doing that, Enkrid sought to sharpen his sixth sense. And it worked to some extent. ''Ominous.'' Something was stirring his survival instincts. It was faintly felt on the sixth repeated day. Thus, Enkrid passed another day that felt much like the others. "What have you been doing all day?" To calm the confused cobbler, Enkrid used the excuse he had thought up for today. "I''m checking to see what''s inside. It looks like there''s a trap. It seems like the Thieves'' Guild secretly made a hidden passage, so don''t go inside." There were other thieves'' guilds in the city, not just the Thief Guild of Gilpin, but Enkrid still used that as a reference. He had named them. It was a plausible excuse. After walking back and forth in front of the tunnel, it wasn''t that he had deeply agonized over it, but the result was this. The cobbler nodded. "Got it." *** Back at the lodging, Enkrid felt Jaxen''s glare. He had to sense the killing intent emanating from him. It was something that repeated every evening. Sweat trickled down his forehead as he endured, but Enkrid wasn''t planning on sleeping. What would happen if the day repeated while staying up all night? He was curious. So, he endured and watched as the dawn came the next day. "Nyaa." Esther approached and lightly tapped his back with her foot. It seemed like she was protesting him not sleeping. "Go ahead and sleep first." Enkrid patted Esther''s head as he spoke. Then he waited for the dawn to come. Enkrid blinked for a moment. Then, he saw the black river. "Meaningless." The ferryman was nowhere to be seen, but his words lingered. *** When he opened his eyes again, "What are you doing?" Though his head felt heavy and his body tired, it was the same repeated day once more. ''What if I don''t blink at all?'' Then, would the day just continue? But how could a person endure without blinking? Even if one became a knight, it would be impossible. Therefore, today''s repetition was unavoidable. ''Is this just living for today?'' That could work. After all, Enkrid already knew how to move forward into tomorrow. He once again headed toward the cobbler''s shop. Enduring today more tired than before, it wasn''t such a hard task. After all, he had fought and ran for days, enduring much worse. Thus, he continued repeating today, over and over again. Since there was no pain of death, was it peaceful? Was he getting drunk on peace, settling into today? No, Enkrid didn''t do that. He didn''t change. So, he repeated today, then again, and again, and again, for seventy-eight repetitions of today. After living a day that passed the same every time. Back at the lodging, Enkrid avoided the killing intent shot by Saxen. Two steps to the side. It was a trick he could do by sensing the opponent''s killing intent carefully. It might have been a coincidence, so Jaxen shot the killing intent again. It was a localized threat, expressing his intent to kill if Enkrid crossed a certain line. Enkrid avoided the killing intent as he turned his body. He wouldn''t have been able to do it without opening the door to his sixth sense. And he didn''t just open it slightly; he had to fully open it to do what he did. "...What is this?" ''The efficiency of survival instincts is amazing.'' The answer he gave inwardly was different from the words he spoke out loud. "Suddenly, it works." Of course, what he said outwardly wasn''t the truth. What he said inwardly was the truth. A trap leading to death. There was no better training tool than that. Enkrid had savored it, chewed it, and enjoyed it. That had unlocked his sixth sense. And now, he could make Jaxen''s eyes widen like this. "Suddenly?" Could this really happen? No, but it did happen right in front of him. Jaxen was stunned, but he didn''t show it outwardly. He just nodded. What else could he do? It was done, after all. He had been wondering how to provoke progress, and now it was all useless. "I owe you one." Enkrid said, and Jaxen felt a little pleased. Of course, he quickly muttered inwardly as usual. ''What''s the point of this?'' Despite thinking that, Jaxen felt somewhat satisfied again. Regardless of the process, Enkrid had opened the door as he wanted. Jaxen''s lips curled up for a moment before they returned to their usual state. That was his way of showing joy. Chapter 86 - What Changes When You Open the Door? Chapter 86 - 86 - What Changes When You Open the Door? Chapter 86 - What Changes When You Open the Door? The Door of the sixth sense. It was opened by sensing what could harm the body, but it turned out to be a sort of antenna that detected movements within a certain radius around the user. Upon opening it instinctively, it became clear what it was. ''If I use it differently...'' Would it be possible to read the movements of the person behind me? Enkrid visualized Rem''s movements in his mind. Picking his nose, flicking it away, squirming inside the warm leather, then raising his head. His gaze stopped on Enkrid''s back. Explaining the process in detail would mean he heard sounds, guessed their source, and predicted the person''s actions, but the entire sequence happened instantly. This was the Door of sixth sense, and what could be achieved by opening it. ''If this is the case...'' Dodging someone swinging a club from behind wouldn''t be too difficult. It was the realm of intuition, instinct, and the subconscious. Finally, Enkrid understood the instinctual hunting method Jaxen had mentioned. The Door of sixth sense condensed all surrounding information and delivered it directly into the mind. Thus, through focused application, he could even sense Rem picking his nose behind him. "Idiots call this a ''mind''s eye,'' but it''s all nonsense. It''s just sharper instincts¡ªnothing more." Or so Jaxen explained. Naturally, the more it was applied, the wider its range of use became. However, there was something to be cautious about. "Trusting your instincts too much can lead to being tricked. Be careful." As he spoke, Jaxen placed his left hand on Enkrid''s shoulder. Just before Jaxen''s hand touched, Enkrid had a momentary illusion that he was aiming for his neck instead. A strange deception. In some ways, it was similar to the Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship. Even after opening the Door of Intuition, what had changed in reliving today over and over? Nothing. Enkrid began living the same day again. The only difference now was a premonition that today''s outcome would not be the same as before. In truth, it wasn''t just a premonition. He now had the confidence to overcome that fiendish trap. Donning a leather cuirass, a longsword at his left waist, and a thick guard sword strapped to his back, he armed himself. Throwing in a pouch filled with small throwing daggers, two knives hidden in his boots, and layering a gambeson over it all, he had the full gear of a light infantryman. The process of arming didn''t waste time¡ªhe was already accustomed to it. He had quickly devoured his breakfast just for this, and now moved with purpose. ''If I grab a few more rods on the way...'' It was a path he had walked dozens of times. Even stopping by a general store on the way was a routine so familiar it had grown tiresome. "Are you planning to threaten the cobbler with a sword to coax him? Or fight for your boots and your life?" Rem''s voice came from the bed, his face poking out as he lazily chattered. "I won''t return until I''ve chopped up ten pairs of boots." It was the same joke they exchanged every day. ''Even though I keep repeating today, the jokes seem oddly consistent.'' It hinted at Rem''s feelings. The cobbler''s shop itself seemed to irritate him more than any looming danger. "Just deal with it quickly and let''s go chop off some monster''s head," Rem muttered, snorting. Nodding, Enkrid thought to himself. No one would expect such a den beneath the craftsman''s shop. It was only natural. ''I didn''t believe it myself until I saw it.'' So, he couldn''t help but wonder¡ªwhat lay beyond it? With a quick gesture, Enkrid tapped Esther''s nose as a farewell, earning a surprised leap backward and a fierce growl that soon dissolved into something adorably ferocious. With a chuckle, he said, "I''m off." *** Stopping by the general store, he purchased three rods. Two were tucked into his waist, and one was held like a club as he walked briskly. Finally arriving at the craftsman''s shop, he stepped inside. "Look here! There''s a hole!" exclaimed the startled craftsman. "Yes, I see it. I''ll check it out," Enkrid replied calmly. The craftsman, who had been speaking with wide eyes, looked Enkrid up and down, now struck by his imposing appearance. "...Are you heading off to war?" Even patrol guards didn''t arm themselves this thoroughly. With thick layers of armor and weapons, the craftsman couldn''t help but blurt out his thoughts. "Always give your best, even in small matters. That''s what my sword instructor used to say." It wasn''t entirely a lie¡ªan instructor he''d passed by once had said something similar. But in reality, he was simply preparing for whatever might come. "There''s a deadly trap set up. Don''t go inside, even by accident." A glance into the hole, combined with a warning, made the craftsman pale with fear. "But how could you know just by glancing at it?" Ah, perhaps I rushed too much, Enkrid thought. "I specialize in this kind of thing," he replied casually. The craftsman reluctantly nodded, then finally responded with the reaction Enkrid had anticipated. "A trap? What kind of trap? Why is this under my shop?" Enkrid couldn''t answer that yet, but he would soon. Because now he intended to find out. The trap had been laid, and it had fulfilled its purpose. What was certain was that if there was a trap, there was something to be hidden. "Why they went to such lengths to set this up..." Pausing for a moment, Enkrid took a deep breath before continuing. "I''ll find out now." Curiosity welled within him as he deftly descended the slope. The layout of the tunnels was etched into his memory as if he could see them with his eyes closed. He had wandered through this narrow maze repeatedly while training his intuition. Every contour of the ground was familiar. Once again, he faced the six branching paths. The first and second tunnels led to explosions. The third unleashed vertical blades of wind. There was no need to waste more time honing his senses. He''d done enough. ''Now then.'' Among the six paths, where was the safe route? Instead of answering the question he repeated in his mind, Enkrid found himself wanting to crack open the head of the one who had designed this place. "Devious." All six paths were traps. If his instincts were not failing him, that was the truth. Having lived through dozens of these same days, Enkrid had naturally tested his instincts as well. He had to confirm whether his sense of danger was accurate. And indeed, it was. Enkrid learned that even the sixth path was wrong. Entering the sixth passage unleashed a hazy smoke from above. The moment it touched the skin, blisters erupted. Breathing it in delivered a pain far surpassing the sting of swords or the thrust of spears. It was a toxic mist of excruciating agony. Every single path emanated a sense of foreboding. There was no way forward¡ªthey were all blocked. Should he stop here? Was he trapped? Was there nothing more he could do? He instinctively knew the answer. To move beyond this cave was the only way to escape today. Stopping here, with the paths blocked, meant being trapped in this endless cycle. His opponent wasn''t a skilled soldier adept at thrusting. It wasn''t a silent assassin creeping in the dark. Nor was it a hostile army encountered on an unfavorable battlefield. It was merely a trap. A stationary, mindless spell trap devoid of reason or will. Enkrid stepped before the first passage. "One wrong move, and I''m roasted." Spell traps¡ªhow did they activate? Having opened the door to his intuition, he could perceive them from the realm of instinct. There was no need for a torch. Enkrid took a step into the passage. Sweat dripped down his forehead with every step he took. It felt as though he were threading his way through razor-sharp blades that could cut him with the slightest touch. The activation mechanism of the trap was detection. He moved, avoiding the areas that triggered a sense of foreboding. Channeling a point of focus and letting the courage of the beast fill his heart, his steps remained steady. By opening the door of his intuition and focusing, he navigated the gaps in the spell traps. To anyone watching, his steps would seem like a zigzagging walk, but to Enkrid, it felt like traversing a tightrope. Yet, even so, he thought it was manageable. Instinct and intuition guided him. How many people could overcome such traps with sheer instinct? The sense of accomplishment filled his chest, though he knew now wasn''t the time to indulge in such feelings. "First one''s done." He lit a torch and peered into the darkness ahead. The foreboding sensation from earlier had vanished, but there was still something ahead. He could feel it in his gut. Walking cautiously forward, he soon saw the creature waiting for him. "Grurrrk." It had a hunched back, with sharp bone-like spikes protruding where its spine should be. Even in the flickering torchlight, its pale blue skin stood out. Its jaw was several times larger than a human''s, drooling thick saliva as if savoring its prey in advance. Its nails were long, its forearms thick, and its eyes pitch black. Between its cracked skin, strands of muscle gleamed faintly. Its stooped posture caused its fists to drag along the ground. A ghoul. In this world, there existed beasts and monsters. According to theologians, they were born from the deaths of gods who once killed one another in ancient times. That wasn''t something Enkrid cared about. What mattered was that such creatures existed. If it resembled a beast, it was called a demonic beast. Everything else was labeled a monster. Among them, ghouls were cannibalistic monsters that fed on humans. "Why the hell are you popping out here?" Could it be considered undead? The craftsman''s prediction was half right. There was indeed a monster below, though it wasn''t a skeletal soldier but a ghoul. Monsters had no intelligence for conversation. They only lunged at prey. "Graaaaah!" Ghouls fed on humans. Their flattened noses, appearing more like holes stuck to their faces, were highly sensitive to the scent of humans. Smelling prey, the creature charged. The cave wasn''t so narrow as to restrict movement, but there wasn''t enough space to dodge freely or swing a sword wildly. However, there was still room to adapt. Sching, clang. As the ghoul lunged, Enkrid unsheathed his longsword, angling it diagonally in front of him. "Three." Behind the first ghoul were two more. Generally, taking down a single ghoul required two or three spearmen. An experienced soldier might manage alone, but strategically, it was better not to attempt it. Of course, if it came down to it, punching the ghoul in the face would be the last resort. Just as Enkrid was doing now. Thwack! Angling his blade forward, he drove it into the first ghoul''s chest. Gripping the sword with only his left hand, he pressed it diagonally downward, forcing the creature to its knees with a guttural scream no human vocal cords could replicate. Even so, the blade didn''t cleave through completely, and his left arm bore the strain of the effort. With one ghoul subdued, the second swiped its claws, but Enkrid had anticipated it. Pivoting on his left foot, he twisted his body to evade and delivered a crushing punch with his free right hand. Crack! The punch landed squarely, snapping the creature''s head back and momentarily disorienting it. While the third ghoul stretched its unnaturally long arms toward him, Enkrid sidestepped the swipe with a mere tilt of his head. Having created an opening, there was only one thing left to do. "One at a time." It was a simple matter of killing them. Had this been in the past¡ªtruly the past, before he began repeating today¡ªhe would''ve been dead already. But now, his body, armed with experience, swordsmanship, and martial arts, had reached a whole new level. Gripping the sword with both hands, he brought it down with all his strength. Squelch. "Grgh!" The blade tore through one ghoul, splitting it from chest to groin as violet entrails spilled out. The fallen torch illuminated the remaining two creatures, their shadows stretching long behind them. Unfazed by fear, the monsters charged again. Having already dispatched one with ease, Enkrid''s sword danced once more. He sidestepped the second ghoul, delivering a horizontal slash to decapitate it, and tripped the final one with a sweeping kick before stomping down hard on its head. Thud! The skull didn''t quite burst like a pumpkin, but¡ª "Grkk, rrrk." Black fluid oozed from the cracked head. "Now I''m really curious." Muttering to himself, Enkrid drove his sword vertically into the last ghoul''s head. Crunch. The blade pierced through the skull and lodged into the ground. Enkrid twisted it to ensure the creature was thoroughly dispatched before withdrawing it. Three ghouls. A battle that would normally require at least six lower-ranked soldiers was easily won by Enkrid alone. Even though a ghoul''s claws were laced with poison, not a scratch touched him. It was a testament to his training and progress. Though it was a shame no one was there to witness it, he figured the hidden foe within this cave would soon see the cruelty of his blade. "Haah." After steadying his breath, he wiped the ghoul''s black fluid from his sword using a scrap of linen. Then, with no hesitation, he stepped further into the cave. Beyond this place lay tomorrow. Chapter 87 - The Law of Killing the Ones Who Must Die Chapter 87 - 87 - The Law of Killing the Ones Who Must Die Chapter 87 - The Law of Killing the Ones Who Must Die "It''s about reading your opponent and responding accordingly." While taking hits from Rem. While learning about instincts from Jaxen. While straining his body through Audin''s isolation technique. And even while earnestly learning swordsmanship from Ragna. Though progress was another matter entirely, his diligence remained unwavering. "Don''t you feel frustrated?" Ragna often asked Enkrid that question. Frustrated? He had no reason to be. Ragna''s teachings were not just about mastering the basics but also about showing the way forward¡ªa guidepost. How long had he wandered, clueless and lost? Now, with every step he took, new paths became visible, and it brought him nothing but joy. How should one respond to a descending sword? What should one do if the opponent is a beast? What about an ambush from behind with a spear? How should one extend their sword in different situations? Once the basics are mastered, the next step is learning how to apply them. No one can prepare for every situation. It''s all about grasping the essence, the technique. Of course, it was far from easy. "I thought this would be over quickly," Ragna had said. But there was no chance of that. Enkrid knew his talent was subpar. If his abilities had been average, would he have struggled so much? Probably not. Still, he bore no resentment. Instead of wasting time complaining, he would swing his sword one more time. "The application of swordsmanship only holds meaning when you can read your opponent''s moves and respond." Whether the opponent was a beast, a monster, or an enemy soldier, one simply had to observe their movements, discern truth from deception, and then slash or stab them with the sword. Ragna never tired of teaching. And though Enkrid was equally tireless, his progress was excruciatingly slow. He knew he was slow and lacking. He also knew he had to work several times harder than others. Thus, he turned everything around him¡ªevery situation, every environment, and even fleeting moments¡ªinto tools for growth. And so, Enkrid pressed on. Digging deeper into the cave, they pressed forward. Four wolf-like beasts leapt out. "Growl!" They barked like dogs and charged without giving a moment''s respite. The dynamic movement of the wolves, kicking up dirt as they dashed forward, would send shivers down anyone''s spine. Their savage eyes radiated ferocity, and their tongues hung out between jaws dripping with saliva. Their yellow teeth glinted red in the torchlight. ''Heart of the Beast.'' This bravery, born from his training, allowed him to face down even imminent danger without flinching. Even now, Enkrid remained calm. In the span of a few breaths, the wolves had already closed the distance. He combined the instinct of his swordsmanship with his innate reflexes. His reactions, derived from his courage, were almost reflexive. He believed even this would serve as a foundation for growth, using it as part of his training. ''There''s no better practice than real combat.'' The only downside was that it always came at the risk of death. But wasting today was unacceptable. If he had desired a mundane life of tilling fields and praying for blessings, he would never have dared to dream. He cherished each day, even as he risked his life to move forward. This was the only path Enkrid had to sing his dreams. He wasn''t throwing himself into death but rather staking his life to survive. Trusting his instincts. Following his reflexes. Snap! The sound of the wolf''s jaws snapping shut echoed inches away. Enkrid dodged the beast''s bite by stepping back with his left foot, then swung his elbow to bring his sword crashing down from above. Thwack! Thud! Instead of the blade, the flat of the sword struck the wolf''s skull, sending it sprawling to the ground. Taking a step to the left, Enkrid positioned himself so the torchlight illuminated the area. One of the wolves lunged with its forelegs, narrowly missing his abdomen. The force of the blow would have shredded his gambeson into tatters. The beasts resembled monstrous predators with animalistic traits. Two of the wolves cunningly circled around to attack his rear. Thinking they had found an opening, they bared their knife-like teeth, sharper and denser than ordinary wolves, aiming for Enkrid''s thighs. Whoosh! A sharp whistle filled the dimly lit cave as Enkrid spun and threw his hand forward. A throwing dagger pierced the forehead of one of the wolves with a dull thud, its speed blindingly fast. The other lunged simultaneously, but Enkrid avoided its teeth by pulling back his thigh and struck its head with a rising knee, combining evasion with attack. Thud! The wolf, though stunned, didn''t retreat. Instead, it pressed its muscular forelegs toward Enkrid''s foot. Enkrid stepped back, avoiding the claws aimed at his foot, and positioned himself between the two remaining wolves. He was surrounded. Despite the dire situation, Enkrid''s gaze wasn''t fixed solely on the wolves. Focus. And more focus. He no longer experienced the slowed perception of time. Nor did the surroundings dissolve into lines and points. However, the wolves'' movements were vividly clear to his eyes. Enkrid could predict their next actions as if they were already drawn in his mind. With their movements visible, his response became straightforward. No need for feints or elaborate strategies. He let his sword hang loosely and swung it in a wide arc. The cave was too narrow for horizontal strikes but tall enough for a vertical sweep in a semicircular motion. The longsword, designed to crush in a single strike, did its job. Slash! Crack! The wolf on the receiving end of the blade was cleaved from chest to jaw, while the second one had its head shattered by the descending blow. If his timing had been off, he would''ve been mauled by at least one of them. This strike was sheer force turned into a spectacle. "Phew." Enkrid exhaled the breath he had been holding, calming his pounding heart. ''One.'' One wolf remained. The lone survivor hesitated, giving Enkrid the chance to dart forward. Curiously, he ran not straight at the wolf but to its left. The wolf, seemingly oblivious, turned toward the same direction. ''Pivot on the left foot.'' In a state of heightened focus, guided by instinct and accumulated experience, he followed through. Pivoting on his left foot, Enkrid thrust his sword forward. The blade plunged into the wolf''s gaping maw, piercing through its head and emerging from the back of its skull. Squish! The wolf''s weight bore down on his arms as he withdrew the blade, letting the lifeless body drop to the ground. He stepped on the wolf''s head to free his sword, blood dripping onto the cave floor as the beast''s corpse quivered in its final moments. The last wolf''s life ebbed away with a whimper. Lowering his arms, Enkrid reflected on what he had just done. ''I can see.'' The wolf beast''s movements were simple¡ªinstinctual, driven by primal urges. This simplicity resonated with Enkrid''s sixth sense, combining pinpoint focus with an innate intuition. It resulted in a series of strikes that leaned entirely on these instincts and sensations. I can do this. Right now, he felt he could demonstrate the adaptive swordsmanship Ragna had spoken of. Reading the opponent''s intent and movements was the key. What remained was merely to bring down his sword, trained through countless fundamentals. Deception followed a similar principle. "It''s something you already know. You''re just in the process of formalizing it and ingraining it into your body," Ragna''s words echoed in his mind. Yes, he had done this before. But there was a stark difference between doing something unknowingly and doing it with conscious understanding¡ªlike the difference between a housecat and a tiger. Clenching and unclenching his fist, Enkrid revisited those words repeatedly. Even as he held the torch and moved forward, his mind was constantly painting an image of his sword. Mastering it in one attempt was a privilege of the gifted. For him, contemplation and repetition were the paths forward. To Enkrid, every moment became an opportunity for training. No more monsters or beasts appeared in his path. Instead, he found a passage connected to the sewers at the corridor''s end. It was here that something beyond swordsmanship came into view. Whoever did this... they''re insane. Digging such a tunnel¡ªit was incomprehensible. Spell traps were expensive, far from being mere cheap rodent snares. Yet someone had set them across all six branching paths, blocking every route. Even the wealthiest merchants in Krona wouldn''t engage in such extravagance. And with ghouls, beasts, and man-eating monstrosities stationed here, the question loomed¡ªwhat were they guarding so desperately? The answer began to surface. "You''re out of your mind." Enkrid muttered as he reached a sewage pathway reeking of foul odors. By the torchlight, he saw what looked like laundry strung across the space. But it wasn''t clothes. These were body parts¡ªhuman entrails, flesh, and bones, arranged in grotesque displays. Even Enkrid, who had seen his share of horrors, felt bile rise in his throat at this abomination. This bastard... he must die. This wasn''t just an act of madness. It was something no knight could overlook. Dreams didn''t make someone a knight. But neither could a knight ignore such atrocities. Amid the carnage, there were intact human bodies, though lifeless. One of them seemed alive, blinking and attempting to speak. "...Krrrk..." It couldn''t form words¡ªunsurprising since it was nothing but a head. The sight of it blinking and moving its lips was grotesque in itself. "...Krrrk... Krrrk..." What was it trying to say? Enkrid couldn''t even guess. If it were him in such a state, he''d likely beg for death. He couldn''t fathom how it was functioning, nor did he want to. The threads piercing through the skull weren''t something he wanted to understand. Even with all he had endured, this horror was revolting. "What the hell are you?" A voice interrupted his thoughts. Enkrid turned toward its source¡ªa man at the end of the passage, amidst the morbid decorations of human corpses. It was a pale young man with long hair, draped in a dull green robe. "This place¡ªit''s your handiwork, isn''t it?" Enkrid asked. The man seemed to ponder for a moment before speaking, his words mingling with muttered musings. "How did you get here? Is it divine providence? A god must love me, delivering a test subject straight to my door. Let''s see... You''re from the standing army, aren''t you? A well-trained body. Excellent. Oh, yes. Perfect." The young man''s voice was light and cheerful. He sounded like a blacksmith admiring fine steel or a merchant celebrating a lucrative deal. At the same time, he resembled a pure-hearted youth confessing his feelings. The juxtaposition was unsettling. "What should I turn you into?" Raising his torch high, Enkrid glimpsed a shadow behind the man. A grotesque figure stitched together from various body parts leaned against the wall, motionless with its eyes closed. "Beautiful, isn''t it? That''s my masterpiece in progress. Its name is Vamillo." Enkrid reached a conclusion. No more words were necessary. This lunatic... He hurled the torch at the man. The torch spun through the air, its fiery trail arcing toward the madman''s head. Thud. With a simple gesture, the man deflected the torch. He''s a mage. But that didn''t change anything. A man who deserved to die must die. Even after seeing the torch flung away with a wave of the hand, Enkrid didn''t stop. He charged forward, lowering his body to the grimy sewer floor and propelling himself closer. Splashing through filth, he reached the mage in a flash. Using his momentum, he swung his sword upward in a diagonal slash, cutting through the darkness left by the extinguished torch. *** Esther usually stayed close at night, but on days when Enkrid was in the city, she often lingered nearby. Of course, there were days she didn''t. It''s enough to stick close at night. She didn''t need to be with him all the time. On what would''ve been an uneventful day in the barracks, something changed. "Stay safe," she said, watching Enkrid leave. But then, in a moment of carelessness, he flicked her nose with his finger. This bastard... "See you later." And with that, he was gone. Curious about what he was up to, Esther decided to follow him. Her silent pursuit was born of simple curiosity, sparked by Enkrid''s unpredictable nature. Blending into the shadows of the alleys, the black panther moved nimbly, unseen by others. She followed him underground, drawn by the strange magical scent emanating from his destination. The deeper she went, the more she realized something was amiss. If she didn''t intervene, the man she had chosen might die. That would be troublesome. For now, she decided to observe. When she saw Enkrid fighting ghouls, she thought to herself, Has he improved? Though she wasn''t versed in swordsmanship, she had watched him every day and could tell¡ªHe has grown. But when he fought the wolf beast, something unusual caught her attention. What''s this? Enkrid''s movements were almost otherworldly. Even in the heat of battle, he emerged unscathed, his armor bearing only superficial scratches. Is the beast just incompetent? No, that didn''t seem to be the case. And yet, Enkrid pressed on, eventually reaching the site of the grotesque carnage. Esther wasn''t shocked¡ªshe''d seen her share of insane mages before. Still, the sight of Enkrid confronting a mage made her pause. Should I help? Expending even the meager power she had regained would delay her return to her true form. For now, she chose to wait and watch as Enkrid engaged the madman. But as the fight unfolded, she found herself captivated by him, her sharp eyes hidden in the shadows of the darkened sewers. Enkrid, the man who never ceased to surprise her. Chapter 88 - Bonehead Chapter 88 - 88 - Bonehead Chapter 88 - Bonehead He planned to finish it in a single strike, having already closed the distance. Enkrid raised his sword, but something struck his face before he could swing. It was a heavy blow, akin to being punched by Rem. Enkrid fell backward, landing on his rear, and immediately felt another weighty impact on his head. Reflexively, he tucked his chin and rolled to the side. Thud. Once again, an invisible force¡ªan intangible shockwave¡ªstruck where he had been a moment before. The area was free of filthy sewage, but the damp earth splattered onto his face. Enkrid squinted with one eye, his gaze darting around. "It''s invisible," he thought. It had to be magic, a reasonable conclusion given what he saw: a disembodied head with a moving mouth. Who else could pull off something like that? "You dodged. Great, now you''ll just make things harder for yourself. Stay still, and it won''t hurt as much," the male mage said, waving his hand. Without being able to see it, Enkrid had no way to block the attack. He rolled to the side again. A sharp blade of wind sliced through where he had just been standing. Of course, Enkrid didn''t know what it was. He only knew it was some kind of spell. ''What do I do now?'' Enkrid recalled the countless swordsmanship instructors he had encountered, who all had the same advice about dealing with mages: "Mages? There''s only one way to handle them." "Run. Don''t look back, just run." "Don''t fight them. Unless you want to spend your life barely alive, suffering endlessly." "If you''re lucky, you''ll die. If you''re unlucky, don''t even imagine it." Even renowned names among his teachers warned him of the dangers of mages and their spells. However, his chaotic squadmates had a different perspective: "Shoot them with an arrow," said Rem. "Kill them when they''re not looking," said Jaxen. "If you must fight, get in close," was Audin''s advice. And Ragna? "Killing them is the same¡ªjust cut them down." In the end, the consensus was clear: avoid mages whenever possible. But if you had to kill one, Ragna''s advice was the most straightforward: "They die when you cut them." So that''s what he would do. Running away wasn''t an option. If he left the mage alive, the same thing would happen repeatedly. People would be torn apart like old rags and left strewn about like broken cloth. He thought of the cobbler and his daughter. If the mage was left unchecked, they would be the first to die. The cobbler and his daughter. For days, Enkrid had observed them from afar. Even without direct interaction, they prepared meals for him and left behind their worries, despite having no idea about his struggles. No, they wouldn''t understand. But that didn''t matter. Even if no one else understood, there were things worth protecting. That was Enkrid''s dream, the path he chose, and the destination marked by his internal compass. "Now, now, don''t run. Be good; it''ll be fine," the mage said, snapping his fingers. A bright light flared above the sewer, far brighter than a torch. The illumination cast shadows across the damp floor. The mage showed neither a smile nor anger. To him, this was just work. Watching the mage, Enkrid honed his focus, throwing open the gates of his sixth sense. The mage paid no attention to Enkrid''s movements. To him, Enkrid was merely an experiment¡ªa bug, a hunk of meat. That''s all the mage saw. As the mage moved his hand again, an invisible shockwave blasted toward Enkrid. Boom! "Luck seems to be on your side," the mage thought, seeing Enkrid dodge the spell with a quick sidestep. In reality, Enkrid was relying on a strange sense to guide his movements. "It''s invisible." Just because it couldn''t be seen didn''t mean it wasn''t there. A small realization struck him. If it couldn''t be seen, could it still be felt? Combining his focus with his sixth sense, he sought to predict the mage''s next move, just as he had once done with wolf beasts. This time, he watched the necrophile mage''s gestures, predicting his next action, trying to feel something¡ªanything. The mage shaped wind into blades, sending them flying in three curved trajectories. The blades were sharper than a reaper''s scythe, capable of slicing through even his reinforced cloth armor like paper. But Enkrid rolled to the side, avoiding them. "Dodged again?" The mage muttered, continuing to wave his hands. Invisible shockwaves and blades of wind rained down on Enkrid, but he avoided them all. It wasn''t luck. It was a sense beyond his five senses¡ªa sixth sense. His half-lidded eyes, twitching ears, and goosebump-covered skin combined to detect the mage''s tricks. All the while, he searched for a way to kill his opponent. A simpler option might have been to throw a dagger and end it. But his instincts warned against it. "No, that won''t work." His sixth sense told him the dagger wouldn''t kill the mage. What, then, was the best option? While he wasn''t sure if this was natural, his instincts guided him through the mage''s spells. The mage''s antics, though magical, weren''t fundamentally different from arrows or blades. If they were like the blunt weapons or swords of enemy soldiers... "Are they truly dangerous?" Not really. He could avoid them. Even Mitch Hurrier''s sword was sharper. So he evaded them. If a dagger wouldn''t work, it was time to recall Audin''s advice: "Get in close." Dodging, he pushed off the ground in a single, explosive move. He saw the mage''s eyes widen in shock. "You little¡ª!" The mage was startled as Enkrid closed the distance in a few swift steps, avoiding invisible spells while raising his sword. The soldier''s blade was now within a threatening range. This was Enkrid''s range¡ªa swordsman''s range. Whoosh. As the longsword descended toward the mage''s head, the mage shouted in panic. "Devour!" Powerful mana and the mage''s chant combined, manifesting into the world. The spell should have carved out a portion of Enkrid''s innards. It wasn''t something instinct alone could dodge. Yet nothing happened. Well, not quite nothing. "Ugh." The mage staggered, confused. The spell, instead of hitting Enkrid, rebounded, striking the caster. Through the torn cloth of his armor, the mage glimpsed black leather underneath. A faint magical aura radiated from it. "What... what are you wearing?" "Something good." Enkrid replied, noticing the mage''s eyes fixed on his armor, which had seemingly nullified the spell. Enkrid was quick to pick up on things¡ªand even quicker to act. Swish! The sword cleaved through the air. The forged weapon, tempered by fire and hammer, descended mercilessly. Crunch!Crack! The blade severed and crushed the mage''s head. Despite resistance mid-swing, Enkrid overpowered it with brute strength. As death overtook him, the mage lamented his fate in silence. "There''s still so much I''ve prepared! Vamillo! Vamillo!" The magician even tried to wake the creation he named Vamillo. Of course, all attempts failed. The dead can do nothing, not even magicians. A dead person''s delusions cannot influence reality. "You seem disappointed," Enkrid remarked, kicking the dead magician''s body. Afterward, Enkrid stripped off his torn gambeson. It was so shredded that even using it as a rag would be pointless. He felt no satisfaction. There was barely any relief at having survived. A threat to his life? It had existed, but he had overcome it. The only feeling left was that he had done his duty. He had killed the one who needed to be killed. That was all. ** "Before cleaning up..." This magician wasn''t one to go down without laying traps, Enkrid thought. He carefully searched the area, wary of triggering any hidden traps. Eventually, he found a thick brown book, a pouch containing five gold coins, a black wooden staff, a few blue and white stones, and a pair of brown gloves. Enkrid took everything worth taking. The rest? Unidentified herbs and suspicious items that gave him no inclination to touch them. As Enkrid cleaned and sheathed his sword, there was a loud clang as the blade broke in the middle. "Damn it." A sigh escaped his lips. It wasn''t due to careless use of the sword, but he had felt a peculiar resistance while cutting the magician. Could that have been the cause? He couldn''t be sure. Regardless, it seemed he''d need to buy another sword using the magician''s gold coins. "Maybe I should try reforging it," he mused. The sword was made of Valerisan steel, so repairing it might restore its usability. With that thought, Enkrid turned and left. His abdomen throbbed from the impacts he''d taken, and his head pounded, but it wasn''t unbearable. Not long after leaving, Enkrid returned. "The light''s still on?" The magical glow above remained unchanged. Squinting upward, he noticed a glowing stone floating mid-air. "A floating magical artifact?" It reeked of value. "Well then..." The stone was only about the size of a fist. With a quick jump, he caught it, and even in his hand, it continued to emit light. At least it would make a convenient torch. Enkrid resumed his trek back, his footsteps echoing softly. Much later, a Lake Panther, resembling a sleek black cat, descended to the ground. "Did he evade the magic?" Esther was astonished. She had never imagined encountering someone capable of such a feat. Of course, the opposing magician''s skill had been lackluster, but still. She reminded herself, "It''s only natural I don''t know everything." She had lived a secluded life, not one of worldly exploration. It made sense that somewhere, there would be someone with such unusual abilities. Regardless, "A stroke of luck." Esther reveled in magical knowledge and exploration. Once, her curiosity about another magician''s grimoire had even led her to steal some. Using her claws, she sifted through the magician''s belongings but scoffed. "Amateurish." To her, the items were unimpressive. The true treasure wasn''t any of those things but rather the creation the magician had called Vamillo. A creature stitched together from beasts, monsters, and human remains, designed to bolster a magician''s physical weaknesses. Such constructs were commonly referred to as Flesh Golems. Repulsive to most, but highly practical for a magician. Esther, summoning her remaining strength, etched a magical circle onto the golem''s forehead with her claw. It was a ritual that connected her inner magical realm to another dimension, transporting the construct there. The magician had been a fool. Had he activated the golem earlier, Enkrid would have stood little chance. Of course, Esther wouldn''t have allowed that to happen either. As the ritual completed, the golem began to crumble and vanish, its remains dissipating like dust. All that remained was the impression where it had sat. Panting heavily, Esther was utterly drained. She had used up the last of her mana. The only thought on her mind was to return to her lodging and rest. Still, she couldn''t resist one final remark. She named it after the magician who created the golem, ensuring she would never forget his ineptitude. "Bonehead." Of all the magic practitioners she had observed, he was the most idiotic. *** "There was a magician in the city sewers?" "Yes." "And you killed him?" "Yes, I did." Enkrid spoke matter-of-factly, and his platoon leader responded with equal indifference. After stepping away to confirm the report, the platoon leader left Enkrid to clean up and check his equipment. He had considered assisting with a beast extermination task, but with his sword broken, finding a replacement became his priority. "What happened to you?" Rem asked when Enkrid returned to their lodging. "I fought a war with a pair of boots." "A war? Were they Ego Boots? Did they put up a good fight?" The term "Ego Boots" was a playful jab at the legendary Ego Swords, which were said to think and act independently. Not just Rem but others in the room stared at Enkrid, curious about what had happened. "I''ll file my report and return," he said, avoiding further questions. "Where''s Esther?" he asked before leaving. Audin, lounging in a corner, replied, "She often goes out, but she''ll return by evening. Don''t worry." It was a reassurance. Esther was clever¡ªtoo clever to fall victim to trouble. Upon returning to the captain''s office, Enkrid saluted when his superior entered. "Everything was there: spell traps and the dead magician." "I see." "He was a potential threat beneath the city." "Understood." "Good work." As the platoon leader joked, Enkrid gave a formal salute, pressing down on his sword hilt and bowing. *** Back at the lodging, he explained the situation to his squadmates, who were shocked. "A magician? In the sewers?" "And you just cut him down?" "Impressive work, brother." Why the magician had been there remained a mystery even to Enkrid. After resting for two days to recover, Enkrid attempted to have his sword repaired, only to receive complaints from the blacksmith. "This is beyond repair. What did you do? Kill a magician?" When Enkrid nodded, the blacksmith gave him a skeptical look. "Even if that''s true, do I look like someone who can forge weapons to counter magic?" Enkrid shook his head, and the blacksmith continued, "You shouldn''t keep doing things like that. This sword is useless now. I can make you a new one, but it''ll have to be standard steel¡ªno Valerisan metal available." It was disappointing news, as Valerisan steel was rare and valuable. "Too bad, but it''s fine." "Wait a few days. Someone I know might bring some Noir Mountain iron. It''s pricey, though¡ªbetter come prepared." The mention of Noir Mountain iron made Enkrid''s mouth water. Stronger than regular iron, it was highly sought after for weapons, second only to Valerisan steel. Leaving the blacksmith''s shop, Enkrid was stopped by a familiar voice in the marketplace. "Hey! Soldier!" Chapter 89 - No Time to Regret the Past Chapter 89 - 89 - No Time to Regret the Past Chapter 89 - No Time to Regret the Past "Formation, now!" The commanding officer''s shout echoed. The approaching threat was eight wolf monsters. Monsters or beasts are always intimidating, especially in a city like Border Guard, which sees frequent traffic from merchants and nobles. Therefore, the surrounding monsters need to be dealt with swiftly. "Why are they so active in winter?" One of the soldiers muttered as he set his spear in position. To Enkrid, it sounded like an intentional remark meant to ease his nerves. Following orders, twenty soldiers formed a solid defense against the wolf monsters. Typically, monsters are faced in battles of one against many. The squad leader was the type to stick to basics. And Enkrid found that uncomfortable. ''This is the first time for something like this.'' It wasn''t about the practice; it was the desire for real combat, the kind that made him want to charge out and draw his sword. The thrill of battle, the time spent organizing what was gained from bloodshed, the very moment of taking a step forward. Those were the things Enkrid yearned for. It wasn''t about jabbing at the monster''s hide with a spear. This didn''t help. He was even starting to feel bored. Normally, seeing such monsters would have made his legs weak, but¡ª Unlike usual, Rem, who followed orders quietly, was giggling beside him. "Your face looks like you''re frustrated," Rem said. Under normal circumstances, Enkrid would have been told to stab the monsters in the eyes, but his frustration made words slip out. "Can you see that?" "Looks like the squad leader''s turned into a rough stone now." Rem giggled, adding something else. "Did you not know that between being exceptional and being crazy is just a fine line?" He didn''t know. What would happen if he jumped right into the middle of the eight wolves? With the assumption that Rem would back him up. It would probably be much quicker than poking at them with twenty spears, one at a time. If this was the approach, how long would it take to clear the surrounding monsters and beasts? It would take a while, wouldn''t it? It felt like wasting time. Having been trained on defense formation so thoroughly, Enkrid naturally carried out his soldier''s duty in the formation, but¡ª The frustration remained. Rem kept giggling beside him, and it felt as though he was pushing him. Why was he following along like this? Enkrid thrust his spear forward. The spear''s tip, energized, grazed the wolf monster''s front paw. "Grrrr!" Reacting to the pain, the wolf monster bared its fangs, and the squad leader, seeing this, aimed for its head, thrusting the spear deeply. But the cunning wolf monster dodged by retreating. That was enough. Enkrid allowed his thoughts to wander. Otherwise, he felt he couldn''t suppress the urge to rush forward and draw his sword to cut it down. The image of the panther he had raised accidentally crossed his mind. ''Esther.'' After splitting the crazy mage''s head in the sewer and returning, the Lake Panther had come back exhausted. It smelled foul, like it had eaten rats from the sewers. It had been so caught up in hunting the city rats, that it collapsed, lying on the ground, barely breathing. Seeing that, Enkrid had soaked dried meat in water and fed it to Esther. Esther gratefully accepted it. ''What kind of things was I doing?'' Clang! His wandering thoughts were interrupted. The wolf monsters had approached within range of his spear. Enkrid pushed aside the image of Esther and thrust the spear into the approaching wolf''s head. Thud. The hide on its head tore, and blood splattered. "Don''t take my position!" The commanding officer''s voice rang out. The unit, maintaining distance while poking their spears at the approaching monsters, wasn''t engaged in an easy battle. The wolves, having been stabbed a few times, withdrew. This was the right way to do it. It was the proper method. But Enkrid still felt frustrated. He saw the commanding officer leading the soldiers. The man looked physically fit, his appearance quite dignified. Was he from the second or third squad? With frustration building up inside, Enkrid played with his spear. He couldn''t consider it refined skill. It was just stabbing and pulling, nothing more. It felt like wearing clothes that didn''t quite fit. The spear didn''t feel comfortable in his hand. If he had used spears more often, he thought, he might have been worse with them than with a sword. Ragna had once said: "Whether it''s a sword or a spear, the weapon you use can make a difference in how it feels in your hand." Usually, knights are encouraged to wield a variety of weapons. So, he had learned the basics, but only the sword felt like it truly belonged in his hand. ''A sword.'' Purely a sword. It felt like meeting an old friend he had known for a long time the moment he gripped it. The joy, the excitement, the expectation, the warmth of the sharpened steel against his palm. ''Ah, I want to use a sword.'' He wanted to recall the experiences he gained in the wizard''s lair. Not a spear, but a sword. "I''ll grant your wish." Rem muttered beside him. Enkrid looked toward him, but Rem was already charging forward. "Looks like we''re in for a long night!" Rem shouted gleefully as he rushed forward. His voice was full of enthusiasm. With each step he took, the dirt beneath him flew up. His movements were dynamic, rougher than even the wolf monsters''. "Get back in formation you crazy bastard!" The commanding officer shouted in anger. The basic strategy was to defend the formation against the monsters. If the formation broke, it would endanger the lives of other soldiers. Rushing forward was wrong, and Enkrid knew it well. But¡ª ''Why not just kill all the monsters?'' He couldn''t hold it in. The desire to rush out and wield a sword, reliving the thrill of combat, was overpowering. Enkrid briefly closed his eyes. For a moment, he abandoned rational judgment and relied on his instincts. Following those instincts, Enkrid threw aside his spear and kicked off the ground, charging forward. "No, what are you¡ª!" The commanding officer''s voice faded behind him. Rem''s sudden action was something the commanding officer had anticipated. But Enkrid joining him was not. So, the commanding officer couldn''t help but be startled. "Having fun?" Rem, noticing Enkrid following him, grinned and started swinging his two axes. The arcs of the two axes cut through the air, clearly aimed at slaughter. The first axe split the approaching wolf''s skull in half, and the second swung horizontally, severing the jaws of another wolf trying to bite at the arm of a soldier. The two axes were like the blades of a guillotine. "A little." Enkrid had to admit it. He drew his sword, swinging it in a large horizontal arc. A wolf that had been charging at him halted, its front leg severed. "Grr!" The wolf let out a groan, sounding like a dog. Enkrid pulled the sword back in, swinging it vertically. The wolf''s head was split open. Thud! He pulled the sword back, slamming it with his fist into the head of another wolf coming from the side. Thud! The wolf''s head was knocked to the ground, rolling away. Only eight monsters. ''Not sure when I started calling eight monsters "only" eight, though.'' Enkrid didn''t feel any real threat from their current enemies. Axes split heads, and swords cleaved through wolves. The arming sword in his hand, while not as satisfying to wield as a longsword, still served its purpose well enough. He regretted that Ragna couldn''t join him for this battle. Of the eight beasts, one had fallen to the spears of the soldiers. Four were felled by Rem''s axe. The remaining three were split apart by Enkrid''s sword. Their skill was truly remarkable, proof that their rank as elite soldiers was well-earned. "Damn, they''re ridiculously good at this." One of the soldiers in the formation muttered in awe. The commanding officer should have reprimanded him for that. But instead, he thought to himself, I can''t really blame him. They really were exceptionally skilled. In a fight against magical beasts, formations were essential for survival. But when extraordinary strength was at play, utilizing it became a mark of a good commander. Rather than scold them, he assessed the efficiency of the situation. This was a good outcome for both Enkrid and Rem. If he were to nitpick, their actions could technically be seen as insubordination. Above all, the squad leader held a high opinion of Enkrid. He had seen him a few times before in passing, but back then, Enkrid hadn''t seemed noteworthy. When had he developed such incredible skill? Was it true, as the rumors claimed, that his abilities had skyrocketed overnight? There was no way to be sure of anything. What mattered were the results. "He''s at least at high level," the squad leader thought. One could believe he was one of those frontier defenders, known as the Butchers of the Frontier. Those guys often dealt with magical beasts not by maintaining formations, but through sheer individual skill. "You two." Rather than reprimand them, he reassigned their efforts. "If you want to fight, there''s a place where troublesome beasts have appeared. Go there." "Understood." Standing amidst the corpses of the magical beasts, Enkrid, the "Spell breaker," nodded. His calm demeanor earned a few cheers from the nearby soldiers. After all, they had just wiped out a pack of beasts. With this, their unit''s task was complete, and they could move on to assist other areas, perhaps even rest for a bit. No one truly enjoyed risking their life against magical beasts. It took someone either extraordinary or crazy. Perhaps both. "We''ll retreat to the city for resupply and rest," the commanding officer declared, leading his men away. Enkrid glanced at Rem, who was wiping beast blood off his axe with a smirk. "You owe me for this?" Rem teased. "Not at all." Though he said that, Enkrid couldn''t deny feeling some relief. Yet, a deeper hunger still burned within him. "This isn''t enough," he thought. A few wolf beasts couldn''t sate his craving. He yearned for more than training. He needed the heat of real combat. The fire within him burned brighter. "Let''s go. They''ve given us another mission," Enkrid said. As the soldiers headed back to base, a few approached Enkrid, patting him on the chest. "Thanks to you, we''re off first." One of them, a familiar face, smiled as he handed Enkrid a bundle wrapped in clean cloth. "Try this. It''s amazing," the soldier said before walking off. Others offered similar looks of approval. Skilled soldiers were always valued allies. Enkrid, with his straightforward demeanor, was well-liked. Rem, however, was a different story. Most kept their distance from him. It wasn''t just his barbarian origins; his rough demeanor and penchant for picking fights made him less approachable. "We fought together, but the treatment''s different. Feels like discrimination," Rem grumbled. "Call it karma," Enkrid replied, tearing the jerky in half to share with him. Taking a bite, he was surprised. "This is different," he thought. The jerky was delicious¡ªsoft, with a perfect balance of seasoning and a slightly sweet aftertaste. "What''s in this? Why''s it so good?" Rem asked. "No idea, but we''ll have to ask for more later," Enkrid replied. Curiosity aside, they prepared themselves. Enkrid adjusted his gloves, thick leather pieces scavenged from a dead mage''s belongings. The gloves, sturdy and layered, had proven their worth. They absorbed impact well, especially when striking wolves. No matter how unpleasant the mage''s origins, the gear itself was reliable. Even his leather armor, reinforced with magic, had saved his life more than once. When Krais had mentioned the equipment was exceptional, Enkrid hadn''t fully appreciated it. Now he did. With solid gear and newfound confidence, Enkrid''s resolve burned. "Let''s go." Following the commanding officer''s orders, Enkrid and Rem headed south, taking half a day''s journey to reach their next destination. "Is this the place?" "Looks like it." Using a rough map, they found the location, which had been fortified with makeshift defenses. Such preparations signaled a serious engagement with magical creatures. Noise filled the air, and they soon spotted something flying overhead. Enkrid murmured under his breath as they joined the battlefield, with Rem hopping lightly to keep up. A shrill scream tore through the air, announcing the presence of a monstrous foe. Below, wounded soldiers writhed in agony, some missing eyes, others clawed and bleeding. "My eyes! My eyes!" "Kill it! Kill it!" Crossbowmen loosed bolts into the sky, but none hit their mark. The screeching creature was a harpy, its form grotesque. Its torso resembled a woman''s, but its wings replaced arms, and its lower half was that of an eagle. Red feathers fluttered as it dove, its chest heaving in a way that felt more unsettling than alluring. The sight froze Enkrid momentarily, dredging up old memories. There was a time when he''d been forced to retreat, leaving comrades behind to die. The harpy''s appearance had signaled death and despair for his group. The memories stung, but Enkrid didn''t dwell on them. He had no time for regret. Instead, he tightened his grip on his sword and stepped forward, focusing his strength into each step. The sound of his blade being drawn rang out. In that moment, time seemed to slow, and his instincts traced the harpy''s path through the air. The daring heart of the beast within him surged, empowering his every move. As the harpy descended, Enkrid moved in sync, his blade arcing through the air toward his target. Chapter 90 - It is Correct Chapter 90 - 90 - It is Correct Chapter 90 - It is Correct The 4th platoon leader of the heavy infantry company had recently been transferred to this unit from central command. "This is a disaster." Having been newly assigned to the unit, he saw the monster-slaying mission as a good chance to adapt and undergo some real combat training. The scale of the mission was indeed substantial¡ªeliminating a large pack of human-faced hounds. Still, it wasn''t outside expectations. Heavy infantry wasn''t called the backbone of Border Guard forces for nothing. But then, things took an unexpected turn. Harpies appeared. It was a frustrating development. Why harpies, all of a sudden? Support was called. The heavy infantry formed a defensive square. In the meantime, several soldiers supporting the unit died. The crossbows aimed at the sky only managed to hit empty air. Then, reinforcements arrived. Two light infantry soldiers. That was it. "You''ve got to be kidding me." What''s worse, these two had the audacity to stride straight into the harpies'' attack range. It was nothing short of suicidal. The platoon leader didn''t know Enkrid or Rem. As a recent transfer, he was still acclimating to the unit''s dynamics. Sure, he''d heard about the "spell-breaker" and the "Troublemakers Squad" but he hadn''t had time to process it. So, when he saw these two walking into danger during an already chaotic monster extermination, his immediate reaction was anger. "Damn it!" The curse slipped out naturally. While there was always some tension between heavy and light infantry, watching comrades die was never enjoyable¡ªespecially when it involved harpies ripping heads off bodies. The two light infantry soldiers were, of course, Enkrid and Rem. Their arrival alone was due to them not waiting for the rest of their unit to catch up. Thus, the archers requested as backup were still en route. "Hey, fall back¡ª!" The platoon leader''s urgency cut his words short. He wanted to yell for them to retreat or duck. The heavy infantry could endure harpy claws and strikes thanks to their layered armor: thick gambeson, chainmail, and a thin iron breastplate topped off with steel gauntlets and greaves. Add a rectangular shield to that, and their defensive formation resembled an impenetrable fortress¡ªaptly nicknamed the "Turtle Heavy Infantry." It was a posture designed to hold out until reinforcements arrived. In contrast, the light infantry looked like easy prey to the harpies. And indeed, one harpy immediately spotted the newcomers and charged at terrifying speed. The platoon leader saw its crimson crest dive downward in an arc. Even if he wanted to help, there was nothing he could do. All he could do was brace himself to witness their deaths and vow revenge. The harpy''s talons were about to shred one of the soldiers when¡ª Sching. Slash. The sound of steel scraping and tearing flesh reached the commander''s ears. He could only see the harpy''s back. Harpies were about the size of an adult male, so the figure of the light infantryman who had done something to the creature was obscured. What the platoon leader did see was the harpy''s wing being torn apart, its body crashing to the ground like a botched skipping stone, bouncing once in the air before rolling lifelessly across the dirt. The harpy, with its crimson crest and swaying breasts, was now soaked in blood, its body covered in a film of dust. "SKREEEEE!" The wounded creature let out an anguished cry, but the platoon leader couldn''t even blink. What just happened? "...Huh?" In the incomprehensible situation, only a dumbfounded exclamation escaped his lips. As his eyes pieced the scene together, realization struck. ''A harpy dove in, and... they cut it down with a sword?'' Was that even possible? It was a feat that defied reason. If the harpy''s talons had veered slightly, if the timing had been off, if the strength behind the blade had faltered¡ªeverything could have gone wrong. Attempting such a maneuver was outright madness. Who could face a charging harpy head-on and emerge unscathed? Even among the frontier garrison''s so-called "slaughterers," only a handful could pull off such a stunt. The sound of harpies screeching broke his thoughts. "Luck. Pure luck." That''s what he told himself. It wasn''t just him, either. Two harpies gliding above also dove toward the pair, their talons tearing through the air with deadly speed. The platoon leader''s eyes were locked on the two light infantrymen. The angle of the harpies'' attacks differed this time, making their reactions clearly visible. However, their movements were beyond comprehension. The ax-wielding soldier dodged the oncoming talons by twisting his body and swung his weapon. The platoon leader could only register the motion, but in the blink of an eye, the harpy''s head split vertically. The harpy, its head cleaved in two, crashed into the ground, its body bursting like a ripe tomato. Blood smeared the dirt, leaving a trail of gore and mangled feathers. Another harpy down. The other soldier, the one with the sword, repeated a similar feat. Having already torn through the first harpy''s wing, he swung his blade once more. It was as if the harpy''s trajectory had been predicted perfectly, the creature flying straight into the sword''s path. Thud! This time, the blade struck the harpy''s chest. While it didn''t cleave the harpy in half, the sword buried itself between its grotesque breasts. The harpy tumbled to the ground, its internal organs ruptured and spilling out. It was as good as dead. The platoon leader involuntarily looked upward. Eight harpies remained. His unit hadn''t managed to kill a single one, but these two had already taken out three. "Frontier defense?" The platoon leader''s misunderstanding deepened. Their skills were far too overwhelming to be ordinary soldiers. Was this what elite soldiers were capable of? He had heard rumors of the "slaughterers of the frontier" before transferring here. But this was beyond anything he had imagined. Before he could process further, a group approached from behind the duo¡ªarmed with throwing weapons like javelins, longbows, and crossbows. Their cloaks bore the emblem of an eagle on their epaulets. The frontier defense force was the real deal. The soldier leading them had already assessed the situation and seen everything with his own eyes. *** "His skill..." It had improved again, to the point where it was no longer certain he could be defeated easily. The one leading the defense force was Torres¡ªa platoon leader in the frontier defense unit, with various ties to Enkrid. Judging someone''s skill by how they kill a monster was foolish. However, Torres knew he wouldn''t be able to perform such feats against an oncoming harpy. Let alone do it twice in a row. "Is it just luck?" Torres shared the same thought as the heavy infantry platoon leader. At that moment, a third harpy dove in. Torres'' gaze dropped from the harpy to the figure below. There stood Enkrid, pulling his sword out of the chest of the harpy he had just killed. "Hey!" Torres shouted, a warning to look up. *** How should one describe this? Enkrid connected the dots. He split time into fragments, wielding his sword as his instincts directed. The result? The first harpy lost its wing. "Whi-ew." Rem whistled beside him, his grip still tingling from the sharp resistance of the harpy, whose heavy weight emphasized the impact. It wasn''t difficult. Enkrid picked up his sword again. As the next harpy swooped down, he slashed its chest dead center and released his grip on the sword. Holding on would have likely torn his hand apart. It was a precise judgment. A strike that connected the dots and delivered forceful impact. The result was another monster slain. As Enkrid crouched and swung his sword downward, a harpy''s talons barely missed his head. The sharp sound of air being split sent a chill down his spine, but it didn''t feel dangerous. "If you dodge, that''s all there is to it." It was a simple attack pattern. Dodge, slash, and thrust¡ªa practical application of swordsmanship. Standing atop the chest of the dead harpy, where the collarbone of a human would be, Enkrid planted his foot and pulled his sword free. "Kreee!" The creature''s resilience was astounding. Despite its chest being half-split and its innards spilling out, it blinked its eyes. Though Enkrid was looking at the harpy he had just struck down, his senses were attuned to his surroundings¡ªparticularly the harpy descending from above. He didn''t need to look; the air''s ripples were enough. His perception was sharper than ever. "Hey!" The shout reached him, but he was already moving. Using the wing of the dying harpy, he stabbed it with his sword and heaved upward. Crunch! The strain pushed his arm muscles to their limits, with force running through his waist and thighs. The dying harpy was hurled upward, smashing into the oncoming one. Thud! The collision sent the attacking harpy tumbling. After using the harpy to block its kin, Enkrid rolled to the side, dispersing the impact by redirecting the force. It was an intentional, calculated movement to minimize the residual shock on his body. He rose immediately after rolling, rushing toward the harpy on the ground. With a sharp downward strike, he split its head in two, as if splitting firewood. That made four. Rem had taken down one, and Enkrid three. The first one to fall had already been finished off by a soldier who lodged a quarrel into its skull. The harpy flock fluttered their wings above and began to scatter. Harpies never fought losing battles. They fled. Enkrid let his arms hang loosely, suppressing the lingering regret. "Just a few more..." He wanted to fight. He needed more experience, more time to refine what he had learned and absorbed. He needed to adapt and train further in real combat. Perhaps then, he could fully integrate what he had gained in the sewers. "Enjoying yourself?" Rem chuckled beside him, clearly having already grasped Enkrid''s state of mind with his sharp instincts. "Some might call it madness, but your skill has reached an extraordinary level. Still, it''s curious, don''t you think? I knew real combat would help, but to achieve this much in just one day?" Though he didn''t probe too deeply, his skepticism was evident. It was only natural. Leaping to this level of growth overnight was far from normal. Enkrid offered his usual excuse. "Just lucky, I guess." Rem knew skill couldn''t be built on luck alone, but he wasn''t about to argue. What did it matter? Seeing this man so excited as he wielded his sword made it enjoyable for him too. "Once, I barely survived being chased by harpies." Enkrid muttered. "Really?" "Yeah." There wasn''t much emotion or significance behind his words¡ªjust a statement of fact. Enkrid briefly recalled a fallen comrade from that time before brushing the memory aside. "This isn''t revenge, but..." At least killing this harpy flock brought him a measure of satisfaction, even if the lingering regret outweighed it. "Both of you, your units¡ªwait, hold on." The heavy infantry platoon leader, who had been holding their defensive formation, approached, looking incredulous. "4th Company, 4th Platoon, 4th Squad Leader Enkrid," Enkrid answered with a salute. "Squad leader? Not part of the frontier defense force?" "No, the frontier defense force is over there." A familiar face¡ªTorres¡ªapproached, raising a hand. Even so, his eyes remained fixed on Enkrid, scanning him from head to toe. He seemed to want to ask what on earth Enkrid had done to grow so much in skill. "We were sent as reinforcements," Torres said, "but we didn''t even get to fire a single arrow." What was going on? Soon, the heavy infantry company''s 4th platoon leader and Torres exchanged quick greetings and summarized the situation. While listening to their conversation, Enkrid suddenly asked a question. It was an important issue for him. "Is it over?" "...What are you asking?" "The monster cleanup. I''m wondering if it''s finished." What''s with this guy? Why''s he asking that? Two light infantry soldiers had just killed four harpies and saved a heavy infantry platoon. It wasn''t an extraordinary achievement, but it was commendable. Yet one of them was seriously asking if it was over, while the other¡ªclearly a foreigner¡ªwas grinning beside him. What was with these lunatics? The platoon leader thought for a moment before replying. "Our original target is the extermination of the man-faced hound packs, so no, it''s not over." He hadn''t forgotten the mission''s purpose. A pack of man-faced hounds had been disrupting trade routes around the Border Guard, immobilizing merchant caravans. That''s why they had been deployed. The pack hadn''t yet appeared on the trade routes outside the city walls, but their presence in small numbers nearby made it clear that trouble was brewing. Their task was to clear out the monsters and beasts around the area to ensure the city''s safety. "I''d like to join." At Enkrid''s words, the platoon leader thought to himself. ''Does he just want to fight more? He looks like he''s itching for a battle. Is there something wrong with my eyes?'' No, his eyes weren''t wrong. His observation was absolutely correct Chapter 91 - Independent Platoon Chapter 91 - 91 - Independent Platoon Chapter 91 - Independent Platoon Human-faced dogs. Creatures that exist somewhere between beasts and monsters. They were quadrupedal monsters with faces resembling old men or canine beasts with disturbingly human-like faces. But what did it matter? Monsters and beasts alike regarded humans as prey. They were simply targets to be killed. No one knows where monsters or beasts originated. From the moment Enkrid was born¡ªor perhaps from the very existence of this world¡ªthe threats of monsters and beasts had persisted. Ghouls, harpies, skeletons¡ªthere were countless types. The difference between monsters and beasts was simple: While beasts resembled animals, monsters bore individual, distinguishing traits. Among them, the human-faced dogs were a peculiar breed, sitting in the middle ground between beasts and monsters. When grouped together, they lost all sense of fear. "Advance." It was a horde of over fifty, scattered in disarray as they growled and snarled. As soon as they were spotted, the platoon leader of the heavy infantry issued the order. Heavy infantry¡ªby far the most resource-intensive unit in terms of both equipment and training. Encumbered by their armor, they lacked mobility and couldn''t serve as skirmishers or archers. Their armor''s weight restricted their movements, ruling out nimble charges. However, with their full-body armor, rectangular shields, and long pikes protruding between the gaps, heavy infantry excelled with overwhelming efficiency in open-field battles. It was no different this time. Marching steadily across the wasteland, the heavy infantry stirred only faint dust clouds as they advanced. Step by deliberate step, they pressed forward, unrelenting. Yet, the human-faced dogs could do nothing. Their primary weapon¡ªtheir claws¡ªwas utterly ineffective. Total domination. Even harpies attacking from the sky couldn''t harm the heavy infantry, let alone a horde of human-faced dogs. Thud! Claws raked against shields, but to no avail. Even when one managed to wedge its claws into a gap between the shields, the result was the same. Clang. At most, it left a scratch on the armored plates. And such attempts were rare¡ªless than one in ten. Most of the human-faced dogs were blocked by the shield wall, unable to advance further. "Kaagh!" A grating, guttural scream erupted as one of the creatures lashed out at a shield, only to be impaled by a pike that emerged from between the shields. Its side pierced, the creature''s body dangled on the spear until the soldier holding the shield shoved it off, withdrawing the blade cleanly. The wounded monster collapsed to the ground, thrashing as its screams turned to death rattles. The heavy infantry marched over it, their boots crushing the dying creature with fatal finality. Thud, thud. Considering the sheer weight of their armor, even stepping on the fallen served as an effective coup de gra?ce. Shield defense, pike thrust. A simple yet highly efficient tactic. After all, they weren''t fighting humans but monsters¡ªcreatures beyond reason. While the heavy infantry dealt with the horde, the special operations unit stationed on a nearby hill provided support. The frontier defense team¡ªcomposed of longbowmen and crossbowmen¡ªlaunched a relentless barrage. Five archers and fifteen crossbowmen blocked one side, raining down arrows and bolts. Forced into a corner, the human-faced dogs veered to one side¡ªonly to be met by the heavy infantry. Meanwhile, Enkrid and Rem were not idle observers. Beyond the horde of fifty, more of the creatures emerged from somewhere, joining the fray. "It looks like it''s up to us to handle those!" Rem''s voice was unusually animated. Enkrid didn''t bother responding and instead sprang into action, moving even faster than Rem. The excitement within him hadn''t yet subsided. This was a moment to prove everything ingrained in his body through practice¡ªswinging his sword again and again. A moment to cherish. To fight for his life without feeling like he would die. When had he ever experienced such a sensation before? It filled Enkrid with a strange exhilaration. Against a mere dozen or so human-faced dogs, there was no sense of impending death, no looming threat. Why was he so certain? Was it because Rem was with him? No, that didn''t seem to be it. There was no time for further thought. He sprinted forward, moving with a speed and dynamism that the heavy infantry could never achieve. With daring and focus, he charged ahead. Mid-run, he crouched low and swung his sword horizontally, parallel to the ground. Slice! Thwack! The first creature lunged to meet him, only to have its snout severed. The same swing carried through, splitting open the skull of another creature. Two dispatched in a single motion. Planting his left foot firmly into the ground, Enkrid pivoted, swinging his right foot back to turn his body instantly. As he spun, he raised his sword vertically and brought it down in a textbook vertical slash. Slash! The blade cleaved through the head of another creature, splitting it in two. His heart pounded wildly as he swung and slashed, each strike building a tangible rhythm. Facing another charging creature, Enkrid punched it in the head and, in the same motion, drove his sword downward into the skull of another that had lunged at his shin. The feeling of the blade crushing bone resonated through his hand. As he tried to withdraw his sword, a sudden flash of an axe swung past him. It was Rem. With bold, sweeping strikes, he cleaved through the bodies and heads of their foes. Enkrid glanced at the horde rushing toward them. Once, the sight might have filled him with terror. But not anymore. His heart now beat with courage, allowing him to fight with composure. His mind was ice-cold, tirelessly calculating the optimal movements and positions to gain the upper hand, even as he kept slicing through the advancing monsters. His body burned with exhilaration, each surge of adrenaline sharpening his senses. This is working. The lessons he had learned from battling the sewer mage, the drills he had endured with his squadmates¡ªthey all coalesced, steadily accumulating through real combat experience. Watching from the side, Rem couldn''t help but be reminded of a wall''s construction. Once, he had been disguised as a laborer, hauling heavy stones to build a fortress wall. Piece by painstaking piece, the wall had risen¡ªa slow, arduous, and patience-testing process. It''s incredible. Observing Enkrid''s growth up close, Rem felt nothing short of amazement. Time and again, Enkrid defied understanding, steadily building himself into something greater, one battle at a time. The one who couldn''t even stack a single stone daily suddenly builds a tower of dozens overnight. How could such a thing be possible? No one knew, nor did anyone care to find out. It simply made things more intriguing. "This is fun. Really fun." Squawk! The last remaining dog-headed beast collapsed, a bolt embedded in its skull. Torres approached, having herded and eliminated the monsters with precision. Smacking his lips, he remarked, "A shame. You should''ve joined my unit. Why are you still playing squad leader?" That was a question even the 1st Company''s platoon leader pondered. With such skills, why? Noticing the glares from some of the soldiers tied to Rem, Enkrid subtly positioned himself to block their view. Rem, infamous for brawling with superior officers in the 1st Company, was always at odds with them¡ªespecially since he often instigated. After diffusing the brewing tension, Enkrid finally spoke, "There''s no one yet capable of taking responsibility for my squad." He pointed out the practical issue: if he were to leave for another company, who would take charge of Squad 444? "Anyway, good work." The rush of adrenaline that had reached its peak was now gradually subsiding. Enkrid had answered but didn''t dwell on it. His mind was occupied with one thought. "I need to reorganize." After fighting, he realized the necessity of sorting through his capabilities¡ªtidying up his skills and techniques. He had combined several techniques to create synergy and applied them to his swordsmanship. But because he had been improvising in the heat of battle, he now saw the need to systematize them. This realization was exhilarating for Enkrid. Finding what he needed on his own¡ªsuch a rare experience was thrilling in itself. Until now, the path before him had always been shrouded in darkness, with no way forward. But now? Signposts were appearing on what once seemed an invisible road. The sheer joy of it was overwhelming, bringing an unbidden smile to Enkrid''s face. Not even Rem could guess his thoughts, let alone Torres or the heavily-armored platoon leader. The battle was over, and this wasn''t the kind of fight to celebrate victories. Winning and killing were mere routine in such extermination missions. But here was a soldier, drenched in blood, grinning as though he couldn''t be happier. The armored platoon leader observed his smile and thought it resembled the kind of contentment one might feel soaking in hot water on a bitterly cold winter''s day. "Is he... mentally ill?" The platoon leader leaned toward Torres, tapping his head slightly to imply his question. Torres responded hesitantly, "Not exactly the most normal person, but..." His words referred not to the smile but to Enkrid''s unusual conduct in the unit. After all, no matter how crazy, no squad leader obsessed with swordsmanship to that extent could truly be ordinary. "What are you looking at?" "You son of a¡ª" In Enkrid''s moment of distraction, a quarrel erupted between Rem and the 1st Company. Enkrid quickly moved to stop Rem, while Torres and the others worked to restore order. *** Two missions¡ªone buried by the company commander and the other widely known. The first involved killing a mage, a feat unknown to anyone else. But the monster extermination? Everyone knew. From slaying beasts with Rem to facing harpies with a sword, tales of their exploits spread. Few were surprised by Rem''s accomplishments; his skills were the reason he was tolerated in the unit despite his temperament. "Rem? That crazy bastard always fights well." "If only he had a better personality, he could''ve been a battalion commander." But what shocked the soldiers was Enkrid. An upper-rank soldier, sure, but even among them, how many could fight like that? Taking down harpies with sheer swordsmanship? One might call it reckless, but to kill three of them wasn''t luck. The rumor spread rapidly. "How did he even manage that?" "I always knew this would happen someday." "Enkrid? That crazy squad leader?" "Didn''t he also destroy some sort of curse magic recently?" Questions arose, especially since many had witnessed him decimate the dog-headed beasts. "So why is he still a squad leader?" The rumors and questions inevitably reached the battalion commander, who couldn''t ignore them. As a result, the fairy company commander was summoned for questioning. "Should someone like him remain a mere squad leader?" "His squad is rather... unique." "We don''t have the budget for monetary rewards, so promoting him seems fitting." The kingdom of Naurilia had a straightforward policy: reward excellence appropriately. That''s why systems like the soldier ranking and mercenary programs existed. The battalion commander, wanting to save on reward funds, suggested promoting Enkrid instead. The company commander, understanding the peculiarities of Enkrid''s squad, devised an alternative solution. "Understood." After saluting, the commander departed, her mind already formulating a plan that satisfied both the battalion commander and current arrangements. Thus, Enkrid found himself summoned. "My squad consists of less than ten soldiers." "That doesn''t matter. From today, you hold a rank equivalent to platoon leader. Any objections?" "None." Orders were orders, and Enkrid had no reason to argue, especially with the fairy company commander. "Dismissed." And so, Enkrid became a platoon leader in rank. "Do we call you ''Platoon Leader'' now?" "Hey, sir, does this mean a pay raise?" "What about us?" "Congratulations, brother!" "By the way, my sword blade''s chipped." Whether these were true congratulations or not was debatable¡ªespecially Ragna''s remark. In reality, nothing much changed with his promotion. The only notable adjustment was that he now oversaw an independent platoon, no longer referred to as Squad 444. With ten members being the standard for a squad, they had previously operated with only six, including Enkrid. Though offered the chance to recruit more soldiers, Enkrid thought, "Why bother?" Despite being labeled an independent platoon, they rarely had standalone missions. The only privilege granted was exemption from standard duties, which Rem found mildly unfair but chose to let slide since the squad remained intact. With his new rank established, Enkrid''s daily life remained unchanged. "So, you want to learn more?" It began with Audin. While reorganizing his techniques, Enkrid didn''t want to waste time. Learning and improving were crucial to making the most of his routine. Seeking out Audin, he pursued the next step for his well-honed skills. "Have you heard of ''bed combat''?" At first, Enkrid thought it sounded absurd. "It''s a training method created by the Holy Knight Valaf," Audin explained. Valaf''s grappling martial arts¡ªa showcase of techniques focused on holds and joint locks. For Enkrid, it was an addition to his ever-growing repertoire of everyday drills. Winter''s harsh cold was waning, signaling the approach of spring, yet Enkrid remained relentless. And as whispers of an impending full-scale war replaced small skirmishes, preparations intensified. For Enkrid, spring would arrive with a surge of battles, but before that, he would tirelessly hone himself, organizing his skills to perfection. Chapter 92 - The Fine Line Between Greatness and Madness Chapter 92 - 92 - The Fine Line Between Greatness and Madness Chapter 92 - The Fine Line Between Greatness and Madness Enkrid carefully polished his boots and gloves before wiping down his sword with an oiled cloth. The recent task of clearing out a horde of beasts had drawn merchants to the area. This, in turn, meant a new sword for Enkrid. The broken blade, once forged with Valerian steel, had been reforged with the addition of Noir mountain iron. Mixing two high-quality metals recognized across the continent was no small feat. "This is something only I can do," boasted the blacksmith. It wasn''t mere arrogance. While he couldn''t forge magical swords, his skill in working with metal rivaled that of a mage''s finesse. He was a renowned artisan within the Border Guard¡ªthough his fame might not extend beyond the city. Still, that was something. When the artisan finished crafting Enkrid''s sword, even the notoriously picky Ragna offered a begrudging nod of approval. "It''s decent enough. Though it''s still far from ideal for my use," Ragna added with characteristic bluntness. Enkrid inspected the blade, carefully running the oiled cloth over it before flicking a finger against its edge. Ping. The resonant tone indicated the sword''s exceptional quality¡ªthis was the first time Enkrid wielded a blade worthy of being called a masterpiece. He couldn''t help but feel satisfied. Ragna, on the other hand, wasn''t so particular about his weapons. He used whatever was at hand, even if it was a battered piece of metal. In the past, Enkrid had sharpened Ragna''s notched arming sword himself because Ragna couldn''t be bothered. Without Enkrid''s help, he might have kept carrying a chipped sword into battle. "Esther, that''s not a toy," Enkrid said gently, addressing the lake panther. He had several items recovered after taking down the sewer necrophile mage, but one stood out¡ªa grimoire bound in human skin. When Enkrid handed over the items to Krais for sale, the man had remarked with suspicion. "It was really a mage in the sewer?" Krais asked. "Did you doubt me?" "I believed you, but now I believe you a bit more," Krais replied, though it sounded as though he hadn''t entirely trusted the story before. In the end, most of the items sold easily, except for the grimoire, which was tricky to handle. The staff and other materials, such as alchemical stones, fetched a decent price. The proceeds, along with funds from guild contributions and the mage''s bounty, were all poured into the creation of Enkrid''s new sword. Even with the expense, Enkrid had no regrets. "This will do just fine," he thought, knowing that in battles where lives hung in the balance, a superior weapon could make all the difference. Meanwhile, the grimoire, still wrapped in its unsettling cover, was rewrapped in thin cloth for storage. Esther had claimed it as her new resting spot. "Should I just leave it there?" Enkrid wondered. At least Esther wouldn''t urinate on it; she was fastidious about her habits, always finding a secluded spot for her needs. When Enkrid reached out toward the grimoire, Esther hissed. "Leave it be. She seems comfortable," Rem commented, prompting Enkrid to let the matter rest. With his new sword in hand and the mage''s legacy dealt with, Enkrid turned his focus back to training. Rising earlier than the dawn, he added hours to his routine, thanks to the flexibility of his new role as platoon leader. The cold predawn air was biting, but Enkrid began his day by practicing the Isolation Technique, a method of warming his body through controlled movements and lifting weights. Soon, Audin joined him, beginning his own training. "Good morning, platoon leader," Audin greeted, adding a formal tone to his usual address. Enkrid recalled the company commander''s promise to assign more members to his platoon. However, Audin''s voice pulled him back to focus. "Concentrate," Audin said sharply. "Yes, yes," Enkrid replied, shifting his attention back to his breathing and movements. His training was not limited to physical exercise. He honed his skills in swordsmanship, refining techniques like Heart of the Beast, Sense of Evasion, and Isolation Technique. He also practiced observing opponents'' physical conditions and predicting attacks through instinct and intuition. Among the various styles he had learned was the Valen mercenary swordsmanship, which he considered keeping in his arsenal. "Should I abandon it, or can it still be useful?" he pondered. Ultimately, Enkrid decided to retain the style. "If I lack the skill to use it effectively, I''ll simply work to improve," he concluded, dedicating himself to continuous growth. Courage is always essential. It proves its worth simply by keeping one''s eyes open at critical moments. To Enkrid, the Heart of the Beast was the foundation of everything. "Calmly." One day, he trained his intuition. On another, he combined his senses with focus. "Let''s blend it into my body." Every swing of a sword carries the weight of countless experiences. It is a process of internalizing through instinct, recognizing with the mind, and embedding it into the body. Of course, it was far from easy. Through this process, Enkrid gradually honed a pattern and method unique to himself. "Training alone isn''t enough." What was necessary was real combat¡ªtraining intertwined with actual battle. Preferably... "Combat where you risk your life." "That''s what I told you before," Rem had joked. "Fighting for your life earns you a lot if you survive. But since you only have one life, building skills like that doesn''t make much sense." It was a jest, but it held a kernel of truth. Now, Enkrid understood the importance of life-or-death combat. Not because dying was significant, but because overcoming death repeatedly mattered. Aware of the necessity of real battles, Enkrid began accepting missions¡ªranging from trivial to extreme. He turned none away. *** "What are we supposed to find this time?" "My cat," requested a noblewoman. Such was the nature of some tasks his unit undertook. Still, Enkrid did not discriminate between assignments. Any situation, any moment¡ªall were opportunities to train. With this mindset, Enkrid found the cat, perched atop a tree. "Let''s settle this calmly." The cat appeared ready to bolt. Its instincts, visible even through the realm of intuition, were vivid. Oddly enough, even this became a learning experience. By channeling his intent and aura, Enkrid drove the cat to leap down, catching it mid-air and subduing it with his gaze. This, too, was now within his grasp. "You''ve opened the door to intuition," Jaxen remarked, observing. Jaxen no longer tormented Enkrid with constant pressure, recognizing it as futile. From finding cats to pursuing thieves, the missions varied. "Someone committed a robbery and is hiding in the city?" Such was another task. A drifter had caused trouble, entering the city only to botch their crime. "Find him." Back when the Gilpin Guild was overtaken, Enkrid hadn''t anticipated its value in moments like this. Perhaps Krais had foreseen it, as he executed tasks skillfully and without hesitation. This time, it was in a back-alley gambling den. The target was a retired soldier with a scarred forehead. "You want to fight me? Damn, coming to the outskirts brings all sorts of nonsense. They say Border Guard reserves are tough. Let''s see what you''ve got!" Confident words¡ªbut did he have the skills to match? Enkrid assessed him carefully, feigning struggle to gauge the man''s capabilities. "At best, mid to upper level," he concluded, using Naurilia''s soldier ranking system as a reference. There was nothing unexpected in his skill. "Huff... who are you?" "Border Guard reserves," Enkrid replied, swiftly breaking the man''s leg to subdue him. The captive would now rot in the unit''s prison unless someone paid his fine. "Just you wait," the man threatened, though Enkrid doubted they would cross paths again. On other occasions, Enkrid was dispatched to inns to break up disputes among caravan escorts. Among them was a particularly skilled fighter. Sparring with him, Enkrid trained by merging his heightened focus with blade intuition. Maintaining a state of intuitive awareness while concentrating revealed new insights. The difference in focus altered everything. "It slows down." Though not as stark as before, his opponent''s blade appeared slower, moving predictably as if his mind and perception outpaced reality. Everything was a continuation of training¡ªa cycle of endless refinement. As the missions piled up... "Are you insane with these requests?" murmured fellow soldiers. Their words weren''t criticism but astonishment and admiration. "Does he have ten bodies? Why doesn''t he rest?" "He''s not human. He''s a monster." "Guess there''s a reason he''s the platoon leader of those madmen." "Damn it, maybe I should wake up earlier and stab a few spears for practice." Thanks to Enkrid, an unexpected wave of training enthusiasm spread through the unit. His results spoke for themselves, inspiring soldiers and elevating his reputation. Some soldiers owed their lives to Enkrid, further fueling the fervor for self-improvement within the unit. Enkrid paid no attention to the ripple effect he caused, focusing solely on his path. During training, he felt a faint, steady flame burning in his chest. How had he felt on the battlefield before? While not afraid, he couldn''t say he enjoyed it. The battlefield never brought joy. "This doesn''t seem normal," he mused. But now, he eagerly anticipated the battlefield. He wanted to fight, prove himself, and showcase his skills. He yearned to risk his life and cross the line of death once again. Perhaps he was mad. And yet... "Don''t you know greatness and madness are only a hair''s breadth apart?" Rem''s words resurfaced. If the path to greatness was reserved for the mad, then madness was the only way forward. One day, immersed in training and missions... "This might be fun," the company commander said, summoning Enkrid to his private training grounds. "A duel?" Naturally, Enkrid did not refuse. "Of course." The situation mirrored their last encounter. Would the result be the same? That remained uncertain. Enkrid couldn''t yet gauge the full extent of the commander''s skills. But he was confident he wouldn''t suffer the same defeat. Ultimately, only by clashing fists or blades could he discover the truth. The commander raised her hand, forming a knife-like edge with his palm. "We''ll use this today." It felt like a test. Their previous duel had exposed Enkrid''s deficiencies, particularly in close-quarters combat¡ªwhat some called wrestling. Enkrid nodded. Soon, their hands struck, the crisp sound marking the start of their spar. Chapter 93 - A Result of Coincidence or a Moment of Overlapping Inevitabilities? Chapter 93 - 93 - A Result of Coincidence or a Moment of Overlapping Inevitabilities? Chapter 93 - A Result of Coincidence or a Moment of Overlapping Inevitabilities? "Valaf-style martial arts. It''s inconvenient to maintain your footing on a bed. So, what would make it more comfortable?" Audin asked, and Enkrid pondered deeply before answering. The two men, perched on the narrow bed, were nothing short of serious. "Add more force?" At first, Enkrid thought it was a method to learn the knack of striking in deliberately tight and uncomfortable conditions. "No, that''s not it. You can''t. Beds are for lying down. We''ll focus on techniques suited for lying down." Beds are for lying down¡ªso he said. It was after their first martial arts training that Enkrid discovered Audin bathed more often than expected. After all, when Enkrid''s head was caught under his arm while his limbs were subdued, there wasn''t even the faintest hint of sourness. On the cramped bed, they practiced hand and foot maneuvers, joint locks, and submission holds. Or rather, Enkrid was the one being subdued. "Beds are narrow. Quick movements work better than complex ones." It was learning. It was teaching. A sip of water for a parched soul wandering the desert. For Enkrid, it was exactly that. And so, he focused with more than just the posture of a listener. Although the techniques were tricky to use in real combat, they came in handy as he traveled to fulfill various requests. For example, when twisting the wrist of a petty pickpocket. "It seems there are more pickpockets since Gilpin has taken on the role of the Night Guardian." Pickpockets who got caught had their wrists cut off. This one seemed young, no older than twelve. So, he handed the boy over to the Gilpin Guild. Word later reached him that the boy had been thoroughly thrashed, though it was undoubtedly better than losing a hand. He tried to make use of the techniques whenever the opportunity arose. But no chance seemed as good as the present. As soon as Enkrid matched hand edges with the company commander, he stepped back with his right foot. Placing his left foot forward, he pulled his right foot to the position of his left, bent his knees, and kicked off the ground, propelling himself forward with explosive force. Using the momentum of his whole body, he extended his right hand in a straight thrust. It was a stab¡ªdelivered with the edge of his hand, though the principle remained unchanged. It was like the time he saved Krang. Back when the company commander burst into the medic tent, tearing through its canvas, Enkrid had a dagger in hand. Now, it was just his hand edge, but her reaction was the same. She swung her right hand outward, striking Enkrid''s wrist and diverting the thrust''s trajectory. Then her foot hooked at his heel. Back then, he had been utterly outmatched. But not this time. Before her foot could connect, Enkrid lifted his own, evading the attack. Using the awkward position from the deflected thrust, he pivoted on his left foot, tilting his body to counter her. What was the greatest difference between himself and the Fairy Company Commander? ''Weight.'' "Identify the opponent''s weakness and exploit it with your strengths, brother." Enkrid followed Audin''s advice. Instead of exchanging blows awkwardly, he overwhelmed her. "Mm!" The company commander let out a short grunt. Though she managed to kick Enkrid''s thigh with her sole, he absorbed the impact, using his body weight to pin her down. As he did so, he gripped her wrist and forced it outward, entangling his legs with hers. In this way, the commander, lying on her side, had her left hand extended forward while her limbs were bound. "I think I''ve won," Enkrid said, catching his breath. The commander turned her head, so close their breaths mingled. Soon, she spoke. "Humans propose in ways quite different from fairies." Her breath smelled of flowers¡ªa fairy''s joke once more. Remaining in place, Enkrid''s gaze fell on her lips. They looked undeniably soft. "...It''s not like that." Attempting to shake off the thought, Enkrid started to rise, only for the commander to wrap her legs around his waist in turn. Though he wobbled slightly, Enkrid''s solid core and the commander''s light weight allowed him to stay upright. "You have a strong core." Was it the listener''s fault that her words sounded suggestive? Or was it the speaker''s? ''Not something worth debating.'' "Please, get down," he said. The commander dismounted, brushing herself off. She slapped the dirt from her fitted pants, drawing Enkrid''s attention despite himself. "You''ve improved," she remarked. "Yes, I have," he replied readily. It was why they started this match, wasn''t it? Spotting an opening, exploiting the opponent''s weakness, and seizing the upper hand¡ªall enhanced by the Valaf-style techniques Audin had taught him. [TL: Please keep in mind that valah mercenary swordsmanship and valaf style techniques are not the same. The names are very similar, which is confusing but what can you do, this is the way the author wanted it.] Her acknowledgment of his growth was something he could accept without hesitation. The commander fell silent for a moment before speaking again. "For now, accept my apology for failing to stop it." Puzzled, Enkrid tilted his head. "Reinforcements for your platoon will arrive by today. That''s all you need to know." He thought to ask for clarification but stopped himself. The commander had already turned and walked off. Would she reveal anything more if he pressed her? Unlikely. Her words suggested he''d find out soon enough. ''She did apologize for failing to stop it.'' It was clear the directive had come from higher up. Enkrid''s sense of discernment, honed by years of survival, told him it was better not to dwell on it. Instead, he decided to spend his time swinging his sword. *** The battalion commander had been replaced. It was expected, given the shift from skirmishes to all-out war. The battlefield had expanded, escalating the scale of the conflict. Naturally, the battalion needed a combat-specialized leader. "My name is Marcus." Battalion Commander Marcus. Once a knight aspirant who failed to overcome the wall of talent, he had served in frontier defense units and numerous other postings, becoming a key officer under Cypress. He had no interest in the foolish actions of his predecessor. "The main forces here are the frontier defense troops and the Tortoise 1st Company. The rest are cannon fodder for headcount. Plan your strategies accordingly. Understood?" His mind was solely occupied with warfare. And he had heard the rumors within the unit. "The troublemaking squad leader, now a platoon leader? Unusual. Lucky, was he?" After reviewing reports of past events, he found it hard to believe luck alone could explain them. Marcus decided to push further. "How about we test that luck once more?" If the soldier perished, so be it. But if fortune truly favored him, there was no reason not to exploit it. If it wasn''t luck? He''d die¡ªjust a soldier lost. It was no loss either way. The company commander''s cryptic apology made sense now. "Deploy him." It was a mission combining espionage and covert operations¡ªan order from the battalion commander himself. No one could prevent it. "I hope he survives," she muttered. Not because she saw him as her partner, but because ''he''s that talented.'' His record was clean, and he had ties with Krang. She had been asked to do it, and she agreed because it was too valuable to waste. Skill, courage, and nerve. Everything about him was appealing. Thus, ''Come back alive.'' That was all she could hope for. *** "This isn''t just a support mission." Enkrid knew that Rem was as quick-witted as he was. This mission had come through amidst various requests. The directive was to head north of the Border Guard, cross the Pen-Hanil River, and scout the surrounding terrain. Enkrid sketched a map in his mind. To the east of the Border Guard lay Green Pearl, above which flowed the Pen-Hanil River. Crossing the river and heading northeast, one would reach a city¡ªa military stronghold of Aspen known as Cross Guard. The mission''s objective was located at Cross Guard. On the surface, it appeared to be a simple reconnaissance mission. ''But in reality, it''s espionage.'' The orders hinted that further details would be disclosed after crossing the river. "Why only the commander?" Jaxen frowned as he went over the orders, sensing trouble. He wasn''t wrong. Enkrid understood as well. It wasn''t the kind of mission he was typically assigned. ''So, this is it.'' This must have been what the Fairy Company Commander had hinted at. "Why reconnaissance now? Everyone''s saying a full-scale war is imminent. What''s the point?" A newly assigned squad member spoke up¡ªsomeone Enkrid recognized. It was Enri, a hunter from the plains, who once mentioned wanting to return home after the last battlefield. Yet here he was, still stationed in the city. "Even if I wanted to go back, a war would make life on the plains impossible." That explained his presence. Two others had also joined. Andrew, once an immature squad leader, had officially become the squad leader. Of course, Mac was still at his side. With three new additions, Andrew officially assumed leadership of the squad. Not that the squad structure mattered much to Rem and the others. The squad only consisted of nine people, and assigning a leader seemed unnecessary. Who would follow orders anyway? "This seems more like my kind of task." Enri commented. "It''s not just terrain reconnaissance, brother," Audin replied with a gentle smile. The sight of Audin''s massive frame coupled with his calm demeanor was intimidating for anyone seeing him for the first time. Enri flinched involuntarily, needing time to adjust. "A direct order from the battalion commander? Can''t we just ignore it?" Ragna nonchalantly threw out the idea. ''Ignoring orders would be insubordination, you crazy bastard.'' Normally, such a dangerous mission would have been irritating to receive. After all, the objective was near an enemy fortress city, a place soon to be engulfed in war. Approaching it was an adventure in itself. ''The real purpose must be to gather information from an informant in the city.'' Enkrid guessed the mission''s objective. It seemed plausible. It was necessary, no doubt. Someone had to do it. Usually, this type of task would be assigned to specialists. ''The fact that the company commander couldn''t stop it means...'' The battalion commander had intervened directly, which explained the official stamp on the orders. "What do we do?" The platoon leader delivering the mission hesitated, looking around nervously. "What else can we do?" Enkrid didn''t need to think it over. It was a task that had to be done. ''If it''s a real battle...'' He always welcomed such opportunities. After all, every challenge offered a chance to learn, grow, and discover something new. He even felt a sense of anticipation. What kind of events would unfold? Was this a wall placed by fate, or merely a passing occurrence? Was it a coincidence? Or a moment brought about by layered inevitabilities? It didn''t matter. If something blocked his path, he would simply break through. That was how Enkrid lived. "I accept the mission." The squad members'' expressions darkened at his decision. "Looks like we''ll have to follow him," Ragna remarked, though that wasn''t going to be easy. While the battalion commander''s intentions were unclear, the orders explicitly instructed the rest of the squad to remain under Andrew''s command. Based on the orders, it was clear. ''Those who are bound to excel on the battlefield were left behind. I was singled out.'' Why such a directive was issued was anyone''s guess. Who could know? Maybe someone wanted to test the luck of the soldier famously known for it. The battalion commander, Marcus, wasn''t exactly normal either. It was fitting, really. Marcus was a war-obsessed officer with a reputation for doing anything to secure victory. This mission was just the beginning. "Don''t worry. I''ll handle it and come back." There was no way he would die. As long as today repeated itself, he accepted going beyond it as a matter of course. When Enkrid spoke casually, Rem''s eyebrows shot up. "Handle it? Properly? You think that''s possible? You''re not ready! Let''s do some training today. Training!" Ragna, Jaxen, and Audin shared Rem''s sentiment. "Have you found your rhythm?" "Let''s practice stabbing someone from behind." "Ah, it''s time to delve deeper into Valaf-style bed grappling techniques." Meanwhile, Andrew tried to assert his authority, looking around nervously. "As the squad leader, I think everyone should listen to me." But before he could finish, "Let me show you my respect, squad leader!" Rem erupted, his usual reaction, nothing out of the ordinary. He lunged forward and punched Andrew squarely on the head. So fast it was nearly invisible. Andrew collapsed before he could even respond, with Mac catching his falling form. "What?" Seeing Andrew unconscious, Mac snapped his head up in anger, but one glare from Rem made him back down. He realized Andrew was merely knocked out and muttered, "I didn''t even say anything." What could anyone do? The power difference was overwhelming. Any weak attempt at rebellion would only end in violence. That was the harsh reality they had already accepted. Reluctantly, Mac sighed. Life sure was a mess. Meanwhile, Enri nervously observed and realized one thing: ''If you speak out of turn, you''ll die.'' He finally understood why this was called a squad of mad bastards. He had only been focused on Enkrid, but now he was starting to regret his decision. Chapter 94 - Punishment or Opportunity? Chapter 94 - 94 - Punishment or Opportunity? Chapter 94 - Punishment or Opportunity? Under the soft moonlight of a rising night, Enkrid had just returned from his usual grueling training. He had washed and entered the quarters, his body steaming faintly in the cold. Though the weather was warming, the nights remained chilly, and Enkrid''s breath formed mist as he moved. In two days, they would cross the river and begin a terrain reconnaissance operation. Yet the training intensity showed no signs of easing. Such things were immutable. No matter what awaited, the principle remained the same: build today to face tomorrow. Enkrid''s daily routine was unchanging, as predictable as the ferryman''s grumble. Returning to his quarters, he noticed Enri, who had been speaking with Krais, approach before halting abruptly. His gaze had fallen upon Enkrid''s bed, already occupied by Esther. The lake panther had made it her habit to rest there. Even if she had been playing with her grimoire earlier, when bedtime came, that spot was hers. She now lay sprawled, her head resting on her front paws. Her gaze briefly shifted to Enri before returning to her own feet, conveying complete disinterest. Enri, cautious as always, maintained his distance, avoiding walking too close to the legendary creature. Lake panthers were revered as guardian spirits in the Green Pearl Plains, and Enri showed no intention of testing that reputation. Instead, he raised his voice slightly from across the bed. "Have you ever had pathfinder training? I noticed you seemed to have some knowledge in that area." Enkrid scratched his forehead. "Not at all." He could guess why Enri might be under that impression. After all, what Enkrid knew, he had learned from Enri himself during their previous ventures in the tall grasses of the Green Pearl. Enkrid''s understanding came from observing and absorbing bits of knowledge over time. "Then, do you know the route along the upper river?" Enri asked. The area above the Pen-Hanil River leaned toward the northern territories. Even as a mercenary, Enkrid had never ventured there. "The ground might be thawing with spring, but it''ll still be firm," Enri continued. "I''ve been through there a few times. Should I share what I know?" Enri had a pragmatic nature. Whether his hunting background shaped his demeanor or vice versa, he was the type to assess situations and focus on what mattered most. This trait made him an easy fit within the unit, blending naturally. Even now, he had risen from a conversation with Krais to offer assistance. Remarkably, Rem never seemed to hassle Enri. If anything, the others either ignored or tolerated him, with no overt hostility. "Seems like the hunter''s done some wandering," Rem remarked while sitting on his bed, sharpening an axe with a whetstone. His gaze shifted toward a corner of the room, where Andrew and Mac sat. Andrew flinched under that look, his shoulders tensing briefly. "Cut it out," Enkrid warned Rem. "What? Favoring the newcomers now? That''s how you end up stabbed in the back, you know¡ªpampering a new wife while neglecting the old one." The analogy made no sense. Who was the "new wife" and the "old wife"? "You''re insane," Enkrid muttered dismissively before turning to Enri, who hesitated to approach the bed because of Esther. As Enkrid passed, Esther nudged his thigh with her paw, emitting a low growl. Her gesture seemed to say, Hurry up and get to bed. "Jealous too, huh?" Enkrid thought wryly. The unit''s quarters carried a strange tension. It had begun after Enri, Andrew, and Mac joined. True to their reputation, this was a squad full of mad bastards. There was no welcoming atmosphere for newcomers. Enkrid saw no need to force camaraderie. Each soldier would fend for themselves in battle. Trying to align with others'' pace only led to needless risks. Their lone guideline was simple: Take care of your own life. "Feels like walking on eggshells," Enri had remarked upon joining. He probably didn''t realize that this was a milder atmosphere compared to past experiences. When new recruits had joined before, the hostility was palpable. Some outright ignored Enkrid''s authority as squad leader, only to end up severely injured and sent back within days. Whether by Rem''s doing or someone else''s hand, it always seemed to happen. "Most likely a collective effort by the squad," Enkrid mused. This time, at least, the situation was manageable. The newcomers were familiar faces and appeared to like Enkrid, reducing the chances of anyone being maimed or driven out. "I can share a few things about the upper Pen-Hanil River," Enri offered. "You probably already know most of it, but it doesn''t hurt to learn more. For instance, do you know about flat stones? The ones near the river?" From Enri, Enkrid learned practical tidbits: flat stones, unless tinged with ochre, would explode when heated; ochre stones often concealed venomous snakes beneath them; and certain stretches of the river had deceptive depths and swift currents. It wasn''t possible to memorize everything in a single day, but knowing even a little was a significant advantage. As the night deepened, Mac settled beside Enkrid, leaning in to whisper, "I''ve got a favor to ask." Enkrid felt the eyes of the entire squad¡ªexcept for Ragna, who was on duty¡ªturn toward him. His instincts flared a warning. Should I intervene or let it play out? "If this keeps up, I wonder what will happen." Returning from the mission, Mac envisioned Andrew and himself withered and dead. "Could you process my transfer request?" Despite the tension in the air, Mac spoke up, his eyes fierce. "Brother, it''s easy to come in, but not so simple to leave." Audin''s response, half a joke, carried the teasing spirit typical of their squad. But jokes like this often blurred the line between jest and reality. Mac muttered, "Was he listening the whole time?" before Andrew suddenly leaped to his feet. "If you have a problem with me, bring it on! No matter what anyone says, I''ll learn under our squad leader¡ªno, our platoon leader. I''m not leaving!" The outburst revealed the fiery spirit of a soldier, youthful and full of defiance. Rem stood up next, his sharpened axe in hand, a smile playing on his lips. "Where should I start cutting?" he mused, mockingly licking the blade. Even Enkrid felt a chill. With his foreign features, steely gray eyes, and unmistakable seriousness, Rem seemed like he might actually take an arm if provoked. "If he goes first, does that leave me fighting scraps? I''ll go first," Jaxen interjected, shaking his head. It was his first direct remark about Andrew since the latter joined. "Brothers, you know I never kill," Jaxen added, voice flat. "I''ll just make it hurt a little. That''s why I should go first." The three of them seemed more than eager. Mac, watching this unfold, tugged on Enkrid''s sleeve. "Stop them! What are these lunatics doing? And why did Andrew say that?" To avoid seeing a grown man cry, Enkrid had to step in. "Enough." Fortunately, Enkrid knew this was less serious than it appeared. Rem''s threats often masked his intent to spar rather than cause real harm¡ªa strange show of goodwill. Jaxen, usually indifferent, even engaging, hinted at camaraderie. Audin''s earlier joke would have been replaced with stern words had there been genuine disdain. Still, Enkrid struggled to find the words to explain it all. "Listen, kid, I''m busy right now," Rem finally said with his usual unsettling grin. "But when our platoon leader heads out on a mission, we''ll have plenty of time. Cry all you want then, but you''re not leaving." Andrew paled but stood his ground, his voice steady despite the fear. "Bring it on! I''m Andrew of the Gardeners¡ªI won''t back down!" It wasn''t just Enkrid''s imagination; Andrew''s resolve was palpable. As the tension simmered, Krais shook his head, while Enri observed silently. Rem''s unsettling grin grew wider, his presence casting a foreboding shadow. Audin murmured, "Relax, brother. These things are inevitable." Jaxen, meanwhile, coldly examined Andrew and Mac, muttering, "Maybe a few fingers wouldn''t be missed." Enkrid had to intervene. "Don''t hurt him. We''re squadmates, and we''ve got a mission coming up." It was both a warning and an acknowledgment of their bonds. Enkrid knew he couldn''t stop them entirely, nor did he have the authority to. "Just keep it quiet." "Don''t worry," Audin quipped. "I''ll start by cutting tongues." "Bring it on!" Andrew shouted, his desperation unmistakable. By the time Enkrid calmed Andrew down, his night''s rest was long gone. Later, as he lay in bed, Esther crawled onto his chest, pawing at him as if scolding him for being late. "Sorry," Enkrid murmured, stroking her forehead. The panther purred, snuggling closer, warmth radiating from her. Despite the comfort, Enkrid''s thoughts drifted uneasily. Sometimes, nightmares of a boatman haunted his sleep. Tonight was no different. The dark, swirling river stretched endlessly, and the boatman''s voice echoed. "Cry out in your confinement. Your screams are my nourishment and joy." The laughter that followed was ghastly, unnatural. Waking from the nightmare, Enkrid pushed the fear aside. "What will happen will happen," he thought. There was no stopping it. With that, he rose before dawn. "Good morning," he muttered, starting his day like any other. He began with the Isolation Technique, followed by Valaf''s unarmed combat forms, sparring with Rem, sword practice with Ragna, and sensory training with Jaxen. "Instinct can be dangerous," Jaxen warned. "A skilled opponent can exploit them." The solution? Constant practice, honing his skills through battle. Meanwhile, Andrew, Mac, and Enri adapted to the squad''s dynamics, their struggles akin to Enkrid''s own in his early days. Two days later, as dawn broke, Enkrid passed by the sleeping squadmates and stepped outside. The mission was to cross the Pen-Hanil River and survey the terrain¡ªa direct order from the battalion commander. It was a high-risk, high-reward task. Krais had excitedly described the new commander, Marcus, as a ruthless but fair leader. "A war fanatic," Krais had said. "He rewards achievements but never spares the guilty. A product of Naurilia''s military policies." The mission could be punishment or opportunity. For Enkrid, it was the latter¡ªa chance to prove himself. As he approached the city gate, he met the team tasked with crossing the river. Among them was Torres, a frontier defense platoon leader. Chapter 95 - The Secret to Looking Young Is Endless Training Chapter 95 - 95 - The Secret to Looking Young Is Endless Training Chapter 95 - The Secret to Looking Young Is Endless Training "At this rate, were we a couple in our past life or something?" It was just a remark reflecting how often they met for work. After all, they''d last seen each other during a monster hunt. "We could''ve been mortal enemies instead, don''t you think?" Torres made a lighthearted comment, drawing from old tales, and Enkrid played along. There are two kinds of bonds that carry over from a past life: ones meant to meet and ones better off avoided. "We''re not enemies, are we?" Torres chuckled. "That''s true." The two men bumped fists lightly. No matter what awaited them ahead, it was better to face it with a familiar face than a stranger. And so, they set off. The north gate greeted them with a gravel path as they trudged along. Only the two of them were departing from Border Guard. "Is it just us?" "We''ll meet up with a friendly scout unit across the river." So it wasn''t a particularly dangerous mission¡ªperhaps that''s why only two were sent. Various thoughts crossed Enkrid''s mind, but he kept them to himself. After all, Torres was in charge; all Enkrid needed to know was what Torres said. Thus, they began their journey at dawn. By the time the morning sun rose, Enkrid''s inner garments were damp with sweat. Despite the lingering chill, carrying full gear while walking was bound to drench anyone in sweat. His attire consisted of a sleeveless, thin inner garment, layered with a slightly thicker one that covered the arms. Over that, he wore leather armor imbued with magic resistance and a whistle dagger sheath. The ensemble was completed with a gambeson, boots, and leather gauntlets. His pants, however, were thin for mobility''s sake¡ªno choice there. On his waist, he carried a thick-bladed dagger called a guard sword, a newly acquired longsword on his left, and a shortsword on his right. And that wasn''t all. In emergencies, more weapons were better. Two knives were hidden at his ankles, and two throwing knives were secured on his left forearm. Though labeled as light infantry, his gear was hefty. This time, an additional piece of equipment was added. "Your left hand is idle. That needs to be addressed," Ragna had instructed. This led to him carrying a buckler strapped to his back. ''Couldn''t this double as a cooking pot?'' In a pinch, it could. Removing the leather handle would leave a thin metal disc. Still, it felt like unnecessary baggage. ''Oh well.'' He resigned himself to the task. If the shield didn''t suit him, he''d consider alternatives. ''Whether it''s sword and shield or just a sword, it''s time to move forward. But first, we''ll focus on balance.'' Ragna, usually a laid-back slacker, turned into a disciplined instructor when teaching Enkrid. If asked whether that annoyed him¡ª ''Not at all.'' If anything, he was grateful. While opening his senses and scanning the surroundings, Enkrid mulled over Ragna''s words as he walked. From the side, it was a peculiar sight. Torres, carrying only two short swords strapped to his left side, had relatively light gear. Glancing at Enkrid, Torres thought, ''He''s keeping up well.'' Despite the heavy load, Enkrid didn''t lag or pant. His eyes lacked focus, as though lost in thought, but his sharp reactions to the surroundings were undeniable. ''What''s going on in that head of his?'' Torres grew curious. Not just about that. He had participated in countless operations but never encountered someone who asked so little. ''Not asking anything feels weirdly disappointing.'' On missions where secrecy abounded, it was common to ask about the objectives or plans after crossing the river. If asked, Torres already had his answer: ''We''re soldiers. Our job is to follow orders. Ever thought of that?'' It would''ve been the perfect chance for a sharp retort. Yet Enkrid didn''t ask a thing. "Straight ahead." Enkrid broke his silence. Torres turned his gaze forward. They had been walking northwest along the riverbank when they spotted two soaked ghouls. Their sparse, matted hair hung like seaweed from their pale heads. Hidden behind a large rock, their skin blended with the stone, making them easy to miss. ''He spotted them before me?'' Was it sharp instincts or simply good fortune? Torres couldn''t tell. Regardless, monsters¡ªenemies¡ªhad appeared. "One each?" "Let''s do that." At Torres'' suggestion, Enkrid stepped forward to draw their attention. He pulled the buckler from his back and unsheathed his longsword. Shrrng! ''Nice sound.'' Any soldier who lived by the blade was attuned to such details. Torres was no exception. Instead of drawing his weapon, Torres calculated the distance between himself and the ghouls. Ghoul claws were venomous¡ªthere was no need to get too close. As the two ghouls lunged at Enkrid, Torres swiftly pulled a knife from his waist and hurled it. With a precise flick, the knife flew through the air, slicing into a ghoul''s head. Thud. The ghoul''s half-rotten skull cracked as the blade ricocheted out. Ghouls near water often had decayed bodies, the source of their stench. The knife had pierced through rotten flesh and shattered bone before being deflected. Torres watched as Enkrid clumsily deflected the ghoul''s claws with his shield and decapitated it with a clean sword swing. The ghoul''s black blood oozed as its headless body collapsed to its knees and then to the ground. "I thought there weren''t many monsters around here?" Even among platoon leaders, there was a distinction between those in the kingdom''s direct forces like the Border Guard and regular units. Enkrid, though a platoon leader himself, was clearly treated better. "There''s never none. The kingdom probably couldn''t spare troops here because of the packs of human-faced hounds. But don''t worry, there won''t be too many." Enkrid nodded silently, which made Torres wonder. "Aren''t you curious where we''re going?" "Across the river, right?" "Stop talking formaly. Whether it''s the kingdom''s direct forces or regular troops, a platoon leader''s still a platoon leader. We''re about the same age anyway, right?" "I''m thirty." "Then I''m younger." "Fair enough." It wasn''t a suggestion worth refusing. "What''s your secret to looking so young? We''ve both been through countless battles, but you¡ªman, it''s unfair." On appearance alone, Torres looked older, with his plain features adding to the effect. He could easily be mistaken for an inn worker. As Torres spoke, he dipped the fallen knife into the rippling green-and-blue waters of the river, wiping it clean on his sleeve before slipping it into his coat. The knife disappeared seamlessly, leaving Enkrid marveling at the hidden sheath inside his coat. Hearing Enkrid''s answer, Torres let out a dry chuckle. A man with a talent for words, indeed. He thought to himself, I should have brought him into my unit, as he moved to the main topic. "You know crossing the river won''t be the end of it, right?" A nod. "And yet, you''re not asking anything?" "Would you tell me if I did?" Of course not. Torres didn''t know the details either. It was all conjecture. "It''s not going to be a pleasant affair, that much is clear." As Enkrid spoke, his eyes blinked, and for a moment, they seemed to glimmer. At least, that''s how Torres saw it. It overlapped with the image of Enkrid declaring he''d fight more beasts in the past. Is this guy... looking forward to it? Because the land across the river was filled with monsters and beasts? "Fascinating." Torres enjoyed risk himself, but this man seemed to share the same dangerous thrill. "Let''s go." The two resumed their brisk pace. By the time they reached the ferry crossing, Torres spoke again. "We got here quicker than expected. There''s still time to spare." Crossing the river required a ferryman. Nearby, they saw crude piles of stones and a barely visible pathway. The sun was now high in the sky. Torres found a suitable patch of shade and sat down, while Enkrid began swinging his sword. "Not resting?" "This is rest." No wonder people called him a training maniac. Torres watched as Enkrid swung his sword into the air. Step by step, he moved, slashing from below to above and back again. An opening, Torres thought. But as soon as the idea struck, Enkrid pulled his sword back, using the muscles of his arm as leverage to swing the pommel upwards like a weapon. A basic move, masterfully applied. Flawless. If that pommel struck a jaw, the victim would be eating porridge for days¡ªif they were lucky. Worst case, they''d never chew solid food again. Ugh. The thought made Torres feel a phantom ache in his own jaw. Enkrid kept moving. Despite the forced march they''d endured to get here, his stamina was remarkable. Watching him, Torres unconsciously grasped the hilt of his short sword and pulled it slightly. Shing. The blade made a faint sound as it slid halfway out of the scabbard. Ah. He''d gotten too engrossed. The noise made Enkrid pause mid-swing and turn his head. Their eyes met. "One round?" Enkrid proposed. This wasn''t the time for sparring. But... something about Enkrid made Torres want to test himself. Not out of hostility, but from a pure desire to measure his skills. There was also the lingering desire to finish what they couldn''t during the last promotion duel. Time to get serious. Torres had seen Enkrid handle harpies and the dog-faced monsters before. He had also watched his dedicated training just now. It was hard to underestimate him anymore. Still growing, even at thirty. "Fine. Let''s do it." Torres sprang to his feet. Enkrid sheathed his sword, then held it¡ªscabbard and all¡ªin one hand. Even if hit by the sheathed blade, something would surely break. Enkrid''s swordsmanship relied on powerful strikes. "Good. Bring it on." His tone was serious, making Torres loosen his shoulders in response. Should I throw a dagger? No, cheap tricks wouldn''t work. Then how? Calculations raced through Torres''s mind, his experiences from countless battles guiding his thoughts. One strike. The moment his feet left the ground, Torres moved low and fast, skimming the surface like a shadow. His speed reminded Enkrid of Audin''s tackles. Reflexively, Enkrid bent his knees and lowered his stance, swinging his sword downward. Anything approaching would be struck. But Torres suddenly veered sideways, narrowly avoiding the blade. Enkrid''s sword followed, tracking Torres''s movement with eyes, hands, and feet. His entire body was attuned to not losing sight of him. He had learned from their last duel¡ªlosing sight meant losing the fight. At the same time, Enkrid closed the distance. Torres didn''t panic. He executed a prepared move. Closing the gap to just arm''s reach, he twisted his wrist near Enkrid''s neck. That was all. No weapons in hand, no gripping or striking. Enkrid instinctively leaned his head back. Swish. The match was decided. In Torres''s hand now was a knife with a blade barely a hand''s length long. If this had been a fight to the death, a slight twist of Torres''s wrist would''ve inflicted a fatal wound. "I was planning to leave a nice scar on your cheek." "What... was that?" Enkrid was genuinely shocked. He had been sure Torres was unarmed. "It''s my specialty. Think I''d tell you if you asked?" "You won''t, will you?" To his surprise, Torres explained. "It takes skill. Doesn''t happen overnight." As he spoke, he flipped his wrist, making the knife disappear. Another flick of his hand, and the knife popped out of his sleeve. On closer inspection, both the handle and blade were thin, clearly designed for concealment. "Hidden knife. My secret technique." Torres sighed and added, "Not something I show just anyone." "Yeah, I figured." Enkrid stood up and looked into the distance. They still had time before the ferryman arrived. "One more round?" Torres groaned but stood up. "Fine. Let''s do it." It had been a long time since Torres felt this kind of passion. It was like the excitement of holding a sword for the first time. He let himself get swept up in it. For the first time in years, he felt like a simple sparring match had made him stronger. It was a mix of adrenaline, the tension of the upcoming mission, and something else. The biggest reason stood right before him. Strange. It was all because of Enkrid. Torres realized this instinctively, and the thought filled him with awe and curiosity. By the time the ferryman arrived, the two soldiers were drenched in sweat, breathing heavily. "I heard this was a standing army mission, but should you really be training now?" the elderly ferryman remarked. It was a hard question to answer. Chapter 96 - Those Who Have and Those Who Don’t Chapter 96 - 96 - Those Who Have and Those Who Don''t Chapter 96 - Those Who Have and Those Who Don''t Torres would exploit weaknesses with uncanny precision the moment his opponent let their guard down. He could read the breathing and condition of his adversary as naturally as drawing breath himself. When asked how he could do such a thing, he replied, "Just fight as many different types of opponents as possible. That''s the quickest way to become an elite soldier in a short time and the philosophy of the frontier defense force." The last part sounded half-joking, as there wasn''t much of a philosophy to it. Torres smirked after saying that. Watching the rippling water, Enkrid pondered as he gazed at the river. ''It''s different.'' Just as the teachings of Rem and Ragna were different, so too were the sparring sessions and words from Torres. Even the fairy company commander had a distinct approach. ''There''s variety.'' Each had something to teach, and none of it was to be overlooked. Torres''s hide knife technique might seem like a mere sleight of hand, but Enkrid had learned that it could become a lethal move depending on its use. He even picked up some methods to deceive the opponent''s perception for its execution. It was Torres''s style of combat, honed through real battles. "My father was a gambler, and he wanted to make me the second-generation gambler," Torres explained, perhaps offering an origin story for his hide knife technique. To Enkrid, it sounded more like a combination of exceptional talent and relentless effort. "Want me to teach you?" It was just before the boatman arrived. "Didn''t you call it your secret move?" "If you want, I''ll teach you." Why was he offering this? Enkrid didn''t know. However, he was more accustomed to seizing opportunities than questioning someone''s change of heart. He nodded. "Alright. Watch closely. You hide it like this inside your sleeve." Torres began explaining how to conceal the knife, how to retrieve it with just a flick of the wrist, and so on. "Your coordination is terrible." Torres grumbled as Enkrid struggled with the motions. Despite the criticism, Enkrid had improved slightly by focusing intensely, a skill he had honed for learning new things. He was undeniably better than before. Had this been the old Enkrid, before he had learned to concentrate on a single point of focus... ''Would I have given up already?'' Perhaps he would''ve walked away, shaking his head. After all, it would be foolish to invest time in something that seemed hopeless. "For a custom knife, you''ll need to commission a smith later. Until then, practice with thin stones or something similar," Torres advised, even picking up a thin stone for him to practice with. "You really are clumsy." He scolded again, though Enkrid didn''t let it faze him. Such remarks weren''t worth paying attention to. He didn''t have the luxury of letting such words bother him in the first place. "But you''re persistent." Even as Torres criticized, Enkrid kept trying, though it didn''t come easily. The key was to slip the thin stone into his palm discreetly, letting it rest inside his sleeve. Then, with a twist of the hand, flip it out smoothly. Of course, it wasn''t easy. "A practice sheath would be nice." Torres muttered, explaining that training usually involved a sheath sewn into the inner sleeve to hold a knife in place. It was helpful until one got used to the technique. "This move is an adaptation of a skill gamblers call ''palming,''" Torres explained, watching Enkrid practice. "Palming." It was a technique with several prerequisites: the blade had to be shorter than an open palm, and the timing of the concealment had to be precise. Even grasping the knife required practice. ''This is tough.'' It was several times harder than swinging a sword. Still, it was easier than getting accustomed to handling a shield. Time passed as Enkrid trained and sparred until he was drenched in sweat. Then, just as they were resting, the boatman arrived. The boatman had come along a patrol route frequently cleared of monsters, which allowed him to travel alone. "They''re planning to build a cabin here after the year''s end," the boatman said. "Fishermen might settle, maybe even form a small village if we''re lucky." The boatman was talkative. Enkrid humored him with brief replies, gazing at the Pen-Hanil River as the oar creaked. The Pen-Hanil River wasn''t just the lifeline of nearby villages but extended its influence to include Naurilia and neighboring nations. He spotted low grass and scattered trees along the distant banks, waterfalls plunging between rocky cliffs, and a few huts built along the riverside. The gravel road on this side gave way to green fields that would turn vibrant in the spring. "Watch out¡ªthis area''s current is slow, but things like that can be dangerous," the boatman muttered, adjusting the direction of the boat to avoid a jagged gray rock jutting from the water. If the boat hit it, it would surely break apart. The boat drifted calmly down the river and eventually reached the opposite bank. "I''ll be off, then." The boatman left. "Should we wash up? We''ve got some time before the meeting," Torres suggested, glancing at the sun overhead. "Good idea." Sweat had dried on their bodies, leaving an unpleasant odor. No one knew how long the operation would last, but it was better not to start off in discomfort. Eating, sleeping, and staying clean whenever possible were the basics of a soldier''s life. "Alright, then." Torres quickly stripped and waded into the river. The water rippled with a bluish-green clarity that seemed clean and refreshing. Enkrid followed, unstrapping his gear piece by piece until he stood bare and stepped into the water. The icy chill made goosebumps rise across his body. Torres widened his eyes in surprise. "Wh¡ªwhat the... what are you?" Was there anything to be surprised about? Torres''s gaze dropped to between Enkrid''s legs. He shut his mouth and didn''t finish his sentence. Enkrid followed his gaze to his own body. Ah, there was something to be surprised about. "You bastard... you''ve got it all." Torres''s voice sounded almost teary. "You could''ve just had the face!" "Now you''re making me want to thank the parents I never met." "You''re an orphan?" "Yeah." Not knowing one''s parents wasn''t unusual here; most soldiers had similar stories. "Maybe it''s better than having parents who beat you while teaching you things." "Maybe." Enkrid never craved a parent''s affection. He only wanted to wield a sword. In the days when he had nothing, absolutely nothing, the only things that kept him going were the dream of knighthood and the sword. Would the world be kind to an orphaned child? Unlikely. The fact that he had survived was remarkable enough. It helped that the villagers where Enkrid had grown up were honest and kind. ''A knight.'' That was all he lived for. He dreamed of knighthood to forget hunger. He swung a stick like a sword to forget his suffering. That''s why Enkrid didn''t crave affection. Instead, he yearned for the sword. It was the dream that carried him forward¡ªthe start of his pursuit of knighthood. Faces of a few villagers who had shown him kindness flashed through his mind. They hadn''t been like parents who doted on him, but at least they hadn''t let him die. Even so, those good people weren''t immune to the devastation of war. ''War devours everything.'' If it were possible to end such wars, that would be ideal. And to contribute to that, what must one do? "Swing the sword." Enkrid knew only one way¡ªswinging his sword repeatedly until it was over. That was his life. His parents, his siblings, his dreams, his goals¡ªhis everything. Bubbles rose to the surface of the water. As Enkrid, submerged beneath the river, became lost in thought, Torres tapped him on the shoulder. "Fuaa." Exhaling deeply, Enkrid emerged from the water. "They''re here," Torres said, his gaze fixed on something. Turning to follow his eyes, Enkrid saw a soldier leaning lazily on one leg, accompanied by two others armed with short, club-like weapons. At first glance, they looked more like bandits than soldiers. Their weapons consisted of crude clubs, and they wore tattered leather armor. Their gear was light. Forgoing thicker gambeson armor likely meant they prioritized mobility. Instinctively, Enkrid assessed their combat capabilities, a habit honed through Audin''s training and the Isolation Technique. ''Good balance in both arms,'' he noted. Despite standing casually, the lead soldier''s arms hung at their sides, ready to act. ''They could throw something if needed.'' A hand axe for throwing dangled from the soldier''s belt, confirming their skill in handling projectiles. The two soldiers behind them were less remarkable, armed with daggers at their waists and holding clubs. ''Orange hair.'' Enkrid''s gaze finally settled on the face of the lead soldier¡ªfreckles, orange hair, and a small frame. It was a female soldier. "Well, well. Enjoying your bath? Feeling refreshed?" she said in a cocky tone, addressing the two men. Enkrid realized, with some irritation, that his instincts still needed sharpening. ''I didn''t sense them approaching.'' It wasn''t entirely surprising; he hadn''t expected anyone to come this far. Moreover, he had been submerged, lost in thought. Had he been too careless? No, he''d taken precautions. His weapons were within reach on the riverbank, and their approach had been unusually stealthy. Standing on higher ground, the orange-haired soldier spoke again. "Not coming out?" Torres stepped forward first. "Want to keep staring?" "Well, there''s got to be something worth staring at," she shot back bluntly. Enkrid emerged from the water, water streaming off his muscular frame. Torres had been startled earlier, but it wasn''t just about seeing a man''s "symbol." The Isolation Technique had transformed Enkrid''s body into something extraordinary. Audin''s teachings, repeated and etched into his flesh, had left visible results. Sculpted shoulders gave way to muscular arms that flexed with every move. His chiseled chest led down to angular abs, and his powerful thigh muscles were a testament to his discipline. The lead soldier''s eyes briefly lingered before muttering, "Looks like there''s something worth staring at after all." Torres, observing from the side, grumbled, "Well, at least someone''s got it going on." "Get dressed," the orange-haired soldier said with a cough, her composure slipping slightly. Torres and Enkrid fetched fresh clothes from their packs, leaving their sweat-soaked garments, crusted with salt, to dry. Once fully armored again, Enkrid stood tall. "Scout Squad Leader, Finn," the orange-haired soldier said, extending a fist. "Frontier Defense Platoon Leader, Torres," he replied, bumping her fist. Finn''s fist then extended toward Enkrid. "Independent Platoon Leader, Enkrid," he said. The designation of "Independent Platoon" was an improvised title, as Enkrid couldn''t officially command a platoon within the company. "Independent Platoon? Never heard of that, but nice to meet you," Finn said, bypassing his fist to pat his abs. "Nice abs." "I had nice abs too," Torres muttered, clearly loud enough to be heard. "Let''s talk while walking," Finn suggested. "If we move now, we can reach the campsite before sundown." With her two subordinates saluting briefly, the five-person group set off. During the journey, Finn revealed the details of their mission. "You didn''t come here without knowing where you are, right?" "We''ve heard it''s a land of beasts and monsters," Enkrid answered, recalling what Enri had mentioned. The area north of the Pen-Hanil River was infamous for being a haven for magical beasts and creatures. Only skilled pathfinders or hunters dared venture here. "And it''s right under the nose of Cross Guard," Finn added grimly. "Our original mission was to gather intelligence through a contact. Up until now, that''s all we''ve done. But..." Their contact¡ªa spy referred to as a "cat"¡ªhad failed to make contact for four days. Finn''s tone grew heavier. "The new orders are to go in and retrieve them. The last message we received indicated they had crucial information." A chill ran down Enkrid''s spine. His instincts screamed danger, a warning born from countless brushes with death. ''This is bad.'' No, it wasn''t just bad¡ªit was deadly. He felt it in his bones: death awaited, perhaps multiple times over. Following Finn''s plan would mean infiltrating Cross Guard''s territory. "Damn it," Finn muttered with a bitter laugh. "I know it''s a shitty mission. But there''s a way¡ªthere''s always a way." Her laugh was laced with self-deprecation. Enkrid had already learned one thing during his previous encounters, like the mage''s trap: Escape was futile. Whether he fled all night, stayed awake, or ran to another location, the outcome remained the same. The only solution was to face the challenge head-on¡ªand find a way to overcome it. A grin spread across Enkrid''s face, one filled with anticipation and exhilaration. Finn raised an eyebrow. "They sent a crazy one?" Even Torres nodded slightly, half-serious. He, too, was nervous, but Enkrid''s reaction was beyond comprehension. Of course, Enkrid felt nervous as well. But his mindset was different¡ªhe saw this as another opportunity to push beyond his limits. ''Surpass it.'' To climb over the wall of his current self, to grow stronger¡ªthis was what brought a smile to his face. It didn''t mean he wouldn''t fight with all his might to survive. The thought of dying still sent chills down his spine. But he was focused on what lay ahead, beyond the fear. As they walked, Enkrid''s shoulders tensed with a mix of anticipation and determination. Chapter 97 - Is He Mad? Chapter 97 - 97 - Is He Mad? Chapter 97 - Is He Mad? By the time they reached the campsite, it was already night. Thanks to the moonlight, the darkness wasn''t oppressive. The gravel path gradually transitioned into a grassy field, the signs of winter''s end revealing themselves in faint patches of green. Of course, at night, the grass shimmered like a faint purple under the light. "The moon is bright." Enkrid glanced at the moon overhead, then stuffed the pebble he had been holding into his pants pocket. His right arm twitched slightly. They had walked for over half a day to get here, during which Enkrid had continuously practiced Torres'' Knife technique. The muscles in his forearm ached and felt sore. Clenching and unclenching his fist a few times, Enkrid reassured himself that the pain would subside by tomorrow. Having pushed his body to its limits while mastering the Isolation technique, he was now attuned to how quickly his muscles could recover. Actually, he thought, maybe a brief rest would suffice. "All day playing with rocks. What a weirdo," Finn muttered as they arrived. Enkrid had felt her occasional sidelong glances during the journey. "My hands get restless. It''s a habit," he replied dismissively, surveying the campsite. It wasn''t a typical site with campfires and pitched tents. To be precise, it looked more like a network of burrows rather than a campsite, with numerous holes dotting the area. "Find a burrow you like, cover the entrance with a camouflage tarp, and you''re set. If you want it cozy, heated leather would be nice, but we don''t have enough to go around," one of the soldiers said, holding up a large tarp. The material''s muddy brown hue blended seamlessly with the ground, making the burrows nearly invisible. Heated leather, huh? Enkrid did have one in his backpack. I wonder if Esther''s doing okay. She had hissed incessantly when he left, clearly displeased. But taking her along wasn''t an option, so he had no choice but to leave her behind. "It''s cold, so share a burrow with someone. You, newbie, can bunk with me," Finn said, pointing at Enkrid. Enkrid''s pack contained the heated leather, and the burrows didn''t seem particularly spacious. Two small-bodied people might manage, but Enkrid was hardly petite, even if he wasn''t as broad as Audin. It would definitely be uncomfortable, not to mention the added awkwardness of sharing a space with a woman. If anyone finds out, it''ll cause a commotion. Judging by how fast rumors spread in the unit, it often felt like someone was spying on him, ready to spill everything. And sure enough, Torres was already staring at him. "I''ll be fine. I''ve got my own arrangements," Enkrid said. Finn looked disappointed. "What about me? Am I supposed to sleep alone?" Torres raised his hand to chime in. "What, the platoon leader of the frontier defense unit came here without gear?" At that, Torres glanced at Enkrid, then down at himself, clearly noting that he was smaller in stature. "What is this nonsense..." Either way, he ended up grumbling at Finn''s remark. As Finn began unpacking her things in the burrow she had claimed, Torres approached Enkrid. "Why do I feel annoyed?" Why ask me? "Maybe because you''re tired?" "Is that what it is? Really? Infamous platoon leader who even charms company commanders, is that what you think?" "Yep." "You bastard." Torres chuckled and walked off. The burrow wasn''t as cramped as it seemed. Slanted into the ground, its interior was lined with cloth to prevent dampness. Once he draped the camouflage tarp over the entrance, it felt surprisingly snug. After fetching the heated leather from his pack and wrapping himself in it, the space became comfortably warm. "You''re well-prepared. Would you like some?" A scout approached, offering jerky. "No, I''ve got my own," Enkrid replied. The jerky he had tasted previously had been so flavorful that he''d gone out of his way to acquire more. ''Family recipe,'' the soldier said modestly, smiling. The soldier''s mother ran a small eatery, tucked behind an inn. Known for its spiced grilled meats, the place had earned a stellar reputation. I should stock up on more when I get back. Enkrid made a mental note to ask Krais to procure a steady supply. He chewed on the sweet and spicy jerky, marveling at the tender texture. For someone utterly hopeless at cooking, such delicacies were always fascinating. Enkrid''s meager talents lay entirely in wielding a sword. Even as a mercenary, he''d dabbled in various trades but mastered none. His dream of knighthood had always been his sole focus. After finishing the jerky, sleep overtook him. This was the land of beasts and monsters, after all. Enri''s warning echoed in his mind as he dozed off. Still, the first night passed uneventfully. The scouts had exempted him from night watch duty for the day. Before dawn, Enkrid awoke instinctively, stepping outside and stripping off his upper garments. The cold air jolted him awake, invigorating his senses. Fully alert, he began performing the Isolation technique. Starting with exercises that involved raising his knees to his chest in rapid bursts, he transitioned into a series of other movements. "...What are you doing?" The last night watch, leaning against a tree between burrows, stared at him, bewildered. "Morning training." "Do you even know where you are?" "The Cross Guard''s front yard." "And you''re still doing this?" No one in the scout unit recognized Enkrid, so their confusion was understandable. As he moved on to sword practice, the rest of the unit awoke one by one, including Finn, who stared at him along with the others¡ªeveryone except Torres. "What''s wrong with him?" Finn muttered to herself. Torres, now wearing a thick cloak instead of a blanket, approached and replied. "That''s just what he does on a regular day." "Does he do that every day?" Finn''s mind wandered to Enkrid''s physique, recalling what she''d seen just yesterday. The memory was still vivid¡ªhis sculpted muscles, powerful legs, and the imposing presence in between. ''Well, that''s not something training can improve,'' she mused, brushing that thought aside as she focused on the rest of his form. It was clear why his body looked like that. Life in this land was brutal enough to strain anyone''s body to its limits, naturally cultivating extraordinary physicality in its inhabitants. And to stand out even among such hardened people, the only answer was to work twice as hard as everyone else¡ªjust like Enkrid did. But knowing and doing were entirely different things. "Will he even have the strength to fight a monster if one shows up this afternoon?" The way he moved looked like it would cause muscle cramps any moment, so she asked with concern. "He''s sparred with me over ten times after doing that and even marched yesterday," Torres responded casually, hinting that his own stamina wasn''t far behind Enkrid''s. But Finn''s eyes remained glued to Enkrid. Why? There was something about the way he swung his sword¡ªit felt as if he was pouring his soul into each motion. "He''s like a madman." Her words carried no malice, only a mix of admiration and growing fondness. Torres couldn''t help but notice. ''What did he even do?'' Torres felt as though he was witnessing the magnetic charm of the platoon leader. All Enkrid had done so far was bathe, march, sleep, wake up, and train in the morning, yet he seemed to have already captivated Finn¡ªa seasoned scout leader in this treacherous land. ''Is this how he won over the company commander too?'' But was it truly about his physical prowess? Or maybe it was the impression he left by the river? Torres''s thoughts were cut short. Everyone''s brief fascination with Enkrid faded as the call for breakfast came. At dawn, Finn''s scout unit avoided lighting fires. Sustaining themselves solely on dried meat and fruit wasn''t sustainable, either. Fortunately, their camp''s location offered options¡ªa half-day east lay Cross Guard, and just a short walk northwest brought them to a small forest, their makeshift dining hall. "You coming to eat? If we''re lucky, we might catch a rabbit." Finn''s unit consisted of eight members, not a large number. Their meals were simple, often supplemented by local hunting. Adding Enkrid and Torres hadn''t changed that routine much. "There''s a stream nearby. You can wash up there," Finn mentioned to Enkrid. "Can I wash my clothes too?" he asked nonchalantly. "Cleaning yourself, eating, and maintaining gear is a soldier''s duty," Finn replied matter-of-factly. Their situation was unusual, with only two reinforcements joining, both at platoon leader rank. But Finn, being a ranger accustomed to the frontlines, didn''t dwell on it. Soon, they reached the forest. Establishing a temporary base near the stream, they began gathering dry branches. In the process, they encountered two beasts. Enkrid merely observed. The beasts, twisted versions of animals, were creatures called maws. These deer-like maws had peeling, bluish skin and lifeless black eyes that stared at Enkrid. Thunk, thunk, thunk! Arrows flew from three scouts, striking the deer maw''s forehead and neck. It collapsed with a groan, its head hitting the ground. The scouts approached, prodding it with their feet to confirm its death, then retrieved their arrows. "Tch, it snapped," one muttered as he examined a broken arrow shaft. ''They''re skilled,'' Enkrid noted. Their precision was no accident; these scouts had survived in a land teeming with monsters and maws. Yet Enkrid wondered how he''d fare against them in close combat. It wouldn''t be easy¡ªcertainly not against multiple opponents. "Do you even have hunting experience, being a high-ranked soldier and all?" one scout asked. "A little," Enkrid replied. He had picked up some skills from Enri and his mercenary days. While he wasn''t an expert hunter, his abilities lay elsewhere. The thought was interrupted when one scout returned, a grim expression on his face. "Dammit. Ghouls. Should we relocate?" "How many?" "I counted ten, but there might be more. I didn''t stick around to check." Ghouls weren''t a common sight, but they weren''t unheard of either. Moving their camp was ideal, yet they had just set it up. Facing ten ghouls was a daunting prospect for scouts, especially given their speed and the poisonous claws that could cripple their strength. "Which direction?" Enkrid asked, breaking the tense silence. His sudden question caught the scout off guard. "The ghouls, I mean," he clarified. Understanding dawned on Torres. "He''s asking where they are." Enkrid''s skill with a greatsword made him particularly suited for fighting monsters, something Torres had witnessed firsthand. "These ghouls aren''t your average kind," Finn warned. "You don''t need to worry," Torres reassured her. "I''ll just keep them from running," he added, positioning himself beside Enkrid. "Don''t let a single one escape," Enkrid replied, determination in his voice. Finn exchanged glances with the other scouts. While combat was routine for them, ten ghouls posed a serious threat. Enkrid sniffed the air, catching the faint scent of decay. He pinpointed their direction using his heightened senses. Without hesitation, he launched himself forward. "Hey, wait!" Finn shouted, but he was already moving. The scouts followed instinctively, compelled to witness what the man who had flaunted his physique earlier could truly do. When Enkrid faced the ghouls, Finn''s eyes widened in astonishment. Chapter 98 - Escape Route Chapter 98 - 98 - Escape Route Chapter 98 - Escape Route This Ghoul, despite its hunched back, was incredibly fast. Its claws were longer than the ones he had encountered before. Still, it wasn''t faster than a Harpy. Nor were its claws sharper than Rem''s axe. ''Dots and lines.'' Enkrid connected the dots, mapping out every movement around him into the realm of instinct. Facing the approaching Ghoul, there was only one thing to do: Draw his sword and swing. Ching! The blade emerged from its sheath, performing its duty flawlessly. Kaah! The foul-smelling Ghoul charged forward, but Enkrid''s blade fell in a calculated arc, guided by the movements he had already discerned. Crack. Slice! A perfect vertical slash from the crown. With his left foot forward, the downward strike split the Ghoul''s skull precisely. Retrieving the embedded sword in a single motion, he repeated this two more times. Each strike, a diagonal slash aimed downward, dispatched another Ghoul. In mere moments, three Ghouls lay motionless, their skulls split wide open. Meanwhile, Torres threw a dagger from the side. Fwoosh! The spinning blade lodged itself in the head of a Ghoul attempting to flank them on the left. Enkrid moved swiftly, stepping forward to slash the neck of another Ghoul. When one got too close, he delivered a powerful punch to its head. Another Ghoul fell as Enkrid thrust his blade into its skull with one hand. There was no struggle, no desperation. Thirteen Ghouls were slain in mere moments. And amidst their extermination, Enkrid felt something peculiar. ''A pattern.'' The Ghouls attacked in an oddly organized manner, as though they had been trained to fight. While this made them easier to deal with, it also meant that anyone lacking overwhelming skill could quickly find themselves overwhelmed and killed. ''What could it be?'' These Ghouls were unlike the ones he had encountered in the sewers or along the riverside earlier. Ghouls were the most common man-eating monsters, simple beasts incapable of thought. ''Could creatures like this employ tactics?'' No, it was impossible. Unless they had formed a colony. In such cases, a leader would emerge to command the group, transforming them into what was called a colony. But there were no signs of that here. So there was no reason to dwell on it further¡ªit was likely just a quirk his instincts had picked up on. As he considered whether to wash his blade of the Ghoul''s blood in the nearby stream, Finn approached him. "What''s with you?" Finn stared at him intently. Her question seemed loaded, but it was likely about his ability to handle the Ghouls so effortlessly. Enkrid responded. "I mentioned I lead an independent platoon. It''s a highly specialized combat unit." It wasn''t a lie. After all, the company commander''s intent had always been for their role to be extreme. Who would believe the unit consisted of only nine members? And yet, it was sustainable because every member''s skill exceeded the norm. Though overshadowed by the fame of the Frontier Defense Force, Enkrid personally knew it wasn''t comparable. ''They can''t even compare.'' Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxen¡ªthose four were still leagues ahead of him. Even with his ability to dispatch Ghouls so efficiently, they remained beyond reach. ''I still have a long way to go.'' Despite knowing the direction the milestone pointed, those four felt like they were still on the other side of an unbridgeable gap. In contrast, Torres from the Frontier Defense Force was within reach. If it came down to a life-and-death battle, he might lose, but it wasn''t hard to imagine winning either. "You''re an excellent fighter," Finn said. "You''re amazing," echoed a soldier who had been on night watch earlier. Several others gathered around, their eyes on Enkrid. He felt oddly out of place with the attention, not used to such recognition. It prompted his offhand comment. "We don''t need to relocate the base." "Agreed," Finn replied. They decided to return to the temporary camp, guided by a soldier with drooping eyes who pointed out the direction to the stream. The camp, which also served as a dining area, wasn''t far. "Hey, I killed three too," Torres muttered on the way back, but no one paid him any mind. No one except Enkrid, who lightly tapped Torres on the shoulder. "You made things easier," he said. Deep down, Torres knew his contributions were minor at best, serving only to reduce inconvenience. ''He could''ve handled everything alone.'' It dawned on him again. ''He''s been holding back.'' Or perhaps, Torres reconsidered, it wasn''t that Enkrid had been hiding his skill¡ªit was just that sparring and real combat were worlds apart. If they fought for real, risking their lives... ''I''d lose.'' Even among the elite ranks of soldiers, Torres ranked in the middle tier. But Enkrid seemed beyond that. Realizing this made Torres regret teaching him the Hide Knife technique. "Hey, don''t practice that anymore," Torres said, noticing Enkrid fiddling with a thin stone out of habit after the battle. "Why did you teach it, then?" Enkrid replied with mild amusement. "...Just forget it," Torres muttered. Enkrid had no idea what Torres was feeling. The sting of seeing someone surpass you, someone you thought far below, was not a pleasant one. Of course, Enkrid couldn''t understand such feelings¡ªthis had been his life. Throughout his journey, others had outpaced and overtaken him, never looking back. But even so, he never gave up on his dream, swinging his sword until his palms bled. That was the kind of person Enkrid was. "Let''s go wash our blades," he said. Ghoul blood reeked and carried oiliness that could damage a blade if left uncleaned. "Alright," Torres replied, albeit listlessly. Having been excluded from the hunt, both headed to the stream, where they also washed their sweat-soaked clothes. Drying them was another issue, but they had until nightfall to let the campfire handle it. The stream''s water was clearer than expected, flowing swiftly enough to carry away waste. Finn even declared it safe to drink. After filling a leather canteen and taking a sip, Enkrid''s stomach growled. "You too? Me too," Torres remarked with a chuckle. After gathering their belongings and tightly wringing out their clothes, they returned to camp. "Here you go," a now noticeably kinder soldier said, handing them a long branch to hang their clothes near the fire. Nearby, another soldier was skinning a snake. "Lucky find, huh?" the man said, prompting nods from Enkrid and Torres. Despite its unappetizing appearance, snake meat was rich in protein¡ªa highly sought-after food. Even Audin had said so: if it was available, you ate it. "Yeah," Enkrid replied, sitting nearby. Torres joined him, and Finn took a seat across the fire. The campfire crackled softly, producing almost no smoke. ''This is a skill, too,'' he thought. Enkrid had seen hunters and scouting parties manage such tasks with ease before. They would start a small fire with tree bark and leaves, then carefully add finely chopped, dry wood to keep it burning. Of course, this wasn''t a simple job¡ªit required some finesse. Whenever Enkrid tried, he failed more often than not. For these people, however, it seemed second nature. Smoke briefly rose and then disappeared without a trace. One of the team members slid charred coals under the neatly stacked logs. "Logs tend to give off a lot of smoke when burned," they explained. This meant they had to be cautious not just when lighting the fire but also when adding logs afterward. While it wasn''t likely that the smoke would be visible from Cross Guard, such caution was second nature to scouts. Soon, two team members grilled snake meat while others prepared dried jerky over the fire. One of them fetched a large pot, boiled water, and added a mix of fruits and berries before straining them out. "That one''s nicknamed the Cook," Finn remarked, sharpening her hand axe with a whetstone as she sat with her back to the ground. Seeing her focus reminded Enkrid of Rem. ''I hope he''s not causing any trouble,'' he thought. After a brief nod, the group began their meal. The snake meat was surprisingly tender and well-seasoned with salt, making it unexpectedly delicious¡ªespecially the tail. "When I return, I''m opening a restaurant," announced the soldier responsible for the meal. The firelight illuminated his youthful face, and he admitted to being only twenty-two. "You should aim to become a great ranger instead," Finn teased. "I prefer being a chef, Captain," he countered, eliciting laughter from Finn, who waved him off with a good-natured nod. The atmosphere was warm and tight-knit. Enkrid chewed on the snake meat and warmed up some jerky. When he offered the Cook some seasoned jerky, the young soldier''s eyes lit up. "This is amazing! Where''d you get it?" "In the city. I''ll tell you when we get back." The young man nodded eagerly, savoring the treat. "Promise!" After a hearty meal, they divided into shifts and rested. "Proper rest is part of a ranger''s duties," Finn said. "Scouting here isn''t that meaningful anyway. The priority is survival, and stamina is key to that." The resting spots were carefully chosen. Some used hollowed-out trees as shelters, others climbed up branches, and a few remained by the fire. Once their rest was over, Finn addressed Enkrid and Torres directly as the sun dipped toward the horizon. "There are three ways into the fortress. Let''s discuss them. First, there''s the rat hole." She elaborated. "It''s a route used by smugglers. Those who know about it use it freely, and it''s not heavily guarded. But the danger lies in who else knows about it." "Next?" Torres asked. Finn continued, listing the options: scaling the walls at night or disguising themselves as merchants at dawn to sneak in. "The quickest way is the first, the safest is the second, and the easiest is the third." Even without explanation, the risks were clear: the third option was the least risky, followed by the first and then the second. From Finn''s tone, it was evident she didn''t consider any of these options particularly dangerous. "Getting inside the fortress isn''t the hard part," she said. "The real challenge is finding the cat." Enkrid agreed¡ªit would be troublesome if the target was imprisoned or already caught. Without any clues, they might even need to investigate the fortress dungeons. "If there''s no trace in the city, we''ll retreat. The scouting party will return to the main group," Finn added. "Sounds about right," Torres replied, as though expecting it. After discussing further instructions received from the main unit, Torres remarked, "Only the three of us will infiltrate. Which route do we take?" "That''s for you to decide," Finn replied, folding her arms. "You know the situation here best." After some thought, Finn chose the rat hole. "Unless we''re incredibly unlucky, we won''t get caught. We''ll leave at dawn." "Not at night?" Torres questioned. Finn explained, "Morning is better. The guards are more alert at night, and it''s easier to scale the walls the following evening." Enkrid observed the flow of decisions quietly. After eating, training, and practicing his sleight-of-hand with stones, the day ended, and they returned to their shelter. The situation seemed surprisingly calm¡ªalmost too peaceful. "Is the Aspen scouting party not active here?" he wondered. The next morning, they set out with Finn leading. Contrary to Enkrid''s expectations, they didn''t take a wide detour. "People assume the western side of Cross Guard is a natural barrier with its monsters and beasts," Finn explained. "Scouts do patrol occasionally, but it''s rare, and they wouldn''t deploy their best here. Without a clear purpose, even Aspen''s scouts avoid this area." Finn''s pace was quick, her ranger skills apparent. Her ability to spot and avoid traces of monsters and beasts was remarkable. Her steps were particularly noteworthy. She pressed her heels into the ground first, a subtle movement that caught Enkrid''s attention. "We''ll need to take a slight detour here," Finn said, hacking through the undergrowth with the axe at her belt. Enkrid drew his sword and sliced through the bushes, cursing himself for not inspecting his blade earlier. He''d been too focused on training. As they cleared the brush, they stumbled upon clusters of red berries. "Don''t eat those¡ªthey''re poisonous," Finn warned playfully. "Noted," Enkrid replied. "You could talk to me casually, you know," Finn suggested. "Sure," Enkrid agreed. He rarely turned down such proposals¡ªunless it involved sharing a shelter. Finn glanced at him mischievously. "How about sharing my shelter after this mission?" "No." "Tch." "Hey, I''m walking right next to you," Torres interrupted. "I know," Finn replied shamelessly, her bold personality shining through. They reached a small ridge overlooking the fortress walls. Beyond the ridge, the gates lay to the west. There were no moats, but Finn explained, "Why bother with moats? Getting here past the beasts is nearly impossible for most." Her skill as a ranger was evident. Few could reach this point, let alone lead others here. The group approached the rat hole. Finn entered first, invoking a ranger''s motto as she went. "The ranger always leads," she declared. Enkrid followed, observing her smile, her leather helm, and the orange hair peeking through it. Behind them, Torres brought up the rear. What awaited them inside, however, was utterly unexpected. "Idiots," a voice sneered. Before they realized it, they were surrounded. A unit armed with long spears and shields awaited in the spacious passage, wide enough for three people to walk side by side. Behind them, the sound of bowstrings being drawn filled the air. Turning, they saw soldiers armed with shortbows blocking the exit. They hadn''t even walked half an hour into the passage¡ªit was a trap. Spears and shields ahead, arrows ready behind. A perfect ambush, inescapable for anyone but knights of exceptional skill. "Damn it all," Torres muttered, despair thick in his voice. "We''ve been waiting for you, you wildcat," the enemy commander sneered. Finn''s expression darkened at the insult. "You bastard..." Chapter 99 - When Luck Does Not Follow (1) Chapter 99 - 99 - When Luck Does Not Follow (1) Chapter 99 - When Luck Does Not Follow (1) At the break of dawn, Enkrid woke to face yet another identical day. His routine remained unchanged¡ªhoning his body through the Isolation technique. Another day began anew. Most of it was just like the days before. Training his body, observing the scouts, and Finn. After finishing his swordsmanship training early in the morning, Enkrid inspected his gear. Since the battle with the ghouls, he had neglected to check his equipment in the mornings. "Starting again from here." It marked the beginning of a new day. It was also time to decide on a direction. Would he take the same escape route again, or choose a different path? He lifted his sword to eye level, tilting it slightly, keeping it parallel to the ground. As he inspected the blade, he found no nicks or damage. Looking at the blade, Enkrid pondered what mattered most amidst these repetitive days. "First, assess the situation." If there were three paths ahead, he wanted to know what lay at the end of each one. It felt as though the three paths had been waiting for him all along, laid out before his eyes. "How" he would move toward tomorrow was a matter for later consideration. After polishing the blade with prepared leather and double-checking his other gear, he unwound and rewrapped the leather strap on the hilt. This act marked the start of a different kind of day. Since it was impossible to count each passing day, he had developed this method as a way of commemorating the first day over and over. Rewrapping the leather strap on the sword grip symbolized the beginning of his second day. Enkrid remembered. "If we''re heading out this morning, shouldn''t we get a move on?" Torres, eating jerky for breakfast, commented casually. Having tasted the seasoned jerky, Torres often clung to Enkrid every morning. Enkrid was about to respond when he noticed Finn approaching. On her left hip, she carried a hand axe; her sturdy boots bore thick soles, and on her right hip, she wore a short sword. Over her body was a thin, well-tanned leather armor. He had previously noticed how the armor flexed easily with her movements. "It must be lightweight," he thought. Her equipment reflected the light armament of a scout unit, who carried only the essentials to move swiftly. "Rangers go first." This was their motto. Being the ones who walked ahead, they carried the lightest loads. Compared to heavily armored infantry, Enkrid himself was classified as a light infantryman, but his gear was relatively heavier when compared to scouts. Even just one longsword could be cumbersome. But what about their skills in an actual fight? This had been a lingering question over the past few days. Considering the physical conditioning he''d achieved through the Isolation technique , he doubted he would lag behind Torres. With time to spare today, it seemed like a good opportunity. To make today different from yesterday, he dismissed the option of sticking his head into the same hole first thing in the morning. "What about scaling the wall under the cover of night?" Enkrid proposed as soon as Finn drew closer. Beating around the bush only prolonged conversations unnecessarily. Sometimes, exposing one''s intentions and goals openly was advantageous for steering a discussion. Enkrid excelled in this regard. "Out of nowhere?" "I have a bad feeling about it." When Finn tilted her head in confusion, Enkrid replied without hesitation. She was well aware of the nickname his unit had given him. Aside from titles like Demonic Squad Leader or Spell Breaker, the most commonly used phrase to describe him was: "The one loved by the Goddess of Luck." This was it. If another soldier or commander claimed to have a bad feeling, it might be easy to dismiss. But when it came from him, it carried a different weight. "A bad feeling?" Of course, Finn, unaware of his reputation, found the statement puzzling. Torres, however, responded differently. After briefly studying Enkrid''s face, Torres stroked his chin and said, "If all three options are equally viable, crossing the wall doesn''t sound too bad." He agreed instantly, without even questioning the reason¡ªsimply trusting the gut feeling. Finn tilted her head again, puzzled by this odd trust, before speaking. "Are you aware that climbing a wall isn''t exactly easy?" "Nothing in this world comes easy." Enkrid replied. When two out of three people agreed on a path, the decision was easy. Finn didn''t particularly care which path they took. That''s why she had laid out all three options to begin with. With a nod, she conceded. "Alright, fine." There was no need for a battle of wills. Finn even felt a subtle fondness for Enkrid. "How about a bout first?" Enkrid suggested as he secured the sheathed sword to his waist, freshly wrapped in leather straps. "Oh-ho." Torres chimed in enthusiastically. The invitation was clearly directed at Finn. "Me? You want to spar with me? I''m not exactly a combat specialist." That couldn''t be true. No one with such a well-trained physique could avoid being skilled in combat. "I''m not a swordsmanship specialist either," Enkrid retorted, shrugging as Finn showed her palms. "Even barehanded would be fine. We don''t want injuries before an important mission, after all." Would it be a valuable experience? Who knew? Regardless, the sight of her conditioned body piqued his competitive spirit. And Finn, despite her amiable feelings toward Enkrid, suddenly felt a similar desire to test her skills. "It''s been a while." Though she had once been passionate about training, she had stopped after hitting her limits. Still, she wasn''t someone to be easily bested, not even by the likes of Enkrid, whose swordsmanship had impressed her during his battle with the ghouls. "Without swords involved..." She doubted she''d lose easily. Everyone had their strengths, and hers was hand-to-hand combat. "It''s been a while since I''ve seen this," remarked one of the scouts. A man with a bandit-like appearance but a surprisingly soft demeanor. He had once helped dry Enkrid''s clothes over a branch, and his comment suggested familiarity with Finn''s skills. "Stop talking nonsense," Finn muttered, her eyes now gleaming with determination. She was already in combat mode. "We''ve got time until nightfall," she said, granting permission. Enkrid unsheathed his sword and set it aside, removing his gambeson and leather armor. Wearing only a thin shirt secured with leather straps at his chest, he stood opposite her. The scouts and Torres quickly formed a large circle, creating space for the duel. At the center, Torres chuckled and said, "This feels like de?ja? vu." He was likely referring to the sparring match during Enkrid''s promotion. Torres recalled how much Enkrid had changed since then. "Let''s begin." Soon, the duel commenced. Finn''s specialty was close-quarters combat, and she made no attempt to hide it. She shifted her stance, sidestepping before swiftly closing the distance. Enkrid had also learned striking techniques from Audin. He spread his legs front and back, stepping lightly while extending his left hand straight out. Unlike wide, sweeping punches, a direct, straight punch had a shorter trajectory¡ªfaster, resembling a sword''s thrust. Finn displayed an almost acrobatic movement upon seeing it. With her eyes wide open, she ducked low, evading the punch with the minimal necessary movement. Enkrid''s thrusting punch only grazed her hair. ''This reminds me...'' The movement brought back memories of his time escorting Leona Rockfreed. Back then, when Enkrid had climbed to the second floor to save her, he had dodged a dagger thrown by the enemy with just a slight tilt of his head. Finn''s evasion of his punch mirrored that motion, flowing into a close-quarters engagement. ''Is she going for a tackle?'' The thought was brief, and his judgment was swift. With a sharp motion, he drove his right elbow downward instead of following through with his extended left fist. It was a brutal attack, one that could have punctured her lower back had it landed. But Finn avoided even that. Her movements were serpentine¡ªflexibly twisting her waist and stepping to Enkrid''s right side. Not only had she repositioned herself, but she had also grabbed hold of Enkrid''s wrist and forearm with both hands. Enkrid instinctively flexed his muscles to break free from her grip. At the same time, Finn coiled her leg around the inside of his calf. From there, it became a battle to see who could seize the other''s joints first. Dodging, blocking, and grappling, they tumbled to the ground repeatedly. There was a loud thud as their heads struck the ground at one point. Without either noticing, Finn''s foot or hand sometimes landed in Enkrid''s groin. ''The Ail Karaz style.'' Enkrid recognized the technique Finn was using. It was one of the many things Audin had thoroughly taught him about. Ail Karaz was the name of one of the most infamous prisons across the continent. Long ago, a prison warden there had devised a technique to inflict excruciating pain on prisoners without leaving visible injuries. This grappling art, known as the Ail Karaz combat style, relied heavily on joint locks, earning it the nickname "King of the Dirt." The name came from those who rolled on the dirt training grounds of Ail Karaz, claiming the title of king through this notorious skill. Enkrid countered with grappling techniques from the Valah style, which Audin had taught him in what he mockingly called "bedroom battles." However, Finn''s proficiency was several times higher. And so¡ª "Do you admit defeat?" The moment he thought he had defended himself well, Finn had already trapped his neck between her legs. If she wanted, she could break his neck. Being caught in this position, Enkrid could feel how incredibly firm her thigh muscles were. "I surrender," Enkrid conceded, his neck still in her hold. "If we fought with swords, who knows? But this is my specialty," Finn said, releasing him. Both of them were covered in dirt after tumbling around so much. Dust clung to their hair, scattering whenever they moved. "I need a wash. Want to join?" Finn asked. "I''ll pass," Enkrid replied without hesitation. The casual suggestion essentially meant bathing together, and he had no intention of agreeing. "Tch," Finn clicked her tongue playfully, standing up and brushing off her pants. "See you at dinner," she said before leaving. After she was gone, Torres approached, grinning. "If you two are going to roll around like that, why not just find a cave?" "Huh?" When Enkrid looked at him questioningly, Torres laughed even harder. "You lasted the longest of anyone who''s ever grappled with our captain." A nearby squad member chimed in, "Yeah, she was really all over you." Now that he thought about it, their bodies had been pressed together during the fight. ''I didn''t have time to think about that.'' Still, one thing became clear. ''She''s an excellent sparring partner.'' Not as good as Audin¡ªAudin could keep him utterly helpless while offering endless commentary¡ªbut Finn was perfect for refining his Valah grappling skills in this current situation. Of course, this didn''t mean he would squander today. As always, his focus remained on escaping this predicament. Later, Enkrid practiced Torres''s hidden knife techniques under a tree. "You''re still at it? I''ve taught plenty of people, and some just can''t get it," Torres said, watching him with a serious expression. "Is that so?" Enkrid replied calmly. "Fine, suit yourself," Torres muttered, giving up quickly. After a few days with Enkrid, he had realized something¡ªthis man was stubborn to the core. "When you suggested heading for the wall, why?" Torres asked. "It seems like the better option." "And your gut''s been right so far?" "Mostly." In truth, it was through relentless repetition that he had achieved what seemed like instinctive decisions. Explaining it wouldn''t make anyone understand. "Alright, I''ll trust you," Torres said with a nod. The rest of the day was spent training, resting, and preparing. They cleaned themselves, took brief naps, and readied their gear. By nightfall, Finn led them toward the wall. The path was treacherous, involving climbing rocky terrain under the dim light of two moons. "Good thing we''ve got two moons tonight," Finn remarked. "Is it, though? This route''s brutal," Torres complained, drenched in sweat. Finn chuckled, "Told you it''d be twice as hard as the other paths." Eventually, they reached a vantage point where the Cross Guard''s wall loomed before them. "Luck''s on our side," Finn said, smiling. Torres glanced at her skeptically. "How is this lucky?" "We didn''t encounter any monsters or beasts along the way." Finn''s words, though reassuring, did little to ease the difficulty of the task ahead. Climbing over the wall promised to be even harder than crossing the rocky terrain. "Let''s go," Enkrid said, following Finn silently, fully aware that there was no turning back. Chapter 100 - When Luck Does Not Follow (2) Chapter 100 - 100 - When Luck Does Not Follow (2) Chapter 100 - When Luck Does Not Follow (2) "Do you really need to take that longsword?" It was just before their departure from the campsite and makeshift garrison. Finn was pointing out the equipment Enkrid and Torres carried. "Can''t I?" "You''ve never climbed over a wall, have you?" Of course, they hadn''t. Climbing a wall wasn''t exactly a common experience. "Let me say this again: travel as lightly as possible. If you wear that thick gambeson, you''ll collapse before even reaching the wall." Finn was right. Even crossing the rocky mountain ahead was a significant task. When they finally crossed the mountain and arrived at the wall, Enkrid was grateful he had followed Finn''s advice. "Travel as lightly as possible." That was the key. Finn crouched low and approached the wall, sticking close. Enkrid and Torres followed her lead, keeping their profiles low. The flames of torches flared vividly in the defensive towers built between the sections of the wall. "Can we really sneak in unnoticed?" A chill ran down Enkrid''s spine. The grass underfoot barely reached their shins, offering no real cover. And it wasn''t even a particularly dark night. If rain obscured the view, it might have been different. But the surroundings were clear. Even without the torches, spotting someone moving across the open plain would have been all too easy. His heart raced. The idea of scaling the wall seemed distant; they might be shot down by arrows before they even got close. If not for the Heart of the Beast, his legs might have buckled under the tension. Enkrid''s gaze caught Finn, who led at the front. She moved without hesitation, low and steady, her steps sure and purposeful. "Does she have some kind of assurance?" He had no idea. Finally, they reached the base of the wall after a nerve-wracking crawl. The distance they had covered wasn''t far if they had sprinted, but the looming shadows of the guards on the tower made such an attempt unthinkable. "Was this path planned to avoid the sentries'' line of sight?" Torres whispered as soon as they pressed themselves against the wall. Finn''s response was as absurd as it was straightforward. "Nope. If we got spotted, we''d just run for it." "...What?" "We didn''t get spotted, though, so it worked out. I''ve noticed that the guards tend to slack off on bright nights. If it were our people, no chance. But them? Totally different." It wasn''t some grand strategy¡ªit was sheer luck. "This is insane," Torres muttered. Enkrid shared the sentiment. But when he thought about it differently, it made a certain amount of sense. ''Run if you get caught.'' To keep up with a ranger''s speed, they''d need cavalry. But this land? It was a domain of monsters and beasts. Terrible terrain for cavalry to maneuver. If a griffon¡ªa beast known to relish horse meat¡ªwere to show up, they''d be doomed. Griffons required a minimum of a squad of well-trained soldiers to handle, unless a knight was present. Whether or not griffons were here, cavalry simply wasn''t an option. So the answer was simple. On a night when the odds were low, move swiftly to the wall. If they were unlucky, an arrow might fly their way. But what archer could accurately hit a shadowy figure on a bright night? It was a bold plan, leveraging the guards'' complacency. "Did you plan your whole day around scaling the wall at night?" Surely, the timing of their arrival under the dual moons was no coincidence. When Enkrid mumbled this aloud, Finn turned her head toward him. The moonlight illuminated one side of her face, leaving the other in shadow, giving her an almost ethereal glow. With a smirk, she replied, "Sharp, aren''t you? Yeah, on dual-moon nights like this, they slack off. You saw the shadows lingering near the guard tower, didn''t you? Only two of them. Not many, right?" Enkrid nodded and glanced up. Four guard towers rose along the wall, with two sentries per tower. Not a lot. "If we climb up, there''ll be a walkway, likely narrow." The structure of the wall was probably similar to other fortifications like the Border Guard''s. He mapped it out in his mind, predicting what they''d face after scaling the wall. Planning ahead was crucial. Moving without forethought led to disaster. And Enkrid wasn''t the only one strategizing. "I just hope we don''t exhaust ourselves climbing the wall," Torres murmured, sharing his concerns. Finn shrugged lightly. "We''ve come this far. Just trust in your strength and grip." Enkrid looked up to gauge the wall''s height again. It was roughly three to four times his own height. "This way." Finn led them again. They reached a section of the wall cast in deep shadow by the moonlight and the towering guard towers. Pressing against the wall, the surroundings seemed pitch black. In the distance, torches burned atop the guard towers. Close by, he could feel Torres and Finn''s presence. A distant, mournful sound of a night bird broke the silence. Beyond that, the only contrast was between the moonlit ground ten paces away and the encroaching darkness around them. Finn''s eyes gleamed faintly in the darkness. Though her eyes appeared brown during the day, now they seemed to reflect the faintest light. "Walls like this aren''t as heavily guarded as you''d think. It''s rare to find anyone whose job is strictly to prevent wall scaling. You just have to avoid the patrols." "Do you know their patrol schedules or have someone bribed?" "Do I look like I''d have that?" "So, back to relying on luck again." Finn and Torres whispered to each other. For Enkrid, it didn''t seem entirely reliant on luck. "Moonlight." They just needed to slip past the patrols and hide in the city once they crossed. "Beyond this wall is the slum area. We can blend in if we''re careful." Patrols in that area would likely be minimal. Why wouldn''t they be? Even the Border Guard neglected such areas. No soldier enjoyed the stench or the constant begging from the residents. And at night? Wandering drunks or desperate vagrants might pose a threat. In other words, this infiltration wasn''t just a gamble but a maneuver built on experience. "You''ve done this before," Enkrid remarked. "You''re pretty sharp," Finn replied with a grin. Scaling walls wasn''t something most would consider lightly. Which made it unexpectedly easier. Who''d bother scaling the wall when a tunnel or other means might suffice? It was precisely because it was unconventional that it worked. Of course, it was far from easy. From traversing the rocky mountain to preparing to climb the wall, nothing had been simple. Finn spat into her hands, rubbing them together, and then reached for a small leather pouch at her waist. The pouch was filled with powdered chalk. She sprinkled it onto her hands, rubbed them, and began climbing the wall. Finding gaps to grip, she pressed her fingers into the stone and pushed off with her feet, clinging to the wall. Despite its solid construction, the wall had plenty of cracks between its stones. Finn began climbing the wall, pausing periodically to drive the stakes she had tucked into her belt into the crevices at a diagonal angle. From top to bottom, the stakes formed a slanted path. She hooked a rope onto each stake and let it dangle, then continued scaling the wall with her bare hands. "Do you think you could do that?" "Me? Not a chance." Enkrid and Torres, hidden in the shadows cast by the moonlit wall, exchanged words as they watched Finn climb. She moved like a monkey¡ªor perhaps a nimble squirrel¡ªefficiently dropping ropes as she ascended. Enkrid and Torres grabbed the ropes and began their climb. The stakes, driven diagonally into the wall, creaked and shed bits of stone dust, but they held firm. They didn''t rely solely on the ropes. When gaps appeared among the interwoven stones, they wedged their toes or fingers into them for support. Both men had covered their hands in powdered chalk they had prepared, gripping the ropes or pressing fingers and toes into the crevices to steady themselves when they paused for breath. At first glance, the climb seemed manageable, but once started... I might die here. It was far harder than expected. Even Enkrid, honed by the Isolation technique, felt his muscles burning. His forearm muscles, in particular, throbbed sharply. This was despite years of wielding and swinging a sword, which had strengthened them significantly. "Different movements activate different muscles," Audin''s words resurfaced in his mind. Viewed in that light, climbing the wall was a perfect exercise to complement the Isolation technique. Looking up, he saw Finn scaling the wall briskly, her movements sure and steady. If there''s a start, there''s an end. After much effort and exertion, they finally reached the top of the wall, roughly three to four times the height of an average man. Carefully hooking their hands and feet onto the edge, they pulled themselves over and dropped down on the other side. When Enkrid set foot on the ground, he sensed no one nearby. His instincts and sixth sense told him it was safe, offering a moment of relief. "You worked hard climbing up in the middle of the night." A clear, melodic voice shattered the silence. It was a woman''s voice. Then came a sharp snap¡ªcrack!¡ªfollowed by the sound of multiple torches flaring to life. Flames ignited between the torch stands, illuminating the moonlit area with a brilliant glow. Some trick had been performed to light the torches with a mere snap of her fingers. It was a surprising feat, the kind you''d see in a circus. But surprise wouldn''t freeze their actions. "Haah." As his eyes adjusted to the torchlight, Enkrid took a deep breath, inhaling the air that had been burning his lungs during the climb. His hands moved swiftly. A dagger slipped from his belt and flew from his hand. It wasn''t the silent Whistle Dagger but a standard throwing knife. The technique he had learned made it as precise as it was sharp. Thud! Another dagger followed Enkrid''s, slicing through the air. But both daggers deflected, not blocked by a shield but repelled in midair as if hitting an invisible barrier. The sound they made was akin to someone striking a poorly made drum. "Well, that''s just rotten luck," Torres muttered, his voice full of frustration. "Why?" Enkrid asked without turning, gripping another pair of daggers in his hands. "A mage," Torres replied grimly. A mage? Here? That was Enkrid''s first thought. It was then he finally saw her, standing between the torches. A woman silhouetted by moonlight and firelight, her long, wavy hair falling over her shoulders. Her slit, snake-like eyes gleamed in the dim light. The distance was barely ten steps. The soldiers around her numbered fewer than ten, each armed with crossbows aimed steadily at them. This is bad. It was the only conclusion he could reach. The mage was about to speak when Finn''s voice rang out. "Get down!" Enkrid instinctively crouched low, pressing himself against the narrow wall behind him. Then¡ª Whoosh! A heavy object tore through the air, brushing past Enkrid''s face and displacing the air with a palpable force. He felt it against his cheek. A thrown axe. Realizing it immediately, Enkrid looked forward and finally saw the transparent barrier reflecting the moonlight¡ªa defensive shield barely visible upon close observation. Crack! The spinning axe struck the shield with a sharp noise, sending cracks spidering across its surface. The axe halted in midair as if lodged in the barrier. "Jump down!" Finn shouted again. Torres was the first to respond, moving swiftly. He grabbed the ropes hanging outside the wall and used them to slow his descent. Finn followed, leaping from the wall without hesitation. She moved as if she were flying, her descent controlled and deliberate. Though she wouldn''t break her legs if she landed properly, the height was comparable to a five-story building. A fall from such a height would be fatal if mishandled. Even so, hesitation wasn''t an option. Enkrid decided. If we have to escape anyway... It would be better to deal a blow to the mage before retreating. Lowering his stance, he gathered strength in his thighs. Recalling a squire''s technique he had once attempted but never mastered... Thud, boom! Pushing off the ground with explosive force, he closed the distance in an instant, his blade aimed for the mage''s neck. In his hand was a broad-bladed guard sword. If the axe could crack the shield, then... Break it with force and cleave her head. He remembered how he had killed a mage before. Get close and strike. Avoid unseen spells by intuition. Confidence born of past experience emboldened him. Though bolts remained, they could wait. Enkrid saw the mage''s slit eyes. In that moment, meeting her gaze, his limbs nearly went limp. But his heart¡ªa beast''s heart¡ªthrobbed powerfully, restoring his strength. He thought he had her. But confidence can sometimes be a fatal flaw. ''There are those who deceive your instincts. Be cautious. Mages are such foes,'' Jaxen''s words echoed in his mind. Pierce. The sound of flesh being penetrated. Followed by searing pain. "You idiot!" Finn''s voice, shouting from above, confirmed he hadn''t fallen to his death. Cough! Enkrid''s sharpened senses caught the sound of Torres coughing, as if in warning. When Jaxen had spoken about mages, Enkrid had dismissed it. After all, he''d killed one before. He''d evaded spells with his instincts before. But this time, he had made a grave mistake. Not all soldiers are equal. Not all knights are the same. So, what about mages? Each one is unique. Enkrid looked down at his arm, where thorny vines had ensnared him. A spiked vine pierced his neck. "I am Retsha the Thorned Rose," the mage declared. Her words were the last thing he heard before he closed his eyes. It was the second end to his day. When the third day began, Enkrid practiced his swordsmanship, trained his body, and rehearsed Torres''s Hide Knife technique using slim stones as substitutes. It was his way of marking the third day. And then¡ª "Can we disguise ourselves as merchants at dawn?" He inquired about the third method to scale the wall. Chapter 101 - When Luck Does not follow (3) Chapter 101 - 101 - When Luck Does not follow (3) Chapter 101 - When Luck Does not follow (3) The third plan¡ªdisguising themselves as merchants at dawn two days later to infiltrate Cross Guard¡ªwasn''t particularly difficult to propose. "I have a bad feeling about this." It was the same reason they dismissed the idea of climbing over the fortress wall. Torres supported the idea, Finn gave a nonchalant nod, and the group settled on it. "Well, I guess we''re staying here another night." Their campsite was a dugout shelter, prepared well in advance. Upon hearing the news, the cook soldier grinned and asked, "Shall I bring out that for tonight''s side dish?" The forward reconnaissance team, led by Ranger Finn, usually stayed on missions for an average of six months. Though unexpected events sometimes cut their time short, forcing a return in just one or two months, this time they had already been stationed here for eight months. Naturally, they''d resorted to various survival tactics, including salting the meat of captured game to make ham. "Well then, shall we have a drink with it?" Finn eagerly jumped on the suggestion. Despite being a unit that should have been more on edge than even those at the frontlines, they were either unusually thick-skinned or desensitized. ''Or maybe... they''re so sharp during ordinary days that they allow themselves to relax like this when the time is right.'' Even at their makeshift dining area, where smoke rose from their cooking, vigilance was never neglected. The soldiers maintained constant rotations, patrolling the perimeter in wide circles, with two sharp-eyed members always watching the surroundings. Watching this unit, a phrase came to mind: "Those who are too rigid break easily. You need to know how to bend when necessary." Who had said that? ''It wasn''t a drill instructor.'' It was a paladin from a wandering order, who had briefly passed through a rural town. Pressed for time, he couldn''t give a full lesson but instead suggested a short, intense sparring match. Despite his rugged appearance, with a hearty laugh and a habit of stroking his beard, he was a respected clergyman and an extraordinary warrior. "Flexibility doesn''t mean weakness. A solid foundation ensures you won''t break. Need me to simplify it? Stop screaming every time you swing your sword." He''d commented that every swing of Enkrid''s sword sounded like he was shouting defiantly, as though refusing to break. "Relax your muscles. A supple body lets the blade spring forth more effectively." The laughing paladin''s face overlapped with the faces of his squad members, especially Rem''s. Through countless sparring sessions, Rem''s strength had proven to be both powerful and flexible. Rem''s mastery of the axe, rooted in ease and control, came from confidence¡ªnot overconfidence, but a deep-seated trust in his abilities. ''No, it''s not just that.'' Rem''s whip-like forearms and fluid axe strikes. His relaxed yet controlled movements. All these elements led to a simple truth: Rem used only as much force as necessary. And what about Ragna? Though his swordplay seemed almost lethargic, it was a seamless fusion of unthinkable skill. The same went for Jaxen and Audin. Jaxen, despite his stiff demeanor, always maintained an air of composure. Audin would tease Enkrid during their bouts, twisting his arms playfully, but he also provided insightful advice. But what about Enkrid himself? ''My shoulders.'' No¡ªhis whole body was always tense during combat. He fought as though every connection, every movement, required his full power. He had always believed that anything less than his best was meaningless. And that very belief had burdened his shoulders. Enkrid swung his sword at the air. The swing was far lighter than usual, almost disappointingly so. ''This is just letting go of power.'' Letting go of power didn''t mean diminishing the essence of swordsmanship. Clarity emerged: methods, paths, signposts¡ªeverything seemed faintly visible now. Knowing wasn''t the same as doing, of course. Enkrid knew this all too well¡ªhe was painfully aware of his own limits. The revelation that he needed to let go of the tension in his shoulders was just a start. Yet even that realization made his heart race with excitement. The joy of knowing he could walk a better path¡ªa euphoric sense of clarity filled him. For Enkrid, the sword was life, and life was the sword. It was his companion on the journey toward his dreams. And with that elation came a question: ''Is struggling desperately the only way forward?'' He had resolved never to waste a single day for the sake of tomorrow. He''d fortified his will countless times. Clinging on and thrashing around wasn''t difficult; he had always done so. ''But it''s not always necessary.'' With that thought, he swung his sword downward. Whoosh. The sound of the blade slicing through the air was different from before. Hearing it, Enkrid''s lips curved into a faint smile. That simple strike brought back memories. When had it been? In the tall grass, alongside Andrew and Enri. It was that kind of strike¡ªdeceptively simple, leaving no sensation in the hands. The kind of strike only those called geniuses seemed to execute effortlessly. Though he had tried countless times to replicate that "sensationless" strike, he had never succeeded¡ªuntil now. ''It worked.'' It had just happened, right here in his hands. How could he not feel elated? "That swing just now... it felt different somehow," Finn remarked. "Indeed. A rare kind of slash," Torres agreed, seated beside Finn. Finn added, "But seriously, is he okay? Why does he keep grinning like that by himself?" "Don''t ask me. I''ve only seen him a few times. Everyone knows he''s not exactly normal." Enkrid let their chatter wash over him, focusing only on swinging his sword again and again. As he moved, his thoughts continued to flow. ''Struggle if you must, but...'' What if he struggled without tensing his shoulders? In the monotony of today, was flailing around truly the only solution? Was screaming out with all his might the only path forward? What mattered was his determination to keep walking toward tomorrow. To seize whatever lessons and insights he could along the way. And as he smiled, immersed in this clarity... "Man, with that face, even grinning like that doesn''t make him look crazy. Anyone else would just seem nuts," Finn quipped, sipping her drink. "What about me?" Torres chimed in, oblivious to his own lack of comedic timing. He was ignored outright. A few squad members chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. It had only been a few days since they met, but they were already quick to accept him into their circle. While he swung his sword fiercely, Finn, Torres, and a few other squad members shared a few drinks. There wasn''t much to drink, nor was it hard liquor. It was cheap fruit wine, the kind you could easily find in the city. With it, they ate a few slices of salted and smoked ham, cut up from the provisions they treated as a makeshift dining hall in the forest. "I should definitely open a restaurant." These words naturally slipped out to the scout who dreamed of becoming a chef. Enkrid couldn''t even touch the alcohol. He had no intention of drinking today, and even if he wanted to, there was none left. By the time he was done swinging his sword and washing up, the rest had already finished it off. "What, with that face, you''re thinking of drinking too?" Torres grumbled without much reason. Although it wasn''t a time for laughing and chatting, it was still a moment to loosen up just a little. Of course, even during moments like these, there were always a few who remained sharp, like antennae sensing danger. Finn was one of them. Though she had a sip or two, she still had the responsibility of looking out for everyone. The night came as they returned to the cave. Whether heading for the burrow they jokingly called the "rabbit hole" or the city walls, no one was supposed to remain here today. The plan was to vacate the outpost once Finn left and regroup somewhere closer to the main force. That plan fell apart when they decided to disguise themselves as merchants, and now they faced a night that shouldn''t have existed. The two moons rose, casting a blue glow across the surroundings. Before entering the cave, Enkrid tilted his head back to look at the twin moons. The large, ever-present moon hung full and bright. The smaller, second moon was visible only when it was full. "Bright." The surroundings were illuminated. Staying awake all night wouldn''t change anything; today would repeat itself anyway. He had already learned this while tunneling beneath the shoemaker''s shop in the city. So there was no point in resisting sleep and exhausting himself unnecessarily. As the deep night was just beginning, he thought to himself: compared to today''s repetition of yesterday, this was likely when they had just reached the city walls. Awooooo! A howl erupted from nearby. Enkrid had a rough idea why his sixth sense hadn''t kicked in when he was killed by the mage. The reason his sense of foreboding hadn''t activated. ''The spells interfere.'' The mage with the thorny rose or rose vines had been above his head the entire time he was climbing the city walls. She had interfered, dulling his ability to sense danger from above. He hadn''t heard the sounds or felt the ominous presence. What about now? "Shit! Wake up! We''re under attack!" The shout came from a scout keeping watch. First, there was the howl of a wolf. Then the soldier''s urgent warning. Finally, came the sound. Tap! Tap! Tap! Something was sprinting toward them. And then, a monster appeared, silhouetted against the moonlight. There''s a species known as beastkin, who live on the far eastern edge of the continent¡ªhumanoids with traits of beasts. But the creature now before them was considered a failure, even among those beastkin. A failed creation of their maker. These creatures always thirsted for blood and harbored a deep hatred for humans. Awooooo! The owner of the howl stepped forward. Its ankles jutted backward, as though it stood on its toes. Its entire body was covered in gray fur, and its glowing yellow eyes gleamed with a beast''s ferocity. Its snout protruded sharply, revealing rows of glinting fangs. The name of the monster silhouetted against the moonlight was Lycanthrope. In other words, a werewolf. Naturally, these creatures were not classified as part of the beastkin species. Like most monsters, they couldn''t be reasoned with. The one leading the pack was one-eyed. A scar ran across its left eye, leaving only a single glowing yellow orb to survey the surroundings. It opened its mouth. Kaaaah! The monster''s roar echoed. To Enkrid''s ears, it sounded like a command to charge. "Stay alert!" He shouted instinctively. How would this night end? It felt like a fifty-fifty chance. Either it would end uneventfully, or something would happen. The outcome was the latter. Werewolves. And not just one or two. The pack split off in all directions, except for the leader. Even under the bright moonlight, it was difficult to spot them all at once. All that remained were the sound of clawed feet pounding the ground and shadows cutting through the darkness. Between the trees, in the places where the moonlight couldn''t reach, glowing yellow eyes streaked like beams of light. The ones that burst into the moonlit clearing circled the gathered humans, running in dizzying loops. They moved so fast that their afterimages lingered in the air. "Damn it." Enkrid realized something here. It was the lack of foreboding. Why hadn''t he sensed anything? Why had Finn, a veteran scout, detected the werewolves so late? "Someone must''ve interfered." Which meant a mage was likely involved here too. The mere fact that werewolves had gathered in such numbers was strange. He didn''t know what spell the mage had cast, but the result was clear in front of him. Even with a quick count, there were more than ten of them. "Over ten. That''s bad." Torres, back to back with him, muttered. Enkrid drew his sword. Sching! Staying alive was all they could think about now. He didn''t plan to die quietly, of course. ''Not a chance.'' As always, he would take one more step forward toward tomorrow. Enkrid steadied himself and raised his sword. The name of the monsters was Lycanthrope. Beasts imbued with magic in their hearts. They were far more formidable than ghouls or other flesh-eating monsters. Taking down even a single werewolf usually required an entire trained squad. It wasn''t advisable to hunt them in smaller groups, as casualties were all but guaranteed. And when a pack of them formed, it was recommended not to engage even with a platoon. Yet now... "Damn, there''s over twenty of them." The number had grown in such a short time. Their side had ten people, including Torres and himself. The werewolves numbered over twenty. And, as if to prove Enkrid''s suspicion about a mage''s involvement, the pack attacked in a coordinated encirclement. Even without strategy, werewolves were dangerous monsters, driven wild by their instincts. When the dual moons shone, they grew even stronger. And now, they were attacking in formation? How could he describe this? "We''re screwed." Torres''s bitter remark was the answer. There was no way out. Enkrid fought fiercely. He killed three werewolves and severed the arm of a fourth. He even managed to toss a whistle dagger, injuring the one-eyed leader. It was a fierce resistance, leaving marks of defiance against the Lycanthrope pack. Torres fought just as hard. Though he fell before Enkrid, he still took down two of them. Finn managed to kill one and was tackling her second before she was overwhelmed. As for the other squad members, they stood no chance. Enkrid, blood dripping from his shredded arm, stumbled. Just as he was about to deliver a final strike, his foot caught on something. It was a head. The head of the scout who had dreamed of becoming a chef. "This is... irritating." Even knowing death would reset the day, seeing something like this was never pleasant. "Grrrr!" Six werewolves leaped onto him at once. Surviving was impossible. Being torn apart while alive was a first for him. Naturally, it was excruciating. As time passed, the pain faded. How much time had gone by? When he opened his eyes, the pain was gone. Before him was a soundless, rippling black river. A small boat floated in the river, along with its ferryman. Chapter 102 - When Luck Does Not Follow (4) Chapter 102 - 102 - When Luck Does Not Follow (4) Chapter 102 - When Luck Does Not Follow (4) "What was more enjoyable for you?" Dying skewered like a kebab on an arrow? Being strangled by a mage''s vines and pierced by its thorns? Or having your entire body torn apart by a Lycanthrope? The boatman appeared and spoke with a laugh. A laugh that could only be perceived because he allowed it. It was strangely fascinating. How should one describe it? It felt as though someone had simply told him, "The boatman is laughing." Enkrid knew the boatman was laughing, but he didn''t actually see the man''s face laughing, nor did he hear a sound. All he had was the awareness that the boatman was laughing. Having been asked a question, Enkrid answered. Toward the black river, the small boat, and the boatman. He couldn''t tell whether the answer was directed at the boatman, the boat, or the black river. Still, he spoke. "Arrows were the best option." Compared to being torn apart by a pack of Lycanthropes or ensnared by a mage''s vines, that seemed better. "...Go mad. Lose yourself in madness to entertain me." Did it just seem like the boatman paused for a moment? Or was it an illusion? Enkrid wasn''t mad. Not at all. He had simply answered because there was no need to hesitate. "I was just answering logically." "Crazy bastard." The boatman started with a laugh, then became angry. Though, of course, even that felt as though someone was narrating it. He wasn''t certain the boatman was actually angry¡ªhe just sensed irritation. And that was the end of it. Darkness painted over the black river. When Enkrid closed his eyes and reopened them¡ª It was still the pre-dawn hours. The same day as before. Enkrid rose lightly. Neither his body nor mind felt heavy. Though the pain of being bitten and disemboweled by the Lycanthropes still lingered. "Hah." He decided to forget it with a single sigh. Even if he couldn''t truly forget, moving his body and swinging his sword would make things bearable. Enkrid was calm¡ªboth in his actions and his heart. ''Relax your shoulders.'' At a time when he would typically be racking his brain for ways to survive or escape the day, Enkrid was as serene as a still lake. Hadn''t he recently come to a realization? ''Is desperation the only answer?'' It wasn''t. Walking toward tomorrow hadn''t changed, but running at full speed wasn''t always the fastest way forward. Nor was it always necessary to rush to the finish. ''There are three paths.'' As he moved his body as usual, he began organizing his thoughts. It all started with the ghouls. ''Those things, too...'' Something was off. They seemed to be under someone''s command or to have experienced such control before. ''There must be a mage involved.'' That mage was on a different level compared to the one he had faced before. ''The Thorned Vine Mage, Retsha.'' The name he''d heard remained vivid in his mind. Could he kill her? There was no need to ask that question. He had to. Next, his thoughts turned to the pack of Lycanthropes, retracing his experience in reverse. ''A mage''s scheme, for sure.'' It was a certainty. If they scaled the walls, they''d face the mage. If they headed for the narrow passage, a unit would block them from both ends. The front was guarded by elite soldiers armed with broad shields and spears, while archers formed a rear blockade. A perfect setup. ''They couldn''t have been this prepared without prior knowledge.'' He wasn''t sure how, but the enemy had already figured out their movements. So, was there a spy? If there had been one, signs would''ve surfaced during the Lycanthrope attack. Perhaps the information had leaked through other means. It was a situation the boatman would find amusing. All three paths were blocked by walls. And not walls one could overcome through simple training. ''Unlucky, perhaps.'' How could every situation seem so fatal? Still. Did misfortune change anything? No. Enkrid remained the same. Unshaken. Clink. He tightened the strap on his sword hilt. It was a mark of beginning anew. Enkrid mentally divided the morning into segments. And moved accordingly. After practicing the Isolation Technique, he trained his swordsmanship. Then, he resumed practicing Hide Knife. "Would you spar with me?" He asked Finn, training in Valaf martial arts. "Who''s after you? You seem more urgent than usual today." Torres said as he prepared his gear. How many knives did he have hidden on his body? Enkrid watched as Torres strapped on a belt holding eight knives and answered him. "Just doing my best every day." "You''ll burn out that way." He wasn''t fragile enough to burn out from just this. "Shall we head out, then?" Finn spoke as Enkrid''s early-morning training concluded. Sweat-soaked, he couldn''t leave without changing clothes, so he quickly switched outfits and headed out. On the way, Finn mentioned how Aspen scouts were rarely spotted these days. He had heard that before. As they pushed through the underbrush, Finn commented on the edible-looking berries. "Those are poisonous." "Noted." Enkrid responded immediately. "You''re something else." "What do you mean?" Finn, cutting through shrubs with her dagger, joined in. "You act like you know things. Like you''ve been here before." Was that a woman''s intuition, or a ranger''s instinct? "It is my first time." "Talk casually." "Alright." Were they about to go into another round of playful chatter? That''s what had happened on the first iteration of today. Fortunately¡ªor perhaps unfortunately¡ªFinn didn''t bring it up this time. Instead, she looked at Enkrid with an odd expression. Even though the day repeated, not everything played out the same. Some small things did change. This was the entrance to the tunnel they had arrived at. "How deep is it?" Enkrid asked just before entering. "Hmm? If we walk briskly, it won''t take an hour." "I see." "Why do you ask?" "Just curious." "Are you scared of the dark? Don''t worry, I''ll hold your hand." "That''s not it." Finn chuckled and then spoke up. "Rangers always go first." The path sloped down. The same thing as before happened. Enkrid didn''t give any warnings or special preparations to the others. Instead, he remembered everything that happened. "What should we do if we get surrounded?" He had never asked any of his squad members this kind of question before, meaning he hadn''t learned anything about it. But from past experiences, he did know one thing. That one must avoid such situations at all costs. If he could avoid it, that was the right course. But if it couldn''t be avoided, what should he do? That was something to think about from now on. Enkrid was in the process of finding an answer. "Hurry up!" The enemy appeared. It was a squad armed with spears and shields. There were at least two squads'' worth of soldiers. Several torches lit up the area ahead. Creeeak. As if waiting, a group of enemy soldiers with shortbows blocked the rear. ''Seems like there are about twenty of them.'' Enkrid turned his gaze to the front again and looked at the commander, who appeared to be the leader. He was peeking out between shields, wearing an iron helmet that covered his forehead, leaving only his eyes visible. Though faint, there was a thrill of excitement in his eyes. It was as if he welcomed this situation. "You little wildcat." The commander spoke. "Dammit." Finn turned her head back and forth, then drew a dagger, holding it in reverse while lowering her stance. Her left hand shielded her face diagonally, while her right hand moved behind her, hiding the knife from the enemy''s sight. It looked as if she were hiding her claws like a wildcat. Torres quietly moved alongside the shadows cast by the torches. Some of the soldiers with shortbows followed Torres with their eyes. ''Sharp eyes.'' That was a well-trained soldier. As expected. If they fell into a trap, it would be over. It was the kind of trap where, if they weren''t knights, there was no way out. Finn and Torres were elite soldiers. If this weren''t a tunnel. If they weren''t surrounded on all sides. ''Then it might be possible.'' But no, they could resist, but they would die. The commander was about to shout something when. "Wait." Enkrid stepped forward, showing his left palm. He hadn''t drawn his sword, signaling that he wasn''t intending to fight. "It doesn''t seem like this person would be open to conversation." Torres muttered. Finn still looked ahead with a fierce glare. "What''s going on?" The commander, confident in his capture, asked. Enkrid needed to shorten the distance with the enemy. As Torres said, they weren''t people with whom conversation would work. He just needed a moment of space. Before the fight broke out, there was something he needed to confirm. Step by step. With both hands raised, signaling he had no intent to fight, Enkrid''s gaze lingered on the enemy''s armor and attire, clearly visible in the torchlight. ''Dust.'' It had piled up quite a bit on their gear. It had been just over an hour of walking. The dust on the enemy soldiers'' bodies didn''t seem like it had accumulated within today. ''They weren''t just waiting for today.'' So this was a question to confirm something. "How many days have you been waiting?" "...What?" There was surprise mixed into the commander''s voice, as if Enkrid had hit the mark. That was confirmation. ''They hadn''t waited with certainty.'' What was it that had kept them here waiting? It was curious now. Though, at this moment, curiosity didn''t matter. The results did. What mattered was that these soldiers had been waiting here for days. "You''re good at hiding your presence." Enkrid said again. Every word was meant to probe. The commander couldn''t have known that. "You little... what are you? Are you a magician too?" Had a magician been involved here? What was that Retsha woman with the rose vines doing? "Retsha, huh." Enkrid took a step further. "...Shit, I don''t know what you''re talking about, but die." That was the end of the conversation. The enemy soldiers charged, and arrows and spears aimed at Enkrid, Finn, and Torres. The commander gestured to his soldiers and retreated. Finn, wanting to kill that commander, couldn''t break through the line of enemy soldiers armed with shields and spears. Her skills were difficult to use in such a place. That''s why she appeared to have only the strength of an average soldier. Torres was different. He moved in a way that threw off the enemy''s expectations, hitting the wall and then flicking his hands in the air. Four throwing knives shot out from his hands. Even Enkrid couldn''t see where they were going. It was Torres''s hidden move. But it wasn''t enough. The archers and those blocking the front were all covered in thick leather shields. ''If you''re going to target something, aim for their toes.'' That was as far as it went. Ignoring the idea of overcoming the wall, Enkrid decided to put his plan into action. Facing off against well-trained elite soldiers. And even more elite soldiers in groups. This was a completely new experience for Enkrid. There had never been a time when a group of soldiers would target him, given they had nowhere near the same skill. They had no such skill. He had gotten better with his sword over time. He''d killed the pervert and defeated the crazy Mitch Hurrier. Assassins had targeted him. But this was really the first time. Fighting against a group, a squad, an army of enemies. In a battlefield, he could use his allies to his advantage, but here there was no such opportunity. ''Then.'' Couldn''t this be an opportunity to improve his skills? Thinking that, he couldn''t help but mutter. "This is fun." The spear soldier, who had a terrified look, thrust his spear just before dying, seeing Enkrid laughing despite blood pouring from his mouth. Of course, Enkrid didn''t care about that. He was only thinking about testing out various things. ''It''s not enough with just focus and the sense of the blade.'' If his vision narrowed against a number of enemies, there was no answer. What if he used a heavy sword like when he fought the ghouls, or the wolf beasts, or the man-faced dogs, to slash and crush them? ''No.'' These weren''t beasts; they were soldiers who knew tactics and strategies. They were thinking and planning. Just like usual. The only difference was that his shoulders were a little less tense than before. So, after spending todays trying to enter through the tunnel and failing, he would meet the magician on the castle walls. He''d been repeatedly caught by Retsha''s vines, and when that got blocked, he danced with the werewolves under the moonlight. Of course, that dance always ended in death. Enkrid had made up his mind, so he didn''t feel any impatience. He would give his best in every moment. It didn''t mean he was going to waste the day just because his shoulders were relaxed. After forty-two todays, he''d mastered the Hide knife. "How is this possible?" Naturally, Torres looked at him with a startled expression. To him, it seemed like Enkrid had just imitated his secret move in a day. "Just lucky." It wasn''t a great excuse, but Torres had no argument. "In just a day?" He muttered, still in disbelief. The Hide knife hadn''t become more skilled just because Torres saw it. But Enkrid went past seventy days. He wouldn''t show off the Hide knife again in front of Torres. Now, it was enough to keep repeating it on his own. Every day, he mastered Valaf-style martial arts. He honed his skills through sparring with Finn, who had learned the Eil Karaz-style martial arts. And after repeating today over and over, Enkrid realized he no longer needed to keep practicing the HIde knife, the Valaf martial arts, fighting the magician on the castle walls, climbing the walls to build grip strength, or training his swordsmanship by fighting the werewolves. ''All of it.'' He no longer felt the need to repeat it. Now, what comes next? It was time to move on to tomorrow. Chapter 103 - Is This Love? Chapter 103 - 103 - Is This Love? Chapter 103 - Is This Love? "Could it be that the goddess of luck has cursed me?" Starting another day, Enkrid glanced up at the sky. The blue moon filled his gaze. It was still before dawn. Having woken early, he could still see the moon he''d seen before going to bed. The moon shone exceptionally brightly. "Come to think of it, doesn''t it seem that way?" Though the ferryman in his dreams spoke of walls and such, the outcome was always the same¡ªhe ended up dying miserably. Even this time was no exception. He had tried countless times to exploit openings in the encirclement, yet his luck had been staggeringly awful each time. For instance, when he aimed for a gap and struck a pikeman''s foot to create an opening, a pile of dirt suddenly collapsed from above. Why did the ceiling have to collapse at that precise moment? And why did the falling dirt have to get into his eyes? It wasn''t just that time. When he dashed along the ramparts, targeting the mage, a section of the previously sturdy wall crumbled beneath his footing. Similar streaks of bad luck had followed him. There was even a case where, being a variant, the werewolf''s heart was on the opposite side. Another time, while taking a breather against a tree, it turned out to be rotted and failed to support his weight, throwing him off balance. His streak of misfortune wasn''t a one-time event. From lacking innate talent to all these minor tragedies, wasn''t it all part of his ill-fated destiny? "Are you seriously playing tricks on me, Goddess?" Still, he felt like asking, though he didn''t expect an answer. He wasn''t really looking for one; it was simply a way to remember today as a fresh start. And so, today began with a greeting to the goddess. He stood up and began training his body using the Isolation Technique. It involved bending one knee close to the ground while lowering his stance, walking in a controlled manner. While he was fully absorbed in training, others began stirring awake and moving around. Enkrid approached one of the scouts and spoke. "Could you make something like this? I need it as a secret stash pouch." He explained further. It was a cloth pouch he wanted attached inside his sleeve. He also mentioned it would be great if it stayed secure. Since they had time to make hams and other supplies, he figured this wasn''t asking too much. With their tools already at hand, gathering materials wouldn''t be necessary. "Huh? Well, I can do it quickly. But don''t you need to leave this morning?" "It''d be nice if you could make it before then." Blinking a few times, the scout nodded in agreement. "Alright, I''ll do it. Hey, cover my shift for a bit." The scout laughed heartily, accepting the task. Enkrid thanked him with a pat on the shoulder before continuing his training. By the time he finished, Finn approached him. "What, planning to put on a show for us this early?" She commented as he swung his sword, shirtless. "Can you use a crossbow?" "Is that even a question? It''s one of a ranger''s basic skills." Knowing she''d ask why he was even asking, Enkrid preemptively answered. "I was just curious." "...I don''t know what to say to that." "By the way, what do you line your boots with to make your footsteps so silent?" "Oh, this?" Finn raised her left hand, pointing to her ear as she explained. "There are a lot of sensitive beasts around here, so I layer fabric on the soles and stuff cotton inside the boots." Of course, he wasn''t asking out of ignorance. "That sounds useful. I''d like to do the same to my boots." "It''s not difficult." "Torres?" "You want me to do it too?" "There are lots of beasts around, apparently." "Not that I''ll run into any..." Though Torres added this remark, he didn''t object. The two began modifying Enkrid''s boots. "These boots are really well-made. You can tell they were crafted with care." "Really?" One of them inspected Enkrid''s boots as they worked. It was a gift from the shoemaker he''d met through a body-obsessed artisan mage from the sewers. Adding fabric to the soles and stuffing the interior with cotton didn''t take long. With training complete and the boots modified for silence, Enkrid received the pouch he''d requested earlier. It was designed to slip into his sleeve and tighten with a drawstring, making it invisible when worn. The stitching was meticulous, far surpassing that of the alcohol-loving squad leader. Naturally, Enkrid had asked this scout knowing they were skilled; he had tried everyone else before. When Finn had tried once, it had been a disaster. She''d created something so misshapen it couldn''t even hold a finger inside. It had, of course, been unusable. "Ha, it''s been a while since I did any sewing," she''d said. That, too, had been a rough start to the day. As Enkrid reflected on that memory, Finn came over and gave him a light pat on the shoulder. "Let''s go." Breakfast was done, and preparations were complete. Once again, they were heading for the crawlspace. "The seventy-ninth time," Enkrid silently counted the number of repeated days as he walked briskly. Having traveled this path countless times, there was no hesitation in his steps. Finn occasionally glanced back at him, tilting her head as if puzzled before asking. "Did you spend a lot of time in the scouts?" "Me?" "No, not you." Torres responded but then shifted his gaze to Enkrid. "No, I didn''t," Enkrid answered while walking. "Really?" Torres couldn''t guess the reason for Finn''s question, but Enkrid knew perfectly well. If pressed, she''d say, "Your walk is like a ranger''s." That was because, after following Finn around for so long, he''d started mimicking her silent footsteps¡ªsteps aided by the cloth lining her boots. As they walked quietly along the dirt path, where occasional blades of grass poked through, Enkrid broke the silence with a question. "What if there''s an enemy waiting at the tunnel?" It was a sudden question but a reasonable one. "We fight," Torres replied first, kicking a pebble near his foot. The small stone bounced off a flat, clay-colored rock with a faint clink. Enkrid closely watched where the pebble struck and listened intently. "There''s a low chance of that happening, but if it does, we run," Finn answered as if she''d been waiting to. "Understood." The conversation continued as Enkrid and his companions arrived at a thicket-covered embankment. "Then what if the retreat route gets blocked?" Enkrid asked again. Torres, about to step onto the slope, gave him a questioning look as if to ask, What''s with this guy? The mission was simple: enter the area, check on the status of the cat planted by the allies, and retreat if things got dicey. Why was Enkrid raising doubts before anything even started? "We''re trying to make sure that doesn''t happen," Finn replied, her tone stiffening after hearing a second similar question. "How high or wide is this tunnel?" Enkrid continued. "Huh?" "If we''re blocked from both sides, is there another way out?" They hadn''t even walked a few steps on the embankment when the questions came pouring in. What''s with this guy? Torres tilted his head in confusion. This wasn''t like Enkrid, who had been silently following along until now. Why the sudden change? It wasn''t fear. If he were the type to be scared of crawling into a tunnel, he wouldn''t have charged headlong into a pack of human-faced hounds. He wouldn''t have swung his sword against harpies attacking from above either. "What? You got a bad feeling or something?" Torres asked. He didn''t believe in superstition, but he respected Enkrid''s instincts¡ªthose uncanny senses that people like him sometimes had. "No, not really," Enkrid replied nonchalantly. They had to go in regardless, and saying he had a bad feeling wouldn''t change the plan. Finn glanced back at him, her expression hard to read. "Got something to say?" "I''m just wondering what to do if we run into enemies." Finn tilted her head slightly, then straightened it. Something about this exchange felt off, but she couldn''t pinpoint why. "Listen," she began, explaining as much to herself as to Enkrid. "This tunnel is a main route for black-market dealers. It''s not really a path for spies, which makes it one of the safest options right now." Torres nodded in agreement. He wasn''t a ranger, but he''d been on all kinds of missions before. Safe enough, he thought. Enkrid nodded as well, following them into the sloping tunnel. He had barely taken three or four steps inside when he spoke again. "What if armed soldiers are waiting up ahead? Are we as good as dead?" "Oh, for f¡ª" Finn swore under her breath, unable to hold it in anymore. No matter how calm she tried to stay, this was still the path into enemy territory. Why was he saying such things now? "If you don''t want to do this, then back out," she snapped, her temper flaring. But Enkrid simply shook his head. "That''s not it." "What''s his deal?" she muttered, throwing an irritated glance at Torres. Good advice only works when given once or twice, but Enkrid kept pushing the same line of questioning, and it was getting under her skin. "Let''s go," Enkrid said suddenly, stepping ahead as if to lead. Finn opened her mouth to say something, but she stopped when both she and Torres felt a sudden shift. Without meaning to, their gazes locked onto Enkrid. Why? There was a weight to him now¡ªa heavy presence emanating from him. Both Finn and Torres were skilled fighters, yet they couldn''t ignore the aura surrounding Enkrid. "Just," he began, his voice calm and deliberate. "Be careful." Finn swallowed hard, her irritation fading in an instant. What is this guy? He''d been annoying just moments ago, but now he somehow seemed... impressive. Her rising anger disappeared like smoke. Is this love? Her team often teased her for falling in love at the drop of a hat, though it never affected her work. At least that was something. Love is love, men are men, and work is work. Finn admitted to herself that she felt less annoyed now. She also acknowledged that their situation wasn''t as dire as it could have been. The cat''s capture wouldn''t necessarily expose them, and while entering the city was dangerous, she was confident they could escape. They''d been saving this particular route for such an occasion, after all. "Fine," she conceded, shifting her stance to move more cautiously. Torres followed suit. Though he cast another curious glance at Enkrid, he eventually said, "Of course we''ll be careful." That should do it. Enkrid could tell their attitudes had shifted. His earlier words hadn''t been pointless. Neither was the presence he''d exuded. To survive what lay ahead, every advantage mattered. The enemies waiting for them¡ªelite soldiers armed with spears, shields, and archers covering the rear¡ªnumbered over forty. This wasn''t a situation where mistakes could be tolerated. That''s why he did it. To ensure no one let their guard down. The cautiousness of an ordinary soldier was different from that of a ranger. "This is odd," Finn murmured, keeping her head low as they walked. She moved with the precision of someone who could outpace both pathfinders and hunters. "Footprints... something''s strange about them," she said, confirming exactly what Enkrid had hoped she would notice. Their opponents had erased their tracks, but no one could completely escape the watchful eyes of a ranger actively searching for traces. Enkrid had no intention of facing them head-on. He''d learned through countless battles that brute force wasn''t always the answer. "The back feels exposed," Finn commented. The moment she finished her sentence, Enkrid delivered his next line, one he''d prepared in advance. No exceptional acting skills were needed¡ªhe''d done this many times before. "If that''s the case, we should secure an escape route," he said. In other words, they''d head back to clear the way behind them¡ªright where the enemy''s archers were likely stationed. Of course, Torres and Finn didn''t know that yet. Their eyes turned to him. "What if someone''s already blocking the retreat...?" There was no need to finish the sentence. "Got it. Let''s go," Finn said. "This feels like a bad omen," Torres muttered as they turned around. Chapter 104 - Relay of Retsha’s Words Chapter 104 - 104 - Relay of Retsha''s Words Chapter 104 - Relay of Retsha''s Words "Damn," Finn muttered under her breath, biting her lip. Her quiet, flustered voice was barely audible to Enkrid and Torres, who were following closely behind her. The three hadn''t gone far when they spotted a group of soldiers. Finn leaned her shoulder against a bend in the gently curving passage, carefully peeking back around the corner. She tossed the torch she was holding behind her. With a swish, the light source flew out of sight, leaving only the faint glow of the torches ahead. The area was now shrouded in darkness. Torres crouched low, straining his eyes toward the front. Even though he lacked the ability to see through the dark, the training he''d undergone for such situations allowed him to roughly assess the number and equipment of the enemy. "Shit, there''s a lot of them." At a glance, there were more than twenty soldiers, and their armament was no joke. They were equipped with crossbows as a baseline, with short swords hanging at their waists¡ªall in similar states of readiness. And what did that mean? "These are trained troops." The fact that they weren''t just some ragtag mercenary group made the situation even worse. A trained group of soldiers was often more dangerous than a pack of beasts or monsters. Especially in a narrow cave like this, where the enemies were armed with crossbows. "We''re screwed." While Torres assessed the situation, Finn was deep in thought. Should they turn back and head toward the Cross Guard instead? Was the path merely blocked, or did the original route hold more threats? As Finn and Torres found themselves teetering on the edge of panic, trying to avoid making a sound, Enkrid suddenly burst forward, shouting at the top of his lungs. "Messenger! I''m a messenger from Commander Roger!" Torres froze in shock. Finn was even more stunned. She couldn''t even extend her hand or yell to stop him¡ªit was simply too shocking. "What kind of lunatic...?" It was essentially a suicidal move. If even three or four crossbowmen decided to fire, Enkrid would be skewered in an instant. Surely, he knew this, and yet Enkrid''s steps didn''t falter. It was no coincidence. Roger was the name of a spear unit commander. By throwing out a name that would confuse the enemy, Enkrid caused hesitation. "If you don''t see an opening, then you make one. Fair and square? Does that save lives?" That was something Jaxen had once said. Deception? If necessary, why not? Just because he aspired to be a knight didn''t mean he had to turn into an idiot who only fought duels. Honor had its time and place. "Especially since they''ve already used traps, magical tricks, and even werewolves. What honor?" This wasn''t just about deceiving the enemy. As the tension in his shoulders eased, Enkrid''s field of view expanded. And that broadened view told him what he could do and what he could achieve. Past experiences and recent events intertwined, guiding him to one realization: "Fighting against overwhelming numbers." Especially against an elite unit, while trapped in a deadly ambush with no way out. This was no tall grass to simply hide in and avoid danger. Spears, arrows, the orders of a commander, shields blocking the front, and a rain of arrows from behind. One wrong step and death was certain. He could dodge a stray arrow or two, but how could he avoid a storm of them? Pretending to mimic a knight by parrying every arrow with a sword was equally absurd. In a confrontation with elite troops, there was no time to hone swordsmanship. Such battles ended in an instant. One slip of focus, and death came immediately. So, what should he do in moments like these? What weapon should he wield? Connecting the dots, even for a split second, required clarity. What Enkrid realized was this: "Instantaneous judgment." It was all about quick decision-making to exploit the briefest openings. Even staying here would only buy them enough time to burn half a candle before the spear unit arrived. So, what needed to be done now was simple. He needed to take down that damn crossbow unit commander and cause chaos. Without neutralizing the enemy''s ability to fire arrows, there would be no tomorrow. "Commander Roger? A messenger?" The cave was dimly lit, making it hard to identify faces without bringing a torch closer. It was even more difficult to verify whether someone was wearing the uniform of the Aspen army. And even if someone had sharp enough eyes to catch a detail, how closely could they scrutinize someone like Enkrid, who was charging straight at them? "The city! The city!" Enkrid yelled nonsensical things that might confuse the enemy further. "Shit! Monsters!" The commander blocking the retreat wavered, his pupils trembling. Not that Enkrid could see it, nor did he need to. The distance was closing. The light from the torches illuminated the scene enough, and Enkrid already knew who the commander was. So, he lunged. "Wait! Stop him!" One of the soldiers at the front finally reacted, but it was far too late. This momentary lapse was precisely what Enkrid had aimed for. He sprinted several dozen steps in an instant, not even stopping to catch his breath. Shling. Drawing his sword, Enkrid gripped it with both hands, pulling it to his right before slashing horizontally from top to side. The opponent''s helmet and armor left their necks exposed. Two soldiers standing to the left of his approach, both of similar height, fell victim to his blade in one swift motion. Slash! The sword left deep gashes in their necks, blood spraying everywhere. "Ah, ugh! Damn it!" The panicked soldiers barely began to react as Enkrid saw the commander retreating. His right hand moved swiftly. Holding his sword with his left hand, he reached to his waist with his right, then thrust forward. Whistle! A whistling dagger flew¡ªa weapon far deadlier than an ordinary throwing knife¡ªand embedded itself with a thunk into the commander''s leather helmet, piercing deep into his skull. If he survived that... "Then he''s no human." "Kill him!" Three or four soldiers drew their short swords with a metallic clang. Enkrid, grateful for the cave''s width, unfastened the buckler strapped to his back and flung it. Thunk! The round shield spun through the air, striking the head of a crossbowman who had been aiming at him. "Ugh!" Using the time gained, Enkrid pulled his sword closer to his chest. As he adjusted his grip, he prepared to deflect the incoming strikes from the soldiers rushing at him with their short swords. Tatatang! Clang! Clangclang! Enkrid struck aside an opponent''s blade using the flat of his sword. It wasn''t some elaborate technique¡ªjust using his weapon as a makeshift shield. And then came the next move. "Ha!" A sudden battle cry escaped Enkrid, startling his opponents. Taking note of the soldiers'' positions and the direction of the crossbows, he lunged forward. It wasn''t just a simple roll. While dodging sideways, Enkrid grabbed an enemy soldier''s ankle, twisting and yanking it. Crack. The soldier''s ankle twisted unnaturally, causing him to lose balance and collapse. Like a snake, Enkrid coiled his entire body around the falling man as he rose to his feet. With his left arm, he locked the enemy''s neck. With his right hand, he seized the soldier''s wrist and wrenched it upward. The short sword the soldier was holding fell to the ground with a soft thud. The dirt absorbed the sound of the blade landing. "Urk..." Killing the soldier would have been a waste. Enkrid needed him alive to use as a shield. Crossbows were deadly at range but could be countered up close with the proper defense. Having discarded his buckler, Enkrid had gained a new shield¡ªa human one. ''This reminds me of my first battle today.'' Back then, he''d also picked up whatever shield he could find. This time, it just happened to be a human instead of wood. Leaning his back against the wall, Enkrid held firm. The crossbowmen hesitated, as did the soldiers holding short swords. "I''m alone! Come at me, all of you! Long live Commander Roger! Aspen''s mutts, do you even know how to use those crossbows you''re lugging around?!" Amid the short silence that followed, Enkrid kept shouting nonsense¡ªceaselessly, relentlessly. "What''s the matter? Can''t you handle one man? Did Commander Roger train you to be this pathetic?!" He wasn''t just blabbering aimlessly. Even the slowest-witted among them should realize it was time to make a move. And as expected, his allies delivered. Swish. The Eil Karaz-style martial arts allowed one to take down enemies without making a sound. The darkness, the flickering torchlight, the cacophony, and Enkrid''s mad ramblings all worked to obscure his comrades'' actions. "He''s insane! Just shoot him already!" "Wait, no! Don''t shoot!" The soldiers yelled at one another, the hostage among them desperately pleading. Now was the perfect moment. The more time they wasted, the better for Enkrid''s side. Even now, Finn was likely sneaking up and silencing soldiers one by one with Eil Karaz techniques. Torres, meanwhile, was probably firing bolts into soldiers'' throats or heads with precision. Had it been a straightforward confrontation, the two would have been at a disadvantage. But the situation had shifted. Who had the upper hand now? Who was encircling whom? "The dawn breaks, the darkness retreats, the sun shines, and the moon fades! Roger! Roger!" To mask the presence of his comrades, Enkrid continued shouting, even improvising a song to match the rhythm of his nonsense. The commander lay dead, a blade lodged in his skull. Several others screamed and fell, adding to the chaos. Caught in this madness, the soldiers felt their minds unraveling. ''Dammit, what do we even do now?'' One of the soldiers agonized, contemplating whether it would be better to just shoot their own captured comrade in the head. With their commander dead, they were utterly lost. At that moment, the twang of a crossbow string rang out. Thud! The bolt struck their captive ally squarely in the head. ''Ah.'' In the end, someone had fired. "Kill them all," muttered the soldier who had pulled the trigger. Even a well-trained unit would unravel in the face of madness like this. "Raise the torches! Look behind!" At that moment, Finn and Torres were discovered. They weren''t elite assassins, so this was inevitable. Still, in the meantime, the two had taken down six crossbowmen. ''Not bad.'' This wasn''t the first chaotic battle of the day, after all. Taking down six enemies was an achievement in itself. Enkrid shoved his human shield forward. The corpse, trembling with a quarrel embedded in its head, collapsed. Just as it began to topple, in that fleeting moment, Enkrid acted. He drew the whistle daggers sheathed at his side and hurled them. His arm snapped out, releasing the blades in rapid succession. Whizz! The high-pitched sound of the daggers slicing through the air was followed by dull thuds. Six more soldiers fell, lifeless. Now, only one crossbowman and two short sword-wielding soldiers remained. Everything had happened in an instant. From the enemies'' perspective, it was a nightmare. And just as Enkrid was about to finish them off without a word¡ª "Forward." A deep, commanding voice echoed through the passageway. Roger, the spear squad''s commander, had arrived. From the opposite end of the corridor Enkrid''s group had passed through, the steady rhythm of marching boots resounded, shaking the ground and air alike. The remaining archers regrouped, while Roger and his men approached, their torches illuminating the cavern. Roger was calm, scanning the scene with a cold expression despite the carnage his men had suffered. The thirty elite spearmen under his command were a force to be reckoned with. Roger''s gaze briefly met Enkrid''s before shifting to Finn. "A lucky wildcat, huh?" "It''s skill, you bastard," Finn snapped, glaring at him with venom. The crackling of torches filled the tense silence in the cave. There was history between the two, as evident from their hostile exchange. But Enkrid had no interest in their feud. While Roger and his spearmen kept their distance, Enkrid moved again. In one swift motion, he lunged toward a cluster of three archers, thrusting his sword through one soldier''s neck. Squish. The sound of flesh tearing accompanied the withdrawal of his blade. Twang. The string of a crossbow snapped, and Enkrid quickly ducked. Whizz. The bolt grazed his hair. ''That was close.'' Luck had been on his side. He hadn''t expected the enemy to fire so quickly. Taking advantage of his good fortune, Enkrid pressed forward. "I see it all." Feigning a charge toward the soldier who had fired, he suddenly veered off course, driving his blade into another enemy''s skull. Thud! As he retrieved his blade, he pretended to retreat, his eyes locked on the remaining enemies. Thanks to the light from the spearmen''s torches, the area was bright enough for the soldiers to clearly see Enkrid''s fierce expression. One soldier, unnerved by his gaze, assumed someone was behind him and turned to look. But there was nothing¡ªonly shadows, the corridor, and the occasional falling clump of dirt. When he turned back, it was already too late. Squish. Enkrid darted forward, stabbing the soldier in the throat. It all happened in a heartbeat. Roger was about to order a charge when Enkrid spoke again. "I bring a message from Retsha!" The unexpected name made Roger pause. Retsha was a key figure in this operation¡ªa mage central to their plans. "Run!" Without hesitation, Enkrid shouted the command. "What?" Torres reflexively bolted, even as he voiced his confusion. Finn didn''t respond, snatching up two crossbows as she sprinted after him. "Catch them!" Roger''s furious roar echoed behind them as his men gave chase. The spear squad wasn''t heavy infantry, so pursuing them wasn''t impossible. Chapter 105 - Knowing How to Win a Gamble Chapter 105 - 105 - Knowing How to Win a Gamble Chapter 105 - Knowing How to Win a Gamble "Catch them!" The enemy soldiers'' shouts echoed, and, as expected, they began chasing madly. Enkrid glanced behind him and subtly changed direction. Thud. A pile of dirt suddenly collapsed near where he was about to pass. It wasn''t a sign of structural collapse. Just a symbol of bad luck. ''No, today might actually be a lucky day.'' After all, the quarrel had only grazed his head instead of hitting him directly¡ªhe could consider that fortunate. The tip of a long spear scraped across the ground as the enemy soldier charged forward furiously. Although there had been one battle earlier, ''It wasn''t enough to wear me out.'' The only real issue was the lack of light. Finn, being a ranger and a Pathfinder veteran, practically had eyes on the soles of her feet, allowing her to see her way. The darkness wouldn''t trip her up. The same went for Enkrid. He had been mimicking Finn''s steps for a while now. While not perfect, he had learned to roughly gauge the shape of the terrain with the soles of his feet. Besides, how many times had they taken this path? If he tripped and broke his nose now, it wouldn''t be a matter of talent but proof that he was using his head as a helmet stand. Enkrid''s memory was sharp, which helped both him and Finn navigate the darkness without issue. "Damn." Only Torres struggled. He flinched in surprise whenever he stepped into a depression but quickly regained balance, thanks to his exceptional reflexes, and kept running. Whoosh. The sound of torches. Scrape. The occasional noise of spearheads grazing the cave ceiling. Huff huff! Beyond that, only the sound of ragged breaths echoed in the relentless chase. Finn and Torres were the lightest on their feet, but it wasn''t enough to outrun their pursuers completely. It felt as if they would be caught at any moment. As they kept running, moonlight began to filter in ahead. The entrance¡ªit was the opening to their escape. Finn reached the slope first and threw a crossbow backward. Enkrid picked it up and hurled it back with all his strength, thinking it might serve better as a thrown weapon than discarded. A soldier chasing closely behind raised his shield to block it. Thwack! The crossbow wasn''t made of the sturdiest material, and shards of wood flew as it bounced off the shield. Though it slightly delayed their pursuers, it wasn''t enough to make a significant difference. Enkrid had thrown it just to give Torres, who was lagging slightly, a bit of help. Torres noticed and nodded at Enkrid in gratitude¡ªa silent thanks in his eyes and gesture. ''Gratitude at a time like this?'' Finn exited first, and Enkrid grabbed the edge of the slope to pull himself up. As dirt and dust crumbled down, Torres ducked his head low. "Wait." Suddenly, Torres spoke. He pulled out a dagger with his left hand, stabbed it into the incline of the tunnel, and turned his body sideways. ''Oh, now this is new.'' Leaning against the slanted wall, he balanced himself by holding the dagger while throwing with his free hand. Enkrid hadn''t seen him do this before. Whoosh. The daggers flew backward. Thunk! Thunk! The enemy soldiers, even after discarding their torches, blocked the daggers effortlessly with their shields. "You bastards." The two soldiers who blocked the daggers cursed harshly. Their eyes gleamed fiercely¡ªit was clear they wouldn''t let them die peacefully if caught. Enkrid knew this too well. He had been caught before. The outcome wasn''t pleasant. You''d either be skewered on a spear, or have a blade buried in your skull. No death was ever truly welcome. "Damn." Seeing his daggers blocked, Torres clicked his tongue in frustration. Even in the dim light of torches and moonlight, they had managed to block the attack. No ordinary training could produce such soldiers. Torres realized something as he watched the soldiers block his dagger. ''They''re border defenders.'' In other words, getting caught meant death. Even with Enkrid, who had reached out a hand to help him climb, ''No, that''s not an option.'' "How many do you think we can handle?" He asked as their hands met. "If we meet them separately, we could probably take them all, but like this... no chance." Enkrid admitted there was no answer to the current situation. Yet, oddly, his face seemed calm. Why was he so composed? Torres wondered as he climbed faster. Behind them, one of the spear-wielding soldiers showed off similar skills to Torres. Whoosh. He threw a shortsword as if it were a throwing knife. ''Impressive.'' Enkrid thought as he drew his blade to deflect it. Clang! The shortsword struck the middle of his blade and bounced off, embedding itself in the ground nearby. The blue-tinged blade reflected the moonlight and torchlight, glinting with a red-and-blue hue. "Quickly!" Enkrid''s sharp command pushed Torres to move even faster. "Out!" Finn, who had exited first, quickly pulled the string of her remaining crossbow and locked it in place. As Enkrid and Torres stepped aside, Finn fired. Thunk! The bolt vanished into the shadowy tunnel, disappearing among the flickering torchlight. A single shot¡ªthat was all the crossbow could manage. A faint thud sounded from within, but there was no time to confirm whether it had hit a head or been blocked by a shield. "Run." This time, Finn gave the order, immediately taking off. Enkrid and Torres followed, with Torres in the middle and Enkrid bringing up the rear. The direction they ran was toward the campsite where the main unit had originally been stationed. Finn kept running, her mind racing with thoughts. ''Where should we go?'' Back to the main unit? But what if this was a trap deliberately laid out for them? Heading toward the riverbank? What if Aspen''s rangers were lurking there? No, making any conspicuous moves would attract beasts and monsters. Sure, a dozen or so ghouls might be manageable. But what if they ended up unlucky and ran into a colony? Facing a colony of beasts or monsters with a small group was pure suicide. A group of wandering beasts was one thing, but a colony¡ªa collective called a "pack"¡ªwas on an entirely different level. As a ranger, Finn understood the ecosystem of beasts and monsters all too well. ''What''s the worst-case scenario here?'' Getting captured. Beasts and monsters could be dealt with later. "Head for the campsite." Enkrid resolved Finn''s dilemma with his decision. Finn glanced behind her. At the very back, Enkrid was following them. All three of them were panting, but his eyes and mouth somehow conveyed a strange sense of composure. ''Why?'' Why did he look so composed? Oh, his mouth was closed. Despite running like this, he wasn''t gasping for air. Even Finn was starting to feel breathless. Wasn''t his gear heavier than hers? He even had a longsword strapped to his waist, yet he ran with such ease. Finn didn''t ask why he''d chosen that direction. All she could do was follow his judgment. Enkrid didn''t interfere further with Finn''s decisions. After all, no matter where they went, they were already in a dire situation. ''She''ll figure it out.'' Most likely, Finn would follow his lead and head to the campsite. Retracing their steps as much as possible, as that was a ranger''s instinct¡ªto follow paths they deemed safe. Having lived through this day several times, Enkrid knew her habits. As they ran back, Enkrid''s hands began moving swiftly. He unbuckled his sword from his belt, scabbard and all, and started swinging it while running. More precisely, he stabbed the ground with the sword before lifting it up. Thunk, whoosh, thunk, whoosh. Each swing of the sword sent flat stones into the air. Enkrid used his sword like a club, smacking the stones backward. "Humph!" Five spearmen, trailing closely behind, were part of the fastest in their unit. One of the foremost spearmen scoffed. He found it laughable that Enkrid was trying to block their path with mere flat stones. He didn''t even bother raising his shield, instead thrusting his spear forward. There was no need to dodge. He intended to knock it away and maintain his speed. Clack. The spearman thought he''d succeeded¡ªuntil a shadow traced a bizarre curve in the air. Hiss! "Aagh!" It was a snake. A snake had been clinging flat to the underside of the stone. "Damn it!" The spearman hurriedly drew his shortsword and swung it. Slash! The snake''s body was severed in two. It wasn''t a beast. But it was venomous. One of the spearmen was unlucky. A viper sprang out from beneath a stone, coiling around his shin and sinking its fangs into the gap between his boots and armor. While the venom wasn''t fatal, it caused intense pain and a numbing sensation in his leg. The bitten spearman pulled out a dagger and stabbed the snake''s head. Stab. Blood and yellowish fluid oozed from the dead snake''s mouth. "It''s a viper!" The soldier tore off his dagger sheath, using it as a makeshift tourniquet to tie above his calf. He stopped in his tracks. Naturally, the others slowed their pace as well. "Damn it, vipers? Those sneaky bastards." The venom-stricken soldier gritted his teeth and glared ahead. Meanwhile, Enkrid continued his peculiar routine of smacking stones with his scabbarded sword. At first, it was stones with vipers underneath. Later, it included ordinary stones as well. For anyone without the knowledge to distinguish between them, they had no choice but to dodge or block everything. "You bastard." The pursuing commander, seeing the situation, narrowed his eyes. They had been so close to capturing that wildcat of a woman. "Raise your shields and keep running!" His judgment was spot on. Whether it was stones or snakes, soldiers with their shields raised and eyes focused could no longer be impeded. Of course, Enkrid never expected to stop them with snakes alone. ''Looks like what I learned from Enri is coming in handy.'' He remembered Enri mentioning vipers that hid under flat, clay-colored stones. Passing through this path, he put that knowledge to use. It proved very effective. One man was down, and the rest had been slowed. "Phew, phew, why the campsite?" Now that their pursuers had slowed, Finn adjusted her speed and moved alongside Enkrid, questioning him. Torres, equally curious, approached as well. Enkrid glanced behind and answered. "Phew. We need allies if we''re going to face that many enemies." Finn frowned at his response. "Haah, ha, but the campsite''s already abandoned. My unit has relocated." She misunderstood. So did Torres. Feigning surprise, Enkrid replied, "Even so, we can''t suddenly change direction now. We''ll use the campsite as a pivot and decide our next course." With that, he naturally took the lead, dropping formalities as he spoke. Finn and Torres realized there was no other choice. They had to keep going. Their pursuers were closing in, visible through the mist of their labored breaths. Despite the heavy gear, the soldiers moved with remarkable discipline, maintaining perfect formation as they ran. It was impressive. How well-trained must they be to achieve this level of coordination? Seeing this, Finn realized their identity. "Damn it, they''re probably Grey Hounds." The Grey Hounds, also known as the Persistent Lovers unit. To most, they were infamous as relentless hunters. Enkrid had his own history with them. Mitch Hurrier was part of their unit. They had even sent him the infamous Whistle Dagger, disguised as a gift from a half-blood elf. Facing them was akin to taking on an elite force comparable to the frontier defense units. Feigning surprise, Enkrid said, "Oh, really?" Though his tone was oddly composed, Finn and Torres were too focused on escaping to dwell on it. The stronger the opponent, the better. Enkrid thought so to himself. He had experienced seventy-eight iterations of this day. During that time, he had honed his skills to outmaneuver dozens of elite soldiers and had extracted vital information from a man named Roger by cleverly asking the right questions. Now, he was putting all that knowledge to use. All three picked up their pace, driven by the sight of their pursuers gaining ground. "Phew! Huff! Damn bastards!" Torres regulated his breathing as he ran. "Damn persistent dogs!" Finn, while cursing, showed no signs of giving up. As they approached the campsite, Enkrid deliberately took a detour. Finn noticed but said nothing. In situations like this, it was natural for the ranger to take the lead. Yet Enkrid confidently took the front. He pressed on ahead. And what could they do but follow? They finally reached the campsite. The pits they had dug were now covered with dirt, leaving no trace. A few lone trees stood nearby, along with some small mounds. And beyond them lay an unexpected sight. Awoooo! Werewolves. "Damn it!" Over twenty werewolves had gathered in a pack¡ªa colony led by an alpha at the front. ''This is the worst.'' Finn nearly gave up on life at that moment. Torres, on the other hand, darted his eyes around, trying to assess the situation. Only Enkrid remained calm, gathering his breath for what came next. ''This is the turning point.'' It was a gamble, but one that wasn''t left to chance after so many repeated attempts. A calculated gamble to secure victory. Enkrid took a step forward. Chapter 106 - Dodge and Dodge Again Chapter 106 - 106 - Dodge and Dodge Again Chapter 106 - Dodge and Dodge Again It was the moment when Leona Rockfreed and Mathis, her bodyguard, parted ways near the walls of Border Guard. Mathis, with his commanding presence, instantly drew everyone''s attention. It was deliberate¡ªa display of raw intensity. "Hostility is a form of momentum. You can create it with your instincts. It''s easy. Ah, but for someone like our squad leader, it might be a bit difficult." That unhinged bastard Jaxen. His words always cut deep, like his tongue had been forged in a blacksmith''s workshop. Every sentence of his was a sword in disguise. Not that Enkrid paid it much mind. He just dismissed him as a lunatic and moved on. But in the end, Jaxen''s words weren''t entirely wrong. Enkrid had unlocked his instincts. He had dabbled with a similar kind of momentum during a mission to catch a cat, but mastering it was another matter. This time, however, he truly grasped it. Once he relaxed his shoulders, it turned out to be easier than expected. In fact, he''d already put it to use when he warned Torres and Finn to tread carefully. His words carried a forceful intent. And now... "Step aside. I''ll draw their attention," Enkrid ordered. "What?" Finn responded first. "What kind of nonsense is that?" Torres followed, his tone sharp. Neither of them had known Enkrid for long enough to be bound by any deep camaraderie. They weren''t exactly the kind to risk their lives for each other. "Rangers don''t abandon their comrades," Finn growled. "That goes for me too," Torres added. Yet, for some reason, both were unusually resolute. Their eyes gleamed with unwavering determination. Yeah, you''re both good people, Enkrid thought. But that wasn''t the point. "Just get lost. You''re in my way," he said coldly. He didn''t have the time to explain. Even in another timeline, when he had tried to explain, they stuck to him like leeches. "...Why is he acting cool?" Finn muttered under her breath. "This crazy bastard?" Torres bristled but still caught the meaning behind Enkrid''s words. Enkrid was dead serious. "Wait at the farthest range. Once this is over, regroup. I have a plan¡ªwe can all survive." His tone carried the weight of a command, more effective than explanations. Soon enough, Torres relented. "See you later," Torres said, his words laced with double meaning before stepping aside. Finn glanced back twice before following him. As Enkrid watched them leave, he mulled over his next move. Even though they''d split off, every single spear-wielding enemy still needed to focus on him. How could he ensure that? He already knew the answer. Glancing back, Enkrid shouted at the top of his lungs, "Roger! Take off your helmet!" To an outsider, the words would seem meaningless. "Roger! The man who sent his hair to the heavens first!" Enkrid''s voice boomed like a bard reciting a ballad. He''d learned about Roger''s peculiarities across seventy-eight timelines. Although his grudge with Finn stemmed from other reasons, one detail about him stood out¡ªRoger was the commander who never removed his helmet. The nickname stuck. From the top of his head to his forehead, a barren desert stretched across Roger''s scalp. A glaring weakness. "Do you carry a wasteland atop your head?" Enkrid had doubted whether this tactic would work at first. But confirmation came easily. In another timeline, when he had been caught by Roger and managed to knock off his helmet, Roger''s reaction had been explosive. "Bald?" The moment those words escaped Enkrid''s lips, Roger''s eyes had flared with rage. In the current timeline, Enkrid needed to redirect Roger''s wrath toward himself, away from Finn. He ran his fingers through his own thick, black hair, letting it cascade between his fingers. "...That damn bastard!" Roger''s eyes burned with fury. If Enkrid were captured now, he wouldn''t just die¡ªhe''d be tortured first. Escape was the only option. As Finn and Torres retreated, Roger barked orders. "Get him!" Twenty-nine spear-wielding soldiers charged forward, fueled by their commander''s anger. Despite their frenzy, Enkrid knew Roger would soon divide his forces, targeting Finn and Torres if he didn''t act. ''It''s about time.'' As if on cue, a bone-chilling howl echoed from the opposite side of the battlefield. Awooooooo! Under the light of the Dual Moon, the surroundings were illuminated. From the other side, the figures of lycanthropic beasts became visible¡ªwolves on two legs, sprinting with feral ferocity. Lykanthropes. "Phew." Enkrid exhaled, steadying his breath as he came to a halt. This was it. He needed to bind both the spearmen and the lycanthropes here. ''Look at me.'' To unleash momentum was to channel a murderous intent through every fiber of one''s being. It was the mindset of being able to cut down every last opponent in sight. He grasped the hilt of his sword, slowly unsheathing it. The blade reflected the moonlight as it emerged. Taking a half-step forward, Enkrid conveyed his intent with his entire body. Approach, and you''ll be cut down. The intangible pressure of momentum, killing intent, and will radiated from him. The soldiers and the lycanthropes, drawn by that oppressive force, converged on Enkrid. At the center of it all stood Enkrid, like a man embracing death. Roger was growing increasingly irritated. What should have been a simple mission¡ªcapturing a wildcat-like woman¡ªhad become complicated. Should he give up now? No. He couldn''t. He needed to kill her. She was the one who had killed his brother. "Damn it, chase her down!" Determined to see it through, Roger''s anger boiled over when Enkrid''s voice cut through the air once more. From "Take off your helmet" to "wasteland," the taunts pierced him like daggers. Thump. His heart pounded. Rage surged, making his blood feel like it was boiling. "That son of a bitch?" He made up his mind. He steeled himself. When he caught that bastard, he wouldn''t let him die peacefully. He''d make him beg for death. In that instant, reason flew out of him, screaming at him to pursue. Roger himself took off running. Awooooo! The howling of beasts erupted. The moment Roger spotted the werewolf pack charging from the opposite direction, frustration surged through him. "Goddamn it." How had things ended up like this? "That damned bastard." It was because of the one who mocked him as though reciting a poem about his hair. Because of that jerk''s ridicule, he''d lost focus for a moment. "Damn bastard." Roger tried to steady himself by cursing at the werewolves he saw, but it wasn''t easy. So what should he do? The answer came quickly. "Kill them all." No matter how precious they were to that woman called Retsha or whatever her name was, they were just monsters. Even if they formed a colony, a pack of Lycanthropes could be dealt with as long as they fought in formation. He was about to shout orders when it happened. The man he had been chasing suddenly exhaled sharply and stopped in his tracks, gripping his sword. With that sword in hand, he spoke with his body. He spoke with his presence. He spoke with his killing intent. "Come closer, and I''ll cut you down." To Roger, the surrounding world blurred away, leaving only the man holding the sword. If this was how Roger saw it, imagine how it felt to the other soldiers. Formation or not, the overwhelming presence forced the battle to begin. Since no one had ordered them to halt, the spearman at the front simply acted as he always did. If an enemy appeared, they fought¡ªthat was his role. And so it began. Thrust! He lunged with his spear. Awooo! Clang! The werewolf''s claws deflected the spearhead just as it was about to strike. The discordant sound of the wolf''s howl, claws, and the spear shaft reverberated. That sound brought a cold sliver of reason back into Roger''s mind. "Damn it." He''d attacked without forming a proper formation. It was because he''d been impatient. No, it was also because the enemy had mocked his weakness. And the presence¡ªthat was an issue too. Everything had spiraled out of control. A chaotic battle had begun. Huff. The first thing to reach Enkrid was a werewolf. Its claws aimed for his neck. Watching the creature''s sweeping arm, Enkrid stepped back. "Hoo." He steadied his breathing. He couldn''t endure this by gasping for air. From here on, it was like walking a narrow path between cliffs. He couldn''t afford any carelessness. Mistakes were not an option. So, what did he need? "Boldness." The heart of the beast beat within. Thump. The charging werewolf pack and the encroaching spear unit. Enemies surrounded him, closing in from all sides. But there was no reason to feel anxious. After all, wasn''t this a battlefield he himself had created? "Then, next?" He sharpened his senses. Beyond his five senses, he reached into the realm of intuition. He had to avoid claws and spear tips flying from behind. And that''s what he did. Stepping forward with his left foot, he swung his sword sideways. It wasn''t a powerful strike. Clang! But it was enough to block the claws of a wolf lunging at him from the side. Pivoting on his left foot, he executed a Northern-style passing step. Normally, this would be followed by a heavy downward slash to break the arm or weapon of the enemy that attacked his back. "Forward again." Instead, he ducked low as though folding his body. Whoosh! The wolf''s claws grazed the air above his head. By now, Enkrid''s eyes were only half-open. His gaze was unfocused. If someone looked closely, they might say his eyes resembled those of a fish gasping on land. "Focus." Instead of concentrating on a single opponent, Enkrid had chosen a method to survive this place. "Wider." He sharpened the blade of his concentration and spread it outward, encompassing the range of his sword. The outcome of a battle was determined by judgment, distance, timing, and position. In an instant, he made decisions. He gauged the distance to his opponent. He measured the time it would take for their weapon to reach him and for his own sword to strike its target. He took in his current position and where he would stand next. With this, Enkrid danced alone in this chaos. Clang, clang. Occasionally, his blade met a werewolf''s claws. Sometimes a spearhead scraped past the side of his gambeson. There were moments when claws brushed dangerously close to his neck. Even when an enemy tried to stomp on his foot, he merely gave them a light shove with his shoulder. The result? "Ugh!" It led to a soldier''s dying groan. A werewolf sank its teeth into the neck of a soldier who had been pushed off balance. Blood splattered, leaving stains on the beast''s face. It wasn''t intentional. He dodged again and again. Growl! When a werewolf lunged to bite his shoulder, he crouched to avoid it. Snap! He heard the beast''s teeth clack together as he stood and pushed it away. And that led to... Thud! Howl! A spear pierced the werewolf''s belly, the very one that had targeted Enkrid. He focused solely on evasion. Circling around the edges of the battlefield instead of staying at its center, he gradually slipped away. Now the werewolves had to deal with the spear-wielding soldiers. And the spear unit had to fight off the werewolves. All of this was clearly visible to Torres and Finn, who weren''t far away. "...That guy." "He''s bat-shit crazy. Completely insane." Torres and Finn alternated between speaking, unable to tear their eyes away from Enkrid''s movements. He kept dodging. Sometimes he was struck by spear shafts, and claws occasionally raked across his body. But he managed to avoid fatal injuries. And look at what he''d created in the center of the battlefield with just a few words and his commanding presence. The fight between the monsters and the elite soldiers had devolved into chaos. "The humans are going to win." Even so, elites were elites. Though their formation had broken, groups of three or four banded together to watch each other''s backs. They recovered some of their stamina lost from the initial charge. By forming shield walls and striking with spears, they fought back effectively. And then, Roger moved. Facing three or four werewolves on his own, he killed one by driving his spear into its head. Switching to a short spear, he charged like a raging tiger. "If we leave him alone..." Finn could see him heading straight for Enkrid. She didn''t need to look closer to know his eyes must be burning with venom. He always flew into a rage when mocked about his hair. "That crazy bastard." "I''m going to help." Finn mumbled, and Torres declared his intent as though steeling himself. In the meantime, the enemy commander named Roger charged furiously, thrusting his short spear at Enkrid. "Ah." Finn let out a sharp cry as she watched. To her, it looked like the spear had pierced Enkrid''s side. "Damn. No, he dodged it." Torres spoke. He was right¡ªit was a mistake. The spear shaft was caught between Enkrid''s arm and side. He had dodged it by a hair''s breadth, trapping the weapon with his body. It looked like a narrow escape. To Torres, it seemed like a moment of life and death. Chapter 107 - One-on-One Chapter 107 - 107 - One-on-One Chapter 107 - One-on-One Enkrid knew his plan had succeeded. Turning the battlefield into chaos¡ªthat was his intention. Look at the battlefield now, a complete mess. It was more than chaotic; it was exactly as he had envisioned. Among all the battles today, this one stood out as a prime example of what he had repeatedly orchestrated¡ªa perfectly executed mess. ''It worked.'' He had instigated a melee, and the chaos had taken root, leading to a massacre of the werewolves. Although many soldiers had died in the process, the ones who fought in small, organized groups with a minimum formation held the upper hand, even amidst the chaos. ''The soldiers will win.'' While taking a breather at the outskirts of the chaos he had engineered, Roger suddenly charged at him. He lunged forward with his spear, its blade so sharp it appeared like a pinpoint. It was a frightening thrust. Instead of making a big movement, Enkrid merely twisted his body slightly. Although his gambeson was already in tatters, he trusted the toughness of the leather armor he wore beneath it. Swish. Grind. The spear''s blade grazed his side. There was no sharp pain, meaning the armor had held up. Enkrid immediately trapped the spear shaft under his arm. "Hah!" Roger grunted and tightened his grip on the spear, seeing that Enkrid had caught it under his arm. He planned to yank the spear back and tear through Enkrid''s side and arm. Catching the blade with your side? I''ll rip you to shreds. Beep! At the exact moment Roger exerted his strength, a strange sound reached him, and a sense of foreboding pierced the space before his forehead. He instinctively leaned his head back. No¡ªjust tilting his head wasn''t enough; his entire torso bent backward. It was an extraordinary display of reflexes and agility. ''What the hell?'' A sharp blade grazed the hair on his head and the edge of his helmet. A throwing knife had sliced through the darkness, leaving a faint trace. Of course, Roger didn''t actually see it¡ªit was only a sensation he had perceived. The chilling sensation quickly turned into anger. As he straightened himself with fiery rage fueling him, he suddenly realized that the weight of the spear in his hands had disappeared. "It''s time to meet your hair again." A voice rang out simultaneously, and a shadow loomed over his head. It was Enkrid, plunging down from above. ''Damn it.'' How is he so fast? Such agility didn''t match his size. The descending blade was the last thing Roger saw. Crack! His helmet, which had once protected his skull, was split in two, and his head was cleaved apart. Blood and brain matter spilled from the shattered remains. Thud. Landing softly on the ground, Enkrid began checking his own body. Trapping the spear, throwing a knife at his opponent''s forehead, and following up with a vertical slash¡ªit had all unfolded exactly as he had planned. ''Not bad.'' He wasn''t seriously injured. Although his side ached slightly from catching the spear earlier, it wasn''t a major concern. He prodded his ribs with his fingers. ''Not broken.'' That meant it was just a bruise¡ªnothing to worry about. "Damn it! Commander!" The shout of an enemy soldier echoed. Some soldiers had witnessed Roger''s death, but there wasn''t much they could do. Even if their eyes turned red with fury, they couldn''t simply abandon their fight against the werewolves to rush at Enkrid. The werewolves still bared their fangs menacingly. Still, this one swing of his sword had shifted the tides of the battle. Roger''s death seemed to sap some morale from the enemy spearmen. Though they still held the upper hand, a few of them were still falling prey to the werewolves. Right now, as well. A soldier who had been distracted by the sight of his commander''s death got struck down by a one-eyed lycanthrope that had been hiding. Smash! The one-eyed lycan didn''t use its claws but its fists. Rather than instinctively relying on claws and fangs, it delivered a calculated punch. Yes, that was the mark of a true colony leader. After all, not just anyone could lead a colony of monsters. Of course, it didn''t solely rely on its fists. It used all the weapons its body offered. The one-eyed lycan slashed with its claws, deflecting a few spear blades and breaking two spear shafts in quick succession. After killing two soldiers, it retreated behind its pack. In the shadows of trees, behind enemy soldiers, amidst the chaos caused by other lycans rampaging¡ªit found a place to hide and waited for another opportunity to strike. It had employed the same tactics several times, exploiting gaps in the enemy formation through stealth and ambush. Enkrid gave up searching for the lycan hiding among his troops and focused on catching his breath. Meanwhile, a spearman charged at him. "For the commander!" What nonsense. If their commander had lost in a one-on-one fight, how could a lone soldier fare any better? Wasn''t that why he had created this chaos in the first place? Enkrid deflected the incoming spear with the flat of his sword, pushing himself forward as he followed the shaft with his blade. Shing! The blade scraped along the shaft, reaching the spearman''s neck. Slash. The well-honed blade severed the enemy''s neck. Blood sprayed like a fountain from the half-severed neck. Using the momentum of his swing, Enkrid spun around and readied his sword in front of him. ''I was wondering when you''d show up.'' Behind him, near Roger''s corpse, crouched a lycanthrope, lying in wait. It was the one-eyed lycanthrope, the leader of the wolf pack. Its yellow eyes gleamed as it stared at Enkrid. "Want to come first? Or should I go to you?" The lycan leader was undoubtedly a tougher opponent than Roger. Even so. During these seventy-eight battles, not once had Enkrid faced an easy day. It wasn''t as if he hadn''t fought desperately even when he let his guard down. So. "Let''s get this over with." Killing this one wasn''t going to be that difficult, he thought. Its claws slashed through the air, splitting gaps in an instant. Sword and claws clashed repeatedly¡ªclang clang clang¡ªbefore, finally, Enkrid''s blade severed the lycan''s arm. ''Weapon superiority.'' He had never appreciated it more than now. The sword, forged with a significant investment of Krona, proved its worth. He repeatedly shattered its claws before finding an opening to sever its arm and seize the upper hand. When the one-eyed lycan swung its claws vertically, Enkrid sidestepped, spinning his body. Placing all his strength into a rotational strike, he unleashed a powerful slash from the crown of the lycan''s head to its groin. Swish. The blade split the lycan''s neck effortlessly. There was no resistance. The sound of the blade cutting through the air and the sight of the lycan''s head flying were all over in an instant. There was no silence after the fight. Few had witnessed this moment, and those who had didn''t linger. If the spearmen had maintained their formation, Enkrid would''ve died. The same would''ve happened if the lycan pack had overwhelmed him. But in a chaotic one-on-one battle? ''I won''t lose.'' That''s why he had orchestrated this chaos. Furthermore, he had already experienced the one-eyed lycan''s habits and fighting style multiple times. Of course, such knowledge only mattered when paired with sufficient skill. As he spun to deliver his final blow, the moonlight seemed to swirl around Enkrid, creating an illusion. Of course, it was just an illusion. Enkrid quietly stepped back. It was time to catch his breath. After all, "today" wasn''t over yet. The wall still remained. *** "Hey, doesn''t that seem strange?" "Was it always like that?" Though he sensed the urgency and started running, Torres couldn''t afford to cut through the heart of the battlefield. He had to take a longer route, circling around. On his way, Torres had already witnessed Enkrid slicing down Roger and taking the head of the one-eyed Lykanos. It left him with one thought. Something''s changed. Over the past days, they had sparred countless times. But the Enkrid now and the Enkrid he had sparred with were undeniably different. What changed? Was his skill suddenly leaps and bounds better? Torres didn''t think that was it. His swordplay feels... colder. There was an air of calmness, an added confidence that hadn''t been there before. "Was he always that, um, skilled in combat?" Finn asked from the side. It was rare talent. Anyone who saw it would think the same. "He''s absurdly good," Torres muttered in admiration, just as Finn''s sharp gaze shifted, her eyes gleaming with focus. Suddenly, she extended her left foot far forward, stepping firmly on the ground, and with her opposite foot, she kicked a small rock into the air. As the rock popped up, she snatched it mid-run and hurled it sideways with precision. The stone flew with a crisp snap and struck an enemy soldier in the back of the head. The man staggered forward just as a werewolf clawed at his back. Thwack! The claws didn''t pierce through his armor entirely¡ªit was impressively durable. But the soldier, left unbalanced, rolled aside to escape further strikes. The disruption, however, caused their formation to falter. Two Lykanos immediately took advantage, diving into the broken ranks. In a broken formation, the Lykanos gained a clear upper hand. Torres glanced in that direction for a brief moment before turning back. Sure, Finn''s stone-throwing antics were odd. But right now? Enkrid was downright strange. Something felt so off that it jabbed at Torres''s chest, leaving an unshakable unease. He couldn''t quite put it into words. It was just... wrong. Deeply, profoundly wrong. Why? Thinking back, everything felt strange. Even if he tried to pinpoint a few things: First, his skill. Torres had no intention of going toe-to-toe with a Lykanos under the full moon. He could win, sure. But there was also a high chance of dying. If his dagger missed its mark while aiming for the neck, or if it got caught on their claws even slightly¡ª "Ugh." The thought alone made his skin crawl. And what about Enkrid? "Is his heart made of stone?" His audacity went far beyond bravery. Enkrid wasn''t just bold¡ªhe danced through enemy soldiers, werewolves, and the frenzied mob with acrobatic ease. He struck down enemy commanders without hesitation. And that one-eyed Lykanos? Just like that. With a few deft strikes to its claws, his blade swept cleanly through its neck. It was so masterful that Torres felt a subtle pang in his gut, like a phantom blow. The way Enkrid''s blade whipped around¡ªit seemed to bend like a whip mid-strike. What kind of man is this? Ah. That''s when it hit Torres¡ªthe difference between the Enkrid he had sparred with and the one now. His skill. Back then, there had been a clear awkwardness, a rawness to Enkrid''s movements. Torres had pointed it out, advising him on how to cover his gaps through practice. But now? It was as if those gaps had vanished overnight. At least, the sweeping strike he had just witnessed looked as refined as a master''s. In just a few days? Was he some kind of prodigy? No, Torres knew better. They''d spent enough time together for him to know. Enkrid''s talent for physical combat was... average. If anything, it was embarrassingly clumsy compared to others. And yet¡ª "Wow. This is just..." Every swing of his blade was lethal, claiming a life with each motion. Even after slaying the commander and the one-eyed Lykanos, more werewolves and soldiers rushed at him. But Enkrid''s deliberate steps and precise downward strikes cracked skulls, while his devastating horizontal sweeps left ribs shattered and organs ruptured. Even when his blade didn''t pierce directly, the sheer force of his strikes wreaked havoc. It was a textbook demonstration of the brutal efficiency of heavy swordsmanship. How are they not terrified of him? If Enkrid were an enemy, Torres thought, he''d dread facing him. And Torres wasn''t the only one thinking this. After the commander, the one-eyed Lykanos, and a handful of others fell, the remaining enemies avoided him entirely. Even the frenzied Lykanos, maddened by the full moon, began to treat Enkrid as if he didn''t exist. They saw him but turned away. They went around him. I''d do the same. With that, the battle was reduced to the skirmish between the enemy soldiers and the Lykanos. Even that was drawing to an end. And there stood Enkrid, still and solitary, basking under the moonlight. Oddly enough, he didn''t look out of place. His composed demeanor under the moon seemed natural as he calmly observed the dying fight. That image sent chills racing down Torres''s spine. Sure, the sight of werewolves and soldiers avoiding a lone human was bizarre enough. But that wasn''t the only reason for his unease. There was something else. It didn''t make sense. The Lykanos and the Gray Hounds meeting here. The questions about what lay beyond that hidden passage. And how did he know the commander''s name? That couldn''t be a coincidence. Once doubt crept in, it only snowballed, and Torres couldn''t stop his mind from spiraling. As he circled around the battlefield, muttering to himself about how strange everything was, Finn asked, "What''s with you?" She was scanning the battlefield as they ran, reading the flow of the fight. Regardless of which side won, they''d need to clean up the survivors. At first, the humans had the upper hand. But now? It looked like the Lykanos might pull through. While the Lykanos had been avoiding Enkrid, the soldiers hadn''t. They tried to target him a few more times and lost even more men because of it. All of this¡ªone man had orchestrated it. Enkrid, the platoon leader of an independent unit. A man with a beautiful build and an equally handsome face. Maybe he''s some kind of tactical genius? Finn thought as much. "Everything''s just so weird," Torres muttered beside her as they ran. They seemed close, but it was clear Torres was full of questions and doubts about Enkrid. "Focus up. We still need to deal with whoever''s left," Finn said as she drew an axe from her belt. The moment she locked eyes with an enemy soldier, she hurled the axe. Whoosh! The spinning weapon struck the soldier squarely in the chest with a thunk, sending him staggering back before he collapsed to the ground. "Bet that hurts," Finn smirked, running ahead. Meanwhile, Torres kept muttering about how strange everything was. Eventually, they joined up with Enkrid. Though it had taken longer due to their roundabout route, they''d made it within range as instructed. "I''ve got a question," Torres said. And he had to ask. About this situation. About what was going on. Setting aside Enkrid''s inexplicable improvement for now, the most pressing matter was: "How did you know the commander''s name?" It was impossible to come up with a plausible excuse for this. Enkrid remained calm, as if it wasn''t a big deal. "By chance." "By chance?" What were the odds of learning an enemy commander''s name by chance? "Krais mentioned there was a peculiar guy among the enemy," Enkrid replied. It was a lie. But how could they verify it? They couldn''t. And it sounded convincing. "Oh." "He even mocked him for hiding his head all the time." The enemy commander wasn''t a city-level powerhouse, but he was a peculiar figure. It wasn''t out of the realm of possibility for such rumors to reach them. Some Aspen soldiers probably knew the names of a few border officers too. So, sure¡ªit wasn''t entirely impossible. "Then you planned all this, didn''t you?" "Of course not. Who could''ve predicted a pack of werewolves would show up here?" Enkrid''s expression said it all¡ªwhat kind of question was that? It irked Torres to no end, but before he could press further¡ª "Does it matter? I''ve got a plan," Enkrid said suddenly. Finn, intrigued by the possibility of Enkrid being a tactical genius, leaned in closer. And Torres, despite the strange feeling in his gut, couldn''t deny one thing. This man¡ªthe same man he had sparred with and defeated countless times¡ªnow stood before him as someone unrecognizable. Someone who knew how to turn a battlefield into chaos. Someone... impossible. Chapter 108 - The Gambit Chapter 108 - 108 - The Gambit Chapter 108 - The Gambit "It might just work." As Finn approached the castle wall, she felt the watchful gazes on her were far less focused than before. Her intuition wasn''t quite at the level of the Sense of Evasion, but as a Ranger and Pathfinder, her instincts told her something had shifted. Behind her, Torres doubted whether they were taking the right path, but he quickly shook his head. "It''s not the time for second-guessing." Once the decision was made, it had to be followed through. He was, after all, part of the frontier defense forces, a soldier ranked in Naurilia''s elite tier. While he wasn''t strong enough to take on a hundred enemies alone, he was still capable of handling two or three at once, making him a reliable asset. And then there was Enkrid. "I''m going first." He didn''t bother to let Finn lead. With decisive strides, he placed his hands in the crevices of the wall and began climbing. He had already removed his tattered gambeson, and though he had used some throwing weapons, the longsword at his waist still rattled as he moved. "...What kind of guy is he, really?" He scaled the wall better than she could, and she was a Ranger. Finn couldn''t help but wonder aloud. "I don''t know. He''s just... doing his thing." "Wait...what did I just say?" Torres repeated his own words, realizing how strange they sounded. "I mean, I thought I knew him before. But now, I have no clue." "Whatever. Just keep up." Enkrid climbed the wall at an incredible pace, almost like an art form, making monkeys look clumsy in comparison. Without hesitation, his hands and feet moved with purpose. Finn followed close behind, though in her haste, she only had two stakes to use for securing herself to the wall. Glancing down, she saw Torres struggling but managing to catch up. He was grumbling, but as someone with excellent physical abilities, he wasn''t far behind. ''And what about him?'' Finn looked up again. Enkrid was already near the top of the wall, crouched beneath the parapet. The parapet was a thick, tall defensive structure built atop the wall to provide cover for soldiers. Climbing over it barehanded into the castle interior would be no easy feat for most people. ''Can he not climb it?'' It didn''t seem likely. For Finn, all it would take was hanging from her fingertips, pulling her upper body up, and using her core to vault over. If she attached the small hook she carried just in case? Even easier. She could latch the hook, reel herself up, and jump over in one motion. Afterward, she could help her companions up by pulling them over. But Enkrid didn''t seem to be struggling to climb. Hanging beneath the parapet, he didn''t even appear tired. Looking down, he wiggled his fingers in a simple hand signal. [Guards.] There were sentries inside the wall. Finn, however, couldn''t hear or sense anything. ''Is he more perceptive than me, a Ranger?'' In truth, Enkrid hadn''t sensed anything either. He just knew, from experience. Hanging beneath the parapet, Enkrid fell into thought. ''What kind of trick did they use?'' Something to suppress intuition. That much was certain, though he still couldn''t figure it out even after repeating this day over and over. Some kind of magic was definitely at play. Otherwise, this sense of peace wouldn''t be possible. The tunnel had already been compromised, leaving no time to feel uneasy before it was too late. The Lykanos pack had likely slipped through because this land, near the Cross Guard, was a region where monsters frequently roamed. But even the presence of troops hidden atop the wall had gone unnoticed? It was clear some trick was involved. For the past seventy repetitions of today, he had tried to uncover the mystery. ''Forget it.'' It was a matter of priorities. The magic trick was less important compared to everything else. His ultimate goals were clear. Survive the day. Train during that time. And forge ahead, guided by his sword. Even if he couldn''t figure it out, it didn''t matter. Not in the slightest. Through countless repetitions, he already knew what mattered most. ''This should be the spot.'' Enkrid shifted his position, moving to the left while hanging from the parapet. To hang like this, the wall had to have crevices or gaps. The walls of Cross Guard were constantly under attack from regular monsters and even colonies of them, leaving numerous scars. While some repairs had been made, many gaps remained. By hooking his fingers into those crevices and bracing with his toes, moving wasn''t difficult. As he repositioned himself along the wall, he mentally mapped out the area beyond the parapet. When he first arrived here, he could only predict and guess. Now, he could pinpoint even the location of Retsha, the mage. No, he was certain of it. This arrogant mage had never left her spot during any of the countless repeated days. Having found his position, Enkrid gave another hand signal. [You two, go ahead.] Finn and Torres saw the signal and started moving. Finn went first, helping Torres climb over. As soon as the two of them crossed the parapet... Fwoosh! Flames roared to life above them. Six or seven torches had been lit simultaneously. It wasn''t the first time they had seen this. "How did you get this far? My minions should''ve stopped you." Retsha''s voice rang out. As expected, she was just beyond the wall. She didn''t know him, but he knew her. That alone gave him the upper hand. He knew her name, her spells, everything. "Damn it." Torres cursed. "It''s really her." Hearing Finn mutter, Enkrid reached out. Gripping the edge of the parapet with just his fingertips, he pulled himself up with one arm. The strength of the madmen in his squad, including Rem, that he had constantly marveled at. Enhanced further by repeated use of the Isolation technique, his body now felt even lighter. As soon as his head rose above the parapet, he twisted his body, executing a forward roll in midair. It was a movement that would''ve been impossible for him in the past. But repeated isolation training and countless trials had honed his skills. Enkrid flipped through the air and dropped beneath the parapet. Straightening his body mid-descent, he bent his knees to absorb the impact as his feet slammed into the ground. Thud! The ground trembled slightly, but he didn''t bother rolling to soften the landing. Standing directly in front of him was Retsha, the mage. Her eyes were wide in shock, staring at him as if unable to comprehend what she was seeing. "You¡ª" Before she could finish speaking, Enkrid''s hand moved. Wheeee! A whistling dagger flew straight at her. Retsha was startled but not flustered. She merely wondered, Where did that come from? Naturally, her confidence stemmed from her faith. Surrounding her was an intangible barrier conjured by magic¡ªone capable of deflecting quarrels shot at point-blank range. She waited, expecting the dagger to strike her shield. However, Enkrid''s Whistle Dagger wasn''t aimed at her. It targeted the soldiers wielding crossbows behind her. Thunk, thunk! Enkrid, having activated his pinpoint focus, hit his marks precisely. The relentless training had paid off. Four soldiers collapsed. Yet just before they fell completely, Retsha reacted. "Hyah!" A peculiar cry escaped her lips, and from the ground, thorny vines surged upward. They twisted like serpents, whipping violently toward Enkrid. The real battle had begun. "Focus on the soldiers first!" Enkrid shouted as he drew his sword. Shing! He swung his blade. His head burned with intensity from concentrating too hard. Thin ones, slice. Thick ones, deflect. Enkrid moved with a foundation based on fluid swordsmanship, not rigid techniques. Though he''d never formally been trained, Ragna had once told him, "It''s good to understand the basics of all sword styles. Sticking only to heavy-blade techniques is foolish. You must understand your opponent''s methods to counter them properly." Ragna, usually lazy and indifferent, occasionally displayed fervor during training. Those rare moments of passion had left a mark on Enkrid. As a result, he had practiced over seventy times against vines in training, and today, that preparation bore fruit. Thin ones were sliced cleanly, while thick ones were deflected with calculated movements. Thwack! Crack! Smack! Some of the vines were as thick as a forearm and struck with the force of a club. Yet, Enkrid deflected them with the flat of his blade, lowering his stance to channel the force upward. It was a testament to the adaptability of his technique. "You insolent fool!" Retsha was seething. ''How dare this swordsman evade my vines?'' Her hands moved, and soon thorny spears and whip-like vines lashed out at him. Enkrid didn''t rely on intuition or blind luck. Instead, he opened his eyes wide, drawing all his focus to them. It felt as though his burning gaze could see everything. Each movement appeared slowed down, and he reacted accordingly. Again, he sliced, deflected, parried, and evaded, all with precision. He discarded vague feelings and trusted only what he saw. As he dodged and countered the attacks of the thorny vines twice more, the anguished cries of soldiers filled the air. The soldiers'' death throes were proof that Torres and Finn weren''t to be underestimated. Torres, in particular, thrived when attention was diverted elsewhere. His skill with daggers was nothing short of deadly. "Well then," Retsha muttered with eyes glowing like a serpent''s, "I''ll keep you dancing until you drop dead." Her piercing gaze locked onto Enkrid, but he ignored it. After all, he''d seen worse before. His heart pounded like a wild beast''s, and it felt as if Rem''s voice echoed in his mind. ''If you''re gonna fall to something like that, just rip out that heart of yours!'' Don''t worry, you crazy bastard, Enkrid thought, I''m not going down to that. As if provoked, Retsha''s vines intensified, thinning and accelerating in speed. The forms changed¡ªfrom spears and whips to something akin to arrows. Though not true arrows, their sharpness and speed matched them. Could a person block a barrage of incoming arrows? The answer was simple. No. Not unless they were a knight. But what if one had no choice but to block them? Then what? The answer, for someone like Enkrid, was straightforward: You do it until you die. It was the soldier''s way. Or perhaps, the infantryman''s spirit. No, it was simply the essence of Enkrid''s being. There was no surrender, no regrets. With both hands gripping his sword tightly, Enkrid pushed through the searing pain in his eyes and concentrated. Connect the dots. Using those lines as a guide, he cut through every thorny arrow. As the vines shot upward from below and rained down from all directions, he lost count of their numbers. Realizing it was futile to tally, Enkrid expanded his focus outward. This was something he''d learned while fighting against Lykanthrope packs and the Grey Hounds¡ªscattering one''s focus to evade attacks within a field. And before that, during the skirmishes in the tight spaces of the tunnels, he''d learned to make split-second decisions without hesitation. Enkrid combined both skills and put them into action. Shatter! In an instant, vines in all directions were sliced apart, spilling green sap into the air. Retsha''s face contorted with fury. Blood vessels bulged on her forehead, and her eyes were bloodshot. Her vines didn''t stop, nor did Enkrid''s blade. Finn and Torres, mid-combat with other soldiers, couldn''t help but steal glances at the intense duel. It was more than just skill now¡ªit was overwhelming. Torres, after slitting the throat of an enemy soldier, thought, He''s way beyond just good at fighting. Thunk! At that moment, a bolt shot into the soldier Torres had just killed. "Couldn''t you aim better?" Torres sneered, hearing the distant twang of the crossbow. Meanwhile, another pained scream echoed. This time, it came from Finn''s handiwork. Moving like a snake across the ground, she had snapped an enemy''s leg in an unnatural direction. The soldier collapsed, foaming at the mouth. Finn didn''t stop. Pausing would only make her a target for the bolts. Back in the duel, neither Enkrid nor Retsha allowed anyone to approach their fierce battle. The sharp, needle-like vines occasionally ricocheted off Enkrid''s deflections, stabbing into the walls of the fortress. Even allies wisely kept their distance, unwilling to die to friendly fire. This gave Torres and Finn some breathing room. Torres, watching the pointed vines pierce through the walls, thought grimly, Killing the soldiers isn''t going to end this fight. He realized that the outcome of this battle rested entirely on the duel between Enkrid and the mage. If Retsha won, Torres and Finn were as good as dead. But how much longer could Enkrid hold out? Even from their perspective, Enkrid was struggling. Some vines had begun grazing his body. In tandem, Retsha''s voice echoed coldly, filled with quiet confidence. "Did you rely on that leather armor to protect you?" Her tone was calm, as though she had already secured victory. Torres thought to himself, This isn''t good. He wasn''t wrong. Enkrid was at his limit. But that was precisely the moment Enkrid had been waiting for. As Retsha savored her perceived victory and all eyes, friend and foe alike, focused on the battle, Enkrid made his move. Switching his grip, he held his sword in his left hand alone, while his right hand reached for something else. It was a gamble. Chapter 109 - Setting Things on Fire Chapter 109 - 109 - Setting Things on Fire Chapter 109 - Setting Things on Fire Enkrid locked eyes with the mage, Retsha. "Mages have eyes too," he mused. They also had noses and mouths¡ªhuman features, after all. "Humans all have reflexive actions," he remembered Jaxen teaching him. And for that, he had prepared accordingly. All Enkrid needed was to halt the vicious onslaught of thorny vines, even for a moment. To do so, he had a hidden card¡ªa technique he had practiced numerous times before. What mattered most was timing. Now was the moment. Wielding his sword with his left hand, Enkrid parried and dodged the vines until one struck the top of his left wrist with a thud. The leather gauntlet he had obtained from the sewer corpse fanatic was shredded. In that instant, Enkrid raised his right hand high. Retsha''s brow twitched. She had seen him throw weapons several times already, so her reaction was natural. Retsha judged that whatever he threw wouldn''t be a problem¡ªher magical barrier could repel most physical forces. But instead of a dagger, what flew toward her was a stone¡ªa thin, crystal-like orb. Flash! A sudden burst of light erupted, far brighter than any torch. Reflexively, everyone, including Retsha, who had fixed her gaze on the object Enkrid had thrown, was momentarily blinded. For that brief instant, they lost their vision. "Ssht," Enkrid inhaled sharply and moved. He had waited for this moment, keeping his eyes on the ground the entire time. The glowing stone, which he had obtained from the mage in thesewer, had been a hassle to figure out how to activate. He hadn''t anticipated using it this way. By employing the "Hide Knife" technique to conceal and throw it, and by showing an empty hand to lure Retsha into complacency, his plan had worked perfectly. This series of actions created a paper-thin opening, and for Enkrid, that was enough. Thud. The charging technique he had observed from a squire one day came to mind. Lowering his stance, Enkrid dashed forward, gripping his sword with both hands. As he shifted his weight from back to front, he swung the blade vertically with all his might. Retsha, her vision just recovering, screamed when she saw it. "Ahhh!" Her cry became her final words¡ªher epitaph. Swoosh. Crack. The barrier shattered. It was a downward slash from a greatsword, delivered with full force, without hesitation for what might follow. The blade struck Retsha''s head. Thunk. Crack. The blow broke through the barrier, tearing off her scalp, slicing her ear, splitting her collarbone, and exiting through her lower torso. Splurt. The blade disemboweled her, carving through three-quarters of her upper body. By the time it emerged near her waist, it had severed one of her arms as well. Chunks of flesh thudded to the ground as the mangled remains of the mage collapsed, spilling blood and entrails onto the floor. What could such a person say in their final moments? The light in her eyes faded instantly. Whatever she had intended to do in those last seconds was clear. Behind Enkrid, the vines twitched once before collapsing lifelessly. "Hah..." Only then did Enkrid exhale the breath he had been holding. He had known Retsha''s barrier would break under sufficient force¡ªa weighty, focused strike would do the job. Her disregard for daggers and her reaction to Finn''s axe had been hints. This battle had been a culmination of everything he had learned, repeated countless times today. Even the glowing stone, hidden and utilized with the Hide Knife technique, had been part of the plan. "Aren''t you going to finish the rest?" Enkrid asked, snatching the glowing stone. The light would surely alert the city''s inner forces and the walls'' guards. Time was short. Swoosh. Finn moved first, with Torres following close behind. There weren''t many soldiers left. Screams echoed atop the walls as the remaining enemies fell. The moonlight bathed Enkrid, and even Torres and Finn, along with the enemy soldiers, saw the glow emanating from his back like a halo. He exuded an aura that felt anything but human¡ªsomething entirely different. The scent of blood mingled with the faint aroma of roses atop the wall. It was an oddly intoxicating smell, like a newly crafted perfume, unique and memorable. Once they descended beyond the wall, it became Finn''s domain. As if prepared in advance, she moved to a specific spot, dug into the ground, and retrieved a bundle. "Supplies for emergencies," she explained. It seemed likely that an informant, someone referred to as "Cat," had prepared it. Inside the bundle was a dirty tarp. Without hesitation, she tossed it to Enkrid and Torres. While they draped the filthy covering over their heads at the outskirts of the slum pressed against the wall, Finn silenced two curious beggars who had poked their heads nearby. With barely a sound, their necks snapped. Her precision was impressive¡ªquintessential Finn. Enkrid had witnessed her Eil Karaz fighting style mature into a skillful art through repeated encounters today. The majority of the slum''s residents paid no attention, meaning there were no more witnesses. Under the cover of darkness and the tattered tarp, the three vanished into the shadows. Trailing behind, Enkrid fell into deep thought. Repetition. As always, he replayed the day in his mind. When repeating today''s events, Enkrid faced three distinct paths. Would choosing one and forcing his way through it suffice? "Is it even necessary to choose just one?" As he let go of the tension in his shoulders, clarity came to him. Why choose one path when he could use all three walls? Perhaps it was possible. The grey hounds'' trap offered experience in being surrounded by elite forces. Battling the Lykanos pack taught him how to fight and evade in chaotic skirmishes. And Retsha, with her rose vines, had been an excellent textbook opponent. To Enkrid, the grey hounds, the Lykanos, and Retsha were all training tools¡ªvaluable resources. Thus, he constructed "today" with them. "It wasn''t bad, all things considered." His wrist throbbed where the blow had landed on his gauntlet. Some attacks had been unavoidable, but his leather armor had absorbed the brunt of them. No fatal injuries. "Shh, keep your head down. Patrol," Finn whispered. Enkrid ducked his head, feigning sleep. With most of their equipment hidden and the tarp draped over them, their disguise was complete. "This stench is awful," one patrolling soldier muttered. "Deal with it. Don''t you know what''s happening on the wall? They might''ve escaped here." "Then why not just sweep through this place?" "Shh. What if all these people turn on us?" Enkrid listened to the patrolling soldiers'' chatter through narrowed eyes. "Alright, let''s move." Finn led the group with practiced ease, as if traversing familiar territory, guiding Enkrid and Torres without hesitation. As they walked, Enkrid lifted his gaze. Part of the city came into view¡ªa distant bell tower, dirt roads, faint lights spilling from within, and mostly dark alleyways. As Enkrid followed behind Finn, she fell in step with Torres, who was walking just behind her. When Torres shot her a look, as if to ask why she was walking next to him instead of minding her own business, Finn spoke up. "Are all the Border Guards like that?" "Huh?" "I mean, are they all at that level?" Finn gestured with her thumb behind her¡ªtoward Enkrid. Torres pondered her question. A swordsman like that? Someone who could deflect a mage''s twisted thorny vines with his sword instead of a shield, create openings, and cut through the vines with precision? A swordsman who, after being taught a few times, had somehow turned his specialty¡ªthe hidden knife¡ªinto a skill uniquely his own? A swordsman who could dodge between a Lykanos and enemy elite troops, gambling with his life and barely clinging on, yet holding his ground? And then, in the end, slashing through those charging enemies, wiping out both the Lykanos swarm and the elite soldiers as if it were nothing? Torres thought back to all the exceptional individuals in the Frontier Defense. Let''s see... Eisen? Barney? Hyoun? Could they even compare? No. Even purely in terms of skill, Enkrid seemed to have crossed a threshold that made him something else entirely. "Do you think that''s common?" Torres finally replied. "Huh?" "Do you really think monsters like him are just everywhere?" It was a strange feeling. Not long ago, Enkrid had been under Torres'' command. When they sparred on the way here, they''d seemed like equals. But now? Enkrid was different. His level of mastery, the way he wielded his sword¡ªit was like night and day. "Ha," Torres sighed. Hearing that, Finn let out a faintly exasperated sigh of admiration. What kind of soldier was this Enkrid, really? "Was this a squad leader until a few days ago? Just a squad leader?" Finn wondered what would happen if she reported this back. She glanced around as she searched for the hidden messages left by the Cat. At the same time, she found herself worried about whether others would even believe what Enkrid had done. While they were avoiding patrols by relying on moonlight and staying hidden in the shadows, the ruckus on the wall from earlier had subsided. Enkrid thought the sudden quiet was even more ominous. Ever since he''d dealt with the mage, his instincts had been sharper. But he knew better than to trust them too much. Overconfidence could lead to disaster. They had already used all three walls to climb over the fortifications, risking everything to make it this far. He wanted to see tomorrow arrive safely, so he kept his guard up, ready to react at the slightest sign of trouble. The three of them wandered the night until morning, and though they felt the strain of exhaustion, nothing else happened. The commotion on the wall didn''t escalate into an uproar in the city. If anything, it seemed like the authorities were trying to cover it up. While they were hiding in a narrow alley, they overheard two patrolling guards talking as they passed by on the main road. "Was there some kind of incident last night? I heard someone climbed over the wall." "Shh! We''ve been ordered not to talk about it. You don''t want to get docked pay for blabbing." As the guards moved further away, Finn muttered from behind. "This isn''t good." "Why?" "The trail''s gone cold. The Cat is dead." "So this was all for nothing?" Torres asked, frowning. Finn shook her head. "Not exactly. The Cat left a message. But..." "But what?" Finn groaned and explained, "They buried it in a designated spot¡ªright in front of the city gates." "Why the gates, of all places?" "They must''ve been in a rush. If they failed to escape, it was probably their last hope." This complicated things. Torres nudged Enkrid. "Got any brilliant ideas?" "We retrieve the item from the gate and leave. Simple as that." "Simple? Do you really think that''ll be easy?" ''Is this even something to debate?'' Enkrid thought as he glanced at the other two. ''Their brains have turned to mush.'' Not that he could blame them. They''d been through a lot in the dead of night. On top of that, neither of them realized how much Enkrid''s actions earlier had rattled them. His swordsmanship and his fearless ability to seize control of any situation¡ªthat had been on full display last night. "Let''s set a fire." "...Huh?" "We start a fire under the cover of night, then slip away while everyone''s distracted. We can grab the item on the way out. If they''re keeping quiet about what happened at the wall, it probably means they''re waiting for intruders to make a move. Let''s give them what they''re waiting for." Finn''s eyes gleamed. It was a brilliant plan. I should''ve thought of that, she scolded herself. Realizing her own mind had been dulled was enough for her to accept it. Finn was an excellent ranger. And an excellent ranger could also be a colossal troublemaker¡ªat least from the enemy''s perspective. When night fell, the three of them stayed hidden until they were ready. Then, they set fire to six different locations around town, including the haystack in front of an inn. The flames roared to life. Finn, bursting with energy, moved quickly and deftly, shouting out warnings to stir the chaos. "Fire! Fire!" Her voice added to the panic as the flames spread, allowing the group to move unnoticed under the cover of darkness. As Enkrid worked to stoke the flames¡ªtossing oil stolen from the inn onto the hay¡ªhe couldn''t help but think, ''We sure seem to start fires a lot.'' At this rate, he felt like he was becoming less of a knight and more of an arsonist. But the results spoke for themselves. "Fire! The city''s on fire!" The chaos grew as the townspeople scrambled to contain the inferno. With all eyes on the blaze, Finn, Torres, and Enkrid slipped away. Just before the gates closed, Finn dug up the buried message. "Looks like we''re done here," Torres said. Both Finn and Enkrid nodded in agreement. It was time to return. On their way back, Torres asked, "How did you know the mage''s name?" Enkrid had already prepared a lie. "It was a lucky guess. There was a female mage during my mercenary days who killed a lot of my comrades. I just threw that name out there." Did that even make sense? The story was so implausible that it somehow sounded believable. Torres, overwhelmed, decided not to press further. ''What does it matter?'' Everything had ended well enough. That was all that mattered. *** In his office within the Cross Guard fortress, Abnaier let out a bitter laugh. "Ha." ''All of it, undone?'' ''In a single night?'' They had captured an enemy spy and extracted information from them. Using that, they''d set a trap, leaked false information, and prepared to eliminate any intruders. But never had he imagined anyone would actually infiltrate the Cross Guard itself. And yet, somehow... ''The elite soldiers stationed at the tunnel point?'' ''Nearly wiped out.'' Ressha, the mage? Dead. She wasn''t someone who should''ve died here. The Thorned Vine Retsha was a mage with a renowned reputation. "If it had been a knight, at least that''d make sense." But it wasn''t. They''d tried to lay low, waiting to catch the intruders. Instead, fires had broken out, and the infiltrators had vanished without a trace. ''They just started fires and left?'' Abnaier laughed again, an incredulous, bitter sound. His face wore a strange expression¡ªhis mouth smiled, but his eyes didn''t. The genius strategist of Aspen. That was how people referred to him. And yet he''d been completely outplayed. How could he not laugh? *** "Ah-choo!" On their way back to the Border Guard, Finn sneezed. When Enkrid suggested they spar again once they got back, Finn thought to herself, ''This guy really is insane.'' Torres, on the other hand, politely declined. "Aren''t you tired? I''m exhausted." When they finally arrived at the Border Guard camp, Enkrid came across an odd scene outside the barracks. A bald man, dressed in tattered clothes that made him look like a beggar, was pleading with a soldier. The sight made Enkrid tilt his head in confusion. Chapter 110 - Luck and Misfortune Arrive Unexpectedly Chapter 110 - 110 - Luck and Misfortune Arrive Unexpectedly Chapter 110 - Luck and Misfortune Arrive Unexpectedly Finn and Torres entered first to give their report. Torres would handle the general details, with Finn assisting as needed. As for Enkrid, all he had to do was file his return report. Outside their lodgings, an unexpected figure appeared¡ªGilpin. His clothes were torn, his face bruised with a bluish tint, and one of his eyes was swollen half-shut, though it seemed to be healing. He was limping, but his leg didn''t appear broken. "Let me take a look." After a quick assessment, it seemed like he had only sprained his ankle. "I''m fine," Gilpin said, though his voice betrayed a faint sense of urgency. Enkrid nodded. "What happened?" Gilpin was one of Krais''s people. If he was in this state, something serious must have happened at the Gilpin Guild. "He''s here." "Who?" "The Frog bastard who was in league with the former guildmaster." Ah, Frog. There was no need to dig through his memory for this. Right, they said Frogs came with the spring. So, they were here now. But wasn''t it a little early? "Explain." Enkrid decided to listen first. If Krais were dead or if this were truly an emergency, Gilpin wouldn''t have wasted time talking¡ªhe would''ve demanded immediate action. *** Krais had already spent six days eating and sleeping in the city. For him, a week outside the unit was routine. After all, "A deployment is coming up," they said. That meant there was a lot to prepare¡ªfood, errands, and various other tasks starting from the beginning of the year. Krais was in high demand¡ªnot just among soldiers, but even officers sought him out. In exchange, many people offered him favors. It had been six days, and Krais wanted to take care of as much as possible before deployment. Ever since taking control of the Gilpin Guild, counting Kronas had become one of his small joys. Who would want to return to the unit at this point? "Let''s see how much I can make today." He needed plenty of cronas to one day open his own saloon. That''s why he was determined to earn as much as he could while he had the chance. Recently, he''d even earned a decent commission from selling goods the squad leader had brought back. "Wonder if he''ll find more stuff like that." Then again, how often do you stumble upon a mage hiding in the sewers? "It''s lunchtime. Let''s eat." Around noon, Krais called Gilpin for a meal. They were served a dish made from finely ground whole wheat¡ªthin noodles topped with olive oil and tomato sauce. It was surprisingly decent. "So, did you seal off the cobbler''s basement?" Krais clattered his fork as he asked. "It''s been sealed for a while now," Gilpin replied after swallowing his food. Though they weren''t exactly Night Watchmen, the Gilpin Guild aimed to act like nighttime guards. That''s why they handled tasks outside the standing army''s jurisdiction, like sealing off the cobbler''s basement. The standing army didn''t bother with such details¡ªthey''d already looted the place and left the tunnels behind. Of course, the squad leader had looted it first. But the role of a night watch? That was different. Beyond skimming coin off transient visitors, the guild aimed to project an image of protecting the city''s residents. The result? Undeniably effective. It made collecting tribute, protection taxes, and gathering intelligence much easier. In fact, every city resident had essentially become Krais''s ears. "With enough effort, couldn''t I root out all of Aspen''s spies?" If the Gilpin Guild absorbed the surrounding ones, it might be possible. But it wasn''t time to act yet. Krais paused mid-meal, his eyes distant as he mulled over his plans. "Use the squad leader for muscle." If the squad leader moved, his subordinates would follow. Since each soldier''s desires were clear, persuading them wouldn''t be too hard. "How many people are under me now?" Even in Border Guard''s slums, there were those scraping by despite their dire circumstances. "Recruit some from the slums." Absorb stragglers from other guilds, too. If nothing else, Krais was confident in his ability to assess people. It might have come from his rough upbringing. During his days as a beggar, he''d quickly learned to judge who to approach for alms and who to avoid. Of course, it took hundreds of beatings to get there. Once he realized that a single misstep could be fatal, his instincts had sharpened like a blade. "This might just work." Could he call it an operation to unify the backstreet guilds? With the right foundation, he could dominate the backstreets in less than a year¡ªmaybe even six months. If everything went according to plan. But plans always had variables. And this was one of them. Boom! Luck and misfortune truly arrived when least expected. For Krais, it was no different. Someone had smashed through the reception room door and entered. The figure was wrapped in a thick cloak. Krais didn''t waste time wondering how they''d gotten here or who they were. Over a dozen guild members were stationed at the mansion. Two guards at the door were sprawled on the ground. "Blood?" No, there wasn''t any. They weren''t dead¡ªprobably just incapacitated. Krais quickly processed the situation, recognizing the sudden misfortune. His sharp mind went into overdrive as his eyes scanned the room. "This way, please." His first words after assessing the situation were measured and calm. "You don''t even know who I am, but your response is refreshing," the cloaked figure said, shrugging. The motion caused the cloak to ripple. The voice was rough and raspy, as if their vocal cords were damaged. "I didn''t think that was the important part." "You''ve got good instincts." With that, the figure removed their cloak. Beneath it, they wore armor reinforced with steel around the chest¡ªa heartplate. "...Ah." It was hard for humans to recognize Frogs on sight. Yet Gilpin recognized this one immediately¡ªa Frog with a white scar on its neck. The harbinger of death that visited each season. "Isn''t it too early?" Weren''t they supposed to come well after spring? "Where''s the last guy?" "He got bored of this place and went upstairs," Krais replied without a hint of panic. Gilpin, however, was drenched in cold sweat. One wrong word, and he could be sent "upstairs" too. The suffocating pressure of death loomed¡ªan overwhelming gap in power. "So, have you eaten?" Krais asked casually. The Frog''s lips twisted into a grin. "You''re an amusing one." The Frog moved, and Gilpin resisted¡ªbut was struck down in three blows. It would''ve ended in one if the Frog hadn''t held back or drawn its weapon. Krais didn''t resist, but he was hit. "Humans need to be beaten first before they listen. It''s my belief. Who killed the previous guildmaster?" After hitting him, the frog grabbed Krais by the collar and lifted him up. Krais quickly thought to himself: Which of my squad members could deal with a monster like this? Rem, Ragna, Audin, Jaxen. Which name should I give? Who should I ask for help? The moment he saw the Frog, the dilemma vanished, and he answered without hesitation. "Cough, I would''ve told you if you just asked nicely." "I don''t like it. I want to beat you up first and then hear it." This crazy Frog bastard. Despite thinking that inside, Krais answered with a smile, "I see." "The Border Guard''s reserve troops did it. The name is Ragna." "Why are you sitting here?" "I''m an acting guildmaster. Acting guildmaster." "Interesting, very interesting. Hey, Baldy." In an instant, the guild member, Gilfin, collapsed, not even knowing how it happened. His eyelids hurt terribly, and his thighs were numb, preventing him from standing. "Ugh, yes, yes." "Bring Ragna here. Then, I''ll let this one go." Gilfin looked at Krais. "Go. Bring our real guildmaster." Gilfin was quick to catch on. He understood the Frog wanted someone who could kill him. The frog wasn''t stupid, either. Though he couldn''t distinguish lies from truth, he knew that this small, delicate human male was up to something. The frog made a decision. ''I''ll kill that guy.'' Then, I''ll put shackles on this one. The person who had originally managed this place was dead, so it was time for a new manager. It would be too much to handle everything from the homeland, so local recruitment was necessary. If things went wrong? Leaving the place would be easy. *** "How many days has it been since Krais was caught?" Enkrid scratched his nose and asked. "Three days." "My squad members?" "They all headed for the battlefield, coincidentally." "Even Rem?" "I don''t know. I only heard they weren''t here." "Did you confirm that Big Eyes is alive?" "I saw him just earlier." "Did he break his arms and legs?" "...What?" "No, if he left his arms and legs intact, then..." Enkrid muttered to himself, then nodded and stood up. Enkrid and Gilfin had just moved to a corner outside the unit, talking quietly. Gilfin glanced at Enkrid, shaking his head. Wasn''t he supposed to go rescue Krais right away? Enkrid spoke again. "First, I''ll report back. Then, we can go." "Shouldn''t we hurry?" "No, the frog is at the mansion, right?" "Aren''t we going there right now?" Right now? It didn''t seem necessary. If the frog had wanted to kill Krais, he would have done it already. But the fact that he hadn''t broken his arms and legs after three days meant. ''He''s holding on well.'' Krais''s intention was clear. He must have called out a squad member. That''s why he mentioned Ragna. While Rem, Audin, and Jaxen could be brought back somehow... The reason he called out Ragna, the one who was the hardest to summon, a lazy and directionally challenged person, was clear. He wanted anyone to come. ''The only one left to call is me.'' It was a surprise to Enkrid that all the squad members headed for the battlefield without him. Krais couldn''t have expected that either. His reckless squad members had gone to the battlefield listening to someone else''s words instead of his own. It was impressive that they managed to get him there. Controlling Rem and the others would give anyone a headache. "Tell the frog to wait one more day." Gilpin grimaced at his words. "The guildmaster is going to die." It was a natural response from Gilpin. He was content with his current life. Being a night guard, or just a lowly guard, was perfect for him. He had little trouble, and it was comfortable. So comfortable. Though Krais had revealed the secret of Krona, it was still fair. Because of that, Gilpin wanted to protect this peace. The Gilpin who had once planned to escape when the frog arrived, expecting the guild to be torn apart, was gone now. Now, he had something to protect. "We need to go." Gilpin said again, but Enkrid shook his head. "Go tell him to wait one more day. Then, Ragna will come." With that, Enkrid turned and left. Gilpin, still with no choice, turned and walked back to deliver the message. If he didn''t explain the situation, the frog would tear the guildmaster apart. That''s what a frog would do. Gilpin walked to repair the shattered peace. ''Oh God.'' Looking for a God he didn''t believe in. *** Enkrid headed into the unit. "How many days has it been, what''s going on? I asked, but they didn''t say anything." A soldier who was guarding the unit entrance asked as Enkrid walked in. ''He''s loyal.'' Enkrid thought about Gilpin and his loyalty. The reserve troops had taken control of the back alley guilds? If luck turned bad, even execution would have been a possibility. That''s why no one could speak. But Gilpin still wanted to protect it. That feeling was understood. "Some damn business." Enkrid gave a vague response and entered the unit. Krais wouldn''t die just from waiting another day. That much was clear from the frog''s attitude. ''The frog doesn''t seem stupid.'' Though frogs had a reputation for being foolish, he wasn''t entirely that way. Like everyone else, frogs had different aspects. A smart frog, a foolish frog, and a meticulous frog. It was the same for fairies, dragons, and giants. Of course, each species had its own unique traits. ''I have time.'' No need to rush now. Enkrid clenched and relaxed his fists as he walked. He wasn''t stupid. What he learned from today was. ''I''ve gotten better.'' Otherwise, he would''ve died long ago in a fight with a Lycanthrope or an enemy commander. But now, he was even handling mages. Proof that his skills had improved. Could he handle a frog now? He remembered how he had been knocked out by a single kick when facing a pervert. Could he take a frog on now? ''It seems possible.'' This wasn''t empty confidence. Krais had called for help, not him. ''frog, frog, frog.'' He was an opponent worth facing. That was the preparation. Though he wasn''t badly injured, fatigue had accumulated. He had been awake for two nights. He had taken a short nap on the way back, but he wasn''t in perfect condition. So. ''I''ll report and rest first.'' Enkrid decided to do just that. If there was no option but to leave Krais to die, then he had to face the frog. It would be a troublesome task. But Enkrid couldn''t help feeling a strange excitement about the situation. ''Strange. Very strange.'' Normally, he would have been frightened, right? No, he would have charged into it knowing he was likely to lose. He couldn''t stand seeing his own people die. But now, he wasn''t sure if he''d win or lose. "Platoon leader?" Enkrid entered the unit and saw many people missing. He heard the news that the fairy squad leader had gone out to lead the troublemaking squad. He was wondering who took them. Because of that, Enkrid had to report back to another officer. "I''m the only one left from the independent unit, so I''ll join up in two days." "Okay, hurry up if you can. It seems like there''s some trouble in the battlefield. There might be a second deployment." The officer mumbled, shaking the letter. Enkrid nodded and turned. After unpacking in the empty barracks, he soaked in hot water, wrapped himself in a warm blanket, and fell asleep. If the frog killed him and today repeated, this sleep would be to keep him in the best condition. Enkrid fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. When he woke up, he wiped the sleep from his eyes, washed his face, and chewed on some meat for breakfast. "Eating well in the morning." The cook shook his head. After swallowing the meat, Enkrid performed the Isolation Technique. It was good for digestion and heating the body, a training regimen. Then he sharpened his longsword and counted the remaining number of his whistle daggers. There were two left. He hadn''t managed to recover all the thrown daggers. ''Can that guy make them for me?'' He thought of a city blacksmith and inspected the blades carefully in front of him. They were fine. There were a few chips, but nothing serious. The blacksmith had said that blades broke when they cut a mage, but they were still intact. Perhaps each mage was different. Once he finished preparing, he heard familiar footsteps. "Where have you been?" Esther appeared. He thought she had left because he didn''t see her earlier. "Wait. I''ll be back soon." Enkrid stepped outside again. "Kyah." Esther hissed from behind. It sounded like she was upset that he was leaving without her. "Want to come along? But just watch." At Enkrid''s words, Esther jumped up and snuggled into his arms. Feeling her warm body, Enkrid took his first step. The destination was the mansion where Krais was being held. Chapter 111 - Puffed Cheeks Chapter 111 - 111 - Puffed Cheeks Chapter 111 - Puffed Cheeks ''I can''t just leave him be.'' It was surprising that the fairy company commander had taken all the troublemaker squad members¡ªnow promoted to platoon members¡ªalong. Enkrid wouldn''t have believed it himself had he not seen the empty barracks. Naturally, Krais, who had been absent from camp for several days, wouldn''t have known either. That must have been why Krais had asked him to call Ragna. ''Lucky he wasn''t dragged along during the sortie.'' Since Enkrid had remained behind, perhaps Krais had used that as an excuse to stay as well. Or maybe the fairy company commander had intentionally left Krais behind as a courtesy. Regardless, Krais was still here, and the squad members were gone. That meant Enkrid had to take care of things alone. Calling back the squad members from the battlefield was out of the question. And involving the standing army in something within the Gilpin Guild? ''Not a chance.'' No one would help him willingly. Sure, if there were someone worth relying on, he might have had hope. The fairy company commander came to mind. Even if she were around, asking for help would still be a gamble. What about Torres? While it might be difficult for him as a platoon leader in the border defense forces, he might have been able to assist personally. ''But most of the border forces are already mobilized for deployment.'' The mere fact that they had given Enkrid a day off after his return was proof enough that the unit valued him. Did that mean the mission had yielded substantial results? Enkrid lightly shook his head. His thoughts were becoming cluttered. He needed to focus on the task at hand. The task here was... "We''re going to rescue Krais. Yes, Big Eyes." He patted Esther, who was snug in his chest, as he spoke. Esther looked up at him with puzzled eyes, and Enkrid explained again that they were going to save the big-eyed friend. It was a goal he had spoken aloud almost reflexively. Hearing it, Esther fixed her lake-blue eyes on Enkrid. Enkrid, with eyes of a similar hue, met her gaze. "What?" Of course, Esther didn''t reply. A panther wouldn''t. Still, her gaze seemed to speak, questioning whether rescuing Krais was truly the sole reason. "Among other things," Enkrid admitted, revealing a part of his intentions. The werewolves, the Grey Hounds of Aspen, and even the mage¡ªthey all lingered in his mind. He wanted to test himself against them, the urge bubbling up like a boiling geyser. Where did he currently stand? How was his condition? How far had his swordsmanship come? ''How much have I grown?'' He didn''t know. He had no sense of it. That was how it always was. You could only see clearly when you understood, but for Enkrid, each day brought something new. He was an explorer discovering new lands daily. A pathfinder blazing new trails. A mountaineer climbing uncharted peaks and a hunter venturing into unknown territories. Though he followed signposts, he rarely understood where he stood. That was why. The moment he heard of Frogs appearing, he had calmly assessed his condition and decided to rest fully for a day before acting. The Frog seemed like the perfect benchmark to gauge his progress. ''Will my sword work against them?'' The last time he faced a Frog, one blow had been enough to make his ribs cry out in protest. This time, though? Not all Frogs were the same, but still... ''They''re formidable.'' There could be no better adversary to compare himself against. If he failed, the Frog would become the wall blocking his "today." But that was fine. He was prepared for that. Had there been even one squad member present, none of this would have happened. Which was precisely why it fell on Enkrid to take action. Was this a coincidence? Or good fortune? Or perhaps misfortune? Misfortune, after all, had always been like an old friend trailing behind him. It was the swimmer''s job to navigate the river of bad luck. Thinking of Rem and the squad, Enkrid suddenly realized how narrow his world had been. ''How ridiculous.'' Once, he had considered his squad members as mid-tier soldiers. Mid-tier? How laughable. None of his squad members fit within the soldier rank system anymore. Now he knew that. If even one of them had been here, facing a mere frog wouldn''t have been anything to worry about. ''But right now, it''s just me.'' He couldn''t abandon Krais. Nor did he want to back down. With his left foot, he recalled the days he faced Rem in battle. With his right foot, he remembered what he had learned from Jaxen. With his left foot again, he carried Audin. And with his right, Ragna. Every step he took was a recollection of all he had learned. From countless instructors, through the repetition of countless days. The fact that the adversary was a Frog didn''t scare him. Perhaps this was the Heart of the Beast at work. Calm, composure, boldness¡ªno, more than that, a fierce sense of challenge surged within him. Enkrid''s pupils flared like flames. Thud. Esther tapped his chest with her paw, as if to say, "Not yet." "I know." Enkrid answered and kept walking until he arrived at the mansion. *** The bald Gilpin was waiting for him. "Where?" "The parlor." Where was the parlor again? Following Gilpin''s lead into the mansion, Enkrid stopped in front of the parlor door. ''Am I walking into this prepared to die?'' Or was he just intoxicated by the thrill of the challenge? He didn''t know. The answer lay beyond the door. Esther hopped off his chest, bouncing to the side. Watching her, Enkrid wondered. ''Will words work with this opponent?'' Judging by the fact that Krais was alive and unharmed, they probably would. Still, that didn''t mean Enkrid could skip the step of neutralizing his opponent first. If you came to fight, you fought. What would talking achieve? Enkrid took a short breath, deciding to skip words and speak through action. Bang. He kicked the door open, rolled forward, and flung his arm as if tossing something. The Whistle Dagger zipped through the air at terrifying speed. ''Is this guy insane?'' Presence, followed by bloodlust. The piercing intent of a killer, and then the attack. No hesitation. It was as if this sequence had been meticulously planned before he even reached the door. *** Bang! The door flew open, and the intruder moved. The moment Frog saw the flying blade, he grabbed his weapon, deflecting it in a flash of movement. For an ordinary human, such actions would have been miraculous. But not for a Frog. Whoosh. Clang. Thunk. The dagger bounced off his blade and embedded itself into a crude leather ornament on the wall. The one who had thrown the dagger came charging in, sword drawn. Clang! The drawn blade traced a bold arc from above, slicing downward. The Frog hooked his fingers into a loop on the sword handle, a design unique to him. Due to his slick, rounded fingers, he had created a weapon he called the Loop Sword. By curling his fingers through the loop, the Frog could grip firmly and swing efficiently. Whoosh. Clang! The clash of steel signaled the start of their duel. Sparks danced in the air as their weapons collided, a relentless series of rapid blows. Enkrid blocked over thirty strikes, even countering occasionally, all the while marveling internally. ''This guy''s fun.'' But escaping was another matter entirely. ''What happens if I run away?'' Everyone else in the guild would die, that''s what. Every last one of them. If caught, he''d end up as another pile of meat alongside the dead guild members. That much was obvious. That Frog bastard wouldn''t hesitate to do it either. *** They said he''d come in spring, yet he had come earlier than expected. Still, Krais had his own measure of belief. If even one of his squadmates arrived, things might turn around. Perhaps Rem, Audin, Jaxen, or Ragna. ''Not the squad leader!'' When the door swung open, Krais had hope. When he saw who had barged in, he felt disappointed. And now? Now he was so stunned, his jaw hung open without a single thought of closing it. ''What... is this?'' Ratatatatatatata! The sound of destruction echoed through the reception room as if it would shatter entirely. What unfolded before his eyes were countless trajectories. Paths carved by blades. Only sparks flew between them. What was this? It was definitely the squad leader who had entered. And yet, that squad leader... ''Is fighting against a Frog?'' And it didn''t even look like he was being overwhelmed. At least, not to Krais''s eyes. Enkrid focused on the opponent''s weapon, which seemed to bend as if alive, and raised his blade to counter. Bang! The impact spread from his forearm through his entire body. Simply enduring through brute strength would have been foolish. Instead, he redirected the force. He blended the technique into his movements. What had once seemed impossible was now second nature. Clack! He deflected the blade with a sidestep, letting it slide off, then thrust his sword forward. The blade cut through the air with a hum. The Frog retaliated with another heavy strike. Bang-bang! Block. Parry. Redirect. Evade. How was this even possible? It was thanks to his experience fighting a mage''s thorny vines. Countless battles had forged the current Enkrid. Battles that taught him how to swing, dodge, and defend with his blade. Defense was his foundation. He blocked and blocked again. The enemy wielded a hunting knife-like blade with a wide edge¡ªan uncommon weapon favored by most Frogs. Known as a loop sword, it was built for devastating strikes. The sheer weight of the weapon, combined with the Frog''s extraordinary strength, allowed it to move as if it were a rapier. Enkrid lost himself in the rhythm of the fight. The enemy''s sword, his own sword. Points connected to lines. Lines curving and crashing like falling lightning. That was the Frog''s weapon. And Enkrid met the descending thunderbolt with his own blade. Unable to redirect the sheer force, his knees buckled slightly under the strain. Even so, he pressed forward with a smooth counter. The Frog retreated half a step, thrusting its blade forward. A wide-edged weapon used for a thrust¡ªhow unconventional. Yet, to Enkrid, that thrust felt like a sharp drill. His heightened senses danced along the edge of the blade. Originally sharp, his instincts had been further honed under Jaxen''s training, becoming razor-like. In this world where only the blade, his opponent, and himself existed, He lost track of time, engrossed in the battle. Block after block. When he saw an opening, he struck. He slashed, thrust, and parried. He even incorporated techniques from Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship. A feint slash halted mid-swing, turned into a piercing thrust. This blended seamlessly with his evolving swordsmanship. Perhaps it could even be called a fusion of northern heavy and precise techniques. The Frog resisted most attacks with sheer strength, Their species boasted extraordinary muscle power far beyond humans. Their accompanying reflexes and agility only amplified their physical prowess. Bang! Crack! Thud! Some strikes were dodged, others were deflected. At one point, the edge of a blade grazed his cheek. The Frog''s fist slammed against his armor shortly after. Enkrid countered by stabbing for its heart, but the Frog spun its body to evade. "Grrk!" Foaming with excitement, the Frog growled deep from its throat. Enkrid, in contrast, maintained utter silence. He simply focused. Focused entirely on one thing. ''Don''t scatter your efforts.'' Gather everything and focus. He didn''t dodge by sight. He trusted the feel of the blade, dodging by instinct. Moments of clarity followed. Enkrid entered a new realm of perception. The Frog''s fingers gripping the loop of its blade. The slight shift in its broad feet. The hidden movements of the violent muscles beneath its slippery skin. His hands adjusted accordingly. His arms moved. His feet repositioned. His torso twisted. Layered concentration upon concentration. Forgetting points, forgetting lines, Enkrid glimpsed the next moment of the battle''s outcome. It might''ve been nothing more than a fleeting vision. But he saw it. And having seen it, he understood. He acted immediately. Until now, he had targeted the Frog''s heart at every opportunity. Only the heart. This thrust was no different. It was a strike imbued with an unyielding will to pierce. The blade flashed through the space between them. The Frog shifted its right foot back, dodging with a practiced step. Ping. Grrkk. The blade grazed its chest armor. The Frog''s cheeks puffed out in agitation. Bruk! The strike almost touched its heart? Unable to suppress its fury, the Frog''s blade fell toward Enkrid''s neck with renewed speed. A thunderous slash. The briefest of moments. Enkrid withdrew his blade mid-thrust. Bang! The clash of their blades stopped both mid-attack, suspended in the air. "You think you can challenge me with brute strength? Stupid human," the Frog growled like a beast. Enkrid responded not with words, but by recreating the vision he had seen. ''If I do it like this...'' Ting. He softened his posture by bending his knees slightly, adding flexibility. He absorbed the Frog''s force by blending Heavy and Precision techniques. The Frog''s blade bore down as though it would split Enkrid''s head open. "You damn fool, captain!" Krais shouted in alarm. Both combatants ignored him. At the decisive moment, Enkrid pushed with newfound strength, running his blade along the surface of the Frog''s weapon. Ting-ting-ting! The energy transferred, unbalancing the Frog''s stance for a split second. Reflexively, the Frog blocked its heart with its forearm. Aiming for the heart would''ve been meaningless. So instead, Enkrid''s blade curved gracefully. Slice. He aimed for the Frog''s left arm. Though the Frog dodged, blood gushed from the wound. It hadn''t lost the arm entirely, but the slick, durable skin had been cut through. Even as the Frog''s cheeks puffed to their limit, its blade countered with brutal precision. Its wide-edged sword swung down with devastating force. Enkrid raised his right hand to block. The blade crashed onto a gauntlet he had taken from a necromancer mage. Crack. Snap. With a jarring sound, the blade deflected. The gauntlet''s surface was dented and slashed, but his wrist remained intact. It was the harmony of Audin''s deflection training and the gauntlet''s resilience. "You crazy bastard," the Frog muttered. Its left arm hung limp, bleeding freely. Even with its regenerative abilities, this was far from pleasant. The Frog glared at Enkrid with terrifying eyes. ''Ah.'' Enkrid sensed the end approaching. His right wrist could no longer muster strength, and his blade slipped from his grasp. He caught it with his left hand, but how many exchanges could he endure? He didn''t know. But the final strike he had landed gave him a sense of satisfaction. A strike that had aimed for the heart to create an opening. It was truly a commendable move. Frogs, a race known for identifying talent, Looked at Enkrid with disgust. Why? Because of his overwhelming talent? No. It was because he was an unprecedented type. A type that had to be killed. Without question, he had to die. Though he seemed to have reached his limit... Chapter 112 - Immediate Deployment Chapter 112 - 112 - Immediate Deployment Chapter 112 - Immediate Deployment For just a single moment. "It was clear." How to catch the Frog, how to kill it, how to win. The letters carved themselves onto the signpost, and a path unfolded before his eyes. Would this turn into another fulfilling day? To prepare for another repeated today, he had rested well and returned in perfect condition. Now, all he had to do was die and start the day again. Yet, the Frog''s sword did not descend. The killing intent and aura remained, but... The blade did not move. It stopped abruptly in mid-air, as if held by an invisible force. Rumble. The Frog repeatedly puffed out and deflated its cheeks. "Why?" What was invisible to Enkrid''s gaze¡ªthe Frog''s own sight¡ªwas directed behind the human who had severed its arm. A panther with eyes like a sapphire lake stood there. A Lake Panther. In some regions, they were treated as sacred beings, even worshipped as guardian deities. But such things didn''t matter to the Frog. To them, a beast was merely a beast. In other words, it wasn''t as though the mere glare of a Lake Panther was what halted it. "What a pain." The Frog muttered a curse internally. Its smooth skin didn''t sweat but instead secreted a similar mucus-like substance. This was a physical response to tension. The Frog, with a white scar on its neck, was no stranger to battle and had faced many mages among its foes. Mages¡ªthose peculiar beings who brought the realm of spells into reality. Troublesome adversaries, always a nuisance. The black skin and lake-like eyes of the Lake Panther exuded such an aura. Through countless experiences and the eyes of a talent appraiser, it could perceive traces of mana. That panther itself could either summon the spell realm or, at the very least, was deeply tied to it. The Frog instinctively knew. If it struck with its sword now, it could kill the man. ''But I''d be risking my life, too.'' The spell-casting panther wasn''t the only problem. The human seated before it wasn''t easy prey either. Constantly aiming for its heart, only to shift his sword toward its arm? That final move. The human''s sword, which had trailed along the broad edge of its blade¡ªthe strike, the intent, the aura. It wasn''t a simple motion. With calculated footwork, the human had briefly demonstrated strength comparable to the Frog''s own. Compared to itself, the human was small in stature. The conclusion was clear: the quality of his muscles was extraordinary. Moreover... "Those eyes." His gaze hadn''t faltered. Even now, those eyes burned with fierce determination aimed at the Frog. How could he still maintain such a look when he stood no chance of winning? Determination¡ªthis human seemed forged entirely from it. It felt as though he was witnessing something unyielding, a force of nature that refused to break no matter what. He wasn''t relying on the mage panther behind him. It was pure and unwavering resolve. "This crazy bastard." Rumble. The Frog''s cheeks swelled larger than ever. It was thoroughly displeased with this situation. In its mind, it weighed the scales. Was this a foe it needed to kill, even at the cost of its life? Or should it bide its time for a later opportunity? It wanted to kill him, to be rid of this troublesome type of human. But if its life hung in the balance? It had to think differently. The appraising gaze once more scrutinized Enkrid. The Frog calculated meticulously. While it lived on whims¡ªfighting when it wanted to fight, eating when it wanted to eat, loving when it wanted to love¡ª Its life was now on the line, and it was bound by duty. Should it risk its life and abandon its obligations just to kill him? The scale tipped to one side. There was no point in overthinking it. This city, the border fortress city of Border Guard, wasn''t important enough to warrant such risks. The Frog''s swollen cheeks deflated. The blade poised to strike lowered once more. The aura faded. ''This is his limit.'' That was its judgment. This human would not grow stronger than he already was. Exceptional muscle quality, momentary strength comparable to its own, excellent swordsmanship, remarkable tactics, and an indomitable will¡ªit all felt as though this man was an entirely new species. And yet... The Frog instinctively understood. "Half of it was luck." Despite almost losing its arm in that final move, it had crushed the human''s right wrist in return. The human''s gambit had relied on luck. Next time, it could kill him. If they met again, it would surely end him. "Remember this, human. My name is Meilune." With those words, it was over. The aura vanished as if washed away, and the Frog retreated. Meilune locked eyes with Esther, who stood behind Enkrid. ''I''m leaving, so stand down as well.'' That was the message in its gaze. Esther didn''t respond. She merely stared silently, her lake-like eyes unwavering. Meilune picked up its discarded cloak and withdrew. The Frog strode out of the mansion with ease, unopposed. Though a few guild members hesitated... "Don''t just stand there. Step aside and let the guest leave." Krais intervened. Even with one arm disabled, the Frog was still the Frog. And so, the Frog departed. Thanks to the magical tome Enkrid had brought, Esther discovered a loophole to remove the shackles binding her body. While she couldn''t return to her human form immediately, she could now manifest parts of the spell realm even in her panther form. "Of course, I''ll suffer every time I do it." She''d have to use her stored mana. And there was a risk of contaminating parts of the spell realm. It was a method outlined in the tome of that lunatic who used corpses to construct his spell realm. An extreme loophole. Still... "I might need it someday." It would be useful to know. That''s why she had learned it. And now might be that time. Esther had feigned calm, while subtly revealing her presence. She made the Frog aware that she was a mage. If it struck with its sword, she would pierce its heart with something in return. Willpower¡ªwhat was it? Willpower could become mana. For a brief moment, Esther made herself appear not as a panther, but as Esther, the mage. And that was the result. The one called Meilune, or whatever his name was, backed down. If her body had been in perfect condition, it might have been a different story. In the current state, even if Enkrid and Esther joined forces, their odds were only fifty-fifty. That conclusion came after weighing all possibilities. So, the reason their opponent retreated now was simple. ''It''s luck.'' That was the only explanation that made sense. Had Enkrid''s skills improved noticeably? Surprising, yes, even Esther could tell. But that alone wasn''t enough reason for Frog to retreat. Of course, before attributing it to luck, there was a twist in the situation. The twist was created by a man who happened to stay by their side due to certain necessities. ''The left arm.'' Not the heart, but the arm. Had the focus remained on the heart, Frog would''ve kept enduring. But with his left arm severed halfway¡ª In this case, reattaching it might take longer than simply letting it regenerate anew. A swordsman with a missing arm. The odds were finally in their favor. ''Damn it.'' How did it come to this? Esther sighed, lightly tapping the back of the one who had almost cost her all the mana she had accumulated. Why wasn''t this guy getting up? "Esth... Ugh!" It seemed Enkrid had barely held on himself, retching on the ground. Esther hopped backward. Krais approached them. "You okay? Uh, wait¡ªdid you find Ragna? You understood what I was saying, right?" "Hah." After retching once, Enkrid, his stomach slightly settled, lifted his upper body and spoke. "You''ve been cooped up here for six days without going to the field, and you don''t even know where your squad is? Are you really someone who deals in information? You?" His tone wasn''t scolding but rather calm. "Huh?" Only then did Krais realize what he had overlooked. Come to think of it, his squad members were familiar faces he saw whenever he returned. Sure, he''d heard about deployments, but who would''ve taken the squad out without Enkrid? No sane commander would dare touch this squad of outcasts¡ª A superior-killer, a chronic lazy bastard with no sense of direction, a wanderer who vanishes without notice, a fanatic who claims they need divine permission to fight. Seriously, who''d want to deal with a group like that? Naturally, Krais assumed they''d wait in the barracks for their squad leader. He''d miscalculated. "They''re gone. All of them were deployed." "Well, that''s unexpected. So, it''s just you and Esther?" "Yeah." Krais slid a hand under Enkrid''s arm, helping him stand. "Are you badly hurt?" "Except for my right hand, I''d say it''s manageable." As he answered, Enkrid thought his condition wasn''t as bad as expected. But the real question lingered¡ª ''Why did Frog just leave?'' With just a swing of the blade, he or Krais could''ve been dead. ''Why?'' Enkrid''s gaze turned toward Esther, the panther. ''What exactly did you do? Really? Against a Frog of all beings?'' He was fully grasping the weight of those two syllables¡ªFrog. What could this young, small panther have possibly done? No clue. He couldn''t figure it out. "Nyaa." Feeling his gaze, Esther opened her mouth as if scolding him. As if asking how he could collapse so easily. Enkrid took a deep breath and organized his thoughts. ''I don''t know.'' Dwelling on the unknown wouldn''t yield answers. It never did. He knew this from experience¡ªaccepting the unknown as it was and focusing on what could be gained for the future. ''It worked.'' How should he describe it? For a fleeting moment, he had felt as though he had overwhelmed Frog. He had drawn Frog into his plan and struck. He severed an arm¡ªnot the heart, but the arm. It would regenerate, of course. But not during their battle. If only he had dodged that last strike aimed at his right wrist¡ª ''If only.'' The fight could''ve taken a different course. This skirmish offered plenty of lessons to reflect on. With that thought, Enkrid began walking toward the barracks. Krais supported him, and Esther, instead of jumping into his arms, glanced back briefly before following at his side. *** They had just arrived back at their quarters and were about to rest when¡ª "Where have you been?!" It was the 2nd Company Commander, Vengeance''s direct superior. Clearly searching for Enkrid, the commander''s forehead glistened with sweat. What kind of commander runs around personally instead of sending a messenger? As Enkrid considered this, preparing to salute¡ª "Immediately! Deploy!" The commander interrupted him. "I''ve sustained some injuries," Enkrid replied. If he had the luxury, he''d have preferred to rest for a day or two. His absence wouldn''t make much of a difference in the grand scheme of the battlefield. After all, he was just a squad leader who''d recently returned. Surely, some leeway could be given. "What? How did that happen?" It was already known that he''d returned unharmed from the mission. "A scuffle with some rogue." "At a time like this?!" Though the commander scolded him, he ultimately shook his head, acknowledging the inevitability. "We don''t need your swordsmanship right now. If you can move, we simply request you go." The tone wasn''t forceful but closer to a plea. To Enkrid, it sounded like trouble had flared up at the frontlines. ''Why?'' He still hadn''t been briefed on the battlefield situation. After returning, he had spent an entire day resting, only to clash with Frog the next. "Ranger Finn will accompany you. Can you depart immediately?" "What''s the urgency?" Krais, who had been quietly listening, asked. As someone familiar with the commander, he received a straightforward answer. "Well, your platoon said they wouldn''t fight anymore unless their leader was brought back..." The commander trailed off, but Enkrid understood immediately. "My platoon?" "They insisted on it. This deployment is essentially to convince them. You''ll be stationed at the rear, so just staying on the battlefield will suffice. This is a direct request from your company commander." It seemed he had no choice. A sore wrist wasn''t reason enough to sit out. After all, he could still grip a sword. ''Rem.'' Just hearing the explanation left Enkrid uneasy. He figured he could get briefed on the situation en route. All he needed now was to patch up his wounds and head out. "Yes." Enkrid saluted, signaling his readiness to depart immediately. Chapter 113 - Arrival Chapter 113 - 113 - Arrival Chapter 113 - Arrival "Alright, I''m back." "Today''s quota is done." On the third day since deployment, what began with a light provocation and escalated into a melee battle. For three straight days, Rem went to the battlefield and returned the same way¡ªhis twin axes dripping blood, flinging crimson drops onto the ground. Each time he stepped out, he killed exactly three enemies. His vigorous ax swings left his foes looking like logs split apart. Except, these "logs" were alive, spilling brains and guts when cleaved. At the start of the skirmish, when allied and enemy forces clashed, Rem swiftly struck, split heads, and returned as if it were routine. A commander who didn''t feel a thrill watching such feats should hand in their badge. To those with any discernment, he was a talent they couldn''t afford to lose. And yet, Rem wasn''t the only exceptional soldier in their ranks. "I can handle it alone. Why do they keep pairing me with others?" This was Ragna, dragging his feet with boredom. Initially, he drew no attention. He barely fought, just holding out enough to return alive. Unless someone actively provoked him, he didn''t throw himself into the fray. "Such a waste of talent." The fairy company commander was among the few who recognized Ragna''s potential. She left him be, simply observing, until one day, Ragna got separated from the group while moving between battlefields. "How do you even get lost here?" Whether he''d taken a wrong turn around the mountains or secretly crossed a river to raid the enemy''s main camp, no one knew. What was certain was that Ragna wandered into enemy territory¡ªa death sentence¡ªbut returned unscathed, casually carrying the head of the enemy commander. "Ah, I just felt like going left back there," he had said, nonchalantly, the severed head swinging from his fingers as a bonus. "You got lost?" the fairy company commander asked. Ragna nodded. That was the end of the conversation. No one had brought him in expecting to enforce discipline. Everyone in the Independent Unit had been recruited under similar conditions. "Fill the gap left by your squad leader," came the order. For them, Enkrid''s name was synonymous with magic. "Why does HQ send people to us and then tell us to make up for any losses?" "If you slack off, it''ll be seen as Enkrid''s directive. Do you want to burden him?" Without further argument, they began packing for deployment¡ªa group that normally scoffed at orders. "Three a day, no more," said Rem. "Sounds good," replied Ragna. Jaxen silently nodded, while Audin, the devout one, declared, "In the name of the divine." As for Andrew, Mac, and Enri¡ªthey were accustomed to doing whatever they were told. Krais, however, was absent, having taken leave. Andrew, sporting a swollen black eye, seemed oddly excited to head into battle, and Mac, who bore a matching bruise on the opposite eye, was just as eager. "War! Combat! Deployment!" they cheered, their enthusiasm unsettling. "You''re happy about this? You shouldn''t be," remarked Rem with a sly grin. For a moment, the fairy company commander swore she saw a demon in that smile, though it vanished with a blink. These were the individuals he had brought together. Jaxen and Audin were as skilled as the rest. Jaxen, for instance, barely seemed to try during fights. Yet, no matter how hard the enemy struck, they couldn''t land so much as a scratch on him. "Why can''t I hit him? Just you wait, you!" one frustrated enemy soldier had yelled, but Jaxen didn''t even reply, treating the threat like a dog barking in the distance. Jaxen routinely returned unharmed, having killed no one but taken no damage. Meanwhile, Audin had only entered battle once, but the sight of him casually snapping an opponent''s forearm with his bare hands had sent shivers even through his allies. Breaking bones wasn''t impressive by itself, but the way Audin gently grasped his opponent''s wrist, then snapped it like a twig, was otherworldly. "Stay away! Don''t come near me!" cried the terrified enemies who witnessed the scene. Even allies found themselves unnerved. Audin''s towering frame¡ªsmaller than a giant but massive compared to ordinary soldiers¡ªmade him impossible to ignore. "Less than ten men, but their combat power..." thought the commander. "It feels like I''m surrounded by versions of myself, multiplied tenfold." Just "outstanding" didn''t do them justice. Properly utilized, they were a devastating force capable of wreaking havoc far beyond their numbers. "That''s probably why," she mused. These soldiers had survived despite their many incidents and troubles because they were too valuable to lose. The fairy company commander, having taken responsibility for them, continued to observe. This was the extent of the fighting they allowed themselves to do. But what if someone pushed them to go beyond that limit? "Who gave you permission to fall back? Who ordered a retreat?" A squad leader, newly assigned and clueless about their reputation, had dared to confront them. He didn''t know about Rem, infamous for attacking superiors, or Audin, who would break bones without hesitation if "divine guidance" told him to. He didn''t know about Jaxen''s silent lethality or Ragna''s strange, infrequent bursts of action. The first to step forward was Andrew, noticing how irritated Rem already looked. "Leave it be, or there''ll be bloodshed," he thought grimly. If things escalated, Rem might split the man''s skull with his axe. "We belong to the Independent Unit," Andrew stated. "Operational orders come only from our direct superior." "What? So, you''re just going to sit back and watch?" The new squad leader couldn''t accept it. How could these soldiers lounge in camp while others risked their lives? Independent Unit or not, such behavior was intolerable. In the squad leader''s defiance, Andrew saw a reflection of his younger self¡ªan ignorant fool who hadn''t understood the weight of his actions. Sighing deeply, Andrew looked to the sky before resigning himself. "My name is Andrew Gardener, eldest son of the Gardner family. This unit consists of nobles. Just leave us alone," he said, his voice calm but devoid of sincerity. His face, though composed, betrayed a sense of exhaustion. Mac silently approached and gave Andrew a reassuring pat on the back. "You think being a noble means you can get away with this?" the squad leader shot back. At that, Rem moved as if to speak, causing the squad leader to hesitate. "Maybe I should take a closer look at his insides," muttered Rem, his tone cold. To prevent further chaos, Andrew challenged the squad leader to a duel and swiftly knocked him down. It was enough to satisfy Rem, who refrained from swinging his axe. However, Andrew himself received a thorough beating afterward. "This is the army, noble or not," the fairy company commander scolded Andrew, though her words were accompanied by a consoling pat on the shoulder. The Independent Unit under Enkrid¡ªnow infamously known as the Madmen Unit¡ªowed much of their restraint to Andrew''s efforts to keep the peace. There were plenty of reasons, of course. The current position of the 1st Infantry was northeast of Border Guard. They were stationed in a gravel field, with the Pen-Hanil River on their left and a series of small hills that could be crossed within a day to their right. Here and there, blades of grass peeked shyly through the gravel, and near the riverbank, weeds that reached an adult''s waist were scattered sparsely. On the Green Pearl Plains, part of the knights and the main army were engaged in a standoff against the enemy''s main force. The role of the 1st Infantry from Border Guard was to hold the line here, acting as a wall to block the enemy''s forces or any detached units trying to flank around. In a way, their fate was tied to the outcome of the battle between the main forces. If their allies struck first, part of the knightly order would sweep through the enemy stationed here. On the other hand, if the enemy moved first, they might find themselves facing enemy knights without support from their own. That''s how things started, at least. But with both sides hesitating, this battlefront inadvertently became the opening skirmish¡ªthe vanguard clash. One infantry battalion and one independent company. Both forces were evenly matched in strength and conditions. The main armies of both sides remained stationed on the Green Pearl Plains, watching this battlefield closely. So far, it had been the Naurilian forces that were consistently pushed back. Rumors spoke of giant soldiers among the enemy ranks. Some enemy soldiers even stood out, taunting, "Come fight me if you think you''re stronger!" to provoke their opponents. All of this chipped away at the morale of their allies. Under such circumstances, what they needed was a variable¡ªsomething to tip the scales of victory. And that variable was clearly visible to the battalion commander. The Madmen Platoon¡ªundeniably a force that stood out. "If they fight properly, that''s enough. Do they have any demands? If we push too hard, they''ll just reject us entirely." The battalion commander was wise. He immediately recognized the state of the Madmen Platoon. Though the fairy company commander had somehow managed to bring them along, they were still an uncontrollable group. She could subdue them by force if necessary, but that wasn''t the time for it. ''The battle hasn''t been lost yet.'' The fight was only just beginning. Battalion Commander Marcus was a battle maniac, not a fool. He knew that persuading them through reasonable means would raise their morale far more than coercion. "We need their platoon leader." The fairy company commander''s response was direct, and the battalion commander granted permission without hesitation. "Bring him here." That was the end of it. The company commander saluted and turned away. *** Earlier that morning, Rem had declared, almost as a demand: "Bring our platoon leader here. Fighting without knowing whether he''s dead or alive doesn''t feel right." It had sounded more like a threat to stop killing three enemies a day if they didn''t comply. Immediately, a swift reconnaissance messenger was dispatched. Three days later, the platoon leader, Enkrid, stood before the company commander. The Madmen Platoon had been brought to the rear to welcome Enkrid back, which was why they had managed to meet him within three days. "If you''ve returned, shouldn''t you report in immediately? Didn''t you miss me?" The company commander greeted Enkrid with a fairy-style joke. Enkrid''s expression twisted in response, much to the commander''s delight. Seeing that scowl washed away the frustration she''d felt from dealing with Enkrid''s unruly platoon members. ''Thick-headed fools.'' The commander''s gaze landed on Enkrid''s right wrist. "Injured?" "I had a scuffle with some thugs in the city." "Were those thugs Frogs, by any chance?" At those words, both Krais and Esther turned their gazes sharply toward the commander. Enkrid remained calm¡ªit was likely just another joke. "It''s not a serious injury." The wrist wasn''t broken. While the bone was damaged, it wasn''t enough to stop him from gripping or wielding a sword. Treatment was necessary, but it wasn''t a critical wound. His dedication to wrist training through isolation techniques had paid off. "In any case, welcome back to the team." The green-eyed company commander spoke, and Enkrid saluted. The fairy returned the gesture with a slight nod. "Now, off you go." Enkrid headed straight to where his platoon was gathered. He had been eager to return. Even though they caused trouble when he was with them, the chaos they stirred when he wasn''t around was on a completely different scale. *** "Should I just quit?" Initially, even platoon leaders had tried to provoke him. Now, not even those kinds of people were coming around. Playing around with Andrew had become tedious as well. "There''s no reason to stay here anymore." Leaving would be simple. Rem wasn''t thinking about an honorable discharge like others. No, he''d just disappear without a word. The longer he was apart from Enkrid, the more this thought grew. "If he doesn''t show up today, I''m leaving." Yet, Rem continued to repeat the same dull routine each day¡ªa monotonous cycle of meaningless battles that didn''t even stir his interest anymore. "Die!" It was tedious, so tedious. If they were going to kill someone, they should just stab with their spear already. Why waste time shouting? The distraction caused their breathing to falter, making the spear tip waver without them noticing. Rem swung his axe vertically. The axe blade struck the spearhead. Clang! "Guh!" The enemy soldier lost their grip on the spear, their hands torn apart. Losing a weapon in the middle of a battle? This guy didn''t have a fraction of the platoon leader''s skill. No, comparing them was an insult¡ªa sin. Crack. The axe split the enemy soldier''s skull. Still, it was just as dull as ever. After killing three enemies, Rem returned, caught in the same repetitive cycle of boredom and tedium. Even after being moved to the rear, where there were no battles, he found himself with even less to do. Ragna was in a similar state. He lacked motivation above all else. "Did he die?" Otherwise, why was there no word from him? With the platoon leader absent, everything felt stagnant. Ragna spent his days aimlessly, doing everything half-heartedly. Apart from slaughtering a dozen enemy soldiers when he got lost once, he hadn''t done anything. Audin prayed to his god and asked: "Is it time for me to leave?" As always, his god answered with silence, respecting Audin''s free will. The decision lay in Audin''s heart. "To leave or not to leave." Audin asked himself but had yet to decide. Jaxen, meanwhile, had joined the military with a purpose. Now that the purpose was almost fulfilled, there was no reason to stay. It was time to leave¡ªlingering here was pointless. Logically, that''s what he thought. Unnecessary and meaningless tasks. Days of inefficiency that would''ve been unthinkable before. And yet, he remained. "Tonight." Jaxen resolved to leave, though it was the third night in a row he''d made that decision. As another ordinary day passed with everyone lost in their own thoughts, the sun began to set, casting dark shadows across the camp. Someone entered the tent of the so-called Madmen Platoon, now cloaked in silence. "I''m back." The voice was calm and steady. As always, Enkrid had returned. Everyone in the tent fell silent, their gazes shifting. Unexpectedly, the first to react was Andrew. "Ughhhhhh! Whyyyyyy! Why did you take soooo loooong?!" Tears streamed from Andrew''s face as he rushed to greet him, his tear-streaked face a testament to his pent-up emotions. His sobs conveyed everything he''d been holding inside. Enkrid, seeing Andrew''s face, couldn''t help but laugh softly. "Why is he faster than me, and why is he throwing a fit? You back?" Rem''s voice came from behind Andrew. Beyond him, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxen also appeared. Chapter 114 - Crawling Forward Chapter 114 - 114 - Crawling Forward Chapter 114 - Crawling Forward The soldier guiding Enkrid to his quarters rubbed his eyes. He felt as though he had seen something wrong. "Did I really see that?" No, it couldn''t be. His eyes must be playing tricks on him. The moment the platoon leader appeared, a soldier named Ragna abruptly stood up from his seat. ''Why is he jumping to his feet?'' Ragna was notorious for rarely getting up, even in dire situations. Among the "Madmen Squad," he was often called the "Lazy Madman." And now, this guy¡ªwho never stood unless absolutely necessary¡ªhad shot to his feet in one swift motion? It was a sight that would have made anyone familiar with him, especially those who had observed him recently, slap their thighs in disbelief and leap to their feet in astonishment. "What''s wrong with him?" This was the kind of guy who shocked people just by standing up. That guy. Even when told repeatedly to get up, move, or prepare for an enemy attack, he wouldn''t listen, no matter how much they yelled at him. "You''re late," Ragna muttered curtly as he grabbed his sword. "I need to check if I''ve regressed during this time..." As if standing up wasn''t startling enough, he suddenly proposed a sparring session. And he was the one initiating it? While harsh words occasionally flew within the squad, Ragna rarely even acknowledged them. Yet here he was, suggesting a duel. With his sword in hand, he radiated an eagerness to move, his stance screaming his desire to swing his blade right then and there. "Are you out of your mind?" Rem stepped in to block him. "You know the first sparring match is always mine, don''t you? Isn''t that right?" What''s with this guy now? Rem, known simply as a "Madman," was notorious within the squad. He was the most unhinged of them all¡ªthe kind of maniac who swung his axe without reason and erupted into fits of rage at the slightest provocation. Yet now, the Madman was smiling. It wasn''t a mocking smile or a murderous grin. It was pure, genuine laughter. When combined with his barbaric appearance, the smile even made him seem almost innocent. "Are you hurt?" And now, he was expressing concern for someone else. Who would''ve thought this axe-wielding lunatic, known for splitting skulls, could care about someone''s wellbeing? The soldier accompanying them was one of the battalion commander''s aides, tasked with observing Enkrid. He had been assigned to gather information about this peculiar squad leader while guiding him around. But the scene unfolding before his eyes felt utterly surreal. "Doesn''t seem broken," muttered another soldier. Oh, now he''s joining in? This guy... He can talk? There had been a time when he mingled with other squad members, but recently, he had devolved into nothing but a silent, glaring lunatic. People had even speculated that he had bitten off his own tongue somewhere along the way. His name was Jaxen, wasn''t it? People called him the "Clear-Eyed Madman." His gaze was so unsettling that it could make a person''s skin crawl, yet it was strangely captivating. "Did you apply any ointment?" Hearing the Clear-Eyed Madman speak was a rare event. But now, he even stepped forward to examine the squad leader''s wrist. ''This has to be a dream,'' thought the aide. What the hell happened to these guys? The final member of this quartet of chaos was the "Holy Madman." Among the squad, his reputation had already spread far and wide. He was easily the most noticeable of the group, with a build reminiscent of a massive boulder. Despite his intimidating size, he wore a gentle smile. Unlike the others, he was unfailingly kind. Of course, that didn''t mean he always followed orders. Whenever he prayed, a faint halo seemed to glow around him, lending him an air of sanctity. He looked like someone who could crush an entire enemy unit with a single blow, yet he refused to fight, claiming he couldn''t act without divine calling. To the aide, this guy was the real lunatic. A true priest receives divine favor and demonstrates it with holy powers. But this guy? He had no holy powers to speak of. What was this "divine will" he kept mentioning? He used it as an excuse to shirk duties, day after day. If he was going to act like this, why had he even joined the military? The Holy Madman spoke with his usual serene smile. "Brother, it seems you''ve been neglecting your training. Injuries like this happen when you''re lazy. You should train more. Train." Whether or not he truly believed in the divine, the Holy Madman had no qualms about criticizing others with a friendly demeanor. "A noble killing madman giggling away... A Clear-Eyed Madman staring concerned at a wrist... The Lazy Madman suddenly looking energetic... And now the Holy Madman scolding people?" The aide felt overwhelmed by the absurdity of it all. The only person who could possibly make sense of this mess was the man they all called their leader. The aide turned his gaze to Enkrid. Unbothered by the chaos, Enkrid simply examined his surroundings and said, "It''s not broken." After a brief glance around, he added, "What the hell have you all been doing while I was gone? Why is the squad not the ''Troublemaker Squad'' anymore but the ''Madman Squad''?" It had only been eight days since he''d last seen them. How had things escalated to this point in such a short time? Enkrid''s question was entirely valid. Rem, as usual, responded without hesitation. "It''s because we didn''t have a squad leader. This is all your fault. Everything is your fault." The Madman''s answer was as nonsensical as ever. "So, about that sparring match?" The Lazy Madman picked up on the conversation. "Underestimating minor injuries will only cause bigger problems when it matters. Take off the bandages first. Madman Squad? Who''s calling us that? I''ve never heard of it." "I have no idea what you''re talking about, Squad Leader" chimed in the Clear-Eyed Madman. The Holy Madman, ever consistent, added his own unique flavor. "Brother Squad Leader, are you playing favorites? Did you neglect us for divine reasons? We need more discipline!" The aide had expected Enkrid to reprimand them harshly. After all, they were a squad in disarray, and the bruised and teary-eyed Andrew was undeniable proof of internal discord. "What happened to his eye?" Enkrid asked, pointing at Andrew. "Oh, that? It was just some sparring. To help him improve," answered the Madman with an axe. "Hmm, well, that''s fair," Enkrid agreed. ''Fair? His eye was swollen shut, and his face was practically unrecognizable!'' "Still, I''m staying here. I''m not leaving from under you," Andrew declared boldly. Rem smirked. "That''s why I like you. Wait a moment. I''ve got a match to settle with our squad leader." Rem''s grin only widened as he chuckled in apparent happiness. Meanwhile, the aide could only watch in disbelief as the chaos continued to unfold. The aide, tasked with observing Enkrid by the battalion commander, knew he''d have to report everything he saw¡ªeven this madness. The Clear-Eyed Madman began unwrapping bandages. Somewhere nearby, a black panther with bright blue eyes yawned lazily. "Nyaaah." And as Enkrid turned his gaze to the aide, the rest of the squad followed suit, their stares piercing and expectant. "Not leaving?" Enkrid asked. It didn''t sound like he was suggesting he linger here together. "Oh, yes, I''m going. Please rest well." The aide turned and walked away. After he left, Rem tilted his head and asked, "Why''d he tag along? He''s been rolling his eyes at us for days now." "Rolling his eyes?" "Kept staring at me. Thought he was asking to get killed, so I was planning to decorate his head with an axe tomorrow." "You lunatic, that''d be murder, not assaulting a superior." "Is that so?" He wasn''t asking because he didn''t know. Especially with that sly grin, it was clear he knew exactly what he was saying. "Leave him be. Don''t go stirring trouble with a superior. Especially since that guy''s under the direct command of the battalion leader." "If it comes to that, I''ll just retire." Of course, for Rem, retirement would likely mean a dramatic escape from the army with his two axes. While Enkrid and Rem exchanged words, Jaxen knelt on one knee, pulling out his balm and rubbing it on his wrist. A cool, soothing sensation spread over his wrist¡ªcold, refreshing, and tingling in an oddly satisfying way. It didn''t seem like an ordinary medicine. Perhaps it had been a while since he last felt this way. Still, Enkrid got to the point. "Let''s try to align ourselves with what those above us are saying." He had overheard why he was urgently summoned. *** The battlefield was teetering on the brink of chaos, morale was dropping, and disturbances had broken out within the unit. The nickname "Madmen Platoon" wasn''t just for show¡ªit embodied their reputation for causing havoc. Executing the lot of them to tighten military discipline would be a waste of their skill. But tolerating them and attempting to manage the chaos seemed equally daunting. ''The company commander must''ve shielded them.'' The fairy company commander often took care of the unit and its members in subtle ways. Even bringing Enkrid''s platoon here was likely for similar reasons. The decision to reorganize them into an independent platoon under the company commander''s direct control wasn''t an easy one. Enkrid understood how it might look to others if his platoon refused to act simply because their leader wasn''t around. That''s why they were brought here. Despite any worries about how it would play out, this much was clear to Enkrid. Of course, Krais had explained everything along the way. However, there was still one glaring issue they seemed to overlook. ''They don''t actually listen to me.'' Even when breaking up fights, words didn''t work¡ªhe had to physically intervene. If he told them to go out and fight, they''d likely ignore him. That was the case now, too. None of them were paying the slightest attention to what Enkrid was saying. They let his words go in one ear and out the other. They had no intention of aligning with anything coming from above. ''What can I do?'' This was the Madmen Platoon¡ªa rowdy, unpredictable bunch. Jaxen, after reapplying his bandages, spoke with his gaze lowered. "Don''t overdo it, but it''s your burden to bear in the end." He probably knew there was no point in saying this. Jaxen took a step back. "Yeah. My burden to bear." After these words, Krais, who had been standing silently in the back, finally spoke up. "Am I invisible to you all?" "Huh? You''re here?" "Yeah, I saw you." "Welcome, brother." The three of them¡ªexcluding Jaxen¡ªresponded one after another. Jaxen merely gave a slight nod in greeting. After all, Krais had been involved with them in various ways. Mostly in exchanging information, arranging contacts, or selling medicines. Krais knew better than to expect anything from them, so he was satisfied with the current state of things. Afterward, it was time for sparring. When they rushed out in front of the barracks, Enri finally acknowledged them. "Honestly, it''s terrifying to even approach you guys. In some ways, Sir Andrew is commendable for stepping in so boldly." Enri''s face was unscathed. It seemed like he was adept at keeping himself out of trouble. ''On the flip side, it just shows he''s only capable of so much.'' While Enri hadn''t clashed with anyone in the unit, he hadn''t built any close relationships with them either. Enkrid didn''t judge people recklessly. But he trusted his platoon''s judgment. If none of them kept Enri close, it meant they didn''t expect him to contribute much to the group. Even so, Enkrid didn''t tell him to pack up and leave or make some dismissive comment about retiring. Who was he to say such things? He himself had told them all to give up and quit¡ªand yet here he was, still holding a sword. Yes, he hadn''t given up. Not once had he backed down. Even if he had to crawl, he had kept moving forward. That was the essence of Enkrid. Crawling, taking one small step at a time, he had made progress. Even now, despite his injured wrist from fighting the Frog, he could show them something. He could demonstrate the results of his persistence and the strength he had built. And he believed he could do it again now¡ªjust enough to avoid overstraining his wrist. It didn''t seem like an impossible task. "I''m first." Rem stepped forward, grinning as he swung his axe. No signal to start, no warning. Enkrid met him head-on with his sword. Rem''s arm whipped like a lash, and his axe blade seemed to bend unnaturally, stretching as if alive. In response, Enkrid''s sword curved too. As both weapons were swung at high speed, their afterimages blurred together, and the axe blade clashed against the sword. Clang! One strike, one exchange. That alone made Rem''s lips curl upward. "Well, would you look at that?" Rem muttered, his grin growing wider. The clash of steel against steel rang out, echoing in the night and causing a commotion. "What''s going on?" "Is it the Madmen Platoon again?" "What now?" As word spread that it was a sparring match involving the Madmen Platoon, soldiers gathered to watch. This time, it wasn''t just the usual infighting¡ªthere was a new face in the mix, making it a spectacle worth seeing. Some even recognized the newcomer. Vengeance, for one. Others who had fought alongside him in previous battles. Or the squad leader who had stitched up Enkrid''s elbow guards. Even those from the frontier defense force or those who had faced him in promotion matches were present. Clang! Clang! The sounds of steel meeting steel, sparks flying, and reverberations filled the air. Everyone watched the sparring match between Rem and Enkrid in silence, utterly captivated. "What... what is this?" Someone muttered, echoing the collective thought of the onlookers. Enkrid. That Enkrid. Even though he had recently been promoted to a high ranking soldier, he was still considered far inferior to most of them. A frequent subject of ridicule, often called a "foolish squad leader." Now, he was... Clang-clang-clang! Moving so fast that his strikes were almost invisible, swinging, deflecting, and thrusting his sword as it met Rem''s axe. Rem, who had earned admiration from some of his comrades for his ferocity and achievements in cutting down enemy ranks, was evenly matched with Enkrid. At least, that''s how it appeared to their eyes. And it didn''t end there. "Let''s continue this later. Plenty of others are waiting." In the middle of the sparring match, Rem stepped back. Then Ragna stepped forward. After Ragna, it was Audin''s turn. One by one, they took their turns sparring with Enkrid, and he held his ground against each of them. Chapter 115 - Aren’t You Going to Sleep? Chapter 115 - 115 - Aren''t You Going to Sleep? Chapter 115 - Aren''t You Going to Sleep? Enkrid sparred intensely with Rem in a flurry of rapid sword strikes. With Ragna, it was more of a light exchange of sword techniques, testing their responses. Meanwhile, his training with Audin involved bare-handed strikes and grappling moves. When the sparring finally ended: "Now you''re taking baby steps," Rem commented. While the phrase "baby steps" could be seen as belittling, Enkrid knew otherwise. A faint smile lingered on Rem''s face¡ªone of clear satisfaction from Enkrid''s progress. "You''ve reduced the waste," Ragna added. Although not exactly flattering, Ragna''s words carried weight. His typically half-closed eyes now gleamed with an unusual fervor. This was someone who rarely showed interest in anything. For him to exhibit this much satisfaction after sparring meant he was genuinely impressed. A cold intensity radiated from Ragna''s gaze. "You''ve been consistently honing your senses," Jaxen praised calmly. "You''ve taken a step closer to divinity," Audin remarked cryptically. The meaning behind Audin''s words was odd enough that Enkrid shot him a look, only for Rem to speak up first. "Doesn''t that sound like he''s praying for you to drop dead?" "No, Brother. It''s a blessing," Audin countered. Blessing? Really? With that, the sparring came to an end. "That''s the infamous mad squad leader?" "No, he''s officially the mad platoon leader now." "What even is that guy?" "He''s the one everyone keeps talking about." "So, the rumors about him being a training-obsessed lunatic were true." The murmurs of onlookers trickled in. People who had previously kept their distance, or been too shocked to speak, were now whispering amongst themselves. Enkrid stood, shoulders heaving from exertion. His wrists ached, and his tired limbs felt weak. Despite the exhaustion, he wasn''t in a bad mood. Still, a thought lingered: ''It''s frustrating.'' Because of his injured wrist, his sparring partners had held back. That fact gnawed at him. Even so, he had learned something. The culmination of all his past experiences¡ªthe battles beyond the Cross Guard''s wall, the fight against the Frog, and more¡ªhad converged into today''s training. He had gained new insights, ones he wanted to reflect on. In short, he wanted to fight more. "Hold it there. Push any further, and your wrist will be completely wrecked," Rem interjected, his keen perception cutting through Enkrid''s thoughts. He knew. Resting was important. It wasn''t a lesson he had to learn again. Enkrid exhaled deeply and shrugged. The crowd began to disperse. Some greeted Enkrid as they left. "You made it back?" It was Vengeance, the platoon leader who now shared equal rank with Enkrid. "Yeah," Enkrid replied casually, the age gap between them naturally relaxing their exchange. "Good to see you." For some reason, Vengeance looked sheepish. After exchanging brief nods with others like Bell and the sewing craftsman, Enkrid returned to the barracks. "So, spill it. What have you been up to?" Rem suddenly asked, his curiosity evident. He wanted to know what kind of experiences had pushed Enkrid¡ªa slow learner who relied on sheer effort¡ªto improve so drastically. Rem''s earlier comment about "baby steps" had been high praise, meant for someone who had broken through a significant wall. Even though they had held back due to Enkrid''s injury, the change was clear. Enkrid had demonstrated a cut that bent like a whip, over and over. The difference between the Enkrid who had left for reconnaissance at the Cross Guard and the one who returned was unmistakable. Confidence. No hesitation. Some might call it composure. Others might describe it as muscle memory. What was clear was that everything Enkrid had built up until now had been refined. Even Ragna, Jaxen, and Audin gathered, curious. Andrew, Mac, and Enri leaned in as well. "Feels like I''m some storyteller," Enkrid muttered, seeing his platoon members crowd around him. What was so hard about telling a story? Enkrid recounted his experiences plainly¡ªfalling into a trap, facing spearmen in the front and archers in the back, Finn''s sharp eye, the Lykans, the mage on the wall, and his fight with the Frog. He was honest, even attributing much of it to luck. His matter-of-fact tone contrasted starkly with the gravity of the situations he described. "Do you have some kind of curse where you only improve by nearly dying?" Rem asked with a chuckle. To him, it certainly seemed that way. Each time Enkrid faced a life-threatening situation, his skills would take a significant leap. Maybe the platoon leader was a genius after all? No, Rem dismissed that thought. He had trained Enkrid personally and knew otherwise. It had to be the near-death experiences triggering something in him. "Whatever. It was entertaining," Rem concluded, shrugging off his musings. Others nodded in agreement. Andrew, however, looked dazed as he asked: "You really came back alive from all that?" Was it really just luck? The earlier sparring session had shown a stark difference in skill. Once, Andrew had thought he could hold his own against Enkrid. But now, the gap between them felt insurmountable. Had he been slacking in his training? ''No, that''s not it. Absolutely not.'' Even as part of this "mad squad," where every day was grueling, he had pushed himself. His skills had improved as a result. Mac had said it before: "As much as I hate it, you''ve got to admit that sparring with Rem will make you better." Andrew had given his all, training harder than ever. Yet the gap between him and Enkrid had widened. "It was just luck," Enkrid said, his usual answer. Andrew had no reply. As Enkrid suggested they turn in for the night, he checked his wrist. It seemed worse than it had been after the fight with the Frog. "You''ll need to rest in the barracks tomorrow because of your wrist," Jaxen observed. "It''s not bad enough to visit the medical tent, but yeah, combat''s out of the question," Enkrid agreed. "You''re telling me." "I wouldn''t mind resting either," Jaxen muttered, followed by similar comments from Krais, Rem, and Ragna. Enkrid had expected as much. If the higher-ups asked why he had sparred despite his injured wrist, Rem would probably shrug and say: "That''s just our squad''s tradition. Didn''t you know?" In any case, rest was necessary. His wrist hadn''t fully recovered from the fight with the Frog, and pushing it further could cause lasting damage. "Are you done with the shield?" Ragna asked as he returned to his spot. Enkrid nodded. "This is just more convenient." Enkrid spoke as he showed the guard sword he had drawn. Though the blade had some nicks and a dent in the middle, it was still usable. "Everyone has something that doesn''t feel quite right in their hands." Ragna nodded in agreement. It was the night of their return. A time to sleep. As they all lay on their bunks, Rem spoke. "Let''s not lose to a Frog." Wasn''t it strange to add something as dismissive as "a Frog" to that sentence? "Well, that''s true. We need more training. There''s so much to do." Ragna added. Jaxen gave a silent, icy glance in response. "Squad Leader, with training, everything''s possible." Audin, always the smooth talker, chimed in. "I''ll win next time." He replied boldly, prompting a round of chuckles from the others. "Confident, huh?" Rem said on behalf of everyone, and just as the group was about to settle back into the night''s darkness, Rem spoke again. "Once your wrist heals, let''s go all out." "When it''s fully healed, there''s a lot to teach you¡ªbad habits to correct too." "There''s no end to training, Brother." "There''s still more to do." From Rem to Jaxen, they all spoke up once more. Learning something new. Progressing. Walking the path and walking it again. That was what Enkrid deeply wished for. For now, though, he had to focus on recovery. His wrist still felt stiff. ''Are they trying to keep me off the battlefield?'' It felt strange. The people worried about him were certainly an odd bunch. Still, would they fight harder tomorrow morning in his absence? That was unclear. Enkrid still didn''t entirely understand why they followed him so devotedly. All he could do was guess. And honestly, he didn''t feel the need to drag it into the realm of certainty. There was no reason to stir things up unnecessarily; things were fine as they were. If needed, they''d tell him themselves. He would respond to them as he always had. "Let''s do that." He replied and finally tried to get some rest. But then¡ª "Anyway, about the Frog." Rem, half sitting up, swung his hand through the air as if cutting something. "You block like this, then strike like this. Faster than the bastard. Just wait until your wrist heals¡ªI''ll engrain it into your bones: how to kill a Frog." "Instead of the standard sword style, there''s another basic form to master and make your own." "You still need to maintain the isolation technique without using your right hand, Brother." "... And don''t let your guard down." The entire squad wouldn''t stop talking. "Don''t you guys sleep?" If left alone, they might chatter all night. What was this about? Were they just excited to see him after a while? Or maybe they were bored without someone to bother? But if that were the case, why did Andrew''s eyes look so worn out? "I''m going to sleep. I was already feeling drowsy anyway." Rem''s words were the last. The group finally sought rest. From one corner, where it had been hiding its presence, Esther crept into Enkrid''s arms. Still lying down, Enkrid reflected on the fight with the Frog and the day''s sparring. The day''s sparring was incomplete. Yet his blood still boiled. Perhaps this was a process of confirming everything he''d done so far. But why did it feel like a new path forward was revealing itself? Between reflections, stray thoughts, and the warmth Esther gave from his chest, sleep overtook him naturally. Thus, Enkrid fell asleep. *** Not long after¡ª "My talent would be considered good anywhere, doesn''t it?" Andrew muttered quietly, with a hint of lamentation. Beside him, Mac didn''t know how to respond. By his standards, Andrew was an exceptional talent¡ªhis improvement was visible with every passing day. But this squad? ''This, well, this is something else.'' Where would you even find people like this? Probably nowhere. It was Mac''s first experience with a group this skilled. Even their leader, Enkrid, was astonishing. His improvement was visible to the point where Mac had once told Andrew not to challenge him. Now, Enkrid seemed to have crossed some threshold, giving an entirely different impression. At a loss for words, Mac finally said, "Spend less time comparing yourself to others and swing your sword one more time instead." It was advice born of the squad''s unhinged philosophy. Andrew sighed heavily in response. *** Morning came, and Enkrid opened his eyes. ''Overslept?'' "Meow." Esther rubbed its face against his chest. Instinctively, he raised his right hand to pet it, but then switched to his left. His right wrist, immobilized by a splint, was utterly unusable. With his left fingertips, he gently stroked Esther''s fur. Esther purred contentedly. Looks like you overslept too. Sunlight filtered into the tent. As Enkrid propped himself up halfway, Krais entered from the tent''s entrance. "You''re awake?" "Seems like I overslept." "Well, that''s understandable. One or two days of rest isn''t enough to shake off all that fatigue, considering what you''ve been through." Krais had clearly heard about everything that had happened to Enkrid last night. While he knew his squad leader had monstrous stamina, no one could endure such grueling tasks without feeling fatigue¡ªit would be inhuman otherwise. "Let''s get you some food first." After a quick wash and shaking off the drowsiness, Enkrid had breakfast. Breakfast consisted of well-cooked potatoes and thinly sliced, salted, and grilled bacon. "The food''s pretty good." "They''re putting in some effort, I suppose. Oh, and the rest of the squad has already headed to the front." Krais gestured upward as he spoke. Did that mean they had high expectations for this squad? Was this special treatment? Had Rem and the others moved ahead to give him time to rest? It seemed likely they were trying to give him a break, using his wrist as an excuse to push forward themselves. Would the squad members really act according to their leader''s intentions? That was uncertain. Even direct encouragement hadn''t always worked in the past. Perhaps for today, they might fight a little harder as compensation for letting him rest. If that meant Rem, who had vowed to kill three enemies, would go for five today, then maybe it was worth expecting. But would they fight as their commander envisioned? That was anyone''s guess. In the realm of strategy and tactics, who knew what role his squad would play? This train of thought led nowhere. After all, he had never learned large-scale tactical operations. Their battalion commander would handle things his way. Marcus the War Maniac. He would surely live up to his name. After finishing his meal, Enkrid began practicing the isolation technique lightly enough not to strain his wrist. Then, he moved on to his usual routine of reviewing and reflecting on what he''d learned. ''Did I make any mistakes?'' If so, where? How could he avoid repeating them? Every experience gained in life-and-death battles was a treasure. These were words spoken long ago by an instructor he''d met in a small fishing village during his wanderings. Those words still lingered within Enkrid. As he replayed his battles alone, his body began to itch. Unable to remain still, he stood, but his splinted and bandaged wrist made it impossible to properly hold a sword. Standing there, Enkrid half-closed his eyes and started painting images in his mind. Audin, Ragna, Rem. He began the previous day''s sparring sessions in reverse, moving back to the fight with the Frog, the night against the mage, the moment surrounded by lycanthropes, and the skirmishes with elite soldiers. ''Luck.'' Luck had played a part. But it was the kind of luck earned through effort, calculated luck. Repeating his thoughts and movements, his blood began to boil. It seemed impossible not to swing a sword. ''Training-obsessed lunatic.'' Hadn''t someone called him that before? ''That nickname suits me all too well.'' As his stray thoughts came to an end, a sense of calm settled in. Chapter 116 - Maddeningly Unfair Chapter 116 - 116 - Maddeningly Unfair Chapter 116 - Maddeningly Unfair "It''s how you hold the sword." The third-rate mercenary from Enkrid''s hometown hadn''t even known how to properly grip a sword. The first thing he learned from his instructor: How to press the blade with his thumb. How to grip with his right hand in front and left hand behind. The way to hold the pommel, how to use the ricasso. Though he often wielded the sword with both hands... ''Even with one hand...'' It seemed possible. Using the Isolation technique, his already considerable strength increased. He tried wielding the longsword with just his left hand. Whoosh. The sword made a circular arc as he swung, but he wasn''t satisfied with the result. Still, it was possible. He thrust, slashed, thrust and slashed again. Cutting diagonally, slicing horizontally. He even mimicked binding techniques. Imagining opponents, he thought he wouldn''t last even a single exchange against Rem or the squad members. It wasn''t an issue with one-handed swordsmanship, but his unfamiliarity with his left hand. He shifted to a new opponent¡ªno face, but someone who could handle a sword decently. As he visualized, opponents similar to his past self appeared. Trash with skills and personalities that didn''t match, like the one from his mercenary days who shot thin swords like arrows. Enkrid conjured these images, swinging his sword repeatedly. Schrrkk! Dragging his foot across the ground, he made a wide swing with the sword. Sweat dripped from his body, scattering droplets in all directions. Pebbles caught underfoot shot into the air. Reacting instinctively, Enkrid struck the airborne pebble with the flat of his blade. Tick! The pebble ricocheted off the boot tip from an imprecise strike. "If you grip it properly, you should be able to cut as you intend." The instructor''s words echoed in his mind. Even cutting a scarecrow that stood still wasn''t an easy task. But Enkrid could at least manage that. Although it was much harder with his left hand. ''Things never go as planned.'' He started rebuilding, retracing the path his right hand had once taken, now with his left. The process required repetition and adaptation to regain the sense. What might bore others energized Enkrid. As he retraced with his left hand, he also reflected on what he missed with his right. Before long, Enkrid closed his eyes. What he saw wasn''t the present, but the past¡ªhis past self. Deeper, deeper still, he delved into his memories. ''What if I had done it that way back then?'' He revisited the countless battles he''d replayed in his mind: Battlefields, fights, monsters, beasts, people. The swords he wielded against all of them. The blades, hands, bodies. Stumbling, getting his head cracked open. Barely surviving against monsters. Living as if he had two lives. Enkrid kept moving forward. A singular focus naturally took hold, blocking out everything else. Yet, with the Heart of the Beast stabilizing him, he avoided mistakes born of excitement. Boldness and composure¡ªamong the most valuable weapons in Enkrid''s arsenal¡ªfelt like a companion reinforcing his resolve. Swinging his sword again and again, repeating the process. Eventually, it felt like he was mastering his left hand twice as fast as he had with his right. Snap. Sweat soaked his body, and the leather strap on his grip snapped. Weakened, his hand dropped, the sword''s tip hitting the ground. Though it wasn''t enough to truly strain his muscles, He felt the strain of using muscles he rarely activated. His left arm tingled slightly. "You really are insane." A voice snapped Enkrid out of his daze. He turned his focus toward it. "Haven''t you been on the battlefield?" Enkrid''s gaze shifted to the figure, his head tilting slightly. "Our squad is assigned to defensive positions. Hand it over." It was Vengeance, the leader of the 3rd Platoon, 2nd Company. Enkrid had already noticed his presence but hadn''t paid it much mind. Approaching him, Vengeance took Enkrid''s sword and tied the leather strap back with practiced skill. Pulling it taut on both sides, he wrapped and secured it inside the grip. "I''m just helping because it looked difficult to do one-handed." Since when had Vengeance been this considerate? Was it since he''d saved him from the fire? Curious, Enkrid asked. "Why did you hate me before?" At that, Vengeance chewed on his lip before replying. "Jenny." "Jenny?" Who''s Jenny? Enkrid blinked. His memory wasn''t bad. If he didn''t remember, it meant one of two things: Either she wasn''t worth remembering, Or it was someone he didn''t know. It was the former. Still looking puzzled, Enkrid prompted him, and Vengeance raised his voice. "Herb seller Jenny!" Herb seller Jenny? Enkrid maintained his clueless expression. Vengeance muttered a curse under his breath before shouting, "I hated you because of your damn face!" This guy''s personality was all over the place. He''d just helped fix his sword but was now yelling at him. "It''s that smug face of yours¡ªI just can''t stand it!" Growling, Vengeance stood abruptly. "Take care of your sword." He claimed to dislike him but still showed concern? As Vengeance walked off, Enkrid chuckled softly and rested his chin on his hand. "I never cared. You were the one interested. My interest was in the herbs, not her." He couldn''t believe Vengeance didn''t remember. Enkrid often visited the town. Over time, women would develop crushes on him, enchanted by his face. It was nothing but the fantasy of young women in a remote town. Now that he thought about it, he did recall an herb seller named Jenny. But he''d pretended not to know to tease Vengeance. Messing with him was amusing. It made sense why Rem enjoyed teasing the other soldiers so much. "Who cares!" Vengeance yelled again, clearly agitated. He had an oddly endearing side to him. But calling him "cute" would be too far. He was sharp, skilled, and took good care of his subordinates. ''If his luck holds, he won''t die easily.'' Meow. Lost in thought, Enkrid heard Esther''s cry. "Why are you so sluggish? Hungry?" Chirp. At Enkrid''s question, Esther squinted her eyes, giving him a look that resembled a glare. "Are you hurt?" He stroked her fur as he spoke. Esther purred and closed her eyes. The reason for her fatigue was simple: she''d spent the night absorbing the exhaustion from Enkrid''s body into her own. ''Stupid human.'' Though she cursed him inwardly, she didn''t dislike him. His relentless drive for improvement mirrored her own. Even though exploring the world of spells had left her in this state, Her determination was no less than his. Lowering her head, Esther drifted off to sleep. Fatigue had piled up, and today''s magic was on hold. She was completely drained. After all, drawing on parts of the spell world with her body was always a makeshift solution. Beep! Just as sleep was about to take over, a sharp noise snapped Esther awake. The hand scratching Enkrid''s head froze in response. Lifting her head, Esther caught a glimpse of Enkrid''s jawline. He tilted his head from side to side before standing up. "Captain!" Enkrid placed Esther gently on the ground. From the distance, Krais could be seen sprinting toward them. A piercing whistle echoed in the air. Beeeep! A long tone. It was a signal¡ªone of Naurilia''s military warning systems using a whistle. A continuous, elongated tone signified only one thing: an enemy ambush. "Which direction..." Enkrid began to ask Krais but stopped mid-sentence. Even before the whistle faded, the shouts of their allies broke through the air. "Ambush! Enemy forces! Enemy forces!" "Counterattack!" "Hold your ground!" "Shit, this is chaos!" The chaotic cacophony of panic and urgency filled the night. Tat-tat-tat! Amidst it all, the metallic clangs of weapons clashed, and blood began to spray across the battlefield. "Aaaargh!" Shrieks of agony mixed with the cries of death. Enkrid''s eyes locked onto the approaching attackers. Their pace was neither hurried nor sluggish¡ªsteady and deliberate. Crunch. The sound of boots crushing gravel announced their presence. It was a step that seemed detached from time itself, as if the figure moved in a separate reality. The spring rain had stopped, leaving a warm breeze in its wake. The gravel path, now sunlit, still retained its gentle warmth. Stepping across the gravel, the figure came into view¡ªa broad-shouldered man clad in a thin but sturdy leather armor. His helmet, distinctively from the Grand Duchy of Aspen, covered his head down to his brow, leaving only his ears exposed. Water dripped from his faded brown hair, plastered to his head as though he''d just crossed a river. Behind him, two enemy soldiers swung short spears, their expertise evident in their precise movements. Clang.Thud. Their strikes, blocks, and thrusts bore the telltale signs of elite training. Enkrid recognized this level of skill. The Grey Hounds, the relentless lovers special unit of Aspen known for their tenacity, were often deployed for such ambushes. And among them, the leader strode directly toward Enkrid. Rumble! Esther, who had barely been dozing off moments ago, bared her fangs in a low growl. "Esther, stay back," Enkrid said, shielding her with his body. "Still alive, I see," the man said. Enkrid recognized the face. It was Mitch Hurrier, a platoon leader from the Grey Hounds. A man Enkrid had once wounded in the chest with his sword. Now, soaked from head to toe, Mitch had clearly pushed himself¡ªcrossing rivers, marching through the night, and launching a surprise attack. But even so, Enkrid was in worse condition. Will my wrist hold out? he wondered. He had no answer. Mitch Hurrier, catching his breath, tilted his head skyward and muttered, "Gratitude." A prayer to the gods, perhaps. "I''ve been wanting to meet you again, Enkrid," Mitch said, lowering his gaze. "It''s an honor you remembered my name." "Of course." Shing. The sound of a blade being drawn. The instant Mitch drew his sword, Enkrid felt the chilling premonition of death. Even if his wrist had been in perfect shape, Mitch was a formidable opponent. Enkrid''s trained eye could immediately assess the skill gap between them. "You opened my eyes," Mitch murmured cryptically. There was no need to understand his words. Mitch didn''t expect Enkrid to. It was merely an expression of joy in the moment¡ªa thrill born of facing the opponent he longed to defeat. For Mitch, this wasn''t just an ambush. It was a chance to prove himself. Mitch''s blade descended in a clean, vertical slash. Clang! Enkrid switched his sword to his right hand to block, but... Crack. The splint supporting his injured wrist broke. Pain shot through him, and his grip weakened. His fingers trembled. "You''re injured," Mitch observed. Would he show mercy? Of course not. In war, there was no room for kindness. Exploiting an opponent''s weakness wasn''t dishonorable¡ªit was expected. "Unlucky bastard," Mitch muttered with a faint smile. Clang. Enkrid managed to parry another strike, but his strength was fading. This is it. I''ll die next. Just as that grim thought crossed his mind¡ª "You son of a bitch!" Vengeance, drenched in blood, charged at Mitch Hurrier, thrusting a spear at his back. Whoosh! The spearhead gleamed sharply as it closed in. Without even looking, Mitch pivoted on his left foot, spinning to avoid the attack. His blade slashed diagonally in response. Thwack! His sword struck the middle of the spear shaft. Vengeance refused to let go, lifting the spear to strike Mitch''s chest. But it was a futile struggle. Mitch''s footwork shifted seamlessly, and his sword traced a perfect horizontal arc. Slice. Vengeance''s neck was slashed. Though he tried to retreat, it was too late. Blood spurted as his half-severed neck gave way. Dropping his spear, Vengeance clutched his throat and collapsed to his knees. Standing over him, Mitch looked at Enkrid and said, "Your neck will follow." Slash! Mitch completed the job, severing Vengeance''s head entirely. The head rolled across the ground. Even knowing death would bring this wretched day back again, Enkrid''s frustration boiled over. It was infuriating. Esther, the blue-eyed panther, lunged to attack, but an enemy soldier intercepted her with a short spear. "Stupid beast," the soldier muttered, driving Esther back. She wouldn''t last much longer if she didn''t flee. "Go, Esther," Enkrid said. But Mitch Hurrier was already upon him, raising his blade high. The man was a liar. He had promised to sever Enkrid''s neck, but instead, he thrust his sword into Enkrid''s chest. "Now that I think about it, this was the spot where I was stabbed," Mitch remarked indifferently, driving the blade through Enkrid''s heart. Enkrid couldn''t even muster the strength to throw his dagger. His injured wrist rendered him powerless. "Too bad we couldn''t fight properly. Farewell," Mitch said, withdrawing his blade. Schlk. Blood poured from the gaping wound as Enkrid crumpled forward. Through his dimming vision, he saw Vengeance''s severed head and Esther being thrown aside. Damn it. It was maddeningly unfair. And strangely surreal. Chapter 117 - Left Hand Chapter 117 - 117 - Left Hand Chapter 117 - Left Hand From the start, escape wasn''t even considered. Even if running away was the only answer. ''There''s nowhere to go.'' More importantly, the path forward was clear. How could one turn away from such a path? The milestone before Enkrid posed a question. Could he scale the wall without his right hand? They say if you lose your teeth, you chew with your gums. A village headman of some burned-out farming community had once said that. Enkrid had liked those words quite a bit. If there''s no sword, use a spear. If there''s no weapon, fight with your fists. If both arms are gone, then bite. If the legs are lost, then crawl on your knees. ''And so.'' Without a right hand, what remains? Darkness, the abyss, fear, pain. The things that gripped Enkrid each time death approached. But even in that darkness, Enkrid always saw light. "Give up." Someone seemed to whisper those words. It felt as though he was cornering himself into the worst-case scenario. Saying it out loud only made it feel more real, yet, in truth, it didn''t matter at all. Why was that? He didn''t know. Enkrid understood the difference between himself and others. How could he not? He had watched mercenary comrades he''d shared meals with retire one by one. Not just that. "I can''t do it anymore. With monsters like these everywhere, swinging a sword is just madness." He had seen others crumble, envious of talents they lacked. Enkrid had envied such talents too. But merely envying them wouldn''t change anything. No day could be wasted, rain or shine, without swinging his sword even once more. That was the only method Enkrid knew. So he did exactly that. Was it hard? It wasn''t easy, but it wasn''t as though he spent every day drowning in a sea of despair either. It was simply something to be done. So he did it. Death was the same. Knowing it could be endured, he endured. That was all. ''For now.'' It felt necessary to try a few different approaches. Hadn''t he learned from reliving the same day over and over? ''That the path isn''t just one.'' Three paths. If he could use everything in his way to repeat ''today,'' then so be it. He understood now that desperate flailing wasn''t the only answer. And because of that. "Good morning." He could begin the morning with a smile and a greeting. Esther, with weary eyes, stared blankly at Enkrid. What was this man doing, being so cheerful first thing in the morning? Esther''s gaze seemed to say as much. "Go back to sleep." Enkrid shoved Esther back into the blanket he had been lying under. Normally, Esther would have squirmed, but today, she quietly curled back inside. Once Esther was tucked in, Enkrid stepped outside. "Phew." Letting out a breath, he began loosening up his body with the Isolation technique. As always, when his body warmed up, his mind became sharp. "A sound mind resides in a sound body, brother." Audin had said that once, and Enkrid had dismissed it as nonsense. Now, he understood it somewhat. And it turned out to be true. The more he trained his body, the clearer his mind became. For every drop of sweat shed, his thoughts grew sharper. The wrist, braced with splints, wasn''t broken anymore. He had pushed himself right to the edge of death and fractured it, but it had returned to its original state. The things he had honed through training. Muscle conditioning, techniques ingrained into his body¡ªall of it remained intact even after reliving the same day. But injuries didn''t heal. Damage left its mark on his body, and recovery only occurred after the cycle ended. So while his right wrist was healed, using it to climb the wall was out of the question. ''Relax the shoulders.'' Broaden the view, sometimes narrow the focus. Think things through, search for the best route. And move toward the path found. What should the first step be? What else? Continue what he''d been doing. Repeat what he''d done every day. What he had done before his death. Training and discipline. The only difference was replacing his injured right hand with his left. "Before you start, tie this up." Vengeance, who had been silently watching from the side, stepped closer as Enkrid spoke. "What, do you think I''m your servant? Making me do this?" When Enkrid offered him the sword, Vengeance grumbled but still tightened the grip''s cord for him. Seeing this bastard''s head roll had been a truly miserable sight. The same with Esther. When he saw those lake-like eyes and the black panther flying through the air, a feeling akin to rage had boiled up. If he had to describe that feeling, it was something like misery, or madness. ''Why would they risk their lives in my place?'' The bitterness lingered. Like an afterimage, he could still see Vengeance''s severed head and Esther''s fallen body. ''And why does Esther seem so drained today?'' That panther¡ªwhat was she usually like? Savage. A beast that clawed at soldiers'' shins, tore at them, and took their lives. A predator that would climb right up to someone''s throat in the blink of an eye and sink its fangs into their jugular. And yet, to be brought down so easily? ''She was out of strength, I guess.'' Regardless. They were risking their lives for him. So Enkrid resolved to do the same. To risk his life and swing his sword. And if he could put his heart into training, he''d do just that. "You''re insane. Rest when you need to." Vengeance handed the sword back to Enkrid with a grumble. Enkrid accepted it with his left hand and replied. "About Jennie, I''m sorry." "...You knew?" Vengeance ruffled his own hair and muttered. "I know it wasn''t your fault." This bastard really was peculiar. His mood was all over the place. He had been so angry when he didn''t understand. Enkrid patted Vengeance''s shoulder with his injured hand. "Somewhere on this continent, there''s bound to be a woman who hasn''t seen my face yet." "...Bastard." Seeing Vengeance''s twisted expression lightened Enkrid''s mood a bit. Yeah, this was it. He could understand Rem''s mindset now. It wasn''t about tormenting people just for fun. With Vengeance muttering complaints as he walked off, Enkrid gripped his sword. The tip, held in his left hand, pointed slightly toward the sky. The repeated days, the deaths he had experienced¡ªwhat had they taught him? He reflected on the past, built his foundation, and immersed himself in it. It was pure exhilaration. A different kind of joy than before. The kind of pleasure that could only be felt by being fully immersed in something. Clearing away the lingering afterimages left by his banter with Vengeance, Enkrid allowed himself to sink into his own world. He relived the experiences of the days gone by. Repeated and reflected. The leather strap wrapped around the grip didn''t snap this time. "Everything starts with the feet." Countless swordsmanship instructors had passed through his life. Reflecting on their teachings now, he returned to the fundamentals. Standing before walking, crawling before standing¡ªthis was the essence of the basics. Repetitive training to make the sword move as desired. Enkrid committed to that practice. Swish! Whoosh, whirr. Amidst the dull thuds, sharper sounds began to emerge. Lost in time, he continued swinging the sword over and over again until¡ª Beeeep! A long-toned whistle pierced the air. "Hm?" For some reason, it was Vengeance, who had been idly watching, that reacted first. "What''s going on?" His shout broke the trance, and Enkrid emerged from his world of concentration. Kaa! Sensing the shift in the air, Esther exited the barracks and stood by Enkrid''s side. Enkrid lightly tapped Esther''s head with his fingertips. "Stay out of it today. You seem tired." What''s with this guy? Esther thought, confused by his words. He seemed to know she was exhausted today. Had he figured out the trick she tried yesterday to recover from her fatigue? Of course, that wasn''t the case. It was just something he had learned through the repetition of today. "Captain!" Krais came running, shouting. Enkrid briefly planted the tip of his sword into the ground and contemplated. Should he switch to his right hand? Would that even make a difference? His injuries wouldn''t heal. If he died, he''d simply return to the beginning. He had already decided to stick with his left hand. There was no hesitation. Enkrid wasn''t the kind of man to agonize deeply over his choices. Running away wasn''t an option. Neither was being trapped by the present. In that case, he would do what he could. That was all there was to it. Krrrk. Kicking aside a few pebbles, he pulled his sword from the ground and pointed it forward. "...When I get back, I''ll need to make an offering at the temple." Mitch Hurrier stepped forward, his boots crunching on the gravel, his hair soaked, sword in hand. His posture was refined, his gaze sharp¡ªclearly a different man from before. "What nonsense is that?" Beside him, Vengeance growled, aiming his spear. Next to him, Esther growled for real, releasing a low, beastly snarl from deep in her throat. A sound so heavy it could make a coward''s knees give out, yet Mitch Hurrier''s steps didn''t falter. Step by deliberate step, he closed the distance. "I''ll go first." With that, Enkrid moved forward. "Captain, your wrist!" Krais shouted urgently from behind, his large eyes wide with concern. Given the sudden assault, their allies collapsing one after another, panic was understandable. Screams, curses, and cries to hold the line filled the air. Amidst the clash of steel, Mitch Hurrier halted his approach. Enkrid replied to Krais without looking back. "My left hand''s fine." What kind of crazy talk is that? Krais''s wide eyes grew even wider. The squad leader''s nonsensical statement left him baffled. No one present could make sense of it. It was absurd enough to sound like madness. But Enkrid''s spirit matched his words. The oppressive aura emanating from Mitch enveloped the surroundings, pressing down on everyone. Vengeance felt himself shrink under the weight. So this is what it means to dominate the battlefield. Even Esther felt the pressure. And Krais? There was no question about his struggle. There was no help coming from their fellow soldiers. Everyone knew they were on the verge of death. Yet, despite the crushing pressure, Enkrid''s back seemed larger than ever. He stood there. At the front. Showing them his back. That simple fact seemed to push against the oppression, as though his presence alone could resist it. His resolve answered the enemy''s imposing spirit. Yes, it felt as if such a force could be seen with the naked eye. A silent exchange passed between Mitch Hurrier and Enkrid. "I hoped we''d meet again." "You must''ve realized your shortcomings thanks to me, huh?" Mitch frowned slightly at that remark. Shaking an opponent''s mind with words was among the basics of the Valen mercenary swordsmanship. Through the repetition of today, Enkrid had come to understand the opponent''s psyche. He swung his injured right hand, as if to provoke, and Mitch instinctively moved his sword in response. Using the feint to his advantage, Enkrid thrust his left-hand sword upward in a sharp motion. A dual-blade feint, a Valen mercenary swordsmanship technique. The left-handed thrust wasn''t perfect. It didn''t satisfy him. After all, he had only practiced wielding the sword with his left hand for two days. Clang! It was blocked. The clumsy thrust aside, Mitch Hurrier''s skills had improved significantly¡ªalmost comparable to Enkrid, who had also been repeating today. Mitch deflected the upward thrust with his blade, stepping forward with fluid movements. In one smooth motion, Mitch''s sword drew a deadly arc and slashed at Enkrid''s chest. Rip! Enkrid staggered back reflexively. His leather armor absorbed some of the impact, but it wouldn''t hold out for long. Kaaaak! Esther leaped forward, and¡ª "You crazy bastard!" Vengeance roared in fury. "Captain!" Krais shouted again. But Mitch Hurrier was unfazed by the commotion around him. He closed the distance with precise footwork, as though he had anticipated Enkrid''s retreat, and thrust his sword forward. Squelch! "Your right hand?" Mitch asked, his sword impaled in Enkrid. Enkrid raised his right hand, the splint still attached, clearly injured. "Hmm." Before Enkrid could respond, crimson blood spilled from his lips. "Bad luck, huh." With a wrenching motion, Mitch pulled out his blade. A heart split in two couldn''t sustain life. Chaos erupted. Krais screamed. Vengeance charged. Esther leaped at Mitch. But why do they keep charging? Enkrid sank into the dark abyss of pain and death. Death came again. And when he opened his eyes, he resumed his left-hand training. Some days, he trained in silence. Other days¡ª "Jenny had a good eye for men, didn''t she?" "...Want me to kill you?" He''d tease Vengeance for no reason. Thus, ten repetitions of today passed. "Your wrist''s injured!" A panicked Krais would shout, only to hear the same reply. "My left hand''s still good." "What nonsense are you spouting!?" Valen mercenary techniques wasn''t working well anymore. So, he began incorporating wrestling moves. Feigning a dagger throw, he closed the gap and pretended to draw his sword, only to trip Mitch with his foot. But Mitch adapted, bending his knees to lower his center of gravity and maintain his footing. "Not so fast." The duel resumed. At first, Enkrid couldn''t last a single exchange. After thirty repetitions, he held out for two or three. By the forty-second today, an unexpected change occurred. "Let''s spar." It was Vengeance, who had been observing, that proposed the duel. Feeling the sweat dripping down his temple, Enkrid tilted his head. "With me?" "Who else?" Enkrid nodded, out of habit. He never refused a sparring match. Normally, Vengeance wouldn''t stand a chance against Enkrid. But now, Enkrid wielded the sword with his left hand. "No holding back." Vengeance said, pointing his spear, the air between them growing tense. Clink... Chapter 118 - Leap Chapter 118 - 118 - Leap Chapter 118 - Leap "Come at me!" Clang, clang, clang. The sword and spear clashed repeatedly. Vengeance fought with raw power and ferocity. No matter how strong an ordinary person might be, his opponent was still a trained soldier. Using brute strength alone, it was hard to overpower the enemy with just one hand. How then? Enkrid thought as he fought, then acted. He let the powerful strikes flow past him and targeted the openings. Connecting points to create lines. Finding the most optimal trajectory, he thrust his sword and gauged the reaction before retreating. His feet moved swiftly. When he spotted an opening, he brought his sword down heavily, embodying the essence of the greatsword''s might. Clang! Vengeance blocked the strike with his spear shaft and attempted a sweep with his leg. This was a style of combat Enkrid was more familiar with. He had faced countless practitioners of the Karaz hand-to-hand combat techniques. Moreover, he had learned Valaf martial arts, which incorporated ground grappling techniques, often referred to as the "bed techniques." With a sharp motion, Enkrid kicked Vengeance''s leg away and seized the moment to strike the spear blade hard with his sword. Thud! The spear blade twisted to the side momentarily, and in that brief opening, Enkrid forced his sword against Vengeance''s neck. A cracking sound came from the muscles in his left forearm, like something tearing. Still, he had won. "Your left hand..." "I trained it in secret. It was my hidden weapon." A prepared excuse is always a beautiful thing. Over time, as this routine repeated itself, Enkrid had grown adept at making excuses. "You''re full of it." "Why the sudden sparring match?" "I don''t know. Watching you, I just wanted to fight." He had only been practicing the basics ¡ª footwork, thrusting, slashing. There wasn''t anything extraordinary about his movements. Vengeance had nothing more to say. He already knew that Enkrid was in a higher league than him ¡ª in both skill and character. From the time Enkrid saved him during the fire at the medical barracks, Vengeance had been unable to truly hate him. Watching Enkrid train his left hand with a sword had made him wonder. Why is he so skilled with his left hand too? Yet, something felt off. "This... what is it... it''s strange." "What is?" Damn it. Explaining like this wouldn''t make sense to anyone. Cursing himself, Vengeance racked his brain, searching for the right words. When he finally spoke, his tongue stumbled out the best explanation he could muster. "It feels like a dead sword." That was the best he could do. Explaining further would only lead to clumsy words. What could he even say to someone who fought better than him? Still, the situation seemed absurd. He had been the one to challenge Enkrid, lost the match, and now found himself criticizing his opponent. "No, I mean..." "Wait a moment," Enkrid interrupted, his gaze drifting blankly into the air. Though his eyes were open, his mind was elsewhere. Vengeance felt frustrated. His actions hadn''t been driven by jealousy or envy. At that moment, Vengeance was pure. It was like when he first picked up a spear, when he joined the army and caught his first monster. Back then, he had practiced morning and night, unable to contain his excitement. The sight of Enkrid stirred those memories, reigniting the fire in his blood. Why was this man, injured and exhausted from brutal missions, still pushing himself so hard? Why was he smiling? It wasn''t jealousy or envy. It was pure instinct. "Thank you," Enkrid said suddenly, snapping out of his daze. Then, looking directly at Vengeance, he asked, "What are you doing?" Vengeance blinked, confused, and answered, "Nothing." What''s he thanking me for? One thing was clear: Enkrid was an oddball. A madman obsessed with training. The nickname "Madmen Unit Commander" suited him far better than "Magnetic Leader." Enkrid realized something from Vengeance''s earlier words. Clumsiness. Looking back on the past, he had walked a dissonant path, swinging his sword blindly each day without addressing his mistakes. He hadn''t known a better way. But now, he did. The difference lay in the senses. The contrast between a right-handed person''s dominant hand and their off-hand was evident from the fingertips to the muscles. That''s where he would start. Even with meals. From holding spoons and forks, he would train his left hand in every small task. Coincidentally, he knew a training method that could help refine both hand sensitivity and arm muscles. Hide Knife. This would be his path forward. "Captain!" Krais''s voice echoed once more, accompanied by Esther''s low growl of hostility. "Dammit," Vengeance muttered under his breath. Meanwhile, a drenched Mitch Hurrier, who seemed to have found sudden religious fervor, stood before them, muttering prayers of gratitude. There was no escape from this cycle. It was a wall Enkrid had to overcome with just his left hand. Words wouldn''t matter. The only answer lay in fighting, sword in hand. Enkrid fought silently, swinging his sword and setting traps with his feet. He memorized his opponent''s patterns. And he died. Pain, darkness, the abyss, death. Each time, he rose again, starting anew with his left hand. "What are you doing?" Krais asked, tilting his head curiously. "Just eating." "Did you injure your right hand too?" "No. Just not using it. That''s how it heals." "That''s excessive." Another lazy excuse. After twenty days of living with his left hand, Vengeance challenged him to spar several more times. Each time, Vengeance''s face held the pure admiration of a soldier, drawn to raw strength. "Alright." On the twentieth day, Vengeance no longer called his sword a "dead sword." Thanks to you. And so, Enkrid continued to swing his sword, fight, and die. It wasn''t until the ninetieth day that he began to notice a change. It''s different. Walking the same path with his left hand as he had with his right didn''t mean repeating the same results. Because the Enkrid of today was not the same as the Enkrid of back then. Perfect focus. Immersion ¡ª diving deep within himself while honing his swordsmanship. A body transformed through isolation techniques. Balance between immersion and the Heart of the Beast that kept his mind calm. The movements of his body, the swaying blade¡ªwhere would it point? How much would his body shift with each motion? Repetition. Repetition. Repetition. It was relentless, grueling training that seemed endless. For the first time, Enkrid experienced something entirely new. Swish. Swish. Swish. The blade moved as if responding to his will, and beyond that, he found himself effortlessly mimicking the foundational techniques. Precise, heavy, swift, smooth, and eerily fluid. His body moved on its own. What is talent? It was impossible to define it in just one word. The ability to use one''s body skillfully was certainly a part of it, as was the capacity to forget everything else and focus entirely. He didn''t even have the luxury to feel exhilaration. The sword moved as if it had a mind of its own, finding its path. His body followed suit without hesitation. He didn''t need to pay attention to his surroundings. Even as he moved, he could sense the eyes watching him. It was a moment born from reshaping mediocre talent through sheer effort¡ªa moment he''d never encountered before. Something he might never have experienced in a lifetime under ordinary circumstances. Balancing immersion, physicality, and tranquility, while sharpening his senses further, Enkrid realized something extraordinary: in just a single day, his swordsmanship had progressed leaps and bounds. "Phew." At the same time, he noticed his deficiencies. Precision. How could he fill that gap? It wasn''t something that could be fixed by simply swinging his sword repeatedly. Through the cracks in his newfound talent, possibilities emerged. Beyond merely compensating with his left hand, he thought he could master the Hide Knife technique until it felt like a natural extension of himself. And so, the cycle of repetition began again. Simply noticing his shortcomings wouldn''t change anything. Thus, he continued. The days could feel tedious, sometimes even painful, but... ''Can I really do this?'' As Enkrid retraced the path step by step with his left hand, he found joy in it. Watching himself grow¡ªthat alone was enough to ignite his passion. Honing his senses further, until he felt prepared, today came. "Let''s spar." As always, Vengeance challenged him. He had become a daily fixture now, relentlessly sparring with Enkrid. The fight didn''t last long. Clang! Parrying the spear tip and sweeping his sword upward, Enkrid''s blade curved like a snake, stopping just before Vengeance''s neck. "Damn it... and you''re using your left hand, too?" "I''ve always been training it." With an excuse no different from the ones he gave every day, Vengeance fell silent. He was dumbfounded. ''How is this even possible with his left hand?'' There was no room for complaints. After all, he had only asked for these duels out of admiration. "What are you thinking about so much?" At that moment, Enkrid spoke up. Vengeance replied honestly. "I was just thinking I need to train harder when I go back." Hearing that, Enkrid gave him a blank stare, then a soft smile. His face, annoyingly handsome, caught Vengeance off guard. Then Enkrid spoke. "Alright. One day, Jenny might notice you." "You bastard!" Why did this man always know how to push his buttons? Jenny was Vengeance''s trigger. With a laugh, Enkrid pushed him aside, and Vengeance couldn''t help but grin back. ''Heh, I''ll make sure I confess to Jenny one day.'' And so, he couldn''t afford to die here. Beeeep! A whistle blew, signaling the start of the 112th day. Crunch. The sound of gravel underfoot announced the arrival of Mitch Hurrier. "Captain!" Krais was a little late today. Repetition may define the day, but that didn''t mean it was always the same. Not that it mattered whether Krais was late or not. With the scabbard strapped to his right side, Enkrid gripped his sword in his left hand. "Lucky, huh." Mitch Hurrier muttered as he looked at Enkrid. Enkrid didn''t hear him. At some point, the whistle, Mitch Hurrier, Vengeance, Esther, Krais¡ªeven himself¡ªwere forgotten. There was only the sword. The sword, the opponent, and the disappearance of point and line. What is speed? Shring! The blade screeched as it scraped against the scabbard, and before the sound even faded, his sword traced the most optimal path toward Mitch Hurrier''s forehead. Ping! A sharp sound rang in Enkrid''s ears. In that split second, he entered a state of focus, delivering an all-out preemptive strike. This one strike was better than anything he could have done with his right hand. And then¡ª Clang! Mitch Hurrier''s blade was drawn. Kaaaang! The blades clashed. Crossing their swords, Enkrid pressed forward with sheer force. Thud, thud, thud! Mitch''s feet slid backward. If he took another step, he would fall. Mitch held his ground, but Enkrid didn''t give him a chance to regain his footing. Closing the gap, Enkrid moved within arm''s reach. Then, letting go of his sword, he grabbed Mitch''s hand, the one holding the blade. Pouring all his strength into his grip¡ª Crack. The satisfying sound of bones grinding together followed. "You crazy bastard!" Thwack! Mitch''s knee struck Enkrid''s thigh. Though Enkrid held onto his opponent''s hand, Mitch followed up with a punch to Enkrid''s cheekbone, forcing him to retreat. ''What a punch.'' "Esther!" As Enkrid retreated, he called out. The quick-witted panther leaped forward. "My sword!" It wasn''t an order to attack¡ªjust to fetch his weapon. The message got through. Esther, who had been shaking her head at her reckless human companion, immediately reacted. With a burst of energy, she dashed forward, bit the grip of Enkrid''s sword, and tossed it back to him. Even for this simple action, Esther had to exert all her strength. She was running on empty, both magically and physically. Clatter, thunk. The sword landed a step in front of Enkrid. Thud! A spear struck the spot Esther had just vacated. It came from an enemy soldier in the back. The spear-wielding soldier kicked at Esther, but¡ª Bang! Vengeance intercepted him. "Where do you think you''re going, punk?" The enemy soldier let out a snort and exchanged blows with Vengeance, their spears clashing as fists and feet flew. Meanwhile, Enkrid retrieved his sword. "Your hand okay?" It wasn''t the most fitting question for someone with a splint on his own right wrist, but it was Enkrid who asked. "You bastard..." It was enough to make Mitch Hurrier glare at him with gritted teeth. His thumb was broken from their earlier clash, rendering him unable to grip his sword properly. Looking at his injured thumb, Mitch turned his gaze back to his opponent. Only then did he notice¡ªEnkrid was wielding his sword with his left hand. Wasn''t he originally right-handed? At least, that''s what Mitch remembered. Enkrid had fought with his right hand before, giving it his all. That memory made this moment all the more absurd. "Sorry, but I''m ambidextrous." Mitch shifted his sword to his left hand. Enkrid, naturally, held his weapon in his left hand as well. "Yeah, me too. Starting today." It wasn''t a lie. Through repeated practice, he had become quite accustomed to using his left hand. Chapter 119 - Dogfight Chapter 119 - 119 - Dogfight Chapter 119 - Dogfight ''Now the odds are fifty-fifty.'' There was no way he could win against a fully capable Mitch Hurrier. Awakened to his talent, he had retraced the path his right hand had taken, now forging ahead with his left. But just because he did all that, did it mean his left hand could match his right? No. Then could he withstand the full force of Mitch Hurrier''s two-handed assault with only one hand gripping his sword? ''Not a chance.'' He had experienced this scenario countless times already. What''s worse, whatever that bastard had been up to, he had no bad habits to exploit. Even if he wanted to read his patterns, it was difficult. Every move flowed seamlessly into the next. His foundation still seemed to be orthodox and light sword styles. Meanwhile, Enkrid''s base was the heavy sword style. The disadvantage was still his. Wielding a heavy sword with one hand. Even though Mitch had lost a thumb, He was still capable of wielding a sword with both hands. If things got desperate, he could endure the pain and swing his blade a few times. ''No helping it, then.'' He would have liked to end this cleanly, slicing his opponent''s neck with his sword. But if that wasn''t possible¡ª Then he had no choice but to show him the Valen mercenary style, the dogfight. "Sorry in advance." "What kind of bullshit is that?" Enkrid meant it. Just a little, but he did feel sorry. To Mitch, he was an obstacle standing in the way of progress. A rival and an adversary. He had only exchanged a few words with him, but it was clear enough. The guy even remembered his name. And when they met, it was as if he had been waiting, pleased to see him. What Enkrid sensed from him¡ª Was the fighting spirit of someone eager to test everything he had built with his sword. That''s why¡ª ''I really do feel bad about this.'' Enkrid had already seen everything he needed to. Mitch''s skills, his growth, his fighting spirit. And that''s why he realized his best chance of winning lay in a dogfight. Would it be the right choice to repeat this day over and over, trying to defeat his opponent with his left hand and swordsmanship alone? How long would it take? No, that wasn''t the way. Enkrid knew there was no point in lingering in the present. If his left hand was to advance further, it needed a new turning point. Mitch Hurrier was a good opponent, but¡ª ''I think I''ve gotten everything I can out of him.'' He couldn''t read his patterns, but he had memorized a few habits. For example¡ª "You''re still a weird bastard." Like how his left eyebrow twitched just before an attack. As soon as the words left his mouth, Mitch kicked off the ground and lunged forward. Enkrid had expected it¡ªno, he was sure of it. Just as Mitch made his move, Enkrid scraped the ground with his toes. A pebble, caught on the tip of his foot, went flying toward Mitch''s face. Clang! Mitch deflected it with his blade, hesitating slightly. But he kept charging. His reactions were as sharp as ever. Enkrid planted his sword into the ground, then flicked his hip forward with his left hand. Whiiiiiiz! A whistling dagger. "Pathetic!" Mitch growled, twisting his sword to deflect it. His eyesight was terrifyingly sharp. Clang! Even the whistling dagger was useless. And before he knew it, Mitch was within striking distance. Enkrid yanked his sword from the ground and thrust. Mitch twisted to the side, slashing diagonally with terrifying speed, his blade appearing to bend with the motion. Enkrid followed the trajectory with his eyes, shifting his sword aside to intercept. Clang!Crack. The moment their blades clashed, he felt his strength lacking. He adjusted his angle, aiming for Mitch''s hand instead. Mitch, gripping his sword with both hands, pushed forward with brute force. Enkrid, feeling the pressure, attempted to deflect the attack with a light sword technique. Mitch sensed it and doubled down. So Enkrid simply let go of his sword. Again, aiming for an opening to close the distance. But¡ªthud!¡ªMitch pushed off the ground, his body swaying as he vanished backward. Of course, he wouldn''t fall for the same trick twice. Enkrid had expected as much. Mitch swung down. Enkrid kicked his fallen sword off the ground. A calculated move. Smack. The hilt landed on his foot. The blade shot forward, aiming for Mitch''s nape. Normally, one should never drop their sword. That was a basic principle. Only those trained in phantom sword techniques ever dared to fight this way. But to kick it into an attack? Unconventional moves required unconventional responses. "Hah!" With a sharp shout, Mitch caught his sword one-handed mid-swing and brought it down like a crown-splitting strike. His other hand, clad in a gauntlet, intercepted Enkrid''s flying sword. Clang! He twisted his wrist, redirecting the blade sideways. As expected of Mitch Hurrier. Though the back of his gauntlet was dented, there was no puncture, no serious damage. Enkrid wasn''t surprised. This was all within his calculations. The real move came next. The downward swing had lost strength and speed. A two-handed strike had become a one-handed one. The moment Enkrid kicked his sword, he had already started charging forward. From a time perspective, he had dropped his sword, kicked it, and dashed forward in a seamless motion. Meanwhile, Mitch had backed off, swung his sword in a crown-splitting arc, then used his gauntlet to deflect the flying blade. Thud! Mitch''s sword struck Enkrid''s right shoulder. A flesh wound. At the same time, Enkrid''s left hand shot forward. His grip strength was superior. He reached for Mitch''s throat. Mitch threw his head back, no¡ªhis entire waist arched away to create distance. Enkrid silently thanked Torres. Training his left hand''s sensitivity had never been more valuable, and it had led to this opening. He twisted his wrist, flexing the muscles below. Click. A dagger popped out. It slid into his grip from his wrist. At that moment, he met Mitch''s eyes. His pupils widened. His gaze wavered. Enkrid slashed toward those eyes. Shwick! The sound of steel cutting flesh. "Ghh...!" A stifled groan of pain. "Hm." A small grunt escaped Enkrid as well. It was understandable. The dagger in his grip had sliced through Mitch Hurrier''s eye. More precisely, from his cheek up to his brow. Even as he lost an eye, Mitch retaliated with a kick to Enkrid''s stomach, yanking his sword back. The blade, still caught against Enkrid''s shoulder, tore through the leather armor beneath, leaving a searing wound. The sensation of metal slicing flesh. His already useless right wrist, now accompanied by a slashed shoulder. ''This isn''t good.'' With that thought, Enkrid flung his dagger. Mmmph! Despite losing an eye, Mitch instinctively swung to intercept. But the dagger embedded itself into his forearm. With his depth perception shot, his aim was off. And that meant¡ªan opportunity. Valen mercenary-style dogfight. It was all about closing in, grappling, biting if necessary¡ª Fighting until only one was left standing. Using everything he had, no matter how crude the method¡ª That was what Enkrid did. Once again, he threw his sword and charged forward. His stomach still ached from the earlier kick, and his shoulder had been slashed, but¡ª His heart pounded, pumping blood through his body. Now was not the time for composure, but for boldness. So, Enkrid charged in boldly. "Gah!" With a cry somewhere between a scream and a battle shout, Mitch swung his sword. ''I can see it.'' Then he could dodge it. Just like when he had saved Leona. Like when he had dodged the flying daggers. Activating his Focus. Predicting the trajectory of the blade by instinct¡ª And closing in. Thud. His calculation was correct. Instead of the blade, he was struck by the fist gripping the sword. But he had pulled his chin in tight and lowered his forehead. So the impact wasn''t too bad. "If you''re going to get hit, take it well. If you take it well, the next chance will be yours." That was Audin''s teaching. His lessons on how to take a hit had always been useful. And just like that, the distance was closed. "Yeah, come on! This is what I wanted!" Mitch let go of his sword and grabbed Enkrid''s shoulder with his hands. The wound tore open, sending waves of pain surging through him. But that was still far better than dying. More importantly, the wound was shallower than Enkrid had expected. The leather armor beneath his clothes had done its job, even as it was cut apart. Their arms tangled together. Two men, panting for breath, tumbled across the rocky ground. As they rolled, Mitch, now boiling with rage, spat out, "You filthy bastard, did you think you could win with wrestling?" ''Yeah.'' Enkrid did. After exchanging a few holds, he could tell. After learning Valaf-style martial arts and sparring with Eil Karaz''s pins and grapples, he had realized¡ª This kind of combat wasn''t just about talent. It required an absurd amount of time. It had to be drilled into the body so deeply that it appeared even in dreams. Enkrid was confident. If he could just get a hold¡ªhis victory was assured. That was why he didn''t hesitate to fight dirty. Crunch. As he tried to twist Mitch''s arm, Enkrid bit down on his opponent''s ear. "Gaaah!" Mitch screamed. Enkrid immediately grabbed his ankle. Yanking Mitch''s leg into his side, pressing down on the instep with his hand, and twisting his own legs around it like a coiling serpent¡ª Then pressing down with both hands, he locked it into a break. The explanation was long, but the action was instantaneous. Crack. Crack! A sickening sound. And surely an excruciating pain. Only those who had experienced it knew¡ª Even if it didn''t break, it hurt like hell. With his hand pressing down on the ankle, he crushed the back of the heel against the ribs. Then, shifting to the other leg¡ª Swish. He coiled his legs around it, cradled the foot in his arms, clasped his hands together, and twisted his body like a whirlwind. Crunch. This time, the knee joint bent backward at an unnatural angle. "Aaaaargh!" A scream of sheer agony tore through the battlefield. Mitch, drooling, his eyes bloodshot, somehow managed to draw a dagger and stabbed at Enkrid''s nape. Enkrid twisted his body away. The dagger plunged into his forearm before being pulled free. Releasing his opponent''s leg, Enkrid rolled back. That was it. Mitch was no longer capable of fighting. "Hah..." Enkrid exhaled deeply. His own body wasn''t in great shape either. Joint locks like that put strain on the user as well. And he had been slashed¡ªhis arm, his shoulder. Half his clothes were already soaked. It was all his own blood. Of course, even so, his condition was still far better than Mitch''s. "Krais, my sword." Even if he wasn''t a combatant, running away wasn''t an option. Krais, who had been nearby, quickly grabbed Enkrid''s sword and rushed over. As soon as he gripped it in his left hand, blood gushed from his forearm. That wound was deeper than he had expected. "Damn, I thought I was gonna die, Captain." He didn''t even have the energy to respond. Enkrid gripped his sword and stepped forward. His arms and shoulders were injured, but his legs were fine. "Platoon leader!" A few enemy soldiers reacted. Seeing Mitch Hurrier collapse, they charged in. But they were far too late. None of them had thought their leader, Mitch Hurrier, would lose. He was a genius. A man born with talent. A genius who didn''t put in effort. That was what they had once called him. But after what he had experienced on the battlefield, he had returned and swung his sword night and day. He wasn''t supposed to die like this. He was just beginning to shine. And yet, there was no grand clash of swords. He had simply been hit with a thrown dagger. And then, both his legs had been shattered. What was this? This wasn''t the fight their leader wanted. He should have fought with his sword. A proper duel, blade against blade. That was what most of his men felt. "This... this isn''t right." Mitch thought the same. Locking eyes with Enkrid, who held his sword upright, Mitch spoke, "You, you¡ª" "This is war." Enkrid said¡ª And drove his sword in. Shlunk. The blade pierced through the nape and exited through the throat, making a faint scraping sound as it struck a few pebbles. Mitch Hurrier, eyes wide, coughed up blood and collapsed. The sword was lodged in his throat like an ornament. Then his head lolled to the side. "...Kill him!" A few enraged enemy soldiers rushed at Enkrid. "Idiots." Enkrid sneered at them. He had thought about this countless times today¡ª Did they really think his commander was an idiot? That they hadn''t anticipated this ambush? Of course not. In fact, they had been waiting for it. Of course, the enemy might have known this too. The battlefield was always a game of deception and feints. Tactics were built on lies and misdirection. So all they had to do was buy time. Tatatat! Among the enemy soldiers, there was no one on Mitch''s level. Enkrid''s left-handed blade slid out of Mitch''s neck and then danced like a butterfly, parrying and deflecting incoming spear thrusts. It was a refined swordplay¡ªa strange mix of heavy strikes, flowing cuts, and rapid thrusts. "Rally up! Wipe them out!" Vengeance was alive. His shout rang out from behind. The enemy was elite, but they couldn''t overcome sheer numbers. Especially once archers got involved¡ªthere was no answer to that. "Fire." About forty crossbowmen, a squad''s worth, turned the remaining enemies into pincushions. Someone had gathered the archers and brought them in. That decided the battle. Enkrid knew this better than anyone. No one could block and dodge an entire rain of arrows. Seeing that, he slumped to the ground. His body was wrecked. ''What a goddamn struggle.'' Still, something remained. His left hand. That was enough to bring a faint smile to his lips. He had survived the brawl. Survived and made it through today. Moving forward toward a new path. Like a tattered, torn dream barely stitched together¡ª That was how Enkrid felt. Chapter 120 - Doing Well Chapter 120 - 120 - Doing Well Chapter 120 - Doing Well ''Looks like we can move on to the next step.'' "Whi-woo-wee-hee." Rem whistled as he walked. ''If I really push him hard...'' It was thanks to the squad leader''s return that he felt this pleased. He was already looking forward to going back and putting Enkrid through the wringer. Would it be possible to advance to the next stage of Heart of the Beast? He was even willing to pass down a secret technique that not even a mountain of gold could buy from him if it were a mainlander asking. And yet, he was excited about it. ''How strange, how strange.'' Enkrid was truly an odd man. He didn''t particularly do anything, and yet, Rem didn''t find him annoying. Not at all. He was the kind of person you naturally wanted to take care of. Was it because of his unwavering dedication, swinging his sword every single day? Or was it because he silently took on the menial tasks without a single complaint? If he had to name a reason, it would be difficult to pinpoint. Sure, those things played a part. ''But I just like the guy, plain and simple.'' There were people like that in life¡ªpeople you just liked for no reason. ''Didn''t expect to feel this way about a mainlander, though.'' As he walked, Rem suddenly stopped and called out to Audin, who was blocking his way. "Hey, big guy. You pray all the time, but can''t you use any of that divine power? Can''t you do something about the squad leader''s wrist?" "Shall I split your mouth open, Brother?" "Huh? You wanna match your height with my axe?" Enkrid wasn''t here. Audin turned his head, locking eyes with Rem. A cold tension filled the space between them. Then, Ragna dragged his feet and walked right between them with a lazy stride. "...Brother, you really think you can just cut through here because you''re feeling lazy?" "What a lunatic." The moment Ragna cut through their standoff, the tension fizzled out. This kind of bickering wasn''t new. Everyone was used to it and didn''t bother interfering. Jaxen was walking off to the side, keeping to himself. And Ragna¡ªif you took your eyes off him for a second¡ªwould veer off in a diagonal direction instead of walking straight. No one could understand his sense of direction. Then again, it wasn''t a direction issue. It was closer to him not caring enough to walk properly. Everyone was doing their own thing, but whether they admitted it or not, including Rem, each of them was thinking about Enkrid, their squad leader. ''I guess I should train him to keep his sword attached to his body at all times.'' Ragna was no different. Even if he seemed unmotivated without the squad leader around, he was steadily piling up ideas in his head for when they reunited. Audin, too. ''Now that the muscle restructuring is complete...'' It was time to move on to the joints. With adjustments to his muscles and joints, his posture would change, and his physique would transform. Strengthening his weaknesses. ''Bend, then bend again. Carve, then carve some more.'' There was even a way to make his body impervious to grapples and strikes. But if he went that far, there''d be nothing left of the squad leader''s body. ''I''ll take it one step at a time, Lord.'' Audin ended his thoughts with a prayer. Jaxen wasn''t much different. ''He really needs to fix his gait.'' Not necessarily to the level of an assassin''s silent footwork, but loud steps often came with unnecessary movements. ''Minimal movement, maximum efficiency.'' Jaxen reflected on his own training, searching for anything useful. It wasn''t swordsmanship, but¡ª ''It''ll still help.'' Jaxen had a keen eye. He knew that what he taught would become part of Enkrid''s foundation. Still, he occasionally questioned himself. ''Do I really need to?'' It wasn''t like he had to teach him anything. Unless Enkrid asked first. Until then, he''d stay put. That was his decision. Of course, even if he decided that, if those other fools¡ªthe barbarian, the religious zealot, or the slacker¡ªstarted teaching, he might just get swept up in the moment. But he''d try to hold back. The idea of being lumped in with them was revolting. To an outsider, they all looked the same. One was whistling an annoying tune and picking fights. Another wandered aimlessly, barely paying attention to his surroundings. A giant soldier mumbled prayers to himself. And the last one, as if to prove he wasn''t part of them, kept his distance, lost in thought. Was this what a proper unit looked like? Of course not. Even as a troublemaker squad, they had always stood out. But now that they''d been reorganized into an independent platoon, it was more obvious than ever. It was hard to call them well-trained soldiers. Even their march was disorderly. They were supposed to be under the 4th Company''s command, yet they weren''t marching with the rest of the company. With fewer than ten men, the term "independent platoon" was laughable. And yet, no other soldiers dared to mess with them. ''Leave them be.'' ''Bother them, and we''ll be the ones suffering.'' ''If you want to die, go ahead and provoke them.'' After countless experiences, everyone had learned their lesson. These guys weren''t just troublemakers¡ªthey were crazy. A squad with strength bordering on madness. As they continued marching, the distance from the rear camp to the forward base was about half a day on foot. If a full unit was moving, that''s how long it would take. As individuals, they could go faster, but¡ªthey had set the march''s pace carefully, since they''d be heading straight into battle upon arrival. It wasn''t a long enough journey to warrant resting along the way. If they kept moving, they''d reach the base before noon. In other words, unless there was an issue, no one had any reason to stop the march. "Stop." A soldier in the lead relayed a signal from the front. The march came to a halt. At the very front, the fairy company commander raised a fist. "What''s going on?" The 3rd Company Commander, Rayon, asked from the side. The 3rd and 4th Companies had rejoined after temporarily splitting. "There''s something off over there." The fairy company commander pointed. What was it? Rayon frowned. He didn''t see anything. The fairy company commander''s finger pointed toward the riverbank. The Pen-Hanil River. The lifeblood of Naurilia and the primary water source for nearby kingdoms. "Something''s hiding." Several large rocks lined the riverbank, providing good cover. Sometimes, ghouls would pop out from behind them. A little further ahead, the Forest lay to the right, filled with magical beasts. But this was a battlefield. Any common beasts or monsters had long been cleared out. It was rare for anything to attack an army. So, if something was lying in wait¡ª ''It''s the enemy.'' The fairy company commander''s instincts were sharp. "Shit, there''s a fairy with them." A man peeked out from behind a rock, muttering to himself. He had short hair, a thick jaw, and wore the uniform of an Aspen soldier, with a helmet that covered his forehead and ears. They were well within bow range. The man only revealed half his body behind the rock. The fairy commander''s sharp eyes caught something behind him. Floating on the river was one of Aspen''s famed fast boats. A long, narrow vessel that could hold up to eight people. Its oars were hidden beneath the water, designed to propel it at terrifying speeds when rowed. It seemed they had an escape route planned in case things went south. Once they hit the water, there''d be no way to chase them. ''That boat is ridiculously fast.'' It was too sloppy to be an ambush. There were barely ten of them. ''A provocation.'' Rayon followed the fairy commander''s train of thought and reached the same conclusion. "They''re trying everything, huh?" "Shaking morale is a basic tactic." As they talked, one of the enemy soldiers stepped out from behind the rock. "I am Lowell, a soldier of the Aspen Principality. Is there no one here to fight me? Let''s have a fair duel!" It was a trick they had fallen for multiple times. Not a battle of troops, but a duel challenge. Not a knight, but a mere soldier picking a fight. "A commander stepping forward to face a single soldier? Don''t you think that''s disgraceful? Or is it that none of you actually know how to fight?" The man named Lowell cackled as he added fuel to the fire. ''Should I just put an arrow through his head?'' The Fairy Company Commander considered it but held back. At first, they had sent out soldiers and lost. Then, they sent squad leaders, but they still lost. The enemy soldier''s individual skill was overwhelming. Yet, having a company commander step in was a blow to their dignity. It was a strategy that targeted a subtle gap. ''Wasn''t there talk of some genius strategist in Aspen?'' The strategy itself didn''t significantly reduce their numbers. However, morale was plummeting. Why did the enemy have such skilled fighters while their own side had none? ''If I step in...'' Whenever a company commander got involved, the enemy would taunt them. They didn''t lose every single duel. The 2nd Company Commander, Palto, once smashed an opponent''s head in with his mace out of sheer fury. Yet, even after that, morale still dropped. "A commander interfering in a soldier''s fight? Shame on you!" Such words fanned the flames of the battlefield. At first, it hadn''t affected them much. But after continuous losses in both battle and duels, their morale was scraping the bottom. The difference in individual soldier skill and training was this severe, yet their numbers were similar. It felt like the outcome was already decided before the battle even began. That''s why they kept using this tactic. She wanted to kill them, but they were always prepared to flee. If they ignored the duel challenges and just charged in with their forces? Had they done so from the start, maybe. But doing it now would further crush morale. And simply letting it continue? That would be like opening the gates of purgatory with their own hands. "What the hell, they''ve come all the way here?" Just as the commander was weighing her options, a soldier swaggered in from behind. No formation, no proper ranks. It was hard to even call it a unit. It was Rem from the Independent Platoon. "Should I just kill that one?" He asked on a whim. Hadn''t Big Eyes given her some advice before leaving? ''For today, he''ll actually listen to orders. So use him as much as you can. The mood''s already grim, anyway.'' If it didn''t work, no loss. But if it did, all the better. "Let''s do it." Rem grinned and nodded enthusiastically. He seemed to be in a good mood. "Hey, what was your name again?" "What? Are you here to fight?" Rem casually strolled forward, and Ragna followed without much thought¡ªuntil Audin grabbed his arm. "Hm?" "Brother, that''s the enemy side." "Oh, right." Jaxen was already sitting on a smooth rock, settling in as a spectator. There was no sense of urgency among them. The same went for the Fairy Company Commander. And within their own troops, a subtle anticipation flickered in their eyes. Because Rem was¡ª A madman. A bastard of a comrade, but an absolute menace to the enemy. The anticipation ignited into heat. A thick-jawed soldier peeked out from behind a boulder, snickered, and stepped forward. "So there was no one else to step up, huh? A filthy outsider, no less. You''re not going to lure me in and shoot arrows, are you?" Idiot. Jaxen thought as he observed the opponent. They weren''t within axe range. But for that mad barbarian, this distance was more than enough. Swish. The moment the enemy peeked out, Rem threw his axe. His movements were like the wind. To ordinary soldiers, his hand was a blur, as if he had simply flicked his wrist. It was so fast that it left an afterimage. To them, it seemed like phantom wings had sprouted near Rem''s right hand. Swoosh¡ªWhoosh! The sound of fabric flapping in the wind, followed by something cutting through the air. The axe spun through the air and embedded itself in Lowell''s forehead. Thunk! With a crisp impact, his feet left the ground. He flew. Even without wings, his body soared briefly before crashing onto his back. Thud¡ªgrrrrrrk. Pebbles skittered as they were kicked up by his falling body. "Guhh..." His head was split open, and he died instantly. An axe lodged between his brows, his eyes wide open in shock. A death he never saw coming. Meanwhile, Rem had already drawn another axe in his left hand and dashed forward. Tap, tap. He sprinted, closing the distance, and vanished behind a boulder. Thud! A heavy impact followed. Blood sprayed from the opposite side of the rock. Crunch! Without pause, Rem slipped to another boulder. With another sickening noise, an enemy''s severed head rolled onto the ground. Then¡ª "Aaagh!" One of the enemy soldiers bolted for the river. Rem chased him down, grabbed his head, and slammed it into the ground. Boom! "Guhhh..." A groan, or perhaps a scream. Rem smashed his face into the dirt again. And again. The rhythmic repetition made him look more like a craftsman at work than a warrior. Except Rem wasn''t making boots or farming tools¡ªhe was crafting death. Boom, boom, boom. After confirming the enemy was dead, he stood up. With four dead, the remaining enemies turned tail and fled without hesitation. They ran toward the prepared boats, jumped in, and started rowing frantically. Rem didn''t chase. His allies didn''t bother wasting arrows, either. "Idiots." Instead, he made a crude hand gesture. A universal obscene sign, implying something very rude about their mothers. The enemies saw it but continued rowing for their lives. "Let''s go." Rem yanked his axe from a corpse and returned. The Fairy Company Commander smirked. Yet, in the end, this did nothing to raise their morale. An overwhelming show of skill? That was fine. But¡ª ''Ugh.'' ''I don''t want to die like that.'' ''Why the face...?'' His killing methods and prior reputation were the problem. ''Wanna have your face ground off?'' The soldiers had heard Rem say this countless times. Now, seeing him actually do it left them shuddering. Ironically, Rem''s intervention lowered both their own and the enemy''s morale. "Move out." After hastily collecting the bodies, the company resumed marching. *** ''They''re handling it well, right?'' In the rear, Enkrid was busy tending to his injuries. None were fatal, but they needed treatment to avoid complications. For now, he couldn''t rejoin them. Additional infantry reinforcements were on the way. He planned to join them and move forward in a few days. Two to four days, at most. ''They''ll manage.'' He briefly worried about his platoon but let it go. Right now, he needed to take care of himself. His men? They weren''t the type to die easily. If anything¡ª They were the ones who would do the killing. Chapter 121 - Let’s Recover First Chapter 121 - 121 - Let''s Recover First Chapter 121 - Let''s Recover First Ting. He flicked the blade with his finger, and a clear sound resonated. Holding it up to the light, he noticed a faint blue hue. It must have been forged from a unique type of metal. ''Doesn''t seem like Valerian steel.'' This was the sword he had quickly taken after killing Mitch Hurrier. Just by looking at it, he could tell it was a high-grade, expensive weapon. No way he was leaving it behind. Would Krais know anything about it? Enkrid turned his head to the side. Just three steps away, Krais sat staring at him intently. Those big eyes were fixed on him, full of curiosity. Enkrid opened his mouth and asked, "What?" Before asking about the sword''s metal, he figured he should first address that strange gaze. "It''s fascinating." "What is?" "Your left hand." As he spoke, Krais glanced at Enkrid''s left hand. ''Had he always been this skilled with it?'' He didn''t think so. They hadn''t just spent a day or two together. His left hand¡ªit was unbelievable. Was this what being a genius was like? Krais himself had no talent for swordsmanship or martial arts, so he couldn''t really tell. ''Hadn''t he been pretty ordinary before?'' Aside from his reckless actions, his skill seemed average. When Enkrid had saved him¡ªrisking his own life for someone else¡ªKrais had thought, Who even does that? ''Risking your life to protect someone else? That makes no sense.'' Was he supposed to save a fellow squad mate just because they were in the same unit? Back then, they hadn''t even known each other for a full week. But now, the gap in skill was massive. The enemy that ambushed them was no ordinary soldier. That much was obvious at a glance. Yet Enkrid blocked his attack using only his left hand? "I trained consistently." Enkrid replied as if it were nothing. Krais nodded. "I see... and, um, you killed the enemy leader?" Was it the left hand that was strange, or the entire fight? The battle had been fierce, thrilling, even terrifying. If things had gone wrong, their squad leader would have died. And if that had happened, Vengeance, Krais, and Esther would have been dragged into the abyss along with him. Yet, in that desperate moment, their squad leader had remained composed. As if he had known the enemy was his to defeat. "A dogfight." Again, Enkrid answered indifferently. Krais came to a conclusion. ''A late-blooming genius.'' His talent had simply awakened late. That was the only explanation. There was no need to dig deeper. Curiosity aside, it wasn''t like he would get any other answer. Even if he tried to be suspicious, what evidence did he have? Some hidden, incredible secret? What kind of secret could exist in a place like this? Unless Enkrid was some kind of fortune teller who could foresee everything in advance. ''That would be ridiculous.'' No prophet or seer could predict events this precisely. Besides, Krais thought most fortune tellers were just con artists trying to make a quick buck. ''The world runs on Krona.'' Everything moved and collapsed because of Krona. Why were Naurilia and Aspen at war? To Krais, the answer was simple. Whoever controlled the Green Pearl Plains would gain a second granary, an invaluable resource. ''Even I''d fight for that.'' So this war was inevitable. In an age of war and conflict, wielding a sword for profit was the most natural thing in the world. And that meant Enkrid''s sudden genius was irrelevant. "What kind of metal do you think this is?" His thoughts were interrupted when Enkrid held out the enemy commander''s sword. He actually took it with him. "Good metal." "You think I asked just to hear that?" Obviously not. There was no need to hesitate. "There''s a famous iron mine in Aspen, in a place called Dempf." "Dempf? Dempf... I''ve heard of it. That hidden village between the river and the mountains?" Muttering to himself, Enkrid nodded. He had traveled the continent long enough to know. Krais continued, "Yes, Dempf''s iron has this peculiar glow. It starts with a faint blue tint, deepens over time, and the highest-quality steel eventually loses all color." That was just what he had heard. But one thing was certain¡ªif this sword was forged from Dempf iron, it was even more expensive than Valerian steel. Which meant... this sword was incredibly, absurdly expensive. "If you sold it..." "I''m not selling." "Huh? Are you switching swords?" For a warrior on the battlefield, nothing was more important than a weapon that fit their hand. That was common sense. Even Krais knew that. There was no way Enkrid would abandon his familiar sword. "What if I use both?" That wasn''t directed at Krais. It was just Enkrid talking to himself. A warm spring breeze ruffled his hair. Between the shifting strands, his gaze remained fixed on the sword. Krais saw that look in his squad leader''s eyes. How to describe it? Bright, vivid eyes, full of life and excitement. Like a boy receiving an unexpected gift. Seeing that, Krais couldn''t bring himself to suggest selling the sword again. His squad leader¡ªEnkrid, with his lake-like blue eyes resembling Esther''s¡ªlooked genuinely thrilled. Enkrid didn''t care whether Krais was watching him or not. Why had he suddenly become so skilled with his left hand? He didn''t need to make up some grand excuse. Actually, he didn''t have an excuse. It wasn''t something he could explain. Saying ''I trained for it'' was the best he could do. Sure, it made him sound like some kind of prodigy. But what other choice did he have? More than anything, Enkrid had felt something this time. A sudden leap forward. A rapid surge in skill. Mastering in a few swings what should have taken a hundred. ''It''s strange.'' Would it happen again? He didn''t know. And honestly, it didn''t matter. As long as he kept moving forward. Talent had never been his concern. ''Once I recover...'' Then he could try various things. Seated on a rock outside the medical tent, Enkrid lost himself in contemplation. Training, his left hand, his right hand, the brawl, Mitch Hurrier, his sword, battle, the warzone. The more he thought, the more he wanted to get up and move. But¡ª "You were told not to push yourself. Why do you think I''m sitting here watching you?" Krais interrupted his thoughts. Right. He was right. At the very least, he had to rest for a few days. That was the medic''s strict order. The supply unit was handling the rear lines, and the 2nd Company, 3rd Platoon¡ªVengeance''s¡ªwas left behind for defense. Reinforcements were expected soon. Once they arrived, Enkrid would head to the front lines. For that to happen, his body first needed to recover. His right hand still couldn''t be freed from the splint. There was a wound on his shoulder¡ªnot too deep, but a cut nonetheless. A dagger had also left a hole in his left forearm. Individually, none of them were serious injuries, but any major movement could reopen them. ''This is a mess.'' His whole body ached from forcing joint locks. If not for his training in the Isolation technique. If not for his absolute focus. If not for the support of the Heart of the Beast. If not for the sixth sense warning him. ''I''d be the one dead.'' Enkrid sat in a daze, focusing entirely on recovery. Even as he rested, he swung his sword in his mind. At first, he envisioned using only his right hand, then later, gripping a single blade with both hands. At the end of his mental training, Enkrid held his own sword in his right hand and Mitch Hurrier''s sword in his left. ''Will this work?'' He had no idea. He just wanted to try. Something about it felt... right in his hands. Dual swords. ''Strength comes first.'' That had to come before anything else. Wielding a sword with two hands was entirely different from handling one in each hand. Some of his instructors had outright mocked the idea. This sort of thing¡ªusing two swords half-heartedly. "Dual swords? That''s just a surefire way to die. If you can''t even master one sword properly, you think you can handle two? Even skilled swordmasters don''t bother with that nonsense." One instructor had been particularly blunt about it. Where had he met that man? It was in a major city. A guy who preached that refined swordsmanship came from a refined body. After training under him, Enkrid had a rather bitter experience. As he mulled it over, hunger set in. Rest and food were crucial for recovery. "Mealtime." Right on cue, Krais arrived with food. Thin wheat bread, thick bacon, dried fruit, and cheese. A feast. "Did you raid the supply tent?" "No. The supply officer seemed grateful to you, sir. I mean, he was this close to losing his head if things had gone south." Krais tapped his neck with his hand. It made sense. The rear camp existed to supply the troops. If an enemy raid had wiped it out, whose fault would that be? Who would be held responsible? No need to ask¡ªthe supply officer was accountable. If the supply tents had gone up in flames, he''d have been swiftly executed. Losing a battle could be tolerated, but failing to keep watch? That was unforgivable. "Let''s eat." Enkrid chewed, swallowed, and drank. Water instead of alcohol. Krais stayed by his side, tending to him¡ªnot overly doting, but attentive enough. Like that, three days passed. "We''re moving out. Are you coming?" Vengeance, fully armed, asked the question. Reinforcements had arrived in the rear. The frontlines were getting even more intense. With his entire squad up there, Enkrid had to go as well. His wounds from slashes and stabs weren''t fully healed, but walking wouldn''t be a problem. "I''m going." Beside him, Krais was lost in thought. ''Seeing the lieutenant fight...'' Didn''t seem like he''d die anytime soon. Maybe it was better to stick with him instead of staying back. If he grabbed a few good spoils along the way, he''d make a nice profit. Besides, the supply officer had been replaced, and none of the soldiers in the incoming 3rd Regiment were familiar faces. Staying in the rear would be tough. Might as well... ''Head out and collect some loot.'' And so, Krais joined the march. "Nyaa." Even after three days of rest, Esther still looked drained. Enkrid picked her up. She wasn''t that heavy. Was she even eating properly? Why didn''t she seem to be growing at all? Young beasts were supposed to grow fast, weren''t they? She looked almost the same as when he first saw her. "You, are you eating well?" Enkrid asked while stroking her head. Esther blinked and lifted her gaze. A man with eyes like hers was looking at her. Who was worried about whom here? He nearly died again this time. Thump, thump. Esther smacked Enkrid''s chest with her paw. Her way of telling him not to worry about her. "Alright, alright. I''ll bring you food when I get the chance." He completely misread her intent. Not that it really mattered. ''Foolish human, let''s go.'' Closing her eyes, still weighed down by fatigue, Esther let herself be carried. Enkrid took a step forward. The only difference now... Was that he carried two swords at his waist instead of one. "Two swords?" Vengeance asked. Enkrid nodded. He had seen Enkrid use his left hand before. They had even sparred. The guy was always pulling weird stunts, so he just accepted it. With that, Enkrid joined Vengeance''s platoon and marched to the frontlines. No issues arose during the movement. As they arrived, the chilling air of the battlefield welcomed them. The stench of blood and steel filled the path, and the sky darkened as if it might rain. The damp scent of water, blood, and metal blended together, carrying the stench of death. This was the frontline base. And here... "Goddamn, thought I''d grow old waiting for you. What the hell? I told you to rest, and you come back even more messed up? Huh?" "It just turned out that way." These crazy bastards were waiting. Rem, looking ready to punch something, was halted by a casual wave of Enkrid''s hand. Somehow, every time they split up, something chaotic happened. Oh well. It was what it was. Vengeance handled the debrief, allowing Enkrid to return to their tent without issue. He briefly recounted what had happened in the rear. "You keep having all the fun when I''m not around." Rem grumbled, digging at his nose. That was it. They were alive. They were here. That was all that mattered. Settling down in a corner of the tent, Enkrid asked for a battlefield update. Jaxen came over and quietly explained. "We''re just watching each other." There hadn''t been any major battles while Enkrid was away. The forces here¡ªincluding reinforcements¡ªamounted to over two battalions of infantry. That was more than a thousand foot soldiers gathered here. Along with the direct command unit, scouts, and rear guard protecting the supply lines. ''So this is the start of a full-scale war.'' The main battle¡ªthe one with knights, mages, and shamans¡ªwas waiting at Green Pearl Plains. Meanwhile, both sides were watching this battlefield closely. Somehow, things had escalated into a stalemate. The infantry battle to secure the flanks had become the deciding factor in the greater war. Whoever won here would gain the upper hand. This fight would inevitably affect the main battle. At the simplest level, morale was at stake. A victory here would give their army more strategic options. Opening the flanks would allow for the use of special units. The main armies of both nations were hesitant to deploy more forces beyond infantry¡ªboth sides were just watching and waiting. A full-scale war could break out at any moment, and tension filled the camp. Everyone was visibly on edge. Except for the Madmen squad. For Enkrid, it was simple. ''Ah, so a battle is coming. And soon. What should I do? I guess... train.'' Chapter 122 - Hey, You Boring Bastards Chapter 122 - 122 - Hey, You Boring Bastards Chapter 122 - Hey, You Boring Bastards "It seems something has changed again in the past few days, brother." The owner of a devilish tongue, hidden behind a plain smile¡ªAudin. He was the type to tell him to stop training and take a break, only to tear him apart if he actually did. No, even a rat wouldn''t be handled that roughly. Of course, Enkrid found that quite satisfying. Where had the greed in his heart stretched its branches? Learning¡ªhis steps forward. So if this was the kind of teaching he would receive, he welcomed it at any time. Pushing through the morning mist, Audin strode forward. Beside him, Enkrid spread his feet shoulder-width apart, slowly squatting down and standing up, putting strain on his thigh muscles. Without warning, Audin reached out toward him. Enkrid instinctively blocked his hand. Tap, tap¡ªa technique that could be categorized as wrestling, martial arts, or, in Valaf terms, combat techniques. The hand he deflected bent again in succession, aiming for his body. Audin''s hand, reaching for his shoulder, was met with a counter grab, a push, a twist, and a block with the shoulder¡ªonly for a foot to sweep in next. As Enkrid parried that, a large palm suddenly filled his vision, pressing down on him with overwhelming force. Locked in place, Audin finally spoke. "You''ve improved a lot." It was the same thing he''d said back at the rear stronghold. Thanks to Finn, who had ingrained the Eil-Karaz style into him, his techniques had improved¡ªbut he still wasn''t a match for Audin. Their heights and bone structures were different from the start. Their muscle density as well. Audin far outclassed Enkrid in raw strength, and despite his massive frame, he had exceptional agility. At some point, Audin''s hand slipped in from an unseen angle, seizing Enkrid''s nape. With sheer strength, Audin pulled him in, leaving no room for resistance. In close combat, within the range of wrestling and martial arts, even one''s own body became a weapon. If the difference in physique was overwhelming¡ªdon''t engage. Audin had repeated that lesson countless times while teaching him wrestling. In response, Enkrid had asked¡ªthen how do you overcome a size disadvantage? "If the technique is different, the outcome changes. So what should you do?" What else? Get thrown around until you figure it out. A lesson learned through countless times being pinned and twisted on the bed. Audin had already subdued Enkrid and, in a deep voice, hummed a tune. "The Lord has spoken: Snap the joints, click-clack." No way. No god would ever say that. Of course, it was a joke. Audin, pressing down on Enkrid''s nape and one shoulder, didn''t apply any more force. Not that it made the situation any less painful. ''I felt him grabbing me.'' His reaction had been slow. Likely due to several factors. His injuries were one of them. Pain was always a cause of delayed responses. "You''ll be fighting again when battle comes, won''t you, platoon leader?" That was an obvious statement. Of course, he would. His right wrist was annoying, but not useless. Besides, the reason he''d been called here was because of them. When the battle broke out, he''d be on the frontlines again, fighting. "You can''t, not in this condition, brother." Audin''s grip remained firm as he spoke. His right shoulder had been slashed, his left forearm stabbed. His right wrist was still in a splint, and bruises covered his body. Jaxen''s ointment had run out long ago, leaving only some ground herbs applied to the wounds. He''d been injured so frequently that even the medicine couldn''t keep up. Not that he had much to begin with. "How long are you planning to stay like this?" What was he doing? Normally, after subduing him, they would go over the sparring process. Now was the time to let go and review the fight. But Audin''s grip didn''t loosen. "Platoon leader." He called out in that state. Enkrid, half-forced into a bent position, responded. "What." The dawn mist was thick, obscuring the surroundings. Only a few steps away, their faces would only become visible through the fog. A sentry stood nearby, glancing their way at first, but now showing no interest in their scuffle. Audin made a decision. And acted. Bsss. Enkrid heard a sound he had never encountered before in his life. Not with his ears, but directly resonating through his body. At the same time, something impossible to experience by the riverside mist, something even rarer at this hour before dawn¡ªa warmth seeped into him. Like basking in the afternoon sun, reading a book in leisure. Or the perfect moment for a nap. How should he describe this? Peace? Whatever it was, it spread through his entire body. Warmth, comfort, and a faint tingling blooming from his wounds passed in an instant. It didn''t last long. Audin finally let go of his grip on Enkrid''s neck. Enkrid looked up at him. Religious squadmate¡ªhe had once called him that. Audin seemed as devout as any priest. And priests, at times, performed miracles. People called that miracle divine power. "This..." "No, brother, you will say nothing. And you will tell no one. Swear it to the Lord." Enkrid met Audin''s gaze. A faint yellow hue lingered in his blurred irises, as if light itself resided there. Light, radiance¡ªsomething divine seemed to dwell within. "Swear it." "...Alright." Audin said nothing more and turned away. "The mist over the river, too, is the Lord''s blessing." He knelt down and began his morning prayer. For god''s sake. Enkrid scratched his head a few times. ''What is he even believing in?'' Sometimes he wondered why his squad members went to such lengths for him. Did he look that pitiful? Did watching him struggle so desperately stir something in them? He didn''t know. The curiosity faded quickly. It didn''t matter. Audin Fumrei¡ªno one knew that he wielded divine power. Using it might be bound by some doctrine or restriction. One thing was clear¡ªhe had taken a risk. "Lord, forgive me." Hearing that prayer, Enkrid felt his suspicion confirmed. ''He didn''t have to go this far.'' But there was no returning a gift already given. Enkrid unwound the bandages around his wrist. He flexed his right wrist a few times. Based on his experience from countless injuries¡ª ''A day or two.'' That''s all he needed. His wrist would be usable without issue. The other wounds hidden under the bandages had also improved significantly. The dull pain had almost completely faded. "Thanks." He spoke to the massive squadmate deep in prayer. Audin, however, was too absorbed in his prayers to respond. ''Lord.'' Between the damp scent of earth, the sharp stench of death from the battlefield mixed in. For Audin, leaving his platoon leader in such a state was unbearable. ''Lord, for You are always present.'' He sought answers from a god who never replied. Was what he had just done truly the right thing? If it was discovered that he had used divinity, the Inquisitors would come. He had left the Order burdened with many restrictions. Though it hadn''t been a solemn oath, he had still placed a binding vow upon himself at the time. Enduring the constraint and exerting even a fraction of his divinity caused a piercing pain, as if an awl were drilling into his skull. Even so. ''I couldn''t just stand by and watch. Lord.'' The one who had burned himself in the flames of effort was now receiving his due reward. He couldn''t let that flame be extinguished here. Call it fickleness if one must, but Audin simply wanted to do it. And so, he did. After meeting Enkrid, he had come to believe that the Lord''s words resided within him. ''So I shall follow my heart''s guidance.'' Audin finished his prayer. By then, the morning sunlight had begun to break through the dissipating mist. Though he had used divinity to heal his body, not all his wounds had mended at once. If he had done so, someone particularly sensitive would have sensed the divinity at work, and the constraints made it difficult to use any more. Still, looking at the platoon leader, he seemed much better than before. "Hoo." Enkrid exhaled as he moved his body, looking noticeably lighter. God and man, blessing and curse. He had yet to unravel these contradictions. But at least, seeing his platoon leader like this put his mind at ease. Though he furrowed his brow, enduring the pain, Audin knew he would not regret today''s actions. It was a hunch, an instinct¡ªno, a certainty. *** After finishing the morning training, it was time to change the bandages. "Big Eyes." He called for Krais. Just then, the tent flap rustled open. "This the place?" A figure with green eyes. A superior officer, despite their small frame, with skills that did not match their stature. In other words, one of the people responsible for the forming this lunatic squad. A fairy who had organized them into an independent unit and led them to the battlefield without Enkrid. "I heard you got injured." "Yes." Without preamble, the company commander spoke to Enkrid upon entering and tossed something his way. Enkrid caught the object midair. A round wooden container. It was similar in size to the salve he had received from Jaxen. The lid bore an engraved leaf emblem, suggesting it was crafted by someone with considerable skill. "Commander?" "Apply it. You couldn''t buy fairy medicine even for a fortune. Consider it our engagement gift." Enkrid still couldn''t get used to the fairy''s jokes. And more than that, this was just too sudden. Coming in out of nowhere, throwing him medicine, and calling it an engagement gift? "That expression is good. I like it." With just those words, the company commander turned and left. Had she really come just to give him medicine? "I''m seriously curious now. Captain, what''s your secret?" Krais, having watched from the side, couldn''t help but ask. Enkrid was just as baffled. "I''d like to know that myself." Why had she suddenly come and tossed him medicine? As the commander said, fairies were exceptionally skilled in handling such remedies. Considering how they had identified poisons during the infirmary assassination incident, the commander also seemed to have deep knowledge of pharmacology. "This seems better than what I have. Sometimes, that devilish charm comes in handy." Jaxen remarked idly while polishing his equipment, not even looking their way. Though he seemed not to be paying attention, he was always acutely aware of his surroundings. That was why he was the most well-informed about battlefield conditions and sensitive to shifts in the atmosphere. "I don''t think that''s the reason." Enkrid shook his head. The fact that they were joking like this proved otherwise. Rem started chuckling. "Just have three kids." Crazy bastard. "Captain, instead of this, why don''t you leave the military and open a salon with me?" Big Eyes went even further. He prattled on about how Enkrid had a rare talent, how nurturing his natural charm would be better than wielding a blade late in life. Enkrid, unwilling to spend his days entertaining noblewomen, calmly told them to shut up. "Stop spouting nonsense and help me remove the bandages." Ragna, who had been quietly observing the situation, spoke up. "So, can you spar?" Lately, Ragna seemed more eager than Enkrid himself. "You directionally challenged bastard, do you think one application of ointment will heal you?" Rem scolded. "Hm." Ragna didn''t argue but merely looked disappointed. True, applying ointment alone wouldn''t be enough. That wasn''t the issue¡ªit was the fact that he had already received a miracle healing that even high-ranking nobles wouldn''t get to witness firsthand. Krais unwrapped the bandages, and Enkrid subtly twisted his shoulder to apply the ointment himself, avoiding exposing his wounds. "I can do it for you." Krais offered, but Enkrid shook his head. "No need." "Che, what, because your lover gave it to you?" Thud. Still seated on the cot, Enkrid extended his leg and lightly kicked Krais on the thigh before carefully spreading the ointment over his shoulder. He repeated the process on his left forearm, feeling a cool sensation spread from the treated area. ''This is good stuff.'' It was even more refreshing than the ointment Jaxen had given him. Enkrid rewrapped his bandages. Now, he could probably move around decently. Not bad. Should he try swinging his sword a few times? There was no immediate battle looming. For now, both sides were merely glaring at each other. If something provoked them, the fight would start instantly, but for now¡ª "Damn, boring bastards. If they were going to fight, they should at least do it properly until someone''s skull gets cracked open." Rem grumbled about the lack of large-scale engagements. Should he practice sword swings? Or should he rest a bit more? As he contemplated¡ª Bwoooo! A horn sounded from outside. For surprise attacks, they used whistles. But on the battlefield, Naurilia''s tradition was to blow war horns. "Enemy incoming! All troops, assemble! Gather by unit!" A messenger ran past the tents, shouting orders. "They''re here again, those crazy bastards." Rem pouted and grumbled. "You know, those guys really have nothing better to do, my devilishly charming captain." "Leave out that last nickname, will you?" What now? He hastily fastened his gear and prepared to head out. "If a fight breaks out, don''t jump in. Take care of yourself first, will you?" Rem warned. "I agree. Focus on recovery until you''re fit for sparring again." Ragna chimed in. Audin simply smiled. Seeing such a large man smile so gently was strangely fascinating. "Were you planning to fight? With that body? You''d have to be mad." Jaxen outright scolded him. Was he being treated like a child left alone by the river? No, his platoon members wouldn''t actually see him that way. Rather¡ª They simply wouldn''t let him get hurt again. Not in front of them. Even Audin, who had used divinity, felt the same way as the others. These were his squad members. Looking at them, it was clear¡ª The battalion commander had made a wise choice in bringing him here. Because no matter what, they would move as one under his command. Chapter 123 - Was Your Mother a Ghoul? Chapter 123 - 123 - Was Your Mother a Ghoul? Chapter 123 - Was Your Mother a Ghoul? What the hell is this? The battlefield was a gravel-strewn plain, the river on the left and mountains and forests on the right, as the two armies faced each other. They were within arrow range. Some archers on both sides were already hesitating, watching for the right moment. Tense silence hovered in the air, as if the next moment would see men lunging through the rain of arrows, spears piercing throats, swords slashing, or maces crushing helmets along with skulls. But the first move... What was this? A taunt? "Hey, shame you''re gonna die before you even get to use your junk!" Three men stepped forward, shouting. Their voices were loud, clear, and crisp. The distance had to be over three hundred paces, yet their insults landed squarely in the ears of everyone present. That''s how loud they were. At first, it seemed like a pointless provocation. Would this actually work? It did. Morale was already at rock bottom. And now, they had to just stand there and take this? zIt was unbearable. But if they shot arrows and charged recklessly? With no overwhelming numbers on either side, starting a fight with low morale meant they''d already lost before it began. So... Watching is the right move, but... Would simply waiting change anything? Either some brilliant tactic had to be employed, or an elite strike force needed to shake things up. Even without deep strategic insight, it was clear that something had to be done immediately. Still, Enkrid remained more composed than the others. At least, he didn''t think he''d die here. Whether he walked away with minor wounds or not. Whether his squad mates were at his side or not. It was just a gut feeling. And in a way, that meant he had improved significantly. In the past, at a moment like this, he''d be scrambling, thinking of every possible way to survive. Now, he was analyzing the battlefield instead. Have I gotten too comfortable? The thought felt absurd. At the very least, this wasn''t something Enkrid needed to be worrying about right now. If he were leading a unit, if the lives of subordinates were at stake, then these concerns would be natural. But as things stood, he wasn''t even sure he was really leading this so-called "Madmen Platoon." They followed him on their own. So, for now, it was best to focus on what was urgent. "Andrew, don''t get riled up." Enkrid raised a hand, pressing against Andrew''s chest to stop him. "Huh?" "There''s nothing wrong with being a virgin." With those words, he tried to soothe Andrew''s wounded pride. He remembered how Andrew had reacted before¡ªwhen they met during a reconnaissance mission, and Enkrid had taunted him with the very same words. Now, the enemy was using them against him. Andrew needed to keep his cool. "...Feels like you''re messing with me." Andrew muttered, his shoulders slumping. "No, you''re mistaken." Enkrid reassured him once more. "Hold it in for now. There will be a time to unleash your rage." Their new battalion commander was someone named Marcus. Unless a regimental commander or a knightly figure intervened, the command of the troops would remain with him. Unless Marcus was a complete fool, he wouldn''t just sit back and take this. "Save up all your anger for the fight." "I''m not even mad. I don''t even think that was aimed at me." "I''m telling you, hold it in." Enkrid spoke firmly, as if to pacify Andrew. He even went as far as to pat his shoulder and push him back slightly. Andrew, lacking the energy to resist, stepped back. "Hmph." Nearby, Enri cleared his throat. Mac looked at him with an awkward expression. As for the rest of the madmen¡ª "Pfft." Rem was the first to snicker. Even Jaxen, usually expressionless, glanced at Andrew with a faint smile. "Brother, it''s alright. Submit yourself to the divine." Audin outright suggested that Andrew join a monastery. Ragna, after a quick glance at Andrew, gave him a firm nod. "It''s fine. You''ll have your chance." ...Chance for what? No, it wasn''t like he couldn''t do it. It was just that he hadn''t¡ª! "Why are you all doing this to me?" Andrew genuinely didn''t care. He had even forgotten Enkrid''s taunt from before. If no one had brought it up now, it might have remained buried forever. What mattered to him was honing his sword. Reviving his family name. Anything else was a luxury. So why were they teasing him about this? "It''s fine, man." Rem punched Andrew''s shoulder lightly. Andrew felt wronged. Frustration that wasn''t there before suddenly surged up. Naturally, that anger was redirected toward the battlefield. If he lost his temper here, he wouldn''t live to see tomorrow''s sunrise. His instincts chose a new target for his fury. Those damn ghoulish bastards. The enemy soldiers who had shouted about "junk." He wanted to rip their mouths apart. The insults kept flying back and forth. A few of their own soldiers stepped forward to respond, but somehow, it felt like they were losing this exchange. A battle of words. It felt ridiculous, but the enemy''s intent was obvious. They were trying to grind morale down to nothing. And judging by the way the atmosphere was turning sour, it was working. However... Around Enkrid, the mood was surprisingly warm. On a battlefield-wide scale, it was an insignificant shift. But¡ª "Well, uh, when we get back to the city, I''ll introduce you to a good salon." "Don''t lose your first time in a brothel." "First time should be with someone experienced. I know an aunt of mine¡ªinterested?" Nearby soldiers started cracking lewd jokes. "...Shut up?" Andrew snapped, glaring around. But thanks to his sacrifice, their side''s morale had taken a turn for the better. The best way to deal with an enemy''s insults was to ignore them. "You have a knack for this." It was Krais, recognizing Enkrid''s intent. A shift in morale was needed. Every big change started with something small. Krais found himself wondering what he would do if he were in command. Normally, he''d be safe in the rear, waiting for the battle to end. But now, standing here on the battlefield, he was beginning to think about what was needed to win. And the first step? Changing the mood. That was what Enkrid had just done. "A knack? I was just genuinely worried about him. There was an order not to engage first, after all." It was clearly a joke. Had he planned this from the start? No, probably not. It seemed more instinctual, something he did naturally. What a peculiar guy. That was part of Enkrid''s charm. Even while fighting for survival, he never forgot how to joke. He never allowed the atmosphere to grow too bleak. Andrew, though his face was now red from all the teasing, had unwittingly helped lift morale. At least among the Madmen, the air had shifted. What now? Might as well just fight already. That was the feeling settling in. After all, this was a squad of lunatics. As if reading the room, Rem spoke up. "So, how long are we gonna sit around watching?" It would be easier to just start fighting. Both armies were holding tension like a bowstring drawn taut, yet neither had loosed the first arrow. Some men, frayed by nerves, had even started vomiting from the pressure. It''s no wonder. This atmosphere has been going on for days now. Even Rem and the others are starting to get annoyed. The only good thing is that the three new recruits¡ªAndrew, Mac, and Enri¡ªare in good spirits. They''ve been on duty together. They''ve gotten closer by sticking together against Rem and the other squad members'' bullying. Because of that, they didn''t get swept up in the overwhelming sense of defeat that had taken over the rest of the troops. It''s been exhausting with the work and the constant struggles; who has the time for anything else? "Care to say something?" Krais suddenly spoke up. The stance of the army was clear. They were waiting for the enemy''s attack. Krais took advantage of this and made a suggestion to Enkrid. Everyone in the squad, including the sharp-tongued Rem, recognized Enkrid. His words and ideas could turn the enemy inside out. "I don''t have much to say." Regardless of how good his speech skills were, what could he say in this atmosphere? Enkrid was sincere. But Krais made the offer again. "Just to change the mood." Well, why not? It didn''t seem like such a hard thing to do. The enemy and the allies were fighting not with swords or spears, but with words. Enkrid moved subtly. His independent platoon didn''t have a fixed position. As they moved, a path naturally opened up. Some familiar soldiers asked where they were going. Enkrid answered in a flat tone. "I''m just adding my two cents." At that point, he hadn''t really planned anything. The enemy had been too busy shouting about things like ''What can those queen''s playthings do?'' to think straight. But there, at the front, was Vengeance. "You''re at the front right after returning from the rear?" "Our unit is the one in the best shape." It looked like they had swapped their mixed archers for a full spearmen squad. So, this must be the 2nd Company, 3rd platoon, and Enkrid had positioned himself at the front of the 2nd Company. He looked at Vengeance, then at the distant enemy soldiers. He knew what he had to say. Enkrid stepped forward, taking a few more steps. Rem, Ragna, Jaxen and Audin followed closely behind. They were stepping into a range where even a hedgehog might end up if the enemy fired, but Enkrid didn''t hesitate. If they were going to fight with words. If the problem was the morale. Why not show some boldness? "Hey, you! Come out!" He shouted, a provocation aimed at the enemy. "We''re out here, what are you going to do about it?" It was a bold question. How had the battles been until now? After a verbal clash, lower-ranked soldiers challenged each other to duels. Hadn''t it been said that the fight was won by non-commanders who asserted their dominance? Well, this could be just like that. ''I''ll do it.'' Krais followed, but only said a few words, and they seemed reasonable to Enkrid. "You think you can take out about five in a row? That should work." The point was clear. If Enkrid took part in a soldier''s duel, even if a commander stepped in, he would just ignore it and crush them. ''Overwhelmingly.'' He was being told to kill and keep killing to demonstrate the difference in skill. He was supposed to make the commander step in and crush them. Krais''s big eyes seemed to have a plan. It was all about boosting morale and pulling off some clever tricks. Enkrid trusted Krais''s head and his plan, so he stepped into the battlefield. With a provocation, he advanced. The allies murmured. "What''s going on?" "Ah, it''s the crazy squad leader." "Enkrid?" "The Spellbreaker?" "They say he is no longer just a squad leader" Those who knew him recognized his face. He had recently proven his strength, so no one questioned his abilities. The whole army had to feel something odd. Even Vengeance seemed to sense something was about to happen. Why? No one knew. The atmosphere of the battlefield was as sharp as a blade. Until now, it had seemed like that blade was pointed at the allies. But now, it felt like the wind was shifting. Krais thought his plan was working. ''Then, we''ll figure something out.'' He had an idea of what the allied commanders might be waiting for. He had heard rumors of Marcus, and he could guess his fighting style. They were likely preparing something. Krais decided to help get things started. If he had made a wrong guess, he''d just quietly back off. Anyway, the risk was minimal, and he was thinking of taking the opportunity for gain. As Enkrid stepped forward and the atmosphere shifted, one of the enemy soldiers who had been talking stepped out. "Here he comes, this bastard." Enkrid didn''t think there was anything to mock about the soldier, but as he stepped out, he passed by Vengeance. Why had Vengeance hated him? In the end, wasn''t it because of his face? "What''s with you? Why were you born with a ghoul''s head?" A casual remark, drifting through the wind, echoed softly. It reached the ears of both the allies and the enemies. It wasn''t much, but from a distance, they could vaguely make out the faces. The enemy soldier''s face¡ªghoul''s head¡ªwas a comment on his appearance. Seeing Enkrid across the battlefield.... ''What the hell?'' He was good-looking. It was the kind of face that would make anyone angry for no reason. "What?" "Was your mother a ghoul?" Enkrid wondered if the enemy soldier''s mother could have been some other species. It seemed a fair enough suspicion, and he pointed at the enemy''s face with his finger. "What the hell, you bastard?" The enemy soldier immediately burst out in anger. A miracle was made with just two words. Audin couldn''t help but admire it. ''Even the gods would lose in a contest of words with the brother leader.'' Rem let out a laugh. What about the others? Andrew, who had stubbornly followed even though Mac told him not to, finally showed a bright smile. Yeah, what was he thinking, talking shit with a face like that? His nose was so large it seemed like it could catch rainwater through his nostrils. Why were his eyes like that? If you didn''t look closely, you couldn''t even tell the color of his pupils. His face was full of blemishes. It was easy to mistake him for a ghoul. "Hahaha!" Andrew burst out laughing so innocently. "Let''s see if your sword''s as sharp as your tongue." The enemy soldier took the bait. It started with words, but would lead to spears and swords, and finally, blood. Chapter 124 - Madman Andrew Chapter 124 - 124 - Madman Andrew Chapter 124 - Madman Andrew Enkrid naturally intended to step forward. Wasn''t that why he came here in the first place? He was itching to move his body. Using two swords at once might still be too much, and while he should conserve his right hand for recovery, it wouldn''t matter. From the stance, the steps, and the gestures of the opponent¡ªhe was certain. His left hand alone would suffice. The opponent was no Mitch Hurrier. Thud. The flat side of an axe, held vertically, pressed against Enkrid''s stomach. At the same time, Jaxen grabbed his sleeve, Audin placed a hand on his shoulder¡ª And Ragna stepped forward entirely, blocking his path. "I''ll do it." Ragna spoke. "Where do you think you''re going? You need to recover first." Rem''s words followed. His sharp gaze carried an unyielding force¡ªan unspoken command that he could not ignore. The collective will of the squad was palpable. So, were they the ones who would step forward instead? Krais had warned that, if possible, Rem and the others should avoid fighting. Then what¡ª? "Well, that guy should do. Hey, rookie." Rem, still holding his axe, spoke. The corner of his mouth curled upward, as if he found this situation amusing. And the one he called out to¡ª "Andrew?" Enkrid spoke his name, and Andrew tilted his head in confusion. Why was he being called? "Go out there and kill him." Rem''s tone was as if he were assigning the simplest of tasks¡ªone neither difficult nor noteworthy. Andrew blinked for a moment, then remembered the anger from earlier. That bastard was the one who had said he was still unripe, wasn''t he? The enemy was armed with a spear. The Aspen Principality''s main infantry force relied on spearmen. A relatively short spear pointed forward. In infantry warfare, few weapons were as effective as a spear. "Come out, you cowards!" If one were to list the most insulting words throughout history, Even without ranking them, "coward" would certainly make the list. Andrew let his forgotten anger surge back up. "Fine." As Andrew stepped forward, his opponent did the same. They cautiously closed the distance, eyeing each other. From behind, Mac watched Andrew with concern. Winning or losing wasn''t the issue¡ªhe worried that Andrew might end up like a pincushion, riddled with arrows. Their captain had a way with words, that was for sure. ''If things go south...'' Mac tightened his grip on the handle of his buckler. It was a larger shield than the one he usually used. He was originally skilled in sword-and-shield combat. ''Hold the line and endure.'' Their allies weren''t fools. If arrows flew their way, their side would return fire. Given that both armies had soldiers with large shields at the front, arrows wouldn''t be a decisive factor. ''As long as he holds out and pulls back¡ª'' His worries were fleeting. When he thought about it, the people here weren''t the type to die so easily. All he had to do was keep an eye on Andrew and ensure he got out safely. Mac set aside his concerns, deciding to watch with a calmer mindset. Outside of the potential arrow threat, there wasn''t much to worry about. He had been observing Andrew for some time. He had improved¡ªgrown. His devotion to the sword had deepened. The squad''s gaze on Andrew was peculiar. If Enkrid or the others had stepped forward, victory would have been assured. But it wasn''t them¡ªit was another soldier. Andrew Gardner. A noble by birth, once a squad leader, who had voluntarily joined Enkrid''s unit. Some thought of him as an oddity. Others worried whether a mere fledgling like him could even wield a weapon properly. A sense of unease began to spread. Too many confident soldiers had stepped forward, only to fall. Some couldn''t help but wish it had been Enkrid or one of the others instead. Andrew stared at his opponent, his anger burning. And his opponent mirrored that same fury. "Hah! All talk, and now you send a subordinate to fight for you?" That wasn''t the case. Andrew had never once seen Enkrid shy away from battle. Besides, the difference in skill was vast. Even injured, there was no way an opponent like this could trouble their leader. To Andrew, Enkrid was a genius. The kind of genius whose skills surged in an instant. A talent utterly different from his own. He truly believed that. "What''s that supposed to mean you bastard?" "Bring out that ghoul-headed bastard who was flapping his mouth!" Neither side was listening. Only their anger spoke. Soon, their rage took the form of weapons¡ª A chilling mist dispersed, revealing a battlefield of damp grass and scattered gravel under the glaring sun. Two men, seething with fury, prepared to exchange their views through combat. As the enemy''s spear lunged forward, Andrew''s mind flashed through the past few months. It hadn''t been that long, yet¡ª ''Crazy barbarian bastard.'' After facing Rem''s axe so many times, an enemy''s spear felt almost like a child''s toy. Of course, if it pierced his body, he would end up with a gaping hole. It wasn''t an attack he could casually deflect. But¡ª ''A bastard who hesitates when he sees an opening has no right to complain when he dies, kid.'' Rem''s words, repeated over and over, had sunk deep into his bones. Even Mac had to admit¡ªAndrew had talent. And Rem had seen it too. He was training Andrew in a completely different way than Enkrid. Of course, he had only gone so far¡ªnever teaching him techniques like the Heart of the Beast or anything of that level. Those were not things one handed down carelessly. But even without them, Andrew had enough. His talent was real¡ªexceptional. As the spear thrust forward, Andrew swung his sword. From right to left. Clang! Rather than striking the shaft, his blade hit the very tip of the spearhead. If spears were superior in thrusting attacks, then short weapons like swords had the advantage in sweeping motions. The spear deflected sideways. In that brief opening, Andrew''s foot pressed against the gravel. Crunch. He closed the gap. A battle began and ended with footwork. "Ugh!" The enemy yanked back his spear and swung his elbow. Andrew, maintaining his momentum, slashed. His blade rose from below¡ª And split the enemy''s forearm halfway through. Splurt. Blood spurted from the soldier''s arm, soaking through his gambeson. Between the falling droplets, Andrew''s eyes gleamed. Why stop with just one cut? No. This was battle. This was war. Andrew stepped forward again. A single step left¡ªhis sword swung again, striking the spear shaft with a crisp snap. Then, with steady precision, he drove his blade forward. It wasn''t particularly fast nor slow. But for an opponent reeling in pain from a nearly severed arm, it was more than quick enough. Schlick. Andrew felt the slight resistance of flesh through the grip of his sword. A sword lodged between the gaps of armor and helmet. When Andrew pulled out the blade, which had sunk about half a span deep, blood gushed forth. "Krrrk." The enemy soldier staggered before falling to his knees. He clutched at his neck, but what use was that? The difference in skill was stark. This was because Andrew was exceptional. The enemy soldier was no mere conscript but a well-trained professional. A soldier who had slain plenty of allied troops until now. But he was no match for Andrew, who had been tormented by Rem and was brimming with talent. As the enemy, kneeling and tilting forward, stretched out his hand in vain, Andrew stood behind him and drove his sword vertically downward. Fwoop. He made sure of the kill. With unwavering intent, he plunged the blade from the back of the enemy''s neck, claiming his last breath. Silence. The quiet sunlight. That was all that remained. From a step behind, Krais observed the scene and thought that this was an even better outcome than when Enkrid had stepped in. An unexpected display of prowess. "Madman Andrew!" And when the name that had once sapped the morale of their own forces now rang out like a nightmare to the enemy¡ª Soon, the name of Andrew, who had just slain an elite enemy soldier, echoed everywhere. "Uoooooh! Madman!" "Andreeeew!" What was this? Enkrid shrugged as he listened. This was proving more effective than expected. Somehow, it even felt like the cheers were meant for him. Between the shouts calling Andrew''s name, there were murmurs about the ''Madman'' and the ''Hero who slew the Ghoul-Head.'' Rem chuckled. "Boss, for something like that, even the rookie will do." "Andrew, fall back!" Mac shouted at Andrew. It was time to retreat. Andrew took a few steps backward but kept his eyes sharp, still fixed on the enemy. "I''m all done here! You bastards!" Oh, now what the hell was that? Mac was dumbfounded. "Pfft." This time, even Enkrid couldn''t hold back his laughter. Was this lingering resentment after being teased to shift the mood earlier? "Come back, Andrew." With cheers in the air, Andrew returned after killing the enemy soldier. And as the atmosphere began to shift¡ª What Krais had been anticipating had finally begun. The long-awaited blade of Battalion Commander Marcus. *** Marcus''s mouth was starting to dry. ''Something needs to break soon.'' By his assessment, their numbers were even, their level of training was comparable. But those damned Aspen bastards had a knack for embellishment. They had sent out their most skilled troops, turning it into something resembling a knightly duel. As a result, morale had plummeted. Still, it was manageable. What they needed was a moment to shift the mood. He had been hoping that would come from the Madmen Squad. But then that barbarian soldier, Rem, had stepped in¡ª ''Why does it feel like things are just getting worse?'' A grimy, vile, venom-laced atmosphere. Both allies and enemies had grown tense. If that was the case, maybe he needed to change the flow elsewhere. He had been mulling it over when it happened. One of those nameless Madmen Squad soldiers¡ªone of the random men conscripted just to fill numbers¡ªhad effortlessly bested an enemy. Not in a close fight, but overwhelmingly. This was it. "Send them in!" At Marcus''s command, both the messenger and his adjutant moved. Soon, a small flag was raised above the battalion commander''s tent. The signal reached the unit commander waiting near the rocky riverbank. If Aspen had their Grey Hounds¡ª Naurilia had the Frontier Slaughterers. Each one of them was a warrior worth ten men. ''Idiots.'' Marcus welcomed the enemy commander''s foolish theatrics. The tide of battle could shift in an instant. And morale, if once crushed, was to be rekindled, its resurgence was always greater. Marcus had always believed that the side that killed more efficiently won the battlefield. So¡ª "Slaughter them all." His muttered words reached no one. But the order had already been given. The Frontier Defense Force, Naurilia''s proud independent company, moved as one, striking the enemy''s flank. Near the riverbank, among scattered rocks, they had shrunk their bodies, feigning smaller numbers. Then, at the moment of engagement, they charged. For the Aspen commander, it was an unforeseen strike. "Sweep them." The Frontier Slaughterers Captain commanded, and his troops obeyed. Torres was among them. An enemy soldier thrust a spear at him. Torres caught the shaft mid-air, yanking the soldier forward. The soldier resisted, but Torres used that force against him, stepping in and driving a dagger under his chin. Thud. With a brief, dull sound, the enemy¡ªhis chin armored with a metal beard plate¡ªslumped to the side. Torres didn''t have time to retrieve his dagger before charging at the next foe. The rest of the defense force was equally engaged. One among them was Hyoun, a master of the longsword. A northern soldier, Hyoun''s blade moved like a dance. In a flash, he took two enemy lives and then spun, sweeping his sword outward. Clang! The powerful strike sent an enemy, shield and all, stumbling backward. A heavy, devastating blow. The enemy, flung backward, was finished off by Eisen. Eisen''s specialty was the trident. A former fisherman, his skill with the weapon was unparalleled. His trident pierced through an enemy''s back, the central prong punching through gambeson and emerging from the soldier''s belly. Barney was known for her speed. Being a woman put her at no disadvantage. She weaved through the battlefield, hurling daggers and leaping back, slinging stones at enemies. Thwack!Whiz!Crack! An enemy soldier crumpled as a stone smashed into his skull. Leather helmets were no match for slingshot projectiles. Though costly to craft, the sharpened stones were incredibly effective. The Frontier Defense Force was full of specialists. They were guerrilla fighters, not traditional line troops. And so they fought as such. Carving through, killing as they advanced. Torres led his men in driving into the enemy ranks. Hyoun kept pace beside him, cutting down soldiers in their path. Their target was the enemy''s archers. More precisely, their commander''s throat. Each squad within the Frontier Defense Force moved toward their respective targets. And with their movements, the battlefield roiled. The enemy commander, sensing the shift, chose not to force a reversal. "Retreat." The Borderland Defense Force sent the Grey Hounds to intercept. The rest of the enemy fell back. If it were the wind, it would be a storm. If it were an earthquake, it would be a great tremor. If it were waves, it would be a tidal wave. Such was the flow of battle. That they had remained in a stalemate this long was the oddity. Enkrid, too, could sense the shift. Even if he hadn''t seen the Frontier Slaughterers in action¡ª Something had begun. Otherwise- "Fire!" The allied archers would not have moved like this. Tudududu. Over Enkrid and the Madmen, arrows arced through the sky... Chapter 125 - Today’s Victory Does Not Guarantee Tomorrow’s Victory (1) Chapter 125 - 125 - Today''s Victory Does Not Guarantee Tomorrow''s Victory (1) Chapter 125 - Today''s Victory Does Not Guarantee Tomorrow''s Victory (1) "Fire! Kill them!" The commander leading Aspen''s light-armored troops shouted. Three soldiers at the front raised their loaded crossbows and fired. Thud-thud-thud! Three crossbow bolts. Dodging them at this distance was said to be the pinnacle of acrobatics. Only a master could even attempt it. Yet¡ª Thunk, thud. Rem evaded the bolts simply by rolling forward at the precise moment they were fired. Pupupuk. The bolts embedded themselves in the ground just as Rem completed his roll. It seemed like a narrow escape, but since it was Rem, it didn''t look dangerous at all. Even while rolling, his speed barely decreased. He continued his momentum, using his axe as a pivot to rise, and then resumed his charge. How does one even control their body like that? Watching from behind, Enkrid couldn''t help but be impressed. "Just stand back and watch." If Ragna hadn''t been constantly restraining him, Enkrid would have liked to join in the fight. But there was no opportunity. Rem had already taken care of everything. Before the three crossbowmen could reload, Rem was already upon them. The enemy soldiers instinctively drew their short swords. Different armament from the spearmen. Even if three or four spearmen formed a proper formation, Rem wouldn''t have flinched. And now, just three short swords? They were no match. The outcome was exactly as Enkrid had expected. Shuk! Thud! Chuk! As the axe cleaved through the air, one soldier''s head flew off, and Rem moved like a storm, his axe carving streaks of light through the battlefield. Every enemy caught within those streaks perished. His strikes were so swift and fierce that by the time the axe exited a split skull, the blood and brain matter had only just started to spill onto the ground. One soldier, with his skull split open, weakly stabbed his short sword into the air. Before his body could even register its death, he collapsed forward. Blood gushed onto the battlefield. Leaving the fallen behind, Rem began his rampage. And somewhere unseen, Jaxen had circled behind the enemy commander. The commander had his mouth agape in shock at Rem''s display when¡ª Skeuk. Jaxen''s dagger sliced his throat, sending a spray of blood into the air. It was a clean cut through the carotid artery. Jaxen moved again¡ªsilent, precise. His priority was clear. The crossbowmen targeting Enkrid. He acted accordingly, moving behind them and slitting their throats or stabbing them through the lungs. "Ghkk!" One crossbowman''s head jerked back. In his fading vision, he saw emotionless brown eyes tinged with a cold red glow. Killing was nothing but mechanical labor. The epitome of numbness. The enemy soldier took his last breath under that terrifying gaze. Meanwhile, Audin struck down only those who attacked him. Simply swatting them aside with his palm was enough. Clang! Crack! One soldier, charging in with a short sword, had his cheek smashed so hard that his yellowed teeth scattered into the air. They stood no chance. What could they do when a mere slap was enough send their bodies flying? Mack was also in motion. He was a capable fighter in his own right. With Andrew at his back, they guarded the center where Enri continuously loosed arrows from his short bow. And Ragna¡ªthere was no need to even mention him. One step forward. He advanced, his blade cutting down all in his path. One of the enemy scouts, wielding two short swords, charged at him. But it only took Ragna two swings to finish him. Clang. The enemy blocked the first strike, only for Ragna''s blade to slip past, gliding like a swallow through the air. Tak. The edge of the sword struck the enemy''s neck. A second mouth gaped open on his throat. Ragna swung his sword a few more times, then shook his head, flicking the blood off his blade in apparent dissatisfaction. He clearly didn''t like the weapon he was using. Yet, despite his complaints, he never sought out a proper blade. Truly an odd one. Enkrid had nothing to do. Not only was there no need for him to intervene, but the battle had ended in an instant. While Mac, Andrew, and Enri took down two soldiers together, the rest were slaughtered outright. "Fall back." Instead of praising the others, Enkrid simply gave orders. There was no sense in getting caught between the colliding armies. They needed to retreat to the side and assess the situation. As they pulled back, enemy infantry met the allied forces¡ªboth sides adorned with arrows sticking out of their shields. Like long-separated lovers reuniting to exchange affection, the two forces clashed. But instead of love, tongues, and passion¡ª They gouged out each other''s eyes with their spears. Puh-buh-buk! Spears tore through bodies. Both sides suffered losses. But the battle''s tide had already turned. This was the first major engagement. The surprise attack by the Frontier Slaughterers and Rem''s rampage had led to a sweeping victory. Where had this victory begun? Of course, with the Madmen Squad. From the squad leader running his mouth to Andrew swinging his sword. "Uooooh! Get lost!" "We won!" "It''s the Madmen!" Wait, was it really necessary to call them crazy so openly? The soldiers'' gazes fixated on one group. The ones covered in blood. The Independent Unit, led into battle by Rem. Most bore some traces of battle, but Enkrid stood in the center, completely unscathed. Not even out of breath. He hadn''t swung his sword once. Not even thrown a single dagger. The squad''s intent was clear. "Madmen Squad!" "Enkrid! Enki! You''re handsome!" "Great! Great! Great!" "They''re a platoon now, you bastards!" Drunk on victory, the soldiers cheered for Enkrid and his unit. No matter who did the actual fighting, the Independent Unit was his. Naturally, people chanted his name. Should he do something? Maybe raise a hand? But he hadn''t even lifted his sword. After the first battle, he had pulled back, leaving the rest to the infantry¡ªthe real stars of the battlefield. So why were they celebrating him so much? "An Independent Unit with fewer than ten men making this big an impression? That means we did our job." Krais appeared from seemingly nowhere, slipping into their ranks. "That''s true. But how come no one''s cheering for me?" Probably because of your bad karma. Enkrid only thought about it and didn''t answer. There was no need to ruin his mood right now. Instead, he patted Rem on the shoulder. "You did well." Rem smirked. Meanwhile, Ragna retrieved his chipped sword. "I''ll need to find a new one." He spoke his thoughts aloud, indifferent to the cheers around him. The brief cheers and fleeting joy of victory had already passed, and the infantry was dismissed. The allied commanders did not recklessly pursue the enemy. From now on, morale was on their side. The situation had completely reversed. Starting tomorrow, which side would find the battlefield more uncomfortable? Krais observed the unfolding situation, considering possible variables. ''What might be coming?'' Survival¡ªand picking up a few spoils¡ªrequired calculations. Krais was good at that. It wasn''t particularly difficult. The enemy''s intentions... ''They used sorcery to play tricks in the previous battle.'' Would they try something similar again? "Let''s rest." Enkrid spoke upon returning to the barracks. Now was truly the time to rest. "All personnel are exempt from guard duty." One of the messengers delivered the order. He briefly wondered if the fairy company commander would show up again. But that didn''t happen. Would today''s victory lead to tomorrow''s? No one could know. Holding the high ground didn''t guarantee a win. So by now, they were likely holding a strategy meeting to ensure their victory continued. Enkrid''s prediction was accurate. *** Marcus was not lost in the thrill of victory. "They just withdrew like that? Feels like they''ve got something planned. They used some sorcery tricks before, right? Any signs of that?" "None." They stood in a circle around a large table. Marcus had just spoken, and his adjutant responded. Sorcery? Getting tricked once was one thing, but they wouldn''t fall for it twice. They had hired a sorcerer of their own. An old woman from the homeland. She lacked the ability to use sorcery herself, but she could detect when the enemy tried something. That was good enough. Marcus didn''t care about the intricacies of sorcery. As long as the information was true, that was all that mattered. "If Aspen brings in asymmetric forces, part of the Crimson Cloak Knights will be sent in as reinforcements." If the enemy deployed knights or mages, they were prepared for that as well. Marcus nodded. He was the kind of commander who felt the battlefield through his skin. He used his head, but he also had a strong instinct for battlefield conditions. ''Didn''t want to follow them in.'' The enemy had retreated as if luring them in. Just thinking about chasing them made his scalp tingle. It felt like a banshee''s breath was chilling his back. A monster whose wails could freeze a human heart. That kind of foreboding wasn''t something to ignore. So Marcus decided to end the battle there. "What are the frontier defense casualties?" "Two dead." Even the most elite soldiers could be killed if they were cut by swords or pierced by arrows. The fact that only two had died meant they had held up well. Meanwhile, the frontier defense unit had killed dozens of enemy soldiers. Their longbow unit had especially dealt a devastating blow. By all accounts, this had been a victory. The only desperate options left to the enemy were twofold. One was retreat. The other was deploying asymmetric forces. Thus, Marcus''s job was simple: send out a steady stream of scouts to monitor enemy movements. The next day, there was no battle. Marcus doubled the usual number of scouts. But they found nothing. The "Turtles"¡ªa nickname for Naurilia''s heavy infantry¡ªwere hiding in their shells. They refused to reveal their positions, and even scout encounters were rare. They had deliberately withdrawn, choosing to entrench themselves in their stronghold. Were they inviting an attack? Marcus still felt uneasy. He hesitated to give the order. "If we attack now, it''ll be a decisive victory. Even if they prepared something in their stronghold, we can just rain arrows on them first." "We don''t even need arrows. Just surround them, set fire to a few tents, and send in the spearmen." "What about deploying the frontier defense unit to cut off their retreat?" His adjutants offered various strategies. ''Something''s off.'' "We wait." Marcus chose to hold position. It was a decision based on instinct¡ªthe same instinct that had kept him alive in countless battles. The enemy still had something up their sleeve. *** Aspen''s commander had assessed the enemy''s forces. Naurilia''s tactics were predictable. ''They use the frontier defense unit to disrupt us.'' Marcus''s strategy was also clear. He concentrated his forces to turn the tide of battle with a single decisive blow. And it had worked. The unexpected attack had reversed the momentum. So what? The enemy had played all their cards. Now, what would they do against what I send? Cowards hiding behind their skirts. The commander silently cursed Naurilia and felt confident of victory. It was time for his battle to begin. And he would start by killing that arrogant bastard. That lunatic¡ªwhatever his name was. The one who had said they''re "ghoul-headed bastards." The one wielding an axe. A small force could change the course of battle¡ªknights had already proven that. But did that small force have to be knights? Aspen''s commander had prepared his own daggers. No, not just daggers. His daggers would become the warhammer that shattered the battlefield. *** One day was enough for complete recovery. A day without duties, filled with rest and good food. Enkrid had a brief dream that night but forgot it quickly. A ghost from his past surfaced. A mercenary who had taught him that skill and character didn''t always align. It wasn''t a pleasant memory, so there was no reason to dwell on it. Regardless, thanks to the divine power of Audin and the fairy''s medicine... He doubted he''d ever experience such luxury again. "I suppose you have my medicine to thank for that." The fairy company commander appeared early in the morning. Enkrid was drenched in sweat, in the middle of training. The Isolation technique. According to Audin, it was now time to strengthen his joints. The variety of exercises he was put through sometimes made him wonder if they were just making him suffer for fun. But in the end, the results spoke for themselves¡ªhis body was getting stronger. He had already proven that much. Lying flat, he pressed his hands and toes against the ground, extending and flexing his wrists as he pushed his body up. At first, it seemed easy. But after a few reps, it became an ordeal. A heavy weight bore down on his wrists. One pair of green eyes watched with arms crossed. A lake panther, now fully recovered, observed with keen interest as well. Behind them, a hulking brute with a sadistic smile looked on approvingly. In front of the barracks, a wild barbarian squatted, watching silently. Further back, a pair of ominous reddish-brown eyes glimmered. Big Eyes was off to the side, scratching something into the dirt, erasing it, and repeating the process. Lastly, the perpetually lost but genius swordsman stood nearby, gripping his sword, waiting. "Did you have business with me?" Finishing his morning training, Enkrid asked the company commander. The fairy locked eyes with him and spoke. "I don''t." Then why are you still here? His gaze conveyed the question. But, as expected, it didn''t work. Chapter 126 - Today’s Victory Does Not Guarantee Tomorrow’s Victory (2) Chapter 126 - 126 - Today''s Victory Does Not Guarantee Tomorrow''s Victory (2) Chapter 126 - Today''s Victory Does Not Guarantee Tomorrow''s Victory (2) Flames ignited in Ragna''s eyes. Determination, desire, or something else. Before Enkrid could even finish his thoughts¡ª Whoosh. The sound of air splitting reached his ears first. The moment he heard it, the blade was already above his head. Enkrid moved as well. He held his sword horizontally, its blade forged from a mix of Valerian steel and Noir wrought iron, meeting the crude, poorly crafted arming sword head-on. Clang. Blade met blade. A sharp sound burst forth. And just as quickly as they clashed, they separated. Ragna took a step back, and Enkrid mirrored him. It was like an exchange of greetings through the sword. Yet, even in this mere greeting, Enkrid felt as though he had witnessed something entirely new. ''What should I call that just now?'' An incredibly fast strike? Or a cut devoid of any presence? It was exquisite¡ªbeautiful and exceptional. Ragna''s swordsmanship was that precise and clean. His own response, however, was the complete opposite. It was not clean. It was rough, unrefined¡ªlike a dull, unpolished blade. Like untanned, coarse leather. And yet, he had seen it. And his body had reacted. "Again." Ragna spoke. His blade flew in with the exact same trajectory, seemingly identical to the previous strike. A clean and beautiful slash. Enkrid blocked in the same stance. Clang! Sparks flew as their blades met. Buzz¡ª In the instant their swords collided again, Ragna''s blade vanished. ''He severed the strike the moment he swung.'' Ragna wielded his sword with absolute control. Even now, what he demonstrated was the same. It looked like a smooth downward slash, but it was a precise, forceful cut. Enkrid had blocked it horizontally, yet his arms buzzed with numbness. In that brief moment, Ragna''s sword curved like a snake and struck downward. It aimed for his thigh. With just one severed cut, his arms were left tingling. He was about to be struck. Should he force his numbed arms to move? No, that would be a mistake. Instead of using his hands, Enkrid used his feet, jumping backward to reposition himself advantageously. Pulling his right foot back and twisting his body would place him at Ragna''s flank. But Ragna was not idle. He smoothly retracted his sword mid-swing and sidestepped. Swish. Their movements scraped against the ground. At the end of that motion, they once again stood face-to-face. If what filled Ragna''s eyes was passion¡ª Then what filled Enkrid''s eyes in contrast? ''Those eyes.'' Ragna''s desire boiled over. His fighting spirit surged. He wanted to swing his sword. Not with words or speech¡ª But with his hands, his feet. With his sword, his weapon, his killing intent, his will. He wanted to converse through those things. And Enkrid did not reject the idea. ''Good. This is good.'' Ragna marveled inwardly. Amidst their brief exchange, Enkrid felt something within him explode. The greeting through the sword, the severed cuts, the contest for positioning¡ª All of it blended together, stirring something deep within his chest. And then, something surged throughout his entire body. How should he describe this feeling? Vitality? Energy? He didn''t know. The only thing certain was that his strength was overflowing. The greeting and the severed cuts had confirmed the condition of his wrists. Though there was still a lingering weight from the impact, there was no pain. ''I''m fine.'' Then there was only one thing left to do¡ª It was Enkrid''s turn now. He lunged with all his might, pouring his resolve into the thrust. His left foot shot forward, and in a single motion, he hurled his sword forward. Like a falcon diving from the sky, the tip of his blade sliced through the air. Ragna twisted his body as he watched the incoming sword tip. Though his movements were not flashy, he evaded Enkrid''s thrust effortlessly. As he dodged, Ragna smiled. And as he watched Ragna evade, Enkrid also smiled in satisfaction. To an observer, it may have seemed like a simple, repetitive exchange. A cycle of thrusting, slashing, dodging, and repositioning. Tap. Enkrid''s attacks were unpredictable. At times, he suddenly closed the distance to kick at Ragna''s shin. When Ragna evaded, Enkrid immediately switched to a half-swording stance, gripping both the ricasso and the blade to grapple. Ragna deflected, sidestepped, and avoided every move before countering with his sword. He swung. And swung. And swung again. As if that was all he knew. ''Damn it.'' Watching this, Rem stomped his feet impatiently. ''That looks so damn fun.'' Enkrid had grown stronger again. In just a few days of absence, something had changed. Rem wanted to fight him. He wanted to face Enkrid when his wrists were in perfect condition. Just watching filled him with an overwhelming urge. ''Take it easy, damn it.'' Rem grew anxious. Would Enkrid burn through all his stamina fighting Ragna? That had never happened before, but something about this duel felt different. There was a different atmosphere compared to their previous spar when Enkrid''s wrist had been injured. Back then, they had all taken it lightly¡ªRem included. But now? ''That bastard is actually being serious, isn''t he?'' Rem could tell from Ragna''s swordsmanship. It wasn''t as lackadaisical as usual. Maybe not as serious as when he fought Rem, but it wasn''t the lazy swordplay of before. If Ragna had put even half this effort against their enemies, every commander on the opposing side would have burned his name into their memory. ''Damn it, ease up already.'' Rem''s hands itched. If they hadn''t been smiling, he would have grabbed his axe and jumped in already. And he wasn''t the only one whose body was heating up. ''Why?'' Jaxen tried to suppress the feeling rising within him. Had he ever enjoyed fighting on the frontlines? No. Never. He had always trained diligently in swordsmanship, but was it ever driven by passion? No. Training and moving with desire were entirely different things. At least, for Jaxen, they had always been. Twitch. His hand kept trying to move. Every step Enkrid took, every sword stroke his so-called "squad leader" made¡ªhis body responded involuntarily. ''This is ridiculous.'' Why was he suddenly feeling such a competitive spirit? No matter how much Enkrid had improved, Jaxen was confident he could take him down right now. Because in his eyes, Ragna¡ª That lazy fool¡ª Was still holding back. If he were truly serious, this match would have ended long ago. And yet, why was his body reacting to this fight? Jaxen clenched his teeth, feeling strangely humiliated. Forcing himself to remain still, he reined in his impulses and simply watched. While Jaxen restrained himself, Audin observed with delight. He was pleased. ''It''s about time.'' He, too, could start getting serious. Unlike the others, he neither felt rushed nor denied the rising competitive spirit within him. "Because it was given by the Lord." The desire to struggle was both beneficial and good for Audin. Without it, he wouldn''t be standing by Enkrid''s side right now¡ªhe''d be with the god he served. Even after suffering two days of excruciating headaches as the price for using divinity, Audin felt satisfied deep down. Just look at that. Watching the squad leader move effortlessly despite his intact body filled him with admiration. The fairy company commander didn''t miss a single movement Enkrid and Ragna made. And a thought arose. ''Was he a genius?'' A natural question. He hadn''t been this skilled before. Their first meeting in the medical barracks. He recalled the moments he had faced Enkrid afterward. ''I thought it was just luck.'' But now, even his swordsmanship was something that couldn''t be ignored. Even in her eyes, he stood out¡ªlike a lone crane among countless chickens, possessing a level of skill that was undeniable. From what she had observed, it could be said that he was a genius who had risen to this level in a short period. ''No, this is different.'' Her sharp eyes detected flaws in Enkrid''s movements¡ªhabits that a true genius wouldn''t have. At times, a fairy''s perception could be sharper than a Frog''s ability to discern talent. The traces of endless sword swings and relentless contemplation¡ªsigns that only those who had trained tirelessly for a long time possessed¡ªcould be seen in Enkrid. Do geniuses bear such marks? No. Ragna was a genius. There was no hesitation in his sword swings. That was the hallmark of a true genius. Then what about Enkrid? "Hah!" At that moment, Enkrid let out a sharp cry and attempted a downward strike with one hand. A blade filled with the thoughts of countless repetitions of the same movement. A trajectory refined through experience, knowing that this was the only path to the goal. Clang! Their swords clashed. The sharp sound echoed as Enkrid''s blade slid off Ragna''s sword. A feint? The fairy''s intuition was precise. Ragna applied force, repelling Enkrid''s sword. Then, in one swift motion, he thrust his blade forward in a short vertical slash. In that brief instant, Enkrid''s left hand emitted a flash of light¡ªa bluish glow, something that formed at his waist, forged magic slicing through the sunlight. A second sword. Whoosh! Ultimately, Enkrid''s sword cut through empty air. The second blade had been drawn at a terrifying speed, but in that fleeting moment, Ragna had already seen everything. He simply stepped back to evade the attack. A perfectly calculated retreat. Enkrid''s second blade merely cut through the air in front of Ragna. Then, Ragna swung down his retracted sword. An attack that disrupted timing and shattered the feint. It wasn''t merely a battle of wits. This was the difference in ability. Because battle required more than just strength. Perception, instincts, experience, swordsmanship. Ragna had seen and sensed Enkrid''s left hand move. And before Enkrid could react, Ragna had already moved his feet and hands at an imperceptible speed. Thus, the spar ended. Seeing the fight conclude, the fairy company commander grew restless. ''I want to fight too.'' Would she be without competitive spirit? Before, it had only been a test of hands and feet. Now, she wanted to cross swords. And this time, with some sincerity mixed in. A sudden urge surged within her¡ªto show the mystical techniques that came with her years of age. How would Enkrid change upon witnessing that? Krais, who had been watching from the sidelines, felt no such competitiveness. How could he, when he couldn''t even fully follow their movements? ''He''s improved.'' Even as an outsider to swordsmanship, Krais could tell that Enkrid''s skills had skyrocketed. ''A late-blooming genius?'' Surprising, but that was the extent of it. His interest quickly shifted from the spar to his surroundings. It was an entertaining scene. Rem stood up and sat back down three times before resorting to stomping his feet. Like a child who had their favorite toy snatched away, he was visibly restless. Beside him, Jaxen twitched his shoulders a few times before suddenly freezing¡ªlike a heavy stone statue. Krais wondered if he was even breathing. How could someone remain that still, like ice? Watching it sent chills down his spine. It felt like being left alone in a graveyard at midnight. ''Ugh.'' Krais clicked his tongue and shifted his gaze to Audin. The devout giant soldier was standing there with a pleased smile, murmuring to himself. Krais stepped closer to catch what he was saying. "Hmm, this is good. Now, it will be a worthwhile fight." "A broken arm or two should be fine." "Snapping a neck¡ªah, I almost sent him to the Lord prematurely. That won''t do. No, that would be unacceptable." This time, Krais was genuinely terrified. Goosebumps ran down his skin. What the hell was he saying? Though his words were unnerving, Audin didn''t seem ready to jump in just yet. His tone was terrifying, but his demeanor remained calm. Audin simply stood in place. Lastly, there was the fairy company commander. The fairy, who usually made sly remarks, gripped her sword without taking her eyes off Enkrid. She was like a tranquil forest¡ªyet a storm that could rise at any moment. That was Krais''s impression. These people were something else. No crowd had gathered. Days after their victory, the high morale had settled. With the possibility of another battle looming, everyone was busy with personal maintenance. A few soldiers turned their heads to watch, but none paid much attention. After all, they had already witnessed Enkrid''s skill when he returned from the rear. For those who hadn''t seen the previous spar, the difference wasn''t significant. The keen-eyed were occupied. And the rest simply weren''t interested. There were no loud spectators. Nor did the looming battle in the air concern them. Despite knowing they''d soon step onto the battlefield¡ª ''And yet, they''re all desperate to fight each other.'' And their target was the same. Enkrid, their squad leader, who had only just recovered from his injuries. ''Do they even think?'' Even so, Krais didn''t reprimand them. He avoided interfering on a normal day, and now, even more so. The heat rising among them was no joke. ''Will he be okay?'' The spar with Ragna had been intense. Wouldn''t it be best to rest now? But if Enkrid said he would, Rem would undoubtedly throw a fit. And the others wouldn''t be pleased either. Krais''s worries were unnecessary. "Next." Enkrid, drenched in sweat, grinned widely. His body brimming with energy, he wanted nothing more than to keep moving. At those words, Rem leaped. He actually shot off the ground and charged forward. "My turn! My turn! I''ll kill anyone who tries to cut in! Even you, company commander!" Rem''s eyes were wild. The company commander hesitated before stepping back. A rare moment of concession. Chapter 127 - Today’s Victory Does Not Guarantee Tomorrow’s Victory (3) Chapter 127 - 127 - Today''s Victory Does Not Guarantee Tomorrow''s Victory (3) Chapter 127 - Today''s Victory Does Not Guarantee Tomorrow''s Victory (3) "Mm." It was the dead of night. At Enkrid''s groan, Esther lifted her head. ''Stupid human.'' Why was he pushing his body like this? Esther had learned something before. If she used up all her power to relieve his fatigue, she would only end up exhausting herself first. And the reason for that? It was because she had become too absorbed in the magic tome he had picked up. ''It is useful, but...'' There was much to discern and sort through. As she mulled over it alone, she suddenly realized that, at this moment, she couldn''t even see her own spell world. That thought made her feel miserable. ''Why am I in this state...?'' "Whew." That moment of self-pity lasted only briefly. Before she could even lament her circumstances, the man holding her in his arms let out another groan. A lunatic who, no matter the situation, started every single day with training. She didn''t know what he carried within his body, but whatever it was, it was gradually breaking down the curse that afflicted her. ''Might as well get to work.'' Since the rate of that breakdown accelerated when the man was in good condition, Esther did her best as usual to relieve his fatigue. Unable to open her spell world, she instead used her body as a medium, drawing out his exhaustion and dispersing it. And in the process, fragments of the man''s dreams or thoughts occasionally projected into her consciousness. Before, she would only see an indiscriminate flood of swords¡ª Or, at times, a deep, black well. Tonight, however, she glimpsed a portion of a dream. The dream seemed to be a piece of the man''s past. Through the chaotic visions, a face began to take shape. For whatever reason, the face was deeply imprinted on the man holding her, making it appear vividly clear. Esther frowned at what she saw. ''Ugly as hell.'' It wasn''t that the person was objectively unattractive. Rather, there was an overwhelming sense of meanness about them. That was the impression she got. More accurately, it was likely how Enkrid himself perceived the man. Esther continued watching his dream. Though long in the dream, in reality, it was just a fleeting moment. ''Stop wandering.'' As if telling him to focus on what he needed to do. Esther rebuked him. A dream like that only made it harder to disperse his fatigue. At her silent reprimand, the dream abruptly ended, and the groans slipping from the man''s lips ceased. Soon, the only sound in her ears was the deep, steady breathing of a man who had fallen into a deep sleep. The moment Enkrid opened his eyes, he knew he was dreaming. ''Again?'' What surprised him was that he was seeing the same dream once more. If the ferryman of the black river had appeared, he might have just accepted it. But this was a moment from his past, one he had dreamed of countless times already. Once, he had considered this an outright nightmare. But after recalling it so many times, it had merely become another memory. "You... Hm, I''ll let you live." A sharp surge of killing intent. A mercenary with triangular eyes. Beside him lay a fallen comrade, one who had started working with him only three days prior. Even with such a short acquaintance, they had no choice but to trust each other''s backs in battle. No¡ªperhaps "had no choice" was the wrong way to put it. It had all begun with a request to exterminate beasts. "There are a few harpies causing trouble. If you could deal with them, we''d be grateful." It was a village near the outskirts of the kingdom. The residents had pooled their meager funds to gather enough krona to hire help. The village chief''s son had traveled to the nearest city and hired five mercenaries. Enkrid had been among them. And so had that bastard. A sharp, cawing cry. A harpy''s talons plunged down, its large, heaving chest rising and falling. One of his longtime comrades lost his life to the harpy''s attack. He had once told him ''You should learn to read the room. If you keep rushing in like that, you won''t die a natural death.'' His words were harsh, but he was a decent mercenary at heart. He wasn''t someone who should''ve died like that. But the triangular-eyed bastard had stabbed him from behind. Struck by both the harpy and the betrayal of a fellow human¡ª A combined technique of monster and man. Afterward, the triangular-eyed mercenary drew his sword and swung it. Tiririring! A strange sound rang out as the thin blade cut through the air, stretching and bending in a bizarre manner. It moved too fast to see clearly. Swish! The sword cut through the air with an eerie whistle. And then, as it sliced through the air, it pierced his comrade''s skull. Through the heart, the thigh, the forearm¡ªthe flexible blade twisted and danced, slaughtering everything in it''s path. When it was over, the bastard had said, "I''ll let you live." A bloodied grin, killing intent scattering like dust. Eyes that deemed him unworthy of even being an opponent. Enkrid hadn''t screamed. He hadn''t raged. He had simply raised his sword. "What? You wanna fight me?" There was nothing to say. They hadn''t even exchanged many blows before Enkrid''s shoulder was pierced. "I told you¡ªI''ll let you live." That was it. And then the bastard left. Enkrid had survived afterward largely due to sheer luck. "I heard everyone died. How did you...?" He had barely managed to escape the beast-infested land and reach a village. After recovering, he embarked on a journey, risking his life once more to reach a city. By then, the bastard was long gone. He couldn''t even lodge a complaint with the guild. The man had already become a central figure in it. Years later, rumors spread that he had ended up a drifter. Supposedly, he had messed with the wrong noble''s daughter. That was just like him. The reason he had killed Enkrid''s comrade back then was just as trivial. "What the fuck do you think you are doing?" The old mercenary, aware of the bastard''s habits, had called him out on his behavior. That had been enough. Why had he spared Enkrid? He had never asked, so he would never know. But he could guess. It reeked of self-satisfaction. A weak mercenary unworthy of being killed. The ones who had died must have deserved it. That was the bastard''s twisted logic. "Pathetic bastard." That had been his parting remark. Enkrid had thought the world was unfair. And that skill and character were completely separate matters. ''A piece of shit.'' But a dream was just a dream. If he had been just an ordinary man¡ª He might have obsessed over revenge. But he didn''t. If an opportunity arose, he would take up his sword and demand justice. But he wouldn''t burn his life away for it. He wouldn''t throw himself away for the fallen comrade who had lost his life. He would leave behind all grievances and memories¡ª And set his life ablaze in pursuit of his own dream. That was the way Enkrid lived. Steadfast and unyielding. ''You''re not even worth killing.'' Even if the bastard looked down on him¡ª Rather than let himself be wounded by that, he would simply press forward. Even if dark, damp, terrifying, and painful memories threatened to swallow him whole. He simply endured it in silence and shook it off. ''A meaningless act.'' Did despair and suffering pressing down on his shoulders ever help him when wielding his sword? Could they serve as good milestones on the path to the life he desired? No. So he didn''t allow it. Instead of despairing, he swung his sword. Instead of dwelling on the deaths of his comrades, he swung his sword. Instead of vowing revenge, he swung his sword. "Shall I kill you this time?" His dream twisted. Somehow, the ferryman seemed to appear faintly behind the man. As memories surged like waves, turning into a chaotic sea and coloring his surroundings¡ª Nyaa. Somewhere, the drowsy cry of a beast rang out. That was it. The dream blurred and broke apart. ''Stop wandering.'' A voice was heard. Clear and pure, yet burning with heat. That was the feeling it gave. ''Esther?'' For no reason, Enkrid thought of the blue-eyed panther. At the end of the shattered, fragmented dream¡ª Bwooooooo. The sound of a horn roused Enkrid from sleep. This time, it was reality. He saw the familiar ceiling of a tent. The panther nestled in his arms was sleeping soundly, breathing softly as if dead to the world. Its faint warmth spread through his chest. Turning his head outside the tent, he saw that the morning sun had yet to rise. A deep blue hue gently seeped through. Enkrid wasn''t the only one who reacted to the horn. "Morning." It was Rem. Having jumped up, he was already gathering his gear. "Damn, it''s still cold." The barbarian particularly hated the cold. Though there wasn''t even the biting wind he used to call a ''piercing gale,'' he still grumbled. Yet, his hands didn''t stop moving. He put on a gambeson, which wasn''t particularly thick, and strapped two axes to his waist before standing up. Audin also rose, grabbing his two clubs. "May this day be filled with blessings. Good morning, brothers." No one answered, but no one rebuked him either. Jaxen had already equipped himself, though no one knew when he woke up. Even Ragna, who would normally be called lazy, was already moving today. Though he didn''t leap up or hurry, he quietly gathered his gear. Enkrid didn''t just stand there watching. He had three Whistle Daggers left. He put on a thin shirt, which served as underwear, followed by a leather cuirass with a tear near the right shoulder. The leather armor was thin and supple, comfortable to wear After donning the gambeson over it, he pulled on his boots and gauntlets, completing his preparation. A guard sword at his waist. A knife strapped to his left leg. His right gauntlet still bore the marks from his battle with the Frog. Now that he thought about it, both his leather armor and gauntlets were half-ruined. ''Could they be mended with some stitching?'' Probably not. But that wasn''t something to deal with now. Andrew, Mac, and Enri¡ªbecause they were in the Madmen Unit, they were called the youngest or dead weight, but they were experienced soldiers in their own right. Andrew, in particular, had proven his skill by taking down an enemy soldier before. The thrill of that moment had faded, but his confidence remained. They, too, armed themselves. "What''s going on?" Andrew asked. "What do you think?" Rem shot him a look of disbelief. "Seems like the ones who were hiding have come out." Mac put together the situation in his head. What other reason would there be to blow a horn at dawn, especially when the fog was thick, obscuring vision? Krais rubbed his eyes, coming to the same conclusion. ''Damn, if they attack this early in the morning, my skin''s going to suffer.'' Those idle thoughts faded quickly, and his mind spun rapidly. The army had been running more reconnaissance than usual. The guards were on high alert. They hadn''t indulged in victory drinks. No extra food had been distributed. That meant the battle wasn''t over. Each unit''s commander had likely kept their troops disciplined. A won battle was still a won battle. But preparation for the next was necessary. There was an old saying on the battlefield¡ª Today''s victory does not guarantee tomorrow''s. ''That commander really is capable.'' Krais held Marcus in high regard. He didn''t understand all his decisions, but they seemed reasonable enough. "Form up! All troops, assemble!" A messenger''s voice rang outside. Something about the enemy''s movements felt strange to Krais. Why were they just holed up in their base, waiting? If they were going to run, they should''ve run. If they were going to make a last stand, they should''ve fought. If they needed reinforcements, they should''ve signaled for them. But instead, they just hid? Why? Simple questions didn''t always have simple answers. But sometimes, they did. ''They must think they still have the advantage. Or that they have a chance to turn things around.'' Which meant they had another trick up their sleeve. The battalion commander surely knew that. Now it was a matter of whose prediction was more accurate. Was the sword Aspen had prepared sharper? Or was their commander''s shield sturdier? Not that Krais had any say in such matters. "Unless you plan to stay behind, hurry up and get ready." Enkrid lightly tapped Krais''s head, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Ah, right." At any rate, today, he was going to stick close to this side. Enkrid could see through Krais''s intentions. For the time being, it looked like he had no plans to leave his side. Otherwise, he wouldn''t have put on that gambeson. Nobody wants to die, but seeing how much Krais valued his own life, Enkrid found it rather amusing. A survivor. That''s how he seemed. *** Outside the tent, the camp was bustling with activity. Soldiers gathered in their own ways, responding to the war horns and the messengers'' calls. "Heh, I smell it. I smell it." Rem looked oddly pleased. "The fog is a nuisance, but hmm, it''s fine." Ragna wasn''t slacking off. "If you sharpen your senses, the fog won''t be an obstacle." Jaxen was unusually kind today. "The Lord says there are many empty seats in heaven today." Audin''s prayer sounded more vicious than ever. Filling the empty seats in heaven? That sounded like a declaration to slaughter. Andrew, Mac, and Enri as well. Their bodies felt light. During yesterday''s sparring, Enkrid had felt an endless surge of strength. As if he were drawing on the power of tomorrow, using it all today. ''Good.'' Despite the brutal training the day before, he felt even better today. No, he felt stronger than yesterday. ''No pain in my wrist.'' The cuts and stab wounds had already started healing with fresh skin. A harmony created by divine blessings and fairy medicine. "Advance! Move out! Forward! Forward!" At the front, the messenger''s voice rang out. Through the thick fog, the allied forces began to march. The riverbank mist was denser than ever, but it didn''t feel supernatural. Just a gut feeling, but the enemy wasn''t foolish enough to use the same trick twice. And their side had likely prepared for it. "This is good. Real good." Rem kept flapping his mouth. "What is?" "Today feels like it''s gonna be fun." Sometimes, Enkrid wondered what the hell was inside Rem''s head. The problem was¡ªEnkrid felt the same way. Beyond the fog, he sensed something new approaching. His heart started pounding with excitement. Everyone around him, even the commanders at the front, stood tense in formation. Then¡ª "Shit!" A soldier in the vanguard cursed. "Shoot! Fire, now!" Beyond the hazy mist, Enkrid saw something peculiar. A blurry, gray silhouette. It had the size of a bear, with its head towering high above. It was even larger than Audin. A monster with a head about one and a half times taller than Enkrid was tearing through the rain of arrows, charging straight at them. Chapter 128 - The Red-Blooded Beast Chapter 128 - 128 - The Red-Blooded Beast Chapter 128 - The Red-Blooded Beast "Watch closely. This will be your next lesson." The ones at the vanguard of Naurilia''s forces were all salaried soldiers. They received their wages in krona and focused solely on training. They acted as they had been trained, as they had been drilled. The vanguard, armed with short bows, could serve as scouts in urgent situations or as swift light-armored archers in battle. Now, they all released their bowstrings. Tudududung! Shiiiiiiiik! Arrows sliced through the air, embedding themselves in a massive shadow¡ªsomething too large to be human. Tatadatak! Some soldiers cheered, pleased that they had hit their target. Some tilted their heads, wondering why there was a strange tatadatak sound. And some among them¡ª "Why isn''t it stopping?" They were startled that the shadow''s charge had not slowed in the slightest. A gust. The mist parted, pushed away by the creature''s sheer bulk. And its form was revealed. If it had been a bear, that would have made sense. As the mist cleared further, those in the back could also see it. Of course, Enkrid saw it too. Even though he was positioned somewhere in the middle of the unit, the sight was unmistakable. There was no way it wouldn''t be. A body so massive that it warped one''s sense of perspective. At first glance, it resembled a giant porcupine. And being that large meant it was an equally large target. The allied archers were skilled. Dozens of arrows were already lodged in its body. It was impossible to count them all, but at least twenty had struck true. So, the initial impression was that of a giant porcupine bristling with dozens of arrows. Whoom. Then, the thing that had emerged from the mist swung something in its hand in a massive arc, a full swing from back to front. Huaaang! A sound like the air itself bursting rippled outward. The mist was pushed back even further. Then, with a motion from its back to the front, the object in its hands slammed into the ground. Kwa-ang! A thunderous boom erupted. It sounded like a magician had cast an explosion spell. It was as if a trebuchet had launched a boulder. The devastation was inevitable. "Guh-ack!" "Aaaaaagh!" Screams erupted in chorus. Soldiers caught within the hammer''s reach were crushed like tomatoes. One soldier on the right had his leg shattered. And that was after barely dodging in time. A soldier to the left felt the hammer''s shockwave and instinctively raised his shield. Crack. Splinter. He heard the sound of his body being torn apart. The oiled wooden buckler provided no resistance at all against the monster''s strike. Like a rotten tree branch, the shield shattered, and the soldier''s right side was torn apart. No, he was blown apart. The hammer''s devastating force sent his body flying sideways, his pink innards spilling into the air. Blood, guts, bones, flesh, and severed limbs filled the sky. They had once been part of someone, working tirelessly for their survival. But there was no need to wonder whose they had been. Anyone caught in that attack was already dead. All anyone could hope for now was that Vengeance was not the one standing at the front. Fuhuuu. The monster exhaled long and slow after its strike. The mere sound of it was enough to ring in their ears. An overwhelming presence. It wielded a giant hammer. A being taller and stronger than any human, with thick, solid skin and muscles that swelled unnaturally. A race just as dangerous as the Frogs¡ªthe Giants. They possessed strength three to four times that of a human and skin that ordinary blades could barely cut. People often called them the Red-Blooded Beasts. The creature looked at the carnage its hammer had wrought and hummed a tune. "Khhuhng." Its voice was like an echo from the depths of a cavern¡ªlow, deep, and wide. As the cave-like humming spread, the atmosphere among the allied forces turned deathly cold. A giant. Where had something like this been hiding all this time? "Shit, move!" A soldier, a step further back, shouted. "Puny¡ªthings." The giant murmured, sounding almost delighted. Like a curse echoing from a deep cavern. "Aaaah!" Just because they were trained soldiers, paid to specialize in war, did not mean they were without fear. Did not mean they were without terror. Of course not. The frontline began to waver. Fear settled in, and some soldiers started to step back. That was unacceptable. The commanding officer bellowed. "Do not retreat!" Shiinng! A few vanguard officers drew their swords¡ªa clear warning that retreat meant death. "Damn it." What were they supposed to do? The frontline soldiers felt like crying. This was hell. They were supposed to fight that? Looking at the giant''s full form, its armor was made of wood. Thin wooden plates covered its body, and arrows stuck out from it. There were gaps in the armor at its joints. But no arrows had even grazed those spots. Krrhrrhrrh. A giant porcupine laughing. The soldiers, caught between panic and terror, neither advanced nor retreated. The giant took its time. To it, these were just insects. Unless they were the knights humans so proudly spoke of. To the giant, they were all just insects. Easy to crush and kill. To smash and destroy. This was fun. A giant. Even Enkrid was at a loss. Where had something like that come from? He reviewed everything he knew about giants, and naturally, the characteristics of different races surfaced in his mind. Frogs lived consumed by dreams and desires. Fairies worshipped nature. Dwarves were obsessed with metal. Beastkin prioritized reproduction. Dragonkin walked their path alone. And giants¡ª "Creatures intoxicated with slaughter." They lived to kill and be killed, reveling in the violence their bodies allowed. And yet, they had never managed to claim dominion over the continent. Why? Because, aside from their lower intelligence, their instincts were too dangerous to form a proper army. They were beings addicted to bloodshed and carnage. They were called the Red-Blooded Beasts for a reason. They were insane for battles where both sides perished. To rule, one needed political acumen. And giants were incapable of that. Meanwhile, among all these races, humans had risen to the top. "Because humans can become anything." Surpassing Frogs, Fairies, Dwarves, Beastkin, Dragonkin, and even Giants, humanity became the center of the world. As the giant silently surveyed its surroundings¡ª As the soldiers in the vanguard barely managed to hold themselves together, save for the fact they had not pissed themselves¡ª Swish. Enkrid heard a strange sound. The sound of flesh being sliced. The sharp, clean cut of a well-honed blade. It could have been instinct. It could have been a gut feeling. Or perhaps, pure reflex. His head turned. Jaxen, who had been standing beside Enkrid, was already looking in that direction. "Ghk." "Enemies!" There weren''t many. Enkrid narrowed his eyes. It was on the right flank. They had closed the distance, taking advantage of the obscured vision caused by the fog. A unit of around ten men, each seemingly skilled. Attacking here with just those numbers? They must be confident in their abilities. "If they''re using the giant as a distraction and striking from the right, then something is bound to come from the left as well. Damn, I think we''ve walked right into this." Krais muttered as he turned his head left and right. Was there anything he could see? If even his eyes couldn''t pick up anything, then to Krais, the fog would be all there was. Surprisingly, he wasn''t scared by the sight of the giant. Instead, his eyes darted wildly before he spoke. "We have to stop them here." In reality, several scenarios and assumptions were running through Krais''s mind. He could see what the enemy was aiming for. He also thought the battlefield was advantageous to the opponent. But he could roughly guess what their own commander was planning as well. After all, the enemy wasn''t the only one who could use the fog. If the enemy was using the river to target their rear base, then why couldn''t their side do the same? That was likely the reason why the border defense unit was currently nowhere to be seen. The enemy had hidden themselves, while their side had freedom of movement. That meant they had more options. And so, their commander must have made a choice. ''The main force will hold with sheer numbers.'' Since they had won the previous battle, there would be a numerical advantage. If their level of training and morale were also higher, then who had the upper hand? No matter how fierce the independent unit "Grey Hounds, the Persistent Lovers" was, there were limits. How many men could they even have? At best, two to three hundred. And they had additional intel. For instance, one of his own platoon leaders had fought with some Grey Hound troops from Cross Guard and killed them. So how many of them could possibly be left? Even if the unit had originally been formed with a generous estimate of four hundred men, by now, they''d be lucky to have two hundred remaining. The battalion commander would know that too. So what had the enemy chosen to do? ''A full frontal assault.'' They had thrown everything into this charge. Either they would win here, or they would suffer near-total annihilation. And the means they had prepared¡ª The giant wouldn''t be their only asset. Krais calculated all of this in an instant and reached a conclusion. That didn''t mean he was going to explain everything. In this moment, all he had to do was make the best decision to survive and keep breathing inside this platoon leader''s tent. "The giant isn''t all they have. If we don''t stop the vanguard here, we''re finished." He laid out the simple truth. Solving it was no longer his job. The frontier defense unit had vacated their positions. Their main force was planning to endure. If things went poorly, they could end up getting wiped out instead. So, what options did they have left? There were still some. Krais looked at the platoon leader who had fought off a Frog. Then he looked at the madmen platoon members suited for that. "Captain." Krais called out to Enkrid and explained. Enkrid nodded. Even after hearing Krais''s words, he couldn''t fully grasp the situation. Yesterday had been spent sparring, and when he finally tried to get a good rest, even his dreams had been awful. But now, Krais''s eyes seemed to shine. Like Ragna''s had yesterday. Like Rem when he was excited. Like Jaxen when he suddenly became kind. Like Audin when he was at ease. "Got it." And so, he gave his answer. Enkrid scanned left and right. On the right, it looked like a squad-level force. Not just one or two, at least five or more? And the left? "The left seems to be our own." When had they gotten so close? It was the Fairy company commander. Shouldn''t the commander stay further back? "I''ll handle the left." Wait, why was she announcing that here and then leaving? The Fairy commander glanced at Enkrid. Their eyes met. "What? Do you need a blessing kiss?" "No, I don''t." Why was he suddenly thinking about Esther? The young panther should be well hidden in the back, right? Enkrid shook his head. The Fairy commander had made her joke, but her expression remained unchanged. She didn''t laugh. She just silently looked at him before moving toward the left. Some of her troops followed. Even if they weren''t an independent unit created specifically for Enkrid, The Fairy commander had picked out some of the swiftest and most dexterous among her company. They were like an elite guard for her¡ª Or perhaps, an elite force within the 4th Company. That was how their commander moved. "Good. Very good." Rem nodded. He was in a great mood. An exceptionally good mood. The reason? If he had to name one, it would be yesterday''s sparring. He had been incredibly frustrated for a while. No real fights. Pointless duels. He had no desire to participate, and Enkrid wasn''t even around. Then Enkrid came back, and his wrist was injured? All that pent-up frustration had been gnawing at his chest. But just before he exploded, his captain returned. And he recovered almost immediately. Then, they had a conversation through sword and axe. How to describe that moment? Simply put¡ª ''It was damn fun.'' In an instant, all his irritation had vanished. Every little thing that had been nagging at him disappeared. His heart felt light. When had he last felt like this? At least, not since coming to this continent. But he had felt it elsewhere before. It reminded him of his first battlefield. Back then, it had been exhilarating. Truly fun. He had been so excited, he had stuck out his tongue and rampaged. Casting aside his thoughts, Rem grinned. And he spoke. "Watch closely. This is what you''ll be learning next." Then he started walking forward. Marching straight toward the giant, who was grinning with excitement, soaking in the wary and fearful stares of the surrounding soldiers. As he walked, he shoved aside allied soldiers. They fell away, creating a path. "Out of the way, you bastards." Rem seemed the same as usual¡ª But he was clearly in a good mood. An incredibly rare, deeply excited mood. Enkrid simply watched. Rem had said to watch closely, so he would. "I''ll take care of that side." Even Ragna, for some reason, seemed unusually eager today. He was heading toward the commotion on the right. It was completely unlike him. Just like Rem¡ª Their sparring session with Enkrid had settled something within them. Instead of being lazy, he now wanted to swing his sword. "You can''t go alone." When Enkrid voiced his concern, Ragna thought for a moment before replying. "Then I''ll go after this is done. It shouldn''t take long." He didn''t seem to care whether the right flank was being overrun or not. Enkrid had considered intercepting the enemy pushing in from the right. They were clearly a fast-moving raiding party. Perhaps drawing them in and engaging them would be the better option. But before he could decide, someone else acted first. "Fall back! Don''t die like idiots fighting at the front! Gather up! Back to back with your allies!" A familiar voice¡ªVengeance. He''s doing well. The enemies pushing in from the right¡ª If they lured in the enemies approaching from the right and dealt with them from within, they would have some time. They also needed time to drag them in deep enough to ensure they couldn''t escape. "Well then, I should get going." Audin spoke as he strode toward one side with confident steps. Jaxen had already disappeared long ago. The entire squad, having finally shaken off an indescribable sense of frustration, felt lighter on their feet. Their sparring with Enkrid had made them that way. For a brief moment¡ªwhile they waited for the enemies on the right to approach¡ªEnkrid fixed his gaze on Rem. Whether Rem advanced or not, at that very moment, the giant was pulling up his hammer to swing it down once more. Overwhelming brutality. An attack that clearly conveyed the sheer force of the giant''s power. A dizzying intensity. If it were him, how would he withstand that blow? And then, Rem effortlessly surpassed Enkrid''s expectations. After all, Rem was Rem. Chapter 129 - Heart of Monstrous Strength Chapter 129 - 129 - Heart of Monstrous Strength Chapter 129 - Heart of Monstrous Strength Among the soldiers at the front was Bell. ''Shit, shit, shit.'' He had terrible luck. It might''ve been better to die from the first strike. A giant? There was no option to retreat from that. Shouldn''t the 1st Company be the ones dealing with something like that? Or maybe the frontier defense troops? The heavy-armored Turtle Unit was stationed on the left flank. As for the frontier defense troops, they were nowhere to be seen¡ªmaybe they had all gone off to get drunk together. Bell felt sweat trickling down his back. His hands trembled with tension. His legs threatened to give out. And the giant hadn''t even done anything yet, just stood there laughing. No, in reality, the first hammer strike had already shown everything there was to see. That single blow, the devastation wrought by overwhelming strength¡ªanyone who remained unfazed after witnessing that would have to be broken in the head. ''Shit.'' Bell instinctively knew he was going to die. The moment that hammer moved, it would be his turn. The front line had collapsed, and somehow, he had ended up at the vanguard. "Well, this is fucked." The squad leader beside him muttered. His expression wasn''t any better. The way his pupils shook, it was a wonder he hadn''t shouted for them to run. Not that they could. If they tried to flee, the vanguard officers behind them would turn into executioners, cutting them down. Seeing his squad leader that terrified, Bell oddly felt at ease. Well, shit. Might as well just die. The moment he stepped onto the battlefield, his life had already been mortgaged to the afterlife. Maybe it was just time to collect that debt. "We''re all gonna die anyway." Bell spoke. The squad leader turned to him. Bell looked straight at him and gave a smile of complete resignation. "But I''d at least like to cut off a toe or something." They said a giant''s hide was too tough for ordinary blades to cut. Was that really true? What if he stuck close and kept slicing away? Even if it was as tough as dragon bones, surely, if he sawed at it up close, he could cut through. Who knew? Maybe it was worth trying. "The flower of the battlefield is¡ª" Bell started speaking, not with despair, but with resolve. If he was going to stake his life, then he''d use it well. Standing still when lightning was about to strike¡ªthat was just idiocy. He had learned that from Enkrid. A man who never stopped, who seemed not to know the meaning of giving up. Having fought alongside someone like that, how could he not have learned anything? Bell had learned. And now, he would act. At Bell''s words, the squad leader reflexively responded. "Infantry." That meant it was time to fight. Which meant it was time to die. Or maybe, time to march toward death. Right then, the giant pulled his massive hammer from where it lay on the ground. Rumble. The steel scraped against the gravel as it rose. The mist was slowly lifting, revealing the hammer''s head, smeared with bits of flesh and blood like crushed bread. The sight was so vivid, so clear. That was death. That was the collected debt. "Heh, heh, heh." The giant let out another one of those guttural, cavernous laughs as he lifted the hammer. Unlike before, where he had swung it down vertically, this time he raised it and tilted it sideways. Trying to kill a lot more in one go, huh? Bell''s mind raced. Would crouching low help? Could a hammer that massive really reach the ground completely? Probably not. Then the giant bent his knees. And that hammerhead¡ªit was just too big. If he swung it at that angle, dodging would be impossible without jumping. Or he had to stay out of its range entirely. "This is bullshit. You bastards." One of the soldiers behind him whimpered. "What about the retreat signal? They blew the whistle, right? You just didn''t hear it?" A recruit. Still green. "Fuck, shit, damn it, you sons of bitches." Another soldier just kept swearing under his breath. *** The giant knew how to fight. If he had attacked immediately, he wouldn''t have created this situation. But by pausing briefly, he had planted fear in their hearts. The giant had already killed them in their minds. "Rrgh!" Even his battle cry sounded monstrous. With that, the giant unleashed his prepared strike. WHOOOM! The hammerhead tore through the air, its monstrous strength exceeding human limits. WHAM! Bell had no choice. He pressed himself against his shield, ready to take the hit and jump at the same time. Maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªhe''d survive. Of course, he was going to die. But he was going to try. For a brief moment, every soldier saw death looming over them. Bell couldn''t even see the hammer''s movement properly. But instead¡ª Whoosh! A shadow stepped forward. ''Huh?'' Before he could even register what was happening¡ª ZZZZAAAAAAANG! A deafening roar exploded in his ears. The shockwave alone made him feel like he was being pushed back. And then Bell saw it. "...What the fuck." The words slipped out on their own, the sheer absurdity forcing a curse from his lips. This was just one ridiculous moment after another. "Hey, dumbass, you should fight someone your own size." The figure blocking the way spoke. It was an ally. Standing before the giant, he looked incredibly small. But in both hands, he gripped axes¡ªand he had stopped the hammer. His arms, veins bulging as if about to burst, were bare from the shoulders down, as though he had torn off his gambeson''s sleeves to wear it like a vest. But he had blocked it. His feet had slid slightly on the gravel, leaving marks, but¡ª He had blocked it. What the hell was this? Bell couldn''t comprehend what was happening. Then. "...We''re alive." It was a new recruit. He spoke through tears, his trembling voice reaching everyone''s ears. The moment Bell grasped the situation, his chest swelled with emotion. He nearly burst into tears himself. The joy of survival was overwhelming, yet at the same time¡ª The back of the one who had instilled unspeakable terror in both allies and enemies now felt more reassuring than ever. Giants were monsters. Bloody demons. Beings who worshiped violence and reveled in slaughter. So what? They had a few of those here, too. A lunatic, a monster, a mad bastard. The kind whose mere presence on the battlefield crushed their own side''s morale. "Got honey smeared on your lips or what? Why are you keeping your mouth shut?" That monster spoke. In the same damn tone as always. But today, it sounded like a heavenly orchestra. "You bastard!" The giant roared in fury, while Rem smirked. What the hell is he saying, idiot? Rem was in a good mood. So good, in fact, that it reminded him of his first battle. It was all thanks to the sparring match with the captain. Was it really possible to feel this way from just one spar? Probably because he''d been holding so much in for so long. Now that he had let it all out, he wanted to fight properly. He wanted to show Enkrid, too. ''Look closely.'' ''This is what you''re going to learn next.'' Even as a child, Rem never flinched at a flying axe blade. Yet he had learned, mastered, and trained the Heart of the Beast. If all it did was grant courage and composure, why would he have bothered? It would have been useless. Obviously, it had value. That''s why he learned, mastered, and honed it. The reason was simple¡ªthe Heart of the Beast didn''t end at mere boldness. From this point on, it was Rem''s own creation. Not his tribe''s technique, but his own. Thump. His heart pounded at twice its normal rate, sending blood surging through his veins. The flow of blood through his body accelerated. Thump-thump-thump-thump! His blood vessels expanded, muscles swelled, and their density changed. A ritual technique that began in the heart granted his body immense strength. Rem decided to call it the Heart of Monstrous Strenght. His people only used this technique to prevent aging. But in truth, it was a technique only he had mastered. If learned improperly, one''s heart could explode, their blood vessels could rupture, or their muscles could rot away, leading to death. Well, difficulty in learning was just part of the deal. He had told Enkrid to watch and learn, but whether to take it on was his decision. If he did choose to learn, Rem would teach him slowly, step by step. Enough to keep him alive. It would hurt a little, but Enkrid would push through the pain and learn anyway. Rem blocked the giant''s hammer. Then, unleashing his monstrous strength, he swung his axe. Whoosh! The hammer came crashing down at terrifying speed, and Rem struck it with his axe. Clang! Crack! Boom! The axe blade couldn''t withstand the impact and shattered. It practically exploded. Even though he had deflected the blow as much as possible, the result was still the same. Rem swung his left arm outward, shaking off the broken axe blade so that it wouldn''t hinder him. The shattered fragments embedded themselves into the wooden armor the giant wore. ''Should''ve used something better.'' Maybe he should just go full religious fanatic and use a club. Rem wasn''t picky about weapons, but axes suited him best. Thud. He discarded the broken axe handle and flicked a spear into the air with his foot. A spear in his left hand, an axe in his right. With weapons in both hands, Rem grinned. A deeply satisfied grin, the thrill of finally facing a worthy opponent after so long, the exhilaration lingering from his spar with Enkrid. "Hey, let''s have some fun." What followed was a brutal clash. No one dared approach. Boom! Boom! Clang! Crackle! He picked up fallen spears and thrust them, swung his axe in savage arcs. When weapons broke, he grabbed whatever lay on the ground. When they were about to run out¡ª "Throw me some." Bell, quick on the uptake, tossed the weapons in his hands. Spears, hand axes¡ª Someone even threw a dagger at the giant, aiming for his eye. But the monster merely tilted his head, letting it strike his forehead instead. Thunk! What kind of skin was that? The sharp blade didn''t even leave a scratch. It simply bounced off, spinning uselessly through the air. Then what the hell was Rem, the one fighting him, supposed to be? No one knew. The only certainty was that this monster was fighting to protect them. Enkrid watched Rem''s battle. His fighting style was relentless. Brutal. But more than anything¡ª ''He''s matching strength with a giant?'' That meant he was physically stronger than even a Frog. So this was it. The thing Rem told him to watch closely. The thing he was supposed to learn next? Thump. His heart pounded. The anticipation of learning something new. For Enkrid, the thirst for knowledge was his deepest, most fundamental desire. "Guess we can leave now. Since he''s just fooling around." Beside him, Ragna spoke. Rem looked like he was having fun fighting the giant. Yeah, seeing that, I understood. Even though he could win and kill, he was still testing the waters. Why? ''For me to see?'' For a moment, that thought crossed my mind, but I quickly dismissed it as an overreach. He just seemed excited. "Let''s get to work now." Ragna seemed impatient. Why? Why was he so eager to fight? He was usually a guy with no motivation whatsoever. "Come on." Since he was rushing things, Enkrid finally moved. He had seen enough of whatever Rem wanted him to witness. Ragna was supposed to move to the right, but he kept stepping in odd directions. Enkrid grabbed him and corrected his movement. "If we just clear this side, it should be fine." Krais, sticking close behind, said. Was that so? Enkrid couldn''t see the full picture of the battlefield. The present moment was all that mattered to him. As they moved right, they spotted a group of enemies gathered there. Ten of them, looking completely at ease. What was this? Some kind of joke of fate? As he got close enough to see their faces, Enkrid realized that the man standing in the center was someone he knew. Why was he here? The man also recognized Enkrid''s face. To be fair, Enkrid''s face was the kind you wouldn''t forget after seeing once¡ªa strikingly handsome one. "You... You''re alive?" The man''s eyes widened as he recognized him, blinking a few times before smiling. His grin stretched all the way to his eyes. His triangular eyes twisted as he smiled, giving off a rather unpleasant impression. "Yeah." Enkrid answered indifferently, and Ragna shot him a questioning look. Someone you know? "From my mercenary days..." Enkrid started to explain but realized it would take too long. "A bastard I ran into." Yeah, that summed him up well enough. A piece of trash who had a habit of stabbing allies in the back, raping women, and then killing them. I should''ve killed him back then. He had supposedly fled after messing with a noble, but so he ended up here? "Come on, is that any way to greet an old friend after so long?" Friend? Enkrid rarely felt disgust, but this time he did. A friend? With something like that? Ragna glanced at him again. "No, a bastard." Enkrid kept it short and sharp, and Ragna nodded. "Hah, you always had a sharp tongue. But damn, you really made it out alive? What, did you sell your ass somewhere to survive?" Back in his mercenary days, he used to hear that kind of mockery often. Because of his looks. Even after joining the army, the remarks hadn''t stopped. But it had been a long time since he last heard one. No one dared to say such things to him now. Because he had proven himself through skill. So Enkrid easily brushed off the provocation. Ragna, too, didn''t seem to care. The guy was going to die anyway, so what did it matter? "Then the boss should take care of that one." Ragna stepped aside. The remaining nine seemed to be his problem. "You three think you can take on the ten of us?" "I''m not fighting. These two are all you need to worry about." Krais spoke from behind. Enkrid scanned the area. What had these ten done? The allied soldiers didn''t seem eager to engage them. Then, he saw the bodies scattered around. Corpses riddled with gaping holes. Traces of the bastard''s usual weapon. Enkrid''s gaze swept over the other bodies. Cuts, stabs, and piercings from swords, spears, and daggers. But something about the wounds was off. The places where holes were made looked almost... like they had been tortured. "They''re killers drunk on their own swords. They seek to improve their skills through murder." Ragna spoke beside him. "But it''s fine. I told you before, didn''t I? If you don''t walk the right path, you''ll always hit a wall." Yeah. That was what he said. That mercenary swordplay of Valen''s style¡ªif you relied on it too much, you''d stagnate. So he had rebuilt his fundamentals from the ground up. He had forged a new path. Enkrid drew his sword. Ching! "I''ll handle him." As Ragna had said, it could be called a vendetta. A scene from a revenge story. Enkrid decided to honor his fallen comrades¡ª The one torn apart by Harpies. The ones who had died back then. By taking the head of that depraved piece of filth. Chapter 130 - Severance Chapter 130 - 130 - Severance Chapter 130 - Strike and Severance "They''re really making a scene." That guy¡ªwhat was his name again? The one who taught me that skill and character don''t always go hand in hand. He twisted his lips, sneering. "Want me to give you another asshole, Enki?" He took a step forward as he spoke. Enkrid decided he would exchange words just once before killing him. "What was your name again?" The man halted his step at the question, his stance shifting slightly. "...Damn bastard, you sure have a sharp tongue." He didn''t answer. Oh well. Not like his name mattered. "Kill him." At the nameless bastard''s command, the nine surrounding him moved. They looked like what you''d expect from a corrupted border patrol unit¡ªeach wielding weapons with the scent of blood lingering on them. One of them raised a slingshot. Pang! It was a swift, practiced motion¡ªaiming, pulling, releasing in a single fluid movement. A small metal projectile shot out, aimed directly at Ragna''s eye. With a slight tilt of his head, Ragna dodged it. "Slingshot." He muttered, his eyes burning with an unfamiliar heat. That settled it¡ªthere was no need to worry. "Alone?" A voice came from behind. Vengeance. His gait was unsteady, one leg dragging slightly. Enkrid''s gaze dropped to his thigh. Before he could ask what happened¡ª "Tried saving me from that filthy bastard." A soldier standing behind Vengeance, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and resentment, answered instead. Even without an explanation, Enkrid understood. That bastard must have done what he always did¡ª Picked out a soldier to torment, forcing Vengeance to intervene, then exploited the opening to stab his thigh. Exactly the kind of thing he''d do. And in contrast, Vengeance had taken the injury to save one of his men. If Enkrid hadn''t come here, what would have happened? Vengeance would have died. He had already accepted that possibility. A man like him... yeah, maybe he was worth befriending. Vengeance was fine. But that bastard? No, not a chance. "That thing''s sharp." Vengeance spoke again. Enkrid, as if just remembering something, clapped his right fist into his left palm. "Oh, right. I remember your name now." The man smirked. "You''d never forget my name. Stop the useless provocations, bastard." Ting¡ª He drew his sword. A thin, flexible blade made of soft iron, designed to bend under pressure. The flimsy-looking blade caught the light. Enkrid spoke. "Ah, right. It was ''Son of a Bitch,'' wasn''t it?" That was his name, wasn''t it? Probably. "...You''re going to beg me to kill you." His eyes gleamed with murderous intent. Was he mad? That hadn''t been the goal, but... Enkrid shrugged. The exchange was pointless, just heating them both up for the fight. The slingshot moved again. Thunk, whoosh, crack! This time, the shot was aimed at Enkrid. But Ragna, now right beside him, drew his sword in its scabbard, deflecting the projectile. The small metal bead spun into the air before disappearing into the mist. "You''ve got fast hands. Would be fun to put a hole through them." The slingshot user sneered. Beside him stood a man wielding twin axes¡ªone in each hand, much like Rem''s fighting style. "You really think you can take us all on by yourself?" The axe-wielder glared at Ragna. That wasn''t good. Enkrid knew it instantly. Sure enough, Ragna responded. "A second-rate barbarian knockoff." "...What?" The axe-wielder, stared at the man with crimson eyes and blonde hair, not understanding. But Ragna''s crimson eyes glowed with unmistakable hostility. Twin hand-axes? That was a mistake. Among the enemy were three more swordsmen. Their blades were odd, deeply grooved for bloodletting. And their faces were nearly identical. Triplets. "Once this battle is over, we''ll be under Aspen''s banner. Might even get a noble title if we do well." The bastard spoke, his tone filled with self-satisfaction. Same as before. The same expression he had back then, when he didn''t kill Enkrid. As if declaring his motives in advance would make it all justified. Enkrid was done talking. Thunk. He stepped forward, swinging his sword down. The bastard smirked, parrying without hesitation. Tiririring¡ª The flexible blade bent, striking Enkrid''s longsword, then instantly snapping back toward his wrist. A true sword technique¡ªa strike within a strike. "Wasn''t it swordsmanship learned from the East?" That was what he had said, wasn''t it? Enkrid watched the blade aiming for his wrist until the very last moment, then flicked his sword up and down. The curved blade that had been flowing along his sword''s edge bounced upward. Thunk. ''Look at this bastard.'' A flicker of doubt and surprise appeared on his opponent''s face, but Enkrid was uninterested. He simply advanced, swinging his sword as he had learned, trained, and mastered. Hadn''t he also been taught how to deal with sword energy? "Begin with a straightforward strike." And so he did¡ªjust as Ragna had taught him. Whoosh. His blade sliced through the air. With a single point of focus, everything seemed to slow, as if he could grasp it in his hands. He connected the points, layering power over them¡ªa diagonal slash descended toward his opponent. The bastard quickly stepped back, raising his sword in defense. Fweeereeeeng! The curved blade cut through the wind, aiming for Enkrid''s neck. But that was all it did¡ªaim. Because by then, Enkrid''s diagonal slash had already reached his opponent. Faster, stronger, and more precise. One strike was enough. Crunch. He felt resistance in his hand. The blow had been executed so cleanly that there was hardly any sensation left in his grip. Still, slicing through armor and other obstacles couldn''t be entirely devoid of feeling. Enkrid''s longsword had cleaved through the man''s armor, split half his ribs, and severed the wrist gripping his sword. The curved blade that had been twisting toward Enkrid''s neck fell to the ground. Ting. Enkrid held his stance for a moment before swinging his sword sideways. Splatter. Blood scattered across the ground. Lying before him was a remnant of the past, its eyes wide open in shock, lifeless. Enkrid spoke inwardly to his fallen comrades. ''I have avenged you.'' They gave no reply. The dead never do. Neither did his opponent, whose life had been severed in a single strike. No final words. No cries of agony. A natural outcome. The mercenary who had wielded Eastern-style flexible swordsmanship had been highly skilled. But compared to the Frog and Mitch Hurrier? He was lacking. Compared to his own squadmates? Not even worth mentioning. Laughable, really. Still, had it been anyone but Enkrid, this battlefield would have been in chaos. As disastrous as the one where the giant had appeared. It was all relative. This side had killers¡ªmen who made a career of death, who honed their skills through murder. Against someone stronger, they could die just as easily. But in the opposite scenario, they would become efficient slaughterers. Uncontrollable monsters. "...The hell was that?" One of the three brothers holding swords muttered. "What do you think?" Ragna responded, stepping toward the slingshot-wielding opponent. His movement was astonishing. In just a few steps, he had closed in on the man''s side. "Tch!" The man twisted his body to evade¡ªhis last mistake. The moment he clicked his tongue in frustration, his head flew skyward, frozen in shock. When? When had he drawn his sword? When had he swung it? The speed and precision were terrifying. Even to Enkrid''s eyes, the curved blade left only afterimages. "Slingshot." Ragna murmured toward his fallen opponent before shifting his gaze. "Three swords." The words were meant for the three brothers. All three drew their blades¡ªthey weren''t planning to go down without a fight. Ragna saw the murderous intent burning in their eyes. Killers. Men who lived by the sword, who made a profession out of slaughter. He had encountered their kind before. Fools who didn''t even know how to properly refine their skills. Swords that had been honed only by slaughtering the weak, that had learned only to cut down the defenseless. No matter the opponent, no matter the situation. Ragna was in a good mood. How many times in his life had he felt this rush of enthusiasm? Three times? Five? No, probably not even five. The irritation, the frustration that had built up inside him had transformed into this¡ªthe sparring with Enkrid had ignited a spark. A fire lit within his already red eyes. His gaze gleamed. Leaving only an afterimage, Ragna swung his sword. Swish. Thud. Splat. Crunch! The three sword-wielders were impaled, beheaded, and cleaved from chin to crown. Ragna''s blade cut through everything¡ªswords, armor, flesh, bone. It was remarkable. "Pitchfork." Ragna''s gaze shifted again. The next opponent wielded a pitchfork¡ªa weapon chosen purely to inflict pain. The man gulped. It seemed he had met his match. "All at once!" He shouted. Before his words had even finished, they charged. And he? He ran for his life. Enkrid''s eyes widened in surprise. Normally, Ragna wouldn''t even glance at cowards like that. But this time¡ª Snap. He moved so fast that he was nearly invisible. With a burst of speed, he launched forward, swinging his sword left and right. His movements were so swift that it looked like wings were flaring from his back. Though, in truth, the wings originated from his hands. Wings formed from the afterimages of his swordplay. They split the head of a spear-wielding foe. Severed the arms of a dagger-wielding woman. Clang! Even the dagger she had been holding was sliced clean in half. It was an unthinkably devastating strike. "GYAAAAH!" The woman''s scream tore through the air. Without hesitation, Ragna bolted after the fleeing man. The pitchfork-wielder spun around, raising his weapon in defense. The weapon was made entirely of iron. Ragna swung his sword again, just as before. From his stance, it was a back-edge strike. It was a motion meant to parry the enemy''s weapon to the side and then counter with the back edge. However, this time, the very first strike was different¡ªit sliced halfway through the iron pitchfork. Then, in a seamless motion, Ragna''s sword swung back and cleanly severed the man''s neck. Ssshhk. What the hell? If he had put in just a little more strength, the entire pitchfork would have been cut through. Now, only one opponent remained. "Shit." A man wielding two axes. "You''re the main dish, barbarian." Something was... different. Ragna was acting unlike his usual self. Something was off¡ªsomething very different, in fact. He walked straight toward the axe-wielding enemy. Though his appearance bore no resemblance to Rem, that didn''t matter to Ragna. "To the legs first." And he made it happen immediately. His sword moved. The axe-wielding man was skilled¡ªanyone could see that. But this... It reminded Enkrid of someone¡ªhis past self, to be exact. It was that moment when one faces a wall that no amount of effort or training could overcome. "Gahhh!" The man howled in desperation. But that was all he could do. Ragna first slashed the man''s thigh, then severed the tendons in both his arms. Thud. The axes fell from his limp hands, and Ragna placed his sword atop the man''s crown. That was when he realized¡ªhe was actually quite excited. It was a different kind of feeling. ''Should I even be feeling this way?'' Regardless, it wasn''t a bad sensation. "S-Spare me! I''ll tell you where we hid the goods¡ª" Crunch. Ragna didn''t listen. And so, the last surviving member of the mercenary group wielding real swords died with his skull split in two. Ragna checked his sword. The blade was completely chipped, and the handle was loose. He discarded it. Then, he collected the swords the three brothers had been using. "Hm. I''ve got three swords now." With that, he strapped one sword to each side of his waist and slung the third one diagonally across his back, just like Enkrid. "You a three-sword style user?" "No. I''ll use them one at a time." Ragna shook his head at Enkrid''s question and then spoke again. "Do you know what technique I just used?" His speech was quicker than usual. That, too, was unusual. How could Enkrid know? From what he saw, it was just slashing and cutting¡ªnothing more. Though, there was something remarkable. No matter what weapon was used to block it, Ragna''s sword cut through everything¡ªdaggers, whatever. As Enkrid pondered, Ragna spoke again¡ªhis tone still unusually fast. "I''ve named it ''Severance.''" A rather plain name. But despite that, the technique''s power was undeniable. Severance¡ªcutting. A swordsmanship technique built entirely on the act of cutting, honed into a personal skill. "I''m going to teach it to you." Ragna announced it. Enkrid nodded. Vengeance, who had been watching, couldn''t even bring himself to click his tongue. ''Monsters, the lot of them.'' That was all he could think. Enkrid picked up the two axes from the ground. Rem had broken his weapon while fighting the giant¡ªhe would need new ones. Aside from that, the only other things worth taking were a few throwing daggers from the mercenary who specialized in them. It was a shame he had used up all his Whistle Daggers. ''It''d be nice to craft some more.'' And so, they wrapped up the battle and began gathering supplies. *** From the front¡ª "Whoaaa!" "Audin! Audin!" A roar of cheers erupted. The frontlines. Something had happened where Audin had gone. Enkrid''s gaze turned forward. At some point, the sun had risen, and the mist was starting to lift. The surroundings were becoming clear. It wasn''t some kind of sorcery¡ªjust the morning mist by the river, dissipating with time. And beyond the lifting mist¡ª Audin stood. Alone. Right in the middle of the enemy ranks. Chapter 131 - A Duel That Changed the Battlefield Chapter 131 - 131 - A Duel That Changed the Battlefield Chapter 131 - A Duel That Changed the Battlefield Rem was elated. Ragna, feeling the spark, burned with newfound determination. Audin, through his duel with Enkrid, felt as if he had received an answer. His prayers to the Lord had always been questions, yet no answer ever came. The Lord wielded silence as a weapon. And within that silence, it was their duty to seek the answers. Still, at times¡ªvery rarely¡ªAudin believed the Lord did grant answers. Even if He did not speak in voice, He conveyed His will through other means. Through that duel, Audin felt he had received an answer from Enkrid. Or at least, it felt that way. "For all his efforts, what does that man hope to gain? Will his efforts bear fruit?" It took but a moment for one man''s struggle to reach the depths of Audin''s long-held questions. "If we are commanded to protect the weak, why do you not shield them, Lord? Why do you not grant them the rewards of their struggle?" Strength and weakness. Good and evil. The age-old questions. Why did those he deemed evil prosper, while those he considered righteous suffered? He had witnessed both the fall of virtuous weaklings and the collapse of noble warriors. Even in the temples, supposed to be the Lord''s cradle and foundation, evil had flourished. Why did the Lord merely watch? Why did He not cast judgment? Why did the inquisitors only bind the weak to carts lined with thorns? And why did the Lord remain silent in the face of it all? Yet amidst all this, there was a man who lived as if he could drink the river dry with sheer will. A man who always stood unwavering before him, like the sun rising every morning, unchanged. If the Lord truly existed, He ought to answer to him. A man who burned himself alive in his convictions should not be forsaken. Was there truly divine intervention? Audin did not know. He could not know. But it did not matter. Because in knowing Enkrid, in the days spent by his side, Audin had learned something. "The questions lie within me." And the answers, too, were within himself. Through that duel, he felt as though he had found the answer to his questions. To speak honestly and truthfully¡ª A sense of liberation filled his chest. Enough that he would not mind crushing a few enemy skulls in this very moment. Thus, Enkrid''s duel had spurred Audin into action. Just as it had roused Rem. Just as it had ignited Ragna. No one had known before, and no one would know after, but in that moment¡ª It was Enkrid''s relentless spirit that had shifted the tides of the battlefield. His duel had shaken the hearts of the entire squad, sending them forth into the fray. "Lord, today I send these souls to Your side." Killing could be a sin. Yet, it could also not be. All religions were reflections of their time. Audin was no exception. His Lord did not shy away from bloodshed. If necessary, he would not hesitate. Without restraint, he would send new souls to serve at the Lord''s side. Audin strode forward. His allies murmured as they recognized him, then fell silent. "Those who have received the coin of the goddess of fortune would do well to step aside." Audin spoke with benevolence and mercy. The mist clouded their vision, allowing them to see only what lay immediately before them. One enemy soldier caught sight of Audin and sneered. "Trying to imitate our giant, are you?" It was an understandable mistake. Audin''s faint smile did not waver. He was neither offended nor irritated. There was no need for anger when he could simply send his foe to the Lord''s side to seek forgiveness. There was no room for a man''s petty displeasure in this moment. "I do not pretend to be anything else, brother." "Brother, my ass." The enemy stood a few paces away, spears at the ready. Audin slowly began to count. "Five." No one understood the meaning of his numbers. "The hell is he saying? Kill him!" The battlefield had ignited at the arrival of a giant. The soldiers were now swept up in that heat. One of the enemy spearmen lunged forward. Tap. Audin brushed the spearhead aside with the back of his hand. Softly, outward. The blade lost its trajectory along the flow of his movement. The soldier nearly toppled over before regaining his balance. "Four." Audin continued his count. "You bastard!" The soldier gestured to his men. He was their squad leader. The unit quickly surrounded Audin. Spears were the finest weapons an infantryman could wield. Now, ten spear tips were trained on Audin. One man, encircled by a squad of ten. "Three." Audin counted again. "What a lunatic." Even as he spoke, the squad leader felt a creeping unease. A chill ran down his back, and his stomach churned. What had that been earlier? How had he brushed away a spear with his bare hand? Was he wearing something? He had gloves on¡ªthin, white ones¡ªbut they did not look like combat gauntlets. And his hands... were abnormally large. "Two." As he thought, the count continued. The squad leader spat onto the ground. "Tch, kill him." The command was given. "One." Audin''s final number left his lips. It was a final mercy. A last kindness, for those who had received the goddess''s coin, to step away. "Just for today." For today, he answered the call of the War God. But he would not become the War God''s apostle. Not yet. Audin hoped an enemy as formidable as the giant would appear before him. If he was to invoke the name of the War God, he wished for a worthy battle. "Then." As the spears lunged toward him, he uttered a single, emotionless word. "Zero." The instant it fell, Audin drew his weapon. Not a cherished blade. His beloved weapon had been left behind at the temple. This was merely a substitute. A wooden club, oiled for durability. No metal reinforcements, no iron spikes¡ªjust wood. And yet, it was enough. Whoosh. To the enemy spearmen, it seemed as if Audin had vanished. Of course, that was not the case. He had merely bent backward at the waist, nearly reclining to avoid their thrusts. Three spears came at him simultaneously, all aimed at his chest. Audin, displaying a flexibility unbefitting his massive frame, pushed off the ground with the soles of his feet and rose to his feet. Then, he casually swung his club once. Whoosh. Crash! With a single sweeping arc, three spear shafts were sent clattering to the right. "Whoa!" As the three spear-wielding soldiers lost their balance and staggered, Audin took another bold step forward. Then, his club came crashing down on an enemy soldier''s head. Thud! One head, one strike. Whoosh, thud! Whoosh, thud! One by one, three heads burst open in an instant. Audin, despite his bulk, was as swift as a squirrel. "...Huh?" It was the same pattern over and over. Whether it was a spear thrust or a throwing knife, he either dodged them roughly or caught them midair and flung them right back. Then, as he closed the distance and struck with his club¡ª Thud! Their heads burst like ripe pumpkins. No, at this rate, heads seemed even softer than pumpkins. A Naurilian soldier observing from behind clicked his tongue. "That''s a monster." Dodge and strike¡ªthat''s all it took to win. But knowing that and executing it were two entirely different things. Thud¡ªanother head exploded. At first, he used only two clubs. Then, when the enemy began firing arrows and charging in, he started using his feet. At that point, it felt like watching a charging cavalry unit. Every opponent who came near was sent flying. "Hahahaha!" The monstrous ally let out a hearty laugh. "May the blessing of the whole body be with me!" And then he shouted again. ''That guy is mad.'' Still, for the Naurilian soldiers watching, there was some relief¡ªat least this lunatic was on their side. "Charge forward, all of you!" The command unit was quick to grasp the situation. As the tide shifted, the entire army surged forward. Amidst it all, Audin rampaged at the center of the enemy ranks. "You! Where do you think you''re going?!" A few exceptional warriors from the Grey Hounds unit leaped in to challenge him. However¡ª "Welcome, brothers!" Audin feigned an opening with his club, then swiftly withdrew it, pivoted on his left foot, and launched a kick. A kick executed with thighs as thick as logs, seamlessly connected with his entire body''s weight. Smash! Crack! A casual mid-kick folded the opponent in half. How could a kick have such power? Did he have steel greaves strapped to his legs or something? With a single blow, a man''s body bent in half, his organs rupturing. His face turned crimson as the capillaries in his eyes burst. The impact sent the victim flying, knocking over three or four other enemy soldiers. "The hell is this?!" The enemy troops could only stare in disbelief. Audin fought like an antlion''s pit¡ªdevouring everything that approached. *** The fairy company commander fixed his gaze on the approaching opponent. The enemy was also a fairy. Encountering a fellow kin on the battlefield was no longer a rarity. Times had changed. Gone were the days when fairies huddled together in secluded forests. A closed-off society inevitably decayed. And once forgotten, whether gods or fairies, they would eventually lose their homes to invading hands. The choices of past generations had shaped the lives of their descendants. Some had traded their years for krona. That meant serving in the military, either as mercenaries or for other forms of compensation. Thus, Fairy Company Commander Shinar saw little difference between herself and her opponent. Whether for krona or some other reason¡ª Once they stood as enemies, they had no choice but to fight. "A Needle Sword?" There were two distinct swords among the fairies. The Leaf Blade¡ªNaidyr. And the piercing weapon, the Needle Sword¡ªNeedle. Exclusive weapons of their kind, now facing off with different purposes. "So, there''s another fairy." The Aspen fairy was a sharp-eyed man. His hair was cut short, and his lips were set in a firm, determined line. Well, most fairies were stubborn. Even Shinar had to admit that. The tip of his opponent''s blade was stained red, droplets of blood falling to the ground. By now, the surrounding troops had withdrawn into a loose circle around them. One was a company commander. The other, a hidden blade prepared by the army. "If you run, I won''t chase you down to kill you." The man spoke. Shinar, looking at the bloodstained Needle in his hands, drew her own sword. Ting. A Leaf Blade¡ªNaidyr. "That should''ve been my line." In the next moment, their swords clashed. The duel did not last long. Shinar was several steps ahead of the Needle-wielding fairy. Talent, skill, experience, and cunningness¡ª Her opponent could not surpass her in any of these. After a few swift exchanges, Shinar''s Leaf Blade grazed the man''s throat. Slash! From the sensation in her hands, she knew she had secured the kill. The fairy clutched his neck and collapsed forward. Watching him fall, Shinar felt a wave of irritation. ''Bastards.'' This was a trap. The real attack was coming next. While she fought this one, at least three killing intents had locked onto her. They had used bait to draw her attention and then aimed to strike from behind. An assassination attempt on a commander¡ªthis was their method. Their objective was blatantly obvious. The only anomaly was that none of this man''s allies had come to save him before his death. That''s why his eyes remained wide open in death. ''Pathetic.'' Of course, in war, underhanded tactics could be an advantage¡ª If they succeeded. Unfortunately, the enemy lost their chance to display their disgrace. There had been a murderous intent, but it had vanished. There could be two reasons for this. One, the enemy gave up and fled. The other, an external force had intervened. The answer was the latter. A man was wiping his sword against the clothes of a corpse. His brown eyes carried a tinge of red. His hair, a similar reddish-brown hue, was of moderate length and entirely free of blood splatters. No, Fairy Company Commander Shinar had never once seen that man covered in blood. He was always impeccably clean. Ah, except for when he was mingling with prostitutes¡ªhis attire would be in shambles then. She had seen him like that before. Walking out after finishing his business with a woman. "Here?" "Had nothing better to do." Jaxen responded to the company commander''s question. Not that he was any different. Watching Enkrid, Jaxen couldn''t help but feel pleased with his growth. If he stayed by his side, he wouldn''t be able to resist commenting on it. His mouth itched to say something. His hands, too, itched for action. Somewhere, he wanted to let it all out. And it seemed some fitting targets had just stepped up. Jaxen pushed through the fog and followed behind the Fairy Company Commander. He slit the throats of three assassins. It wasn''t difficult. His opponents were fairies, whose skills were remarkable by ordinary standards, yet to Jaxen, they were nothing special. Rather than properly trained fighters, they were more like those who had honed their natural talent through experience. In a way, they were the easiest kind of enemies for Jaxen to handle. "Just leaving your captain behind?" At the fairy''s question, Jaxen tilted his head. "If he were going to die in a place like this, he would''ve been dead long ago." It was the highest praise. Because it meant he believed in Enkrid. He no longer needed to watch over him. ''Next time.'' Rather than footwork, it was time to teach him something else. Once he sharpened his senses, what came next in training? After opening the gate of the sixth sense¡ª ''Observe well and respond accordingly.'' Still things that required time and effort to master. Had he ever properly taught something like this before? Didn''t seem like it. "Sigh." Lost in thought, Jaxen let out a sigh, wondering why he was taking this so seriously. Truthfully, it wasn''t even something he needed to teach. The Fairy Company Commander took note of this and spoke. "This battalion commander is no fool. He knows how to read the flow of battle." Did she think he sighed because the unit wasn''t moving? That wasn''t it. Jaxen was someone who rarely revealed his true thoughts. The Fairy Company Commander didn''t misinterpret his sigh. What interest would that madman have in matters like this? It was just that Jaxen happened to be there. And he had just demonstrated his skills by eliminating three assassins. Her words meant that the tides were shifting. And her voice reached the ears of the surrounding soldiers, not Jaxen. The momentum was about to change, and with it, victory would follow. "All units, form up!" At her command, the five company members who had merely been standing by as escorts now took position behind her. The moment those words left her mouth, war horns blared from all directions, and messengers began to run. Just as she had said¡ª Marcus knew how to seize the flow of battle. Chapter 132 - The Pilgrim Walking in Search of a Dream Chapter 132 - 132 - The Pilgrim Walking in Search of a Dream Chapter 132 - The Pilgrim Walking in Search of a Dream Marcus felt a wave of dizziness. Cold sweat dripped down his forehead, soaking it almost instantly. ''These bastards...?'' His mouth went dry at the enemy''s cunning ploy. But standing idly by was not an option¡ªhe was the commander of the current infantry battalion. With the reinforcements joining them, his unit had swelled to two battalions. "Tortoise Company, hold the rear! The rest, stop the giant! Do not break formation! If anyone retreats, put an arrow in their skulls!" His adjutant repeated his orders, and the messengers took off in all directions, shouting the abbreviated commands. "Damn it, just block it! Hold the line! Fall back and you die anyway!" It could turn into the worst possible situation. Forcing the soldiers to sacrifice themselves would crush morale, and once they started retreating, securing a favorable position on the battlefield would be nothing but a pipe dream. But there was no other choice. He needed time to reorganize his forces. The horn blared incessantly. Bwooooooo! Marcus stared into the mist that clouded his vision. What a cursed, miserable battlefield. Hadn''t they nearly been wiped out because of this wretched fog in the previous battle as well? That time, the mist had been conjured by sorcery. How had they dealt with it back then? Through the wit and strategy of the previous battalion commander? ''Yeah, like hell I''d believe that nonsense.'' He knew exactly what kind of man the previous battalion commander was¡ªa noble-born officer who loved bribes more than competence. A fool driven by greed rather than skill. Someone else had broken that sorcery. Everyone kept quiet about it, but it was that squad leader¡ªthe one nicknamed the "Spell Breaker." The soldier who got lucky, the one rumored to have slept with the Goddess of Fortune herself. The same soldier he had sent to Cross Guard, only for him to return after solving even more problems over there. For some reason, that soldier came to mind at this moment. The soldier he had called upon to control that lunatic squad and put them to use. The name that burned clearly in his mind¡ª Enkrid. As his train of thought came to an end¡ª Beyond the slowly thinning fog, something appeared. A being that stood several heads taller than any human. "...Holy shit." A giant. That bastard enemy commander was serious. Rather than waging a drawn-out battle, he had gathered his forces and struck directly at the main army. If this were a gamble, he had gone all in. ''Goddamn, in the middle of all this, he pulls something like that?'' In truth, it had been one shocking move after another. First, duels using soldiers to break morale. Then, a strike at the rear. And now, sending a giant to overturn the battlefield in a single blow. Was this the work of a strategic genius? Or was it a reckless plan that happened to align by sheer luck? He had no way of knowing. The battlefield only cared about results. Victories and losses¡ªnothing more. If they lost here, it would be because of his own inadequacy. His chest tightened with tension, but instead of despair, a grin crept onto his lips. There was a reason they called him a war freak. In moments like this, his desires, his instincts, his very primal urges boiled over. The chariot of battle pumped his veins with adrenaline. ''If... if we can catch the right flow, even just a little...'' Marcus was not the type to carefully analyze the battlefield and devise strategies. He was a gambler. He left the thinking to his subordinates. "We must retreat. A single giant will cost us at least a platoon''s worth of men." "We need to acknowledge that the enemy''s move is devastating." "We should regroup and counter with archers instead of heavy infantry¡ª" Before his adjutants could even finish speaking¡ª "Left flank! Elves and assassins have appeared!" What the hell? "Right flank! A squad of elite mercenaries is rampaging! They''re at least top-tier!" This was a disaster. An absolute catastrophe. Yet, Marcus''s heart did not shrink in fear. ''This isn''t over yet.'' Ignoring his adjutants'' pleading gazes for retreat, he remained silent. All he needed was a small shift. If the winds of change blew, even slightly¡ª Marcus swallowed dryly and waited. And if that change never came? ''No... There''s a chance.'' There were always exceptional individuals within any gathered force. Even within this infantry battalion, there had to be such people. All it took was a single hand to stir the stagnant waters. Marcus believed that moment would come. "Commander!" His adjutant shouted in desperation. It was that urgent. And just then¡ª A messenger sprinted toward them. From a distance, screaming the battlefield report at the top of his lungs¡ª He was so hoarse that his veins bulged from his neck, his voice on the verge of breaking. "Urgent news! Urgent news! The giant has been slain!" Change. The shift he had been waiting for, relying purely on instinct. It didn''t matter who had done it. "Full-scale advance!" Marcus roared. The moment of counterattack had arrived. He proved his worth as a commander. He was a formidable leader. At his command, the Naurilian army surged forward like a charging turtle. A circular assault formation centered around the heavy-armor Tortoise Company. It was a formation Marcus specialized in¡ªa large-scale battle tactic. The giant''s death was merely the beginning. The winds of change spread across the battlefield. Like a violent storm sweeping in at the turn of summer to autumn. "Fooooooorwarrrrd!" The voices of the messengers, chosen for their booming voices, echoed across the battlefield. Bwooooooo! The horn sounded. A call for the army''s advance. "Wipe them all out!" "Die, you bastards!" Bell joined the charge. Seeing Rem slay the giant and their allies withstand the giant''s strength set his heart ablaze. This battlefield didn''t feel like one they could lose. That was the sense he got. Pa-pa-bak! The infantry wielding spears lunged forward, stabbing at the enemy like thorns. Puk! The struck unit held firm. Aspen''s elite soldiers were tough. Their shields and armor were sturdy, and they retaliated by thrusting their own spears. "Open up!" A command rang out from behind the allied spearmen. So what? You think you''re as tough as we are? Turtle Heavy Infantry Company. 1st Company of the 4th Battalion, 4th Regiment, Cypress Division. A unit named after knights and renowned even within the division. Not an independent detachment but a core force of the army. They moved. Their tactics were simple, and the overall strategy was even simpler. ''Advance, break, and destroy.'' The Turtle Heavy Infantry Company did not take the field to defend. They were here to attack. Their steps were slow but heavy. If the spearmen at the front had been the spears, now came the maces. Maces meant to crush and shatter shields and armor. While their main weapon was usually a pike, what they needed now was a relentless, crushing advance. So, they swapped to blunt weapons, designed to break enemy defenses. Beneath their armor, they wore padded gambesons over inner garments, then chainmail, and finally reinforced their limbs with steel gauntlets and greaves. Their charge together felt like an avalanche of iron. Ten heavy infantrymen at the front moved in perfect unison. Raising their weapons vertically above their heads. Their maces, longer than standard ones, cast shadows over the blood-soaked ground. "Damn it." A soldier among the enemy muttered. The ten leading heavy infantrymen brought down their weapons simultaneously. The iron mauls sliced through the air, smashing shields, armor, and the spears feebly thrust forward. Boom! Crack! Crash! Crunch! A cacophony of destruction erupted at once. The first strike. None of the enemy soldiers died from it. This was a battle of formations. They didn''t collapse immediately, but the real problem was what followed. The battle lines had now fully merged. The boundaries between allies and enemies blurred. Like the sun and moon dissolving the night''s border before dawn. Both armies fought to maintain their formations. And the heavy infantry, locked in place, demonstrated their devastating strength. Crunch! The second blow shattered a buckler into splinters that scattered into the air. The eyes of the Aspen soldier holding the broken shield widened in shock. Another mace came flying over the remains of his shield, slamming into his helmet. Thud! "Guh!" His leather helmet was no match for the force of the steel. His skull caved in instantly, and he collapsed. The heavy infantry marched over his fallen body. Crunch, crunch. Bones cracked, cheekbones shattered, and blood splattered. The body, unable to withstand the weight, was trampled lifeless. For the soldier crushed beneath the heavy infantry''s boots, death was the only outcome. "Advance! One step forward!" The heavy infantry commander kept their formation intact. A slow, deliberate advance, tightening the enemy''s noose. It wasn''t a charge or a rush¡ªjust a methodical, crushing push forward. The enemy had no room to retreat. "Sweep them away." The commander''s voice brimmed with confidence. It was justified¡ªthe battle had flipped in an instant. Had there been knights present... Had this battle begun with a duel between them, things might have been different. But the enemy hadn''t chosen that kind of fight. They had hidden their trump card and struck first. Yet, their attack had been met with an even stronger sword. A sword they hadn''t expected to be so unbreakable. No one could have imagined that even a madman like Rem would not only slay a giant¡ªbut toy with it. "Uoooooh!" A war cry tore through the air. The soldiers were in a frenzy. Their eyes bloodshot, they thrust their spears and swung their swords wildly. Some even grabbed axes and hurled them. At that moment, Marcus''s tactics shone once again. The heavy infantry shattered the enemy''s formation from the front. "Shoot! Shoot! Fire everything!" A unit flanked around. Swift, lightly armored archers¡ªrangers wielding shortbows. One exceptional ranger had recently joined their ranks. A woman named Finn. Hearing Marcus''s order, she understood exactly what he wanted. Arrows rained down. Few died from the barrage. But the arrows kept coming, over and over. They did not hold back. "Drop your weapons and surrender! Put your heads to the ground! Surrender, and you will not be killed!" They shouted repeatedly. Messengers with powerful voices echoed the call across the battlefield. The soldiers at the fringes, already losing morale, were on the verge of retreat. And when they encountered Finn, they had no choice but to drop their weapons and raise their hands. "Don''t kill them! Don''t kill them!" Finn deliberately spared the surrendering soldiers. The effect was immediate. One by one, they fell to their knees. The tide of the battlefield had completely turned. Rem wiped his hands clean after slaying the giant. ''Guess my sweat''s going to dry now.'' It had been fun up to this point. What came next? Chasing down and slaughtering the enemy? Didn''t feel like it. It wasn''t about mercy or avoiding a massacre. They had already won. The pursuit just seemed tedious. He looked around, wondering if the enemy had another hidden giant or something. But there was nothing. Only murmurs from the enemy command. ''They''re about to scatter.'' ''Maybe they''ll try some sorcery or something.'' No signs of that either. The battle was over. That was Rem''s conclusion. He turned around to find his platoon leader. "...What the hell." Where''d that bastard go? He was supposed to stay back and watch. He didn''t even see him fight the giant? The lazy bastard and the religious zealot were gone. And the stray cat was gone too? Which meant... he must''ve gone off with one of them. "Uh?" Something felt off. "Whoa! Long live the Madmen unit!" "Long live Rem!" Even after the battle, voices continued to praise Rem for taking down the giant. Every passing soldier sang his name. A madman in their ranks had slaughtered an enemy giant, a beast consumed by bloodlust. But more than anything, it was that final move. He had seen the giant wielding its massive war hammer, then kicked the giant''s thigh, smashed its fingers gripping the weapon with his fist, and broke them. After that, he launched himself into the air, spinning. His head dipped downward as his foot struck the giant''s jaw. A resounding impact. Then, without hesitation, he picked up a stray spear, driving it through the giant''s shattered jaw and up through the back of its skull, creating something almost like a work of art. The fallen giant looked like a sculpted monument. And standing before it, Rem seemed like a hero from legends. Giant foes often played the role of villains in stories. So, naturally, cheers erupted non-stop. "Shut up!" Even as he was being praised, Rem suddenly shouted. His voice was so loud that those celebrating him immediately fell silent. Only then did his nickname surface in their minds, shining like the full moon. ''Barbarian madman.'' A lunatic who lost it for no reason. A madman who raged and swore without cause. "Where''s our captain?" Someone raised a hand and pointed. There stood Enkrid, holding two axes. He had already been heading their way. Soon, Rem, Ragna, and Enkrid met. "I told you to watch¡ª" "Picked them up on the way." Enkrid cut Rem off and tossed the weapons toward him. The two axes sliced through the air and landed perfectly in Rem''s grasp. Thud. He stretched his hands out and caught them. "Hmm?" The grip, the weight¡ªit felt just right. Holding them, he could tell. These were better than what he had used before. Weapons that had been personally maintained, that had tasted blood. From the balance to the axe blades. Made with high-quality steel, meticulously cared for. "You went to get these just because my axe broke?" It didn''t matter how he got them, as long as they were in his hands now. Enkrid knew Rem well. "Yeah." He nodded in agreement. Though in truth, he had just stumbled upon them, if this was enough to bring peace, then so be it. The killing intent emanating from Rem softened. The hostility faded. "You saw what I told you to watch?" "I saw it. An axe blocking a giant. Overpowering it with strength." As Enkrid spoke, Rem met his gaze. The axes weren''t the important thing. What burned in Enkrid''s eyes¡ªthat flame, that hunger, a desire that could be called ambition or obsession. A pilgrim walking a bloodied path to learn, to grow, to reach something beyond. That was enough. That was why Rem liked Enkrid. "Good." Rem grinned. Enkrid smiled too. Their smiles were different, yet somehow similar. Watching them, Ragna muttered, "First, get your sword back on you." Then, without a sound, Jaxen suddenly appeared behind him. No footsteps, no presence¡ªhe was just there. "When your instincts sharpen and your sixth sense opens, what comes next? Refinement, breaking it down, training each aspect separately, and learning how to respond. There''s a lot to do." Enkrid turned his gaze to him, meeting Jaxen''s eyes. He silently asked, ''And what does all that mean?'' No answer came. "You''ll find out next time." It seemed Jaxen was even better at cutting things short than Ragna. "This bastard? Just cutting in?" Rem narrowed his eyes. Before they could exchange sharper words, Audin returned. "Whoa! Our crazy giant is even stronger!" The cheering was relentless. Yeah, this side had their own mad giant now. Drenched in blood, smiling faintly. Blood dripping from his sleeves as he grinned¡ªwas it a talent, or just madness? "Do you know the essence of Valaf combat?" Another one. Enkrid''s gaze shifted to the mad giant. Audin flashed a grin. "Goddamn it, everyone''s cutting in." Rem growled. They all released killing intent at each other. Enkrid watched for a moment, then stepped in. Right in the middle of the battlefield, regardless of the ongoing fight, they were more focused on teaching him. And these people¡ª They were the true heroes of this battle. As Enkrid calmed the chaos, he asked, "But what about the others?" Now that he looked around, Andrew and the others were nowhere to be seen. "They got swept up and pushed forward." Rem answered. Chapter 133 - Spring Holds Magic Chapter 133 - 133 - Spring Holds Magic Chapter 133 - Spring Holds Magic Andrew and Mac raised their swords. Between them, Enri continuously drew the string of the short bow he had brought instead of a crossbow. Whenever he saw an opening, he shot. If an enemy approached him by chance or if he found a fallen foe on the ground, he struck their skull with a hand axe. Thunk! Unlike Rem, he couldn''t split a head open in one blow, but that didn''t mean his enemies'' heads remained intact. Fractured skulls, blood seeping through the gaps of helmets, eyes filled with resentment or despair¡ª They looked just like the beasts he had hunted. Enri turned his gaze away from the sight. Such sentiments were a luxury on the battlefield. Regardless, that was all he did. The rest was handled by Andrew and Mac. They might not have been as fearsome as the so-called Madmen Squad, but they were formidable in their own right. "You bastards think the Grey Hounds are a joke?!" One of the enemy soldiers shouted. He had already taken down several of their men. His eyes were fierce, and blood dripped from the tip of his spear. Andrew stepped forward to face him. Five exchanges were enough. He blocked twice, slashed twice, then finished with a single thrust. That thrust¡ªsomehow, it resembled Enkrid''s. At least, in Enri''s eyes, it did. Mac skillfully cut down foes, keeping Andrew from pushing too far forward. "That''s far enough." The moment Mac spoke, Andrew came to an immediate stop. Then, he began pounding his chest with both fists. "Uwoooah!" What the hell? Why was he suddenly yelling? It seemed he had picked up something strange from Rem. "Come at me, you half-baked bastards!" A clumsy provocation. More than that, what was with the way he was pounding his chest like that? Regardless, an excited Andrew fought well. Enri watched the two of them and the others from behind. Blood speckled helmets. "Waaaaah!" Shouts of triumph. "Kill them! Kill them all!" Cries filled with murderous intent. "Hkk... Please, no." Whispers of those clinging to life. Amidst the bloodbath, Enri came to a realization. ''This is it.'' While some cheered for the Madmen Squad¡ª And others felt overwhelmed by their presence¡ª Enri saw his limits and understood. This was as far as he could go. "Uwoooah!" Andrew let out another beastly roar as his blade sliced through an enemy''s clavicle and neck. Schlick. He pulled out the half-embedded sword. "Guaaaah!" The enemy soldier''s scream followed the motion of the blade. Having reached his limit, Enri found himself yearning to return to the grasslands as a hunter. But his homeland had already become a battlefield. Maybe returning to the city and living as the husband of the florist widow wouldn''t be so bad. That woman¡ªthe widow who had lost her husband to war, now raising a child alone with unwavering strength. Enri missed her dearly. So much so that he wanted to leave this place immediately. Ending his life as a hunter and soldier here felt right. "How sentimental." Muttering to himself, Enri turned his eyes to the battlefield, which was rushing toward its conclusion. *** The enemy commander was quick¡ªboth in feet and in judgment. Somewhere along the way, his command flag and escort had disappeared entirely. Most of the remaining soldiers surrendered. Only a few resisted. The battle was ending. And in the midst of it¡ª "Long live the Madmen!" A chant he had never heard before tore through the air. A victory cry. The Aspen commander was fleeing for his life. ''Damn bastards.'' Being a competent leader, he knew exactly how things had turned. Who had overturned the battlefield? Where had the winds of change begun to blow? The axe-wielding man and a few others. He needed intelligence. Someone had to report that there were dangerous individuals among the enemy forces. He had already sent a messenger pigeon. But as the commanding officer who had witnessed it firsthand, he had a final responsibility¡ª "I thought the night would never end, you bastards!" His heart lurched. A sudden roar¡ª A heavily armed unit blocking the retreat. They looked like an independent force. Definitely not allies. The eagle emblem emblazoned on their right shoulders made that abundantly clear. "Are you telling me we lost even before these guys showed up?" The commander muttered bitterly. His guards formed a tight circle around him. But that was their limit. "The Slaughterers of the Frontier." The enemy was Naurilia''s pride¡ªthe elite combat unit known as the The Slaughterers of the Frontier. They had circumvented the battlefield and lain in ambush. Their original mission was to harass the enemy from behind, whittling down their numbers and morale. Had the giant''s attack struck true, this maneuver would have been meaningless. But now, it was a fatal blow. Even the Slaughterers of the Frontier force found it baffling. They were supposed to be the ones launching a surprise attack on the enemy rear. Yet here they were¡ª Watching the enemy return, not as an organized army, but as a pack of fleeing stray dogs. There was no time to question things. The defense captain knew what needed to be done. After confirming that Aspen''s rear had been left unguarded, he changed plans from disrupting enemy supply lines to an ambush. If no enemies came, he had planned to return to the main force. But now, they had arrived. "Slaughter them." The border defense captain''s words sounded like a death sentence. The enemy commander and the escort unit resisted, but the outcome did not change. "Retreat! Retreat!" The commander shouted as he rushed in himself. It was quite an impressive sight. Shouting for retreat but charging in instead meant he was trying to save as many of his soldiers as possible. Etiquette had to be followed. The frontier defense captain stepped forward. Clang! Clang! Clang! He wielded a flail, with the spiked iron ball swinging on a chain that screamed as it cut through the air. "I''ll send you off properly." The captain did as he said. The fight was short. On one side, there was a commander who had risen through sheer force. On the other side, a person who specialized in tactics. Wham. The spiked ball at the end of the flail followed an unusual trajectory and fell. Bang! The Aspen commander''s head shattered, and blood and brains splattered. That was the end. "Argh!" It didn''t take long to deal with the rest of the fleeing soldiers. Thunk! With a final swing of an axe into the last enemy''s head, the battle ended. Was it a scene befitting of the title "Slaughterers of the Frontier"? Leaving behind the battlefield full of slaughter, the captain spoke. "Retreat." The frontier defense unit quickly turned back, retracing their steps as ordered. They were not planning to break the enemy''s ranks or cut off their supply routes, just to decapitate the commander. How had the battlefield turned out like this? Curiosity, anticipation, and a mix of emotions moved his feet. Finally, what they saw there was... Their own forces, cheering in victory. The traces of a dominant victory were clear in the battlefield, unmistakable for anyone to see. And in the heart of it, no one needed to ask to know who was there. The ones who had shattered the enemy''s blades across various fronts. And the man leading them. The name of that unit echoed through the cheers. "The Madmen''s unit!" "Lunatic unit!" "Crazy bastards!" Colonel Marcus did not stop the cheers. In fact, he made sure the heralds called out the name of the true heroes of this battle, the Madmen''s. Amidst the cheers, Enkrid and the Madmen stood there. The allied forces formed a wide circle. Torres also saw them, and as he gazed at Enkrid''s face, he thought: ''They are definitely a group of madmen.'' Where is the sanity in all that? And although no one would admit it... From personal experience, Enkrid was also one of the madmen. There were many reasons, but if he had to pick the biggest one... "The fact that he fits right in with those lunatics," was proof enough. ''Moreover, it seemed like they all got along quite well.'' The fairy company commander muttered as she watched the victory and the flow of the battlefield. "There''s magic in spring." Spring, the season of gentle winds, had returned. The battle, which started in the early morning, ended by noon. As the sun passed overhead, a warm breeze blew. It was spring. Like a flower born in winter, now lifting its head in spring. After the harsh cold winds, the gentle winds always carried magic. In the face of spring''s magic, which signaled a new beginning, A man, filled with that magic, stood tall amidst the cheers. The fairy commander''s gaze followed the man surrounded by spring''s magic. Enkrid. The man leading the Madmen''s Squad appeared in her eyes. Enkrid enjoyed the cheers of the battlefield. "Not bad." People shouting his name. People calling for the Madmen''s Squad. He knew too. Who had changed the tide of this battle? It was his squad who had done it. Rem had slain the giant. Audin had broken the enemy''s formation. Jaxen must have done something too. He hadn''t asked or heard yet, but surely he had. And he and Ragna had cut down the enemies who appeared on the right side of the battlefield. The mercenary group with ten members wielding slaughtering swords. If they had been left alone, they would have been cutting down allies instead. "Good job." It wasn''t bad. So enjoying these cheers wasn''t such a bad thing. "How''s that, enjoying the cheers?" Rem chuckled as he spoke. "Yeah." Enkrid was as honest as ever. "Honestly, you''re just too easy." Rem teased, but then grumbled. Why was he so easy to please? At that moment, some others returned. "Madman Andrew under your command has returned." Despite Rem''s beatings and Audin''s soft threats, Andrew, proud of being part of the Madmen''s Squad, returned. Just from the blood splattered on his helmet, it was clear that they had fought fiercely. Enkrid nodded. "Did you chop off the commander''s pinky? Or maybe a giant''s balls?" Unable to tease his squad leader, Rem shifted his target to Andrew. "Seems like I chopped off two hundred instead of just one giant." It was bravado. Everyone could tell it was bravado. Andrew knew it, the listeners knew it, but it wasn''t unpleasant to hear. Something about the atmosphere within the squad had softened. "Cut the crap." Rem chuckled and ended it. Ragna, too, seemed to have calmed down, like he had let out whatever was boiling inside him. He was relaxed, as always. Most notably, Jaxen was smiling too. Audin, as expected, was calm, his presence almost saintly, like a holy knight called by the gods, even with his blood-stained club in hand. He glanced around softly. Even with the club now stained dark red, the atmosphere remained tranquil. Krais, standing to the side and observing everyone, pondered. ''How did we end up with this result?'' It was a habit of Krais to guess the cause after seeing the outcome. ''Did it start from that sparring session?'' Krais prided himself on being the sharpest observer in the squad. He''d noticed something strange in the air during the sparring session that began after Enkrid''s return. Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, and Audin¡ªthe four central figures of their strength¡ªhad changed. They felt better? That''s one way to put it. Digging deeper, it seemed like some kind of burden had been lifted. A single sparring session? They''d done that every day, so why now? ''No, that''s not it.'' He remembered the time when the squad leader fought the Frog. And later, when he saw the squad leader bite off an enemy platoon leader''s ear. It didn''t matter whether the technique was a Valen-style mercenary sword technique or something else. The important thing wasn''t the technique. Krais had been watching his squad leader for a long time. The others had been too. ''Growth.'' It was growth¡ªrapid growth. Though Krais knew that the squad leader would never reach their level. He still kept fighting, unwilling to give up. He had hoped for the day he could see his squad leader stand tall, running and walking alongside them. But they all knew. They couldn''t help but know. They had seen so many who couldn''t surpass their talent''s limits. No matter what Enkrid did, he couldn''t stand beside them. But now? "Good job, everyone." Enkrid spoke, facing all the squad members. Krais felt a lump in his throat as he watched Enkrid''s back. He looked like the same squad leader as usual. But also different from the usual squad leader. The afternoon sunlight, the warm breeze, the smell of the battlefield, the rusted iron and blood, and the scent of death. Everything blended together and faded. Krais had to admit he had been intoxicated by something. It must''ve been the power of spring. As the saying went on the continent. Spring carried magic. And just like that, everyone in the squad felt the same way as they watched Enkrid. No, it wasn''t just them. From the side, where he had been watching, the Battalion Commander Marcus approached, his gaze similar. "Keep going with the cheers!" Marcus walked over and spoke, smiling at Enkrid, who turned to face him. "Let''s dedicate this cheer to the greatest hero of the battlefield." Amidst the short, loud cheer and the cries calling for the Mad Squad''s name. Marcus'' words spread far, and the roar of triumph pierced the spring sky. Wooooah! It was the cry of those drunk on victory and spring''s magic. It was the joy that victory brought. Ultimately, it was the cheer for those who had earned the victory. Enkrid quietly enjoyed the cheers. It wasn''t bad. Not bad at all. Chapter 134 - Ripened Heart (1) Chapter 134 - 134 - Ripened Heart (1) Chapter 134 - Ripened Heart (1) Under the command of Battalion Commander Marcus, the infantry unit had built a new barracks. A position slightly more advanced than before. Enkrid thought the location was somewhat ambiguous but chose not to voice his thoughts. Wasn''t the responsibility of establishing barracks and determining strategic positions solely the commander''s? Besides, Marcus didn''t seem like the type to handle things sloppily. Just from how he called Enkrid the highest merit earner in battle, it was clear. "Nyaa¡ª" As his shifted, Esther whined. "Nyaa, nyaa." She was grumbling nonstop. ''Come to think of it, isn''t she a little strange?'' She was certainly a spirit beast, yet something about her felt oddly peculiar. Almost human, in a way. At some point, the things she said started sticking in his ears. It was as if whatever she meowed actually sounded like human speech. Right now¡ª "It''s annoying." ¡ªthat was what it felt like she was saying. Since she was grumbling, he picked her up. When he first saw her on the battlefield, she was a tiny panther. The next time he saw her¡ªwhen she had stabbed Mitch Hurrier and saved him from the mustached examiner¡ªshe had grown a little. But after that, she never grew any bigger. Just small enough to be held in his arms. That was it. And yet, this panther had once bitten his nape and sprinted away, incredibly fast. What kind of strength was that? "Now that I think about it, you''re a panther with monstrous strength too." Enkrid stroked the head of the panther in his arms as he spoke. "Kyah!" Apparently, that wasn''t a compliment she liked. Esther bit his finger. It didn''t draw blood¡ªjust left a mark. If she had been serious¡ª ''My finger would''ve been bitten clean off.'' For some reason, he felt the urge to check her sharp fangs. As he leaned in to examine her muzzle, Esther shot him a glare. The more she acted like this, the more she seemed like a person. "Let''s go." Outside, Krais called out. Building a new position was a complex and arduous task. They had to rebuild the encampment, secure supply lines, redefine the perimeter, reorganize the scout routes¡ªthere were countless adjustments to make. Yet, they were determined to set up a new position. "By the way, Cap, I feel like I fought the hardest, but for some reason, all the cheers are going to you. Is it just in my head?" No, it wasn''t just his imagination. The atmosphere had indeed flowed that way. "Long live the Madmen! Long live Enkrid!" Recalling that moment¡ªthe midday cheers just two days ago¡ªhis chest felt a peculiar ticklish sensation. It wasn''t a bad memory. "Hmm." When Enkrid held back his words, Audin chuckled beside him. "Haha, my crazy brother, it''s only because you took down a mere giant." "A mere giant?" "Brother, I took down dozens of enemy soldiers." Not just knocked them down¡ªhe had slaughtered them. Brutally. Enkrid had witnessed it himself. That savage clubbing. Terror for the enemy, relief for the allies. That was the feeling it gave. Though, some among their own side who had seen it up close had spoken of a strange fear toward Audin. He had heard this directly from Vengeance. "You know that guy in your squad¡ªthe one obsessed with religion? Why does he smile while killing people? Is there something wrong with him?" Vengeance had tapped his head as he said this. Enkrid had denied it and made a fitting excuse on Audin''s behalf. He was simply too devout¡ªso happy to introduce new friends to the god he served. ''That sounds even crazier.'' Vengeance had muttered, but¡ª That was the best excuse Enkrid could come up with. It was a hundred times better than calling him a mad zealot who delighted in murder. "A dozen bloodthirsty mercenaries under the influence of the Blade Frenzy¡ªif left unchecked, they would''ve been lethal. Hmm, yes, they would have." When Ragna chimed in, the atmosphere turned tense. And then¡ª Jaxen, who had been silently watching the three of them, finally spoke. "Idiots." Three pairs of eyes turned toward him. A sharp hostility filled the air. A suffocating pressure weighed down the surroundings. If anyone made a move, a fight would surely break out. This was the true nature of the Madmen Squad. When Enkrid wasn''t around, they had tested each other, probing and respecting boundaries. But now, their words flowed freely, unchecked. Krais didn''t bother to intervene. He wasn''t the least bit fazed. Well, things might have gotten troublesome if Enkrid weren''t here. But he was. They were all moving together. Watching from the side, Andrew hesitated. ''Should I step in?'' Wasn''t he the squad leader since Enkrid was promoted to platoon leader? Should he try to settle things before the he stepped in? Andrew hesitated. The many times he''d been beaten for stepping in too early held his feet in place. Just then, Mac grabbed his sleeve and shook his head. It was a knowing gesture, as if he''d read Andrew''s mind. Enkrid looked up at the sky for a moment. The sky had changed with the temperature. It was blue. Clear, without a single cloud. Spring had arrived. The weather was truly pleasant. So. "Enough." It seemed like a good day to stop a fight. Unlike before, there was no need to wedge himself between them. Instead, he swung his sword. Chiring. One with his right hand. And then¡ª Tiriring! One with his left. The sword drawn with his right hand slashed downward from above in a crown-cutting motion. The sword drawn with his left hand made a sweeping horizontal slash at mid-level. His footwork pushed his left foot forward, followed by his right. This was, in a way, the draw technique he had been mulling over for days. It was a variation of a technique from the Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship. Originally, it was meant to be a double draw technique where the first strike acted as a feint. But by wielding two swords, both slashes carried intent and meaning. The sword in his right hand aimed for Rem. The sword in his left hand cut toward Jaxen. Thump! Their reactions were starkly different. Rem pulled out his axe to block, while Jaxen had already stepped back to evade. One sword was halted mid-air. The other slashed through empty space in vain. Enkrid retrieved the sword that had missed its mark. "What the hell was that?" Jaxen asked. "You wanna go? Sounds fun." Rem let out a snort, his voice laced with amusement. Because he had moved so suddenly, Esther, who had been nestled in his chest, gave him a hard thump to the sternum. "Let''s take this somewhere else." Enkrid spoke, sword still in hand. It was ridiculous to fight like this. His chest was still puffed out from carrying Esther. Rem put his axe away and nodded. Another peaceful day, one could say. Enkrid sheathed his sword, soothed Esther, and continued walking. ''At least that''s a relief.'' If they had been made to carry supplies, they would have been far more irritable. Compared to the other soldiers, the squad''s burdens were light. *** "The heroes of the last battle, huh? Even a carriage wouldn''t be enough of a reward." Marcus, the battalion commander, was quite the generous man. He had allowed them to march with only their personal gear. Other units, however, bore the burden of not just their own supplies but also the necessary tent materials. Naturally, this slowed their pace, but Marcus acted as if there was no rush. Some soldiers glanced their way due to the earlier commotion, but they quickly returned to their own business. After all, these fights were nothing new. As he walked, Enkrid contemplated what lay ahead. Would they strike the enemy''s rear? When he voiced this thought to Krais, also known as big-eyes shook his head. "They won''t." "Why not?" If they had the advantage, wouldn''t hitting the enemy''s rear be the best move? "Seizing and holding the enemy''s camp will grant us a far greater advantage in the battle." Enkrid frowned. Why wouldn''t they fight? How was that a better option? If they had the chance to strike the enemy''s back, wouldn''t it be foolish not to? Seeing Enkrid''s perplexed look, Krais elaborated, speaking in a casual tone. "If we attack now, we''ll reveal our location and the extent of our forces. The enemy will respond accordingly. At the very least, they''ll send enough troops to handle our numbers. If even their assassins, giants, and mercenaries failed, what do you think they''ll send next? Especially when their independent unit, the Grey Hounds, is half-destroyed." What else could they possibly have? The question wasn''t difficult. It was just uncomfortable to say aloud. But avoiding or ignoring it wasn''t an option. "Knights." "At the very least, Squires. Or they might simply send more troops. But I''d bet on a small elite force." Krais'' eyes gleamed. Without waiting for Enkrid''s response, he continued. "We already control the terrain, and since the enemy''s special forces were crushed, their main army''s morale has taken a hit. Naturally, they''ll want to return the favor. But it''s not fear of knights that''s stopping us¡ªit''s a matter of advantage. When you look at the battlefield as a whole, from a commander''s perspective, it''s about weighing gains and losses. Even if one part suffers, if another part profits greatly, then losing the battle can still mean winning the war. From that perspective, holding our ground is the right move. We don''t need to waste our forces. Just the knowledge that we''re here is enough to keep them on edge. What do you think will happen then? Their leaders will be tangled up in trying to figure out our next move. And while they''re preoccupied, our main force will advance. Which means we won''t even have to fight. Besides, Aspen has no spare troops to divert here while preparing for the main battle. That''s why we don''t need to engage. The reason we''re setting up camp in an ambiguous spot is the same¡ªwe don''t need to move closer to strike. And if the enemy tries anything, we can simply withdraw. Then, a day or two later, we reclaim the same position. This fortification is just a stepping stone for that strategy." Enkrid had always prided himself on being straightforward. He treated his squad the same way. "Keep it short and simple." He had grasped about half of it. The other half wasn''t quite sinking in. Krais, his eyes still shining, took a few measured breaths. Right, the guy had been talking without stopping for air. After steadying his breath, he spoke again. No need to overcomplicate things. "It''s like this: imagine someone standing behind your enemy, raising a fist to strike. Meanwhile, another person is gripping the enemy leader''s arms. What do you think happens next?" "Sounds like hell." "Exactly. That''s their situation." If the enemy tried to shake off the one holding them and turned to defend against the one in the back¡ª If both attackers struck at the same time¡ª Sure, they might block both, but just standing there, unable to act freely, would be suffocating. Sometimes¡ªjust sometimes¡ªKrais didn''t seem like an ordinary soldier with big eyes and humble ambitions. For someone whose dream was to open a noblewoman''s salon, his mind sure worked fast. Wasn''t he actually some hidden son of a strategist? Or perhaps a secret disciple. Predicting the enemy commander''s thoughts based on what was happening right in front of him. Anticipating the movements of both the allied commander and the main force. It was only natural for such thoughts to arise. "Well, this is all just speculation. A guess. If the enemy suddenly goes, ''Ah, screw it, I''ll just kill that one first,'' then, knight or not, they''ll come straight for us." That wouldn''t happen. Though Krais spoke those words, his eyes said the opposite. A strange one. Enkrid nodded. So, there wouldn''t be a fight. That was enough to know. Not that staying here would be uneventful. Building a new stronghold was another unit''s task. As they set up tents, lit fires, and hoisted up cauldrons¡ª Enkrid''s madmen unit settled in one corner. And as soon as they did¡ª "You barbarian bastard." Enkrid called for Rem. Who went first wasn''t really important. But implicitly, the first was always Rem. Otherwise, that lunatic savage might do something unpredictable. Ragna, seated on a moderately heated rock, shifted his gaze. Jaxen, Audin, Andrew, and even Mac¡ªall eyes were on Enkrid. "Let''s begin." Enkrid spoke, and Rem bared his fangs in a grin. That''s right. That''s my captain. A smile that said as much. Rem was still satisfied. And at the same time¡ª He hoped this man wouldn''t die here. "I''ll say this in advance. You might die." "As many times as it takes." Death was not an obstacle for Enkrid. He was simply living through today once more. Before his eyes lay the remnants of shattered dreams¡ªripped, trampled, faded, and gone. Enkrid''s eyes gleamed¡ªstill passionate, still filled with yearning. In front of him, Rem''s eyes reflected the same. Had he ever seen a human like this before? No. This man¡ªthis warrior¡ª Was completely insane. Rem chuckled. "Good. Let''s do it. Let''s see who dies first." Rem spoke and nodded. It was time to learn something new¡ªwhat Rem had shown against the giant. Enkrid felt a thrill of exhilaration, yet his mind remained steady. That peculiar state where excitement and composure coexisted. A sign that the heart of the beast had fully ripened. Chapter 135 - Ripened Heart (2) Chapter 135 - 135 - Ripened Heart (2) Chapter 135 - Ripened Heart (2) "Here." Rem began, regardless of who was watching. Right in front of the barracks¡ªnot in a corner, not off to the side, but in the very center. Grabbing Enkrid''s wrist, Rem placed it over his own heart and twisted his lips. How should he put this? His smile itself carried a mischievous playfulness. Then, he began whispering to Enkrid. Had Jaxen not trained his hearing, he wouldn''t have even caught the words. To be able to convey one''s message this quietly¡ªperhaps that, too, was a skill. Ignoring the gazes around him, was this his intention all along? "What you need is trust. After that, you just explode the heart. If the Heart of the Beast has ripened, try bursting it just enough that it doesn''t break." Rem deliberately omitted the part about the spell-like effect. He only spoke the necessary words. Enkrid did as he was told. If he hadn''t trusted Rem in the first place, he wouldn''t have accepted the Heart of the Beast into his body. Rem quite liked that. Enkrid''s attitude, his responses, his actions¡ªthey were sincere. That kind of sincerity, where he always did his best. But if he approached it the same way this time, everything would go terribly wrong. "You need to take it slow." Rem''s warning was like a sharpened blade. His tone carried an unfamiliar seriousness. A seriousness completely different from his usual teasing. That left an impression on Enkrid. So, it''s that dangerous, huh? So, he made his heart beat slowly. But could he even control his heartbeat at will? That''s when it happened. Beyond his palm, he began to feel Rem''s heart beating. Thump, thump! Explosive. The energy dwelling in his heart vividly passed through Enkrid''s hand. "Try doing the same. But only to a quarter of that extent." Was this it? Enkrid had been waiting for that sensation¡ªthe feeling of making his heart beat. He couldn''t explain it in words. Nor could he express it through actions. Rem had simply demonstrated it with his own body and passed it on. It was entirely a matter of intuition. So. "I think my worries were unnecessary." Rem muttered. Was this really supposed to be so natural? "One more time." Enkrid said. After that, the two of them stood still, palms placed over each other''s heart. Until the sun passed its peak and began to slant westward. "I''m seriously curious about something. Sometimes I wonder if you''re doing this on purpose. Is it just my imagination?" "Hmm." Enkrid let out a brief groan. "I have to agree." From the side, Ragna nodded. "I also find it hard to deny. Mad Brother leader." "Agreed." Audin and Jaxen also nodded. Saying it was intentional felt unfair. "It''s not that you can do it but won''t. You really can''t, right?" Rem asked. His tone was serious. Enkrid was serious, too. "Yeah." "...Tsk, fine. Let''s do this again tomorrow." Before they knew it, evening had come. Thanks to the consideration of the battalion commander and the surrounding soldiers, they didn''t even have to take turns for meal duty. They were, of course, exempt from regular shifts as well. So, they were able to devote themselves entirely to training and drills. Yet. Enkrid made absolutely no progress. Not even the slightest. He didn''t move forward by a step, not even by half a step. At least, that''s how it seemed to Rem. "What are you doing?" "What do you think I''m doing? You''re not messing with me, are you?" "Come on, try again. I''m telling you, just do it already." He kept hearing similar words from Rem. But he couldn''t grasp the feeling at all. Not even a little. Was that a problem? No, it wasn''t. When had he ever mastered a technique just by seeing it once? Back when he repeated the same motions daily to train his left hand, there was a moment when he felt something close to talent. As if something had descended upon him. At that moment, just for a brief instant, he could feel something with his body. That moment when the techniques for his left hand finally stuck to his body like never before. That fleeting instant of euphoria. Did he long for that again? Not in the slightest. He simply repeated it. Again and again, pondering and refining. There was no time for regret¡ªonly time to think. "The battalion commander is calling for you." Another day of nothing but repeated contemplation. A day when he still couldn''t ripen the Heart of the Beast enough to make it burst. It was the third day since they had started fortifying their position. Only then did the battalion commander summon Enkrid. When they were calling for commendations on the battlefield, they had acted like they would summon him immediately. But only now did things seem to have settled down. According to Krais, this was to be expected. With the outpost being relocated and a new formation being established, Marcus must have been extremely anxious. When Enkrid asked why, Krais went on another long-winded explanation. Summarizing, it was simple. "If the enemy realizes we''re just standing around doing nothing, they''ll eventually start ignoring us. So, we have to at least pretend we''re making a move. If it were me... No, never mind." He seemed to have an idea but held back from saying more. Enkrid didn''t press him. If Krais wanted to talk, he''d do so eventually. Besides, it was time to answer the summons of the highest commander. A lieutenant personally came to escort him, and on the way to the command tent, the fairy company commander joined them. With a silent, weightless step, the company commander drew near and spoke. "When was our engagement again?" Here we go again. Fairy humor was incomprehensible. "Let''s set it for ten years from now." "Hmm, not bad. But I prefer younger humans over old ones." For any of this to work, Enkrid would have to actually be interested in fairies. Sure, they were otherworldly beautiful. But still¡ªinhuman. Not quite human enough to stir any affection. With thin, long eyelashes framing gemstone-like green eyes, golden hair that shimmered in the sunlight, and skin that seemed to glow, she certainly looked radiant. So that''s the beauty of the inhuman. "Let''s go." Enkrid admitted defeat. He could have kept up the wordplay indefinitely if he wanted to, but¡ª It felt pointless. It seemed like the fairy company commander simply enjoyed teasing him to this extent. To be honest, it wasn''t even that bothersome. That''s just the kind of person she was. More sane than Rem, but still, among the fairy folk, there had to be a few half-crazed ones. ''Indeed that must be so.'' With his lieutenant leading the way and the fairy company commander to his left, Enkrid stepped into the tent. "You''re here." Inside was Battalion Commander Marcus. His beard had grown unkempt, likely from the battlefield. Seeing that, Enkrid was reminded that his own jaw must have grown quite rough as well. He thought about shaving once he got back and offered a salute¡ª A bow of the head while pressing down on the hilt of his sword. "I see." Marcus gave a brief nod. The three of them stood together. "Bring some tea." At his order, three cups were soon placed before them. He wouldn''t dare call it high-quality, but given they were on the battlefield, drinking tea at all was a luxury. "When I go into battle, I get annoyed that I can''t drink good tea. But at times like this, even this bad tea feels satisfying." Battalion Commander Marcus was the first to speak. There were no seats arranged, so they stood around the strategy table as they spoke. "How about it? Would you like to work properly under my command?" Just as Enkrid took half a sip of tea, the battalion commander suddenly made the offer. The fairy company commander remained silent. Enkrid looked at the battalion commander, trying to find the right words to respond¡ª Then gave up. Since when had he ever tried to curry favor with a superior? "I refuse." "Why? I think I offer a rather solid foundation." That wasn''t wrong. Before coming here, Krais had already given him a general idea of the situation¡ª Why Marcus had called him so late, and even what he was likely to say. At this point, Krais might as well be a fortune teller. How was it that everything was playing out exactly as he had predicted? ''He''ll offer to take you under his wing. While he''s at it, he''ll probably bring in our company commander too. Why? To officially train and develop you to aim for the top, of course. And why aim for the top? Do you really not know the answer to that?'' Krais had given him a look, as if wondering if he was really that clueless. When Enkrid just stared back at him, Krais finally asked in exasperation¡ª "What did you do at Cross Guard?" "I fought. Infiltrated. Set a few fires. Picked up some intel on the way back." "Fine. They might not know about fighting the frog, but what did you do to the enemy ambushing behind our rear lines?" "I fought. Took out the leader of the raiding unit." "And what did you do at the front lines?" "I fought. You saw it yourself, so why ask?" Krais had been sticking close by the whole time, after all. "The battalion commander knows too." "What?" "He knows. He knows every battle you''ve fought. Now tell me, if you were him, wouldn''t you be interested?" Logically, if Marcus was after talent, he should be targeting Rem or the others. But Enkrid quickly understood Krais''s point. Rem and the other squad members were uncontrollable. But he? He was still a reasonable person. The only reason he hadn''t realized it sooner was obvious¡ª He had been too focused on the beating of the heart of the beast. All his energy had been poured into training and discipline. Because of that, the thought hadn''t even crossed his mind. *** But thanks to Krais''s explanation, he wasn''t caught off guard now. "You expected this." The battalion commander''s voice pulled him from his thoughts. Enkrid opened his mouth. "To some extent, yes." "And can I ask why you''re refusing?" If he answered too quickly, would Marcus just send him away without finishing his tea? Holding the warm cup, he felt... a little better. For the past several days, he had been consumed by the heart. Now, for the first time in a while, he felt like he was taking a break. ''Come to think of it, I finally relaxed my shoulders.'' Had he already started tensing up again? The thought crossed his mind. Had his obsession with learning become chains binding him? Had it turned into shackles keeping him from moving forward? Clink. A sensation¡ªlike chains crumbling apart in his mind. It only lasted a few seconds, but Enkrid suddenly felt many times lighter. Sip. He took another drink of tea. Then, lifting his head straight, he spoke. His heart might have felt lighter, but his words would not be. Battalion Commander Marcus''s offer¡ª For anyone aiming higher in the military, it was an opportunity they couldn''t afford to miss. Especially for someone like Enkrid, who had started out as nothing more than a lowly soldier. But Enkrid refused. "I have a dream." A dream he held in his heart, even if others laughed at him for it. A dream he had never forgotten since the day he first grasped a sword. A dream that had grown from the fire of his passion, blooming into something real. He had spoken of it many times before¡ª But never with as much weight as now. It had been mocked, dismissed, torn apart by sneers. Reduced to scraps, nearly devoured¡ª Yet even those scraps had remained. And now, those remnants clearly defined who he was. They had been walking alongside him every step of the way. "I want to become a knight." And so, Enkrid''s lips parted, his voice firm. In that moment, Marcus saw something¡ª A vision. A chill ran through his entire body. And behind Enkrid, he saw¡ª a different backdrop. The battlefield, the sword, something shining. ''What is this?'' A single phrase, spoken with sincerity, with all one''s strength. Not merely a rejection, but the words of someone moving forward. Marcus felt something similar stir in his chest. Something he had long abandoned in his youth. What had his life originally been? He had wanted to become a sword for the royal family. And now? Clench. Unconsciously, Marcus ground his teeth. His jaw tightened, and a sharp pain throbbed in his head. Seeing a dream so pure it radiated light, he felt as if he had been confronted with a question. ''Do I even have the right to lead this man?'' Had his offer been nothing more than a disgusting attempt to climb higher¡ªto gain a better position, more power? He had no true loyalty. No ambition for something greater. He had grown complacent, so how could he take someone like that under his wing? A brief realization forced words from Marcus''s mouth. "Heh." A sigh. Something laden with emotion slipped out. Fairies were keenly sensitive, and thus, the Fairy Company Commander grasped the meaning behind Marcus''s sigh. ''With just a single sentence?'' Human emotions were like waves in a storm. Unlike fairies, they were never constant. Humans were fickle beings who changed their course on a whim. And the mind of the man they called Battalion Commander seemed to be the same. Like a ship caught in rough seas, tossed by the waves, unable to find direction. And then¡ª "I will walk the path of a knight." With those words, Enkrid saluted. Marcus, without thinking, nodded in response. Enkrid stepped outside. The Fairy Company Commander worried. Would Marcus, driven by jealousy or resentment, do something reckless? After all, humans could change just like that. "Hah." Marcus let out a deep sigh, furrowing his brows as he stood still. By the time the tea in his hand had gone cold¡ª Without even acknowledging the Fairy Company Commander by his side, he let out another sigh, then chuckled. "This is something else." The Fairy Company Commander sensed that Marcus''s laughter carried a feeling of relief. Indeed, Marcus was smiling¡ªhis expression clear and refreshed. And then, suddenly, he asked¡ª "What do you think? Will he become a knight?" "I do not know. That is for him to decide." "They say fairies always speak plainly." Fairies were known to wield truth as their weapon rather than conceal it. "It''s been a while since my blood has boiled like this." Marcus muttered. What happens when his blood starts to boil? By all accounts, Marcus was a noble faction supporter. Naurilia was a centralized nation, yet the nobles had seized a portion of its power. That division had weakened the country, forcing it to struggle in its conflict with the Aspen Duchy. "Aren''t you leaving?" "I am." After the Fairy Company Commander departed, Marcus walked over to a chair and sat down. A few words had left his back drenched in sweat. It felt awful, yet exhilarating at the same time. And he had made up his mind. ''Becoming a knight, is he?'' He couldn''t scoff at it. How could he mock the dream of someone who spoke with such sincerity and conviction? He was simply... moved. ''Fine, then I will¡ª'' Rather than remain chained to this wretched noble faction, he would finally move toward something truly new. It was a decision he had been contemplating for a long time. A crossroads lay before him. A signpost he had been unable to choose between. Marcus reached into his coat, then withdrew his hand. A letter rested in his palm. A letter he had received long ago and ignored. A piece of the past he had been unable to throw away. "Alright." His eyes gleamed as he gripped the letter. The eyes of his younger days¡ªburning with passion. At the end of the unfolded letter, the royal seal was faintly visible. Chapter 136 - No Day Is the Same Chapter 136 - 136 - No Day Is the Same Chapter 136 - No Day Is the Same Enkrid felt a sense of relief as he stepped out of the battalion commander''s tent. The commander''s expression hadn''t looked particularly pleased, but for Enkrid, even that was a novel experience. A knight... talking about dreams. Not a reaction of mockery or disbelief¡ªjust listening. That alone was refreshing. But that wasn''t what mattered. He had said his piece, and he had refused. Now, it was time to get back to what he had been doing. Returning to his barracks, Enkrid stood in front of Rem. "What?" "We continue." He meant the training. It was something he had started, so he would see it through. It wasn''t anything special. Watching his leader, Rem couldn''t help but think: This guy really is crazy. Was this normal? Even he, who was teaching, understood just how nothing¡ªabsolutely nothing¡ªcould be felt through this training. And yet, Enkrid wanted to continue. He never showed signs of boredom, never grew weary. The idea of him struggling with frustration or despair was unimaginable. A man completely detached from things like dejection, hopelessness, or suffering. Still, Rem was a little curious and asked, "You don''t get tired of it?" "Hm?" Seeing Enkrid''s eyes asking what that even meant, Rem had nothing more to say. Fine. Sure. Of course, he''d do it. He was planning to anyway. "Let''s get to it. Not like I had anything better to do." At Rem''s words, Andrew''s face lit up. Ever since Rem had started sticking to their captain, Andrew had been feeling peace, love, life, and hope. "Life is full of beauty." "Get a grip." Mac sighed and tried to bring Andrew back to reality. Enri was no longer around. He had left. A few days ago, he had joined the unit escorting the wounded and never returned. For someone originally part of the Madmen Squad, leaving like that should have been unthinkable. But it had been a special privilege, a reward for his contributions in securing their victory. "I think I''d like to try living a different way." When Enri had said he was leaving, Enkrid had simply nodded and ensured that his departure was properly arranged. He respected Enri''s decision. Not everyone could live off the sword. Still, his absence was noticeable. Even if he was exempt from kitchen duty and watch shifts, there were things he couldn''t completely opt out of¡ªlike reconnaissance missions. And so, while scouting enemy positions¡ªsomething Krais had passionately insisted on¡ªhis absence was immediately felt. Finding the way was suddenly a challenge. Enkrid wasn''t exactly a pathfinder, but he had a decent sense of direction. Still, it was different without Enri, who had been a true guide. Should he assign the task to someone else? Compared to his squad members, Enkrid''s ability to find a path wasn''t just decent¡ªit was exceptional. "I''m no good at finding paths, but I am good at finding beasts and monsters. Since we''re out here anyway, why not clear out a monster nest or two?" That was Rem''s suggestion. Now that the Heart of Monstrous Strength had been passed down, he had been looking for opportunities to apply it in real combat. A path? Who knew if they could even find one? Not that he cared. "We''ll run into something if we keep going." That was Ragna. Enough said. The guy had zero sense of direction. "We go where the will of the lord calls us." Audin¡ªanother person who was just as dangerous as Ragna in his own way. "The will of the lord"? That was basically an excuse to do whatever he wanted when it suited him. Jaxen said nothing, but he clearly had no intention of leading them anywhere either. Rather than guiding this group, he''d probably prefer to vanish into thin air. Mac was still there, but... Between the two, Enkrid was the slightly better option. Regardless, the Madmen Squad continued their search of the enemy encampment. Though their own scouts had already gone through the place, Krais managed to fill his pockets in astonishing ways. "As expected." "No surprises there." "Ooh, gemstones." Muttering to himself, Krais unearthed a pouch of krona, a gem-encrusted dagger, and other valuables. Nothing too rare, but a fair number of things that could be converted into krona. "Soldiers hide their valuables before heading into battle, you know." He wasn''t wrong. Some would bury precious gems near their barracks before a fight, asking comrades to retrieve them for their families if they didn''t return. Of course, if both they and their comrades perished, it all became meaningless. But who marches into battle expecting annihilation? This time was no different. And when it came to sniffing out hidden valuables, Krais was unmatched. Even in places the scouts had already overturned, he''d find something¡ªunder bedframes, buried beneath makeshift barracks, near trees where a mark had been scratched. "How do you even find all this?" Enkrid, curious, finally asked. He was standing guard, but there were no signs of enemy presence, so he had nothing else to do. "What else? He sniffs out krona. Look at that nose of his¡ªdoesn''t it remind you of a gold coin?" Rem chimed in. He was just as bored. A human nose¡ªespecially one belonging to a man considered fairly handsome¡ªresembling a coin? Nonsense. But Krais ignored him entirely. He knew that engaging with Rem would only put him at a disadvantage, so he simply let the words go in one ear and out the other. That was a skill Andrew needed to learn. "It''s an answer that comes quickly if you think about it." Krais tapped his right index finger against his temple as he spoke. Somehow, his leather backpack, slung over his back, was already packed full. "Think?" Enkrid asked. He was genuinely curious. It also served as a way to clear his mind. "If I were to hide something, where would I put it? Or, if the entire camp was destroyed and I was the only one left alive? Humans are like that, aren''t they? We can''t easily abandon hope. So, let''s say the camp is gone, but I still need to find my belongings¡ªwhere would I have hidden them?" "...A place that''s easy to recognize at a glance." "Exactly. This branch is unusual, isn''t it? It''s not far from the barracks, and it''s the perfect spot to stop by for a moment while heading out." He had a point. "More importantly¡ª" Krais''s eyes sparkled as he spoke. The same passionate gaze as before. "The more valuable the item, the better you want to hide it." This guy... His mind really worked in remarkable ways. Of course, once you knew the answer, it didn''t seem that impressive. But the fact that he had predicted all of this before even setting out¡ªthat was what was truly astonishing. "You still want to set up that salon?" "Why do you think I''m living so diligently? One day, I''ll open a salon, spend my nights telling pointless jokes, lazing around, and raking in Krona." As far as dreams went, it felt... crude. But Krais was serious. Not just serious¡ªhe looked ready to stake his life on it if he had to make sacrifices for that goal. Besides, how could Enkrid mock another''s dream when his own was just as far-fetched? If anything, compared to becoming a knight, running a noblewoman''s salon and making a fortune seemed more realistic. So he didn''t mock him. He didn''t criticize him. He didn''t laugh at him. It was the same with Enri''s dream¡ªto marry a widow florist, have children, and live a peaceful life. ''To become a knight.'' A thrill ran through Enkrid. He felt like he was inching closer to the dream he had longed for. Not just excitement¡ªhis whole body tingled, as if a wave of emotion had swept over him. Yes, he was walking toward it. Step by step, crawling if he had to, even by half a foot. ''So wait for me, my tattered and distant dream. I will stand by your side and walk with you.'' "Alright, all done!" After rummaging through a few more places, Krais handed Enkrid two throwing daggers with thin blades. "Use them. It''s nothing special." At first, he wondered why Krais had given him these. "Are we here just to clean up after Big Eyes?" "Shall we spar when we get back?" Soothing him had become a daily routine. Once they returned to the unit, training resumed as usual. Even after meeting with the battalion commander, nothing changed. Endless, stagnant training. The next day arrived, and Enkrid suddenly began swinging his sword after using the isolation technique. Focus. Through singular focus, he poured all his senses into his sword. It was the same as always, yet different. No day was ever truly the same. Enkrid himself didn''t realize it, but he was no longer the talentless swordsman he once was. He had gained much to make up for his lack of natural ability. Experience. New lessons. The Heart of the Beast. Pinpoint focus. The sense of the blade. The isolation technique. And the countless hours of training that followed. Time richer and more intense than before. Enkrid was immersed in that time. At some point, his vision blurred, his pupils unfocused, yet his sword grew sharper, his steps quicker. Frog, Mitch Hurrier, battlefield. As he reviewed and contemplated, swinging his sword, the world began to fade. Heart, beast, strength, combat, battlefield, contemplation, review. Forgotten and pushed aside, until only his sword and himself remained. Only vague remnants of thoughts and hazy afterimages lingered. He swung his sword, again and again. His recovered right wrist moved more solidly than before. Was it the effect of divine power? Or the medicine given by the fairy company commander? That didn''t matter. Fleeting thoughts surfaced and faded, until everything disappeared. Enkrid felt as if he were watching his own body from outside himself. A surreal, impossible sensation of separation¡ªhis body and mind detached. And in that state, he saw his sword. Slashing, stabbing, cutting, pulling back. Zrrrck. The sound of gravel shifting beneath his feet as he stepped. Adjusting his stance, his sword''s direction and position changed with his movements. In Enkrid''s eyes, only the trajectories of his sword remained. Points connecting into lines. A wavering blade, a heavy strike, the tip thrusting like a flash of light, the predetermined swings trapping the opponent, a half-turn with his arm snapping like a whip. Paaaaang! The sword cleaved through the air with a sharp sound. Anyone who had known the old Enkrid¡ª Especially those who had seen him at the start¡ª Would be astonished by this sight. Despite wielding a sword endlessly for so long, he had remained stuck in place. A broken scarecrow, possessing only the will to move forward. He couldn''t stand, yet he still writhed, stubbornly struggling. But now, that scarecrow was standing tall on its own two feet. "Damn, you''ve improved." Rem, watching from outside the barracks, was awestruck. When had he become capable of forgetting himself, losing himself in the sword? When had he learned to stand on his own like this? The broken scarecrow was gone. Squatting down, resting his chin on his hand, Rem felt a surge of emotion. When had he grown this much? Ragna stepped out of the barracks and stood beside him. As the sword sliced through the air with a sharp whoosh, Ragna realized that his captain''s swordsmanship had ripened. Of course, he had already experienced it firsthand through sparring. But seeing him so immersed in his swings felt strange. It was as if something had ignited a fire in his chest. His fighting spirit surged. Ragna, caught up in the feeling, quietly drew his sword. Srrng. Then, he began swinging it on his own from one side. Audin was the same. ''He''s built his body well.'' How does one develop the ability to move exactly as they desire? It takes rigorous training¡ªdelving into every part of one''s body, becoming aware of it, moving it, feeling the pain, and pushing past limits. The act of pressing against those limits¡ªthis was the Isolation technique. And standing before him now was the greatest beneficiary of the Isolation technique that he had once envisioned in his mind. Even his joints moved with ease. His wrists would never suffer the same injuries as before. Recently, he had focused on strengthening his joints. ''Lord, your servant is overjoyed.'' Feeling pure joy while watching another person¡ªit was a rare experience. And because it was rare, it felt even more profound. Jaxen felt a strange sensation. ''It was the right decision.'' Teaching him to sharpen his senses, staying here¡ª Even though he hadn''t made these choices for gain or loss, he had no regrets. At one time, he had thought remaining here was a waste of time. But looking at his leader now, not even the slightest trace of such thoughts remained. *** From one side, Esther rested her chin on her forepaw, watching Enkrid. Magic¡ªspells¡ªwere a gateway to exploring new worlds. The joy and exhilaration found in that pursuit were incomparable to anything else. That was why she walked the path of spells. The thrill of discovery, the excitement of uncovering something new, the fulfillment of building a world upon that foundation¡ª All of it made up who she was. It was the driving force that led her to explore magic and construct her own spellcraft. Then what was the reason for that human to be swinging his sword into empty air like that? Watching Enkrid now, she was reminded of herself when she was lost in the depths of the spellcraft world. Even with only a rudimentary knowledge of swordsmanship, she could tell¡ªhis skill was no small thing. And so, a thought arose. ''What is it that drives you to move like that?'' Pure curiosity. The inquiry of a spellcaster, an explorer, a seeker. For Esther, this was an astonishing change. She had spent her entire life turning away from everything but spells, and in doing so, had ended up with this cursed body. Yet here she was, taking an interest in a person. The realization startled her, but she also relished it. New experiences were a source of vitality for her. And this emotion, too, was something new. Before long, Enkrid''s sword came to a halt. Hoo¡ª He stopped, sweat trickling down his entire body. Esther moved. She held a cloth in her mouth and hopped over. When she handed it to Enkrid, who had been staring blankly into space, he took it and spoke. "Thank you, Esther." Nya-ah. Think nothing of it. Wiping his sweat with the cloth, Enkrid suddenly thought¡ªthe weather was unusually warm. Was it the effect of the mild climate? Or was it simply because he had focused entirely on his sword without a single distracting thought? It felt like the suffocating pressure in his chest had vanished. And with that sense of relief¡ª "Rem." He had glimpsed the very edge of the Heart of the Monstrous Strength technique that he had been striving for. If he could see it, he had to grasp it. And then, he only had to make it his own. Whether it would work as he intended¡ªhe would find out by trying. "Let''s go again." It felt like just another ordinary day. But no two days were ever truly the same. That was simply the nature of things. Chapter 137 - A New Day Chapter 137 - 137 - A New Day Chapter 137 - A New Day In moments of crisis, humans sometimes exceed their limits. Drawing out that strength at will¡ªthat is the Heart of the Beast. A name given because it embodies the idea of extracting the heart of a wild beast itself. In his tribe, they used to say that when one used this technique, the spirit of their god or some shamanistic power would dwell within them. Well, there was certainly some kind of mystical effect. A god? That was just nonsense fit for a stray dog''s throat. ''But it''s not real sorcery, not by a long shot.'' Having experienced it firsthand and devised his own understanding, Rem had developed his own theory. ''The reason the heart beats faster is because something inside the body triggers it.'' The human body is mysterious. This is just one of its many mysteries. When something starts working inside, the muscles tense up. And then, the Heart of the Beast is activated. So, it''s not sorcery, nor is it divine descent. When had he first realized this? It was in a moment between countless axe blades, on the brink of death. Something surged from within his body, reaching his muscles, and he had suddenly been able to exert strength several times greater than usual. How had that happened? Through study and observation, he discovered that when blood surged wildly through the body, the heart beat several times faster than normal. It required a ritualistic trigger, but at its core, that wasn''t what mattered. He believed it was a matter of focus¡ªof sensation. "Focus. Again." Rem continued his thoughts aloud. Enkrid stood before him. Soon, they placed their hands over each other''s hearts. That damned lazy bastard had taught him an absurd technique to enhance concentration, so maybe this could work. If not, then whatever. Rem had already half given up. What could he do? Even in his old tribe, only a handful had grasped this technique. And every single one of them had bodies like fortresses, having survived the brink of death multiple times. "I swear, it''s like I stepped out of a river." He used to hear that often. In short, the Heart of the Beast required the vessel first. Even if one managed to activate it, the body would break down first. Could the squad leader handle this? His vessel wasn''t bad. That hulking religious nut had been forcing him through grueling physical training every morning. That was tempering his body. If the musclehead hadn''t done it, Rem would have taken it upon himself to forge the squad leader''s body in some other way. But the musclehead''s methods seemed more efficient, so he had let it be. So, the vessel had been mostly prepared. Still, he wasn''t going to force it. If it worked, he''d push it. If not, he''d let it go. "Feel it." Enkrid listened. He always did. As always, he composed himself and focused. But he had already realized something. It was when he had learned the art of focus from Ragna. That man was a genius. He could learn anything with ease, grasp anything with frightening speed. What had he said back then? "Did he say that fear of death enhances concentration?" That was only half right. What was truly needed was an opponent who could push one''s abilities to their absolute limits. This was no different. ''No... perhaps it''s the opposite this time.'' A small realization led to a conclusion. What was the Heart of the Beast? When faced with extreme pressure or similar situations, humans sometimes surpassed their limits. It was possible. That was the basis of this technique¡ªthe realization that one must experience the pressure of imminent death. Enkrid had accumulated countless experiences in past battles, in every day of his life. And with each day, those experiences piled up. This was the conclusion he had reached. "More." Rem''s hand touched Enkrid''s heart. So far, he had only conveyed the general sensation of what it should feel like, gently applying pressure to Enkrid''s heart. That was all he had done. Rem had utilized a bit of shamanistic manipulation¡ªa form of sensory transmission, perhaps¡ªjust to give Enkrid a feel for what it was like when the heart started beating faster. "More." Enkrid spoke. His eyes were half-open, deeply focused. "I''ve told you before¡ªyou need to be careful with this." From the mouth of a man often called reckless beyond reason, the word careful sounded strange. It sounded more like you might die if this goes wrong. Danger. Crisis. Pressure. The very things that demanded caution. But Enkrid needed them. That feeling of standing at the edge of a cliff, the wind at his back. The knowledge that if things went wrong, death was certain. Not some half-hearted suicide attempt, but the kind of pressure that would force him to struggle with everything he had. A moment where he truly had no choice but to fight. If he could feel that while his heart pounded wildly, that would be ideal. "More." Enkrid repeated, his half-open eyes unwavering. Rem furrowed his brows. Was this bastard actually insane? People called me a madman, but this guy seemed even more unhinged. "Let''s stop." Rem tried to withdraw his hand. But¡ªthud¡ªEnkrid grabbed his wrist. His left hand pressed against Rem''s chest, while his right grasped the wrist that rested on his own heart. And then, he spoke again. "Do it." Because of his lowered gaze, Rem couldn''t see Enkrid''s eyes. Had his damn eyes truly gone mad? "Are you insane?" Rem''s expression turned savage. This guy was practically asking him to kill him. There were things that passion and determination alone couldn''t overcome. There were times when one had to recognize their own limits by stepping back. Rem''s thoughts stopped. A voice tore through his reasoning, his emotions, and his instincts. "Do it. Just do it." It was a command. One that had to be obeyed. If words held power, then Rem felt that power now. It wasn''t sorcery. It wasn''t an incantation. Not even that so-called Will that knights wielded. Deep within his heart, what was Enkrid to him? Enkrid lifted his gaze. Their eyes met. Fire against fire. Different in color, but both flames capable of consuming each other completely. Blue fire and gray fire intertwined. They glared as if they would kill one another. Was there anything to gain from winning this battle? No. At best, one of them would be half-crippled. And it wouldn''t be Rem¡ªit would be the fool standing before him. So why? Why did he suddenly want to do it? Why did he feel compelled to obey this man''s command? Why did he want to obey? Was it his instincts? Or had he become too intoxicated by the man called squad leader standing before him? "Do it." Enkrid''s lips parted once more. "Damn it, hell." Rem spat out a curse and tightened his grip around Enkrid''s heart. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the thought crept in¡ªhe wouldn''t be doing this if he didn''t believe in something. After justifying himself, Rem put his full strength into it. Thump, thump, thump, thump! Let the blood circulate madly through his entire body. The surging pressure of the blood would soon align with his heart. Thus, his whole body, his muscles, would unleash a power surpassing its limits. Thump. Enkrid felt excruciating pain. He had been stabbed by swords and spears, pierced by arrows. Having died and died again, one would think he had grown numb to pain. Yet for some reason, each death still felt new. Death. The ferryman of the black river came to mind. Thump, thump, thu¡ªump. Enkrid''s eyes snapped open. Rem was staring at him, his eyes bloodshot. "Damn it." Why did I do this? Why did I listen to this bastard? Rem regretted it. And Enkrid was satisfied. He smiled. A small realization soon became a signpost for the path he would walk. Thump. His heart released its final beat and stopped. Whatever had been driving him past his limits had struck his heart and halted it. That was death. Darkness began to spread around him. "Enough." Amidst the descending darkness, Jaxen''s voice reached him. "You barbarian lunatic." Ragna''s voice followed. "Brother, what have you done?" He felt rough hands clutching his wrist. But it was all too late. Neither divinity nor any miraculous elixir could revive a heart that had stopped, a man who had boarded the cradle of death. Enkrid was dead. It was a unique experience. Some might even call it suicide. He had searched and searched for another way to attain the Heart of Monstrous Strength, but there was none. This was the best choice¡ªthe desperate result of his struggles. Give up on the Heart of Monstrous Strength? If he had been willing to give up, he would have settled. He did not settle. He moved forward. Even if it was just half a step, even if he had to crawl. A tremor twisted through his entire body. He had endured all the waves of pain. Swoosh. The darkness faded, and when he opened his eyes¡ª The ferryman of the black river stood before him. He said nothing. The ferryman only spoke and smiled when he chose to reveal his intent. Now, he did neither. All Enkrid could feel was a silent, unblinking gaze. A gaze filled with curiosity and doubt. "What in the world is this bastard?" *** By the time Enkrid opened his eyes again, it was early dawn. Just the start of another day, as always. Sitting up in bed, he let out a deep breath and spoke. "This is really damn messed up, Rem." "...I''m awake, you know. I can hear everything." "I know." "And yet you''re cursing at me first thing in the morning? Did I appear naked in your dreams or something?" "No, it''s just really damn messed up." A technique that could only be grasped by wagering one''s life. It really was absurd. And yet¡ª On the day before his death, on a day that Rem would never remember, Enkrid had smiled. He was satisfied. The moment he saw the path ahead, it always filled him with exhilaration. "Good morning." With that brief remark, Enkrid stepped outside to begin his day. "...Didn''t you just say it was messed up?" Behind him, Rem pouted in protest. He was certain now¡ªhis squad leader was anything but normal. And he wasn''t wrong. Enkrid embraced a new day. A day in spring, a season said to be infused with magic. The world was still in the midst of spring. And Enkrid knew he would have to savor this season for now. Changing his heart wouldn''t be easy. "What a beautiful day." A day where the path ahead was clear. He didn''t hate it. After that, Enkrid died many more times. But there were also days when he failed to die and simply endured. An intentional death. Would the next day just proceed as usual? He had wondered. But it seemed everything looped back to the first death. Rather than pondering the mechanics of it, his greater issue was persuading Rem. There were days he failed, unable to convince him, only to push his body beyond its limits instead. When he woke the next morning, the day had reset to the original today. A turning point marked by death. How was this even happening? He questioned it briefly but quickly dismissed the thought. What good would it do to think about it? All that mattered was pushing his body further each day. On the days when he failed to die, he had no choice but to endure. Even though he spoke with all the conviction and sincerity he could muster, the results always varied. *** "Trust me." "You seriously think this makes any damn sense? This is insane!" On the rare days he succeeded¡ªwhen he convinced Rem¡ªhe saw an expression on him he had never seen before. A mix of shock, disbelief, sheer bewilderment, and something akin to intoxication. "No, it''s not happening." On the days when Rem refused, his expression was resolute. What was the difference between those two "todays"? It didn''t seem like there was much of a difference. He spoke with the same sincerity every time. The difference was just one thing. After about sixty-six repetitions, he started to understand. What was missing beyond sincerity and determination? "Do it." It needed to be an order. But why? Why would someone like Rem follow his words so faithfully? Curiosity poked its head up, but he pushed it aside. Maybe one day he''d understand, but that day wasn''t today. "Do it." "Do it." "Do it." "Do it." "Do it." "Do it." "Just do it." "Just do it." "Do it." "Do it." "Just do it already." "Do it." "Shut up and do it." He endured countless todays. Days that passed, again and again. "Huh? What?" Eventually, he didn''t even need Rem''s touch. Around the eightieth repetition, it seemed. After that, it felt like he was going mad, doing it all alone. Thanks to mastering the technique, he didn''t need Rem to help him anymore. After repeating it a few more times¡ª The ferryman of the black river appeared in his dreams once more. "It was not a wall." The ferryman spoke, and Enkrid listened. He still couldn''t reply. There was no hint of emotion in the ferryman''s words. A boat drifting on the black river, the ferryman, the gentle ripples. Enkrid was standing on the boat. "Go." With the ferryman''s command, Enkrid opened his eyes. He didn''t dwell on the words or question them. He couldn''t even bring himself to ask why Rem was so obedient, so why try to understand a ferryman whose hobby was rowing? But the words lingered in his heart¡ª"It was not a wall." What is a wall? A barrier that makes today repeat endlessly. The ferryman''s words meant that what was happening now was beyond his control. "So, what am I supposed to do about it?" But that wasn''t for Enkrid to worry about. Whether deeply rooted or barely noticeable, he shrugged it off. There was too much to do to worry about the trivial things. *** "Good morning, Rem." Enkrid greeted and got up. "Huh? How''d you know I was awake?" "Just a guess." How could he not know after repeating this day over a hundred times? With the start of a new day, Enkrid activated the Heart of Monstrous Strength. Thump! His heart pounded, empowering his entire body. Blood rushed wildly, like horses galloping on a well-paved road. Thump. But his heart didn''t burst. "...Just two questions," Rem said from behind. He had timed it so Rem would see, to prove he had mastered it. To show that he had done it. "First, are you from the West? And second," Rem hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Are you actually a genius?" Enkrid chuckled. To think he''d hear such words from Rem¡ªit was unexpected. "No, to both." He replied calmly, but Rem''s expression was one of disbelief. "But you managed to do it in a day?" For Enkrid, it wasn''t just a day. But to Rem, it was. From his perspective, Enkrid had grasped a technique he couldn''t even understand yesterday, all in one night. His skin flushed red, Enkrid steadied himself after using the Heart of Monstrous Strength and spoke. "You can think, wonder, and be shocked all you want, but¡ª" "Want to spar?" Didn''t they both just want to move their bodies? "Sigh, sure." Rem agreed. He wasn''t one to overthink things either. Thump. Sword and axe met. They exchanged greetings through their weapons, ready to dive into another sparring session¡ªa chance to measure growth. Chapter 138 - Had to Endure Chapter 138 - 138 - Had to Endure Chapter 138 - Had to Endure "Do you really have to use two swords?" The duel had ended. Rem asked. Sweat was dripping down¡ªthough not from Rem, only from Enkrid. "Yeah." Enkrid, slumped on the ground, nodded. Rem''s lips parted but then closed again. To be precise, after seeing Enkrid''s expression, he swallowed the words that were about to come out. For example: "Should I explain just how ridiculous dual wielding is?" "Did you think having two swords would double your attack power?" "Stop messing around and just use one sword properly. Listen to me before I split that fancy blue sword in half with my axe." Thoughts like those. Rem controlled his tongue, pressing it against the roof of his mouth as he pondered. Well, he did receive the axes, after all. The axes Enkrid had given him were of higher quality than expected. The subtle blue sheen was proof that the metal had been properly refined. It was undoubtedly Valerian steel. Judging by its hardness and craftsmanship, these axes would last quite a while. Weapons he was quite fond of. So... ''Let him be.'' Of course, the axes were just an excuse. In reality, it was Enkrid''s expression that made him give up on nagging. Sometimes, when he made that face¡ª Talking about how he dreamed of being a knight, how today was a good day to swing a sword, how he would spend his spare time training, whether on the battlefield or elsewhere¡ª Every time he muttered things like that, his face showed an unmistakable resolve. No, maybe it was more like a firm determination. Though calling it that felt excessive, given how calmly he carried himself. Regardless, there was an invisible line around Enkrid that no one could interfere with. Rem figured he had such a line himself. And Enkrid had always respected it. ''If he ends up tangling himself up, hitting a wall, or getting stuck...'' He''d probably quit on his own. Lately, people had been calling Enkrid a late-blooming genius, marveling that he had awakened at the age of thirty. ''Was that thanks to me? Sure, I played a part.'' But at its core, when you dug deeper, this was something Enkrid had done himself, by himself, alone. At least, that''s how Rem saw it. Enkrid had never given up, no matter the moment. He had never been discouraged. He had never even considered despair. He simply moved forward, steadfastly. Even if he had to crawl. That phrase came to mind again. Was that why Rem kept watching him? Or was it because he was so different from himself? Rem had abandoned everything and become a wanderer. Born with talent and everything else he could have wanted, But he threw it all away. Turned his back, walked away, refused to face it. Meanwhile, his captain¡ªthis stubborn, unshakable man¡ªwas different. All he had was his sword. A single, well-honed blade. That was it. And yet, he walked. Without knowing what lay at the end of that path. Without questioning whether he was worthy of walking it. Without ever complaining about how difficult it was. Because it was a path he had chosen, a path he had decided on, he simply enjoyed it. What kind of person could be like that? Rem''s thoughts grew complicated. Learning Heart of the Beast in a single day? Sure, it was surprising, but it wasn''t impossible. After all, geniuses existed. The fact that it was his own squad leader who had done it was unexpected, but¡ª ''I guided him, demonstrated it for him, even monitored his condition.'' With that much, he should at least be able to mimic it. But living life with that kind of attitude¡ªnow that was something much harder to imitate. At the end of his thoughts, Rem moved his tongue from the roof of his mouth and spoke. "I think I like you, squad leader." "...Did someone spike your food?" "Beating you up is satisfying." "Oh, yeah. That sounds more like you." Enkrid took it in stride. Watching him for a moment, Rem suddenly pictured a certain directionally-challenged bastard who usually lazed around and sulked. "Training''s over?" "I really fucking hate you." Rem spoke with his entire heart. He couldn''t afford any misunderstandings, so he made sure it was genuine¡ªcompletely sincere, just like how Enkrid would say it. "Oh, same here." Ragna nodded, even adding a soft smile. He looked as if he wholeheartedly agreed. Ragna already had a pretty face, but when he smiled, it made Rem want to punch him even more. "That goes for me too." And then, seemingly out of nowhere, a sneaky stray cat with his arms crossed chimed in. The guy who normally never spoke was suddenly running his mouth. "Brother, all things in this world exist within the Lord''s embrace. Naturally, the Lord even tends to the hearts of men. As His servant, how could I hide my own feelings? Yes, I feel the same way. Ha-ha." The massive zealot grinned as he stripped off his shirt. It was disgusting. It was all just for show, wasn''t it? No different from outright saying, "I can''t stand you." So why bother with all those words? Even though those irritating guys kept adding their two cents, Rem couldn''t help but feel¡ªreally, inexplicably¡ªpleased. That was just how it was when he looked at Enkrid. Riding that exhilaration, just a little bit excited, Rem decided to be generous. "Hey, kiddo!" Andrew flinched at Rem''s voice but quickly stood up straight. ''To nurture the enemy in my heart means I see them as great. And seeing them as great means I''ve already lost before the fight even begins.'' Holding onto that mindset, Andrew drew his sword. Srrng. "Damn, you sure catch on fast." Rem pressed his foot against the ground and stepped forward toward Andrew. The razor-sharp axe swung back and forth like a pendulum from his shoulder, its glinting blade eerily menacing. "...If you ask for mercy mid-fight, I''ll step in," Mac said from behind. Andrew nodded. A grateful man, truly. From helping him rebuild his family to standing alongside him against Rem time and time again. ''But Mac... why are you backing away as you talk?'' Huh? At that distance, wouldn''t it be hard to step in if things got serious? You''re pulling back too far. It''s starting to feel... unsettling. "You can do this. Lord Gardener, you are the sole hero who will rebuild the Gardener family." ...Why was he saying that from way over there? And since when did he start calling him ''Lord Gardner''? Didn''t he usually just say ''Andrew''? Even dropping honorifics sometimes? Pretty sure he did... Mac kept retreating¡ªuntil he was practically next to Enkrid. If there was a single safe haven from the madmen of this squad, it would be there. But Andrew couldn''t escape to that haven. Not when he still had his pride. And besides, every time he fought this crazy barbarian, he got stronger. For the sake of tomorrow, not today. Just as he''d learned from watching his squad leader. "Come at me, arrogant savage." "Huh? So you''re saying I can chop off an arm?" Those dull gray eyes sharpened with intent. "Screw you." Andrew went all in. He had no other choice. Enkrid watched the entire situation unfold from where he sat. He had given everything against Rem. With both swords, he had done his utmost. The Heart of the Beast had granted his arms unbelievable strength. A remarkable surge in power. But it wasn''t enough to call himself a true dual wielder. Compared to using a single sword, he hadn''t been able to press Rem as much. He could feel it¡ªhis training was lacking. ''I can''t get used to this.'' Enkrid studied the calluses covering his palms. He didn''t resent his lack of talent. He just needed more time. So then... what should he do next? "Are you taking a break?" The answer was right in front of him. Ragna. For once, the man actually seemed eager. Why, though? Why was he like this only toward him? Not that Enkrid minded. Not at all. He knew better than anyone¡ªthis was a rare opportunity. Placing a hand on the bruised thigh where Rem had kicked him, Enkrid stood up. "No." Ragna nodded, as if he''d expected that answer. Then, he drew his sword. "Are you using two?" "Yeah." Ragna didn''t question him further. That, in itself, was strange. Normally, if he said he was using two swords, Rem or Ragna would have tried to stop him. If not them, then Jaxen or Audin. Hell, even Andrew, Mac, or Krais might have something to say about his sloppy technique. But no one said a word. Weird. Still, he didn''t ask. Instead, he swung his swords¡ªtighter, closer together. He had searched for the most efficient way to wield two swords. Thought through it. Experimented. He hadn''t just been sitting around. As he trained with the Heart of the Beast, he had also been refining his dual wielding. And yet, it still felt clumsy. Like a sculpture that remained unfinished, no matter how much he chiseled away at it. So his hands were busy. Unsteady. Messy. Ragna batted away Enkrid''s swords with ease. Just like Rem had. Which meant¡ª He had completely dominated the fight. "Hm." Ragna started to say something but stopped. "Haa... haa... haah." Breath ragged, Enkrid planted his right hand on his thigh and drove his left-hand sword into the ground. Sweat dripped. His back bent halfway forward, head hanging down. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead, traced the bridge of his nose, and fell to the ground. What should he even call this? Extreme training? For something like that¡ª His limbs trembled uncontrollably. The Heart of the Beast¡ªan ability that momentarily shatters the limits of one''s muscles¡ªcame with its side effects. As Ragna remained silent, Audin interjected. "You''ve overdone it, Squad Leader, Brother." Raising his head slightly, Ragna looked at Audin. Audin was wearing his usual smile¡ªthe same smile he had when using the Isolation technique. What was this? That expression was usually reserved for when he was hiding his inner devil. "You need to rest." "Rest?" "You shouldn''t use the Isolation technique either, Brother." What was this about? Normally, he''d be the one itching to push the training further, to squeeze out every last bit of strength from them. "I''ll speak later, later." Ragna muttered, lost in thought. Enkrid tried to get up but collapsed sideways. As if he had been waiting for it, Audin caught him. "Let''s get you inside." "Do we have no duties or missions today?" "Even if we did, Squad Leader, Brother, you wouldn''t be allowed to go." Was that so? Enkrid had vaguely sensed it himself. The Heart of the Beast¡ªit was an incredible weapon, an amazing technique. The ability to enhance one''s strength in an instant¡ªit was what allowed him to even exchange blows with monstrous beings like the Frogs. And if he became skilled enough, he could even withstand a giant''s strike like Rem. Rem, standing firm against a giant¡ªhis back had been truly impressive. It was almost enviable. Having seen that, there was no way he could give up on the Heart of the Beast. Audin supported Enkrid. "At least get washed up first." Even with his trembling limbs, Enkrid carefully fastened his gear. "Seriously, do you guys fight every single day?" Krais, standing beside him, scolded him for no reason. And yet, his hands moved quickly to help Enkrid. "Go wash up. I''ll take care of your gear." "Mine?" "Do you have any idea how many years I''ve been eating army black bread? Do you know how much Krona I''ve made just from maintaining equipment? I''m probably better than most blacksmiths." Come to think of it, that was true. Whenever there was nothing else to sell¡ªno women, no cigarettes¡ªwhat had Krais been doing? He''d been making his rounds through different barracks. Maintaining equipment wasn''t just a way for him to make extra income¡ªit was a method for getting friendly with soldiers from other units. Unless someone treated their weapon like a lover, maintaining it was just a tedious chore. Enkrid also valued his weapon¡ªhis sword, his armor¡ªbut Krais could be trusted with them. By the time he returned from washing up, Krais had even polished his sword to a shine. "If I draw this under the moonlight, it''ll be a perfect beacon to announce my location." "That''s a compliment, right?" "Yeah." "Squad Leader, sometimes when you give compliments, you do it in such a... well, ''Squad Leader'' kind of way." Krais chuckled. Before Enkrid could ask what that even meant, Audin approached. He had just finished drying off and was about to sit on his bed when Audin''s large frame cast a shadow over him. Krais, startled, instinctively stepped back. "What the¡ª? Ah, Audin? What''s up?" "I have business with the Squad Leader, Brother." A smile. A bear''s smile. A large predator''s smile. Or perhaps, the smile of a demon with a plan. This wasn''t good. Enkrid had a bad feeling. And soon enough, Audin''s hand landed on his body. "When muscles are overworked, they tend to seize up. There''s a way to release them. This will be the next technique you learn." Learning¡ªtraining¡ªthose words immediately shifted Enkrid''s defensive stance. "What is it?" A grin. No answer. Just a smile. That was even more ominous¡ªand his instincts proved right. "Ghh... Guhhh... Urghhh..." As Audin pressed and twisted different spots on his body¡ª Enkrid felt a surge of pain. His vision darkened. He thought he could see the ferryman ahead in the distance. It was as if he had dipped his foot into the river of death and returned. The kind of pain that clawed through his entire body. "This is how you release tense muscles. When I was learning, they used to call this ''Blood, Sweat, and Tears.''" Was that supposed to be the name of the technique? No way. But right now, he couldn''t even ask. Even as waves of sharp pain tore through him again, there was no room for words. A time of suffering, so intense that even screaming felt impossible. But, of course, it wasn''t the kind of pain that would break him. He just had to endure. Chapter 139 - Morning of the Eighth Day Chapter 139 - 139 - Morning of the Eighth Day Chapter 139 - Morning of the Eighth Day Valaf-style acupressure. That was the true name of blood, sweat, and tears. "Can I ask what else this Valaf person created besides martial arts and acupressure?" "He also developed a blunt weapon technique, but it was so poorly designed that it has since fallen into obscurity. Other than that, he compiled numerous documents, including sacred scripture interpretations." Valaf was a renowned figure in the temple Audin believed in. A legend. A name that most wouldn''t know unless they studied him specifically. But to those associated with the god he served, it was a familiar name. And now, it was a familiar name to Enkrid as well. Audin''s hands pressed firmly. At first, it felt like he was about to set sail with the ferryman of the Black River. But after taking a deep breath and enduring, it became bearable. "Originally, you press the most painful area first." Saying that, Audin smiled again. "Then you gradually move to areas with lower levels of pain. By doing so¡ª" "Hm." "The tense muscles relax." His body loosened. Each time those thick bear-like hands touched him, his muscles unwound. Maybe this would be useful if he learned it properly. His body, which had been trembling from the strain of the Heart of the Beast, felt like it was cramping up, but that sensation slowly faded. At the same time, the pain subsided. "You should rest well today." That seemed like a good idea. The Heart of the Beast¡ªhe had mastered it properly. But if he used it recklessly, the strain on his body was immense. Once again, Enkrid found himself impressed by knights. They exceeded human limitations without relying on techniques like these. They might have the shell of a human, but they wielded the strength of giants, possessed the agility of Frogs, and had the keen senses of fairies. That was what knights were. And in Enkrid''s faded dream, a faint light was beginning to shine. "Why does no one stop me from using two swords?" The words slipped out as he grew drowsy. Was this the right path, or the wrong one? Surely someone should have said something. Yet no one did. Even Ragna had encouraged him to use a sword and shield. "Why do you think that is, brother?" Audin, perhaps out of habit from his days as a priest, responded with a question instead. "I''m asking because I don''t know." Enkrid''s voice was muffled from lying face down. Above him, Audin chuckled and answered. "From what I''ve observed, it''s because our squad leader is incredibly stubborn. Now, you should get some sleep." Stubborn? Me? Enkrid couldn''t accept that. Where could one find a more flexible and easygoing person than himself? If he were just another madman in this unit of lunatics, how would he be able to control them¡ªnot that he really controlled them. If he were truly insane, this squad would have fallen apart long ago. But as Audin''s hands pressed down on the back of his neck, Enkrid felt his consciousness slipping away. It wasn''t like passing out or dying¡ªjust a slow descent into drowsiness. There was no reason to resist. Rather than talking, resting seemed far more important. And so, Enkrid fell asleep. Audin stood up after confirming his squad leader was asleep. They say stubborn people never realize they''re being stubborn. And it seemed Enkrid had no intention of acknowledging it. "Brother, you really are an interesting person." Audin muttered and then spoke toward the tent''s entrance. "How long do you plan on standing there?" From just outside, Jaxen''s voice replied. "I was watching the squad leader. Not you." Audin simply nodded, unconcerned, and left. Jaxen remained, silently staring at Enkrid. A truly fascinating man. Just being around him made one wonder what he needed. Made one want to help him. Made one want to teach him. Even if it meant sharing one''s own secret techniques. "...Not that he''d need mine." Jaxen murmured before leaving. Nyaa¡ª A small black panther slipped into Enkrid''s arms. Holding Esther in his sleep, Enkrid drifted into an even deeper slumber. And in that sleep, he dreamed. Faceless figures appeared before him, asking repeatedly. "Is that really the right choice?" "You really think this is the right path?" "You must be insane." "You''re stubborn, you know? You know this won''t work, so why even try?" It was nonsense. Enkrid dismissed all their questions with a single response. "If I want to do it, I''ll do it. What business is it of yours?" Instead of doubt, he would ponder. And at the end of his pondering, he would seize what he desired. That was his path. And now, for the first time, he could see a signpost along the way. So more than ever before, he had to have conviction. When he woke, he murmured to himself. "I should at least explain why I use two swords." He wasn''t stubborn. So he would give a rational explanation. Getting up, he moved his body. After a full day of rest, he was ready to move again. Stepping outside, he began to loosen up. Isolation technique, swordsmanship training, Heart of the Beast, Sense of the Blade, and pinpoint focus. To these, he now added the recently learned Heart of Monstrous Strength. Keeping them all activated continuously would damage his body, so he maintained only what was necessary. As he resumed his training, Audin appeared. "Good morning, brother." The moment when the rising sun subtly shifted the surroundings from blue to yellow. The dawn''s chill was gradually warming, yet before the temperature could change, Enkrid was already standing alone on the gravel field in front of the barracks, his entire body steaming. A few sentries passed by, but no one spoke to him. They treated him as a war hero, yet¡ª No one ever greeted someone in the middle of training with kindness. Of course, that was always the case. There was a reason they called them the Madmen unit. The surrounding soldiers merely observed. They were worthy of respect, so they were given respect. "Yeah." Enkrid, as expected, paid no mind to such things and focused on his own work. Following Audin, Rem appeared. "Captain, Captain. I''m here." "So?" Training right in front of the barracks¡ªwhat was he talking about, announcing his presence like that? Regardless, Rem crouched beside him, watching. Jaxen had already started moving, though no one knew when he had woken up. Next came Krais. "Ugh, so I guess there''s still no word about us leaving today. This isn''t good." Stretching and yawning, Big Eyes mumbled to himself. Then, another squad member arrived¡ªRagna. "Captain." As he approached, Enkrid finally stopped. Now that everyone had gathered, it was time to speak. After all, he wasn''t stubborn for no reason. "Do you really have to use two swords?" Ragna, who had just arrived, asked. Enkrid nodded and spoke. "That''s the plan." If the next question was "why," he was prepared to answer. Enkrid stared straight at Ragna. Well, ask away. But Ragna remained silent. As the silence settled, Enkrid had no choice but to speak first. "Twin Sword Style¡ªwielding two blades suited me better." The reason he wanted to become a knight? Because he admired them. The reason he liked swords? Because the moment he held one, it simply felt right. It was the same with this. The moment he held two swords, he realized something. The moment he unintentionally trained his left hand and realized he could wield a blade in both hands, it struck him like a bolt of lightning. A moment of clarity. ''If I can use two swords...'' It fit perfectly with his body. "I didn''t ask." Yeah, that''s true. "Hey, who even asked?" Beside him, Rem snickered. That savage bastard had been in a good mood lately. Fine. No one had actually asked. "I see." Big Eyes nodded belatedly, as if his mind had taken a brief trip elsewhere. This bastard¡ªhe probably didn''t even understand what I just said. Audin responded with a simple, "Yes, brother." Jaxen didn''t even bother listening. Instead, he had pulled out a whetstone from who-knows-where and was sharpening his dagger. Schrrk. Ting. The sound of metal sharpening was the only thing welcoming the morning sunlight. "Ha!" "Haa!" Perhaps due to their madman of a captain, more and more people around them were starting their own training. Amidst the shouts and the scraping of the whetstone, Enkrid muttered again. "Using two swords is simply better." "I already told you, no one asked." He wanted to insist that he wasn''t just being stubborn, but the moment he said it, he would feel as though he had admitted to being exactly that. So what now? "The real concern is how you''ll carry both swords on your body. That''s more pressing, isn''t it?" Ragna asked. Enkrid gathered his thoughts completely. Fine, he would just embrace being stubborn. For now, the urgent task was figuring out how to carry both swords. "Yeah." "From now on, Captain has two lovers." Ragna declared. It was at times like these that he realized¡ªhis squad members were terrible at explaining things. Not that they lacked the ability to talk, but when it came to conveying what they knew, they struggled. This was something spoken after a night of contemplation. Enkrid recalled Ragna, lost in thought inside the barracks the night before. Had he spent all that time just to say this? Enkrid answered. "That''s right." Two lovers, huh. "You have to hold them both close. Whether you''re eating, sleeping, relieving yourself¡ªwhatever you''re doing, keep them in your arms." He didn''t ask what kind of training this was. It was the method a genius had spent a day pondering. Enkrid decided to trust and follow it. "That''s right." The same answer came twice. Ragna''s face was slightly flushed. Seeing his reddened cheeks, Enkrid thought they resembled those of a young boy. "Good." That was the end of the conversation. After that, Enkrid faithfully followed Ragna''s advice. He refined his Isolation technique. Endured the pressure-point techniques of the Valaf style. Trained in martial arts, honed his swordsmanship. Increased the activation time of Heart of Monstrous Strength through relentless effort. And embraced his swords. Like lovers he could never part from. Whether he was eating, sleeping, or relieving himself¡ªno matter what. "Kyaaa." It must have been annoying, as Esther whined at times when he slept. But Enkrid did as instructed. A week passed. There were no battles, only occasional updates from the main force. On the fifth day, Krais spoke with a serious expression. "This isn''t good." "Why?" "The main battle is dragging on." "Why is that bad?" Aspen''s military strength wasn''t to be taken lightly. Even if Naurilia couldn''t commit its full forces due to internal issues, It wasn''t easy to withstand the assault of a nation that had risen to the ranks of the great powers. Krais, drawing from past experience, kept his explanation simple. "We got our hands on their rear as soon as the battle started, yet we can''t push through. And officially, we should have the advantage." "So?" Krais narrowed his eyes. Are you seriously just going to keep asking like that without thinking? For some reason, Enkrid felt like he could hear his thoughts through his gaze. But he shamelessly met his stare. He was stubborn, after all. "What do you think our forces will do? I see only one option." "One?" This guy, seriously? Krais''s eyes spoke, but his mouth remained dutifully committed to the conversation. "They''ll smack the enemy''s rear for real. Hit and run, something like that." That, he understood. It meant the job of the 4th Battalion of the 4th Regiment of the Cypress Division wasn''t over. The standby forces at Border Guard still had a role to play. It meant battle was coming. Enkrid naturally swung his sword as he responded. "I see." Expectations¡ªhe had those. What had Aspen stationed in the rear? That was the concern on the fifth day. And on the morning of the eight day, after a week had passed¡ª "Ambush!" The enemy attacked. Chapter 140 - Fine, Whatever Chapter 140 - 140 - Fine, Whatever Chapter 140 - Fine, Whatever "We''ll be learning Sense of Evasion this time." If Ragna had insisted on always carrying two swords, then Jaxen had started teaching something else. It was likely one of the things he had mentioned on the day they killed the giant. Enkrid learned it simultaneously. There was no real need to learn it separately. What Jaxen was teaching didn''t interfere with other training. It mostly started with improving dynamic vision¡ªthrowing pebbles with something written on them, and the task was to read them midair. Of course, it wasn''t easy. But steadily, bit by bit, he was improving. Now, he could even clearly read the characters written on flying pebbles. That was possible thanks to all the experience Enkrid had accumulated. Experiences that awakened talent. Experiences built on trust in himself and the belief that he could do it. Just then, as a pebble flew toward his forehead¡ª "Ambush!" A sharp cry rang out. Enkrid snatched the pebble out of the air with a snap. "Enemies!" Fweeeeet! "Arrows incoming! Get your heads down!" Between the shouts of the commander and the startled soldiers, Jaxen spoke. "What''s written on it?" This guy was relentless. Enkrid had both swords at his waist, and he was wearing leather armor. Even if they were at ease, they couldn''t afford to move around without their basic gear. Because of that, his armor reeked of sweat¡ªsomething Esther despised¡ªbut this place was still a battlefield where combat could erupt at any moment. Enkrid turned and answered. "''Ma.''" "Good." Jaxen nodded and stood up. But before either of them could react further, someone dashed ahead, faster than both of them. "Where are they?!" It was Rem. It had been eight days. Thanks to his spars with Enkrid and Andrew, he wasn''t exactly pent-up, but he was certainly restless. The barbarian from the west charged forward, delighted at the thought of swinging his axe. You never know. A giant might pop out from somewhere again. And then what? That would be too exciting. Rem''s steps were light, his body nimble. He moved faster than any commander or soldier. Enkrid, too, headed toward the commotion. It was at the outskirts of the unit, near the boundary¡ªtoward the enemy''s camp. When they arrived, Rem was whipping his head back and forth. Enkrid scanned the area as well, but¡ª There was no sign of an enemy. Only a lone soldier, dead, an arrow lodged in his skull. "Where are they?" At Enkrid''s question, Jaxen also looked around and answered. "They''re not here." Even with Jaxen''s eyes, there was barely any trace. Which meant¡ª The enemy hadn''t even attempted to invade. They had just fired arrows from afar and left? One of their men had died because of it, but... Was that even effective? Rustle. Beyond the defensive perimeter, movement stirred in the dense foliage. But it wasn''t the enemy. It was their own. The soldiers bearing the eagle insignia¡ªthe infamous Frontier Slaughterers Unit¡ªwere moving. "Pursue." At the command of what seemed to be their leader, they swiftly entered the forest. Watching them, Enkrid noticed something. Their movements... Every step they took resembled Finn''s. Like rangers. At the very least, they had the skills of one. "What the hell." Rem stood there, disgruntled. His eyes narrowed. "Don''t." Enkrid shut down the fire before it spread. If he left Rem alone, he''d go berserk again. "Come here." He called him back. Rem looked as if his gray hair was bristling in irritation. But then, with a short huff, he turned around. "The bastards are filthy cowards." He muttered and glanced at the fallen soldier, the one with the arrow through his skull. His eyes weren''t filled with pity. He was looking at the arrow. "They brought that crazy bastard back, and now we have this mess to deal with again." From the look in his eyes, he recognized it. "Who?" "You don''t remember?" Enkrid tilted his head. It might be in Rem''s memory, but for Enkrid, his days had been different from Rem''s. They had experienced time differently. "That Hawk Claw, or Nipple-whatever bastard." At that, Enkrid finally turned his attention to the arrow. Unlike the others, its shaft was longer, with feathers extending far back. Even without checking the blood-stained arrowhead, he could tell. It wasn''t a normal arrow. Rem scratched his jaw, restless. A missed target. Rem had once lived as a hunter. His eyes traced the lingering trail of his prey. Should he follow? If he did, how long would it take? Enkrid lightly tapped Rem''s shoulder as he tried to gauge the time. "Want to spar?" Let it be. Sooner or later, the day would come. When that time came, they could talk. Of course, not with words, but with axes. "Sure." Enkrid turned around after calming Rem. Whoosh. A stone flew from behind Enkrid''s head. A small pebble grazed past his vision in an instant. It flew past Enkrid''s eyes and lightly scraped Rem''s forehead. When had it been picked up, and when had something been carved into it? "Chin." Enkrid read the letters, surprised but remaining composed. If he had been even a little careless, he would have missed it. "Good." Jaxen nodded and spoke. "Want to die? Where are you throwing stones?" Rem reacted immediately. "Oh, you were there? I didn''t see you." Jaxen blatantly lied in a way that made it obvious. Just another casual squabble. "Enough." Though it was routine, something had changed. Enkrid no longer pushed his body between them to stop them. Now, words were enough. "Cut it out, Rem." Just a bit more forceful than before, carrying a bit more will. It was something he realized while learning the Heart of the Beast. Rem followed his words better than he expected. The same went for Jaxen. In Jaxen''s case, he didn''t need words. A single glare was enough. "Understood. I''ll be careful." And with that, the issue was settled. By the time they returned to the front of the barracks¡ª "Something happen?" Ragna, who had just woken up late, asked. If he wasn''t watching Enkrid or sparring with him, he was still the same lazy friend. "An enemy ambush. Fired a few arrows and ran." "I see." Did this bastard even listen properly? He didn''t seem to care at all. Was he just fearless, or did he simply not think at all? ''The latter.'' If he had to bet on it, it was definitely the latter. Enkrid straightened his sword, adjusting his posture and breathing. Then, he devoted himself to training once more. Between drills, he also practiced reading the letters carved into the stones. He used the Valaf-style acupressure techniques to loosen his muscles. Alongside learning martial techniques, hand-to-hand combat, and joint locks, he continued honing the Isolation Technique. At the same time, he never let go of the two swords in his hands. "Form. Your form must not collapse. No matter what you do, always maintain your form. If your form collapses, you will get hurt. Brother, you wouldn''t want to be the platoon leader who gets injured, would you?" Was this a warning? Holding two swords while maintaining the stance for the Isolation Technique was exhausting. But it was just that¡ªexhausting. It wasn''t impossible. Which meant there was no problem at all. At least, not for Enkrid. As the sun began to set in the west¡ª "Ambush! Damn it!" A soldier''s shout rang out. The enemy attempted contact once more. If the first time had caught them off guard, they should have been prepared for the second. Yet, once again, an arrow flew in and struck an ally''s head. The frontier defense troops responded. A squad, specialized in such terrain, was deployed. But once again, they failed to catch them. "This isn''t good." Krais furrowed his brows at the situation. Enkrid ignored him. The enemy was merely firing from a distance and fleeing. They were tricky to catch. Not to mention, they were using an unusual weapon¡ª A longbow with an abnormally extended range, firing a single shot before vanishing. How were they supposed to catch someone like that? Enkrid focused solely on training. He didn''t consider it his problem. He barely had the mental energy to concentrate on what was in front of him. "an." Starting from ''Ma,'' he had now read the letters on the fifth stone. When strung together¡ª "Mad Barbarian." "...This was written before I said I''d be careful." Jaxen gave a half-hearted excuse. He avoided Enkrid''s gaze and spoke while staring at the ground. Enkrid didn''t even feel like responding. "Hold it in." Instead, he just stopped Rem. Rem had silently drawn his axe, looking ready to throw it at any moment. Another day passed. The next day was the same. Training, or sparring. Occasional enemy ambushes. Krais kept mumbling about how things didn''t look good. Enkrid and Jaxen began proper training together. "The Sense of Evasion is ultimately about cultivating the ability to dodge.That means improving predictive abilities through experience and enhancing bodily coordination. The goal is to see and react at the same time¡ªto evade while moving instinctively." What exactly were they supposed to be dodging? Enkrid stared, wanting to ask. Jaxen drew his sword. Srrng. The blade reflected the light as Jaxen asked, "Are you going to fight with two swords?" Was that concern or a warning? Maybe both. "Yeah." Enkrid endures no matter what. Knowing that, Jaxen nodded inwardly and decided to pass on something of his own. "If you can''t dodge, you''ll die." Another line, carrying both warning and concern, followed. Ping. The sound of the air being pierced. Enkrid saw a dot¡ªa tiny point was shot at him. Even as he activated his focus, splitting time itself¡ª Tick. "Next time, you''ll really die." The tip of the sword touched his forehead. He couldn''t move an inch. Was it speed? Quickness? No, it felt like something else entirely. It was a thrust, like a single point of absolute focus. Something that wasn''t possible with just speed alone. How should he describe this? He had seen Rem''s axe swings bend like a whip. He had witnessed flashes of light slicing through the air. He had encountered enemy thrusts and even dodged incoming whistle daggers. But Jaxen''s thrust was different from everything he had experienced. It almost felt like magic. As if space itself had folded, and the sword simply arrived at its target. A thrust delivered without the slightest hint of intent or movement. "Again." Enkrid''s eyes burned. This was something new. And he was always ready to accept something new. "If you can''t dodge, you really will die." Jaxen kept repeating those words, but in reality, there was no actual death. Should he say it was the same as always? Or that nothing ever changed? Enkrid¡ª Three or four times a day, enemy arrows would fly, grazing him or not. Whether the allied troops cared or not. Whether the border garrison kept making mistakes or not. None of it mattered. He devoted himself entirely to training. Was the thrust invisible? No. He could see it. He could see it, but he simply couldn''t dodge it. From now on, as Jaxen said, what he needed was coordination. He had to reduce his reaction time to the extreme¡ª See it, then move. So why was Jaxen''s sword impossible to avoid? "It''s called the ''Lifeless Thrust,'' but you don''t need to learn it." Jaxen said it offhandedly, but that only made Enkrid more determined. "When can I learn it?" "Finish this first before asking that." "Alright." The ''Lifeless Thrust'' was a high-speed thrust without killing intent. Enkrid''s body had always reacted instinctively to intent. But since there was none here, his body didn''t recognize the threat¡ª So it didn''t react properly. Right now, his training was about overriding that instinct, forcing his body to react at will. "Just see it and respond." Easier said than done. But little by little, there was progress. Even if it was at a crawling pace, Enkrid could feel his own growth. How could that not be exciting? Moreover¡ª "You really are improving." Jaxen, compared to other instructors, was kind and didn''t hold back praise. The training he knew was simple¡ª With constant effort, as long as one risked half their life, improvement was inevitable. Still, Jaxen couldn''t help but question something. ''Why am I doing this?'' He kept stepping in because he couldn''t stand watching, but he didn''t understand why he was helping Enkrid. He had always been trained to justify every action with a reason¡ª Yet here he was, doing the exact opposite. ''For now, I''ll just go with it.'' Jaxen set his thoughts aside. For now, simply watching Enkrid was enough. For the first time in his life, he felt satisfaction. He had killed people, again and again. Checked their corpses. Gathered information. But through it all, he had never felt a thing. This was the first time. How could he not be thrilled? That was why a smile appeared on Jaxen''s face as he thrust his sword. Enkrid, however, had no time to notice it. Only Rem, Ragna, and Audin, who stood nearby, saw it. "That bastard''s really trying to kill him," Rem muttered irritably. "This spar is getting excessive. Isn''t it my turn?" Ragna voiced his own selfish desire. "Haha, Brother seems to be enjoying himself. But balance is important. As the Lord once said, what happens when a scale is tipped too far...?" Audin''s words dragged on, his tongue loosened. All three of them were sulking. And watching them, Krais thought¡ª ''This is really bad.'' They might be swinging their swords without a care, but the state of the unit was turning into a complete mess. If only the commanders or the border garrison would handle it¡ª but was it that they lacked someone with brains, or that they simply weren''t thinking at all? ''I mean, how long are we just going to sit around watching?'' To Krais, the answer was obvious. If things continued like this, they were just asking for trouble. Why wasn''t anyone doing anything? He had no choice. "Hey, Captain." Krais didn''t want to sit around and endure the danger. More than anything, it was so obvious what needed to be done¡ªhe couldn''t just ignore it. "Hm?" Sweat dripped from Enkrid as he turned his head. The fire in his eyes meant nothing to Krais. "Are you going to make any suggestions to command?" Enkrid tilted his head, confused by the sudden question. "If we keep wasting time like this, nothing good is going to come from it..." Krais began explaining¡ª Laying out the unit''s potential and the actions they could take. "...So we have mobility. If we can control it, that should be enough." It was a simple and straightforward argument. Enkrid had experienced it several times before¡ª Big Eyes wasn''t just a greedy bastard. He nodded. "Alright, let''s do it." There were plenty of things he had wanted to test out anyway. This was a good opportunity. For Enkrid, nodding was the obvious choice. "Good." Maybe it was the tension, but Krais let out a breath. Enkrid simply nodded again. What was so difficult about this? The final decision would be up to the command anyway. Chapter 141 - Rem’s Rush Chapter 141 - 141 - Rem''s Rush Chapter 141 - Rem''s Rush "We need to move the position forward. We can''t leave it like this. We need to take control of the underbrush and strike from the rear." "What are you saying? If we push forward, how are we going to retreat? Do you know how many rear guard troops Aspen has?" "So, you''re saying we should just let that guerilla force run wild?" "Leaving them alone is lowering our morale even more." It was a strategic meeting. The officers and adjutants were gathered around the table, discussing in a loud uproar. Leader Graham of the 1st Unit was in favor of pushing forward. Paltor brought up another topic. The 3rd Unit Leader, Leon, had died at the hands of a fairy assassin during the previous battle, so the 1st Platoon Leader of the 3rd Unit had immediately taken his place. He seemed to have no words, staying silent. The rest of the meeting was filled with Marcus''s adjutants. They were exchanging necessary opinions, verifying and cross-checking. The fairy commander thought it was all pointless. The problem was clear. ''The enemy has someone who thinks well.'' But we don''t have anyone like that. Marcus, known as the War Maniac, was not as foolish as his nickname suggested. You could tell just by looking at how he treated Enkrid. He knew how to elevate his subordinates, manage morale, and seize the moment. Compared to the previous battalion commander, he was like an archangel. But Marcus wasn''t a strategist. When the flow of battle needed a reversal, what trick did Marcus play? An exceptional strategy? No. He used overwhelming force or powerful groups of soldiers. Just look at the previous battle. In the end, what weapon did Marcus pull out? He drew two swords. One was the heavy-armored 1st Unit. The other was the special forces in charge of border defense. Marcus was a commander who prioritized force over tactics. On the other hand, the enemy was... ''Definitely the type to use their brain.'' The fairy commander was old and experienced. In such cases, poorly thought-out reactions from allies easily led to traps. If this was a temptation to push further in? What if the main force advanced deeper into enemy territory and fell into a trap? Trying to gather information was hard because we were already on enemy ground. Should we send out scouts deeper? If we follow the guerilla forces, we''d end up in a cat-and-mouse chase on the mountain ridges. Ignore and strike the enemy''s rear? That might not be a bad idea. If we move west, we''ll hit the Cross Guard. If we move northeast, we''ll run into the enemy''s main force. We couldn''t figure out which way to move. If we couldn''t decide, holding our ground was the best option. This unit was a threat just by existing, after all. If we ignore these enemy tactics, it wouldn''t be the worst choice. Thud. Marcus slammed his fist on the strategy map. The horse and a couple of pins on the map fell over. "Let''s put it plainly: if we stay like this, we can''t advance or retreat. We need to figure out what we can actually do." He was frustrated. Ideally, we should have already hit the enemy''s main force and started to retreat, but the battle dragged on. Then the enemy guerilla forces came and started harassing us. That annoyed him, and now everyone was talking nonsense instead of planning how to take them out. In the end, the strategic meeting ended in a stalemate. There were no useful suggestions. As the fairy commander left the meeting and was heading to her tent, she was stopped by a platoon leader dressed in strange armor with swords on either side of his waist. He pressed his sword with his left hand and bowed his head. After a military salute, Platoon Leader Enkrid spoke. "I would like to suggest a tactical plan and request temporary command." The fairy, who had been staring at him, thought Enkrid was a fairly good-looking man, and her expression showed curiosity. To her, Enkrid didn''t seem like the type to strategize either. He was the type to fight straightforwardly. "If you''re here to propose a marriage, the timing is off, platoon Leader." The fairy casually made a joke in her own way. Perhaps used to such jokes by now, Enkrid replied without hesitation. "It''s about military strategy." Could they ignore the suggestion from a mere platoon leader? No, they couldn''t. Regardless of her personal feelings for him, Enkrid had proven himself in battle time and time again. "Tell me." Enkrid kept it as brief as possible, since it wasn''t his idea. "Please grant me temporary command to stir up the enemy forces." "And then?" "I request support from a soldier skilled in finding paths." "Is that all?" "Also, how about we clear a path to the west for the main force?" The fairy tilted her head. Enkrid explained what he had heard: where the unit was positioned, how the movement of the allied forces would affect the enemy, and what effects those movements would have. It was all about observation and prediction. "What if it doesn''t go as expected?" "We''ll retreat." At that point, it would be a retreat. This strategy had been focused on retreating from the beginning. The fairy commander wasn''t an idiot. The moment she heard it, her mind started racing. ''This could work.'' No, it wasn''t just usable¡ªit might be the best option in the current situation. In truth, it seemed like a small thing, but what happens if it''s combined with other factors? If luck was on their side, this could work. Plus, if Enkrid took his squad and moved himself... "Are you going to take the squad leader''s role?" The fairy asked. "No." Enkrid shook his head. He wasn''t trying to steal the credit from his squad. "It''s the idea of a soldier named Krais." Krais didn''t want to take unnecessary risks, so he threw out the suggestion. It wasn''t something he expected to work, but he thought the command staff would come up with something. But somehow, this had become the most necessary suggestion. "Alright." The fairy simply said that and walked away. She was heading toward the tent where the battalion commander, Marcus, was. After that, the movements of the allies began to change. They started to abandon their position and prepare to march. Meanwhile, Enkrid was arming his entire squad and preparing to speak. It wasn''t really a time for a speech before the operation. "Rem." "Speak." "Shall we go after that archer?" He asked Rem bluntly. Rem''s eyebrows twitched slightly. It was a look of satisfaction. "Sounds good." Rem''s smile, while speaking, seemed to carry a hint of bloodlust. "Just to stretch out a bit. Anyone want to rest?" Ragna, Audin, Jaxen, Andrew, and Mac all exchanged looks. If anyone wanted to sit out, they would have let them. But there was no one. Then, "This is Finn, who joined the squad today." "Nice to meet you." Finn''s addition to the team was also noted. He had requested support, and they sent a light infantry archer unit that had previously operated as a 2nd squad. Now, that archer unit had rejoined the main squad. However, this left Finn in a somewhat awkward position. Somehow, she ended up in the platoon as a squad leader. It was a bit awkward. Even though it was an independent platoon, the number of people was under ten, and there were two squad leaders. It was a monster-filled formation. But what could they do? The madmen platoon was always like this. Finn had joined because of Enkrid. Even though she was demoted to a squad leader, she wanted to stay close to him. She had other reasons too, including a chance to spend some nights together, if possible. So, there were various motives at play. There was someone she wanted to meet there as well. "I''m Finn. Don''t expect me to act all high and mighty because I''m a squad leader; let''s just get along. Then, you must be Audin, right?" Finn was as serious as a board. She said what she had to say and acted how she wanted. And then, she revealed one of her purposes. Audin, the one who taught Enkrid the Valaf-style martial arts. Finn licked her lips once and stared at Audin intently. Just looking at his body, she was tempted. ''Enkrid is Enki, but...'' This one might be worth it too. He''s got a decent appearance, but does he have what''s underneath? She had already confirmed Enkrid''s inner strength during their first meeting, by the river. She would never forget it. Especially what lay beneath his abs. "Hmm." Finn snapped herself out of her thoughts. Now wasn''t the time for that. "Yes, Sister. I was given the name Audin." The two of them shook hands as a greeting. Rem, Ragna, and Jaxen acted as though they were not interested. Andrew approached and introduced himself as another squad leader. Mac only nodded in greeting. That was the group that gathered. "Shall we start with the operation overview?" Enkrid spoke, looking at Krais. Wasn''t it Krais'' turn to speak now? With that look, Krais cleared his throat and spoke up. "Well, the enemy''s guerilla troops are causing trouble, so we''ll be doing something similar." Krais knew that trying to explain it in detail would be futile, so he kept it simple and clear. The point was this: The enemy was using the terrain to shake up the army. But why shouldn''t they do that to their side? Some of the frontier defense units had done something similar, but in Krais'' opinion, it didn''t leave a strong impression on the enemy. So, what should they do? Make it something they''ll never forget. "Well then, shall we go?" Krais'' voice seemed lacking in energy, so Rem laughed and said, "That''s not how you go out. You sweep everything clean!" Rem spoke to Krais, raising his voice at the end. Of course, the only one who responded was Enkrid. "Sounds good." Everyone else ignored it. Jaxen started walking as soon as Rem opened his mouth. "Not going?" He even asked Finn. Finn, seeing the antagonism in the unit, wondered why it was like this, but she did what she needed to. Hadn''t she already received a warning? "This isn''t a normal unit. Is that okay?" Hadn''t the fairy company commander already warned them? Finn nodded. As long as her goal was Enkrid and Audin, she could just get along with the others as needed. Thus, Enkrid''s unit moved out. Finn found the path. Chasing the enemy''s tracks would only lead them in circles. So, she decided to target the main force, not the guerilla units. This side was easy to find. "Phew, if there were knights, would there be a ruckus?" Andrew asked, and the weakest fighter in the unit, Krais, answered. They were all walking slowly, ignoring the tracks left behind. "Probably not." "How can you be so sure?" "Well, if there were any knights or other units to be redirected, they wouldn''t be operating guerilla units. I think the guerilla unit is just a distraction. Why? Because..." "That''s enough." Andrew had seen that when Krais started on these kinds of topics, the talk would go on forever. With less than half of it being understandable, what was the point in listening? Krais was a little dissatisfied with this. Why did it seem like no one was willing to listen? But at least the captain listened carefully. He leaned in and showed a serious attitude. That was satisfying for Krais. In reality, Krais himself felt a little uncertain about the words he had spoken. So, as he walked to Enkrid''s side, Krais said, "Captain, I think the guerilla unit is just a distraction. Why would they do that? It''s simple. They want to keep us from moving, to make us stay here. If we go to the rear, they''ll set up a trap. That''s the idea. So, we should move in a way the enemy doesn''t expect." Krais'' strategy continued, and Enkrid listened carefully, then asked, "Why are you saying that again?" Hadn''t they already heard this? This was the third time. "Uh, well, I just wanted to say it. Never mind." Was he feeling uneasy? "Does babbling make the unease go away?" "You wouldn''t understand, squad leader." Krais thought of himself as an ordinary person. Therefore, someone like Enkrid couldn''t possibly understand. In Krais'' view, the squad leader was abnormal. If you weren''t talented, you were supposed to quit. Dreams? How could chasing that be normal? It wasn''t even a realistic goal; it was literally a dream. Yet, he pursued it, repeating the same thing every day. The endless training, the painful discipline that showed what it really meant. How could that be considered normal? Krais stopped talking. When he looked at the captain, he felt like, no matter what happened, they could get through it. The unease lessened slightly. "This way." Finn was a skilled ranger and pathfinder. Even though she wasn''t familiar with the terrain, she found the tracks easily. The enemy''s guerilla unit had tried to hide their tracks to avoid being followed. She spotted a few traps. She had heard that some frontier defense units had clashed with them after a few close encounters. The madmen squad didn''t even bother looking for the guerilla tracks. They just kept moving forward. Directly toward the enemy''s rear. As they crossed hills and ridges, they began to see the enemy''s rear guard. "I''ll go first. No, if you go before me, I''ll hit you in the back, so I''ll warn you to stay behind." Rem growled. That was fine with them. No one seemed interested in the front. Krais observed the enemy''s formation. From the tall grass to this point, the enemy was spread out across the wide terrain. So, this was the enemy''s rear, and the right rear corner. It should be around there. They had been walking for more than half a day over the hills. "Knight-class enemies?" Enkrid asked, and Jaxen, with his sharp eyes, scanned the surroundings before answering. "I don''t see anyone particularly dangerous." Then it was time to begin. Rem swiftly descended the ridgeline, and Enkrid followed right behind him. As they kicked off downhill, dust rose into the air. Mac, Andrew, Finn, Audin, and Jaxen remained behind. Their job was to protect Krais and prepare for any unforeseen circumstances. The ones descending were Rem, Enkrid, and Ragna. "I''ll be watching." Ragna said, moving in close to Enkrid. After all, what had he learned from wielding two swords? It seemed Ragna wanted to see if Enkrid had properly grasped what he had taught. ''A test, huh?'' For Enkrid, it was also an experiment. Two swords¡ªdual wielding¡ªfighting with a blade in each hand. How effective would it be? "What the...?" A sentry from the enemy camp spotted the three approaching. They were kicking up dust as they ran down the gentle slope, and there was no real cover nearby. The land they stood on was fertile plains¡ªthe kind that would soon belong to the victor of this war. Rem casually raised a hand as he walked forward. It was the kind of gesture one might make toward an old friend they hadn''t seen in a while. "Hey!" The sheer nonchalance of it made the enemy soldier tilt his head in confusion. Were they enemies? Or not? The distance between them closed. Just as the sentry opened his mouth to demand they stop¡ª A hand axe flew from Rem''s waist. His movement was lightning-fast. The thrown axe carved a clean arc through the air, slicing forward with precision. Thud. A new "ornament" appeared on the sentry''s skull. Of course, it was the kind of decoration that marked the end of his life. His feet left the ground. His arms flailed helplessly before his body crashed backward. The other sentry beside him, watching in shock, quickly raised a whistle to his lips. But Rem was already upon him. With an explosive surge of strength from his powerful thighs, he lunged. Enkrid knew Rem''s skills. Even so, he was impressed. The charge reminded him of a squire he had once seen. It was the same kind of sprint displayed by someone just shy of earning knighthood. ''Rem...'' So he had been hiding even more of his abilities. Rem closed the distance, grabbing the sentry''s wrist and twisting it. Crack. "Guh!" Then, the axe in Rem''s left hand cut horizontally through the air. Thud. The sentry''s neck was half-severed, and his body collapsed sideways. Blood gurgled from the wound, soaking the ground beneath him. "Tch, weak as hell," Rem muttered as he stood between the two lifeless bodies. Chapter 142 - Coordination of Sense and Body Chapter 142 - 142 - Coordination of Sense and Body Chapter 142 - Coordination of Sense and Body After killing the sentry, Rem turned around. Enkrid and Ragna had no opportunity to step in. There was no reason to wait for enemy reinforcements here. "That was dull." Rem spun the axe in his hands, flinging off the blood that had stained its blade. Watching this, Enkrid turned away. "Ragna." At the call, Ragna trailed closely behind his squad leader. Krais had repeatedly emphasized one thing¡ªnever leave Ragna alone. If left unattended, he''d undoubtedly get lost and wander off. "You, barbarian. Step in only when necessary." Following behind his squad leader, Ragna made a remark. To him, it seemed as though Enkrid had wanted to act, but Rem had denied him the chance. A barbarian should know when to join in and when to step back¡ªRagna couldn''t let that go uncorrected. Naturally, Rem wasn''t the type to obediently agree. "Huh? What was that? You want an extra mouth on your throat? Asking me to slit your windpipe?" "Enough." Enkrid intervened calmly. This was only the beginning. They climbed back up the ridge. Going up was naturally far more exhausting than descending. But compared to the grueling training under the Isolation technique, this was nothing more than child''s play. The same went for Rem and Ragna. Among the squad of madmen wielding axes and swords, none were weak enough for this to be an issue. "Alright, Finn, let''s move." Krais urged as if reminding them that this was no time for bickering. Finn nodded and started walking. Once again, they began crossing the ridge. Finn led the way, followed by Enkrid, then Ragna and Krais. Despite keeping the rear, Krais managed to keep pace, showing his own endurance. Watching their movements, Mac couldn''t help but be impressed. ''Fast.'' There was no hesitation in their steps. Though it looked like reckless marching without concern for stamina, none of them seemed fatigued. Mac concluded that he only needed to focus on himself. "Breathe slowly and deeply," he advised. This march¡ªno, this raid? Assault mission? Whatever it was, it wouldn''t end quickly. Preserving stamina was crucial. Mac spoke, and Andrew nodded. "I know." A short response. Even without explaining fully, the meaning was understood. Mac felt a strange sense of nostalgia. When had he grown so much? Once this battlefield was settled and they returned to the city... Perhaps it was time for him to find his own path. "It''ll be tough. But... I don''t know. I''m looking forward to it." Andrew spoke, his gaze fixed on his platoon leader''s back. Mac gave a small nod, too subtle for Andrew to notice. He, too, was looking forward to it. How far would that guy go? Would he truly grasp the dream he spoke of? Mac had ears and an awareness of his surroundings. He knew that Enkrid''s ambitions lay beyond what he could currently reach. Andrew''s dream was no less improbable. He was here to support him, but whether Andrew could truly revive his family remained uncertain. "There''s no giving up." Andrew muttered. Gone was the naive boy who had blindly trusted his skills and boasted recklessly. All that remained was a man who had changed while watching his leader''s back. "Giving up isn''t an option." Mac replied with pride. It wasn''t Enkrid''s intention, but Andrew had changed. And that change had influenced Mac as well. Saving the family¡ªof course, it was possible. Mac walked on, planning his next steps. Slow, deep breaths. Minimizing unnecessary movements. Andrew adjusted his breathing to match Mac''s as they walked. While they whispered, Enkrid listened to his squad''s breathing as he moved. "Listen and listen again." Just as keen eyesight could be trained by observation, so too could hearing be sharpened. By distinguishing and processing sounds faster, one could improve their auditory perception. The sound of pebbles scattering. The steps pressing against the ridge. And the breathing of his squad members. ''Shallow and long.'' That was Mac and Andrew. Both were preparing for the future. And Rem? Rough. Inconsistent. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow¡ªimpossible to predict. It suited his personality perfectly. Audin''s breathing was so long and steady that it was hard to tell when one breath ended and another began. Ragna''s was ordinary. Jaxen''s was completely inaudible. And himself? If anything, his breathing was closest to Ragna''s. Normal. There was no need to force adjustments¡ªhe moved with the steps ingrained in his body. "I''ve been wondering for a while, but you never had ranger training, right?" Finn asked, glancing back slightly. Enkrid answered nonchalantly, as usual. "I learned from watching a ranger." It wasn''t a lie. After all, he had learned by watching Finn. Somehow, this exchange felt familiar. Just like when Enri had once asked him about the plains¡ª And he had given a similar answer. I wonder if that friend made it back to the city safely. Since he left to join the unit transporting the captured enemy soldiers, there shouldn''t be any problems. Even as Enkrid continued his thoughts, he didn''t stop what he was doing. He listened, watched, and felt. Refining his senses as he trained, he walked. The enemy was stationed to the right of the ridge stretching ahead, while their allies were to the left. By now, the allied forces had likely repositioned as well. Enkrid only needed to focus on the task at hand. As he walked, repeating his training, he threw a question at Rem. "What was that charge earlier?" "If you''re asking how I did it, I swear, I''m gonna feel like smacking the back of your head." Rem''s response was oddly indifferent, his tone clearly admonishing. Why? Enkrid quickly realized the reason. ''I asked without thinking.'' Because asking led to answers, he had asked reflexively. Perhaps it was because he had grown accustomed to giving orders lately. People weren''t perfect. That included Enkrid. He was fairly skilled at dealing with others. He was used to advancing alone. And no matter what, he would crawl forward if he had to, without turning back. ''I''m lacking. I''ve forgotten how to think things through.'' Mistakes happened. That was part of being human. The difference was that Enkrid adapted quickly. He acknowledged his mistake, recognized it, and corrected it. Without responding to Rem, he simply kept walking, withdrawing into his own world. It meant he should have figured it out without asking. The answer was already something he had learned. Sprint, charge¡ªwhat was necessary? Strength, muscle power, thigh muscles. Heart of Monstrous Strenght. What would happen if he unleashed strength across his entire body and surged forward? Of course, training was necessary, and he would need time to refine it. But seeing the path ahead was enough to bring him joy. Ah, so this is it. A fleeting smile of exhilaration crossed Enkrid''s face. Seeing that, Rem smirked. "Seriously, why even ask when it''s so obvious?" That was the meaning behind his grin. Led by Finn, the group pressed on diligently. As they walked, Finn found herself repeatedly surprised. Every single one of them was a monster. Not one person fell behind. Was this easy? No, it wasn''t. Not at all. It wasn''t as if they had received ranger training, either. ''He''s really different from that refined-looking face.'' One soldier stood out in particular¡ªthe one nicknamed Big Eyes. From what she had heard, he wasn''t even a combatant, yet he kept up without falling behind. Of course, compared to the others, he was more relying on sheer endurance to follow along, but even that was impressive. As they crossed the ridge and reached an area of short undergrowth, they stopped. "This should be the rear side now." The biggest advantage of moving in small numbers? Mobility, without a doubt. And they were making full use of it. Another descent lay ahead, and this time, Audin and Jaxen stepped forward. "Ah, why me..." Rem pouted slightly but didn''t complain further. They had agreed to rotate positions, after all. If things went south, they would need to retreat with evasive maneuvers, so someone had to watch the rear. And they also needed to protect Krais. As Enkrid walked downhill, he wondered if Esther was watching from somewhere. She had definitely come along with them, but the moment they had started up the mountain path, she had leapt from his arms and vanished. Was she off hunting somewhere? Who knew. It wasn''t something he needed to worry about. Enkrid continued down the slope, only to come face-to-face with an enemy sentry. This time, his luck wasn''t as good as before. ¡ªPiiiiii! The soldier blew his whistle the instant he spotted them. Quick reflexes. Then, he raised the spear in his hand and shouted. "Who goes there?! Stop right there!" Without a word, Enkrid advanced. One of the sentries ran a hand over his waist¡ªhe seemed skilled with throwing knives. A throwing knife was now reversed in his grip. ''See with your eyes.'' React with your body. Move in sync with your senses. The key was to increase reaction speed. That was what the Sense of Evasion technique was all about. ¡ªWhoosh. The knife flew toward him. As it did, Enkrid lowered his stance and charged forward. Unlike when he activated a singular focus to evade, this time, he relied purely on reaction speed. Calm and composed. That was the essence. So that was what he did. Without activating the Heart of the Beast, he mimicked the footwork of the squire sprinting toward battle. ¡ªThud, thud! As he kicked off the ground and surged forward, the enemy thrust his spear. The tip shot straight toward his chest. See, react, evade, and deflect. He compressed all these actions into a single breath, chaining them together. Extending his left foot, Enkrid twisted his body, dodging the spearhead. Then, he pushed against the shaft with his palm. ¡ªSmack! The sudden force caused the enemy''s stance to waver. "Urk!" His widened eyes drew near. Because Enkrid hadn''t slowed down in the slightest. At some point, just as Rem had once shown him¡ªEnkrid dashed forward, struck the spear shaft aside, and slipped into the enemy''s arms. It was only natural that the battle ended in an instant. Squelch! Enkrid drew a dagger, stabbed the enemy soldier''s nape, and withdrew it. Blood spurted from the gaping wound in a diagonal arc. Satisfied, Enkrid sheathed his dagger. ''It works.'' It was a skill he had honed without repeating today''s practice. ''Sense of Evasion.'' A technique that heightened the body''s coordination. This training had taught him something¡ª Fundamentally, it altered his reaction speed. And what did that lead to? Even without complete focus on a single point, he could move faster than his opponents. That meant securing the initiative in both attack and positioning. So, of course, the fight was one-sided. Even if his opponents were weak, even if he himself was only taking his first steps¡ª ''It works.'' That alone was enough to bring him joy. Jaxen watched Enkrid''s movements with satisfaction. Yes, that was the way. Simple yet precise. Some might call it brute-force training. Others might call it steadfast perseverance. That was the essence of this training. Steady, relentless persistence. A technique that suited Enkrid perfectly. As he repeated this training, attuning his senses to his body''s coordination, his reaction speed would only grow faster. ''Did he say his dream was to become a knight?'' No dream was too absurd to pursue. The same applied to himself. Had he spoken of the goal he had hidden deep within him as a child, not a single person would have taken him seriously. His thoughts flowed, but Jaxen''s hands remained as precise as ever. Before he knew it, he had maneuvered behind an enemy soldier and slit his throat with a dagger. Shff. There was no need to make the blood spurt like a fountain, as Enkrid did. "Gkk!" The soldier, throat slit, gripped his spear in his left hand while his right clutched at his wound. Pressing the wound with his hand? Pointless. The major artery had already been severed. Jaxen had seen countless men die this way. Blood trickled through the soldier''s fingers. A swift kick to the back of the knee sent him collapsing to the ground. The moment he lost his grip on his spear, he began to wither like a fish out of water. Too weak to scream. Too weak to blow his whistle. "It''s time to go." They had eliminated two sentries in an instant. Yet, the sound of a whistle signaled movement from deeper within the enemy camp. Time to withdraw. "Let''s move." Enkrid, visibly satisfied, gave a brief reply and turned. It was time to move through the mountains again. They set off once more, their pace brisk and unrelenting. Even in retreat, they moved like phantoms. By the time the Aspen soldiers arrived in response to the whistle, all they could see was the figures scaling the mountainside. "After them!" The enraged rear commander of the Aspen forces bellowed, and soldiers rushed in pursuit. But how could they possibly catch an elite unit that had already disappeared over the ridgeline? Their foes were not only faster, but if they pursued in small numbers, they would be vulnerable to counterattacks. To Krais, the outcome was obvious. Why wouldn''t it be? If the enemy used elite troops to strike¡ª Then it was only natural for them to do the same. Of course, only a unit as insane as theirs could pull it off effectively. "Quick march." From ahead, Enkrid''s voice carried over. Krais silently observed his platoon leader. Had he read his thoughts? That, he suddenly found himself wondering. Chapter 143 - Breaking Through Traps with Strength (1) Chapter 143 - 143 - Breaking Through Traps with Strength (1) Chapter 143 - Breaking Through Traps with Strength (1) Enkrid was well accustomed to leading small-scale operations with reconnaissance squads. And now, he had experience to add to that. There had been days when he crossed through tall grass fields. Days when he and his squad attacked the Gilpin Guild. Nights when they fought werewolves, mages, and ambush units. What was the most important thing? What should a commander prioritize? ''Awareness.'' Knowing came first. Knowing what he was doing, what consequences would arise from his actions. It was impossible to know everything. It was impossible to explain everything in words. But he had a sense for it. Not instinct, but a feeling ingrained through experience. "Let''s move deeper in." At Enkrid''s words, Finn adjusted their course without hesitation, following his lead. Beside her, Krais blinked as he observed his leader. He was curious¡ªwhat was going through his commander''s mind? His expression remained the same as always, his usual unreadable calm. The squad quickened their pace. Getting caught from behind by the enemy was not an option. "Why don''t we just fight? If we kill enough of them, they won''t chase us." Rem grumbled, but Enkrid shut it down. "Don''t go." It was a direct order. That in itself was surprising. Even more surprising¡ªRem obeyed without protest. "Ragna, just follow the person in front of you. Don''t look around." Ragna obeyed as well. There was no need to tell Audin or Jaxen anything¡ªthey would follow naturally. "Hoho, you really do seem like a commander now, brother." Audin chuckled. Had his skill changed, or had his attitude? "Really?" Enkrid responded as if it was no big deal. That attitude, that way of speaking, that way of acting¡ªnothing had changed. And that was why they followed him. Even Krais, someone who carefully analyzed everything before acting, found himself moving instinctively. He was the type to double-check every detail, to ensure there were no hidden factors at play. And yet, here he was, following without question. Even Jaxen, who rarely showed emotion, struggled to hide his reactions these days. Frustration, regret, concern¡ªhe could see it all on their faces. And that thought made him laugh, even in a situation that was hardly amusing. ''Why does this feel so stable?'' Krais had calculated everything before executing this plan. Yet, the reality he felt was different. This squad was more incredible than he had imagined. If the enemy had razor-sharp claws, this squad had something just as deadly. They were the "Madmen Squad." A unit with exceptional mobility, a combat force that only semi-knight warriors could even hope to stop. That was Krais'' evaluation. Could they be used as a strike force? There was no doubt that some officers had suggested it. The problem was¡ª "Would they even listen?" They fought well, but they were reckless troublemakers. A good sword was only useful if wielded properly. What was needed was a focal point¡ªsomeone to control them. And who could that be? Krais knew, because he had seen it firsthand. He had witnessed something that left a lasting impression on him. ''That duel.'' If Enkrid hadn''t stepped onto the battlefield, if he hadn''t fought alongside them, if he hadn''t trained with them under the pretext of dueling¡ªthis squad would have collapsed. And if they had collapsed, this battlefield would have turned into chaos. Krais was certain of it. Enkrid had changed everything. With a single duel. He had turned the winds of war in their favor. ''If we have a focal point...'' Then this reckless, high-mobility strike force¡ªthis "Madmen Squad"¡ªcould be fully utilized. Krais wasn''t skilled at evaluating combat ability. He was terrible with swords and weapons, so naturally, he had no eye for such things. But he could assess what was possible based on facts and reality. And he knew this squad better than anyone. So he reached a conclusion. If the enemy rained arrows on them¡ª They would retaliate with their own form of chaos. Krais hadn''t even explained his full plan to Enkrid. He had only provided fragments of information. Yet, Enkrid had already decided to move deeper. Did he understand Krais'' intentions? Just as he was about to ask¡ª "We disrupt them, strike, and retreat. The enemy''s attention will be drawn to our main force''s movements. And in the process, we''ll encounter their own strike squads." Enkrid spoke first. What did it mean to be experienced in small-scale operations? What kind of insight had his past given him? ''He sees it.'' Krais''s intention. The enemy''s intention. The tasks that needed to be done in between. There was something they could do as allies¡ªmore precisely, as the Madmen unit. So, they just had to do it. Would this ultimately affect the course of the war? The main battle? ''Probably not to that extent.'' Then again, who knew? Krais might see things differently. That big-eyed man, always grinning, dreaming of opening a noblewomen''s salon and spending his days with ladies until he died of old age¡ªhis way of thinking seemed to follow a different path. "Do you still dream of opening that salon?" Enkrid himself didn''t know why he was curious about this. He just wanted to ask. He had no intention of mocking him. After all, who was he to laugh at someone else''s dream? "Yeah, why even ask? It''s obvious." And yet, this guy was the one coming up with these strategies? He really was an enigma. Either way, Enkrid''s unit increased their pace. They climbed the mountains and climbed some more. Even Finn eventually stuck out her tongue in exhaustion. Andrew and Mac''s breathing grew ragged. Krais, at some point, had to be half-carried by Audin. Even Enkrid himself was feeling the strain. According to Finn, who was a ranger, this was an incredibly grueling forced march. Scaling ridge after ridge, they finally descended onto a gentler path, then moved onto flat terrain. They had reached the enemy''s rear. It was a maneuver that relied on a small elite force utilizing the terrain to their advantage. Of course, this was a tactic the enemy''s guerrilla units had used first. "Let''s go." Rem, seemingly tireless, moved ahead with excitement. Somehow, they all seemed exhilarated rather than exhausted by the grueling march. Well, Enkrid was no different. What came after a harsh march? Battle. A fight where blood was spilled, flesh was torn, and bones were laid bare. "Hit them." Enkrid gave the order and charged forward. The enemy''s rear was full of gaps. The number of sentries had increased to three, but it wasn''t an issue. Tweet! The moment they were spotted, a whistle rang out. At the same time, Jaxen threw himself sideways. Ting. In a single step, he drew his sword and thrust it forward. Shk. One down. He pulled out the sword and thrust it again. Shk. Two down. After killing both, he raised his sword vertically in front of him to guard. Clang! Watching Jaxen fight, one couldn''t help but think¡ªhe killed people far too easily. Two soldiers with gaping wounds in their throats collapsed. Enkrid''s unit cut down about six enemies before retreating once more. They feigned descending the ridgeline again, confirmed the position of the enemy''s crossbow unit, and pulled back. They then eliminated the scouting unit that pursued them, wiping them out completely. As night deepened, they hid in the mountains and set up camp. Adequate rest was essential. "The stream nearby is nice, but it''s a shame we can''t light a fire." Finn said, removing her boots and shaking off the dirt. It was spring. The season of magic, with its mild weather. Food might be a bit scarce, but at least they didn''t have to shiver in the cold. Even so¡ª "See? I knew this would happen, so I came prepared." Rem, who abhorred the cold, had brought heated furs. Ragna, on the other hand, just lay down and slept wherever. Jaxen skillfully climbed a tree and slept on a thick branch. They took turns keeping watch, except for Krais. "I''ll do it too." Andrew, who had mostly been guarding Krais instead of fighting, volunteered. His eyes were filled with thought. Enkrid let him. A burdened mind couldn''t perform at its best. This strike operation was still fraught with danger. That couldn''t be ignored. It was better to let go of unnecessary burdens. Mac didn''t object. By the time a day passed and dawn arrived¡ª Krais could tell that Enkrid fully understood his intentions. "It''s now, isn''t it?" After crossing several mountain passes, Enkrid reconfirmed the enemy''s position. A trap. Krais had identified something the enemy had set up. It was the perfect place for an ambush¡ªa location ideal for attacking and retreating quickly. And there, an enemy supply unit was stationed. A flat clearing nestled between rolling hills. A few supply wagons were visible. If they went in and blocked the back, there wouldn''t be many escape routes. There were also other elements that indicated a trap. For instance, there was no crossbow unit stationed nearby. The enemy had laid out a tempting bait. Enkrid watched and asked, to which Krais responded. "Yes." Was the strength of the Madmen unit only in their mobility? No. It lay in their ability to strike the enemy from behind with overwhelming force. With this one battle, they could weave chaos into the enemy''s thoughts. Krais saw the enemy''s reactions. Prediction and foresight. ''Then...'' The movements of the main force would also become meaningful. "Let''s go." Enkrid steeled himself. No matter how much one predicted, the battlefield was like an unpredictable blaze, a fire that could consume even itself if things went awry. Was this like carrying a bundle of straw and leaping into the flames? ''Doesn''t seem that way.'' The enemy might not know, but Enkrid did¡ªthey were underestimating them too much. A few soldiers who killed a giant and a few soldiers? They probably thought that was all they amounted to. But that wasn''t enough. Enkrid led the charge. As he leaped toward the supply wagon nestled between hills, the soldiers haphazardly sorting food and supplies reacted. If one were to set a trap, this was how it should be done. Instead of hiding the soldiers, they were shown¡ªbut fully armed. The enemy soldiers came into view. Among them, a familiar face. "You." A mustached man¡ªEnkrid remembered him as part of Grey Hounds. Locking eyes with him, Enkrid greeted the enemy. A spear lunged at him. Enkrid''s hand moved. Ching! Ching! Two swift sword draws. Chang! Puk! Two different sounds. With his left-hand sword, he deflected the spear,and with the right, he drove his blade into the enemy soldier''s heart. ''Would a Frog be horrified seeing this?'' As that idle thought passed through his mind, he withdrew his sword, now stained crimson. The blade had pierced through the soldier''s gambeson, the cotton-padded armor turning red. Blood and fabric scraps clung to the steel. No need to dwell on it. There were more to cut down. Chiring. Enkrid slid the left-hand sword back into his waist. He''d draw it again when necessary. With both hands gripping a single sword, he stood firm. His presence, his aura, his momentum¡ªthe enemy hesitated to approach. "Good! Good!" At his side, Rem gleefully swung his axe, while Audin grinned and pulled out his club. Jaxen didn''t bother making a show of it. He simply swung his sword with indifference at the enemies charging in. But the two who drew the most attention were¡ªEnkrid and Ragna. "Hm." Ragna stepped beside Enkrid and swung his sword mercilessly. Despite carrying two additional swords at his waist,his movements were unhindered. His blade carved a chilling arc through the air. Whoosh! A standard downward cut¡ªthe enemy soldier''s skull split open with a dull thud. Without pause, he swung horizontally, beheading a soldier who had stepped back in terror. Ragna''s feet never stopped moving. In a fight between spears and swords, who had the advantage in reach? Naturally, the spears. But Ragna erased that advantage. Swift footwork closed the distance, and one by one, the enemy fell. The faces of those who had set the trap darkened. What was this? With skill like this, they were only assigned as a guerrilla unit? No, something felt off. Was this really happening? The enemy numbered over forty. And they weren''t mere amateurs. "Form up!" The mustached man''s command rang out. Those who had underestimated Enkrid''s group shifted their stance. Mustache himself stepped forward, facing Enkrid directly. "You bastard." Enkrid nodded, recognizing him. Since the man acknowledged him, there was no reason not to return the greeting. "Ah, yeah. Been doing well?" His tone was almost cheerful, familiar even. Mustache''s pupils shook wildly in fury. His eyes burned with rage. It seemed he would charge in immediately. Enkrid braced himself. But then¡ª Mustache exhaled deeply, calming himself. As expected. Not an opponent to be taken lightly. His anger did not dictate his actions. Instead of succumbing to rage, he steadied his breath. Which meant¡ª ''This test will be even more meaningful.'' A duel wielding two swords¡ªwould it be worthwhile against a skilled opponent? Time to find out. Chapter 144 - Breaking Through Traps with Strength (2) Chapter 144 - 144 - Breaking Through Traps with Strength (2) Chapter 144 - Breaking Through Traps with Strength (2) The commander of the Grey Hounds, now reduced to fewer than twenty men, furrowed his brows. ''They''re just charging straight in?'' A trap had been set¡ªa tempting, well-crafted one. But he hadn''t expected them to fall for it so easily. In fact, he had planned to turn the trap against them. The idea was simple: set up numerous similar traps at random. If the enemy couldn''t tell which ones were real and which were fake, what would they do? Hesitate. They wouldn''t be able to charge in recklessly. That alone would count as half a victory. "If that happens, they''ll have no choice but to retreat. They won''t dare attack so easily." That was the conclusion passed down to him from a military strategist who had taken a liking to him. The Grey Hounds independent unit was now little more than a memory. They had suffered consecutive defeats, and with Mitch Hurrier dead, someone had to take responsibility. That responsibility had now fallen to him. He needed to disrupt the enemy''s rear forces and restrict their movements. He had made extensive preparations to do so. ''And yet, it feels like everything was crushed before it even began.'' This was something else entirely. The moment they locked eyes, the enemy charged in without the slightest hesitation, sword in hand, striking down anything in their path. Cutting, slashing, and only then¡ªonly after the bodies had fallen¡ªdid they even seem to ask, ''So, do you want to fight?'' There was no need for words. Their intent was clear in their stance, their actions, and their presence. ''Of course.'' He was screwed. With the Naurilia army now moving from the rear, his own command post would be in turmoil. So, what now? Should he abandon everything? The death of a Hurrier heir? It didn''t matter. That family used their children as expendable tools anyway. So then, where did his own path lie? Dwelling on distractions would only dull his focus. He shoved those thoughts aside. The mustached commander steadied his mind and drew his sword. ¡ªSching. A single breathless motion. His blade was unsheathed and held upright before him. ''Simple solution: kill them all.'' The enemy''s raiding unit had broken through the trap and charged in? Was that really something to panic over? No, this was an opportunity. ''I''ll start with that one.'' The one who had put a hole in Mitch Hurrier''s stomach. Then, the blond swordsman beside him. Next, the one wielding an axe. He would need to conserve his strength. Take them down one by one. Watch for coordinated attacks. With his thoughts in order, he locked eyes on his opponent. But wait¡ªwas this bastard always like this? A trained eye could tell a lot just from posture. The aura was different. This was the same one who had stabbed Mitch Hurrier and fled. No mistake¡ªhis face was too memorable to forget. He had survived that time. He had even survived the assassins'' attack. Had he always been this formidable? No, something had changed. He had grown stronger. But that changed nothing. He was still someone who needed to be cut down. And so were the ones standing behind him. The mustached man''s eyes gleamed. Seeing that, Krais felt an uneasy tension creeping in. ''This guy isn''t ordinary.'' Krais didn''t have the ability to read an opponent''s strength. And that lack of certainty was what made him anxious. The enemy had set a trap. Krais had read their intentions. So, he chose to smash through it with brute force. That was how his Madmen squad operated. They could break through anything with sheer strength. He believed in that. And yet, his unease wouldn''t fully fade. It was just in his nature. He always assumed the worst-case scenario. So then, how would this play out? For now, it would begin with a duel between their squad leader and the mustached commander. Krais'' gaze shifted between the two. The air felt unnaturally heavy. The spring sunlight slipped between them. Neither moved. They stood, swords drawn. The dust that had been swirling in the air scattered in the breeze. In Krais'' eyes, the two figures blurred for a brief moment. ¡ªClang! Then, the clash of steel erupted. Ragna stepped back, becoming a mere spectator. ''Not bad.'' The mustached man''s sword was sharp. It bore the marks of disciplined training and years of refinement. It was like a well-polished table¡ªrough edges smoothed away over time. A finely crafted piece of furniture. Something shaped by a master''s hands. That was the kind of opponent he was. And Enkrid? Ragna''s squad leader was raw. Even after countless refinements, he remained unfinished¡ªan incomplete vessel. One was nearing completion. The other was still in the making. "What, is this some kind of duel between commanders? Kinda dull." The barbarian next to him muttered. Ragna didn''t bother responding. Instead, Jaxen answered for him. "If you''re bored, start cleaning up." His voice was as calm as ever. "To think so many would wish to stand by my lord''s side today¡ªit must be a blessed day indeed." The religious brute chimed in from nearby. Aside from the mustached man before Enkrid, the rest of the enemy had surrounded them, spears in hand. At a glance, they were outnumbered at least three to one. Nearly fifty opponents. Even those who had been hiding inside supply wagons had emerged, all armed. Though they weren''t heavy infantry, some among them wore chainmail. Three of them, in fact. Yet, despite all this, the squad remained unfazed. Did they leave their guts somewhere? Or were they so hardened that their courage was just jammed halfway down their throats? ¡ªClank. "Should we start after they''re done?" One of the chainmail-clad soldiers casually remarked, motioning toward the duel with his thumb. His attitude exuded confidence. Even though those who had just been slain by Ragna''s sword lay sprawled on the ground, he remained unfazed. "Let''s do it, then." The one who answered was Krais. Winning the duel first would certainly be an advantage. That was a given. With the clash of metal, Enkrid and the mustache-faced man sent sparks flying. Ragna withdrew his attention from his surroundings. It didn''t concern him. His eyes followed Enkrid''s hands and feet, his sword, and his movements. Between completion and incompletion, who held the advantage? Clang! Sizzle¡ª! ''Completion does.'' That was only natural. But if the vessel itself was different, even an incomplete one could alter the outcome. ''It''s over.'' Ragna reached a conclusion inwardly. The difference in skill was obvious, but more than that, their mindsets were worlds apart. Even a winnable battle could be lost with the wrong mindset. Blades, feet, swords, air, dust, heat. Even as such things grazed past, Enkrid paid them no mind. He neither saw them nor felt them. His entire focus was on the sword. "Hah!" His opponent, the mustached man, let out a spirited shout as he swung his sword down. It was a well-trained strike, following the fundamentals of heavy swordsmanship¡ªan imposing and weighty blow. Enkrid gripped his sword with both hands, tilting it horizontally while bending his knees. He absorbed the force, diverting it to the side. Screeeech! Blade met blade, and sparks scattered. His opponent countered with brute strength, while Enkrid relied on finesse. Then the flow reversed. This time, Enkrid struck down with power, and the mustached man parried, deflecting the force. It was an impeccably smooth and refined technique. Even beyond Mitch Hurier. Not that Mitch Hurier crossed Enkrid''s mind at this moment. His eyes, ears, hands, and feet¡ªall were singularly devoted to wielding his sword and fighting. He observed everything, employing singular focus, the instincts of a beast, and the sensitivity of a blade. He connected dots into lines. He used those lines to carve through his opponent. He read the intent behind every block and dodge. Over a dozen exchanges took place. Twice, Enkrid faced danger. Once, his wrist nearly got slashed, but he deflected the attack with his sword''s guard. The second time, his opponent repeatedly struck horizontally and vertically before abruptly switching to a thrust. Aimed straight for his abdomen. Enkrid quickly raised his blade, blocking the pointed tip and deflecting it to the side. To anyone watching, it was a near-miraculous defense. Had his timing been even slightly off, a fresh hole would have been torn through the middle of his leather armor. "Hmph." The mustached man scoffed when his unexpected thrust missed. A clear declaration of intent¡ªhe would kill him next. Enkrid ignored him. After surviving two close calls, Enkrid''s footwork shifted as he stepped left. Not willing to give up a favorable position, the mustached man adjusted his steps as well. They circled each other within striking distance. During the exchange of positions, Enkrid deliberately used his right shoulder to conceal his left hand. After adjusting his stance, he gripped his sword with only his right hand while his left reached toward his waist. The mustached man understood Enkrid''s intent. Years of duels and extensive combat experience allowed him to predict the next move. That extra sword had been a lingering concern. And he had already witnessed Enkrid wield two blades before. ''The left hand.'' The moment he saw Enkrid''s left hand descend, the mustached man swung his sword forcefully. A heavy diagonal slash from the upper right to the lower left. A decisive blow from a heavy sword. It would end this fight. His victory was assured. Enkrid did not draw his second sword. He only pretended to. Then, with breath carefully controlled over several exchanges, he unleashed his strike. ''Heart of the Beast.'' Boom! His heart pounded. Blood surged through his body like an explosion. The coursing blood fueled his muscles. His strength surged to nearly double its normal power¡ªa burst of monstrous might. No war cry. Just two pairs of bloodshot eyes locked onto each other. A single strike would determine life or death. Faced with the incoming heavy sword slash, Enkrid swung his blade horizontally with just his right hand. Clang! Clang! Crack! Three resounding noises exploded in near unison. Blades collided. Their footing shifted. Their positions reversed. "...You planned this?" "From the start." Backs turned to each other, the mustached man asked, and Enkrid answered. His opponent''s blade was untainted by blood. But it was also split in half. Enkrid''s sword, on the other hand, remained intact. Forged from Valerian steel mixed with Noir wrought iron. ''A fine blade.'' At least, to him, it was. The mustached man toppled forward. His chest had been cleaved open. Blood gushed forth. His ribs had been cut and shattered, unable to shield his heart. Even a Frog would die if their heart was destroyed. The mustached man''s death was inevitable. Enkrid didn''t know, but that man had been the last hope of the Grey Hounds. In short, the name ''Grey Hounds'' had now faded into history. "Haa." Enkrid exhaled once and flicked his sword. His opponent was conscious of his left hand. That''s why he had answered, ''from the beginning.'' It was something he had shown for this very moment. The mercenary swordsmanship of Valen¡ªshowing a move in advance. A technique that planted attack patterns in the opponent''s mind, making their thoughts more complicated. ''It works.'' That thought crossed his mind, and now he could wield his sword as he intended. More than the joy of victory, that came first. ''It works.'' That thrill filled his chest first. Just because he used dual swords didn''t mean they had to be the focus. It was enough to use whatever was necessary at the right moment. ''Spears, other weapons, even shields.'' Even things he had once given up on now felt within his reach. Trying them all out wouldn''t be a bad idea. Of course, they wouldn''t feel as natural in his hands as a sword did, but even just experiencing them would have value. That thought crossed his mind. "Not bad." Enkrid muttered those words as he finally killed his opponent. "I don''t know why, but watching the squad leader fight always gets me excited." Rem spoke up, his face actually¡ªno, definitely¡ªfilled with excitement. His lips curled into a wide grin as he laughed. The three men in chainmail remained composed, indifferent even to the death of the one with the mustache. "Hm, he wasn''t someone who should''ve died like that." "A shame." "He underestimated his opponent. When facing an enemy at full strength, you must respond in kind." That was the conversation between the three in chainmail. So, you guys do have eyes. Rem nodded inwardly. They were right. Enkrid had fought with everything he had, but his opponent had hesitated, worrying about what came next. A weaker fighter worrying about the aftermath of the battle? What nonsense. Of course, he died. "Hey, should I finish this in one go?" Rem stepped forward. Thunk. "You''re being too greedy, brother." A hand, large and heavy like a bear''s, landed on Rem''s shoulder. Audin shook his head. "Aren''t you going to move your hand?" Rem''s excitement now carried a dangerous edge, reflected in both his tone and his gaze. Yet Audin merely chuckled and shook his head again. "You''re too greedy, my savage brother." "This bastard¡ª" Swoosh. Thud. Rem''s axe moved, a clean, vertical slash. Audin, despite his large frame, stepped back with surprising agility. A chill passed between them. At some point, Audin''s smiling face had hardened like a statue. The three men in chainmail watching them were bewildered. What the hell are these guys? Why are they fighting each other? Are they really arguing over who gets to fight us? It was disregard. Contempt. Mockery. "Crazy bastards." Finally, one of the chainmail-clad men stepped forward. His weapon was a rounded iron mace. As he lunged, a sword blocked his path. "You''re mine." A blond man with red eyes¡ªhis gaze burning as if holding a fire within. Then came a sword strike, fierce like a raging flame. The man wielding the mace swung his large, round shield like a weapon. An attack and a defense in one motion. Thud! Ragna''s sword struck the shield and rebounded like a swallow skimming the water''s surface, returning to its original position. "Cutting in line?!" Seeing that, Rem leapt forward. "If you break the order, the Lord will be displeased, brother!" Audin moved as well. And so, the battle continued. Chapter 145 - The Season of Hunting Chapter 145 - 145 - The Season of Hunting Chapter 145 - The Season of Hunting What are these guys? Finn blinked. She recalled the previous battle, the one before they came to the battlefield, when she fought alongside Enkrid and someone named Toris or Tholos¡ª a border guard. It had been intense. Fierce. She had given it everything she had. Barely managing to survive. ''If these guys had been there, it would''ve been a breeze, wouldn''t it?'' It seemed likely. The three men in chainmail were experts in combat. They all used blunt weapons¡ªone wielded a hammer, another a morning star, and the last one held a long pole with a steel ball on the end. They were all tough opponents. What stood out most was that despite their heavy armor, they moved with incredible speed. ''If it were me.'' She would have had difficulty handling even one of them. They were the opposite of her style. With such armor, even if she got close and tried to stab with a dagger, they could likely withstand it. Judging by how thick the gambeson underneath the chainmail was, it would probably take a lot more than just pushing a short sword in. Would they even leave any openings? Even if there were openings, what then? Would he just stand there while someone else took a swing? The hammer or morning star would probably come down on her head. A blow to the head, and she''d be done for. She didn''t have much confidence. Yet, the three enemies were being toyed with by her allies. "Brother, it''s time to go." The zealot soldier, more devoted than most priests, stepped up to the soldier with the morning star. He closed the distance and delivered a punch to the man''s head. ''Wasn''t he supposed to be a master of the Valaf-style martial arts?'' He didn''t show any signs of that. The zealot soldier simply overwhelmed his opponent with brute force. The morning star wielder swung his weapon as he was punched, hitting the zealot soldier''s arm. Despite not wearing armor, the zealot soldier''s arm showed no sign of injury. It looked perfectly fine from the outside at least. Thud. Even as the blow landed, the zealot soldier didn''t budge. No groan of pain. He just said his piece and did what he had to do. "Go. To the Lord''s side." The soldier who was hit with the punch stumbled. Then, with his left foot as a pivot, the zealot soldier''s body twisted. The sight seemed to form a small vortex around his large frame. His leg extended outward as he rotated his waist and hips, perfectly aligning his upper body with his movements. A high kick. The foot collided with the enemy''s head. Thud! The soldier''s eyes bulged out. Even though the blow hit his helmet, the pressure from the strike was too much for him to handle. ''Wow, damn.'' Finn couldn''t close her mouth. The other two were similarly astonished. The madman wielding an axe, still fuming, let out a laugh. "What, you think you won''t die just because you''re wearing that?" His opponent was the one holding the long staff. The mace with the iron end came down, but the madman avoided the iron ball, reaching for the staff''s lower portion with his palm. He then yanked the weapon toward him and swung his axe in one fluid motion. It was incredibly fast. The flying axe struck the enemy''s abdomen. Thud! It sounded like a leather drum being struck. Clang! The axe blade sliced through the chainmail armor. The waist section of the armor broke open, and blood sprayed. But that wasn''t the end. The madman soldier spun his body, bringing the axe back to the same spot. Smash! The second swing of the axe tore through the gap in the broken chainmail, slicing deep into the enemy''s side. "Grrk!" It was no surprise when the soldier died. His insides spilled out, splattering blood across the ground. He collapsed to his knees, lifeless. The blonde soldier with the red eyes, who had mostly been slacking off, now seemed more enthusiastic than ever. Clang! Clang! He blocked two powerful mace swings with his sword, deflecting them and then thrusting his blade in a smooth, natural motion, as though it was meant to pierce the enemy''s stomach. The sword pierced halfway through the chainmail and continued to rip through the enemy''s cloth armor. He thrust the sword with such strength that the opponent tried to swing his mace down on him. It was a vertical strike from above, an invisible square of danger. Just before the mace could crush his skull, the lazy soldier released his sword from the enemy''s body and drew another sword from his waist. Thud. He swung it upward, knocking the mace aside with a speed and decisiveness that Finn could barely follow. ''How good are these guys at fighting?'' With the mace sent flying, his sword struck the enemy''s helmet. Not the edge, but the flat side of the blade. Bang! The soldier who had been hit lost his grip on the mace, clutching his head and stumbling, losing his balance and falling. The lazy soldier then slowly walked over to him, stood in front of him, and pushed the sword deeper into the enemy''s stomach. "Don''t, don''t do it." The soldier''s body jerked as the sword pushed further. The horror and shock were palpable. The sword was driven deep into the enemy''s body, and the soldier fell limp as it impaled him to the ground. The mace-wielding soldier, now without his weapon and holding only a shield, tried to hold onto the sword embedded in his body, but he couldn''t stop it. He cried out as he died. While this was happening, the rest of the enemy soldiers, who had been watching, were in disbelief. Half of them were already dead. The cause of death was decapitation. Somehow, one soldier had snuck up behind and decapitated a dazed enemy with a dagger. ''When did that happen?'' With all the surprise and disbelief, Finn opened her mouth. "Isn''t this too easy?" Krais was right next to them. His wide eyes blinked as he spoke. "Indeed." Krais was inwardly trying to calm himself down. Why was I so anxious? They fought well, after all. The Madmen Squad fought much better than expected. Looking at it from Enkrid''s perspective, they had exceeded all expectations. A new question arose in his mind. How well do knights fight, exactly? And then, he silently praised the one who first gathered them into a single unit. "No, the person who sent the squad leader here is the best. That was the right call." Normally, these soldiers might have become part of a large-scale explosion within the main force, but now, under Enkrid''s leadership, they were united. "Let''s set the fire, Squad leader Andrew." Krais spoke to Andrew, who had been assigned to protect him. "Huh? What?" Andrew looked just as surprised as Finn. His expression darkened briefly before returning to normal. Now, it almost seemed like he felt relief. "Let''s start a fire. If we hold out here any longer, the enemy''s main force will arrive. Are you ready to deal with that?" No, that wouldn''t work. It couldn''t be. "Let''s move." Mac, Andrew, and Finn began striking flints. Among their supplies was a pile of hay meant for the horses. Perfect dry grass to start a fire. "Hurry." Krais urged them. There was no need to ask why. "Damn it, it''s a monster!" "Save me!" They didn''t kill every enemy soldier. As soon as their forces were close to being annihilated, their side pulled back. After all, there was no point in chasing them down only to kill them all. "Let them go." It was Enkrid who made the call before Krais. "Understood." Rem''s response was clear evidence that they would follow Enkrid''s orders. As he watched the squad set the fire, Enkrid spoke up. "I think It''s my destiny to set fires." What is this nonsense? Did he get hit on the head during the fight earlier? "What?" "No, I''m just saying. Let''s go." The fire ignited in one of the traps the enemy had set. It was spring, so they probably didn''t need such a big bonfire. It was just fire. A blazing fire. The flames roared, announcing their presence. Enkrid and the Madmen Squad moved out like the wind. Finn, who was guiding them out, told them that from now on, they only needed to move in a straight line, then went to stay near Audin. "Hey, what was your name again?" "It''s Audin. Sister." "Right? Maybe I can get some lessons from you later?" Finn seemed to have developed a strange competitive spirit. Her eyes scanned Audin''s arm, but there were no signs of any scratches. This wasn''t related to Valaf-style martial arts. Finn''s eyes were a curious mixture of intrigue and competitiveness. Enkrid didn''t care what the two of them were doing. Instead, he began his usual walking training. "You couldn''t use my sense of evasion. It''s a matter of skill." He had heard Jaxen''s words and was reflecting on them. "You wanted to use two swords? Don''t forget, when it feels more comfortable than using your own hands, that''s when you''ll be able to use them well." There was also Ragna''s evaluation. "The first time you used the Heart of Monstrous Strength, that was... well done." Unexpectedly, Rem had praised Enkrid''s personal tactics. Was it impressive? Truthfully, Enkrid didn''t care. "Keep training. Brother, rolling is what matters." It was just as Audin had said after glancing at Finn. Enkrid also thought that rolling was what mattered¡ªat least, that''s how it was after they got through this. He couldn''t help but wonder how much longer they had to keep moving along this mountain ridge. Maybe it was about time to pull out, he thought. But, of course, there were still people they needed to meet. Sure enough, two days after breaking the enemy''s trap by force, the squad turned back toward the main force to avoid the enemy''s persistent pursuit. They had stopped to rest, chewing on dried jerky. Bang! An arrow pierced through the group, aimed precisely at Rem''s head, but with beast-like reflexes, Rem dodged it. In an instant, he twisted his body to the side. He didn''t manage to avoid it completely, and his earlobe was torn, blood splattering into the air. With jerky still in his mouth, Rem grinned. "Damn, it''s that hawks ass or whatever again." For some reason, Rem had seemed excited lately. Enkrid examined the arrow stuck in the ground. It was short and solid, different from the ones they had encountered before. "Looks like he was serious this time. I couldn''t detect them." Ranger Finn spoke up. The hawk squad, which had originally harassed their rear, had returned to track down the Madmen Squad on their hunt. To be precise, it was the rear that had been targeted. Of course, it was expected. "Is this okay?" Finn asked. Enkrid nodded. This was all part of Krais''s plan, and Enkrid understood it. From the beginning, the Madmen Squad''s purpose and goal had been clear. To draw attention and handle the aftermath. Now, it was time for the cleanup. As the Madmen Squad picked off enemy troops one by one, Marcus''s main force had departed toward Cross Guard. Could they conquer the city with just this force? Impossible. But, it was a potential concern. Meanwhile, a guerrilla unit had struck the enemy rear and attracted attention. *** Aspen had limited options. Particularly the commander, his practical choices were quite restricted. "The Cross Guard won''t fall. But the shame of a city invasion will remain. Even if not now, we should send reinforcements for the next battle. You need to clear the remaining enemy forces at the detour route." The commander of Aspen hesitated at the words of his advisor. Several scenarios intertwined in his mind. Attack the city? With that force? It won''t fall. It can''t. But the fact that the Cross Guard was attacked will remain. It was a strange matter of pride. Having failed with giants and sorcery, he found himself cornered. Would he remain as the commander who lost the front yard of the Duchy? ''No, that can''t happen.'' Even if it doesn''t fall, the fact that it was attacked will linger. The reputation of the commander who lost the city will stick. Would he bear that disgrace on his shoulders? Or should he turn this into an opportunity? It would be a lie if it weren''t a difficult choice. However, his thoughts were leaning heavily toward one side. The Duchy had failed its prepared tactics. Naurillia had dug deeper and expanded its territory. If things remained as they were, the border between the two nations would shift. ''Can I just let that happen?'' What if he cleared the enemy forces at the detour and then held out against the remaining Naurillia forces? If that happened, it might give him a chance to strike from behind at the detour. Leaving the Cross Guard would be the worst move, a blunder among blunders. Whoever the insane enemy commander was, he was taking a gamble here. Really? Even though the battlefield was already in their favor? Then, could this not be called an opportunity? By pulling out of the detour, he would open up space for his auxiliary forces to move. "Ugh." The commander, having a habit of letting out a breath through his teeth, spoke. "Mobilize the fastest units and send them to the detour route." The command fell with the sound of air whistling through his wide front teeth. "Yes!" Soon, the Duchy began to move. The adjutant, however, felt a sense of foreboding. ''If this goes wrong...'' It wouldn''t just be a change in the borderlines. The adjutant missed Abnaier. The greatest strategist born from Aspen, a man who, at a young age, had already made giants and others part of the military forces. ''What a waste, what a waste.'' Because of his background, he had never been given the proper recognition. Of course, it was a futile thought. To the adjutant, Abnaier was a genius. He would handle his own affairs. "Send some semi knights." If Naurillia had the Red Cloak Knights, the Duchy had the Aspen Crown''s Knights. Aspen Crown Prince''s Knights.Their name might be uninspiring, but their skill was unparalleled. "Send two, no, three." Perhaps the commander felt the same foreboding the adjutant did. The quality of the forces heading for the detour increased. The quantity, too. If the "Hawks" at the rear dealt with pesky insects and the rest, including the three semi knights, advanced, it might become a decisive move to reverse the situation. *** "Captain, do you understand the difference between a sniper and a hunter?" It was after dodging an arrow that Rem spoke. According to Krais''s plan, it was the job to deal with every single pest. In such a situation, they had used bait to lure the enemy. The bait had been enough, with the pin leaving the proper trail. "These guys are pretty sharp. We need to be careful." Finn spoke, but even in the midst of that, Rem kept grinning. Enkrid stared blankly at him and asked. "Do I need to know?" "Well, you don''t have to, but I want to tell you." Rem had a habit of being overly honest at times. This was one of those times. He was always talkative. "A sniper shoots from afar, hitting targets from a distance. A hunter, on the other hand, is literally hunting." So, what''s the difference? "Hunting is more fun than shooting arrows from far away. Especially axe hunting. It''s incredible." So, what does that mean? As Enkrid rolled his eyes, Rem answered again. "While I''m away, don''t get hit by arrows and stay put. I''ll be back." "Where are you going?" "To hunt, of course. If I got a gift, I need to return it."Rem spoke as he pulled the arrow stuck in the ground. He tucked it into his waist and began walking toward the underbrush. Should I just leave him be? Yeah, it''ll be fine. If he wasn''t confident, he wouldn''t have stepped up. The others... "Jaxen?" I asked, perhaps suggesting he join Rem for an ambush and double attack. "No, thank you." Well, that was firm. Sure, that''s fine. Rem would do well alone. I decided to trust that. "We''ll move in our own way, right?" Rem, the hunter. The Hawks are the prey. Once again, the madmen squad would prey on the Talons. Summer was more suited for hunting, but still, hunting could be enjoyed in the spring as well. Even spring can be considered a season of hunting Chapter 146 - Acceptance, Recognition, Consent Chapter 146 - 146 - Acceptance, Recognition, Consent Chapter 146 - Acceptance, Recognition, Consent Krais tucked the rolled-up parchment back into his coat and spoke. It was a rough path¡ªan uneven, sloped rock trail that made breathing difficult. Still, it wasn''t so bad that he couldn''t talk. "Rem, Rem is..." Hoo. He exhaled and wedged his foot into a gap between the rocks. It felt a little precarious. Just as that thought crossed his mind, a hand appeared¡ªEnkrid''s outstretched hand. Grasping it, Krais pulled himself up. Behind them, a massive rock formation stood like a natural shield. Of all the paths they could have taken, they had chosen the roughest one. Well, that made sense. The fact that no arrows had come flying yet proved that their route was effective. "Except for his personality, he might actually be a great soldier," Krais mused. At his words, Enkrid, who had just stepped onto a rock and leaned slightly against another, turned his gaze toward him. "If we''re only talking about skill." Enkrid started to say more but then shut his mouth. Because if it was just about skill, ''great'' wouldn''t even begin to describe it. What if Rem had a more easygoing personality? Krais pressed the question again. "He''ll be fine, right?" Even though it was his own plan, his unease stemmed from his nature. Even when he spent his time idly, Krais would secretly stash his belongings near the barracks in case something happened. He had probably hidden things all over the city too. "You never know when the enemy might launch a surprise attack. If I hide this and die, I''d probably turn into a ghost out of sheer frustration." There was no sign of an attack. It was impossible, even. "I just get anxious. That''s all." That was what the big-eyed soldier always said. Yeah, that was understandable. People were all different, after all. Compared to Krais, Enkrid was probably the more easygoing one. After staring at Krais for a moment, Enkrid finally answered his question. "I said I''d let him handle it, so he''ll handle it." That was the kind of person Rem was. If he wasn''t involved, he wouldn''t care. But if he decided to do something, he would see it through. ''Will you learn it?'' Wasn''t it the same when he was first taught Heart of the Beast? Who else would so easily share their techniques? ''Watch closely. You''ll learn it next time.'' It was the same when he showed his Heart of Monstrous Strength. He said he would kill a giant, and he did. Thinking back on it now... ''He really is something else.'' So he would do as he said. Before leaving, what did he say again? The difference between a hunter and a sniper? And something else he added after that. "I''ll plant this in the head of every damned hawk." Rem had tucked one of his own arrows into his belt and spoken those words. So he would handle it. "This won''t be an easy place to hide," Finn noted ahead of them. Until now, they had moved between rocks, keeping out of sight. They had taken routes that concealed them from projectile weapons unless they could claim the higher ground. It was a moment that reaffirmed just how skilled Finn was as a ranger. Thanks to her, they had evaded detection so far. But the moment when a ranger''s skill could act as their shield had come to an end. Enkrid quietly calculated the time. It seemed about time for Rem to act. They had been moving alongside the rocky mountain. From here, if they descended to the left, they could rejoin the main unit and return. "We just have to wait," Enkrid said. Finn said nothing. She could sense something in the way these men interacted¡ªa kind of unspoken bond. Enkrid''s words carried a deep trust that Rem, who had vanished alone into the thicket, would handle things on his own. And the others? Aside from Andrew and Mac, the rest seemed completely at ease. "Oh Lord, who delights in His people, We have sent a disciple to Your side. Let those without faith repent and remain by Your grace, rebuking and forgiving their sins." Audin was praying. Jaxen was examining the blade of a stiletto, his face strangely intoxicated despite his blank expression. Was he entranced by the blade? Even Finn could tell it wasn''t an ordinary weapon. Still, was a single dagger worth treasuring like that? It almost seemed like his face was glowing with an unfamiliar vitality. The lazy one had sprawled out. He had somehow managed to wedge himself between the rocks, clutching two swords to his chest with his eyes closed. "I''m sleep-deprived." Muttering to himself, he was clearly not in a normal state. ''Should I leave him like that?'' ...It should be fine, right? In Finn''s judgment, this was the time to move. There was a marksman in the distance¡ªone who never missed his target. A serious threat. Their lives might already be hanging by a thread. "I think it''ll be fine." The one who spoke was the big-eyed soldier, Krais. Despite his constant anxiety, he still ended up saying that everything would be alright. And what he said next was even more absurd. "There aren''t many variables left now." What variables? He didn''t explain. Finn deliberately leaned out, checking behind them. She wanted to bait an attack and confirm the enemy''s position. But no arrows came flying. *** ''This brings back memories.'' Once, he had lived with the plains as his bed and the sky as his blanket. He had raced along mountain ridges as if they were playgrounds. What kind of person had he been back then? A skilled and outstanding hunter, carrying the weight of someone''s expectations. A time when responsibility and duty were intertwined with discussions of power. There had been good moments and bad ones. Moments he could never return to. But what could he do? Life was about accepting things as they came and moving forward. Now, the West had become a frontier. Acceptance and consent. Rem learned that by watching Enkrid. In some ways, his squad leader was a man who never accepted or conceded. But in another sense, he was also someone who did accept, concede, and acknowledge. ''That skill, that talent.'' Becoming a knight simply by refusing to give up? That was a suicide attempt¡ªan act of killing both body and mind. And yet, he pressed forward. Watching his back, all sorts of thoughts crossed Rem''s mind. How could a person be like that? And as he wondered, a realization struck him. ''Acknowledging the lack of talent¡ª'' That was where Enkrid started. Acknowledging, accepting, and conceding. After reflecting on what he had, what did he do? He moved forward. He attained the Heart of the Beast, something most would find impossible to embody until the brink of death. And now, even immense strength resided within that heart. He acknowledged, accepted, and conceded¡ªthen walked forward toward tomorrow. Whether at dawn or dusk, always the same. Thinking of his squad leader lifted his spirits. Rem gave a silent smile. For no reason, he was feeling good. ''It''s been a while.'' He felt like swinging his axe with excitement. A faint longing surfaced¡ªto return to the days when he simply surrendered himself to a single word: hunt. Finding the traces left by the hawks was not difficult. Rem was neither a Pathfinder nor a Ranger. But he was a hunter. And what was a hunter? A Pathfinder was someone who walked well. A Ranger was someone who walked well and fought well. Among scouts, Rangers were the specialists. But did that make them hunters? Catching a few rabbits didn''t qualify one as a hunter. Then what was a hunter? ''What else would it be?'' Someone who catches their target properly. The people of the continent¡ªmany of them were in bad shape. What was it they called him? Enri? A plains hunter? That was supposed to be a hunter? In his tribe, Enri wouldn''t even be considered a guide, let alone a hunter. Not even half of one. In the tribe''s teachings, hunters were those who killed and captured their prey. The ones who sustained the tribe''s livelihood. ''Found it.'' At the end of his thoughts, Rem spotted his prey. Twitching his nose, he followed the scent, circling around to get behind them. Erasing his tracks? That was trivial. Walking silently? He was as confident as a sly wildcat. By his standards, some prey were easy, some were hard. Right now, this was the easiest kind¡ªan idiot too absorbed in his own thoughts. What easier prey could there be? His footsteps imitated the best hunter of the western wilderness¡ªthe spotted predator. His breathing was long and slow. When concealing his presence, he held his breath, mimicking the round-headed predator known as the hunter of the western lakes. The faint rustle of his clothes brushing against the wind was there, but he ignored it. The enemy was too focused ahead. He closed the distance, sticking right behind the last man in line. Even then, the enemy remained oblivious to his presence. They were moving toward higher ground, one behind the other, forming a line from the lower path upward. Rem reached out. His hand landed on the left shoulder of the one ahead. The man flinched and spun around. ''Good reaction speed.'' The moment Rem tapped his left shoulder, he shifted right. His movements were as fast as a ghost, as silent as a panther. From the enemy''s perspective, they felt a touch on their left shoulder, turned¡ª and saw nothing. Thwack! What followed was an axe swing. A clean strike to the twisted nape, as if splitting firewood. With a wet crack, blood splattered. A spray of crimson hit Rem''s cheek. Instead of smiling, he watched the others with his gray eyes. Every single one of them wore an expression of horror. Their eyes¡ªwide in shock¡ªresembled those of a frightened deer. Was this part of the thrill of the hunt? "...Ambush!" "Shit!" "Block him!" Curses erupted as they scrambled into action. As if about to charge, Rem crouched low. The enemy reacted immediately. Three of them simultaneously unsheathed short swords with a sharp ching! Still, one thought lingered¡ªgood reaction speed. Rem rolled his right shoulder and moved his left hand. A simple trick. The axe was in his right hand, so their focus would be on that. Just as expected, their eyes locked onto his right side. In that instant, a hand axe left his left hand, whistling through the air¡ª and embedded itself squarely in the forehead of the archer in the back. The struck man''s feet lifted off the ground as he was thrown backward. "Scatter!" One of them shouted. Again, good instincts. Did they recognize the difference in skill at a glance? Or was it just instinct? Either way, it was the right decision. Even as the command to scatter rang out, the three sword-wielders charged at Rem. A coordinated action. The remaining five immediately bolted. They swiftly dispersed left and right, scrambling down the rocky mountain, while one climbed even higher. Out of the original ten, two were already dead. Rem swung his axe, thinking. Of course, they didn''t stand a chance. They rushed in¡ªhe split and cut them down. Simple movements, yet to the enemy, they were like the scythe of death. Amongst the fallen, drenched in blood, the gray-haired hunter twitched his nose. Amidst the stench of blood, the scent of humans lingered. A hunter trained by the tribe took another step forward. Rem had no intention of letting a single one escape. *** ''What is this?'' Hawk Eye could feel it¡ªhe was being hunted. And that was absurd. Born in a mountain village of Aspen, he had a natural talent for archery from a young age. Becoming the village''s best hunter by fifteen was a given. At least, to him, it was. Every shot hit its mark, and he instinctively knew where to aim to kill. After leaving the village to become a mercenary, he gained fame, caught the eye of a noble, and eventually joined the military. It was the start of a new life¡ªone of status and wealth. "How about becoming part of the principality?" He was on the verge of being adopted by the noble he had once saved. The man was less than ten years older than him, but what did that matter? Status was all that counted. Once this mission was over, it would be finalized. "I will grant you the newly acquired fief." His soon-to-be adoptive father''s words. Hawk Claw could see it¡ªthe life of a landowner, rising beyond his station. Perhaps, he could even wed his half-sister. Whoosh. Thud! "Urgh!" Something struck the back of his thigh. Hawk Eye tumbled forward, agony surging through him. His head slammed against a rock with a dull thud. The world spun. It took a moment of gasping breaths for his vision to clear. "Cough." And the moment it did, nausea hit. Suppressing the urge to vomit, he looked ahead. "You run well. Impressive." Death stood before him. A specter with silver-gray hair. "How...?" Hawk Eye''s voice trembled with the weight of his unspoken questions. How had this man tracked him? Why hadn''t he sensed his approach? Rem did not speak to his prey. Thud. An arrow¡ªhis own¡ªpierced his throat. The tip emerged from the back of his neck. Blood foamed at his lips, bubbling down his chin. The dark gray rock beneath him turned crimson. "Hm." Rem studied his handiwork for a moment before dusting off his hands. The hunt had been too easy. A pity, really. But it was done. Acceptance. Recognition. Consent. The same thoughts churned in his mind. Throughout the hunt, he had thought of his squad leader. If he lived like that man, what would become of him? Lately, that question had taken root in his mind. *** Marcus led his unit toward Cross Guard. A mere two-day march. At a standard pace. No¡ªslower than standard. They had taken their time, resting when needed. ''Will this even work?'' And if it didn''t? What then? Should he ask Enkrid, the one who had suggested this? No. His lieutenants weren''t fools. "We just withdraw. Whether they fall for it or not, the enemy will be forced to react." "Actually attacking the city would be a poor move, but this... Who proposed this strategy again?" A squad member had relayed the words through the fairy company commander¡ªthrough Enkrid. Krais, was it? That squad was full of lunatics. Still, it was a clever ruse. Feign an assault on the city, then swing around to block the enemy''s retreat. If the enemy diverted forces to defend the city or secure another route¡ªsuccess. If they didn''t move at all¡ªthat was also success. That was why the Madmen Squad had been sent. They wouldn''t strike a crippling blow, but they could at least flick the enemy''s ear and make them flinch. And Marcus knew¡ªthose flicks could be damn strong. ''Maybe the strongest finger flick on the continent?'' Pfft. The thought made him chuckle. And so, they executed the plan. Two days to assess the situation, then three to four days more. They marched for over four days before changing course, heading back. Marcus didn''t rush on the return. After all, he wanted to see them again. That hope was soon fulfilled. "The Madmen Squad¡ªseven members besides the leader¡ªhas returned." The raiders were back. Chapter 147 - If one had confidence in the path they walked Chapter 147 - 147 - If one had confidence in the path they walked Chapter 147 - If one had confidence in the path they walked "Where are they?" The independent unit of the Aspen Principality, which included three semi knights, found no trace of the enemy. Shouldn''t there be a rear guard stationed around here? Or at least some kind of trace left behind? They were supposed to be heading to Cross Guard, right? So why were they nowhere to be found? There weren''t even reconnaissance units checking this side''s movements. Normally, before a battle fully breaks out, scouts from both sides would run into each other, exchange some curses, maybe fire a few arrows, and then engage. You had to meet the enemy to fight them, and that''s why they had pulled part of their forces here. They even brought three semi knights. That meant they had redirected part of the knight order. Even though a few giants and special forces had been left with the main army, the independent unit was still a significant detachment from the main force. That meant they were supposed to fight. They had to fight. Crunch. Crunch. Small pebbles scattered under the commander''s boots. There was nothing. The only things they had seen along the way were a few ghouls crawling out from the riverside and some old campsite traces from three days ago. "What about the Hawk Unit?" "Contact has been lost." Even the guerrilla unit that was supposed to monitor the area and join them had vanished. "They''re probably dead, right?" One semi knight and commander asked. His adjutant hesitated before responding. "Yes... It seems so." What did he mean by ''seems so''? They were all dead. The commander considered his options. Should he strike at the rear now? What would happen then? Would they flail about like a horse with its tail on fire? He suddenly became curious about Naurilia''s reaction. Just as he made up his mind¡ª "A signal fire has been lit!" A sharp-eyed messenger rushed over, having just crossed a mountain ridge. The commander turned to look back¡ªtoward the direction of the main force. Signal fires were only lit when the main army was in danger. And now, one had been set off. "We''re heading back." The commander did not hesitate. That decision saved them. Because they returned immediately, they avoided total annihilation. *** After joining Marcus''s infantry unit, Enkrid spoke less and less. The soldiers sneaked glances at the so-called ''Madmen Unit,'' but no one dared to speak to them easily. "You''re here?" Only Vengeance spoke casually, throwing out a blunt greeting. Enkrid gave a slight nod and kept walking. As he walked, he thought. As he thought, he sank deeper into himself, replaying the battle in his mind. ''I couldn''t use the Sense of Evasion.'' It took too much preparation to fully draw out the Heart of the Beast. He had fought by piecing together everything he had. ''Plant the left hand in the opponent''s head, then cut with the right.'' The foundation of his technique had been ''preemptive display'' and the Heart of the Beast. The fight had brought him exhilaration. Some aspects of wielding dual swords had worked. So what came next? Review. He replayed the fight. Just because he had won didn''t mean there was nothing to learn. Far from it¡ªthere was always something to learn. Crunch. Crunch. The unit crossed a rocky field and moved toward the rear of the main force. The march continued. For three days, they ate, walked, and slept in repetition. Only then did they arrive at their original encampment. Of course, to Enkrid, whether they reached the encampment or not was irrelevant. He was too busy reviewing and reviewing again. He neither saw nor heard what was happening around him. ''Fundamentals.'' What about the mustached man''s swordsmanship? It was precise, sharp, and refined. It was both heavy and swift. He adapted just the right amount at the right moments. It was a matter of fundamentals. Was winning or losing the issue? Of course, that mattered. If he had lost, he would have died. Deliberately losing a fight that could be won was meaningless. Always give your best. Take even half a step with certainty. For a better today than yesterday. Victory didn''t erase his thirst or longing. Did he think mastering the fundamentals once was enough? ''Was I being arrogant?'' Life had a way of humbling him. Looking back on the past, when all he could do was struggle desperately, he couldn''t even imagine thinking like this. Enkrid reflected. Sharpening the fundamentals was the most basic duty. Hadn''t training the Isolation Technique proven that? It required daily repetition. The same movements repeated endlessly. Whether it was Valaf-style martial arts, heavy sword techniques, or light sword techniques¡ª Steady and smooth motions, no matter the style, all relied on the basics. The moment that thought struck him, he couldn''t hold back anymore. His hands itched. His heart pounded. His skin tingled. Even in the middle of the march¡ª Sching. He drew his sword. Then, with a perfectly straight and precise motion, he executed a downward cut¡ª A flawless, masterful strike. Like the mustached man''s technique, it was a vertical cut aimed at the crown of the head. Swoosh. Right in the middle of the march, he suddenly swung his sword. Someone should have said something. But this was Enkrid. "...What the hell? An ambush?" "Oh, it''s just Platoon leader Enkrid?" "That guy''s a bit... you know." One soldier twirled his finger beside his head, making a spinning motion. "The Madmen Unit commander, right?" "Yeah. Just ignore it and keep walking." No one made a fuss. This wasn''t anything new. More than that, there wasn''t a single person unaware of the Madmen Unit''s achievements in the previous battlefield. They were already half-heroes. Among the gazes directed at them, there was even a touch of admiration. ''It''s because they''re so obsessed with training.'' Was that why they fought so well? Such thoughts lingered in the minds of the soldiers. Even the squad leader-level officers left them alone. Perhaps there were special instructions from Battalion Commander Marcus. It was clear to anyone that they were receiving special treatment. Exempt from all duties, excused from kitchen duty. All sorts of reasons justified it. No one made a fuss over it. The Madmen Unit didn''t particularly care about how others looked at them either. Ragna, watching his squad leader suddenly swing his sword, thought to himself. There was something he had planned to say once they got back, but now, it no longer seemed necessary. "Return to the fundamentals." He had demonstrated a cut, but the actual teaching had yet to begin. There were things that needed to be built up for that. Things that needed to be said again. Would this become a wall of despair? Or a new milestone? He had to show him. Teach him. There was much to say¡ªthings people tended to forget as they grew stronger. He wanted to remind him of those things. Ragna contemplated deeply. What did his squad leader need right now? After much deliberation, he organized his thoughts. Clatter. The gravel path was coming to an end. Ragna stopped walking. "Yes, that''s right." And he muttered to himself. His squad leader didn''t need nagging. He would reflect on his own and fill in the gaps. He had always been that kind of person. Standing still, Ragna felt a tingling sensation surge through his entire body. The things he had long forgotten, overlooked, things that didn''t even need to be recalled¡ª His squad leader piled up each and every one of those things. Used them as a foundation. A sudden flame of motivation flared up in Ragna''s chest. It was ridiculous. But watching his squad leader made him want to swing his sword. "Have you lost your mind? What''s right?" It was Rem, the crazy barbarian walking beside him, tilting his head. "Haha, were you offering a prayer, lazy brother? Did the Lord answer you?" On the other side, the burly religious man also chimed in. Ragna didn''t want to respond. He didn''t want to ruin this good mood. But Rem was persistent. And Audin was diligent. "Hey, what''s right? Did a ghost crawl into your head? Hey, big guy, shouldn''t we exorcise this guy? Huh? Don''t you have some kind of holy punch for ghosts?" "Haha, Brother, possessions don''t happen that easily. Especially in a disciplined unit like this. From what I see, you were deep in prayer. So, what did the Lord say?" If only they would shut up. Ragna was starting to feel desperate. And desperation quickly turned into killing intent. ''Should I just cut them all down?'' The sudden burst of murderous intent made both Rem and Audin react simultaneously. "Hey, are you planning to leave your head here? Want some help?" "Brother, are you upset because you didn''t receive an answer from the Lord? Then sweating it out isn''t a bad option." When killing intent flared, a fight followed¡ªthat was an unspoken rule within the Madmen Unit. Of course, if Enkrid intervened, it would stop, but right now, he was lost in his own world. Clang. Ragna drew his sword and swung it. Rem responded instantly. Boom! Axe and sword clashed, sparks flying. The killing intent between Ragna and Rem ignited further. Audin, watching from the side, couldn''t just stand still either. Ragna didn''t let him. Using the rebound from striking Rem''s axe, he slashed at Audin''s chest. Audin backstepped, deflecting the blade with his palm. A feat of skill. A high-level one at that. Rem, Ragna, and Audin¡ª For them, such things were so natural it was almost ridiculous. Before long, the three clashed together. Watching from the side, Jaxen thought they were all idiots. His eyes drifted away from them and toward his squad leader. He had a slight, very slight complaint. He understood how to develop the Sense of Evasion now, but was improving body coordination really that difficult? It wasn''t easy, no, it was truly difficult. But wasn''t this a bit unfair? He mastered Heart of the Beast so quickly, but why was Sense of Evasion progressing so slowly? Was he not focusing as much? Was he putting less effort into his technique? "...That''s annoying." Jaxen muttered to himself, but no one answered. The three were too busy fighting. Andrew and Mac, not wanting to get caught up, slipped away. Finn, on the other hand, was preoccupied with wondering if this squad was actually functioning properly. Only Krais was unbothered, simply doing what needed to be done. Instead of the squad leader, he received orders from the fairy company commander. "Why you?" The company commander, clearly displeased, asked. "If you interfere now, both the squad leader and the unit will be annoyed. And then everything turns into a mess." "More than it already is?" Enkrid was walking, swinging his sword alone. The other three were busy fighting. Jaxen wore a stiff, unreadable expression. Judging by pure instinct, disturbing him now didn''t seem like a good idea. Well, this was already enough of a mess, but... "Yes, even more." Krais answered with certainty. Stopping them would make things even worse. That much, he knew from experience. "...I see. The main unit is returning." The company commander didn''t crack meaningless jokes or waste words on unnecessary chatter. She got straight to the point. Krais, feeling playful for no particular reason, asked, "You want our squad leader, don''t you?" The company commander looked at Krais. The Fairy''s green eyes were like gemstones that completed his otherworldly beauty. Because they were gem-like, they were inorganic. Krais couldn''t read any emotions in them. But he could sense something. "I do." She wasn''t saying it in a way a woman would covet a man. With that, the company commander turned and left. A sudden chill ran down Krais''s spine, and he rubbed his arms. Then, he waited for his squad leader to return to normal. It was nearly an entire day later¡ªjust when they stopped to set up camp¡ªthat Enkrid finally halted. Would swinging a sword while walking actually help? Krais had no idea. The fight among the three, including Rem, had ended sooner than expected. Did they all realize that it wasn''t truly over yet? Or was it simply boring since the squad leader wasn''t stopping them? That was anyone''s guess. And Krais wasn''t particularly interested in knowing. "Captain." Sweat poured down Enkrid''s face as his gaze shifted to Krais. "We''ve been ordered to return to the city." "Hm?" Krais knew his captain wasn''t one for long explanations. Though he was itching to elaborate, there was no point. Now was the time to keep things short and clear. "When our plan worked¡ªwhen the enemy diverted part of their forces through the detour¡ªthe main force launched an assault." What was the essence of Krais''s original strategy? The Madmen Squad would strike from behind. Then, they would lure in that unit¡ªthe one called Hawk Talon or something like that¡ªand wipe them out. Meanwhile, the Marcus Battalion would pretend to head toward Cross Guard. Just the act of pretending was enough. ''A battlefield already lost.'' If he were the enemy commander, what would he think? Would he want to retreat while carrying the humiliation of having his city attacked? Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, there was no real downside. Just by feigning movement, the Marcus Battalion had a good excuse to return to their original position. Creating distance from the enemy was always a win. As time passed, the variables decreased, and everything fell into place just as Krais had anticipated. Of course, some things didn''t go exactly as he had expected. For one, the combat prowess of the Madmen Squad. ''I knew they were good, but...'' Wasn''t this insanely good? As an independent unit, a small elite force, they were even be more formidable than those frontier slaughterers. It was not even close. After that, they regrouped with the Marcus Battalion. Meanwhile, some of the forces stationed at Green Pearl Plains¡ªincluding the knight order¡ªhad continued their advance. This was slightly beyond Krais''s expectations. ''They actually pushed forward?'' Even as things stood, they had expanded their territory and dealt a severe blow to Aspen. But instead of stopping, they pressed the attack, securing a decisive advantage. A relentless charge followed by close-quarters combat. The power gap had widened significantly. It was an overwhelming victory. As a result, the Marcus Battalion and the Border Guard''s standing army were ordered to return to the city. Some enemy forces might go mad and attempt a desperate attack, so a defense force was necessary. And, since they had achieved great merit, a reward was likely in order. Rather than explain all this, Krais summed it up concisely. "We''re going home." "Not bad." Had Enkrid grasped all of that? Who knew? He could explain it slowly later. For now, knowing they could return was enough. Krais was quite satisfied with that. Above all, the map tucked inside his coat made him feel even warmer. One of the treasures hidden by the enemy¡ªKrais knew instinctively. ''This one''s real.'' Enkrid had no complaints about returning either. In fact, he was pleased. He had learned and absorbed so much from this battlefield and the battles fought. Now, he needed time to reflect and carve those lessons into his body. A slow learner had to struggle and push forward. So, that''s exactly what Enkrid would do. A thirst and hunger burned within him. It set his heart ablaze, making it impossible to stay still. ''But what''s with him?'' Enkrid turned toward the occasional killing intent he felt. It was Jaxen. Every time he was about to forget about it, another piercing glare came his way. Jaxen looked dissatisfied, but judging by his face, he wasn''t going to explain even if asked. So what could Enkrid do? Just leave him be. It wasn''t like these guys'' complaints were anything new. "We''re heading back? Aw, that''s a shame. You sad we didn''t get to see knights fight?" Rem''s teasing tone rang out, and Enkrid nodded. "I am a little disappointed." But, on the other hand, he didn''t mind. Step. Matching his stride, Enkrid glanced down at his hands. Palms rough with calluses. The weight of two swords strapped to his waist. The armor covering his body. Nyah. The panther and his squadmates walked beside him. And Enkrid himself was walking too. If one had confidence in the path they walked... There was no need to confirm the destination. "This is fine." Enkrid muttered, lifting his head. The magic of spring spread through the air, and gentle sunlight settled on his shoulders. Chapter 148 - Ten Days, Meritorious Deeds Chapter 148 - 148 - Ten Days, Meritorious Deeds Chapter 148 - Ten Days, Meritorious Deeds Ten days after the retreat. The day flowers began to bloom even within Border Guard. Spring had fully arrived. During that time, there had been a single rainfall. News of ongoing battlefield cleanup arrived, along with continuous reports of victory. Eventually, word spread that the Duchy of Aspen had requested peace. Naurilia had seized part of Aspen''s territory, soon claiming the Green Pearl Plains. Though the land had long been barren and would require considerable effort to develop, a victory was still a victory¡ªan overwhelming one at that. Cheers erupted at the battlefield''s end. More people indulged in magic as spring arrived. In those lively days filled with excitement, Enkrid''s ten days remained unchanged. Nothing had changed, nor was there anything to change. Woosh. He swung his sword. "Brother, you''re not there yet. Keep your posture and sit as is. Straighten your back, inhale deeply, and feel the pressure in your abdomen. If that pressure slips, your spine will break." Audin chuckled as he spoke. Training his body through methods that were closer to feats of acrobatics¡ª such as standing up and sitting down while carrying Audin on his back¡ª was a routine part of his days. Swordsmanship, training, sparring. His time was devoted solely to these three things. He didn''t care whether others were excited or not. Krais flitted about from place to place, but Enkrid had no such inclinations. As an independet unit leader, recognized as an independent unit, and perhaps due to his influence on the previous battlefield, he had no assigned duties. It had been ten days of complete rest. Or rather, for Enkrid, it had been ten days of immersion in training. But if there was one thing that had changed¡ª "Hu!" It was the attitude of the soldiers in the unit who knew Enkrid and had fought alongside him. From early morning, they were all busy wielding spears. There had been a slight trend toward this before, but now the number of soldiers dedicated to training had increased significantly. Each one of them trained with utmost focus, genuinely committed to swinging their spears and building their stamina. And there was another change. "Um, could you provide me with some guidance?" Some soldiers had begun to seek out Enkrid. "Me?" He was taking a short break, drenched in sweat from swinging his sword. Enkrid pointed at himself in confusion. It was understandable. This was something he had never even imagined. Him? Teaching someone? Offering guidance? His life had been anything but easy. He had never looked beyond the path of learning, training, and advancing. Teaching others, of all things¡ªcould there be a word more ill-suited to him? "Give it a try." Rem, who had been idly watching, spoke up. Despite seeming half-asleep, he had been paying attention. Enkrid nodded. He had already been considering it. Because right in front of him, he saw the soldier''s eyes. That earnestness¡ªthe same longing and thirst that still burned within himself¡ªwas reflected in that gaze. Ting. Enkrid flicked his sword against the tip of the soldier''s spear. The soldier flinched, his shoulders trembling. How skilled was he? From what Audin had taught him, one could gauge a person''s training level by their posture and the state of their body. This soldier seemed fairly experienced. "Private First Class, Paul." The soldier introduced himself. Enkrid barely registered the name. Instead, he focused. He did not take this lightly. To concentrate solely on his opponent¡ªthat was his best and only approach. Paul swallowed nervously and assumed his stance. Left hand forward, right hand back. A posture specialized for thrusting. His feet crossed forward and back, and with a sharp "Ha!" he lunged with his spear. Woosh. A well-trained soldier. Enkrid tracked the incoming spear tip with precision. Observing, reacting¡ªhis body moved accordingly. Though he had not yet mastered it completely, his Sense of Evasion flowed naturally. He twisted his body sideways to avoid the attack, extending his left arm. With his palm angled upward, he seized the spear shaft from below. "Urk!" Paul instinctively tried to pull his spear back. The veins bulging in his neck showed his full exertion. Enkrid, gripping the spear shaft, pivoted on his left foot, spinning half a turn inward along the spear''s path. In other words, he pulled the spear inward while rotating. His right foot planted firmly on the ground, his left hand pulling the spear while anchoring his body. There was no need for the brute strength of Heart of the Beast. Just a bit of technique and moderate strength were enough. Tap. A light tap. His sword descended gently from above, landing atop Paul''s head. Naturally, it was the flat of the blade, not the edge. Feeling the cold metal against his scalp, Paul let out a surprised gasp. "Ah." "It''s over." "Ah, yes." Enkrid released the spear shaft. Paul hurriedly retrieved his weapon and stood there, awkwardly. "Uh, what am I lacking?" A seasoned soldier¡ªsomeone who held confidence in his own skill. And yet, he was asking Enkrid this? The old Enkrid¡ªback when the Madmen unit was seen as nothing more than a band of troublemakers¡ªwhat had it been like then? Hadn''t he been the one scorned and ridiculed by others? And yet, now they were asking him for guidance? Upon closer inspection, the soldier wasn''t entirely unfamiliar. They had crossed paths a few times before. The battlefields they had faced had been anything but forgiving. The fact that this soldier had survived long enough to ask for guidance meant¡ªhe was at least a veteran. He even wore the epaulet symbolizing a squad leader. What was this about? What was going on? Enkrid stared at him, filled with questions. The soldier stood there, awkward but patient. Once again, Enkrid saw the soldier''s eyes. Desperation. Yearning and thirst. A desire that sought something beyond reach. It was the same as what coiled within himself. He couldn''t ignore it. To be honest, he could tell what the man needed after just one spar. "You should build your strength." A spear was heavier than expected. It wasn''t a light weapon. And for such a weapon, his strength was lacking. "Ah, yes, thank you." The squad leader saluted. Enkrid nodded in response. From that day onward, the squad leader devoted himself to strength training. He focused entirely on lifting heavy objects to build his muscles. His squad members followed suit. A wave of strength training spread throughout the unit, alongside their regular drills. Hadn''t this unit just returned from the battlefield? Wasn''t this the time to celebrate their victory? Of course, many headed to the city to unwind. Some spent their days drinking endlessly. For some of them, indulging in the red-light district for a night was preferable to training for tomorrow. Enkrid didn''t particularly blame them. What did it have to do with him? He was just a platoon leader. The commander of an independent platoon. At present, he wasn''t even capable of stepping onto a battlefield where Squire Knights fought. And to be honest, if he said he didn''t want to see their fights, it would be a lie. Even so, his thoughts remained unchanged. If the destination was clear, there was no need to take detours. Now, if it had been a battle that Sir Cypress was involved in, that would have been a different story. A true knight. A knight known across the entire continent. Wouldn''t it be something worth seeing? He wasn''t sure. You could only truly know once you were faced with it. "Is it fun?" Rem, who had been watching silently, asked with a gentle smile instead of a chuckle. Fun? He had no idea. "I don''t know." As always, he answered truthfully. That was when Rem finally laughed. Enkrid turned his focus back to training. Immersed in his practice¡ª "Could I have a match as well?" Someone else approached and requested a spar. After knocking them down with ease, he offered a single piece of advice. "Your footwork is too rigid." Another person came forward, another match. "You should loosen your shoulders." More advice. After several spars¡ª "Uh... Could we...?" The voice lacked a subject. But there was no need to ask what he meant. His eyes burned with determination, though his cautious stance betrayed his nervousness. The young soldier had a boyish face. At best, he was Andrew''s age¡ªperhaps even younger. "...Fine." None of the other platoon members stopped him. Hadn''t they always stepped in whenever someone approached him? Hadn''t they always stirred up unnecessary trouble? Why were they just letting it happen now? Most soldiers wielded spears. Using a different weapon usually meant they belonged to a special unit. This one held a battle hammer about the length of a forearm. The rounded head gleamed smoothly, proof it had seen years of use. It didn''t look especially heavy, but its effectiveness was undeniable. Watching him roll his wrist, Enkrid could tell¡ªhis movements were ingrained through training. "I''m from the frontier slaughterers unit." As expected, the soldier introduced himself. Enkrid simply nodded. Whoosh. The soldier twisted his wrist, spinning the battle hammer as his eyes gleamed. Enkrid could see through his intentions immediately. Had he grown too accustomed to the Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship? His opponent''s techniques were laid bare. Thud-thud-thud! The soldier swung the hammer with full force. Then, suddenly gripping it with one hand, he brought it down in a vertical strike. Rather than blocking it, evading was the better option. Following his opponent''s intent, Enkrid sidestepped the hammer''s trajectory. At the same time, the soldier reached for his waist with his other hand. Before his elbow could fully extend, Enkrid grabbed his wrist. "I see it." That was all he said. The technique was simple and direct. Use the hammer to draw attention, then throw a close-range dagger. It was strikingly similar to Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship. "Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship?" He asked. The soldier nodded. "You should refine your hammer techniques more." Enkrid instinctively pointed out his weakness. And in that moment, he realized¡ª That was advice he needed as well. If the hand techniques were perfected, the dagger would be even easier to conceal. From the start, there would be no need to distract the opponent with a secondary motion. The soldier had more than enough talent. He was so skilled that he reminded Enkrid of that kid¡ª The one who had once put a hole in his stomach. Back then, he hadn''t even been able to fight back properly. But now? A lesson from one of his old instructors resurfaced in his mind. "Improvement begins with understanding where you stand." Awareness. Recognizing once more. To move forward on a new path, one must first understand the path they currently stand on. Sparring after sparring, lesson after lesson. Many continued to seek him out. And each time, Enkrid realized something new and progressed. His steps were slow, but he never hurried. That was a lesson learned from watching soldiers recklessly thrust their spears. Haste brought no benefit. There were those who acted with remarkable composure. "Rut." A member of the frontier slaughterers forces, a friend from the western regions. He glanced at Rem as he spoke. But Rem paid no attention. Enkrid brought him down as well. Was he an easy opponent? No, he was a tricky one. But Enkrid had already accumulated too much experience, so facing him posed no difficulty. "You''re strong." Rut muttered in admiration before turning away. Yet, as he did, his eyes were fixed solely on Enkrid, not Rem. As the number of challengers grew over the ten days, Krais finally stepped in to regulate things. "This is too much. It''d be better if you all sorted yourselves before coming. You know what happens if you interfere with our captain''s work, right?" His words carried a different weight now. Especially with Rem, Jaxen, Audin, and Ragna standing behind him. The four of them simply nodded as they looked at their squad leader. To recognize one''s place, what must be done? One must observe above, below, left, and right. Only then could they grasp their position. They had all faced that moment at least once before. If anything, Enkrid was late in experiencing it. Spring had come. He was thirty-one now. By continental standards, he could be called an aging mercenary. Of course, many wielded swords well into their forties. But no one could do what Enkrid did. That was why watching him brought them satisfaction. Audin found his answer in the squad leader. Rem revisited fragments of his past. Jaxen pondered what it would mean to live like him, why he lived that way, and envisioned his own future. Ragna reflected on swords and people, ambition and life, knights and the power they wielded. And then, he realized¡ª He, too, had stepped onto that path. And he would continue walking it. A deep certainty settled within him, along with the realization of the value their squad leader held. A late-blooming genius. That was the best way to describe Enkrid now. Changing the soldiers around him¡ª That was another matter entirely, separate from being a genius. The soldiers who surrounded him, especially those who refused to remain stagnant and sought to move forward¡ª To them, Enkrid was a symbol of change. He became an idol, someone they wished to emulate. And all of this¡ª "Formation, now!" Became clear when the commendation ceremony began. The entire battalion gathered in the training grounds, usually a place of boisterous noise. Only those on duty were absent. It was time to recognize the merits earned in battle. Everyone already knew who the centerpiece of this ceremony was. Marcus was different from the previous battalion commanders. With a few nobles seated in the back, He stepped onto the platform and began his speech. "If I have to tell you whose merits were the greatest in the last battle, then you bastards'' head isn''t even worth using as a helmet rack." His loud, powerful voice rang through the ears of the soldiers. Blunt words, harsh language. Some nobles frowned at the lack of decorum. But¡ª To the ones those words were meant for, The soldiers, they heard something different. Because Marcus''s words carried sincerity. With his mind made up, Marcus spoke from the heart. "The one with the highest merit¡ªI''ll call him now. Ma.... Independent Unit Captain, Enkrid." Everyone knew what word had nearly slipped out before "Independent." And then, a man stepped forward. He walked with bare hands, drenched in sweat. Even though the weather was warming, he shouldn''t have been sweating that much. But no one questioned it. It was obvious¡ªhe had been swinging his sword countless times before coming here. Because that was the kind of man Enkrid was. One who swung his sword relentlessly to prove himself. One who demonstrated his worth by embodying what he had learned. A man who never treated anything carelessly. A madman. Tha madmen captain. Enkrid ascended the platform. The training ground fell into a peculiar silence. Heat rose in the air. To those who had fought in the battle, What did Enkrid mean to them? He had become an idol to some. A hero to others. On the battlefield, that was what he was. And Marcus had not forgotten. One man stood before another on the platform. Chapter 149 - Feeling Honor Chapter 149 - 149 - Feeling Honor Chapter 149 - Feeling Honor Amid the tall leaves behind the platform, petals of red and pink swirled in the air. From the flower field beyond the training grounds, bright yellow blossoms revealed themselves in full splendor. The scent of sweat filled the air, mixing with the sight of flowers blooming in a place where spears and blades clashed. Was it a remnant from the days when Border Guard was still a trading city? Even after that, maintaining the flower field remained a duty of the battalion commander in charge of the city. A testament, they said, to the city''s safety. Winter had passed, and spring had come. Was it the first time in a while he''d seen flowers? "This is a symbol of the city''s safety." A florist had once said those words. Several florists in the city were responsible for tending to the flower field of Border Guard. Looking at the flowers, a thought arose. It was important to ease the tension in one''s shoulders. Not to stiffen too much. To stay relaxed without becoming lax. Though it didn''t seem like something that suited him, perhaps there were times when watching flowers and loosening up was necessary. As he relaxed his shoulders, he noticed the shape of the petals. They resembled swords, straight and sharp. What was this flower called again? Its red petals jutted out in a distinct manner¡ªhe clearly remembered its nickname. Sword Flower. A flower known as the Blade Bloom. It was said to only react to the magic of spring. Looking at the sword-like petals, a thought surfaced¡ª ''When bringing a sword down vertically, how can I make it cleaner?'' That question set off a journey of contemplation in his mind. That mustached man. A man who had walked a completely different path. Even from Ragna''s sword, he had never felt such refined precision. A blade honed not only by talent but by relentless effort. It resonated with him. So, he wanted it. Desired it. To possess it, to consume it, to make it his own. His thirst remained unquenched. Like a traveler in the desert yearning for a sip of water. For Enkrid, that thirst was for the sword and knighthood, for dreams and skill. ''Slowly.'' If one rushed too fast, they would trip and fall. Had anything ever turned out well when done in haste? Even without talent, there were things one could see by neither faltering nor despairing. That was neither impatience nor complacency. It was the balance between two opposing paces. To be relaxed yet not loose. That was the only way to run at the fastest speed within one''s ability. With these thoughts, Enkrid stepped onto the platform. At the end of his contemplation, the stage awaited. And in front of him stood Marcus. They faced each other and exchanged glances. Marcus'' eyes softened, curving slightly as if he were about to play a mischievous trick. The training grounds were silent. Somehow, the entire atmosphere felt different. A warm breeze drifted through the sunlight. Petals swayed in rhythm with the wind. A peaceful, tranquil afternoon. It reminded him of the moment Audin''s divinity had touched his body. That same serenity enveloped the surroundings. "I''ve been thinking." Marcus spoke, his voice breaking the silence. It wasn''t loud enough to reach every corner of the training grounds, but enough for those nearby to hear. "Thinking about what?" Enkrid replied, standing straight. "What should I give to satisfy a soldier who has accomplished so much?" At those words, thoughts of fine swords or even a bag of Krona flickered through Enkrid''s mind. But would he truly be satisfied with that? Hardly. It would bring some pleasure, but... What if he took it one step further? ''A magic armor?'' By now, he had a rough understanding of the value of the leather armor wrapped around him. And that its value was slowly diminishing. Enchantments were not eternal. Magic equipment had its limits. He had only heard such things in passing, unsure if they were true¡ª but experience had proven it. The lifespan of his leather armor was nearing its end. Even his leather gauntlets were something akin to magic gear. If not, how could they possess such durability? If not for these gauntlets, back when he fought the Frog, he wouldn''t have just sprained his wrist¡ªhe would have lost a hand. ''The very thought is horrifying.'' If he had died after losing a wrist, would he have ended up like some one-armed swordsman? Losing a wrist was better than losing an arm, but both were still the worst outcomes. Looking back, there were far too many things to be cautious about. Losing one''s life? It would be painful, but in a way, that was a welcome fate. But suffering fatal injuries and living to see another day... ''Too many things to consider.'' Still, Enkrid had not sunk into deep contemplation. He wasn''t the type to overthink things to begin with. Nor did he have the luxury to do so. ''Useless thoughts.'' Rather than just relaxing his shoulders, his mind was being cluttered with distractions. He let them go. Even immersing himself fully in the sword and his dream wouldn''t be enough. Would he truly become a knight? The question still remained, and the answer was yet to come. "So, I made a decision." Marcus continued. Enkrid focused his attention on the man before him. Listening attentively. A proper attitude of listening. "I too decided that I must give a sincere gift. You can expect it, Independent Unit Leader." The word "expect" was spoken. He knew well that he wouldn''t normally show any emotion for trivial matters. Honestly, he had no expectations. Afterward, Battalion Commander Marcus gave him Krona a splendid dagger. A dagger said to be awarded only to those who have made significant contributions to the royal family. When he received it, he found the balance terrible. It had no practicality; it was just a symbol of status. "By presenting the royal dagger, your position is guaranteed. If you ever show it in the capital, you will become a guest of the royal family." Enkrid truly thought it was nothing special. He genuinely believed so. However, the soldiers beneath the platform thought differently. "...Enkrid." "Enkrid." "Enkrid." There were no childish cheers like "Long live!" It was simply the entire company chanting Enkrid''s name. Without cheers or shouts, just murmurs. Everyday muttering. Words leaving their mouths. But when hundreds of soldiers spoke as one, "Enkrid." It hit his ears like a roar. "Heh, looks like they''re more excited than you. Turn around." At Marcus''s words, Enkrid turned his body. It was quite an amusing sight. Ten days after returning from the battlefield, he felt closer to the men in the unit than before. Those who had previously spoken filthy words, calling him names, had now lowered their heads. Those seeing him for the first time looked at him with respect and admiration. Even on the battlefield, he had already been recognized. Back then, the battalion commander had called for cheers. But whose cheers were those? He thought it was a very nice experience. But this was different. The platform was high. Just the height of a person. So, he could look down from above. He could see the heat being emitted by all the soldiers. That heat took shape and surrounded him. He suddenly realized that his actions had created this moment. "What makes a knight?" Skill? If someone is just good with a sword, that doesn''t make them a knight. "If that''s what you wanted, you should have been a mercenary." The words of a sword instructor from a certain city still echoed in his mind. He had asked that question back then: What makes a knight? What makes one worthy of being called a knight? "Skill is, of course, necessary." On top of skill, honor and achievements are piled up, proving oneself. "Although things have changed a bit nowadays, in the past, when legends were discussed, that was the way." Had he just wanted to be someone who wielded a sword well? No, that wasn''t it. His childhood dream may have started like that. But as he grew older and saw the limits of his talent, He was struck in the stomach by a much younger man''s sword. He lost comrades. He realized that skill and character do not always align. Even while knowing his limitations, he continued to wield his sword. With a pure heart, as if this moment might be his last. Living today as if tomorrow would never come. He threw himself into the waves of time that kept repeating. Being swept by the waves, but still never forgetting his sword. He carried his broken dreams. For a long time, where did the heart that sustained Enkrid come from? A knight is someone who keeps the standards they set for themselves. That''s what Enkrid believed. A person who moves forward without forgetting honor. He decided to live that way. So, perhaps it was natural that he felt joy in moments like this. Standing before these men, proving himself. Feeling honor. "This is fun." Enkrid murmured quietly. It was hard to sense emotion from just the voice. But behind him, Marcus felt something unfamiliar in Enkrid''s words. It was the same as before. Something he had forgotten for a while. Sword and light. "Is it passion?" Marcus smiled. He really thought Enkrid was an interesting man. So, he was curious about what kind of effect his prepared gift would have on the man before him. "That''s all." Marcus said, And Enkrid turned to show his military etiquette. "Enkrid." He descended through the soldiers chanting his name, like a chant. As the soldiers parted, a path opened. "That''s nice." He saw his own squad members welcoming him. Rem grinning widely. Jaxen looking on indifferently, leaning on one leg. "You were like a messenger responding to a prayer, brother." Audin muttered something incomprehensible. "Are we leaving now?" Ragna, who found this whole event tedious. "Nice." Krais, who had no interest unless it involved him. Alongside them, Andrew and Mac called out his name with flushed faces. "Enkrid." "Captain." Well, this wasn''t just a good experience; it was more than that. If this wasn''t enjoyable, it would be strange. "Let''s go back." But nothing changed. Ten days had passed since returning, and the Border Guard was quiet. The rewards and honors were over. So what should be done now? Of course, training. He was struggling with how to wield a sword. "Hey, today is a party! Let''s eat and die!" From the stage, Marcus revealed his true intentions. Can the battalion commander really act this recklessly? Aren''t the people standing behind him nobles? As expected, Enkrid noticed a group of nobles frowning as he turned away. But no one stepped forward to say anything. Why was that? Did he say he''d cut their heads off if they interfered? "No, wait, that''s something someone like Rem would do." Marcus was a commander from the capital. There was no reason or need for him to do something so reckless. Then why were the nobles reacting that way? Enkrid decided not to concern himself with the nobles'' matters. There was no need to investigate. What would it change? Knowing wouldn''t make a difference. "Party!" "Cheers!" "Sounds good! I like it!" The soldiers shouted. It almost felt like his eardrums were going to burst. "What, are we getting something good? If it''s just cheap wine, I feel like I might want to split that bastard''s head open with my axe." Rem grinned at the mention of the party. But this bastard actually seemed to be in a good mood. The problem was that when he was in a good mood, he wanted to split heads open. "No, wait, is it lucky that it''s not my head?" Now that he thought about it, Rem had never seriously said he wanted to split Enkrid''s head open. He sometimes joked about wanting to open up his head to see what''s inside, but it was just a joke. "It''s annoying." Ragna honestly voiced her feelings. Enkrid wanted to cast his vote for Ragna''s opinion. He wanted to train. He wanted to attach the mustache-shaped sword he had seen to his own body as soon as possible. "A stiff head only sees stiff things. We need to rest when it''s time to rest." While thinking this, Jaxen spoke. Maybe it was due to his sharp senses, but he seemed to understand Enkrid''s state. "Everyone, get some rest. I''ll be back in a moment." Enkrid heard Krais'' voice from behind, growing distant as he ran. When a party was held, a gambling den naturally opened. And if it was a gambling den, Krais was probably the one running it. He wasn''t actually gambling but instead ran the game to take a commission. Krais still couldn''t understand how people would waste Krona on gambling. "Seriously, why throw Krona at random hands? If you meet a real gambler, you''ll be wiped out." It made sense that there was no reason to use Krona for gambling. Krais disappeared among the soldiers. Enkrid watched his retreating back, realizing how strange it was that the big-eyed soldier had come up with a clever strategy. "No splitting heads, huh? Savage brother." From behind, Audin murmured. In the front, the battalion commander happily raised a bottle of alcohol. "This is some good wine! Everyone will drink the same today! Any objections? Those who have one, come at me!" That guy didn''t seem normal either. Marcus shouted as he offered the wine. Watching this, Finn approached and spoke. "Want to have a drink?" "Eh?" It had been a while since he had a drink. It wasn''t something he normally did. He was too busy training. Drinking would dull his control over his body. That meant he wouldn''t be able to train properly. Enjoying the party and drinking were different matters. He was about to kindly refuse. "No, human girl, that seat is mine. He''s my fiance?e." A voice from behind. Eh? "Fiance?e? A fairy?" Finn murmured. Enkrid stepped back. The fairy commander approached silently. "Drink with me." Was that a command or a suggestion? A strange tension arose as Finn and the fairy commander appeared. "Ahh." In the meantime, Esther joined in, letting out a fierce cry before rushing into Enkrid''s arms. What was this situation? "...Damn seductive force." Rem muttered as he watched. Before Enkrid could explain it was a misunderstanding, the soldiers around him started cheering, calling his name in a different manner. "Commander of Seductive Force!" Damn it, just when he thought they had forgotten, those words came up again. Chapter 150 - The Night of the Feast Chapter 150 - 150 - The Night of the Feast Chapter 150 - The Night of the Feast The night was filled with energy, alcohol, and a party. It was a celebration of sorts, something that had been rare in recent memory. Was there ever a party like this before? Enkrid tried to recall. It seemed like it had been a few years, at least. This was the first one at Border Guard, and personally, it was one of those moments he hadn''t experienced many times in his life. He had attended similar banquets during his mercenary days, but back then, he had barely enjoyed himself, focusing more on the aftermath of fights. "Let''s drink, Leader," someone said, and it wasn''t just Finn or the fairy commander offering drinks. "When we''re here to party, let''s have fun. Don''t be such a buzzkill!" said Rem. Even he was urging for a good time. Enkrid drank. He had said he wasn''t here to enjoy it, but he didn''t say he couldn''t drink. With a gulp, the bitter yet sweet liquid slid down his throat, warming his stomach. ''Not bad.'' He wasn''t a gourmet or a heavy drinker, but his experiences wandering through various places made him able to appreciate the moment. He had been poor and wandering, eating anything he could, yet still critiquing everything that went into his mouth. ''Could be some decent wine here.'' The Battalion Commander had surely emptied his pockets for this. Actually, it was probably Border Guard footing the bill. There was no way he was using his personal funds for this. He ate, drank, and enjoyed himself. When he decided to rest, he rested to the fullest because proper rest was the key to preparing for what came next. But. ''What a beautiful night.'' The moon and stars painted the sky, a sight almost too perfect for drinking. "Just a sip is enough, brother. Are you challenging me to an arm wrestling match?" Audin''s voice came from one side. "Are you being picky again?" Rem''s voice followed. "It''s just that it doesn''t suit my taste," came Ragna''s reply. Where had Jaxen gone? He wasn''t the type to enjoy this kind of party. He had probably gone out to the city. Everyone else was too busy eating and drinking. Excited soldiers shouted, telling stories of their adventures mixed with curses. Finn, the Fairy Commander, and Enkrid himself had many people approaching them, talking to them. In fact, Enkrid was probably the most popular of them all. "I knew one day you''d get noticed," said Bell, the man Enkrid had saved when he almost died from an arrow. Perhaps Enkrid had changed his fate. "So, what, you want to duel?" Enkrid teased. "No, no duels. I heard you even took down a Frontier Defense guy," Bell said, laughing. "Lucky bout," Enkrid replied, the word "luck" becoming almost a catchphrase. "Is that really just luck?" Bell asked, rolling his eyes before laughing in a bright, carefree way. Vengeance then approached. "Luck, huh?" He took a deep breath, then quickly dismissed it, waving Enkrid off, suggesting they just drink instead. But now, Enkrid understood his intentions. He could offer him some words of comfort, even if it was just in jest. "The world is wide," Enkrid said, as if reciting a phrase of infantry cheer. "And there are many women." Vengeance froze in place. His earlier words seemed to have been filled with jealousy or envy. The Fairy Commander and Finn were likely the cause. Maybe some of the gazes from the women in the crowd contributed too. Enkrid could only hope his words of comfort had the desired effect. Vengeance turned his body slightly, his eyes gleaming with a fire that seemed almost demonic. "This bastard?" Vengeance muttered, enraged. Enkrid knew the feeling was valid. Rather than sulking, it was better to ignite that passionate anger. "Jenny?" Enkrid asked, feigning surprise as he looked behind Vengeance. Vengeance turned his head sharply, scanning the area, but there was no one there. He let out a strange, almost skeletal sound before shifting back to Enkrid. "Did you say something?" Enkrid knew this wasn''t going to end quietly. Vengeance was about to challenge him. He had to fight, even though he had planned to relax today. "Fine," Enkrid said, standing up straight. Vengeance had second thoughts, but after mocking him, he couldn''t back down now. "We''re fighting," Vengeance declared. "Who? Who''s fighting?" the soldiers asked. "Vengeance Platoon Leader," someone said. "Who''s his opponent?" "The Demonic Charm Unit Leader," came the response. Enkrid heard the words of the surrounding soldiers, letting them pass through one ear and out the other, but the term "demonic charm" was something he couldn''t easily ignore. It felt like a term that didn''t quite suit him. He had had a similar experience before. Had Audin called him stubborn? Stubborn? That wasn''t it at all. The same applied to "demonic charm." It wasn''t true. It was a misunderstanding. "Where, where is the fight? Wait, just a moment! For a proper duel, there must be a wager!" Krais, who had disappeared into the crowd of soldiers earlier, suddenly popped out. He looked at Enkrid''s face and then checked Vengeance. "...No one knows this, but the one who mastered the vision assassination technique is none other than Platoon Leader Vengeance. Anyone willing to bet against Platoon Leader Vengeance?" [TL: Vision assasination technique reffers to the way he is glaring at Enki as if a glare could kill] No one stepped forward. The wager was off. Vengeance struck down with all his might. Enkrid wasn''t caught off guard. As usual, his eyes glinted, and he focused. He moved his body, watching the descending sword. There was no hesitation. Enkrid raised his sword horizontally to block the strike, then swept his leg to trip Vengeance, pressing his knee into Vengeance''s thigh. A mix of fundamentals and unorthodox techniques. "Ugh!" Vengeance, struck on the side of his thigh, fell. "Hmm." Enkrid felt a bit unsatisfied. It was like stopping mid-pee. It was just one strike. After all, Vengeance was supposed to be an elite soldier, wasn''t he? "Isn''t the soldier grading system... something like... broken?" Suddenly, Rem''s words popped into his head. He glanced around, wondering if there was someone like Rem nearby. But instead, there were many eyes looking at him strangely. Those gazes weren''t filled with admiration. Enkrid frowned and then relaxed. Krais alone seemed to notice, recognizing the expression that suggested he wasn''t pleased. He wished someone would challenge him, a request for a duel, to face off. But lately, such challenges had become rare. Even the frontier defense unit had become scarce near Enkrid. He thought he had seen a frontier defense captain earlier among the soldiers. And the first company commander seemed to be around too. Could he hope for something from those two? Enkrid''s eyes searched for them. It wasn''t hard to find them. They had already caught his attention. However, the heavily-armored first company commander was already deeply drunk, and the frontier defense captain didn''t seem the least bit inclined to act. What they had in common was that they were both holding cups and showed no intention to fight. "I was going to ask him to have a drink, but..." The first company commander muttered, his face flushed, and then turned away, muttering that Enkrid was definitely a madman. Enkrid''s gaze shifted when the company commander''s eyes turned toward him, wondering if Rem was behind him. But no, Rem wasn''t there. Who then? At least, it wasn''t something said to him. He was probably the only normal person in the Madmen Squad. "Is this what it means to meet expectations? Should I nod my head in agreement with the idea that he''s not normal?" The frontier defense captain also left, leaving only those words behind. The fairy company commander and Finn were looking at him from one side. Esther, too, was there. The blue-eyed panther yawned and then quickly turned its head. Did it just try to cover its mouth with its front paw? That paw would do a fine job of hiding the mouth. It''s almost like the panther was human. Enkrid thought this as he sheathed his sword. It felt like stopping mid-pee again. It was frustrating, like when someone cuts you off right before an important point. But what could he do? It wasn''t like he had many suitable opponents to face. That was the moment and the situation. "Are you really going to do it?" "Yeah." A conversation came from one side. At the same time, the thrill of a sword cutting through the air, the kind of presence that made him feel like an illusion of a flash, filled the air. Enkrid instinctively placed his hand on the grip. It felt as though he was about to draw his sword and engage in a battle. He turned toward the source of the sound. Andrew appeared. Swiftly. He wasn''t just standing there. He drew his sword. And it was clear he was ready to strike at any moment. The way Andrew drew his sword, there was a certain determination in his movement. As he drew his sword, the light of stars and torches seemed to merge on his face. One side was blue, the other red. He hadn''t been drinking; his expression was calm. Standing there, Andrew spoke. "I learned the swordsmanship of the Gardener family and, through real combat, learned that in this journey, there is no such thing as giving up." Mac, who had been standing nearby, had already stepped back a pace. The surrounding soldiers did the same. They created space. Only Enkrid and Andrew remained in the center. One had his hand on the grip, and the other had already drawn his sword. Andrew, who had spoken earlier, continued, his momentum unbroken. "I ask for your guidance." Enkrid stared into Andrew''s eyes for a moment. There was no wavering in his pupils, only burning passion, not admiration. It was a gaze he truly liked. A moment he savored. Whoosh. A torch flared right next to him. A pleasant breeze of the night swept through. He had heard that magic was strong in spring; it was a saying he had grown tired of. ''That saying.'' It seemed to be true after all. Enkrid looked up at the sky instead of answering. The night, a festival of starlight rising between the moonlight. The world of falling stars was there. Lowering his head again, Enkrid spoke. "A fine night for a fight, isn''t it?" He was sincere. He thought that celebrating with a banquet on a night like this was almost a waste. Yes, it would have been another night. If the starlight hadn''t shone so brightly on him, he might have just enjoyed the banquet. But this night was too precious for that. "Indeed." Andrew thrust his sword. Enkrid met him. It had started as a scouting party, but their relationship had changed rapidly. And now, again, Andrew''s sword danced. It was a rapier, one that focused on speed and exploited the opponent''s weaknesses. Enkrid responded with caution, focus, and showed everything he had. That was the right way. If the opponent was showing their best and sincerity, he had to do the same. Esther thought it was quite strange. ''Tonight is truly something.'' The magic in the air was thick. Sensitive individuals often sensed something different on nights like these. And perhaps it was the same for Enkrid. He certainly seemed to be unable to stay still, restlessly moving. The fight wasn''t long. The outcome was clear. "Alright, gather the Krona!" Krais''s voice rang out, clearer and louder than ever. Perhaps the busiest and most passionate person that night was Krais. Thud. Andrew fell backward with a sound. They hadn''t exchanged swords dozens of times. Even before ten exchanges of blades, the fight had already been decided. After knocking Andrew down, Enkrid extended his hand and helped him up. Then, a question arose, and Enkrid asked. "Are you planning to leave?" "Ha, yes." Andrew exhaled heavily and answered. "Why?" "I have something to do." Then, he should go. You can''t hold back someone who is already set on leaving, can you? "It was fun." "Yes, Captain." Andrew smiled. He really seemed like a younger brother, a friend who gave that impression. "I learned a lot." Andrew said, and Enkrid nodded in response. For some, it was a banquet where they drank themselves into a stupor. For others, it was a gambling table, where they gathered cronas. For some, it was a chance to confirm their comradeship. And for Enkrid, it was a banquet perfectly suited for a sparring match under the stars. After that, Some more eager individuals joined in the fray, as the atmosphere shifted. That was quite welcome. The night of eating, drinking, and fighting passed by. Enkrid fell asleep, only to wake up at dawn. The morning training had to begin. The night of the banquet had passed, but the work had to be done. He headed out to the training ground, only to find an unexpected guest. *** The party continued until midnight. The other battalion, which hadn''t participated in the battle, took over the duties. "Thanks." Marcus said to his subordinate commander as he made a request. "It''s nothing." The commander accepted Marcus''s request with ease. Why wouldn''t he? Who was Marcus? He wasn''t just any ordinary battalion commander. When he returned to the capital, he would hold a new status. He was nobility, part of one of the five most powerful families. "Alright." The commander left, and Marcus set down the bottle of alcohol he had been holding. He had done something out of character for the morale of the troops. He actually preferred tea over alcohol. He even had a habit of mixing tea with alcohol when he drank. He preferred quiet places to noisy ones. ''Must be thanks to the education I received as a child.'' Perhaps the influence of the tea ceremony he learned from his family. It wasn''t important. He had become accustomed to it, and it had become a habit he saw no need to break. Marcus leisurely drank his tea. Even in his quarters, the sounds of laughter could still be heard. He had forbidden calling for courtesans, but when alcohol was involved, many would head to the red-light district. Tonight, however, he was showing leniency rather than strict control. He decided to let things slide. As time passed, a few familiar commanders came to visit. Some of them were aware of their own power. Others were drawn to the battlefield by his reputation, seeking to meet the man they admired. But the company commander were all present. ''Wait, one''s missing.'' The fairy company commander was nowhere to be seen. Well, that was nothing to be concerned about. Whether she was seeking power or merely joining him for a drink, it seemed foolish either way. With the tea mixed with alcohol, they chatted. By the time the sun set and the moon rose, Marcus went to bed early, sinking into a deep, dreamless sleep. In the calm of the night, Knock knock. "Battalion Commander." The voice of the bodyguard and the knock woke Marcus from his sleep. "What''s going on?" He turned his gaze toward the window. It was still too early, just before dawn, the sky showing shades of blue and orange signaling the start of a new day. "A guest has arrived." A guest? At this time? Who could possibly come at such an hour? It was someone outside of human etiquette and noble power. Marcus wasn''t flustered. He hadn''t expected someone to come at this hour, but he could guess who it was. ''I thought it would be tomorrow at the earliest.'' He had heard the battlefield was just wrapping up. Could it be a gift that arrived early? Or had they expected this visit? "I''ll be right out." Marcus donned his jacket loosely over his shirt and went out. The gift had arrived, and now it was time to deliver it. This gift was meant for one person. It had been a decision after much contemplation. The recipient of this gift, of course, was Enkrid. Chapter 151 - An Impossible Matter Chapter 151 - 151 - An Impossible Matter Chapter 151 - An Impossible Matter It was early in the morning. Perhaps it was the moment when the end of dawn and the beginning of morning met. As the sun started to rise, the training field on one side of the barracks turned orange. How many people would be out on the training field at this time? If not for the patrol guards, Enkrid would likely be the only one. Therefore, seeing someone else on the training field before him at this time was a rare occurrence. No, it was almost the first time. Enkrid thought to himself as he placed his right hand on his waist and saluted. It was an appropriate gesture. The person who had hosted yesterday''s banquet and was now in charge of overseeing the city of Border Guard. He nodded. Battalion Commander Marcus nodded back in response to the salute. Marcus was not alone. It was rarer for him to be by himself. Behind him were two more individuals. Two figures standing in the shade at the corner of the training field. One of them, a Frog, stepped forward. It was difficult to discern all the features of the Frog with human eyes, but it was clear that this one was different from the others Enkrid had met so far. There were no scars on the neck, nor was there a ferocious glare in its eyes. Instead, it had a curious look, and its white cheeks puffed slightly. Grrr. The Frog made its signature noise and scanned Enkrid from head to toe, its gaze moving from his feet back up to his face. It was a rare talent to so clearly show where its gaze was focused. "I think an introduction is in order." Marcus spoke from behind. It was a timely suggestion. The Frog stopped its growling and spoke. "I''m a Frog." Well, that was obvious just by looking at the face. In fact, even seeing just the three fingers would be enough to tell. Its appearance was completely different from other species. "You''re rambling." Someone else stepped forward from behind, but it wasn''t just stepping forward. Enkrid briefly saw a vision¡ªa vision of his head being severed. It came first, and the reaction came after. Thud! The sound of blades meeting, metal clashing, rang across the training field. Enkrid blocked the opponent''s strike with his half-drawn sword. When had he drawn it?If it wasn''t instinct developed from dying countless times, would he have died? Or would he have frozen in place? He wasn''t sure which. "Is this how you block?" The opponent''s voice reached his ears. It was thin and high-pitched. A woman with short hair tied tightly behind her. She had a round face that looked gentle, but the sword in her hand was anything but. "Should I try again?" Her voice, oozing with ease, was followed by another rush of blades. What could he say about this? There was nothing else to say. Enkrid saw blades falling above his head,blades aimed at his belly, his neck almost being severed, arms getting sliced off, and even blades piercing his thighs. He saw a sword aimed at his foot. It felt like standing bare-bodied in the middle of a storm. It was like being on a small boat, facing a tsunami. ''If I don''t get out of here right now, I''ll die.'' The fear of death clouded his mind. No matter how many times he repeated today, no matter how much growth it would bring, forgetting and cutting off the fear was an impossible thing for a human. Enkrid was just a madman who knew how to fight against fear. ''If I retreat...'' In the midst of the storm of blades, Enkrid realized that retreating would allow him to avoid this. As long as he retreated, it would be over. He wouldn''t have to stand alone in this storm anymore. So would he retreat? "Dreams are meant to be given up." "Are you a little... dizzy?" "Have you lost your mind? What? A knight? A mercenary scum?" "Sorry, it was my first real battle." "Go back to your village. Farm, and if you don''t like that, join the local watch. You''ll end up as the captain in no time." With a laugh. The faces of those who had spoken to him in such a manner flashed through his mind. His heart was wildly thumping. They had told him to give up, that it was pointless. They had also asked if the path he was taking now was the right one. In the storm of blades, Enkrid had died countless times. But the darkness never came, and the ferryman was nowhere to be seen. He simply died. Again and again, countless times. The light was fading. Instead of the first light of dawn, a shadow of death was looming. Everything was hitting him with pain and agony. He already knew the answer. All he had to do was retreat. One step was all it would take. One step back. The storm of blades urged him to retreat, telling him this was not the place for him to stand. All he had to do was take one step back, and he would be freed from all this pain and agony. He understood it. And yet, he couldn''t retreat. He knew that retreating wouldn''t affect his swordsmanship or his trained body. And yet, he couldn''t retreat. He knew that everything would end the moment he retreated, but still, he couldn''t do it. His torn and broken dreams asked him why. "Are you really going to become a knight?" The words of those who had passed through life and said too much didn''t shake his heart. There was no reason for it. But this¡ªthis was different. This wasn''t how it was supposed to be. The moment Enkrid decided to become a knight, he had already armed himself with the sharpest sword. That was willpower, conviction, and stubbornness. Once the heart crumbles, there would be no place to stand. Every step forward, even if it was a half-step or crawling, could never be taken back. Enkrid had no intention of retreating. He only¡ª''I''m lacking.'' He simply realized his own inadequacies. His body''s coordination, his sense of evasion. What if he had trained those? If he had fully mastered them? What about the Heart of Monstrous Strength? Even the techniques of isolation and Valaf-style martial arts could have been of help. What if he had diligently built up the fundamentals, training them until his sword could extend straight and precisely, like the mustache man did? All of that could have formed the foundation to navigate through this situation. Enkrid couldn''t retreat. He would never do so. So he took a step forward. "That''s enough." The storm, as suddenly as it had come, ended just as quickly. When the Frog intervened, it vanished as if washed away. "Phew." Enkrid exhaled the breath he had been holding. His heart pounded as though it would leap out of his chest. His legs wobbled. He wanted to collapse but held it in. Instead, he looked at the opponent. A gentle-looking woman with short hair. Enkrid focused on one desire. He wanted to know what trick she had just used. "I''ve never seen someone like you, how can you endure this without knowing how to handle it? If you had stayed there a little longer, you''d have died." The one who had extended the storm from beside the Frog spoke. "Who?" Enkrid parted his lips that wouldn''t open, asking. "Me? Aishia." As she spoke, she took a step forward. Flap. The woman unfurled a cloak she had thrown over her shoulder and wrapped it around herself. It spread out in a flutter. The color was a crimson that cut through the orange of the morning. A crimson cloak, alongside a Frog, and personally escorted by Marcus¡ªwho could this opponent be? "The Crimson Cloak Order?" Enkrid murmured, and the woman nodded. "I''m Squire Knight Aishia." Her smile matched her gentle appearance, bright and innocent. And that was it. Standing tall, staring¡ªthis was the best Enkrid could do. Then, his senses suddenly cut off. His vision darkened, and the ferryman appeared. ''Am I dead?'' No, it didn''t feel like that. He wasn''t dead. Then, is this a dream? As he pondered inwardly, "It''s a dream." The ferryman spoke. It was strange hearing his words, as he still had no eyes, nose, or mouth. "I''m watching now." The ferryman''s next words sparked another question in Enkrid. "Were you not watching until now?" At that question, the boat on the black river seemed to tilt slightly. Just as suddenly as it had started, the dream abruptly ended. The alternation of light and darkness. In that moment, only the ferryman''s last words lingered in his ears. "You skipped training today, huh?" What was that? Why did it sound like he was mocking him? That could be possible. Just because he was a ferryman didn''t mean he wouldn''t joke. But the tone, the words, left a strange feeling. Enkrid ignored it. If it was something that couldn''t be understood, ignoring it was the answer. By the way, Before he passed out, he thought he had heard Jaxen''s voice. As Enkrid collapsed, the Frog reached out a hand but stopped. Someone had already caught him from behind. With reddish-brown hair and calm eyes. "Playing with fire." He spoke in a quiet tone. The Frog, thinking about it, turned her gaze sideways. There, a man with a fierce presence was glaring at her menacingly. "What do you think you are doing so early in the morning?" Gray hair, gray eyes¡ªwas he from the west? Behind him, a big man like a bear was present. "Heh, good morning, sister. May I ask why you''re doing this to my little and precious squad leader?" What were these guys? The Frog had the thought anew. Behind the trio, a blonde man with red eyes holding a sword could be seen. He was unmistakably a northern warrior, his appearance distinctive. His hair was a mess, and there were traces of drool at the corner of his mouth. ''His sword posture is quite something.'' It was very much to her liking. The Frog had come here at Marcus''s request. She wanted to assess someone''s talent. She wanted to know if the person had the qualities to become a knight. After the battle in the front lines ended, she stopped by on her way back. The Frog''s eyes were different from those of humans and fairies. He could detect a talent that couldn''t be fulfilled by mere training. Because of their unique perspective, people called them the talent assessor. Now, the Frog himself was being assessed Though it wasn''t a level where he could recognize them instantly, there were times when simply seeing was enough. Especially when it was a gem that shone alone, even in the mud. That was how these people were now. To the Frog''s eyes, they were individuals with talents found if you took one in ten thousand, and from that, one in a thousand once again. "These guys?" "Madmen Squad members." Marcus answered from behind. He had a rough understanding of what was going on. He had called them all crazy, said that they only followed their squad leader, and that it was strange. ''A shame though.'' For now, there was no time to take them in or anything. What was more important was the enmity in front of them, which wasn''t something to take lightly. Having such talent didn''t automatically make one a knight. In reality, there was no real need to accept them. What is a knight? It was a world where every condition must align before one could even think of stepping in, a title only given to those who met those conditions. "Quite an interesting bunch," Aishia said from behind. She wasn''t particularly combative. She was simply doing the test Marcus asked for. As she spoke, Aisia showed her palms, signaling that she had no intention of fighting. If Enkrid had seen that, he would have been surprised. After her first strike, she had returned the sword to its sheath and never drew it again. It was all done through momentum and pressure. Momentum and pressure, that is, using force to make the opponent faint. It was something only those at the near-knight level could attempt. In reality, it was a highly inefficient method. It would be more effective to just knock someone out with a single blow. Why go through all the effort, exuding pressure and all that? The mental energy spent on this wasn''t insignificant. Aishia had only done it because it was Marcus''s request. It was a test for those with potential. That was all. There was no danger of any threatening energy. More importantly, Marcus''s comment had drawn their full attention. "How about it? Do you think he could become a knight?" If there was a possibility, he could become a squire, soon to be assigned under a knight. Marcus had given a gift. Indeed, it wasn''t a gift of low value. What was Enkrid''s dream? What did he most desire? A gift was valuable when it met what one wanted. Marcus had learned to use his knowledge of politics properly. He had prepared the thing his opponents desired most. A question arose, And Aishia spoke first. "No." Following her, the Frog also spoke. "Not even close." What was a knight? A knight gathers ten thousand talented individuals. From those, they select a thousand. Then they filter those thousand further. Only a few reach the knightly world. "This one''s difficult. How about you? Interested?" The Frog asked, pointing directly at one person. The large, round eyes, resembling a frog''s, were focused on Ragna. Ragna blinked, his eyes caked with sleep. "Nothing to learn from you." Once he left his squad leader, he was nothing but a lazy bum. He knew that better than anyone, so it was naturally a refusal. ''Ah, what a shame.'' The Frog clicked her tongue in regret. From their looks, they seemed like the type a female Frog would eye, and with their talent, joining the knight order seemed like it would be a fun thing, but they refused? Even though it was an offer from the Crimson Cloak Knights? She couldn''t take them all, but surely one could have been accepted. "Quite an interesting bunch. I''ve honored the request. Don''t forget that, Marcus, Battalion Commander of the Regiment." "Ah, of course." Marcus and Aishia spoke as they followed behind. Aishia gave the Frog a light tap on the back. "What are you doing? Let''s go." Both had much to do. They needed to return to the capital, deliver the victory report, and discuss the Aspen treaty. There was a mountain of other tasks to handle. "I''ll stay a few more days before heading back." "Hmm?" Aishia tilted her head, the ponytail tied at the back swaying. What was he talking about? "Go ahead first." The Frog said. Aishia was about to say something, but stopped. In truth, there was no issue with going alone. Her affiliation would prove herself. She was a member of the Crimson Cloak Knights. She didn''t need to say anything more. Above all, Frogs were known for their hedonistic nature, unable to control their desires and interests. She assumed the Frog was interested in the red-headed soldier. "Well then." Aishia turned and spoke. Unknowingly, Vengeance, who had volunteered for the night watch, observed all of this. He had intended to speak with Enkrid after his disgraceful behavior the previous night, but he saw everything unfold. No one paid him much attention. It wasn''t a big deal that the knight path was closed off for Enkrid. There were plenty of people like that in the world. "I''ll be staying a few more days." The Frog told Marcus, who nodded. Leaving behind the unconscious Enkrid, the morning meeting came to an end. Chapter 152 - What Makes a Knight Different? Chapter 152 - 152 - What Makes a Knight Different? Chapter 152 - What Makes a Knight Different? As Aishia made her way back, she couldn''t help but find it peculiar. ''This might be a first.'' A man who didn''t even know how to wield a knight''s power, yet endured with his bare body. He hadn''t overcome the ''oppression''¡ªhe had simply endured it. No, looking back on it all, he had even managed to extend his foot forward by about a finger''s length. She was a squire knight, and her sharp gaze caught even the slightest movements of her opponent. He had been trying to move forward. It was an advance. How many soldiers could do that? Were there any at all? Probably not. ''Well, if he manages to aquire it, he''ll turn into some kind of monster.'' But that was no easy feat. ''Forget it.'' That Frog bastard was still there¡ªshe could handle it. She had received a request, and she had done her part. That was the end of it. Aishia forgot about Enkrid just like that. There was no need to remember him. Though, she did like that spirit of his, that stubbornness. And, well, she did like his face too. ''Not like I''ll ever see him again.'' Talent was cruel, after all. The goddess of fortune was never fair. Clip-clop. The horse carrying her struck the ground with its hooves and surged forward. It was time to return. *** ''Why?'' Vengeance felt an inexplicable sense of unease and restlessness. A squire knight had come and evaluated Enkrid. His skill had been assessed, and even a talent appraiser¡ªFrog¡ªhad been brought in. As a result, harsh words had been exchanged. ''Why go that far?'' Did they want to crush his motivation? Did they dislike how dedicated he was to training? Vengeance had no idea what was going through Battalion Commander Marcus''s mind. Why did he have to provoke Enkrid, who was just staying quiet? Saying he couldn''t become a knight? That his limits were clear, so he should quit? Why? What was the point? Vengeance didn''t know Enkrid''s dream. He also didn''t know about the conversation between Enkrid and Marcus. So it was only natural for these questions to arise. Enkrid had never hidden his faded dream, but he also didn''t go around shouting it into people''s ears. "That bastard battalion commander has a nasty personality." Grumbling, Vengeance headed to Enkrid''s quarters. Knock, knock. "It''s me, Vengeance." "Oh? It''s the ugly platoon leader. What do you want?" At the sound of his knock, Rem answered, immediately getting under his skin. He had to ignore him. If he engaged in conversation, it would only lead to a fight. And the result of that? If it were Enkrid, a single knee strike to the thigh would settle it. But Rem? He couldn''t even begin to imagine. In short, fighting was not an option. "Where''s Enki?" "Sleeping." Wasn''t he unconscious rather than sleeping? And why the hell was this guy acting so casual? He had expected Rem to be sharpening his axe, ready to split Marcus''s head open for trying to crush his platoon leader''s spirit. Well, if he were the type to lose his temper and rage around the barracks, he would have already swung that axe long ago. That''s the kind of guy he was. Inside, Ragna was asleep again. Vengeance watched him for a moment, wondering if he was truly asleep. Yes, he was. He wasn''t snoring, but his steady breaths and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest confirmed it. Jaxen sat in one corner, rolling up some tobacco leaves. A dedicated effort. He had heard that a woman named Finn had joined, but she wasn''t present. Krais was also nowhere to be seen. Only the Frog, whom he had seen standing guard in the morning, was still there. It was almost noon. Was she planning to settle in here permanently? They seemed surprisingly at ease. It was strange. Shouldn''t they be comforting Enkrid when he woke up? Or at least pretending that conversation had never happened? As Vengeance glanced around, he cleared his throat awkwardly. Right on cue, Enkrid stirred awake. Slowly, he sat up, rubbing his face. "Oh, you''re up." Vengeance was the first to react. Then¡ª "They said you can''t become a knight. Not even a sliver of a chance, not even as much as a ghoul''s brain." Rem spat out the words with a smirk. "Brother, you''re awake? Here, have this." Beside him, a man named Audin held out a piece of bread. It looked soft and fresh, as if it had been bought from one of the new bakeries that had recently opened in the city. No, wait¡ªthis wasn''t the time to be thinking about that. Ragna kept sleeping. Jaxen carefully packed his rolled tobacco into a leather pouch. "Hm, alright." Enkrid''s response was calm. He answered nonchalantly, took the bread, and headed outside. Frog, who had been silently observing, finally spoke. "They said you can''t become a knight. Are you okay with that?" Enkrid turned his head slightly, lowered his chin, then raised it again¡ªa nod. "Yeah, sure." He didn''t know the frog''s exact status, but if she had come with a squire-knight, she had to be at least at that level herself. And since she had been brought in as a talent appraiser, she probably held a rank equivalent to a noble. Enkrid thought for a moment before answering. There was no sign of shock on his face. Vengeance, standing in the doorway, blinked as he stared at him. "Still looking for payback for last night''s match?" Enkrid asked. "Nah, not that..." He had come out of concern, but for some reason, those words wouldn''t leave his mouth. "What''s this, ugly platoon leader? Have you sharpened the blade of vengeance? Then come at me." Rem egged him on for no reason, but Vengeance didn''t take the bait. Hadn''t he already tried? The bruise on his thigh hadn''t even faded yet. Enkrid stepped outside. Vengeance stared blankly at his back for a moment before turning away. "Aren''t you going to, I don''t know, console him or something?" Vengeance asked, still looking at Enkrid''s back. Not necessarily comfort, but at least some concern? What if he let go of his sword? What if he gave up? What if he quit? What if he despaired because someone poked at his lack of talent? Vengeance knew this was a ridiculous situation. Who was he to interfere? Why should he care whether Enkrid quit or not? It was just that the scene he had witnessed weighed on his mind. No one had ordered him to do anything. He wasn''t moving with any calculation. It was just how he felt. He simply couldn''t stand by and do nothing. At Vengeance''s words, Rem chuckled. That laugh¡ªit was the same as always. Not one of pretense. "Who are you trying to console? The captain?" Rem. "Haha, brother, you really don''t understand our squad leader." Audin. "The squad leader is the squad leader." Even Jaxen added. "Hm? The squad leader?" Ragna, who had just woken up, asked nonchalantly. Vengeance reflexively pointed outside. "He left. Training?" Who knew? But Ragna didn''t even wait for an answer. He cracked his neck left and right, grabbed his sword, and moved. Vengeance instinctively stepped aside. Without so much as a greeting, Ragna walked out. What was this? Vengeance couldn''t shake the feeling that he was being subtly ignored. "The squad leader will be fine." Rem finished his thought. Hearing that, Frog reacted. "How can you be so sure?" "Experience." A brief exchange, and Frog soon got up. Experience¡ªso she''d understand if she saw it for herself. Then all she had to do was go and see. See for herself how Enkrid acted. Ragna left, and Frog immediately followed. Vengeance''s thoughts were a mess. How could they be so indifferent after hearing something like that? "What do you think our squad leader''s original skill level was? Does his current level even make sense? What do you think, ugly platoon leader?" Rem''s voice kept coming. As he rolled around on his bunk, he reached out to poke Esther for no reason. Esther bared her claws and slashed at him, but Rem swiftly pulled his finger away, dodging the attack. Her blue eyes locked onto him. Rem grinned and held up his palm, as if to say he''d stop messing around. Vengeance, who had been watching, muttered something offhand and turned away. "Must be nice being handsome, you little shit." Something like that. Why did Rem keep harping on about him being ugly? Looking at that bastard made his blood boil. How was it fair that someone that skilled also had a face like that? Ah, at least there was one good thing. His personality was a real piece of work. No wonder they were called the Madmen Squad. At least Vengeance had a better personality. The world just didn''t see it. As he walked back to his quarters, thoughts swirled in Vengeance''s head. Especially Rem''s last words. "What do you think our squad leader''s original skill level was? Does his current level even make sense? What do you think, ugly platoon leader?" Step by step. It didn''t make sense. No matter how he thought about it, it didn''t make sense. Especially his rate of growth. What had Enkrid been like originally? A pitiful fool, flailing in place no matter how much he swung his sword. "If it were me, I''d have quit ages ago." Even the bystanders watching would mutter things like that. Vengeance remembered those words. There had been plenty who didn''t hesitate to mock Enkrid back then. "And how the hell did that idiot become a squad leader in the first place? Must be some serious fucking favoritism." Some even spat words filled with disgust. Back then, Vengeance hadn''t liked Enkrid either. "But look at these idiots, criticizing someone when they don''t even have the guts to swing a sword every day. What a bunch of crazy bastards." What had he done to that guy back then? Yeah, I completely wrecked it. I just didn''t like it¡ªthe bastard, the words he spoke, Enkrid, and even that stubborn perseverance of his, swinging his sword every day. Back then, there were plenty of people who badmouthed Enkrid. And just then, one of them happened to be right in front of me. "Hey, you." A soldier approached at the call. "Yes, Platoon Leader." "Do you think Platoon Leader Enkrid''s skills make any sense right now?" "...What?" "His skills. What do you think?" "Uh, well, they''ve improved." Now, there was a different emotion mixed in the soldier''s eyes¡ªadmiration and determination. "Why do you think he improved?" "Excuse me?" ''What the hell, is this guy an idiot?'' Vengeance read that very thought in the soldier''s expression and shook his head. "Never mind." Dismissing him, Vengeance mulled over the reason. Ultimately, there was only one. That unwavering perseverance. And what makes that perseverance possible? ''He doesn''t know how to give up.'' He doesn''t succumb to despair or hopelessness. That was why, even though he disliked Enkrid, he couldn''t bring himself to hate him. It was the same reason for both his dislike and his admiration. He never turns back. He never retreats. He keeps moving forward, envisioning the future. He dreams. A man who advances for the sake of his own life. A man who, because of that, shines. A man who, because of that, draws light toward him. "Damn it." Vengeance suddenly felt the urge to swing his sword. The next time they sparred, he wanted to last a few more bouts. He decided to make that his goal. With that thought, Vengeance cast aside his worries and swung his sword. It was time for training. He joined in the intense training fervor sweeping through the unit. *** The first thought Enkrid had upon waking up was this: ''Training.'' He had completely missed the morning drills. And today, of all days, he had a lot to do. Starting with the Isolation Technique, followed by Sense of Evasion, Heart of the Beast, Single-Point Focus, Heart of Monstrous Strenght, Blade Sensation, Valaf-style martial arts, and basic sword training. ''Since I missed the morning training, I''ll have to push everything to the afternoon.'' He would have to cut down his rest time. He knew how important recovery was, but...this was a special situation. Losing time by passing out in the morning wasn''t something he could ignore. Any suspicions about what kind of trick that Squire-Knight Aisia had pulled were shoved to the back of his mind. First, he had to focus on what needed to be done. The daily repetition. The start of training that must never be neglected. And just as he opened his eyes, he overheard some strange talk¡ªsomething about how he could never become a knight. What was Vengeance even doing here? Biting into the bread Audin had handed him, he made his way to the training grounds and started repeating his techniques. "Hoo." It didn''t take long for sweat to soak his clothes. His undergarments were drenched in no time. Despite having collapsed earlier, his head wasn''t heavy, nor did he feel any pain anywhere. At that moment, he had felt like he was on the verge of death. Even as he focused on training, his thoughts continued. Handling two swords had made him accustomed to multitasking. ''What was that?'' He had now grasped how to raise his aura. He had once even locked a cat in place just by glaring at it. But making someone see an illusion that wasn''t even there? That was impossible. And yet, Enkrid had seen it. A storm of countless blades. A storm of blades so fierce he couldn''t take a single step forward. A force that warned¡ªno, commanded¡ªthat if he didn''t retreat, he would die. It was both an enticement and an ultimatum. It was as if Aishia''s blade itself had been speaking to him. Had she even drawn her sword at that moment? He didn''t think so. "Hoo." Exhaling deeply, he steadied his breathing. Then, once more¡ªtraining, training, training. By the time he had caught up on his missed morning drills¡ª "She said you couldn''t become a knight. You''re not shaken by that?" It was the Frog. He strode over and asked. "Shaken?" Shaken? Why would he be shaken? With that exact thought, he asked back. "Geez." The frog scratched her nose with a thick finger. "You''re a funny one." Right after the Frog spoke¡ªRagna approached from behind. "What did you see?" Enkrid turned to look at Ragna. Ragna walked up, raising his sword vertically in front of his face. The blade covered half of his face, revealing only the other half. His reflection, slightly blurred, was mirrored in the steel. It wasn''t quite evening yet. The sun cast a warm glow over everything¡ªa moment bathed in tranquil light. Between the slowly setting sun, Ragna stood. As Enkrid paused his swings to look at him, Ragna spoke again. "What makes a knight different?" The words he uttered didn''t sound like a question. Enkrid adjusted his stance, prepared to listen. Whether the Frog listened or not didn''t matter. What had a knight shown him? What Ragna was speaking of¡ªhe wanted to know that as well. He had planned to ask after training anyway, but Ragna brought it up first. Now was the time to listen. Chapter 153 - Still Unchanged Chapter 153 - 153 - Still Unchanged Chapter 153 - Still Unchanged "How do you see it, Brother?" This was after Ragna, the Frog, and Vengeance had left. Audin spoke into the air. It was a question, but his tone and demeanor made it seem more like a prayer. Rem picked his nose and replied. "Damn it, he''ll figure it out somehow." As he answered, Rem recalled telling their squad leader¡ªwho had once said his dream was to become a knight¡ªthat it was something he could never achieve. He had told Vengeance there was no need to worry, and he genuinely believed that. Yet, a lingering unease still remained. If he had been the one to hear such words, how would he have reacted? ''I have no idea.'' He had never faced such a situation. Back in the west, there were few who could compare to his talent. And among them, he was always at the top. So it was a meaningless question. ''He''ll do fine.'' What was the point of worrying? What good was anxiety? Instead of fretting over it, Rem decided to think about ways to further refine his Heart of the Beast. ''When he returns, I''ll put him through the wringer.'' With that newfound resolve, he let go of his concerns. It was easier on his mind. Scrape, scrape. Jaxen absentmindedly moved his dagger along the grain of the wood. He was carving, shaping it into something sharp and pointed. As his hands worked, he repeated Audin''s question in his head. ''You will never become a knight.'' Depending on who said it, the weight of those words could change entirely. If the one speaking was the Frog, someone with the ability to evaluate talent¡ª ''Would it be shocking?'' By normal standards, yes, it would be. Such a statement could upend someone''s entire life. If someone told him that the thing he wanted the most, the goal he had devoted himself to, was utterly unattainable¡ª ''I''d probably carve their throat open.'' But what if it was Enkrid? What if it was the squad leader? ''Would it shake him?'' Scrape. Jaxen continued carving, letting his thoughts flow. What if the squad leader returned only to say he was leaving? ''Might be a relief.'' If that happened, he could simply go his own way. Scrape. Jaxen steadied himself through his carving. He''d feel relieved, but perhaps a little disappointed as well. Could he truly become a knight? A small part of him was curious to see it through¡ªto witness the result of all that effort. Lick. Esther licked her front paw and groomed her fur, imagining someone telling her she wouldn''t be able to cast a spell tomorrow. ''I''d set their mouth on fire.'' The younger version of herself certainly would have. She had lived with the whispers of being called a witch. Worry? Anxiety? Instead of wasting time on those things, she would simply recite another spell. Such concerns were pointless. Even if Enkrid were to abandon everything and leave, it had little to do with her. What mattered to her was the strange dispelling effect that occurred when she was near him¡ª Not his sword. Not his strength. Certainly not his dreams. But still¡ª ''It would be a shame.'' She had never seen someone burn with such passion before. It left a small sense of regret. That didn''t mean she would try to stop him. She wouldn''t visit his dreams to convince him, nor waste her magic on something foolish. ''Even so...'' Just for tonight, she thought she might step into his dreams. Perhaps she''d hum him a lullaby from long ago. The kind that brought peace of mind. The bear-like squad member who had asked the question¡ª Audin¡ªwas fairly certain that their squad leader was undergoing a change. ''Is that an inevitable truth, my Lord?'' Perhaps it would have been better if he had remained ignorant, swinging his sword without thinking. The same trials came for those who sought to become holy knights, and Audin had witnessed them before. It happened when they started to understand things. When they began to feel the changes in themselves. That was when the most terrifying trials began. What did it feel like to be a mediocre talent, watching someone surpass you? What about when a so-called "late-blooming genius" suddenly awakened? Some, consumed by jealousy and resentment, had turned their backs on the Lord. ''My Lord, You say trials are given to those who need them. Then... is this also a necessary trial? It must be, right?'' His words became a silent prayer. A strange silence lingered in the barracks. No one openly expressed their unease. If only Vengeance were here to blurt something out. Then at least he could refute it¡ªtell him he didn''t understand their squad leader. Ragna had probably followed out of concern as well. Sunlight streamed through the square window, and as time passed, the light dimmed. Dust floated in the air, illuminated in the fading glow. If Krais were here, he''d probably say they ought to clean the place up. By the time the evening set in and hunger began to creep in, they were all considering grabbing a meal. The squad members and Esther kept to themselves, maintaining the silence. Rem threw his axe up and caught it in place. Whoosh. Thud. The sound of the axe spinning in the air and the dull noise of it being caught broke the silence. Audin remained kneeling, motionless. Jaxen continued carving, the soft scrapes of his blade filling the room. Esther licked her paw. It was around this time¡ª Training or not, eating was important. Their squad leader should be returning soon. Thunk. Creak. The door opened, and everyone''s gaze turned forward. The sound of the axe spinning and the blade carving ceased, bringing about complete silence. "...What the hell? Were you waiting for me?" Finn paused halfway through the door, her foot just inside the barracks. Something about the atmosphere felt odd as everyone stared blankly at her. "...Don''t block the way. Move aside." Enkrid''s voice came from behind. Finn stepped inside, making way. Naturally, everyone''s gaze turned to Enkrid. Sword, knight, dream. What he had seen and experienced from Aishia. Once again, a burning desire flared in Enkrid''s eyes. That heat and yearning reached Ragna as well. It was something he could feel just by looking. ''As expected.'' If he were someone who wavered and gave up easily, he wouldn''t be able to inspire Ragna at all. "A sword that radiates light, a single strike cutting down hundreds¡ªsuch feats are impossible even for a knight. However, if one receives a knight''s rank or attains an equivalent enlightenment, no matter what weapon they hold, they can systematically cut down and pierce through hundreds." Ragna was surprised at how fluently the words flowed from his mouth. But it made sense. He had once declared that knighthood was his dream, so he had long anticipated saying these words someday. He had prepared for this moment. Once, he had told Enkrid to wait¡ªnot yet. Was it after seeing the squire knight perform well on the battlefield? Back then, he had asked them to be patient. Now, it was time to fulfill that promise. It was time to give those who waited an answer¡ªsomething close to one, at least. "How is that possible?" It was a question Ragna himself had once asked. Of course, he had found the answer rather quickly. There had been no need for hesitation. The path was already laid out; he simply had to walk it. But for others, reaching that path required blood and sweat. That difference¡ªand the burning ambition born from that gap¡ª ignited a fire within Ragna''s chest, as it always did. "To become a knight, pick the most talented one out of ten thousand people. From there, one out of a thousand of the most talented is chosen, and from those, only one in a hundred makes it further. Then, from that hundred, only ten are selected to truly stand out. There are many who can wield a sword well. Quite a few surpass their limits. But those who awaken to ''Will'' are rare." That was why the knight orders had so few members. "Wow, wouldn''t knowing that just make people even more discouraged?" From the back, the Frog added her unsolicited comment. At some point, she had settled onto the floor, resting her arms on her knees as if watching a show. Ragna ignored her. Enkrid ignored her as well. Enkrid was focused entirely on Ragna''s words, listening intently, engraving them into his mind. This was a moment when a new milestone was being carved into his path. "Will is the collective term for all the power that allows a knight to transcend human limits. In other words, Will is the determination, and determination is Will. The first step to understanding Will is reaching the limits of humanity''s potential." Only a select few, after refining their talents to the utmost, experience surpassing their limits. And of those select few, an even smaller number awaken to Will. That number could be one in ten thousand. Or sometimes, not even that. Will¡ªsome call it sheer willpower, others call it an unknown force. It was an enigma, but it was the power knights obtained after surpassing human boundaries. Simply put, without Will, one could never become a knight. That was the essence of Ragna''s words. "What happens when you reach your limit?" Desire and ambition intertwined, moving Enkrid''s lips. "That''s when it begins. As for what comes after awakening the Will, well..." Ragna stopped mid-sentence. Was his method even correct? He wasn''t sure. Did that mean he should share everything he knew? Ragna believed his understanding was too limited. Would this be enough? As doubt crept in, he fell silent. Surprisingly, it was Frog who filled the gap. "Some people realize it after swinging their sword ten thousand times alone. Others find it through repeated meditation. And some awaken the moment they encounter Will. But anyway¡ªhow was it? Aishia''s pressure?" Frog explained, then asked. Enkrid turned toward her, his gaze landing on those bulging, frog-like eyes. "I saw an illusion of blades rushing toward me." How should he describe it? Putting it into words felt childish. A storm of blades? A tidal wave of swords? "You''ve got a good sense." Frog chuckled, letting out a gurgling sound¡ªher way of laughing. "Whatever you call it, my opinion is firm¡ªyou won''t make it." Still seated, the Frog propped her chin up on one hand. Was there ever a time Frog''s judgment of talent was wrong? Yes, there were times. Nothing in the world was absolute. Neither was a Frog. They were neither perfect nor infallible. They were not gods. Even so, there were things they could see. Potential. If there was even the slightest glimpse of it, then it was possible. But in Enkrid, there was nothing. Not the faintest trace. Honestly, it was astonishing that he had even reached his current level. ''He must have survived countless near-death experiences.'' Frog''s keen instincts told him that Enkrid''s skills had been forged through at least hundreds of brushes with death. His strength was the result of narrowly clinging to life. And yet¡ª Standing before her, this man with black hair and blue eyes, with his strikingly handsome yet slightly peculiar appearance¡ª His gaze was unwavering. How? Grrrk. Frog''s cheeks puffed up before settling again. This time, it was admiration. A frog''s emotions always showed through it''s cheeks. Of course, humans couldn''t tell whether it was anger, joy, admiration, or sorrow. Enkrid suddenly recalled past memories. All those who had told him, ''You won''t make it.'' It had always been the same. People said the path he walked was the wrong one. That the entire world was against it. Yes, always. So, this time was no different. "I see." His response was dull, merely a polite acknowledgment of the other''s standing. And that was it. No matter what Frog''s intentions were, Enkrid would walk his own path. That was his duty. The journey toward the dream he could never forget. He was a wanderer in search of his dream. A traveler following the milestones on his path. "In that case, may I ask the next question? How does one reach their limit?" Enkrid turned back to Ragna, speaking once more. Once again, Ragna found himself admiring his unchanging nature. Even knowing it, he was impressed. Because he knew, he was impressed. "You refine all your skills to their utmost. Only you can recognize when you''ve reached your own limit. And once you reach that limit..." Ragna''s words started to tangle. As usual. Enkrid nodded and cut him off. "Oh, got it." In other words, just do as he always did. That was how Enkrid understood it. Ragna had given a plausible explanation, only to end with another string of difficult words. Why make something so simple sound so complicated? "Hey, isn''t this the part where you''re supposed to kneel and lament, ''Is this all my talent amounts to?''" The Frog asked, rolling her eyes in exaggerated motion. "No time for that." Enkrid answered plainly and swung his sword. Looking back on what he had, reviewing it, and moving forward. That was what he always did. So he did it again. ''That guy is definitely crazy.'' The Frog''s cheeks puffed up even more. A loud gurgling sound followed¡ªthis time, a sign of intense curiosity. Ragna watched Enkrid. The Frog, all the same, observed the man who had given her a reason to stay. A man with black hair and blue eyes¡ªher goal was never Ragna. From the start, it had been Enkrid. This wasn''t talent assessment. It was pure intuition, shaped by experience. ''That kind of guy is bound to cause trouble.'' He couldn''t become a knight. Then what would he become? That question piqued the Frog''s curiosity. ''Might as well watch a little longer.'' With that, the Frog decided to stay. Enkrid swung his sword. Again and again, as always. Whether the Frog was watching or Ragna was watching, he honed his fundamentals. The signpost came into view once more. A faded dream began to take on color. While others feared his despair and ruin, Enkrid alone saw hope. They called it Will. Some described it as sheer determination, but others spoke of it as something mystical. All he had to do was learn it. To reach the limit and break past it. Was that such a big deal? He had done it countless times before. That was all there was to it. Chapter 154 - This Guy Is the Craziest Chapter 154 - 154 - This Guy Is the Craziest Chapter 154 - This Guy Is the Craziest It happened the moment they entered the barracks. "The squad leader definitely isn''t normal." Hearing those words from Rem''s mouth, Enkrid felt something strange. Why did this guy always say things like that to him without considering his own state of mind? "And you think you''re in a position to say that?" He said it jokingly, but even with the reprimand, Rem just grinned. What was he so pleased about this time? That smile was extremely irritating. But what was he supposed to do about it? Complain that his grin was annoying? That it was getting on his nerves? It would all just sound like meaningless grumbling. Enkrid simply shrugged. "So, have you finished your training, brother?" Audin, well, looked like he was glowing. He approached like a bear radiating light. In other words, he seemed to be in a very good mood. But why was he coming with his back to the lamp''s glow? That gentle smile of his was the same one he had when he increased the weight during isolation training. "Uh, yeah. I have." Technically, he had added the afternoon training on top of the already insufficient morning session. Even so, his legs weren''t shaking. Now that he thought about it... ''When did it start?'' Even after finishing all his training, he no longer felt like he was going to die. It was bearable. Unless he recklessly pushed through using Heart of the Beast. As he stood there, lost in thought¡ª "I have things to do." Jaxen brushed past him and disappeared. That guy seemed to spend more time outside wandering around than in the barracks ever since returning to the unit. Though today, he seemed to be heading out a little later than usual. "Grr." Esther had claimed Enkrid''s bed and was waving a front paw at him. It looked like a gesture telling him to come over. "Yeah, I''m here." Would anyone seeing him now think he was a lunatic talking to a panther? Well, who cared? ''Struggling desperately to become a knight probably looks crazier anyway.'' He hadn''t given up on his dream. Just because he held firm in his beliefs and was stubborn beyond reason didn''t mean he shut his eyes and ears to the world. Not completely, at least. Enkrid had a rough idea of how people, especially those meeting him for the first time, perceived him. ''Probably like a half-crazed guy.'' He looked normal on the outside, but his actions were incomprehensible¡ªa madman of sorts. At least, he wasn''t as bad as Rem. It wasn''t much comfort, but surely, he wasn''t as insane as that. He wasn''t swinging an axe at his superior''s head, after all. That had to be a hundred times worse. As if sensing something, Rem spoke. "Why do you have that weird look in your eyes?" Rem had an annoyingly sharp intuition. "It''s nothing." Enkrid averted his gaze from those gray eyes and suggested they get something to eat. It was time to eat and drink. Resting when one should rest was important. "I suppose so. I''ll go ahead and secure seats at the mess hall." Krais moved first. Meanwhile, Enkrid quickly washed himself in the barracks'' bathhouse. No one dawdled; they all headed to the mess hall. Enkrid also finished freshening up, picked up Esther, and went out. It wasn''t a special meal, but the mess hall at Border Guard wasn''t bad. Though, picky eaters might disagree. "Is there no bread?" Ragna asked. "You look like you''d eat dirt need be, yet you''re always so picky." The group sat around a table, taking up a central spot in the mess hall. People were casting glances their way. It wasn''t unusual for the so-called madmen to draw attention, but¡ª This time, there was a Frog among them. Gurgle. It seemed like the Frog was watching as Rem scolded Ragna. Its large, bulging eyes, reminiscent of a toad''s, were fixed on the two. "I don''t want to speak to a lowly barbarian tonight." "Huh? You want me to feed you directly? Too lazy to chew and digest on your own? Should I just shove the food straight into your gut?" Rem made a chopping motion across his stomach as he spoke. These guys were consistent, at least. "The lamb is pretty good. Nicely seasoned." Enkrid interjected at just the right moment, right before Rem and Ragna could start a conversation with their axe and sword. "...Tsk." "Is that so?" The two broke their staring contest. Lately, Enkrid had noticed they were listening to him more. It was a bit surprising every time. In fact, he had been feeling something odd for a while. ''Why me?'' Why did fights end when he stepped in? Why was he able to act as the squad leader here? All he had done was treat them honestly and straightforwardly. He spoke his mind, asked when he was curious, and was blunt yet respectful. That was it. ''No, rather than listening to me, maybe they''ve just gotten closer?'' It was something only he seemed to notice, but lately, their fights didn''t feel like real fights. They stopped at merely testing each other''s skills. Even before, they spoke harshly but respected each other''s boundaries. But now, it was as if they had erased those boundaries entirely, yet still didn''t actually fight. ''Like predators bonding on the plains.'' As Enkrid was musing to himself¡ª Gulp. Beside him, the Frog was munching on some salad and spoke. "Fresh vegetables... This city must be quite prosperous." "Trade comes before farming here, so we actually get fresh produce more often." Krais responded. The Frog nodded and then added¡ª "There were empty spots in the barracks. I''ll stay for a few days." "...?" Other than salad, there wasn''t much a Frog could eat. Since they only consumed insects and plants. Yet no one reacted to what she just said. Enkrid for one, wasn''t sure what he was hearing. Starting with Enkrid, doubts were already forming. This guy was a Frog. A noble being coming from the main unit. And yet, where did she say she would stay? Everyone cast curious glances. It was the Frog who spoke, not even sparing them a glance as she ate. Enkrid asked, "Where do you plan to stay?" The Frog answered, "Next to you will do." No matter how others treated him, Enkrid at least maintained basic courtesy. Wasn''t he the captain? To a stranger, he might seem half-insane, but those who knew him well understood¡ª He was probably the only sane person in this mad squad. That was why formal speech naturally came out. Enkrid assumed the frog-man before him would be leaving soon. The Frog wasn''t originally part of this unit, after all. If she had stayed just to say he couldn''t become Enkrid''s knight, she was wasting an unnecessary amount of time. A whole day had passed already¡ªshe should have left by now. The junior knight who had accompanied her was already gone, yet she remained alone. Wasn''t that odd? Of course, everyone had their suspicions. That Ragna¡ªthe Frog''s interest lay with him. That was why no one asked about his whereabouts. Rem and the other squad members weren''t even interested from the start. If he wanted to stay, well, whatever. "Really?" Enkrid, having no need to hide his thoughts, asked bluntly. A strange silence settled over the mess hall. Only the sounds of conversation from other tables filled the space¡ªtalks of gambling, battles, and women. Enkrid let the noise wash over him and focused on the Frog. The Frog shrugged and said nothing more. Enkrid observed him for a moment before setting his doubts aside. Or rather, he let them be. It was just a feeling, but the Frog didn''t seem hostile toward him. More importantly, she was a Frog. If anything, having her around would be beneficial, not a hindrance. It was odd that she insisted on staying in their quarters, but there was no real reason to stop her. "I want to stay in the quarters too." Finn raised her hand as she spoke, her mouth smeared with lamb sauce. She wasn''t the type to eat gracefully. She was a Ranger¡ªsomeone who lived with the moon as her companion and the night sky as her blanket. Expecting proper table manners from her would be laughable. Especially in the barracks, where no one bothered with etiquette when filling their stomachs. Only the Frog showed some refinement. Enkrid didn''t know for sure, but if he had to guess, perhaps nobles ate like that. She carefully moved the greens to her plate, finely chopped them, and placed them in her mouth. Of course, her eating style remained uniquely Frog-like¡ªflicking out her tongue to snatch her food. "Do as you like." Enkrid permitted it. They hadn''t officially joined the squad, but simply staying in the quarters wouldn''t be an issue. ''Should I report this?'' Probably. If they wanted to stay, then they could stay. Enkrid mused on the matter while chewing. The lamb sauce was quite good. A subtle herbal aroma, the right amount of fat, and a balance of spiciness and sweetness filled his mouth. The seasoning was excellent. Compared to usual, the meal was surprisingly pleasant. "Brother, today''s lamb is excellent." Audin chuckled. "Does that suits your taste, you directionally challenged bastard?" "Mind your own business and keep eating. Ah, that thing next to you is called a fork¡ªif you don''t know how to use it, just leave it." Rem and Ragna bickered, but there was no real hostility. Considering that, this was... rather peaceful. When he first entered the quarters, the atmosphere had felt suffocating. "They''re all insane. Every single one of them." Finn muttered. She was an experienced Ranger. She had met all kinds of people through various experiences¡ª But never had she encountered a group as peculiar as this madmen squad. Their skills, their personalities¡ªnone of them fit the definition of normal. Finn kept chewing her meat. The lamb, marinated to perfection, was exquisite today. "By the way, what about Andrew and Mac?" Krais asked as he chewed his lamb. He sure noticed quickly. Enkrid recalled his spar with Andrew the previous night and answered, "They''re discharging." "Huh?" Andrew was originally the heir of House Gardener. He had a duty to restore his family. Just before leaving, he had said¡ª "I''ve learned how to never give up by watching you. I will do the same. One day, I will see you again under the name of Gardener." His tone had been confident. His eyes, filled with ambition. His stance, overflowing with certainty. Enkrid had let him go. That night, Andrew and Mac had left the unit. Reporting it had been Enkrid''s job. The Fairy Company Commander had readily accepted it. "If you''re sad about losing numbers, I''ll fill in the gaps, Independent Platoon Leader." At those words, Enkrid had shaken his head. An independent platoon sounded nice in name¡ª But if they took in just anyone, they wouldn''t last. Only someone of Andrew''s caliber could even hope to survive here. ''I heard all the previous squad leaders died, too.'' Rather than increasing numbers recklessly, maintaining their current state was better if it worked. "We''re fine as we are." When he declined politely, the Fairy Company Commander had joked, "Then should I join you myself?" To which Enkrid had flatly refused and quickly left. Shoving away memories of last night, he continued, "They''re not coming back. We''ll keep the current structure for now." "Ah, got it." Krais, seemingly aware of the situation, let it go without further questioning. "What? One of my toys left without even telling me?" At those words, Rem shot up from his seat. "Hm?" "I''ll go ahead." With that, Rem dashed out. "I''m sleepy, so I''m off." Ragna stood up as soon as he finished eating. "It is time for prayer." Audin also left. Having finished off the remaining food, Enkrid rinsed his mouth with the cheap tea in the mess hall and stepped outside. Instead of heading toward the barracks, he made his way toward the training ground. Behind him, the Frog spoke up. "Where are you going?" Enkrid answered indifferently. "I still have training left." It was now time for the evening drills. For the first time, the Frog stopped in her tracks upon hearing that. "You''re training again?" It was the first time since meeting Enkrid that the Frog sounded even remotely surprised. "Of course." Enkrid remained indifferent. Whether Frog stayed or left, whether something happened or not, whether everyone said he could never become a knight¡ªit didn''t matter. There was work to do. So, he would do it. Postponing today''s work until tomorrow? Enkrid wasn''t capable of that. If anything, he was the kind of madman who would pull in tomorrow''s tasks and finish them today. ''This guy is the craziest of them all.'' Frog thought to herself. A unit of madmen? It seemed this man was the craziest of them all. Enkrid believed himself to be the most sane among them. But that was merely his own perception. The eyes of others saw things very, very differently. Chapter 155 - Luagarne, the Frog Chapter 155 - 155 - Luagarne, the Frog Chapter 155 - Luagarne, the Frog Luagarne silently observed the man swinging his sword. The blade fell. From top to bottom. Whoosh. The air-shattering sound rang out, and the scent of metal tickled the Frog''s nose. Luagarne''s talent for discerning potential locked onto the man''s sword. Utterly focused. Utterly meticulous. How could he pour his absolute best effort into every single swing, every single day, every single hour, without fail? The man ate breakfast, then swung his sword. When he set the sword down, he threw his body into training. He repeatedly lifted and lowered heavy stones. After lunch, he swung his sword again. Even when he went to relieve himself, he carried his sword. Sometimes, he incorporated dodging exercises with stones. He also frequently sparred. His opponents were members of his unit. Each and every one of them was far superior to him. ''Are they beyond limits? No, they have already surpassed them.'' How did Luagarne''s talent for discernment work? Observation and insight. Posture and attitude. The speed at which someone improved. It was about reading these foundational aspects. Simply put, it was instinct. Sixth sense, intuition¡ªthe realm of the subconscious. How was judgment formed in that realm? By having seen countless others walk that path. In other words, it required experience. And in that regard, Luagarne was one of the rarest and most gifted among the Froc, possessing the eye for potential. In other words, she had seen much. She had witnessed countless warriors swing their swords and surpass their limits. Watching them, over and over, she had come to understand it at a glance. And her instincts whispered the same thing, over and over again. ''That man can never become a knight.'' To become a knight, one had to first reach the limits of human capability. Even this required a rare level of talent¡ªperhaps one in dozens or even hundreds could achieve it. The next step was to go beyond those limits. This was a level of talent that might emerge in one among thousands. After reaching their limits and surpassing them¡ª ''They must awaken their Will.'' Most people faltered at this stage. It was not a path one could tread with talent alone. Ironically, those most gifted in talent often set their limits too low. The word "best" itself became something to doubt. To put it simply¡ª ''Very few persist with true dedication.'' That was why Luagarne assessed two things when evaluating talent. First, whether someone possessed an aptitude for wielding a sword, fighting, or using their body. Second, whether they had the will to move forward. And what did that will entail? The strength to believe in their talent without arrogance, to persist through the monotonous and grueling journey ahead. The second factor couldn''t be judged at a glance¡ªit had to be observed over time. But if someone lacked the first, there was no need to consider the second. ''Yet for some reason...'' Luagarne found her gaze drawn to this man who trained tirelessly from morning to night, swinging his sword, sparring, getting beaten down, and refining himself. Of course, his appearance played a role as well. The Frogs had a peculiar aesthetic sense. They judged beauty and ugliness in humans. By that standard, everyone in the unit, including Enkrid, passed with flying colors. ''Naturally.'' Enkrid had black hair and blue eyes, standing tall and upright. If Luagarne were to describe him, she''d say he had an impressive back. And what about that man named Rem? Judging by talent alone, Rem and the others were all qualified¡ªexcept they didn''t awaken Will yet. Well, Will had an element of luck to it. That was something beyond control. The Frog''s talent for discernment saw possibilities, not prophecies. Regardless of talent, though, he was quite something to look at. Rem''s gray hair and unpredictable nature were like a blade without a hilt. If she were to introduce Rem to other Frogs, she would put it like this: He possessed a dangerous allure. Jaxen was similar in some ways, yet different. Reddish-brown hair and those dull eyes¡ª ''He reminds me of... a poisonous flower.'' Beautiful on the outside, but the moment you touched it, the poison seeped in. A so-called Poison Flower. And what about Audin? Setting aside his skill¡ª "I should call you Sister, then." Despite his massive build, his eye for detail was sharp. A delicate bear¡ªyes, that was the impression he gave. The entire unit had likely picked up on the fact that Luagarne was a female Frog, but this giant among them had realized it immediately. They were all exceptionally perceptive. ''Golden hair and red eyes are quite appealing, too.'' Then there was Ragna. A man from the North, reminiscent of the warm glow of a lazy afternoon sun. At times, he burned intensely, but overall, he had that kind of presence. As for talent? Among them, Luagarne judged Ragna to be the most gifted. But talent and skill did not always go hand in hand. She knew that from experience. How had such individuals all gathered here? ''A few of them seem to have brushed against the edge of Will.'' But simply brushing against it did not mean they had grasped it. The path to knighthood was treacherous, steep, and daunting. Many reached that threshold, only to stagnate and remain there forever. Yet still, Luagarne''s gaze remained fixed on Enkrid. Her eyes followed his every movement, capturing everything. And despite all her thoughts, what fascinated her the most¡ª Was still the man before her. "Hup." Enkrid inhaled and moved. Sweat scattered into the air with his motion. It was a mid-range horizontal slash of the heavy sword stance¡ªalso known as the spinning slash. Maintaining his central axis, he pivoted on his left foot and struck with all his might. Chapter 222 - Unknown Paths "Where did you learn that?" He had been properly trained. His fundamentals were solid. And beyond that¡ª "He doesn''t know how to give up." It had only been a few days, yet nothing had changed. He remained the same. Geniuses often showed unbelievable growth within mere days. Considering that, one had to wonder how Enkrid had managed to build up such skill. When progress isn''t visible, it''s hard to even keep trying. So, if one didn''t admire him, it would be a lie. For a Frog, indulging in their desires was as essential as life itself. She was faithful to her own. Each Frog pursued a different kind of desire. Some staked everything on ''spiritual love.'' Others devoted their hearts to the achievements gained through training. Luagarne was weak to the unknown. Even though she had lived for a long time, she now faced something she had never seen before. "Isn''t it boring just watching?" The unknown spoke to her. Luagarne let out a deep chuckle. Her cheeks puffed up. "Are you saying you want to see my weapon?" "Rather than just seeing it, I think I''d prefer to face it." A man who refused to give up, challenging his limits. There were many humans like that. Luagarne had seen plenty of them. However¡ª "He''s truly fascinating." She had never seen someone like him¡ªwho continued crawling forward without even the slightest hesitation. Who truly never wavered. There was no despair, no frustration. He completely erased those things. He acknowledged what he had and accepted it, then simply did what he could. People often said such things, but how many could actually put them into practice? "Probably just him." Regardless of his natural talent, his will to move forward shone brightly. So much so that it was almost blinding. "If, by some impossible chance, the coin thrown by the Goddess of Fortune lands not on heads or tails, but standing on its edge¡ª" A coin has only two sides, yet by some absurd probability, it could land upright. Luck was always irrational. "If¡ªjust if¡ªthat were to happen..." If the man before her were to grasp Will. The thought thrilled her. The unknown itself set Luagarne''s heart ablaze. Luagarne rose to her feet. "Shall we play?" It was only natural for her to show interest. Others might think she remained because of Ragna. "But I''ve seen countless people like that." Ragna was not an unknown to her. Only the man before her was. Enkrid¡ªhis name was now etched into her memory. "It''s been a long time." For the first time in ages, the Frog Luagarne felt even the stirrings of spiritual love. *** ''Becoming a knight.'' The thought was now firmly in his mind. The path was set. Facing one''s limits¡ª That was something he had done countless times before. "People do not know their own limits. So, what should they do?" Ragna had shown him the way. The answer was in the question. "Keep walking." Even if he had to crawl, he just needed to move forward. In other words, he simply had to keep doing what he had always done. Face his limits, break through them, and move forward. And the moment he surpassed them, he would awaken the unknown power called ''Will.'' A straightforward and absolute truth. Enkrid knew his own talents well. He always acknowledged, accepted, and embraced them. He simply never despaired afterward. "A whip, huh." Lying on his back, Enkrid muttered as he stared at the sky. There was a common assumption that Frogs mostly wielded blades. It was a preconception, nothing more. The Frog before him wielded a whip. Its handle formed a loop, and it coiled into a circular shape. The length was about one and a half times that of a spear. It curved like a snake and wrapped around his ankle, pulling him down. He slashed, deflected, and dodged. But after ten exchanges, he still found himself falling backward. ''Why didn''t it work?'' It was something worth pondering. Once he found the answer, it would be another step forward. "You''re quite an amusing human." The Frog spoke. "Your name?" It was only then that Enkrid thought to ask. "Luagarne. You can call me Lua." "You can call me Enki." It wasn''t a formal exchange of names. It was merely a way to acknowledge each other, to make the time they would inevitably share a little smoother. Enkrid answered and stood up. There was no time to rest just because he had fallen. Training had begun at dawn, and now it was well past noon. There was still plenty of time to move. "One more round?" As he stood, Enkrid asked. At his words, Luagarne let out a chuckle. "Of course." Once again, he took up his sword. They clashed, crossed blades, and explored new paths. He pondered what Will truly was and considered ways to reach his limits. That was his task. Enkrid continued swinging his sword, dedicating himself to his training. From time to time, he watched Finn and Audin spar. A duel between Eil karaz-style and Valaf-style martial arts. It ended more one-sidedly than expected, but even that had lessons to offer. Jaxen still frequently disappeared. Krais was poring over some map he had found, groaning in frustration. A month had passed since the battle ended. The weather was beginning to warm. Even while standing still, sweat trickled down his body. "The kingdom''s territory has expanded with this overwhelming victory in battle. Let us celebrate this triumph!" A festival that wasn''t quite a festival was held. Unlike previous gatherings, food and alcohol were distributed throughout the entire city. Even then, Enkrid continued swinging his sword. "You really are a boring human." Frogs loved festivals. After all, wasn''t the purpose of life to enjoy and revel in it? Even then, Luagarne watched Enkrid as he swung his sword. Surely, swinging a sword every day couldn''t be more entertaining than a festival. ''Why do I find this so enjoyable to watch?'' It was something unknowable. A mystery. And that made it exciting. Time passed. Aspen declared its surrender. Three months went by. Now, even standing still, sweat poured down in streams. "This summer feels longer than usual," Rem muttered. Enkrid let the comment pass as he swung his sword. Three months had passed. The frog, Luagarne¡ªshe was still there. And Finn hadn''t left either. She was originally a scout. By now, it seemed about time for her to be assigned to a new squad. "Haven''t heard anything yet." Had the battalion commander forgotten about her? Or did he think she fit in well here and left her be? It wasn''t Enkrid''s concern. He just kept swinging. Again and again. That was how he spent the three months. "Rem, Rem." Over the past three months, the Frog had finally gotten comfortable speaking with the other squad members. "What?" "How the hell did you teach him that?" The frog flicked out her long tongue in exasperation. "Heh, if you''d seen him before, you''d have been even more shocked." Rem laughed as he answered. It was true. Even the frog was astonished¡ªby the fact that Enkrid''s skills hadn''t improved. Despite swinging his sword every day, despite training relentlessly, Enkrid remained stagnant. At least, that was how it appeared to her. And that only made her more amazed. Effort was a talent too. To push oneself, to grow stronger, one had to see progress, however small. ''What the hell is going on in his head?'' Frogs was simply curious about what was inside Enkrid''s mind. For three whole months, he had been at a standstill. At least, that was how it seemed to her. Enkrid, however, thought differently. Chapter 156 - Learning, Practicing, Teaching, and Understanding Chapter 156 - 156 - Learning, Practicing, Teaching, and Understanding Chapter 156 - Learning, Practicing, Teaching, and Understanding A bird chirped. The wind blew. The summer sky, basking in the radiant sun, quickly gave rise to the heat. Enkrid felt the heat boiling both inside and out. For the past three months, rumors had spread¡ªon the surface, peace remained, yet behind the scenes, another war was brewing. In the end, Aspen stepped back. No war. No battles. So, what did those left in the barracks do? Training and rest¡ªthat was all. Many took on mercenary commissions through the military''s soldier-for-hire system. But Enkrid never found himself lacking in Krona. His two swords remained intact. Krais diligently handed over the Krona he earned through the guild. So, most of Enkrid''s time was spent training. And yet, progress was slow¡ªat least, to the eyes of others. The word "stagnation" was frequently spoken. Stagnation meant stopping. Most believed Enkrid was at a standstill. But he thought otherwise. Why wouldn''t he? ''Will.'' Until now, what had Enkrid''s dream been? A specter he could never grasp. A darkness he could never see. It was an unreachable sky because he could neither grasp it nor see it. But now, he saw the steps leading to that sky. He heard them, and they took shape. They were what people called milestones. For Enkrid, ''Will'' was exactly that¡ªa staircase, a milestone. The same went for breaking past his limits. Stagnation? No. He was nothing like his past self. How could that be stagnation? Even if others saw him as unmoving, Enkrid could see his own growth. How had he come this far? It was thanks to everything he had ingrained into his body. The Heart of the Beast, the Sense of the Blade, the Focused Point, the Isolation Technique. "If there is a foundation for swordsmanship," could there also be a foundation for creating talent? He didn''t know. But wasn''t that exactly what was happening within his own body? Through the Focused Point, at times with the Heart of the Beast, and other times by sharpening his senses¡ªhe constantly revisited and refined his experiences. For three months, that had been Enkrid''s sole focus. And in that time, soldiers had come seeking him. He realized firsthand what it meant to improve through teaching. "Let''s have a match." The 1st Company and the Frontier Defendersa. These two units were considered elite among Boder Guard''s standing forces. At first, even regular soldiers came to challenge him. But now, only those from these units sought him out. Sparring was always welcome. "Good." Enkrid greeted them calmly. Soon, two men faced each other, sweat pouring as they tested their skills. Enkrid won every time. The difference now was that he no longer needed to rely on grappling techniques. He put aside the Valen-style mercenary swordplay and focused on fundamentals. That was enough. When sparring with Rem and the other squad members, he used everything he had. But with these men, he didn''t need to. Through teaching and learning¡ª ''They overreach.'' Some soldiers stood out. Those who attempted to learn too much at once, disrupting their own fundamentals. "Isn''t this more efficient?" They often responded this way when he pointed out their flaws. He had thought the same way before. Efficiency and rational combat techniques. Even now, he used them extensively. But that was a combat strategy, not a training method. He had once tried to absorb as much as possible in a single day. Had it ever worked? Even now, he couldn''t fully grasp the Sense of Evasion. The Heart of the Beast still required preparation time. The Focused Point only activated when his life was on the line. After countless hours of contemplation, he had finally come to a realization. ''Do what I can, step by step.'' And so, he advanced. And advanced again. With that mindset, he endlessly repeated his training. Sometimes, a boatman appeared in his dreams, asking, "What kind of man are you?" But for three months, all he had done was train. As always. One week was lived like today. One month was lived like today. Through this repetition, he gained a new realization. ''Rhythm.'' A necessary element when swinging a sword. For geniuses like Ragna, such things came naturally. But for Enkrid, every step was carefully chewed over and climbed. When he realized something in the morning, his entire day felt light and joyous. When he realized something in the evening, he went to sleep with excitement. Kyaa¡ª Esther followed him everywhere as if cheering him on. She clung to him at night and now even during the day. "You sure are popular with beasts." Even the Frog commented on it. Esther responded by flashing her claws at her, but the two never actually fought. Every other day, the fairy company commander came by. "Would autumn be a good time? For the engagement ceremony?" She would joke. Or, "How about a duel?" She would spar with him before leaving. The fairies'' swords were sharp and light. Even from them, there was much to learn. Teaching while learning. Learning through duels. "Alright, block this." Rem''s axe swings were still brutal and rough, but something had changed. Sometimes, a faint smile played on his lips. "Whoa!" At times, Enkrid even surprised him. An upward strike from below, followed by an off-beat thrust with the left-hand sword. The timing of slashes and thrusts became subtly different, creating a discordant rhythm. His right and left hands moved in separate tempos. The Valen-style mercenary sword technique¡ªCrossing Blades. A phantom swordplay often called dishonorable, yet this was one of its rare, truly refined techniques. It made it seem like the right and left swords moved independently. "That was pretty decent." Rem acknowledged him. Recognition¡ªit brought joy. "You neglect martial arts, and the gods will be displeased." As if practicing Valaf-style martial arts would invoke divine wrath. Nonsense. But Enkrid simply trained with Audin without protest. Valaf-style martial arts combined striking and grappling techniques. Hadn''t he used grappling in the middle of a Balen-style mercenary brawl to kill Mitch Hurrier? He learned and absorbed. The joy of learning. He was acknowledged, learned, and in turn, taught others. And so, he grew. The thrill of growth drove him forward. How could wielding his sword not be enjoyable? ''One step at a time, even if crawling.'' A return to his original mindset. The determination he started with. For Enkrid, this was simple. For others, it was astonishing. Especially for Froq, who watched him closely. Of course, Enkrid was more focused on observing his own growth than worrying about others'' gazes. He even trained his dynamic vision and sensory awareness in between everything else, leading a busier life than anyone. Of the soldiers who had once followed his training, only a few remained committed. Was it due to the relaxed discipline after the battle ended? Or was that simply human nature? As more soldiers indulged in leisure, fewer dedicated themselves to training. But there were still those who remained. Some stood out. Among them, the best sparring partners were the Border Guards. Sometimes, he sought them out directly for matches. "You''re always welcome." The guard captain always welcomed him. He sparred with him and others. But an old acquaintance, Torres, shook his head. "I''m not fighting you anymore." "Why?" "Look, there''s no point in a fight I know I''ll lose." This was the talk of those discussing elite soldiers. Some reignited their competitive spirit, but Enkrid went one step further. Three months. Time was always an arrow that had already been shot. For Enkrid, it was a single day. It was today. It was a process of moving toward tomorrow. "The rhythm isn''t just one. You already knew that, didn''t you?" Perhaps they thought watching alone wouldn''t be enough to understand. Or maybe they were simply getting bored of staying here. Even the Frog, Luagarne, began to teach Enkrid. "I was just about to say that." Ragna murmured as he watched, though it was precisely the words needed at that moment. Rhythm. Tempo. That''s right. It doesn''t have to be just one. Hadn''t he already learned that through Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship? Clashing blades utilized off-beat timing for double attacks. There were extended, drawn-out rhythms. There were short and firm beats. There were tempos sustained with core strength, enduring through the motion. And so, he continued learning. "If you shift the beat from the standard rhythm, then in a single step¡ªno, right there, move your left foot half a step forward. Then you''ll be able to execute a mid-sword spinning slash." Luagarne was quite proactive. Why was this Frog staying by his side? Why was she eating and sleeping at the barracks, lingering here? Why was she teaching him? Enkrid pushed aside all these questions. No, he decided to forget them. When someone teaches, he learns. Always craving knowledge, Enkrid followed through. "Then, what if I step my right foot back here?" "That would make it difficult to recover your sword. Instead, do it like this." Ragna also stepped in. Somehow, things had turned out like this, and everyone seemed more engaged than before. "No, you can do it this way too." Rem joined in. It was a step where balance was maintained on the toes while twisting the body. A sword wielded according to various situations, feet adjusting accordingly, eyes reacting in sync. "Broaden your senses. You''ve already learned this." Jaxen''s advice slipped in. That''s right. He had already learned. Hadn''t he expanded his senses while fighting? Instead of only looking ahead, he had learned to see everything. To spread his awareness outward from himself. "Squad leader, every movement has a center. It''s the same for both martial arts and swordsmanship. Establish a centerline and connect it to your opponent. That''s the key." Audin added his teachings. Everyone was more passionate than before. For Enkrid, it was pure exhilaration. "There is an advantage, I see." That was the Frog''s conclusion after watching everything unfold. "What advantage?" Rem, standing beside him, asked. They were still in the training yard. The sun was still blazing hot. Sweat was still pouring, and the air was thick with exertion. "He doesn''t let go of what he learns." Rem nodded. It was true. Enkrid was not naturally talented. He was slow to grasp things, slow to learn. People called him a late-blooming genius. ''Well, I don''t know about that.'' But one thing was certain. He never forgot what he learned. He constantly pondered over it, endlessly seeking ways to learn. How could he apply what he learned? How should he execute it? In what way should it be used? He constantly questioned, and it showed. That was a strength in itself. Rem thought so. Meanwhile, the Frog finally realized what he had been doing all this time. ''Was it his face that captivated me?'' Or was it his nature? Teaching someone without visible talent, paving a path for them with such passion¡ª Wasn''t it terribly inefficient? Well, not that she minded. Frogs like her were beings driven by desire and instinct. Luagarne knew he was no exception. Of course, there was something beyond mere desire. More precisely, to avoid being ruled entirely by instinct, she had forged a pact. A promise, a vow¡ªsomething a Frog must uphold. ''I''ll have to return eventually.'' Even as she thought that, Luagarne continued to teach Enkrid. Considering he had been learning and training for three months straight, progress was slow. At least, from Luagarne''s perspective. Between the Frog''s gaze and the squad''s teachings, Enkrid revisited the rhythm and ingrained techniques into his body once more. Mastery¡ªso close that he felt like he was touching the limits. Of course, in reality, he was nowhere near them, but he didn''t even have a grasp of what "reaching the limits" truly meant. Then¡ª "You''re being summoned." The Fairy Company Commander had come looking for him. "Yes." Dripping with sweat, Enkrid followed behind her. Even the Fairy Commander''s forehead was damp with sweat. That''s how hot it was. The humidity was oppressive. It felt like it would rain soon. It would probably rain within a day or two. He knew from experience. "You''re here?" The place he was summoned to¡ªthe Battalion Commander''s office. "A request has come in. What do you think?" The mercenary soldier system allowed soldiers to accept requests at will, but sometimes, orders came from above. Though rare, if the mission was beyond the capabilities of regular soldiers, squad or company-level forces were deployed. According to Krais, recently, monsters and beasts had been running rampant within the kingdom. It was common for such things to happen as summer approached, but this year seemed particularly severe. ''The heat of summer fuels the proliferation of monsters and beasts.'' A well-known saying across the continent. This case was no different. "There''s a frontier village nearby. I''ll grant you temporary command there. I''d like you to handle the situation." The Battalion Commander explained. Since the battlefield of spring had ended early, this summer was unusually spent in the city rather than in battle. All this time, Enkrid had remained in the training yard and barracks. He hadn''t even gone to the market once. He had been too engrossed in the joy of wielding his sword and moving forward. "If you don''t want to go, you can refuse. If you need time to think, you can take it." The Battalion Commander looked fatigued. Was it from dealing with too much work? Or was it a lack of sleep? Probably the former, considering the pile of documents surrounding him. "Yes." Enkrid saluted and turned to leave. As he stepped outside, the Fairy Company Commander gave him a peculiar look. "Why are you looking at me like that?" If he asked, she''d probably say something ridiculous again. "I''m just thinking I really picked the right man." Of course, it was a typical Fairy-style joke. "Is that so?" Ending the trivial conversation, he returned to the barracks. Inside, he found Krais, who had been especially busy lately. As he skimmed through the command document and explained the situation¡ª "We''re going! We have to! It''s an order!" Krais''s eyes sparkled as he spoke. That meant¡ªthis involved Krona. That was what Krais''s reaction signified. The document listed the village''s location and the approximate size of the colony. The issue was a rampaging beast horde. Seeing the location, Krais''s eyes widened. Chapter 157 - A Treasure Beside the Request Chapter 157 - 157 - A Treasure Beside the Request Chapter 157 - A Treasure Beside the Request "Monsters? You said being a knight was your dream, right? Then we have to go. That''s only natural. Isn''t cutting down monsters what knights do?" Krais believed that slaying monsters was the essence of being a knight. But to those who heard him, it sounded quite different. Wasn''t that belittling knights? Reducing a one-man army, capable of turning the tide of battle, to nothing more than a monster hunter? "Besides, it''s a village built by commoners. Shouldn''t we save them? My sense of justice is boiling over." His tone should have been filled with concern, yet it brimmed with greed instead. It was as if his eyes had turned into gold coins. Everyone shared similar thoughts as they looked at Krais. He, however, paid no mind to their gazes. His focus was solely on Enkrid. The decision-maker was what mattered, not the opinions of others. "What is it?" Enkrid, arms crossed, asked. "This big-eyed brat... always trying to drag us somewhere," Rem muttered, half-reclining on his bed, watching idly. Sharp as ever. Krais thought as he turned his secret weapon¡ªhis big, sparkling eyes¡ªtoward his commander. See? My eyes are big, aren''t they? Look at my eyes. Now, you want to take on this mission. His gaze was so clear and innocent that it almost seemed hypnotic. Enkrid pursed his lips before speaking. "Want me to spit in your face?" ''Where''d he get those damn eyes from?'' Krais read the message in Enkrid''s stare. ''Ah, this isn''t working. It''s not getting through.'' Then, what''s next? Krais pondered, but quickly abandoned the thought. He was sharp-witted, quick-thinking, and perceptive. He credited his keen instincts to the hardships of his childhood. Those struggles had taught him well. ''This kind of trick won''t work on the commander.'' He knew it instinctively. This wouldn''t do. So what was left? A frontal assault. Always direct and straightforward. The captain had always treated him and the others that way, so he should do the same. His situational awareness was outstanding. Krais adjusted his approach with astonishing speed. Like a meteor falling from the sky¡ªswift and decisive. "About a hundred years ago, there was a merchant named Dolph, one of the most renowned traders on the continent." He started his story from the past. Hooking the audience came first. Call it the eccentric hobby of a wealthy man. Or perhaps an obsession. One of Dolph''s pastimes was hiding portions of his fortune and creating treasure maps. It was a tale found in the annals of history. "But did this story end as just a legend? Of course not. If that were the case, why would I bring it up?" Krais''s tone gained weight in key moments. He had the persuasion of a skilled storyteller. His words carried passion. Dolph was once the owner of a famous trading company. But just before his death, he siphoned off all his wealth and hid it away. Naturally, those meant to inherit his fortune lost their minds. His six wives practically breathed fire. "Why the hell would you do that?!" Dolph never answered. He simply endured their accusations in silence. All he said was¡ª "If you want my wealth, find the maps." That was the last recorded statement in the old texts. A historian once asked Dolph before his death¡ª "Why create treasure maps?" Dolph''s answer was legendary. "Because it''s fun." Over twenty maps, filled with cryptic codes. The first person to uncover one found treasure. Dolph''s coachman. That man became rich and later formed a trading company¡ªonly to run it into the ground. The second person to decode a map was Dolph''s first wife. She was greedy. She even kept the discovery from her own son, venturing alone to claim her husband''s hidden wealth¡ªonly to fall into a trap and die. That''s right. The coachman was bait. He was Dolph''s final contingency. Contrary to the legend, Dolph had no intention of passing his fortune to anyone. The very idea of his family receiving anything disgusted him. "The truth is, he was barren. A bee that couldn''t make honey." By now, everyone was listening intently. Krais''s storytelling could put most bards to shame. Yes, Dolph was incapable of fathering children. Yet he had six wives and over twenty supposed offspring. It didn''t add up. So, he plotted his revenge. And he hid all his wealth across the continent. Some of the maps had already been uncovered. By a man named Kirgon, the continent''s greatest treasure hunter. Kirgon had already proven it. "The treasure is real." It was a hidden Chapter of history. Krais was well-versed in such matters. Why wouldn''t he be? It was related to Krona. Rumors had long circulated that anyone who found and deciphered these maps would uncover true riches. Kirgon had verified that truth. And now, well¡ª Could luck really be this generous? It was as if the goddess of fortune had kissed him on the cheek while she slept. Back in the previous battle, while scouring the enemy''s stronghold, Krais had picked up a few items. One of them, retrieved from beneath a tree¡ª "Hmm." A map. Reeking as if it had been stored between someone''s thighs. The stench alone made him want to throw it away, but Krais instinctively knew it was no ordinary item. Treasure maps were common. Fakes were even more common. The Gilpin Guild had someone who specialized in identifying such things. A so-called appraiser. Or, in street terms¡ªa fence. After all, knowing how to recognize treasure was key to selling it. "This one looks real." That was all it took. The map was over a century old. The language had changed so much that even the appraiser couldn''t read it. Krais himself had no knowledge of ancient scripts. He struggled to decode it until, unexpectedly, help came from a Frog. Lagarne had once said¡ª "I''m a scholar." A Frog? Though skeptical, Krais didn''t show it. Instead, he simply asked Lagarne to decipher a few characters. Using that, he pieced together the solution. It was Dolph''s sixth map. "There''s treasure. A massive one." Krais stood in the middle of their quarters, passionately delivering his speech. His face flushed from lack of oxygen, having talked nonstop. "The traps are probably too old to function properly. This is basically like picking up a gemstone lying in the street. Someone just covered it in dirt¡ªyou just dust it off and take it!" The story was fascinating. But Enkrid remained unmoved by Krais''s excitement. He gave no clear answer about going to the location on the treasure map. He simply said¡ª "We''ll take the request." Krais was thrilled. "But stopping by that place is undecided as of now." Krais instantly looked crushed. His eyes widened in disbelief, as if thinking, ''How could you?!'' Beside him, Rem snickered. Enkrid had no idea, but the moment Krais realized the map was real, he started scheming to snatch the treasure up. Going alone to search for treasure? That was no different from telling the monsters to feast on his flesh and blood like bread and wine. Then what about going with the guild members? That would just turn the whole expedition into a banquet where both he and his guildmates served as the main course. He needed a group with exceptional skill¡ªone that wouldn''t flinch at the threats of monsters, beasts, or bandits. But hiring mercenaries? That would require at least a squad-sized force. The costs would outweigh the gains. So, his first target was Rem. "How about taking on a request?" "I only take assassination jobs. Three targets max: a scheming stray cat, a lazy glutton, and a lump obsessed with God." Rem wouldn''t even entertain the idea. Would Ragna or Jaxen be any different? He didn''t even bother trying with Audin. That guy barely stepped onto battlefields as it was¡ªtreasure hunting was out of the question. "If Big Eyes swore to dedicate everything as an offering to God." That was the kind of nonsense Audin would spout. Asking the squad leader? That was tough. The guy had been swinging his sword like a lunatic for the past three months. Getting close enough to even talk was a challenge. "I''d even take your help." Asking Esther was a mistake. "Kyaaa!" Esther radiated pure displeasure. Any closer, and she''d claw him again. Ever since the day Krais had tried to sneak a touch to figure out Esther''s gender, the panther had loathed him. No, outright despised him. For a mystical beast, it was fascinating how clearly she expressed emotions. Just when he was about to give up halfway¡ª He liked Krona, sure, but not enough to risk his life. That was Krais''s philosophy. His dream was to run a salon, living the rest of his life without worrying about money. A comfortable spot in the heart of a safe city, enjoying the nightlife at his leisure. Of course, running a salon wasn''t without its risks, but that was just the right amount of thrill to keep life exciting. Anyway, he had half given up on the idea. But then¡ªwhat if the squad leader was going? What was Enkrid''s current skill level? "He''s out of my league." That was the official statement from the frontier defense commander. "If you gave me five sharpshooters and two mages, I might stand a chance." That was the verdict from Torres, another platoon leader. If it took five sharpshooters and two mages just to challenge Enkrid, then even without him, the rest of them should be more than enough. "This is getting interesting." Even Rem acknowledged him. "I want in." That was the fairy company commander''s signature phrase. What did all this mean? It meant that even a swarm of ghouls wouldn''t be able to touch the hem of their leader''s clothes. Honestly, wasn''t their platoon leader a real genius? There was no doubt¡ªhe had seen him fight a Frog with his own eyes. So¡ª "Ah, come on. Let''s go. Let''s just go." Krais pestered him. Enkrid ignored him. "I''ll go too." In the meantime, the Frog had joined in. "Good, good!" Krais was thrilled. "Should I come along too?" Finn raised her hand. She was a ranger¡ªa highly skilled one at that. She wasn''t quite at the level of a walking map-maker, the kind of pathfinder who could chart untraveled terrain. But she could navigate well and fight even better. "Excelllleent!" Krais chimed in again. Enkrid smirked as he watched. There was no need to stop them. If the battalion commander had personally assigned the request to him, that meant¡ª ''A dangerous mission.'' That was precisely why his heart raced, why he had accepted it. But danger should be minimized, so the more people, the better. A monster colony, a frontier village''s protection, temporary command authority¡ªplus the Frog was already part of the team. Wouldn''t it be good to bring Rem or another squad member along? "Wanna come?" Enkrid asked without much thought. No¡ªhonestly, he had some expectation that Rem might agree. "Ah, don''t you see I''m busy?" Rem, already wrapped up in a blanket on his bed, dismissed him lazily. Busy? The guy was busy lazing around. Then how about Ragna? "Not interested." Not interested? Did he want to slack off? Was he feeling short on laziness lately? Ragna was just as glued to his bed. He didn''t even turn his head when he answered. "The Lord has not given me a sign." Audin refused too. Jaxen was nowhere to be seen. He was reportedly on duty, with no time to drop by his quarters. In the end, no one else was coming. Enkrid didn''t mind. If the threat were truly massive, they would have sent a full unit. They wouldn''t have singled him out. The mission was to confirm the presence of a monster colony near the frontier village¡ªand eliminate them if possible. The orders even granted him command over the village''s defense forces. ''If the village has a militia, that should be enough.'' The numbers shouldn''t be lacking too much. That meant he just had to prepare thoroughly before setting out. This world was not kind to travelers¡ªheading out without thorough preparation was reckless. Ordinarily, even a group of four setting off would be questionable. But they had a ranger and a Frog. And by Naurilia''s military standards, he was an elite-grade swordsman. Even in a world crawling with bandits and monsters, this was more than enough. So, it didn''t matter if none of the other squad members wanted to join. "We leave in fifteen days." Enkrid announced. Krais hesitated, still trying to read his expression before speaking up. "Really not taking me?" "We''ll see." Enkrid always meant what he said. He didn''t know how things would play out, so he had to assess the situation on the way. But for Krais, this was his golden chance. The treasure cave he had discovered was right near their destination¡ªa mere day''s journey from the frontier village. "Good. Good!" Krais knew pestering further wouldn''t help. And so, the group began preparing. Travel in this world was never easy. The bare minimum requirement for a traveling merchant was combat ability. Even traders moving between cities traveled in groups of at least ten for protection. This was why mercenaries and Naurilia''s soldier-for-hire system were so popular. Yet here they were, setting out with just four people. There was no concern, but that didn''t mean they could afford to be careless in their preparations. Enkrid decided to head into town for the first time in a while. There were a few things he needed to pick up at the market. Chapter 158 - Gratitude from a Mother Raising Her Son Alone Chapter 158 - 158 - Gratitude from a Mother Raising Her Son Alone Chapter 158 - Gratitude from a Mother Raising Her Son Alone Aspen had been defeated. But it had not collapsed. Winning and losing were things that repeated. No matter how thorough the preparation, problems would arise. Defeat was simply a problem to endure. ''Losing can happen.'' That was how he saw it. But to lose like this? To have everything he had prepared shatter one after another? The strategy he had carefully laid out seemed to be working at first, only to be completely overturned. Even if the battlefield had shifted, did it make sense for everything to be invalidated so thoroughly? Aspen''s genius strategist, Abnaier, had been confident. He hadn''t expected a perfect victory, but he also hadn''t thought they would be so easily pushed back. He had put numerous measures in place. They had brought in giants. They had concealed their forces. They had even lured the enemy into complacency and fed them misleading strategies. The core of the plan had been simple: win the flanking battle and split Naurilia''s main force. Dividing their main force was the fundamental goal, but it had gone wrong from the very start. A defeat in a battle that should not have been lost¡ªthis was the beginning of everything unraveling. Like a single falling bookshelf causing a chain reaction, everything had come crashing down. "This is absurd." The ridiculousness of it all made him mutter aloud. Abnaier ran a hand through his green hair. Through the bright sunlight, he saw a child playing outside the window. A few attendants were chasing after the child. The child suddenly turned and waved toward the window. Abnaier opened the window, resting his elbows on the sill. After returning the wave, he basked in the warmth of the sunlight. It was a pleasant day. The season was warming. The child climbed onto a swing hanging outside. While his eyes followed the child, his mind was retracing the start of the operation. That was how Abnaier worked. ''Why?'' Why had they lost? The entire defeat had begun with the flanking maneuver. A few reports flashed through his mind. Tracing back the cause of the failure. The beginning of the beginning of the beginning. ''The duel between the soldiers.'' That was the first crack. Then Mitch Hurrier had died. And in the end, unexpected forces had displayed overwhelming strength in the flanking battle. At the center of it all¡ªwho had been there? Abnaier had seen the name in a report. It was sent just before one of their commanders had died. The Madmen Platoon. Platoon Leader Enkrid. The name wasn''t unfamiliar. As he recalled, he was the one the Hurrier family had sent assassins after. Just a mere platoon leader? Had such a man been the origin of this entire battle? He didn''t know. At this point, it was just a gut feeling. The intuition of a strategist. The instinct of a commander. ''It won''t be a loss.'' When the Hurrier family had sent assassins, it had seemed like a useless act. But perhaps they had been right. For the sake of the future¡ªmore precisely, the next war after this peace¡ªAbnaier decided to employ assassins. Once again, he targeted a mere platoon leader. Aspen had an ancient assassination guild. Using them would ensure there were no traces left behind. With that decision made, he moved. He stepped away from the window and immediately sent orders to summon the assassination guild under the name of the royal palace. "If they cross the border, the pay triples. Any unreasonable request will be refused." The guild''s reply was swift, and Abnaier responded with a simple note marked with the name ''Krona.'' "A single platoon leader? You''re spending this much Krona on just one man?" The amount was enough to purchase a mansion in Aspen''s capital. The assassination guild had no reason to refuse. It wasn''t like they were being asked to kill a noble of high standing or a key military official. Just a platoon leader. The only risk was crossing the border, but otherwise, it was an easy job. The assassination guild accepted and sent three assassins. "Failure?" The guild master realized he had underestimated the job. "Send in mid-level assassins." After all, hadn''t the half-blood fairy failed before? She had been mid-level as well. That''s why three were sent this time. "Send two more." More assassins were dispatched. "Boss." "Another failure?" No, this was getting strange. Why did every assassin they sent keep dying? "Two mid-level assassins?" "Yes." What was going on? Would they have to send a high-level assassin? At this point, it was time to start considering the losses. "Send a high-level assassin." They always completed the jobs they accepted. More importantly, this was a direct order from the royal palace. While the assassins operated under the guise of an independent guild, the ''Swamp of Monters'' was, in reality, owned by the royal family. The guild master knew this well. If they turned against the palace, their business of killing for profit would be finished. Thus, the high-level assassin was dispatched. "What the hell?!" One of the top ten assassins in Swamp of Monters had failed. They had lost contact entirely. Unless a kind mage had conveniently appeared and removed the tracking magic engraved into their body, they were dead. Sure enough, two days later, the assassin''s severed head was delivered. It arrived at one of Swamp of Monters'' secret hideouts. "Send word to the palace." If they continued, the losses would be too great. The enemy had something. A high-level assassin hadn''t just failed to escape; they had been cut down. And their location had been exposed? A superior force was involved. "That''s my conclusion." The guild master personally entered the royal palace. He explained everything that had happened. He declared that they could not continue the operation. Abnaier let out a quiet laugh. ''The assassination guild failed?'' Even he was baffled. There was no more room, or reason, to push further. "Let''s leave it be." Abnaier gave up. There were too many pressing matters within Aspen. If that man truly had something¡ª If he truly was something¡ª ''We''ll meet again.'' And with that, Abnaier put the name Enkrid behind him. If they were fated to meet on the battlefield, then he would simply accept that fate. A man like that would not be ended by mere assassination. *** A shadow had been lurking around the barracks for days. Their movements were skilled¡ªdisguises so well-crafted that a casual observer wouldn''t recognize them as the same person. Jaxen muted his steps and held his breath. He erased his presence completely to disrupt his opponent''s senses. ''What''s this?'' An assassin. He recognized it instantly. They were from the same trade. From Jaxen''s hand, a thin thread unraveled. A thick, blackened wire coated in special ink and oil to prevent light reflection. It wrapped around the assassin''s neck. Before they could react, Jaxen pulled. His elbow slammed into their back, adding force to the pull. Crack. Their neck twisted unnaturally to the side. A broken neck meant death. That was a fact. Jaxen examined the corpse. If it hadn''t been him, would they have been difficult to handle? The people stationed at Border Guard weren''t fighters; they were intelligence agents. Not defenseless, but not soldiers either. ''The third one.'' Three assassination attempts in the past three months since the battle ended. This one had spent three days lingering near the barracks wall, disguising themselves as a beggar, an old man, a merchant. ''A capable one.'' People like this entering his city¡ª Their target was inside the barracks. If they had been after a company commander, a battalion commander, or a noble, their approach would have been different. The first ones had disguised themselves as new recruits. Their target had been obvious. ''The Madmen Platoon.'' Following the trail, the answer became clear. They were after the platoon leader. They were after Enkrid. Since Enkrid hadn''t left the barracks or training grounds for three whole months, they had decided to go in instead. "Crazy bastards." All this firepower just to take down a mere platoon leader? Jaxen moved carefully to avoid drawing attention, carrying a corpse slung over his shoulder as he made his way toward an alley near where vagrants gathered. He set the body down, arranged it in a sleeping position, and then went to buy a bottle of alcohol. After pouring some around the corpse and leaving the bottle beside it, he stepped back. This way, no one would bother to check the cause of death¡ªthey''d just assume it was another vagrant who drank himself to death. After taking care of the body, Jaxen headed into the red-light district. He was a frequent visitor there. A few prostitutes glanced at him as he entered. His appearance wasn''t exactly common, after all. Ignoring all the stares, Jaxen made his way to a familiar room. Inside, a young blonde beauty welcomed him, clad in only a thin robe. Jaxen curled and uncurled a few fingers in sign language, conveying his message. "No one''s listening," the woman replied. "And the problem?" "No problem anymore." Previously, they had failed to detect a half-elf assassin entering the city. Even if they didn''t have eyes everywhere, it was still an unacceptable failure. Jaxen couldn''t let it go¡ªit had wounded his pride. After that, more assassins had started slipping in, so he simply killed them as they came. As long as he remained at Border Guard, no assassins or anyone up to similar business would be allowed to enter. It wasn''t necessarily because someone was specifically targeting the platoon leader. Absolutely not. Leaning against the door, Jaxen maintained his usual expressionless face. Watching him closely, the woman spoke again. "They''re from the Swamp of Monsters. What do you want to do?" Swamp of Monsters was an assassin guild rooted in Aspen. "Let them know this is my turf. Our way." In other words, kill them the moment they crossed the line. The woman nodded. It might turn into a full-blown guild war. But if it did, it would be a war fought in the shadows, one no one would ever know about. That was simply the nature of the world they belonged to. After that, Jaxen spent the night with her. Though their relationship was primarily professional, they also desired each other physically. They were as close as lovers. At dawn, the woman awoke and ordered her subordinates to behead the corpse Jaxen had left behind. She sent the severed head straight to one of Swamp of Monsters'' strongholds. A warning. If they ignored it and kept pushing, they would only have themselves to blame for what followed. Monter''s Swamp never tried again. It made sense. While they operated in Aspen, the people on this side moved across the entire continent. *** "Are you sure this is the place?" Krais eyed the dark alley suspiciously. The air was foul, and the ground was covered in filth he had no desire to step on. They were near the alleys where vagrants gathered. His question was directed at Jaxen. Enkrid also cast a glance around. While gathering various supplies, he had asked if it was possible to procure a Whistle Dagger. "It is." That was Jaxen''s response before telling them to follow him. Lately, things had been so busy that Enkrid hadn''t expected to have time for something like this. Jaxen barely even returned to the barracks, always making rounds through the red-light district and other places. Jaxen didn''t respond to Krais''s question. If something wasn''t worth answering, he simply ignored it. That was just how he was. His silence meant they were in the right place. Sometimes, silence was its own answer. Krais didn''t press further. A little filth wasn''t going to stop him. "This way." Jaxen spoke flatly and stepped inside. Enkrid followed behind. Finding a good blacksmith, one skilled enough for their needs, was proving impossible. They had already exhausted their search through Krais. Frog followed after Enkrid. For some reason, Esther had come along as well. As they entered the alley, Esther climbed the walls and started walking along the rooftops. "That thing really is a monster," Luagarne muttered. Enkrid half agreed. She really did seem more beast than person. Luagarne wore boots made specifically for Frogs. They had eight straps securing them tightly over the feet, with a sturdy wooden base for support. With every step she took, the boots made a sharp clacking sound against the stone pavement. "We''re here." Jaxen came to a halt. Before setting out on a mission, there were a lot of things to prepare. Among them, Enkrid wanted to secure a stock of Whistle Daggers. "...Quite a lot of customers today." An old woman sitting at a makeshift stall in front of an open doorway commented. A crystal ball, faded blonde curls, wrinkled hands¡ªshe was a fortune teller. "She has them?" Enkrid had been through a lot in his time. Black markets? He had been to plenty. He had even seen illegal slave markets quietly operating among mercenaries. But a fortune teller? Whistle Daggers were rare. Even in black markets, they were not easy to come by. And she had them? "Yes." Jaxen answered and made a hand gesture¡ªsign language. Enkrid didn''t understand what it meant, but it must have been the right signal because the old woman exhaled sharply through her nose. That little snort felt like an approval. "What''s your order?" The old woman asked. "As many Whistle Daggers as possible." Enkrid answered. "And payment?" "He''s paying." Enkrid gestured toward Krais. "Yeah, I figured," Krais said, stepping forward reluctantly. He didn''t want to, but he made it seem like he was doing so enthusiastically. If he had to spend money, he might as well go all in. You have to invest to profit, after all. "I''ll have them delivered to the barracks." "You know who I am?" Enkrid asked. The old woman chuckled. "There''s probably not a single person in this city who doesn''t know your name, even if they don''t know the battalion commander''s." What was that supposed to mean? Before he could ask further, the old woman swiftly packed up her stall, gathering her crystal ball and tools. "Well then, I''ll be going." Should he stop her and press for more information? But judging by how swiftly she packed up, this wasn''t her first time doing this. In just a few breaths, the stall was gone. Sometimes, Enkrid wondered¡ª How did Jaxen know about places like this? Even Krais had given up on finding these weapons. Still, it wasn''t worth asking. They needed Whistle Daggers, not Jaxen''s past. "Will she really get them?" Krais muttered. He was naturally suspicious of everything. "If she doesn''t, then that''s that." Enkrid shrugged and started walking. Since they were out, he planned to stop by the market and pick up a few things. Like some jerky from that one stall with amazing seasoning. And maybe visit the blacksmith to check on their armor. It was too hot to keep wearing a gambeson, but going without any protection wasn''t an option either. Maybe a loose-fitting leather cuirass would work. He had thrown out his old leather armor. He had planned to keep using it, but one day, Esther had torn it to shreds with her claws. "I should sell your claws to pay for a new one." He turned toward the rooftops where Esther was walking, about to say something¡ª "Kir." The leopard let out a low growl. It sounded like a warning not to joke. Enkrid had only said it casually, a joke in itself. Then, he went to the dried meat shop to place some orders. "Thank you." The shopkeeper greeted him first. "What for?" Enkrid tilted his head, and the shopkeeper bowed twice more. From the top of his head, a few white strands of hair were visible. "I''m thankful. As a foolish mother of a dull son, how could I take Krona from the one who saved my son? Please take whatever you want." "Huh?" Enkrid didn''t understand. He had only fought his hardest, putting his life on the line. He had struggled simply to move forward. But because of that struggle, and the fight he had taken up, so many had their lives saved. "Thank you. If I didn''t have my son, I wouldn''t have a reason to live." He was thanked by a mother who raised her son alone. The battlefield, that was where it all happened. Many lives had been saved because of Enkrid. And they were all people rooted in Border Guard. "Armor, just give me half the price." "If you want a leather water pouch, this one seems better." "Are the boots still in good shape? I''ve got new ones, too. If you bring that squad member, I can take their measurements and make everything for you." "There''s nothing but flowers I can give you." "Take this with you." "Would you like to try an apple?" "It''s dried fruit I''ve been gathering." "Would you like some charcoal, too?" The market vendors, who hadn''t seen Enkrid for three months, treated him like a hero. It was something Enkrid never expected. "Tch, why am I feeling so good?" Krais said beside him, and Enkrid felt the same. He hadn''t been fighting just to save someone, but he had kept in mind to protect those around him. It was a thought that came to him now. What is a knight? ''A protector.'' Someone who guards their people''s smiles and moves forward, building their beliefs. For Enkrid, it had been a satisfying day out. Chapter 159 - You See as Much as You Know Chapter 159 - 159 - You See as Much as You Know Chapter 159 - You See as Much as You Know There were ten whistle daggers, and the wide leather armor wasn''t scratchy because it had a thin fabric lining inside. The armor was fine. I quite liked it. It wasn''t like the armor that blocked magic like the previous one, but if it blocked physical attacks, this one would be good enough. Though it might be uncomfortable to wear when it''s hot. But if needed, I''d have to wear it, what else could I do? The leather had countless thin chains hammered into it in a lattice pattern. It had weight, but its defensive capability seemed superior. "It''s my masterpiece," said the blacksmith. He would say something like that. He said he would charge half-price, but the armor was naturally expensive. There were costs for repairing the leather and for making the thin chains individually. He said it took nearly a year to make the armor. "Use it well." The blacksmith, with a red face, handed it over. It was a gift from him. I couldn''t just accept it, so I had to beg Krais to pay for it. The blacksmith silently accepted the Krona coin pouch. Anyway, with the armor I got and two daggers that would fit around my ankles, a guard sword behind my waist, and eight throwing knives tucked into my thighs and sides. The whistling daggers were strapped across my chest in an X pattern. It wasn''t uncomfortable when I drew them, I knew the angle from experience. It was an angle I used often. I thought it would be good to have a knife for random use on the road, so I packed that as well. Should I bring a shortsword too? If my sword breaks, it would make a good backup. As I was packing various things, it was becoming quite a load. I''d need a thick blanket for sleeping outside, and I''d probably need a pot too. I could ask Krais to bring the pot, but there were plenty of other things to prepare. I''d need charcoal to get me through the night, a thick cloth, wooden spoons and forks, and a thin iron plate mixed with copper. It would be perfect for grilling food. I''d need to carry a backpack for the journey, and it was going to be heavy. If I had to name the number one factor that kept me alive so far, despite my lack of skill with a sword, it would be my thorough preparation. Once it becomes a habit, it sticks with you. Even if there are only four of us, and those four are quite formidable fighters. The Frog, for instance, travels alone usually. I know the dangers of traveling better than anyone for some reason, so I can''t afford to be careless in my preparations. This gave me peace of mind. "Are you really bringing all that?" From the side, Luagarne made a remark that sounded like a scolding. It might have been admiration, but I didn''t pay much attention to it. My own peace of mind was the priority, after all. "Yes, it''s a pity I couldn''t bring more." I added on my gauntlets, shin guards, and other thorough gear. Each knife had been sharpened, and the blades were oiled and carefully wiped clean. The blades gleamed with a polished shine. "Are you planning to reflect the sunlight during the day?" "Yes." Frok, watching from the side, commented, and I answered indifferently. It felt like a casual banter. "Why aren''t you answering me?" Rem, on the side, grumbled. I knew this couldn''t be ignored. If I let it slide, he''d probably start acting up, so I spoke up. "I already did." "When?" "With no answer." What was this nonsense? Rem''s face scrunched up. I accepted his reaction without any issue. It meant I ignored him. "Ugh." Rem didn''t pursue it further. If we argued, he''d end up losing. That was something he had learned over time. Whether we had a mission or not, it was part of everyday life. I continued as usual. Waking up in the morning, diving into training, and preparing for the departure in the evening. It was all part of equipment management and packing various tools. Seeing me like this, the frog became half-exasperated. ''Is he really a tough guy?'' Or maybe he was just slow. He did all of this without hesitation. Training, preparation¡ªnone of it was easy work. No hesitation, no frustration. Though sometimes, when rolling through isolation techniques, a bit of discomfort could be seen. But after that discomfort, there was always a strange smile. ''Maybe he''s just a pervert.'' That could be true. He didn''t seem to care about being unable to become a knight, and he wasn''t discouraged or frustrated by it. Having watched him for three months, I could tell his actions were sincere. Which meant he was strange, no, really strange. Her face lit up with curiosity. His appearance was striking, and watching him was entertaining. Where did this guy come from? "He''s mine." Luagarne was sitting in the shade of the training area, watching. The fairy commander approached her without her noticing and spoke. The shadow of the fairy slightly crept into the shade, making it look slightly bloated. "Who said that?" Luagarne responded nonchalantly. "Ahh." Across from him, in another shadow, Esther bared her fangs. She did that often. I didn''t care; it wasn''t my problem. Luagarne was driven by desires, interests, and stimulation. The stimulation was right in front of her, so even if someone lightly poked her heart, she wouldn''t kill them instantly¡ªshe was in a good mood. Of course, since her heart was touched, she''d still kill them halfway. In between training sessions, Enkrid never forgot his duties. "Are you leaving for a mission? Four people? Including the frog?" I reported to the battalion commander, and after some questioning, his approval came quickly. "Nothing special." That was all he added. "So, how is it? Not being able to become a knight." As Enkrid was about to leave, the battalion commander asked him. Before giving a military salute, Enkrid answered casually. "Yes, thank you for the gift." Was there any malice in his gesture? No, it wasn''t. Even if there was malice, it had become a good opportunity for him. The unfulfilled dream he had... Or was it? That didn''t apply to Enkrid. He had come this far chasing a broken and torn dream. "Thank you?" "Yes." "I see." After a brief exchange, I stepped back outside. The fairy company commanderr had followed me. I had seen her a lot recently. Was she bored? She looked at me with those eyes. "Falling for me all over again?" She was saying something ridiculous. I turned away and said no. If she wasn''t going to train, she shouldn''t have come with me. She had stayed behind, sulking for no reason. The season was slowly shifting toward summer, and Enkrid felt the change in the air. He could sense the subtle wind direction. The air changed in an instant, and in the brief moment, he adjusted the distance between himself and his opponent. In that fleeting moment, everything learned from repeated experiences surfaced, settling within him. He could see the future a moment ahead. It wasn''t something that happened by itself. Focus was needed to support that moment. ''I''m no genius.'' Just a frog trapped in today''s well. Climbing out and rushing toward tomorrow''s world. And so, I struggled. And so, I crawled forward. Enkrid was unchanged. He was as consistent as ever. The traveler chasing a faded dream, the traveler walked on and on. And so, I sharpened my skills, gathered my mind, and sharpened them again. Understanding rhythm and adding strength to my swordsmanship. Getting more used to the Heart of Monstrous Strength. And that was the night before departure. "They say there''s been a real ruckus with the beast packs lately. Before, merchants used to travel in groups of ten, but now they won''t even travel unless there''s at least twenty of them. Do you think we can head out like this? Well, I suppose we could." A sense of unease lingered, but it was quickly dismissed. Krais, who had been watching Enkrid''s face, let out a strange comment, almost as if testing something. Hearing Krais'' words, Enkrid went out for a sparring session, as usual. His opponent was Rem, and they stood a good distance apart. Enkrid drew his sword and aimed it at Rem, who spun his axes, flexing his wrists. How many sparring matches had they had by now? They had been fighting each other quite frequently lately. "Today, you''re going to make this more fun for me," Rem said, sounding like someone who was sulking for some reason. Enkrid, half in the mood to help lift Rem''s spirits, decided to engage. If he was going to act like that, he might as well join in, rather than stand back. But why was Rem staying so sulky? Now, the season was transitioning into late spring, almost summer. Enkrid felt the change in temperature, the subtle shift in the direction of the wind. The air was different, and so were the brief moments it took to measure the distance between him and his opponent. In that instant, a gap opened up. At the same time, everything Enkrid had learned from the repeated sparring and training moments flooded his mind and settled into his body. The things he had gradually picked up over time, the connecting lines between points, the circle he drew around himself as his sword''s domain. Rhythm, or tempo, timing of attacks, defenses, and counters. By following his opponent''s gestures and breath, the future¡ªjust a fraction of a second ahead¡ªbecame clear to him. Enkrid lowered his hand slightly. It was instinct, driven by the ability to see the future, and it felt like something he had to do. The tip of his sword tilted forward. Two axes froze in the sunlight. He could see Rem''s nose, his eyes, the sweat running down his forehead. Enkrid lost himself in the moment, meeting his opponent''s eyes, and instinctively found the most rational and quickest path to take. The point where their domains met, the tempo and timing that were favorable to him. His foot, in rhythm, lifted off the ground. The sword cut through the sunlight, falling from above. The axes moved. The person wielding the axes moved as well. A vague, blurry figure appeared. To Enkrid''s eyes, it seemed like a dark spirit or a ghost. Nevertheless, the axe came flying toward him. Screech! A vision of his neck being severed flashed before him. Just before the illusion touched him, his sword descended. A heavy, thunderous blow carrying the weight of his sword form, slashing down. Whoosh. Did it hit? No. Was his neck cut? No, it was unharmed. The axe''s strike was an illusion. "...Huh? Did you actually master this, making people take things seriously?" "Did you dodge it?" As Enkrid turned around while speaking, he noticed a faint trace of blood on Rem''s cheek. He hadn''t cut Rem, but it was a scratch, barely noticeable. A strange feeling spread throughout his body, like the deep, resonating growl of a beast spreading from within. Thinking back, this was the first time. Not even Rem, Ragna, Audin, or Jaxen had ever gotten a scratch from his sword. "That''s right." Luagarne, watching from the sidelines, jumped up and clapped her hands together. The sound of her smooth palm meeting sounded dull, but there was a distinct look of satisfaction on his face. Enkrid couldn''t easily continue speaking. Was this a new experience for him? No, he''d had similar moments before. ''Mustache.'' When he first faced him, when he was deeply immersed in Mitch Hurrier''s teachings and had a moment of sharp focus, a certain limit to concentration was shattered. Of course, now, it felt even stronger. He had learned more, and practiced more. As they say, the more you know, the more you see. And so it seemed. The more he knew, the more he could see. Chapter 160 - A Stepping Stone for Small Goals Chapter 160 - 160 - A Stepping Stone for Small Goals Chapter 160 - A Stepping Stone for Small Goals "That''s all you have to do about a dozen more times." Rem said indifferently. Enkrid looked at him silently at those words. "If you do that, your hands will reach the wall, and you''ll get over it." Something was still bothering him, wasn''t it? Enkrid noticed it instinctively but was too busy replaying what had just happened in his mind. One exchange. There was so much to gain from it. He knew it immediately. "You did well." Enkrid spoke and turned away. He wanted to reflect and analyze. That single spar, the one exchange¡ªwhat was contained within it? "Brother, you took a hit, huh?" Behind him, Audin teased Rem. "How about you grab lunch with the lord today, you crazy brute?" Rem and Audin''s bickering continued, but Enkrid ignored them. These days, even when they fought, they stopped at the right time Their relationship hadn''t necessarily improved, but they had found an odd balance. ''How did I cut him?'' He had left a scratch on Rem''s cheek. The fact alone was surprising, but the process fascinated him even more. This wasn''t the first time he had an experience like this, so he knew how to analyze and reflect. Like a frog trapped in a well, leaping up and catching a glimpse of the outside world. What could he gain from this? Once a frog has jumped high once, it knows it can do it again. Beyond the well¡ªEnkrid wanted to see a new world. Even though his mission departure was just two days away, his training remained relentless. Excluding the standard drills, he spent all his time contemplating and analyzing. Following the saying, "You see as much as you know," Enkrid realized his shortcomings. ''Precision, balance, speed, control.'' Among the five sword forms, the foundation was the heavy blade style. Was that really enough? Whenever he used dual-blade techniques, another thought arose¡ª The desire to wield different weapons. It was said that knights could proficiently handle ten different types of weapons. But that wasn''t something he could do. To be proficient meant to master one and understand ten. That required talent. For him, it was difficult¡ªimmensely so. So what was the answer? ''If I can''t master one to understand ten...'' What if he learned each one individually? They said repetition led to improvement, but if there was a way to walk forward instead of just crawling¡ª "I have to do it." The resolution escaped his lips. It was only natural. At some point, evening had fallen, but he had been too absorbed to notice. Even during meals, no matter what he was doing, one part of his mind was always analyzing and reflecting. Since the moment he had scratched Rem''s cheek. But instead of satisfaction, Enkrid felt hunger. He examined the path forward. And that was the result. Muttering to himself, Enkrid rose from his cot and moved. The quarters weren''t spacious. All eyes turned to him. Enkrid stopped in front of the Frog, Luagarne''s bed. The frog, who had been preparing to sleep, lifted her gaze, looking at Enkrid from where she lay. "Do you know precision sword techniques?" Tomorrow was the day of their departure. The lantern behind them cast long shadows. Everyone had returned from washing up. Finn was the last, water dripping from her damp hair. Esther, who had been grooming her claws at Enkrid''s spot, stopped and raised her head. The lake panther''s deep blue eyes locked onto Enkrid''s back. "It''s my specialty." Luagarne answered without moving. "Teach me." Enkrid craved knowledge. He wasn''t the type to wait for someone to teach him. To him, this Frog was an excellent instructor. Aside from wielding a whip, she was proficient with other weapons as well. Precision sword techniques, in particular. Through occasional lessons and spars, Enkrid had already learned that much. Observing and mimicking over someone''s shoulder wasn''t enough anymore. Ragna''s northern heavy blade style was excellent. The other techniques he taught weren''t bad either. But even Ragna had only learned by observing. "I just copy what I see once or twice." That was something he often said. Learning the way a genius did was no longer enough. As always, what he felt was thirst. There was something he could learn from the Frog that he couldn''t from the other squad members. Rem? His fighting style wasn''t something formed into a fixed shape. It was a battle of instinct and intuition¡ªan axe strike born from pure senses. During a spar, he managed to scratch Rem''s cheek. Beneath the thrilling sensation, Enkrid saw it. That appearance, the one that resembled a specter. Was that Rem''s true nature, or was it just an illusion born from his own mind and eyes? He didn''t know. But if he could wish for something¡ª ''To see it again.'' He wanted to push Rem into that situation once more. That was his desire. It wasn''t about breaking his limits immediately or awakening ''Will'' just yet. Enkrid wasn''t like that. Years and days spent holding on to fragments of dreams. If he had learned anything, it was simply this: One step at a time, even if crawling was the only way forward. Even if progress was slow, as long as he moved forward, he saw, felt, and eventually reached his goal. A single step forward¡ªhe decided to set a small goal. To witness that ''genuine'' look on Rem''s face, whether it was a ghost or something else. While he was at it, he wanted to see the same on Audin, Ragna, and Jaxen as well. "So be it." Without hesitation, Luagarne nodded. Enkrid bowed his head slightly before settling down to sleep. Tomorrow, as promised, they had to head to the frontier village and carry out a request. They would have to embark on a journey. Leaving behind lingering fatigue wouldn''t be good. He needed to sleep early. "By the way, I just realized something¡ªdo you even know that being excessively calm makes you seem insane?" Rem mumbled from his bed. Enkrid didn''t respond. If he did, the conversation would drag on endlessly. Thankfully, Rem closed his mouth as well. It was just a pointless observation. "Heh, brother, may the Lord''s grace be upon you. Please, I pray, keep your mind intact." It sounded suspiciously like he was calling him a lunatic, but a prayer was still a prayer, and a blessing was still a blessing. The others remained silent. *** The night passed. The next day arrived. Enkrid set off with his usual composed demeanor. As they left the city, Luagarne and Krais followed behind him. Ahead of him was Finn. In his arms, Esther was nestled. Even when he tried to push her away, she dug her claws into his chest as if refusing to be separated. What could he do? He had to bring her along. "We''re going." With Finn leading the way, the group followed the road. And soon, they encountered ghouls. "So soon?" It was an early encounter. Considering the known territories where monsters usually appeared, they were rather close to the city. Of course, that wasn''t the problem. Two ghouls¡ªgray-skinned creatures. Monsters that craved human flesh and blood. Enkrid drew his sword. His swings remained as composed as they had been when they set out in the morning. Thud. Crack. The heavy sword style relied on brute strength. With a single strike, he severed a neck and crushed a skull. Black blood and gray brain matter splattered across the ground. A few drops of ghoul blood landed on Enkrid''s body. "The foundation of the orthodox sword style is patience." From behind, Luagarne spoke. A journey was also a path of training, a continuous cycle of discipline. The lesson had begun. *** A scab formed on his cheek. As he brushed against it, Rem recalled the first day he met Enkrid. Or rather, the first day he teased him. "A spar? With me?" He had wondered what this guy was up to. The new squad leader swung his sword around like a madman every day and now wanted to test himself. At a glance, he was third-rate. Or, looking at it from another perspective, maybe second-rate? If judged by the military ranking system, he was somewhere between low and mid-tier. An utterly talentless man. "I feel like I can learn something." When he first faced Enkrid, what weapon had he used? He usually grabbed whatever was within reach, but back then, he used swords. A sword in each hand, swinging them. Just like he did with his axes. It had been an easy fight. Thud. Enkrid tripped over his foot and tumbled to the ground. A bad fall left a scratch on his face. Some of it was intentional. ''Where did they find such a delicate-looking guy to be a squad leader?'' If his face got messed up, there should be some kind of reaction. He was curious about his identity. A noble? Or someone''s bloodline? Did he have backing in the military? None of that was the case. Even as blood trickled down his scratched face, Enkrid didn''t bother tending to his wound. Instead, he got up and spoke. "Can you do it one more time?" "Again?" A nod. Was he half-insane? To be honest, Rem had never met someone more reckless than himself before. He beat him. Cut him. Left marks on his neck to scare him. Even sliced the skin on his forehead to make the blood flow. The blood ran down from his forehead, covering the area above his eyes. Unless someone had experienced it, they wouldn''t understand. The way everything turned red¡ªa different kind of fear. And yet, the new squad leader didn''t back down. Even as his blood-covered face made him look like a damn blood ghoul. "I have a question. What are you going to do if you end up dead?" They were still in the middle of a spar. Rem had the leisure to talk, but Enkrid didn''t. Through an entire changing season, this crazy bastard had been charging at him. Now, he took a deep breath and answered. "Well, then that''ll be the end." Was he completely insane? That''s the end? Shouldn''t it not end like that? "You''re in bad shape." Rem muttered before deciding to teach him the Heart of the Beast that day. If he was willing to risk death¡ªthen, sure, maybe he''d gain something from it. It was pointless. His temperament wasn''t suited for it. Whenever things got rough, his eyes would close. He lacked the boldness required. Even when his eyes were open, he didn''t truly see. His body froze in moments of danger. "You really have no talent." The words came out naturally. Even so, the squad leader position, which had been replaced time and time again, did not change. He survived. Stubbornly. If someone asked if Rem enjoyed sparring with him... Well, it was just something to do. It wasn''t like the guy was some grand figure in his life. Rem liked women, so it wasn''t anything weird like that either. He just felt good watching him. Like gazing at bright sunlight, a dry prairie, or a beast running across it¡ªjust something pleasant to look at. ''He''ll die like that.'' Watching him struggle desperately on the battlefield, Rem found himself stepping in. At the very least, he didn''t want to watch him die right in front of him. The spars continued. Time passed. "How did you do that?" Enkrid had grasped the Heart of the Beast. After that day, he began to change. His skills improved¡ªsometimes at a pace visible to the eye. Other times, so slowly that Rem doubted if he was improving at all. Had he truly changed amidst it all? No. He remained the same. Exactly the same as when they first met. "Sparring?" His sentences grew shorter than before. By now, Rem had learned just how incredibly frustrating his words could be. And yet, the sparring continued. A scratch formed on his cheek. The blood dried into a scab. Hah. On Enkrid? On that squad leader? Rem had to get serious. He almost pulled out the skills he had buried away. No, this wasn''t right. How should he put it...? It was a personal wish. Not yet. Rem still wanted to play around above him. If that was the case, this wouldn''t do. He couldn''t let himself be caught up. He couldn''t get serious. That wouldn''t be any fun. If he wanted to tease him while sparring, he couldn''t afford to fall behind. Not even for a moment. That scratch on his cheek¡ª In that instant, even if just by a toe''s length¡ª He had been caught up to. And he didn''t like that one bit. It even made him feel a little anxious. Especially since Krais''s question on the battlefield still lingered in his mind. "Can you handle a semi knight?" "If they charge at me, I can kill them." He was serious, so Rem answered seriously. There was something about this big-eyed guy¡ªa strange pressure. A strange kid. That unusually sharp-minded guy nodded. He understood what Rem meant, even without a detailed explanation. Killing them was possible. But not if he hesitated. If he put his life on the line, maybe fifty-fifty? To be honest, his odds were probably around thirty or forty percent. After that question, Krais seemed to have made up his mind to evade enemy forces. That''s how the battlefield flowed, so maybe he was right. That was probably it. Yet, it still stung his pride a little. "You lazy, directionally-challenged bastard." That''s why. He didn''t follow along Enkrid. He had things to do here. Maybe that idiot felt the same way. Rem muttered, and Ragna lifted his head slightly. He was half-leaning against the barracks wall. "Wanna bet half a life and fight?" His usual playful tone, yet there was seriousness in it. "...Let''s do it." Ragna stood up. Even without Enkrid around, there was something in his eyes¡ªa flicker, like a flame. Without a trace of laughter, Rem stepped into the training grounds. "Hey, big guy, you coming too?" On the way, he called for Audin. "Hoho, the Lord calls upon us." Audin rose with a smile. He left the cunning stray cat alone. That guy wasn''t suited for direct combat anyway. ''He''ll come if he feels it''s necessary.'' That bastard wasn''t the type to show up just because he was called. More than that, he was truly a sly one. Wasn''t Rem a hunter himself? That guy was like a relentless night predator or even a man-hunter. At one side of the training ground, Rem picked up his axe. Ting. He clashed the two axe blades together and took his stance. "Don''t blame me if you die." Facing him, Ragna spoke. "Look who''s talking." Soon, the two of them began moving their feet. The soldiers who had been training nearby all stopped and became spectators. Kang! Bukk! Jjeong! The heavy sounds of impact echoed. A three-way sparring match. The sheer intensity left everyone speechless. "I want in too." The fairy company commander stepped in. "We''re fighting with half a life on the line, though?" When Rem questioned her, the commander simply smiled and drew her sword. The leaf-shaped blades reflected the light. It was a declaration of intent. Soon after, she proved that her skills were on par with theirs. Without needing to say it, they all understood¡ªthey were of the same mind. When blades crossed and fists collided, something became clear. ''Not yet.'' Not just yet. Even if it was the childish desire of an eight-year-old troublemaker to keep their place above Enkrid¡ª They had decided to focus on the present. Fighting with half a life on the line¡ªit was the beginning of change, the acceleration of growth. All four of them had been called prodigies at some point. Each was honing their skills. But it wouldn''t end with mere refinement. Rem sharpened Ragna. Ragna sharpened Rem. Audin joined in between. Occasionally, Jaxen would jump in too. The fairy company commander sparred with them in rotation. Whenever things got too serious, the others would jump in to break the tension, maintaining a balance. Their talents were igniting. Each passing day, they had more to show Enkrid when he returned. *** Meanwhile, Enkrid was traveling rougher roads than expected. "Kaaah!" Beasts surged at him in waves. Well, at least it was entertaining. For Enkrid, it was both an opportunity for training and a proving ground. Chapter 161 - Facing Beasts Chapter 161 - 161 - Facing Beasts Chapter 161 - Facing Beasts There was no lack of force to deal with the beasts. The foundation of the heavy sword style was weight and power. "Overwhelm with strength." "Break through with power." "Close the distance and strike with force." "Put weight into your attacks." "Make it so the enemy can''t even think of dodging." These were phrases Ragna often repeated, whether facing spears or shields. In most situations, his answers followed this pattern. The orthodox sword style, however, was different. "Refine your form and force your opponent into your intended path." Luagarne taught the fundamentals first, adding details afterward¡ªa highly efficient method. It was often said that Frogs made excellent sword instructors. ''The difference is clear.'' There was a gap between his squad members'' teaching and Luagarne''s. Not that his squad members were bad¡ªif anything, their methods suited Enkrid better. Rolling in the dirt and enduring hardship was painful but easier for him. Rough, but straightforward. He had grown accustomed to learning through hardship and brutality. Luagarne, however, truly understood how to teach. And Enkrid knew how to learn. So he absorbed everything with full focus. The difference now was¡ª ''I can keep up.'' There was a time when he couldn''t, no matter how desperately he struggled. That time was now just the past. The Isolation technique allowed complete control over one''s body, down to a single muscle fiber. It was a skill that demanded mastery over oneself. To that, he added the sensitivity to a blade''s edge, the singularity of focus, and the boldness and composure granted by the Heart of the Beast. And he realized¡ª These four elements form the core of my talent. What he had gained through effort. What had been nurtured by those around him. He had chewed, tasted, dissected, and explored that nourishment. That was why he had reached this day. Because he had lived through countless ''todays.'' And now, he could follow a Frog''s teachings. Not that it meant he had become a genius. It simply meant he had improved. Luagarne, already aware of Enkrid''s lackluster talent, showed no surprise. Unshaken and steady, he simply continued to teach. Amidst it all, knowledge and stories of the sword surfaced often. Luagarne knew a great deal. "They say quick sword styles are best for beginners, while orthodox styles are the best against beginners." Speed-focused techniques were easier to learn. Against weaker opponents, orthodox techniques boasted a 98% win rate. So what about when facing a stronger opponent? "Heavy and flexible sword styles are best. Against an overconfident fool, quick techniques are effective. Against a cautious and suspicious opponent, orthodox techniques work well. But if I had to pick the most advantageous, I''d say illusionary swordsmanship." A technique that deceived and mesmerized the opponent. Luagarne''s words implied that all five sword styles had their advantages but no absolute answer. After all, in this world, nothing had a fixed solution. It was a statement born of his experience, philosophy, and temperament. It meant that the swordsman mattered more than the swordsmanship. To sum it up¡ª "Against someone stronger, the fastest and most perceptive fighter has the advantage." Gurgle, gurgle! Luagarne laughed as he spoke. Enkrid was slowly getting used to the Frog''s laughter. Knowing that Luagarne used throat vibrations to express emotion was one thing¡ª Experiencing it firsthand for extended periods was another. "The heavy sword style was originally designed to fight beasts and monsters. Seems fitting, doesn''t it?" "Orthodox styles pair well with flexible techniques, while heavy styles work with quick ones. Only illusionary swordsmanship stands apart." "Once you master one style, the others follow naturally. But ideally, you should round yourself out by learning all of them. Your exceptional traits will naturally shine. But since that''s not your case, you''d best train even harder." Luagarne gave her subjective insights freely. "When you cut that wolf beast earlier, you should have struck horizontally, not vertically. That way, you wouldn''t have that wound on your left arm. You should''ve shifted your weight onto your right foot and deflected with the flexible sword technique. More specifically, like this¡ª" She constantly offered post-battle advice and demonstrations. "Alright, now try again. Block this." The training repeated. Luagarne personally wielded her sword, recreating the same scenario. Yet she never slowed her pace. Lessons continued during meals, at dawn, while standing night watch, and even before sleeping. Every moment, Enkrid focused¡ª Dug deeper¡ª And learned. "Your reactions are too slow. You saw it, didn''t you? Then you should''ve dodged. Or at least blocked first." Snap! It was when he faced three Hyena Beasts. Though they were among the most dangerous creatures when in a pack, three of them alone weren''t a problem. The fight ended with only a scratch on his side. Yet, Luagarne pointed out an issue. Enkrid accepted it. As he did, a thought formed in his mind¡ªmore precisely, a thought triggered by her words. When the same flaw is pointed out repeatedly, one is bound to confront the problem eventually. ''Sense of Evasion.'' Jaxen had taught him, but he had yet to fully integrate it into his body. ''Coordination, was it?'' The more he learned, the more there was to master, to train, and to refine. Among them, this was one he had yet to internalize. Sense of Evasion. His trained dynamic vision allowed him to perceive enemy movements several times better than before. For instance¡ª With a whoosh, a Ghoul swung its arm. Enkrid could now predict its trajectory and impact point in advance. "A precise sword technique shines when one anticipates the opponent''s movements." Because he could see, he could predict. He swung his sword accordingly. Just as he had envisioned, he brought the blade down toward the lower right, then arced it upward in a sweeping motion. The edge caught the Ghoul''s forearm, splitting it open with a sickening crack. Without pause, he raised the sword above its crown, twisted his wrist, and pulled the blade forward into a vertical slash. The Ghoul''s head split diagonally, cleaved clean through its clavicle. And there, Enkrid stopped his blade. He had deliberately exerted control to halt his strike. It was a matter of courtesy not to slice all the way down to the heart in front of a Frog. Thud. He kicked the Ghoul''s corpse away and withdrew his sword. The battle had ended in just two strikes. "Not bad." That was Luagarne''s assessment. From that moment on, Enkrid became fully immersed in honing his Sense of Evasion and the fundamentals of precise swordsmanship. Yet, regarding the Sense of Evasion¡ª "I can''t quite grasp it." He understood the concept and had learned the training methods. But simply learning something didn''t mean it naturally became part of him. Wasn''t that something he had long understood through experience? Was it similar to when he first learned Heart of the Beast? Or perhaps like when he first grasped One-Point Focus? How had he learned back then? One, he had awakened through the experience of death. The other had required not a genius''s approach but that of a dullard¡ªslow, steady, deliberate. Would he need a similar environment this time as well? When one''s desire burns, one naturally seeks a wall to overcome. He might wish for the Ferryman to guide him. But Enkrid never factored such things into his calculations. As always, he simply did his best with the environment given to him. That was Enkrid. And since the endless stream of monsters and beasts served as excellent examiners, he welcomed them, drawing his sword every time. "Again?" As they climbed a thorn-filled hill, Finn spoke in frustration. It was right after they had spotted another horde of beasts ahead. "This isn''t even some land tainted by a Demonic Realm''s influence. So why the hell do these freaks keep popping up?" Fury. Pure, undeniable fury. Monsters and beasts, of course, could not understand speech. Which meant there had to be a more justifiable reason for her outburst. In what situations does one unleash such rage upon creatures that can''t even comprehend words? The conclusion was simple¡ªthis wasn''t anger directed at the monsters. At first, Enkrid wondered why she was acting this way. But he soon realized. The things he had been ignoring in his focus on training. He had thought it fortunate that monsters and beasts kept appearing, as they made excellent practice targets. "I figured she was reaching her limit." Krais muttered from the side. Gurgle. The Frog puffed out its cheeks in agreement. "Krrng!" Esther sneezed. Finn was a Ranger. And what was a Ranger''s duty? A Pathfinder finds the way. A Map Maker draws the map. And a Ranger ensures the party''s safety along the path. Why had the Glacier Rangers, sworn to protect the glaciers, become renowned across the continent? Why were they considered extraordinary? Because they survived in deep forests, in landscapes as perilous as Demonic Realms, amid freezing cold and prowling monsters. They detected danger and safeguarded their companions with unmatched expertise. There were those who hired Glacier Rangers to gather rare herbs or precious metals from the frozen lands. Finn was not a Glacier Ranger. But she still took pride in her work. Wherever they went, monsters and beasts kept appearing. It was enough to make one doubt their own abilities. "How many days has it been since we left?" Enkrid glanced at Finn, who was fuming, before speaking. "Three days." Krais, quick on the uptake, answered. If they walked diligently, it would take twenty days to reach the pioneer village. If they took a carriage along the main road, it would be six to seven days. There were risky paths here and there, but since they had a Ranger with them, the journey could be both fast and relatively safe. Before they departed, Finn had nudged Enkrid''s side and said, "If we had a carriage, we could just ignore the slow-moving ghouls, but on foot, that''s impossible. But! Having a Ranger like me with you is honestly a stroke of luck, isn''t it?" Now, the image of Finn smiling while saying that overlapped with the Finn who was now completely furious. It was understandable. "This isn''t your fault." At Enkrid''s words, Finn let out a deep sigh. "Ah, seriously, this makes no sense... I''ve got nothing to say." Finn felt just as wronged now as before. Why had they chosen the Thornbush Hill in the first place? Monsters and beasts generally avoided inconvenient routes, so logically, this place should have been safe as well. The path ahead was blocked by thorny bushes at every turn. It was not a place one could enter easily unless they had an exceptional knack for finding trails. Without cutting through with a hand axe, it was tough to make any progress. But now, look at the beasts before them. No matter how thick their hides were, they had still charged through the thorns to get here? The creatures in question were the spotted hyena beasts commonly found in this region. One of them was even limping, though it was unclear how it had ended up like that. Another was dripping blood in small droplets. "This isn''t normal." Luagarne muttered, but to Finn, it sounded like an empty attempt at comfort. Enkrid didn''t bother responding. Instead, he focused on the beasts'' movements. Rather than immediately attacking in a frenzy, the beasts were showing signs of caution first. Since they were raising their guard and preparing for a fight, Enkrid did the same. He lowered the backpack strapped to his back and drew his sword. "I''ll handle this alone. Stay back." Enkrid stepped forward. Eight hyena beasts in total. Not a small number, even with one of them limping. It was a lot¡ªmore than enough to be considered dangerous. Typically, dealing with multiple beasts was a serious threat, but no one was worried. After all, they had seen how many monsters and beasts Enkrid had slain in the past three days. This wasn''t anything remarkable. Once again, Enkrid sustained a scratch on his shoulder and nearly had his thigh bitten, but with a flash of quick thinking, he used his shin guard to kick one hyena square in the head, easily escaping danger. Two of the eight had managed to charge toward the group. One was sliced open by Esther''s claws, its head splitting into three. The other was sent soaring through the air as Luagarne kicked its body, gifting it a momentary bird-like experience. It was an impressive technique. Not just stomping on the creature''s belly to burst it open, but launching it skyward¡ªit required a delicate balance of power and control. Enkrid finished off the remaining hyenas. And so, they continued their journey. "Ah, damn it!" Finn''s irritation only grew. This time, it was a pack of striped hyenas. "They just won''t stop coming. Seriously." Krais clicked his tongue. They had encountered far too many. Srrrng. Once more, Enkrid drew his sword. It had now been twenty days since they left the city. The group had stopped by a stream to wash when another pack of thirteen hyena beasts suddenly emerged. But this wasn''t a crisis. They had survived being surrounded by werewolves before. And compared to werewolves, these hyenas were no threat at all. Crack! And they had Luagarne''s support as well. Her whip snapped loudly against the ground. "Gotta keep myself from getting rusty." Luagarne remarked. She was right. This much was just a light warm-up. Thud! Esther also slammed the ground with her front paws. As if declaring she was ready as well. Of course, no one had forgotten. She was a lake panther, a cunning creature that could understand human speech. Against beasts, their forces lacked nothing. Chapter 162 - It Doesn’t Matter If We’re Not Welcomed Chapter 162 - 162 - It Doesn''t Matter If We''re Not Welcomed Chapter 162 - It Doesn''t Matter If We''re Not Welcomed After dealing with the pack of hyena Beasts, the group found a stream where they washed up and took out some jerky to eat. Eating, drinking, and washing were crucial¡ªespecially on long journeys. Catching a cold for no reason would only make the journey significantly harder. "This taste is seriously..." Finn seemed to be in a slightly better mood. The power of seasoned jerky was undeniable. Luagarne ate dried fruits and the edible larvae she had prepared herself. She also caught and ate a few cicada-like insects. It wasn''t repulsive. He already knew that was just how Frogs ate. "Insects make the body strong." She spoke while chewing on dried larvae. Border Guard didn''t have any facilities catering to Frogs. Which meant that packed meal was something Luagarne had personally prepared. As long as she was satisfied with her food, that was enough. In that sense, Esther also enjoyed the jerky. She chewed a few times before swallowing and nodded in satisfaction. Was she really a panther? At this point, she might as well be considered human. Everyone filled their waterskins and drank. The water from the stream was clear and cool. As they followed the road and crossed a small rise, Enkrid caught an unpleasant scent. ''Blood?'' The stench of death, the battlefield. The scent of blood and metal¡ª the stench of war. As they crossed the rise, the source of the scent came into view. Scattered all around were the corpses of Beasts. Wolf Beasts, snake Beasts, and even some that had transformed from goats. There were quite a few of them. The wounds on their bodies indicated they had been cut, struck, and torn apart. Among them were corpses that had been completely shredded to pieces. There were also traces of wild dogs feeding on them. What were Beasts? They were animals transformed by the influence of demonic energy or the Demonic Realm. Carnivorous and highly aggressive creatures were the most susceptible to transformation. Even so¡ª ''There''s too many.'' Just as Finn had angrily pointed out earlier¡ªthis land wasn''t even a Demonic Realm, so how could there be so many Beasts? Just counting the corpses strewn around, there were over thirty. A Demonic Realm was a land no human could set foot in. It was the origin of both Monsters and Beasts. Several kingdoms had attempted to subjugate them time and again. But instead of conquering it, their nations weakened and were eventually devoured by neighboring countries. At the heart of a Demonic Realm, there was believed to be something that continuously spawned Monsters. Naturally, if they were near a Demonic Realm, a horde like this would be considered insignificant. After that, they didn''t encounter any more Beasts. "I''d like to say this is normal..." Finn muttered. She had seen the numerous fallen corpses of Beasts along the way. There had been a few ghouls, but most of them were Beasts. The number of Beasts far outnumbered Monsters. After spending nearly twenty days traveling, they finally confirmed the existence of the pioneer village. Due to the frequent encounters with Monsters and Beasts, they arrived two days late¡ªtwenty-two days in total. It was their destination. A tall wooden palisade. A solid wall designed to repel enemy attacks. There were even two or so watchtowers built on top. It wasn''t a small settlement. If the country had put effort into supporting this village, then yes, it could be of this scale. It was a village large enough to resemble a fortress. "It''s big." Krais gave his impression. "Yeah." Finn replied casually as she scanned the surroundings. As a ranger, she had been irritated along the way, but they had arrived. That was enough. Not everything could go perfectly. Enkrid didn''t concern himself with such matters. He simply walked toward the palisade. It was a well-constructed defensive structure. A sign that this pioneer village had received serious military investment. As Enkrid stepped forward and identified himself, the gate of the palisade soon opened. A sharp-eyed man in the watchtower twitched his eyebrows. His expression was extremely unpleasant. ''He looks like he needs a beating.'' That was the kind of face he had. Even though Enkrid rarely concerned himself with others, that face made him want to start throwing punches. Once inside, it was clear that both the barriers and the gates were made of thick logs. It was a sturdy palisade. Not quite at the level of city walls, but large and tall enough to be comparable. In the center of the village stood a tall flagpole and a platform, making it obvious that it was the village square. As they stepped inside, the village chief came out to greet them. The chief was a young man, roughly the same age as Enkrid. His face was unremarkable, but his eyes shone with confidence. "Welcome." The chief spoke. However, from his tone, attitude, and gaze, Enkrid could tell¡ªthey weren''t truly welcome. Perhaps thanks to his honed intuition and instincts. Even with a Frog in their group, the chief showed no real hospitality. "This village is doing just fine on its own." "We even drove away a large bandit gang nearby." "Ever heard of the Black Blade? Even they wouldn''t dare approach us." "We appreciate the Frog''s presence, and it''s nice that a platoon leader has come, but as you can see, this isn''t some small village." "So, you''re a platoon leader? You must be good with a sword, then?" "There''s someone in our group who used to lead a mercenary band. You might''ve heard of him¡ªOne-Eyed Glaive. He''s now the village''s security captain." To summarize how they were being treated¡ª "We don''t need any interference, we can handle things ourselves. Just look around and leave, and we''ll say good things about you. The request? We''ll say you did well. The colony? We already took care of it." This was what they meant. The ones led by the village chief, likely the core authority and backbone of the village. There were no extremely old people among them¡ªmost were either middle-aged or young adults. It was their decision. The unspoken command to stay out of it. Most of the village workforce seemed to support their stance as well. Especially the village guards or militia, who were showing something close to outright hostility. "Let''s do that, then." Enkrid didn''t bother forcing them into anything just to secure his command. It would have been pointless. A request was a request, work was work, and people were people. If they wanted to handle it themselves, he would let them. However, he decided to stay in the village. At most, a week. At least, five days. Just enough to confirm whether the village was truly safe and report back. In any case, it was their decision, so Enkrid didn''t make a big deal out of it. They had given him a hastily built hut to use as lodging. Krais had gone out, saying he wanted to look around the village. Luagarne, meanwhile, asked, "We''re just going to stay like this? Just looking around?" "I''ll spend the time training." "Even here? Well, I suppose that makes sense." By now, Luagarne was adapting to the kind of person Enkrid was. This guy would swing his sword anywhere. There were plenty of empty spaces near the hut. Many areas were still under construction. In one of those open spaces, Enkrid swung his sword. Whether anyone was watching or not¡ªsince when had he ever cared about that? The fundamentals of swordsmanship, coupled with the sense of evasion. The things he had been most engrossed in lately. Everything he had learned flowed naturally through his body. He swung and swung again, stepping willingly into a world where only the sword remained, forgetting himself entirely. In that state, Enkrid revisited everything he had learned from Luagarne on the way here. As Enkrid''s sword cut through the air, Krais busied himself exploring the village. He had expected to be treated like an outsider, but surprisingly, he blended in rather well. ''That''s a skill in itself.'' That was what Luagarne thought. Krais had a knack for reading people and scratching where they itched. "Want a smoke?" With a single rolled cigarette, he won favor. Before long, he was chatting up a burly, bearded man near the quarry. "You guys are something else. Taking the risk to come all the way here? A frontier village? Now that''s a real man''s feat." Just a few words, and he had won them over. ''He''s got a silver tongue too.'' There were plenty like him in the kingdom¡ªpoliticians, nobles living off the nation''s resources, bureaucrats. ''He''d fit right in.'' By common sense, this journey should have been brutal and perilous. Of course, considering the strength of their group, the danger hadn''t been that great. Even so, seeing Krais move so naturally in a new environment was somewhat impressive. Luagarne turned her gaze to the rest of their group. Esther, the panther, was perched on the hut''s window frame, staring intently at her master. Finn was inside, catching up on much-needed sleep. Luagarne had nothing to do. If she had free time, she might as well help Enkrid with his training. As she did, old memories surfaced. Specifically, the so-called ''geniuses'' she had mentored. Every single one of them had been, well, like the offspring of dogs. Yes. That was exactly right. Like dogs. "I''ve trained enough, don''t you think?" "I still have more to learn?" "I have an appointment at the salon this evening." "No, do you like me or something? I''m not into having some kind of spiritual romance with a Frog, so I''d really appreciate it if you''d let me be." "This is my limit. I can''t go any further." Geniuses were all the same. They mastered techniques so quickly that true, grueling training was rare for them. They never had to push themselves to the brink. They simply went through the motions, filling training hours. With bodies that absorbed skills effortlessly, their mental endurance withered away. A dried-up well. A sword was ultimately about controlling the body and moving it as one willed. That was the fundamental requirement. And these were the ones who had been born with it. Geniuses who grasped techniques after only a few attempts. People unfamiliar with struggle. Brrrr. Thinking about it made her puff out her cheeks involuntarily. Then, if the fundamentals were already in place, what was next? ''What else but relentless practice?'' They needed to swing, run, and roll endlessly. But how many actually did? Truly, truly rare. Most of them were damn useless, but... There had been exceptions. ''Gods aren''t fair.'' She wasn''t exactly upset, but the memories weren''t pleasant. Her first lover. A man who never thought about tomorrow and always gave his all to the present. "Training is fun." His words came back to her. Luagarne indulged in nostalgia. Back then, she had been younger and far more passionate. Of course, a Frog''s desires never wane with age. They were hedonists, a warrior race that lived by their instincts and cravings. Her thoughts blurred, and before her stood another man. Seeing him, she spoke without thinking. "Are you enjoying yourself?" Snapped out of her reverie, Luagarne asked the question. Enkrid glanced at her and nodded. "Yes, I am." Luagarne saw the man, dripping with sweat. Black hair, blue eyes. Different from her former lover. And yet, his talent was unmistakably different. Perhaps, if he had lived¡ªif the unfairness of the gods had not lingered upon him. He might have become a knight. But the man before her was not that person. And yet, why did they overlap? Just memories¡ªfaded past recollections, not pleasure but pain. Luagarne, being a Frog, discarded unpleasant memories. Living for the present, surrendering to desires, upholding agreements¡ªthat was enough. "Boss, boss." For a brief moment, as Luagarne indulged in sentimentality, Krais approached, calling for Enkrid. Once near, Krais spoke. "This is quite serious, isn''t it? A quarry, a training ground, even a barracks in the plans. There''s talk of some noble backing it all." It hadn''t even been half a day, yet Krais had already gathered quite a bit of information. Raising his index finger, he pointed to the sky¡ªsignifying that power was involved in this village. Well, without that, such a scale would be difficult to achieve. "What about defense?" Enkrid nodded and asked. What would happen if a large horde of magical beasts attacked? The original request was to deal with a colony of such beasts. The command was granted to utilize the village militia. But if that was no longer the case¡ª Could the village handle a colony on its own? Would they be safe if another incident occurred? Since he had taken the job, he might as well assess things properly. A request was a request, work was work, and people were people. He needed to know what was necessary. Krais hadn''t been aimlessly wandering about. In fact, he was quite in sync with Enkrid. With just a glance from Enkrid, Krais had gathered everything he needed. "They''re quite solid. That former mercenary captain seems to have trained them well. I don''t claim to be an expert, but at least their discipline is in place. And disciplined troops don''t collapse easily. Even the ones up in the watchtower¡ªthose eyes of theirs¡ªwhile their tongues are polite, their gaze is downright murderous." The watchtower. Those eyes. That look. It wasn''t to his liking. Just a gut feeling¡ªbut were they mercenaries who dabbled in banditry as well? It was possible. Regardless, there didn''t seem to be any major concerns. That was his conclusion. So, what was next? "Well, since things are like this, boss, how about we go treasure hu¡ª" "Luagarne." Before Krais could finish, Enkrid called for the Frog. Snapping out of her reverie, Luagarne rolled her bulging eyes. "Let''s spar." Dueling, training¡ªsticking to the usual routine. Already, people had started gathering to watch Enkrid. An odd one among odd ones. Even here, he looked like he would swing his sword all day. "Shall we use wooden swords?" The Frog asked. "Krais?" Instead of answering, Enkrid called out to his quick-witted subordinate. Even if they weren''t the most welcome guests, acquiring two wooden swords shouldn''t be an issue. "You''re not actually going treasure hunting, are you?" Krais countered Enkrid''s request, his tone full of genuine concern. Understandable¡ªthis involved Krona, after all. "I''m leaning towards it." "...I''ll fetch the wooden swords." Enkrid had a surprisingly devious side, and Krais was well aware of it. ''But he''s someone who keeps his word once he says it.'' If Enkrid said he was considering it, then he was already halfway there. As Krais darted off, a chittering sound came from behind. Turning, Enkrid saw Esther¡ªthe panther¡ªlaughing. Her laughter was quite unique. "Did you always laugh like that?" Curious, Enkrid asked. Feigning dignity, pretending she hadn''t been laughing, Esther stretched her neck and turned sideways, resting her head on her front paws. No answer, then. Soon, Krais returned with the wooden swords, and the spar began. There was a reason Luagarne had suggested wooden swords. "This is a game of strategy." It was the same method she had once used to train her exceptionally talented lover. Of course, Enkrid had no idea. He was too focused on enjoying it. A new training method, a different swordplay style. It was fun. Instead of relying on raw physical ability, it was a refinement of basic techniques. Where to block and deflect the opponent''s strike¡ª Every move laid the groundwork for the next. A game of setting traps for victory. As they slowly clashed wooden swords, building strategies¡ª "What''s that?" "Are they playing around?" "What? Royal reinforcements? Isn''t this supposed to be work, not a vacation?" People started talking as they watched. A rumor spread that someone had come here to play sword-fighting games with a Frog. Despite the size of the settlement, it was still a pioneer village. Apart from the militia, the population barely reached two hundred. Word spread that the platoon leader sent from Border Guard was just a good-for-nothing, bringing along a woman and a Frog. The Frog was supposedly his bodyguard, the woman his guide, and he even had a big-eyed attendant and a pet. Enkrid didn''t care. As the troublemakers squad leader, he had endured worse rumors before and never paid them any mind. "Ugh, even here, you''re still swinging that sword?" Finn, having just woken from a nap, groaned as she saw Enkrid drenched in sweat. Chapter 163 - Standing at the Edge Chapter 163 - 163 - Standing at the Edge Chapter 163 - Standing at the Edge On the first day, as they were immersed in training, the village chief provided dinner. He brought various kinds of food to their hut. "Please, eat." The one delivering the food was a red-haired woman. She seemed a couple of years younger than Enkrid. "He doesn''t mean anything bad." She was speaking in defense of the village chief. "It''s fine." When Enkrid responded indifferently, the woman''s expression brightened. "I''m Shai." "Okay." After a brief introduction, Shai blushed and left. Behind her, Krais muttered, "As expected of a natural charmer. Just open a salon with me already." Should he tell Krais that if his "salon" ever became a knightly order, it would probably be called something ridiculous like "Swallow Knights" or "Host Knights"? Enkrid held his tongue. It was best not to react to the words "natural charmer." The meal wasn''t extravagant, but it was enough¡ªwhite bread, watery stew, roasted beans, and corn. Expecting meat would be too much of a luxury. As for the Frog''s meal, they couldn''t ask for anything special, so Luagarne ate raw vegetables. Crunch. "Vegetables with bug holes are the best. They come with a little extra flavor." Luagarne spoke while chewing on a dandelion leaf full of holes. SHe always seemed to enjoy it when She found bugs in her greens. Enkrid wasn''t disgusted. This was nothing. Finn and Krais felt the same. One was a former ranger¡ªshe believed that anything that grew from the earth or moved was edible. Krais had also been through his share of hardships. A few bugs? So what? Enkrid wasn''t any different. After finishing their meal, they trained again, then trained some more until bedtime. "You really never get tired of this, huh?" Krais remarked, but Enkrid simply continued training. Since there was no separate bathhouse, they had to wash at the well. With the temperature rising, the cold water was refreshing. After washing up, Enkrid checked the equipment that had worn out on the way here. He had swung his sword countless times, so he only needed to sharpen the blade. Using a pre-prepared amount of animal fat, he wiped the blade, rubbed it down with leather, and finished it off with a clean cloth. The smell was a bit strong, but it was better than letting the blade degrade. There were no chipped edges¡ªeverything was intact. "Impressive." Enkrid was once again impressed by the skill of the blacksmith from the Border Guard''s forge. Even if Valerian steel and Dempf iron were involved, not just anyone could craft a sword like this. And it probably didn''t even use that much of the expensive materials. The next day came. As usual, Enkrid woke up at dawn and continued his isolation technique and training. Finn, unable to sleep due to an excessive nap, went out to scout the surroundings. The moon was still visible, but she said she was just going to take a look around. It was probably her ranger instincts. Mapping out the terrain in her mind. "Deutsch Pullman." As Enkrid continued training, a man approached at daybreak. He had rough-looking short hair and an eyepatch over one eye. In one hand, he carried a broad-bladed glaive. A scar ran across his face, giving him a rugged, intimidating appearance. "You''re from Zaltembuk, aren''t you?" Deutsch stared at him as he spoke. Zaltembuk... where was that again? Somewhere near the central region, probably. "Enkrid of the Border Guard, platoon leader." A brief introduction. Then Enkrid resumed his training. Whatever business Deutsch had, it wasn''t enough reason to stop. Deutsch silently watched before finally speaking. "I heard you are in command." "That''s right." Enkrid responded simply, still swinging his sword. Deutsch kept staring. What the hell is he doing? He was holding a wooden sword and slowly cutting through the air. One strike here, another strike there. Does that even help? "Are you busy?" "Not really." Is he messing with me? Deutsch frowned. A man comes up to talk to you, and this is how you respond? He had come to gauge Enkrid¡ªwhether this so-called commander was here to challenge his position as the village''s defense captain. But his attitude was... odd. Deutsch didn''t want to start unnecessary trouble, nor give Enkrid any reason to exploit weaknesses. "Stay calm." So he endured. "The palisade here is reinforced with resin, making it sturdy. It can easily hold against most beasts and monsters." "I see." "We regularly form strike teams to clear out threats, and we''ve had no major issues so far." "I see." "I brought over thirty men, and we''ve expanded the local militia through training." "I see." "We also manage the quarry, more or less." "I see." "We built watchtowers, and my men take shifts guarding them day and night." "I see." ...Is this guy broken? At this point, it was natural to start thinking that. Deutsch wanted to confirm whether the Border Guard was trying to exert pressure on the village. But Enkrid showed no interest whatsoever. Shouldn''t he at least ask about the village''s defenses? Most commanders would poke around, find weaknesses, and use that as leverage to secure control. Yet, Enkrid didn''t even seem to care. Deutsch could feel his carefully planned discussion unraveling. ''Something''s off about him.'' Even his eyes weren''t normal. He was just staring into space with a blank look. Swinging his sword, lost in thought. They said he was playing with the Frog and a wooden sword earlier¡ªwas that true? Or what the hell was he actually here for? Thoughts tangled in Deutsch''s mind before he finally asked, "Did you come here just to train?" "Half-half, maybe?" For the first time, Enkrid slightly turned his head to answer. Deutsch had asked the question on a whim. But this guy really came here just to train? "We''ve already taken care of the monsters forming colonies." "I see." Forget it. This guy is not normal. At least one thing was clear¡ªhe wasn''t here to seize command. Whatever he was up to, time would reveal it. "Captain, monsters sighted." Just then, one of Deutsch''s subordinates called for him. It was a recent recruit, but a sharp one¡ªquick-witted and reliable. "Alright." And with that, Deutsch turned away. Enkrid simply resumed his training. Deutsch returned to his duties. Ensuring the village''s defenses remained strong, keeping watch over the surroundings. After all, they had already cleared out the monster colonies before Enkrid''s arrival. "Just a bunch of stray mutts." What was the big deal about twenty hyenas gathering? They didn''t know. They had no idea how many monsters Enkrid had slain on his way here. Nor the number of beast corpses strewn along the road to the village. Not even that an entire ''Black Blade'' unit stationed nearby had been wiped out. They simply thought¡ª "So, the thieves were supposed to come and cause trouble." Deutch had been receiving daily reports, waiting for the thieves to show up. Normally, a pioneering village would be like a hidden treasure chest, making greedy thugs drool. But there had been no signs of them. Silence. Everything was progressing smoothly, without a hitch. "Is luck on our side?" It was as if the goddess of fortune had winked at him¡ªand he simply hadn''t noticed. And so, on the third day after they arrived at the Pioneer Village¡ª Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! The bell rang, piercing through the early morning mist with its alarm of an enemy invasion. "Bandits?" Deutch sprang to his feet, grabbing his weapon. He was known as the One-Eyed Glaive, and he would demonstrate why. He kicked open the door¡ª "Everyone¡ª Ugh!" Before he could finish his shout, he instinctively raised his weapon to block. Clang! Steel rang against steel. A battle axe struck the blade of his glaive, sending vibrations through the walnut-wood shaft and rattling his hands. "Hah!" With a fierce shout, he swung the glaive''s shaft at his axe-wielding foe. Thunk! The monster was sent flying to the side. What the hell is this? Deutch was caught off guard. He hadn''t even donned his armor yet, and the area was already swarming with monsters. "Guuuuugh!" The one he struck groaned in pain. A strange cry¡ª A creature with an elongated torso and spotted markings all over its body¡ª A gnoll. If a single one had broken into the village, it wouldn''t have been a major issue. He would have just crushed its skull and reported it afterward. No need for panic. But if about half a dozen gnolls and hyena beasts had invaded? A bell could be rung for alarm, but seeing them right before his eyes would still be infuriating. Are you telling me a former mercenary corps can''t even handle this? But now¡ª "Aaaah!" "Fight! Don''t back down!" "Shoot! Shoot them down!" "Help! Please, help me!" "Keugh!" "Gah!" Screams of desperation and death blended into a grim symphony. In the midst of the chaos, he glimpsed his subordinates¡ª But there was no time to confirm their state. There were too many. Gnolls and hyena beasts surged forward like a tidal wave. "Guuuuuugh¡ª!" Five more gnolls now stood before Deutch. Gnolls hunted in packs. That cry had been a call for more allies to join the fight against him. "Hah!" Deutch fought back fiercely. He faced four axe-wielding gnolls and one with a spear. By the time his glaive split open the heads of two gnolls¡ª "Guuuuuuuugh!" Another cry rang out¡ª And even more enemies appeared. "This is insane." No, this can''t be happening. Deutch felt it¡ªno, he was certain. This was the edge of a cliff. There was no way out. *** Waking up at dawn had been a long-standing habit for Enkrid. "Time is never enough." A genius? No, compared to those with ordinary talent, he had to swing his sword ten times when they did it once. If that wasn''t enough, he''d swing a hundred times. If that still fell short, then a thousand times. And yet, no matter how much he swung, he never saw immediate results. But now¡ª "Ah." A series of small realizations. The lingering traces of consideration embedded in Luagarne''s teachings. He found them, consumed them, and chewed on them. And through that process, he rediscovered their essence. His sword moved. Each day felt new for Enkrid. It had always been that way¡ª But recently, even more so. Most importantly, even while practicing the Isolation technique, sudden insights would strike him. "Coordination." It was the ability to react in the instant one saw and felt something. A difference in reaction speed. And the sense of evasion relied on that foundation. Ordinary training couldn''t instill it. Then what did he need? "Die if I must. Do it even if it kills me." A simple resolution¡ª To push through, even at the cost of his life. When the Heart of the Beast gave not composure, but boldness¡ªEnkrid understood something. All he needed was a small trigger. Just as he reached that conclusion¡ª Guuuuuugh! A wave of foul air spread. As the dawn''s blue light faded¡ª Screams erupted ahead. Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! The emergency bell rang. "Invasion! Monsters! Monsters!" Hm? Enkrid had focused solely on training these past few days,but Krais had been scouting the village in his spare time. "The palisades are quite sturdy. Even if something happens, the village should hold up decently well." "There aren''t any siege weapons like trebuchets or mangonels, but the defenses are solid. It looks like they built them with a prolonged siege in mind. The bottom line is this¡ª" In response to whether the village could be in danger,Krais had said¡ª "It''s fine. If trouble breaks out, reinforcements from another city will arrive. If they hunker down, they can last over a month." A monster colony shouldn''t have been able to overrun the village. "...That''s not right, Big Eyes." Enkrid muttered. Pabababak! Guuuuuuuugh! The sound of pounding feet. Dust clouds rising. The monstrous horde surging forward. He could see them¡ª Charging relentlessly, not even stopping to breathe. There were so many that counting was meaningless. Guuuuugh!Kaaaaaah! Their cries echoed as they trampled the roads built by humans. A gnoll''s axe crashed into a market stall. Crash! Splinters flew. "Kyaaaah!" And human screams overlapped the destruction. Gnolls and hyenas. The dangers of gnolls¡ª A few thoughts flashed through his mind. First, they moved in packs. Even a single gnoll would bring along hyena beasts. That made them a nuisance. Second, each individual was far from weak. Third, gnolls tended to form pairs¡ªat least with hyena beasts. Thoughts were thoughts. The body was the body. Enkrid grabbed his sword and stepped forward. Behind the hut where he had been staying, the village''s laborers were still at work. The militia, including that guy Deutch, were stationed near the village center. That meant there weren''t many fighters in this area. "Huh? H-huh?!" Behind him, a quarry worker who had stepped out to relieve himself collapsed in terror. "Lua!" In his urgency, Enkrid only managed to shout half of the Frog''s name as he swung his sword. Chapter 164 - Swinging the Sword Chapter 164 - 164 - Swinging the Sword Chapter 164 - Swinging the Sword The moment the gnoll lunged forward with its crude spear, Enkrid''s sword traced an arc, slicing through both the spear shaft and the creature''s chest in one motion. Crack! Thud! Two sounds rang out at once as the gnoll''s chest split open. Dark, viscous blood seeped out from between its yellow fur¡ªthick, black ichor unique to monsters. Enkrid flicked his sword, scattering the blood across the gnoll''s spotted hide. The mortally wounded creature gurgled, black foam bubbling from its mouth. Snap! A whip cracked through the air. A hyena beast, which had been lunging at a fallen worker, had its neck snatched mid-pounce. The creature was yanked into the air with a whoosh before crashing down among its kin. One unfortunate beast landed atop a nearby rooftop, let out a shriek, then rolled off the edge. "Lua is a name lovers use, you know?" The Frog reacted to the name, her voice casual. She was now clad in a chest plate¡ªwhen had she put it on? Her gaze briefly flickered over the corpse of the gnoll. She hadn''t aimed for it, but she had split its heart. She looked away, unconcerned. Her seasoned experience as a Frog warrior was evident even here. After all, she was no ordinary Frog¡ªshe was the mentor of the Refined Sword Style, and a warrior with an extensive history. "Hey, I''m heading out." "...Where to?" Even for her, leaving now, in the middle of battle, seemed absurd. And so suddenly? "Cultists." Cultists? Enkrid didn''t even have time to ask further. Rumble. Luagarne''s cheeks swelled, a physical expression of emotion¡ªrage, regret, or something similar. But Enkrid had no way of knowing. Luagarne bolted. With a powerful stomp, she vanished forward, sending dirt spraying up like a fountain from where she had stood. Her body left afterimages as she sped ahead. Several hyena beasts moved to block her path, but it was meaningless. Luagarne became a green streak. Boom! The hyena beasts at the end of her charge were sent flying in all directions. Seeing them soar through the air made the entire situation feel unreal. It was a feat of brute strength, something only a Frog warrior like her¡ªwho could shrug off minor wounds¡ªcould accomplish. Enkrid focused his gaze in the direction she was heading. There was something there. No, someone familiar. A figure he had seen over the past three days. The one who had always stuck close, that so-called captain, Deutsch. Clang! Before a fallen worker, Esther stood, claws raised. Enkrid snapped his attention back to his own battle. The gnolls and hyenas were swarming. There was no time to watch from afar, nor to ask about the cultists. "What is all this?" Behind him, Krais muttered. There wasn''t even time to answer. The gnolls were already charging. "Hah..." Exhaling, Enkrid dug his left foot into the ground, twisting his ankle, knee, and waist in unison as he swung his sword. A Refined Sword Style spinning slash carved through the incoming gnoll. Thud! The blade cleaved through its torso, severing it in two. Black blood and entrails splattered to the ground. The bisected corpse was flung aside, momentarily halting the gnolls'' charge, but only for a second. One of them leaped over the corpse, swinging a battle hammer. More followed, tongues lolling, saliva flying. Enkrid had no armor¡ªonly his sword. The situation was dire. "They just keep coming!" Krais shouted. Enkrid exhaled sharply, raising his sword once more. There was no time for words. The chaos had begun. *** There were things in this world that could not be yielded. Things that could not be ignored. And things that could never be forgiven. For Luagarne, cultists were one such thing. A group of mad zealots who believed their god resided in the Demonic Realms. They were an enemy she could never overlook. So the moment she spotted one, Luagarne lost control. She was indeed an experienced warrior¡ªone who had spoken the word heart with knowing weight. But she was also a Frog. A species that acted upon the primal desires that boiled in their chests. And the cultists had taken her second lover. She had sworn on her heart that day¡ªsworn to kill every cultist she ever laid eyes on. This was more important to her than anything else. Her only thought was to kill and return. But her movements had been checked. The cultist brat was craftier than expected. "You crazy Frog bitch." The cultist sneered, lips curling into a sharp grin. To him, it must have looked like he had successfully lured her into a trap. No matter. It was time to shatter their arrogance. Though it meant she wouldn''t be able to return to Enkrid right away... Don''t die. That was all she could hope for. *** The moment Luagarne left, the monsters surged forward like floodwaters from a burst dam. Enkrid had stepped up to buy time, but it was futile. There were too many of them. "Guhhh!" With an eerie cry, a short battle hammer came crashing down toward his head. A weapon tipped with an iron spike. If it hit, the damage would be more than just painful. Enkrid stepped back and swung his sword upward from below. A reverse vertical slash. Thud! Enkrid split his opponent''s jaw and half of his skull vertically with his blade. Then, he used the pommel of his sword as a blunt weapon to strike the head of a hyena charging from the left. Thwack! A hyena that had leaped up, aiming for an opening, crashed to the ground with a dull thud. The sensation in his hands was like cracking a walnut¡ªits skull must have been shattered. There was no time to confirm how cleanly he had split it. Now, the attack came from the right. Three glinting blades. They flew at Enkrid, eager to prove their effectiveness against his body. These gnolls... they had impressive coordination. Enkrid swung his sword three times in quick succession, relying on instinct. If he couldn''t block them, he would simply strike them away. His focused eyes gleamed. Two of the slashes were deflected. Clang! The third, however, left no room for a counter. He twisted his body to dodge¡ª ¡ªbut a spear blade suddenly thrust forward, stabbing into his stomach. Enkrid immediately brought his sword down, striking the middle of the spear shaft. Thwack. The spear aiming for his gut was stopped¡ª Thud! ¡ªbut at that moment, a hammer crashed down onto his shoulder. This was another enemy entirely. There was no way to block that in time. Even with his heightened senses, it was impossible to detect every attack in such chaos. The strike had come from his blind spot. Stopping meant death. His instincts screamed, his gut and his intuition roared. Enkrid let himself fall backward, shifting his weight as if collapsing. Then, he reversed his grip on his sword and slammed the pommel onto his left shoulder. Thud! A heavy impact. The enemy behind him let out a pained, gurgling groan. Using the momentum of his fall, Enkrid suddenly sprang back up, swinging his sword to the right. A hyena beast was lunging at him. The first one had aimed for his throat with reckless aggression. The ones attacking after were persistent. This time, the beast targeted his wrist. Just as Enkrid split the creature''s skull, his heart pounded from the imminent danger surrounding him. Calmness. Boldness. The Heart of the Beast anchored his mind. The moment he regained full awareness of his surroundings, his sense of evasion went beyond his five senses¡ªinto his sixth. Time slowed. The gnolls'' weapons advanced toward him in sequence. A spear, a gladius, a battle axe, and a hammer. A thin line connected them¡ª The line between life and death. Enkrid followed that line with his sword. Thud! Slash! Crack! Thud! A well-honed blade performing its craft. The gnoll at the front had its skull split with a clean downward cut. The second had its nape slashed as the sword smoothly transitioned downward. The third was struck in the collarbone, the blade cutting deep into its heart. The fourth¡ªafter piercing its heart, Enkrid ripped the sword out and swung diagonally, carving through ribs and stomach, exposing entrails. It was a fatal wound. Death was certain. The other three had suffered the same fate¡ªall struck with lethal blows. Four dead in an instant. The ground was soaked in the dark blood of beasts. Gnolls were the embodiment of persistence. They used their fallen comrades as an opportunity, thrusting spears from behind. Meanwhile, the hyena beasts remained relentless. Failing to strike his wrist, they targeted his thigh. When that failed, they aimed for his shin. It wasn''t just one or two of them. There were so many that counting them was meaningless. There was no time to worry about others. Enkrid focused his entire mind on what he had to do. Cut. Cut again. Stab. Stab again. His heavy sword techniques flowed effortlessly, splitting heads and bodies of the beasts. Even after battling over a dozen creatures in this chaotic melee, The number of gnolls and hyena beasts remained the same. Even with his calm mindset, his breath grew ragged. His heart pounded in his chest. And now, something new emerged among the gnolls. Taller than the others¡ªby an entire head. Naturally, they were stronger and more formidable. Most of his enemies were smaller than Enkrid. But these exceptions towered over him. One of them advanced, raising a massive wooden club high above his head. "Grrrruuuuhh!" ''No time to dodge.'' A split-second decision. The best possible choice. ''Jump.'' Boom! He had prepared for this¡ªbut held back until now. Now, he unleashed it. Revealing the Heart of Monstrous Strength, Enkrid swung his sword upward without hesitation. Crash! A deafening explosion. It was as if a bomb had gone off. The mutated gnoll''s club was sent soaring into the sky. The moment it lost its weapon, Enkrid propelled himself forward, thrusting his hand like a flash of light toward its throat. Squelch! A single thrust¡ªswift as lightning¡ªpierced through its neck. It was one motion. In and out. It had to be. Losing his sword meant losing his only weapon. Now, two more of the large gnolls rushed in from the side. No¡ªevery gnoll''s yellow eyes gleamed. Murderous intent. Malice. Greedy hunger. What could be done against eyes like those? What was possible now? I don''t know. The only thing I can do now is swing my sword¡ªthat was all there was to it. *** Esther knew something was wrong. ''Too many. A large-scale colony.'' The term indicated the sheer difference in scale. It was too late to run. The panther''s eyes scanned behind her. What she saw was humans dying¡ªmonsters committing a massacre. "S-Save me!" One couldn''t even finish his plea before a gladius pierced his throat. "Kuaaah!" Another was torn apart alive by a hyena beast''s fangs. Thud, thud. Gnolls repeatedly thrust their spears into fallen corpses. "Guuk! Guuk!" Monsters exuding base pleasure. Everything happened in an instant. Humans couldn''t escape. The palisade was tall. The moment the monsters breached it, this place ceased to be a human village and became nothing more than a platter for the monsters. There was nowhere to run. Some humans sprinted toward the watchtower, hoping to buy some time by climbing to higher ground. But it was futile. ''The monsters aren''t the only problem.'' Esther''s eyes narrowed. Atop the watchtower, some supposed former mercenary grinned as he fired arrows. Aiming at those trying to climb up the walls in search of safety¡ªtwang, thud. The struck man plummeted to the ground. His skull shattered, and the hyena beasts devoured him. Everyone who attempted to climb met the same fate. A foreboding sensation filled Esther''s mind. "Kyahhh!" And so, she revealed a portion of her power. With monstrous strength, she kicked and crushed a gnoll''s skull. Then, leaping forward, she clawed, slashed, and stabbed at the hyena beasts. Thud! Squish! Crack! Her claws split skulls apart. Esther rampaged. Even after killing over a dozen, the wave did not end. This was no colony that a small group could handle. A catastrophe-level colony. A monstrous gathering that would cause massive problems within the kingdom. ''Someone orchestrated this.'' Esther, a mage who possessed a spell world, had an instinctive understanding¡ªthis wasn''t natural. But there was nothing she could do at the moment. Even as she pondered, she moved ceaselessly and soon reached her limit. There were simply too many. If they held their ground, they would die. Escape was the only option. That was her judgment. An escape route? "We have to break through the front, Captain!" Krais¡ªBig Eyes¡ªshouted. At some point, he had drawn a shortsword. A talented one, indeed. How had he survived with just a single shortsword? He had been staying near his captain¡ªthe eye of the storm. Holding his ground right at the boundary. The surrounding gnolls prioritized the most dangerous enemy. And that was Enkrid. A man Esther needed. He fought like a hero out of legend. Against the approaching gnolls, he slashed, stabbed, and killed with a single sword, wielding it madly. Gripping near the ricasso, he fought in a half-swording style, crushing a gnoll''s skull purely with brute strength¡ªa breathtaking sight. A sheer display of overwhelming martial prowess. If there had been time, if the situation had been less dire, it would have been a scene worth marveling at. ''This isn''t good.'' If she were in her human form, possessing her spell world, things might be different. But what could she do with a panther''s body? Fighting alongside him? That would just mean dying alongside him. Esther leaped onto the roof of a nearby hut. She erased her presence and watched the man. She had decided to observe for now. ''I will avenge you.'' And in that moment, she made a fresh resolve. She had never harbored such feelings for anyone before in her life. But without even realizing it, Esther committed herself to vengeance. Chapter 165 - Before the Surging Wave of Monsters Chapter 165 - 165 - Before the Surging Wave of Monsters Chapter 165 - Before the Surging Wave of Monsters Enkrid didn''t bother counting the enemy numbers. He simply swung his sword, again and again. The monsters charged endlessly, and human screams burst out one after another. No, at some point, the screams had disappeared, leaving only the stench of blood and the howls of beasts and monsters. The battle had begun at dawn, and before he knew it, it was noon. The sun had passed overhead. Enkrid couldn''t block every attack. A hyena-like beast''s head, detached from its body, was lodged in his left thigh. His left arm hung limp. His right hand was intact, but his right foot was not. Smashed by a hammer, all his toes were broken. His body wobbled left and right, and his vision blurred slightly. Yet, the monsters kept coming. "Grrrrrk!" The pleas for help that had echoed around him¡ª The screams from somewhere in the distance¡ª They were gone. Dragging his feet, Enkrid swung his sword. His entire body screamed in agony from the reckless use of his Heart of the Beast. From morning until past midday, for nearly half a day, he had fought alone, cutting down gnolls and hyena beasts. The number surpassed a hundred. If someone had seen it, if someone had known¡ª They would have been horrified. But the only one left here was himself. "Ah, Krais." As he took a step back, his foot caught on something¡ªa corpse. Its belly had been torn open, spilling its guts, yet it could no longer groan even when stepped on. A familiar face. Krais, whose cheek bore the bite marks of a beast. His face was ruined. And to think, he always boasted that his face was his greatest asset. At least Finn had gone out on patrol. She had left to check the surrounding terrain¡ªthankfully so. If she had seen this, she would have run. At least she wouldn''t die. The others... were they all dead? Probably. Today was another wall, a repetition of yesterday. The certainty of it was almost a premonition. He didn''t need the boatman to tell him. No, he could almost hear the boatman''s mocking voice already. "You think you can overcome the wall just by training with your sword? Try it. Drown in the monsters and beasts, suffocate in their midst. Then you''ll realize your limits." Exhaling, Enkrid gripped his sword once more. ''Limits? What nonsense.'' The gnolls, who had been relentlessly attacking, finally stopped. "Guuuuuk!" "Guuuuuuuk!" "Guuuuuuuuuk!" A rough, guttural howl echoed, and then the monster horde split apart. From the gap, a single gnoll emerged. Its posture was characteristic of its kind¡ªhead lowered, back hunched, spine protruding upwards. It wasn''t unusually large. It didn''t wield some extraordinary weapon. At first glance, it seemed like any other gnoll. The only difference was that its fur stood more on end than the others, and its snout was longer. It held daggers in both hands, their blades gleaming under the sunlight, coated with some unknown substance. With its appearance, the howling of the gnolls grew louder. The air vibrated. The resonating sound struck his eardrums, making them ache. As Enkrid raised his sword before his eyes, he felt his arm trembling. A consequence of overusing Heart of the Beast. ''Tch.'' It was frustrating, in a way. What was all this? He had woken up intending to train, only for a wave of monsters to crash down upon him. And now, here he was. The gnoll''s gleaming yellow eyes locked onto Enkrid. And Enkrid''s lake-like blue eyes met its gaze. Blue and yellow¡ªeach confirming the other''s presence. Monsters that formed colonies always had a leader. One glance at the atmosphere was enough to tell. This gnoll was their leader. The leader sniffed the air, then bared its fangs in what seemed like a grin. Was it a smile of confidence in victory? Was this gnoll actually smiling at him? Was that even possible? Enkrid mulled over it for a moment before dismissing it entirely. It wasn''t a pleasant sight, but why should he care if the gnoll smiled or not? What mattered was reflecting on what had happened in this desperate battle. ''I''ve delved deep into the True Sword Form...'' Then again, he had only been focusing on mastering the basics. Expecting it to yield immediate results was unrealistic. Especially against monsters. A relentless tidal wave of them, no less. ''They''re not the kind to entertain a proper sword fight.'' Luagarne had once said that the True Sword Form was the worst technique to use against monsters. Well, for a human to carve through a monstrous tide alone, they would have to be at least knight-level¡ªno, at least squire. So, had he gained nothing from this battle? No. He had. Enkrid smiled. As always, he had discovered something new, and that alone brought him joy. Fighting against countless spears and blades, beasts and monsters, he had realized something. ''If I''m willing to risk death to push forward...'' The instinct for evasion¡ªSense of Evasion¡ªwas something that couldn''t be ingrained through mere training. But now, he had glimpsed it. The countless wounds covering his body, the bites, cuts, slashes, and blunt trauma¡ª In every single moment, he had felt it. Every time he was struck, he had wondered. Why here? Why couldn''t he dodge? Fighting, thinking, fighting, reflecting. Perhaps the gnoll leader recognized his smile. Or maybe it simply disliked the shift in atmosphere. Its torn mouth shut tight, and it lunged. With a sharp crack, its feet slammed against the ground as it charged. It was terrifyingly fast. It had no weight to its movement, yet its speed was reminiscent of the squire knight¡ªno, perhaps even greater. Without dynamic vision training, it would have been impossible to follow. No, even now, it was dangerously close. Enkrid barely managed to twist his body, half-collapsing as he dodged. Gnolls were monsters. They wielded weapons, but they weren''t the type to use any sort of swordsmanship. Their strikes were simple and direct. If not for that, dodging would have been out of the question. Enkrid gripped his sword with both hands and swung it upward. His battered body couldn''t deliver his best strike. But he hadn''t expected the gnoll to evade so easily either. Swish¡ª The gnoll leader retreated as swiftly as it had charged. It left afterimages in its wake. Enkrid''s blade sliced through empty air. The yellow fur, mottled with black spots, flickered in and out of sight like a fading image. Then, suddenly, it was right in front of him. Enlarging in his vision¡ªat point-blank range! The gnoll that had dodged his sword lunged at him again. This time, he had no way to avoid it. With a sickening thud, a dagger plunged deep into his thigh. It felt like being stabbed with a red-hot iron skewer. The searing pain spread from his thigh, scorching through his entire body. Enkrid tried to grab the gnoll the moment the dagger lodged into him. But the creature slipped away again. His desperate grasp only flailed through empty space. The gnoll backed off, staring at him with a calculating gaze. It began to circle around him in slow, deliberate steps. Stalling for time? At a moment like this? Why? What kind of monster is this? The thought had barely formed when¡ª "You bastard." Instead of a grin, Enkrid let out a breath of realization. The dagger in his thigh gleamed with something slick. A dull, burning pain¡ªfollowed by a sudden wave of nausea. It wasn''t something he could just endure. "Ugh¡ª!" His stomach twisted violently, forcing him to vomit a mix of blood and whatever he had eaten. Poison. The dagger had been coated with poison. ''Sneaky bastard.'' This gnoll knew its own strengths well. Faster hands and feet than the others. Faster reflexes. It knew that even a grazing wound would be enough to secure victory. It knew how to fight¡ªand how to win. "Kh...!" That was the last thought Enkrid had before he collapsed. Luagarne isn''t coming back. Maybe if he held out, she would come. But that wasn''t hope. It wasn''t dependence. It was simply recognition of the facts. Now that he knew Luagarne wasn''t coming, that was enough. That was the end of it. If he had to endure alone, then so be it. What came next was a pain unlike anything he had ever known. The gnoll with the dagger, as if playing a cruel game, jabbed Enkrid''s body over and over. Poisoned and helpless, Enkrid suffered for more than half an hour before he died. Blackness. Darkness. And once again, the ferryman. "A proper funeral rite? Do you think that''ll help? You''re nothing but a drifting wreck in a storm of monsters and beasts." Ah. He was reacting exactly as expected. "I see." Enkrid recalled Deutsch''s reaction and decided to try the same trick on the ferryman. "...You little bastard?" The ferryman immediately caught on and snapped at him. *** The moment his eyes opened at dawn, Enkrid began gathering his weapons. The clinking of metal filled the air as he secured his second sword, various throwing weapons, and his armor. The weight pressed down on his entire body. It was reassuring. All that noise was bound to wake the others. That was intentional. He had something to ask. Luagarne, the Frog, was the first to speak. "Fully armed at dawn?" "Do you know anything about cults?" At the unexpected question, a heavy silence fell over the cabin. Luagarne was the cause of it. For once, she wasn''t her usual indifferent self. "Where did you hear about them?" From you, of course. "During my time as a mercenary." "Hmm." "Shall we talk outside?" Luagarne suppressed the ominous tension she had stirred. Now wasn''t the time to press the matter. But still, the fact that Enkrid had brought it up... That was worth hearing out. Outside, Enkrid checked his gear once more. No issues. Then, he activated the Isolation technique. Moving while fully armed placed strain on his body. The discomfort forced him to adjust his stance. And in fixing his stance, he naturally recalled Audin''s teachings. "Training the body is meant to be uncomfortable." ...What a madman. The key was to bear the discomfort while shifting the burden from the joints to the muscles. How much time had he spent refining this? How many times had he repeated it? Enkrid quickly corrected his posture. Today, his Isolation technique would be short and intense. There wasn''t much time. Luagarne was baffled as she watched Enkrid, who immediately immersed himself in training, but she figured there was nothing to be done. "That''s just how he is." "Why bring up heresy all of a sudden?" Luagarne asked. Enkrid glanced at her casually. He had encountered heretics before and even eradicated them. They were often lurking in the dark corners of cities or in back alleys. Of course, if the problem arose in a city, the Inquisitors from the temple would deal with it, and mercenaries wouldn''t need to get involved. In rural villages, however, when similar issues arose, the village chief or mayor would sometimes hire mercenaries. Enkrid had once dealt with those who smoked herbs that destroyed their minds, people who were half-mad. It was clear that the heretics Luagarne mentioned were not the same type. So, Enkrid decided to ask, wanting to understand more. "I saw them in a dream," Enkrid replied. Enkrid spoke with ease. He was good with words, which meant he could read people''s intentions, understand their moods, and think quickly. Enkrid recognized that Luagarne''s gaze was not ordinary. ''She probably doesn''t think I''m normal,'' Enkrid thought. He wondered if he could get away with this conversation. If not, he would simply drop it. His curiosity about cultists was only half the reason. The other half was the feeling that something more might be tangled up in it. It was clear that this wasn''t about just a simple colony or a mob of monsters, it was something bigger, something odd. The number of people involved wasn''t normal. "A dream?" Luagarne asked, intrigued. One of the reasons was that Enkrid''s head didn''t seem quite right. ''It''s possible,'' Luagarne thought, soon accepting it. This man, despite everything going on, was still moving, fully armed. How was that normal? It certainly made him seem like the leader of a crazy squad. "Heresy is truly dangerous and should be approached with great caution. Even speaking its name carelessly could bring danger," Luagarne said. "Yes, you''re right," Enkrid replied, not feeling the need to elaborate further. Luagarne continued speaking, adding a few more details. "Cults have spread across the continent, but the most dangerous are those who believe in the Demon''s Sacred Grounds. They are followers of the Demonic Sacred Ground Cult, also known as the Rebirth Sect, worshipping the Six Devils." That was enough. It wasn''t detailed, but there was no need to know more. Luagarne kept it vague. Enkrid felt he had heard enough. Whether it was the Demonic Sacred Ground Sect, the Rebirth Sect, or those worshipping the Six Devils, something about it seemed to be connected with Luagarne. ''Has she gotten involved with them?'' Enkrid couldn''t ask her directly, so he would have to figure it out slowly. Enkrid resumed his training. Luagarne watched, then asked with a gurgling sound as bubbles formed, "Aren''t you hot?" Sweat dripped down from Enkrid''s forehead. It was hot. Training while fully armored wasn''t exactly comfortable. "It''s good for muscle training, the weight of the armor adds resistance," Enkrid said, brushing it off with a quick excuse, giving a plausible reason. That was his quick thinking in action. Luagarne nodded, accepting the explanation. Time passed again. Enkrid looked around to see if he could get Esther or Krais to evacuate. The thick barricades weren''t something that could be easily passed, and there were two gates¡ªone at the front, the other connected to a rocky hill at the back. Sending them back? But the back gate was firmly sealed as well. It was never opened in normal times, and Krais had said they didn''t want to show anyone the quarry area. ''What are they hiding?'' Enkrid didn''t know, and it didn''t matter. He didn''t push himself too hard. He eased up slightly. Sweat still fell to the ground. The heat was unbearable. Even in the morning, wearing this much armor was enough to make anyone sweat, and swinging a sword on top of that? He waited for the monsters. The boatman''s question seemed to echo. "What can a single human do in front of a wave of monsters?" No, it wasn''t the boatman''s question. It was a question Enkrid asked himself. What could a human, standing alone, do? There were plenty of things. The realizations, the things he''d relearned. In the midst of the monster tide, he could train his senses. Reflex training, judgment training based on incoming information, muscle contraction training, and crisis management skills gained by maneuvering the body amidst numerous blades. All of it was training. He had learned these lessons when facing the wizard Retsha, the werewolf colony, and the ambush units of Aspen. As he repeated today, heading toward tomorrow, he would use everything he had. He wouldn''t waste today. He would make full use of it. He had vowed to do so, and so he would. Enkrid sharpened his mind like a blade. He held his sword out in front of him. This was how he greeted a new day. Enkrid turned his back on the rising sun. Boom! A loud noise followed by the shout of a horn broke through the air. Chapter 166 - What Can One Human Standing Alone Do? Chapter 166 - 166 - What Can One Human Standing Alone Do? Chapter 166 - What Can One Human Standing Alone Do? What is the sense of evasion? It was not simply a technique of avoidance. Thinking about it, there were many strange things. Enkrid had left a scratch on Rem''s cheek. But had he ever seen one of his own squad members get hurt like that before? Neither when facing me nor on the battlefield had they ever been easily hurt. They didn''t get wounded. Unless they were deliberately letting themselves get hit, they fought without injury most of the time. How could that be? ''The sense of evasion.'' It wasn''t simply a skill of dodging. I had a vague grasp of it, and I intended to dissect it piece by piece, starting now. Facing the charging gnolls, Enkrid scattered his hands in the air. To someone who didn''t know, especially Krais, it looked like he was just waving his hands around, but it wasn''t. Thud, thud, thud. Using his hand as a bow, his chest as a launching pad, and the elasticity of his whole body, he threw his daggers. The daggers, like rays of light, pierced the heads of the charging hyena beasts and the necks and heads of the gnolls. The action of drawing and throwing was so fast that it was almost invisible. I wondered if my throwing skills had improved over time. And they had. Thanks to my isolation technique, strength training, and overall improvement in body control. Three of them died at once. Their bodies rolled across the ground, still at the speed they were running. Other gnolls and hyenas tripped over them. The other gnolls and hyena beasts trampled over the pile. The pitter-patter of feet was irritating. "Scatter!" Luagarne shouted, pulling out her whip and repeating the same command before running out. "Damn it! What the hell!" Krais''s surprised voice could be heard. "Kyaa!" Esther was guarding the side as well. "Th, th, ughh!" Even the worker who had come out to pee was shouting. It was the same day. But he met it differently. Enkrid''s hands moved ceaselessly. It was the second day. This time, there was a bit more leeway compared to the previous days. I already knew the indiscriminate wave of monsters was coming. I threw every dagger I had. Beep! Whistling daggers and all. I killed dozens of monsters and beasts that charged at me. But there was one fact that didn''t change. There were many. The horde of monsters and beasts formed a wave once more. Those that leaped over the corpses lunged at Enkrid. "Watch out, Captain!" Krais shouted, drawing his shortsword with a clang. Enkrid adjusted his breathing. The realization he''d had in the previous days, something he could only feel by risking his life. He sharpened his senses. Entering a realm of intuition and instinct. He parried, blocked, and thrust his sword into the gaps in the gnolls'' attacks. More forcefully than ever before. If nothing else, Enkrid was confident in his stamina. With his past experiences added to it, he was like a press that crushed monsters and beasts. Crack! One would die with its neck severed. Another would die from being stabbed. Meanwhile, the sounds of metal clashing, flesh tearing, and bones breaking overlapped: clang! thud! smack! Krais''s eyes widened as he watched. ''Is he a monster?'' The same thought he''d had when seeing Rem and the other squad members popped into his head. That was the level of his movements. He blocked everything, struck down everything. With each swing of his sword, gnolls and hyenas died helplessly. Whether Krais was impressed, admiring, surprised, or spouting nonsense, Enkrid heightened his concentration. No, he entered a world of his own. He cut off his senses of his surroundings. A world where only the sword remained. Time slowed down, leaving only the enemy and him, the sword and the world, and his sharp intuition. Facing the overwhelming wave of monsters, the best a lone human could do was to swing his sword. Enkrid did just that. But the outcome didn''t change. Noon again, the sun shining down. This time, his injuries were less severe, but... Both of his thighs were deeply slashed. He couldn''t dodge that damn pair of daggers. Krais''s corpse was nowhere to be found this time. Enkrid endured for the same amount of time in this repeated day. ''Should I call that lucky?'' Esther had somehow climbed onto the roof of the hut. There seemed to be some kind of emotion in her big blue eyes, but there was no time or space to discern it. "Grrrr!" The characteristic howl of a hyena, and then the colony leader appeared. The leader of the monsters. It was the same as before. With his thighs injured, he couldn''t dodge as well, so perhaps this situation was worse than before. However, Enkrid was certain that his skills had improved in just one day. It was harsh and cruel, but his senses had become sharper. "See you again." Yelling incomprehensible words at the gnolls, he died writhing in poison. *** Cut to black. The ferryman didn''t appear, and a new day began. This time, I didn''t ask Luagarne any pointless questions. She was going to leave anyway. There was no point in asking unnecessary questions out of curiosity. There''s nothing more futile than asking why she didn''t stay and protect this place. Telling her to come back would be meaningless. If she was going to come back, she wouldn''t have left in the first place. Running away means that matter is more important to her. Instead. Clank, clank. "That''s a unique way to wake someone up, isn''t it?" I need to wake everyone up while I''m getting my gear ready. "It''s a beautiful day. It would be good to get up early." "Ugh, it''s still dawn. The moon hasn''t even set yet." Krais complained from beside me, but I ignored him. Once again, I broke into a sweat. This day was short. Or rather, the time I could dedicate to training was short. So, what was I to do? I could only use the battles as a training ground. And that''s what Enkrid did. The pain of the poison, the terrible agony? It was a matter of endurance. In fact, what made me forget the pain? The thrill of growth, even if it meant crawling forward. More than anything, it felt like I was walking now, not crawling. A slightly faster pace, that''s how it felt. How could I not be happy about that? ''A little further this time.'' You could call it a series of challenges. Enkrid set his own goal. It was a simple but clear goal. To delay the moment he got injured for as long as possible in each repeated day. At first, he was hit in the shoulder after only a few battles. The next day, both his thighs were slashed, and after that, he was struck in the abdomen by a spear. Thanks to his sturdy armor, he didn''t die, but if his reaction had been a little slower, it could have been fatal. ''I''m still lacking.'' It was a form of self-awareness. Enkrid, through his experiences, recognized his own shortcomings. "Squad leader, the most important thing in martial arts is to repeatedly ingrain it into your body. It''s about making your body remember, not your head. So, roll around," Audin''s words echoed in his mind. "The moment you see it, your body should react. Then you can dodge. There''s no need for some lazy person''s strange focus technique," Jaxen''s words came to mind. Originally, Enkrid would have trained to improve his coordination, where his body would react instantaneously based on what his eyes and senses perceived. But he was approaching it differently. ''What if I made my muscles remember in every situation?'' That''s what he did. Within the repeating today, in the midst of the waves of monsters. On the third today, the fourth today, the fifth today. Every today, he struggled and struggled again. More than twenty today''s passed like this. Training was a given, but the wave of monsters the ferryman had spoken of was like a wall that seemed insurmountable. Unless he became a knight right away. Or had an army of similar strength. But Enkrid didn''t let himself be distracted by such things. He was simply building today for tomorrow. There were no distractions. He simply carried out what he had to do in the repeating today. At first, it was less than ten. But after twenty days, I could parry and dodge attacks from dozens of gnolls in the middle of their pack, even while wielding a sword. "Wow," the worker who was supposed to be fleeing exclaimed in astonishment. It wasn''t like I could dart through them without a scratch, though. So, what do I do? I just repeat it. Thirty-something days passed. And then forty-something more. I was getting so used to being poisoned but the pain was still excruciating. But I learned a trick. Even when poisoned, I would endure and swing my sword. What would happen if I charged into the pack of gnolls right after being poisoned? Blades, hammers, axes, and spears would fly at me from all directions. Slash, slash, slash. Being hacked to pieces was better than dying a slow, painful death from poison. So, I rolled and rolled, risking my life among the gnolls and hyenas. In between these days, I had opportunities to ask about the cult. "Have you heard of the Cult of the Demon''s Sacred Ground?" It was a half-intentional question. With each repetitive day and limited time, I had no choice but to ask something new, and I used this as a reference point. Every ten days, I asked about the cult. That''s how I kept track of time. And since I was asking anyway, I asked a meaningful question. "They''re a rotten, fanatical cult," Luagarne replied, showing her hatred without hesitation, as a Frog would. It was hatred. A hatred so intense it made the center of her puffed-up cheeks look blood-red. "I''m going to kill them all. Every last one." I wondered why she had left. "I swore it on my heart," she said. Luagarne sounded like a seasoned Frog when she uttered those two words, ''my heart''. She hesitated a bit, but she spoke up eventually. Just that was enough to show how extraordinary of a Frog she was. The Cult of the Demon''s Sacred Ground. I don''t know if that''s the official name, but they were a bunch of crazy people who believed their god was imprisoned in the origin of monsters, a place inaccessible to humans. The most extreme of cults. The greatest heresy on the continent. It was said that they actually used humans as sacrifices in strange summoning rituals. What did they summon? Monsters. Sometimes evil spirits too. And not all monsters are created equal. There was a quite famous monster on the continent, and it was rumored to be the result of a summoning ritual. I thought it might just be a rumor circulating among mercenaries, but Luagarne confirmed it wasn''t just a rumor. "You know about the Salamander, right?" It was a monster that couldn''t be unknown. It was nicknamed the Fire-Breathing Demon, not only for the flames that erupted from its entire body but also for its ability to spew fire. "That was the work of those bastards." The rumor was true. "I was there." Luagarne was a witness. So, why is this important? It wasn''t. It was just a milestone to remember as I repeated the day. Training and tempering began anew. I also reflected on the mistakes I had made in previous iterations of today. After more than fifty repetitions, I realized, ''I pushed myself too hard.'' Confident in my stamina, I had poured everything I had into the beginning. ''I need to manage my stamina better.'' I''m learning how to fight when surrounded by multiple enemies. Those things became second nature to him. The days of being sickened by the stench of the gnolls were long gone. Enkrid had repeated this same day eighty-nine times. Yet, he still couldn''t face the leader without a single wound. Or rather, it was more accurate to say that the leader wouldn''t intervene unless he was injured. He had extended his survival from noon to evening. Still, nothing changed. Aside from being able to die watching the sunset, the outcome of death remained the same. "You''re so sneaky." He needed to be injured. He needed to suffer a fatal wound for the leader to appear. Like a hole in his stomach, for instance. Or maybe his ankle half-severed and dangling. Of course, it was a pointless conversation. On the ninety-sixth day, he was killed by the leader''s dagger. The end of his struggle was death, a destined fate, day after day. Over time, he naturally saw the habits of the gnolls. ''The gnolls have long torsos and short legs.'' Learning from the creature''s physique. Slow on their feet, but quick with their hands. Though they wielded human weapons, there was no form to their fighting. They simply swung wildly. Despite having the strength of a normal adult male, their short legs made their charge slower than expected. They enjoyed attacking from blind spots and would bite without hesitation once he entered melee combat. Being bitten was something to avoid at all costs. Their bite force was extraordinary. Not even a hyena or a wolf could easily be torn away if bitten, unless he activated his heart of the beast to tear himself free. There was something more he learned. ''Two blades.'' With his two swords and his heart of the beast activated, Even the most unbelievable feats were possible for that brief moment. "You''ll cut them all down," Krais would say with such ease. The problem was sustainability. No matter how well he managed his stamina, he couldn''t sustain this indefinitely. Repeat. Dodge and dodge again. Originally, the sense of evasion was somewhat of a talent. Though Jaxen tried to replace it with training, naturally, only those with talent succeeded. Enkrid solved it by engraving it into his body, one action at a time. In other words, ''Muscles have memory.'' By endlessly repeating the process of seeing and physically reacting, he imprinted it into his muscles. It became an evasion technique etched into his body, not his mind. Through repeated practice, he could now react immediately upon seeing something. His body''s coordination had finally settled into place. The moment he saw it, he could dodge and react. It became possible. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Your support is apreciated! https://ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 167 - On the Day the Moon Rises Chapter 167 - 167 - On the Day the Moon Rises Chapter 167 - On the Day the Moon Rises After one hundred and six times of today, Enkrid understood the concept of coordination and felt his body''s reactions change. Thunk. The moment he felt the spearhead coming from behind, he spun around and snatched the spear shaft out of the air. It was like a trick. The spear aimed at his back. Enkrid twisted his body to avoid it, then reached out and grabbed the shaft, catching it mid-air. It was like a scene from a well-rehearsed play. The next part was simple, the sound of a blade striking a skull was enough. When he recognized the situation, the image formed in his mind, and his body moved automatically. "The Isolation Technique serve as the foundation for easily controlling your body, brother." Audin''s words echoed in his mind. If he hadn''t rigorously trained his body with the isolation technique, he wouldn''t have been able to do this. The movements he had imagined were perfectly executed. Naturally, he could also see the flaws in his own movements. ''Minimal movement.'' It was about conserving energy and the realization that followed. Larger movements waste unnecessary stamina. If that happens, endurance runs out. There shouldn''t be waste in your actions. Now that he understood that, he could simply reduce it. The training from the swordsmanship drills had also helped. ''If I can predict the movement.'' It was possible to reduce wasted movements. Without even realizing it, Enkrid''s swordsmanship was advancing to the next level. It hadn''t been his intention. It was merely a byproduct of his struggle and his pursuit of perfection. Even after repeating two hundred todays, and almost gagging from the stench of monsters and beasts, Enkrid still smiled. The joy of growth filled him. Even though he had failed repeatedly, that was how he felt. Yet, he didn''t stop struggling. Enkrid didn''t stop pondering his steps toward tomorrow. It was the result of his constant pondering. In that instant, Enkrid felt every nerve in his body stand on end. It happened after more than two hundred todays. He saw the blade flying toward him. It was around noon. He sidestepped with his left foot to avoid it, and the blade sliced through the air. From the side, a spearhead lunged at him, and from behind, an axe flew. Enkrid crouched down, pushing the spear shaft away with his palm. He absorbed the axe''s strike with his shoulder, letting it pass by. Scrape, scrape. His leather armor was scratched, but there were no injuries. Then once again, spears, swords, axes, and clubs flew toward him. One mutated gnoll''s club, the size of an adult man''s thigh, was swung vertically. Enkrid felt his sword hindering him. It was in the way. It was harmful. It was uncomfortable. He put the sword back into its scabbard. No, he even stopped moving and unbuckled his belt. His body felt lighter. Boom, whoosh, swoosh, slice. Not every weapon''s movement could be seen. Enkrid simply focused on watching and reacting, one step at a time. He forgot himself and concentrated entirely on seeing and responding. Before long, the sun had passed its zenith and began to tilt toward the west. A cunning hyena repeatedly tried to bite his ankle. Enkrid avoided it. At times, he moved backward; at other times, he advanced. He swiftly turned sideways and drove his knee into the belly of the hyena that had come too close. Then, he threw himself backward into the arms of an approaching gnoll, using his shoulder to push it away. Using the force of the push, he regained his footing. Next, he reached out, and with a quick flick of his wrist, he swatted a flying blade aside. "Gwooo...?" The gnoll''s blade veered off and grazed the head of its own comrade. "Gwwwooo!" Enraged, another gnoll swung a hammer toward him. Boom. The movements were wide, and the trajectories were large. It wasn''t difficult to dodge. The problem, however, was that such attacks came in waves¡ªsometimes five or six all at once. So what would he do? He would watch and respond, one by one. That''s what Enkrid did. He pushed the spear shaft aside, evaded, and evaded again. Without the intent to kill his opponents, it was purely about evasion. It was a dance of instinct, reflex, and evasion, coupled with his sharpened senses. Before long, the sunset began, and the moon quietly rose into the sky. Enkrid didn''t notice the change from day to night. He was too busy dealing with everything around him that was targeting him. Dodging, swatting, sidestepping, and moving. It wasn''t a fight to the death. It felt more like a game of tag. As the day repeated, Esther perched atop the roof, was watching from above. She could see it too. ''What''s going on there?'' If she tried to explain it, it would sound completely absurd. Enkrid, alone in the midst of the gnoll''s onslaught, simply dodged. He endured. After all, death was inevitable. It couldn''t be avoided. So why? Why? Why was he... ''Why are you smiling, you?'' Questions bloomed in Esther''s heart, though they were questions that would vanish once the day passed. What Enkrid was doing was something that couldn''t be described with the word "trick." It was as if he was playing with the waves of monsters and gnolls. He seemed like he was about to die at any moment, but he didn''t. He avoided the axes, dodged the clubs, and blocked them. Sometimes, he even embraced the gnolls. How else could he do it? If he just stood still, he''d be beaten to death. So, Enkrid wrapped his arms around a gnoll''s arm like it was his own, using it to block the attacks of other gnolls. He swatted an incoming axe with a club. Bang! It was madness. Rather than attacking, he fully focused on evading. As the sunset ended and the moon rose, the "cart of the day" reached its destination. Finally, the end of the day had come. The moonlight gently illuminated the surroundings, lighting up the summer night. The air was filled with the stench of decay, the heat of metal, the smell of monsters, and the stench of death. Enkrid spent the night. Or more accurately, he finished the day. Without seeing the leader, the day had come to a close. ''Ah.'' Only then did his focus break. Enkrid finally realized what he had done. ''Ah.'' A second sigh escaped him inwardly. It was understandable. He had thrown away his weapon and purely focused on evasion. Why? Why had he done that? It was instinctual. That was what he had gained. The art of pure evasion. The ability to watch and respond. It was a skill he hadn''t had before. The change in his reflex speed and physical abilities. Through the isolation technique, he had built up his body and filled it with the sense of evasion. This was the tower he had built through repeated "todays," surviving the poison and blades that tried to strike him. Hundreds of creatures had come at him. He had endured. He couldn''t kill them all¡ªonly a knight would be able to do that. It was a talent that Enkrid had never had before. But if it was about enduring, if it was about simply surviving¡ª ''It''s possible.'' A thrilling euphoria filled his entire body. Even the gnolls who had been attacking him for the whole day were stunned. Of course, none of them were actually capable of that level of awe. Enkrid''s body was covered in scratches. Blood dripped down his cheek. He couldn''t avoid all injuries. That was impossible. But there were no fatal wounds. At the end of the day, as the sunset faded and the moon rose, he realized the day had ended. "See you again. But not this time." After the words were spoken, Enkrid closed his eyes. Would today end like this? By simply enduring? That was nonsense. It couldn''t be. He had expected this. And when he opened his eyes again, as expected, everything had changed. A black river, a ferryboat, and a boatman. "That won''t work." As the boatman passed by, Enkrid closed his eyes again, and when he opened them once more, he saw the ceiling of a hut. It was today again. A blink of an eye¡ªtoday repeats. Having experienced this before, he knew that merely enduring wasn''t the solution. It was proof that endurance wasn''t enough. Of course, that wasn''t a problem. The euphoria surged in his chest, but now was not the time to enjoy it. The countless repetitions of today, the gathered information, and the associations. Enkrid kicked Krais the moment he got up. "Get up." "Ugh, what now? It''s still morning..." What else? It''s the day I need to run to avoid dying, obviously. The idea of using a little bit of a loophole came to him around the 120th or so repetition of today. He was about to try it. The original goal of "surviving today" had been achieved. He had passed the minimum requirement that he had set for himself to get through today. ''The sense of evasion.'' Along with the heart of the beast, it had now become second nature to him. He had developed a feel for it. He had successfully embodied the fruits of his training. Now, would he have to repeat this again? This damn today? Probably not. The people around him often overlooked it because of his blind focus on sword training, but Enkrid was quite good with words and sharp in his thinking. He wasn''t opposed to using shortcuts, either. Enkrid had set a goal and achieved it. ''I Survived.'' To spend the whole day and see it through to the end. He instinctively knew that, in the end, this would bring him back to the original today. No, it was a gut feeling. ''Breaking through the wall isn''t going to happen this way.'' Surviving was never the answer. If survival had been the answer, he should have escaped during his encounters with the sorceress Rethsha and the werewolves. If he had just evaded that mad sorcerer''s traps in the underground tunnels where he had created his lair, that would have been it. This was a curse; thus, he needed a way to break it. Enkrid didn''t know the exact answer yet, but he had thought about it enough to have some inkling. He had spent time thinking about how to escape today, and the method that came to him was a result of that thinking. Since the day repeats because of the killing and being killed process, what would happen if he prevented the start of that process? ''Just try it and see.'' The result would come after the process. "Did I ever mention that I''ve worked as a mercenary for quite some time?" It was after he had gathered his equipment. Sweat streamed down his forehead and dripped down to his chin. It was still hot. Just gearing up from the morning had already raised his body temperature significantly. But it felt just right¡ªhis muscles and joints were waking up without needing extra warm-up. Today, there would be no time for isolation technique or training. So, this was just about perfect. "Hmm?" At Enkrid''s words, Luagarne tilted her head. She seemed confused by his sudden remark. ''Is your head aching already in the morning?'' Luagarne''s gaze seemed to say that. But Enkrid simply said what he needed to say. "I''ve fought against heretics before. The Cult of the Demon''s Sacred Ground." Pretending not to notice, Enkrid continued. Luagarne reacted immediately. "...You mean the heretics?" Her response was still unusual. A cold atmosphere passed between them. A deadly aura. Enkrid, however, ignored the tension and said: "Do you know them?" This was a bit awkward. Enkrid thought to himself that maybe he needed to work on his acting skills, but Luagarnet didn''t notice anything out of the ordinary. She wasn''t paying attention to his awkward speech or demeanor. She was focused on something else. The mention of the heretics. To her, they were the kind of people who must be killed on sight. She had sworn an oath against them. "There was one I missed back then. And now I remember." As he spoke, Enkrid tapped his forehead. It felt awkward, though. Perhaps acting was something he still needed to practice. He had lacked rehearsals for such situations. But Luagarne didn''t seem to care. "Do you remember the guy who was following behind the guy named Deutsch Pullman?" "The one with the thick lips, ugly face." The frog had a sharp eye for aesthetics. Yes, his face resembled that of a fish. Enkrid knew more than just that one. After all, he had repeated today over 200 times. Was that the only one he''d managed to remember? But it was clear that the heretic who looked like a fish was the most troublesome. Over the repeated days, Luagarne had always pursued that one, and she never came back. "That''s right." "Are you sure? He''s one of the heretics?" "Yes, I''m willing to stake my sword and everything on it." Luagarne knew how much Enkrid valued his sword. It was similar to the vow she had made to her heart. It felt like the words carried weight, more so than something a regular human might say. She trusted him. "If you don''t believe me, you can go ask him yourself." "I''ll go check." That was the end of the conversation. It was more straightforward than expected. Luagarne immediately pulled out her whip, coiled it in her hand, and walked off briskly. She seemed intent on finding Deutsch Pullman. If he wasn''t there, she would likely search for him elsewhere. "What was that? That awkward speech of yours?" Krais, who had been watching silently, asked. Was it awkward? Probably. But that wasn''t what mattered right now. "You should get moving too." Enkrid said as he started walking. He had spent so many repetitions of today testing how time passed, how the monsters swarmed, and what the problem was. He had looked for the cause. If you didn''t know the problem, then it was one thing. But if you knew... ''Blocking is easy.'' At least, it was easy for Enkrid. Having done it several times already, there was no hesitation. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Your support is apreciated! https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 168 - Krais, cut it Chapter 168 - 168 - Krais, cut it Chapter 168 - Krais, cut it "Esther, let''s go together. Krais, you go find the village chief right now." "Huh?" Krais asked, looking completely confused. Well, the awkward act was over. It was unnecessary and meaningless now. "Go and deliver the message. From now on, I''ll be in charge of all the forces in the city." "Suddenly?" "Yes, suddenly. If they don''t follow, show them this. Tell them that disobedience will result in immediate execution." Enkrid handed over the orders and turned around. "Where are you going, Captain?" Krais was quick to catch on. He could sense something from Enkrid''s attitude. "At the door, if the village chief resists, take him hostage or do whatever it takes to get it done." "...Huh?" The last part was half-joking. Enkrid immediately took off running. With each quick step, the armor clanked and rattled on his body. It was pretty uncomfortable to run in. But there was no way to take it off. With light, quick steps, Esther, who moved twice as fast as Enkrid, glanced at him briefly. "Don''t ask, just follow me. We don''t have time." At Enkrid''s words, the lake panther nodded. She really did seem like a person. They arrived at the main gate. It was still early, so they weren''t late. ''Not late.'' At least, they were still within the time frame. Normally, there would be five guards at the gate. Two in the watchtower, two below, and their squad leader. The squad leader would be inside a small post next to the gate. If you exclude the squad leader, there would be four left. When the fight broke out, these four would typically hold out from the watchtower, shooting arrows at any of their own who tried to climb the tower to help. Enkrid was all too familiar with those faces. "Huh? What''s going on?" One of the more pleasant-looking men asked. Enkrid stood in front of the gate, addressing the two who were holding their positions. "From now on, the command of this area is relieved from the squad leader of this unit." "...Huh?" The man looked at Enkrid in disbelief. Enkrid continued, his tone unwavering. "I''m in charge of the village defense now." Had Deutsch Pullman ever anticipated something like this? Well, the reality had come knocking. The man, who had been pretending to be one of Deutsch Pullman''s subordinates, stiffened. "Did you get permission from our captain?" At that moment, someone stuck their head out from the small post. The mercenary with the spear. He was one of Deutsch Pullman''s subordinates, the squad leader. Of course, that wasn''t what mattered. "Do you have a problem? Once I brought the orders, it was only natural that I became the one in charge." "Since when? No, how long do you plan to play commander?" "I''m the commander from now on, and I''ll stay in charge until the colony issue is resolved." He answered calmly, but the man furrowed his brows. His expression turned menacing. "Shit, are you messing with me? Hey, you fool, do you think I''m an easy target?" It was the kind of reaction Enkrid had expected, so he spoke the words he had prepared. "If you have a problem, there is no reason to use your tongue instead of your fists." "Are you out of your mind?" The man stepped forward. He didn''t immediately swing his weapon, but it was clear he was planning to throw a punch. The man threw his fist. The punch flew fast, and Enkrid appeared to stand still as if he wouldn''t move at all. But just before the punch landed, Enkrid merely tilted his head to avoid it, then swiftly extended his left leg to kick the man''s ankle. The dodging and the kick happened in one fluid motion, a display of graceful movement. Caught off guard by the unexpected strike, the man stumbled, losing his balance and leaning forward. Enkrid pushed the off-balance man''s body with his left hand. "Uh, uh." Thud. The man toppled over sideways. Just as the man with the reddened face tried to stand up, using his spear like a cane¡ª Sching. The sound of a sword being drawn. At the same time, a blade touched his neck. "Don''t get up. Don''t resist. Disobedience is grounds for immediate execution." With a blade against his neck¡ªespecially one with a chilling blue edge¡ªit would be hard to even think of speaking carelessly. The man was no exception. Gulp. Swallowing, he barely managed to open his mouth. "Do you know how many members the militia has here? You¡ªyou can''t handle us." It was a threat, but it didn''t sound like one. Anyone could tell his voice was trembling with fear. Enkrid had no intention of killing him. He just thought it would get a reaction. It was a simple idea. ''How did the gnolls and hyenas get inside?'' How did thick log walls become a prison? Why had this place become the monsters banquet hall? Because they had come inside. Over the wall? That''s unlikely. Gnolls are creatures with underdeveloped lower bodies. The same goes for hyenas. The wall is an impassable barrier for monsters and beasts alike. Then, did they break through? Impossible. There''s only one answer-the gate was opened. So why was there no response until this number of monsters had gathered? At first, I formed a hypothesis, then confirmed it over several instances today. The one who opened the gate is guilty. The one in the watchtower who saw but didn''t speak is also guilty. Keeping his grip on his sword, Enkrid''s eyes searched for the emergency bell. It was by the gate. Since that bell had not been rung, there could only be one innocent here¡ªthe friend who had fallen just now. So then, what will their response be here? This was exactly what he''d been waiting for. Up in the watchtower, a female soldier took up a bow. Silently, she aimed and shot. Staying aware of his surroundings, Enkrid lightly kicked off from the ground. Thunk! At the same instant as the bowstring was released, an arrow struck the spot where Enkrid had been. "...Are you insane? Stop shooting!" The squad leader, stunned by what had happened to Enkrid, shouted in alarm, but there was no chance they''d listen to him. "Kill him." It was one of the men standing by the gate with a friendly smile. Hearing this, the two up in the watchtower loaded their arrows onto the string again. Two on the watchtower¡ªone female soldier, one male soldier. The female soldier was more skilled with the bow. That much, he knew from experience. These were cultists, too. There was neither room for leniency nor any intention of showing it. Piiik! Piiiik! Two sharp whistles sounded. Daggers sliced through the air. A groan escaped the two soldiers on the watchtower just as they were setting arrows on their strings. "Ghk." "Grk." Those were their final breaths. Once a throat is pierced, there''s no coming back. The male archer slumped forward, falling to the ground with a thud, while the female clutched her neck and sank down. The cultist archer''s neck twisted into a grotesque angle as he fell headfirst. Blood dripped down from where the female soldier had been on the watchtower, pooling below. It all happened in an instant. "Insane!" The squad leader shouted in shock. Ignoring him completely, Enkrid pointed his drawn sword forward and spoke. "Both of you are guilty of disobedience and attempted murder of a superior officer, punishable by summary execution. But if you drop your weapons and surrender, I''ll spare you." It was an offer bound to be rejected. "Screw you." The two cultists wearing village militia masks standing by the gate flashed their eyes. There was something strange about the look in their eyes. More than anything, their skill was impressive. They moved quickly, and their coordination was flawless. Clang. Both wielded short swords, charging at him from either side at the same speed. They came slicing through the early dawn''s cold, blue air. Before standing here, Enkrid had endured countless days. Relentless training, repeated day after day. His sense of evasion, his coordination¡ªeverything sharpened through persistent practice. Heightened reflexes, sharpened senses, even his dynamic vision. It was a transformation in reaction speed. When your reaction speed changes, what can you see, and what changes? That place was like a new world. How to describe it? It was like moving twice as fast as anyone else. Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, Audin. The feats they performed¡ªEnkrid could now do the same. So then¡ª Bang! Bang! The result was hardly surprising. Deflecting swords coming at him simultaneously from both sides with just one sword¡ªknocking them away with ease. It was simple. A swing to the right, followed by a swing to the left, timed perfectly. For his attackers, though, it must have been baffling. Their eyes widened, short swords in hand. What just happened? How did he block that? It looked as though his blade had vanished. But Enkrid didn''t stop. To celebrate entering this new world, he swung his sword with all his might. What he had gained from all these endless days was more than just the sense of evasion and coordination. With a single breath, he could awaken a fierce strength from within, doubling his speed. The moment he saw and sensed something, his body responded on its own. Whoosh. Slash! Slash! Enkrid swung his sword twice more. To the right, he sliced upward from below, and to the left, he swung downward from above. Both swings targeted the wrists. And so the result was as expected. "Argh!" "Gahh!" With a clean cut to their wrists, the hands holding short swords fell to the ground. Between the two bleeding men, Enkrid stood silently, sword in hand. "...What...what the hell? Why are you swinging your sword around like a maniac all of a sudden?" The squad leader, sitting on the ground, spoke in a voice full of bewilderment. Enkrid looked at him and finally spoke. "I''m smelling something foul. Is that gate really shut tight?" When he first came in, he''d seen the gate open with a pulley¡ªit was likely the lock mechanism. "Huh?" "Check it. If you don''t get up and do it now, I''ll assume you''re an accomplice and cut you down too." It was a mild threat, but spoken by someone who acted decisively. The squad leader jumped to his feet. Staying down with trembling legs would be dangerous in a moment like this. He moved to check the pulley. "Why is this loose?" Shouting in surprise, he secured the pulley firmly. If the lock mechanism was loosened, the gate was no barrier at all. A simple push would open it. He tightened the pulley''s lock with such force that his arm muscles strained, then he gasped for breath. "Phew...phew... But, what smell are you talking about?" Only then did he repeat the words he''d heard before. Thud! Something hit the wall from outside, sending a tremor through the ground. The foul stench¡ªit was a smell Enkrid knew all too well, and it seeped through the thick gate. "Groooarrr!" A roar erupted from outside. The cry of an gnoll. Heavy power, an invisible aura¡ªit could all be felt from beyond the gate. The squad leader, standing by the gate, stumbled back in fear. He might even wet himself at this rate. Fortunately, the captain wasn''t quite that faint-hearted. After a brief glance at him, Enkrid turned his gaze. He addressed the two with their wrists severed. "Are you cultists?" Their eyes widened. Sometimes, even silence can be an answer. Should he let them live? No, there was little point. True cultists were rumored to use strange spells, but it seemed these two couldn''t, so they likely weren''t important. Leaving them would just mean a knife at his back. Thrust. Thrust. With two swift stabs, he made holes in their throats, leaving two more bodies behind. Enkrid then climbed up the watchtower. Partly to assess their numbers and size, and partly to survey the surroundings. Higher ground was always advantageous. The sun was rising, providing clear visibility. Under the morning light, he could see them¡ªa horde of hundreds of beasts and monsters. The sheer number was horrifying. Enkrid was once again astonished that he had survived inside that. ''I may have only endured without dying, but still.'' There were just so many. From above, the sight was truly overwhelming. The creatures were ramming against the wall and gate. Enkrid had cleared the watchtower. But along the barricades, there were no guards in sight. Instead, Enkrid noticed the bodies of some from the village militia¡ª the ones who should have been holding the wall¡ªlying as corpses. It must have been the work of the cultists. More specifically, the work of the two he had just killed. "Wait, what the hell is this?" A voice came from below the watchtower. It was Krais. A nightmare had turned into reality. Krais was holding a sword to the village chief''s neck, shouting. Behind him were a few people from the village militia, each radiating a dangerous aura. "What the hell is going on?" Krais looked close to tears. Watching this, Enkrid couldn''t help but smile. "Esther." Enkrid called Esther to guard the gate. "Grr." The panther responded, as if to say she understood¡ªsometimes she seemed more reliable than people. "I need to ask what''s going on here." Behind the village chief, Deutsch Pullman had arrived with a crowd of his followers. Most of them looked bewildered. Outside, there were monsters; inside, someone was holding a sword to the village chief''s neck, along with dead comrades lying around. Even Deutsch Pullman''s eyes were shaky. Understandably, he was startled, but Enkrid had no time for that. Enkrid spoke calmly. "I''m giving the orders, and I''m in command here. No objections allowed. We''re defending against the monsters. Get the remaining militia up onto the wall. Anyone who knows how to shoot a bow should go up there." No one moved. Deutsch Pullman was a man with guts. Despite the thudding noises outside, he glared fiercely at Enkrid. Enkrid knew what he had to say. "Krais, cut his neck." The village chief''s life was in their hands. "Damn it, no! What are you all doing? Get those arrows into the monsters'' heads now!" Deutsch shouted. Of course, Krais didn''t actually slice the chief''s neck. Enkrid shrugged. "You''re going to have to explain this later!" Deutsch bellowed. Enkrid ignored him. This was a tactic. The plan was to stop this from ever happening. To act swiftly and prevent the gnoll''s invasion. If they could hold off the assault like this, what would happen to the repetition of today? He had thought of a way to get through today, but he didn''t know if it would go as planned. It was his first time trying something like this. Still, Luagarne was nowhere to be seen. Naturally, neither were Deutsch''s men. "Damn it, Enki." Just as he was assessing the situation, planning to use the chief''s life as a bargaining chip to observe the fight, Finn crawled in from one side. Finn, who had gone out on patrol, had returned with a wound to her abdomen. So that was it. Finn must have fought someone and gotten injured. It was a significant wound¡ªnot the kind you could brush off. When there''s a hole in your abdomen, it hurts, walking is difficult, and so on. Because of Finn''s injury, she hadn''t been able to alert anyone of the monster and beast attack. Otherwise, there''s no way Finn would have missed the movement of a colony of this size. "Krais, release the chief and treat Finn first." Enkrid spoke. "It''s not a fatal wound. But it''s not one you can easily move with either. She needs treatment." "The colony of monsters and beasts... it''s close to a thousand." Even injured, Finn managed to say what she needed to. Her face was pale. Enkrid simply nodded. "Can you explain this to me?" Meanwhile, the village chief, also pale, spoke up. A true pioneer village chief, it seemed. He had courage, asking for an explanation in this situation. "Let''s go hold them off first." With that, Enkrid headed toward the barricade. Even if the Village Chief''s skills were lacking, every extra arrow would count. And he had to break down a few walls to make it through today. Today had only just begun. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Your support is apreciated! https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 169 - Can you open it just a little Chapter 169 - 169 - Can you open it just a little Chapter 169 - Can you open it just a little The Holy Church of the Demonic Sacred Grounds seeks to transform the continent into a demonic wasteland. Their reason? "Why is the demonic realm inherently wrong? Why can''t we see that it embodies the growth and change we need to pursue? Fearing the unknown is natural. But running from it won''t solve everything." It was nonsense, the ramblings of a fanatic. So why turn the continent into a demonic realm? "Because it''s the right thing to do." Who could fit the term "fanatic" better than these people? A reason? They didn''t have one. Justification? You wouldn''t find it anywhere. They simply believed. They just thought it had to be done. Faith without basis¡ªpure fanaticism. And so the cultists truly were madmen. That''s why the inquisitors burned with zeal to capture and kill these heretics. In fact, the cultists had made several attempts to demonize regions, with a similar plan unfolding in this land. They''d gathered a hundred freshly slaughtered young goats as sacrifices, intending to summon gnolls and turn this area entirely into a land of beasts and monsters. The cultists had started gathering creatures even before the founding of the pioneer village, making it an unpredictable situation from the beginning. Initially, they sought to establish a gnoll kingdom in this region, which later turned into an outright attack on the village. With its barricades and watchtowers, the village was built as a frontier settlement, but with some fortification, it could become a small fortress. An excellent piece of prey had practically walked into their trap. "A blessing from God." The cultists truly believed that. It was as if they''d received a divine command to further fatten the beasts and increase their numbers. Their prey was offering itself up, cutting pieces of its flesh as a tribute. Thus began the ritual to swallow up the pioneer village. A task not to be taken lightly The cultists poured all their efforts into their plan. They infiltrated mercenary bands, gathering even more gnolls into their ranks. The spells of the cult were deeply tied to monsters. Experts in brainwashing and manipulation took action, with low-ranking followers and priests involved too. The gnolls, creatures with pack-like behavior much like hyenas, always fought in groups and moved in hordes. They were naturally inclined to form colonies; all they needed was a leader. One by one, gnolls were empowered and cursed. In this way, the cultists formed a gnoll army. It wasn''t a matter of a day or two to build a colony hundreds strong. This army bore the cult''s blood, sweat, and tears. "A sanctuary shall rise!" They proclaimed their purpose in the wilderness. They poured countless krona into arming the gnolls, appointing a leader, and bending its will with spells. The resources poured into this endeavor exceeded even what it would take to sustain the entire pioneer village. It was worth it, they believed. Significant returns demanded serious investments. This was only the beginning of the Holy Church of the Demonic Sacred Grounds''s ambitions. As the cultists spent time and resources, the settlers built up their walls. This was the full truth behind it all. *** For Enkrid, it was a mystery unfolding beyond his awareness. It was an unexpected development. But so what? It didn''t matter. Knowing wouldn''t change anything. Enkrid didn''t concern himself with the backstory or to ask "why." The monsters were coming, and his only thought was to slay every last one of them. The monsters and beasts¡ªjust kill them, that was the straightforward task at hand. "What, a monster horde?" Krais had begun to get a rough sense of what was happening. A horde like that, suddenly appearing from the wilderness and fields? And fully armed? With spies infiltrating the village? It made no sense at all. He had a blade to the village chief''s throat, heard the cries from beyond the wall, and in the midst of all this, patched up Finn''s wounds as best he could. Afterward, he rushed up to the watchtower to assess the scale of the monster horde. As his body moved, Krais''s mind was racing. ''Cultists.'' This was the work of the cult. They were the biggest troublemakers on the entire continent. They gathered in malice, raising their hostility for all to see. Look at this monster horde. What else could it be but malice and hostility? Krais had only a rough guess, but it was clear that this horde had been built with the blood, sweat, and resources of the cultists. It was just a guess, though. Knowing wouldn''t change anything, so he left it at that. ''What does it matter?'' Surviving was what mattered. At that point, Krais''s thoughts were fixated on how to stay alive. The conclusion he reached was this: ''No trebuchets, no mangonels.'' There were no siege engines. They couldn''t dream of large-scale artillery. What about the troops? They might have a large number people in the militia, but they were still outnumbered. It was clear they''d have fewer soldiers. Sure, the walls might hold forever, but the number of gnolls and hyena beasts easily exceeded several hundred. Could they last? Could they hold out as they were? Several hyena beasts were already clawing at the wall, scraping and scratching, trying to scale it. If they kept at it, wouldn''t there eventually be a weak spot? A small crack could easily turn into a hole, and a hole would become a passage, a gateway. There were plenty of gnolls with weapons too. They were slamming their weapons against the walls. There were even some with axes hacking away at it. Countless scratches and scars were accumulating on the walls. Was there an escape route? Would they be able to block it once a breach was made? ''Doesn''t seem likely.'' At least, this was shaping up to be a fight with a time limit. They couldn''t hold out for long. That was the conclusion. Which meant... they would have to wait for reinforcements. Krais had seen a few people raise birds. A messenger pigeon with blue feathers was common for quick communication. But even if he sent one off, there was no telling how long it would take for reinforcements to arrive. The conclusion was the same. Could they hold out? Krais felt a growing sense of foreboding. When he''d talked about the strength of the walls, he''d envisioned a standard colony, maybe thirty to fifty creatures at most. But now that number had increased tenfold. "This isn''t good." A wave of unease surged within Krais. Reflexively, he searched for his squad leader. His eyes locked on Enkrid, who was moving without a hint of concern, as if he hadn''t a worry in the world. Enkrid moved calmly, steadily heading up to the watchtower. Krais knew his squad leader, the one who had practically obsessed over training. Though Enkrid didn''t usually look around, Krais knew that his mind was always working. So, when Enkrid acted like this, there had to be something he was confident about. But for now, Krais had no choice but to keep watching. He treated Finn''s wounds, made a quick inspection from the watchtower, and then... "Hey, I''m hurting." Finn''s voice called from below. "I''m coming down." Krais descended, already having wrapped Finn''s wounds, though the hole in her abdomen was still concerning. It was a near miss, but Finn''s internal organs seemed undamaged. "I used the Eil Karaz technique to avoid getting hit in the vital organs." Finn joked weakly. Was that even a real technique? "Just kidding." In the middle of a life-and-death situation, Finn still had the energy for a joke. That made it clear-she was sharp, too. "I challenge you to a duel." "Sure, sure." Krais lightly dismissed her mumblings while checking Finn''s wound again. She''d need to be careful with movement. But it wasn''t a fatal wound. "You won''t die." "Not now, at least." Finn picked up on it too¡ªthe unease about how long the wall would hold. "Yeah, well." Krais shrugged it off. In case things went south, he had already found an escape route. Though it would mean abandoning everyone left inside the village, he had already considered every possibility, including the worst-case scenario. After all, Krais always prepared for the worst. The long shooting lanes had been set up on the top of the wall. Below, a mass of howling gnolls and hyenas crowded together, their sounds like a distant, eerie roar. This scene looked more like a field of monsters than anything else. "What the hell is this?" "What is this? Why are there so many monsters? No, there''s way too many!" "Pam? Is Pam dead? No, not Ralph too?" There were dead comrades among the monsters, their bodies still warm. When Enkrid had arrived, the militia group was still in disarray. Not a single bowstring had been pulled back. They were in a state of panic. It was lucky no one was crying or soiling themselves from fear. Boom! The peculiar howl of the gnolls echoed again as they slammed their bodies against the wall and the gates. The walls rattled under the impact, but they didn''t collapse. Enkrid judged they wouldn''t be breached by that force alone. They threw themselves at the walls with their shoulders, kicking with their legs, and striking with weapons. But for now, the walls held. The real issue was the group''s morale. They were losing their nerve under the onslaught of the gnolls. "What... what the hell is this?" One of them shouted. This wasn''t even within the kingdom''s central territory¡ªit was the outermost part of the border, on the edge of the continent. It was an area where monsters and beasts were common, but even here, the sheer number of them was abnormal. This wasn''t something you saw every day. Fear, pressure. The gnolls were bringing all of it to bear. A few of the mutated gnolls picked up stones from the muddy ground, tossing them at the walls. These weren''t just small pebbles¡ªthey were rocks the size of a person''s head, crashing against the walls with a heavy thud. Some of the smaller rocks flew straight into the positions of the guards. "Yikes!" The group ducked beneath the walls to avoid the incoming projectiles. It was a relief to realize the walls were solidly built. Krais had said as much¡ªthey wouldn''t break under the assault of a typical monster colony. But if they kept this up, they would eventually breach it. This wasn''t a situation where the walls were built to withstand this level of siege. The creaking of the gates echoed, and the guards stood firm, though they were no longer able to hold their composure. If fear consumed them, it was over. They couldn''t afford to just wait for the wall to break. If they did, death would be the only thing waiting for them, making the entire struggle futile. "If you''re not going to shoot, give it to me." Amidst this chaos, Enkrid calmly ascended the steep steps of the tower and reached out his hand. "Eh?" "If you''re just going to watch, hand the bow over." Enkrid swiftly grabbed the bow from the bewildered vigilante standing nearby. It was a shortbow, with a shorter range than a longbow, but with so many monsters around, it didn''t matter. He could just shoot. ''It''s been a while since I used a bow.'' He had learned archery some time ago, so he quickly recalled the movements and set his hands to work. Gripping the bow with his left hand, he stretched his arm out, aimed, nocked an arrow, and pulled back the string. The bow creaked under the pressure, but there was no lack of power behind it. He aimed roughly at one of the monsters, then released the string. Thud! Just as the Nohl slammed into the wall again, the sound of the bowstring releasing and the arrow hitting blended together. The arrow shot through the crowd of gnolls and hyenas, narrowly avoiding them, and embedded itself into the ground. It snapped immediately as the gnolls trampled over it. ''That''s strange. It should''ve hit.'' He had aimed directly at the target. "You''re good in a fight, but this is your first time with a bow, huh?" The squad leader approached from behind and commented. Despite the panic, he still managed to speak clearly, even while keeping an eye on their surroundings. Enkrid already knew the squad leader had solid nerves¡ªhe had seen it in the previous encounters. He was no rookie in keeping calm under pressure. The squad leader''s presence was reassuring. Another boom! The gnolls and Hyenas once again slammed into the walls. Enkrid had to raise his voice to be heard. "What did you say?" "I think you heard it all." The squad leader responded, but Enkrid could barely hear over the din. "I didn''t hear you." After a brief exchange, the squad leader looked away from Enkrid and, after taking a deep breath, shouted at the top of his lungs. "Are you just going to die!?" His voice carried through the chaos, ringing out in the ears of the vigilantes. "Forget about Pam! Stop moping over your dead comrades! Do you not see what''s urgent right in front of you? Get your heads together! Pick up your bows!" Krais had said it. The discipline here is well-established. Thinking back to that, Enkrid calmly surveyed the situation from the top of the wall. On the opposite ladder, Deutsch appeared. He had once led a mercenary band and was known by the nickname One-Eyed Glave, although now he was simply called One-Eyed due to the patch over his right eye. With his remaining left eye, he shot Enkrid a sharp look before shouting. "Shoot! The wall won''t collapse! Shoot them all before they hit us with rocks!" The shout rang across the top of the wall. Enkrid wasn''t sure how many of the militia were present, but there was no shortage of arrows. There were over twenty archers, and they immediately began loosing arrows. "Hey, can I have my bow back?" A soldier who had had his bow taken by Enkrid approached, holding out his hand. Enkrid handed the bow back without hesitation. He wasn''t particularly skilled with it and would need to train later. In the next moment, the archers fired in unison. The howls of the monsters echoed as they charged the wall, shaking it as they slammed their bodies into it. The sound of arrows flying mixed with the thuds of the creatures'' collisions. Thwack! Arrows struck the heads, arms, and legs of the attacking monsters, many of which were wearing poorly fitted leather armor, while others were completely unarmored. The number of monsters seemed to exceed five hundred, and the sheer volume was staggering. Armoring so many monsters would take a considerable amount of resources, possibly something orchestrated by someone behind the scenes. But Enkrid didn''t care about that. What mattered now was that the militia had regained their composure and were working together to fight back the monsters. As Enkrid watched the arrows fly, his gaze shifted to a small, solitary monster standing on a mound. It was the leader of the colony, a smaller creature compared to the others. Leaders typically needed such positions to stand out¡ªcommanding from a high vantage point where their strength and authority could be asserted. While chaos erupted around them, this small creature stood with dignity. That creature was his target. Enkrid had already been close to death more than once at the hands of that creature. At this point, he could tell the difference between a "pretty" and "ugly" gnoll, and even distinguish the more unique ones. He might even be able to categorize them by appearance if he died a few more times. "Leave this to me," Enkrid said, then went back down. But something felt off as he descended. The situation felt empty, somehow, even though he knew his actions were necessary. The howl of the gnolls echoed through the air. "Whatever happens, don''t panic, and keep firing! Don''t aim at your allies!" What kind of nonsense is that? Deutsch, who had been shouting at the soldiers to aim for the monsters'' heads by the gate, glanced at Enkrid. What the hell was he talking about? Deutsch had just reprimanded his men for something, but his own subordinates seemed equally confused by his command. One of his subordinates had disappeared. A sharp one, too. It wasn''t the right time to dwell on it, though. Deutsch was a decent mercenary. As things worsened, he had at least prioritized correctly. First, deal with the monsters. Then, after that, figure out what the hell was going on with that idiot. Enkrid couldn''t read Deutsch''s mind. Even if he could, he wouldn''t have cared. He made his way through the soldiers stacking wood and stone in front of the door. "Esther," he called out. By the door, a panther that had been standing guard trotted up beside him. Enkrid politely asked, "Can you watch my back?" One of the soldiers who had been stacking the obstacles turned to look at him, confused. "Why is he talking to the panther?" The panther, as if understanding, nodded in response. What the hell? Even in this chaos, the sight stuck out like a sore thumb. "Hey, what are you doing?" someone else called out to the soldier watching. "I''m coming!" the soldier answered, returning to his work. They were filling the doorway with obstacles, preparing for the worst. If the door broke down, it would be hand-to-hand combat. The thought made his throat tighten. Could they fight? The soldier had been trained, but this was only his second real battle. His nerves were shot. "Ugh." The feeling of the monsters pressing on the other side of the wall weighed heavily on his mind. "From now on, everyone follows my command," Enkrid said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension. *** The platoon leader sent over from Border Guard, who had been sent to command and was conversing with the panther, approached the squad leader that was at the gate and spoke. "Can you open the door just a little?" For the squad leader, it was as if he was hearing someone bark. It was a sound that didn''t seem worth listening to. In this moment of chaos, it was clear that the man''s orders were off, his commands not fitting the urgency of the situation. The soldiers were focused on preparing for the inevitable clash, and distractions like this were more of a hindrance than a help. He knew that the time for hesitation had passed. The door was their last line of defense, and any unnecessary movement could mean their downfall. The situation was precarious, and he had no time to entertain any further nonsense. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Your support is apreciated! https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 170 - The Joy of Crawling Chapter 170 - 170 - The Joy of Crawling "Can''t you open the door? Just enough for one person to get through?" Enkrid asked. The soldier, startled by the question, echoed in disbelief, "Right now?" Their eyes met, and Enkrid nodded calmly. "Yes, now." The soldier blinked, bewildered. Where should he even begin to respond? Should he explain that opening the door would allow the gnolls outside to flood in? Or perhaps point out that the very reason they were blocking the door was to prevent it from being opened? As the soldier struggled for words, Enkrid offered a compromise. "Didn''t they build a side door near the main gate?" His tone was casual, as if they were merely on a leisurely outing rather than under siege by gnolls and hyenas, who were getting pierced by arrows and yet relentlessly advancing. Enkrid knew that panicking wouldn''t change a thing. He''d lived through hundreds of todays, and he knew exactly how these creatures would behave if left alone. Not that he could exactly explain to the soldiers, "I''ve been surrounded by those beasts countless times, and no matter how many of them you kill, they''ll keep charging like berserkers." But at least they''d managed to hold the door for now, which felt like a decent start. Although it was foolish to expect that things would necessarily go well from here, a good start was still better than a bad one. He was certain that in a fort of this size¡ªeven in a frontier settlement¡ªthey would have built a smaller side door for emergencies. Most fortifications, especially those intended for future expansion, included such features. The quarry, the gathered workers and craftsmen, the skilled laborers¡ªthey all made it clear what this place was intended to become. Krais had figured it out first, though when he explained, Enkrid had nodded in agreement. During his intense days of training, he couldn''t spare much thought for every single detail. But with Krais''s insight and after living through two hundred repetitions of this day, even someone with a gnoll''s brain would have picked up on this much by now. Either way, Enkrid needed to break the cycle, and for that, he had to go outside. "There''s a side door," the soldier said, still looking uneasy. "Then go ahead and open it, just a crack," Enkrid replied. "That''s an order." The soldier hesitated, sensing the absurdity of the command. But there was something so calm and composed about Enkrid that he couldn''t help but comply, even if he felt it was a terrible idea. "It''s over here." The soldier led him to a small door left of the main gate, just big enough for a couple of people to squeeze through at a time. Guoooo! came the gnolls'' cries, just beyond the wall. The soldier, seemingly snapping back to reality, finally voiced his concern. "If we open it now, those things will push through, and we''ll be slaughtered." In other words: sure, it could be opened, but doing so would get them all killed¡ªso no, it wasn''t an option. Enkrid, without a moment''s hesitation, called out, "Esther?" He didn''t exactly share a telepathic bond with his companion, but some things could be understood without words. Esther, the small panther, nodded in response. Though she''d grown a bit, she was still on the smaller side. Enkrid''s plan hinged on Esther, and she did not disappoint. "There''s no ordinary creature, that one. A demon, I tell you," Rem had once muttered, as if to warn anyone who dared underestimate her. Just then, Esther proved that once more. As a hyena scrambled up the wall, clawing with its short legs, Esther scaled the barricade effortlessly. Her claws gripped into the stone as if the wall were solid ground beneath her. Even knowing her capabilities, Enkrid couldn''t help but marvel at her speed. "She''s... scaling the wall?" a soldier whispered in disbelief, his eyes wide with astonishment. To the unknowing, it looked as though Esther was simply walking on air. It was no small feat¡ªshe climbed the wall, three times the height of a grown man, with ease. But she didn''t just stop there. "Oh, oh no..." the soldier beside Enkrid stammered, mouth hanging open, as he saw what came next. Esther leaped over the barricade, vanishing beyond the edge to land directly into the thick of the gnolls and hyena beasts, right in the middle of the horde. Her job was simple: throw them into chaos, disrupt their harmony. Enkrid trusted her, and she met his expectations with precision. Grrraahh! A deep, rumbling snarl echoed from beyond the door. Unlike the gnolls'' high-pitched cries, it was a low, thunderous sound that shook the air and pulsed through their chests like a hammer. The power in that sound alone would make anyone''s knees weak, as if it resonated directly with their fear. "Don''t shoot the panther!" Deutsch Fullman''s shout followed close behind. Between the guttural guuuuk! cries of the gnolls and the yelping of hyenas, a few sharp death throes from gnolls punctuated the air as well. Guuk! Guuuuuk! The growling calls grew more distant, a sign that the swarm blocking the side gate was finally scattering. Enkrid''s sharp hearing picked up the subtle shift immediately. "Now," he murmured, though the soldier beside him just looked back in confusion. This one might need to restart training from scratch. With reaction times like that, what good was he? "The door," Enkrid repeated, grabbing the soldier''s wrist firmly and pulling him forward. His grip tightened, infused with a restrained aura of lethal intent that had the desired effect. "Hiccup!" The soldier let out an involuntary gasp but began moving. His hand, shaking slightly, reached the latch on the side gate. "I''ll open it halfway... if anything goes wrong¡ª" "I''ll take the blame. I''m in charge of the defenses here," Enkrid interrupted, his tone firm. The soldier briefly thought, Why''s our leader risking his life like this? but nonetheless proceeded. Click. The lock on the side gate was released. "Don''t close it, just brace and keep it ready. I''ll be back to signal you when to open it fully." "Uh... what?" What on earth was he planning? The side gate eased open just enough, and Enkrid could see the backs of the gnolls as they faced away, all of them turned toward the chaos that Esther was stirring up among the beasts. No helmets on these gnolls¡ªlucky, perhaps, since just wielding their makeshift weapons was threat enough on its own. Helmets were probably the last thing on their minds. As he stepped fully out, Enkrid relaxed his arms and, without a second thought, sent his throwing knives hurtling toward them. Throwing a knife was nothing like firing an arrow; it required a precise feel for weight in his fingertips, an instinctive flick of the wrist. Four blades zipped forward, embedding with deadly accuracy into the backs of four gnolls'' skulls. No gnoll could survive a handspan of steel lodged in its brain. The four crumpled, and in the moment it took one of the beasts to turn its head, Enkrid was already upon it. Whisk! He swung his sword down in a tight, efficient arc, slicing cleanly from midair to the gnoll''s spine. The beast split with a sickening crunch as bone and innards parted under his blade. Without missing a beat, he took a step left, twisting his body to drive his knee up into another gnoll''s skull. The bone cracked, sinking inward as the gnoll''s eyes bulged out, optic nerves quivering in the sudden silence of its halted life. With two beasts dead at his feet, Enkrid was ready to carve a path through the rest, his sword moving in a blur. Through the Isolation Tehnique, Enkrid had honed his sense of bodily coordination to a razor''s edge. The moment he saw and sensed the danger, his body moved instinctively, a seamless blend of observation and reaction. He wove himself between the beasts, his movements as fluid as a dance. In a brief, deadly sequence, three gnolls and two hyenas lay sprawled on the ground around him. He struck with precision: head, chest, head. One gnoll even had a coin-sized hole through its torso¡ªa result of Enkrid''s deadly rhythm of quick strikes and pin-point thrusts. Thud. The door behind him finally closed. "Guess they were just watching," he mused. The delay in shutting the door spoke volumes. Clank, clank, clank! The sounds of the lock echoed, despite his instructions not to lock it. Enkrid shook his head. "Guess they wouldn''t just leave it open anyway," he thought. No matter¡ªthat was something he could handle later. For now, his focus was solely on the task at hand. Gnolls and hyenas fell one by one as he moved, each blow swift and merciless. Esther, too, leapt into the fray, darting towards Enkrid to fight together. She didn''t just run to him; her movements dazzled with a lethal grace. Tap, tap. She propelled herself off the ground, claws gleaming as she sliced through their foes. Whether gnoll or beast, anything that came within range of her claws was cleaved apart, each swipe reducing her enemies from one to two, two to three. Whether it was a head or a chest in her path, Esther''s claws sliced through with brutal precision, a deadly combination of sheer strength and slicing accuracy. As Esther charged forward, gnolls and hyenas lunged at her and Enkrid, weapons, teeth, and claws at the ready. "Esther, watch my back, will you?" Enkrid''s tone was casual, almost as if he was making a simple request. Esther shot him a look, her eyes questioning what he meant, but Enkrid didn''t answer. Instead, he seemed to vanish from her senses¡ªhis presence growing faint, and his stance lowering into the shadows. "This little...!" Esther felt a flicker of anger. Just as she started drawing attention, Enkrid rolled across the blood-soaked ground, flattening himself close to the dirt. In an instant, the foes'' focus shifted. The shock of their sudden attack, the brutal efficiency with which they had slain a dozen gnolls and beasts, and Esther''s dramatic movements had thrown the enemy into disarray. Just as quickly, Enkrid vanished from their sight. The gnolls'' eyes glowed red, bloodlust turning them into berserkers as they locked onto Esther. "Grrrrrrah!" With a frenzied howl, a gnoll charged straight for her, fury blazing. Esther deftly pulled back, drawing their attacks away from Enkrid and keeping herself just out of reach. She felt a rush of annoyance toward Enkrid and wanted to demand what he was up to, but then she caught sight of him¡ªcrawling silently, nearly invisible, his body pressed close to the ground. Jaxen had calmly said, "If you know how to spread killing intent, you must also know how to hide it." The intentless thrust was not just a technique but an art form of erasing one''s presence. One didn''t need to disappear completely in the enemy''s sight; they simply needed to become as forgettable as a shadow. At that moment, Enkrid grasped the full meaning of Jaxen''s words. What he was doing right now was exactly that: hiding his killing intent. Using the distraction Esther provided, Enkrid crept slowly forward, avoiding detection. With all of his senses locked onto the leader of the gnolls, he approached, camouflaged to the fullest. Esther''s swift, agile moves drew the monsters'' attention, making her the perfect bait. She dodged their attacks with ease, delivering fatal blows one after another. The hyenas and gnolls that clashed with her razor-sharp claws fell, their heads splitting as if made of paper, and her raw strength struck fear into her enemies. Thud! A gnoll tried to grab her but ended up falling lifeless to the ground, its neck sliced by her precise claws. Taking advantage of this opening, Enkrid pressed on, inching closer to the gnoll leader. ''Finally... got him.'' In the last moment, he poured all of his accumulated experience and practice into one final motion. He rose from his low stance behind the leader gnoll, every movement calm and steady, then in an instant drove his sword tip towards the gnoll''s neck, as if he had teleported right into position. "There''s no need to learn it, but understanding the principle... well, it could be useful," Jaxen had said, but his eyes told a different story. They seemed to scold Enkrid for not yet mastering the sense of evasion, as if asking how long he intended to remain sluggish. Not that Enkrid cared; what could he do if it wasn''t coming to him yet? He would just keep working at it until it did. Back then, he had simply wanted to know, so he had asked and listened. It was a thrust, devoid of killing intent, relying on motion alone. Even as you saw it coming, it made you doubt whether it was actually aimed at you. There was neither intent nor momentum behind it, only technique. That had been the extent of the explanation. In his more than two hundred days of honing the sense of evasion, Enkrid realized he would also need to learn to control his own killing intent. Dodging, avoiding, and evading repeatedly had built an instinctual understanding within his body¡ªa responsiveness triggered by pure sensation, stripped of any visible killing intent. It was his raw reaction speed, trained to respond without the added force of intent. And he had finally grasped something from it. Enkrid used that knowledge now: hiding his presence, muting his aura. The technique was almost like that of an assassin, though not perfected. He merely simulated the effect by suppressing his breathing and calming his movements to the point of blending in. ''This alone won''t be enough,'' he thought, rolling across the blood-soaked ground, even clutching a gnoll''s corpse for cover. If someone were to see him at this moment, they''d be astounded. He was crawling at terrifying speed, all while carrying the weight of a fallen beast on his back. ''Crawling... is my specialty.'' In the art of crawling, Enkrid was nothing short of a master. So he crawled and crawled again. Sorry. I''ll give you two jerky pieces when we get back, Esther.'' he thought to himself, continuing to crawl steadily. By the time he reached the mound the gnoll leader was on, there were only a few gnolls and beastmen left around him. He continued to climb up the mound, his body reeking of the sour, foul smell of blood and decay. The stench of monster blood was always overpowering, almost unbearable. For Enkrid, it was a scent he had grown too familiar with. Back when he lived as a mercenary, this was his daily routine. He had learned then that monster blood concealed far more than one might think. Once Enkrid reached the top of the mound, he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. His goal was there, after all, so how could he not feel a sense of accomplishment? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Your support is apreciated! https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 171 - The laughter of the gnolls was just unpleasant. Chapter 171 - 171 - The laughter of the gnolls was just unpleasant. Chapter 171 - The laughter of the gnolls was just unpleasant. "I wanted to meet you once, in good health." Satisfaction made Enkrid''s mouth move. If he got any closer, the leader might notice him playing leader, or maybe not. But Enkrid wanted to announce his presence. It wasn''t out of vanity or for a fair fight. What kind of competition was there with monsters? It was simply¡ª ''It''s a test.'' He just wanted to confirm what he had built up through the repetition of today. At the sound of Enkrid''s voice, the leader, who had two mutated creatures as if they were his guards, quickly turned his head back. But it wasn''t just a turn of the head. He raised two daggers and aimed them forward. All of this happened in the blink of an eye. ''As expected, fast.'' Enkrid admired it. "Guuuk!" The leader shouted. At that, the two mutated creatures standing like guards reacted. Guwok! This shout seemed more like something a ghoul would make. One of the mutated creatures that shouted lunged forward. At the same time, a heavy club swung from above downwards. Enkrid raised his sword, covered in black blood, diagonally. The heavy club came crashing down from above with a swoosh. Enkrid''s gaze was focused. Just before the club was about to strike his head, the sword moved. No, his foot moved with it. Thwack! He twisted the blade and struck the middle of the club, then pushed it forward. The surface of the club was scraped away, as though it were being cut by a chisel. Enkrid''s sword continued forward, and he struck the mutated creature''s nape. After scraping the club''s surface, the blade struck the back of its neck. The blade cut through the mutated gnoll''s muscles, bones, tendons, and half of its neck. "Gaa, ha, gah." As the neck was severed, the gnoll let out a deflated sound. The gnoll, which had been gurgling, kneeled and its yellow eyes gradually faded as it collapsed forward. Whether one of them died or not, the second gnoll charged in. Enkrid pretended to raise his sword and then swiftly moved his foot. Turning his body left, he avoided the club and executed a horizontal cut from the top. With the grip held overhead, he spun his wrist, and the sword traced a semicircle, moving horizontally through the gnoll''s head, cutting it midway. The combination of immense strength and skill created this result. With a snap, the mutated creature''s head was sliced in half. It looked like a pumpkin with its lid cut off. Of course, inside it wasn''t pumpkin seeds and flesh, but brain matter and black blood. The severed half of the head fell to the ground. "If you run, you''ll get hit in the back of the head with this." Enkrid said, shaking his hand. With a sharp whistle, a throwing dagger flew and buried itself deep into the head of a regular gnoll that had been hesitating on whether to charge. The blade embedded so deep that it couldn''t even be seen, leaving no trace of the dagger, but the blood vessels bulged. The gnoll, knocked back by the impact, fell, and blood oozed from its head, staining the ground. Guuuuuk! Sensing their leader''s danger, the others reacted, and Enkrid hoped the leader would charge him. This was a road he had never taken before. So, this was the first time he had experienced something like this. He didn''t know what would happen next. The leader might retreat. What then? What would he do? Chase after him and decorate the leader''s head with a throwing knife. What if the leader charged instead? ''Can I survive today?'' He asked himself. The answer was still unclear. He had hoped, prepared, and assessed the opponent. But the outcome of a fight is always uncertain, isn''t it? Most of all, the leader¡ªthis gnoll¡ªwas the kind of creature that wouldn''t show itself unless Enkrid suffered a wound serious enough to tear through his thigh, make a deep gash in it, or create a hole next to his belly button. The leader only appears when movement is restricted, or a fatal wound is sustained. ''What a damn sneaky bastard.'' It was an inward compliment. Only showing himself when the outcome was certain¡ªhow clever of him. And the leader of the gnolls did not back down. Just as Enkrid had expected, he moved. "Grruuuuk!" A sound, something like a pop, was heard. It was that fast. Enkrid had anticipated it since he had experienced it before, but it was still incredibly fast. When the gnoll leader hit the ground, its body stretched out, elongating like a shadow extending in the sunlight. Enkrid''s eyes locked onto the shadow''s form. He didn''t lose track of his opponent. ''Watching'' was something he could do before. The problem was how fast it was, making it difficult to defend. The gleaming daggers in the leader''s hands didn''t allow even a brush against them. They were poisoned. One touch would be the end. Then it would just be another repeat of today''s struggle. Skt, shoo! The first slash, out of two, only grazed Enkrid''s shoulder. It just brushed past him. It didn''t even touch his skin. Enkrid''s armor wasn''t the kind that would be split by a mere dagger slash. Only the outer leather showed a faint scratch. The second slash, however, was entirely avoided. The right hand slashed while the left hand thrust forward, but the thrust missed as Enkrid turned his body, evading it. It was an astonishing reaction speed. The moment he saw it, his body moved. It was similar to a Valen-style misaligned blade attack, though the rhythm was different, it was still incredibly, exceedingly fast. ''It''s working.'' Just as he had anticipated, it was possible to avoid. He couldn''t prevent it from even grazing, but he could avoid the skin being cut or pierced. ''The sense of evasion.'' It wasn''t just a sense, though; this felt more like training to improve his reaction speed. It felt that way. It meant he had chosen the wrong name. The fleeting thoughts disappeared as quickly as they had appeared. Anyway, if he could just focus on evading, keeping his body in response to that alone, wouldn''t he be able to avoid even being grazed? But was that necessary? Probably not. It was time to move forward. The day had come when he would survive today and see the light of tomorrow. "Krook!" The leader of the gnolls was enraged. His red eyes reflected that anger. The yellow pupils seemed to glow with a red tint. The gnoll passed by Enkrid, then quickly turned to charge again. This time, he lowered his stance and aimed for the thigh. It was a tricky trajectory to dodge. One of the daggers even aimed for the inside of his hip joint, so the two blades attacked in offset rhythms. If he missed, Enkrid could have been crippled. Enkrid did not hesitate to respond. The moment he saw and understood the attack, he immediately moved. That was the small, but significant difference. It was almost the first time he had used this while swinging his real sword. It was a shift in coordination; it was reaction speed. And that was a new world. A step into a new realm. At least, that''s how Enkrid felt. The difference in reaction speed led to a difference in reflexes. His body, honed through the technique of isolation, expressed the difference in recognition in real-time. The moment he saw it, his sword came down. Hooong, crack, thud! The instant the leader of the gnolls charged, the blade¡ªlike a flash of light¡ªcut through the air vertically. Naturally, it didn''t just cut through the air. Thud! The leader''s head was cleaved from his spine, cutting straight down through the middle of his back. His futile gestures followed. He didn''t even realize he was dead as his hands reached out. The left hand aimlessly stabbed the air, but the right hand still targeted his hip joint, just as he had planned. Enkrid immediately bent his knee and used the armor on his abdomen to absorb the thrust from the dead gnoll. Thud. A dead man''s hands lose their strength. The dagger struck the leather armor weakly and fell. Even though the leader had been split in half, the movement continued for a moment before he crumbled apart. His intestines and blood stained the ground. The rapid slashes had caused the blood to splatter backward in a straight line. Enkrid had aimed to cleave the leader''s skull, but the creature instinctively dodged. So, Enkrid slashed diagonally, cutting through the shoulder and splitting the gnoll in half. "Hooah." Exhaling, Enkrid felt a surge of exhilaration. ''I''m moving forward.'' The joy of growth, the moment of proving it through results. He avoided the poisoned daggers with his sense of evasion and struck with a single blow, thanks to his training in coordination and reaction speed. Before that, he had caught the gnoll''s movement with his eyes, and the heart of the beast gave him the boldness to act. "Guuuu!" Of course, this couldn''t be the end. There were still plenty of gnolls and beasts around. Now, the escape route was the problem. "Hah!" With a yell, Enkrid swung his sword powerfully, aiming at the two gnolls blocking his way. A formal stance? There was no time for that. He had learned the best swordsmanship for dealing with monsters. The northern style of longsword. The north was known for being a cold, monster-filled land. Their swords evolved to be the best shape for cutting down beasts. Enkrid had learned this. Hoo, crack! Thud! Ankle, knee, waist, shoulder, wrist. With perfectly applied centrifugal force, the upper and lower bodies of the two gnolls were severed. Of course, they would never meet again. After splitting the two gnolls, Enkrid ran. ''Can I escape?'' Dodging all day? That was possible. But dodging while exhausted from fighting? That was difficult. He had learned several times during this ordeal that managing stamina was essential for prolonged battles. But now, after crawling through the fight with the gnoll leader, he had to carve a path back to the village? That was a different problem from just evading and holding on in place. "Can we not meet again tomorrow?" Enkrid, while evading, muttered a remark that had no effect. Naturally, the gnolls didn''t respond. The response to his words came instead from a hyena beast, lurking behind. With its mouth wide open, the hyena aimed for his back and launched itself at him. Enkrid reacted in an instant, driving his elbow into the beast''s skull. Thud. The one who got hit properly dropped to the ground with a thud. Enkrid, like flowing water, drove his sword into the beast''s skull. In the meantime, two beasts and a gnoll that had rushed in were met by a horizontal slash of the sword in Enkrid''s left hand. It was a gnoll wearing something resembling leather armor. The one who got hit stumbled back a few steps. He couldn''t cleave them all at once. His breath was shallow, and he couldn''t put full power into his strikes. His posture had collapsed, but it was also because he had fought with using the heart of monstrous strength. ''This is something.'' His hands were trembling from just a little strain. Of course, he could rest for a moment. Now was the time to once again dance with the feeling of evasion. "Guuuu!" The gnoll''s cry seemed to say, "Kill him, kill that human!" Enkrid indifferently retrieved his sword and used his feet. He dodged when he had to, and struck when he had to. He was like a master of offense and defense. If someone had seen this in person, they would probably think so, but from a distance, his movements were not easy to understand. Enkrid felt a certain satisfaction from having killed the leader. With exhilaration, it felt as if the entire plan of the ferryman had been overturned. How could that be? What was the original wall? In Enkrid''s mind, the wall was to fight against the beast wielding poisoned daggers while enduring injuries. No, it was to fight and win without even brushing against the poisoned daggers. That''s what Enkrid twisted. Was it impossible to capture the leader while bearing injuries? No, it was possible. He could have walked that path. But he didn''t want to. Even if the wall that was originally set was that. ''That bastard''s laugh is annoying.'' He didn''t like the gnoll''s laugh. He would praise it as clever for not showing up until a fatal injury was confirmed, but he didn''t like it. Then, what should he do? He thought for a moment. He didn''t need Krais'' help. It was too simple. Block the door, defend the barricade, and fight the leader. Everything was intentional. This was the result. The leader was dead, and among the settlers of the frontier village, no one had been killed by gnolls or hyena beasts. If someone had died from a stone thrown by a slingshot, that would have been unavoidable. At least, in Enkrid''s eyes, no one died that way. It was never about protecting the settlers of the frontier village. It just happened to turn out this way. If he had to give a reason, it was simply because the gnoll''s laugh really annoyed him. More than anything, fighting through injuries wasn''t as efficient as this, was it? Of course, to end it beautifully, he would need to finish things properly here. That meant he had to survive and return. He conserved his breath and saved his strength. After failing to open a path with a few sword strikes, he continued with simpler attacks, but the path remained blocked. It was one of those moments. Should he endure and wait for another variable to appear? Or should he pour all his remaining strength into breaking through with the heart of a beast? Neither of those options seemed very likely. Enkrid sensed that instinctively. But there didn''t seem to be another choice. In the midst of this brief contemplation¡ª "Open the path!" What was that? It came from the direction of the village entrance. Thud, thud, the village''s main gate opened. Part of the thick log barricade was cleared. Thanks to the chaos caused by Enkrid and Esther, the gnoll group had turned back, and the ones knocking at the gate had disappeared. Deutsch Fullman, who had been observing everything, couldn''t hold himself back and stepped outside. "Only those willing to follow, come out! If you''re pulling back now, get your stuff and get out!" It was a suggestion befitting the leader of mercenaries. If you value your life, why would you be a mercenary? Deutsch''s subordinates rushed out, one after another. Then, Deutsch Fullman, wielding his weapon, the glaive, swung it powerfully. Following him were ten members of the vigilante group, who had endured hardships since their mercenary days. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Your support is apreciated! https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 172 - The Mad Wall Enkrid Chapter 172 - 172 - The Mad Wall Enkrid Chapter 172 - The Mad Wall Enkrid Among them was the gatekeeper who had been guarding the gates earlier this morning. The gatekeeper had watched it all, and he was impressed. "That guy is completely insane." He had seen it all. How Enkrid, covered in the blood of beasts and monsters, had acted. "Is he crazy?" Was he covered in blood and running away? What about that panther? Using the panther as bait to escape? No, that couldn''t be it. The direction was the issue. After crawling, Enkrid had gone deeper into enemy territory. It was definitely a route that would not be chosen by someone who wasn''t insane. The gatekeeper also saw Enkrid kill a gnoll from behind. After seeing everything, how could he still call him normal? That was when he finally understood what Krais had meant. "They call him the Madmen Squad Leader in Border Guard." A truly mad man, and because of his madness, his actions made his heart race. Just watching it was unbearable. The gatekeeper was sharp and quick-witted. He understood the current situation and realized that there must be something like an infiltrator within the mercenary group. "What if he hadn''t acted?" If Enkrid hadn''t done something so insane? What if there had been an infiltrator? What would happen then? What would happen to this village? The gnoll group? There must be hundreds of hyena beasts, could they handle it? If no one had done anything, the worst possible outcome, where no one would survive, would have awaited them. Because Enkrid had done something crazy, the situation had changed. The gnoll in the back, its movements were not ordinary. Even from such a distance, there was an afterimage of its movement. It was clear that it was the leader of the colony. That crazy guy killed him. "How many days would we have lasted?" What if the leader of the gnolls had stayed alive and controlled the colony? What if he had led them? He didn''t know. What was certain was that he would have been a dead man. Deutsch Pullman had the same thought. They had both watched, but how different were they? They both agreed on two things and acted accordingly. The fact that Enkrid was insane. And that they couldn''t let him die. How could they? How could they let the hero who saved them all die, even if he was mad? Because both Deutsch Pullman and the gatekeeper shared the same feeling, they had taken action. In the end, their choice was the right one. Esther''s contribution, Enkrid''s fighting, and Deutsch Pullman and his subordinates'' response. All of it came together, and as they rushed outside, a rock fell from above. "Die!" During that time, someone had skillfully fetched a stone and dropped it from the wall. The round stone, about the size of a person''s head, fell onto the back of a hyena beast. Thud. The stone crushed through bone and muscle, rolling off with a thud as the beast''s ribs popped out, leaving the hyena beast sprawled on the ground. Ugh! A gnoll nearby also got hit on the head by a stone, and clutching his head, he collapsed. There had been a quarry nearby and piles of stones ready, which made this possible. "Fire!" Then a barrage of arrows rained down on the remaining gnolls, adorning them like decorative accessories. The gnolls, having lost their leader, began to scatter in all directions, fleeing. "I''m alive." Enkrid returned and spoke nonchalantly, as if he had just come back from a casual trip. He calmly began to sort through his gear, wiping the blood off his sword and removing his armor. There were marks and wounds scattered across his body, evidence of the efforts he had put into evading and fighting. He had pushed himself beyond the limit, knowing that if he didn''t, he wouldn''t be able to carve a path forward. For Enkrid, these were self-inflicted wounds, part of his plan. But how would those watching perceive it? "Damn," Deutsch Pullman muttered. He looked at Enkrid, his tongue clicking in disbelief. How could he be so calm? Why was he so unbothered? It was as if his guts had been so stretched that they were almost unrecognizable. "I think it''s time for an explanation," Deutsch Pullman said, still sitting, his tone now acknowledging Enkrid''s actions. He agreed with the fact that they had barely made it out alive. "Yeah, guess so," Enkrid nodded. His demeanor wasn''t frantic or urgent. He seemed composed and indifferent. How could he be so calm at a moment like this? ''This guy is impossible to read.'' Deutsch Pullman thought to himself, but kept his thoughts to himself. After all, the person in front of him had saved him and everyone else. Enkrid was an expert at making excuses. This wasn''t the first time he''d had to do it. He''d done it countless times before. "This morning, I was doing some strength training. When I saw the faces of the two guys on the watchtower, they seemed familiar," Enkrid began. His explanation was casual. Excuses didn''t need to be perfect, just plausible. It was already over, so who would question it? "That''s when it hit me. Those guys were cultists. I''d seen them during my mercenary days, but it took me too long to remember." His words were empty, as though he were just saying whatever came to mind. It sounded like a lie. Even after hearing it multiple times, it seemed like a half-hearted explanation, as if he was saying, "Just take it as it is." Deutsch Pullman was uncomfortable, but as Enkrid had expected, he couldn''t push it any further. In the end, Enkrid''s words made sense, and it was already over, so there was no point in questioning it. It was a matter of capturing cultists, and the man before them was undoubtedly their hero. "They''re fleeing," came a voice from the wall. It was Krais. How long had he been up there? Thinking back, it made sense. Who else but Krais could have gotten the workers and craftsmen to prepare the rocks and throw them? It wasn''t the panicking watchmen or the volunteers. Krais'' handiwork. He had convinced the workers to toss the stones. Before his words even settled, the people gathered on the wall and watchtower spoke up. "They''re retreating!" "Ugh... we made it." "Ah." "Heh." Workers, the self-defense corps, and the other villagers all united to hold back the horde of monsters and defend the walls. They had survived by the skin of their teeth. They had nearly fallen off the cliff but were saved when someone grabbed their sleeves. How could they not be grateful? They all turned their gazes toward the person who had pulled them back from the brink. A man with black hair and blue eyes stood there. "What? It''s true," he said in a dry tone, as though justifying his own statement. No one paid attention to his words, not even Deutsch Pullman . "Sure, whatever," Deutsch Pullman muttered, agreeing without much thought. What mattered wasn''t his words, but that, if they weren''t idiots, they all knew why they were alive. "Who was that guy again?" asked one of the craftsmen who had helped build the wall. He had gotten friendly with Krais over the past few days. Krais, sitting on the wall¡ªwhich, if it were a fortress, would have called it a gallery¡ªanswered, his legs too weak to support himself. "Enkrid. He''s a madman." That guy is completely insane. How did he charge in there and fight? "Ha-ha-ha." At some point, Esther had joined the conversation, nodding in agreement, as though sharing the sentiment. Krais glanced at Esther. For the first time, their opinions aligned. Esther, too, was equally astonished by what had happened. Esther, still full of complaints, said with frustration: "Asked me to watch his back, and then he''s fighting as if going to die. If I''d slipped up just a little, that crucial item of mine could''ve been damaged." Her dissatisfaction was clear, and as she vented, the carpenter standing nearby muttered Enkrid''s name. "Enkrid, Enkrid... No, it doesn''t quite roll off the tongue. Madman''s Wall... yeah, that sounds good." "Huh?" Krais turned his head at the carpenter''s words. "It''s the name of the wall we''ll build later," the carpenter said, eyes filled with certainty. Was it okay to name the wall like that? Krais briefly considered stopping him, but then decided against it. After all, he was too exhausted, his legs too weak to put up a fight. "Mad Wall Enkrid. This might be better." The carpenter muttered to himself again, clearly satisfied with the suggestion. The sun was setting, and the day was coming to an end. Meanwhile, Luagarne moved quickly as soon as she heard Enkrid''s words. She headed straight to the house of the so-called "heretic." Finding it wasn''t hard¡ªafter all, someone who defied questions from a Fro?g was rare enough to spot. The heretic was lounging with a woman. Luagarne ignored this and called out to him, and the man came out in nothing but his undergarments. Luagarne recognized him immediately. It was the man who had followed Deutsch Fulman around like a fish out of water. "Is this him?" Luagarne asked. The man tilted his head, clearly confused, and awkwardly responded, "Yes? What''s going on?" He gave a friendly smile, but to Luagarne''s trained eye, it wasn''t exactly a pleasant sight. The man looked like a fish head¡ªfar from a handsome grin. ''Is this really him?'' Luagarne silently wondered, before deciding to test him. A simple test, to judge his reaction. She stepped forward and threw a punch¡ªnot with full force, but enough to test him. Considering the man could be a heretic, Luagarne put a bit of power into the blow. It was just a test, after all. Of course, to the man, it was completely different. This wasn''t just any punch¡ªit was a strike from Fro?g, a battle-born race, intent on delivering a devastating blow. With a twist of her right ankle, the Fro?g launched her fist forward, faster than lightning, the kind of hit that could crush a skull on impact. The man sensed it instinctively. The moment his life was threatened, his instincts kicked in, and his hidden strength reacted without hesitation. Woom. A brief vibrating sound. Thud! At that moment, Luagarne''s hand was stopped¡ªblocked by a translucent barrier. The shield was milky white, yet murky, and not an ordinary magic barrier. It wasn''t a spell. Luagarne had dealt with heretics more than any inquisitor, and she was familiar with their defenses. This was the signature defensive power of a heretic. And the answer was clear. "Got you." The Fro?g''s cheeks puffed up as she grinned, a mixture of joy, excitement, and expectation spreading across her face. "How did you know?!" The heretic, realizing his true identity had been exposed, immediately took action. He tapped the ground twice with his left foot, an unspoken ritual. Despite being branded a heretic by the False Sanctum, his followers continued to grow in number. Why was that? Because they gained power so easily, their lives transformed in an instant. The moment the man became a priest, he tapped into powers that gave him strength beyond ordinary means. With a second stomp, the man''s form vanished. Shwoooosh! Luagarne''s whip flew into the space where the man had been, slashing the ground deeply. The earth was gouged, leaving a mark as deep as a finger''s length. ''This bastard!'' Luagarne thought, frustrated. Not only did the man rely on his barrier, but he immediately ran after being found out? It wasn''t teleportation. Such high-level magic wouldn''t activate so easily. What the man had used was a power that accelerated his movements instantly. This, too, was something Luagarne had seen before. In the past, it was her job to capture such individuals. "Pfft, a Fro?g dares?" The voice echoed through the air. It was roughly ten steps away, maybe even a little farther. "I am a priest. Do you want to die? Come then. I''ll make you fertilizer for the expansion of the faith." Grrrrk. Fine, let him try. If he attacks, it will only make things easier for me. The fro?g, Luagarne responded to the priest''s defiant shout not with words but with action. Her feet struck the ground. Boom! A charge, a rush. The priest of the False Sanctum quickly shifted his weight and stomped twice with his right foot. This time, it was the power of levitation. Whir! Speed and levitation¡ªthanks to those abilities. He narrowly avoided Luagarne''s whip, which sliced through the air with a loud whip as it missed its target. "Hmm. When I catch you, I''ll start by pulling out your tongue." Luagarne spoke casually, her cheeks puffing slightly as she grinned. The priest, realizing he had to move quickly, took flight. Luagarne followed, hot on his heels. It was almost like a game of cat and mouse, with Luagarne chasing the priest all day long. In the end, Luagarne lost him. After chasing for nearly a full day, the priest had one last trick up his sleeve. Summoning magic. A truly annoying bastard. Because of the creatures he summoned, Luagarne had no choice but to abandon the chase. "You''ll be seeing me again!" The priest''s words, though they came as he fled, carried a certain sincerity. Now that Luagarne knew what tricks the priest had up his sleeve... ''Next time, I''ll break his legs first.'' That was the only resolution that changed in her mind. And so, the Fro?g returned in the deep of the night. She had circled the quarry and finally came across signs of battle near the frontier village. What was this? The traces alone were enough to tell her that something serious had happened here. Signs of a battle, the land soaked in blood, the scent of excited humans, and the stench of death filled the air. The atmosphere was strange, though¡ªdark, yet not entirely oppressive. In that very moment, Luagarne realized she should''ve returned earlier, but she hadn''t. And there, in front of her, was the man she had been searching for. The man known as Enkrid. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Your support is apreciated! https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 173 - Speaking with Eyes Chapter 173 - 173 - Speaking with Eyes What was the original wall? ''Enduring injuries and surpassing the leader''s game.'' The leader was surprisingly fast and wielded a poisoned dagger. ''A fight where even a graze would determine the outcome.'' A fight where victory or defeat could hinge on a single scratch. It almost felt like the wall had been prepared just for him. The reaction time of seeing and responding, the coordination of the body moving the moment the eyes recognize it. Without mastering this, it seemed impossible to win. Enkrid thought of the opponent as a wall, and then added a slight variation to it. You could call it a sort of cheat. ''What if we face it without injury?'' Though stamina would be exhausted, there were ways to manage it. In addition, most of the people in the pioneer village wouldn''t have to die. Enkrid did it this way. Now, it was time to confirm the result that would follow his actions. To put it simply, Enkrid needed to check if he had crossed the wall or if he had simply wasted his time. The confirmation was easy. He just needed to wait for time to pass. So, the conclusion: ''I''m not going back.'' Blink, blink, blink, blink. No matter how many times he blinked, it was the same. The night was deep, and the time to return had already passed. Thus, he had crossed the wall. "What are you doing?" It was Krais''s voice, watching from the side. He was lying nearby. He was also the owner of the voice that Enkrid had been hearing earlier. What a world, what a situation, ha, am I just unlucky this year? Muttering like that, he then asked Enkrid what he was doing. "I think I''m having good luck this year." "That doesn''t seem like a wrong statement. If your luck had been bad, you probably wouldn''t have made it back alive from there. But why are your eyes like that? You look like someone possessed by an evil spirit. It''s scary, so let''s not do that." "Oh, is that so?" With that, Enkrid blinked a few more times. While blinking, he thought to himself. Was it possible to get through the day using this shortcut? Or was this the original path? Or was it simply a matter of overcoming the so-called walls? He didn''t know. In fact, it was all an unknowable mess. From the very beginning, it had been a series of inexplicable events that led him to this point. ''Will it come up in my dreams tonight?'' What if he asked the ferryman? He didn''t expect a nice answer, but it might be better than not asking at all. In the end, it was all meaningless. Wasting his mental energy on such things was pointless. If that''s the case, he might as well swing his sword once more. Squish! In the middle of his thoughts, Esther, who was in his arms, pressed against his chest. Perhaps because of the joy she got earlier, she hadn''t left his chest since returning. Even when bathing, they had shared a hot wooden tub filled with water that some of the workers had prepared. "Kyarha." She seemed quite content, letting out a sigh that sounded more like a hiss of steam rather than her usual sharp cry. She pressed her weight against Enkrid''s chest, purring softly as she dozed off. He had carried her out of the bath, worried she might drown, though it wasn''t likely she would. In any case, Enkrid finally realized that the day had passed completely. He had crossed the wall and survived. Today had been a day of learning something new based on his instinct for evasion. Tomorrow had arrived. "Is it already tomorrow?" He muttered, intoxicated by the night, the moonlight, and the wind. "It''s still midnight." It was Luagarne''s voice, who had returned, his whole body covered in dirt, with bits of leaves clinging to him, backlit by the moon. "You''re back?" Enkrid had been wondering when Luagarne would return, and it seemed he had come back after getting through a full day. Luagarne had been unaware of the attacks from the monsters and beasts during that time. "I ran far beyond the quarry. The one you mentioned, the heretic, was right. He ran away." Enkrid and Luagarne exchanged the conversations they had put off. Then, Luagarne revealed that he had lost the heretic. "You lost him?" Fro?g? He lost a human? Just a human? Even if it was a heretic priest? Fro?g, of all people, lost a human? The words appeared in Enkrid''s eyes, flashing repeatedly before disappearing. Luagarne felt an odd sense of displeasure rising within him. Driven by that displeasure, his mouth opened without thinking. "Well, it was understandable that he lost him." "Oh, I see. Right." He must have let his guard down, or maybe Fro?g was a bit of an idiot. That could be why he was still here. If not, he would have returned to the capital already, wouldn''t he? "Pardon?" "It seems like your eyes are saying something else again." "Me?" Enkrid responded with his usual calm demeanor. He was just looking, but his eyes were saying something different. Fro?g was a bit of a fool, but his observational skills were sharp. "Hey." "Yes?" "Never mind." It was true that he had lost track of the situation. He probably hadn''t meant to call Fro?k a fool. His gaze had been rather disrespectful, but it wasn''t intentional. It was true, though. He had missed something. But still, it felt strange. "It''s probably someone connected to the beasts and monsters." Enkrid spoke, and Luagarne nodded in agreement. "The ones that retreated today might not scatter after all." Luagarne also nodded at this. If the heretic priest was involved, he could very well take the place of the colony''s leader. The monsters and beasts that had attacked weren''t the legendary kind, and Noll was merely a lower-level beast. Lower-level beasts were typically stupid. Among the lower-level beasts, there were ghouls. If you consider that ghouls are said to lack brains, then Noll wasn''t very smart either. They tended to fight in groups and strike from behind, but that was about it. If it was just one Noll and one ghoul, it would be easier to deal with. Of course, if these beasts were armed and organized like an army, that would be a different story. "So that''s why the Gnolls were so well-armed. The heretics must have prepared them. That means they might come back tomorrow." Enkrid concluded, and at that moment, Luagarne thought Enkrid''s eyes seemed to be saying something else. ''This happened because you missed it, didn''t it?'' "Your eyes..." Luagarne was about to say something when, at just the right moment, Doichi Fulman approached. "They didn''t just retreat, did they?" Doichi had been lingering nearby, and hearing such an important conversation, he couldn''t stay quiet. "I think so." "Why?" Doichi''s follow-up question made Enkrid briefly glance at Luagarne. Afterward. "The mastermind behind the monster group is still out there." "Mastermind? Yeah, something felt off." Doichi nodded. It made sense. An armed group of monsters. The abnormal number of monsters and beasts that had gathered. Additionally, among the allies, especially among his subordinates, there were individuals who resembled spies. "Oh, the missing adjutant was a heretic." Enkrid''s addition was quite a shock. ''That guy?'' Doichi shook his head. He was trying to clear his mind of unnecessary thoughts. "I sent a pigeon, but it''ll take at least a week for reinforcements to arrive. There''s no support nearby." It wasn''t the time for a half-baked mercenary group to step in. Even if they could call mercenaries, using them for such a large-scale battle would completely wreck Krona. Let alone gathering that many mercenaries was a difficult task in itself. Doichi only had one option. Requesting support from the nobles who backed the village. He had already sent a pigeon, but it seemed unlikely that reinforcements would arrive in less than a week. "It might take a week." Enkrid muttered under his breath. It was a near-whisper, so it didn''t seem like something he wanted anyone to hear. His eyes were distant, as if lost in thought. Doichi didn''t try to interpret the meaning of those words. He had too many things to worry about. He''d have to rush to the wall defenses right away. If the retreating monsters were connected to the heretics, he''d have to prepare for spell attacks as well. If they were heretics, they might use curses that drained the mind. Heretics were unpredictable in their actions. Some of them, when they enter the mountains, end up controlling the villages as if they were gods. Most importantly, if the heretic had remained, he would have to anticipate what commands he would give to the Gnolls. That, too, had to be prepared for. "I''ll handle the heretic." Luagarne spoke to Doichi. For Doichi, it was a reassuring thing to hear. "Thank you." Doichi said it sincerely. Luagarne, who had spoken, looked at Enkrid. Between his black hair, his deep blue eyes were gleaming with a strange light. ''He should clean up the mess he made himself?'' That thought crossed Luagarne''s mind. Grrr. The corner of his eye twitched, but there was nothing to say. He had indeed let the heretic escape. Still, catching someone who uses summoning magic alone was never an easy task. He probably hadn''t experienced facing summoning magic. For someone who only fights with steel, it''s almost impossible to handle. Without the help of magic, blocking or deflecting summoning magic was incredibly difficult. "Why the long face?" Enkrid''s eyes were still sharp and clear. Luagarne felt it wasn''t worth conversing with those blue eyes. He figured that if the heretic didn''t give up on the village and brought monsters and beasts back the next day, he would prove himself then. "So, no sparring today?" Luagarne asked, as he stepped forward. "I had Esther do something, and this is the result, so today''s difficult." Enkrid said while gently petting the leopard''s head that rested on his chest. There wasn''t really anything else to add. "Right." Luagarne simply nodded, then left to wash up. He noticed a stream as he walked by. It seemed like the place to go. Frogs were naturally fond of water. He felt like diving into the cool stream. "Do you think they''ll hold up?" Krais asked as he watched Frogs leave. Enkrid, who had been standing idly, tilted his head. "Hold up?" "Aren''t the Gnolls coming back tomorrow?" "Oh, they will." His demeanor was distant, his tone flat, but his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. What''s up with this squad leader? Krais shot a look with his eyes, and Enkrid didn''t hold back. When he acted this way, it was best to deal with it at the start. Thunk. Krais, who had only propped himself up with his upper body, was kicked hard in the chest. "Ugh!" Krais rolled to the side from the hit. "What''s the deal?" "Didn''t his eyes seem a little strange?" Enkrid said, and Krais knew very well that once his squad leader made up his mind, he would push forward without hesitation. More importantly, Enkrid''s intuition was just as sharp as his own. This was Enkrid noticing the silent message conveyed through the eyes. Usually, he would respond with some playful banter, but when he didn''t like something, he knew how to take action. Just like now. "Eyes." "Yes, I''ll keep them open properly." Enkrid seemed satisfied at last. It was time for bed now. It would be good to get a good night''s rest and prepare himself for tomorrow, so he could be at his best. He had applied some ointment to the cuts and scratches. His muscles were a bit sore, but a good rest would fix that by morning. ''I wonder how well Frogs, provoked, will fight.'' That was a question that lingered on his mind that night. While Enkrid slept soundly, Doichi Fullman, his subordinates, and the other villagers were going through a night between heaven and hell. "Didn''t they say they retreated?" "Are they coming back?" "They''re connected to the heretic? Oh, sun''s master, my lord." "Look after us, my lord." "Ugh, the demon is coming. The demon!" The terrified ones were crying and babbling. The faithful were praying. The calm ones were reflecting on the danger of the situation. The leaders were focused on what needed to be done immediately. Everyone was attending to their own worries and responsibilities that night. Most had no choice but to spend the night awake. The sentries kept watch through the night and into the dawn. Thanks to Enkrid''s efforts, they managed to hold on for the day. Doichi, watching from the sidelines, thought that without Enkrid, the battle would have been over. He watched how Enkrid fought. He knew he couldn''t replicate what Enkrid had done. It was all the result of a series of unfortunate circumstances that led to a fortunate outcome. Otherwise, who would willingly throw themselves into a swarm of monsters alone? A day passed, and at the break of dawn, the vigilante guarding Enkrid''s house saw the hero with the dark blue hair step out. It was a later start than usual for Enkrid. He emerged, stretched, and drenched in sweat, continuing his training. Isn''t that a bit excessive? Should he really be expending so much energy? Worrying, the vigilante spoke up. "Don''t you take a break, even on a day like this?" He had pushed himself yesterday, and today there was still no telling what would happen. Enkrid nodded at the vigilante''s words. "I had a good dream." Hmm? Wasn''t he just asked if he was resting? Enkrid only replied with his own words, focused and continuing his training. After that, Frogs appeared. "A good dream, huh? You were thrashing around. A lot." "I must have been sleep-talking." It was a conversation between Frogs and Enkrid. The vigilante had nothing more to say, so he stepped back. Soon after, the leopard and the soldier with the large eyes appeared. The soldier with the large eyes yawned, and when his gaze met the vigilante''s, he lowered his head slightly. The vigilante responded in kind. Finally, the female ranger appeared. "Phew." She exhaled loudly as she came out, and from her walk, it was clear something was off. "Why are you coming out?" Enkrid asked upon seeing her. "I need to shoot my bow." The female ranger replied. "Forget it." "They''ll be coming again today, won''t they?" "Probably." "If they come, it''s a good thing." Enkrid said, followed by Finn and then Frog. The vigilante had a hard time following their conversation. "It''s a good thing if they come." In the midst of it all, Frog repeated the same words once again. There was strength in his words. Momentum, energy, determination¡ªthose kinds of things. Just looking at Frog made the vigilante''s knees tremble. Thud! Thud! Thud! As the vigilante''s manhood shrank momentarily, the emergency bell rang, reaching everyone''s ears in the village. Wasn''t it always true that the worst situation imaginable would come at the worst time? Or was it that the things you least want to face always seem to come right before you? It almost felt like both of them were saying the same thing. "It''s the Gnolls!" A messenger from the front shouted as he ran. It was time for Doichi''s defensive plan, which had been prepared through the night, to begin. Enkrid also moved. His body was loosened, and now all he needed was to grab his equipment. The two swords had already been cleaned by Krais before going to sleep. Blood had been wiped away, and they were polished with oil made from animal fat. The armor was fine, though a bit of the chainmail inside the leather had gotten bent. But this was nothing unusual. The throwing daggers might be a bit lacking, but today he could focus on wielding his sword. That was the preparation complete. "Then, what about you, Luagarne?" Enkrid called out to the Frog as he put on his armor, and the Frog nodded. It was time to make up for his mistakes and show the arrogant-eyed Enkrid his worth. "Go." Luagarne replied, and soon the group moved out. Finn came along too. If he couldn''t help, at least his goal was to watch. Krais let out a heavy sigh, muttering that his luck wasn''t great, but since nothing could change, he kept moving quickly. Though they didn''t know what would happen next, it was certain they had to face it together. Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! The emergency bell rang nonstop above their heads. Chapter 174 - The Provoked Frog, the Leopard, and the Man Chapter 174 - 174 - The Provoked Frog, the Leopard, and the Man The emergency bell rang, but no one who had already woken up was going back to sleep. Those who were still asleep had not yet stirred. Everyone had stayed awake through the night. The news that the Gnoll group would return was what had kept them up. And so, the monsters and beasts returned. This time, it was different. The creatures charging from one side of the wasteland were not the same as before. Among them, there were new, strange objects. Two or three of the monsters carried long, strange objects at their sides. They were "tools," long and with holes drilled through the middle. Unlike before, they didn''t just charge recklessly. This time, there was a bit of order to their advance. The creatures moved in clusters, and there were dozens of them. Doichi, remembering his early days as a mercenary, estimated their numbers by using a method taught to him by a former military mercenary. He folded his fingers into a circle, then used that circle to count the number of gnoll creatures, estimating how many of these circles would fit into the total area. "Twenty..." Roughly twenty per circle, and it looked like there were about fifty circles in total. Among the gnolls and hyenas, there were also ghoul-like creatures slithering in between. It was an awful number. More than the day before. Even yesterday had been a nightmare. Everything about this situation was horrifying, but the worst part was the long, hollow tools that the creatures were carrying. "Ladders?" Doichi muttered to himself. He felt a chill run down his spine. The gnolls had brought ladders. The gnoll monsters used weapons, so it made sense that they could also use tools. What was even more shocking was that the ladders appeared hastily made. "They made ladders?" No, wait, what the hell, did the gnolls really make ladders? It seemed certain now that there was someone behind this, someone pulling strings. "Cultists." As soon as this thought crossed his mind, a deeper sense of dread settled over him. The ladders were the immediate concern. Whether hastily thrown together or carefully crafted, if these ladders reached the top of the walls, then the quality of the ladder wouldn''t matter anymore. "Boiling oil!" Doichi shouted reflexively. "Would there really be such a thing?" The village chief''s shout echoed. There were still some stones left to throw, but not enough to call it plenty. There were arrows too, but could they really defeat an army of what seemed to be a thousand monsters with just that? When they were huddled at the base of the walls, shooting would at least hit something. But with only twenty archers? They couldn''t pour boiling oil like in a siege. Should they gather some filth and pour that on them? Would a bit of shit or piss make the gnoll or hyena beasts retreat? It was an impossible thought. If they could just hold out for another week, reinforcements would come, but could they hold? ''If only there were enough stones.'' What if all twenty archers and the villagers rushed in? Could they do something? Once the stones were thrown, there wouldn''t be any more ammunition, and using the villagers like troops in a melee fight would be like feeding rare steak to the Noll. There was no way to quarry enough stones in a day, and there wasn''t the manpower to do it. They''d carry what they could, but it wouldn''t be enough. They couldn''t stop the enemy that way. ''Impossible.'' Once the ladders were placed, it would be over. The difference in numbers made it clear they wouldn''t be able to stop them with just arrows and falling rocks. Even if the cultist was behind this, and even if there were curses, how could they defend against that? It would be a miracle if they didn''t all collapse from exhaustion. At the moment, Doichi himself didn''t have any way to resist the curse. This wasn''t a scale that even a former mercenary commander could handle, especially for a settlement like this. Honestly, Doichi just wanted to run away. The victory from yesterday had already faded from his mind. The craftsman brought in to help build the walls had jokingly called them "Mad Enkrid Wall," but was it a joke now? There wouldn''t even be a foundation to lay. If things went on like this, this place would become a gnoll colony nest. It would be their village. A village of gnolls¡ªhow absurd. If a large-scale expeditionary force were organized, the gnoll village would be burned down in no time. But what about those who would die and lose everything in the meantime? Doichi had invested all his wealth and everything into this settlement. If he lost it, he''d be left with nothing. He''d have to pick up his sword and start over from the bottom again. So, should he run away? Was that really the answer? ''If I run away, where would I even go?'' There was no place to go. If he fled with his mercenaries through the quarry, where would he go next? Should he cross the border? Would he even make it? A journey without preparation would be like signing his own death sentence. But his experience as a mercenary told him that running might be his best chance at survival. "Shit." A curse slipped from his lips. And then it happened. "What''s that guy''s name again?" "Doichi." A voice murmured from the side. The hero of last night, the mad squad leader with black hair and blue eyes. The man who charged alone into the Noll horde and cut down their leader with a swift strike. "Doichi, let''s crack open the door." It was Enkrid speaking. Doichi''s brows furrowed in frustration, his emotions churning like crashing waves. Beside him, Krais recited the prepared words in his crystal-clear voice. "You haven''t forgotten that the command is with my squad leader, right? You will follow orders, Captain of the Guard of the Frontier Village." It was merely a recitation of what needed to be said, but the effect was undeniable. Krais wasn''t being arrogant or forceful in his tone. But the timing was perfect. There was no way out, was there? Seeing the situation, the numbers of ladders, the monsters¡ªthings were far worse than when they first arrived. And then, there were the cultists. What was their plan? What could they even do? To sum it up: it was an escape route. By relinquishing command, Doichi could evade the responsibility. From Krais''s perspective, Doichi might be a bit slow, but he was a good man. ''He''d be better off giving up now.'' The Captain of the Frontier Guard? What good was that title? Would there be any benefit in holding onto such a role? In the end, it was all a gamble. How many failed frontier villages had there been? Given how tangled the situation was now, Krais thought he would''ve already looted the place with his mercenaries and made off with the spoils. Honestly. Of course, Krais couldn''t do that. If he did, a blade might fly towards him from Enkrid''s hands or feet. It was true, though. The squad leader was genuinely concerned about people. But considering it made him a bit sick to think about. Enkrid always seemed to pick the strangest things to focus on. Look at him now¡ªhe was still at it. It was right after the alarm bell rang. "Me, Luargarne, and Esther will go out." "Where to?" "Outside the walls." This was what Enkrid said just after the alarm rang. Krais had honestly wondered yesterday if Enkrid had gotten a blow to the head during the fight. "You know we almost died yesterday, right?" Enkrid nodded. "Yeah, it was close." Doesn''t he care about his own life? "Focus, Enkrid." Just as Krais thought that, Enkrid spoke, and not wanting to be on the receiving end of another blow, Krais looked away. "What if our luck is bad today?" "Luargarne''s with us." "No matter how great Frog is, what makes Luargarne a knight? That''s not right, is it?" "No, it''s not." "Then it''s dangerous." "You know what to do. Find something useful." Enkrid''s words were clear and brief, signaling the end of the conversation. After that, Krais began to strategize on his own. ''A full-scale battle with just one human, Frog, and a leopard? What can the rest of us do?'' There would be support, of course. ''Maybe I can shoot arrows when the time is right.'' Krais dismissed the fleeting thought and focused on what needed to be done right now. "Then, I''ll take command and say this: Open the gates." Krais said, his voice firm. By the time he finished speaking, Enkrid, along with Luargarne and Esther, were already at the gates. Krais could see them walking toward the gate, Esther trotting along behind them. ''Don''t die, please.'' Krais silently prayed. If the squad leader died, it would be hard for him to survive too. Krais didn''t think Enkrid was a fool. ''He must have something planned.'' Even though it seemed reckless, Krais trusted him. He remembered the back of Enkrid''s figure, the one who had blocked him on the battlefield once before. They had barely survived then. The Enkrid back then and the one now were incomparable. It wasn''t just about being promoted from squad leader to platoon leader. It was his skill that had grown. His dream of being a knight wasn''t a joke anymore. He had gotten much stronger, more terrifyingly so. "I told you to open it! Disobedience is punished by decapitation, Doichi Fullman!" Krais''s voice carried a new weight. The coercion wasn''t there before, but now it was evident. He wasn''t a mercenary captain, nor was Enkrid. He was just a weak human, and so he had to rely on his power. "...Yes, sir." Doichi responded, the former captain of the guard who had thrown away his duties. "Cut the heads off those who refuse to obey." Krais spoke to Doichi, though he didn''t really expect him to decapitate anyone. Of course, that wasn''t going to happen. With a loud creaking sound, the pulley system began to turn, and the wooden door slowly opened. Enkrid, Luargarne, and Esther stepped out. Unlike yesterday''s reckless charge, today they were facing a more organized force: the Noll, hyenas, and a group of ghouls approaching from one side. Somewhere within, the cultists were probably hiding as well. A force large enough to be called an army, yet only three stood in front of them. Krais couldn''t help but feel a dryness in his throat when he saw it. He swallowed hard, trying to hide it from others. No matter what they did, he had to back them up. "Bring all the archers you have." He called for the archers. "And gather stones around, ready to throw at any moment." The villagers immediately began moving in response to Kraiss''s orders. With the log barricades set up, they prepared to face the enemy once again. Enkrid felt relieved that Kraiss was taking charge, freeing him from having to worry about the small details. ''If it weren''t for the treasure, I would''ve been in real trouble.'' If it weren''t for the map, Krais would never have come along on this mission. Otherwise, Enkrid would have had to handle all the little leadership tasks himself. Doichi Fullman, the one-eyed man with a glaive, had the expression of someone who had lost his nerve. ''He looks like the type who''d just struggle and die. That kind of face.'' It was a familiar expression ¡ª one Enkrid had seen many times before. After noting this, Enkrid pushed it from his mind. He focused instead on his sword, himself, and the new realizations he had gained. It was time for that. As he stood before the wooden gate, his thoughts naturally drifted to the dream from the night before. The conversation with the ferryman and his reaction, everything that had happened afterward, was still vivid in his mind. "You''ve taken shortcuts," the ferryman had said. There was no emotion in his words. ''It just happened,'' Enkrid thought, speaking to himself in his mind. Somehow, the ferryman understood. Despite the calm waters, the boat rocked up and down, as if mirroring the ferryman''s inner feelings. The ferryman seemed to think, How dare you? Take shortcuts? Play tricks like that? Yet, Enkrid remained unbothered. "The rules will bind you, and you''ll waste time regretting, but this is not the end." The ferryman had recited some sort of verse, warning him, but Enkrid had merely nodded along. He didn''t quite understand what the ferryman meant, but what could he do? He was too focused on what lay ahead. And so, the dream continued, spiraling into a nightmare. He found himself trapped in a well, staring up at the moonlight shining above, unable to climb out, no matter how much he scratched at the walls. He had scraped his nails raw in the dream, desperately trying to climb, but it was hopeless. That was why he had been tossing and turning in his sleep. "What kind of dream was it?" Luargarne asked as the wooden door opened. "It was a dream with a beautiful moon," Enkrid replied. It wasn''t an entirely false statement. The moonlight over the well had been beautiful. Even in the dream, it was enough to be intoxicating. No alcohol was needed; the moonlight alone was enough. "That doesn''t sound like a nightmare." "Does it not?" The two exchanged a few casual words. "Ahhh." Esther let out a sound as the door opened. Enkrid glanced to the side and caught Esther''s gaze. "Can you help again today?" Enkrid asked. Esther was no ordinary leopard, something Enkrid had already realized. But what about him? "Hooh." He took a deep breath and reminded himself of what he had learned. Ah, there was something else to check. He almost forgot. "Luargarne." "Speak." "Show us your skill." The provoked the Frog: how well would it fight? Enkrid reminded himself of a fact that might have been forgotten. Grrr. Luargarne''s cheeks puffed up considerably. "Alright, let''s see it." The Frog, the one who spoke, was the first to act. With a loud bang, it stomped the ground, sending dirt soaring into the air as it charged forward. The sight was incredibly reassuring. It was curious, though. How well could a provoked Frog really fight? Chapter 175 - Hurry up! Chapter 175 - 175 - Hurry up! Enkrid could sum up Luagarne''s fight in two words: "Boom" and "Crash." Charging forward, she charged directly into the group of gnolls without a second thought, a reckless yet formidable charge akin to a knight riding a warhorse and striking with full force. "Well, that works," Enkrid thought. The effect was undeniable. As she charged, she ignored the cuts and bruises that formed along the way, continuing to swing her whip with her right hand and a sword in her left. Bam!Bam! Each time the whip cut through the air, it made a loud crack as it struck the heads, shoulders, and bellies of the gnolls. Clang!Thud!Boom! ¡ªthe sounds of bone shattering echoed as the whip connected. With the sword, she pierced the heads of approaching Hyena Beasts. Thwack! Thunk! Crack! The sound of her sword piercing the beasts'' skulls rang through the air. As she repeatedly stabbed and withdrew the sword, four or five Hyena Beasts collapsed, spilling dark blood across the ground. The bodies of those creatures, bubbling with black foam as they died, were quickly bypassed as Luagarne pressed on, taking down another nine gnolls and fifteen Hyena Beasts. Soon after, the remaining gnolls regrouped, about five or six of them at a time, and began to challenge Luagarne. "Grrr!" Luagarne puffed up her cheeks before swinging her whip fiercely. The whip whipped through the air, but this time, it didn''t strike any of the gnolls. Instead, it wrapped around one of their necks. She yanked it hard, throwing the gnoll through the air. Whoosh! The gnoll flew through the air and crashed headfirst into the ground. In the meantime, the whip and sword in her hands continued their deadly work, cutting down foes left and right. She killed and killed again. The strength of the angry Frog was terrifying to witness. Her sheer force and instinctive combat ability were on full display. A wail of agony rang out from one of the gnolls. Meanwhile, Enkrid trudged forward. Luagarne, the one who had provoked the fight, was expressing her anger through a furious rampage, and it was undeniably powerful. However, with the battle ongoing, something started to become clear to Enkrid. "Can''t we handle them?" Not all Frok-like creatures were warriors, but Luagarne had always said¡ªshe was a scholar. She wasn''t obsessed with battle. But now... "I don''t think we''ll lose." The thought occurred to him suddenly. Was it arrogance or confidence from accumulated experience? Though all fights are uncertain until they are over, if they were truly going to kill, Enkrid felt it could be done. "Real swordsmanship, I can teach, but knights and your crazy group... they''re quite the troublesome opponents." Luagarne, ever the cold observer of talent, was clear about her abilities and where she stood. "I''m more driven by curiosity than ambition," she remarked. Which Frog wasn''t curious? Saying that, Luagarne''s eyes sparkled with light. Her large, round eyes almost seemed to shine as they filled with light. Then, when Enkrid explained his strategy for dealing with the beast horde, Frok puffed up her cheeks and tilted his head as if questioning it. As someone familiar with human ways, Luagarne communicated with gestures similar to a human''s to express her thoughts. When she heard the strategy, her reaction was clear: "What kind of crazy idea is that?" "Same as yesterday." At that reply, Enkrid felt his heart, body, hands, feet, and entire being grow hot. What should he say? It felt like he wanted to go wild. Should he say it felt like he wanted to run through pouring rain? Or maybe he should say it felt like he wanted to roll through a snowy, white wasteland? In any case, he wanted to do something¡ªexactly, he wanted to wield his sword. "So just watch my back," he said. It was a request to Luagarne and Ester. The village was on the verge of collapse anyway. If they had brought the ladder, it was practically over. So what could he do? ''Break what they believe in.'' What did the gnolls and the cultists believe in? Numbers, tools, ladders, and sheer numbers. At the same time, he felt something boiling up inside him that he wanted to pour out. Something burning, something boiling. "I think we need a short, but intense fight." Enkrid murmured to himself as he stepped forward, whispering a verse like a chant, remembering the boatman''s words. While Luagarne attracted all attention with her brute force, Enkrid closed the gap and approached the monstrous horde of beasts. At that moment, Luagarne took a breath and fell back. By that point, she had slaughtered nearly thirty golls and Hyena Beasts. Returning with minor wounds on her arms, legs, thighs, and abdomen, she was a force to be reckoned with. She was strong. But was she so strong that she was untouchable? Enkrid wasn''t sure. It seemed like she could be taken down. Enkrid paused between the gnolls, Hyena Beasts, and Ghouls. A deep growl echoed. "Raaah!" "Kaaah!" The gnolls and Hyena Beasts roared. But first, it was a Ghoul that greeted him. And it greeted him well. As Enkrid looked at them, he wondered. Was the strength of a knight truly something unreachable? But would that mean it was impossible to touch? He didn''t know. The future was uncertain. But one thing was clear. Short and sharp. He could probably show them something. The enemy, a mass of countless monsters and beasts. And there, in the midst of it all, were those carrying ladders. There were more than thirty of them. Alright, thirty. He acknowledged the number and drew his swords. Shing! One in his right hand. Clink! One in his left. Though he was much more used to wielding just one sword, now, in this moment, this way seemed better. After all, he was facing many opponents, so Enkrid swung both swords. There were several reasons why Luagarne did not ask. First of all, she was confident that even if she were surrounded by the gnolls and the beast horde, she could easily slip away. If things went wrong, she could afford to sacrifice an arm or two and escape. Her limbs would regenerate, so there was no real problem. That''s why, when she was told to enter the horde of monsters, she didn''t bother asking. Another reason was Enkrid''s change. ''Why has he changed?'' She had only been absent for half a day, but Enkrid''s posture and momentum had completely shifted. ''How?'' Luagarne was a talent assessor. Her eyes and senses naturally measured Enkrid''s steps, gestures, and posture to gauge his skill level. ''How?'' She asked the same question twice. This man had changed. Skill could suddenly grow like this, but it was different. It was clearly different from anyone she had seen before. "I told you, I have an appointment at the salon." That''s how geniuses were. When someone who had been idly playing around suddenly grew in skill, Luagarne was astounded. That''s what being a genius meant. But didn''t they show any signs? Any hints? No, there were signs. Luagarne had seen them. There were usually signs or indications before skill increased. It was natural for growth to follow the signs. ''But there were none.'' She didn''t see any signs, no indications. Nothing at all. He had changed suddenly. Was this even possible? After all, Luagarne didn''t even consider Enkrid to be part of the genius category. So how? Again, the same question. Right now, she stood here to confirm whether Enkrid had truly changed or if her senses were failing her. ''If things go wrong...'' She could just grab him and run away. Beside her, Esther scratched the ground with her claws, the sound of them tapping making it clear she was thinking the same thing. Worries, expectations, curiosity, and a thirst for the unknown intertwined in her mind, and she looked ahead. After that, her worries dissipated. Ching, Ting. Enkrid, with two swords drawn, moved forward. Through the gnolls and beasts, into the horde of Ghouls. His objective was clear. ''The ladder.'' He charged straight toward the one carrying it. Luagarne was also targeting that. But, as someone who didn''t consider herself a true knight¡ªthough, perhaps, she would feel differently about one of her kind¡ªshe knew the situation was different. A horde is still a horde. They were the ones who would purposely hide and retreat. She could easily kill the ones charging forward, but... What about chasing down the ones fleeing? That would require a horde. The problem was that the numbers were just too many. It was a fight with monsters. For Frogs, these were creatures that could be killed even while half-asleep, but there were just too many of them. Luagarne wasn''t a knight. She was a Frog, but even a Frog had limits to their stamina. She could handle one social creature, but there was no way she could take on the whole horde. That was common sense. In the continent, those who broke common sense were called knights or knight-level warriors. And now... Hoon, whew, thud, crack, scrape, bang, thump, boom. Enkrid''s sword shattered the path. The path that common sense had laid out. ''Ah.'' It wasn''t possible to suddenly grow in skill without any signs or premonitions. Even if you were a genius, that was impossible. How? Enkrid''s sword moved exactly when and where it was needed. Thrust and slash. Cut and stab. The sword cleaved through the gnoll''s skull with ease, and the sideways swing of the blade cut through the gnoll''s spear. The creature whose spear was cut opened its mouth, showing sharp fangs, trying to bite into Enkrid''s shoulder, but before it could, a flash of light erupted from below, rising upward. The flash split its head in two with a sharp crack. The split head couldn''t bite anything anymore. The two halves of the head spread apart, and the gnoll collapsed, having been torn apart by the blade''s force. Luagarne knew that the power behind that sword was now as great as her own. It was the same kind of power she had seen in their sparring matches. However, back then, he only knew how to unleash it chaotically, losing control. But now, he was using perfect balance, only applying the power when necessary and retracting it when not. He slashed vertically and thrust forward, his feet moving without pause, taking control of the space around him. When the ladder came into range, he swung his sword to destroy it. At that moment, six or so Ghouls rushed at him all at once. They were willing to grab onto his legs and drag him down, even if it meant dying in the process. This was the effect of the social creature''s brainwashing. But it was useless. Before the Ghouls could even reach him, Enkrid stepped forward with his left foot and then pulled his right leg back, smoothly and naturally swinging his sword as if he had been waiting for this moment. Boom, whizz, crack! What were bones, muscles, and tendons worth? The great sword''s spinning cut cleaved through the Ghouls as though they were nothing. Arms, legs, heads, torsos, and abdomens¡ªentangled body parts of the creatures scattered across the ground. In the gaps between them, Enkrid''s sword stabbed into the ground with a sharp thud. Zzzip! With a strange sound, Enkrid let go of his sword and moved his hand, unleashing throwing knives. They were whistle daggers. Ten blades scattered like the wind, piercing everything around them. All of the flying daggers struck the heads of the monsters carrying the ladder. Just because someone knew how to use toys, it didn''t mean they weren''t reluctant to use them. When the ladder fell to the ground, it was stepped on by accident. The hastily constructed ''tool'' shattered. "Guoooo!" The mutant gnolls charged. The bigger ones, about three or four of them, surrounded him from all directions, and in the gaps, the hyena-like monsters stuck their heads in. Enkrid, who had planted his sword in the ground, vanished for an instant. Luagarne didn''t miss it, though there was still an afterimage left in her eyes. "A charge?" It was the kind of charge often seen from mid-tier knights. The speed was similar, perhaps. Just before being surrounded, he disappeared, reappearing behind the mutant, thrusting his swords, one in each hand, crossing them to stab. Thump! The two swords crossed through the mutant''s heart before pulling back. It was the heart, so the impact made a slight bulge. Still, Luagarne ignored it. She was an experienced Frog. However, even with her experience, this was the first time she had seen a human fight like this. The unknown stirred something in her heart. Enkrid pulled the swords from the mutant''s body. A trail of black blood flowed down the blades. "Grrk!" The mutant died. Grrrk! The hyena-like monsters attacked. Enkrid kicked one away with a thud, and then smashed its head with his pommel, causing it to burst open. "Kyaa!" A ghoul charged forward without hesitation. It extended its claws, which were coated in poison, a deadly weapon on their own. Snap. Enkrid, seemingly irritated, swung his sword lazily, smashing the ghoul''s head apart. There was a rumor that ghouls had no brains, but looking at this one, it certainly had one, though it was small¡ªonly about the size of a finger. Enkrid had only been fighting for a short time. Not even half a day, not even a few hours. Was it the time it would take to drink a single cup of tea? A time so brief that the sun''s position wouldn''t change. For beings like dragons or fairies, who had lived for eons, it could be considered a mere moment. In that brief time, Enkrid had destroyed most of the ladders. He had turned nearly a hundred monsters, combining both beasts and creatures, into rotten meat. The ghouls were almost completely wiped out. Lua Garne, being a Frog herself, felt a chill in her heart¡ªbut it wasn''t fear; it was the pain of her own heart muscles. Admiration and awe, the joy and ecstasy of discovering an incomprehensible unknown. The happiness of seeing something unknown right in front of her. Everything mixed together, and tears welled up in her eyes. It was a cruel happiness. "Ah..." She sang a Frog battle song, mixed with admiration. Before the song could even begin, Enkrid suddenly stumbled backward and collapsed, kneeling and planting his sword in the ground. Even as he did so, his body swayed, and then he opened his mouth. "I need..." Huh? Huh? She had just been moved, about to sing more and shed more tears, and now this? Why was this guy, who had been fighting like a knight, suddenly acting like this? "Hurry." Enkrid spoke with lips pale as death. Lua Garne instinctively extended her whip. With a swish, it wrapped around Enkrid''s wrist. She yanked it, and with a loud drag, Enkrid was pulled toward her. The ground was littered with corpses, but with a quick flick of her wrist, she lifted Enkrid off the ground. She caught him mid-air, and bent her knees to absorb the shock. "Let''s go." The man with black hair and blue eyes, in her arms, spoke. Lua Garne''s emotional surge was interrupted, but the initial sensation she had felt didn''t disappear. She nodded. Despite the remaining gnolls and beasts charging again, they had already decided to retreat. And then... "Fire! Fire!" As the monsters pulled back, arrows flew from above, providing support. The beasts and monsters charged once more, but even as their heads were pierced by the arrows, they continued to lash out with their claws and axes, striking the log barricade. Arrows and rocks rained down from above. Some of them tried to climb the ladder. "Are you just going to watch?!" Krais'' shout rang out, and the former mercenaries under Deutch, now a volunteer force, surged forward. They pushed the ladders away and fought back. As Luagarne and Esther returned to the fray, the few ladders remaining became useless. "Insane, they''re insane." Deutch Pulman muttered, watching as the monsters retreated atop the barricade. Luagarne agreed with him. ''Insane.'' Enkrid had performed a short, but knightly-like display. Without any signs, any hints. In just half a day, the man who had seemed talentless had changed. Luagarne''s heart muscles moved like they had in her youth. For a brief moment, she felt like a girl again. Chapter 176 - That was the feeling. Chapter 176 - 176 - That was the feeling. When I decided to take what I had learned and bring it out, I moved accordingly. The moment I made up my mind, my body moved on its own. Everything was visible, and I could react to it. The countless days spent training with the technique of isolation supported me. ''It works.'' My body moves as I intended. I only focused on one style of swordsmanship. Northern-style Greatsword Fighting. The foundation of swordsmanship, divided into "Jeong," "Jung," and "Kwe-yu," was developed across the continent through five basic forms. For example, Michi Hyurio used a style that combined "Jeong," "Yu," and "Jung" in his swordsmanship, while Ragnar focused on "Jung" and slightly added "Kwe," teaching a sword style with that emphasis. That was the Northern-style greatsword fighting. Of course, I only learned the basics. It was simple technique, but that was enough. Building on that foundation, I refined it. ''I see.'' I could see the form of the enemy''s attack with my eyes and hear it with my ears. My senses intertwined, opening the door to my sixth sense, and everything kept coming into view. The blades pouring down, the order in which they approached, I could classify and distinguish them. I could perceive every one of them. The speed at which I reacted afterward was like a flash of light. ''Here, left.'' It was natural to have time to think. Right now, I was faster than the monsters and beasts surrounding me, and I had seen it coming, with my body following my mind. I moved more. I advanced one step ahead of my opponents and swung my sword once more. ''The strength.'' The heart of the beast needs to be activated quickly, or my body will break down. So, I kept it short and instantaneous. The repeated process from today was not just about refining coordination but also a natural result of training gained through the act of avoiding attacks. My heart pounded, and strength surged into my muscles. ''Four times?'' No, ''I can swing it four times.'' With every heartbeat, my strength was embedded into my sword strikes. Clash! Each swing felt resistance in my hands. Four of the gnolls heads were cleaved¡ªmore precisely, each was bisected exactly at the crown. My body moved as I wished. My sword advanced as I intended. The coordination of my body amplified all my reflexes, and I could fully unleash everything I had learned. At that moment, Rem came to mind. How did he charge through the battlefield alone without getting hurt? How was that possible? With this level of skill, I could do it now, too. I slashed, cut, and tore apart again. I walked through time, intoxicated, feeling as if I had entered another realm. ''Ah.'' Then, I recalled the knight in training I had seen. How he had advanced alone and shown his strength. How could he do that? He said that ''Will'' was necessary. But for me, it was something distant. So, does that mean I should give up? That''s nonsense. What I can do now, I would do. I''m too busy to be discouraged. I had no time to falter. That''s why I did it. I did everything I could. Mimicking the charging technique of a semi-knight with the help of the heart of the beast and the isolation technique. I kept charging and charging until my limbs trembled, and a sharp pain shot through my insides, then I took a step back. "Ahhh!" Behind him, Luagarne let out a strange sound. Enkrid''s energy drained from his body. He asked for help, and Luagarne wrapped her whip around his wrist and pulled him towards her. He collapsed into her arms and fainted. It was only natural, as he had displayed strength comparable to a semi-knight, even without "Will." However, the onlookers had their own reactions. Those on top of the wall. Luagarne, Finn, Krais, and Esther. A mysterious flame burned in their chests, goosebumps formed on their skin, and their entire bodies trembled. ''What kind of person could do that?'' Even though they were no bards, they felt the urge to compose a song in his honor. "Damn, the name of the wall is a loss," A wall builder, who had just hit his head while carrying stones, remarked, blood oozing from his injury. Except for the lunatics, they would just call it the Enkrid Wall. "Damn, why are my eyes tearing up?" Some of the members of the citizen militia were even crying. They were not filled with joy of survival, but with an inexplicable sense of emotion as they watched the man running wild ahead. It is often said that something impressive leaves a mark on one''s heart. The feeling, the inspiration, that is what imprints on the soul. Right now, in this moment, Enkrid had carved himself into their hearts. "Ahhhhh!" Amidst the cheers and chants. The monsters hadn''t retreated yet, but at that moment, they did. "Enkrid!" Someone shouted his name as they shot arrows and threw stones. The monstrous horde finally stepped back. "Who is that?" Having seen him fall and return, they all asked in unison. "I hope he''s okay. I hope he hasn''t been hurt. I hope he walks out of this and smiles." They all felt the same. They wanted to cheer for him. They would give anything for him. That was how they felt. And their expectations were met. "Is the horde gone?" Enkrid stood up and walked, then asked. Doichi Pulman, the commander, stepped down from the battlements. He glanced at the glaive in his hand a few times, then, dissatisfied, tossed it aside. His subordinates would have been surprised. As a mercenary, he treated his weapons like his life. Doichi, stepping forward, knelt on one knee, lowered his head, and spoke. "Thank you." In those short yet heavy words, everything was conveyed. "... It''s not over yet." Enkrid simply acknowledged the words without any smile. Doichi didn''t expect his smile, his thanks, or his praise. He merely showed respect for the man who had stirred him. Seeing that, everyone knelt. Those standing on the wall and those below. Enkrid only shrugged. However, those who had observed him for a long time knew. He was quite satisfied with this situation. After the battle, his knees had been strained, and his muscles sore, but once he had bathed and returned to his hut, Enkrid began assessing his condition. He had overexerted himself. His muscles were stiff, and his heart had tightened slightly. ''This much is manageable.'' He adjusted his body. It would take a day to recover¡ªsufficient for now. Should he thank Audin once again? "Audin had always emphasized that the technique of isolation also leads to the creation of a ''Regenerative Body.'' It''s a term from the East and the North, meaning a body that, no matter how broken, always recovers. This technique is more than just a reconstruction of the bones," Aoudin had often said. The benefits of this were now clear. ''I''m fine.'' He clenched and relaxed his hand, feeling the relief as the tightness in his muscles began to ease. "Whew, I''m still shocked," Krais spoke up from beside him. Everyone had been watching him. After all that, he hadn''t fainted for half a day¡ªhe''d merely closed his eyes for a moment and then stood up, walking away as though nothing had happened. "I''m seriously impressed," Finn added. Esther, on the other hand, merely stared at him silently. There was something unreadable in her gaze. Luagarne, in her usual detached manner, said what needed to be said. "Once this is over, I''ll be going back." It was simply time for her to return. As a Frog, she was bound by a pact. She was not entirely free. Enkrid nodded, responding indifferently. "Don''t raise your voice. Don''t use honorifics." Then, he added something with forceful insistence. Enkrid was more concerned with preparing for tomorrow than anything else. His Whistle daggers had been used up. And as for the enemy¡ªthe Cultist¡ªhe was no fool. If they were retreating now, it was likely to preserve their forces and return. ''The ladders can be rebuilt.'' Seeing his own limits, Enkrid was certain that another assault might be on the horizon. ''Should I lure them in?'' Given the display of his abilities, it seemed like it would work. "Shouldn''t we catch the Cultist?" he asked Luagarne. It was crucial to deal with them now, before they could slip away. "Of course," she replied matter-of-factly. Krais stepped forward, whispering. "I think they''ll come back tomorrow." Krais had an excellent mind for these things. He was quick-witted and perceptive. "Should we try to bait them?" "Ah, sounds good." In just a few words, Krais immediately began to devise a plan. It was a plan that seemed likely to succeed. Krais'' mind worked quickly, reading the enemy''s psychological state and crafting a direction for the next move. Enkrid took a full day of rest. No one dared disturb him. Although some of the monster horde remained within range, he couldn''t afford to be completely at ease. But what had changed from the previous day was this: "Are we just going to let the monsters take our village?!" There was now a fierce energy radiating from the defenders. What Enkrid had shown them¡ªthe way he fought, the resilience¡ªhad ignited a flame in their hearts. Before that fire could die down, the morning sun rose, and the monsters were at it again. This time, they brought with them what appeared to be a makeshift ladder, with hooks attached to the ends. It was crafted from woven branches, and while not many, it seemed like a potent weapon. "Bastards." Doich, gritting his teeth in frustration, muttered under his breath. Enkrid opened the gate once more, and once again, he stepped out to face the horde. His body had healed, aided by the Regenerative Body technique, which helped him recover his strength. The battle continued as before, with his body carrying him forward. Two swords in hand, he fought like a monster-slayer. The rumors would soon spread¡ªhe had become known for his ruthless combat style. Even if the fight had been quick and intense, the results were clear: Enkrid was pushing his limits. After a bloody clash, Enkrid coughed up blood. "Ugh!" Two days of fighting had taken their toll on him. His body was clearly breaking down. Meanwhile, Luagarne deliberately left herself open to an attack, and her left arm was severed. She bit her severed forearm, lifting it up as if to mock the very idea of defeat. The monsters and their ilk retreated once again, but Enkrid was bleeding, and Lua Garne had lost an arm. On the third day, the monsters returned. "Aren''t you tired of this?!" The shout of a mercenary on the wall echoed as Enkrid once more took to the field. Having already coughed up blood from the previous battles, Enkrid lasted a shorter time in this skirmish than before. Dark, deep shadows began to form under his eyes. However, the number of monsters had been halved. The Beasts had been reduced by nearly half¡ªaround five hundred less. This meant that nearly five hundred of those monsters had been slashed, stabbed, and killed by Enkrid''s blades. It was a victory after three days of relentless fighting, but it had come at a cost. Enkrid finally collapsed and was carried back by the Vigilante Corps. By this time, even the number of arrows flying at them had decreased. The wooden wall held strong again. "Just two or three more days..." It seemed they only needed to hold out for a little longer. On the following day, with dark circles beneath his eyes and a pale complexion, Enkrid went out once more. His fatigue was palpable, but like a candle burning brightly at the end of its life, he once again set the field ablaze with his ghostly prowess. "Uuuugh! Monster Slayer!" A deep-voiced mercenary shouted. Inspired by Enkrid, twenty members of the Vigilante Corps charged outside to fight in close combat. This was a defensive battle, preparing for a retreat if necessary. Thanks to this, no one died that day. Though it had been a close call. The damage to the wall had worsened, and even without the ladders, it seemed that they would be in serious danger if the monsters attacked again. On the fourth day, Enkrid truly seemed like a monster-slayer. He had managed to reduce the number of Beasts by a hundred, bringing the remaining count below three hundred. The ghouls were all gone, and the number of Beasts had plummeted. The remaining Hyena Beasts numbered under a hundred. Thus, the morning of the fourth day arrived. The Cultist was starting to realize the gravity of the situation. The Cultist was used to people being killed with little effort, but now he had seen Enkrid''s power, and his thoughts were filled with doubt. "He''s a knight! At least a Junior Knight!" A knight was a force of unimaginable power, someone you couldn''t just face head-on, and the Cultist knew retreat was the best option. But then doubt lingered. There was something off about this warrior. He had power, but he wasn''t quite like the knights Cultist had known. "A knight should be able to strike from fifty paces or more..." The Cultist had heard stories of knights who could kill from a distance with ease, throwing arrows that could kill with precision. But the man they faced wasn''t acting like one. Enkrid had shown extraordinary power but didn''t fit the expectations. This was a borderland. Knights weren''t supposed to be here. "What knight would come to a place like this? They wouldn''t waste their time..." The Cultist had come to a terrifying realization: their enemy was not a knight or even a Junior Knight. Enkrid had incredible strength, but his true identity remained shrouded in mystery. He had performed unbelievable feats, yet he kept retreating, almost like a man possessed, with no regard for his own safety. "How is he still standing?" The Cultist wondered as Enkrid continued to push forward, fighting relentlessly despite his obvious wounds. The cultists led their monsters to press against the walls, hoping for the final push. They had learned from their mistakes and would not be deterred. "Come out, you bastard." While pounding on the walls, the Cultist murmured under his breath, thinking about the insane man who had been a constant thorn in his side. He knew Enkrid would be there again, but he didn''t know how much longer the man could last. Just then, a voice interrupted his thoughts. "Krais was right." It was a familiar voice from behind. "So, it is." The voice made the Cultist''s fur bristle. He turned, startled, to see Enkrid, with his darkened eyes and pale complexion, standing behind him with the Frog. "It''s been a while since I''ve seen your face," Enkrid said, his voice thin but clear. He wiped at his eyes with a finger, clearing the dark smears from under them. The Cultist''s mind raced¡ªthis was the man who should be lying in the dirt, bloodied and broken. Yet Enkrid''s face was clear, his skin remarkably healthy, his body seemingly untouched by the carnage. "How... how is he standing?" Enkrid had been on the brink of death, yet he was alive, looking better than ever. The Cultist couldn''t help but wonder if he was witnessing something unnatural, something impossible. Chapter 177 - I don’t really know either Chapter 177 - 177 - I don''t really know either I don''t know either. "What was that friend''s usual behavior like?" To understand someone, it''s better to ask in various places. That''s what Krais did. First, he started with Doichi Pulman. "He was polite. He would act like the tongue in your mouth, and he was thorough. He wouldn''t start anything unless it was certain." Before becoming a socialite, he was considered a talented individual. He got along well with everyone, and there were no people he was at odds with. Everyone had good relations with him, and his greatest strength was said to be his meticulousness. "He was sly. His actions, and the methods he used." This was Luagarne''s opinion. ''Cunning, and cautious in a way that doesn''t move unless sure.'' Whether in gambling, betting, or anything else, he wouldn''t act unless he was certain. "Well, he did well in everything, but he was kind of, well, he tended to take a long time preparing. The captain seemed to like that." "His position in the battle formation? Was he always at the back? Oh, yes, he was always at the back. Every time." "Now that you mention it, that''s right." After gathering the opinions of the vigilante group members, Krais built an image in his mind. In Krais''s mind, the guy was like a petty goat. And he had a general understanding of his habits. ''If we''re talking about personality, he''s more like Saxen.'' Saxen is someone who gets things done when needed, but personality-wise, they are meticulous, careful, and tend to be picky. It''s similar. Though the opponent was much dumber. Much, much dumber. Krais created a script. A script to draw out the sly and timid guy. More specifically, a scenario that placed elements that would make him drop his guard. "How about we make him vomit some blood? Just use this." It was a small pouch made from a pig''s bladder. It smelled bad since it contained goat''s blood, but it wasn''t something to keep in your mouth¡ªjust something to spill out. "I think it would be good if he got hurt a bit. Since she''s a Frog, a little injury should be fine, right?" "Yeah." Luagarne was straightforward. He even came with his arm cut off. "This would be more effective, right? But is it alright if I don''t have one arm?" "I''m right-handed." Does that even count as an answer? Maybe it does. Anyway, the enemy would surely be relieved and confident of victory upon seeing the severed arm. Even so, the morale of the allies wasn''t shaken. This was thanks to Enkrid. Something that was shown that day, amidst the beasts and monster hordes. It left quite an impression. Even Krais himself let out a sound. It was a plan crafted considering all of that. ''This should work.'' It seemed like it would be good to steer the enemy''s thoughts in one direction. One could even call it conditioning. ''They don''t seem that smart.'' Humans have habits. Hiding behind is a habit, a routine. Could someone throw that away in an instant? ''Yeah, right.'' Identifying the enemy''s position was an easy task for Krais. Later, by placing Esther next to Enkrid, he also planted a preconceived notion in the enemy''s mind. Where the leopard is, there Enkrid is. As dawn approached, before the enemy could catch on, he sent Enkrid and Luagarne out. "Pin, try putting this on." After making Pin wear the clothes, he placed him on the wall, in what could be called a gallery, and positioned Esther next to him. It was time when the beasts and monster hordes, sensing victory, rushed in. For Krais, the enemy''s hidden position was clear. He hid while being able to see where the enemy would be. They were probably wearing monster skins in the back. Reading the enemy''s intentions and using that to set a trap¡ªit was simple and easy. At least, that''s how it was for Krais. "That Big-Eyes guy, he''s useful. His face wasn''t everything." Luagarne said. Enkrid''s jaw moved slightly up and down. He was acknowledging it. After the ambush at the place Krais mentioned, finding the guy disguised in hyena hide had been the right call. Enkrid washed off the charcoal makeup mixed with water. He also brushed off the stone powder-like dust from his face with a swipe of his hand. Gray dust, like fine powder, scattered over his hand. It was dry and uncomfortable. "These bastards, they tricked me!" Ah, such a typical reaction. Every time something like this happened, there was something Enkrid really wanted to say. His mouth itched. "Only an idiot gets tricked." The world had become so harsh and crafty that these stereotypical reactions had become rare. It had been a long time since he''d experienced such textbook-like dialogue, and for some reason, it made him feel proud. "These bastards!" The cultist got angry, and his eyes turned red. A few of the monsters nearby reacted to the cultist''s outburst and turned to charge. Guuk! The cultist''s brainwashing and confusing spell shook the monsters'' minds. The pack of monsters was fearless. If they had seen their companions being sliced up by Enkrid''s sword, they should have scattered and run long ago, but instead, they charged without fear. However, there was no need for Enkrid to act. Whoosh, bang! Bang! Crack! Luagarne''s whip moved. The metal tip of the whip struck and burst one of the monsters'' heads. One of them, holding a thick wooden shield, tried to block it. With a popping sound, part of the shield shattered, but the whip was stopped. It was a mutant monster. The creature behind the shield bared its fangs. As a few more mutant monsters closed in to block the path near the cultist, Luagarne puffed out his cheeks. "Do you think I''ll miss twice?" "You''re a frog who doesn''t know the value of your own life! Back then, didn''t you know I wasn''t ready?" The guy had a very long tongue. With that thought, Enkrid''s hand moved. Whoosh. Light beams¡ªsomething like that¡ªflew. It wasn''t a whistle dagger. It was much slower than that, but it was a knife thrown with the power of his immense strength. The speed was still fast. The knife flew straight for the cultist''s forehead. It seemed it would pierce him. It was just before it hit. Wham! A mutant monster extended its left arm and blocked the knife. The blade embedded itself into the thick hide of the mutant monster. Without changing expression, the mutant monster used its other hand to pull the knife from its arm and threw it aside. Black blood oozed from the wound, but it only furrowed its brow slightly before continuing to glare at Enkrid. ''Reaction speed.'' Not bad. No, it was excellent. The mutant monster''s yellow eyes stared at Enkrid, and Enkrid met its gaze. The cultist was cautious, but not foolish. He knew that continuing to control the monsters like this was a stupid move. Why waste mana? There was an easier way. Make a leader for the colony. If the previous leader had been a reckless fool wielding two poisoned daggers, now it was the biggest mutant monster among them. Adding magic on top of that. It seemed as though a black haze began to rise over the shoulders of the newly appointed leader mutant monster. "It''s a cultist''s trick." Luagarne said. It sounded like a vague warning. Enkrid drew his sword. Not two swords, but one. He gripped it with both hands and faced forward, eyes locked on the enemy. He included the black haze and the cultist in his line of sight. ''What''s it like?'' Since some time ago, Enkrid had started using Rem as a benchmark for measuring his opponents'' strength. ''Is this like Rem?'' Or... ''Is it harder than Rem?'' If not... ''Which is worse, facing Rem or this?'' To sum it up. ''No contest.'' When compared to Rem, this ignorant barbarian didn''t even deserve a comparison. So. "Behind." After speaking, he charged. The cultist was confident. He trusted his summoning spell. He had believed in it even when he summoned the leader. No matter how skilled the opponent was, he had considered the possibility of unexpected strength and created the variable¡ªthis new leader. So the one standing over there was a variable. An unexpected force. And as variables met, the frog rushed toward him. The cultist was determined to use a foolproof strategy. The cultist judged that the one with the sword now, the one who had drawn it, was far more dangerous than the frog with only one arm left. ''Give up the flesh.'' The bones. The cultist did just that. A black lump fell from the tip of his right index finger. It was darker and denser than any shadow. Just looking at it made an ominous feeling settle in. "Phantom of Valor." As the cultist muttered, the lump immediately began to take form. It was a strange shape. A human-like figure with thin legs and only one arm, but no head. The right arm was thick, holding what appeared to be a blunt sword-like weapon. In the meantime, Luagarne swiftly advanced and swung his whip. The whip, with a whooshing sound, seemed about to shatter the cultist''s skull. "Stop!" The cultist shouted, his eyes bloodshot. Thud! One of the mutant monsters blocked the whip with its body. Luagarne just shook her wrist. The whip flexed and twisted. It passed over the dead mutant and aimed for the cultist''s head again. The whip moved like a living snake. The cultist twisted his body in an attempt to dodge, but the whip wrapped around his left arm and with a crunch, broke the bone. Damned frog! Rather than scream, the cultist bit his tongue. A sickening crack echoed as dark blood poured from his mouth. For blood... As the cultist muttered inwardly, his left arm, still caught in the whip, fell off and melted into black sludge. "Filthy dog of Hua Rin!" The cultist yelled. The black sludge, which had once been his arm, transformed into a large, four-legged, black beast, bigger than an average dog. The cultist had summoned so many creatures in succession that his insides felt like they were twisting. His vision blurred, and everything seemed to spin. Moreover, with the loss of his left arm, blood poured out relentlessly. ''Shit.'' It was a close call, but he might die if this continued. The cultist swallowed the blood that had pooled in his mouth and managed to regain his senses. Then, he looked at the scene before him and let out a mocking laugh. The frog was fighting the beast he had summoned. On the other side, the half-witted knight using bizarre techniques was facing the Phantom of Valor, which was already dangerously close. ''I''ve won.'' The cultist was confident of his victory. Luagarne wrapped her whip around her wrist as she faced the beast the cultist had summoned. The shorter her whip became, the more powerful it became. The opponent was hiding his true strength. The summoned creature he controlled was more troublesome than she had anticipated. Its legs were fast, its fangs were sharp, and despite not having eyes, it was surprisingly agile, dodging attacks effortlessly. This was no opponent to finish off in one blow. She had also seen the cultist summon two creatures at once. It was clear that he was no ordinary cultist. "Just hold on," she thought. "That''s enough." The Frog drew the weapon she had prepared. The hardest opponent to face while traveling alone was always an ethereal beast, like a ghost or an evil spirit. The creatures summoned by the cultist were of a similar, intangible nature. They were physical manifestations of spiritual entities, summoned into this world. There were many ways to deal with them, but she preferred a simpler one. For example... "Burn." She muttered, wielding a simple magic tool of sorts. Whoosh. Blue flames erupted on the tip of her whip. Naturally, this was a type of spell. A spell that would deal significant damage to the summoned creature. She did not know, however, that the cultist had burned his own life force to summon these creatures. She simply thought that the cultist was trying to block Enkrid''s movements while sending a troublesome summon for herself. Meanwhile, the Phantom of Valor, with its gaunt limbs, advanced rapidly towards Enkrid, closing the distance. It was right in front of him. Enkrid swung the sword he gripped with both hands, deflecting the club coming down from above. With a quick slash, he made a gash in the beast''s abdomen. The blow was so deep it almost exposed its internal organs, but the mutant didn''t seem to feel the pain. It pulled its weapon back and swung again. Enkrid bent at the knees and waist to avoid the strike. Whoosh! The club passed just over his head. He quickly retracted his sword, slashing at the mutant''s knee from behind. With a cross-step, he pressed forward, cutting deep into its calf muscles. Crack! That was enough. Unable to stand due to the severed calf muscles, the creature collapsed onto its knees. Enkrid twisted his body and, with a sweeping motion, executed a spinning strike. Thud! The mutant''s head was severed and flew through the air. The battle raged on, each move calculated and deadly. The mutant did not even manage to scream as it died. The movements during the fight weren''t fluid, as each action was executed to suit the situation at hand, but Enkrid fought as if anticipating an opponent like Rem. For Enkrid, facing many enemies was harder than fighting a single strong one. The outcome was decided in an instant, and the skill disparity was stark. By the time Enkrid had finished with the mutant''s calves, the black mass sent by the cultist, the "Phantom of Valor," was closing in. As he decapitated the mutant, the summoned entity swung its pitch-black sword, the one held in its hand, in an attempt to strike. This was the cultist''s final, desperate effort¡ªa lethal move. The Phantom of Valor was a one-hit kill summon, one that would disappear after delivering its blow. It was the kind of spell used when someone was determined to kill. Enkrid, seeing the creature charge forward on its emaciated legs, raised his sword. The black blade came crashing down from above, moving too quickly to dodge¡ªan unexpected burst of speed. There was no way to avoid it. Having already planned to kill the mutant and block this attack, Enkrid readied his sword. He blocked and deflected the blow. Just as the cultist had hoped, the Phantom of Valor ignored the physical defense and delivered a strike that would cause fatal damage to any human spirit. Even though blood flowed from both the cultist''s mouth and arms, his eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Die." The moment he spoke, the swords of Enkrid and the Phantom of Valor collided. "Hmph." Esther observed the battle from atop the walls. The cultist''s spell was futile. However, for someone unprepared, such a clumsy spell could be deadly. Knowing this, how could she simply watch and do nothing? She tore the worn leather armor from her body and added her magic to it. This was her offering in exchange. "A gift, for him." Esther split part of her magic and imbued it into Enkrid''s sword, ensuring it would react to any similar tricks the enemy might attempt. Enkrid saw a faint blue glow emanating from his sword. It was a crack in time. The glowing blue blade shattered the black sword and cleaved the mass of blackness in two. If it had been a human, it would have been as if the sword had sliced through their chest. The sensation of the cut lingered in his hand. Was there something like flesh in there, despite its appearance? The severed mass of black began to ooze black smoke, wriggling before it scattered and vanished. The cultist''s eyes widened, as though they might tear. "...What is that!" Enkrid responded honestly, though with a bit of bewilderment. It wasn''t exactly confusion, but he took a few more seconds than usual to think, before answering. "I don''t really know." The cultist''s head seemed to boil with anger. His lips parted as if to say something, but then faltered, unable to form words. The strike to his psyche was palpable, and suddenly, the world before his eyes began to spin. His breath caught in his chest. The man who had overexerted himself finally collapsed as his heart seized. "Ugh..." Sometimes, death felt tragically meaningless. The cultist clutched his chest, gasping several times before collapsing forward, his head slamming against the ground with a sickening thud. At that moment, the fog that had clouded the minds of the surrounding beasts and monsters lifted. They too had instincts. The moment they saw their kin slain by a human, they fled in every direction. The colony had been destroyed. Meanwhile, Enkrid continued to examine his sword closely. ''Was this a magical sword?'' If so, was the blacksmith from Border Guard a mage? It didn''t seem likely¡ªsuch a combination didn''t fit at all. Chapter 178 - I’ll Let Myself Fall for You Chapter 178 - 178 - I¡¯ll Let Myself Fall for You "Really, anytime, anytime at all, just come by¡ªno, you''re welcome anytime. No, I insist. Have you married? Oh, that''s fine too, perfect. Yes, anytime, anytime you''d like. You''re welcome to settle down here. My daughter''s quite pretty; living together, hmm, that sounds good. Don''t you think?" The village chief, thoroughly drunk, repeated what sounded like the same line for the 19th time, and his equally intoxicated neighbor nodded in agreement without hesitation. With each bob of his head, food crumbs tumbled out of the man''s thick, unkempt beard. "Yes, yes, of course, absolutely," the neighbor said, voice slurred and agreeable. Anyone could tell they were both thoroughly drunk. The chief seemed to lose his composure completely when tipsy. Enkrid had once caught a brief glimpse of the chief''s daughter. She couldn''t have been more than fifteen. A child. While early marriages were a tradition in the west, they weren''t common in the central regions. It was clear this was drunken nonsense. "Hahaha!" The chief and his bearded companion, laden with food, staggered away with their arms slung over each other''s shoulders. Enkrid silently watched them fade into the crowd. Whenever a village overcame a crisis, it inevitably celebrated with a festival. Whether or not the Border Guard''s blacksmith was a sorcerer, when Enkrid had killed the cultist, Ruagarne had shaken her head. Was there any reason to let him live? When he had cast her a questioning glance, she replied simply, "He''s already dead. It''s stopped." The cultist''s end had come from cardiac arrest. The beasts, upon regaining their senses, scattered in retreat. The few remaining ones attacked but didn''t require Enkrid''s intervention. A quick whistle of an arrow through the air saw to the rest, landing squarely in the skull of the nearest beast. "We''ve won!" "We''ve protected our home!" Cheers and shouts of joy echoed through the air, mixed with the triumphant cries of the survivors. And somewhere among them, his name rang out. "Enkrid!" It seemed every villager now knew his name, calling it out with gratitude and celebration. The voices of those saved, of those who had seen his back in the heat of battle. It wasn''t a bad feeling. Enkrid sheathed his sword, turned away from the sound of cheers, and began walking. Through the crowd. Through the swelling excitement of a village beginning to breathe again. "Long live Enkrid''s Wall!" An odd chant drifted to his ears. Apparently, the name was unanimously decided by a stubborn construction worker, endorsed with a nod by the chief, and even considered appropriate by Deutsch Pulman, the captain of the guard and an aspiring future powerbroker of the city. "Naming a wall, huh." It wasn''t bad, to be honest. He figured it was probably half a joke anyway. And so went the night when they defeated the beasts and monsters. The village chief brought out all the remaining food in the village, and everyone ate and drank together. Enkrid joined in, eating, drinking, and enjoying the festivity. "Another drink?" He accepted the cup of alcohol handed to him by Finn and took a sip. It was good. The apple cider had a pleasant balance of sweetness and tartness that blended harmoniously with the distinct flavor of the alcohol, filling his mouth with rich taste. "Good, isn''t it?" The man who spoke had a scruffy beard that looked as though a rat had chewed on it. Though his face and name were unfamiliar, the man grinned broadly and asked again, eager for an answer. Enkrid nodded. "Yeah, it''s good." "That''s my pride and joy." The scruffy-bearded man puffed up his chest. He was evidently the cider maker. "This one''s been saved for a special occasion, but I''ll give it to you." Though his speech was rough, the emotion behind it wasn''t. He offered the cider with gratitude. "Because of you." It was his shortened way of saying, "Because of you, we''re alive." The cider he presented was different from what the others were drinking, something special. With a pop, the bottle was opened. Enkrid took a sip. Hmm. It was different. The flavor, the taste, the aroma¡ªeverything was different. The scent of apples lingered at his nose, while a savory richness deepened with each sip. A sweet, velvety taste wrapped around his tongue, compelling him to drink more. It was the first time Enkrid had ever tasted alcohol like this. "This seems like a rare drink." "It was meant for when my daughter got married." The cider had a bit of history behind it. When he asked if it was really okay to share something so special, the man replied, "There''s still one bottle left." He laughed brightly as he spoke. Despite his rat-like beard, his laughter was pure and genuine, radiating simple joy. "Come here, greet him too." The cider maker soon brought his wife over to meet Enkrid. She was beautiful. They say talented people marry beauties, and it seemed the saying was true. "Enjoy it." After a brief introduction, Enkrid continued savoring the cider. Throughout the night, the village chief, Deutsch Pulman, and many others stopped by Enkrid''s side, sitting down for a moment before moving on. The villagers had laid out a large platform in the village square, turning the celebration into an impromptu festival. "We''ll commemorate this day every year¡ªhow about calling it Enkrid''s Day?" Did they have to name everything? "What''s in a name, anyway?" Someone countered, and others nodded in agreement. They decided to commemorate this day, marking the start of summer every year. Would they actually go through with it? Enkrid sipped his cider, watching them idly. The village chief, drunk, kept repeating himself. Meanwhile, the chief''s wife boasted that in two years, their daughter would grow into a beauty that could charm the entire city. "Doesn''t seem likely." The chief''s daughter was just an ordinary child. She was so shy that she couldn''t even approach Enkrid to talk to him. Instead, a brazen little rascal came up to him and boldly demanded to serve under his command. "Take down five of Deutsch Pulman''s militia members and come back," Enkrid replied. The kid looked determined. "Consider it done!" And then promptly went to pick a fight with a drunken militia member, only to get a flick on the forehead that sent him running away in tears. Trying to act grown-up, but still the kind of kid who might wet his bed at night. Still, there was something endearing about his bravado. In a tough world, even such dreams felt admirable, and Enkrid quietly cheered for him. "Thanks to you are in order." Deutsch Pulman seemed to have a strong tolerance for alcohol. He didn''t seem to get drunk easily. Though his nose was slightly red, his words were clear, and his tongue wasn''t slurring. He silently tipped back his glass a few times before grumbling, "He said I couldn''t have anything like this." Cursing the cider maker, he then added, "If you ever need a glaive, just call for me. I''ll dance on the edge of a blade and swear it." It was a mercenary''s vow¡ªa solemn promise to answer the call, no matter what. Dancing on the edge of a blade¡ªpoetic and resolute. "To dancing on the blade''s edge." For the first time in a long while, Enkrid exchanged the mercenary''s greeting. "Until next time." With that simple farewell, Deutsch got up and left. Enkrid took another sip of the cider. Even after a few drinks, his head wasn''t foggy. Nor did he feel like picking up his sword and swinging it wildly again. The battles had already been replayed in his mind enough times. "Resting is important, brother." For some reason, Audin''s words came to mind. Enkrid agreed. Rest was always important. And if today could be that one rare day in the year to truly rest, it would be a good thing. With that thought, he ate and drank. One of the militia members, who was an excellent hunter, had caught a deer somewhere. They roasted it whole, and the one who prepared it did an excellent job. The meat was tender, with barely any gamey smell. The seasoning was perfect¡ªnot too much, not too little. "Phew, if I go back and tell them about this, will anyone believe me?" Finn, who was moderately drunk, approached and said. "What?" "The massacre of beasts, the madman''s dance with twin swords." When drunk, Finn showed the makings of a bard. Chuckling to herself, Finn wandered off to another part of the celebration. Then Krais appeared, his face flushed from drinking, and jabbed Enkrid in the side. Enkrid had known Krais was approaching and had felt the jab coming but decided to let it slide. "Let''s go treasure hunting," Krais said. "Sure." "No, I mean it! Do you think I''d keep it all for myself? No way! Seriously, you don''t trust me?" "Sure, let''s go." "It''s just half a day away from here, I''m telling you! I''ve got the whole entry plan worked out. Traps? No problem!" "Sounds great." "Don''t you think now''s the time to decide?" Krais''s eyes burned with enthusiasm. Who''d given this guy so much to drink? As Enkrid sipped his cider and looked up at the moon, Kraiss blinked his large eyes a few times and asked, "But what did you just say earlier?" "Ask tomorrow''s you when you''re sober." "Sorry?" "I said, get lost." At first, the crowd was clustered around Enkrid, but as time passed, people drifted away to mingle among themselves. Watching this, Enkrid thought it was a pleasant sight. The moonlight bathed everything in a soft glow. The temperature was comfortable¡ªnot too hot. It wasn''t the season for swarms of insects yet, and northern regions of the continent weren''t known for being bug-infested anyway. With cider in hand, venison barbecue, and all sorts of special treats brought out from people''s homes¡ªcheeses, smoked meats, and other delicacies¡ªit felt like a feast. It might seem wasteful to some to use up so much food, but for an occasion like this, what was the harm? They had eliminated the threat of the colony. The corpse of the cultist and the remains of the beasts were all laid out outside the village. The weapons the gnolls had used were purchased by the village at fair prices and paid for in krona. From tomorrow onward, though, the villagers would be busier than ever. There would be bodies to dispose of, damaged barricades to repair, stones to haul in from the quarry, and laborers to recruit as the village expanded. Would they end up absorbing nearby smaller settlements? It was the usual way. That''s how frontier villages grew into towns and eventually into cities. Those with skills would be brought in, even if it meant spending from the village''s coffers. And so, the village would turn into a fortress. To build proper walls and possibly even an inner keep, how long would it take? Without the aid of a mage and relying solely on the craftsmanship of a guild... "It would still take years," Enkrid thought. Add in the construction of a manor and other considerations, and it might take even longer. But with the mayor''s overflowing enthusiasm, they would find a way. In a land dominated by beasts and monsters, trade routes were sparse, making external resources hard to come by. "Everything would have to be done quickly and decisively," he mused. It could be done. Enkrid snapped out of his scattered thoughts and raised his head. The village square was alive with noise. Some sang songs, while others strummed lutes. "That one knows how to play," he noted, listening keenly to the melodies. He looked up at the stars scattered across the sky, their patterns resembling someone swinging a sword. His mind wandered with that image when a voice interrupted. "Aren''t you curious how to gain a will?" It was Ruagarne. The question came from the spot beside him where Frog had taken a seat. Enkrid didn''t turn his head or respond. Ruaagarne spoke again, this time more insistently. "Why don''t you ask?" Only then did Enkrid slowly part his lips to answer. "I''ll know when the time comes." Was it complacency? No, it wasn''t that. The man Enkrid had shown himself to be thus far was far from complacent. Ruagarne didn''t know why he felt this growing impatience but found himself compelled to share. It wasn''t the first time, either. All this while, he had felt the same desire¡ªto reveal something, to confide. Unable to resist, she spoke, only to be met with such a calm reaction that it made her want to provoke Enkried even more. "Do you think you can become a knight?" "Who knows." Another lackluster reply. A response that felt entirely out of place. As Enkrid turned his gaze back to the moon, he added, "A dream¡ªit''s just a dream." Short but sharp, like a blade sinking straight into the chest. Enkrid''s words were like that. Ruagarne placed a hand on the breastplate over his heart. His left arm was still regenerating, leaving him a one-armed knight for now. It felt as though the muscles of his heart were tightening. "That''s how squire knights use will," Frog said, breaking the comfortable silence. "They channel it into one or two specific movements, almost at random. Even that is no easy feat, but it''s the minimum threshold to surpass one''s limits and enter the realm of the extraordinary. The land beyond mastery." Why was Frog suddenly delving into such a topic? Was it the moonlight? Or perhaps the apple cider? "Do you get drunk, Frog?" Enkrid asked. "Sometimes. But not now," Frog replied, his honesty unwavering. He continued, without hesitation. "Right now, I think I''m intoxicated by a man." There was no need to ask who that man was. Frog didn''t seem to expect an answer either. "Squire Aesia was captivated by the idea of a will that could generate momentum," Frog mused. A knight was someone who wielded will with mastery. A squire knight was someone who could use it, even if only in part. "Even among squires who have glimpsed the use of will, many never become full knights. Most don''t. Do you still wish to be one?" Was this lengthy explanation just to ask that question? Regardless, it was helpful. Enkrid nodded silently, his gaze unwavering. "You will. You''ll become a knight." Dreams once torn to shreds¡ªEnkrid had patched and mended them. Now, they felt closer, almost within his grasp. Froq gazed intently at Enkrid. On the surface, there was no trace of burning passion, but having watched Enkrid for this long, Frog could tell. "A relentless man," Froq thought. This was someone who carried a roaring flame deep within, hidden from the world. And because of that, he was admirable. Beautiful, even. "If you become a knight, I''ll let myself fall for you," Frog said. For Froq''s people, the concept of reproduction and love were entirely separate. Thus, they could love humans too. Frog''s love, however, was unlike the human concept. It wasn''t just different; it was an entirely distinct notion. Their love knew no boundaries, nor did it involve physical attachment. If the man they loved met another woman, that was fine. They might even approach that woman, introduce themselves, and seek her understanding. It was rare for humans to receive Frog''s love. Such a thing was extraordinary, almost unheard of. Enkrid, perplexed by Frog''s words, simply stared for a moment before nodding. "Do as you please." His nonchalant response and composure revealed the breadth of his character. Frog found herself liking that about Enkrid even more. With the moonlight painting the scene, the two shared their drinks. Then, as if claiming a rightful place, a leopard sauntered into their midst. It glared at them as if it, too, wanted to join in the revelry. "Want some?" Enkrid asked. The leopard opened its mouth wide. The rare apple cider flowed into the feline''s waiting maw. It swallowed, let out a low rumble, and growled softly. "Good, huh?" Enkrid asked. The leopard responded by opening its mouth once more. Chapter 179 - Enk-Enk-Enkrid~!" Chapter 179 - 179 - Enk-Enk-Enkrid~!" The soldiers from the Viscount Ventra''s army finally arrived at the frontier village. Having received an urgent dispatch, a portion of the cavalry had galloped ahead for reconnaissance. Upon arrival, their captain surveyed the scene before him. "Wasn''t this place supposed to be under attack?" The cavalry captain asked, confusion evident in his voice. He had taken it upon himself to scout ahead, and what he found was far from the chaos he expected. What in the world are they doing? Why are they burying corpses? Rather than scenes of devastation, the villagers were hard at work digging trenches and burying the carcasses of monsters and beasts. The black blood of the creatures, oddly enough, was known to enrich the soil, making it more fertile. Even the poison coating the ghouls'' claws would neutralize and dissipate when buried properly. For these reasons, the villagers were toiling away with shovels and pickaxes, striving to inter the bodies. The once-uneven land surrounding the settlement had been transformed into an even rougher patchwork of turned soil. Sweat glistened on the faces of the settlers, who moved as one, both villagers and soldiers united in their efforts. "Yes, sir. The dispatch was marked ''urgent,''" the adjutant replied, holding up the crumpled message. But the situation before them hardly seemed to warrant the haste. - Large Colony. Swarm of Gnolls. Immediate support required. That was all the note had said. The urgency had been clear in its brevity, leaving no room for speculation. However, there had been no specifics on the numbers or scale of the enemy. Indeed, when Doich sent that desperate message, he hadn''t bothered with such details. He had simply conveyed the bare minimum, which was enough to spur reinforcements into action. "Well, from where I''m standing, it looks more like they''re trying to farm monster corpses," the captain muttered. The sight before them was almost picturesque, apart from the occasional grotesque monster carcass dotting the landscape. The situation looked far too peaceful for a place that was supposed to have been under dire threat. To make matters more surreal, snippets of a crude labor song floated over to the captain''s ears: "Whistle and swing, he struck them all down! Name the wall in his honor! Enk-Enk-Enkrid~!" A ridiculous tune, sung to even more ridiculous lyrics. "Find out what''s going on," the captain snapped. They had raced here in a frenzy, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake, only to find this. At his command, one of his men spurred his horse and galloped off toward the village. Da-da-dak! Da-da-dak! The sound of hooves echoed through the clearing. The subordinate who had ridden off to assess the situation returned and reported the findings. "What? One man single-handedly cut down five hundred gnolls?" The villagers were honest in their explanation. "Apparently, he''s some legendary free knight... or maybe a mercenary king or something?" "No, that''s not it. He''s a squad leader from Border Guard," the subordinate clarified. A squad leader had single-handedly taken down five hundred gnolls. Of course, it wasn''t something he''d done in a single day, or so they said. They also mentioned that he had dealt with a cultist. No, actually, the cultist had died. He had tricked the devious opponent and struck from behind, seizing the cultist''s heart before he died himself. Cultist? Was he some lowly thief lurking in the hills? Or maybe a weakling with a small brain? ''This is ridiculous.'' The captain let out a scoff. How could a mere squad leader do something like that? "Is that so? Well, let''s see the face of this guy." The captain ordered, and they entered the village. "He already left," the village chief said, stepping forward as the representative. "Already?" "His mission was to deal with the colony." And just like that, he had left. How straightforward was this guy? The captain scoffed again, this time more audibly. The situation they were facing was curious, to say the least. The only witnesses were the mercenaries and the villagers, all of whom had spoken of the same story. While it was hard to imagine them all lying, it was equally difficult to believe everything they said was entirely true. ''When cornered, people tend to exaggerate.'' The captain knew this principle well. Those on the edge, no matter how much space they had left, would always feel as though they were about to fall. The villagers and mercenaries were likely the same. Five hundred gnolls? At most, maybe fifty? Maybe a hundred at most? If this so-called mercenary really couldn''t handle even that small of a colony, it would only prove his lack of ability. ''They probably exaggerated,'' the captain decided, unconvinced. He wasn''t planning to dig up the buried corpses to investigate further. "It''s fine." In the end, as long as the village was safe, that was all that mattered. There had been some talk about Enkrid''s wall or whatever, but the captain didn''t feel the need to intervene. ''Fifty or five hundred, it doesn''t matter.'' The squad leader had saved the village, and that was the truth. However, the fact that he had left, leaving his reputation inflated, didn''t sit well with the captain. ''I''ll make sure to see him again sometime.'' He was tempted to knock him down a peg. Cutting off the arrogance from his tongue would be a satisfying task. With that thought, the captain turned his horse around. "It would be fine to stay a bit longer." The village chief expressed his disappointment at the news of Enkrid leaving. It was the morning, two days after the festival-like night had passed. As Enkrid washed up after a long, sweaty day, a few of the village women had gathered to watch him. "He''s in great shape." "Handsome too." "He''s good at fighting." "He''s got a good personality." "Strong, too... definitely down there..." The last comment was perhaps a bit too forward, but it was more of a mix of admiration, respect, and perhaps even a bit of reverence. It wasn''t a bad feeling. Enkrid simply enjoyed the attention in moderation. As he was about to leave, Doitch Fulman came over and immediately thrust his glaive forward. "Would you spar with me?" Though the weapon was thrust at him, Doitch''s tone was full of respect, and his posture showed admiration. What stood out most, however, was the look in his eyes. ''Those eyes...'' Enkrid liked eyes like that. They were fierce and burning with intensity. "Sure." It was a simple spar. Thwack. Once with a vertical swing, once with a horizontal, easily deflecting the glaive. Enkrid quickly closed the distance and landed a solid punch to the spot just beneath Doitch''s ribcage. With a thud, Doitch gasped and crumpled to the ground. Gkk, gghhh, huuu. He struggled to catch his breath, and after a moment, he slowly lifted his head and spoke. "Such power." He stood up and bowed his head deeply. "Thank you." Enkrid simply nodded in acknowledgment. Enkrid casually nodded in response. There was no reason to linger, so he decided to move right away. "I''ll come with you." Despite being told to rest in the village and recover, Finn insisted on following him. "I''m a ranger." There was a lot packed into those words. Rangers go ahead first¡ªthat was the motto of their group. "I don''t like falling behind." It wasn''t exactly stubbornness. Finn wasn''t seriously wounded¡ªher injuries weren''t fatal, and the treatment had been excellent. It had been Krais''s skill at work, after all. A versatile guy, Krais. He was good for almost everything, except combat. Especially when it came to using his head. More importantly, there wasn''t much danger on this journey anyway. At most, they''d encounter some monsters. ''Probably just monsters and beasts.'' When a colony is established, most of the surrounding monsters lose their territory. It was a natural phenomenon. A colony meant a group was being formed. So, the nearby monsters, who had banded together into a colony, were now defeated, and it would be hard to find another group of monsters anytime soon. ''It''ll be fine.'' "Treasure! Treasure!" Krais chanted, his voice filled with excitement. From what Enkrid had heard, the treasure map Krais had pointed to was only about a day''s journey away. "It''s nothing. Back in the day, we''d have to deal with traps and complications, but now... Well, if you''ve read the ''Christraun Dungeon Breakthrough Method,'' it''s a piece of cake." Confidence was evident in his tone. And in truth, it wasn''t a big deal. After packing some provisions and a few bottles of apple cinder, they set out. "Come back again, definitely." The village chief bowed his head as they left. It wasn''t just him¡ªthe entire village came out to bow their heads. Enkrid nodded as well. "If the opportunity arises." His farewell was a bit rough around the edges, but it carried sincerity and made the sentiment stand out even more. With that, the journey began, and it would end just as simply when they found a treasure along the way. "Let''s go find some treasure! Treasure!" Krais cheered with enthusiasm. Enkrid, amused, nodded. "I''ll go that far with you." However, Lua didn''t leave right away. He didn''t rush to go back, though it wasn''t clear if it was because he didn''t need to or if there was something he was still lingering on. Enkrid didn''t feel the need to ask. Instead, Enkrid responded casually. "Duel?" He treated her just like he always did. The comment about falling for him was something to be left for later. Time would tell if it meant anything. For Enkrid, the most important thing wasn''t some fleeting future, but learning from her in the present. In terms of sheer strength, if it came down to it¡ªif he wanted to kill¡ªEnkrid was confident that he could surpass Lua. However, her experience and skill were far from fake. When it came to combat prowess, she was more than capable. Before reaching the peak, one cannot see the full scope of the surrounding landscape; it''s only when you stand atop the summit that the view changes. Now, Enkrid could see it clearly. He had gained perspective. What he could see now was the path to surpass Lua. ''Are all Frogs like this?'' It was unlikely. Lua had often mentioned that she was a scholar. "That''s not a bad suggestion. I''ve gotten a bit rusty myself. I''ll need to spend some time honing my skills again." It seemed that she had also learned something while fighting the cultists. With the wooden swords clashing, she focused on walking her path¡ªreflecting on what she had gained, learned, and perfected. "You''re a fascinating person," Lua said after the sparring, when the sound of the wooden swords clashing had faded. "No talent is quite like yours." "Really?" Enkrid dismissed it casually. His dream was still to become a knight, and there were many mountains yet to climb, many paths still ahead of him. Taking a single step forward wasn''t enough. It couldn''t be. Even if the step was large, it couldn''t reach the faded and torn dreams that lay ahead. Even if he did reach that point, would he be satisfied with it? He wasn''t sure. Becoming a knight wouldn''t be the end of everything. The dream remained, and the reasons behind it¡ªthe journey across the continent¡ªkept adding layers of meaning to his heart. Some of it was resentment, some lingering attachment. "The most surprising thing is your attitude right now," Lua continued. "I''ve never seen anyone like you." Enkrid remained unchanged. Learning and mastering new things quenched the thirst inside him, and for now, he was focused on quenching that thirst and following the signposts toward his goal. "Again?" Still the same. After the next sparring session, they both sweat and refreshed themselves with a mix of water and apple cider. They walked along the path, which had no streams in sight. Leading the way was Finn, with Krais chattering by his side. "According to the map, this should be the area. What do you think, Finn?" "Looks right to me." Krais''s talent was something to behold. When his life or Krona was at stake, that''s when his true ability shone. He was able to find the path by just looking at a small part of the map. Finn helped him along, of course. ''That''s even more impressive, isn''t it?'' Big eyes, then Rem, Ragna, and Audin... Jaxen. ''Hmm.'' The mad squad. They really suited that name. Compared to them, was Enkrid not the "normal" one? His dreams were big, and as long as he didn''t spare any effort, that level of ambition was acceptable within his bounds. Of course, that was only Enkrid''s own way of thinking. Was it only Lua who was shocked by Enkrid after his battle with the horde? Even Esther was taken aback. ''Crazy bastard.'' He''d seen someone change in a single night many times before, but this time felt different. Slaughtering hundreds of monsters without using any spells? Did he have some magical weapon? Maybe he had picked up a cursed sword or something? No. It was just the same as always. His sword, his armor. It was just that the person himself had changed. This could truly be considered the strength of a semi-knight, could it not? The strength itself wasn''t entirely clear, but in the end, that''s what the result pointed to. Krais was also surprised. But he didn''t overthink it. ''He''s a squad leader after all.'' He was already crazy and obsessed with swords, so this could be expected. Wasting time thinking about things that didn''t make sense was pointless. Krais didn''t waste his mental energy on such things and simply accepted it. Among them all, the one most surprised was Finn. ''How is he doing this?'' When he first met him, Finn didn''t think it would be like this. He had been surprised when he saw him fighting among werewolves, and he was surprised again when Enkrid killed a wizard. But those were things Finn could understand within the bounds of reason. ''Now...'' It was like he had crossed some boundary of human limitations. Most of all, it was the resilience. ''It''s like he could slap a Frug across the face.'' He fought like he was going to die, and then the next day, he was revived and ready to fight again. It wasn''t as if there was a priest nearby pouring holy power into him. How could he even do that? Finn tried to figure it out, but eventually gave up. In reality, those who had seen Enkrid had mostly given up trying to understand him. It was inevitable. "A really strange guy." Lua''s mutterings perfectly summed up everyone''s feelings. "Really?" Enkrid responded, still unfazed. After a short journey, they hadn''t encountered any monsters or beasts. The place they arrived at was the area behind the rocky mountain. It had taken a day to get here after taking a detour, but if they had rushed, it would have only taken half a day. They''d sparred, eaten, and rested enough during the trip. There was no rush. As Krais had said, there was a treasure to be found on the way, and that was the real goal. Behind the rocky mountain, the land was covered in scattered stones, short grass, and a few trees poking through. It wasn''t exactly a plain, nor was it wasteland, but it was a rocky terrain of sorts. "Captain, do you know about this?" "What?" Krais suddenly spoke up in the midst of this desolate landscape. -------------------------------------------------------------------- In case I''ve missed something, point out any kind of mistake you can find please. Make the reading experience better for future readers. Chapter 180 - The Eyes of Those Who Chase Dreams Are Always Burning Chapter 180 - 180 - The Eyes of Those Who Chase Dreams Are Always Burning Krais crossed his arms and continued, his eyes shining brightly. "The man named Dolph, who owned the treasure map, made the dungeon a long time ago." Wondering what nonsense he was going to say next, Enkrid looked at Krais, who flashed a confident smile. It was irritating, but there was nothing to say, so Enkrid just stared at him. "That means this method didn''t exist before," Krais continued. Times had changed, and as the years passed, treasure hunters had become more cunning. They risked their lives disarming traps to enter dungeons and obtain their rewards. They focused on results, skipping over the tedious process of disarming traps. This was the essence of the "Christraun Dungeon Breakthrough Method," as Krais had mentioned. "It''s a technique called ''retreating''." It was a shortcut, but if it worked, it was a brilliant method, as Enkrid himself had experienced. If capturing the leader of the monsters was a wall, why wait for him or sacrifice the village? Why choose a disadvantageous battleground? Instead, find a way around it. "This is it." Krais found a rock, about the size of an adult man, and said, "Please, Luagarne." At that, Luagarne willingly stepped forward. She pushed the rock, and with a loud thud, it toppled to the side. Underneath, an old hole appeared. Krais took out a shovel from his bag and dug a few times before speaking. "This is the entrance, roughly speaking." He began walking confidently. After about the time it would take a finger-length candle to burn, Krais smiled again. "It should be around here." Krais grabbed the shovel and started digging. Of course, this was no task he could do alone. "Come on." This time, it was Enkrid. He picked up a shovel and started digging. What he meant was that they would bypass all the traps and make a hole to access the treasure hidden inside. It wasn''t a fresh idea, but in the past, when Dolph created the dungeon, it might have been an unimaginable method. It was a shortcut, but far more efficient than risking their lives disarming traps. Enkrid agreed and helped. Esther prowled around, claws raised, but Enkrid shook his head. "Rest for a while." The leopard looked exhausted, its fatigue clearly showing. "Kyarrr." The leopard seemed pleased with the suggestion, letting out a cry before curling up in a corner to lie down. It closed its eyes as if it were truly worn out. Except for the sparring on the way here, Enkrid had carried it in his arms. It looked completely drained of energy. Anyway, Krais''s words were right. "Just pick up a few treasures on the way and we''re done. Are we leaving this behind? Well, maybe there''s nothing left. Someone might have taken it without the map, but that''s unlikely." It was the third time he had casually said that nothing much would happen. As they dug, the dirt crumbled and fell away, revealing an artificial passage. "See?" Krais spoke. This was the result of taking turns digging with Enkrid. A few gold coins rolled inside the hole, reflecting the light. It didn''t seem particularly dark deeper inside, but a handful of gold coins couldn''t be all there was. As Krais had said, it was easy. "Wow." Finn''s eyes also sparkled. Krais had promised a share of the Krona, and Finn could take a few krona pouches with him. Luagarne and Esther weren''t interested, and Enkrid, seeing the broken sword, thought it would be good to find some krona. They would go down, gather the treasure, and return. It was still an easy task. It should''ve been. It should''ve been a simple task. The sun was setting, and before long, the moon had risen. Krais glanced at the moon briefly and then spoke. "Let''s all go together. I don''t think it would be bad to spend the night here. We might have more things to carry." There didn''t seem to be any real danger. There were no monsters around, and they wouldn''t be staying in there for more than a day. The sun was already setting, wasn''t it? Since they had to camp anyway, if there was no danger inside, it would be best to stay the night down there and leave tomorrow. Krais, having made these calculations, spoke up. Rather than being bothered by pointless insects, it was better to stay the night and move on tomorrow, and everyone agreed. "That sounds good." Enkrid agreed too. As he did, he wondered if there might be anything else besides the gold coins. "Could there be something useful?" Though he didn''t lack for Krona, his sword had taken too much damage in the recent fight. Especially the sword made from Valerian steel and Norian iron¡ªthe blade was badly worn. Apart from reshaping the edge, the core was also damaged. "I can''t use this." For mercenaries, weapons were life. A swordsman who couldn''t appreciate the value of his weapon was already starting off wrong. Enkrid, of course, knew how to assess the condition of his weapons. He had fought against hundreds of beasts and monsters. If the sword was still intact, that would be strange. Both swords'' blades had been ruined. His armor was also torn in several places. The leather parts were ripped, and there were holes in some of the chainmail areas inside. Thinking about this, Enkrid glanced to the side and saw Luagarne moving without much care. "We''ll be late returning, won''t we?" When Enkrid spoke, Luagarne puffed out her cheeks and responded. "It''s fine. I''m just enjoying it." The atmosphere was warm and cheerful. Enkrid had handed over some seasoned jerky to Esther. In the meantime, Finn tied a rope to a sturdy tree. The ranger knot method was shining in its full glory. "It won''t come undone unless it''s cut. And it''s not something that can''t be climbed." It was a precaution for any possible situations. Very ranger-like. After setting up the rope, they let it down through the hole. Enkrid went down first, followed by Finn, Krais, and then Esther, who jumped and dug her claws into the wall as she descended. Lastly, Luagarne coiled her feet around the rope and lowered herself down with a series of soft thuds. Once everyone was down, they looked up. By now, the moon had risen. ''It must be around midnight,'' Enkrid thought to himself as he recalled the time. "We''ll camp here and go up tomorrow, perfect timing." Krais spoke from behind. Enkrid nodded. There could still be some lingering dangers, so he lit a torch and began scanning the area. Behind them, where Krais had found the dungeon entrance, was a long corridor, but it was so narrow that they would have to crouch just to get through. ''If we go out through there, my back will hurt,'' Enkrid thought. It wasn''t a real concern, but it was that tight. Fighting in such a space would make it difficult to react properly. ''Not a good place to use a sword.'' Enkrid judged it that way. There didn''t seem to be any other dangers. Everyone shared the same thought. There wasn''t as much dust as expected, and there were no traps that would burst when stepped on. Esther yawned lazily with a "kyaar" sound. She looked more tired than usual, so Enkrid picked her up and passed the torch to Krais. Luagarne, scanning the surroundings, murmured, "Old traces." What would she look like as a scholar? Enkrid also fell into thought for a moment. ''She knows ancient languages and is a talent reader affiliated with the kingdom too.'' Apart from her combat skills, the Frog was versatile, and her value was certainly not low. Finn couldn''t find any danger in the passage ahead or behind. As a ranger, Finn wasn''t quite a treasure hunter, but he knew how to spot traps. ''Everything looks fine.'' If it were a trap that she couldn''t see, it would likely be related to a spell or a highly advanced trap. Not a simple one like a tripwire or a pressure plate that fires arrows, but a kind that activates just by brushing against it. Things that would be difficult to notice unless you''re a professional treasure hunter. ''It would be excessive for a rich person to set up something like that.'' Such a trap would really be something that you''d only find in an ancient tomb. It would need to be tied to magic at the very least. Finn saw Krais walking beside him. Krais, having picked up a few gold coins that had fallen on the ground, was scanning the surroundings with the light of the torch. So far, nothing had happened. No danger, no special events. The passage was short, and soon they reached a round tunnel. At the end of the dungeon, there was a pedestal and an old, worn chest. On top of the pedestal, there was a sword, its blade covered in dust. To put it nicely, it was antique; to put it poorly, it was a hopelessly old sword. "We''ve come the right way." Krais couldn''t hide his excitement. They had dug properly and found the right path. At this point, could they not call themselves treasure hunters? Reading the ''Christraun''s Dungeon Solutions'' had been worth it. Since his childhood, after learning to read, Krais had gotten his hands on all sorts of books. He had thought that those books would be the way out of the swamp of poverty he had grown up in. It had been the right choice. And now, wasn''t he finding treasure? "Is all that much krona needed to open a salon?" Enkrid''s casual question broke the mood. "Yes, of course," Krais answered without taking a breath. Really? Enkrid asked with a glance. Krais, after a long time, began to recount his dream. "I''m going to open the most luxurious and extravagant salon in the capital, one that everyone will want to enter. I''ll even have membership cards. But that''s not all. I''ll open branches all over the continent." The eyes of someone chasing their dream always burn brightly. Enkrid had no right to mock someone else''s dream, and seeing Krais''s eyes so full of light, he simply cheered him on. "Yeah. Go for it." Except for the worn-out sword stuck in the center of the pedestal, there was nothing special about the two chests. Seeing gold coins scattered along the passage, there had to be something here. With excitement, Krais approached the chests. It was possible they might be rigged, with poison darts ready to shoot out if the chests opened. Krais stepped cautiously. Behind him, Luagarne offered more valuable advice than gold coins to Enkrid. "You''re lacking if you only learn the basics. You need to properly learn swordsmanship, and train it into your body; then you''ll be able to go further." "For example?" "Northern-style swordsmanship. You learned it from that guy, didn''t you?" The frog''s sharp intuition was at work. After glancing at Ragna and then at Enkrid, she deduced the connection. She nodded. Enkrid nodded back, and Luagarne spoke again. "If you can learn proper Northern-style swordsmanship from that blond guy with red eyes, it would be great." "Can''t you teach me?" "I''m bound by a pact. This is already an extraordinary vacation. I need to return." Luagarne spoke with genuine regret. The pact. A frog was easily swayed by desires and impulses. Because of this, they had made a vow of the heart. The frog, who often avoided directly speaking of the word ''heart,'' would refer to it as ''pact'' instead. That''s why a frog''s pact was not something to be taken lightly. It was a rule that must be followed above all else, even before their own desires and impulses. Living without adhering to the pact was rare for a Frog. It was almost unheard of. For this reason, the term ''nai?ve Frog''s swordwork'' had come into existence. It was said that a nai?ve frog could be deceived by humans or other species, selling their pact and starting a massacre with unwanted swordplay. ''That''s true.'' Enkrid realized again that Luagarne''s words about breaking the pact weren''t trivial. Was there even a need for that? To swear such an oath, binding her heart to someone else? Why? Why go that far? Enkrid couldn''t bring himself to ask her to revoke it. There was no one who didn''t know that the frog''s oath was serious. Everyone knew that frogs enjoyed severing the heads of those who insulted their pact. Defeating someone in battle was one thing, but insulting them was a different matter, so Enkrid kept silent. It was then. "Kyah!" Esther, who had been curled up on one side, suddenly let out a fierce cry. Chapter 181 - A Crazy Guy is Chasing Me with a Sword(1) Chapter 181 - 181 - A Crazy Guy is Chasing Me with a Sword(1) Enkrid sharply turned his head. It was a reflexive action, driven by his sense of evasion, as his body moved instinctively. In an instant, he took in his surroundings and assessed the situation. ''Krais, staff, chest, sword?'' Enkrid''s eyes caught sight of something murky spilling out from the sword stuck in the pedestal. The grayish substance spread around and enveloped the space, surrounding the tunnel. Esther''s body slammed into the ground with a thud¡ªtoward the exit, the way they had come. The gray veil just barely blocked Esther''s path. Thwack! The leopard''s body hit the veil and bounced back, and Enkrid reached out, catching the leopard in his arms. It was a movement as swift as the wind. Enkrid gently cradled the leopard, scanning the area, his other hand resting on the hilt of his sword. It was the kind of atmosphere where something could leap out at any moment. "Finn." With those words, Finn stood behind Enkrid. Luagarne had taken care of Krais, pulling him away from the staff he had been holding in a daze. She too had become alert. Enkrid didn''t have time to check on Esther; his danger sense instinctively kicked in. This was the unique danger detection ability that only Enkrid, someone who had died countless times, could possess. And... ''Hmm?'' Nothing. There was nothing. "...What''s going on?" Meanwhile, Krais''s muttering reached Enkrid''s ears. Enkrid''s gaze shifted toward him. "Ugh." Esther, seemingly uninjured from hitting the veil, spoke. Enkrid gently set the leopard down and approached Krais. It appeared Krais had opened the chest with his staff. Inside the chest, there were no poison darts¡ªonly dust and a small letter. As Krais unfolded the letter, he muttered, "Has it already been looted? Or did that fool Dolph go mad?" "Let me see." Enkrid stepped forward and examined the letter. *Only those who claim the treasure may leave.* Did we enter through the back door? Sorry, but the traps here are only for those who enter. Whoosh. With the sound of the torch crackling, Enkrid let out a small groan. He could almost hear the sound of the letter''s owner chuckling. That fool Dolph, with his terrible taste. Treasure? The chest was empty. What about the other chest? Just then, Krais, with his staff, opened the other chest. "There''s nothing." That one was empty too. "It seems in this era, they called sneaking out ''backdoor escape.'' Damn it. Treasure, my foot." Krais held his head in frustration. A wealthy ancient noble had caused a sharp-witted soldier of the present day to fall into despair. It was inevitable. The trap had been laced with magic, and such tricks were impossible to predict. "No one could have avoided this." Finn said the same. Enkrid turned away from the eager look in her eyes. He noticed the sword that still stood on the pedestal. The sword, which had been covered in moss and dust, had changed. The blade now shimmered with a faint bluish hue. While the hilt was still so rusted that it looked ready to crumble and the blade was dull, something about it had changed. ''The blade color has changed.'' Could it have been maintained in a place like this? Who would have taken care of it? Did they plant a skeleton soldier here to oil the blade? The sword was clearly not in pristine condition¡ªit was worn. But it had somehow survived the ages. That was unusual. Weapons like swords, if not maintained, would naturally become useless. Normally, a weapon made of metal would have become rusted and shattered if found in an ancient dungeon after all these years. It was only natural for a sword found in an old dungeon to shatter after one swing. Over time, the core would have been damaged. To a mercenary, a weapon was life itself. The less confident they were in their skill, the more they relied on their weapons. That was why Enkrid had always paid close attention to his weapon over the years. Thus, he had a keen eye for swords. Even though the blade wasn''t sharp, and the hilt was so worn it looked like it would crumble, there was something about the sword that caught his attention. ''The core is still intact.'' It was a decent item. Of course, it needed some maintenance. If there was anything to be called a treasure, it would be that sword. "For how long has that bastard Dolph been building this?" Enkrid asked. "At least fifty years, I''d say," Krais answered, his face still grim as he turned away. With only the sword left, naturally, everyone''s gaze focused on it. A sword that had been stuck in place for over fifty years and was still in such good condition? If that wasn''t treasure, then what was? It was the only thing left. "I''ll pull it out," Krais said. His discomfort was brief. He quickly stood up, muttered a curse about Dolph, and moved forward. It was kind of strange. He had an innate talent for hiding and running away, yet couldn''t ignore the messes he made himself. Before anyone could say anything, Krais grabbed the sword''s hilt, only to release it immediately. "Ugh!" It seemed he was startled. Everyone watched him in silence, and Krais continued. "No, seriously, some crazy guy is chasing me with a sword!" How could a crazy person be chasing him with a sword just from grabbing the hilt? "Alright, I''ll try it too." Finn stepped up. Bravery and, at times, recklessness¡ªanother word for a ranger. Those who are brave but reckless, the first to walk ahead, that''s exactly what rangers are like. Before anyone could stop him, Finn grabbed the sword hilt and immediately let go. "Holy crap, this is real." Enkrid''s gaze lingered on the sword''s hilt. "A cursed sword?" Luagarne stared at the sword, her hand swiping through the air as she puffed her cheeks. "A cursed sword, huh?" She stepped forward. As soon as her hand touched the hilt. Slurp, whoosh. "...Huh." Enkrid made a small noise. Luagarne tried again. Whoosh. Her hand couldn''t grip the hilt and slid off upwards. "Wait, I almost saw something." Frogs had slippery skin, that''s why they use loops to hold weapons. For her, a cursed sword was too smooth and slippery. There wasn''t even a proper pommel at the end of the hilt. "That''s the only treasure here." Krais muttered, glancing at the sword. It seemed he''d have to pull it out. "Do you trust what Dolph left behind?" Enkrid asked. If they judged it as treasure and pulled the sword, but it turned out to be a deadly trap, there would be no way out. "Yeah, well, we have to trust it, right? He''s a bastard, but Dolph lived his life with honor. They say he never lied. It''s probably trustworthy." If someone like that were to lie, it would be catastrophic, but for now, it seemed they had no choice but to trust him. Enkrid thought about it, then shook his head subtly as he stood before the sword. Whoosh, whoosh. By then, Luargarne had tried several more times to grip the sword. "I can see it, someone''s holding a sword," she said, her eyes half-closed, as if concentrating. "A cursed sword?" Krais clicked his tongue and fiddled with his fingers. They had to pull out the sword, but every time they touched it, some crazy guy seemed to appear, chasing them with a sword. For a brief moment, he didn''t want to meet that person again. He didn''t want to see them at all. Cold sweat dripped down his back. Luawgarne gave up trying to grip the sword and shook her hand, speaking. "A cursed sword, or more precisely, a sword possessed by an evil spirit." An evil spirit? Enkrid, too, had wandered the continent for quite some time, but he''d only encountered an evil spirit once. It had been a creature called Raithe. An evil spirit that thrived on human anxiety and fear. He had been hired to deal with it, but there was nothing he could do in that place. The entire village had been wiped out, and its residents had turned into evil spirits. It had been horrific. Mercenaries, armed with steel, had been powerless against them. A priest had to be called in¡ªone who could wield divine power. ''How much did that cost me again?'' Enkrid thought. He had paid from his own pocket. After all, he had been hired, so he had to resolve the issue. That was his mindset. What was ironic was that the one who hired him was a ghost. The remnants of a human soul that hadn''t yet become an evil spirit, constantly crying and wishing for something. The child''s wishes had been so earnest that she had disguised herself as a street urchin to make the request. And, as promised, Enkrid had eradicated the evil spirits from that village. ''I think I lost my entire fortune on that one.'' Calling a capable priest, one who could use divine power to banish evil spirits, wasn''t cheap. This was to say that evil spirits were entities that regular mercenaries could not handle. While Enkrid was lost in these old thoughts, Krais mumbled to himself. "Oh, then if I kept holding onto it...?" Luagarne quickly answered. "That would crush your skull." That was a chilling response. As Krais absentmindedly rubbed his arm, Enkrid nonchalantly placed his hand on the sword. Pull the sword out, take it, and then leave. It was a simple proposition. Besides, he was curious. Enkrid gripped the sword''s hilt. Without even blinking, he could tell that the surroundings had changed. The air density itself felt different. It was like standing on thick, sticky mud. Mud that pulled at his feet. And from above, something began to fall. A sword. A blade falling vertically down toward him. His body reacted. Instinctively, he drew the sword and swung it, meeting the falling blade with a horizontal strike. Clang! The moment their swords met, Enkrid pushed back with force. With a heavy noise, the sword, floating in the mist, was pushed back. He used both strength and recoil, stepping back in the moment he had created. The sticky ground made it difficult to move his feet. Thud thud. He stepped back, kicking the ground. Whoosh! A breeze blew, and the mist-like fog disappeared behind the floating sword. Beyond the vanishing fog, his opponent appeared. The figure was clad in a helmet and plate armor, with blue flames in place of eyes behind the visor. ''What is this?'' There was no speech, no breathing. He couldn''t sense any signs of the sword being swung. There was nothing the opponent should have had as a human. Then, the sword began to move. Clang, clang The strikes followed, and Enkrid realized something was wrong with his own body. ''My strength isn''t there.'' He had lost something. His reaction speed was about the same, but his body was stiff. Most importantly, his opponent''s swordplay was shockingly structured, with a style that seemed to predict the next few moves. Whenever Enkrid struck instinctively or reflexively, it was as though the opponent had anticipated it¡ªhis sword flowed past Enkrid''s and then continued into the next attack. This time, it was a thrust. Hiss. Enkrid inhaled and pulled his body back. He had to retreat. He would need to redirect his focus outward immediately. Instinctively, he recognized the way out of the situation. The problem was that his opponent was too close. ''If I hesitate, I''ll be cut.'' It was an obvious truth. Despite his physical abilities, it seemed the opponent could read all of Enkrid''s moves. That was the result. Thud. He was struck in the abdomen by a gauntlet wrapped in iron. But Enkrid didn''t back down. With a forceful swing, he struck the enemy''s shoulder with his sword. He aimed for the neck, but it was blocked by the shoulder guard. ''They saw that coming.'' Afterward, the swing he made was barely avoided, but the elbow that followed hit his cheekbone. Crack. There''s something you learn after experiencing having your neck snapped several times. It''s that you''re about to die. Snap. Enkrid spat out a final breath. He thought it was the end, but when he opened his eyes, he found himself back to normal. He had escaped either a mental world or a demon''s playground. "Captain?" He saw the big eyes of Kries looking at him. Beside him were Finn, Ruagarne, and Ester. "Are you alright?" "How long has it been?" His throat felt strangely dry. Enkrid asked while rubbing his neck. The pain was still vivid, and he could feel it clearly. His neck felt cold, but it hadn''t twisted in a direction he couldn''t return from. It was just the lingering pain and the moment of death. "It feels like less than a minute." Enkrid frowned. This was rare. He had died, but hadn''t really died? It was like fighting with bare hands in there, a feeling of fighting without using everything he had, speaking only with the sword. To Enkrid, it felt like fighting with limbs that weren''t even his own. "Are you sure you''re okay?" "Yeah." Enkrid nodded at Krais''s words and looked thoughtfully at the sword. It hadn''t been drawn. It was still the same. It looked like a noblewoman watching with pride. Of course, inside the sword was just a lump of metal. "Did you take the hit?" Ruagarne asked from the side. "My neck snapped." "From inside?" Enkrid nodded. At that, Ruagarne fell into thought. He couldn''t physically fight an evil spirit, but the evil spirit hadn''t been able to harm him either. It had been the same during his earlier commission. So, was it the same now? He didn''t think so. The feeling of death was real. Even though he knew it was fake, it felt just like actually dying. Being a seasoned expert at dying many times, Enkrid understood that. Meanwhile, Ruagarne was inspecting the gray curtain. She was feeling it with her fingertips and tapping it. On the opposite side, Ester was scratching the curtain with his claws. "What does that leopard know to act like that?" Finn muttered, seemingly perplexed. ''Maybe?'' Enkrid knew that the Lake Panther near him wasn''t normal. For now, they were all busy assessing the situation. The answer came from Ruagarne. She tapped the curtain, examined the sword, and despite slipping several times due to the sword''s slickness, she tried to grip it a few more times before speaking. "It''s more of a guess." "What is it?" Enkrid asked. She spoke in a serious tone¡ªthough reading a Frog''s emotional state was difficult, and she wasn''t entirely sure. The words of the Frog, who was standing with his arms crossed, sounded plausible. "You have to die at least several dozen times. Only then will you see something that might be called treasure." For Enkrid, this was an easy task, but Ruagarne couldn''t know that. Chapter 182 - A Crazy Guy is Chasing Me with a Sword(2) Chapter 182 - 182 - A Crazy Guy is Chasing Me with a Sword(2) This sword was originally not a magical sword. It was called a spiritual sword, but it wasn''t really imbued with a spirit. In fact, it could be said to be a part of the mind itself. However, in the past, a genius mage, through his magic, realized a brilliant idea. "Is there a way to pass on abilities to future generations?" He pondered and devised. His genius idea soon brought it to life. However, his magical talent was exceptional, but his understanding of humans was poor. Completely dedicated to one goal, the spirit imprisoned in the sword existed only to teach a single lesson. As a result, it caused blood to flow from the ears of every student. That was not the proper way of transmitting knowledge. After his failure, the mage created a method for passing on the techniques of swordsmen and warriors ¡ª the art of handling the body. "The swordsmanship will be passed down through the generations." And so, the magical sword became a tutor. "Was it Dolp? He really seemed to hate his descendants," Luagarne said, tapping her cheek with her tongue, expressing her discomfort. The magical sword tutor, though it touched on the realm of necromancy, did not suck blood or turn its wielder into a berserker. What would happen if a human spirit were trapped inside a sword? The mage didn''t understand humans. He truly didn''t. He put human souls, their spirits, into the sword. And so, only a single purpose remained for the spirit inside the tutor. It didn''t matter whether the student died or bled from the ears ¡ª the spirit would just do its job. To learn a technique, one had to overcome death countless times. To surpass the tutor, one had to defeat it with the same swordsmanship, and only then would the spirit trapped in the sword disappear. The treasure mentioned here was probably... "Swordsmanship." Luagarne blinked one eye. "If all you want is swordsmanship, it''s possible. But, though your body may not die, you won''t be able to withstand the death of your mind. So, rather than trying to deal with the sword, it would be better to find another way to open the barrier." Luagarne spoke, and Enkrid, after briefly looking at the sword, turned his gaze back to Luagarne and asked: "So, you''re saying we have to learn swordsmanship by overcoming death?" "Yes, it''s nonsense. What kind of human could do that?" Luagarne''s tongue clicked against her cheek again. Was it similar to how humans might express frustration? "Ah, damn it, my mistake. I''m sorry." Krais bowed his head. "Well, damn it. With the food we have left, we can last more than a fortnight, but can we sell the tunnels below or above?" Pin asked. Even in the face of failure, the ranger was already brainstorming another solution. Meanwhile, Esther had curled up and fallen asleep. Is she really sleeping in this situation? Enkrid thought as he looked around. "So, we just have to risk death and learn swordsmanship?" "Yeah, that sounds like a scam," Enkrid mumbled. Honestly, if you consider dying from poisoning after being surrounded by your own group, isn''t this easier? "Isn''t this easy?" Enkrid furrowed his brow. He couldn''t help but wonder if this was truly the way. Learning only swordsmanship? That doesn''t make sense. Enkrid, after thinking for a moment if that was really all there was to it, replied: "I''ll do it." "Experiencing death multiple times is not an easy thing. Want me to show you what happens right now?" Luagarne was upset. Human minds wear down easily. Yes, Enkrid was indeed that kind of remarkable person who doesn''t step back. Suddenly, he seemed to have gained skills and was showing signs of previously unknown potential. But for mortals, death is always a worst-case scenario in any form. Enduring that? That''s something only through great discipline could one even attempt. "Even among the priests who serve the God of Patience and Suffering, nine out of ten failed." That was what the tutor was like. Now, there were only a few left across the continent. And yet, here was one. An antique¡ªsomething a collector would pay gold for, wanting it desperately. ''To weave a trap here?'' The barrier would not open unless one was a proper mage skilled in magic. Though Luagarne didn''t have deep knowledge of magic, she understood a little. In a half-hearted attempt, she whipped the barrier with her lash, but it didn''t even leave a scratch. It was certainly a troubling situation. "I''ll try again." In the midst of all this, Krais grabbed his sword again. "They keep coming after us. It''s like they''re berserkers." He released the sword like the wind. Grabbing and letting go was no challenge. That was also the essence of the tutor sword. ''If I let go of the sword, I can return.'' Once the mind is made up, giving up is easy. But that''s when the curse entwined in the tutor sword will never be undone. To overcome the hill of death, you have to be a special type of person who gets a thrill from dying over and over. Of course, Enkrid wasn''t such a pervert. ''It doesn''t seem that difficult.'' It was inevitable to have such thoughts. After all, there had been things done up until now. For a moment, Enkrid wondered if this was another barrier, like the boatman showing up, but it didn''t seem like that was the case. "Dammit, I honestly thought this would be something as simple as finding a fairy tale on the side of the road." Krais, who occasionally became a bit of a fool when hit by Krona, grumbled in frustration. "Should we ration the food and try to survive as long as we can? Maybe the barrier will weaken with time?" Finn brought up a more practical suggestion, worrying about their future. "This is completely unexpected." Even Luagarne couldn''t hide her confusion. Scratching her head. Enkrid remained calm. Without hesitation, he grabbed his sword again. "Enki!" Luagarne, usually composed, raised her voice, but that was all. It quickly turned back to the muddy ground. It was the second time. As soon as Enkrid stepped onto the muddy ground and surveyed his surroundings, he swung his sword. Thud! With a horizontal strike, he pushed the enemy''s sword aside. The enemy''s sword, which seemed to retreat, suddenly curved and pierced his side. Enkrid immediately reacted, striking down with his sword. Clang. The sound of blades clashing rang out lightly. Whooooosh. A wind blew from somewhere, the mist cleared, and through it appeared a figure with a head of iron and blue flame eyes, wearing partial plate armor. ''Heart of the Beast.'' It didn''t work. ''Though, it does feel a bit unfair that it doesn''t.'' But it didn''t matter. If he recognized it as a mental world, or a sort of demon''s front yard, that would have been enough. He had experienced this once before. Though it had only been once, he had repeated today''s events at the cost of his life countless times, rolling through them. Thanks to that experience, some things only needed to happen once to be understood. For example, recognizing the situation¡ªonce was enough. Because of that, Enkrid was able to remain calm even though the current situation was unfamiliar. "Ah." His voice still worked. He tried opening his mouth as a test, and the sound came out just fine. "Can you speak?" The answer came not in words, but from the sword. Thud! The armored figure, holding a cold sword, lunged at him, kicking up the muddy ground. Whoosh. A heavy strike, a downward cut from above. Not only was it fast and powerful, but the trajectory of the strike was tricky as well. Enkrid blocked it in the exact same way. He blocked and pushed back. In return, the opponent, following the same pattern, tried to stab his side. Enkrid responded in kind. Just as it seemed like they would keep repeating the same actions like some kind of play, the blade suddenly shot upward. No, it was the pre-planned sequence of attacks. The blade rose from below, aiming for his chin. Enkrid bent his left knee and twisted his body. The blade scraped past his right chin and narrowly missed his forehead. Thanks to the twist of his body, a gap was created, and Enkrid''s sword cut across the enemy''s waist. Clang. ''Can even this be blocked?'' As he continued to clash swords with his opponent, Enkrid became absorbed in the situation. He swung his sword again and again, trying to open the door of his sixth sense to read his opponent''s intentions, but failed. The price came through his body. The steel blade of his opponent''s sword pierced Enkrid''s chest. He woke up, having been stabbed in the area that would have made Luagarne panic. "Huff." A sharp pain spread from his heart to his entire body. He was dead again. This was his second death. However, his body was intact. His heart was racing, and the pain was real, but he hadn''t truly died. So, this must be what makes it so hard to endure? No, actually, this wasn''t so bad, was it? It seemed much better than actually dying. "Did you get stabbed there?" Luagarne was right next to him. Enkrid nodded and stood up. After taking a few breaths, he felt okay. He could move. It wasn''t like he had been seriously hurt. ''If I squeeze it, I''ll feel the pain of death. The moment is brief, and what I need to do is steal the swordsmanship.'' Something about this felt very familiar. "You''re a fool. Attempting it itself is foolish, unless you''re trying to go mad..." Had Luagarne always been this much of a nag? Enkrid thought back to the first repetition of the day. The stab from back then¡ªhadn''t it already become a part of his body, something that felt like his own technique now? Along with the sword he had been holding just moments ago, the cursed sword tutor, inside that sword was something like a demonic entity that carried incredible swordsmanship. "Is this the right way to do it?" Enkrid calmly ignored the nagging and instead swung his sword. He focused on the form, showing what he had learned from the opponent. His intention was clear: to train, or to discipline himself. Luagarne stopped nagging and stared at him without blinking. Inside, Luagarne thought something to herself and muttered under her breath. "Did you hit your head? Has it already been damaged?" He hadn''t been injured. Enkrid shook his head to her words, not adding anything more, and continued swinging his sword, muttering to himself. It felt like a path was on the verge of revealing itself. "Was it like this?" To Luagarne, Enkrid seemed slow, very slow. He was sluggish and lacking in the natural talent to wield his body or handle a sword. ''I''m doing it myself, and yet, he''s barely improved?'' Luagarne considered herself a scholar. She wasn''t the kind of scholar who just sat around reading books like some reclusive figure. She had also studied swordsmanship. Luagarne had such a deep understanding of it that she had a significant influence on the martial arts of the major families on the Central Continent. She hadn''t lived long for no reason. She was a Frog recognized not for her strength but for other qualities. Among those qualities, her talent for teaching was particularly exceptional. Even so, Enkrid''s skills were progressing slowly, very slowly. Of course, there were moments that were hard to understand. In moments of absurd crises, there was a sudden, sharp change in him. No preparation, no signs, no indications¡ªnothing at all¡ªand his skills increased just like that. For Luagarne, this was the first time she encountered such a person. He was incomprehensible, beyond understanding, and something that simply could not be grasped by any knowledge she had. "Can you take a look at this? We''re stuck here anyway." He spoke nonchalantly, and Luagarne muttered what she had been thinking. "I think you''ve hit your head." "Kyaa." The leopard, who had been lying down nearby, nodded. "Are you sure you''re okay?" Krais asked. "What is this, is it not a demon possessing him?" Finn asked, filled with anxiety. Enkrid calmly swung his sword again. It wasn''t perfect; it was still clumsy. But Luagarne could see the intent in his sword. If the opponent were in front of him, Enkrid would push to the left and follow up with a thrust. Enkrid moved similarly. There were still issues with his footwork and a few other details, but... Right now, Enkrid was in the process of manifesting the form. Just as Luagarne was about to say something, Enkrid spoke up. "I think I can do it again." With that, he quickly grabbed his sword again. "You''re crazy. Totally crazy." Luagarne couldn''t help but admire him anew. Chapter 183 - A Crazy Guy is Chasing Me With a Sword(3) Chapter 183 - 183 - A Crazy Guy is Chasing Me With a Sword(3) Luagarne didn''t express disbelief. In a situation like this, to suddenly say it''s time for sword training¡ªno matter how crazy someone is, this doesn''t make sense. But then again, that''s the answer, isn''t it? ''Because it''s that guy.'' It feels like it makes sense because it''s Enkrid. Soon, Enkrid, who had been trembling while holding the sword, put it down and retreated. ''Did he give up?'' Giving up once is easy. After the first time, it gets easier. If you retreat even once, the tutor will become an insurmountable wall. That would be a critical weakness for Enkrid. Luagarne watched him with concern. "Showing another method would be troublesome." Enkrid, muttering, didn''t even catch his breath before grabbing the sword again. ''...?'' "Uh, well, the name of the squad led by our unit is ''Madmen''s Squad.''" Krais turned the statement around. No, at this point, it seemed like he was outright calling him a madman. It was a commotion of sorts. While Esther was still lying down, Enkrid grabbed the sword four more times and showed a light smile. "This is it." Then he swung the sword in the air. Luagarne realized by now that trying to stop him would be pointless. What should I do now? "Crazy bastard." She couldn''t help but admire him. "That''s not it." The best thing was to teach him. Enkrid welcomed Luagarne''s guidance. Winning a fight and mastering swordsmanship were separate issues. Luagarne had rich experience and outstanding sword skills. She could parry, strike, and read her opponent''s intentions. A conversation with a sword, an orchestra formed with the sword. Enkrid memorized what he had seen and was helped by Luagarne. The evil spirit dwelling in the tutor''s sword also had remarkable swordsmanship, but it was nowhere near as good as Luagarne''s. If only there had been a ring on this sword, something that would activate with just a touch of a finger, Luagarne might have been able to solve it. Kraiss had tested it, and nothing happened just by touching the sword. It needed to be gripped tightly. Only with a certain amount of force. So it was beyond Luagarne''s ability. Swish! After a few more tries, it was the same. "I can see it, but..." There was too little time to do anything. After that, Enkrid was the only one who ever picked up the sword. "It feels like things are going well." Finn mumbled as she made camp. She took out the blanket from her backpack, peeled the hard cheese with a knife, and sliced it thinly. Then, placing it on the hard bread she had sliced, the meal was ready. "It''s also my responsibility." Krais, seemingly thinking of something, grabbed the sword once again. And then he died. His body remained intact, but he suffered the mental exhaustion. It happened when Enkrid wasn''t holding the sword. ''Grrr...'' Krais fell to the ground, foaming at the mouth, but it was a pointless act. Esther just slept, and naturally, their roles were defined. Enkrid picked up the sword, then put it down and returned. The Frog used that as a basis to teach swordsmanship. Finn and Krais prepared the sleeping arrangements and the meal. Esther ate, slept, and woke up. There wasn''t a proper place to relieve themselves, so everyone took care of it in a corner. The curtain blocked down to the ground, but to some extent, they could still dig into the earth. The place they dug out roughly resembled a half-sphere, with a slightly bulging bottom, like a prison. They took care of their business in that space. "We can go without relieving ourselves for over a week, if necessary." Finn nodded, envious of the frog''s words. A full day passed. Luagarne inwardly admired them. She had many things she wanted to say, advice she wanted to offer. So much that it almost felt like something was boiling up inside her. The things she had been giving them along the way had been insufficient. Normally, it would have been something she would summarize on the way back, but now, at this moment, the words she had were becoming unnecessary for Enkrid. What did Enkrid need for the future? She tried to answer that question, but... ''He''s already on his way to finding the answer.'' Still, some advice would be necessary. Krais kept his mouth shut, thinking it was his fault. It had been an easy task, like picking up fallen silver coins, but suddenly they were trapped, unable to see even a step ahead. His mind was busy spinning, trying to figure out how to escape this place. Of course, the answer wouldn''t come easily. ''He was blinded by the Krona.'' It was something that happened because he hadn''t considered the worst-case scenario. Krais reflected on his mistake with regret. As the situation started to change in strange ways, Finn completely let go of her thoughts. She simply observed Enkrid. ''Even here, with the sword work.'' It was consistent, if you could call it that, but to surpass the role of a tutor, one had to continue with the sword work. Still... ''I can''t say he''s normal.'' That''s the thought that comes to mind when looking at Enkrid. No, beneath his outstanding skills, there must have been this kind of madness. Watching that, Finn felt something new filling her chest. A small or perhaps even bigger realization. She had, at some point, set her limits and stopped. All of that had been breaking bit by bit since meeting Enkrid, and today, she finally grasped the seed of some realization. ''Limits aren''t set by me.'' Eilcaraz-style martial arts, her training as a ranger. Had she ever tried to go beyond that? Why had she stopped? ''Everyone said it was the right way.'' But Enkrid was different. Without saying anything directly, through his actions, his attitude, and his approach to life, he was speaking a different message. Finn quietly embraced a wave of emotions. It was something she hadn''t expected, but it was enough to make her close her mouth tightly. Esther was lost in self-reproach. ''It was a pathetic curse. Something not even worthy of being called a curse.'' Something that couldn''t even be called reaching the realm of a spell. And yet, she didn''t realize this and got trapped? If she were the person she was before, the leopard, she should have immediately bitten her tongue and died in shame. She didn''t lack reasons. From placing a spell on Enkrid''s sword to continuously using her magic power to enhance her body, Everything had been excessive. Her body was bound by a curse, and the door to her magical world was shut, so she had been operating in a roundabout way. All of those things came back to her, leaving a mark. ''Even so!'' How could she not have realized this? It was because she had neglected the task at hand. She had thought the journey back would be leisurely and didn''t focus on recovery. Esther needed time to recover the spent energy and lost stamina. She didn''t know what would happen next, but she wouldn''t just sit back and watch. Esther lay down. She buried her head and tried to take a light nap. Within a week, she thought she could recover enough magic to break this pathetic barrier. Half asleep, Esther thought for a moment before drifting off. The situation intertwined and the strange time passed. "It''s important to know what''s lacking in yourself." Even amidst this, Luagarne didn''t hold back in her teaching. This had nothing to do with the tutor''s swordsmanship. It was simply teaching. Fighting and winning were separate from the mastery of swordsmanship, and Enkrid was clearly feeling this as well. Luagarne was a great teacher. It was obvious that she was far better than any instructor from the school Enkrid had sacrificed Krona to. "When playing card games, what happens if you don''t hold the cards?" It was Luagarne''s words. This was a perspective that Enkrid had never encountered before. He was inwardly surprised by her words, and he was once again struck by how excellent of a teacher Luagarne truly was. She wasn''t just a teacher; she could give him the guidance that would help him set milestones. "Basics, it''s all about the basics." "Whatever you do, you must first build up your body." "If you don''t know how to hold a sword, you can''t lift it. If you don''t know how to lift it, you can''t swing it!" "You have to open your eyes to move forward, but must you always keep holding the sword?" "That''s why all that''s left is contemplation. Think it over, reflect on it. You''ll burn the candle of life. Until it goes out, you must fuel your own body and keep burning. If you don''t die, there''s something to gain." "Why not just farm? Must you really hold a sword?" There were countless instructors. They all said the same thing. The basics are important. And so, that''s what they did. They focused on the basics. They strained their eyes in effort, moved their feet quickly, and even when swinging the sword, they didn''t do it carelessly. Even so, they were often told the same thing. They were told to farm. "Why must you hold a sword?" "If a guy sitting at a gambling table brings a bag full of silver coins, what should he have in his hands?" At first, Luagarne tried to stop him and was baffled, but after a while, it seemed like she was enjoying the situation. Well, it could have been Enkrid''s own misunderstanding. It wasn''t easy for a human to read a Frog''s expression. It was just an instinctive feeling. "You can''t sit at a gambling table without cards." "Right, cards. You''re just a fool sitting there with a pouch full of silver coins." Silver coins were the basics. No one sits at a gambling table without at least a few coins. But no one sits with just a few coins either. Somehow, after hearing those words, Enkrid couldn''t help but feel a sense of pride. "They said to lay the foundation." That foundation, they said, had been laid. The slow development was frustrating, so Enkrid had once learned the Balin-style mercenary swordsmanship as a way to break through. But, could the mercenary sword be that card? "It works. But what''s better is swordsmanship that''s been honed over a long time. The Balin-style mercenary sword, in the end, is just too focused on one-sided attack methods. If all the cards in your hand are jokers, they''re useless." What a brilliant metaphor. Jokers only shine when they''re connected with other cards. That''s how the Balin-style mercenary sword was. Jeong Junhwan''s theory and Leonecis Oniak defined the branches of swordsmanship. The people who came after them made swords based on those branches. Even northern-style swordsmanship isn''t just one thing. It''s the same for central continent-style swordsmanship. Through the correct understanding and trial and error, combined with the talent one possesses, swordsmanship is created. What Luagarne was talking about was one of those branches. To be precise, it was the swordsmanship taught by a tutor. "This is a magic sword, but what''s inside it is real." In fact, Enkrid had rarely learned any other style of swordsmanship apart from the basics. It had all been superficial. Luagarne once again emphasized the necessity of swordsmanship. "If you properly learn a swordsmanship derived from the traditional sword style, it will feel like your opponent can read your every move." This was something Enkrid had experienced many times already. The evil spirit that lived within the sword was doing something similar. "I see." Enkrid nodded, still with the same fiery gaze. The torchlight reflected in his eyes, mixing the usual blue light with red, creating a glowing, intense look. When it came to learning, Enkrid was unabashed in expressing his emotions. To Luagarne, that was fascinating. ''Truly a madman for the sword.'' Or rather, a "sword maniac," one might say. Up until now, everything Enkrid had learned wasn''t so much about sword techniques but rather the preparation required to handle a sword. That was the crux of what Luagarne had said. Enkrid realized this as he learned swordsmanship from his tutor. "I''ll just go grab some swordsmanship for a moment." With a joke, he once again took hold of the sword. It was a cycle. So, rather than experiencing a real death, Enkrid would learn through a softer, more peaceful form of death. To be honest, though... ''It''s an easy and enjoyable task.'' For Enkrid, that was the case. He grabbed the sword, and after swinging his body side to side for a short time, he returned. He blinked his eyes and shook his head. "Did you get hit again?" "This time, both legs got cut off." His tone was unnervingly calm, considering what he was saying. "The final strike was supposed to be a downward slash, but somehow, it turned into a diagonal neck strike." He had seen the process, so he understood it. So, what was needed now? Enkrid picked up the broken sword he had been using instead of a wooden training sword, still in its scabbard. Luagarne''s heart skipped a beat, unknowingly. Her interest surged, and her cheeks puffed up in excitement. "You are truly..." What an incredibly fun guy. Even the tutor couldn''t limit him. No, look at this now; his mind had already surpassed that of the tutor! That was the gist of what could be said. Teaching him new swordsmanship wasn''t possible. That was because Luagarne was bound by a pact regarding it. But guiding him through the swordsmanship he had already learned? That was entirely feasible. And so, they did just that. He entered and stole the technique, then immediately implemented it. It was possible because he had perfect control over his body. Afterward, Luagarne refined it for him. Once he mastered it, he picked up the sword again. This time, Enkrid casually mentioned that his fingers had been sliced off. "Then he stabbed my neck, and the blade curved like a snake." "It was a wrist snap," Luagarne replied. Once again, Enkrid trained, and although his eyes felt like they were darkening from exhaustion, he remained indifferent. He took breaks in between, of course. If you don''t eat and drink, your body will break down. While taking a short rest, Finn muttered as he stared blankly at the sword. "This reminds me of an old legend. Something about drawing a sword and becoming a king." Enkrid, who was also resting, overheard this. Just drawing a sword and being made a king? It seemed like a pretty shoddy legend to him. Isn''t a king someone who holds power through politics and various other circumstances? Legends and stories are often exaggerated, so it wasn''t that surprising. After that, Enkrid spent most of his time focusing on swordsmanship. He had drawn and let go of the sword more than a hundred times. It might have seemed like self-torture, but Enkrid was indifferent. The pain lingered in his body, but to someone who repeats this kind of day, the sensation felt weakened. ''It works.'' Enkrid felt joy again in learning swordsmanship. It had only been a day and a half. Instead of repeating death every day, he could now immediately engage in high-quality sword exchanges simply by holding a sword. He didn''t waste any time and immersed himself completely. A brief but intense period passed. And that was enough. "It''s done." Those words came from Luagarne''s mouth. Was it thanks to the tutor? No, it wasn''t. More than anything, Enkrid was different now. He was far from the person who once struggled with meager talent. He was a completely different person. Enkrid reflected on all the "todays" he had experienced up until now. In the process of reviewing and rethinking everything, how had he missed all that? What had he gained from it? It wasn''t something simple to describe, but if Enkrid were to summarize it in two words, it would be: "Talent." In the midst of the group he had been playing with, his body had been ingrained with discipline. From the heart of a beast to the instinct of evasion. He had trained his body, increasing his strength, agility, and reaction speed. He had also learned to fully control his body. In that process, his courage, focus, and senses had been sharpened, supporting him in every action. "You... what''s this?" Luagarne was surprised. To her, it seemed like Enkrid had gained a talent that wasn''t there before. And as he gripped the sword once more... He soon felt the sensation of the slippery ground beneath him and the clang of metal approaching. Clang! The swords collided. What had changed was that now Enkrid could read his opponent''s swordsmanship. Chapter 184 - Liberation Chapter 184 - 184 - Liberation If one could endure pseudo-death, which resembled dying but was far easier, just endure it, if only that could be done¡ª There was a living textbook. One that showed every move in detail right before his eyes. This was, in essence, a good thing. Cursed sword or malevolent spirit aside, it was good¡ªat least to Enkrid. "Think about why you step your left foot to the side." There was also a teacher who meticulously interpreted the textbook. Thus, this was only natural. Enkrid absorbed swordsmanship like a soaked cotton ball drawing in water. No, he engraved it into his body, leaving understanding for later. He had learned this while honing his sense of evasion. ''Is understanding even necessary?'' When he didn''t understand, he simply threw his body into it. By repeating it, he could engrave it into his body, postponing understanding for later. "You''re insane, no matter how I look at you." Luagarne spoke with a mix of admiration. Enkrid let it slide by. He was too immersed in swordsmanship at that moment. In truth, it was nothing short of enjoyable. What had driven him to learn the Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship in the first place? It was an inner thirst. He had longed for proper technique and swordsmanship¡ªa foundation that would grant him the power to move forward. "The basics!" That was what every teacher, every instructor, and every person who had taken his coins had told him. He didn''t dislike it. He didn''t think it was wrong. It was just¡ª ''It''s fun.'' As any human would, he simply wanted to see what lay ahead. And so, Enkrid repeatedly gripped his sword with a smile. A smile. A bright smile, pure and untainted. "To be honest, I''m starting to find you a bit frightening." Luagarne remarked. "I completely agree. It''s chilling." Finn chimed in, while Krais remained surprisingly composed. "Well, he''s always been like this, but it''s definitely worse now." Kreis had witnessed countless insane acts from Enkrid. In a way, he thought it was fortunate that Enkrid was smiling. It was better than him silently swinging his sword until his palms burst open, without so much as a grin. To wield a cursed sword and experience pseudo-death¡ªthat was something Kreis himself couldn''t even dream of attempting. ''But the squad leader might be able to handle it.'' That thought crossed his mind. It was a mix of intuition and keen perception. Krais saw the essence of it. As long as there was the joy of growth, Enkrid could transform the pain of death into the drive of effort. And so, he delved deeper. Into the sword and himself. Into swordsmanship. A sword was a tool for killing people. Swordsmanship was a method for killing others. "Footwork, posture, stance¡ªeverything is for the next move. Think." Enkrid swung his sword again, adding to the repeated thoughts sparked by Luagarne''s words. To encounter an exceptional textbook, he relentlessly grasped the cursed sword inhabited by a malevolent spirit. There were times he loosened his grip and then immediately tightened it again, even right after dying. As the cycle passed hundreds of times, the spirit began to hesitate. Was it real? Did I see that right? Enkrid wondered. The spirit, which would usually charge at him instantly, now hesitated instead of swinging its sword. For Enkrid, this hesitation was the last thing he wanted to see. "Let''s not do that. Let''s both do our best in our respective roles," he said earnestly. By "respective roles," he meant the spirit should keep stabbing into the mind of the one holding the sword, unrelenting in its torment. Hesitation was utterly unwelcome. With his sincere plea, the spirit resumed its duty. It attacked. They clashed. Enkrid honed his swordsmanship, learned from it, memorized it, internalized it, pondered over it, and reviewed every move. Then he gripped the sword again, repeating the cycle. Once you knew how to move your body properly and could manifest what you imagined with precision, all that remained was to understand the movements. Thus, by memorizing an entire set of swordsmanship techniques and hearing Luagarne''s thorough interpretations of each move, mastering them became surprisingly straightforward. The creator of the cursed sword, who had bound a spirit within it, would likely have grabbed Enkrid by the collar if they saw this happening. But such is the way of the world¡ªthings rarely unfold as planned. "Well done," said Luagarne. Before them lay the spirit, its chest slashed open and its neck severed. Blue light flickered weakly between shards of metal, as if it were trying to speak. Enkrid silently watched the spirit. Eventually, the spirit within the sword spoke. "Thank you." Thank you? What was there to be thankful for? The spirit shared its story¡ªa fairly long one. "Keep it short," Enkrid interrupted, not particularly interested in listening. The spirit faltered, its blue light dimming further. Forced to condense its tale, it spoke briefly and bluntly. "I was trapped unjustly. And my swordsmanship was never complete; it was only half of what it should have been. Finding the missing half was my lifelong wish." For a mere swordsman to become a spirit bound to a blade required more than just enchantments and spells. It demanded a deep, unfulfilled desire¡ªthe kind that could anchor a soul to this world as a vengeful spirit. The spirit''s desire bore similarities to Enkrid''s. One had dreamed of becoming a knight. The other had wished to restore their family''s lost swordsmanship. In their intensity, both aspirations mirrored each other. Enkrid nodded. If the opportunity arose, he would help. That''s all the nod meant. He was busy enough chasing his own dream and couldn''t carry the weight of someone else''s on his shoulders. As the blue light flickered one last time and faded, a faint human figure appeared and spoke. "And let''s never meet again." The spirit had had enough. It was sick of this. The last thing it wanted was to see someone like Enkrid ever again. It was genuine. Naturally, the two wouldn''t cross paths again. One would depart, freed from its cursed existence. The other would remain in this world. The spirit, which had now moved on, found this arrangement quite satisfying. "Really, let''s never meet again," it repeated for emphasis. Enkrid tilted his head in puzzlement. Why such words, when it had been the spirit tormenting him all along? "My family''s name is..." the spirit began to say. Enkrid couldn''t catch the spirit''s final words. Its energy dissipated, and everything around him began to crumble. Beyond the collapsing world, familiar faces appeared. Thus, leaving the mental realm, the cursed spirit bound to the sword disappeared. "We''ve won," Luagarne''s voice called out. This was reality. Enkrid nodded in response. "Was it dangerous?" Luagarne asked again. Enkrid shook his head. It hadn''t been dangerous. Inside that space, nothing remained but swordsmanship. It was a battle of strategy, not one won by brute force but by defeating the opponent through pure technique. He had likely gripped the sword over a hundred times, though he hadn''t bothered to count. In terms of time, it had taken just over a full day. The gray veil dissolved silently. As it vanished, Esther raised her head and glared at Enkrid. Yes, she glared¡ªintently. Esther was stunned. How had he done it? Defeating a spirit through divine or magical means was one thing, but purging it by sheer physical effort and willpower was something else entirely. "Even for the most skilled sorcerer, the latter is nearly impossible," she thought. Currently in the form of a panther, Esther had once been a powerful mage and witch steeped in the magical arts. From her perspective, what Enkrid had achieved defied logic. "How can someone do such a thing?" The reality was that the spirit had been purified through relentless, near-death-level exertion of swordsmanship, combined with the spirit''s own act of sharing its unfulfilled dream. But Esther had no way of knowing this. She blinked repeatedly in astonishment, and Enkrid noticed. "What''s wrong? Hungry?" he asked, waving a hand dismissively. Esther, feeling a mix of irritation and disbelief, let out a small snort and lay back down. She decided to chalk it up to coincidence. There was no sense in overanalyzing something with no clear answers. Enkrid, for his part, admired Esther. "For a panther, she really does have an expressive range of emotions," he thought. It was entertaining to watch. Even now, her surprised eyes had prompted his question about hunger, and her subsequent expression of what seemed like disdain was almost amusing. With a faint smile, Enkrid sat down. His legs didn''t tremble, but after a day spent tirelessly swinging his sword and undergoing repeated near-death experiences, he felt the weight of exhaustion. To say he wasn''t fatigued would''ve been a lie. Still, it wasn''t so bad. "Krais was right after all," he thought. He''d once joked about picking up stray coins, but this time, what Enkrid had picked up felt more like gold than copper. He had learned new swordsmanship. How much had it advanced him? It was hard to say. The measure depended on the standard. Still, it wasn''t arrogance he felt¡ªjust a small, budding sense of confidence. "The soldier ranking system in Naurilia is meaningless," he mused. Ultimately, what he needed was Rem. Testing himself against his axe, perhaps earning a scratch or two on his cheek, seemed like a promising next goal. It felt like a refreshing target. "Let''s sleep, then head out," he said. Enkrid spoke. It seemed like a good idea to stay for the night. The gray veil was gone, and there was no immediate danger. There weren''t even any bothersome insects around. The place was cool but not damp¡ªperfect for a night''s rest. And so, the group decided to settle down for the night. As Enkrid lay down, he dreamed. In his dream, the cursed spirit appeared once more. "Let''s have another match," it said. Enkrid nodded, and again, he won with ease. Swordsmanship begins with understanding the movements, but what happens when every single move has been memorized? If the opponent only repeats predictable patterns, there''s no reason to lose. Beyond that, a bit of understanding had also been added. The reason for stepping the left foot outward was to prepare for a thrust after cleaving the opponent''s crown. Adjusting the wrist to match dozens of possible evasive or blocking maneuvers turned a basic movement into an unpredictable strike. One fundamental technique led seamlessly into another, forming a continuous flow. This was swordsmanship. As he reflected on this anew, the dream began to tear apart. From the void, a ghostly ferryman suddenly appeared. The ferryman said nothing, expressing no intent. Still, it seemed bitter. "Using my curse for something else?" That''s what its presence seemed to suggest. Enkrid lightly rested a hand on his right hip and offered a salute, silently conveying an apology. When he opened his eyes, he was back inside the cave. It had been a meaningless dream. "You sleep so peacefully," Luagarne remarked upon his waking. "You didn''t sleep?" Enkrid asked. "I did." Luagarne, staring at him blankly, suddenly asked, "You really intend to become a knight, don''t you?" There was no need to elaborate. Enkrid nodded, and Luagarne replied simply, "I see." Then, in a tone both casual and meaningful, she added, "It doesn''t have to be in this country, does it?" Her words lingered in the air. Though they seemed to beg further inquiry, Luagarne turned away, signaling she had no interest in continuing the conversation. Her statement hadn''t been a question but rather advice. Enkrid understood this and chose not to press further. "This country," he mused. As a child, he hadn''t grasped the concept of nations. As an adult, he had come to understand that knights bound by oaths of loyalty didn''t align with the ideal he had once imagined. So, was there another path? It wasn''t a question he needed to answer yet. "When the time comes, I''ll decide then," he thought. As long as he followed his heart and treaded the right path, that would be enough. That was how he had lived so far¡ªwhether one called it conviction or stubbornness, it was his way. "Let''s move out," Enkrid said, just as a voice cried out. "Hey!" Krais''s startled exclamation rang out. "There''s a hidden box under the chest!" Krais looked up, meeting Enkrid''s eyes with excitement. Whatever Dolph''s intentions had been, it was clear the man enjoyed toying with people. After diverting attention with an empty chest and a letter, then locking them in a dungeon with a cursed sword, he''d planted a hidden treasure only for those sharp-eyed enough to find it. "Ancient gold coins!" The find was significant. These were artifacts from an era long before the standardized imperial currency of krona. For over a century, the empire''s gold, silver, and copper coins had been the standard. Naturally, "krona" referred to imperial currency. But these coins hailed from a time predating that era¡ªsomewhere between history and legend. While not priceless, their value depended on the buyer. With the right collector, they could fetch up to ten times their weight in modern gold. There were over ten of these coins. Each coin was the size of a palm, making them far from small. The pouch they filled was satisfyingly heavy. "Divide them," Enkrid said. Enkrid spoke firmly. Krais looked dismayed but eventually nodded. Even after Luagarne refused to take her share, Enkrid insisted, pressing the coins into her hands. "You''re taking that, right?" Krais asked as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. It was clear he was talking about the sword planted in the ground. Before Krais even finished speaking, Enkrid was already standing before the sword again. The cursed swordsman''s spirit had been freed, leaving this world for the realm beyond. So, what remained? "That''s obviously worth a fortune," Krais said. Enkrid grasped the sword with one hand and pulled it free in one smooth motion. His strength bordered on the superhuman, perhaps bolstered by the frequent use of Giant''s Heart. He felt stronger than ever. The sword, though filthy, still pulsed with a faint vitality. The blade would need sharpening, but it seemed salvageable. After giving it a few practice swings, he noted the balance was decent enough, though the hilt and pommel would require significant work. "You''re not selling it, right?" Krais asked hopefully. "No, I''m keeping it," Enkrid replied. Both of his swords were in poor condition, so this find was fortuitous. With their loot packed and ready, the group finally began their return journey. The roads were eerily quiet. Neither monsters nor beasts were in sight, likely due to the lingering effects of the large colony they had just escaped. Even common bandits were nowhere to be found. Finn, demonstrating remarkable recovery, occasionally challenged Enkrid to spar during their travels. Unable to fight seriously, they slowed their movements to practice strategy. Enkrid, now far more seasoned after his swordsmanship trials, never lost to Finn. Eventually, Luagarne announced her departure. "Well then, I''m off," she said. "See you around," Enkrid replied plainly. Krais waved, and Finn gave her a curt nod. Esther barely acknowledged her departure. Luagarne, equally unbothered, turned and left without hesitation. Watching the lone Frog fade into the distance, Enkrid, too, quickly put any sentiment aside and turned his attention forward. "She vanished quickly,"Krais commented. "Well, it''s strange she stayed with us for so long in the first place," Enkrid replied. Krais thought otherwise but kept his thoughts short and blunt: "The Captain." "That nickname again." It was the most irritating title to hear, reminiscent of the "Captain of Charm" or some such nonsense. "Captain of Charm," Krais teased again, his smirk widening. Enkrid didn''t let it slide this time. "This is an Eilkaraz wrist-lock. You should learn it¡ªit''s useful." With that, Enkrid expertly twisted Krais''s wrist. "Aughhh!" Krais''s scream echoed across the summer sky. Thus, without further incident, the group returned to Border Guard City. *** Upon their return, the higher-ups, specifically those in the Cult''s Sacred Land who had dispatched the priest, were baffled. "They failed?" The speaker was a bishop responsible for overseeing the diocese¡ªa strikingly handsome man with golden eyebrows and a sharp gaze. Clad in a white robe adorned with golden embroidery, his appearance was as impeccable as his demeanor. His expression turned incredulous as he repeated the report. "Was it knights?" "No." "What? A platoon Leader? A leopard?" The explanation left him even more astonished. Chapter 185 - Did you hit the kids? Chapter 185 - 185 - Did you hit the kids? The hierarchy of the cult was similar to that of a typical temple: pope, followed by cardinals, bishops, priests, and then the believers. Sometimes, there would be monks in between priests and believers. When referring to high priests or senior clerics, it typically meant bishops or higher. The golden-haired man was a bishop. Externally, he held another important title, and this bishop was no ordinary one¡ªhe was a solid figure that had grown into a strong tree from the seeds sown by the cult. "Are you telling me that a single Platoon leader caused this failure?" "Yes." The bishop furrowed his brow at the subordinate priest''s words. His previously handsome face twisted into a grimace. What nonsense. Could a mere Platoon leader cause the collapse of a gnoll colony? "Didn''t a knight intervene and cause some trouble?" "No, that''s not it." "Well, that doesn''t make sense, does it?" The bishop shook his head, dismissing the thought. Would the Kingdom of Naurelia even have the resources to send knights or soldiers here at the moment? It was impossible. There were a multitude of pressing issues, and some things were beyond saving. The kingdom''s territories were overrun by the "Black Sword" bandits. To the west, there was a raiding city formed by settlers. To the east, a nation ruled by a butcher-like king constantly provoked the kingdom. If that were the end of it, things would be fortunate. In reality, problems seemed to be spilling over like a flood. For example, the power struggle between the nobles and the royal family. Truthfully, it was all the fault of the split between the royal factions and the noble factions. The power of the kingdom was divided, and as a result, other groups began to seek opportunities to grab what they could. While it seemed that Azfen to the north had been dealt a blow, the bishop wasn''t sure it was the right move. Was that a bit too much? The bishop thought so. Some of the kingdom''s troops stationed in the south and west had been redirected to strike Azfen. It had been unavoidable. If left unchecked, the entire Grainfield Plains would have been lost. But even with this effort, the bishop thought they''d only managed to maintain the status quo¡ªyet Naurelia had won a significant victory. The battle against Azfen had stretched the kingdom thin, and as they were vulnerable, the raider city in the west quietly took advantage of the situation. The southeastern kingdom, ruled by the "Butcher King," had also made a move. What about the Black Sword bandits? Would they just sit idle? And the southern region, where the kingdom failed to prevent the rise of monstrous beasts¡ªthings were bleak there too, with reports of increasing refugees. But when Azfen retreats, will it be over? What about the conflict between the remaining cities? If Azfen retreats, what''s left? The Grainfield Plains. Moreover, the trade routes would open, which would lead to competition over resources. There would be a fight for control, as everyone tried to grab more, eyeing each other''s land. The kingdom, already drained of strength, would hardly be able to mediate effectively. It''s a miracle the kingdom hasn''t collapsed yet. Such was the state of the kingdom, and it was for this reason that the bishop had come here. There were many gaps to exploit, plenty of resources to be seized. And many decaying areas ripe for the taking. How could the cult resist such an appetizing prize? It wasn''t for no reason that the Demon Sanctuary cult had established its foothold here. They had invested massive amounts of resources into this area, both financial and material. This place was ripe to become the new Demon Sanctuary. It could become a holy land. Yet one of their preparations had been destroyed, and they were left in a state of confusion. All because of a single Platoon leader? How much Krona had been invested in this project? It wasn''t a small amount. What about the weapons they had supplied to the gnolls? The investment from the cult had directly benefited the frontier village. In exchange, some of the financial rewards had been received by Enkrid¡ªthough technically, Krais had been the one to broker the deal. The bishop had no knowledge of these details. All he knew was that he was deeply displeased. What should he do? After a brief moment of thought, the bishop concluded: Just a platoon leader, huh? Had it all been luck? In reality, no one had witnessed Enkrid''s battle from this side. There were a few surviving monsters, but they weren''t going to relay any word of it. It must have been luck. Thinking about it, it made sense. The walls were solid, and it was probably a coincidence that the early believers got caught, and when they tried to clean it up, the priest''s true identity was exposed. Moreover, the preparations for a siege had been in place by accident. ...But isn''t there too much coincidence? There was likely some skill involved as well. However, the conclusion was that it was luck. So then, Just because that guy was lucky, does that mean his luck will continue? It was unlikely. "I''ll send a cultist skilled in assassination." If there was a problem, it could be controlled, the bishop thought. Of course, he never heard the news of Enkrid''s assassination. The bishop didn''t even pay attention to the rumors. He simply continued preparing for the next phase. If he were a part of the kingdom, what would be the biggest problem? It wouldn''t be the Black Sword, the monstrous beasts, or the neighboring states, like wild packs of wolves. The greatest problem would be the cult. And of those the kingdom calls "the cult," the bishop was the central figure in this region. So, the bishop continued his preparations. Enkrid''s existence was soon forgotten. Every now and then, someone capable of great feats would appear. Sometimes it was just a soldier, but it was always temporary. Surviving between a thousand monsters? Let''s call it pure luck. And then, what''s next? What will he do when another similar crisis comes? He was destined to die anyway. That''s why the bishop dismissed it. The border guard was still the same. Nothing had changed. "Did you arrive?" Well, something had changed. It was the attitude. The soldiers, when seeing Enkrid, had completely changed their behavior. A soldier on the outer gates showed military respect. He nodded. With that, an unfamiliar face appeared. "Are you here to welcome me?" It was the fairy platoon leader. She responded to Enkrid''s joke with a playful tone, taking it further. "I have to come when my lord arrives. If my fiance? gets wounded and loses something important, I would have to give up one of the pleasures of my life, wouldn''t I?" Wasn''t that a bit too high of a joke? Enkrid thought, as the fairy commander continued without a hint of laughter. "If you lose an arm, you won''t be able to hug me. But it seems like your arms are still intact, so everything''s fine." The fairy''s eyes swept over Enkrid''s body. Something seemed different, but what? The fairy''s senses were sharp. "I should go report to the battalion commander." "Go ahead." Enkrid nodded, and the fairy nodded back before heading off. She seemed to be leaving for some business. So, it wasn''t a proper welcome after all. It was just a coincidence. Enkrid gave a military salute as the fairy left and turned back. She definitely had something to attend to. As expected, just a coincidence. Could it really have been a welcome? She wasn''t someone with nothing to do; it seemed improbable. Once inside the city, Ester had disappeared. "Should I go as well?" "No." He sent Krais away and only brought Finn along. Finn fell into deep thought without a word, then suddenly spoke. Her tone had a strange force to it. "I''ve made up my mind." "...About what?" "I''m giving up on taking you down." ...Was he still targeting me? "Instead, I''ll target Audin." Finn''s eyes gleamed. Enkrid inwardly shook his head. As for Finn, maybe, but Audin? That man wasn''t just religious; he wielded divinity. That meant he was a priest. Of course, being a priest didn''t mean he couldn''t marry or take a woman to his bed. That Audin? That clumsy fool would never manage to have a woman. Enkrid silently nodded in response. "The charm of a platoon leader is outside my scope." Finn spat out nonsense and then quickly went on his way. "Weren''t we supposed to go report together?" Apparently not. Left alone, Enkrid headed towards Marcus''s office. He entered and offered a military salute. Marcus silently observed him before speaking. "I''ve already received contact. However, there are conflicting opinions." Conflicting opinions? "I don''t understand what you mean." If he didn''t understand, then he simply didn''t understand. Trying to predict would only create unnecessary words. He had heard that contact was being made from the pioneer village. Marcus propped his chin on his hand. "In the pioneer village, they''re planning to name the walls after you, and there''s talk of slaying a thousand of those beasts." Was he really going to put his name on the walls? He couldn''t imagine such a thing officially happening, but the village chief, Doichi, and the so-called craftsman were serious about it. It seemed definite, considering it was mentioned in an official report. They were all mad, it seemed. "And the other one is the commander of the Ventria Baron''s army. He says you have killed about fifty of those beasts, and have cautioned you not to exaggerate your achievements. Now, let me ask our platoon leader, which one of these is the truth?" Enkrid immediately responded. "Believe what you want to believe." Would they believe what he said just because he told them to? Did he have that much weight in his own words? His counterpart was the battalion commander, the leader representing the city. They probably already knew the answer. More importantly, their eyes were already telling him everything. Despite the tired, worn face, their eyes were smiling. "Is that so?" "Yes, that''s right." Marcus watched Enkrid with quiet attention. Where had this guy come from? "Still a knight?" "Yes." "I see." What was he trying to imply? "The cult appeared." At any rate, the key point had to be reported. The pioneer village wasn''t far from the border guard, and the appearance of the cult was a sensitive matter. "Those bastards." After expressing his viewpoint, Marcus removed his hand from his chin and took a sip of his cold tea. The lukewarm tea slid down his throat. ''A thousand of them.'' He didn''t think Enkrid could have taken down that many in one go. That seemed like something even a lower-ranking knight would struggle with. It wasn''t entirely accurate, but that was Marcus''s judgment. At least, he couldn''t dismiss Enkrid''s might. He had already ignored the words of the Ventria Baron''s army. Marcus knew Enkrid. Sure, it was hard to believe the story of him cutting down an entire colony, but he must have achieved something comparable. Had Marcus seen it with his own eyes, he probably wouldn''t have thought this way. But the truth was, it was a story that was hard for anyone to believe. What Enkrid had done seemed almost unbelievable. It wasn''t because the Ventria Baron''s commander was an idiot ¡ª though the man was indeed half an idiot ¡ª but it was hard to believe, plain and simple. The villagers must have been intoxicated by the joy of surviving on the edge of life and death. After pondering, Marcus spoke again. "Do you love this city?" "I don''t hate it." "Do you have a lover?" "No." "Perhaps?" "Yes, I like women." Conversations with perceptive people are simple and easy. Marcus nodded and said, "Effective immediately, your independent platoon will be promoted to a company. You are now the company commander." "...Is that true?" He had just completed one external mission. If the credit for that was recognized properly, it wouldn''t be a small matter. That much was true. But hadn''t Marcus mentioned conflicting reports? Yet, now, he was being made a company commander? "My platoon doesn''t even have ten men." "You''re a company now." How could that even make sense? "Does that make sense?" "I''m the one responsible for this city. If I say it makes sense, it does." It felt like a stretch. "Are you insulting your superior with your eyes?" "No, sir." It still felt forced. "It''s not forced." The battalion commander had spoken. What could Enkrid do but nod? He gave a salute and finished his report before turning to leave. "I hope you come to love this city." "I''ll try." A perfectly soldierly response. Saying that, Enkrid turned and headed back to his barracks. "Back already?" That tone, what could it be? ''I doubt even if I went back to my hometown, I''d feel like this.'' It was exactly as it seemed¡ªa feeling of returning home. Rem, as usual, was watching, axe in hand. The subtle, unspoken expectation in his eyes urged Enkrid on. Rem didn''t seem to allow even a moment of rest. Then again, when had Enkrid ever been allowed to rest immediately after arriving? The journey had been peaceful, and he had already rested enough on the way. Enkrid''s gaze turned to Rem''s face. The scratches on Rem''s face before he left had completely vanished. As the goal resurfaced in his mind, he spoke. "Want to spar?" Enkrid''s mouth opened instinctively. His heart began to race. Rem''s lips curled into a wide smile. "Have you gotten better? I heard you cut down hundreds of beasts. I heard you were flying. Let me see. Let''s see how much fun you''ve had." Rem spoke as he gripped his axe tightly in both hands and took a step forward. Enkrid felt an odd sensation. Before, he hadn''t understood the significance of that one step before a fight. No, he hadn''t even realized it. But now, he understood. Right foot a half-step forward, and the first swing of the axe would be with the left. The weight distribution, the preparation for the next move, all of it flowed naturally from Rem. He made no effort to hide his intentions. Whether Rem knew that Enkrid was watching or not, he squinted slightly and locked eyes with him. "This feels odd." Enkrid felt that something wasn''t quite right, that this wasn''t the usual barracks. Before Rem could respond, Ragna and the others began emerging one by one. There wasn''t a soldier in sight. And then Enkrid noticed something. A training ground had been set up. Right in front of the barracks. The area was cleared, and a low fence had been erected. "The battalion commander made us our own training grounds," Krais said, who had arrived earlier. The perceptive Krais had read Enkrid''s intentions. Did they really need to go this far? "They said the battalion commander is having doubts about the way the soldiers are being trained," Rem remarked, his usual fiery tone still intact. He pointed behind him with a thumb, speaking casually as though it didn''t matter. "No matter how barbaric they are, no killing our own men in the barracks, so I told them to do it here," Ragna added from behind. "It seems it''s because they''re being noisy. They''ve been causing a ruckus. Not my fault," Jaxen chimed in, casually sweeping his hand across the group. "Heh. I''m sure our brothers just wanted to join in because it seemed fun. Probably thanks to your efforts in getting them involved," Audin said, making it seem like they were all in on it. The training ground wasn''t just because of noise¡ªit was clear the reason was far more than what they said. This was just a joke among the team, a playful remark after so much time together. From a ragtag group to a crazy squad, now they knew each other well enough to joke around. "Did you beat them up?" Enkrid asked. Rem frowned at the question. "Do I look like the kind of person who just goes around beating people for fun?" "...You''re leaving me speechless, Rem." Enkrid''s daily routine usually included sparring or fighting, so why would it be a surprise? Yet this time was different. Rem looked half-defensive. He hadn''t beaten anyone this time. He had only been clearing out distractions while focusing on the sparring. "Do you really think I beat them?" Rem glared. "Yeah." "Shit, you got it right." Rem let out a small laugh. That was the signal. After his laughter, his feet shifted. The direction of his weight soon became the direction of his attack. Swordsmanship was a collection of techniques designed to kill. It was a path Enkrid had honed over time, developing a keen sense for such moves. Thung! The axe and sword collided with a resounding clang. The dull blade of the sword wasn''t sharp, but it was stronger than any blade Enkrid had held before. It could be called a magic sword, though it had simply become a sturdy sword¡ªpractically a famed blade in its own right. Enkrid had already grown accustomed to his new sword. Why? To fight with this very axe. The sword and axe clashed, and a battle of reflexes followed. The speed of Enkrid''s strikes had noticeably improved, and his blade curved like a serpent, a product of his refined wrist snap technique in swordplay. Cling. The sword, having ricocheted off the axe, curved upward, forcing Rem to lean back. He too positioned his axe and delivered a short, sharp cut. Enkrid leaned to the side to dodge. Flick, flick. They both left small scratches on each other''s faces. Rem squinted, letting out a sharp exhale. Though surprised, he quickly shifted his focus to the next thing¡ªintensity, momentum. Enkrid felt the spark of excitement in Rem''s eyes. Rem licked the blood from his lips, his eyes glinting with excitement. "Shit, I''m surprised." The words were full of sincerity. And everyone watching couldn''t help but widen their eyes in astonishment. Enkrid and Rem exchanged blows, and Enkrid easily held his ground. The growth was undeniable. The transformation was so vast that it could be said even the heavens and earth would be surprised by it. A guy who had no talent before? Coming back like this? It was impossible not to be stunned by how far he''d come. Everyone''s eyes spoke volumes. Chapter 186 - If the Lie is White Chapter 186 - 186 - If the Lie is White After Enkrid left, Rem, or rather everyone including Rem, became unusually diligent after a long time. Instead of tormenting passing soldiers, Rem spent more time swinging his axe alone. He put in some effort. He kept sweating. Ragna did the same. Would Audin be any different? Everyone except for Jaxen was the same. Jaxen, who spent much more time outside the barracks, only occasionally joined them. Thus, the deadly sparring sessions continued, with lives hanging in the balance. It was truly intense. "Damn it." All the soldiers watching clicked their tongues. Watching Rem, Ragna, Audin, and even the Fairy Commander join in the fight, the soldiers felt a sense of defeat. Despair patted their shoulders. Was there anyone who could look at them and grit their teeth, vowing to catch up? "Are these guys crazy?" Even Torres, from the frontier defense, furrowed his brows. "What the hell, this isn''t even about discouraging others." His dissatisfaction was quickly felt throughout the barracks. Could they really believe that by swinging swords every day, they could reach such a level? Even the Fairy Commander was not falling behind. "They''re pretty good." Even Rem had said that. It wasn''t just "good" ¡ª it was enough that, except for Will, one could believe they were of knight-level skill. What kind of Commander could someone with this kind of skill even be? There were also those who did the same thing with less skill, working as commanders in the same way. So, considering that, the Fairy commander wasn''t bad at all. It was all due to the chaos. The reason the battalion commander had given them a separate training ground was because of this. The Fairy commander had even made an active suggestion. "The atmosphere in the barracks has gotten a bit messed up." After that simple report, a training ground was created immediately. It made sense. Once, due to Enkrid, a training craze had spread, but it had already cooled off. It wasn''t easy to intentionally create such a thing, but a few passionate sparring matches had made it happen. There were monsters like that in this world. Because of those monsters, a deep sense of depression had spread throughout the barracks. The guy who had been lounging lazily in his bunk, clearly like that. But Ragna was truly a genius among geniuses. How could he swing a sword so sharply from such a broken stance? Torres secretly tried to imitate the movement and fell over. Literally, that was a trick you couldn''t replicate just by watching. And what about Rem? Not only was his personality nasty, but his axe skills were nasty as well. Swinging both axes powerfully, from the very first strike, it looked nearly impossible to block. And what about the one who blocked it all? "Brother, go to heaven!" His speech might have been soft, but he was always ready to kill. And that wasn''t all. He didn''t even fall behind with bare hands. Sometimes, he''d even pick up a club, but generally, he fought with his bare hands. Audin was a master of unarmed combat. In previous battles, he had snapped enemy necks like breaking a corn stalk and bent their limbs like twigs. "May you go to the Lord''s side!" He was a fearsome expert. After that, there was the quietly insane Jaxen, who only wielded his sword in silence. Finally, the Fairy commander made the grand finale. All the soldiers watching them felt their motivation drop drastically. These were people who hadn''t even been training properly, yet their talent was dazzling. It was talent so overwhelming it felt blinding. And then, Enkrid returned. In the meantime, Rem had sharpened his senses with sparring sessions where his life was on the line. He hadn''t fought for the fun of it, but for a better tomorrow. It had been a long time since he had swung his axe. Before the sparring where his life was at risk, he felt confident he could defeat someone like the semi-knight, Asia. No, he was sure he could kill her. The technique Will used, even if it was knight-level, was still about handling the body, so he wouldn''t just collapse in an instant. If a rare knight with exceptional skill came, it wouldn''t be easy to win. But still, he wasn''t going to die from a single sword strike. And Rem had really honed his skills. He put in effort for self-improvement. Ragna was the same. His laziness was now a thing of the past. He practiced with his sword every morning and evening, deeply lost in thought. He wasn''t just sleeping; he was in deep meditation. Even so... ''Won''t the match end?'' Rem was half-serious. If he took it any more seriously, one of them would have to die. If it was a sparring match, it should have ended right there. But still... ''A little more.'' Enkrid''s sword fell from above, aiming for his crown. As Rem swung his axe to block it, the blade bent downward. This time, it didn''t resemble a snake but more like a bird of prey. It seemed like it was swooping down, targeting its prey like a hawk. The sword accelerated in mid-swing, threatening to pass outside Rem''s view. Barely managing to catch the trace of it, Rem made another defensive move. Clang! ''Damn it.'' Rem couldn''t help but smile. When had he ever sparred with his squad leader like this? Before, yes, it had been fun, but it was more of a playful level of enjoyment. It felt like a dance ¨C just a bit of fun. But now? Along with excitement, a sense of euphoria filled him. He wanted to feel more of this. ''Just a little longer.'' The axe, which had originally been swung to test his skill, was now closing the gap between them. According to the initial standard Rem and Ragna had set, a warm-up sparring session had now turned into one where lives were at stake. Blood. In the moment when Rem crossed his axe, thinking he had blocked the strike completely, a thrust slipped through the small gap and grazed his cheek. It was just a scratch. Barely a scratch. But he hadn''t blocked it. Rem''s lips twisted into a strange grin. It felt so enjoyable it was almost maddening. His excitement surged, and it felt like something new was flowing through his body. His mighty heart was stirred, heating his entire body. His heart pounded, and in sync with that, he swung the axe powerfully. The sparring that had started with half a life at stake quickly escalated into one where full lives were on the line. In that instant, Enkrid''s eyes glazed over, and his sword fell to the ground like a snapped thread. Rem was shocked. ''Damn it!'' There was no time to recover his axe. He was about to split his squad leader''s skull and witness the brain splatter. It was time for the opening between openings. Bang! A sword came in, blocking the path of the axe. Thwack¡ªthen two hands grabbed his muscular forearms. Lastly, the thick hand of someone grabbed his left wrist, which was reflexively moving to strike. One by one, it was Ragna, Jaxen, and Audin. "Are you going to kill him just by looking at him?" "...Damn, what do you mean ''kill him''? I was trying to stop it cleanly, with good control. Why are you getting in my way?" It was bravado. They all understood. And they knew. Ragna, Audin, and Jaxen had all seen it. Their squad leader had changed. He had returned as someone of an unexpected, unparalleled level. There was no hesitation in his strikes, his sense of tactics, and even his coordination. How about his reaction speed and physical abilities? Jaxen had figured it out at a glance. ''The sense of evasion.'' It was quite satisfying. What was especially noteworthy was that Enkrid had truly mastered it. Jaxen nodded to himself. Ragna, however, noticed something else. ''Refined swordsmanship.'' Was it his skill with the sword? No, his entire approach to swordsmanship had leveled up. His method of swinging and even the way he thought about it had changed. It wasn''t just a superficial difference. ''He combined his strengths with his swordsmanship.'' He wasn''t just blindly following orders anymore, he had properly understood and internalized his technique. In just two months? Even if the Frog had worked tirelessly, could this level of improvement have been possible? Ragna knew better than anyone that his squad leader had changed and would continue to change. What he needed was talent in controlling his body, and now that foundation had been laid. Ragna wasn''t lacking in perception. But this? Among them, only Audin had fully grasped Enkrid''s physical abilities. ''It makes me smile, Brother Squad Leader.'' It was truly a satisfying state of physical condition. The level of training, the changes in his physical abilities. What lay at the heart of it? The technique of evasion¡ªwas that it? The foundation of the "Cat''s Senses" that Enkrid had adopted. ''It''s the technique of isolation.'' Monks, who primarily focus on physical training among priests, are called Monkras. The technique of isolation was a more refined version of their training methods. Enkrid''s body had been shaped by that technique. ''He must have also developed regenerative abilities.'' The exceptional recovery rate was one of the reasons his body could be remade like this. It was a time of satisfaction again. Finally, Rem was shocked. Deeply so. ''When did it come to this?'' It was really surprising to think about. The crazy guy who had asked for a sparring match on their first meeting had now become a crazy guy with real skill. He had completely evolved into a certified crazy guy. It was nothing short of amazing. And Rem found that thrilling. Was it important how his skills had improved? ''No.'' It wasn''t that. It seemed like it would be fun. Even more so in the future. Just because a special training ground had been built didn''t mean the place was fully enclosed. The fence had holes in it, barely high enough to reach an adult''s chest. At least, it marked the boundary. Beyond that boundary, there were those watching the sparring. The soldiers who had lost their motivation and spirits. Among them was Vengeance. ''Monstrous bastards.'' Rem and his mad squad were truly a group of monsters. And watching Enkrid, who led this monstrous group, Vengeance couldn''t understand how he had come to stand there. Enkrid had returned. Vengeance had seen it. He saw how Enkrid didn''t back down an inch in front of Rem. Vengeance knew his beginnings. Because he had disliked him, he understood him even better. Enkrid had been nothing special. Just a lowly soldier, that was all he was called. ''Old and talentless.'' But what about now? It was strange. When looking at Rem, Ragna, or Audin, they seemed like monsters, but when looking at Enkrid, he made others want to imitate his effort. He made them want to stand by him, at his side, on the same level. Was it because they had seen his effort until now? Or was it just the difference in familiarity? Vengeance didn''t know. He had no such worries. Only desire remained. "Today is special training." "Yes!" The soldiers of Vengeance''s squad answered in unison. It wasn''t just Vengeance. All the soldiers felt the same way. The flames of motivation surged in their hearts as they watched Enkrid fight. It was perhaps inevitable that the heat of training would rise the next day. The day Enkrid returned, he sparred with Rem. "I think I overdid it. I''m still not fully accustomed to it." His eyes were spinning and his strength was drained, all from overusing his monstrous strength. Well, Rem had charged at him with intent. "Won''t I get used to it after using it more?" Enkrid said, but Rem was skeptical. Had anyone other than himself fully mastered this? It didn''t seem so, and Enkrid was the first to not just mimic but fully internalize it. The next day, he sparred with Ragna. "Where did you learn your swordsmanship?" "From a passing evil spirit." It wasn''t a lie. Then, Jaxen, rarely, joined in for a spar. Audin showed him a new joint-locking technique. Enkrid was glad to have those around him, supporting him like this after his return. How enjoyable it was. To wield his sword and move his body continuously. To advance toward a new self. Even without repeating today, he could still gain something. "Fiance?e?" The fairy commander also showed up, and naturally, the sparring continued. That was when Enkrid understood. When the squad leader picked up a sword, he was just as good as Rem. "We''ve reached the same rank now. When are you going to take me to a meal?" The fairy''s jokes about food¡ªwhen would they stop? But Enkrid didn''t mind it anymore. There was no need to say anything about it. It had become a part of everyday life. Esther, who had been sleeping for a couple of days straight, now only came into his arms once every two days. He didn''t even notice any changes. Krais had sold some ancient coins he had recently found and got a good price for them. He also sold various weapons they had collected in a nearby village at a favorable price. With all these things, krona had become quite prosperous. During his training, Enkrid visited the blacksmith''s forge. "Did it break? What about the armor?" The armor was torn, pierced, and the chainmail inside had many broken links. It was pretty much ruined. The sword had snapped. The core was damaged. It was beyond saving. He decided to take it anyway, hoping he could melt it down and reuse the material. "Two swords?" "Just happened that way." He smiled wryly. It was a relief that it had ended with just this. "Do you have any leftover chainmail?" Enkrid asked. The blacksmith sighed and nodded. "I don''t have any right now, but I can make some for you. Good iron came in recently." Enkrid nodded and then pulled out a sword. It was what had been called a cursed sword. "Can you sharpen this blade?" The blacksmith inspected the sword and spoke. "This isn''t a common item, is it? Just the blade?" "No. I want you to replace the pommel and the grip too, and the balance feels a bit off." The blacksmith nodded. The blade itself was excellent, but the accessories were a mess. "Good quality deer leather just came in. I''ll wrap the grip with it." He was offering to fix it. Enkrid nodded, and after paying a fair price, he stopped by a dried meat shop to grab a few pieces. Before he knew it, it was already evening. "Don''t you want more to eat?" "I have to go." He couldn''t ask the blacksmith to work on his sword too, so he planned to get it through a trader coming in. Oddly enough, he was unarmed. Enkrid felt the emptiness at his waist. Even though he had a shortsword, guard sword, and knife strapped to him, it felt incomplete. "The weather''s nice." But the atmosphere in the city didn''t seem to be. After asking a few passing merchants, the answer came quickly. "There are rumors that a band of thieves is targeting the city, and monsters are gathering from the south. Also, there was some commotion with a messenger from the eastern city." Border Guard was a military city, located right on the border of Aspen. Would a band of thieves target a place like this? It was unlikely, unless they were particularly daring. Still, there were always crazy thieves. They had caused problems even when Aspen was fighting. As for the monsters, that was a perpetual issue. The east? If they were talking about the city of swords, then it wasn''t unusual for them to stir up trouble there. Still, the fact that such rumors were circulating meant trouble was brewing. There''s an old saying: when ominous rumors spread, children increase and goods decrease. It meant that people stayed indoors, and merchants visiting from outside became scarce. A similar problem had occurred before when monsters had overrun the area, and the Border Guard had been dispatched. Enkrid had even taken on a request during that time. It had been when he faced the harpies. That had been a fun battle. The feeling of the sword was satisfying. Anyway, the rumors were spreading, but no orders had come down yet, so... "They''ll figure it out." The battalion commander had his job to do. Enkrid had been appointed as a company commander , but it was still unofficial. It was the personal decision of the battalion commander. Behind him were the nobles. What could he say about them? These serpentine bastards who seemed to have royal blood running through their veins¡ªthey were everywhere in this city. It didn''t sit well with him, but he couldn''t just stab every one of them in sight. "I''m not Rem." Of course, that would be impossible. When he returned to the barracks, Rem was there. "Yeah, I can''t live like that." "What''s wrong with your eyes?" Rem had the kind of sharp intuition that rivaled Krais''s. Especially when Enkrid was cursing him. "Did you go around cursing me? Walking through the market? No, I bet you cursed me in your head." Sometimes, when Rem got too sharp, it really felt like he had extraordinary perception. Enkrid acted according to his beliefs. If a lie could make someone feel more at ease, then that lie could be considered pure. "No." He shook his head. "Then why do I feel like you''re angry?" "That''s because your personality''s twisted." "I think you cursed me again." "No." Sharp intuition and white lies exchanged in the air. Enkrid had grown used to this place¡ªit felt like home now. Had the battalion commander said that he hoped for him to start loving the city ? It wasn''t a passionate love, but he didn''t dislike it. Truly. Chapter 187 - Are You Really Going to Be a Knight? Chapter 187 - 187 - Are You Really Going to Be a Knight? Watching Enkrid, one couldn''t help but clench their fists. Most soldiers felt the same when they looked at Enkrid. They knew how he clawed his way up from the bottom. They saw firsthand how effort was rewarded right before their eyes. Looking at Enkrid, soldiers like Vengeance tightened their fists. And in those hands, they gripped spears, swords, and maces. The soldiers banded together. They swung their weapons. An unseasonal fervor reignited the barracks. "These soldiers have been training harder than ever lately. What''s gotten into them all of a sudden?" The shift in atmosphere was palpable. Enkrid, who also noticed the change, casually remarked. Hearing this, Krais snorted. "Are you really asking because you don''t know?" Would he ask if he already knew? "I''m heading to the marketplace to check on the mood. I''ll be back." Without answering directly, Krais left. Whatever the reason, Enkrid liked the enthusiasm and vigor filling the barracks. Effort never went unrewarded¡ªit would save lives someday. Thanks to that... "Please spar with me!" More soldiers started seeking him out. This had happened before, but now, Enkrid welcomed it warmly. The only difference this time was... Thunk. Whack. The fights ended in one or two moves. What was the point if the fight wasn''t even competitive? Gaps in their stances were too obvious, and Enkrid''s body moved instinctively to exploit them. A newly acquired style based on "orthodox swordsmanship" allowed him to: Step left, pulling his body out of reach while swinging his blade to the right. Create a blind spot in his opponent''s vision. Humans instinctively feel uneasy when something is out of sight. They naturally adjust their position to eliminate that blind spot. And in that moment of adjustment¡ªstrike. It was only two movements, but it worked repeatedly, even against the border guards. "You''ve changed." Though the training sword''s tip was dull, taking a direct hit to the solar plexus left Torres clutching his stomach. He muttered under his breath. No, this wasn''t just a change. Enkrid was starting to feel like a proper knight¡ªor close to it. How did his skills improve so dramatically? Even in the Border Guard, where the limits of human capability were constantly tested, this level of progress was rare. Torres was one of the guards and had observed Enkrid''s journey closely. "This guy... he might actually become a knight." There was a time when the idea of Enkrid becoming a knight would''ve been dismissed as delusional¡ªa faded, ridiculed dream. But now, even to others, that dream no longer seemed so impossible. "Should I start adding ''sir'' when I address you? Or do you still prefer just ''soldier''? Torres?" "What?" "I''m only an acting commander," Enkrid said, pointing his thumb at himself. "...Commander, sir." "Just kidding." "You jerk." Torres smirked as he spoke. Rank was rank, but relationships were relationships. There was no need for Enkrid to maintain a strict superior-subordinate dynamic with Torres or Venzence. They weren''t his direct reports. The chain of command in the Border Guard''s standing army was relatively loose. In the capital garrison, a mistake in recognizing rank might earn you a beating, but that was their problem. This was the Border Guard. "You''re starting to remind me of the 4th Company Commander." Torres''s comment made Enkrid pause. The fairy''s humor? Sigh. "Anyway, I''m off." Even after Torres left, more Border Guard soldiers approached Enkrid for sparring matches. Enkrid found no reason to refuse. His days followed a steady routine: Mornings were spent practicing isolation techniques and swordsmanship. After lunch, someone inevitably asked, "Care for a round?" Rem would often be the first to challenge him. Still formidable as ever. When Rem activated his Heart of Strength, Enkrid felt he could keep up¡ªbarely. "If I overdo it, I won''t make it through the afternoon training." Enkrid had already paid the price for overexerting himself a few times. He learned to pace himself. This was training, not a life-or-death battle. Rem adjusted his efforts, too. He wasn''t looking to smash heads like he might in a real fight. After sparring with Rem, familiar faces began to appear one by one. "Take a look at my technique?" Vengeance also showed up occasionally, clearly asking for formal guidance. Enkrid, believing in the philosophy of "teaching is learning," always obliged. "But about that title..." Enkrid couldn''t resist adding a joke. "You''re starting to sound like the fairy commander," Vengeance quipped back. Hearing the same comment Torres had made earlier, Enkrid frowned slightly. "This is... oddly annoying." For days on end, the weather had been perfect. Other than a brief dawn drizzle on the third day after their return, it was nothing but sunny skies. "Beautiful weather. Perfect for training," Enkrid muttered, enjoying the morning sunlight. Rem, overhearing him, asked from behind, "Didn''t you say the same thing on a rainy day? Is there ever a bad day for training in your book, Commander?" Enkrid thought for a moment before answering. "Nope." "...Maybe if you get hit on the head a few more times, you''ll go back to normal. Don''t give up, Commander. You can be a normal person!" Rem declared this with exaggerated fervor. "Wipe the crust from your eyes before you start preaching," Enkrid snapped back, carrying on with his usual day. The next day, it rained, but the schedule didn''t change. It was as if yesterday had been copied and pasted into today. Many eyes in the barracks watched it all unfold. They''d grown used to it by now. Rain or shine, this was who he was. Enkrid had gotten stronger, had changed, and had even become a company commander, but fundamentally, he was still Enkrid. Fifteen days had passed since their return. On one of those sunny afternoons, after their sparring match, Rem sat on the ground, wiping sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. "That apple cider was good," Rem said casually. The words caught Enkrid''s ear. Why do I feel like there''s more to that statement? Enkrid''s instincts¡ªor maybe his intuition¡ªtold him Rem was hinting at something. Rem? Being roundabout? This was rare enough that Enkrid decided to wait silently for him to continue. "Got any left? Sneak me some," Rem eventually asked. "None left." Enkrid didn''t need to check; he knew only his personal stash¡ªreserved for emergencies¡ªremained. Rem had guzzled down his share instead of sipping it like everyone else. Even Ragna, who rarely complimented anything, had praised that cider. Everyone had enjoyed it. Jaxen had taken a couple of sips, and Audin had taken about five. Still, Rem had now been indirect twice. Something was definitely up. "Did you kill someone?" Enkrid asked bluntly. "What?" "I''m asking if you killed some officer while I wasn''t looking." If that were the case, the situation might be manageable¡ªif it hadn''t been discovered yet, then it was well-hidden. Handling the aftermath would be the real challenge. "What nonsense are you spouting?" So... not murder. "Did you beat someone up? Cripple them?" That''d be bad, but not as bad as murder. Hopefully, not to the point of crippling them. "Not the 1st Company, right?" When Enkrid pressed further, Rem finally muttered, "...I have to ask¡ªwhat exactly do you think of me?" *A mad dog that snaps if you prod it the wrong way. A lunatic who''ll pummel anyone who pisses him off, regardless of rank. A sadist who bullies subordinates for fun and torments those he likes twice as much.* "That look¡ªdamn, I think you just broke me. I''ve never seen anyone look at me like that before," Rem grumbled, feigning a dramatic injury. First time? That''s surprising. Enkrid had only half-suspected his words were true¡ªit was mostly a joke. After bantering a bit more, they went to lunch. During that brief lull, Rem finally spoke up. "Well... as long as you didn''t kill or beat anyone, it''s fine," Enkrid said. Rem sighed, looking up at the sky before speaking. He was sitting beneath a tree about five paces away from Enkrid. The tree had been planted by Marcus, their battalion commander. "Too bleak without some shade on the training grounds," Marcus had remarked. From the shade of that tree, Rem began: "When I was young, my father taught me how to use a spear. It was... fun." Where''s this going? The words of that cursed sword''s spirit came to mind¡ªfamilies, swordsmanship, bloodlines, unfulfilled aspirations... Those chains that bound it to the earth. Could Rem have his own chains? Humans, after all, tend to be tethered to something. Dreams, status, power, or even money. "I learned to hunt. That was fun too." What''s with this guy? "And I learned the sword. That was fun too." Should Enkrid teach him how to talk properly? He had no trouble taunting or teasing people, yet now he was fumbling awkwardly. Moments like these made Rem seem more vulnerable than even Ragna. Indeed, the remaining members of the company all acted similarly when they spoke about him. They stuttered, stumbled, and seemed unsure, except when discussing swordsmanship¡ªthen they spoke with remarkable clarity. Enkrid didn''t know everything about them, but bits and pieces of their stories had trickled through over time. For example, Rem was from the West, and Ragna was from the North. This latest story from Rem, however, was something new. His delivery might have been clumsy, but the content was worth listening to. "Around that time, the Western War broke out," Rem said, his tone subdued. "It wasn''t pretty, but what could you do? When someone comes at you to kill, you can''t just hand them your neck." Wars were still raging across the continent. Even now, Naurilia had escalated its conflict with Aspen to seize the Greenpearl Plains. That would eventually go down in history as the Greenpearl Plains War or something similar. The Western War Rem mentioned, however, had been particularly gruesome. Dozens of pioneer villages each proclaimed their own king. Some called it the Western War, while others referred to it as the War for the Throne. In the end, one tribe emerged victorious, but it was a pyrrhic victory that left the West desolate and ruined. The Empire later absorbed the region, citing its devastation as justification. "Back then, I used the sword. That was fun too," Rem added, catching Enkrid''s skeptical look. "What''s with that stare?" Damn genius. Apparently, every weapon he picked up was fun. Piecing together what he''d heard, Enkrid surmised that Rem had been active during the Western War. Given his current age... "That would''ve been when you were around fifteen?" "Yeah, about that." Fifteen... and I? What was I doing then? Enkrid tried to recall. Was that when he''d been desperately trying to leave his village? Or still believing he had some hidden talent? That was back when he thought time was fair, that effort alone would suffice. Time isn''t fair. Listening to Rem now made that glaringly obvious. For those with talent, time flows differently¡ªit works more in their favor. "So, there''s something I want to ask," Rem began, breaking the silence. His words were disjointed and lacked context. There was no lead-up, and though it wasn''t his intention, it came across as a mix of humblebragging and rambling about war¡ªsomething about killing a bear-like guy from a neighboring tribe. How should I know who that was? At the end of all this, however, came his question: "Do you really think you''ll become a knight?" The question seemed to come out of nowhere. Yet, Enkrid wasn''t surprised at all. Perhaps it was because he''d asked himself the same question so many times before. Can I? Is it possible? What does it even mean to be a knight? These questions had plagued him constantly. But answers never came. So, he''d simply taken one step forward at a time¡ªbecause that was the only path available to him. Rain or snow, under a blazing sun, or even while marching toward a mission that might end in death, he just kept going. Calling him tenacious wouldn''t even begin to capture it. "Yeah." His answer was devoid of hesitation. Enkrid''s tone was calm, as it always was. His response was as unremarkable as his demeanor. But to Rem, it was refreshing, almost startling. "And do you think you''ll actually make it?" "Who knows?" It was the plain truth. No one knows the future. Even prophets were dubious at best. "That so?" "Yeah." "Alright, then." "Alright." A few trivial words passed between them. Life went on as usual¡ªeating, resting, sparring. Rem didn''t bring up the question again. He seemed nonchalant, though what he truly felt inside was anyone''s guess. Deep down, though, Rem was still pondering. If he truly becomes a knight, if it really happens... Should I go back to retrieve what I left behind? It was a heavy thought, weighing on Rem''s mind. What he had left behind when he departed from his homeland¡ªretrieving it might not make him a knight by the continent''s standards, but it would elevate him to a knight''s caliber. The continent''s sticklers narrowed the path to knighthood into a singular, rigid route, but Rem thought differently. In the West, they didn''t use the term "knight." They spoke of heroes¡ªpioneers of the continent, a term rooted in ancient legends. Rem had once been the foremost candidate to be the next hero. Once. After a brief moment of contemplation, his thoughts flitting back and forth, Rem made his decision. Watching Enkrid tirelessly swing his sword day and night, Rem resolved. "Then I''ll become a knight too," he declared casually. It was the kind of remark that Enkrid would normally twist and tease mercilessly. Something along the lines of: "Really? Why bother?" "You can''t become a knight just by knocking out your superior officers." "Is your head alright?" But instead: "Really?" Enkrid''s response was calm, straightforward. What came next was even more typical of him: "Sparring?" For some reason, that simplicity delighted Rem. Truly, what an unshakable man. Even in his demeanor and his words, there was a faint glimmer of respect. That warmed Rem more than he expected. *** Meanwhile, outside the city walls. A figure shrouded in a black hood gazed up at the Border Guard''s fortress. Tall. Tall enough that even an average monster would find it hard to scale. But. What about a high-tier beast? And then. "Temporary alliance," came a raspy voice, issuing from a dark blade at his side. The aura emanating from the weapon felt like the breath of thieves, a suffocating presence. It was enough. Enough to create chaos. Chapter 188 - Even Without Showing It Chapter 188 - 188 - Even Without Showing It "Even as a band of thieves, we cannot underestimate the Black Blades'' strength. If we involve them, Martai will back down immediately." Martai was the name of a city in Naurilia, known for its complicated history. At times, it was a fief under the Eastern Mercenary King, and at others, it fell under Naurilia''s domain. This made it a city of mixed heritages, though it was currently Naurilian territory ruled by a self-proclaimed "general." Half Naurilian, half Eastern city¡ªsuch was Martai''s identity. Martai had recently declared what was essentially a threat of war against Border Guard, which is why this topic was being discussed. The speaker was one of Border Guard''s nobles. Border Guard had several nobles. While their authority was far from matching that of central nobles, they weren''t insignificant figures. These individuals held considerable influence over the city of Border Guard. For instance, the man in front of Marcus was one such noble. What was his name again? Marcus didn''t even bother remembering his name. "Just another noble who pockets gold from the Black Blades." That''s how Marcus remembered him. He considered the man to be little more than a member of the Black Blades thieves. Frankly, he wanted to cut him down¡ªlop off his head and be done with it. But the Fairy Company Commander was, officially, his subordinate. Except, she didn''t feel like one. There was always the sense that any action taken would come with consequences. Marcus trusted his instincts. For various reasons, he couldn''t simply cut down the man in front of him. Besides, Marcus wasn''t the sort to solve everything with violence. He wasn''t some brute who saw his sword as the only solution. More importantly, with a little thought, it seemed this man wouldn''t be too difficult to deal with. Short-sighted fools were always easy to bait. "Martai''s advance is troubling, but we''ll focus on defense," Marcus said firmly. The noble affiliated with the Black Blades pursed his lips but said nothing more. Had he pushed further, Marcus might not have been able to restrain himself. "Well, maybe not to that extent." Still, Marcus could convey his feelings. After all, he was nicknamed the "War Maniac" for a reason. That image, that moniker, had been carefully cultivated. Marcus stared at the noble with a blank expression. To some, it looked like a glare; to others, merely a gaze. But the effect was undeniable. The noble fell silent under the deadly, indifferent eyes of the War Maniac. With that, Marcus moved on. "Next agenda?" It was a regular meeting. Border Guard was a military and fortress city. Even though they had recently driven out Aspen, there was no shortage of tasks. For example, from the south, there were reports of a significant group of monsters moving northward. This was due to certain southern nobles mishandling the monster threat and exacerbating the issue. Leaving that group of monsters unchecked would lead to problems. It was a matter that required attention. The fact that the southern monster disturbances were impacting the northern Border Guard was, frankly, a pain. "Damn nobles." Nobles cared only for their land and wealth. It was because of people like them that such problems arose. The noble in front of him was no different. Marcus could hardly stand the sight of him. Thinking about these things constantly was sure to shorten his lifespan. Thus, Marcus deliberately shifted his train of thought. His thoughts wandered to Enkrid. While the noble before him wasn''t worth remembering, Enkrid was unforgettable. "Facing a gnoll horde to save a frontier village?" What a story. Truly something to admire. He had reportedly slain a thousand gnolls on his own. While the story was likely exaggerated, one thing was certain: Enkrid had grown stronger. Even the commander of the 4th Company had vouched for it. "In real combat, no one could confidently claim victory over him." Marcus had a vague sense of the Fairy Commander''s abilities. She was far superior to most well-known warriors. Her exploits on the battlefield were proof enough. If such a figure recognized Enkrid, that said a lot. "Once, he was a mere amateur, obsessed with brute-force training." There had even been rumors calling him a lucky soldier. What nonsense. It wasn''t luck¡ªit was skill. And he had the character to match. Even Without Showing It Even if it didn''t show outwardly, Marcus could tell by Enkrid''s attitude and the results of his actions. What struck Marcus the most, though, was the image of Enkrid when he spoke of his dreams¡ªbattlefields, swords, and something radiant. Could he truly become a knight? Marcus, who had seen countless people over the years, could rationally conclude: It was impossible. But if he had to speak from what he saw and felt in Enkrid as a person? "I''m not sure if he can, but I hope he does." Day or night, it didn''t change. Seasons shifted, but it was the same. Enkrid was constant, living every day as if it were the same as the last¡ªa man who approached life one step at a time. That consistency made Marcus want to help him along his path. Thinking that, a gentle smile appeared on Marcus''s face. The noble from the Black Blades, watching this, abruptly spoke again. "Appointing him directly as a company commander without a proper formation is reckless, don''t you think? Even if he has proven himself on a mission, the rumors of exaggeration are widespread..." He was referring to Enkrid''s appointment. At those words, Marcus''s previously composed and intimidating expression shifted. His brow furrowed, and the corners of his lips turned downward in a scowl. "Enough. It''s my decision. If you don''t like it, then you can take over as battalion commander." While Marcus had left room for discussion regarding involving the Black Blades, there was no leniency when it came to Enkrid''s name. His stance was clear¡ªhe wouldn''t entertain any objections or differing opinions. It was evident that anyone challenging him here would face Marcus''s sword. The Black Blades noble found this infuriating. But killing Marcus wasn''t an option. "Damn bastard," he thought bitterly. And with that, all his anger turned toward Enkrid. To receive cheers, trust, and admiration from some inevitably meant drawing hatred from others. The Black Blades noble, one of the key power players in Border Guard, was among those who hated Enkrid. He despised him without reason, so much so that the thought of killing him crossed his mind. After the Meeting When the meeting ended and the nobles left, the Fairy Company Commander gazed at Marcus and spoke. "Who gave you the nickname ''War Maniac''?" The Fairy was perceptive, and Marcus didn''t bother denying it. "I did." "Clever of you." "I''ll take it as a compliment." It was exactly that. Marcus wasn''t someone who loved war or relished in fighting. He merely crafted that image for appearances. Why? It excused him from getting too involved in central politics and made it easier to lower his enemies'' guard. In reality, Marcus wasn''t particularly exceptional at leading wars. He could deploy armies when necessary, but his true talents lay elsewhere. For instance, his discerning palate for finding fine wines. "Why don''t you joke around with me like you do with Enkrid?" The banter between Enkrid and the Fairy Company Commander was well-known within the garrison. "I dislike jokes," she replied before turning to leave. After pondering her words for a moment, Marcus let out a dry laugh. "Tch, Fairy humor. How difficult." Of course, it was Fairy humor. She loved jokes, after all. The Black Blades noble''s name Vancento. Vancento grew up in a monster-bordering region heavily influenced by the Wastes. Food was always scarce there. To young Vancento, everything was to be taken, not bought. That was his reality. A loaf of bread was equal to a human life¡ªsometimes even more valuable. After surviving a brutal childhood, Vancento eventually made his way to a city. With some luck, he managed to establish a small trading company. While the company grew through blood, blades, fists, and threats, it encountered no major obstacles. Around that time, Vancento made connections with the Black Blades. Their immense power became the backbone of his expansion. After ten years in the trade, he sold his company, amassed a fortune, and bought a noble title. Like his childhood, his life was built by taking and taking more. Now, Vancento''s target was the city of Border Guard. More specifically, he aimed to seize it using the Black Blades'' strength. Lacking noble bloodline and holding a purchased title, he knew his limits. Thus, he dreamed of achieving something greater than his title¡ªa city. Vancento envisioned a future where the Black Blades ruled the land, and he was its master. Becoming the mayor or lord of Border Guard sounded appealing. "Once that happens, I''ll deal with that Fairy woman first." The Fairy Commander of the 4th Company always caught his attention. "Should I kill Marcus or that thunderous fool first?" "Not Marcus." \"If he dies here, it''ll draw attention from the Central Authority. That''s something we don''t want." "Just get rid of that Enkrid fellow," Vancento said. His bodyguard and member of the Black Blades nodded in agreement. The bodyguard, who also couldn''t stand Enkrid, silently thought: "Propping up a nobody like that, huh?" It was a common illusion, after all. Sparring? That was something easily accomplished with coordination among squadmates. The stories circulating about Enkrid were flimsy at best. Taking down a thousand gnolls? Ridiculous. What was he supposed to be, a quasi-knight? Or maybe even a knight from an order? The bodyguard had seen Enkrid''s skills in person a few months ago during training at the garrison. "He''s decent," he admitted. But better than him? No way. Narrow-minded people often mistake their limited perspective for the whole truth. Though Enkrid had changed tremendously since then, the bodyguard refused to see it, dismissing him as a pretentious nobody and leaving it at that. "Well, as for those squadmates of his..." They were impressive. Remarkably so. Taking on two of them at once would be a struggle even for him. Why such skilled individuals were causing a ruckus in a frontier fortress city was beyond him. Regardless, the plan was steadily progressing. The Black Blades would begin building their kingdom here. It would start small but grow steadily. Eventually, Naurellia would fall, replaced by the Black Blade Kingdom. Lost in his own ambitious dreams, the bodyguard released a pigeon. The bird would deliver a message. Even for something as minor as removing an eyesore like Enkrid, the Black Blades wouldn''t waste resources. They were meticulous. Of course, there were likely larger objectives beyond killing one man. The Black Blades'' Assault Team In response to contact from inside the city, the Black Blades sent ten fighters. Each was exceptionally skilled. Their leader, Dunbakel, was once a renowned mercenary. A beastkin with a delicate appearance, Dunbakel wielded her scimitar with a balance of grace and destruction. Her abilities earned her the title of a "city-level powerhouse," meaning her skill was enough to leave a mark on an entire city. The nine others accompanying her were nearly on par with her. "Pressure them? Scare them a bit? Sure," Dunbakel said, nodding. Paid to do a job, she would see it through. They were just about to enter Border Guard when Dunbakel''s nose twitched. A pungent blend of acrid and sour smells mixed with the rank odor of decay. The stench of a beast¡ªor perhaps a monster. There was also the faint scent of a human. Dunbakel''s head snapped toward the source. A man in a black robe stood there, accompanied by a beast with menacing eyes glinting ominously. "And who are you?" Dunbakel immediately took a battle stance, and the stranger mirrored her. One of the more observant Black Blades assessed the situation and commented: "Doesn''t seem like they''re here for us." Coincidentally, both parties were targeting Border Guard. On one side was the Black Blades'' raiding party. On the other, an assassin from the Sacred Ground Cult of the Wastes. The cult had already sent skilled assassins to Border Guard multiple times, but none had returned. Something was happening in that city. Their mission was twofold: investigate and wreak havoc. "Where are you from?" asked the cultist, a monk trained in the cult''s techniques¡ªformidable and difficult to handle. One of Dunbakel''s sharper subordinates answered, "Black Blades." "And your purpose?" Dunbakel found the cultist''s audacity grating and was ready to lunge, but a subordinate grabbed her arm. Why? Dunbakel''s eyes asked the question. What''s stopping me from cutting down this arrogant monk? The subordinate shook his head, signaling restraint. She almost yanked her arm free but held back. After all, she was more of a mercenary in this scenario. Though a leader, her position was due to her strength, not authority. Another subordinate at the back of the group darted their eyes around before speaking up. "It might even be a good opportunity," one of Dunbakel''s subordinates commented. "Do as you please," she replied indifferently, folding her arms and turning away. Her disinterest left the cultist and one of the Black Blade rogues to negotiate freely. "Then we''ll each take what benefits us," the rogue proposed. "Our objectives are aligned, after all," the cultist agreed. Though wary of each other, they decided to cooperate for now. "I''ll begin," the cultist said, a twisted grin spreading across his face as he reached out to stroke the mane of his beast. A guttural growl, deep and haunting, emanated from the creature. The sound was reminiscent of a hellhound, something straight out of nightmares. And indeed, it might as well have been. The creature, a manticore, was terrifying to behold. Its three rows of jagged teeth gleamed under the moonlight, its scorpion-like tail swayed menacingly, and its lion-like body was corded with muscle. Its eyes, narrow slits of gleaming yellow, radiated malevolence. Each claw was a knife honed to a deadly edge. Manticores were apex monsters, capable of decimating an entire company of soldiers on their own. "Go. Feast to your heart''s content," the cultist ordered. The manticore lunged forward with terrifying speed, its claws pounding against the ground. In a single leap, it scaled the fortress wall, bypassing the gate entirely. Its roar echoed across the night, chilling all who heard it. Perched atop the wall, bathed in moonlight, the manticore radiated an aura of fear. And in its path stood¡ª "A bear?" Dunbakel squinted, straining her eyes to make sense of the figure confronting the beast. It was too far to discern clearly, and the dim moonlight offered only vague impressions. But something¡ªor someone¡ªwas there. Dunbakel''s Calculations As a mercenary, Dunbakel knew the risks of engaging recklessly. Killing a nobleman in public would mean being branded a murderer, even if it were justified in private. "Better to deal with him discreetly," she mused. But even that wouldn''t be easy. The noble''s guards looked far from ordinary. Their stance and demeanor marked them as formidable fighters. "Perhaps I could manipulate the Fourth Company Commander," she thought, her mind drifting to the elf. Elves were natural assassins, after all, their sharp senses and stealth unmatched. "That elf could probably sever a head like that with ease," she reasoned. But the idea came with its own risks. Involving the elf might complicate things further. "Still," she murmured to herself, "a step at a time." For now, she focused her attention on the unfolding chaos ahead. Chapter 189 - This bastard, let’s give him a beating! Chapter 189 - 189 - This bastard, let¡¯s give him a beating! "That''s a good sword," the blacksmith commented as Enkrid chose his blade. "I''ll take this too," he added, picking out a plate armor piece, a riveted side guard for his torso. It was simple but effective¡ªeasy to wear without hindrance, though he''d need to find proper shoulder guards to complete the set. Enkrid''s eyes scanned the blacksmith''s shop, noting the pile of scrap metal in the corner. There were two more forges inside the Border Guard, but this one had the best craftsmanship. While there was no special blacksmith for the lord of the area, the forges in the guardhouse supplied the weapons for the barracks, where the soldiers trained. As the war wound down, it was time to stock up on weapons, and the scrap metal would soon be turned into spears, swords, and blunt weapons. The blacksmith before him had been working hard, a little too hard perhaps. Enkrid didn''t have time for such details, but his concern for the smith''s efforts was clear. "Here," Enkrid said, flicking a gold coin toward the blacksmith, followed by a few more. "That''s a lot," the blacksmith remarked, eyeing the pile. "Buy some flowers for your wife, with the leftovers," Enkrid added, his voice casual. The blacksmith stared at him with a vacant look in his eyes, his face drawn and tired, not particularly moved. Recently, Krona had been flowing freely in their hands , and Enkrid wasn''t one to be stingy with it. Krais had once pointed out that Enkrid''s greatest flaw was his disregard for finances, though in truth, within their unit, only Krais seemed to be overly concerned with money. Even Finn wasn''t one to hoard her wealth. Esther, being a leopard, didn''t even have such concepts. "But should I even consider Esther part of the unit?" Enkrid thought, though the leopard had certainly earned recognition for their contributions. He might not officially be in the ranks, but Ester was a valued ally. Enkrid thought about the others: Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxen. They too had no qualms about spending their Krona freely. Among them, Enkrid was the most extravagant, spending without hesitation, whether from bounty money or looted treasures. Even after leaving the blacksmith, his attitude remained the same. Clink. He tossed a gold coin into the air, where a rough hand swiftly snatched it from the air. It was John, the leatherworker. John was good at his craft, so much so that some traveling merchants would come specifically to buy his wares. His leatherwork was no mere trade skill; it was artistry, surpassing the level of an average craftsman. This time, Enkrid bought leather bracers, armguards that covered from wrist to elbow. They were crafted from rare materials, soft yet durable, and the craftsmanship was evident in the details¡ªthe smooth black leather, carefully pulled together with the same material''s straps. "They''ve been oiled three times," John added, nodding in pride. "Made from monster hide." Enkrid gave a small chuckle at the price. One more coin, and the deal was done. "Good," Enkrid agreed. John was known for charging a fair price, always receiving what was just for his work, never overcharging. Afterward, he moved on through the marketplace. He was greeted by a cobbler, a familiar face from when Enkrid had first unlocked the Sixth Sense. The cobbler offered him a pair of boots, their soles thickened and reinforced with hardened shells for added durability. "They''re not perfect," the cobbler shrugged, "but I didn''t want to sell them." "Why''s that?" Enkrid asked, curious. "My father... he just wants to give them to you," the cobbler''s daughter replied with a soft, radiant smile. Enkrid flicked another gold coin toward the girl. Clink! "That''s too much," she exclaimed, her eyes wide. "Take what''s left and use it as you need," Enkrid said nonchalantly as he continued on his way. He also received a generous portion of seasoned jerky and a couple of bottles of wine along the way. The wine wasn''t bad, though he did wonder about the charcoal they had insisted on giving him. "Good charcoal," they assured him. With bags full and the mood lightened, Enkrid continued forward, his thoughts already turning to the next task at hand. "Should I make some charcoal grilled food or something with this?" Enkrid muttered, chuckling to himself. "People sure are interesting." It seemed like the power of their Guild was starting to show in the city. The darker, stained parts of the area had been erased to a degree, though not all stains could be removed. For example... "Peasant, get lost." A noble¡ªone of those types. Enkrid had crossed paths with a nobleman flanked by guards. The noble looked Enkrid up and down, his lip curling into a deliberate sneer. "Playing at being a company commander, huh? I don''t know what kind of tricks you''ve pulled with Marcus, but it was a mistake," the noble said condescendingly. If it were Rem, Enkrid thought, that guy would have his skull split in half with an axe the moment he spoke those words. No, at the very least, Rem would''ve thrown a punch as soon as he said "get lost." Enkrid could only hope that Rem never encountered a guy like this. The noble''s face looked like he was born to be scummy¡ªhis slanted eyes and thin lips spoke of a life lived with petty, scheming motives. Though looks don''t always reveal the truth, this noble seemed the sort who lived exactly how his appearance suggested. There were plenty of rumors to back it up. "Even Luagarne might cringe at his face," Enkrid thought to himself. Luagarne, the particular species of the Frogs, was known for being picky about appearance¡ªespecially human appearances. It was amusing to think that one of them had once fallen for him. "Pfft." The noble sneered one last time, walking away with his guards. He must have had business in the market, heading toward the city gates. This wasn''t new for Enkrid; the noble had always had a disdainful attitude toward him. So, Enkrid didn''t think much of it. However, a fruit merchant standing nearby muttered something under his breath. "Annoying bastard. He''s got a stink to him, he''ll end up dead soon." That was a creative curse. Enkrid didn''t quite remember the noble''s name, though he had heard it before. Not that it mattered. There was no need to know. The important thing was avoiding Rem crossing paths with him. "Wonder what that officer who beat someone up is doing now..." Enkrid mused as he walked back to the barracks. At that moment, Rem spoke up with a sudden thought. "Ever thought about getting someone like Andrew?" "Hmm?" "Lately, my ''hands'' feel a little rusty." It was a sign of Rem''s usual frustration, an indicator that his urges were not fully satisfied. "Want to spar?" Enkrid asked quickly, sensing the danger in the conversation. A spar with Rem was always intense, especially when he used his raw strength to its fullest. "I see you''ve got some good bracers," Rem commented as he noticed the new gear Enkrid was wearing, his sharp eyes spotting the quality of the equipment. "Not a bad sword either," Rem added, eyes narrowing. "I just picked it up," Enkrid replied casually. After their brief exchange, they finished the spar, though Enkrid felt the wear and tear of the battle in his body. It had been a rough session. "I think I''ll sleep well tonight," Rem remarked as he stretched, the tension in his body easing. He had been thinking about becoming a knight, but it seemed that now he had found peace with his situation. "Good night," Enkrid said as he turned in for the night. As evening set in, Audin approached, having finished his prayers. "Commander, do you want to go on a night patrol?" He smiled softly, his large frame still conveying a calm, gentle aura. Enkrid couldn''t help but think that if Audin were to decide to charm some women, he''d probably do quite well at it. It was no wonder that Krais wanted to bring him into his salon. "What if you became a priest who roams the night?" Enkrid teased, thinking of Krais''s subtle suggestions. But Audin just laughed, not giving a serious response. Perhaps he wasn''t interested in the idea, or maybe he was simply proposing a casual stroll in the night. "Sure, why not," Enkrid replied with a grin, wondering what Audin really had in mind. Enkrid had been exempted from regular duties ever since the company had become independent, making him feel somewhat out of place in the barracks. So, tonight''s patrol had felt more like a leisurely walk than an actual mission. Audin had something to say, and the night patrol served as the perfect excuse to spend some time together. Enkrid, on the other hand, had been thinking that it wouldn''t hurt to take on some semblance of duty for once. "There''s a saying in the scriptures: ''A day spent accumulating steadily is more important than one spent pushing oneself too hard,''" Audin began, his usual sermon tone filling the air. Enkrid knew Audin well enough by now. When it came to the scriptures and his faith, Audin could go on forever. Sometimes it felt like his words were never-ending, especially when discussing religion. "Is Finn alright with this?" Enkrid asked, curious. "You said you were trying to convert her." Audin, always earnest in his goals, responded casually, "I''m working on it. Trying to guide her." Enkrid raised an eyebrow. Was he really trying to implant his religious views in someone he was trying to bring down? It seemed strange, but it fit Audin''s personality. Still, it must be quite a hit to the pride of someone like Finn, no matter how bright and cheerful she appeared every day. "The point is," Audin continued, "it''s better to move at a steady pace than to overexert yourself, Commander." He even remembered to address Enkrid by his new title. Enkrid nodded. It made sense. Lately, he had been pushing himself, feeling as though he were running just out of reach of something. ''It feels like I''m on the verge of being caught, but not quite,'' he thought. He had been swinging his sword, using the heart of the beast, and all the while thinking that if he just took one more step, it would all come together. The impatience had crept in, though he hadn''t really overdone it on purpose. But when the heart grows restless, even the smallest things can make a difference. How he felt affected what he did, and that, in turn, shaped how he saw the world. Audin''s words were good advice. "Is that so?" Enkrid replied. "That''s what it means," Audin confirmed, smiling. Enkrid easily accepted the words and agreed with them, acknowledging their wisdom. His greatest strength was his ability to listen and take things in stride. However... ''Maybe I''ve lost my conscience,'' Enkrid mused, remembering his own past approach¡ªpushing through isolation to break limits every day. How hypocritical it seemed now that Audin was the one giving the advice. "I''m watching you closely, and what you''re doing isn''t overdoing it. It''s just right," Audin said, as if reading Enkrid''s thoughts. "I think I''ve gotten too good at reading your eyes," Enkrid replied with a smirk. "Seems I make it too easy," Audin teased, returning the smile. As they continued their patrol, a few soldiers nodded their greetings. "It''s just an unscheduled patrol. Don''t mind it," Enkrid waved them off, his tone casual. The city was peaceful tonight, and everything was safe within the walls. ''Did they say I should love this city?'' Enkrid thought as he gazed down from the gallery, overlooking the quiet streets below. The moonlight bathed the city in a gentle glow, and the sounds of summer insects filled the air. ''I''m not sure I love it, but...'' Enkrid mused. He wasn''t sure he could say he loved the city, but at the very least, he wouldn''t let those who depended on him suffer in silence. Not while he was around. "Protect the weak"¡ªthat was the first tenet of the knight''s code. Some might say it was an excuse to wield power, but Enkrid knew better. ''If you have strength and refuse to use it, you''re just a fool,'' he thought. His dream was not to be a reckless fool. The moonlight seemed to fuel his resolve. He didn''t believe he would suddenly become a knight overnight. There was still much to be done. His path was long. He still had things to learn, and time to digest what he already had. Even though he had recently taken up swordsmanship again, he couldn''t afford to neglect his previous skills. ''There''s still room for improvement,'' he told himself. Deep in thought, Enkrid''s ears suddenly perked up. "There''s something ahead," he murmured, sensing a shift in the air. Audin responded immediately. A sharp, acrid scent wafted through the air as something swiftly climbed up the wall, accompanied by a roar that sent shivers down one''s spine. "Grrrraaaahhh!" It was the cry of a beast¡ªno, a monster. The sheer force of it rattled the very core of anyone who heard it, shaking their resolve. "Wh-what is that...?" A soldier in front of them froze in place, paralyzed by the terrifying sound. Enkrid was about to move, but before he could even react, a figure darted across the moonlit sky. It was a bear¡ªswift and nimble despite its size. Audin. "Grrr!" Audin growled, taking on the massive monster head-on. It was a manticore¡ªan advanced beast, a hybrid of a scorpion''s tail, a lion''s head, and a body that screamed of deadly power. Its mere roar could paralyze its enemies, and the venom in its tail was enough to end lives in an instant. Fighting such a monster was a task that no ordinary soldier would dare face. The manticore wasn''t just any beast¡ªit was the stuff of nightmares, a true terror on the battlefield. But Audin? He stood before it, unshaken, as if the creature was no more threatening than a wild cat. "Meow," Audin said in a soft, almost teasing tone, as if chiding a kitten. "Making such a racket at night will wake the people up." To Enkrid''s surprise, the manticore responded to Audin''s words. It lowered its posture, almost submissively, as if the massive beast had been reduced to a frightened animal. Audin raised his hands, palms open and facing the creature. His posture was calm, deliberate, and confident. His thumbs pointed inward, signaling a subtle but powerful stance of control. Enkrid had no time to dwell on the scene for long. A soldier who had frozen in place earlier stood paralyzed, unable to break free from the manticore''s oppressive influence. Enkrid quickly grabbed the soldier by the nape and pulled him away. "Take a deep breath, exhale, and move slowly. Start from your fingertips and work your way up with controlled strength," Enkrid instructed in a low voice. "Yes, sir!" The soldier nodded, and with Enkrid''s guidance, he began to regain his composure. Meanwhile, Audin continued to face the beast with the same calm demeanor. The manticore, though a terrifying force, seemed to hesitate in its aggression, almost like a creature unsure of how to deal with Audin''s strange aura. On the gallery above, another soldier had taken hold of a whistle, ready to sound the alarm. Enkrid, however, gave him a sharp, warning look, signaling him to wait. "Hold on." Enkrid''s eyes made the message clear. Drawing attention prematurely could turn the manticore''s focus onto them. The soldier, rigid with fear, obeyed Enkrid''s unspoken command and remained still. The manticore made its move. With a sudden lunge, it tore through the air, its claws slashing toward Audin with a terrifying speed that only a top-tier monster could possess. Its movements were like a blur, as it landed with such force that the earth trembled beneath it. The creature''s afterimage hung in the air for a moment. Audin, with his remarkable agility, evaded the swipe, stepping aside just in time. Then, with a swift movement, he swung his left fist toward the manticore. ''Ah.'' Enkrid marveled at the perfect evasion followed by a flawless counterattack. It was the same principle Enkrid had recently learned in swordsmanship¡ªa fluid transition from defense to offense. "Step back and pull the opponent into your range. Twist your body to create space, then strike when the opening appears. It''s possible if you''ve anticipated the attack," he recalled, remembering Luagarne''s teachings. The moment Audin''s fist connected with the manticore''s skull, the sound of impact echoed like a drumbeat. Bang! The creature staggered back, its thick hide taking the brunt of the blow but still forcing it to reel. The manticore let out a pained roar, its fury and frustration clear. "Now, behave," Audin said in a calm, almost reproachful tone, as if scolding a misbehaving child. For all its fearsome appearance, the manticore was now a mere subject of Audin''s discipline. In that moment, the battle had shifted from a life-or-death struggle to something that almost seemed trivial¡ªlike a simple lesson, with Audin teaching the beast its place. The soldiers watched in awe as Audin calmly took charge of the situation. To them, the manticore was a nightmare incarnate, but to Audin, it was just another creature to be gently admonished. In a way, this scene¡ªAudin''s control, his understanding of beasts, and the calm with which he handled such danger¡ªwas just another day in the life of someone who saw the world through a different lens. Chapter 190 - Open it! Chapter 190 - 190 - Open it! "Krhh!" The manticores, struck, let out a beastly roar. It had pulled back, as if to retreat, but it suddenly charged again, slamming the ground with its heavy body. "Whooaa!" Its claws tore through the air. Audin quickly shifted his position, changing his stance as he swung his hand. With a precise strike, his palm hit the manticores'' cheek. The manticores'' front claws slashed through empty space, while Audin''s palm made contact almost simultaneously. It was a fast exchange of blows. Audin''s palm was a weapon in itself, but the manticores was an advanced monster. It took the blow, its head snapping to the side, but it mustered its strength and, despite the hit, swung its front claws again. "Krhh!" The manticores'' enraged roar split the air. "Ugh." The pressure from the high-level monster caused the group of soldiers to groan, overwhelmed by its presence. Then, the beast, whose cry had echoed through the surroundings, suddenly¡ª "Zzch!" "Where do you think you''re going?" Audin slapped the manticores again. This time, the blow was harder than before. Dark blue blood spilled from its mouth, and a drop of blood splattered on the ground. "Mm." "Ugh." "That''s... ugh." The soldiers muttered in astonishment. The sight was shocking. For a moment, the paralysis seemed to lift from them. Who would think that someone would slap a monster like that and leave it like this? Had the manticores'' pride been wounded? Ignoring the pain on its own face, the manticores lowered its body and, once more, charged forward. This time, it was faster than before, and its attack was more complex. As it swung its front claws, its tail lashed out behind it. The tail came down from above, like a lightning bolt. Audin''s movements blurred as he became just as fast, leaving an afterimage. "Whumm!" Once again, the front claws missed, and the scorpion-like tail stabbed through the air. During that moment, Audin simply and smoothly swung his hand again. "Slam!" What was that sound? Enkrid inwardly clicked his tongue. He had seen every move in the fight. Not a single moment was missed. At first, the combat resembled a form of swordsmanship, but now it had become nothing more than slapping the monster. The manticores had never encountered an opponent who exceeded its own physical capabilities and speed. ''If I were the manticore, I''d be bewildered too.'' The beast seemed to falter for a moment, its head shaking from the impact. But then, its eyes once again glinted with murderous intent. "A monster should act accordingly. The Holy Scriptures say that having a different faith and straying from the right path are two separate things." Aoudin muttered as he casually flicked his hand. The man, as large as a bear, continued to toy with the manticores. "Krhh!" The manticores charged again. "Zzch!" It was slapped once more. If it received a light blow, its head would simply twist to the side. But if the strike was stronger, its body would be knocked away. Thud, thud! Like a failed skipping stone, the manticore rolled across the gallery, and who would call that thing an advanced monster, a creature that fills soldiers with fear, the monster of all monsters? Audin, swinging his hand, was reminded of his old days. Monsters, beasts, cultists. Those were the kinds of things he had dealt with in his past. He had plenty of experience, especially with advanced monsters. The manticore''s face began to swell after being slapped repeatedly. A few of its teeth were knocked loose and scattered on the ground. Just when it seemed like he should feel pity for it, Enkrid sensed a small disturbance below. He heard a faint groan and saw the shadows shift. "It seems we have some guests below as well. I''ll go down first." Enkrid said. "Of course, brother." Audin grinned, turning his back on the manticore with a smile. Seeing this as an opening, the manticore charged once more. This time, it launched a triple attack. First came the front claws, followed by the tail, and finally, a snake-like tongue shot out. Audin twisted his body to dodge the front claws, flicked his hand to redirect the tail, and ignored the tongue as it wrapped around his neck. "The Lord said there are unforgiven sins," Aoudin murmured, swinging his hand while ignoring the tongue. Close-quarters combat always favored monsters or beasts. That was what the soldiers had learned by watching. So what were they witnessing now? Thwack! The sound of a slap rang louder than ever, and one side of the manticore''s face caved in. It was entirely from Audin''s palm. The watching soldiers felt an urgent need to relieve themselves. The monster was terrifying, the beast was terrifying, but right now, the scariest thing was that gentle-looking guy smiling like that. "Repent to the Lord, and cleanse yourself of the sins that cling to your body, I will suck and lick the tainted soul clean. Thus, beg for forgiveness, and beg again." His tone was compassionate. His smile was the same. But what about his hand? "I think I peed myself." A soldier next to his companion mumbled. Everyone watching had similar thoughts. Just before Enkrid descended, he tapped the soldier''s shoulder who had witnessed the manticore''s face caving in. "You smell like piss." Saying this, he descended down the gallery. He picked up speed, kicking the stairs with each step, and saw a soldier loitering by a small side door next to the lower gate. Though he didn''t recognize the soldier''s face, the uniform clearly marked him as part of the Border Guard''s reserve force. He saw the soldier''s hand reach for the latch of the side door. Next to the door, a soldier lay slumped against the wall. A dark red liquid oozed from the half-crushed body. Enkrid quickened his pace, approaching the soldier. The one at the latch hesitated and looked back. Enkrid ignored the soldier''s gaze and inspected the one on the ground. At a glance, he could tell the soldier''s skill level, and if the one behind decided to sneak an attack, it wouldn''t be a problem. This gave him room to be at ease. Upon further inspection of the soldier''s wounds¡ª "Not deep." It wasn''t fatal. The soldier might be able to walk, though it seemed unlikely given the extent of the wound. Of course, that was just Enkrid''s high standard. The soldier felt like he was dying. He had a hole in his stomach, so it would be strange if he didn''t feel that way. "Should be able to walk now, right?" Enkrid said, bending down and inspecting the soldier''s body. The soldier, who had been holding the latch, hesitated. Should he open the door now? Or maybe, just push it open? His indecision was understandable. The soldier knew Enkrid was the infamous commander of the Demonic Company. In the meantime, Enkrid helped the soldier up. "Ugh, it hurts! I got stabbed in the stomach! It hurts!" "You should be able to walk." "No, I can''t walk. If I die, tell my sister there''s a pouch under my bed..." "You''re not dying." Enkrid cut him off. The soldier was being overly dramatic. He had tried to die a hundred times before. Though the wound wasn''t something that could be fixed with a simple bandage, it wasn''t severe enough to bring death. Enkrid tore part of the soldier''s sleeve, roughly binding the wound to stop the bleeding. "Ugh!" As he pressed on the wound, the soldier''s eyes widened in pain, so Enkrid pushed him lightly against the wall to support his back. "If you can''t walk, you have a whistle, right? Yeah, that one. Watch carefully, and if something goes wrong, blow it." Enkrid said this and turned his body. The soldier, with one hand on the latch and the other holding a knife, hesitated. He was still unsure. The rumors about the Madmen Company''s commander had stopped his hand. Wasn''t he a hero of the battlefield? Though the recent incident in the gnoll Colony was unknown to him in detail, the commander''s previous reputation made him a dangerous person for sure. Even so, he couldn''t handle the ten Black Blade members waiting outside. It wasn''t something one person could face alone. Moreover, those waiting outside were all veterans accustomed to killing. It made sense. The Black Blade had come at the request of Vancento, and their mission was clear. In the past, real battles in this land had been fought by small elite forces. The threats and pressures they exerted came from their elite status. The fact that only ten had been sent made it clear how formidable they were. Of course, the Black Blade''s involvement would remain hidden. That was necessary. What if they argued that there were too few defenders after causing a disturbance? And if they added the intelligence that their neighboring threat, Marta, was on the verge of starting a city war? They would have no choice but to turn to the Black Blade for help. The kingdom''s central forces would have no reinforcements to spare, and the south would be busy dealing with the monsters there. The Black Blade was a band of thieves, but Marta was no different. They were a city built by Eastern mercenaries. Mercenaries had always been treated poorly, but Eastern mercenaries were especially looked down upon. It was like bringing in a tiger to deal with wolves, but they would be forced into such a situation. The preparations were underway. Vancento had even secretly turned a few insiders to his side. This was Vancento''s plan. The first step was to let in the men waiting outside, and this was the first move. "What are you doing?" The soldier, sweating coldly from his complex thoughts, or rather, the spy posing as a soldier, flinched at Enkrid''s question. His mission was to open the door. That would let the Black Blade warriors waiting outside inside. He had just plunged a knife into a soldier''s stomach and was about to open the door when Enkrid showed up. He wasn''t supposed to be assigned a patrol duty, so his sudden appearance was unexpected. The spy had been operating among the Border Guard for several months. He knew who Enkrid was. He swallowed hard and couldn''t move. If things went wrong, he would be dead in a second. The spy knew he couldn''t face Enkrid with his own strength. Opening the door wasn''t an act of self-sacrifice. ''I should have opened it and run earlier.'' His judgment had been delayed. He had doubted that Enkrid might be making him careless and missed his chance. His eyes darted around, searching for an escape. Enkrid casually glanced at him and quickly assessed the situation. Most importantly, he felt a presence outside. His keen senses, combined with intuition, told him. ''Open the door. Let the enemy in.'' What was the goal? A disturbance? Something else? He wouldn''t know until he met them. The soldier who had been stabbed didn''t seem to have a fatal wound. Enkrid quickly finished his thoughts and spoke. "Open it." The spy visibly panicked. His eyes blinked rapidly, and his hands shook. He was clearly startled. "...Eh?" "Open it." It was more of an instinctive command, but one based on Enkrid''s accumulated experience and sharp senses. Those waiting outside would find another way in if he didn''t open the door now. Chasing them later would only be more troublesome. The alarm would ring, and if they wanted chaos, they might act that way. For now, things were quiet. It was just a situation that arose during the patrol, and a proper response could handle it. If needed, he could always blow the whistle. This was the Border Guard, and Enkrid had come with Aoudin. What would happen if the whistle sounded? ''Would Rem get excited and rush out?'' He seemed particularly frustrated lately. But more than anything, Enkrid felt confident. Whoever or whatever the opponent was, he was quite sure he could endure. Was it just misplaced confidence? No, it was the confidence gained from dodging and dancing with hundreds of gnolls. "...Eh?" The repeated sound of confusion. The spy was thoroughly flustered. Enkrid took a bold step forward, moving with such confidence that his opponent couldn''t even react. The spy reflexively raised the latch, then shoved the door open, leaping to the opposite side. As he pushed, the small door was forced open, and the spy made a run for it. He tried to turn and escape, but¡ª Enkrid''s hand swiped through the air. It seemed like a meaningless gesture. At least, that''s how it appeared to the spy, but a throwing knife shot through the air, embedding itself in the back of his thigh. "Ah!" A short scream. This level of noise would surely attract the attention of nearby guards. Beyond the slightly ajar door, a pair of eyes waited. The number of enemies wasn''t small, but it wasn''t an overwhelming army either. Enkrid stepped forward, unsheathing his sword and pushing it through the opening. With a quick thrust of his sword, the enemies in front stepped back, and in that brief moment, Enkrid slipped through the door. Once outside, Enkrid counted the number of enemies with a glance. Ten of them. "...What a bunch of crazy bastards." One of them, cloaked entirely in black, spoke, his face partially visible in the moonlight. Enkrid didn''t recognize him. One of the group raised an eyebrow. At the back, there was a woman with hair so white it was almost unnatural. Her ears resembled those of a beast, indicating she was likely a beastkin. "So, you came out knowing we were waiting here, huh?" Enkrid shrugged. It was up to them to figure that out. "You''re a crazy bastard." The first one to speak. Swish. One of the figures in black drew a shortsword and lunged at Enkrid. The strike was lightning-fast, almost without any warning. The movement and the blade coming toward him were almost simultaneous. It was incredibly quick. The air, previously calm, was now sliced by the sharp blade. It was fast, but filled with killing intent. It was fast, but its trajectory was simple. Enkrid raised his sword from below to block the attack. Thud. With a swift move, he knocked the shortsword aside, then brought his sword down diagonally, taking a stance to strike again. The opponent moved his foot back to evade. Instead of striking, Enkrid spun his blade nonchalantly, drawing two arcs in the air. After adjusting the position of his sword, he quickly transitioned into a downward slash. This was one of the new sword techniques he had learned¡ªa spiraling slash. "Eh!" The surprised opponent raised his shortsword to block, but the difference in weapon weight was undeniable. Clang, crack! Enkrid used his strength to press down on the opponent''s blade, delivering a crushing blow. "Gurk!" The opposite side of the opponent''s shortsword stabbed into his chest. ''One down.'' With a simple motion, Enkrid reduced their numbers, then positioned his sword towards the hilt, preparing for the next move. "Let''s do this together. If we go one by one, we''ll die in order." The beastkin woman, who appeared to be their leader, spoke. Her tone was filled with evident tension. She clearly seemed to be a skilled fighter. Enkrid sized up his opponents. Then it occurred to him. ''I don''t have to hold back.'' In the past, he wouldn''t have acted so recklessly. He would have been calculating, searching for a way to survive first. But now? The presence of these opponents wasn''t something to take lightly. Did that mean he couldn''t win? He didn''t even consider that possibility, so Enkrid didn''t hesitate to take the next step. Chapter 191 - White Lion Chapter 191 - 191 - White Lion Audin literally toyed with the Manticore. It seemed as though he was simply slapping it. The Manticore, battered by the strikes, curled its tail and slowly retreated. Grrrrr. On the ground, the beast''s sharp teeth, fur, and dark blue blood were scattered. As the Manticore curled its tail, Audin still smiled benevolently and gave a subtle gesture with his hand. "It''s time to go. Brother Monster." His tone remained the same, but the meaning was different. It was a death sentence. The Manticore pulled one of its legs back, clearly frightened. It seemed like it was about to flee. Most of the watching soldiers thought so, but Audin didn''t. The Manticore was an upper-level monster, a very cunning one. After pulling back, it suddenly lunged forward with no warning, its strike silent and quick. Its claws shot out, and its tail crashed down from above. Audin had anticipated it. He knocked away the front paw and grabbed the tail, using the Manticore''s momentum to slam it into the ground. Boom! With a loud crash. The Manticore groaned in pain. It was an upper-level monster, capable of taking on a whole platoon of soldiers, but it was no match for Audin. As it was slammed into the ground, rocks flew in all directions. The startled soldiers had now turned into cheerleaders. "Well done!" "Whoo!" "Madman!" Among them, the term "madman" seemed fitting. Audin approached the Manticore and slapped its face a few more times. After tossing the beast around several times, he finally climbed onto its back, grabbed its neck, and with a swift motion, twisted it. The Manticore, resembling a snake with its long tongue, stuck it out. With its eyes rolling back, it exhaled a faint breath before collapsing. Its forehead hit the ground with a thud. The upper-level monster, who had been slapped mercilessly, was now nothing more than a high-priced corpse. From its teeth to its leather and innards, everything about it was valuable. "What the hell are you?" A voice filled with disbelief came from the opposite side where the soldiers were gathered. To Audin''s right, there was a group of soldiers, and the voice came from the left. "I didn''t think such a monster would come alone. Where are you from, brother?" Audin, backlit by the moon, stood up from the Manticore''s back. Following the direction of the voice, a heretic had appeared atop the gallery at the end of the castle wall. Audin had expected this. It was inevitable. Upper-level monsters were intelligent and cunning. A Manticore would never be foolish enough to attack a human-made castle. Especially after taking such a beating and still fighting? That didn''t make sense. If it was starving, it might charge, but even then, it had been given an opportunity to escape. Yet, it kept attacking. That meant someone was controlling it. Audin waited for that person to reveal themselves. That was why the fight had dragged on. As soon as he sensed the presence of the real enemy, he killed the Manticore. Now, it was no longer needed. "Bold!" The person shouting that had blue light flickering in his eyes. Audin recognized it. The mark of a heretic. He was a follower of the evil gods. "You are a brother who serves the heresy," Audin muttered quietly. During his days as an Inquisitor, he had hunted down heretics like this. The heretic, whose eyes shone a bright blue, raised his hand. As he did, the soldiers were too shocked to say anything. It was the perfect moment. Bang! Audin disappeared¡ªor at least, that''s what it looked like. His body was faster than the Manticore, closing the distance with incredible speed. Boom! With the sound of the ground shaking, a deafening noise rang out. To the soldiers'' eyes, they saw only a figure flying to the side, crashing into the wall. Suspended in the air, twitching, was now a lifeless body. "May the gods watch over you." Audin''s voice rang softly as he recited a prayer. The soldiers'' gazes turned toward the massive creature that had now come to a halt, its right fist extended in the air. The mad squad''s Audin. Now rumored to be part of an independent unit. Audin''s strike had been too fast for the soldiers to properly see. All that was left were the results. Audin lowered his hand, returning to his usual demeanor. The soldiers looked at the broken body that had been slammed into the gallery wall. The body was half-crushed, and what should have been there was now missing. The head was gone. "Where''s the head?" They didn''t know. All they knew was that the insane religious fanatic had erased someone from this earth with a single punch. The evidence was the blood splattered in a radial pattern across the gallery wall. "...I really shit myself." One soldier felt the terror rising within him, realizing he hadn''t truly seen what happened. How could someone like that exist? The Manticore and the heretic were dead. Most of the soldiers hadn''t properly grasped the situation. Fortunately, one squad leader who had arrived late on the gallery began to take control of the situation. "The ambush... ah, it''s dealt with. Seeing the commotion outside, I think more are coming, so everyone, head downstairs for support..." "There''s no need for that, brother." Audin, after his prayer, stared blankly at the wall beneath the castle. "Eh?" "It''s almost over." Audin saw his platoon leader, the one he had been training with. Though he had known him from their sparring sessions, seeing him in real combat was different. ''You''ve gotten stronger, Brother.'' The way he moved his body and wielded his sword now revealed something Audin hadn''t seen before¡ªconfidence and faith, things that had grown over time. If Audin had known him from the start, this would be a remarkable advancement. And that made Audin happy. What could he do? He had come to genuinely hope for his success. ''Is this your will, my Lord? Did you guide him?'' Though his Lord still gave no answer, Audin no longer needed one. He had come to a small realization here. It all started through Enkrid. ''Needing an answer might be a sign of my weakness. I will move forward without doubting or needing proof.'' There was a person who lived like that, following the words of the holy scriptures, never yielding to anything and overcoming any hardship. How could one not be pleased by watching such a person? Audin wished blessings upon Enkrid, who burned away his own life. But Enkrid didn''t wait for blessings¡ªhe earned them himself. And so now, Audin would pray for him, but he didn''t need to beg the gods. "Good." The squad leader blinked, clearly confused, looking at the bear-like figure. But, was it really okay to not go down? Distracted by the noise outside, he still moved his feet. When he went downstairs, he found soldiers with holes in their bellies and others bleeding heavily from their thighs. "That guy''s a spy." The soldier clutching his stomach spoke. He was pressing down on his wound with his own shirt to staunch the bleeding. The squad leader ordered the soldier who had followed him. "Keep him captured." The squad leader looked at the spy abandoned by Enkrid and then examined the open gate. From the castle walls, the fight had been hard to see. There, a lone figure in black was cutting through and stabbing enemies to death. It was a familiar face¡ªnone other than the infamous Mad Squad Leader. The Black Blade bandits were in disarray. Dunbakel, in particular, had never experienced anything like this. "A knight? No, a knight''s order member?" Dunbakel spoke, her hand on her scimitar. Was this opponent too much for them? Or had they just come unprepared? Five of the men who came with her were already dead. Two others had lost a leg. Even if a high-ranking priest came and poured divine power on them, they would still be crippled, limping for the rest of their lives. And, of course, that priest was not coming, and even if they did, no divine healing would be given. They were done for. At this point, it seemed like Dunbakel was about to die from blood loss. The opponent, still holding his sword, flipped it in his hands and gave a small nod. It was clear that this person wasn''t even acknowledging Dunbakel''s words. The calmness and leisure were evident. "What the hell are you?" Dunbakel asked in disbelief, but Enkrid just shrugged. He didn''t feel the need to explain his dream of becoming a knight or how he wasn''t one yet to someone who bore malice. Instead, Enkrid examined his sword. ''It cuts like a dream.'' He had aimed to slash at the thigh, but the thick leather pants were cleanly sliced open. The cutting ability was extraordinary. Was it because the blacksmith had sharpened it well, or was the sword itself just that great? Enkrid decided it was both. The balance, with the pommel in hand and the leather wrap around the hilt, felt perfect. Along with the sharpness, the strength of the blade impressed him greatly. Though it didn''t appear to be Valerisan steel, it was a high-quality weapon. This was the first time Enkrid had held such a fine sword. "Aren''t you coming?" Enkrid spoke lightly, almost to the wind. He wanted to use the sword more. Of course, he was also eager to try out the techniques he had honed. He had once dismissed Rem as overly frustrated, but now he realized, ''Am I the same?'' Somehow, he found himself eager for more combat. Dunbakel frowned at his opponent''s words. ''Where did this guy come from?'' The scent was different from the start. The keen nose of a beastman could sense the level of an opponent even before engaging in battle. To be precise, it was the realm of instinct that protected one''s life. Dunbakel had started to get a sense of the situation. ''This seems like my grave.'' So, should she run? She didn''t want to. Well, hadn''t she been living a life half-heartedly ready to die? In that case, closing the book of life at this point wouldn''t be so bad. He had come here to die in battle, so she had made his peace with it. Most importantly, the opponent who had stepped up to face her wasn''t bad at all. Both his appearance and skills were the kind of opponent Dunbakel liked. ''He''s overwelming.'' Thinking this, Dunbakel couldn''t help but let out a small laugh, one that didn''t quite fit the current situation. At the sound, the last remaining member of the Black Blade bandits shot a glare at him. From him came the unmistakable smell of fear¡ªlike the stench of urine. "Do you want to live?" Dunbakel asked the bandit he didn''t even know the name of. "What?" Was this crazy woman asking if he wanted to live? "Seems not." Before the bandit could respond, Dunbakel''s muscular fist slammed into his face. Thud! The heavy noise echoed. "Ugh!" The bandit''s legs flew up as he let out a strange, short final cry. With a single punch, Dunbakel''s fist had driven deep into the bandit''s right eye, causing it to pop out, spraying blood and shattered facial bones in every direction. The bandit, who had been keeping his eyes fixed on Enkrid in nervous tension, now had one side of his face caved in, and of course, he was dead. "Good resting place." Dunbakel muttered, still holding out his fist. She didn''t explain her actions. Instead, she revealed her true nature. "Hey, let''s fight properly." The moment Dunbakel spoke, her eyes changed. Her pupils elongated and split vertically, transforming into something more beastly. Growl. What was the difference between a werewolf and a beastman? It was in their appearance. Beastmen were originally humans with animal traits added. Because of that, they didn''t undergo transformations like this. Though sometimes they might experience a slight physical change, like longer teeth or sharper eyes, their human form never altered drastically. That was the norm for beastmen. But Dunbakel was different. With the beast''s blood surging through her body, something animalistic took over, and Dunbakel began to transform. Crack. Long white fur sprouted all over her body. Her facial bones cracked and shifted, becoming like those of a lion''s. Enkrid had seen beastmen in his life, but this... was different. Why was she transforming? Though it was a long explanation, she had changed almost instantly. "Monster?" Enkrid asked. Could this one speak? Her new form resembled something like a lycanthrope, but with a lion''s appearance¡ªespecially one with white fur and a very different aura from a werewolf. Honestly, Enkrid thought she resembled a mythical guardian of some celestial temple rather than a mere monster. At least, that''s how it felt to him, but the first word that came to his mind was still "monster." "Grarrr, I''ve been called that a lot." Dunbakel responded with a growl, as was often the case when she transformed. Enkrid felt a strange sensation in her aura, her attitude, and even her tone. It wasn''t that she was referring to a resting place for herself¡ªit almost seemed as if she was wishing for death. But that wasn''t the important thing. "Are you coming?" "Of course! Grrawr!" Without waiting for an answer, a massive white lion lunged toward him. Her left hand extended claws as she slashed with them, and with her other hand, she swung a scimitar that had appeared out of nowhere. Claws and blade intersected, targeting Enkrid''s chest and waist. Without missing a beat, Enkrid raised his sword, striking twice in quick succession. Both were slicing blows, each packed with powerful impact. In that moment, he activated his Heart of the Beast, using a technique that wouldn''t allow the enemy to bind him. It was a technique focused on overwhelming force. Clang! Thud! He deflected the claws and the scimitar with one powerful strike. However, the beastman didn''t retreat. She charged in, a relentless assault as if she had already accepted her death. Enkrid was momentarily stunned by the ferocity of the charge. They were now so close that the beastman, expecting her attack to be blocked, tilted her head back and prepared to slam her forehead into him. ''Valen-style mercenary sword?'' After the charge, a headbutt¡ªthis was a familiar move. Chapter 192 - Are you crying? Chapter 192 - 192 - Are you crying? Valen-style Mercenary Swordplay¡ªClose Combat Technique. Headbutt. Enkrid was startled. No, surprised¡ªbut not enough to fall for such a blow. His path thus far had been far too arduous for that. As his Sense of Evasion kicked in, his body moved on its own. He tilted his head aside to avoid the attack and immediately swept his leg out. With a sharp thud, his foot struck the white lion''s ankle, sending him tumbling forward. Right where he fell, Enkrid''s blade whistled past. Had the lion stayed in place, the sword would have surely left a mark somewhere on his body. Instead, his forward roll spared him. The beastkin''s reaction speed and judgment were remarkable. Enkrid, in turn, naturally increased his own pace. Step after step, he closed the distance, his blade swinging faster, and his reactions sharpening. The rhythm shifted entirely. This was Enkrid''s most notable recent development¡ªhis ability to elevate his tempo mid-fight. A diagonal slash, twice as swift as any he had delivered before, surged forth even from his twisted posture. Dunbakel clenched his teeth tightly. It was an angle from which escape seemed impossible. The beastkin raised her elbow. Crack! Thwack! Slash! She aimed to parry the blade''s edge with the bone of her elbow. But her opponent, keenly aware, adjusted the sword''s angle. What had been a downward blade quickly pivoted to a horizontal slash. As a result, Dunbakel''s elbow made contact not with the flat but the sharp edge. Even so, the beastkin''s reflexes¡ªunique to her kind¡ªremained intact. Despite a portion of her elbow being cut, she managed to deflect the strike. "You can do that?" The voice was low, sharp, and precise. Above all, it was close. Dunbakel had assumed that transforming into her beast form would grant her the endurance to hold out longer. How naive. The sword was already descending toward her head. To be honest, she couldn''t even comprehend how her opponent had closed the distance and swung so quickly. She barely managed to block, barely managed to evade. Pain surged through her as her arm muscles tore while she raised her scimitar to intercept. Though she had resigned herself to death, she refused to perish as anything less than a warrior. She wanted to meet her god¡ªthe god who dwelled in the sacred halls after death. "Kriemhalt." Dunbakel murmured her god''s name. The name of the deity all beastkin worshipped, the god of war and fertility, the sole divine figure in their belief. To embrace Kriemhalt''s glory meant to die a warrior''s death. If she perished as a warrior, she would become an eternal, indomitable force¡ªKriemhalt''s blade in the swirling chaos of eternity. Clang! Crackle! Sparkle! The scimitar clashed against the incoming blade, and sparks scattered as the weapons slid against one another. For an instant, the red sparks seemed to illuminate the night like embers against the pale moonlight. In that fleeting moment, Dunbakel made her move. She aimed for her opponent''s likely position using a Valen-style mercenary swordplay technique¡ªa deceptive kick to the ankle. The trick was in the diversion. While her gaze and weapon feigned an attack on her opponent, her real target was their balance. It was a calculated move, but her opponent thwarted it with ease. A simple shift of the foot. The blade pivoted downward, meeting the kick with the sole of their boot. And then the sword descended, this time aimed squarely at the nape of her neck. The cold touch against her skin made Dunbakel think of the end. "Will I be able to reach Kriemhalt''s side?" As death loomed, stray thoughts intruded. Why wouldn''t they? For someone who had lived trembling with resentment, regrets were bound to be abundant. Abandoned by her village, discarded by the city, and shunned by her own kind¡ªnone had easily accepted her. She had survived as an outcast, rejected by all. Becoming a mercenary, proving herself through the blade, had seemed like the only path. But even that wasn''t simple. The road she believed to be her salvation had been blocked. Her inability to bear children had felt unfair. Her very existence felt unfair. "Why me?" Why did only she have to endure such a life? Her bitterness transformed into a desperate will to live. Regrets clawed at her heels, while rage pounded in her chest. Enkrid, with his blade pressed against her nape, hesitated. It wasn''t compassion¡ªit was something intuitive, primal. A gut feeling told him that letting her live might be better than ending her. To justify his instinct, he added a practical reason: "We''ll need a mouthpiece to answer questions. Who sent her, what group she''s with..." Initially, she had lunged as if begging to die. But now, with the sword at her neck, her body trembled. Enkrid could see the white lion''s fur quivering. Fear and frustration danced in her movements. The beastkin pressed her palm against the ground, pulling her hind legs inward to crouch. "That looks just like Esther when she''s exhausted." The thought struck him unexpectedly. "Do you want to live?" The sudden question made Dunbakel lift her head despite the blade still resting on her neck. Had her eyes always been this blue? Tears streamed down her faintly golden eyes. "...Crying? Here?" It was, naturally, the last thing he''d expected. "Grrrr, grrrr..." The beastkin sobbed. Whatever storm raged within her was hard to discern, but one thing seemed clear. "She''s asking to be spared." He withdrew the sword. Almost immediately, a familiar voice pierced his ears. "What? Not killing her? Yaaaawn." It was Rem, speaking while opening her mouth so wide it looked like her jaw might split. Her yawn was almost theatrical. "When did you get here?" "Are you crying?" The question from Rem hung in the air, sharp yet laden with that casual sarcasm only he could deliver. His tone was light, almost playful, but it cut through the tension like a blade. Enkrid glanced at him, his usual stoic demeanor unshaken, though the subtle rise of his brow hinted at mild exasperation. Dunbakel¡ªthis proud, feral creature¡ªdidn''t respond immediately. Her trembling frame seemed at odds with the overwhelming presence she exuded moments ago. The gleam of her golden-tinged blue eyes, now glistening with tears, held none of the fury that had propelled her relentless attacks. Instead, they spoke of exhaustion, regret, and something far deeper: the fragility beneath the beast. Enkrid''s grip on his sword eased, the blade no longer an immediate threat. He hadn''t expected this, not from someone who charged so recklessly into battle. Yet, here she was¡ªdefeated, crouched, and vulnerable, weeping in silence. "Answer him," Enkrid said flatly, though not unkindly. His voice carried an undertone of curiosity. He wanted to understand. Dunbakel''s lips parted, but no sound emerged at first. Her shoulders rose and fell with the rhythm of ragged breaths as she wrestled with the humiliation of her position. Finally, her voice, hoarse and trembling, broke through. "...Do I look like I want to cry?" she growled, her pride flaring for a brief moment. But it was a weak defense, quickly betrayed by another tear streaking down her furred cheek. "Yeah," Rem interjected, deadpan. "You look exactly like that." Enkrid sighed, shaking his head. He wasn''t here to mock or taunt. The fight was over, and whatever had brought her to this point¡ªher desperation, her fury, or her pain¡ªit had run its course. He stepped back, lowering his sword completely, signaling that he had no intention of striking her down. "You want to live, don''t you?" Enkrid asked again, his gaze steady. Dunbakel''s ears twitched at the question. Her claws dug slightly into the ground as if bracing herself. Then, reluctantly, she nodded. It was a small, almost imperceptible motion, but it carried the weight of her surrender. "Well, there''s your answer," Rem said, yawning again. "She''s not just a crybaby. She''s a crybaby who doesn''t want to die." His grin was infuriatingly smug. Enkrid ignored him, keeping his focus on Dunbakel. He wasn''t certain yet if sparing her was the right choice, but something about her¡ªher fight, her tears, and even her silence¡ªtold him she might be more valuable alive than dead. "Stand up," he said firmly. "You''re not going to die here." For a moment, it seemed she might not obey. Her pride was visibly at war with her survival instincts. But then, with a pained groan and trembling limbs, she rose, the aura of the fierce "white lion" still flickering faintly around her. "Good," Enkrid muttered. "Now, we talk." The sharp sound echoed through the night as Rem''s palm landed squarely on the back of the white lion''s head, cutting off her angry retort mid-sentence. "Language," Rem scolded, his voice a mix of mock authority and pure mischief. He wasn''t done tormenting her yet. He crouched beside her, poking at her head with a finger before delivering another light slap to her already battered pride. "Stop crying, will you? He said he''s not going to kill you." It was as if he had no off switch for his antics. The others had gathered now, descending into the clearing as quietly as shadows. Audin, Jaxen, Ragna, and Krais stood at varying distances, each observing the strange spectacle. "What''s all this racket about at this hour?" Krais asked, his tone carrying more curiosity than irritation. "Was it noisy?" Enkrid replied with a mild frown. Jaxen gestured vaguely toward the camp. "Esther called us over." His tone was the usual monotone, but Enkrid sensed something different¡ªa faint hint of admiration, perhaps? "Why are you staring at me like that?" Jaxen asked. "Did you see the fight?" Jaxen nodded once, then fell silent. He had, in fact, seen it all, having arrived before even Rem. His sharp gaze had dissected every move, analyzing with the precision of a blade. Elite recognizes elite. Jaxen, usually reserved, couldn''t help but be impressed. Watching Enkrid fight was like witnessing a spell¡ªan intricate dance of precision, instinct, and unrelenting force. The others felt the same. "What was that last move?" Ragna asked, her curiosity breaking through her usual calm. "Mixed a little Valen mercenary swordplay with something new I picked up," Enkrid replied. Ragna''s expression turned thoughtful. "Did Frog teach you that?" "Huh?" Enkrid blinked, caught off guard. Luarne had urged him to learn a variety of techniques, but what he''d done earlier wasn''t something he''d been taught¡ªit had simply happened. A natural, instinctive response to the moment. As he replayed the sequence in his mind, Enkrid himself couldn''t fully explain why he had acted as he did. It had felt right, a necessary motion, dictated by the flow of battle. The realization struck him: he had reached a level where his body and mind moved in perfect synchrony, even against a foe of considerable skill. And yet... "Not enough," he muttered under his breath. The thirst for improvement gnawed at him. Krais interrupted his thoughts. "So, where is she from?" he asked, nodding toward the defeated lioness. While Enkrid deliberated, Rem was busy doing what Rem did best¡ªbeing an insufferable pest. He leaned closer to the white lion, tapping her on the shoulder wound with infuriating precision. "Does it hurt? No? Must be fine then," he teased. "What''s the deal with your face, though? Did you eat curses instead of meat as a cub?" The white lion growled low in her throat, a dangerous sound muffled by the residual tremor of earlier tears. "First time seeing a lion cry," Rem continued, grinning. "Want me to dig into that wound to help the tears flow better?" He didn''t stop there, laughing as he added, "Come on, crybaby, show us more. Let it all out." Enkrid sighed, coming to a familiar realization. Rem really is the most obnoxious bastard alive. If ever a battle needed a provocateur, Rem would be his first choice. But here, there was no strategy, no purpose¡ªjust his unrelenting knack for getting under someone''s skin. The lioness finally snapped. Raising her tear-streaked face, fury burning in her watery blue eyes, she bared her teeth and growled, "You miserable little¡ª!" Her curse was cut short once again by the sharp crack of another slap to her head. "Watch your tone," Rem chided with a smirk, entirely unbothered by her rage. The others exchanged glances, half-amused, half-exasperated. It was just another day for Rem. Rem showed no mercy. Remaining seated, he shifted his left leg outward and swung his right elbow horizontally with practiced precision. The rotation of his waist lent power to the strike, turning it into a textbook-perfect blow, the kind that would have earned admiration had the circumstances been less absurd. "Impressive," Audin muttered, unable to hide his appreciation. The white lion, however, had no chance to admire the technique. The elbow slammed into the back of her head, sending her sprawling forward in a graceless roll. "Urgh!" she groaned, the sound somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. "Hey, can we talk this out?" Krais interjected, attempting to de-escalate the situation. Enkrid nodded in agreement. If they didn''t step in, Rem might very well beat the poor mercenary to death. "This cat, growling at me like that," Rem grumbled, clearly still irked, but he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I was just saying hi, you know? A friendly tap, that''s all. Like waving. With my elbow." If that''s his idea of a greeting, two greetings would probably wipe out an entire squad. "So," Krais prompted, turning to the dazed lioness, "what''s your affiliation?" Her will broken, pride shattered, and with no loyalty left to cling to, the lioness finally gave in. Survival was her only goal now. "Black Blade," she muttered. "The mercenary band?" Krais asked, his expression darkening. She nodded. "Well, this is trouble," Krais muttered, his usual composure wavering. Enkrid remained silent, processing the information. It was sheer coincidence they''d intercepted this raid, but the implications were troubling. Marcus, the Battalion Commander, had once asked him if he loved the city. Now, standing here, having just protected it against a dangerous foe, Enkrid felt a strange satisfaction. Yet, concern lingered in the back of his mind. Too weak, he thought. The city''s perimeter defenses were woefully inadequate. It wasn''t just that Enkrid''s standards had risen; the reality was that the guards couldn''t handle another assault of this caliber. Patrol units would be slaughtered before they could even mount a defense. Worse, there had been infiltrators in soldier''s uniforms trying to open the gates. Spies in the city were nothing new, but this brazen act was a glaring issue. As much as Enkrid wanted to act, there wasn''t much he could do immediately. "Captain, we should file a report," Krais said, breaking Enkrid''s thoughts. Nearby, Rem interjected, "We''re really letting her live?" "She stays alive," Krais said hurriedly, clearly worried that Rem might take matters into his own hands. Enkrid nodded. His gesture added weight to Krais'' words, and he gave a single, decisive order. "Take her into custody." The lioness slumped in defeat. Her fate was no longer in her hands. As the soldiers moved to restrain her, Enkrid noticed the gathered troops nearby. Among them, one figure stood out¡ªa lieutenant with insignia on his shoulder. The officer met Enkrid''s gaze, saluted crisply, and Enkrid responded by tapping the pommel of his sword against his palm, a simple gesture of acknowledgment. "Thank you!" the lieutenant said earnestly. "It''s fine," Enkrid replied, turning away. The lieutenant was visibly shaken, but gratitude glowed in his expression. He understood what had just transpired. Without Enkrid and his unorthodox unit, he and his men would likely have been slaughtered, leaving their families behind to mourn. As Enkrid walked away, Krais sidled up to him. "The Black Blade business stays quiet," Krais whispered. "Understood," Enkrid replied, willing to accommodate for now. "We''ll handle the report ourselves," Krais continued, his voice steady but firm. While the others began cleaning up the scene, Krais hovered near the corpses. Enkrid glanced back, curious. "Something wrong?" Krais straightened, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Looting rights belong to our unit, don''t you think?" It was hard to argue with his logic. The spoils of battle rightfully belonged to those who fought. The soldiers began recovering the equipment of the fallen raiders. Among their finds was a collection of high-quality weapons, though there was no trace of the infamous Krona pouches often carried by mercenaries. Still, the weapons alone were a worthwhile haul, and Krais, true to form, wasn''t about to let such an opportunity slip through his fingers. Chapter 193 - Moving as One(1) Chapter 193 - 193 - Moving as One(1) Marcus received the late-night report with a familiar blend of surprise and gratitude. "Every time, you manage to impress me," he began with genuine admiration, followed by an almost excessive show of thanks: "I owe you for this." Though officially a Company Commander now, Enkrid still found it odd that a Battalion Commander like Marcus would lower his head so willingly. "It was mere chance," Enkrid replied plainly, delivering his account of the events with an unembellished tone. That was it. "Understood," Marcus said, concluding the exchange. With the report done, Enkrid left Marcus''s office, leaving the rest of the cleanup and follow-up to the Border Guard''s leadership. Marcus, as the person in charge, would handle the aftermath. Outside, the fairy Company Commander was waiting for him, falling into step alongside him with her usual detached demeanor. She stared ahead, her words as casual as her gaze. "Tonight, together? Just holding hands, though, since purity must be preserved before the sacred union." "I''ll sleep alone. In my barracks. Hands-free." "Understood." Is that really supposed to be a joke? After parting ways with the fairy commander, Enkrid returned to his quarters. He rinsed off the sweat from the night''s battles and settled onto his bed, water dripping from his hair. Running his fingers through it, he realized his hair had grown quite long again. "Restless night... If they were going to attack, they should''ve gone all out." The barracks gradually quieted as his comrades drifted to sleep, adding their own remarks here and there: "Everything unfolds as the divine wills. Pray, brothers and sisters." "Something went down, didn''t it?" "Kyarng." "Ah, if the Black Blade''s here, things must''ve turned nasty." Despite the banter, Enkrid didn''t simply sleep. Instead, he replayed the fight in his mind. Victory or defeat, domination or struggle¡ªevery battle offered lessons. That was what he''d learned, and how he''d lived. Tonight was no exception. Even though he''d cut through the enemy with ease, there was still much to learn. As his thoughts blended with sleep, his dreams took shape: a pack of ten white lions charging at him. Even in his dreams, he felt no panic. They were manageable, fightable. For the first time in a while, Enkrid could tangibly sense his own growth. "Amusing, isn''t it?" His battles used to be desperate struggles for survival, a fight to stay hidden and unnoticed. But now? Even in a dream, his heart surged with adrenaline and confidence, a testament to the countless hours of training and practice. Oddly, Esther appeared beside him in the dream¡ªnot as a leopard but in an entirely different form. Her skin was pale and smooth, her figure draped in a flowing black robe that shimmered like an expensive fabric despite its dark color. "Is that the real you?" Enkrid asked. "Don''t acknowledge me in this realm," she replied curtly. What an odd thing to say. Even so, Enkrid recognized her unmistakably. Her jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes made her identity plain. Though perplexed, he decided to humor her request. It was a dream, after all. "Wait... isn''t this my dream?" His musings were interrupted as the pack of white lions lunged forward, their claws and scimitars flashing. What began as a bloody skirmish turned into something almost dance-like, fluid and controlled. "I never did ask how they learned the Valen mercenary sword style." That thought was quickly replaced by others: "They were so intent on dying, yet seemed to cling desperately to life in the end. Strange." The peculiar nature of the white-furred beastfolk lingered in his mind as the dream faded, giving way to the morning light. Enkrid opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling of his barracks. Summer mornings brought early sunlight, even at dawn. What''s on today''s agenda? He already knew: start with the Isolation Technique, followed by sword drills, interspersed with focus training sessions. Enkrid''s daily regimen remained unshaken: practice with Tangent Blade Form, training his five senses, and rigorously adhering to the Isolation Technique. Jaxen had once said: "Training is a daily commitment. Especially with sensory exercises¡ªthese build incrementally, day by day. Skip them, and you''re wasting progress." This philosophy echoed Audin''s teachings and aligned perfectly with the principles of the Isolation Technique: "Brother, missing a day and doubling it tomorrow won''t work. It only harms your body. Do it every day. Every. Single. Day. Brother, are you listening?" The repeated emphasis had been so relentless that it was ingrained in Enkrid''s mind. But daily training wasn''t a burden. To Enkrid, it was as natural as breathing¡ªa non-negotiable foundation of his life. Thus began his day with a review of his tools, a reflection on past encounters, and disciplined training. Meanwhile, Marcus¡ªthe city''s leader who had marveled at Enkrid''s actions the previous night¡ªwas dealing with a more infuriating matter: the shameless audacity of a noble who had taken bribes from the Black Blade mercenaries. Dunbakel, now imprisoned, had confessed everything he knew: "I was ordered to stir up trouble at the Border Guard. That''s all I know. I''m half a mercenary myself¡ªI wasn''t told the origins of this mess. But it''s clear someone inside the city is involved." Marcus didn''t bother pressing her further. Instead, he summoned the bribed noble, who descended to the prison with an entourage of guards. When Marcus asked if he had any knowledge of the situation, the noble sneered: "I have no idea what you''re talking about." He frowned briefly before turning his attention to the captive beastfolk. "Filthy animal, speak clearly. Are you seriously claiming to be part of the Black Blade? And you, Marcus, you believe the lies of a mercenary bought with mere coins?" The noble''s outburst was laced with indignation. His brazen hypocrisy left Marcus flabbergasted. I swear, if I could cut this fool down here and now... Turning his gaze away from the noble, Marcus restrained his rising frustration. Still, leaving this man unchecked wasn''t an option. A parasite causing such chaos couldn''t simply be ignored. Killing him outright isn''t an option¡ªnot in the city. As loathsome as he was, the noble remained one. Killing him would invite complications, particularly for the Border Guard''s standing. The central authority could easily use such an incident against them, no matter how justifiable the act. Marcus weighed his options. His reputation as a "war fanatic" often painted him as someone disinterested in political maneuvering, but that assumption was far from accurate. To survive and thrive as a central noble, one needed to master the art of manipulation and subterfuge¡ªskills Marcus possessed in abundance. After careful thought, he decided on a plan. The noble couldn''t be dealt with directly, but perhaps he could be paired with someone who had a knack for resolving matters with excessive efficacy. Enkrid. The man didn''t even need specific orders¡ªstationed in the barracks, he''d already eliminated a Black Blade elite, reduced a manticore to a bloody pulp, and decapitated a cultist leader, all in a single night. Perhaps just assigning him to accompany this noble will suffice. If nothing happened? So be it. But if trouble arose, Enkrid would undoubtedly handle it in his usual fashion. Publicly, I''ll frame it as a simple assignment. Marcus harbored more insidious thoughts beneath his polished facade. There was still the matter of the Black Blade mercenaries and their schemes¡ªthey couldn''t be left unchecked. He let a faint smirk slip as he announced, "Martaig has begun assembling an army." It wasn''t a lie. In the mercenary city, a self-proclaimed general was indeed mobilizing forces, preparing for conflict with the Border Guard. While this information was still limited to those with sharp ears, the whispers of an impending city-wide war were already starting to spread. "And we don''t have reinforcements to count on," Marcus remarked as he took a step sideways. The torchlight mounted on the underground wall flared briefly, illuminating half of Marcus''s face while leaving the other half in shadow. He looked like a man weighed down by the burden of protecting the city. Martaig held a clear military advantage. Marcus knew it. The noble knew it. It was precisely because of this that the suggestion to bring the Black Blade mercenaries into the fold had been made¡ªa preposterous idea, born of desperation. Marcus, standing as both the city''s commander and its figurehead, gave the appearance of deep contemplation. "What if we hired them as mercenaries?" he mused aloud. Though he hadn''t specified whom he meant, the noble''s ears perked up. They couldn''t openly declare the Black Blade as allies, but hadn''t that group occasionally taken mercenary work? The suggestion was to discreetly employ them for this situation. The noble, Vancento¡ªwho had taken bribes from the Black Blade¡ªcaught the implied offer, though he worked hard to conceal his eagerness. His face remained carefully neutral. The long-awaited opportunity was finally here, but Vancento swallowed his initial response. To show too much enthusiasm might arouse suspicion. The attack may have failed, but this could turn out better than expected. Perhaps Marcus''s desperation worked in my favor. Vancento''s instincts, honed for survival since his youth, had secured his rise to power. But his addiction to that power dulled his judgment. He underestimated the complexity of the situation, emboldened by the presence of the Black Blade''s guards at his side. "One of the captives is Dunbakel, a beastfolk woman," said the guard. "Dealing with Enkrid shouldn''t be hard. As for the claim that he fought off ten attackers alone¡ªthat''s clearly a lie. Even I would struggle with ten of them. The story about him repelling a night raid unaided? Nonsense. His squad must''ve intervened. The manticore? Who knows. Likely just a baseless rumor." The manticore carcass had been quickly hidden by the Gilpin Guild, who intended to profit from dismantling and selling it. This move left only whispers of its existence behind. What manticore? Another one of Marcus''s tricks, Vancento thought, dismissing it as typical pre-war posturing. He didn''t even try to investigate further, nor did the Black Blade guard beside him. Both knew that Enkrid had become a formidable presence, and his subordinates had gained a reputation for their prowess. But if they''re matched against the right opponent... The guard was confident, not in his ability to win but in his ability to kill. He was overconfident, even arrogant. Meanwhile, Vancento, envisioning a rosy future for himself, let his imagination narrow his focus. Feigning disinterest, he glanced at Dunbakel before commenting, "Doesn''t seem like she''s a particularly renowned mercenary." For mercenaries, a lack of a famous moniker often meant being regarded as second-rate. "She should be executed. When do you plan to start the operation?" Marcus, looking at Vancento, wondered how such a man had risen to this position. Ah, the downside of the frontier¡ªtalent is a rare commodity, he thought, reflecting bitterly. Yet the barracks seemed to overflow with capable individuals these days. "Tomorrow would be best, before Martaig''s forces make their move," Marcus replied, concealing his satisfaction beneath a grim expression. Vancento''s face lit up with contentment, unaware that Marcus had far more planned than he let on. As for Dunbakel, she remained silent in the darkness, her fate momentarily delayed. The trouble started with a rumor. "Martaig''s demands are outrageous," said Vengeance, who had shown up despite being off duty. He sought out Enkrid, starting a conversation with no clear purpose. Krais, overhearing the exchange, couldn''t hold back. "Reinforcements? Forget it¡ªthey won''t come. Or rather, they can''t. Let me explain since you seem clueless. Here''s the situation: in the south, there''s a full-scale war against monsters. It''s bad enough dealing with hordes of beasts, but now the southern powerhouse Rihinstetten has stepped in. The kingdom''s fate hangs by a thread. "Meanwhile, the Border Guard proved its mettle holding off the Aspen threat and buying time. But since this is an internal conflict, the central authority won''t intervene. Even if other factions try to get involved, the western nobles¡ªBaron Ventra and Count Molsen¡ªare already in place. "Normally, the best option would be to request reinforcements from these noble armies. But don''t hold your breath. Ventra is practically Molsen''s lapdog, and Molsen? He''s infamous for never lifting a finger unless there''s profit involved." Enkrid marveled, not for the first time, at Krais''s ability to gather such information while remaining seated. More than anything, though, it was his endless chatter that amazed him. "Doesn''t your throat hurt?" Enkrid asked. "Hurt? Not at all! Back in the day, I even performed puppet shows where I handled five roles all by myself," Krais replied cheerfully. A remarkable talent indeed. Managing five roles in a solo performance couldn''t have been easy. Given what Enkrid knew of Krais, he wouldn''t have half-assed it, either. This was the type of man who''d pledge even his soul if it meant furthering his goals. "And how many traders pass through this city? Border Guard may be a fortress city, but it''s also the top trading hub in northern Naurilia. All you have to do is listen, and you''ll hear plenty. That''s both the problem and the key to this current mess," Krais said, cupping a hand behind his ear for emphasis. His tone made it sound like the most natural thing in the world, but such intuition wasn''t commonplace. People with this kind of foresight usually fell into two categories: fortune-tellers or con artists. Krais was neither. He was simply someone gifted with an uncanny ability to read the flow of events. "And now the Black Blade gang has arrived, along with cultists popping up here and there. It''s not looking good. So, any thoughts about leaving Border Guard for another city, Captain?" Enkrid didn''t even dignify that with a response. Leave? And abandon the people left behind? "Are you serious? What kind of talk is that? Have you no intention of protecting this city?" Vengeance shouted angrily. Krais hadn''t been serious, and Enkrid knew it. "Yes, yes, of course, we''ll protect it," Krais replied dismissively. "If you''ve eaten your share, do your job, Big Eyes," Enkrid quipped, siding with Benzence. "Oh, so that''s how it is? You''re taking his side now? Really, Captain? I feel betrayed! Is this how you treat your rival?" Krais''s puppet-show experience wasn''t for nothing; his exaggerated impression was surprisingly convincing. He leaned casually, pouting as he delivered his lines. "What''s this? Are you saying Big Eyes wants an axe in his head instead of a flower crown? Is that it?" The problem was that Rem had just stepped out of the barracks and overheard the exchange. "...That''s not what I meant," Krais stammered. "Vengence, you''re back again? Got nothing better to do?" Rem chimed in, casually misnaming Vengeance, though he didn''t bother correcting him. It was at that moment that someone called out. "Captain, you''re summoned by the Battalion Commander." The fairy company commander stood just beyond the training grounds, leaning over the low fence with her torso and face in view. It seemed she was showing up more often than the official messengers lately. Why would a company commander handle something as mundane as relaying a summon? "Volunteered," she said with a grin. "...I see," Enkrid replied, now accustomed to fairy humor. He didn''t even crack a smile anymore. "Big Eyes, you seem to need some training yourself. Off you go, Captain. In the meantime, I''ll turn this one into a model soldier," Rem declared, gesturing at Krais with something akin to a death sentence. "Wait! Captain! Take me with you!" Krais pleaded, his voice rising in desperation as Enkrid turned to leave, silently wishing him well. Rem, perhaps venting some pent-up frustration, clearly intended to work Krais hard. Sometimes, venting like that was necessary. A shriek that sounded like a pig being slaughtered erupted behind him. Enkrid ignored it. "Inter-squad murder is strictly prohibited," the fairy commander noted casually, glancing over her shoulder. "He''s not going to die," Enkrid replied. The fairy thought for a moment before nodding. "I trust you''ll handle it." Her tone was oddly reassuring. When Enkrid entered the Battalion Commander''s office, Marcus wasted no time. "I''ve got a mission for you. I need you to act as an escort for an envoy." The urgency in Marcus''s tone was evident¡ªhe hadn''t even waited for a salute. "An envoy? To whom?" "We''ll need to hire mercenaries, won''t we? That''s the reason," Marcus explained. The combination of "envoy" and "mercenaries" seemed odd to Enkrid. It sounded like the battle with Martaig was imminent. But was it truly as dire as it seemed? "To the Black Blade gang," Marcus added. "You''re not the envoy¡ªjust their escort." If envoy and mercenary were odd together, envoy and bandits were outright bizarre. And yet, Marcus''s eyes sparkled with a strange enthusiasm, practically glowing with excitement. That unsettling twinkle made Enkrid feel profoundly uneasy. Chapter 194 - Moving as One(2) Chapter 194 - 194 - Moving as One(2) "Isn''t this too much? Captain? Seriously." Krais said with his eyes dark blue and swollen. Enkrid, while taking off his boots, replied. "Was your eye always that blue? That guy Rem, has some skill. His disguise was so good, I almost didn''t recognize you." His eyes were so swollen that his pupils weren''t visible. He had clearly been hit hard, though it didn''t seem like it was an intentional beating. He might have overdone it a bit. There were traces of blood around his nostrils, indicating he had likely had a nosebleed. At Enkrid''s words, Krais snorted, swallowing and then sighing. "Rem''s been acting a bit strange lately, don''t you think?" Enkrid couldn''t deny that. He was sharper than usual, a lot more irritable. Before, he would just ignore things, but now he would lash out with an axe even at minor provocations. For example: "Keep your eyes open. You wanna get your skull cracked with an axe?" Saying that, he would address the soldiers nearby in a threatening manner. It wasn''t rare for him to clash with Ragna either. "Hey, picky eater, you want your skull cracked?" In response, Ragna would say: "Come out. I''ll split your skull and eat honey off it." And just like that, their brutal sparring would begin. Enkrid didn''t intervene right away anymore. Now, he would just observe. There was a lot to learn from these duels. Watching them fight closely was a valuable experience for him, and it was actually quite enjoyable. Perhaps it was a sign that they were maturing, or maybe they had just gotten more intense. After a good fight, Enkrid would reflect on his own techniques and sharpen his skills, which made for an overall fulfilling time. But lately, he couldn''t help but wonder: why had Rem become so sensitive? Usually, Rem and Ragna''s squabbles were nothing new, but the worst had to be his situation with Jaxen. From Enkrid''s perspective, it seemed like a pointless issue, but maybe there was something more to it for them. One day, Rem and Jaxen faced each other in front of the door. Neither of them would move. Rem began to idly stroke the handle of his axe, while Sachsen let his arms hang loosely. Enkrid couldn''t just watch this. ''This is dangerous.'' In the past, Enkrid had been able to break up these standoffs by squeezing himself between them, but now it felt more complicated. "Enough." When those words were added, Jaxen made a small clearing of his throat and stepped aside. Rem, without a smile or a word, simply trudged off. He''s sensitive. Really sensitive. Of course, Rem wasn''t the only one who''s been like this. Ragna also carried a similar aura. And Jaxen was the same. At least Audin seemed unchanged, as usual. Rem said he was going on patrol, mentioning he hoped to come across a manticore or something along the way. Audin, on the other hand, said he was going to lead an evening prayer and sermon to a group of soldiers with deep faith, where he was quite respected. Jaxen, as always, was nowhere to be seen. Ragna was sleeping in the corner of his bed. It was all typical. Enkrid scanned the inside of the barracks before speaking. "Seems like it." This was his answer to Krais''s question about being sensitive. Thinking it over, it did seem like Rem had become a lot more sensitive lately. "Ugh, but what did the captain say when he called you?" Krais seemed satisfied enough with Enkrid agreeing about Rem''s sensitivity that he didn''t continue discussing it. After all, what was the point of talking about his sensitivity? He was just a crazy guy. Ignoring it was the best option. "Mercenary contract envoy escort for the Black Blades." At Enkrid''s straightforward statement, Kraizs''s eyes widened. As he opened his eyes, the blue bruises around them became visible. Wasn''t that painful? It seemed like it would hurt. But Krais didn''t care about the pain. Actually, now that he was probably feeling the pain, Krais asked with a serious expression. "You''re going to do it, right? Knight?" Enkrid was unsure why Krais suddenly asked that, but he nodded. The answer to such a question was always decided in advance. He understood why Krais was double-checking. Becoming a knight was indeed a distant, almost absurd dream. Right now, it didn''t feel like the same dream that had once been torn apart, but it was still not an easy path. Wasn''t that clear to Enkrid? Krais wasn''t mocking his captain or trying to snap him back to reality. Enkrid was a crazy person. If he said he would do something, he would do it. If he said he would seek it out, he would. If he said he would fight, he would. ''He''s not normal.'' Living like that, he wouldn''t last long. It was natural for him to not live past twenty years old, but wasn''t the captain already thirty-one this year? How he had survived until now was a mystery. But, anyway, that was the kind of person he was. That kind of person wanted to become a knight. He wasn''t the type to give up easily, so Krais had roughly researched what the process was to become a knight in the kingdom. Who exactly enters the knight orders? Who are the squires before becoming full knights? Most of them were the children of nobles, or acquaintances of prominent families. If they didn''t have power and wealth, some came from distant branches of royal families. But what if you weren''t a noble or from a well-off family? Even then, occasionally, really occasionally, a rare genius with unbelievable talent would emerge. These people would often rise through their sheer abilities and be recognized by the kingdom to become knights. Of course, luck would play a part too. ''But are such cases common?'' Absolutely not. It was never common. The so-called geniuses from all over? When they met children from prestigious families who had been trained systematically from a young age, they often ended up being beaten senseless. Learning swordsmanship, awakening talent, it''s all easier in the central regions. The level in the central areas is much higher than in the outskirts, so everything ¨C teaching, inspiration, and opponents for sparring ¨C is better there. Since skilled individuals gather in the center, talented people naturally flock to the royal palace, and talent is further developed in the midst of such a concentration. True geniuses. That means, unless you''re someone who can stand on your own purely through your abilities, it''s generally not easy. Normally, if you''re not from a particularly distinguished family, walking the path of a knight is incredibly difficult. It''s tough. It''s painful. It''s a path of hardship. Then, assuming there is a genius, what''s needed to become a knight? Talent? Talent is obviously necessary. "Did you refuse it?" "Hmm?" "The mission. You didn''t refuse it, did you? No? You didn''t, right? You must do it. Absolutely." In addition to skill, what''s needed is merit. The marks of efforts made for the country. Merit will soon become honor, and honor proves the subject''s worth. For an outsider, especially someone who came from the ranks of mercenaries, the first task in becoming a member of the knight order, in Kraiz''s view, is to establish merit rather than skill. So, if you really want to become a knight... "Tell me. You didn''t refuse it, did you? You wouldn''t, right?" The mission the captain spoke of might not have been very appealing to Enkrid. Even Kraiz thought so. A bodyguard for the envoy? Who''s the envoy? Kraiz''s sharp mind quickly pieced together the situation from Enkrid''s simple words. It was obvious who was going. That noble fool with the strange eyes would be at the heart of it. It would be those two as the main players. At least a squad-level bodyguard would be required, and Enkrid''s strength would probably be a way to deal with that. Why? Why keep Enkrid close to this noble? ''They must have an agenda.'' That agenda was clear: control. Either kill him, or create a situation where something close to that happens. The problem was if the noble figured it out and turned against them. ''So that''s what it was.'' Marcus was a fox. A warmonger, really. In Krais''s eyes, the captain was a fox among foxes. Despite his rough appearance, as if he were some bandit, after the battle at Aspen and the Green Pearl battle, Enkrid had been dispatched to fight in a dozen other places. He killed the leader of the colonies and even executed heretics. Just last night, he defeated ten skilled fighters from the Black Blade. Audin had killed a manticore. In the process, Enkrid had even devoured the manticore''s corpse, but there was no word from the higher-ups. If they wanted compensation, they had to give something in return, right? The captain didn''t mention any of this. He subtly let everything slide, without publicizing anything. He allowed people to believe what they wanted, letting rumors spread without intervention. Why? Is it because he dislikes Enkrid? That can''t be it. ''The reason for kneeling and crouching on the ground...'' It''s to jump higher. He hides and deceives. The one thing he''s hiding is the strength of Enkrid and the crazy company. The benefit to be gained by hiding that. Krais''s mind spun rapidly. For someone else, it might have been confusing, but for him, this was easy. Why wouldn''t it be? To survive, he had considered far worse things and acted on them. Compared to that time, this was simple ¨C sitting in one spot and just thinking. As he continued to untangle the threads of his thoughts, the answer came. What leads the battlefield on this continent? It''s the "knights" who break strategies and tactics. Even among mercenaries, those who are considered "knight-grade" are the ones who make things happen. There are beings among other races that are also called knights, and that''s how the term "knight-grade" came to exist. So, elite warriors. That''s what has long been the core driving strategy. Of course, that doesn''t mean that commanders on a large battlefield would foolishly rely on one knight. In fact, even in the previous battle at Aspen, the overall flow of the battle didn''t change until the Border Guard reserve forces, which were mostly peripheral, won. ''It''s war.'' All of this is preparation for war. If you hide your own strength, it could become a fatal blow to the enemy. ''This is the first move for that.'' It looked like the swelling around Krais''s eyes had reduced. It seemed like Enkrid saw it too. ''Shining unnecessarily.'' It shone even brighter than the captain''s eyes from earlier. "If you refused..." Refuse? "I said I would do it." "Oh, I''m relieved, because this is important. You see..." "I know." "No, it''s not just about what it seems. This mission to escort the envoy isn''t just a simple escort." "That bastard probably wants him dead." At Enkrid''s words, Krais blinked. His swollen eyes were now sharp again. Ah, he wasn''t an idiot. "Your eyes are disrespectful." "What?" "Never mind." He couldn''t hit someone who had already been beaten this much. Enkrid let it go. "Merit, it''s a step towards becoming a knight. I know." That''s why it was important. Marcus was more influential than expected, with a higher rank. The envoy mission he mentioned wasn''t directly related to merit, but Enkrid knew the beginning and end of this wouldn''t be as simple as it seemed. He wasn''t guessing the reason or speculating. He just had a gut feeling. Intuition and instinct. Ever since his senses had sharpened and become more sensitive, there were times when his instincts would strike him like a sharp stab in the head. This was one of those times. This mission... it shouldn''t be left alone. So there was no reason to refuse. "No, I thought you might have refused because it would interfere with training. Yes, I get it. Merit, that''s what''s important right now. What''s more important than skill is merit. In fact, there are probably those in the knight order who get in simply through their merit, right? Even in the Red Cloak Knights, as much as they''re a prestigious order, they can''t be free from power struggles." It was a cynical remark, but Enkrid secretly thought the same. "So, we decided to bring them along." If there''s a chance to kill him, would they? Chapter 195 - Moving as One (3) Chapter 195 - 195 - Moving as One (3) Immediately after Enkrid left, Marcus secretly summoned the Border Defense Commander. "Is everything ready?" Marcus asked, reclining in his chair with a relaxed posture, though his eyes were like a predator waiting for its prey. "These people are quite used to this sort of thing." "Good. Then proceed as planned." "Aren''t you going to tell the Independent Company Commander?" "I''ve given him a hint." It was only a subtle indication, but he would figure it out on his own. In fact, there was no need to put pressure on him about killing a noble. This was Marcus'' intention. He would take the noble scum who had eaten Black Blade''s gold and make sure to spin him around appropriately. And since they were bringing a prisoner along... Using the captured beastman for various schemes wasn''t a problem either. In short, it meant that the Commander understood Marcus'' intentions. There was no need for further explanation. ''An unskilled man who somehow manages to please the right people while not lagging behind in abilities.'' How many such people could there be in the unit? Although he had been promoted to Independent Company Commander, he was still not fully recognized, meaning his rank was seen as relatively lower than the First Company Commander or the Border Defense Commander. But his abilities were more reliable than anyone else''s. He was exactly the right person for this role. Moreover, Marcus sent Enkrid with an unexplainable sense of expectation. No, it wasn''t just that. He had many plans. Marcus also intended to hide Enkrid''s true abilities. Though keeping him within the unit wouldn''t suddenly make someone notice, it was still better to be cautious. Since the Martai bastards kept sending spies, Marcus wanted to keep Enkrid out of their sight as much as possible. Unnecessary exploits revealing their strength would be disastrous. A core, elite force member with exceptional skills who could even become a commander, Enkrid was obsessed with training and had a decent character. He could also handle the whims of a noble. ''Quite the catch.'' No wonder Enkrid was an appealing recruit. Moreover, he was the one who had ignited the fire in Marcus'' heart. For the first time in a long while, Marcus was living a lively life. It wasn''t about repeating meaningless days, but rather about striving for something new. ''This is exhilarating.'' But, despite his inner excitement, Marcus remained focused with serious eyes, dedicated to his task. His task, which didn''t align with his "war-maniac" nickname. That was how it had always been. The nickname War-Maniac was a mask. A mask to deceive others. The truth was, Marcus wasn''t particularly skilled in battle or warfare. He knew that. Of course, not having a talent didn''t mean he couldn''t handle it. Marcus knew how to use people. He knew how to trust them. He relied on his people. The First Company Commander, Border Defense Commander, Fairy Company Commander, and now Enkrid. He had an overflowing hand of jokers. He even had an ace. With so many cards to play, winning against the opponent was easier than it seemed. Because there was no need to complicate matters, Marcus moved simply and directly. He just had to seize the right moment when his opponent wouldn''t expect it. ''Damn, those Black Blade thieves. What are they trying to pick up by poking their mouths in?'' Savage beasts. Beasts that drooled over a city that he had to protect. Should he just let those beasts be? "Then." The Border Defense Commander saluted, and Marcus spoke to the back of his head. "Kill them all." "Of course." Border Guard was a fortified city and a military hub. It had spilled vicious blood in the war against Aspen. If anyone underestimated it, they would soon face the consequences. "Not even a platoon, just three of you?" Baron Vansento shot a glare at Enkrid, Rem, and Ragna, immediately spitting out harsh words. "Two commoners and a barbarian? What a terrible combination. It stinks. Don''t come any closer." This was what he said the moment they met right in front of the city''s gates. Rem''s hand gently gripped the axe handle. Enkrid stretched out his right hand and grabbed Rem''s wrist, while using his other hand to press on Ragna''s left thigh. He shook his head to signal them both. "What is this? You dare not show respect to a noble!" Vansento desperately prayed to the heavens, urgently wishing for them to be killed. Enkrid had already expected this reaction, so his response was calm. "Yes." He gave a military salute and positioned himself to block Rem and Ragna. "So, you''re the subordinate of that commander." Vansento continued to mock. "My axe is weeping, my pants are getting Wet.Please, don''t make my axe sorrowful." ^^^^Translation seemed strange so I looked it up, the part about his pants getting wet can be interpreted as an exageration of his feelings of excitement and expectations about the noble getting too out of line and giving his axe a reason to stike^^^^^^^^ Rem barked seriously. "Don''t." At least in the city, it was out of the question. If it wasn''t for the assault on a superior officer, then murdering a noble would bring the royal palace''s executioners into the matter. Seeing what they were doing now, it seemed like it wouldn''t end with just a beating. "Ragna, you can''t do it either." The blonde with the red eyes looked grim. "Let''s go." Luckily, a guard in black cloak, dressed in leather armor, led the noble through the streets. The only ones riding the carriage were the nobles and the guards, while Enkrid and his group decided to walk. And their group had gained one more member. "Why are we taking her?" Ragna tugged on the rope in his hand. The beastman named Dumbakel, who had been standing nearby, was dragged forward by the gesture. Her wrists were tightly bound with thick ropes, and her arms and torso were also wrapped up. Ragna was holding the end of the rope, which was trailing behind. It was clear that the rope had been rubbing against his wrists, causing blood to seep out. The skin of beasts, being tougher and stronger than humans, should have been able to withstand more, so this likely meant that the rope had been tied so tightly and hadn''t been loosened even once. But, no one had any intention of loosening it. "Guide." Enkrid didn''t trust the aristocrats they were traveling with. But, he certainly didn''t trust the prisoner Dunbakel any more than them. ''But she wants to live.'' Enkrid took a straightforward approach. He asked the captain for the prisoner''s guidance and immediately went to speak with him. "I''ll spare your life if you do one thing. You can think of it as a request." Since she had called herself a mercenary, the idea of a request seemed fitting. The payment would be her life, and the choice was the prisoner''s. "...You''ll save me?" The prisoner''s eyes were filled with suspicion. And yet, the more Enkrid looked, the more his eyes seemed remarkable¡ªgolden eyes with a feline-like gaze. ''Isn''t there some kind of legend about golden-eyed beasts?'' Enkrid remembered something he had heard during his time as a mercenary. However, the appearance before him was like a wet dog. She looked like she''d been kicked out and beaten down. Enkrid noticed it, but didn''t ask any questions. There was no point. It was a deal. After the task was over, there would be no further business between them. Whether the other party died or left, the beast''s business would be over. "Do you want to do it, or not? Whether you believe me or not, whether you want to or not, that''s up to you." After speaking, Enkrid shook his head and continued. "Actually, there''s no choice. Do it. It''s better than being executed. If you go outside, there might be a chance to escape." "Why?" Enkrid didn''t answer the question. He couldn''t. How could he explain it? That look in his eyes¡ªthe desperation to live¡ªit reminded Enkrid of his own desperation when he had fought for his dreams. If frogs are driven by desire, then beasts are driven by reproduction and instinct. So, it was natural for the beast in front of him to want to live. Wouldn''t a human do the same? But at that moment, that look in his eyes was different. It wasn''t just a plea for life. It was the kind of gaze that said he would do anything to survive, a madness in the eyes. It was pure instinct and intuition, but Enkrid didn''t want to ignore it. "Are you into beasts?" The battalion commander had joked, then continued. "A beast or two, it doesn''t matter. Do whatever you want with them." Whether to release or kill them, he had said, it was up to the person''s preference. The battalion commander was very forthright in this regard. Enkrid, on the other hand, planned to release the prisoner if he complied. The prisoner had committed a crime, after all. Should that mean they all should be executed when war breaks out? He didn''t want to know the backstory. It was just a whim. And if it could be used for something, then all the better. That was why she had been assigned the task of guiding the noble. It would also be an opportunity to verify whether the guide knew the way and if there were any tricks being played. As he pondered over Ragna''s question of why he was taking the prisoner along, he found his answer. Enkrid wasn''t sure if he could explain it to Ragna. It seemed impossible. Would Ragna listen even if he said something? "She looks like he knows the way." Enkrid summarized his thoughts succinctly. Ragna made an oddly hurt expression at that. "I might not be good with directions, but I know how to handle a sword." Who didn''t know that? "I know." Enkrid said plainly and then walked out of the gate. Dunbakel, who had been observing the situation, found it all quite strange. The man who had once tormented her with an axe was now no longer even looking at her. She was being treated like an insignificant beast. The man merely stroked the axe handle and stared at the guard target. The beast''s instincts warned him. ''If I leave him alone, he''ll probably chop me into six pieces.'' Enkrid seemed to know that too, as he repeated his warning. "Tone it down." "Stop it." "Stop, I said." "Rem." But still, the hand didn''t leave the axe handle. ''This man is crazy.'' Dunbakel immediately figured out what kind of person Rem was. His insight was sharp. "If you make a wrong move, I''ll cut you down." It was the same for the one who was holding her back. The statement carried no emotion. It was a simple fact. It would happen, and that was all. It was like saying the sun would rise the next morning. ''Even if I manage to escape the bounds, I''ll die.'' The bigger issue was the bonds that were tied around him. ''A preference, huh.'' He shifted his arm beneath his chest, wrapping his forearm around it, then moved it up to his neck and wrists. It wasn''t just uncomfortable; walking was the only possible activity. Not long after they began walking, the noble in charge opened the window of the carriage. They could still see the fortress walls behind them. So, if a soldier with sharp eyes saw them, they would likely recognize who these people were. The noble who opened the window spoke. "You look interesting. You, beast, come to my carriage tonight." The way his nostrils flared made Dunbakel wonder what would happen if she shoved her nails into them. "Then, will you untie me?" "I think it''d be more fun if you stay tied." The noble''s clear desires and lust were evident, but rather than feeling disgusted, Dunbakel thought that this noble seemed much easier to deal with than those who had previously held him. Rem, the crazy one, smiled at the noble''s words. It was clear this was a dangerous situation. Ragna, who said nothing, spoke in a calm tone. "If you move without permission, I''ll cut you down." It was said with the same calm tone one would use to say, "The moon will rise tonight." ''Does that mean he''ll kill me if I do what the noble wants?'' In this entire situation, Dunbakel thought he was seeing the calmest human being. Enkrid, was it? As the carriage started moving, Enkrid drew his sword and began swinging it. ''What''s he doing?'' Whoosh, swoosh. The sword cut through the air. Was he practicing while walking? Or just training? Enkrid''s footwork seemed to be part of the exercise, too. The noble''s guard, who was also the coachman, sneered. "Just because a grub rolls around doesn''t mean it becomes a butterfly." Was he talking from experience? Dunbakel had fought against Enkrid before. She knew his skills well. But seeing him do this now, rather than feeling afraid, a sense of curiosity emerged. Looking back, Ragna was watching their commander carefully. Dunbakel couldn''t help but ask, his curiosity growing. "Why is he still training like that with such skill?" Not sure how to respond, Ragna answered without hesitation. "He used to be terrible. He couldn''t even fight a single ghoul." A ghoul? Really? Dunbakel had fought against Enkrid before. She knew his skills well. He was no slouch. "Yet, he swung that sword every day, even though it was only to toughen his palm and build muscle. He did it every single day. No exceptions. How could he do that?" Ragna spoke almost to himself, as if recalling the past. No, had he been talking to himself the whole time? Dunbakel watched Ragna''s eyes, curious about what was going on. Those eyes¡ªthere was something burning in them. It was like he was lost in thought, obsessed with something. Now didn''t seem like the time to ask. ''He couldn''t even fight a ghoul, yet he kept swinging his sword? Every day?'' "Such a person. He''s the kind of person who''s lucky to be alive, and I can''t understand why he''s eating sword for lunch. But I don''t know when he became this strong." Rem added to the conversation, coming over after initially showing no interest. Now that he was talking about Enkrid, the crazy one came over and spoke. The tone was different now. Gone was the mocking attitude of someone using a past injury to taunt. Even though he was a crazy one, Dunbakel moved slightly to the side. As they walked, he continued to watch Enkrid, who was swinging her sword. Dunbakel thought. ''When was the last time I did something like this?'' After being cast out as a beast, he fought to survive. Then, she realized she was a half-beast and figured she wouldn''t be able to learn much more. Since she couldn''t advance further, she stopped training, stopped growing. ''That man couldn''t even fight a ghoul?'' And still, he kept swinging his sword every day? He could hear Rem mumbling, "It didn''t even take a year. Was he a genius? No, definitely not." A year? Could someone really change that much in just a year? Dunbakel found herself watching him Chapter 196 - If a feast has been prepared for oneself, isn’t it only right to at least taste it? Chapter 196 - 196 - If a feast has been prepared for oneself, isn¡¯t it only right to at least taste it? He quickly made a fire and placed a pot on top. Since it was a field meal, it wasn''t going to be anything extravagant. Dried meat, fruit, cheese, and water mixed with wine were all there was. Everyone ate and drank. Enkrid, tearing into the seasoned jerky he had brought, noticed a pair of eyes watching him intently. It was the beast-woman. ''Do you want some?'' Seeing the longing in her eyes, it seemed they were quite hungry. Thinking about it, she probably hadn''t had a proper meal since being imprisoned. Whether they kill or free her, one should at least provide food. The hunger was so intense that their eyes seemed to glow. A golden hue. ''No need to be stingy.'' How significant could one piece of jerky be? Enkrid tore off a portion of the jerky and sat in front of the beast-man. He shoved it into their mouth, and the beast-man blinked in surprise. "Try it." Dunbakel mumbled to herself. The savory and sweet blend of flavors spread in her mouth, stimulating her mind. At the same time, she looked at the man in front of her. She observed him over and over, and before long, beyond jealousy and envy, something resembling admiration started to grow. ''What if I had lived like him?'' She couldn''t help but feel a sense of envy. It must have been luck to have such an extraordinary subordinates around. If that kind of luck had come her way... Why had she been born this way? Why was she born to be abandoned and forsaken? It would have been better if it had ended with just being neglected. Then she would have fought for her village, and if she had died like that, it would have been fine. If she had left for Creamhalt''s embrace. Regret, jealousy, longing, and sorrow. A mixture of emotions filled her as she chewed on the jerky. She swallowed, and even passed the water bottle. Thinking it was water mixed with wine, she was instead met with a refreshing apple flavor that filled her mouth. "Apple cider?" Why was he treating her this way? Dunbakel thought he was trying to seduce her, but she couldn''t be sure. It was a moment of choice. Should she speak, or stay silent? It was a turning point. Dunbakel made her choice. "There will be an ambush by the Black Blades." With seasoning still on the corner of her mouth, Dunbakel spoke. If he asked how she knew, she planned to talk about the markings. Enkrid just looked directly into Dunbakel''s eyes and said, "I see." After that, Dunbakel expected Enkrid to do something, but surprisingly, he remained quiet. He simply returned to his meal, speaking only a few words to the noble and a member of the Black Blades. "How do you know the way?" Knowing the road as a messenger for the Black Blade wasn''t the same as knowing the way. Marcus hadn''t even stirred to bring this up, but Enkrid had. Vancento twisted the corners of his mouth. He looked at Enkrid with a mocking expression and spoke. "You don''t need to know. Commoner." Was it a habit to attach the word "commoner" to the end of everything? Though, he didn''t seem to be a very impressive noble either. Enkrid, thinking it was no big deal, nodded in acknowledgment. That wasn''t really important anyway. Enkrid looked at the guards in black clothes. He had observed their walking patterns, hand gestures, attitudes, and positioning. He''d seen them in the city before, but now that he was out here, he could clearly tell. ''Not bad, I think.'' Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, Audin, and even the fairy commander. Lately, he''d had an abundance of sparring partners, but none had given him quite the same feeling. Their steps light, their hands fast. They likely preferred short weapons. Throwing techniques would probably be top-notch as well. Part of him wanted to see their unique skills, while the other part of him felt an inner thirst. Sparring was sparring, and real combat was real combat. Watching someone chew thin bread and drink water in front of him, this thought arose. ''I want to fight.'' The movements and gestures naturally piqued his interest. ''How effective will my swordsmanship be?'' What should he focus on when facing them? How could he catch up to their steps? Enkrid wasn''t a genius. Just because he saw something didn''t mean the method to counter it would suddenly appear. However, after hundreds, or even thousands, of sparring sessions, he could draw on his experience to come up with a response. ''If I cut their thighs...'' Their feet would freeze. That would essentially seal one of their special techniques. It was when he saw their peculiar habits that Enkrid wanted to fight them. Maybe it was because they sensed his gaze. "Annoying." The guard in black raised his head and spoke after taking a few sips of water and a bite of bread. His gaze landed on Enkrid, and Enkrid opened his mouth. "Me?" "Who else?" A strange tension filled the space between them. One showed a subtle hint of hostility, while the other displayed an obvious sense of ill-will and discomfort. The guard in black, revealing his hostility, sat and crossed his arms, resting them on his knees. They were gathered in the shade under an appropriate tree. The sound of two horses walking over dry grass, munching on the dried plants, and a cool breeze for a summer day blew as the guard spoke again. "You must be at the height of your confidence now." Enkrid inwardly agreed. Lately, he had been feeling a sense of confidence. "But you should be cautious. You need to choose your opponents carefully." That was also true. "Isn''t that just a special class in the so-called ''common soldier'' ranking?" ...That was not the case. "You shouldn''t risk your life on foolish actions, right?" Enkrid wasn''t even surprised anymore. Hadn''t people underestimated him countless times before? This was nothing new. Even before he left, didn''t Krais say something similar? "Marcus tends to hide the captain''s achievements. He seems to have ulterior motives." He had hidden and concealed things. In that case, it wasn''t surprising that others might misunderstand. But there was disappointment too. ''Their perception.'' He had seen through his opponents, but they hadn''t seen through him. In truth, this was only natural. Enkrid had climbed from the very bottom to get to where he was now. He didn''t have the habits of someone who had quickly acquired skill. Arrogance and pride were the furthest things from him. What remained was the relentless drive of someone who had climbed up through defeat. So, to an outsider, he might just appear as someone who wielded a sword at a decent level. "That''s some nonsense." Rem said as he saw this. Hearing Rem''s words, the noble Vancento spoke. "Shut up, you barbarian. Are you showing off that you grew up without a mother?" His words cut deeply, like a sharp blade, provoking Rem. Enkrid thought it was too late to stop this now. In fact, he thought it was fine this way. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- The guard in black was thinking of calming things down with words. After all, it would be over once they had finished their meal and passed half a day. The Black Blades waiting in ambush ahead would kill them all. Normally, he would have been the one to take action. ''One of them would be fine, but...'' If it was Rem and Ragna together. But he didn''t want to fight both of them at once. Enkrid didn''t even matter to him. Who was that guy? Among the Black Blades, he was one of the elite, ranking among the top with his skills. He had learned from a great teacher. It was one of those moments. "You barbaric fool, shut your mouth. Are you trying to show off that you grew up without a mother?" Vansento spat out his usual venom. Enkrid had to stop Rem again, but there was no time or moment to do so. Hwoong, thud! A sound like the wind being sliced was followed by a heavy and horrible noise. The guards turned their heads. He tried to process the situation for a moment, still turning his head. "Grr, grr." A person with an axe lodged in their face couldn''t speak properly. That was to be expected. Moreover, surviving would be impossible. If someone managed to live with their face half-split like that, they''d be more like a ghoul than a human. ''Even a ghoul would die if their face is split like that.'' Between the vertically split skull, something small and precious that had been in the head was now spilling out, blood flowing freely. The moment of impact sent an eyeball flying out and rolling to one side. From the force of the axe, the body flew back several steps, landing in a crumpled heap as a corpse. The person was Vansento, a member of the Black Blade, an envoy for this mission, and a noble. "Damn, that guy has a filthy mouth." Rem, the barbarian, muttered as he shook his hands. "What the hell?!" At last, the guard, now startled, jumped up and said. Hiiiiiing! Suddenly, the two horses tied to the carriage neighed loudly in panic. Dunbakel was also surprised, mouth agape. ''He killed a noble?'' They had just barely left Border Guard''s patrol area and had been traveling for a little over half a day, and now, the envoy and their guard had been killed. Killed by the very man who was supposed to protect them. Enkrid''s assessment was simple and plain. "Oh, I see." "Oh, I see? These crazy bastards." The guard wasn''t particularly sharp. At least, Enkrid thought so. Ragna was indifferent. He merely asked Enkrid. "Are you handling this alone?" "I''d like to." "Do as you wish." Rem walked up like he was going for a stroll and pulled out the axe he had thrown. Below the axe was the dead Vansento. The scum who had eaten the gold coins from the Black Blade. Knowing he was trash, why hadn''t they killed him easily? Because he was a noble. The noble status acted as a shield. Even if it wasn''t inherited and was just a minor noble. If this was revealed, Rem would be hunted for the rest of his life, yet he took such a gamble. The guard''s thoughts grew complicated. "What are you looking at? Want me to add a decoration to your head too?" Rem, meeting the guard''s gaze, said. "It''s mine." Enkrid, rarely showing greed, added. "Oh, I know. If it weren''t, I would''ve swiped it already." Rem, shaking his limbs, wiped the blood off on Vansento''s silken robes, cleaning the axe blade. The guard, seeing this, spoke up. "This is still Border Guard''s patrol area. What if a patrol comes through?" It was a natural question. "They won''t come." Enkrid answered flatly. He already knew how patrols were carried out. He had learned everything from Vengeance, who also served as the patrol captain. "They won''t come?" Only then did the guard in black realize that this wasn''t an impulsive act. ''Was this planned from the start?'' Enkrid swiftly drew his sword with a chirr. The sword reflected sunlight, scattering light. Seeing the sword tip aimed at him, the guard also drew his weapons. Two black daggers were unsheathed soundlessly. The guard held them both in reverse, blades facing downward, and instinctively took a fighting stance. ''There are reinforcements half a day''s distance away.'' It was time to forget about Vansento''s death and focus on finding a way to survive. How could he survive? Enkrid had said he would handle him alone. Rem and Ragna didn''t seem interested. ''I''ll go all in and charge.'' He was confident in his speed. But to do so, some things had to be in place. "You knew the patrol wouldn''t come, so you planned this, right?" Enkrid shrugged. "None of us need to be seen, is that it?" As he spoke, the guard subtly began moving his feet. It looked like he was trying to avoid the sun. Enkrid mirrored his movements. The guard had positioned himself exactly where he wanted. He was now behind the carriage, on the right rear. He swiftly threw the dagger held in reverse. Enkrid instinctively raised his sword. If the guard threw it or rushed in, there would be time to react. The guard threw the dagger upwards and waved his right hand. At the same time, two throwing knives shot from his belt. His handwork was quick. He threw the weapon in his hand to distract Enkrid and then threw knives from his waist. The two knives flew and struck the horses'' necks. The horses cried out in pain as they staggered and bled. The guard had calculated that if the horses were dead, the others would not be able to pursue him. The remaining task was to fend off Enkrid, who was blocking his way. With a swift motion, he caught the dagger he had thrown and lowered his stance, striking the ground. He rapidly closed the distance, getting within sword range in no time. It''s often said that heavy infantry has the advantage in battle. But when the distance closes like this, light infantry has the advantage. ''I''ve got him.'' The guard, confident, crossed the daggers he held in reverse and slashed at Enkrid''s wrists and neck. Enkrid deflected one of the blades aimed at his wrist with his forearm guard. He dodged the second strike to his neck by tilting his head backward. It was a trick made possible by watching and timing his movements accurately. With that, Enkrid raised his knee, and the guard, already close, had no time to dodge. The guard quickly raised his knee to block. Thud! "Ugh!" ''What power is this?'' One blow, just a knee strike, left the guard''s shin in pain. But that wasn''t all. In an instant, Enkrid vanished from view, and suddenly a presence beside him made the guard lower his head. Ping. Before he knew it, a wide-bladed guard sword had swept through the guard''s hair, cutting several strands free. Without waiting for the guard to catch his breath, Enkrid thrust both daggers forward. Whoosh! The thrusts cut through the air. Behind the guard, Enkrid''s next strike was already on its way. He used his forearm like a sickle, slashing downward. Wham! Crash! The strike hit the back of the guard''s head. The guard, still in his lowered stance, collapsed to the ground, his forehead slamming into the earth. Enkrid didn''t hesitate and drove his sword into the back of the guard''s head. Thud! After creating a second hole at the back of his skull, he pulled the sword out, and blood spurted from the new wound. Enkrid stepped back and wiped his sword in the air, blood droplets splattering onto the ground. "You don''t look too happy. Was it boring?" Seeing this, Rem asked. Enkrid gave an honest reply. "It was too dull." His speed was slower than Enkrids. His fighting skill wasn''t as good as the cursed sword. But it wasn''t like there was no flash of brilliance either. He was better than that beast-man, but calling him outstanding was difficult. In the end, it felt like doing something without wiping properly afterward. "What was your name again?" Enkrid asked without hesitation, not directed at Rem or Ragna. The beast-man soon answered. "Dunbakel." Staring into the beast-man''s golden eyes, Enkrid asked with regret. "How many ambushing soldiers are there?" If a feast had been prepared for him, shouldn''t he at least taste it? Enkrid was sincere. Dunbakel now had no choice but to acknowledge. These guys were definitely crazy. "They''re probably elite. They''ll had time to prepare, so they wouldn''t have sent weak ones." Enkrid didn''t laugh at this, but his eyes shone. Rem grinned. Ragna, on the other hand, silently watched Enkrid and then spoke. "Why did you give up the distance?" "To induce carelessness." "Not bad." Even in this situation, they were talking about swordsmanship. It was absurd that they weren''t even bothered by the fact that they had just killed a noble. Chapter 197 - That’s how it had been. That’s what he had thought. Chapter 197 - 197 - That¡¯s how it had been. That¡¯s what he had thought. Vancento had devised the best plan in the given situation. Well, he had. He had decided to kill the guards, Enkrid and his group, and then take the opportunity to ally with Martai and overthrow the city. He even added that this was something that should have been done long ago. Now, Vancento was in a position where he could no longer speak. His head split open and buried in the ground, there was no more speech to be had. "Let''s go." Enkrid sorted through the two corpses and the wagon, taking what could be taken, and buried the bodies in the ground. ''Not bad.'' A hefty pouch of gold coins, a few jewels, and several black stones whose purpose was unknown. The black stones didn''t seem like jewels, but when he looked at them, a strange energy was felt. Could they be sold? They might be worth something, so he took them along. Stuffing the gold and other items into his backpack, he also grabbed the black dagger that the guards had used. In the end, he had gathered everything of value. It felt like he''d looted everything. "I feel like a thief." Enkrid said, and Rem joked, "Enkrid''s band of thieves, what if we start an army?" Despite the words, Rem wasn''t the type to steal from innocent people. Without resting, Enkrid and his group moved on. Naturally, Dunbakel, tied up, had to follow along. There was no chance to escape. They were informed of the ambush position. Even though they had been told that some of the Black Blade''s core forces might be there, they were all still relaxed. "Rough wilderness, black sun, crumbling earth, breaking skies." Rem suddenly stopped walking and sang a song, one that sounded like something you''d hear in a frontier town. It wasn''t a particularly good song, but surprisingly, Rem''s voice was quite good. "Racing through the sky, shattering it down." Listening to his song with one ear and letting it slip out the other, Enkrid heard the others up ahead talking. "How did you master the sword movements? How did you memorize them?" "I''ve memorized them all." It seemed like a complicated question, but the answer was clear. The blonde-haired person seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if choosing their words carefully, before blurting out, "Reaching to the left with your hand is to send the opponent to the right. You must not disregard the meaning of each movement." "Okay, understood." Enkrid, the leader, nodded. ''Understood?'' Dunbakel thought, utterly confused. What were they talking about? Enkrid continued and clarified his understanding. "Every step and every hand movement with the sword has meaning, right?" The blonde nodded lightly, cheerfully. "Yes, every movement has its meaning." Dunbakel still couldn''t quite grasp what they were talking about, but he understood one thing. ''They''re talking about swordsmanship.'' Dunbakel remained baffled. Why were they so carefree? Something itched in his chest. He couldn''t pinpoint what it was, but one thing was clear. Curiosity welled up. What were these people all about? *** Enkrid had a small realization while listening to Ragna''s words. It was exactly what he needed to hear right now. Ragna had figured this out after a single battle and said it. His awkwardness in phrasing didn''t matter. ''As long as I understand it, it''s all good.'' The problem didn''t exist. Enkrid reflected on the lesson he''d been given by rearranging his thoughts. ''Every sword movement has meaning.'' It was essential to understand all of it. He had also felt something while fighting the beasts from the rear earlier. The combination of the Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship. Ultimately, wielding the sword was the responsibility of the person holding it. ''Understanding and internalizing it.'' If he understood it fully, he could deconstruct it and use it, pulling out the needed movements when required. Ragna''s words had begun with the meaning of movements, but for Enkrid, the end result was a lesson in how to approach learning swordsmanship. "Medium swordsmanship should come after you''ve understood the sword techniques you''ve learned so far," Ragna said. "And after you''ve internalized them into your body," Enkrid added. They nodded, looking ahead. "There''s an ambush up ahead," Rem finished his song and Enkrid put an end to the conversation with Ragna. The beast-woman spoke up from behind them. Her voice was strong, hiding none of her urgency. "What''s your name?" Enkrid turned his head slightly and asked. Though he wondered why the beast-woman was asking the same question over and over, the beast-woman responded with a look that seemed to say, "Why does it matter?" "Dunbakel." "Alright, Dunbakel." Enkrid tried to explain. Why were they heading straight into the ambush? Why were they taking such risks? Enkrid didn''t see this ambush as a threat. Why? Who was it that had passed on the information about his group''s forces? The dead noble and the guards. All the Black Blade assailants were dead, and the only survivor was this beast-woman. If this beast-woman had secretly passed on word, things would be different. ''But there''s not even a hint of that.'' They hadn''t left room for that to happen, but there was something they could feel just from looking at her. Questions, curiosity, and a mix of desire were in his golden eyes. Dunbakel, the beast-woman, was only asking. Why head toward the ambush? The answer was simple. If a small elite force was waiting without understanding the strength of their enemies, then¡ª ''An ambush wouldn''t be an ambush in that case.'' Of course, all these calculations could go awry, and they could end up in danger. The probability of that was always present. But what if the Black Sword had gone half-mad and sent more than half of their forces here? ''That won''t happen.'' The chances of that were extremely low. Krais had acknowledged that Enkrid wasn''t using his head, but when he did, it worked out quite well. Though the phrasing irked him a bit, it wasn''t a bad remark. Enkrid knew it well. ''If it were me...'' If he were the leader of the Black Sword, he''d send exactly twice the number of forces than the ones previously sent. That would be enough. If he were to worry more, he would add someone skilled at murder rather than combat. So. The strength composition would be flawed. But it wasn''t just him; Rem and Ragnar were also with him. Ragnar, who yawned and muttered he was sleepy as he walked with his mouth agape. Rem, kicking stones as he walked. Neither of them showed any signs of tension. Both were still overwhelming in strength compared to Enkrid. This was the miscalculation about their strength estimation. This was Enkrid''s belief. Dunbakel''s repeated mention of the ambush ahead was his way of asking why they were moving forward. Enkrid had an answer, but saying all of it would make things long-winded, and there was no need to explain it to the golden-eyed beastman before him. "If you''re asking why we''re heading toward an ambush, it''s simple." He paused for a moment before glancing at the beast-woman''s eager eyes and added: "Because I want to swing my sword more." It wasn''t a lie. He had calculated, but it was also a desire deep within his heart. At those words, Dunbakel''s golden eyes started to shake wildly. "...Why?" Why would they go for such a reason? But at the same time, it made sense. The teachings of Krimhart surged from the depths of her heart, like a fountain striking his head. Ding¡ª It felt like someone had struck a bell right next to his ear. ''You will live and die on the battlefield.'' Krimhart, the god she believed in, had said this. The man before him was about to live that way. At the same time, he remembered the words of the fortune-teller she had heard when she was driven out of the village. "When you seek death in the future, a guide will be by your side." At the time, he had thought it was just a pitying remark, but now it seemed different. Dunbakel had prepared herself for death, but he was still alive. Whose whim had saved him? It was because of the man before him. Within Dunbakel''s heart, a subtle breeze of envy, jealousy, and admiration grew. ''I want to have his child.'' In reality, it would be impossible. Hybrid children of beastmen and humans weren''t easy to conceive. But there was more than one wish. ''I want to stay beside him.'' I want to be by his side. I want to learn from his life. I want to die by his side. Complicated and subtle desires burned in her heart. Enkrid caught a glimpse of her eyes. ''Why are her eyes like that?'' He had gotten used to seeing people with crazy eyes recently, but this was the first time he had seen such a look. Something strange yet intense. "By the way, why didn''t Esther come along?" While staring into Dunbakel''s eyes, Rem suddenly asked. Avoiding her gaze, Enkrid responded to Rem. "I don''t know. Our Esther is fickle." Enkrid said it as a joke, and Rem chuckled. "If Esther hears that, she''ll probably draw a musical score on your face. But it doesn''t seem like an entirely wrong statement either." Esther, who would act like she would never leave his side one moment, would then disappear from the camp for several days at a time. Considering her behavior, the term ''fickle'' seemed quite fitting. The group walked leisurely up a small hill. A few small trees appeared in sight, and soon the trees were dense enough to obscure their view on both sides. The path was rough. Rocks jutted out from the soil, and ants marched in lines, carrying the bodies of dead insects. It was a hard path to walk. As they walked, it didn''t feel like they were on a hill, but more like a small mound. Originally, if they crossed this place, it would be a two-day walk to their agreed destination. The place where the envoy and the Black Sword should meet. Of course, the promise had now become meaningless. Heh. The wind rustled the leaves, and sunlight filtered through them. It was a pleasant day. The wind wasn''t suffocating, and the sunlight filtered through the leaves, not too hot. As they moved a little further, an open area appeared, and behind it, thick foliage and thorn bushes mixed together. So, there was no more path forward. It was a dead end. "This is as far as you go." Inside the open area, about ten people were visible. One of them spoke. Three women and seven men. Among them, there was someone wielding an axe, someone standing with their arms hanging down, someone sitting on a moderately large rock, and even someone perched on a tree branch above. There was a variety of them. The atmosphere grew cold. The one who spoke glared, and Enkrid and his group stopped walking. Now, what would they do? Tension thickened the air. In the midst of it, Enkrid spoke up. "Wow, an ambush." It was in a theatrical tone. Moreover, his acting was terrible. "Wow, we''ve been caught." Rem chimed in. "How surprising." Ragnar added something similar, while yawning and rubbing his eyes, making it look like he was genuinely shocked. Dunbakel, watching them, was still confused. Suddenly a performance? "To wait for us here, these are some meticulous ones." Enkrid continued. He was talking about their meticulousness while picking his ears, which was quite an impression. "An unexpected moment. I''m so nervous I could die." Rem said, scratching his nose. Even with his nose in his hands, Rem still looked handsome, and that never faded. "I almost bit my tongue from surprise." As he spoke, Enkrid popped a candy into his mouth. Crunch. Sweet. But where did that candy come from? Dunbakel couldn''t help but wonder about it. "Ugh, I want to run away." Enkrid''s words were matched by Rem, who was usually sincere in teasing others. What were the two of them doing? Provocation. Hearing their words, scratching at the enemy''s insides right away, even Dunbakel was starting to get irritated. What about the enemy? "Are these guys crazy?" One of them showed his confusion. "Do you all want to die that badly?" A woman feigned casualness. "You''re all dead anyway." One who clearly wasn''t interested in them. "You little bastards?" One was getting angry. Enkrid nodded after observing the reactions and looked at Rem. Rem also looked at Enkrid, snorted, and nodded. Both seemed quite pleased with the reactions they had provoked. "Don''t run away, stay here." A blonde with red eyes, a person named Ragnar, said and pulled her back. If there was a time to run, it would be now. However, Dunbakel chose not to flee, but to watch. She wanted to know, to see. What were these three relying on to come this far? The enemy was a well-known force even in the Black Sword. Dunbakel still didn''t know the full extent of Enkrid, Rem, and Ragnar''s abilities. "I''ve never met anyone like this in my life. Since I don''t see Vancento, I guess they''ve already taken care of him, but did youq know we were waiting?" The man standing at the front had a scruffy beard. His weapon was a trident. The tip was sharp, and the axe blade beside the spearhead was as wide as the palm of a hand. Just the way he held it diagonally showed he wasn''t someone to take lightly. If that axe blade caught you, your skull would split open like a ripe fruit. "How did you know?" Enkrid asked. "You have a natural talent for teasing people, huh?" The one with the trident widened his eyes and spoke. Rem chuckled. "Correct! I''ve never met a person with a tongue as sharp as yours." Enkrid felt a little wronged. "I was just being sincere." Of course, he had a bit of teasing intent, but wasn''t that a reasonable thing to say in this situation? How did he know? That was perfectly appropriate. "So, don''t think you''ll win with your tongue, you should come at me with your weapons." Rem said, as if wrapping up the situation. The trident-wielder frowned. He hesitated for a brief moment, just a moment. ''They came knowing about the ambush?'' There was no time for prolonged hesitation. "What''s there to think about?" The fighter was the first to step forward. He wore brass knuckles with flat iron plates attached to them. Enkrid had made the move and provoked them, anticipating that the enemy might hesitate. The enemy''s response was exactly what he had hoped for. When the brawler stepped forward, the trident-wielder could no longer hold back. ''Kill them first.'' The force of the Black Sword here was well-regarded in the branch. Except for the branch leader, they were known as the "Ten Swords." When their group of ten gathered, they felt confident they could beat anyone, as long as they weren''t facing a knight order. Considering the current situation, there was no chance the Red Cloak Knights would arrive, so the trident-wielder was confident in victory and moved forward with the plan. That''s how it was. That''s what he thought. He believed in it. That was until the brawler and the axe-wielder were about to strike their first blow. Chapter 198 - Those two are better at showing than telling Chapter 198 - 198 - Those two are better at showing than telling The brawler stomped the ground and charged forward. His ankles flexed with spring-like force, propelling his body forward in a perfect transfer of power from his knees, thighs, and up to his torso. As a result, he was frighteningly fast. However, it wasn''t fast enough that it would be impossible to respond. Naturally, he wasn''t a match for Rem. Rem made a feigned strike, raising the axe in his left hand and bringing it down at an angle. Just before the opponent''s fist would make contact and his head would split into two, the attacker suddenly increased his speed, leaving behind a faint afterimage. The fighter who had been charging at him now appeared to blur with speed. Boom! Rem''s left-handed axe cut through the air, missing its target. The fighter, closing the distance, planted his right foot and launched a punch with a heavy metal knuckle. It was clear he had been trained. Then, Wham! "Why are you putting your neck toward the axe?" The sound of the impact was followed by Rem''s calm voice. Enkrid recalled the scene he had just witnessed. The fighter had been charging with a consistent speed before suddenly shifting his tempo for a more powerful strike. Anyone else might not have been able to stop that blow. At best, they would have been able to dodge it, but the opponent would follow up with another attack. As Audin had said: "A fighter who uses their fists is one who pays special attention to distance, brother." In response to this sudden change in pace, Rem seemed almost indifferent. Feinting with the left axe to create an opening, he quickly swung the right axe with much greater speed. Though the opponent used a similar tactic, the result was vastly different. The axe blade flew like a beam of light and severed the man''s neck. The decapitated head of the attacker flew off and landed with a thud. The fighter''s body, which had launched the punch, collapsed immediately after Rem pushed him away with the back of his hand while still holding the axe. "That one''s not easy. Don''t let your guard down!" The man with the spiked spear yelled out. At that, five more men closed in on Rem. They were all men. Three wielded tridents and swords, and one toyed with a dagger. In total, there were five. "This is fun," Rem said, even as he faced them, his attitude calm. He even danced a little, as if enjoying the moment. Ragna placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and walked confidently toward the man with the spiked spear. "Kill him!" The man with the spear shouted. In that instant, a female thief, perched on a branch, shot something. Ping! A short arrow aimed at Ragna''s shoulder. Ragna twisted his body to dodge the arrow and smoothly drew his sword as he did. The motion was so fluid, it seemed almost rehearsed. Clink! The sword clashed against the spear, blocking it with a sharp sound. "Hmm!" Perhaps because the strike wasn''t very strong, the spear-wielding man briefly tilted to the side. At that moment, a second arrow flew toward him. As expected, Ragna dodged it once again. The short arrow struck a stone on the ground and bounced off with a sharp sound. ''Up there.'' Enkrid spotted the origin of the arrows. On the tree above. A small figure, using a device on his wrist, was shooting arrows. Enkrid moved quickly. Though he lacked a whistle dagger, he was trained in proper throwing techniques. In a split second, he slowed down time, focused, and gauged the distance between himself and the archer, before tossing a dagger. The dagger cut through the air and missed the archer, but lodged itself deep in the thick tree trunk where the figure had been. "Kill him, Roomt!" The man with the spiked spear shouted. One of the enemies approached Enkrid. This one wielded two daggers. Roomt eyed the dagger hanging from Enkrid''s waist. "That dagger..." "Got it as a gift." Before the enemy could finish speaking, Enkrid responded without even taking a breath. Roomt furrowed his brows at the reply. He had a fierce look, with sparse eyebrows and unnaturally small pupils, which made him appear intimidating. However, appearance and skill are not always tied together. ''A typical mercenary face.'' Many mercenaries bore scars, making them look menacing just by their appearance. "I taught him," the man said. At about forty years old, someone still fighting on the front lines would have to be quite skilled. His heart raced. He was probably better than the one he had taught. But was he better than the leader of that group? A strange sense of anticipation filled him. And if there was anything he hoped for... "Are you going to do this alone?" Five were facing Rem, three were facing Ragna. Why was he facing only one? The last one was a monkey-like creature jumping between the trees. Meanwhile, Rem was smiling while swinging his axe, facing the five enemies. The five opponents were showing caution. They had seen their comrade killed in a single blow. Even the spear-wielder was being cautious. When you have the numerical advantage, it''s usually better to surround the opponent slowly than to rush in recklessly. The spear-wielder and his two companions formed a circle around Ragna. The ones facing Rem were doing the same. "I''ll kill you first, and then I''ll rip that beast''s throat out." He was clearly furious, though it wasn''t clear what his relationship was with the black-clad guards. But despite his anger, he didn''t rush in. It wasn''t because he was cautious¡ªit was because he had experience. Enkrid didn''t plan on waiting. He stomped on the ground and moved forward. After hearing a few words from Ragna, he had gained a new insight into swordsmanship. He focused his attention and sharpened his senses. He could feel the prickling killing intent of his opponent against his skin. As Enkrid charged, Roomt''s hands moved. They were fast. Incredibly fast. His hands whipped through the air, and the blades seemed to multiply. Enkrid, using the basic swordsmanship of a straight thrust, extended his blade. If it was blocked, he intended to strike again or counter with a thrust. Roomt swung two daggers and deflected Enkrid''s sword. Thud! It was a technical deflection, not relying on strength, but on skill. The technique struck the center of the blade, disturbing its balance. Enkrid couldn''t land the strike where he intended. His blade veered off course. As his sword drifted, the opponent closed the distance and stabbed with his daggers. It was an unpredictable trajectory, coming from below. Enkrid, fully relying on his instincts, felt the blade approaching from the direction of his throat and pushed his left foot down to halt his body. He locked his movement, then tried to block the incoming dagger with his forearm guard by pulling his elbow back. But the dagger moved like a snake, targeting his chin. It was a swift, unpredictable strike. Enkrid tilted his head back. The tip of the dagger grazed his chin with a quick flick. As his sword extended forward, he reeled it back and pulled it inward, but his opponent rolled to the side to evade. The two daggers crossed in front of him, and his eyes locked onto Enkrid, as if asking, "You''ll dodge that?" Enkrid casually extended his sword again. What was there to avoid? To be honest, if he hadn''t practiced evasion, he might have been finished by that blow. But now, his body reacted automatically. His opponent was quite satisfying, though there were still gaps. Clearly, there was a noticeable skill difference between him and Dungbakel. "Special class, maybe. But still under the knight level." Enkrid assessed the opponent''s skill level in his mind. With that thought, he pushed his sword forward once more. The daggers came at him again. It was the same technique as before. Thud! Evasion, not just from the field but honed through years of experience. His swordsmanship had grown, and with it, the heart of a beast. His heart awakened, and strength surged throughout his body. He pushed his weight onto his left foot, moving forward with a crushing force. His opponent wouldn''t have anticipated the sheer power he carried. His focus and heightened senses made the oncoming daggers appear like fragmented images, not a blur. Clang! Sparks flew as the dagger collided with Enkrid''s sword. That was the end of it. For the technique to work, the opponent''s strength was required. The dagger couldn''t even budge Enkrid''s sword, nor could it evade the blow. With overwhelming strength, he pressed down. In the slowed time, Enkrid saw his opponent''s panicked eyes. And with that, he thrust his sword. Thunk! The leather armor protecting his opponent''s chest was torn, and the blade passed through. The enemy tried to twist his body at the last moment to deflect the sword, but Enkrid''s sword was simply too good. The tip of the blade sliced through the leather mercilessly. It was no trouble to cut through the remaining flesh and muscle. Starting beneath the collarbone, the sword pierced diagonally, then was pulled back, causing a spurt of blood. Ping! At that moment, a short arrow flew toward Enkrid, aimed directly at him. Ragna made that move part of his follow-up and dodged. Enkrid imitated the move. Ducking the arrow, he pivoted around his left foot, spinning his body and momentarily exposing his back to conceal the start and end of his hand''s movement before throwing a dagger. Whoosh! The monkey-like female thief didn''t seem to anticipate this, and the knife struck her thigh. "Ugh!" The monkey-like thief got stuck on the branch. Enkrid''s fight was over quickly. Why wouldn''t it be? It ended after just two exchanges of offense and defense. Enkrid''s gaze naturally shifted to Rem and Ragna. Well, those two were obviously dominating. "Just below the level of a knight" was an understatement. If the situation allowed, they could even kill a knight, as they claimed. The skill gap was clear. The defeat was, of course, due to ignorance. They didn''t know Enkrid or the mad squad. Because they didn''t know, they had to suffer. Enkrid''s gaze fell on Ragna. Whoosh. The spear-wielder made a feint with his spear, then swung horizontally. Ragna matched it with a sword swing. A defense? No. Clang, clang. "Bind." When blocked by the blade, the spear''s tip was deflected, and Ragna, controlling his strength, wrapped the spear with his sword. Then, spears and swords flew from both sides of Ragna. They both seemed to be using speed as their advantage. The weapons extending from the two female thieves'' hands had a terrifying momentum. In that brief moment, Ragna combined several moves into one. First, he gripped his sword with both hands and swept the spear away to the left, lifting it up and twisting it. The sword''s flat side stayed against the spear, maintaining the bind. He changed the trajectory of the spear, thrusting forward. The speed wasn''t too fast or too slow. As he twisted the sword, he took a step forward, and the spear and swords passed where Ragna had just been. The spear-wielding male thief gritted his teeth, pulled the spear inward, and pushed the blade away. Ragna didn''t force any strength into it and took another step closer. With that, he aimed for the left side of the spear-wielder''s head. The spear-wielder leaned back to avoid it, but it was too late. Skwish. A chilling sound rang as the man''s ear was nearly severed. Blood poured down his left cheek, dripping to the ground. The two women who had been waiting around them moved faster. The three swords danced through the air, and the spear-wielding female thief swung her spear widely to sweep at his feet. After severing the ear, Ragna quickly retrieved his sword, deflected the three swords with his blade, and dodged the spear aimed at his feet by jumping to the side, effortlessly escaping the range. It was a stunning display of distance control and precise swordsmanship. "How?" And as Enkrid watched, he wondered. He felt like he was fighting while trying to gauge the opponent''s skills. After observing, he quickly realized the answer. "They''re showing it, huh." What is swordsmanship? Every move has meaning. Ragna''s evasions held more than just defense. The positions he moved to were on the spear-wielder''s right side, forcing the female thief with the three swords to focus on Ragna in between them. Without even breathing, Ragna delivered a thrust with one hand. Having stepped back, he now moved in and aimed for the spear-wielder''s neck. Again, the speed of the attack wasn''t too fast or too slow. To be more precise: "Just enough for the opponent to block." Enkrid''s eyes darted about, and his mind raced faster. Each of Ragna''s movements was a lesson. A learning experience, a textbook he couldn''t afford to miss. But Enkrid couldn''t just focus on Ragna, as Rem was doing something similar. "Tsah!" With a strange battle cry, Rem swung his axe down like a bell. A thief approaching him blocked the axe with a longsword. Thud! The sword broke in one hit. "You little bastard, my axe is a good one!" Indeed, the axe was a good one. Rem had picked it up from a mercenary who had once used it. Rem, too, was fighting with an emphasis on showing rather than just relying on his strength. While Ragna focused on precision and the meaning within the form of swordsmanship, Rem used his superior strength and focused on showing how to fight. If you''re already superior to your opponent, why wouldn''t you use that to your advantage? It was almost as if Enkrid could hear Rem''s words. And with that, Rem showed how to fight. He didn''t rely solely on the axe to win. He kept talking, getting under his opponent''s skin. "Is your mother a ghoul?" And Enkrid saw him use what he had learned from his own experiences. The axe was used with precision to deflect and strike, each step calculated to put him in the best position. As Enkrid watched the two of them, he came to a realization. "Those two are better at showing than telling." It was a brief moment, but already Enkrid felt like he understood what they were conveying. It truly felt that way. Chapter 199 - Boss, we’ve got a delivery. Chapter 199 - 199 - Boss, we''ve got a delivery. The difference was clear. One side spoke of skill, form, and meaning. The other demonstrated how to overwhelm with superior strength. If one focused on swordsmanship, the other was a mass of raw instinct. Both were crucial, and both were necessary. It wasn''t as if Ragna avoided instinctive moves. Nor was it as if Rem ignored the structure of swordsmanship. "Their traits were simply distinct." Thus, there was much to learn. Moreover, there was a commonality between the two. Be it swordsmanship, instincts, footwork, attacks, or defense: "Precision." It was like threading a needle with intricate detail or using a fork to precisely pierce grains of millet. Their shared trait was the remarkable precision in their stances, touches, and steps, even while fighting. "Damn these guys." The shadow of defeat had long since settled in. The halberd-wielding rogue''s complexion was dark with despair. His muttering voice was drained of energy, as if he already sensed his death approaching. He had felt the stark difference in skill. It was the same for the five fighting Rem. Two of them had their swords broken and had to draw short swords. Another, who had tried to throw daggers in an opening, ended up with one of his own daggers embedded between his eyes, dying instantly. The one who died collapsed, his limbs twitching at first but growing cold as time passed. Among the four remaining attackers, one had his arm severed. These results came even though the attacks were intentionally held back to demonstrate to Enkrid. Meanwhile, the female rogue who had been attempting to shoot arrows from the trees with a knife still embedded in her thigh kept hesitating whenever she felt Enkrid''s gaze. Finding her distracting, Enkrid hurled another knife, this time piercing her forearm. "I can''t focus on observing those two when I keep getting distracted." "Urgh..." The rogue groaned atop the tree. The halberd-wielding rogue, with blood vessels bursting in his eyes, rushed in, tears of blood streaming down his face. In his final moments, he threw his spear, intending to grab Ragna in a desperate embrace. Ragna responded by abandoning the precise longsword techniques he had shown earlier and instead displaying his true specialty. The blade of his arming sword gleamed like a flash of light, slicing through the rogue''s body at an angle¡ªa mid-sword-style downward slash. The balance of strength and technique turned the man''s body into a pile of straw, cut cleanly apart. In an instant, Ragna shifted to the side, punching a female rogue wielding a rapier in the face. Smack! "Urgh!" Her teeth flew into the air. As she recoiled, clutching her face, Ragna followed up with a horizontal slash. Slice! Her severed head flew through the air. Ragna didn''t stop there. Switching from the swordsmanship forms he had shown earlier, he fought as if trading places with Rem¡ªusing rough but precise, and precise yet powerful mid-sword techniques. "Yah!" A female rogue with tanned skin, easily mistaken for a man, lunged forward with a spear. Ragna sidestepped it. His movements read the spear''s trajectory and speed with such clarity that they seemed effortless. Dodging the spear''s path, he stepped forward boldly and followed with an overhead slash. The mid-sword-style chopping strike landed on her head. Thud! Her skull shattered like an overripe fruit. That was the end. He killed them all. Afterward, Ragna calmly flicked the blood off his sword and turned his head. Of course, his gaze fell on Enkrid. "Did you see that?" Though unspoken, the words resonated clearly. Enkrid nodded. Precision, the meaning of swordsmanship, and the strength that form provides. It was a guidepost, a direction to move toward. And Enkrid was pleased by that realization¡ªespecially knowing Ragna''s actions didn''t mark the end. "Why''d you finish first!?" For reasons unknown, Rem suddenly exploded in anger, swinging his axe furiously. After hammering down on his opponents with brute force several times, forcing them into complete defense, one of them darted his eyes nervously. He clearly had a plan. Rem, noticing the shift, abandoned his forceful approach and began swinging his axe more methodically. "Footwork, gestures, posture..." Then came the descending axe strike. It wasn''t meant to claim his opponent''s life. Enkrid noticed, but the rogues did not. The trident-wielding rogue raised his weapon to block the axe. Meanwhile, another rogue spun to the side, opening his mouth. "Pfft!" It was a spray of poisoned sand, stored in his mouth for a critical moment. It was likely a last resort, but Rem was prepared, stepping back as if it was part of a planned sequence. "Damn it." The rogue with blue-tinged lips muttered a lament-like groan. Rem smirked. "You''re so obvious, you bastard." With that, his axe danced, severing the rogue''s neck. One of the rogues suddenly stabbed the throat of his legless comrade and cried out: "Please spare me! I''ll tell you everything!" A rather pathetic end to the scene. "Really? Great. So you''re willing to endure anything, huh?" Didn''t he just claim he''d say anything? Rem had a peculiar trait¡ªhis ears heard what he wanted to hear. "Eh? What?" "Where should we start? Your hands? Your feet?" "...Huh?" "I''m going to mince you. Piece by piece." With his axe in hand, Rem gestured with his thumb and forefinger, showing a small gap. "...Huh?" The rogue clearly didn''t understand. Still grinning, Rem swung his axe. Whack. Thud. A head flew off, and a body crumpled to the ground. "Kidding. I don''t have such twisted tastes." It seemed like he might, though. Possibly could. Enkrid thought as much as he glanced at Rem, who was already turning to speak. "Did you watch closely?" That single question revealed his entire intent. Both Ragna and Rem had slowed down their fights to put on a show¡ªfor their leader to see. "These two..." How far could they truly go if they unleashed everything? Every time it seemed like he''d caught up, they''d already moved far ahead. At first, Enkrid had thought of them as just high-ranking soldiers. Then, when he reached the level of a high-ranking soldier himself, he realized they were far beyond any soldier ranking system. As he reached the elite level and stepped toward his dreams: "Capable of killing a knight''s squire." In other words, their combat prowess was at least on par with a sub-knight. Rem himself had once said he couldn''t kill every opponent, one out of one hundred. But who could believe that? When Rem spoke, it felt as if he meant that with the right means, he could kill them¡ªwithout fail. It wasn''t arrogance or conceit. It was a demeanor born from a clear-eyed grasp of reality. Ragna was the same. Audin and Jaxen, too, carried a similar air. The four of them were monsters. Enkrid marveled at his own fortune. "Four monsters." Four teachers. Four times the things to learn. Wasn''t this truly the best? "Hmm." While Enkrid nodded in quiet admiration, Dunbakel¡ªwho had been watching the fight¡ªstood frozen, her mouth agape. Drip. Saliva trickled from her lips to the ground. She was so stunned she didn''t even realize her mouth was open. "The Black Blade''s Ten." A group of ten that could handle almost anything. They were considered the highest combat force under their branch head. Their opponents had been from that group. One rogue, the halberd wielder, had transitioned from being a mercenary. Back in his mercenary days, he was a renowned figure, bragging that he could face anyone below a sub-knight. His fame grew after surviving a clash with an actual squire of the knighthood. And yet, he was toyed with. Dunbakel, whose eyes were sharp, could see it. Ragna''s skill wasn''t just exceptional¡ªit was overwhelming. No, it wasn''t just skill. He had played with them. She suddenly realized she couldn''t measure their abilities by her own standards. As Dunbakel stood in shock, Rem spoke. "Close your mouth. You''re stinking up the place." Startled, Dunbakel finally closed her mouth. Meanwhile, Enkrid approached the female rogue who had wounds in her thigh and forearm. The female rogue squirmed beneath a tree like a worm and stammered: "I-I''m useful! Please spare me, I''ll... I''ll do anything! It''s true!" For someone of her massive build, it was almost laughable. Perhaps the term "female rogue" conjured images of a charming, feminine figure. If so, anyone thinking that would need their head examined. This woman fit the definition of "rogue" perfectly: blackened front teeth, one missing altogether; skin rough enough to be menacing; and eyes reeking of bloodlust. Her stench was rancid¡ªdays without bathing left a sour odor mixed with the acrid smell of urine. The woman, who had wet herself, looked up at Enkrid. What could be seen in her eyes? A plea for life? Or perhaps the primal instinct to survive? Not long ago, Enkrid had spared Dunbakel after seeing something in her gaze. He neither regretted nor dwelled on that decision¡ªit was something he acted on simply because his heart compelled him. Dunbakel''s eyes then had shown no trace of malice. And now? Thunk. Enkrid drove his sword clean through the female rogue''s throat. A plea for life was no different from a plea for treatment. Her injuries were already severe. Only immediate healing and prolonged care could have saved her. The dagger wounds in her thigh and arm weren''t random¡ªthey were calculated, intended to immobilize by severing critical muscles. Her request to be spared might as well have been: "Fetch me a high priest immediately" or "Take me with you, heal me, and cherish me." But she was a rogue. The group might have a grand name like Black Blade, but what kind of notable organization could they really belong to? Certainly not. Originally, this band of thieves went by names like Red Blade or Bloody Blade. Over time, their group caused so much trouble that people started calling them Black Blade¡ªtheir blood had turned black from long-standing malice. Any rogue serving as their core force, regardless of gender, would undoubtedly be a wretched scoundrel. While Enkrid trusted his instincts to some extent, survival in a world filled with war, monsters, and thieves left little room for hesitation. Killing was a natural part of life, especially for someone like Enkrid, steadily advancing toward the title of knight¡ªa term sometimes derided as "killing machines." Enkrid had no qualms about such a label. Pulling his sword free from the rogue''s lifeless body, he turned away without a second thought or shred of remorse. "Is that it, then?" Rem''s question cut through the silence. His earlier ferocity had subsided, likely because he''d worked out some of his pent-up tension. Enkrid, too, had noticed how unusually aggressive Rem had been lately, though he didn''t bring it up. Instead, he responded to Rem''s query. "Their base is probably in total chaos by now." "What else could be happening there?" Rem tilted his head in curiosity, while Ragna chimed in with his own question. Enkrid wasn''t slow to catch on. He had pieced things together before Krais had even explained. How could he not? Even before they''d left, there was an air of unease within the barracks. It was subtle but undeniable. While most ignored it, someone as sharp as Vengeance had picked up on it. "Doesn''t something feel off lately? Like there''s something going on?" he had asked. Enkrid had felt it too and understood the root of that unease. "They''re not coming back." One of the units he sparred with occasionally¡ªthe Border Defense Force¡ªhad been conspicuously absent. Despite their official title, the Border Defense Force wasn''t a mere guard unit. They were a combat-oriented force often deployed for special operations. Their leader, though formally ranked as a company commander, was practically second only to Battalion Commander Marcus in authority. From there, Krais''s calculated deductions painted the picture. "Marcus is bold," Krais remarked. When he started referring to the battalion commander as an equal, no one knew. "It seems to me he''s clearing out Black Blade entirely while ensuring attention stays elsewhere." Krais shot Enkrid a knowing look. The bait for distraction was evident. "He''s hitting them from behind. Brilliant strategy, really. The man''s a tactician." It was no surprise that Black Blade''s headquarters was in for far worse than their outpost. And as it turned out, Enkrid''s gut instincts and Krais''s foresight were spot on. "Do you think you''ll survive after opposing Black Blade?" The branch leader, choking on blood, spat the words as scarlet dripped down his chin. His body felt as though it was burning¡ªnot just figuratively, but physically, as his damaged organs writhed in agony. "I couldn''t care less." The Border Defense Force captain replied coolly, idly spinning a dagger in his hand. The blade gleamed ominously in the torchlight, its edge sharp enough to elicit unease. He wasn''t one to approach recklessly, especially against someone who might have tricks up their sleeve. "Cursed kingdom dogs," the branch leader growled bitterly. Perhaps he had his reasons, but they didn''t matter. The captain''s dagger sliced through the air. Thunk! The blade struck the branch leader square in the forehead, sending him collapsing backward with a dull thud. "Take everything and burn the place down," the captain ordered. While Enkrid fought his way toward the ambush site, the Border Defense Force made their move under cover of darkness. The Black Blade headquarters was nestled on a mountainside. Its defenses were sturdy, designed to repel both monsters and intruders. But without adequate manpower, even the best fortifications could only do so much. Most of Black Blade''s elite¡ªthe Ten Blades¡ªwere absent. "What about the escapees?" "They know the area too well. We lost them." "Unfortunate." As the captain explored the hidden paths and treasure-filled caves behind the mountain stronghold, over twenty rogues managed to flee. Among them was a particularly skilled individual who wasted no time retreating. If it was on their leader''s command, it was clear this was no ordinary band of thieves. Regardless, the captain focused on their victory, unwilling to dwell on what had slipped away. One of the fleeing rogues was a liaison from headquarters. "An attack. This branch is done for." He racked his brain, searching for the best course of action. "The Black Blade''s Ten." The chain of command in headquarters mirrored the branch structure. The branch leader had dispatched their ten elites for an ambush, determined to ensure success. Ironically, that decision had left the headquarters vulnerable. As the rogue fled the burning stronghold with over twenty others in tow, their destination was clear: the ambush site, where the Black Blade Ten awaited. Breathing heavily, the group pushed through a concealed forest path, their escape route a narrow, rugged trail. But when they arrived at the ambush site, what they saw froze them in place. "This''ll be useful." Figures rifled through the corpses of their fallen comrades. A man with black hair, another with gray, and a third with golden locks stood among the dead. "Dunbakel?" The rogue recognized one of them¡ªa beastfolk mercenary they had once hired. Rem, noticing the commotion and grinned. "Boss, we''ve got a delivery." He called out cheerfully to his leader. Chapter 200 - A Genuine Response Chapter 200 - 200 - A Genuine Response Enkrid lifted his head, his gaze locking onto the figure who emerged. It only took a moment for the tension to escalate. "Kill them all!" shouted the presumed leader of the "delivery." His sharp, slitted eyes gleamed with malicious intent. No sooner had the command been issued than the so-called leader turned tail and bolted. Enkrid, irked by the brazen cowardice, immediately gave chase. "Take care of the rest," he barked over his shoulder, leaving the skirmish behind. Invoking the Heart of the Beast, Enkrid surged forward, mimicking the speed dash of a mid-ranked knight he had once observed. But this time, he fused precision into the motion. With each stride, his mastery grew; it wasn''t flawless, but it was no longer unfamiliar. The coward plowed recklessly through bushes and brambles, but such a futile attempt at escape didn''t deter Enkrid. He was on the man in moments. The cornered man spun around, drawing an arming sword with alarming fluidity. His technique was polished¡ªquick, precise, and laden with feints. "A finesse-based style, likely from the Flowing Blade school," Enkrid assessed, recalling techniques he''d faced before. "Still inferior to the mercenary styles of Valen." The man struck with speed, blending trickery into his strikes, yet his offense crumbled against Enkrid''s sheer dominance. Ting. Crack. Snap! In a single exchange, Enkrid''s guard sword battered aside the man''s blade, slashing through his defenses and into his chest. The force sent the coward stumbling. Desperate, the man lunged with a hidden dagger. But Enkrid was faster. His blade thrust upward, the guard sword slamming under the man''s jaw before he could retaliate. In a seamless series of motions inspired by Ragna''s drills, Enkrid immobilized his opponent. The would-be escapee now stood frozen, his left arm awkwardly twisted, and his life hanging by a thread. "Who are you?" Enkrid demanded, his tone cold and clipped. When the man hesitated, Enkrid tilted his blade, grazing the throat. A fine line of blood trickled down, drawing a hurried response. "I-I''m from the main base of the Black Blades!" "The main base?" Enkrid pressed. "Why are you here?" "Patrolling!" the man sputtered, the lie clear as day. Enkrid''s instincts, honed by countless battles, screamed the truth. Without a second glance, he drew the blade across the man''s neck, ending his life in one efficient motion. Time was too precious for interrogations, especially when the enemy had nothing worthwhile to offer. Returning to the battlefield, Enkrid surveyed the aftermath. Victory was evident in the scattered corpses of the enemy. Only three captives remained alive, huddled together under watch. Looting began in earnest. Coins, poison sand, crude weapons, and wrist-mounted arrow launchers filled their haul. However, the sheer volume of spoils posed a problem. "You carry it," Ragna suggested, pointing to Rem. "Do you have a death wish?" Rem snapped back, the tension between them bubbling again. "Enough," Enkrid cut in sharply, silencing the squabble. His gaze fell on the captured thieves. "Tell me," he asked one of the trembling men, "is the main base gone?" Of the three captives, one wept helplessly while the other two frantically calculated their odds. "Y-Yes, sir," one managed to stammer. "I saw it myself. It was burning¡ªcompletely destroyed. Looked like someone set fire to it." Enkrid nodded, glancing at the cloudy sky. The moisture in the air hinted at impending rain. A fire spreading out of control seemed unlikely, especially if the Border Defense Forces had orchestrated it. "And you three?" Enkrid''s voice was calm yet unyielding. "A Change in Fortune" One of the thieves spoke up nervously. "A representative from the main base said... we were doomed, and some of us had to survive to carry the message..." His voice trailed off, the implication clear. They had fled without a fight. The lack of blood on their weapons and their sweat-soaked state only confirmed it. Enkrid guessed they were likely the only survivors. The scattered remnants from the base, those who fled into the forest, had probably become a meal for the beasts that roamed there. "You made it here by some miracle, then?" "There''s a shortcut!" the sharpest of the three piped up, seizing the moment to prove his usefulness. The Black Blade thieves were infamous for their adaptability. Whether building nests in treacherous mountain ranges, becoming raiders in the wilderness, or even pirates at sea, they had a way of surviving where others could not. Yet, this group, lacking the refinement of those who dominated the seas or the plains, had grown infamous as the largest inland thieves'' guild. "I know the paths well!" another thief blurted out eagerly. His attempt to gain favor only soured when he began to badmouth the lone beastkin among them. "That filthy mutt knows nothing! Thinks she''s still a mercenary, the fool..." "Enough," Enkrid cut him off coldly. "We''ll talk when we reach the city." The captives'' fate would be decided there. Whether execution, imprisonment, or endless torment, the choice would no longer be his concern. One thief let out a weak groan, as if realizing this was truly the end for him. "P-please, have mercy..." Enkrid tilted his head, showing a brief moment of cruel humor. "Would you rather I end it here?" The man''s panicked refusal brought an end to his plea, though his despair remained written all over his face. After stripping the bodies for anything useful, the group bundled their findings in improvised sacks made from torn clothing. Then came the grueling task of digging graves. "You dig too," Enkrid ordered the surviving thieves, who reluctantly complied. Meanwhile, Ragna cut the bindings on the beastkin thief, as promised earlier. By the time the graves were filled and the looting complete, the sun had set. "We march through the night," Enkrid decided, and his companions quickly agreed. On the way back, they found an abandoned wagon. The loot was loaded onto it, but with no horses in sight, the three captives were forced to pull it themselves. Drenched in sweat, they struggled to drag the wagon, with the beastkin thief offering occasional pushes from behind. Enkrid''s thoughts drifted. The beastkin woman''s determination and lack of malice stood in stark contrast to the other thieves. While her tenacity was impressive, his decision to free her stemmed purely from practicality. He had no interest in her beyond that. The journey back to the city took twice as long. By the time they arrived, dawn was breaking. "Who goes there?" A soldier on the city wall called down, flanked by three archers ready with their bows. "Captain Enkrid of the Independent Company," he declared, his voice firm. The recognition was immediate. After a brief exchange, the gates were opened by none other than Vengeance himself. "What is all this? Did you loot a village or something?" Benzens asked, his eyes narrowing at the loaded wagon. "Not looting¡ªrepelling a ransacking," Enkrid replied dryly. Looting the defeated was only natural in his eyes. Despite Vengeance''s suspicions, he didn''t press the matter further. Instead, his focus shifted to the palpable tension hanging over the city. "You''re heading straight to the commander, aren''t you?" Enkrid nodded. "Good. You''ll get the details there." Vengeance refused to elaborate, clearly unwilling to share more than necessary. "Stingy as always," Enkrid muttered with a smirk before heading inside. Rem and Ragna followed close behind, leaving the thieves to be handed over at the gate. "Take care of them," Rem instructed the guards, not sparing a glance as they entered the city. "Who are these people?" Vengeance asked, watching the group with suspicion. "Black Blade thieves," one of the guards replied. Vengeance blinked in surprise. What''s their name doing here? As his thoughts churned, the white-haired beastkin trailed behind Rem and Ragna, staying close but silent. Should I stop her? he wondered briefly but decided against it. If Enkrid hadn''t raised an issue, there was probably no need to intervene. Once the group was out of sight, Vengeance turned to a subordinate, his tone measured. "Am I... stingy?" The subordinate swallowed hard. Honesty was a virtue, but some truths were better left unsaid. "N-no, sir. You''re... fair. Perfectly ordinary, even." While he couldn''t call him "generous" with a clear conscience, this was as close to the truth as he dared to go. After all, Vengeance'' petty jealousy of Enkrid''s popularity with women was no secret. "Exactly! I''m not stingy, am I?" The subordinate nodded quickly, a display of wisdom in action. Meanwhile, Enkrid stood before Marcus, the battalion commander, his mind brimming with questions. "Why didn''t you inform me earlier?" Surely, knowing the situation would have allowed for better preparation or a more proactive response. Marcus raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. His response was blunt. "Because you''re terrible at lying." Enkrid blinked. Have they been watching me? he wondered, though Marcus'' statement seemed based more on his usual demeanor than any direct observation. ''If you want to fool the enemy, start by fooling your allies,'' Enkrid mused, silently conceding the point. "And what if I''d been in danger?" "That''s why I had you take Rem and Ragna." A brief silence followed. The risk hadn''t been that significant after all. "What''s going on with the city?" Enkrid changed the subject, sensing a shift in the mood. The Fairy Commander, seated nearby, took over. "There''ve been multiple incidents¡ªtwo ambushes on scouting parties, four attempts to breach the walls by infiltrators, and three attempts to sneak past the gates disguised as civilians." This hadn''t all happened in a single day but rather was a culmination of recent events. "Who''s behind it?" "Do I really need to spell it out?" the Fairy Commander retorted. "Martai," Enkrid answered, cutting the pretense. Marcus nodded grimly. "Yes. Martai has officially declared war." The timing wasn''t a coincidence. It was a calculated move, likely made before any preemptive actions could be taken. "This isn''t just a border skirmish," Marcus continued. "It''s a full-blown war between cities. Martai has already sent forged documents to the central authority, claiming our territory has been theirs since the previous administration." Marcus let out a bitter laugh. The absurdity of the claim was evident, but the implications were far from amusing. "We sent them our own forged documents in response," the Fairy Commander added, smirking. "Claimed Martai was under our jurisdiction instead." So, it''s not just a war of swords but of paperwork too, Enkrid thought wryly. Marcus'' tone grew serious as he fixed his gaze on Enkrid. "I''m expecting great things from you on the battlefield." The intensity of his gaze was both unnerving and oddly reassuring. Marcus wasn''t just placing faith in him¡ªhe was relying on him. The Fairy Commander chimed in with his usual lighthearted sarcasm. "Shall we call this the ''Honeymoon War''?" "Is Marcus planning another marriage?" Enkrid quipped in return, drawing a hearty laugh from the battalion commander. Despite his reputation as a warmonger, Marcus appeared unfazed by the impending conflict, as if he held an unshakable belief in victory. After finishing his report, Enkrid left the command center, heading back toward his quarters. "Not leaving yet?" he called, noticing the beastkin, Dunbakel, lingering near the barracks. She had been trailing them all the way but had stopped just short of the entrance. It was odd that no one had challenged her presence, especially with war looming. This place is getting sloppy, Enkrid thought. As he turned to her, she met his gaze, her voice calm but resolute. "I have something to say." Her husky tone carried the distinct cadence of a beastkin, but it was unmistakably feminine. There was a weight to her words that hinted at more than mere gratitude. "I want to fight," she said simply. Enkrid blinked, surprised but unreadable. "You''re not part of this battalion," he replied after a moment. "Hell, you''re not even a soldier." "I was once," she countered. "And I can be again." Her tone didn''t waver, but there was a certain weight behind her words, a reminder of a past she wasn''t ready to leave behind. Enkrid crossed his arms, studying her. Most people begged for freedom, especially those dragged into situations like hers. Yet here she was, asking to step into a battlefield she had no obligation to face. "Why?" he asked finally. She hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line before she spoke again. "Because I owe you. Because I owe myself." The answer wasn''t what he''d expected, but it was genuine. That much was clear. Chapter 201 - What Exactly is He Relying On?(1) Chapter 201 - 201 - What Exactly is He Relying On?(1) "Uh, well, I want to stay out of sight ." On a summer evening with the wind blowing, the white-haired beastman spoke in front of the barracks. "Out of sight?" In response to the question, Dunbakel carefully chose her words. In reality, it wouldn''t matter what happened at this point. "I''d be fine as a slave or a servant. As long as I can stay unnoticed, I''ll do anything." If Frog had been blinded by some personal achievement or desire, the beast-woman had lost her mind over the two words: reproduction. So, her words could easily be misunderstood. "The continent is wide, though?" Enkrid tried to phrase it indirectly, saying he wouldn''t catch her if she left. "As long as I can stay unnoticed." Dunbakel kneeled. Her messy, oily hair and scalp were exposed, and an unpleasant odor lingered. Seeing that, Enkrid felt the immediate urge to wash up and rest. But then what would he do with her? It wasn''t a dilemma. If she was planning on betraying him later, that would be troublesome. ''But is that even possible?'' Before that, he had a feeling that Jaxen would be the one to strike her down. It felt like it. The feeling was strong. In truth, it wouldn''t necessarily be Jaxen, but if Rem or anyone else noticed a dangerous hint from Dunbakel, they''d immediately strike her down. Luckily, there didn''t seem to be any ill intentions from her. Letting her live had been something of a whim. It didn''t have any real meaning. So... ''If there''s no ill intent...'' Enkrid thought about how his squad had only ten members. A platoon typically had around forty to fifty members, and a company usually commanded one hundred to two hundred people. ''But my unit...'' Krais, Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, Audin, Finn. Including himself, there were seven. Wasn''t that a bit too little? He almost wanted to check if Marcus''s conscience was still intact, because it was such a small number. ''If they''re going to make me a company commander, they should send more people.'' Of course, only a few would survive. Would Rem just sit back and do nothing? He couldn''t help but think of Andrew. Ever since that guy, Finn was the only new person who had joined. The conclusion was that the company was understaffed, and Dunbakel''s physical strength was greater than that of regular soldiers. Judging by her current attitude, she was even obedient. Obedient beast-women were rare. Among the many complicated thoughts, one clear point stood out. ''Lack of personnel.'' He could get the battalion commander''s approval later, and if it didn''t work out, he could just kick her out. "Alright." "I swear to Creamhalt. If I swear while being kicked out, that would be my faith... huh?" "Come in. There''s space on the bed. But wash up first." To Dunbakel, it seemed like a bold decision. There was no sign of hesitation. ''Was I planning on accepting her from the beginning?'' He even thought that for a moment. But no, that wasn''t it. There had been many times when it was fine to let someone die, or even when it was fine to kill them. But still, he let her go. A person who keeps their word. "Joining the unit''s roster requires the commander''s permission. If you get rejected there, I can''t help you." ''That''s fine.'' When Enkrid spoke those words, Dunbakel thought she wouldn''t be rejected. If he were the commander, and there was someone like him under his command, he would nod even if she had ten servants following her. Who would reject that? "Don''t even think about serving me at night or anything like that. I''m not interested. So you''re joining as a soldier. If you want to stay unnoticed, pick up a weapon and fight. If you die in the battle, it can''t be helped." Enkrid said just that, opened the barracks door, and walked in. Dunbakel stood there, hesitating. She had wanted this, but when it came to taking action, she needed courage. She had longed for this, but now that it was happening, accepting it required even more courage. Should she step inside? ''Someone like me?'' She had expected to be rejected. So she hesitated. And as she hesitated, the closed door of the barracks suddenly opened with a creak. "Not coming in?" Beyond the open door, blue eyes with black hair appeared. That face, though it could be considered masculine, was beautiful. The blue color of his determined eyes reflected the moonlight that broke on his cheek. In front of the barracks, where no romance could be found, Dunbakel felt like she might cry. Why? What''s the reason? She didn''t really know. It was simply because no one had ever welcomed her before. The first person who had invited her in without any ulterior motives. "I''ll go." Her voice trembled. Dunbakel took a step inside. It''s said that opportunities in life come around, and that turning points are necessary. Dunbakel thought meeting that man was one of those turning points. Even if others cast her out. She would endure. Even if everyone ostracized and cursed her. She would bear it. "I''m really curious," said a woman with orange hair as Dunbakel entered. She was talking continuously to Enkrid. "You actually like the nickname ''Demon Lord'', don''t you? That''s why you bring a woman every time you go out?" Hiss! A leopard beside her suddenly growled. Dunbakel flinched at the sound, and Rem spoke from the side. "It''s fine. This leopard doesn''t usually bite. Oh, only that big-eyed brat does. Just don''t touch him, and he won''t bite." Why is there a leopard in the barracks? Dunbakel thought for a moment but didn''t dwell on it. And surprisingly, the atmosphere didn''t seem that bad. "Stop talking nonsense and go wash her up. She smells," Enkrid said, beginning to tidy his things. He seemed to be getting ready to bathe, taking out a thin linen shirt. Meanwhile, the orange-haired woman approached. "You don''t have spare clothes, do you? Do you think they''d give you some if you ask for them? Maybe if you mention the commander''s name?" "Do you think they''ll give them to me?" "Then, will they not?" Finn said with a cheerful tone. It seemed like it would be a bright night with the moon high. Finn, who had taken Dunbakel out, asked, "What''s your name?" "Dunbakel." "I''m Finn." She extended her hand to offer a handshake. If we borrow from ancient customs, a handshake was a way to prove that neither person was holding a weapon and would not harm each other. In modern terms, it could be seen as a way of saying "let''s be good friends." When they shook hands, Finn smiled and said, "But how long has it been since you last bathed?" "Hm, about half a year?" Beastmen didn''t enjoy bathing. "Let''s walk a little further apart." Under Finn''s guidance, Dunbakel entered the bathroom and, without any complaints, immersed herself in the tub. The water turned black, and Finn, standing outside, said he would leave her clothes. Dunbakel scrubbed herself with soap. Enkrid didn''t seem to like smells. After washing and changing clothes, she returned to the barracks. The path wasn''t difficult. It had been so long since she had bathed that her body felt light. "...Is that how you really look?" When she entered the barracks, Enkrid asked. "Why? Did something change?" Dunbakel, feeling a little self-conscious, looked down. Her clothes, puffed up by her chest and loose pants, made her appear different. Was it because of the clothes? "Alright. That spot is yours. Go ahead and sleep. And remember to wear some underwear." Why make a fuss over it? Dunbakel thought, but nodded. Enkrid waved his hand vaguely and pointed. That spot was her place. That''s how Dunbakel became an independent squad member. No one spoke of her as an enemy or as a member of the Black Blade. No, even if they did, they didn''t doubt her or push her away. Why? Well, that was something she herself didn''t know. The atmosphere in the unit was cold as usual, but Enkrid was unchanged. After waking up, they trained, then observed Finn getting beaten up briefly after performing an isolation technique. "So this is all that''s left of the Eilkaraz-style martial arts, huh, sister?" Audin, the sharp-tongued demon of hell, was as consistent as ever. Finn''s forehead had veins bulging up in anger. After sweating profusely from the morning training, Finn gulped down water and slathered butter and orange marmalade on some soft bread. "Where did you get this from?" Enkrid bit into the bread and asked. The marmalade tasted exquisite. It was sweet and tangy. Krais, who had been muttering to himself next to her, swallowed a bite of bread and said, "It opened across from the seasoned jerky shop. It''s a twenty-six-year-old woman with dull brown hair and a lot of freckles. Her name''s Juri. She doesn''t have a boyfriend, and her ideal type is someone like Commander Enkrid and Ragna. She really dislikes people like me." Dunbakel looked at him, wondering why he was speaking so in detail. "I know the major people in the city. That''s the Guild''s job, the Gilpin Guild." Is that really true? But is someone who makes fruit jam really a major person? "It''s important. You''ve tasted it, so you know." True enough. As they continued their meal, Krais started talking again. "Something similar will happen again." "Something similar?" "People around here won''t leave Border Guard alone." Enkrid, who had been about to get up, paused and looked at Krais. His large eyes briefly flickered toward Dunbakel. Dunbakel, still sitting motionless, stared blankly into the air. Should she assign him a task or something? She shifted her gaze back to Krais, who continued speaking. "By defeating Aspen, the kingdom expanded its territory. As a result, Border Guard is becoming a military city where a standing army is stationed, and it will be the central trade city of northern Naurlia. That''s what''s happening now." Recently, the frequency of visits to the upper guilds had increased, and new goods kept flowing in. The city''s population was growing. "Juri says that when making marmalade, it''s essential to make a lot at once. But if you don''t sell it all, it''s hard to store. Fortunately, as the number of people passing by increased, the jam sold well." That was the reason she had opened a marmalade shop. Where does commercial success come from? It''s determined by population size and the number of people passing through. Krais, who often babbled when he was bored, had come to learn such common knowledge. "Then, how do people around here view Border Guard?" "They probably see it like well-cooked barbecue or ripe tomatoes." If they had knives in their hands, if they were ready to eat, It''s just a matter of sliding the blade in. That''s the position of Border Guard. In a place where, if they were to be skewered, they would look like a well-cooked, golden-brown barbecue. How would the hungry look at it? They''d probably want to tear off the flesh immediately. Things might improve when the pioneering town Enkrid helped found grows and trade routes widen. But for now, ''The center of northern trade.'' According to Krais, that''s the location of Border Guard. "That''s why there''s no shortage of packs of wolves around here." "When did you start suspecting this?" "Well, I had a bad feeling since we pushed Aspen out." If Krais had known since then... did Marcus know too? After returning, he had pretended to be in love with the city, feigning indifference. But the battalion commander knew the city was in danger. Then he must also know how to get out of it. The meeting time was approaching. "I''m going." "Let''s protect the jerky and marmalade, Commander." Krais said from behind. It didn''t sound like crazy talk. Those two foods were quite precious to Enkrid, after all. The battalion commander''s office had already turned into a meeting room. A large table was laid out with a map, and various chess pieces were scattered across it. "Do we know the number of enemies?" "We''ve been sending out scouts every hour. Based on what we can see, we estimate over two battalions of infantry." "That''s a lot." Marcus said with a half-smile, his expression not showing fear. It was clear that he had something to rely on. But could they really say it here, with all the squad leaders gathered? Enkrid quietly stood beside Marcus. "Do you have something to say?" "My squad has fewer than ten people." So what? The eyes spoke. The battalion commander had no conscience. A squad leader should have enough people to lead a squad. "Can I add someone? It''s the beastman we captured earlier." He used to be part of the Black Blade bandits. After slitting the throat of a suspected spy, he was suddenly suggesting to take in a bandit under his command. Now that he thought about it, he needed to mention the noble bandit whose head had rolled off. "Fine." ''Is that it?'' Is that really the end? "Talk to the quartermaster about the organization and details." That was really the end. Without needing to say more, Enkrid turned his head away. Wondering if the other squad leaders would object, she looked around, but no one seemed to care. Well, except for the Fairy Squadron leader, who made a mouth gesture, ''Did you charm another one?'' It was a Fairy-style joke. She ignored it. She watched the meeting for a while, observing the enemy formation, where the battle would take place, their numbers, and the enemy''s main structure. "Martai may use cavalry, but we don''t have any cavalry." If they combined all the horses in Border Guard''s stables, there might be around fifty, give or take. There were also a few horses prepared for urgent messengers. But cavalry was a different story. If they removed a few, the rest would all be pack horses. There was a saying: an untrained unit is like a blade that stabs its own chest. So, it was possible that they might face soldiers mounted on horses without having cavalry of their own on the battlefield. "The Border Defense Commander has just returned." During the military meeting, the Border Defense Commander came back. The following report was all as expected. He had ambushed the main force of the Black Blade bandits. However, there was one unexpected detail. The commander suddenly said, "Good job. I heard that some of the Black Blade bandits ambushed Baron Vancento. The Baron suddenly fled, causing the guards to lose him. It''s not something you can be blamed for, but you did a good job eliminating some of the Black Blade guerillas and surviving." It sounded like theater. Hearing that, Marcus slammed the desk. With a clatter, several pins that were distinguishing friend from foe fell over. The pins rolled across the map. "Daring to kill a nobleman! Damn the Black Blade!" Marcus was giving quite a performance. "So we immediately retaliated. If we hadn''t followed, who knows what would have happened." The Border Defense Commander seemed a bit awkward. Enkrid watched without smiling. At the end of it, "Some of the members tried to escape, and we lost them. Please give me a reprimand." "Oh, that''s fine. We caught them." The real story followed the act, and Marcus pointed to the side. More precisely, at Enkrid. "We ran into them on the way and caught them." That was the story. A gift package had come through. There was some idiot from the Black Blade bandits who had been running away. "Really?" The Border Defense Commander''s eyes softened with unexpected favor. While he had claimed that losing the guards wasn''t a fault, looking at the Battalion Commander and Border Defense Commander, it was clear. ''It''s a definite accomplishment.'' It was an accomplishment acknowledged by the influential Battalion Commander in the center and the current power behind Border Guard. A few nobles turned pale. They were quick to catch on. "Let''s all take a moment of silence for Baron Vancento." The Battalion Commander said. He wanted the nobleman to die as one rather than a bandit''s agent, and he would memorialize him as part of the kingdom. It was better for everyone that way. So, let''s do this properly? It was like speaking to the remaining noblemen through a moment of silence. The sharp-eyed nobles understood. "Now, let''s get back to the meeting." Covered in dust from his shoulder guards, the Border Defense Commander stood and became one of the people surrounding the table. The meeting resumed. Marcus''s plan was full of holes. He had seemed to have some reliance on something, but it wasn''t visible, and only flaws were overflowing. ''What exactly is he relying on?'' It was a question that suddenly came to mind. Chapter 202 - What Exactly is He Relying On?(2) Chapter 202 - 202 - What Exactly is He Relying On?(2) "Let''s kill them all!" The one shouting like a crying tiger was the captain of the first company. Marcus had heard that a comrade who had been with him since they enlisted together died during the Martai Resistance. The battalion commander ordered an extreme defensive formation. Their forces consisted of six infantry companies. Originally, it was one battalion, but they received two additional companies as reinforcements from a battalion stationed at Green Pearl Plains. Even that was a considerable strain. If all the troops were withdrawn from Green Pearl, they didn''t know what the forces from Aspen would do. "If they come through the south gate, we can hold the line, but we can''t avoid a battle on the plains." The second company commander said. "How many cavalry do they have?" "Fifty cavalry." Fifty cavalry didn''t sound like a small number to Enkrid. Warhorses were creatures that consumed gold both during their raising and upkeep. They needed iron armor, and the cavalrymen also had to be specially trained. With all the resources poured into them, cavalry on the plains were a formidable force. Just a lance charge with fifty cavalry could easily crush hundreds of infantry. The total strength of all six companies was about 1,200 men. ''Fifty cavalry is a big variable.'' Enkrid judged this way. Still, Marcus was calm. "They managed to raise that many troops through the backdoor." He was more impressed than anything else. "We also know they have a sizable number of archers." That was another concerning piece of news. Enkrid interpreted it as a sign that the enemy was well-prepared. "Urgent report!" The final touch came from a scout bursting into the room. The scout, bleeding from his left arm, rushed into the conference room. He had ventured deep into enemy territory and barely survived. Grimacing through the pain, he reported. "Soldiers with covered insignia have joined the enemy forces." Martai''s forces hadn''t originally been small either. An infantry battalion, a cavalry unit, and an archer unit, all equipped with full company strength. Compared to the Border Guard, their overall quality was a little lower, but the numerical difference was clear. Even so, in the past, the Border Guard had repeatedly defeated Martai''s forces and achieved victory. "This is not good." The one who spoke now was the leader of the elite unit, the Border Guard . Their combat strength was indeed extraordinary. However, Enkrid couldn''t help but wonder if they could win this time. News that seemed to shake their resolve kept pouring in even before the battle began. "Independent company commander." It was Marcus who broke the silence. Enkrid realized a moment too late that Marcus was referring to him. "...What?" "Do you know about the authority of an independent company commander?" Was there such a thing? Marcus continued. "If the company commander desires, they can requisition soldiers from other companies, whether it be by squad or platoon." ''Is this normal?'' On the outside, Enkrid remained calm, but inwardly, he questioned Marcus''s mental state. What he meant was that an independent company could act like a higher-level unit from another company. Literally. "Hey, give me your platoon. I''ll use them, and if you''re lucky, some might survive." How would anyone accept such an order? Moreover, who would follow a command like that? Enkrid''s gaze fell on the other company commanders. None of them had particularly gentle personalities. These were people who wore command badges while living on the frontlines, facing death. Such positions weren''t for those who could sit comfortably with an easy attitude. Thus, even though Marcus was the battalion commander, such opinions were... unacceptable. "I could give you even more than that" It was the fairy company commander who spoke first. Perhaps the fairy could allow it. "If the Border Guard is needed, we''re willing." Then, the Border Guard Force commander also stepped in. "Well, you could think of it as owing a debt if you''re uncomfortable otherwise" "The first company is one body, but even if we are divided, we will still play our part." The first company commander said. Why? Wasn''t that person considered a candidate for the next battalion commander? While the Border Guard Force commander was the one with real power, this person also had significant influence. "Well, are we going to the crazy company''s side? I could go in with the whole company." Was the second company commander always this indecisive? Enkrid thought about it for a moment and concluded that he wasn''t. He was the same person who would foam at the mouth every time people tried to take men from his unit, earning the nickname ''Foaming Palto.'' After the original third company commander, Rayon, died, the new third company commander and the incoming supporting commander didn''t react any differently. "Hmm, I can trust the independent company." Even the Green Pearl reinforcement company commander, whom Enkrid had never met before, nodded and looked at him with eyes filled with faith, hope, and trust. "Since when have I had such authority?" Enkrid asked. He wasn''t one to show his emotions, and his tone was calm. The company commander nodded enthusiastically and replied in a voice full of cheer. "Of course, it''s from now on!" ''Has this guy been cursed or something?'' Or maybe he ate something bad. It was getting pretty hot at that time. Enkrid hid his expression again. Although he wasn''t skilled in acting, he was a master at hiding his emotions. "I''m not particularly imaginative." Marcus continued speaking. When Enkrid stared at him, wondering what he was talking about, Marcus locked eyes with him and continued. "If you were allowed to act however you wanted, outside of strategy and tactics, how far could you go? Could you suppress the enemy''s cavalry? Or take down every enemy that comes in?" There was a growing heat in Marcus''s voice. However, Enkrid, having seen him act earlier, could tell that this time, there was no acting in his words. It felt genuine. The sincerity that came through in his voice reminded him of Krais'' speeches. Krais had a way of commanding attention with his speeches, his gestures, voice, and demeanor creating an almost hypnotic power. Marcus, however, had something else¡ªintensity. A passion, something a person possesses regardless of age. The voice of someone swept up in that intensity reached Enkrid. "On a small scale, you''ve done reconnaissance; on a larger scale, you''ve struck the enemy''s bases; and most importantly, you''ve brought victory to our side through your actions on the battlefield. And that''s not all!" Bang! Marcus slammed his palm on the table, causing the pins to fall over again. But no one in the room took their eyes off Marcus. Everyone watched his mouth, heard his words, and were swept up in the atmosphere he exuded. "Alone, you survived among a thousand beasts and proved yourself, solidifying your position as the commander of an uncontrollable force. Above all, we are in awe of the commander''s outstanding skills and abilities. So I ask, what can you do if you''re granted unlimited authority on this battlefield?" What does Marcus believe? Why does the battalion commander not feel threatened? Why do people say nothing when he accepts the beast-woman? Why are these commanders so calm when they''re told he can take troops from other units at will? Why do they look at Enkrid with eyes full of belief, hope, and trust? ''Merits.'' A knight is a being made through skill and achievement. Enkrid felt like he was finally being acknowledged for everything he had done. Pride? It couldn''t be described by such a word. It felt like a long-forgotten dream had suddenly become part of reality. At the same time, Enkrid realized that he had found what he needed to do. Since he was asked a question, he should answer, right? Krais speeches had ended after he displayed his own authority and absorbed those around him, but Marcus wanted Enkrid to give an answer. ''An elite small force.'' In the current continent, the battlefield''s outcome is often determined by whether knights or knight-level forces are present. When a knight enters the battlefield, if no matching knight appears on the other side, a massacre occurs. Though battles are usually fought with confrontation, sometimes the battlefield is manipulated strategically to create a fight between knights and armies. Sometimes, armies even use knights as bait, sacrificing their forces to eliminate them. ''The enemy doesn''t know me.'' Even the Madmen company isn''t well known. Marcus set it up that way. An elite few, a force with unexpected power that the enemy could never predict. Five people with strength equivalent to at least a knight''s squire if not stronger. Looking at how things had changed, Enkrid spoke. "I don''t know. Let''s try everything we can." In truth, it was also the first time for Enkrid to have such authority, and it was the first time Marcus had come up with such an absurd strategy. He was creating an independent company of fewer than ten people instead of a full knight order, then giving them command over the battlefield. It sounded as if Marcus was placing the fate of the battlefield entirely on Enkrid. Enkrid thought his answer was lacking, but Marcus seemed satisfied, smiling at him. "Then." If he''s given authority, he''ll use it. His heart raced, and it moved Enkrid. It was time to head out. Wooo! As if on cue, the sound of a horn and distant drums reached his ears. The enemy was approaching. "All units, assemble!" Shouting as he left the meeting room, Marcus began moving, and Enkrid followed, almost running. The battlefield was ahead, and his core personnel, the key forces of his company, were ready to fight. But, as always, getting them into position was a struggle. That had always been the case, even when they were a troublemaking squad. As Enkrid made his way toward the barracks, he saw members of his company already preparing. "We''re going out, huh? Marcus must have decided to lend a hand to the commander and wants us to wipe out their cavalry?" Krais, wearing a crooked leather helmet, said. ''He predicted it.'' Enkrid had suspected as much. "No." "What? Then? Do you want us to take the enemy commander''s head? That''s a bit much." "No." "Uh? Didn''t he order something?" "He asked." As Enkrid naturally joined the front, Krais spoke with him, and Rem jumped in. "That big-eyed kid said we''re going to fight, and now we really are?" That''s right. But had Rem always been this quick to join the fight? Every time he stepped forward, he would mutter that he had to smash the heads of his fellow commanders first. Well, now he was the commander whose head would be smashed. In fact, there was nothing surprising about Rem. He had always been someone who readily took action in battle. What surprised him, however, came after. "I heard that Martai and the troops without insignia are here," said Ragna. This was someone who had been indifferent to matters around him, yet now he was providing information about the enemy forces. Enkrid couldn''t help but look up at the sky, wondering if it had torn apart. The sky was clear. There were hardly any clouds. "Right." He answered as he lowered his head, and Audin, smiling behind him, said, "Brother, let''s go. The ones we''re sending to the Lord are waiting for us outside." Though it wasn''t something one would expect to hear from a priest, those who served the war god were often like that. Jaxen nodded silently. These guys weren''t the type to move just because he called. Then why did they move? Enkrid realized once again that his relationship with them had changed in a strange way. He had been the scapegoat squad leader. The squad leader that was a bit of a spectacle. The squad leader that didn''t cause trouble. And now, he was a squad leader who knew a bit more. A squad leader who had improved by teaching. And now, he was someone who had grown even more. ''If I lead them...'' He was becoming an individual who was recognized as a leader and commander. His heart was racing. It felt like when he was craving a dream. "So, what did they ask?" Krais asked again. "They asked to do what I could ," Enkrid replied. "...Tch, those shameless bastards." Krais figured out the story behind the words quickly. They wanted him to show what he could do with his full potential. "So, you said you''d do everything you could?" Krais asked. "Yeah," Enkrid smiled faintly. "Are you serious about this?" Krais asked. Enkrid wasn''t sure. Was it time to be confident? Was it arrogance, or something else? Was the boiling feeling inside him just a desire to fight? Or was it because he realized that standing with them in battle meant he had moved to a different position, that he had achieved something? He didn''t know. He didn''t want to know either. Right now, he just wanted to swing his sword. He wanted to show the enemy what he was capable of, to make his presence known. The desire and thirst for action surged within him. Enkrid, walking steadily, glanced back at Dunbakel, who had fallen behind, and asked, "Why are your eyes like that?" "It''s fine. I can do my part too," she said, with blue bruises around her eyes. The golden pupils and the blue bruises seemed to shine. It was clearly a work of someone else''s craft. Wasn''t that Rem''s specialty? "Stop hitting the kids," Enkrid said. "It was just a simple sparring demonstration. She said she wanted to see what I could do," Rem replied. Well, they''d get stronger by taking hits. Enkrid didn''t think much of it. If they were going to run away or plot something behind the scenes after taking a beating, they wouldn''t have said things like they wanted to be under him in the first place. Bang! The bell rang from the bell tower. It was likely a signal that the enemy was in sight. Through the open city gates, Enkrid saw some of the people working outside in the fields returning. They were civilians from the agricultural district. No matter how many enemies there were, they would attack the walls first. Siege weapons would be necessary. "Get a few sets of clothes from the people coming in. Get ones that fit us. Right now," Enkrid ordered. "...That''s quite a plan," Krais said, not needing further explanation. Enkrid was glad he didn''t have to explain much. Krais responded quickly and moved his feet, while Enkrid headed toward the city gates, instead of the area where the commanding officers gathered. Soon, Krais returned with the clothes. "Audin won''t fit in this," Krais said. Enkrid nodded, acknowledging that point. "I don''t need anything but a rag," Audin said, waving his hand and then pulling a cloth from a nearby street vendor''s tent to fashion a cloak for himself. It suited him quite well. "So, what do you plan to do?" Rem asked. Enkrid briefly considered whether he should explain in detail. But then he decided there was no need for that. "Just follow me and see." And so, Enkrid and the Madmen Squad stepped out of the city gates. Chapter 203 - Trick of the Summer God Chapter 203 - 203 - Trick of the Summer God After wearing the clothes of those who had entered through the city gates, Enkrid immediately set off outside. "Hey, where are you going?" shouted a soldier who had been helping guide the residents on the city wall. Enkrid lifted the old wide-brimmed hat that covered his head. As he did, his eyes became visible, and he came face-to-face with the soldier who had called out. His blue, clear eyes, the nose, and lips beneath them¡ªrecognizing him wasn''t difficult. "Just a walk." "Captain Enkrid?" It was rare for anyone in the city not to recognize Enkrid''s face recently. "Shh." Enkrid put a finger to his lips as a signal to be quiet, then stepped outside. He had left Krais behind. The guy was useless in a full-scale battle, after all. Unlike the residents streaming in, Enkrid stood out as he went in the opposite direction. It felt like swimming against the current, like a fish heading upstream. He didn''t mind. What did it matter if his allies saw him? What mattered was that the enemy didn''t spot him. It was still early enough that he wouldn''t be within the enemy''s reconnaissance range. That was why it was a perfect time to slip out and hide. "Let''s go." Enkrid said and started running. "An ambush?" asked Finn, who had stuck close to him. "Yeah." Finn didn''t ask anything further. She didn''t question the meaning of an ambush with fewer than ten people. She understood. She had learned a lot from hanging out with Audin. The Mad Squad was made up entirely of monsters. And that included Enkrid. *** The Watcher on the Wall Marcus, stroking his beard atop the city wall gallery, was asked by his adjutant, who had come with him from the kingdom: "Do you think it will be okay?" He didn''t doubt Enkrid''s strength. He trusted him. But still, it was clear that it looked precarious on the surface. So, it made sense that they had prepared a backup plan. "I don''t know." "Then why are you smiling?" The adjutant could not read any worry or concern in Marcus''s expression, which was strange to him. He had never seen Marcus this passionate, nor had he ever seen him smile like this. "Well, maybe we''ll see something great." Whenever Marcus discovered his favorite tea leaves, and won them at an auction, he would show such a smile. It was the smile of someone who had found something precious and was now enjoying it. "I don''t know, but it''ll probably be fun." He wasn''t someone who found fun in battles. Yet, his words suggested there was a reason behind them. The adjutant realized that Marcus''s expectations for Captain Enkrid weren''t just high¡ªthey were unusually so. It almost seemed like he was enjoying it. "The unmarked forces are probably from the Baron Bentra''s domain. They could have sent people from Count Molsan''s side as well." The adjutant said. Molsan was known as a collector of talented people. He had many skilled individuals under his command. This was also what Marcus had expected. The unmarked forces had likely concealed their insignia to avoid open support. It was just like Molsan, to want to slice off a piece of the Border Guard''s territory, he wasn''t the type to pass up such an opportunity. It was a troublesome matter, and a big wild dog had jumped into the fray. And Molsan was a sneaky character who could do anything. Marcus wasn''t too concerned with matters outside his reach. He couldn''t ask for help from the center anyway, and if this was a gamble, it made sense to put everything on the one card he trusted. He didn''t even think of it as a gamble, to be honest. "But why hasn''t the independent squad leader come up?" Marcus asked. At the point when all the commanders were supposed to gather on the gallery, only Enkrid had yet to arrive. "Over there." The adjutant, sharp-eyed, pointed to the outer city wall. Below the wall, residents who had been engaged in agriculture or other side jobs were entering the city. And among them, some were heading in the opposite direction. No matter how much they tried to hide, it was hard to conceal Audin''s size. Of course, the fairy squad leader recognized Enkrid. "He''s heading out." Marcus hadn''t issued any commands yet. He had only granted authority. "...Hah." Marcus let out a small sigh of admiration. He could roughly guess what Enkrid was planning. And if it worked, the enemy''s heads would be in a mess from the start. A smile inevitably spread across his face. *** The Commander of Martai''s Forces Martai''s commander was named Olf. He preferred to be called General, and he had earned that title. He was skilled in personal combat and had also built a solid reputation as a commander. Even his adjutants called him General. The overseer of the Border Guard had the nickname of Colonel, while Martai''s overseer had the nickname of General. Well, it didn''t matter what they called each other. "General, we''re ready." "The mangonels?" "Eight in total. No issues with the doors." The mangonel was a type of siege weapon that could hurl stones, requiring six strong men to operate. It was mobile and didn''t need to be set up. While less powerful than a trebuchet, it was much easier to operate. Since it had wheels, it could be classified as a mobile siege weapon. A trebuchet, on the other hand, needed to be set up. Olf thought that eight mangonels would be more than enough. And there were unmarked forces as support. The commander of these forces approached. "I don''t think we need to drag this out." He didn''t know the name or face of the other commander. The man had messy brown eyes and a poorly groomed mustache. He looked to be in his early thirties. The enemy showed some courtesy, but it didn''t seem like they respected Olf. Well, someone with confidence would have come here. Olf didn''t mind. He was one of the commanders of the Bentra Barony. Although he didn''t seem particularly interested in commanding, that wasn''t Olf''s concern. It was more beneficial to focus on the battlefield rather than worrying about such trivial matters. It was better to assess the enemy''s strength than waste time on petty thoughts. Olf had been paying attention to the individuals who had performed well in the previous battles. Thankfully, the Bentra Barony had two commanders. At least one of them was someone he could talk to. In fact, the command of the troops was mostly handled by this commander. The second commander had spoken. "Enkrid? Oh, that guy? Half of his reputation is just hot air. He''s always bragging about ridiculous accomplishments. When I meet him on the battlefield, I plan to put a hole through his throat." The pointed Estrek hanging from his waist seemed to emphasize that statement. Olf nodded in agreement. After all, they were fighting together. However, there was something peculiar about the situation. The first commander, who had a bored expression, simply trailed behind and often muttered for them to hurry up. "Whatever." Victory was already assured in this battle, and he was the main player. Once the Border Guard was swallowed up, this area would become the new foothold in the East. A grand dream soared through the sky. Just then, the light rain began to fall. It was rain from a clear sky. A prank of the Summer God. Olf, still on horseback behind the battlefield, looked ahead. He could see a few houses outside the Border Guard''s city walls. There was no sign of life from the houses that the residents had abandoned. The mangonel siege weapons moved along the well-maintained road. Of course, it was a road that cut through the spaces between the houses. It felt reassuring to see the siege weapons moving in formation across the spaces between the houses. Pat, pat. The thin rain began to wet the ground, and it was time to hurry. "Hurry up." At Olf''s command, the soldiers quickened their pace. The Trick of the Summer God: The Rain from a Clear Sky This was a term for a type of rain. It was a superstition. There were no gods associated with specific seasons. Although it was called something different in each region. In the West, it was said to be the result of a shaman''s mistake. Enkrid had once heard Rem mention this when they had witnessed such rain. Enkrid wasn''t overly tense. He simply thought it was something that had to be done. That didn''t mean he was planning to take it easy, though. ''Is the Summer God helping?'' Since it had started raining, his visibility had become a bit worse. It was an ideal condition for those hiding. It wasn''t hard to predict the enemy''s movements. It was all thanks to past experience. If there were siege weapons, it was obvious that they would take the well-maintained road, passing between the houses. His prediction was correct. Anything with wheels would need a smooth road. Creak, creak. Soon, the sound of wheels rolling was heard. He opened the door of a house made of dirt and wood and hid behind it. Audin couldn''t hide, so he was inside the house. On the other side of the house, Rem, Ragna, and Dumbaquel were positioned. On this side were Enkrid, Jaxen, and Audin. Finn was farther back. ''Just destroy the mangonel and retreat.'' Enkrid used his past experience. There was no need to burn everything in one battle. It was enough to gradually chip away at them. This wasn''t about military tactics or strategies. It was simply applying what he had learned from the battle with gnolls, but it seemed like a sound approach. "This is fine." Krais nodded in agreement. Well, then it was settled. Enkrid hid behind the door and watched as the mangonel passed by. "Damn it, the rain''s a pain." An enemy soldier muttered in frustration as he pushed the mangonel, and when his eyes met Enkrid''s, Enkrid calmly spoke. "Audin, destroy it." The soldier''s eyes widened. He looked stunned, his mouth open. Whoosh! Thud! A knife flew from Jaxen''s hand and embedded itself in the soldier''s forehead. The soldier, struck in the forehead, fell backward, his body slamming into the mangonel. His limbs flailed as he crumpled to the ground, like an old wooden puppet collapsing. "An ambush!" There were more than ten men pulling the mangonel. It was impossible to silence them all. Enkrid leaped forward. He stomped the ground, drew his sword, and executed a sequence of three precise strikes. First, he stabbed diagonally to the left, slicing through the enemy before retracting. Then, he struck straight ahead, followed by a final thrust diagonally to the right. Three strikes, and three warriors fell. "Crack!" "Ugh!" "Arrgh!" Three screams rang out simultaneously. The first victim had his mouth impaled, the second had his throat pierced, and the third was pierced straight through the heart, breaking through his leather armor with brute force. A technique that blended precision and power. In the midst of this, Audin charged forward, crashing through a wall and startling the enemy soldiers even more. "Ugh!" "What''s going on?!" "... Crack!" The sounds of surprise came from all directions. Audin stood beside the mangonel, grabbing it with his left hand, and pulled back his right fist to strike. Enkrid recognized the technique¡ªmixed with the Balaf martial art. He pushed his left foot forward, twisting his ankle, knee, and waist to add force. The punch that followed was as powerful as a cannonball. Boom! Amid the prank of the Summer God, the sound of Audin''s punch echoed loudly. Raindrops were flung in all directions. Crash! The mangonel wasn''t a delicate machine. It was a crude weapon by design. However, that didn''t mean its trigger or wheels weren''t important. All weapons with a structure have their weaknesses. But Audin didn''t care about that. With one punch, he smashed through the thick wooden frame that bore the force of the weapon, splintering it. Broken wood pieces scattered through the rain. It only took a few punches to destroy the mangonel. Such strength was beyond human. Only a monster or a giant could accomplish something like this. Even Frogs would struggle to do this. "Blessings upon the lowly race!" Smashing siege weapons with bare fists and spouting such words. Enkrid couldn''t help but admire his devotion once more. Meanwhile, similar events were unfolding on the other side. Rem was playing Audin''s role. His axe shattered the mangonel''s basket, and he cut through the thick ropes that triggered the mechanism. Ragna walked leisurely as he sliced, stabbed, and hacked at the approaching enemy soldiers. "Everyone, get in formation! Don''t rush in recklessly!" The commander between the mangonels shouted. Although they had lost the two front siege weapons, they couldn''t afford to lose any more. They planned to retreat and regroup, preparing to counterattack. The commander thought this and began to open his mouth. "Kuurrgh?" However, contrary to his thoughts, the words he intended to speak never came out. Enkrid saw a shadow rise behind the commander. It was Jaxen. With a swift motion, he slit the commander''s throat from behind, then threw his dead body aside and proceeded to stab a soldier near the rear siege weapon. Dodge and strike. With each simple action, more soldiers fell. While Audin focused on destroying the siege weapons, the rest took on the soldiers. Bang! Bang! The thunderous sound of destruction rang out. All eyes were naturally on Audin, and in that brief moment, Jaxen disappeared. Only the sounds of soldiers crying out remained. "Crack!" "Fall back! Fall back!" The soldiers'' shouts were cut short as shadows with blades followed. In an instant, Jaxen''s speed and precision with his dagger brought death to those attempting to regain control. Enkrid watched this familiar scene, swinging his sword. Before him, enemy soldiers stood in formation. Dunbakel only dealt with enemies that came directly at him, while Finn stayed further back, away from the frontlines. Her role was to observe the entire situation from the rear, rather than directly participate in the fight. Naturally, this was Enkrid''s command. They pressed forward. Breaking the eight siege weapons lined up ahead wasn''t a difficult task. A soldier tried to approach Audin to block him, but Audin effortlessly grabbed the man, tossed him aside, and charged forward. Boom! With a shoulder charge, he knocked the siege weapon over. It seemed impossible, but seeing it unfold in front of his eyes, Enkrid could only be stunned. It took barely a dozen minutes to destroy all eight siege weapons. The Summer God''s prank was short-lived. During that brief time, the Martians lost all their siege weapons. Screech! Finn blew the prepared whistle. The main enemy forces were beginning to stir. Thanks to the keen-eyed rangers, Enkrid began to retreat. Naturally, others followed. Dunbakel was the first to leap into action. As they saw the sprinting beast-woman, everyone retreated. Before the battle had even truly begun, or even before the debate over surrendering at the city walls started, Martia had lost all their siege weapons, and the Border Guard soldiers found some breathing room. Enkrid turned and ran, retreating. With this, the plan was a success. But then, suddenly, Enkrid stopped mid-run. "What are you doing?" Rem noticed and spoke up. Enkrid, instead of responding, fully turned his body. In the rear, the enemy troops who had stopped in place came into view. Some were still trying to assess the situation, some stared blankly in our direction, others shouted to chase after them, and some had wide eyes, stunned by the chaos, while others were lying on the ground with panic in their eyes. What had caused them to act this way? What had stopped their feet? Something hot surged from his lower abdomen up to his throat. "Aren''t you going?" Finn raised her voice. Everyone looked at their leader''s back, wondering what he was doing. Enkrid, in a way, just wanted to do this. He wanted to spit out that burning feeling inside him. "My name is Enkrid." He stopped, revealing his name. "If you retreat now, you might live." He spoke calmly, his voice rising. It wasn''t a roar or a shout. It was just the right amount of resonance. Even so, it spread wide, deep, and loud. The enemy soldiers on the front lines focused their gazes on Enkrid. Dozens, maybe hundreds of eyes fixed on him. Enkrid met those gazes head-on. It was boldness. A sudden surge of confidence. That''s why he said it. A declaration of war, a warning, all wrapped in his own name. All eyes were on him. His boldness, unprecedented in this moment, captivated them. "Is he crazy?" Rem muttered, but to the soldiers watching from behind, there was a thrill they hadn''t felt before. Uaaahhh! The cheers grew louder. To stop his steps in front of over a thousand enemies. To shout boldly in the face of them. It felt like watching the protagonist of a story. "Get a grip. Did you eat something bad?" Rem continued muttering from behind. Chapter 204 - Thud-Thud-Bam(1) Chapter 204 - 204 - Thud-Thud-Bam(1) "This bastard?" Despite the cheers from the Naulrilia forces, some of the commanders in Martai`''s army felt their anger rising. "He''s asking for it! Kill that bastard!" They knew he was a good fighter, but damn, how could he be so relaxed while retreating? It almost seemed like a deliberate provocation. It looked like he was imitating an epic hero''s saga just to mock them. How could they not be enraged? "Chase him!" "Don''t let him leave!" "Destroy him!" "Stop! Stop right there, you bastard!" Martai''s infantry rushed forward. As soon as Enkrid and his group quickly ran into the gates of the castle, it happened. Tudududung! The archers in the Naulrilia tower became very busy. "Ugh!" "It''s arrows! Shields! Raise your shields!" Martai''s infantry, charging forward, retreated, using the arrows as an excuse. "Fire! Fire! Give them hell!" Vengeance''s shout rang out high, as he had taken command of a portion of the archers. Martai''s infantry had withdrawn, and then... "Waaaah!" After the first battle, the border guard standing on the walls cheered. They had gained a kind of victory, though they hadn''t fully fought yet. It felt like they had won before the real battle had even begun. Even though the enemy outnumbered them, the gap was clear, yet something about it made them feel like they weren''t going to lose. Most of the soldiers could feel it. Of course, it was Enkrid who created this atmosphere. So it was only natural that all eyes focused on Enkrid as he casually entered the gate. The news of the destruction of the mangonels and the actions of a few enemy soldiers soon reached the commanders of the nameless forces. They had already seen the events unfold firsthand, so now it was just a matter of receiving the full report. The commander''s eyes gleamed coldly through the slits of his helmet as he twisted his mustache. "Interesting bastard." His tone was laced with a chilling coldness. His nickname was "The Elite-Cutting Blade." At first, he had thought it was a boring, unimportant battle, but now he had seen a few individuals who made his heart race. ''At least three of them.'' These were people worthy of death. He already started thinking about how to kill them. ''It would be great if a skirmish broke out.'' What if they tried to hide and defend? Then, it would be better to surround them and apply pressure. It was a fascinating situation. The mangonel? An ambush? The damage caused by a surprise attack? He didn''t care about any of that. The elite-cutting blade was all about efficiency, but the commander of the nameless forces was thinking differently. "That bastard." The commander of Count Ventria''s forces wasn''t foolish. Narrow-minded, perhaps, but certainly capable of thinking. ''He stopped and suddenly revealed his name?'' That was no ordinary bravery. He had broken the eight mangonels, making it seem like they were at a disadvantage right from the start, and then announced his name while retreating. He focused solely on the facts. Why? Why had he done that? The commander quickly reached a conclusion. It was the most rational decision based on his experience and theory. ''That bastard?'' It was a cheap move. A strategy. What kind of methods would those pushed to the edge choose? This was one of them. Puffing himself up. It was a dirty trick. A strategy to inflate his own abilities and cause the enemy to second-guess themselves. This was one of the tactics used by elite forces to change the course of battle. It was a warning: There were a few strong individuals, so be prepared when you engage. But was he really that capable? Destroying the mangonel was impressive, sure. ''But that''s all.'' He probably overreached. No, it was definitely reckless. It was clear that it was a life-risking operation. They had probably been hiding in ambush for days, consuming a lot of resources for this one attack. It was likely a plan set up from the moment Marta began advancing. "He''s just fluffing his feathers." The commander of Count Ventria''s forces said, finishing his thoughts. Marta''s Supreme Commander fell into deep thought. After a moment, he nodded. It was the same conclusion. "Get more siege weapons." The general spoke. They were already building a few more in the city. Even makeshift weapons would be better than nothing. "Fix what can be fixed." If they repaired them, they might salvage one or two. It was impossible to recover the main structure, but they could at least repair the broken ones. ''That monster bastard.'' The guy who destroyed the siege weapons with his bare fists was still on their minds, and it bothered them. ''He must have taken something.'' If someone had taken the special drugs that potion makers made to fight giants and frogs, something like that would be possible. A drug that temporarily enhances physical strength beyond its limits. Of course, the side effects were severe. If used incorrectly, the person could die the moment the effect wore off. Narrow-mindedness, prejudice, and assumptions¡ªonce these thoughts take root in the mind, they are like demons that refuse to leave. And that was the case with them. The "Elite-Cutting Blade" had recognized the enemy''s strength, but had assessed it at a level that was just right for him to kill. The delusions were each person''s own to bear. "I just need to encircle them and crush them to death." The commander of Count Ventria''s forces clenched his fist. Having inflated their own strength, they would now focus on defense. But if they came out? He was also the commander of the cavalry. If the enemy, being harassed, opened the gates to charge out, the cavalry could sweep them aside. It was a simple but effective plan. Whether the enemy inflated their own abilities or not, it didn''t matter. "That''s right." Marta''s general shared the same thought. Marcus watched the enemy''s movements from atop the walls. ''They''re angry.'' There was commotion, shouting. Even though eight mangonels had been destroyed and many had died, the enemy showed not fear, but anger. Their fervor and momentum were not lacking. They were furious, even after seeing Enkrid and his group. How could they be like this? ''The battle was short.'' The actual fighting was very brief. Even though their combat power was impressive, only a few had actually witnessed it. ''The way the last commander spoke...'' What worked was the way Enkrid, while retreating, had announced his name and told them to back off. If doing that would make them retreat, then they wouldn''t have come this far. It was the perfect provocation, one that was designed to make the enemy overestimate themselves. It was the kind of provocation that made it easy for the enemy to misinterpret. ''If it were me...'' Marcus briefly imagined himself in the enemy commander''s position. He muttered "If it were me" repeatedly as he observed the movements of the enemy forces. He saw a group of enemies moving below. They were flustered, but there was no sign they intended to retreat. They were flustered, but there was no fear within them. Their ranks were re-forming. The way they had pulled back at the end, orderly despite being chased, remained in his mind. These were well-trained soldiers. The enemy''s morale had not diminished. *** ''They''re underestimating us.'' Their confidence came from their underestimation of their opponents. Why were they confident? Because they had many soldiers, were well-trained, and had more than enough reinforcements. On top of that, the story about Enkrid''s strength, which had spread even though Battalion Commander Marcus had tried to conceal it. ''Do they think it''s all bluff? Do they think he''s just puffing himself up out of fear, like some coward?'' That was possible. He couldn''t be sure, but that was what he believed. It would be nice if they knew the name and nature of the enemy commander, but... No, if they knew that much, they''d have to be a fully-fledged intelligence guild by now. ''Work is about to get much busier.'' This was the right time. The perfect level to gather Krona without getting too big. Krais sorted out his thoughts. The enemy commander hadn''t figured out their forces, and they had a sharp weapon on their side. ''I hope they''re idiots.'' Not suspicion, but confirmation bias¡ªthose who believe they''re right and refuse to change their minds. If that were the case, they wouldn''t need a brilliant strategy. All of this had been the result of Enkrid''s whim. He had casually come out, broken the mangonels, and then returned. If he had fought further and shown his full power, things might have been different. ''But did the commander plan all of this?'' That was something he could ask if necessary. "What are you doing, Krais?" Vengeance, who was commanding the archers, asked. Krais had been muttering to himself, and it seemed like he was possessed by some evil spirit. Vengeance didn''t like ghosts or spirits. They were the kind of thing that ruined his sleep. "I was just sorting my thoughts." "Really?" Vengeance didn''t think it would change anything, but in Krais'' mind, the future of the battlefield was already taking shape. A scenario for victory was unfolding in his head. But he didn''t feel the need to speak it aloud. Krais thought everyone else would figure it out on their own. "Are you alright?" Rem asked as they entered the Border Guard. Enkrid checked himself. Was there any injury? No, there was nothing. It wasn''t even something that would cause harm. It had been a light warm-up. Why wouldn''t it be? Even though the plan was hastily put together, it felt like it would work, so he went along with it. Of course, on Marta''s side, they probably thought this was an ambush that had been meticulously planned for days, but in reality, that wasn''t the case at all. It had just seemed possible, so it was a half-hearted attempt. "It looks like your head is injured." Rem said with a serious face. There was no trace of a smile. Ragna''s gaze was also on Enkrid, and so was Rem and Audin''s. "Do you have a fever?" Finn asked last. Enkrid felt a little sad seeing their lack of romance. He understood why they reacted this way. It was because he had revealed his name at the end. "It was just a burst of impulse." There was nothing to hide, so he said it bluntly. Rem, instead of teasing him as usual, made an "Oh" sound and pursed his lips in awe. "Woah!" A cheer-like sound came from above the heads of Enkrid''s returning forces. Of course, this reaction was expected after they had gone out and destroyed the siege weapons. Through that cheer: "Impulsive, huh." Ragna muttered, looking thoughtful. Enkrid had truly just acted on a whim. Ahead, he saw Krais coming down from the gallery. "Provoking them and planting demons in their minds... was that intentional? Oh, no, that can''t be it. But then, why did you say your name?" Many had asked about the name he had revealed. Enkrid repeated the same answer. "Impulse, it just felt like it would work." "That''s... well, okay. I see. It''s pretty cool." Passing Krais, Enkrid saw the group of commanders from their side. "Destroyed all the siege weapons, huh?" Marcus said with a grin that seemed to have a mischievous smile on it. Was that just a trick of the light? Enkrid nodded indifferently. "Good!" That was the end of it. "My name is Shinar. If you come close now, you can have me." The fairy captain whispered as she approached. Fairy-style jokes¡ªwasn''t that getting a bit tiresome? "Did you hit your head?" "No, I''m healthy¡ªexcept for being dead. By any chance, are you into frail, sickly girls?" Was there any point in exchanging more words? Enkrid shook his head and stepped away. "Don''t slack off on the watch!" Marcus urged the troops ahead. "We''re going to win!" It was the perfect moment. The cheers were still echoing right after the hero, Enkrid, had returned. The roar of the crowd filled the air. The war was only just beginning, but morale was at an all-time high. This was the first day of battle. The next day, right after it began: "Are we going out again today?" Krais asked as he approached. Enkrid had just finished the morning training. Even under these circumstances, training continued. Some of those watching clicked their tongues. Those who knew Enkrid weren''t surprised, though. "Where to?" "Outside." "Why?" Krais blinked in confusion. "We need to tease them again today." When Enkrid looked at him, he wondered what this meant. "Didn''t the Captain say anything?" Krais turned the question back to him. Enkrid nodded. He had just been told to rest and fight well again later. If they needed anything, they could ask at any time. But there was nothing said about Enkrid going out on his own and setting up an ambush. The results of the hastily executed plan had been good, but after all, Marcus had given him this kind of authority, so there was nothing to be said about it. "Act in the opposite way of what the enemy expects." Krais raised his voice and said with clarity. Enkrid gazed at his loud subordinate with wide eyes. "It''s the basic of strategy and tactics." So? When he looked at Krais with that question in his eyes, Krais spoke again. "The siege weapons had been destroyed. They were likely planning a long-term war. They would repair the weapons, resupply, and just threatening the Border Guard while surrounding it would work in Marta''s favor." They had solidified the supply lines behind them. So, what was the task for today? Krais found it too obvious, but was surprised that no one had said it. "We need to harass the supply lines." It was the basic of strategy and tactics. Starve them. Of course, they couldn''t actually starve them, but they could certainly make them nervous about when and where their food would be disrupted. It was easy to say, but hard to execute. The enemy wasn''t stupid and would naturally be on alert. But here, there was a crazy squad, including Enkrid. "It''s about playing outside the enemy''s expectations with forces other than the main troops." There were fewer than ten of them. This meant they could push forward. "Nyaa." Esther, who had been absent all night, suddenly let out a sound and stared at Enkrid. Having listened to Krais'' words, Enkrid nodded. It didn''t seem like a bad idea. He had a good sense for these things, so he judged that it was worth a try. "Want to come along?" When Enkrid casually asked Esther, she quickly stood up and moved beside him. Thus, the next plan was decided. On the first day, they would target the siege weapons, and on the second day, they would focus on the supply lines. Naturally, they would go at night. "Krais, report to the higher-ups. We''re going out for a little night patrol." It was just after sunset. Enkrid began gathering his gear. Next to him, Rem, Lagna, Audin, and Finn were also preparing, but¡ª "Audin, you stay." "Yes, brother. I''ll stay behind." Audin''s size was too noticeable. They left Finn behind as well. She could be a liability, and Ragna might get lost. He couldn''t let anyone become a lost soul on the battlefield. "Rem, Jaxen." "Good, good. I don''t need the stray cat, but sure. I''ll carry the supplies if needed." "Better to leave the foolish barbarians behind." Although they still grumbled, there was no one more reliable than them when it came to being on the battlefield together. "I''ll be back." Enkrid set out as if going to buy some bread at the market. *** And when he returned, he actually brought back some bread. "This is delicious." At Enkrid''s words, everyone admired the taste of the bread. It was truly delicious. Of course, it had come from the enemy''s supply line. Chapter 205 - Thud-Thud-Bam(2) Chapter 205 - 205 - Thud-Thud-Bam(2) "Bake the bread!" General Olf of Martai, when it came to supplies, had no intention of offering the pitiful black bread mixed with sour wine and foul-smelling jerky and fruits. Under his command were several capable battalion commanders, one of whom led a unit known for its special skills. They were called the "Oven Battalion." "Stack the stones and seal the gaps with mud." The Oven Battalion, as the name suggested, was tasked with building ovens at supply depots and baking bread there. In a way, it might seem like a crazy idea, but General Olf knew that food was the most important thing. And this battlefield, with its long-term nature, was exactly the type where the Oven Battalion would prove invaluable. It couldn''t be used in short-term or offensive battles, but once a siege and a long war began, the Oven Battalion would shine. Above all, the belief that well-fed soldiers fought better was undeniable. It was a piece of wisdom repeated by famous military strategists, and Olf followed it diligently. Thus, the Oven Battalion began to make smoke rise as they started the ovens, burning wood and mixing the flour they had brought with water to make dough. Within a day, the savory smell spread everywhere. "Now, this is what eating well means! Who needs a mangonel? That''s not important!" General Olf moved among the soldiers, encouraging them. "Who are we?" "The Lions of the East!" The soldiers'' response was loud and full of spirit. The morale of Martai''s army remained high. Though Olf''s direct involvement played a part in lifting the morale, the real key was the bread. Some of the soldiers baking the bread were famous for their skills in Martai, and many of them would go on to run bakeries when they returned to the city. Martai, in the east, was known for its fertile wheat fields, and its wheat was considered of excellent quality. The rainfall was just right, and Martai''s fields, which had once been called the "fields of blood" due to the many battles fought there, had become fertile ground due to the dead bodies of soldiers and animals over the years. Though it had been shaped by the hand of those who had a passion for agriculture, the land had a history that stretched back for generations. Thanks to its fertile land, Martai had been growing wheat for a long time, and their bread and other flour-based foods had become well-known. There was a saying that what you ate determined your social status, and in the central continent, white bread was a symbol of wealth. But Martai was different. Their abundance of wheat made white bread a staple for everyday meals. This long history of baking had made Martai''s bread famous, and some of the bakers had even opened bakeries in the capital. The bread was one of Martai''s greatest prides. As General Olf checked the plans after visiting the ovens, he received urgent news. It was bad news. "The supply depot has been attacked." "Attacked?" For Martai, the most critical factor was supplies. What good would it be to lay siege only to starve themselves? Of course, the most trusted men were assigned to oversee the supply lines. Three battalion commanders and the head of the guards¡ªfour men in total¡ªwere those General Olf trusted the most. These were the men who, despite their physical limitations or disabilities, proved to be indispensable. Olf trusted the second battalion commander, the one with the quickest mind and sharpest instincts, to oversee the supply lines. No task was too trivial for him. The messenger, sweating profusely, began to explain. "Explain in detail!" Olf''s voice was sharp, and the messenger gulped before continuing. "A black leopard and two enemy soldiers came and stole the bread baked by the ovens, setting fire to several of the tents." "These idiots!" Olf''s fury boiled over as he heard the report, his anger not just directed at the fire but also at the stolen bread. Why wouldn''t he be angry? He knew how important the supply lines were, which was why he had diverted part of his forces to protect them. Furthermore, the enemy was trapped. How strong could these fools be, trying to break out and fight? "The ones who broke the mangonel?" If they had appeared, it would have been welcomed instead. As the commander''s eyes blazed with fire due to the surprise attack last night, the messenger could no longer continue speaking. ''Zimmer, did that idiot get caught off guard and let them get away?'' Zimmer was the second battalion commander. He was smart, quick-witted, and meticulous, rarely making mistakes. But why hadn''t he reported this directly? "Where''s Zimmer?" Upon hearing Zimmer''s name, the messenger immediately replied. "He said he was chasing after the attackers." Olf exhaled several times and then spoke. "Strengthen the watch! If we get hit again, I won''t forgive it." A commander who loses in battle can be forgiven, but a commander who is lax in guarding cannot be. *** Enkrid easily raided the supply depot. It was truly ''easy.'' "Shall we go?" "Let''s do it." There was no difficulty. The smoke wafted up into the air, and tents lined the area. The guard troops were numerous and the defenses were tight, but that wasn''t a problem. "Grroooow." Esther was the first to act. The leopard rushed forward, and Enkrid and Rem followed behind. Esther''s movements seemed lighter than usual. With one swipe of her front paw, she half-sliced an enemy soldier''s shin and then struck the enemy''s head with her tail, her swift movements leaving the enemies dazed. "An ambush!" There was no need to draw it out. Enkrid rushed in and swiftly dispatched the two enemies, their throats cut. Between the stench of blood, a delicious scent wafted up. In fact, the savory scent had been teasing their senses from the start. While the enemy was still disoriented, Jaxen set fire to several of the tents, and Enkrid, along with Rem, grabbed a few loaves of bread and quickly made their exit. On the way back, they deliberately detoured through the forest. It would have been futile if the enemy pursued on horseback. As for those chasing on foot, it was no problem to outrun them. Their stamina made all the difference. After running for hours without rest, the pursuers were nowhere to be seen. "We should have just taken them all down." Rem clicked his tongue in regret. Enkrid shook his head at his words. "This is enough." And so, they returned and shared the bread. "Report can wait until tomorrow," said the scout who spoke first on the way back. Marcus, the battalion commander, had already taken care of it. Enkrid, Rem, and Jaxen slept soundly and rested well. It was the third day of the campaign, and the sunlight was hot and bright. The summer sun rose early, and after finishing his morning training under the sun, Enkrid went to wash up. "The bread tastes amazing!" Krais exclaimed in admiration once again. Well, it was tasty. "Don''t eat too much." Enkrid playfully tapped Krais on the back of the head and then went to find the battalion commander to report. Just below the city walls, he could see a pot simmering. The officers were gathered around the boiling stew. Since no battle had been fought yet, their armor was still clean. In contrast, Enkrid''s armor was stained with blood. He had cleaned it, but the stains remained. "So, you checked the supply depot?" Marcus asked while sitting on a wooden chair without a backrest. "I also set a few fires while I was at it." "I see." Marcus nodded, and the fairy company commander muttered, "Is that a hobby or a specialty?" He was referring to setting fires. Enkrid thought that setting fires was becoming almost a habit for him, but there was nothing better than it when it came to damaging the supply depot. "Would you like a bowl?" The first company commander offered with the stew ladle, and the smell was quite pleasant. "Who made this?" While Enkrid was speaking, the frontier defense commander brought over a chair. It was the same kind of backless wooden chair as the battalion commander''s. Sitting down, the aroma of the stew made him think that dipping the bread in it would make it twice as delicious. "Just a moment." Enkrid immediately went to grab the bread he had stolen earlier. It was a baguette, hard on the outside but soft on the inside, and freshly baked, crispy and nutty. "This." He broke the baguette and dipped it into the stew. "Mmm, excellent." The first company commander spoke with a rare look of excitement on his face. Had he once said that this guy had a thing for food? Krais had made a comment like that before. Enkrid also took a bite. It was delicious. Crunch. The outside of the bread was hard, but once he chewed it, it broke apart easily, and the soft, white interior mixed with his saliva as it melted in his mouth. The rich, oily stew swirled around in his mouth, combining perfectly with the bread. It was truly a wonderful taste. "Well, looks like you were really planning for this," Marcus said. "I thought about drying them out. They even made a furnace and baked the bread." "Olaf, that bastard, must be enjoying his fame as a war maniac," Marcus said with a smirk. He looked completely confident. Their enemy still held the advantage. Cavalry, and the luxury of setting up a furnace. Yet Marcus still didn''t lose his composure. Enkrid finally understood what Marcus believed in. It wasn''t really about repaying his belief, but if they didn''t act, even their jerky and marmalade would be lost. Food was important, after all. So, everyone ate in silence, devouring their meals. As they ate, two nobles approached. Their clothes were surprisingly clean. As neat as the commanders'' armor. One of the nobles, with a noticeably wider forehead than the others, spoke first. "Have you considered peace?" The other, a younger noble, followed up. "Looking at the difference in power, if we could solve this with words..." Most of the nobles at Border Guard were either people who had bought their titles or those who had lost their family''s rank and settled for a lower status. Why would high-ranking nobles come here to eat? But things had changed a lot now. Once the country stabilized, perhaps even a count or a baron might get involved here. Before that could happen, Baron Bentra or another noble was trying to stake their claim. Enkrid didn''t know much about politics and didn''t care to, but thanks to Krais''s endless chatter, he had picked up some basic knowledge. That guy''s gossip was endless. In fact, he didn''t think much of it. If they came at him, he would simply defeat them. Real battles, swords, fighting, and war ¡ª those things gave Enkrid an odd thrill. ''I must have a bad attitude.'' Why did his heart race at the thought of battle and combat? Actually, it was because he had always wanted and admired those things, which is why he wanted to be a knight. There was no grand meaning behind it, no deep dreams. It started with imagining himself charging through the battlefield. After a brief moment of reflection. Marcus looked at the two nobles and chuckled. "What is it? Now that the city seems to be growing, do you think you''ll become something? You want to say that, instead of fighting Marta, you''d prefer to settle with peace and put yourselves at the center of it?" Was that what they wanted? Enkrid wasn''t really listening. But if Krais had been there, he probably would have nodded along. Marcus, at least, had a great sense of politics. He had hit the nail on the head. "Shut up and go inside. If you don''t want to die, at least thank the named hero here," Marcus said with a smirk. He was currently a company commander, but he was originally just a soldier. Moreover, his origins were from a small rural village, and he had joined the military to make a living. The nobles would never bow to Enkrid. He was a hero among the soldiers, but not among the nobles. "Hmph, I said it." "It was a suggestion. I suggested it because the enemy''s power seems dangerous." The two nobles babbled nonsense, and Marcus waved them off. After they left, Marcus grabbed a wooden bowl, slurped up the stew, and then spoke. "Those bastards are the kind I just want to cut down right now. Am I wrong?" Marcus was speaking while looking at Enkrid. "Murdering a noble is a serious crime." Enkrid responded, and Marcus continued in a nonchalant tone. "Well, if you challenge them to a duel and accidentally kill them, I think that''s fine." "Who would accept a duel challenge from the battalion commander? You''d appoint a representative to fight in your place." That was the reply of the first company commander. "Just saying," Marcus added. Hearing that, Enkrid brought up a question that had crossed his mind earlier. "What does it mean by a ''named hero''?" "It sounded cool. An independent company commander," Marcus answered, giving a thumbs-up instead of a direct response. "I plan to imitate that someday," the first company commander chimed in. The frontier defense commander just nodded in acknowledgment. Enkrid felt no shame about his actions; he was full of excitement. However, he couldn''t help but think that these people were, just a little bit, annoying. "So, what''s the next step?" Marcus asked as he was about to stand up, noticing that they were almost done eating. "I''m planning to go a few more times," Enkrid answered. "A few more?" Marcus asked, raising an eyebrow. The first time had been an unexpected attack, but it wouldn''t be the same the second time. They would prepare. No matter how skilled Enkrid was or how wild Rem became with his axe, if they were surrounded, they wouldn''t survive. "There''s something that''s been bothering me," Enkrid said. It wasn''t an empty remark. When they attacked the supply base and set fire to a few tents, on their way back, Enkrid had sensed something strange. It was a feeling, an instinct. "Their eyes felt like the eyes of a hidden gem, like Krais when he sneaked some coins away," Enkrid mused internally. It felt like the enemy was hiding something more. He wanted to confirm that. He had already come up with a plan for this. He named it the ''Thud-Thud-Bam'' operation. "Thud" ¨C strike once, and when an opportunity arises, "Bam" ¨C hit with all they had. That was the core of the plan. Enkrid had come up with the basic framework, and Krais filled in the details. After returning to the camp, they discussed when and where to strike next. "Let''s go at dawn this time," Krais suggested. His tone was calm, but to anyone who knew strategy, it was a brilliant idea. But Enkrid thought it made sense. They had attacked under the cover of night before, so this time, they would do it in broad daylight. It seemed like a good plan. "This will be fun, brother," Audin replied, hearing the details of the plan. The focus of the mission was the "bear." Chapter 206 - Thud-Thud-Bam(3) Chapter 206 - 206 - Thud-Thud-Bam(3) The beginning of tactics is understanding what weapons you have. In this regard, both Enkrid and Krais were faithful to the basics of tactics. Audin, being large, was always noticeable on the battlefield. If Audin caused a ruckus on the battlefield, could the enemy just ignore him? He was the visible threat, the one who destroyed siege weapons. Surely, they''d be desperate to capture and kill him. He was the perfect distraction, with the best possible size and timing. "Audin." "Yes, brother. Leave it to me." Enkrid left the long explanation to Krais. The core of the plan was simple. If Audin went out in broad daylight, everyone would be too busy focusing on him. The idea was to make a commotion in the east and then strike from the west. "Haha, this will be fun, Brother Krais." Audin, after hearing the full explanation, laughed heartily. He might be surrounded and beaten to death if things went wrong, but if he was afraid of that, he wouldn''t be in a crazy unit like this. On the third day of the battle, Enkrid wanted to show the ''Bam'' in the operation. Ah, of course, the knife he would strike with would likely make a ''thwack,'' not a ''thunk.'' Enkrid explained his strategy to Krais, and Krais cocked his head and then spoke. "What nonsense is that?" His tone was extremely rude, so Enkrid smacked him on the back of the head. Thwack. It seemed to have been a bit forceful because Krais''s head shook violently. Like a weeble, Krais quickly straightened his head and spoke. "I get the gist. Thunk and bam." "Yeah, thunk and bam." Dunbakel, who had been listening to their conversation, privately questioned their mental state. ''What kind of nonsense is that?'' But she wasn''t in a position to intervene, so she kept quiet. After all, wasn''t she an uninvited guest? She could only watch and wait, clueless. In reality, whenever something happened, they''d take the small leopard instead of her. It could have made her feel pathetic, but¡ª "Grrr." The leopard didn''t even look at her. It seemed too busy grooming its claws. The disregard was oddly comforting. More than anything... ''Is this like a flower garden?'' Despite their insane minds, they were all good-looking, too. Starting with Enkrid, then Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Kraiss, they were like flowers gathered together, each with their own unique style. Dunbakel herself didn''t exactly care for appearances, but isn''t it true that food that looks good tastes better? And they did look good. She didn''t want to leave the flower garden. She wanted to stay. If she wanted to survive here, though, she would have to work harder to prove her worth. "I''ll go with you." Dunbakel said, making up her mind. She meant she would accompany Audin. "Want to? Go ahead," Enkrid replied nonchalantly. He figured it wouldn''t be a problem as long as she stuck close to Audin. And soon, the operation began. Sneaking out of the city wasn''t difficult. "What do you think of the Gilpin Guild? They''ve secretly made at least three escape tunnels." The enemy had surrounded the city walls, making it hard to get out through the opposite gate. There were scouts patrolling that area too. And they were mounted scouts. It was hard to catch them since they were on horseback, but they were easy to spot. In that case, they just needed to sneak out. After removing a few stones from the south gate, a small hole¡ªhalf a tunnel¡ªappeared. The problem was... "It''s narrow, brother." Audin was as big as a bear, this hole was too small for him. The religious zealot soldier had to crouch sideways just to get out of the small gate. "Well, this wasn''t expected." Gilpin, who had been guiding them, responded. "Widen it." Enkrid gave a simple answer. If it''s too narrow, just widen it. "Well, this might not be an escape tunnel... it could also be an easy path for the enemy to get in," the bald-headed Gilpin muttered. Everything he said was true. "We just need to make sure they don''t come anywhere near the walls." Enkrid replied. It wasn''t a particularly grand plan, but Krais, who had been listening, couldn''t help but nod in agreement. That''s right. If done properly, the enemy wouldn''t be able to get near the walls. This is how the flow of the battle is going. The Border Guard was a fortified city, but since it didn''t have a moat, the defensive strength of the walls wasn''t necessarily high. There were many watchtowers, so arrows could be fired in abundance. ''But that''s not enough.'' What if they charge with shields raised? How would they stop them? Arrows alone wouldn''t be sufficient. Pouring oil or hot water over them, or throwing stones, also had its limits. What if ladders started appearing everywhere? If the numbers are overwhelming, the walls will crumble in an instant. The advantage of the walls would be lost. It would be vulnerable to siege weapons like mangonels or trebuchets. Even if they brought siege towers, there would be no way to stop them. This is why moats were so important. It''s not for nothing that they dig trenches and fill them with water in front of the gates. Even though the smell might be unpleasant from lack of proper maintenance, just having a moat makes defending the castle much easier. Then add some traps. ''And use strategies for breaking down the outer walls too.'' This was instinctive. Just as Enkrid loses himself when he sees a sword, Krais had the habit of imagining the worst-case scenario and finding the best way to block it. Before long, Krais was thinking about the construction of the castle and its defensive structures, shaking his head as if to clear the thoughts. Anyway, this time, they would make sure the enemy couldn''t even approach the walls. That was enough. "Are you bringing back bread again?" This was a question aimed at Enkrid, who was leaving through the widened hole. Thanks to Audin, Enkrid was leaving with his head bowed. He turned back, still in that posture. To his surprise, Krais, who had always been anxious, was looking at him with a bright expression. "We''ll see." That was his greeting. After exiting, Enkrid looked into the distance and saw smoke cutting through the sky. The enemy, for some reason, was still lighting the fires in their ovens. What was that about? Confidence, perhaps? "As the Lord said, sometimes it gets lonely in his kingdom." Audin recited a prayer. It was a straightforward prayer. It meant he was willing to send a few souls to the Lord. In other words, he was planning to beat a few people senseless to knock on the gates of heaven. "Take it easy. Being too conspicuous will cause problems." Enkrid reminded him of their goal. "Don''t worry, brother. I was once recognized as a person who neither overdid nor lacked anything." Was that true? It didn''t sound like something the person who always demanded excessive training would say. "Your gaze is disrespectful, brother." Even someone of that size had some awareness. Enkrid nodded and said. "I''m going." Jaxen followed Enkrid, and Audin moved with Dunbakel. Today, Rem and Ragna were absent. It was enough to move with a small group. "Are you leaving me behind? Me? Just me? Leaving me here?" Rem had a fit, but when it came to moving without drawing attention, wasn''t Jaxen the best? Esther didn''t stop and followed as well. "Grr." Hidden among the underbrush beneath the castle wall, they looked on as the leopard let out a small cry. The leopard, who hadn''t been seen for several days, now seemed more lively than ever. "Jaxenn." "We''ll sync up. I''ll mute the sounds and eliminate our presence. We''ll walk to the target location." What was Jaxen''s nickname among Rem and the surrounding team members¡ª''the sneaky wildcat.'' It wasn''t for nothing they called him that. Even Rem, who usually didn''t care about things, said Jaxen''s presence couldn''t be read if he didn''t want it to be. Jaxenn demonstrated his skills. He silenced his footsteps and used the terrain''s bushes and contours to move. When rocks appeared along the way, he would sit behind them. As Jaxen sat behind the rock, only about twenty steps away, Martai''s scout group passed by. However, as planned, he went unnoticed and was able to make it to a point where he could observe the rear supply base. Having perfectly grasped the surrounding terrain and taken the scouts'' intentions into account, he moved silently, every step considered. ''Move over, assassin.'' Enkrid thought as he took his position in the tree. On either side of him, Esther and Jaxen were watching the supply base. Now, it was time to wait for the commotion. *** Greg, the captain of the 1st Battalion under Olf, was a man who could certainly be called a fierce warrior. He was a shock trooper, leading his unit with sheer strength. What is a shock trooper? It''s the unit that leads the charge, the front line. "The bear bastard who destroyed our siege weapons is here!" The cry of a messenger reached Greg''s ears. The massive figure who destroyed the mangonel. It was impressive. That kind of strength seemed almost inhuman. So, is strength everything? Does it determine the outcome of a battle? Nonsense! The outcome of a fight is never that easily decided. Now, how did it happen? Did the gates open? No, that wasn''t it. The city was still surrounded. The scout parties had been moving without a pause. If something like that had happened, they would have known right away. ''Did they sneak out?'' Just because the city was surrounded didn''t mean there was no way out. Being brave doesn''t mean being foolish. Greg realized the enemy''s intentions. They had snuck out and been caught. ''They''re targeting the supply line again!'' Attacking the supply route repeatedly was their only way of survival. The 2nd Battalion commander, Zimmer, had said it himself. "If we just surround and hold, we''ll win. The warmonger can only do what''s obvious. We won''t fall for it twice." Zimmer had gritted his teeth in frustration. They had sent out a small group of soldiers to try and deal with the big one, but there was a limit to what could be sent out. For a situation that required a small strike force, they couldn''t afford to send someone that capable to the rear. Greg moved forward with certainty. It was, of course, a mistake. Audin had been moving in the front to draw attention. "Brothers, are you on your way to greet the Lord?" While talking nonsense, Audin swung his fists at the approaching enemy soldiers. The punch looked heavy and dull. The enemy soldiers probably thought they could just avoid it. It was that slow. In fact, the more threatening figure was the beast-woman swinging a scimitar next to him. The white hair flying in the wind showed she was no ordinary warrior. So? Without being a knight, isn''t it nearly impossible to overcome a numerical disadvantage? Immediately, Greg''s shock unit moved. The armed infantry charged with spears and shields. This was Martai''s pride¡ªits shock troops. Relatively light armor, large shields covering half of the body, and infantry armed with spears. Troops focused on the charge. "There''s a lot of them!" Dunbakel shouted. Audin sized them up. About forty to fifty soldiers. It would be fine to clash with them. Only fifty soldiers after all. Just avoid the long spears and charge in. Gain distance first and land a powerful blow. No need for Balaf-style wrestling, just a straightforward strike would break the formation of some of the enemy troops. After that, it would be easy to jump into the enemy ranks. The long spears would be more of a hindrance than anything. Naturally, the enemy would try to press him down with their shields, but that was futile. He would push them aside and break them one by one. But Audin didn''t do that. He deflected the approaching spears with the back of his hand, dodged, and slowly swung his heavy fists. Occasionally, he picked up stones from the ground and threw them. Whoosh! Thud! A rock struck a shield, shattering into fragments that scattered in all directions. "Just a dumb brute with strength!" one of the enemy infantry yelled. That was exactly what Audin wanted them to think. ''Exactly as planned.'' Drawing attention and creating a false sense of security. Before they left, Krais had emphasized this sixteen times. "Don''t kill them all. You need to match the pace and come back." ''I''m no barbarian, brother.'' Audin followed Krais''s instructions. The intent was obvious. The enemy was underestimating them, so they would use that to their advantage. Audin had years of combat experience before coming here. Reading the intentions of his brother was easy. "Are you going to fight while hiding behind your shields, brothers?" Audin deliberately spoke with an angry expression. "You''re just a lump relying on brute strength!" One of Greg''s company commanders shouted. He thought that if he kept tightening the pressure on the enemy, they would eventually break. A commotion broke out. The rocks Audin occasionally threw could have been fatal. Most importantly, if the enemy got caught by that monstrous strength, it wouldn''t end well. The enemy soldiers didn''t close the distance recklessly, only thrusting their spears. Audin was faithfully playing his role¡ªcreating chaos in the front and being a noticeable figure. Naturally, all eyes were on him. That was enough. Enkrid once again raided the supply base. At the same time, he wanted to confirm something that was bothering him. "Jaxen. Circle around the back of the supply base and check where the enemy soldiers are gathered, see what their formation is like." Jaxen didn''t answer but blinked his eyes. ''Me? Really? Do I have to do this?'' He had a talent for communicating so clearly with just his eyes. "Just do it." Enkrid pushed him. As he had realized long ago, these men listened to their orders more than he expected. "Fine." Though he seemed indifferent, Jaxen moved as instructed, and Enkrid patted Esther''s head as he spoke. "Want some bread?" It was just the two of them raiding the supply base. The enemy had prepared an ambush, but Enkrid, with his sharp senses, detected it and broke through with sheer force. Instead of killing everyone, they lightly stepped around, set fire to a few tents, and stole some bread. Audin was causing a ruckus up front. The enemy''s defenses were tougher than before, but that was all. Audin was creating a scene. The guards'' attention was subtly drawn to the front. Thanks to that, the mission was much easier. Seeing that, Jaxen began sneaking behind the enemy soldiers. Since he was already moving. "Esther, let''s go." Enkrid, while at it, destroyed a few of the furnaces. "You bastard!" An enemy soldier shouted, clearly the commander. ''Should I kill him?'' Enkrid briefly considered it but decided against it. If he fought properly, it would only make the enemy more alert. Instead, Enkrid darted away again, hitting and running. He had done it several times when facing weaker opponents, but this time it was much easier. Audin had drawn attention for him. His skills had improved since then. Esther''s condition was excellent as well. The leopard had proven quite useful. "Grrawr!" With a chilling roar, the leopard would break enemy soldiers'' shins or claw at them, all while moving incredibly swiftly. ''Her skills have improved too.'' Enkrid thought to himself. On the way back, Enkrid naturally observed the movements of the soldiers he had just faced. He remembered, recalled, and reflected on it. There was something to learn from this. No, it was only natural to learn. The part that troubled him would be clarified by Jaxen. So... ''We''ve got some room to breathe.'' Enkrid returned to his original mindset. With the sword and training, and considering the path ahead, the road of discipline continued. Chapter 207 - Unease and the Vanguard Chapter 207 - 207 - Unease and the Vanguard What do the enemies in front of me possess? Some soldiers were deeply immersed in thrusting. Others were skilled at wielding their spears like clubs, gripping them by the middle. Another soldier''s spear-wielding strength was lacking, but he was sharp enough to find openings. It was instinct. A matter of natural talent. But they seemed to lack proper training. Their endurance was insufficient, and their strength was even more so. Their reaction times weren''t bad, but that was all. Each soldier had something they had learned and trained¡ªsomething they carried, wielded, and used in combat. Even though they all underwent the same training, what they developed was different. They all wielded spears, but the way they used them was entirely different. Enkrid observed it all with his eyes. The swaying spear tips, the wavering eyes. The habit of stepping forward with the left foot. Some had learned the Valen-style mercenary sword techniques, even feigning missteps to deceive their opponents. Among them, many showed the marks of constant training. It''s a sudden realization, but if there''s anything more frightening than overwhelming talent, Crack. An enemy charging with clenched teeth, even as their fingers were severed. Their courage and resolve were different; the burning determination in their eyes was evident. Enkrid never approached any moment half-heartedly. He never took his enemies lightly. Hiding his skills was one thing, but wielding his sword with full intent was another matter. As the spear came toward him, he adjusted his stance, and the enemy, abandoning their spear, rushed toward him, attempting to overpower him with raw strength. Enkrid, remembering the battlefield where he had acquired the heart of the beast, bent his knees and met the attack with his back. He used his strength to toss the enemy soldier over his shoulder. With a thud, the soldier flew, landing on his shoulder and rolling across the ground. ''The heart of the beast.'' Those with unshakable hearts are fiercer than those with exceptional talent. Enkrid reminded himself of how important the heart of a beast was. He had never forgotten. By repeating everything he had learned daily, how could he forget? Stuck in the ''today,'' he constantly reaffirmed everything he possessed. Afterward, he continued to watch the movements of the soldiers. ''A strike with the body twisted around the left foot.'' It resembled a one-handed thrust with a sword, but by extending the spear forward and releasing it, some soldiers threw their spears like a javelin. It was an unexpected strike and a creative attack. But it wasn''t threatening. Their timing was simply different. The heart of a beast, focused concentration, the sense of evasion, and the technique of isolation formed his body. It was an amazing technique, but it was something he could evade. His body reacted the moment he saw it. The reflection was complete. Now it was a matter of incorporating their techniques and efforts into his own body. From here, time was needed. As he withdrew and looked back, no large black smoke rose above his head. Although he had set fire to things, it quickly had been suppressed. Thus, the supply base hadn''t received a heavy blow. However, the sense of having been beaten while remaining on alert would linger. And even if there wasn''t much damage, the fact that the supply base had caught fire in itself was a blow. Escaping wasn''t difficult. "Grrawr." Esther walked lightly beside him as she had never done before. The leopard hadn''t come to him for cuddles, except when sleeping. As he ran, he noticed Esther looking up. Her eyes were bright and large. No, her eyes seemed even larger than before. "Meow." It seemed like the leopard was asking what he was staring at. If this leopard were a person, it would have a temper as bad as Rem''s. "Nothing." Enkrid responded nonchalantly, just as he would with Rem. "Over there!" As they emerged from the bushes, a shout came from behind. It was a group of soldiers chasing him. Enkrid listened to the soldiers'' voices and roughly gauged the distance. It was a technique Jaxen had taught him: how to judge distances by hearing. Using his sharp senses, he calculated the location and distance of those pursuing him and concluded that shaking them off wouldn''t be hard. He was relaxed. At the same time, he had another thought. Observing the Enemy''s Habits As Enkrid observed the enemy, he noticed something interesting. One of the squad leaders, despite the chaotic situation, used his head. "Bring the net!" He shouted, trying to trap both Esther and himself at the same time. He said it while retreating, keeping a distance. If he truly intended to kill them, it might not have been impossible, but Enkrid felt no need to engage and simply watched. "Fire!" In an unexpected move, the squad leader did something remarkable. While preparing the net, arrows suddenly flew. The moment the command was given, the enemy soldiers surrounding them immediately retreated. It was a prearranged maneuver. Most notably, the trust in their squad leader was clear from the soldiers'' swift response to his orders. The net was a decoy, and the real plan was to fire arrows, which, of course, didn''t catch Enkrid off guard. Instead, having avoided the trap, he now had room to think. It reminded him of a day when it was snowing, back when he was still leading a troublesome squad¡ª the time when they were about to deal with the Gilpin Guild. "Order us, and those who can, will do it." Ragna had said that. Enkrid observed the squad leader''s actions, his tactical thinking, and his squad''s combat style, and realized that this wasn''t his area of expertise. But he knew something was missing. The current battle was the same. Defending alone wasn''t going to cut it. Striking at the supply lines with just this was out of the question. This was like trying to piss in the snow¡ªuseless. So, what should be done? ''If I push Krais...'' An answer would come. Wasn''t it something he learned that winter day? If he couldn''t do it, he should put someone capable in charge. Leading a squad wasn''t an easy task. ''I can''t be a battalion commander.'' It was a fleeting thought. At any rate, all that mattered now was getting back. He didn''t have time to learn strategies or tactics. He couldn''t keep fighting like this while holding the title of company commander. ''Step by step, I''ll learn.'' To issue orders, you need to understand what they mean. When someone speaks, you need to grasp their intent; only then can you be a true commander. A knight is someone who walks ahead, but sometimes, they are also the commander responsible for the soldiers. And even if that''s not the case... ''If I let all my men die under my command...'' Especially if it happens because I was lazy in my learning, Enkrid couldn''t possibly stand by and watch such a thing *** "Again?" Olf didn''t get angry blindly. His eyes were still sharp. He wasn''t a dull man, no matter what anyone said. ''This feels off.'' It wasn''t a significant blow. It wasn''t even one of the main supply lines, just the one near the furnace supply base that was disturbed. It was literally just a disruption. It wasn''t a fatal strike. This wouldn''t shake the entire battlefield. But the fact that they kept being hit like this was starting to irritate him. "What about him?" Olf asked. At the commander''s question, Greg wiped the sweat dripping from his forehead as he answered. "We missed him." Greg, the assault commander. Beyond his individual strength, his unit specialized in chasing down retreating enemies. Even if a battle broke out, he wasn''t someone who would easily be overpowered. Before Enkrid''s reputation spread widely, he was already a warrior with the fame of wiping out two colonies by himself. When it came to fame, anyone who could handle towns, cities, or continents was considered someone of great renown. If someone in Greg''s command was better, they would probably only number one or two. "Missed him?" Even more shocking was that Greg, known for charging, running, and striking as his specialties, had failed to catch the enemy. ''Marcus, you crazy bastard. What kind of scheme are you pulling?'' Olf wondered to himself. He didn''t know the enemy''s intentions, but there was definitely something going on. The unease was building in his chest. Still, it wasn''t the time to get angry. "It''s just a sloppy trick. Moreover, the troops I brought haven''t even shown their full strength. If we just tighten the pressure and keep pushing, they won''t be able to do anything!" The de facto commander of the Bentra Baronet''s forces spoke up. Olf could tell from the way the man reacted to the name "Enkrid" that he had a deep disdain for him. The relatively young face was a mix of confidence and arrogance. The expression said it all. He thought he was better, that he could handle it. ''Insecurity?'' It didn''t seem like it. After all, he was a noble commander. There were even rumors that he was an illegitimate child of a noble. In contrast, the enemy was a soldier who had risen from the streets. Whatever the case, the unease lingered. Olf hadn''t just blindly brought troops along. Of course, he had prepared a few secret weapons as well. For instance, some of the soldiers who had joined after erasing their family crests were hiding something, something meant for show. There were things hidden, so maintaining the status quo on the battlefield wouldn''t be a bad idea. Keeping things as they were could benefit their side. "Let''s observe for a few more days. We''ll watch their reactions over the next two days and then make another push at the walls." Time was on his side, Olfr judged. This was a moment that called for calm, not anger. After spending the night, the morning of the fourth battlefield dawned. Olf had a hearty breakfast of well-baked bread, fresh cabbage, jerky, and dried fruits, followed by a sip of water mixed with wine. The battle had been minimal, with just small units making light contact. Had their forces suffered any significant losses? No. With a calm judgment, Olf cleared the unease from his mind, wiped his face, and donned his armor. "Commander!" A messenger rushed into the command tent. All the commanders who had gathered for breakfast turned their attention to the messenger. "What is it?" Greg, still on edge from the previous day''s failure, spoke roughly without thinking. "The enemy is coming out." "...?" Everyone blinked in confusion. "Where are they coming from?" Zimmer, the second battalion commander, asked. "They''ve come out of the city." "Why?" It was so absurd that the words, which had been forming in his chest, slipped out without control. "...What?" How would the messenger know? Zimmer was no different; he surely had the same question. "What are they doing out there?" Even Greg, who had been gruff, now blinked in confusion and spoke in a much softer tone. "They are forming up their ranks." The messenger reported exactly what he had seen and heard. A river of silence swept through the command post. It felt as though a silent uproar was shaking the tent. Why are they coming out? Is everyone crazy? Forming up their ranks? Are they asking for a full-scale fight? For what reason? They''re leaving the walls behind? Even with the walls, the advantage is ours! No, why are they coming out to die? What do they believe in? "Interesting." It was the one who had been standing there like a scarecrow. The hollow commander of the troops without a crest spoke his thoughts. "It seems they''d rather fight than stay trapped." The commander of the Bentra Baronet''s forces also spoke. There didn''t seem to be any other reason for the enemy''s actions. Still, Olf could feel the uneasy discomfort he had pushed aside earlier slowly spreading, like a wine stain spilled onto a carpet. But retreating now? He''d be the subject of ridicule for the rest of his life. If there were a bard around, they might give him the nickname "Cowardly General." Sometimes, on the battlefield, even if the odds seem impossible, there are times when you must still act. Right now, anyone could see that they held the upper hand. But retreat? It wasn''t the time to back out just because of discomfort. "I''ll use the cavalry. Set them in a defensive line. If they want a full battle, we''ll give it to them!" Olf spoke with authority. The enemy had left the advantages of the walls behind, so if they could break their forces, that would settle things. That would erase the discomfort, too. ''Did they request reinforcements?'' No, that was unlikely. As soon as they advanced, the city was surrounded, and even if they secretly sent someone to request reinforcements, who would send troops? Count Molsen? That man had already sent in forces that had erased their family crests, tearing apart the Border Guards. ''From the center?'' That was even more impossible. The chances of the Central Army of Naurilia intervening were lower than the odds of a passing crow eating the eyes of a knight. "Let''s go." At the general''s command, all the commanders stood up. "Let me take the lead." Greg stepped forward. "Of course." Assault Commander Greg, a warrior who wouldn''t easily be bested by anyone. "I''ve made the supply lines more secure. We won''t be caught off guard by any feints." Second Battalion Commander Zimmer added. He was a meticulous and mistake-free commander. Olf nodded in satisfaction. Finally, there was the Third Battalion Commander, Retli, who led the cavalry and scouts. His individual strength might not match Greg''s, but when it came to exploiting gaps in the enemy''s formation, he was more skilled than Olf. "Retli?" "Yes, ready." But that wasn''t the end of it. "We''re ready too. In fact, we were ready a while ago. I''ll take care of that loudmouthed fool and end this pathetic rumor." The Bentra Baronet''s forces had secretly prepared their cavalry as well. And the number was over fifty. Now, who had the advantage in this fight? Olf silently asked the enemy commander, Marcus, who wasn''t even visible in the distance. Chapter 208 - The Walls Are Bullshit Chapter 208 - 208 - The Walls Are Bullshit "Cavalry and a separate detachment, along with a group dressed in shabby cloaks." Jaxen faithfully followed Enkrid''s orders. Upon observing the positions of the forces in the back, he pinpointed exactly where they were located on the military map. It was neatly and clearly marked, almost like the work of an artist. In other words, it was both visually pleasing and easy to understand. Enkrid had just muttered his thoughts based on Jaxen''s observations. The cavalry in the rear, a fairly large detachment, and lastly, the five cloaked figures. The fact that Jaxen only spotted five people among the detachment meant they weren''t ordinary individuals. His gut feeling and intuition told him as much. Purely a hunch, but Jaxen was confident, and Enkrid didn''t dismiss it. "What do you think?" Enkrid asked, folding his arms, waiting for Jaxen''s response. Jaxen was brushing the dust off his armor. He casually knocked the dust off, watching it scatter into the air before settling on the ground. It was still hot. The season for cool weather was far off, but Jaxen wasn''t sweating profusely. Was he just taking it easy, or was this truly an easy situation? Enkrid wondered as he waited for the reply. "I think they are sorcerers." Five sorcerers. Martai had prepared quite a force. What would be the best move here? Enkrid didn''t know. He pressed on Jaxen. "Then what do you think we should do next?" He asked out of genuine uncertainty, though his tone showed confidence. When in doubt, just push your subordinates, as he had learned. "Do you think we''ll lose if we fight them?" The ever-optimistic "Big Eyes" asked instead. Enkrid analyzed the enemy''s strength, what he had learned from them, and the strength of his own troops. He didn''t think they would lose. After all, they hadn''t even shown their full power to the enemy, and there had been no need for theatrics. Audin hadn''t really fought yet, and Enkrid hadn''t tried to change minor details either. "It''s a plan designed from the start for a full-scale battle. Fighting in the city with the walls would cause irreparable damage." Kraeus''s eyes gleamed as he said this. Enkrid understood it too and moved accordingly. The decision was the battalion commander''s, and calling for an all-out battle was just their opinion. Externally, it would seem like they were forced to open the city gates and face the enemy directly. "I''m going to report," Enkrid said quickly as he walked toward the command tent to speak with Marcus. "This should be fun. My dear fiance?e." The fairy commander, who had overheard, carelessly addressed him with a nickname. Strangely, no one corrected her . Everyone was so used to it by now, they either didn''t notice or simply ignored it. Even the first company commander and other leaders were used to it, and even the brigade commander''s aide didn''t mind. The fact that the scribe had written it down seemed less important with all that was going on. "Let''s control the separate detachment in the rear," said the commander of the border defense. He was the first to take initiative. Marcus, of course, was already smiling and issued his orders. "Open the gates." As Enkrid watched Marcus give the order, an automatic question came to mind. From Enkrid''s perspective, it was a question that was far too obvious. No matter how much faith he had in his forces, wasn''t this a bit too much? "Normally, this would be considered a suicide mission, wouldn''t it?" The power gap was clear. Charging into battle against such an enemy in a chaotic fight was madness. In strategic and tactical terms, any commander who chose this path would be called a fool. Marcus simply stared at Enkrid without responding. Then, he asked: "Is that what you think?" Instead of answering, Enkrid shook his head. "That''s not the case." Why wouldn''t it be? Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxen. Even though the enemy had more numbers, Enkrid wasn''t afraid. Fighting on a battlefield where the numbers are clear is actually more comfortable than being dragged into urban combat. Well, urban warfare wouldn''t necessarily be inconvenient, either. Most importantly... ''I don''t think we''ll lose.'' That thought was the first to cross his mind. Enkrid knew how to compare forces and read the flow of battle. It was only natural. If he hadn''t been able to do that, he wouldn''t have survived this long. "I''ve revealed my name and told them to leave, yet they remain. Now, I think it''s time to show them what we''re capable of." Marcus said with a gentle smile. Enkrid was well aware that Marcus frequently mentioned the time he had revealed his name, and it seemed to have left quite an impression. Enkrid nodded in acknowledgment. "I''ll lead the charge." It was the place he had always dreamed of¡ªat the front of the battlefield. Now, he could stand there. No one would stop Enkrid. With sword in hand, Enkrid stepped forward at the front of the open city gates. Though his troops might have felt uneasy... "The Madmen are going out first, huh?" "Then it''ll be fine." No one showed any signs of anxiety. They hadn''t seen it properly, which is why they acted so boldly. If the enemy had encountered them on the battlefield, simply having a "Madmen" unit would have made them change their strategy. However, Martai''s forces remained calm. Their reaction was one of disbelief¡ªalmost like mocking them with their own antics. This was all due to Marcus''s clever deception. At least Krais saw it as a political victory. Or rather, a victory through trickery. Spreading exaggerated or minimized stories about their forces, especially the crazed unit, had been effective. Ultimately, the result mattered, whether it was through politics or trickery. "Why wasn''t this a full-scale battle from the start? I almost died from waiting." Rem, stepping forward, asked. Krais mentally retraced his reasoning. Destroying siege weapons had been unexpected, but the reason for targeting the supply lines and disrupting the enemy was clear. Why? ''Because we need to end it all in one blow.'' The longer the fight dragged on, the more disadvantageous it would be for the smaller side. Moreover, the enemy had the support of nearby nobles, while they had set the Black Blade ablaze. Who knows what kind of trick the Black Blade might try next? Recently, they had also dealt with the Cultist''s Holy Sect, after all. They had systematically struck at the faces of their enemies. Thus, there was no benefit in prolonging the battle. The longer the fight, the more weaknesses would appear. Krais had always planned for this. One fight, to end everything. For that to work, the enemy''s focus had to be entirely on them. They needed to be provoked, angry, and willing to face them head-on. A strategy that was almost like psychological warfare. "Just because." Krais didn''t bother explaining further to Rem. Enkrid would understand with just a few words, but explaining it to Rem would make it too long. Sometimes, it was better to keep some things unsaid. ''That''s me.'' Krais muttered to himself. More than anything, Rem knowing wouldn''t change anything. "Damn it." Rem chuckled and stepped forward. Even though he''d figured out why Krais was keeping quiet, he wasn''t annoyed. What mattered now was the time to swing the axe. Krais trusted his troops. He believed their overwhelming strength would make a significant impact. ''Right?'' Still, a trace of anxiety crept in. It couldn''t be helped. It was just his nature. Marcus felt the same way. He too was armed and stepping forward as part of the infantry. As a commander, he had his guards and stayed in the rear, but he was still out there with the soldiers. Marcus looked at the battlefield through the eyes of a commander. Enkrid''s response at the front would determine a lot in this fight. It was a fact that hit both his mind and his instincts. ''It''s a bit dizzying.'' But what else could he do? This was the best option. "I''m nervous." Marcus was taken aback, thinking his adjutant had somehow read his thoughts. But he didn''t show it on the outside. Instead, he answered with nonchalance, trying to appear at ease. "Is that so?" "Do you think we''ll be okay?" "Of course." He replied confidently, as a commander should, maintaining the appearance of certainty. In Marcus''s line of sight, the enemy''s main force was approaching, assembling in formation. "Move forward!" At the leader''s shout, the front-line troops began to move, stepping forward in perfect sync. "Hah!" Their battle cry rang out, and the air reverberated with it. Dust was kicked up as if to push towards them. The military discipline was palpable. The anxiety of the soldiers was cutting through the air, stirred by the battle-ready intensity of the disciplined troops. That wasn''t to say their own guards were incompetent. Their soldiers had fought in the mountains, in the water, against beasts and Aspen, surviving as battle-hardened veterans. Marcus didn''t need to step in. "Charge!" It was the 3rd Company Commander. Was it his loud voice that earned him the position? Perhaps not, but his booming command seemed to reach every soldier. "Forward!" With that sharp command, the main force of their army took a step forward. Thud. "Hah!" The same method was used to raise their battle spirit in sync. Meanwhile, Enkrid''s Madmen unit was pushing forward as well. The two armies were about to meet in a clash. At that moment, a disturbance arose in the enemy''s front lines. More accurately, something was charging toward the space between the two armies, where they had been facing off. It was a surprising move, almost like a work of art in military tactics. While both sides were eyeing each other, an unexpected strike was made. Of course, Enkrid and his group were also using this moment of standoff to push forward. Thud, thud, thud! The ground began to shake. The vibrations were so strong it seemed like the earth itself was trembling. From the source of the sound, riders could be seen charging forward. It was the cavalry, their horses clad in metal plating, the sound of hooves pounding the earth. The enemy''s lances were the first to be seen. Thud, thud, thud! The sound of galloping horses reached the ears of the allies. Marcus heard it, and so did Enkrid and his men. If the cavalry charged straight into the main force, the damage would be devastating, and they would be at a disadvantage from the start. At the head of the cavalry was the commander, a figure without a banner, leading the charge. Marcus had been aware of the enemy''s cavalry and had been sending scouts to monitor them. But then, cavalry appeared from the opposite side. That''s right, those were the same forces Enkrid''s "madman" unit had reported on in the strategy map. The enemies had been hiding one of their ace cards. That hidden dagger was now charging directly at the main force, with the "madman" unit standing in the way. "They''re going to get crushed!" The adjutant shouted. Marcus thought to himself that this young officer always spoke out of turn. Of course, Marcus had been thinking the same thing. As a commander, he knew not to let any sense of doubt spread among his troops. Thud, thud, thud! The speed of the cavalry was terrifying. Against these charging riders, infantry would be like dry twigs¡ªbreakable and easily crushed if they collided. Marcus trusted Enkrid. He believed in the power of his unit. But against cavalry? Was it really okay to face an opponent charging with full intent? It was an unexpected blow. The Martai bastards, pulling out their secret weapon from the very start. It had caught them off guard. *** The commander of the Bentria Baron''s forces had decided to lead the charge himself. Greg had objected, but there was no room for such defiance. "Breaking the enemy''s morale and shattering their formation from the outset is the foundation of warfare." This wasn''t a strategy for city militias; it was the strategy of a noble leading a cavalry unit. It was different from the strategy of a provincial infantry commander. Greg had to admit it. What that commander said was more efficient, more effective, and more deadly. And so, the Bentria Baron''s commander unleashed his cavalry. Fifty elite riders. They weren''t specialized for direct charge tactics like heavy cavalry, but they were still cavalry. Usually, they employed strategies to flank the enemy''s sides, but today, their opponent was infantry. Charging straight at them would give the cavalry the advantage. It was always that way¡ªcavalry vs. infantry. The cavalry would counter the pikes with their own lances and infantry, making the fight turn in their favor. "We''re going to wipe out those arrogant Border Guard peasants. Anyone have any objections?" At the commander''s order, the fifty cavalrymen shouted in unison. "No objections!" "Let''s go!" With a swift motion, they prepared for the charge. Was it difficult? No. The horses were ready, and as the cavalry dashed forward, the commander thought to himself. "Bastard." When had it been? When he was deployed to a frontier village? "Enkrid''s walls? What a joke." That was when he made up his mind. If he ever met that arrogant fool, he''d crush him. That was his resolve. Originally, he had planned only to silence the fool with a sharp reprimand, but now, it seemed like he might just end the fool''s life altogether. The cavalry wore light armor, and the riders avoided heavy weapons. They favored glaives. A unit known for their expertise with long spears, they would wield their weapons with precision. Their tactic was to hook the spear handle to the side of the saddle, sweeping past enemy formations while charging. The speed of the cavalry combined with their sharp weapons made them deadly. That was their strength. Charging forward, cutting down anything in their path. The ten or so infantrymen in the middle of the line were just an appetizer. Their true goal was the enemy''s main force. They were planning to cut through the frontlines swiftly and decisively. The commander was caught up in excitement. The exhilaration surged within him. His side had the advantage. They were mounted, and their enemies were mere foot soldiers. How could he not be thrilled when victory was practically guaranteed? His blood boiled, his heart raced, and the commander shouted. "The walls? What a joke!" It was a cry from deep within his soul. Chapter 209 - Victory by Trickery Chapter 209 - 209 - Victory by Trickery Enkrid placed his hand on the grip of his sword and steadied his breath. He was at the forefront, at the tip of the spear, the cutting edge¡ªwhatever you called it, he was at the very front. A vast battlefield had unfolded before them. The terrain was so flat, it could be called a plain. The charge of the cavalry had been anticipated. No, it was something anyone could have predicted. And yet, for this to unfold like this... it was madness. To the enemy, they must have been wondering if there was anyone sane among them. Even so, no one had expected the cavalry to charge right from the start. Thud! Thud! Thud! Though the cavalry was still distant, the ground trembled under their galloping hooves. The sound of the earth shaking aside, there was still quite a distance before it would turn into a clash of swords. Still, they were fast, and the gap was closing rapidly. The fierceness of the horses, the dust rising from their hooves, and the unified armor of the cavalry¡ªeverything about them could easily become an object of fear. "Well? Are you enjoying this?" Rem, ever sharp-eyed, observed the approaching cavalry commander. The commander wore a helmet that obscured his face, but was it possible to discern his expression? "Can you see that?" "Yeah, I can feel it." Rem snorted in response. Was his instinct as terrifying as a Jaxen''s? Or perhaps it was just that whenever someone looked down on him, his reflexive instincts kicked in. Whatever the reason, Enkrid felt something similar. He measured the number of approaching cavalry. Over fifty. Those present at the front were himself, Rem, Ragna, Saxon, and Audin. Finn, Dunbakel, and Esther were positioned further back. "I can fight too," Dunbakel had protested just before coming out, but her claim was meaningless. After all, this was the same person who followed Audin and got her skull nearly cracked open. Now she had a bandage wrapped from her left ear to her forehead. "Heh, sister. You nearly died. If you want to go to heaven, just say the word. I''ll send you there right now." Audin''s polite death threat silenced Dunbakel. She had followed Audin and talked big, but even if she hadn''t gotten injured, Audin still wouldn''t have taken her. "She''s too weak," Rem muttered under his breath before adding a chilling "we''ll see" in parting. Just because Rem''s usual demeanor seemed lighthearted didn''t mean his words carried no weight. For those who heard him, the "we''ll see" was downright terrifying. Dunbakel had no idea. Enkrid cast aside his fleeting thoughts. The cavalry was now right on top of them. Thud! Thud! Thud! The ground rumbled as the charging cavalry drew their weapons. Their long, wide spears, angled downward toward the ground, glinted in the sunlight. It was a glaive, more suited for sweeping attacks than thrusting. It was an unusually clear day. Enkrid couldn''t help but think the sunlight and his sword''s blade went well together. Well, that was the least of his worries. Cling. He drew his sword, gripped it with both hands, and twisted it slightly. "Walls? What a joke!" At the same time, the cavalry commander at the front of the charge shouted. Enkrid performed a technique from the Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship. Valen-style mercenary sword attack. Blinding Flash. The razor-sharp blade, gleaming like a mirror, reflected the sunlight directly into the enemy''s eyes, blinding them with the glare. "Ugh!" As the charging cavalryman''s eyes were hit with the sunlight, he raised a hand in an attempt to shield his eyes. But that did little to slow the horse''s charge¡ªit kept coming at full speed. Despite the incoming glaive''s deadly momentum, it seemed that the energy had diminished somewhat. Whether the sunlight shone down or not, the approaching glaive''s blade was cutting through the air, aiming to slice through Enkrid''s neck. The wide spearhead was angled to cleave through the air. Reflected sunlight, the sharp blade of his own sword, the enemy, the foe, the sun, the earth, the horse, the dust, the battlefield, the vanguard. In a single moment, Enkrid recalled everything around him, then let it all go to fully immerse himself in the task at hand. He forgot himself, forgot the world, leaving only the enemy and the sword. As the glaive came charging toward him, his beast heart thrummed with power. The courage gained from the heart of the beast made him unaffected by the incoming spear, while his sharpened senses allowed him to read the perfect timing. Enkrid swung his sword vertically, striking the glaive''s blade with full force. Clang! The sharp, crisp sound rang through the air, marking the beginning of everything. The combined strength of his youthful muscles and the rare, fine blade harmonized. Thwang! Against the line of spears raised in unison, Enkrid shattered the first glaive. There was no time to observe the shattered glaive flying through the air. In this world where only the enemy, his sword, and himself existed, his only task was to wield the sword. He parried, slashed, and deflected every spear that came at him, looking for openings to strike. Thwack! The blade cut between the gaps in the horse''s armor, severing its right front leg. A hot, steaming spray of blood erupted, and the shrill cry of the injured cavalryman echoed through the air. The scream soon faded as the battle pressed on, and the spears continued their relentless assault. This was the nature of a cavalry charge¡ªonce it began, it couldn''t be stopped. Amidst Enkrid''s focus on the battle, a thought from Ragna''s words resurfaced in his mind. "When you apply the longsword techniques, there are two types of cuts you learn." Typically, when teaching techniques, one would explain their effectiveness first, but with Ragna, that was not something to expect. "The lion cut and the steel cut," Ragna had said. Though the explanation was poor, Enkrid understood it well. The lion cut wasn''t about slaying an actual lion but rather about slicing through dynamic, charging targets in a single, decisive strike. The steel cut, on the other hand, was about cutting through hard, solid materials, even when still. Initially, they were two separate styles¡ªdynamism and resilience¡ªbut later, the goal was to combine them in a single strike. "If you wish to obtain willpower, you must master both," Ragna''s last words had stuck in Enkrid''s mind, as well as the realization that the technique Ragna had shown¡ªhis "cleaving" skill¡ªhad started with these two cuts. As the cavalry charged, Enkrid recalled the lion cut. In his mind, the image of the swordsmanship remained. Reacting with his instincts, his body, hands, feet, and sword moved as one, striking down the charging cavalry. Thwung!Thwack!Ssszzzzzt! Three chaotic sounds collided as they rushed past his ears. The horse and rider, cleaved from head to front leg, collapsed to the ground behind them. "Ugh!" A cavalryman who had fallen from his horse screamed, unlucky enough to be the one to face the final blow. He died in his fall, his head striking the ground and causing his limbs to twitch uncontrollably. And with that, the first wave of the charge had passed. As expected, no one on Enkrid''s side had fallen. Cavalry was a weapon in itself. To directly face the charge of a galloping horse head-on? That was something only giants or frogs would attempt. But was that truly a wise decision? If you could stop one, what about the rest charging right behind it? If you liked being crushed by the weight of a horse and its armor, then maybe it was a good strategy. Yes, generally speaking, facing a cavalry charge head-on was madness. Even if you were confident in your abilities, that was the case. So, what were these opponents thinking? Marcus had witnessed the reaction of those facing the enemy cavalry''s charge. From the moment Enkrid parried the first glaive to the sight of the largest soldier in their ranks, he noticed him first, perhaps due to his size. Wasn''t his name Audin? A devout soldier who began his day with prayer. Yet, despite that, he was also someone who could kill anything¡ªbe it man, beast, or monster. He met the charge of the cavalry head-on. He knocked aside the spear aimed at him with a short club about the length of his forearm, then blocked the horse''s head with his palm before redirecting it. Did the blade truly bounce off like that? Could one truly change the direction of a horse''s charge with just their arm strength? Heeyah! That wasn''t the end of it. With a single blow, the horse crumpled sideways, losing its momentum and collapsing in a heap. To watch him absorb the cavalry charge like that left Marcus beyond astonished¡ªhe was flabbergasted. This doesn''t make sense. It was an astounding feat. To Marcus''s eyes, it was hard to tell, but Audin hadn''t actually struck the glaive''s blade directly. Instead, he had struck the shaft of the spear at the junction where the blade met. The enemy cavalry had connected the spear to the back of the saddle, holding the midsection to steady it. That was the core tactic, the method of striking in time with the charge''s speed. Audin, however, didn''t budge, fully countering the charge. After taking down one cavalryman, the devout bear of a man then ducked to avoid the next glaive and, on the third strike, brought his club down on the horse''s head. Bang! This time, there was no scream as the horse perished. Its helmeted head burst open, spraying blood. Through that chaos, Audin wore a gentle smile, though Marcus couldn''t even see that much. It wasn''t just Audin who caught Marcus''s attention. If Audin was first, the next was the madman wielding an axe. "Hua!" With a yell, Rem swung his axe to deflect the glaive. Strangely, the axe blade and the spearhead locked together, refusing to part. Then, as though entangled in vines, the two seemed to move backward, along with the mounted knight. Rem then pulled off an astonishing maneuver. Without breaking form, he snatched the middle of the spear''s shaft, used his foot to stomp on the horse''s head, and then climbed over the rider. Marcus could hardly comprehend what he was witnessing. It was something only possible with lightning-fast legs, reflexes, and brute strength beyond reason. Crack! From atop the horse, Rem delivered an axe strike to the cavalryman''s skull. Then, like a leap, he moved sideways to evade the next mounted knight, who had drawn an Esterc¡ªa specialized three-pronged sword meant for stabbing. Before the cavalryman could even unsheath it, the blade of Rem''s axe had already cut through his shoulder. The dazzling, flashing axe blade was like magic in its swiftness. Rem killed two cavalrymen in quick succession and rolled across the ground, narrowly avoiding being trampled by the horse''s hooves as he swiftly dodged. For Marcus, it was a series of bewildering, impossible feats. It was akin to watching an acrobat troupe perform in a central city¡ªcompletely incomprehensible. Enkrid had also made his mark, smashing through the first spear with pure strength before continuing to strike and cleave through more. His movements were raw, almost brutal, but with each swing, his sword effortlessly cut through the mounted soldiers, leaving a trail of cleaved foes. His strikes were reckless, but they were also satisfying to watch¡ªeach blow struck with such force that it left a sense of triumph in the air. Nearby, Ragna also exhibited a similar fighting style. The difference, however, was that instead of wild swings, he employed more subtle thrusts and strategic positioning with his blade, rendering the cavalry''s charge useless. That too was an impressive skill. Enkrid''s weighty, powerful strikes that broke the charge of the cavalry were exhilarating to watch, each one as refreshing as a breath of air. Yet, one of them was barely even visible, but what did that matter? No one cared about him. What truly mattered was this: The cavalry charged, yet on the charging side, dozens of knights had disappeared. Meanwhile, the intended targets remained unharmed. The blood of the cavalry and their horses spilled across the ground in streaks. The blood was the result of the cavalry''s continued charge, now stained with death. Those whose heads had burst open or been cleaved in half left a fountain of blood behind them. Dust kicked up by the hooves mixed with the blood, turning the ground a red hue. Seeing all this, Marcus''s mouth opened. "Lieutenant." "Yes, sir." "Who gathered them all in one place?" The lieutenant, already aware from his investigation, recited the facts. "It was the former battalion commander." "Even that idiot did something useful for once." It was unlikely that the former battalion commander had intentionally set up this situation. From assaults on superiors to causing various issues, he had gathered troublemakers into one unit, likely with plans to use them as expendable pawns for meat shields or sacrificial tactics. He probably thought that if these men died in battle, the glory would be his, as he had a history of taking credit for the achievements of his subordinates. He didn''t have the stomach to dismiss them, but he probably saw them as nothing more than disposable tools. The idiot had surely intended to throw them away as pawns. "And then, that Enkrid guy came in and became the centerpiece of it all." Marcus, the political strategist, immediately realized the origin of the squad''s formation. The former commander might have been a fool, but in this case, he had inadvertently made a smart decision. "Well, something good came out of it. I''d almost want to pin a medal on him." Gathering them all together and placing Enkrid as the squad leader was indeed a stroke of genius. Look at this¡ªtruly marvelous. While Marcus marveled at the outcome, the enemy commander, who had ordered the charge, was in utter disbelief. The commander of the Bentra Baron''s army, leader of the cavalry with the spears, was forced to halt. After completing the charge, he had to wheel his forces around. The formation needed adjustment, and twelve out of fifty men had already been killed. It was only luck that he himself had survived. Had he been caught in the same range as his men, he would have been dead too. The commander saw the flashing blades passing by. He saw the one wielding the sword. It was Enkrid. The same name he had first heard when it was written on the walls of a castle¡ªa name that seemed to belong to the subject of ridiculous rumors. "That was all just a bluff." The rumors had been completely unfounded. The tactic had only seemed like an attempt to intimidate, to make the other army retreat by puffing out their chest. So, they were supposed to be slaughtered in this charge and become nothing more than meat. But what was this? Was this a dream? "What the hell is going on?" The commander muttered, momentarily losing his will to fight. But he couldn''t afford to give up just yet. The battle had only just begun. As he repositioned his troops and prepared the formation, four survivors emerged from the carnage. Among them was a man with black hair and a helmet that didn''t quite fit, his piercing blue eyes visible. He looked deep in thought, muttering something to the side, though it wasn''t clear what he said. Just as the commander regained his resolve, it happened. Thud! "Ugh!" Suddenly, a blade pierced into his neck, as if a torch had been shoved into him. The searing pain spread throughout his body. His muscles froze for a moment. "Commander!" He heard his subordinate shout from behind. He tried to speak, but no words came out. When your vocal cords are severed and your throat pierced, it''s impossible to say anything. "Grrrgh!" Blood and foam bubbled from the commander''s mouth as his head jerked to the side. The cause of his death was a slash to the back of the neck. And the man who gave him that final gift was Jaxen, a red-haired soldier of the enemy. The noise vanished. The murmurs stopped. In the silence, Jaxen moved purposefully as all eyes turned to him. Chapter 210 - Markus hid those Madmen Chapter 210 - 210 - Markus hid those Madmen Jaxen had anticipated that the cavalry would not go too far before halting. After a charge, where so many of his men fell, it was only natural for the commander to give that order. Instead of directly engaging the charge, Jaxen lowered his posture and moved with a different plan. While everyone else focused on the charging cavalry, observing those who had repelled it, Jaxen positioned himself at a place where he predicted the cavalry would stop, moving into position before they did. He moved before the cavalry, confident that, given the short distance, he could match their speed. The result of his maneuver was clear. He struck the calf of the enemy commander, who had his neck pierced and was leaning to the side, kicking the man''s leg out of the stirrup and pushing him aside. The commander fell with a thud. Jaxen, unfazed, casually climbed onto the saddle, gently tapping the horse''s neck as if petting it. The restless steed, which had been thrashing, soon calmed down. Without looking back, Jaxen urged the horse forward and returned to Enkrid''s side. The sound of hooves echoed in the otherwise quiet air. The cavalry that had been watching, stunned by Jaxen''s calm demeanor, missed their opportunity to strike. "You damn cat, living it up on your own." Jaxen''s return was met with a teasing remark from Rem. "Let the crazy barbarian do his stupid fighting," Rem added. Jaxen greeted him in return, dismounted, and gave his horse a playful slap on the rear. The horse whinnied and galloped off, kicking up a cloud of dust as it ran. In the middle of the battlefield, where chaos reigned, the two of them exchanged greetings without a care. Yet, amid their banter, there was a sharp, almost deadly exchange of glares between them. Enkrid, lost in thought, suddenly spoke up, reflecting on what had just happened. "Wouldn''t it have been better if the spear had just been swung without being hung from the back?" He thought it over, realizing the flaw in the tactic. By attaching the spear to the side and securing it with a loop, it had delayed his response. His initial strike had been weak because of it. "That''s why the first blow was so ineffective." Rem sighed, exasperated by Enkrid''s constant rambling. The brief tension between Jaxen and Rem was now over, with Jaxen shaking his head in disbelief at Enkrid''s thoughts. "Don''t you realize that if you brace yourself around the waist, you''ll have to withstand the impact from the horse''s charge? That would break your back, wouldn''t it?" Enkrid didn''t think so, but Rem pointed out that for less-trained individuals, that could be a real risk. Enkrid understood, nodding in acknowledgment. The point was clear. The attack had been far too simple and direct. The way the enemy had positioned their spear was ineffective against someone like him. The strategy might work on weaker opponents, but against someone with experience, it was doomed to fail. Enkrid had unknowingly identified the flaw in the enemy cavalry''s core strategy. In truth, cavalry charges using glaives were designed for cutting down weaker opponents without worrying about counterattacks. ''They should have focused on strengthening their muscles instead of positioning the spear at the back.'' Having faced the enemy, Enkrid saw where improvements could be made. It was a realization that spoke to his own growth, an understanding of his ability to detect weaknesses in his foes. It was a sign of progress. ''Good.'' Despite having successfully repelled the cavalry charge, Enkrid''s eyes glinted with something different, an intensity that didn''t go unnoticed by the remaining cavalrymen. They hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to proceed, but eventually issued another charge. "Charge! Kill them all!" In a way, the enemy'' chivalry commander displayed remarkable courage, willing to charge once again despite the disastrous outcome of the previous attempt. Enkrid, however, calmly drew his sword, ready to face the charging cavalry once more. His previous success wasn''t due to luck, but to skill¡ªsomething he knew he could replicate. "Is this some sort of insane trap?" Marcus muttered, watching the scene unfold. Across the battlefield, the enemy''s chivalry commander, Olf, cursed the foolishness of his men charging again but made a quick decision¡ªretreating now would be far more foolish. "Charge!" The infantry under Marta''s command began their advance, but the cavalry, having just lost so many, was quick to retreat. The retreat wasn''t solely the result of Enkrid''s actions; it was clear that the morale of the advancing infantry was already shattered. Before the battle reached its full chaos, Enkrid, as a commander, had already devised a formation. Though it wasn''t an elaborate one, it was well thought out. His goal wasn''t to create a defensive strategy, which would lead to heavy casualties in a battle with a smaller force. Instead, he focused on inflicting more damage to the enemy quickly, thus reducing his own losses. He quickly assigned positions: "Ragna, you''re at the front. I''ll take the right. Rem, take the left. Jaxen, cover the left flank, and Audin, you take the rear." The formation was simple, designed to keep everyone in close proximity, so they could help each other in case of need. Enkrid didn''t expect much resistance from Ragna, Saxen, or Audin, but Rem... Enkrid was curious if he would actually listen to orders. If Rem didn''t, Enkrid had already mentally prepared to switch positions. Ragna would take the front, and Enkrid would cover the right. He knew it was possible that Jaxen and Audin might not follow orders either, but there was no time to argue or attempt persuasion¡ªfighting would begin as soon as the battle was joined. As Enkrid issued the formation, he had already made up his mind on how to handle things. "Ready," Rem said, as he moved to the right side. The spacing between them was about three paces. Close enough that their swords wouldn''t cross, but they could still support each other if needed. "Got it, three paces," Jaxen confirmed, taking his place on the left. Ragna moved forward a couple of steps, and Audin took the rear. "Not going to run off on your own?" Enkrid asked, half surprised by how easily Rem had followed his orders. "What do you think I am, an idiot?" Rem replied, irritated at the suggestion, clearly focused on the enemy infantry charging toward them. There was no more time to ask questions. The infantry were already charging at full force. "Move forward!" Enkrid called out, his voice firm. Despite the chaos of the battlefield, his words were clear and confident. Ragna fell in step with Enkrid. No one questioned the center of their formation¡ªEnkrid was the leader. Could it be? Did Rem actually listen this time? It seemed so, though Enkrid wasn''t sure if it was because of his leadership or because Rem had his own reasons for staying in line. A cacophony of cries and shouts rose from the enemy infantry as they charged forward. "Kill them all!" "Die, you idiots!" "Fucking bastards!" Some soldiers displayed fear, others madness, and some even remained calm as they charged. The mix of emotions was evident in the army''s morale. Enkrid didn''t rush forward. He increased his pace slightly, but it was a controlled, steady pace. His troops matched his step, and their morale was significantly higher than that of the enemy. The rhythm of the battlefield was different now, as Enkrid''s forces stood firm, ready for the oncoming clash. The discipline and focus of his army contrasted sharply with the disarray and panic in the ranks of their enemies. Enkrid felt the tension in the air as the battle intensified. "Die, you bastards!" The shout from his own soldiers echoed in the background, and Enkrid faced the first of the incoming enemies. The shockwave from the cavalry charge was still lingering, but the second wave came with an even greater force. The first clash had left them momentarily stunned, but the second was different¡ªit was even more deadly than the first. The cavalry was pushed back again, retreating after suffering devastating losses. If they had charged again, they would have earned the reputation of being the dumbest army on the continent. The soldiers who had once shown madness and fervor now had nothing but fear in their eyes. The sound of clashing metal filled the air, and a hot breeze of battle swept through the ranks. Enkrid swung his sword downward, striking with precision¡ªa vertical blow aimed directly at the head of the first soldier. The blade cleaved through the skull, splattering blood and brain matter in every direction. Even Enkrid''s leather helmet was splashed with gore. Without hesitation, Enkrid''s sword sliced horizontally, cutting through the chest and left arm of another soldier. "Focus!" Enkrid thought, making use of the full potential of his weapon. His sword''s exceptional cutting power allowed him to tear through the soldiers'' defenses with ease, carving a path through the advancing wave of enemies. He wasn''t concerned about his formation at this moment. The only thing he cared about was fighting effectively and quickly. His intent was clear: to break through the enemy ranks. As he surged forward, the others, including Rem, followed his lead. The charge was relentless, like a knife cutting into a soft apple. Soon, they were deep within the enemy''s formation, surrounded on all sides. Was this a bad tactic? Not necessarily. "Brothers, to heaven!" Audin, covering the rear, shouted. His fists and mace moved faster than the wind, smashing through enemies in his path. "Boom!" "Crash!" The sounds of blows landing and enemies falling filled the air. On the right, Rem cackled, swinging his axe in all directions. The axe cleaved through enemy swords, shattered helmets, and split armor apart. "Come on, more of you!" Rem yelled, his face and helmet drenched in blood, his gray eyes gleaming with excitement. As fear swept through the enemy ranks, their frontlines hesitated. "These bastards!" a voice yelled from the left. A new figure appeared¡ªan enemy captain by the name of Grek, who had earned General Olf''s trust. Enkrid didn''t recognize him, but Grek wasn''t the type to underestimate his opponents. Grek wielded a heavy, six-sided mace with great skill. It was a powerful weapon, designed for wide, sweeping strikes aimed at breaking the enemy''s defense. The blow he aimed for Jaxen was deadly, aiming to strike his collarbone at an awkward angle. If Jaxen dodged, the formation would collapse; if he tried to block it, the force would be too much to handle. The disparity in strength was clear. Enkrid observed with a sidelong glance but wasn''t concerned. "Not a chance," Enkrid thought confidently. It seemed Grek was targeting Jaxen. Despite the chaos, Grek deliberately avoided Rem and maneuvered around to the left to challenge Jaxen instead. The enemy soldier, with reddish-brown hair, swung his sword at Jaxen''s mace. If you couldn''t avoid it, you could simply deflect it. With a sharp clang, Jaxen deflected the heavy mace with his slender blade, sending sparks flying from the impact. His face remained emotionless as he effortlessly diverted the blow. He was still calm, executing his technique with precision. For such a high-level deflection, Jaxen''s skill in swordplay was undeniable. His mastery of the basics of swordsmanship was evident, and the way he controlled his blade made the maneuver appear effortless. "Ha!" Jaxen grunted, preparing for the next move. Grek, despite his intentions, attempted to overpower the direction of his mace with sheer strength. "Idiot," Jaxen muttered under his breath, and Grek, clearly hearing it, shot a glare at him. The soldier''s insults seemed to only fuel Grek''s resolve, and he slammed his foot down hard, intending to force the mace down onto Jaxen with overwhelming power. If Jaxen tried to deflect again, Grek planned to rush in, disarm him, and crush his neck with his own hands. He was confident in his hand-to-hand combat skills. In Grek''s mind, the battle''s outcome had already been decided. He saw himself swiftly breaking his opponent''s neck in his mind''s eye, and he repeated the image over and over. He swung the mace down, only to suddenly find himself spinning as the world tilted. Looking down, he saw Jaxen¡ªthe same soldier who had insulted him earlier¡ªalready thrusting his sword toward another target. Before Grek could react, a soldier''s sword pierced through the visor of his helmet, skewering his eyes and skull. Blood exploded from his head as he let out a death scream. "Why can I see this?" Grek wondered, his vision clouding as the blood splattered. His body, now powerless, collapsed to the ground with a sickening thud, spreading blood in all directions. The red splatter painted the ground, as though a bucket of paint had been overturned. Grek''s armor was similar to his own, but that was the last thing he saw before darkness claimed him completely. At the same time, Ragnar, seeing that the soldier who had targeted Jaxen was being pushed away, swiftly took his opportunity to strike. No need for precision cuts, just a solid, powerful swing¡ªRagna unleashed his "Steel Cut." The soldier''s neck was protected by tough armor, but it was no match for Ragnar''s blade. The sound of the sword cutting through armor and bone was distinct, and the soldier''s head flew from his body, almost seeming to blink in the air before it fell to the ground. Ragnar, caught up in the thrill of battle, barely gave the fallen soldier a second thought. He reveled in the chaos and enjoyment of the moment. ''These are some fun enemies,'' he thought. The others, including Enkrid, all contributed to this wild chaos in their own way. How had they all ended up here, together? It seemed like an accumulation of coincidences, a series of events, one after another, led to this moment. Perhaps the Goddess of Fortune had a hand in it all, but Ragna doubted that. Life wasn''t just about chance; it was about fate. Whatever the cause, if it weren''t for Enkrid, he would not be here now. That was fate. But what about Rem and the others? Their presence mattered too. Even if they had started out in a life of monotony, they had sharpened their skills, bringing them to this point. Luck and fate aside, the thoughts faded into the background. What mattered now was the rush, the thrill of the fight. Joy. Excitement. Ragna was engulfed in the feeling, and it surged through him, making his sword strikes more intense and rapid. As he became more and more immersed in the battle, Enkrid too had to adjust, syncing with Ragna''s pace. Together, they were like harbingers of death. To the enemy, the two of them were something beyond just men¡ªthey were a force of nature, something incomprehensible that struck terror into their hearts. "Ahhh!" "Please, no!" "Monsters!" The screams were no longer just battle cries but cries of despair and fear. As the battlefield turned into a symphony of death, the once-strong enemy forces began to falter, their spirits broken. A former squad leader, who once tried to outsmart Enkrid on the supply route, had now joined the front lines. As he observed the carnage, a deep sigh escaped his lips Had he survived, he could have been a great commander and an exceptional soldier. However, he too met his end. The axe, which had approached so swiftly, struck his chest and passed through him. "Crack." His chest caved in as his heart ruptured. A terrifying pain surged through his entire body. With bloodshot eyes, he fell, his life slipping away. By the time the number of dead exceeded a hundred, the tide of battle had irrevocably turned. "Shit." Olf instinctively knew they had lost. No, it was more than an instinct. It was a brutal reality. "Five knights-in-training?" Damn it. How well had they hidden them? Olf was not just discouraged; he felt a chilling dread. Five knights-in-training¡ªther was no full knight order here, and they had still managed to pull this off. No, even without being junior knights, the power of those five individuals was unparalleled. How had they hidden such a force? Olf could not accept this. He had not lost in battle. This was a political defeat. A victory for those who knew how to hide their cards. It was Marcus, through Enkrid, who had concealed this power so well, leading to this outcome. "Keep the chaos going." Amidst this, a faceless officer ran forward, giving orders. There was no point in trying to maintain control anymore. The flow of battle was no longer his to command. From this point on, his life, his fate, and his every move were in Marcus''s hands. Beyond morale and the chance of victory, everything on the battlefield was now under the influence of a politician. "That bastard really is something." How could anyone understand Olaf''s disillusionment, having been struck down by a force he thought he could easily handle, relying too much on his subordinates'' strength? Was this really strategy and tactics at play? All this over the clever concealment of five soldiers'' worth of power? If someone were to name this battle, the only fitting title would be: Marcus hid those Madmen. Chapter 211 - My Name is Enkrid Chapter 211 - 211 - My Name is Enkrid 211. My Name is Enkrid. Graham, the captain of the Turtle Heavy Infantry in the first platoon, did his job. "Who are we?" At the captain''s call, "Uha!" The soldiers responded in unison. "We are the wall! The moving fortress of the Border Guard!" At the captain''s shout again, "We are the fortress!" The heavy infantry soldiers of the Turtle unit strained their throats, producing a roar that was almost grotesque, but somehow, the message got across. The more they strained their voices, the higher their morale soared. Regardless of Enkrid''s group''s feats, Graham sought to be the fortress. It was the thing his unit excelled at most and the operation that had been planned from the beginning. Graham expected to face his old rival, Greg''s assault platoon. The assault platoon of Martai and the Border Guard''s heavy infantry had been long-time rivals. However, Graham never had the chance to face Greg. Enkrid and his five companions had already disrupted Greg''s assault platoon. After witnessing that, Graham''s battle felt almost leisurely, considering the chaos around him. "Shields up!" The typical strategy of heavy infantry was simple: Raise the shields and hold the line. "Two steps!" They closed the gap. Clang! Clang! "Two steps" meant they moved two paces forward, and though it was slow due to their training to maintain a unified step, it was reliable and stable. The turtles crawled forward. "Strike!" The third order was to close the distance and swing their heavy maces. Each soldier was armed with a mace, weighted with a round head. Wham! This was violence that even ordinary armor and leather helmets couldn''t block. Bam! A mace slammed into the shield of a Markai infantryman. The wooden shield split vertically. The incoming mace was too much to block with a head. Crack! The skull shattered, and the soldier collapsed in a bloody heap. Even if a spear or blade narrowly missed, what could they do against a mace? Dead bodies piled up in front of the heavy infantry. Some soldiers managed to evade, skillfully stabbing with swords, but the sound of metal clashing could be heard. The Border Guard''s heavy infantry were clad in plate armor and chainmail, bolstered by layers of cloth and leather padding to defend against such attacks. Even if the enemy''s blade pierced through the chainmail, it couldn''t breach the heavy inner armor. "Die!" A Border Guard soldier, wounded in the side, shouted as he swung his mace. From above, the heavy mace crashed down on a soldier''s shoulder, who had been pierced by a spear. "Gah!" If one arm was immobilized in a single strike, what would happen next? The soldier would be shoved onto the shield and trampled to death. Though the turtle-like movements were slow, once engaged, Graham''s heavy infantry were terrifying in their strength. Their slow violence crashed into the battlefield with force. However, "Even so..." Graham''s unit would never be the center of attention. On one side, Enkrid and his companions were relentlessly raising the body count. What five people could accomplish, fifty heavy infantrymen couldn''t. Such individuals were called irregular forces, and those at the top of this group were called knights. Though they could not yet be called knights, "At least junior knights." Graham had the vision to see it. "Shields up!" After that, the simple tactics of the heavy infantry continued, but no one could stop them. The enemies who should have been blocking them were already being torn apart, shattered, beaten, cut, stabbed, and killed by someone else''s hand. *** The Commander of the Border Defense quietly asked while looking to the side: "May I ask your name?" He noticed a small, specialized unit moving ahead. They were all nimble in their movements. Perhaps this could be called the second dagger prepared by Martai. That seemed correct. The Border Defense Commander immediately understood that this unit was clearly assembled with the intent of targeting them. The nickname of the Border Defense was Frontier Slaughterers, the Butchers of the Border. It was a name earned by their skill in cutting, slicing, and fighting well, and their small, elite force made them similar to their enemies in that sense. However, now that name felt like a misfit. ''These days, just being the Border Defense is probably enough.'' Why not? There''s a class that dominates the battlefield through a few skilled warriors, with strategies and tactics emerging based on them. That class is the knight. So what happens when there are no knights? Would they return to fighting as they did in the past? No. The elite force, representing the tactics of knights, becomes the small, specialized unit¡ªthe special forces. Until now, the Border Defense had maintained their reputation, but now, that reputation was cleanly overshadowed by Enkrid and the mad platoon''s notoriety. But the Commander wasn''t upset by this. ''Just looking at them, you can tell. They''re dangerous.'' The Border Defense Commander recognized Enkrid''s skill. In fact, who in the Border Guard''s standing army wouldn''t? Everyone would recognize it. Enkrid was the kind of person who made others feel good just by watching him. He stirred something up in people. A person you couldn''t hate because he had that effect on you. "No." At the end of the commander''s thoughts, he heard the fairy platoon leader''s refusal. Was she not going to even share her name? The commander was already thirty-six years old. He was getting on in age. His pupils shifted, though no one saw it. He subtly lowered his head, ensuring it wasn''t visible to the fairy either. Although officially their ranks were equal, the Border Defense Commander held a special position, much like a first platoon commander. Even if the Border Guard Battalion commander held lower authority, sometimes the Border Defense Commander''s word carried more weight. But the fairy platoon leader didn''t seem to care about that at all. ''Not even a name?'' Soon, nearing middle age, the Border Defense Commander let go of his fleeting excitement, focusing on preparing for battle. However, a lingering doubt prompted one more question. "Are you really that close to Enkrid?" The fairy leader, fixed her gaze on the Border Defense Commander and replied, "Wishing and achieving are different things." Her expression was colorless, her tone devoid of emotion. The Border Defense Commander closed his mouth but soon spoke again. "Zenok." The second lingering thought had made him utter his name. She didn''t even nod. At that moment, Torres, who had been following behind, jabbed the Commander in the side. "I told you not to." The Commander didn''t respond. Torres had tried stopping him before he could even act. But what could he do? If his passion burned and he didn''t speak now, who would be responsible if he died before he had a chance? "Today, I''m going to fight fiercely." The Commander said, and Torres nodded. Following this, the core forces of the Border Defense all seemed to light up with resolve. For their broken-hearted commander. Their eyes spoke their rallying cry. Soon, the dagger prepared by Martai''s unit reached the designated point. Shinar, the fairy platoon leader, had come to offer support, but none of her subordinates had come along. There were no soldiers under her command capable of matching the strength of the Border Defense. The commander of Martai''s special forces looked desperate. Their discipline was faltering, and their formation had collapsed. When the commander''s heart races, it affects the soldiers as well. They had prioritized speed over checking their surroundings. And with that, the Border Defense charged in. "For the heartache!" One of the Border Defense soldiers shouted. "Who the hell are they?" The Commander yelled. One of Martai''s special forces soldiers, wielding twin swords, turned toward them with a fierce glare. His sharp eyes gave him an intimidating look. Leading the charge, they all began to turn. The Border Guard''s main force was targeted by the special forces, while the Border Defense attacked from their flank. The twin sword-wielding soldier had lightning-fast reflexes. He brought his swords in close to the fairy platoon leader, aiming for her neck. His movements were fast. His reactions were flawless, and there was no hesitation in his attacks. He was elite. Just as he closed in, Shinar, who had been standing still with her hand on her waist, made her move. She stepped back, drew her sword, and swung it up towards the point where the twin blades crossed. Her leaf-shaped blade cleaved through the air and the swords alike. Zing! "Where are you aiming?" Shinar, with a bored tone, swung her blade, dancing through the air. Every time her blade swept through, a mist of blood erupted. The bodies of the wounded and slain fell to the ground. Torres, too, was in the thick of it, closing in on an enemy armed with a sword and shield. He drew a hidden dagger from his wrist and slashed across the enemy''s throat. A clean strike between the helmet and armor, and the man''s neck split open. Blood gushed from the wound as Torres shoved the dying soldier aside. With one enemy down, Torres returned to the Commander''s side, and the Commander noticed Shinar was dancing with her sword as fiercely as Enkrid. "How can anyone not be impressed by that?" the Commander muttered. "Are you really impressed by that?" Torres replied, shaking his head inwardly. To him, it seemed more like slaughter than anything impressive. Of course, this was a battlefield, and Shinar was on their side, so it was more like a brilliant performance rather than senseless killing. What was certain, however, was that the fairy leader was no subordinate of Enkrid or the mad platoon. So, was there any real chance of them losing this fight? "Crazy woman!" A group of soldiers with tattoos on their faces from the enemy side shouted as their apparent leader let out a wild scream. Some of the Commander''s subordinates moved with him. "Rip that mouth open!" the allied Commander yelled, driven by his infatuation. His subordinates rushed to obey, charging forward into a one-sided battle. The momentum of the main forces had swung the fight in their favor. Martai''s special forces had made the first move, and even with a surprise attack from their side, Shinar''s performance was undeniable. Now, they were no longer worried about losing; their focus had shifted to minimizing the casualties. *** The Blade-Ending Elites. When had it come to represent his name? The memory was hazy. He had hidden his presence, silencing his steps. Moving through the fallen allies, he observed a particularly fierce-looking enemy archer rallying his troops while continuously firing arrows. Killing that one might be useful, but... He licked his lips and dismissed the thought. Had he really come this far just to deal with someone like that? He lowered his stance and hid his breath. Regardless of skill, he squeezed through the gap between enemies and allies, silently moving. Sometimes, when an unsuspecting enemy charged at him, he quietly pulled them in and twisted their necks, choking them to death. Killing without a sound¡ªone of his specialties. He continued walking like that. "Are you really going to give up being a squire?" A memory from the past pricked at his mind, fragments of his former instructor''s words. What had he said in response? Without hesitation, he nodded. "Yes." "Are you really going to waste your talent?" Becoming a squire for a knight meant handling errands and tasks for knights and junior knights¡ªat least, that''s how it started. After proving one''s skill, you could become a junior knight, and if you didn''t continue up, you became just a regular swordsman or warrior. The path to becoming a full knight was called the "Flow"¡ªthe continuous, unbroken progression. That was unimportant, though. Knights were few, and their paths varied. Still, even with the possibility of rising, he had given up. "Fool." His instructor had been angry, but the man himself was not. There was no reason to get angry. Killing was easier than fighting, so he had chosen that path, but it was not out of any particular reason. He gave up being a squire and left the knight order. He wandered for a while until Count Molsan approached him. The Count, known as the King of the Border. It had seemed like an arrogant title, but the proposal was not bad. "Would you consider working under me?" He nodded. "Do you regret not becoming a junior knight?" The Count asked. The man smiled and responded. "I may not become a junior knight, but I can kill one." That was his answer. The man had mastered the art of silent movement and held a blade sharper than willpower itself. One day, he had seen a fairy''s signature weapon, the Needle, and searched for a sword like it. He eventually found a weapon resembling it, which now hung at his waist, chest, and forearms. A blade resembling a stiletto, sharp and pointed like an awl. It had been made by an unknown craftsman from the Carmen Collection, famous for their mastery of assassination blades. Whether it was plate armor or chainmail, the weapon could pierce through anything, leaving holes in the opponent''s body. It was a blade made from solid Valerian steel. It had also been a gift from Count Molsan, and with his skill and this weapon, he soon gained the title The Blade-Ending Elites. If a few could dominate the battlefield, surely there would be a blade designed to hunt them down. His goal was clear: one day, he would pierce the neck of a knight. In fact, he had once come close to taking the life of a junior knight. Instead of a neck, he had taken a few fingers as trophies. "That talent is wasted," he remembered the junior knight who had lost his fingers saying. So what? It wasn''t as if the one he had taken them from had any right to complain. His memory faded, and his attention returned to the current battlefield. The man''s goal was clear. The guy with black hair. The one who tore through the battlefield as if he were one with the chaos. The one at the forefront, the one who introduced himself, the one who stood out from the beginning. That bastard was Enkrid. He appeared to be at the level of a junior knight. And that only made him more excited. He could kill someone like that. "One down, then hide, and take them one by one." It was rare to find someone with both skill and keen perception. Thus, his opponent wouldn''t even recognize him. Like most junior knights, the guy was bound to be arrogant. Having donned the common soldier''s armor and helmet to obscure his identity, he crawled through the mud and blood, his body covered in the dirt and blood of others, approaching carefully. He calculated the distance to the blond man and, ignoring the wild axe-wielding lunatic on the other side, closed in on Enkrid. Excitement filled him. "I may not become one, but I can kill one." That was what drove him. He gripped the specially crafted assassination dagger tightly. Holding his breath, he aimed for a gap and struck with precision, closing the distance in a split second. It was a deadly strike. The forceful step as he lunged forward was something he had learned during his squire days. Having snuck in so close, the fight was already over in his mind. This was the moment he would strike. Thud! "Blocked?" He saw his dagger being stopped, the blackened blade of his weapon visible. "What are you?" came a voice laced with disappointment, frustration¡ªmaybe both. Before he could react, a devastating strike came from behind. Instinctively, he rolled forward. In front of him, a point appeared. No, it wasn''t a point¡ªit was the tip of a sword. He ducked, narrowly avoiding it. Twice dodging an attack like that was impressive enough, but there was no avoiding the final strike. A massive object, like a log, swept through the air toward him. Crack! "Ugh!" It was Audin''s lower kick. In one blow, both of his legs were shattered. A fearsome display of brute strength and technique. The man wasn''t sent flying, but his legs were snapped cleanly, and his upper body collapsed, his head hitting the ground before bouncing back up and then slumping down once more. It was an involuntary display of skill produced by the immense force of the kick. Before the man could even regain his bearings, a sword fell above him. He saw blue eyes staring down at him. Thud. That was the end. Turning his head to the side saved him from the sword plunging directly into his neck, but it still grazed his shoulder. He fell to the ground, bleeding profusely. It was clear his death was imminent. The man twitched as he lay there, his body fighting for its final breath. The one with the blue eyes stared at him for a moment, then turned away. The dying man''s memories flickered back to his last instructor. "Why are you throwing away your talent?" The question echoed in his mind. At the time, he should have answered. "I didn''t throw it away. It never existed to begin with, you fool." If he could have risen higher, he would have. But he was surrounded by monsters¡ªonly monsters. He realized the limitations of his own talent soon enough. That was when his goal changed. He didn''t want to become a knight anymore. His goal was to become the one who killed knights. That was the end of the man''s dream. He had forgotten his name and had lived by the blade given to him by Count Molsan, the blade that hunted elites. Enkrid would never understand this. However... "Is he crazy?" Rem''s words summed it all up. Did he really intend to run into the middle of this? It was like charging straight through five junior knights. Each one of them was formidable in their own right. Enkrid was the type of person who, at any moment, could draw the best move and wield his sword with total commitment. Whether it was the killing blow or even just a single step, he put everything into it. That was just who he was. In many ways, that was what made him a monster. Of course, there was also the cunning of Jaxen, who was always ready to wait for the perfect moment to strike in the heart of the chaos. It was an easy hunt. "I wouldn''t really call this a hunt," Rem thought to himself as he clashed axes with Jaxen. Thud! "Come at me more!" Rem might have shouted those words, but by now, the surrounding soldiers had backed off. The area around them had cleared, a ring of space forming in the center. The ground was littered with corpses, blood, severed limbs, and entrails. In the midst of this gruesome scene, Enkrid felt his muscles twitch with the aftereffects of his immense strength and the intense combat. So what if he felt a bit sore? It didn''t matter. It wasn''t enough to hinder him. He glanced around. The sky was clear. It wasn''t the kind of weather for rain, though the air reeked of blood. Still, the morale of his victorious troops pushed him forward. He had come into the midst of the enemy forces, isolated, yet now he heard the distant voice of Vengeance¡ªsomething like that. Having taken in all the details of the battlefield, Enkrid felt a surge of adrenaline. "My name is Enkrid." It was just a single phrase. But when it reached the ears of the enemy, there was no reaction like before. In the center of the battlefield, surrounded by the carnage Enkrid had created, a chilling silence spread. "If you come at me again, I''ll kill you." Enkrid spoke. Chapter 212 - A Delightful Dish Chapter 212 - 212 - A Delightful Dish 212. A Delightful Dish The moment the tide of the battlefield shifted, Marcus didn''t focus on tightening the encirclement but instead chose to retreat. With the flag signaling the retreat and the trumpets blowing according to the set signals, the Border Guard troops, who had been wildly charging forward, came to a halt. "Enough, this is it!" As the turtle-like heavy infantry unit pulled back, Rem grumbled. "We were just getting started." Blood dripped from the edge of Rem''s axe. Seeing him speak with a smile in such a situation, a few of the allied soldiers, who had been ready to cheer, glanced away. Even though Enkrid''s presence was formidable, no one expected him to be crazy enough to swing his axe at his own troops. "He might swing his fists, though." Just a passing thought. Even knights, called knights for their prowess, built up fatigue during long battles. Rem was no different. His axe swings had begun to lose their sharpness, becoming slightly duller. He had hacked down not just five, but dozens¡ªno, more than a hundred enemies. And it hadn''t taken long at all. Anyone who had witnessed this battle would never forget the names of the five standing in the middle of the battlefield. After Enkrid spoke his name, the enemy hesitated. They were struck by fear. They were intimidated. The morale shattered. Marcus had created an opening for the retreat. Marcus noticed Enkrid and his group in the distance and turned his gaze elsewhere. He saw a blue flag rising high. It was the signal from the eastern flank defense unit. "We''ve caught the special forces too." Looking at the damage inflicted on the front lines, it almost seemed ridiculous to call it a great victory. The enemy had been defeated by just five men. Politics had won the day. Strategy had won the day. It was the victory of the commander who had kept Enkrid hidden. "Are we not pursuing them?" asked the commander of the second unit, panting as he approached. Marcus shook his head. "Let them go. Even a rat, when cornered, will bite a cat. And even a ghoul, when trapped, will use its brain." Krais, who had quietly positioned himself at what he thought was the safest spot in the command area, overheard the captain''s words and thought about them. "So they''re letting them go." It was a life-and-death battle, but were they really all that concerned about being within the same kingdom? "It''s disappointing though." It was the commander''s decision. Krais had no reason to argue. Even without the madman of a unit, the heavy infantry or the eastern flank could have easily captured the enemy commander, but they let him go. It seemed like they never intended to capture the enemy commander in the first place. Perhaps they intended to showcase the strength of the Border Guard instead. Still, it was disappointing. "If we had captured the enemy commander, we could have gotten a lot in return later." By capturing and releasing the enemy commander, they could secure many things from Martai. "Control of the trade routes." The Border Guard was ready to be officially recognized as one of the key trade cities. Securing trade routes, especially through Martai, would become a significant matter. Capturing the enemy commander and leveraging him could have been the easiest way to gain this advantage. But was that all? No. "The bounty." The general, or whatever he called himself, probably had considerable wealth. When a noble was captured, it was normal for them to be ransomed, often in exchange for a considerable sum, like Krona. This was a common practice, even when fighting a hostile nation. And Martai''s market master, or the general, wasn''t just anyone. Externally, he was an ally. Martai had earned the nickname "Mercenary City," and Krais knew how it worked with its accumulation of Krona. So yes, it was disappointing. "He must have earned a fortune in Krona." At this point, Marcus seemed either foolish or uninterested in wealth. "I don''t think he''s stupid." Krais scratched his chin. Looking at what had been done so far¡ªhiding Enkrid and deliberately drawing the enemy in with a well-executed strategy¡ªthis wasn''t something a fool could pull off. To entrust the entire battlefield''s glory and defeat to just one person was no small risk. "Has his ambition grown too large for his own good?" It was a bold strategy, almost to the point of madness, but it worked. And now, the roar of victory echoed into the clear sky. "Uwaaa!" "Enkrid!" "Come at us!" With a spear raised high, they shouted. "You''ll die!" The spear slammed into the ground as it was thrust forward. The morale of the surviving allies was higher than ever. And that was what made it even more frustrating. Had they pursued the retreating enemy, it would have been the most efficient battle they could have fought. After all, it''s usually when enemies are on the run that they suffer the most. The pursuers are always in the most advantageous position. "Are there even any cavalry left?" Marcus''s voice sounded again. Krais perked up his ears. "Yes, we''ve captured them all. Some of the cavalry had already been pulled back from the start," his aide replied. "If we hadn''t opened the retreat, those bastards would have dashed in and taken Olf away," Marcus muttered. That was possible. Krais nodded inwardly. It was unexpected. But still, it might have been worth trying. For a while after that, Marcus remained silent as the enemy retreated, kicking up clouds of dust. The battlefield, full of humans, didn''t have any lurking monsters or beasts prowling about. In a battle of this scale, even brainless ghouls would have fled. As the silence stretched on, the aide, seemingly frustrated, spoke up first. "Shall we retreat?" After regrouping and celebrating the victory, it would be time to call it an end. Opening a bottle of wine to wet their lips and enjoying some food would also be a pleasant way to finish. But Krais found that idea inefficient. "What did we gain from this battle?" For Krais, who viewed everything through the lens of Krona, there was nothing to gain from this battlefield. The joy of surviving? The satisfaction of smashing the attacking enemy? What use was that if it didn''t turn into Krona? Well, perhaps it would become Krona later, but there was no immediate reward. That was what bothered him. Just as Krais thought the battle was over and it was time to head back, Marcus finally spoke, after a long silence following the aide''s question. "Advance the entire army." "...?" Advance? Krais tilted his head. He couldn''t hide his surprise this time. Fortunately, only Finn, who was standing nearby as a guard, noticed his reaction. "What?" Finn asked. "He said to advance?" Krais whispered. But where were they advancing to? The aide, standing near Marcus, was equally surprised. "Where are we advancing to?" "Where do you think?" At that moment, Krais could see Marcus''s face. It wasn''t the face of a commander drunk on victory. It was the expression of a politician or merchant pleased that things had gone according to plan. In other words, it meant the battle wasn''t over yet. "Let''s go." Marcus showed his teeth as he spoke, his smile gleaming in the clear sunlight. Krais understood his intent in that moment. His teeth reflected the light. Shine. "Ah." It dawned on Krais¡ªMarcus had never planned to end the battle without gaining something. A brief realization struck Krais''s mind like a thunderbolt. It wasn''t quite like a lightning strike, but it was a similar jolt of clarity. Krais had learned something new. "Let them go and pursue." The enemy would return to their homes. A rat, cornered, might bite a cat, but if it is freed, it will return to its lair filled with treasures. It was an opportunity to gain wealth. Krais''s mind advanced another step. He understood Marcus''s intention. Was this just pressure? A threat to stop attacking the Border Guard from now on? "No way." It couldn''t be. If Martai? cooperated, they could secure trade routes and various benefits. But what if they took the city? Then the story would change. The game would shift. The trade routes wouldn''t matter anymore. The Border Guard, as a trade city, would be elevated to another level. Martai? had a reputation as a mercenary city in the East. Its military strength, position, and everything about it were useful. If they could eat it, if they could digest it... "It''s truly a delicacy." Krais muttered to himself. Whether Marcus heard him or not, he once again showed his teeth and spoke. His teeth still gleamed in the light. Shine. "We are going to take Martai?." Marcus ordered, and the command spread through the ranks via his aide. The same command reached Enkrid at the front. "Advance here?" For a brief moment, Enkrid ran through several scenarios in his mind¡ªwhat Krais had said, the current state, the morale and strength of their forces, and the issues with advancing. There were no issues. Well, one nagging thought remained. The five hidden enemy mages were nowhere to be seen. Was that their trump card, or had they simply withdrawn when they saw the tide of battle turning? Enkrid didn''t ponder it long. He understood Marcus''s intent purely on instinct. "Take the city." What would happen if the growing Border Guard consumed Martai?? "It would be great." The aftermath wasn''t for him to worry about. Enkrid did what he was supposed to do in the situation he was given. "If you''re tired, you can fall back." His gentle words addressed the other four. "Are you crazy?" "My name is Ragna. I can still fight." "Heh, Commander, let''s go." Rem, Ragna, and Audin all spoke in turn, while Jaxen silently waved his sword through the air before discarding it. Then, he swept the ground and picked up a somewhat intact Arming sword. Staring at it, Jaxen muttered. "The blade''s been dulled." Though it was called an advance, there was no rush. Marcus, or rather the commander''s intent, was clear. They would maintain morale and move at a steady pace. Enkrid, of course, was in the lead. "Ragna, were you teasing me earlier?" Enkrid asked as he walked, and Ragna tilted his head before replying. "I spoke with sincerity. My name is Ragna, the man who doesn''t back down. That''s who I am." Hearing that, Rem added his own, "My name is Rem," and began to chuckle. They were always abnormal, but now they were certainly starting to seem like madmen. Enkrid thought as much and continued walking. As he walked forward, the sunlight poured down on his back. They were heading east, while the sun was setting in the west. For a moment, the soldiers of the Border Guard who were watching his back thought Enkrid appeared to be glowing. Of course, it was an illusion. It was like a mirage. But the fact that he had earned enough merit to shine in that way was true. A soldier, demonstrating his skill in composing lyrics on the spot, began to chant a song. The lyrics were crude, and the melody was nothing special. It was a combination of familiar tunes, but when it came to the last verse, everyone joined in to shout together. "Who is the flower of battle?" "Infantry!" "Who are the strongest in the Border Guard?" "Madmen!" It was a troublesome song. Enkrid, walking ahead, couldn''t help but smile at it. Only now, it truly hit him¡ªhis group had become the most powerful faction in the unit. Cheers and applause followed, and the song continued with lines like "My name is Enkrid!" and other such trivial lyrics. "Not bad, huh?" Rem asked from beside him. His grinning face was a bit annoying, but Enkrid didn''t bother pointing it out and replied instead. "It''s not bad." Marcus didn''t hurry. There was no need to reveal themselves to the enemy. General Olf had entered the city, and half a day had passed. Quietly, without a sound, like a cougar, they began to set up camp just outside the city. Olf didn''t have the resources to send out scouts. It was obvious. It was a defeat. A crushing defeat. The enemy had given them an opening, and they were lucky to have come back alive. There was no time to look back. He returned with his shoulders slumped. "Damn bastard." Olf swore, vowing that the next chance he got, he would strangle Marcus with his own hands. Bang! In a fit of frustration, self-loathing, anger, and humiliation, he slammed his fist into the wall. Some of the wood caved in. "The bathwater''s been heated." The words of the chamberlain. "I understand." He disarmed himself, took a bath, and let go of the various emotions¡ªfatigue, frustration, everything¡ªthat had built up inside him. It was time to rest. Olf didn''t even want to see his wife and daughter, so he headed straight for his office. "I''ll just sleep on the cot today. That would be better." That was his thought as he entered the office, but sleep wouldn''t come. It wasn''t long after. "General!" The office door flew open. The aide seemed to have run in with the messenger in tow, both in great haste. Olf, in casual clothes, his silk shirt still on, propped himself up in bed. "What is it?" As soon as he asked, a chill ran down his spine. The tension gripped his heart painfully. "We''re surrounded!" The aide said. "Who?" Had the Border Guard, after watching their defeat, decided to attack? Where from? Could it have been a plot orchestrated by Count Molsen? "The Border Guard''s standing army!" The soldier''s eyes were shaking uncontrollably. The man was clearly in a panic. But Olf, in his state of shock, couldn''t confirm anything. "...What?" Olf asked in disbelief. Why would they come here? They had fought just a day ago and let them go. Why were they back now? He silently asked the aide with his eyes, and the aide opened his mouth. "What should we do?" A pause. Unconsciously, Olf let a drop of saliva fall from the corner of his mouth. Things had truly taken a turn for the worse. Defeat, lowered morale, fewer soldiers, having used up the noble''s troops he knew personally, and even breaking the sword that Count Molsen had given him. It was also his fault for misjudging the strength of the Border Guard. Another drop of saliva fell from Olf''s lips. Neither the aide nor the messenger thought it was disgusting. They, too, were in a state of panic. Chapter 213 - After the Dust Settled Chapter 213 - 213 - After the Dust Settled Marcus was, without a doubt, a cunning politician. Olf only realized Marcus was closing in after he had retreated into the city. Upon hearing the reports, he felt like throwing up. His head was spinning. Had the retreat been perilous? No. There had been no danger. A small cavalry unit had trailed them, serving as both escort and rear guard. ''He herded me into the city.'' And then a siege? Was that lunatic out of his mind? Once the initial shock wore off, fury followed naturally. Yet even in his anger, Olf''s mind worked frantically. If he lost focus here, it was all over. Could they regroup within the city and repel the Border Guard''s forces? Not a chance. They had just been routed in battle. Morale was at rock bottom, and proper reorganization would require time. Marcus had robbed Olf of that time: Time to gather his thoughts. Time to prepare. Time to summon reinforcements. Still, Olf clung to his composure and called for a military meeting. "Get everyone in here!" His voice, raised in urgency, managed not to waver¡ªa small relief. Soon, everyone involved in their military operations gathered. "I''ll go out and drive them off! Just give me a hundred infantry and a cavalry detachment!" One of the lieutenants shouted in anger. Is this idiot even sane? If the enemy could be chased off so easily, would they have taken such a beating in the previous battle? This lieutenant was Greg''s replacement. "Shut up." Olf dismissed him coldly, turning his attention elsewhere. No matter how carefully you selected people, there were always morons. That this fool had made it to lieutenant was the real miracle. "It was all a political move, hidden well," said another lieutenant, one skilled at sycophancy, trying to ease Olf''s anger. But such words were meaningless to Olf now. The chair beneath him felt unbearably heavy. His chest felt heavier still. His hands and feet refused to move as he wanted. Who did those unmarked troops belong to? They were under Count Molsen''s command. Specifically, they had been led by Baron Bantra''s forces, supplemented by skilled swordsmen directly sent by the count himself. Most of Bantra''s surviving troops had deserted upon hearing news of their defeat. Their retreating figures looked every bit the part of beaten stragglers, much like Olf''s own troops from Martai. Olf''s eyes twitched. Are we just supposed to let ourselves be devoured like this? Outside the city, Marcus was steadily building his siege lines. How long had he been preparing for this? Had this entire campaign been orchestrated from the start? Marcus''s men erected tents, and five figures reportedly stood before them, watching Martai''s walls. The pins scattered across Olf''s strategy map were in disarray. One had toppled over to the side, and Olf couldn''t help but feel it symbolized his current state. ''Those Mad bastards.'' The thought of the five maniacs who had rampaged across the battlefield resurfaced in his mind, filling him with irritation. They had been the ones to wreck his forces. Olf ground his teeth, suppressing the nausea rising within him. When do you lose a fight? When you lose your grit and your nerve. The mercenary spirit of the east reminded him of that truth. A Blade to Break Even if victory in battle was out of reach, Olf had to shatter Marcus''s dagger somehow. "Everyone, out." Olf''s command was sharp. It was time to deploy his trump card¡ªone he had prepared just in case but had hoped never to use. "What?" That tactless lieutenant again, his cluelessness grating on Olf''s nerves. This idiot will die once this battle is over, Olf thought grimly. He missed Greg. Of course, Greg was dead. His shock unit had been the first to be annihilated, and Greg had led the brigade. The only one left intact was Zimmer, commander of the second battalion. Zimmer, noticing the tension, spoke up. "The general has spoken. Everyone, out." At his words, the other officers began filing out. As Zimmer, the last to leave, turned to look back, he asked, "General?" "I need to think. Wait outside," Olf replied. Zimmer, though unarmed, placed a hand on his waist and bowed. Olf gave him a small nod. Once the room was empty, Olf spoke to the void. "Come out." From behind him, where the light didn''t reach, something emerged from the shadows. It was indistinct at first, like a part of the darkness itself or soot spreading through the air. The black mass rose from the ground, forming a three-dimensional figure. In moments, it became a man cloaked in a black robe. Though his face was obscured, his exposed hands were pale and flawless. "Have you decided?" the robed man asked, his voice as clear and smooth as a clarinet. Dealing with a wizard was often likened to bargaining with the devil. At least, that was Olf''s understanding. Nothing comes without a price. "I have," Olf replied. The cost of the contract would not be light, but neither was the idea of enduring defeat and losing the city. Enkrid. The name of the man who had announced himself on the battlefield stuck in Olf''s mind. Black hair spilled out beneath his helmet, and wherever he went, Martai''s soldiers fell like grass under a scythe. Olf knew the reason for his defeat. If he could break the blade responsible, the outcome of this siege might still change. *** "This siege alone isn''t going to solve anything," Enkrid said, studying Martai''s high walls. Should we climb over? The Border Guard had no mangonels, siege towers, or trebuchets¡ªjust ladders, if that. Even then, no one seemed to have brought any ladders. They''re not planning to climb, Enkrid concluded. So, brute force? The gate loomed before him. There was no moat or other significant barrier. If Audin gets serious and swings his hammer, we could probably break through at least one spot. The gate was thick and dark brown, made of sturdy timber. But Audin''s arms seemed even sturdier. Perhaps more so. If we sneak over at night, ladders might not even be necessary. The weathered walls were pitted and uneven, providing ample handholds. Climbing was feasible if they put their minds to it. Enkrid envisioned what might happen after nightfall. If I can climb it... Then so could Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, and Audin. With just the five of them over the wall, they could end it. Audin could open the gate while the others held the line. What if archers are waiting? Dodging arrows wouldn''t be enough. Perhaps they''d need shields. Though simple, the strategy had worked in the past. Enkrid had used similar formations before, both as part of a unit and while leading one. But this time was different. The sheer destructive power, the control he exerted as the focal point, and the sense of commanding from start to finish¡ªit was all new. Experience fosters growth, and Enkrid was growing again. He was coming to understand the potential of the strength he and the others possessed, and what they could accomplish together. A handful of warriors shaping the tide of battle¡ªthat was why knights had once been pivotal in warfare. Enkrid was learning this firsthand. "Why are you even worrying about that?" Rem said from beside him, casually cleaning his ear. "Just playing at being a commander," Enkrid joked. Rem snorted with laughter. "Commander of a unit with less than ten men! How about we fill our bellies first?" *** Bodies littered the battlefield¡ªblood, entrails, severed limbs, shattered bones, and mangled eyes scattered everywhere. They had wreaked havoc, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. Eating was the last thing on their minds, yet they couldn''t march into battle on empty stomachs. To fight well, one had to eat. "Let''s wash up first," someone suggested. Near the gate, there was a well once used by farmers tending to their fields. If the water''s poisoned, that would be a problem. But would anyone here even think to do that? They drew water and began scrubbing away the grime. Soon, Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, and Audin joined in, discarding their armor and dousing themselves. Water splashed everywhere as they poured it over their heads, washing away the blood and sweat. The ground was covered with stones, preventing them from stepping in mud. Enkrid appreciated the detail. "Now that''s a sight," remarked Finn, appearing suddenly and giving a thumbs-up. Everyone was in various states of undress, clad in nothing but their undergarments. "Indeed, quite the sight," chimed in the fairy Company Commander, standing beside Finn. Behind them, Dunbakel observed silently. "Kyarr," Esther purred, her blue eyes blinking as she sat, seemingly scrutinizing the group. "Where''ve you been?" Enkrid asked, ignoring the murmurs around him. The black panther raised a paw, scratching her neck, her indifference palpable. Does it even matter? It''s not like her absence would get me killed. Nearby, some soldiers waited for their turn at the well, exchanging idle chatter. "Commander, if there''s a vacancy in your unit, let me in," one of them quipped. Their downtime allowed for some relaxation, though vigilance wasn''t forgotten. The Border Guard maintained a high standard¡ªeach soldier knew their role and fulfilled it well. "Are you serious?" someone asked, laughing. The soldier only smiled, a sly grin. Enkrid smirked faintly as he passed. Even if they were serious, there wasn''t room for more, nor would adding a few random soldiers improve their unit. If anything, Rem would probably use them as playthings. After washing, Enkrid tended to his gear. The leather, soaked with blood, retained its stains and odor, though he applied a bit of polish to keep it conditioned. It would suffice. Next, he examined his gauntlets and boots before finally gripping his sword. A neglected blade rusts quickly, especially one stained with blood. He began cleaning it meticulously. "Here, use this," offered a soldier from the first company, handing over a small clay jar. "What''s this?" "Flaxseed oil. It''s valuable." "...And you''re giving it to me?" "I insist," the soldier replied, leaving quickly after. Nearby, Krais observed. "Looks like they admire you. Guess it''s respect for what you pulled off in that last battle." Enkrid shrugged. It wasn''t a big deal. He used the oil to wipe down his sword. As he worked, Rem approached, holding out his axe. "Take a look at this. The edge is chipped," he said. The fact that the axe was still mostly intact after such heavy use was more surprising. "This axe here, it''s begging for some oil. It''s saying, ''Oil me, oil me now,''" Rem joked in a mock pleading voice. Having encountered cursed blades before, Enkrid doubted even the most malevolent weapon would sound that ridiculous. "Use it," Enkrid said, offering the jar. There was enough to share. Once his blade was clean, he drew another sword he''d picked up on the battlefield. Sssrrk. It was nothing remarkable. He had taken it on a whim, feeling odd carrying only one sword. Its former owner, a commander, had died with it sheathed, his throat pierced by Jaxen. This blade... Precision and Poise "Was it the no-kill thrust?" The technique erased bloodlust and sound, leaving only action behind. Sometimes, the obvious is overlooked¡ªdismissed as a mistake or an illusion. Jaxen''s thrust had that uncanny effect. It seemed slow, predictable, even avoidable at first glance. A feint to be dodged with ease. But by the time realization struck, his blade would already have pierced your throat. How was this possible? Enkrid, observing closely, began to understand. His heightened perception revealed what had previously been invisible. "Momentary acceleration." Just before the thrust, Jaxen''s blade moved at blinding speed, disappearing for an instant. It rivaled, or perhaps even surpassed, Rem''s Ray-Axe in velocity. "Could I apply this?" It felt within reach¡ªthough imperfectly so. Beyond Jaxen, there were lessons everywhere: from Ragna, from Rem, from Audin, and from countless adversaries. Even from those he''d slain. After each battle, fragments of insight crystallized, ready to be refined. "Practicing swordsmanship already?" The fairy Company Commander approached silently, her expression as unreadable as ever. Anyone who knew Enkrid would recognize his movements¡ªdeliberate swipes of his hand through empty air, replaying combat scenarios. "It''s enjoyable," Enkrid replied simply. "Fair enough. There won''t be any fighting for now. Rest is the order of the day... fiance?." "Yes, confirmed." The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows over the camp. Border Guard tents filled the horizon, though the work wasn''t truly done. No supply lines secured yet... Their rations might last four days, if that. Enkrid wondered about Markus'' plan but found no answers forthcoming. Strategy discussions were on hold. For now, most soldiers were settling into exhaustion, leaving the watch to designated patrols. Quiet moments allowed for indulgences. Enkrid uncorked a hidden flask of apple wine. "I thought you finished that?" Rem grumbled, accepting a smaller bottle Enkrid tossed his way. "You''ve earned it." "You too, Captain, fighting like that while trembling all over," Rem said with a sly grin. He noticed. The overuse of Heart of the Beast had left Enkrid''s muscles quivering. But it was necessary to hold his own among these comrades, each of them extraordinary. That was behind him now. Recovery came faster these days. Enkrid flexed his hands, checking his condition. Perfect. "You''ve grown, Captain," Rem muttered, his tone half-teasing. Sometimes, trivial remarks surfaced without much thought. Enkrid''s response was just as offhand. "I''ve always been taller." "Was that supposed to be a joke?" Rem shook his head. Jaxen ignored the exchange, while Ragna, ever stoic, interjected, "Jokes can be honed like swords." What nonsense is that? Enkrid scoffed internally. When it came to wit, competing with this group was an insult in itself. "Pray," Audin said suddenly, beginning a quiet invocation. Enkrid kept silent. He owed them all for their unwavering loyalty during the day''s battle. Asking why they followed him would serve no purpose. Instead, he glanced at each of them in turn. "I can fight too," Dunbakel declared suddenly. "I know," Enkrid replied. But sending him out now would be a death sentence. If Enkrid had wanted a mere meat shield, Dunbakel wouldn''t have been accepted at all. Having taken him in, it was only right to use him properly. Resting his chin on his hand, Enkrid surveyed the group one last time before reclining onto a thick cloth spread across the ground. It wasn''t luxurious, but it sufficed. The uneven texture of rocks beneath the cloth was a minor annoyance. Sleep came anyway. As night deepened and the camp fell silent, Enkrid stirred only slightly when he felt Esther snuggle into his arms. He held the black panther gently as sleep reclaimed him. Hours passed, and in the stillness before dawn, Esther slipped out of his embrace. A peculiar energy descended over the tent, one that felt foreign yet familiar. It was the presence of magic¡ªa phenomenon tied intimately to Esther''s enigmatic world. Mysticism, sorcery, and ancient power converged, signaling an event yet to unfold. Chapter 214 - Wizards Look Down on Swordsmen Chapter 214 - 214 - Wizards Look Down on Swordsmen Wizards typically underestimate swordsmen. When a wizard first steps into the realm of magic, they awaken to a new sense¡ªsomething beyond their five senses. It''s like a new hand, a new tool, or a mysterious sixth sense. Through it, they shape their mental world, which they call the "inner world" or the "realm of magic." Accessing this realm requires no keys, doors, or paths¡ªit''s simply within them. By gazing at the heavens, flames, or glaciers, they refine their world. This process defines a wizard''s training and discipline. The perception that wizards are mad often comes from the extreme methods they use to cultivate their inner worlds. In the 48th year of the Empire, one wizard, who built his entire inner world around fire, burned an entire city to reach a new plane of existence. That event, known as the "Flame Flood Incident," claimed thousands of lives. The wizard responsible, later branded the Demon of Fire, did not burn the city for mass murder. After countless killings, watching people burn no longer inspired him. So, he escalated, burning the entire city in his quest for new insights. Many knights and wizards perished trying to stop him, but he eventually met his end. Such obsessive pursuit of knowledge defines wizards. They are driven to seek truth and revel in the euphoria of enlightenment, even at the cost of their sanity. It is no surprise, then, that wizards look down on swordsmen. Wizards walk a world unseen by swordsmen. A wizard skilled in magic, especially one specialized in certain areas, could easily dispatch even the most talented swordsmen. This leads to missions like this one: "Complete the task, claim the reward, and leave." Among the few groups accepting mercenary contracts, the "Shadow Nest" is the most prominent. Known for their expertise in covert operations, members of Shadow Nest cloak themselves in black soot and blend into the night. One wizard casts a spell, "Thickened Shroud," enveloping an enemy tent in shadows that obscure perception. Another spreads a sleep-inducing scent, while a third employs a spell called "Dream of the Abyss" to plunge all inside into unconsciousness. It might seem excessive, but after facing five monstrous berserkers earlier, they couldn''t take risks. Even though wizards disdain swordsmen, "Will-bearers"¡ªthose who have awakened a measure of "Will" or inner strength¡ªpresent a challenge. "Will," or as some call it, "resolve," is a trait of knight candidates and higher. Spotting a Will-bearer is tricky without combat, but one stood out earlier. The golden-haired warrior. He had tossed aside his helmet mid-battle, revealing sharp eyes, crimson irises, and a terrifyingly precise swordsmanship that left an impression even on these haughty wizards. The leader had encountered knights of near-knight-level strength numerous times before. His instincts as a seasoned mage told him one thing: that golden-haired man was the most dangerous. "It''s done." One of the subordinates informed him, prompting the leader to push aside the tent flap and step inside. Even if there were individuals of knight-level power within, the preparations they had made should render them incapacitated. At most, one might remain standing, but that wouldn''t qualify as a true challenge. Inside the tent, thanks to their cloaking spell, no one should have noticed anything strange. Yet, there they were¡ªtwo piercing blue flames glowing in the darkness. For a brief moment, it resembled a malevolent spirit made entirely of fire¡ªan "Evil Flame." But it was not a magical beast. "...A leopard?" It was a black leopard with flames flickering from its eyes. The leader immediately realized the truth: those fiery eyes contained magic, mystery, or perhaps something even more potent. Both he and the accompanying mage, previously cloaked in black soot, felt their disguises burn away. The spells concealing them unraveled, revealing their forms fully to the creature that stood before them. No words were exchanged. The atmosphere inside the tent grew unbearably heavy. And then, "Kachoo!" The leopard sneezed. The leader''s thoughts stuttered. ...Did it just sneeze? Seriously? That completely ruined the tension. Esther was reminiscing about the past. One phrase summarized the turning point of her life: "Damn curse." The curse had upended everything, tangling her life into knots. It was maddening, but in a way, she''d come to terms with it. Unraveling the curse was like loosening a bundle of thread¡ªtime-consuming and painstaking, but once the process began, the rest felt inevitable. That loosened thread allowed Esther to reclaim a small part of her former power. "Grrr..." The leopard bared its sharp fangs. "...A familiar?" the enemy mage speculated. Familiars¡ªsummoned entities serving as extensions of a mage''s will¡ªwere often animals or spiritual constructs. The assumption was incorrect but understandable. Esther, however, ignored the intruders. Her magic coursed through her body, her gaze piercing beyond physical sight to detect the tricks and enchantments they had employed. Five spells. A perception-shrouding spell, a windborne sleeping mist, and a slumber-inducing enchantment¡ªthese three had been layered to obscure senses, weaken awareness, and lull their targets into unconsciousness. Clearly, they weren''t here for a casual visit. Enkrid, it seemed, had already succumbed to the magical lullaby, likely because of prior exhaustion. The others had probably fallen asleep too. That left Esther as the only one who could act. "Kill it." The mage gave the command. Esther felt the shift in the magical plane as a spell took shape. It had been a long time since she''d witnessed a proper magical invocation. Above her, the "Blade of the Wind" formed¡ªa vertical guillotine composed of sharp, slicing air, descending swiftly. With a sharp jump, Esther evaded. The blade struck the ground where she had stood, dissipating into nothingness. The curse she bore made using magic a dangerous gamble. Casting spells triggered severe backlash. Another mage began muttering incantations, his fingers weaving intricate gestures to channel his power. His words were almost unintelligible, likely a customized runic dialect designed to prevent countermeasures. Esther didn''t need to understand the words¡ªshe could read the flow of the magic itself. Pathetic. From the ground beneath the male mage, shadows stretched and surged, aiming to ensnare the leopard. Esther slammed her paw against the ground. The moment she did, a transformation began¡ªnot a mystical, internal shift, but a physical, external one. The threads of her curse, once tightly bound, had begun to loosen. A significant part of this unraveling was thanks to a peculiar force entwined with Enkrid''s aura. This meant Esther no longer needed to endure the curse''s full backlash through her current form. For a brief moment, she could return to her true self. The incoming shadow spell was designed for restraint, but Esther''s response was simple. "Bask in my scent," she commanded, her voice deep and commanding, as a hand¡ªnot a paw¡ªemerged to intercept the attack. As the claws retracted, they revealed a pristine white hand, the skin so flawless it almost seemed to glow. The encroaching shadows of the enemy''s spell transformed seamlessly into a black robe that enveloped Esther''s body. The leopard''s fur vanished as her form grew larger, taking on a distinctly human shape. Naturally, this transformation left no trace of her previous beastly figure. Even her modesty remained intact, thanks to her deft manipulation of the enemy''s magic into her own garment. The pale skin was now draped in the dark robe, adding an air of mystique. A tense silence filled the tent, heavy and oppressive. The two mages who had entered with the leader were wide-eyed, their muscles tensing with dread as they beheld the transformation. The woman who had emerged from the leopard''s form spoke, her voice calm but resonating with power. "...It''s been a while." Esther, now fully human, felt a surge of emotion. The curse had kept her bound for so long. Though her return to humanity was temporary¡ªmore like stepping out for fresh air than a permanent reprieve¡ªit was more than she had dared to hope for. For the first time in what felt like ages, she could savor the fresh, crisp air beyond her prison of fur and claws. Even with the enemy''s magic interwoven into the atmosphere, it didn''t bother her. Her long, jet-black hair cascaded down her shoulders and back, and her outstretched fingers, tipped with sharp nails, glinted faintly. "Hello?" she said, her tone almost playful. The leader and his mages were too stunned to respond. A leopard turning into a human? What in the world is this? "It''s not a familiar," one of the mages muttered nervously. "Get a grip!" the leader snapped, though his voice betrayed his own unease. He had seen many things in his time, but this was beyond belief. She had taken their magic¡ªa spell meant to bind her¡ªand reshaped it into clothing? Was that even possible? His doubts mounted. Was this an illusion? A deception? As the black robe she had conjured shifted with her movements, it revealed glimpses of her pale skin beneath, but there was no time to dwell on such thoughts. This was no mere display of power; it was a statement. The leader swallowed hard. This woman was no ordinary mage. She was high-level¡ªpossibly beyond anything he had faced before. Esther''s red lips curved into a satisfied smile. "Let''s begin, then." For her, this was a moment of profound joy. How long had it been since she could freely wield magic, drawing from her own world? Her delight materialized in the form of her next spell. "D''Mueller''s Scythe." At her incantation, a massive black scythe materialized in the air. Unlike the earlier wind blade, this spell was far more advanced¡ªa high-tier magical attack. "Companion of life, darker than the abyss!" the leader shouted. The defensive spell etched onto his body activated instantly. Esther''s eyes gleamed with intrigue. It was a type of magic she hadn''t encountered before, a tattoo-like defensive spell engraved directly onto the skin. It was remarkably fast to activate. Magical tattoos? she mused, analyzing the flow of power. It was an efficient method, using inscriptions to channel spells instantly. Interesting, but limited. High-level magic couldn''t be cast this way¡ªit required a deeper connection to the magical realm. The scythe collided with the barrier created by the leader''s defensive magic. The clash filled the air with a cacophony of sound as the scythe''s edge splintered and shards of darkness scattered like broken glass. Esther snapped her fingers, dismissing the fragmented weapon with a faint click. "Haah... haah..." The leader panted heavily. One exchange was enough for him to realize she was far out of his league. "Call them all in!" he shouted, summoning the remaining four subordinates outside. It was time to fight as a group. But Esther was no stranger to magical combat. Before the curse, she had faced countless mages in duels that left her jaded with the experience. "Born from a spark, become an inferno that consumes all," she intoned smoothly, continuing her chant without pause. Flames erupted from the ground at the feet of the reinforcements as they rushed in. "Block it!" one of the mages yelled, their combined effort raising a protective barrier just in time. "Wrong answer," Esther said with a smirk, her crimson lips curling into a predatory grin. In the blink of an eye, she was upon one of the mages, her body leaving behind a ghostly afterimage as she darted forward. Her spell, Burning Hand, ignited in her palm. She grabbed the closest mage by the throat, and the heat from her touch seared through flesh and bone. "Arghhh!" The mage screamed, though his voice faltered as his vocal cords melted away. All that remained was a sickening hiss of escaping air. "Next," Esther said, baring her sharp teeth in a feral grin. She took down two more mages with effortless efficiency. Her physical prowess matched her magical dominance, and the final two fell to the D''Mueller''s Scythe with swift, clean strikes. Decapitating them was almost anticlimactic. High-level spells weren''t necessary¡ªnor, in her current state, entirely possible. But what she had was more than enough. Heads rolled, hitting the ground with dull thuds. "Who knew you weren''t a damsel?" The lazy voice of Rem echoed through the tent. He had been feigning sleep, lying on his side with his head propped up on a fist, watching the chaos unfold with a relaxed smirk. Chapter 215 - A Good Night of Sleep Chapter 215 - 215 - A Good Night of Sleep A brief lightning strike. Esther understood exactly what the five enemy mages were up to, what their intentions were¡ªshe understood everything. This was because she herself was a wanderer, indulging in the world of magic. Above all, the enemy group consisted of mages who were all lower-ranked than her. "Illusion magic and mental magic." It was a combination of two. Even though she didn''t know the exact names of the spells, she understood their operational mechanism. It was the magic of "The Dream of the Abyss." It conjured an atmosphere of comfort as an illusion, followed by a gift of tranquility. The concept was clever. It was hard to drive someone insane, but offering tranquility to those already under mental pressure was incredibly easy. They were probably longing for peace and comfort, as that''s what mental spells were generally meant to provide. The more someone wanted and yearned for something, the easier it was to accept. Breaking the spell was simpler. All she had to do was scatter the magic. But Esther chose not to do that. She decided to let the ones who were sleeping stay asleep. She had no intention of revealing that she could transform into a human. Of course, it wasn''t like she wanted to kill anyone just to silence them. "I''m still human, so nothing changes." She was a devotee of the magic world. She had resolved to walk a different path from ordinary humans. Therefore, even if others discovered that a leopard was actually a human, they would still end up in Enkrid''s embrace. She wouldn''t stop that from happening. "It''s funny that I''m worried about this at a time like this." There was no reason to give up the power that blurred the curse. She couldn''t help but worry about the women flocking around him. Ordinary humans tend to feel jealousy and envy, so if women appeared around him, he might feel distant from her. In that case, she would have to force her way into his embrace. The right move was to block it before it happened. "If it doesn''t work, I''ll subdue them by force." She even considered knocking out Enkrid and taking his place. Various thoughts flashed through Esther''s mind in an instant, and she rationalized everything. In the end, she concluded that it didn''t matter who knew. Her blue, deep eyes, similar to a leopard''s but distinct, turned toward the voice''s owner. "I thought I''d be your gorgeous savior." Rem, with a sly grin, appeared. He was a handsome man with grey hair, not tall, but an influential figure whose abilities couldn''t be ignored. "Oh?" Esther responded casually. At the same time, she quickly figured out why the opponent had resisted the spell. "He''s learned the mystic arts." It wasn''t magic, but a different discipline. She didn''t feel the need to act like she knew about it. She wasn''t the only one awake. "Looks like some fun brothers came here to play." Audin, a humanoid monster with a physique that rivaled even the bear, was awake. He had pale yellow eyes, and his appearance was also outstanding. Looking at his balanced body, she thought that if she had a golem like him, it would be quite useful. "I didn''t even have time to bring out the bonehead." The flash golem she had gotten from the previous Enkrid was still resting inside her world. Of course, it was still a work in progress, so it wasn''t ready to be used yet. Either way, she roughly understood why Audin was awake. "Divine power." It was a reluctant power, something that came from the gods. Later, Jaxen and Ragna also woke up, seemingly unaffected by the previous fainting. "I''ll go back to sleep." Ragna seemed to have awakened a bit of his willpower. Jaxen? He was a mystery. It felt like he had surpassed his limits, having trained to the extreme. As they all briefly woke up... "Hmm." Enkrid moaned in his sleep. "You sleep well." "How dull. It must be the lack of training." "There''s no need to disturb someone who''s sleeping. It''s better to fight well when you''re awake." "Heh, looks like our Company Commander brother is tired. It''s because his physical strength hasn''t fully manifested yet." Starting with Rem, then Jaxen, Ragna, and Audin, all of them made comments as they looked at the sleeping Company Commander. Amid this, Rem added a comment while looking at the sleeping beast-woman. "If we leave her like this, it''ll be a nuisance." But how could she sleep like this in such a situation? Even though Beastfolk are naturally resistant to magic? It was, in fact, inevitable. Dunbakel had a very low sense of self-esteem, and the spells of comfort and peace were like a fatal weakness to her. Of course, Rem wasn''t concerned about that. He just thought that something had to be done about it. Esther didn''t intend to show off her magic, but neither did she have any intention of leaving the corpse behind. She waved her hand in the air. Using an invisible force, a basic telekinetic spell commonly employed by mages, she rolled five corpses toward the entrance of the tent. "The perception disruption spell will break soon." Then, she addressed the others. While Rem said something in response, the remaining three didn''t even seem to register her presence. Did they notice in advance? That might be part of it. "I''m going to sleep." After all, there were types like Ragna. Whether she turned into a human, a leopard, or a fur-covered giant, people like him wouldn''t care. How odd. Esther felt genuinely strange. She had expected at least some surprise¡ªeven if not outright shock¡ªat seeing her. Or perhaps she secretly hoped for it. These people were all bound together within the same circle, with the black-haired man at its center, who, even in such a situation, was sound asleep. When the time limit expired, Esther transformed back into a leopard and nestled into Enkrid''s embrace. The black robe covering her dissipated like smoke, disappearing as if absorbed into the ground. It was only after she had resumed her leopard form and the perception disruption spell had vanished. "What is this?" Vengeance, perhaps part of a patrol unit, entered the tent and exclaimed in surprise. The stench of blood and the sight of corpses rendered him speechless. "Well, since you''re here, help clean this up, will you?" A commander who loses a battle might be forgiven, but one who fails at vigilance cannot. Vengeance couldn''t fathom how these people had infiltrated the area. He had no way of knowing that mages had been involved. "Oh? Uh, okay." He simply assumed assassins had targeted them. Yet, upon inspecting the dead, they didn''t seem particularly well-trained. It was simply a bewildering night. Reporting this would likely infuriate Battalion Commander Marcus, but not reporting it wasn''t an option either. So, Vengeance delivered the message through the captain''s guard during the night. And the next morning, when Marcus woke up: "Leave it. Any assassin who comes here will just fall into the antlion''s pit." He dismissed it nonchalantly. In truth, Marcus had intentionally placed Enkrid''s unit on the perimeter. He suspected Martai''s forces might send assassins in a last-ditch effort. At the same time, he thought it was a futile endeavor. "We even captured that half-blood elf assassin before." That assassin had been fairly renowned, hadn''t he? Marcus was meticulous about gathering intelligence, believing such details led to victory on the battlefield. "Let them send more. Some people only learn by burning their hands on the hot pan." Marcus chuckled. Though he didn''t know a mage had been involved, he now harbored an inexplicable, absolute trust. He believed Enkrid would survive and overcome any challenge. Yet, he had another thought. "A knight, huh." That dream Enkrid had mentioned. Back then, Marcus had dismissed it as fanciful nonsense. But now, it seemed entirely plausible. If so, what was Marcus''s role? If Enkrid became a knight¡ªjoined the knighthood¡ª "Under Cyprus?" It didn''t seem to fit the picture. Who knows? It was a matter for the future, and they''d figure it out when the time came. Until then, Marcus would do what he needed to do. After all, he might not even live to see Enkrid become a knight. He was on the brink of stepping into something equally dangerous. "So, everyone better take care of their own necks." Marcus was doing the same. Pitch-black darkness, a canvas painted in shadows. No starlight or moonlight, no light of any kind. Just the rippling river, the boat, and the ferryman sitting atop it. The only change from before: "I can see eyes now." Enkrid noticed something resembling an eye on part of the ferryman''s face. Just one side. If asked whether it resembled a human eye, he would likely answer he didn''t know. All he knew was that, upon seeing it, he recognized it as an eye. It was a dream. The ferryman gazed intently at him, and through that gaze, Enkrid felt the presence of the eye. To sense such an intense stare, eyes had to exist. "You''re truly a strange one," the ferryman remarked. Enkrid found it as if his lips had been sewn shut with thread. He struggled to open his mouth. So he mustered his strength, forcing his lips apart, as if tearing through the imagined stitches. "So, when does the wall show up again?" He asked abruptly. The wall is a curse, meant to cause suffering to humans, to push them into a corner and torment them. That is the curse, the wall. The ferryman knew this all too well. But the opponent before him actually asked for a wall. What a madman. The ferryman muttered this to himself, and then spoke to Enkrid with his eyes. "You''re insane." With that familiar title, Enkrid opened his eyes. The dream blurred. The river, the ferryman, and the pitch-black darkness¡ªall of it disappeared. Grumble... As soon as his eyes opened, warmth was felt in his arms. It was Esther. As soon as he opened his eyes, the leopard also opened its eyes. Somehow, it seemed that its eyes had become even more human than yesterday. "Did you sleep well?" He greeted and got up, starting the morning training. Just because the enemy city was surrounded, there was no reason to rest the training. "Did you sleep well?" Rarely, Rem asked about his own sleep. He had laid down, fallen asleep, and woke up properly. That meant he had slept well. Dreams were irrelevant. Even if it was a nightmare, he would simply shake it off when he woke up. "Is there any reason I wouldn''t sleep well?" "...You''re surprisingly irritating." What was he talking about now? "Your sensory training is lacking." This was also a rare occurrence. Jaxen, who had been grumbling since morning, and Audin, who was more enthusiastic than usual, were both giving their comments. *** "One more! You can do it! Brother!" Had he forgotten that this was a battlefield? Did Audin want to overstrain him like this? It was a repetition of sitting while carrying a large stone on his back and then standing up. His thigh muscles felt like they were about to tear, but as Audin said, he could do it. "Did you feel anything last night?" Rem came closer and asked again. "It was a good night." It wasn''t too hot or too cold, so it was a good night''s sleep. When he woke up, there was a slight smell of blood in the barracks, but he thought it was just the traces of the battlefield. Enkrid heard about the assassin after lunch. It was thanks to Vengeance that he got the news. "You mean I didn''t wake up?" "He was a mage, a mage." It was only then that Rem started talking and teased Enkrid for not waking up even when the assassin came, wondering what was wrong with his nerve endings. Enkrid couldn''t help but feel uneasy about it. "Why didn''t I wake up?" A spell? Some kind of sleep-inducing scent? Then what about his own team? Why had they woken up? There was something lacking in him. Something that was different from the others. He already knew what it was. "Will." What people called willpower. He wasn''t in a hurry, but he still wanted it. He knew what he had to do to get it. Every day, he practiced with a sword. Training and hardening his body in the middle of the battlefield. No one frowned at this. Knowing your shortcomings meant you wanted to improve. The enthusiasm and passion flared up once again. A heat that pounded his heart surged inside Enkrid. "When do we fight?" It was this heat that caused him to suddenly ask the fairy company commander who had come. "We''ll advance this afternoon." "Will we use ladders? What about the gate?" "Just deliver the message like that. Will you be leading the charge?" Enkrid nodded. Inside Martai, he wasn''t sure what Olf was doing, but now that they were in this position, why not go with a strategy of breaking down the gate? Contrary to his expectations, the battle was rather dull. "Raise your shields!" Enkrid, Rem, Audin, and the others raised their shields and moved forward. They were large square shields. They were hastily made, but enough to block a few arrows. Then, they advanced. The battle was dull for one reason. Thud, thud, thud... Grumble... As they approached, with the sound of a pulley turning, the gate opened. The arrows shot from the watchtowers and the walls lost their meaning as they stayed close to the gate and the walls. By staying close to the walls, they were out of the range of the arrows. "Why is it open?" Rem muttered. Enkrid was also puzzled. The troops on both sides of the gate had split. The first company commander, who had followed them, spoke to Enkrid. "It''s the brigade commander''s magic." It really did seem like magic. Enkrid could roughly guess the reason. "He planted a seed." It wasn''t just any seed, but one powerful enough to open the gate. The skill was impressive. No, it didn''t stop there. As Enkrid entered through the gate, he had a brief realization. He had learned from both his allies'' swords and the enemies'' swords, but there was something he also learned from Marcus'' strategy. A short but electrifying realization struck him. Chapter 216 - Preparation, Patterns, Experience Chapter 216 - 216 - Preparation, Patterns, Experience "Dammit!" Olf was startled by the news of a rebellion breaking out. In this situation? At this moment? "Who is it?!" He also heard that the one who led the rebellion had seized the castle gates. The rebel forces couldn''t do much on the watchtowers or the walls, but the castle gates were the real problem right now. "Guard unit!" In a rush, Olf called for the guard unit. They ran ahead. "Go! Block them!" ''Who the hell is it?!'' Olf quickly took off, forgetting the weight of his armor. He ran, breath tight in his chest. A metallic taste rose in his throat. It smelled like dried blood. Where he ran to... "I''m sorry." He saw three of the guards, now as spiny as bolts, lying there. He also noticed a squad of soldiers, at least platoon-level, blocking the guards'' path. They aimed crossbows at him. The one who had spoken earlier grinned cunningly. It was a sly grin, just as it seemed. A twisted mouth, narrowed eyes, a face and demeanor that he''d never seen before. It was the ignorant adjutant who had been shouting to charge with the cavalry and break the enemy. A fool who only knew how to fight. That''s what he had been until just a moment ago. ''That bastard?'' He couldn''t believe it, considering how recklessly he fought. He never thought it would come to this. Or was this his plan all along? Had he been pretending to be the ignorant adjutant, the one who knew nothing but fighting? If so, he was a natural actor. Olf realized he''d been deceived. "Enemy forces are coming!" Booooo! A large horn blared. It was a signal of danger and threats. "Fire! Fire!" The archers in the gallery and on the watchtower pulled their bows frantically and shot arrows, while the ignorant adjutant continued to hack at the castle gate pulley with an axe. Thud! Crack! Thud! To Olf, the sound felt like a death sentence aimed at him. ''Ha.'' It was a situation that could only bring out a sigh, but his mind froze. Even the words to stop it couldn''t come out. It was already too late. Even if he ran in and tried to stop it, there was nothing he could do about the gates opening. Once those gates open, the monsters from the battlefield would pour in, wouldn''t they? It was a nightmare, a terror. The five monsters. Just as he had expected. He knew that the sorcerer''s attack from last night had failed. If not, why hadn''t those who were demanding something in exchange even shown their faces? ''Damned shadow bastards.'' Olf emotionally gave up. Would he continue to fight to the death here? Risking everything, even his own life? Would he sacrifice the lives of these soldiers? "Dammit, dammit, dammit." He couldn''t do that. What would be left if he killed them all and survived? Olf didn''t want to end his life in a foolish manner. Even if he was a defeated commander, he wouldn''t disgrace his name. He would die alone, in the end. "You must surrender." Even though he had made up his mind, when the head of the guard spoke, Olf wanted to slap him. This bastard? A look of fury flickered in Olf''s eyes, but... "You must face reality." The head of the guard spoke again. It was clear that he was so desperate to save his own life, his eyes were wild. But this bastard wasn''t even stepping up to fight, so why was he talking so much? Thud, thud, thud, thud. The Castle Gates Opened Soon, a man with black hair, who seemed to be staring into the distance alone, appeared. He wasn''t even wearing a helmet. His blue eyes weren''t looking at anyone but seemed to be gazing into empty space. As Olf watched him approach, the head of the guard quietly unsheathed his sword and lowered it. He was preparing to surrender. That damn bastard. Olf mentally cursed him, wishing he could rip him apart, and gave up on everything. However... "There''s no rule that we must surrender the city without fighting." From behind, Zimor took a step forward. "What?" "Please allow me to take the final duel. I will show you the spirit of the Eastern Lion." Zimor''s eyes were ablaze. He called to Olf again. "General." Zimor had always been the most skilled swordsman among the battalion commanders, including Grek. He had properly trained in swordsmanship. While the usually pompous head of the guard stood there, either contemplating whether to raise his hand to his head or kneel down, Zimor, who often handled the dirty work, stepped forward with his words. ''I''ve failed in judgment.'' Olf acknowledged it. He had failed in his choices. He had been deceived by the ignorant adjutant, and in comparison to his support for the head of the guard, he hadn''t shown enough regard for Zimor. He felt a strong urge to gouge out his own eyes. "Do it." Olf nodded. He didn''t believe he had the right to stop anyone who was willing to burn something of themselves, even in a lost cause, especially when they fought as a warrior. Thus, Zimor moved toward Enkrid. *** ''When did he start planning this?'' As the castle gates opened, Enkrid recognized that this was someone''s plot, specifically Marcus'' scheme. ''Was this planned?'' It might not have been exactly planned this way. Maybe it was just something prepared in advance, not necessarily meant for this moment, but perhaps it was planted just in case? His thoughts continued. The more he thought, the more his mind came to a conclusion that led to the martial style he had learned. An unnamed swordsmanship, taught by the cursed spirit of the magic sword. ''The basic idea of swordsmanship is to force the opponent into a single direction.'' That''s what the preparations were about. It was the basis of the sword style, and everything else stemmed from that. If heavy swordsmanship crushed the opponent with power and swift swordsmanship won through speed, then... The standard style of swordsmanship was about creating ''patterns'' that forced the opponent to follow a set path. And creating a ''pattern'' required preparation. A ''pattern'' was the readiness and methods to push the opponent. If the opponent moved as you wished, that was ideal, but if not, how should you react? ''Prepare broadly and extensively.'' By anticipating every possible move, one could adapt and act accordingly. That''s why standard swordsmanship excelled in tactical battles. The key was preparation. To diversify and maximize your preparations. The traps Marcus had set up were one such preparation. There were probably more hidden schemes he had set, and even if the gates hadn''t opened, he wouldn''t have given up. He would have used other tricks. Standard swordsmanship was similar. That''s how it could be applied. ''Not confined to one pattern.'' By preparing in many ways, you could adapt to the opponent''s reactions with a variety of tactics. Just like Marcus had done. As experience accumulated, the swordsmanship became stronger, particularly the standard and advanced styles. The reason why they were different from others was the multitude of patterns that would become second nature through constant battles. Marcus'' magic, which had triggered this line of thought, led him toward a new direction in swordsmanship. Battling the cursed spirit of the magic sword. Then, facing Ragna. And the lessons learned from Lagarne the frog. All these experiences blended and interwove. Enkrid took three steps and crossed the gates. As he walked, he realized how advantageous his position was. ''The repetition of today.'' Experiences of fighting with life on the line. Experiences of fighting while willing to sacrifice life. Endless defeats and battles, followed by reflection. All of that was just patterns and experience, wasn''t it? Yes. Patterns and experience. ''That old teacher, I bet his specialty was standard swordsmanship.'' He also realized the specialty of his swordsmanship teacher from the coastal village, who had taught him the importance of reflection. With this realization, he took two more steps. As he walked the five steps, Enkrid felt the need to internalize and remember all the experiences he had accumulated. Would a genius, or someone exceptionally talented, have figured it all out and acted immediately? It would be a lie if he said he wasn''t regretful of the talent he had during his life. However, now, he no longer craved talent as he once did. ''One step at a time.'' Forward He moves forward. This is the path that leads to ''will'' and to becoming a knight. A forgotten dream struck his heart once again. Only then did Enkrid become aware of his surroundings. The castle gates had opened, and one of the key players in the battlefield had stepped inside. Even though arrows should have been raining down, maybe a hundred or more, or at least there should have been spears or maces in front of him, there was only silence. "Ah." A brief gasp echoed, and Enkrid lowered his shield. It was a wooden shield with an arrow stuck in it. He set it aside and looked around. In an instant, the situation became clear. ''There''s no will to fight.'' All he saw were soldiers who had lost the will to fight. These were the men who had returned battered from the previous battlefield and now found themselves in a defensive position. Their last stronghold was the castle gates and the walls. He had just witnessed the enemy foolishly pressing up against the walls. "Isn''t it going to break?" "Damn it, is our castle gate made of mud?" Tense words were exchanged in anxiety, and an unsettling air spread among the soldiers. Even knowing this, there was nothing they could do at that moment. The gates opened, and five evil spirits from the battlefield entered. "Damn." Was it bravery or foolishness to run toward death? The soldiers of Martai did not need to know the difference between bravery and foolishness. They did not stop to think about it. They simply stopped. The eyes of the soldiers who had given up were now fixed on Enkrid. Silence. The wind blew. The breeze swept over the flags raised above the city. Swish. The sound of flags fluttering mixed with the curses of soldiers who had been caught. Curses filled with resignation and self-mockery. Seeing and feeling all of this, Enkrid spoke. "Do I have to say my name again here?" My name is Enkrid. At first, it had sounded arrogant, foolish, and like a madman''s utterance, but those words now weighed heavily within the walls of Martai. Even so... Even if everyone else had given up, there were always those who made a final desperate effort. A heavy silence, and the frozen soldiers. A slender man stepped forward, threading through soldiers who were still drawing their bows, cautious and uncertain. Enkrid didn''t know the man''s size, but he could tell the man had solid muscle. His balanced stance caught Enkrid''s eye, and it was also impressive that there was no fear in his gaze. "My name is Zimor." The man introduced himself. Enkrid didn''t know who the man was. He hadn''t moved with such a thing in mind. "I am the commander of the 2nd Battalion of Martai." Since the man had introduced himself politely, Enkrid also spoke. "I am the commander of an independent company, part of the Border Guard''s regular forces." "I see." Enkrid met Zimor''s eyes. These weren''t the eyes of someone who had given up. This was someone determined to act. "This is a bit of a nuisance," Rem muttered from behind, and Audin chuckled as he added, "Duels are sacred things. Brothers, on behalf of the Lord''s eyes, I will relay His will." It sounded like something a full priest would say, but no one bothered to challenge it. Instead... "I can''t back down without properly swinging my sword." Zimor showed his resolve. Behind him stood General Olf, but he appeared half out of his mind. He was someone who had returned after a frenzy of anger and reason. Of course, Enkrid didn''t care about him. Krais was just looking around. A fight that was over, but for some, it couldn''t just end with surrender. ''Why risk their lives like that?'' Krais couldn''t understand it. Others seemed to accept the situation. Ragna stepped to the right. If any enemy archers or others tried to intervene, he would unsheath his sword without hesitation. The usual unassuming presence of Ragna was replaced by an overwhelming aura, making his figure appear several times larger to the enemy. And indeed, there was a warrior of that size among them. "If you interfere, your head will be split, and you''ll be on your way to heaven, brothers and sisters." Audin took the role of the judge, and Rem stepped back. Rem also respected his opponent''s spirit. In such a situation, to face an opponent head-on with swords drawn was truly the behavior of a warrior. Zimor, was it? Even if he came from another tribe, he would still be worthy of the title of a warrior. Jaxen had already disappeared, likely planning to cut down any of the commanders if things went wrong. Enkrid was also impressed by Zimor, stepping forward. Even if Zimor lost, the likelihood of survival in such a duel was slim. And yet, he wasn''t backing down. He was a warrior. A man who knew how to fight. Clink. Enkrid drew his sword. Once a cursed sword, it was now a finely sharpened and sturdy blade. "My sword is not ordinary." He acknowledged his opponent''s courage with respect. Zimor nodded. Soon, he also drew his sword. Ting. It was a short, straight sword. An Estrek. As soon as Enkrid saw his stance, he could guess the man''s specialty. No, it was more of a near certainty. ''A fast sword. Light on his feet.'' Light feet meant swift movements. Zimor lowered his knee. As he pointed his blade forward, his foot struck the ground. The sword blurred, almost like an afterimage, and then shot toward Enkrid with terrifying speed. Chapter 217 - An unexpected proposal Chapter 217 - 217 - An unexpected proposal The moment Zimor''s foot struck the ground and he charged forward, his body blurred like an afterimage. The speed was terrifying. It was reminiscent of a knight''s charge. However, he wasn''t at the level of a knight. That much was certain. He raised his sword at an angle, bracing with his wrists and forearms, holding steady like a solid wall. His stance was a hybrid between a longsword and a greatsword defensive posture. Clang! Zimor''s Estrek sword clashed with the blade that Enkrid had twisted into position. Sparks flew as Zimor''s sword was deflected to the side. He immediately pulled back his sword. As expected, Enkrid didn''t budge under the force. He didn''t move an inch. Zimor, having lost his ground, stepped back. ''A naturally light frame.'' A body honed to extremes, and the thrust he was about to deliver¡ªhe had no armor on for this single strike. The sword was thin and narrow. His gear appeared to be lightly modified, and even his boots looked light. Enkrid had already understood all this from a single exchange of blows. He could see Zimor''s tactics and realized that this wouldn''t be a prolonged battle. Having witnessed what Zimor did, Enkrid knew he could do something similar. Even without such gear or tricks. That being the case, he simply had to act. He pushed his left foot back and leaned forward, preparing to execute a thrust that, while different from his opponent''s, would look quite similar. He focused all his strength into the thrust¡ªhis core power¡ªfrom the tip of his foot, through his ankle, and thigh. And then, he executed the thrust he had learned on the first battlefield. Boom! The ground cracked as he surged forward. The air split, and all that Enkrid could see was his sword and the hand that wielded it. Zimor also aimed to thrust his sword, but everything in Enkrid''s eyes seemed to slow down. The way Zimor extended his blade and shifted his weight forward all appeared sluggish. Enkrid knew his sword would reach the opponent first. But even so, Zimor wouldn''t stop his attack. Enkrid knew that, so he thrust his right hand sword into his opponent''s shoulder while simultaneously drawing his second sword with his left hand and striking Zimor¡ªspecifically aiming at the middle of Zimor''s sword. It was a defensive move at the perfect timing. To Enkrid, the successive exchanges were a smooth flow of actions, but to the watching soldiers, it was almost like an exhibition of skill. Thud!Crash! Zimor, after charging forward, quickly retreated as Enkrid pressed the attack. The sounds of stabbing and striking rang out one after another. And that was the end. To the soldiers, the exchange between them was hard to follow. All they saw was a hole in Zimor''s shoulder, and then he collapsed to the ground. "Ugh." Zimor swallowed his groan. He was a man who could endure pain. The broken half of Zimor''s sword spun in the air before falling to the ground with a thud. It was a thin, straight sword designed for thrusting. Naturally, it was vulnerable to lateral strikes. This was a technique from the greatsword style¡ª"weapon shatter." Enkrid had used his left hand for that move. Enkrid didn''t celebrate his victory in the duel. He simply asked: "More?" He raised his gaze and inquired. General Olf quickly spoke. "Surrender." It was as good as the surrender of all of Martai. Moreover, this was the battle where the name Enkrid was bound to be known far and wide. Waaah! A cheer erupted late. The soldiers of Martai, pale-faced, could only look on. The surrender of the commander. Some of them wouldn''t avoid losing their heads. The cleanup would be Marcus''s responsibility. "Everyone, lay down your weapons!" The commander shouted to all directions, signaling the end of the war. Thud, thud. Rain began to fall amid the late summer heat. Even though the sky was clear, the rain came down. It was a playful trick by the Summer God. Through the rain, sunlight pierced the sky, and in the midst of it all, stood Enkrid, holding his sword. Not just the soldiers of Martai, but even those of the Border Guard''s regular forces¡ªall eyes were on the man standing there, between the raindrops and sunlight. He was the one who had led this battlefield, torn it apart, and brought it to an end. His name was Enkrid. "Are you going to die? Or will you be imprisoned?" Marcus left the decision to Olf. The Eastern man Olf chose life. "I''ll be imprisoned." Killing would be a burden in many ways for Marcus, especially since there was still much to be gained from Olf. ''Well, it feels like a free meal, though.'' Marcus proceeded with the aftermath decisively. "I was the captain of the guards." He stepped forward, looking at the one who had surrendered right away. "Kill him." "...Eh? I surrender! I surrender!" "The captain of the guards is going to bow his head without any resistance?" Marcus''s tone was cold. There was no trace of a smile. His words were aimed at his opponent, but not quite at him directly. Only then did he give the death sentence calmly. "This law..." Thud!Crack! The first company commander struck with a mace, breaking the man''s neck with a single blow. It was a swift execution. The head of the man who had been struck hit the ground with a thud. Due to the unnatural angle and stretched neck muscles, his head hung to one side, creating a lifeless corpse. "Too much talk." By the time that unnerved the enemy soldiers... "Zimor, was it?" Marcus called out to Zimor, who was bleeding from a shoulder wound. The commander of the regiment, who glanced at Enkrid, whispered, a tone audible only to Enkrid and Zimor. Of course, soldiers with sensitive ears, like the Jaxon or the fairy regimental commanders, could probably hear it, but the whisper was deliberate. "What do you think? A man worth sparing, perhaps?" The question was aimed at Enkrid, not Zimor. Enkrid understood Marcus''s intention. "I don''t think killing him is necessary." Marcus nodded vigorously at the response and then raised his voice, loud and clear. "Indeed, he knows how to recognize a worthy foe! His heart is big! To beg for the life of someone who crossed swords with him, truly a noble gesture!" Beg? When did I...? Enkrid was stunned by this claim. Marcus spoke loudly for all to hear, continuing his speech. "I accept that request! Not only did he lead us to victory on the battlefield, but now he shows mercy to the enemy commander. Truly, you are the finest soldier I''ve ever seen. Don''t you all agree?" His final question was directed to his own soldiers¡ªpraising Enkrid. Even though they had won, the overwhelming power and the heavy rain falling in thin lines, the blurry sunlight filtering through the breaks in the clouds, all combined to make the moment feel monumental. Some of the soldiers, having missed the perfect moment to cheer, now finally raised their voices. "We... we''ve won!" That brief, courageous shout quickly turned into an uproar of triumph from the entire army. "The flower of the battlefield is!" "Infantry!" "The flower of the Border Guard is!" "Madmen!" Enkrid couldn''t help but chuckle. ''That absurd chant seems to be getting stranger and stranger.'' It almost seemed consistent, though. "We lost." Zimor muttered from below, signaling with his hand as the enemy soldiers gathered on one side. "Don''t resist. Don''t die meaninglessly." Normally, in city conflicts, the goal was to capture the enemy commander and either receive a ransom or some other form of compensation. But this time was different. It was a crushing defeat. The city had fallen, and this would be recorded as a historic war. "My name is..." "Enkrid!" "Waahhh!" As the cheers of the soldiers rose, the citizens, fraught with anxiety, watched from behind closed doors. They hurriedly turned their eyes toward the cracks in the windows and doors. Those less courageous didn''t even dare look outside. It was common for soldiers to turn into thieves after a city''s fall. Who could stop them from plundering the whole city? If true looting started, it wouldn''t just be possessions that were taken. Rape and theft would spread throughout. The sense of unease seemed to envelop the entire city. Some citizens wondered if they should grab anything to defend themselves, but doing so would surely cost them their lives. "Zimor, I''ll entrust the honor of this city to you. From now on, it will belong to the Border Guard. If you think leaving a small force behind would cause problems, speak now." Marcus was a political tactician even among the high-ranking nobles. He knew how to win people over. "If you just promise that, we will retreat today." Zimor blinked, confused. What was he trusting? If only a small force remained, wouldn''t the Martai army still outnumber them? Honor? He was being asked to trust his honor? "However, if you have any other thoughts, look there." Marcus leaned in to whisper. After a few steps back, the man with jet-black hair appeared before them. His name was Enkrid, the one who had a habit of revealing his name on the battlefield. He didn''t like the look of him. Not that he was handsome, but he was too strikingly handsome for his liking. "That madman of a commander. If the soldiers take out their frustrations on our side, this time they will turn their rage onto the civilians." Trust was supposed to be built on faith, but when there was none, it was something that could be manufactured. When pushed into a corner, people''s trust and faith would naturally form. "Yes, I swear on my honor." Zimor promised. "We will retreat." Marcus gave the order, and things moved along smoothly. Enkrid stepped back. As they began their retreat, it was mentioned that the border defense troops would remain in the city. "Hey, we won''t be seeing each other often from now on." Torres came over, chattering away. Other soldiers from the defense corps also came and spoke to him. One of them, a friend named Hyo-Woon, exchanged a few idle words with Enkrid. "I''ll beat you next time, so don''t slack off in your training." He said that, then turned to speak to Ragna. Enkrid responded that he would continue to train and improve Hyo-Woon wasn''t being serious either. This guy was as bad at jokes as a fairy. "So what, the regiment commander says we''ll be handing over this city to our commander?" Krais, who had been listening, nodded. "It seems like he plans to integrate this city, centered around the border defense, into one whole. Honestly, I kind of like his style. Marcus isn''t just seeking cooperation from the city; he''s absorbed the entire city into his fold." Torres, glancing at Krais, asked, "Does he always call the regiment commander by his name?" "Don''t worry, he checks first to make sure there''s no one around who''s a subordinate of the regiment commander." Was that the problem? Well, it didn''t matter. Torres gave a casual nod and said, "You should become a knight. I''ll aim to become the next commander of the Martai." That meant reaching the top of the border defense. Saying that was clearly influenced by Enkrid. Because of that, Torres felt the need to say something. "Good luck." With that, the brief farewell ended. After the retreat, the border defense corps stayed behind. Right after the retreat, Enkrid bathed, rested, ate, and slept. He hadn''t properly rested since returning from the ambush. "What did you say is as important as training? Brother." Audin''s constant phrase. Rest was just as important as training. The soldiers were still excited. For some reason, there were a number of people loitering around the Madman''s regiment, but Rem was there for a reason. No one dared approach any closer. Enkrid rested for two full days, with only light training, giving his body the much-needed rest. For the first time in a while, he woke up without any dreams, only to find a fairy with green eyes in front of him. "...A nightmare?" Enkrid muttered. "If I show up in your dreams, it would be wet dreams." "Guess it''s real, then." The fairy''s usual style of joking. As he slowly sat up, the fairy looked at him silently before speaking. "Finish your training and go see the regiment commander." "Okay." So that''s why they came all the way here in the early morning, huh? The fairy was truly unreadable. When it made comments about dreams and such with that cold expression, Enkrid couldn''t help but think about it once again¡ªtruly a being with beauty and a personality that was beyond human understanding. After the fairy left, Esther stirred and rubbed her eyes. Her actions were surprisingly cute. "Good morning." "Grrr." After greeting Esther, Enkrid started his training. By the time the sun was up, he was about to leave when Rem stepped out, yawning loudly. "I''ll handle that beastkin." There was no question or permission asked, just a blunt statement. "Why?" "If we leave her as she is, she''ll just become a useless drain on resources. It''d be better to let her die on the battlefield, don''t you think? But if you don''t want that, fine." "Are you just making an excuse to beat her up?" Rem shut his mouth at that. Seeing him occasionally silenced like that made Enkrid realize that Rem, too, was human. "...No, the commander accepted her into our regiment, so I''m, well? Personally training her. What do you think of that?" He was clearly making an excuse to beat him up. Enkrid understood, but he nonchalantly nodded. The beast-woman seemed to have nowhere to go, and there was a fierce determination in her eyes that reminded Enkrid of himself. So he agreed to take her in, but Rem wasn''t wrong either. If left unchecked, the beast-woman would likely get herself killed somewhere. "Audin, ask the beast-woman if she''s willing, and if she insists, tell me." Otherwise, Enkrid would pass her off to another unit. "Got it." Audin, who had been sweating through the morning training alongside Enkrid, was used to such tasks. No matter whether they had fought for their lives the previous day on the battlefield or not, after returning, the routine was always the same: training and toughening up their bodies. Enkrid said as much and headed toward the regiment commander''s office. As he walked, it occurred to him, "Am I really a commander now?" Did that mean he now had to manage soldiers? Up until now, he hadn''t really managed anything. He had mostly been dragged along by the situation. But now? He had formed battle lines on the battlefield and even issued some orders afterward. Just as he had changed, so too had the others. Strategy and tactics... It was a headache, honestly. He could just react as needed. "I''m here." He gave a brief nod to the guards outside the office, and they opened the door. "It was an honor to fight alongside you on the battlefield." It seemed this guard had fought as well. Having been at the forefront of the battle, he didn''t have time to look back. The excitement of the battlefield still lingered. The guard''s words, along with the admiring glances from the soldiers walking by, made it clear. Some soldiers were bragging about their own feats, while others were singing songs about Enkrid''s exploits¡ªalthough one of them was a terrible singer. If the others hadn''t punched him in the head to stop him, Enkrid would have done so himself. He was a terrible singer. The celebration for their victory hadn''t even begun yet. They had decided to properly rest for two days before eating, drinking, and enjoying themselves. Until then, everyone was told to rest as much as they could. "Oh, you''re here?" Marcus greeted him with a smile when he saw Enkrid. "Yes." There were no subordinates or fairy commanders around. It was just Marcus, smiling at him. Without missing a beat, Marcus spoke. "By any chance, are you considering becoming the commander of the Border Guard?" And then he asked. It was an unexpected proposal. Chapter 218 - Making Them Come to You, Not Going to Them Chapter 218 - 218 - Making Them Come to You, Not Going to Them 218. Making Them Come to You, Not Going to Them To say it was unexpected was to say there were no expectations to begin with. To elaborate, it also meant it wasn''t something he wanted. "Me? As a battalion commander?" Managing his subordinates, like Rem and Dunbakel, was already tiresome enough. More than that, he simply wanted to swing his sword again¡ªa natural desire and longing. He felt as if his fingers were on the verge of brushing against a dream that had always been out of reach. Like anyone else, he was clawing and stretching to pull that dream closer to himself. It was one of those moments when he wanted to lose himself in desire rather than responsibility. And now they were asking him to oversee an entire city? Perhaps one day he might welcome such a role, but not now¡ªnot at this moment. Even searching for reasons to refuse felt unnecessary. If he somehow ended up as the battalion commander, how would things go? Rem''s reaction immediately came to mind. "Battalion commandaang? Then I''ll take a company! Give me my company members!" He''d take dozens of soldiers, push them relentlessly, and retire them with "honors." Everyone would likely flee as fast as they could. Come to think of it, entrusting Dunbakel to Rem might have been a mistake. Not that he had any intention of looking after the beastkin himself at this point. So, the answer was already clear: He didn''t want it. Not now. "It''s a no." Though his thoughts were long, his decision was swift¡ªso quick, in fact, it was as though he hadn''t hesitated at all. His response was instant. "I figured as much." Marcus nodded, unsurprised, without a hint of regret. Still, he added, "Let''s say I offered it two more times, for a total of three. If you change your mind, feel free to let me know." "Understood." Enkrid replied indifferently. "Now then, let''s hear it. Why did you refuse? I should at least know your reasoning, right?" Marcus laced his fingers together, resting his chin on them. That pose seemed to be a habit¡ªEnkrid had seen it often. Though Marcus didn''t appear genuinely curious, Enkrid answered anyway. It was only polite to respond, especially when the question came from a superior. Standing straight in front of the desk, Enkrid began. "The First Company Commander wouldn''t approve." This was a statement of internal resistance. The First Company Commander had always been the man closest to succeeding as the next battalion commander. Since the Border Guard captain had taken charge of Martai, shouldn''t the position go to him? Even if they overruled him, having a subordinate harboring resentment right under you was never a good look. "Political awareness, too?" Marcus kept his chin resting on his fingers as he spoke, then asked again, seemingly unsatisfied. "Any other reasons?" "The battalion commander position isn''t necessary for me." "...It''s rare to hear someone say they don''t need this position. It doesn''t even sound like an excuse or pretext." Marcus let his posture relax, leaning back in his chair. Now, he seemed genuinely intrigued. Enkrid knew there was a slyness to Marcus¡ªa few metaphorical snakes writhing in his belly. Still, it wasn''t something that bothered him. So, he spoke freely. Saying he didn''t need it was the simple truth. To become a knight, skill came first. Strength took precedence. Leadership qualities were secondary. If such qualities were ever required, he''d learn them when the time came. Hadn''t he always learned by doing¡ªby throwing himself into the fray, risking life and limb? But for now, it simply wasn''t necessary. He had once again felt the gap in his abilities. Or rather than a gap, it was more like a thirst. From Zimmer''s thrust to everything he''d learned before that, there was still so much to master. Even from Marcus''s strategies, he had gleaned valuable insights. His path was still long. And he wanted to walk it. It was a path toward a faded dream. And because of that, he wanted to push responsibility aside for now. That was his true motive. A realization he came to only just now, through the process of articulating it. It was always through self-examination that one truly understood themselves. "I still lack skill with the sword." Enkrid said. "If you lack skill, half the soldiers should just go off and die, then." Marcus remarked, then clapped his hands lightly, as if to signify understanding. "Well, if someone doesn''t want a bag of gold shoved into their hands, there''s not much point in forcing it." He muttered as much, then moved on to asking about the current situation. Naturally, Enkrid answered, "I suspect things will continue to worsen. Don''t you?" Though his response was based on intuition, the reality was indeed leaning that way. It had only been a few days since the battle ended, so it wasn''t immediately apparent yet. Besides, this fight had ended as swiftly as popcorn popping over a flame. What was expected to be a prolonged siege had been shattered by strategy. First, by hiding Enkrid. Second, by opening Martai''s gates. Thanks to those moves, the enemy and their commander had lost their morale and surrendered outright. If they''d gone all-out from the start, the battle might have been far bloodier. In any case, Marcus was already aware of the deteriorating situation. When a force grows in size and strength, problems naturally increase. On top of that, it was unlikely that help from the central government could be expected anytime soon. The Border Guard had weakened their forces by pulling the garrison away. They''d also antagonized the Black Blade, and by swallowing Martai, they had placed themselves in a threatening position toward the local nobility. And on top of that, Enkrid himself had personally killed members of the cult. "That''s why I proposed the battalion commander position." "What would change if I took it?" "Are you asking because you don''t know?" "A commander with overwhelming strength leaves an impression." But what does that have to do with leading an entire city? "And to be honest, the First Company Commander wouldn''t even hold a grudge." Marcus added this with a hint of amusement. If you''re going to challenge someone, they have to seem beatable. But this? This was practically a monster. The idea of the First Company Commander rebelling? Ridiculous. While there might be internal dissatisfaction, there was every reason for outward compliance. That was Marcus''s view, but Enkrid didn''t agree. People always take it the hardest when something they believed was theirs¡ªwhether promised or presumed¡ªis taken away. Their perspectives differed, but it didn''t matter. Enkrid wouldn''t accept the role, and Marcus had no real intention of giving it to him either. In truth, Marcus thought it''d be far more entertaining to save an even bigger position for Enkrid in the future. Besides, becoming a knight would naturally come with its own territory. "When did I start believing this guy would inevitably become a knight?" Marcus mused silently to himself but outwardly delivered a prepared statement. "Then how about taking the position of Training Company Commander?" This was Marcus''s decision alone. While the Border Guard had vacated their posts, expanding the ranks of the Mad Company wasn''t something that could be done easily¡ªor quickly. Not that he wouldn''t try. "I wouldn''t get my hopes up," the fairy commander had said, cautioning that Rem was an expert at pushing people to their limits. Most recruits would likely desert after joining. Thus, Marcus devised the next best plan: "Give them a sense of belonging, a rank, a purpose, and something to do." Enkrid, who seemed to thrive on training, seemed like a natural fit for teaching. And so, the new position of Training Company Commander was created. "Understood." Enkrid accepted the role with little resistance. This surprised Marcus, but Enkrid had been considering something similar himself. What was best for the city''s safety? Improving the overall quality of the troops. And how could that be done? "Make them work." He didn''t expect them to match his level, but increasing training time and imposing some structured effort would inevitably lead to improvement. Wasn''t he himself proof of that? Of course, to the standing forces under the Border Guard, this was unwelcome news. But right now, it was just Marcus and Enkrid in the room. "Well then." "Got it." Enkrid saluted and withdrew. While the position of Training Company Commander was significant, his priority now was the victory celebration. It would be during this celebration that his contributions to the recent battle would be formally acknowledged. Everything else would come afterward. Until then, Enkrid resolved to refine and internalize everything he had learned and experienced. Time, as always, was more precious than gold. Especially when he hadn''t encountered any barriers lately. "Is the boatman the ones who''s being lazy?" If the boatman had heard, they might have scoffed. Two days later, the victory celebration took place. "To glory in battle! To a new rising star and hero who swallowed Martai whole!" Enkrid''s name had spread beyond the city due to this battle. Perhaps it was because he had boldly declared his name in the heart of the battlefield. Or maybe it wasn''t. Who could say? As people ate, drank, cheered, and shouted their hearts out, Enkrid found himself distracted. "Experience." While digesting past experiences was important, he considered it stagnation. Beyond consolidating what he already had, he now had new aspirations. Did he need an adventure? Should he leave this place? For a new pattern, new experiences? Something from Marcus''s strategies still lingered in his mind, stirring his thoughts. "What''s got you so deep in thought?" Rem''s voice broke his reverie. He stood nearby, holding a pumpkin pie in one hand and a glass of distilled spirits in the other. The sharp, alcoholic aroma stung Enkrid''s nose¡ªit was close to pure liquor. Rem seemed thoroughly immersed in drowning his stomach with booze. Enkrid, seated on a chair by a marketplace stall, watched the scene unfold. It was still broad daylight, yet the drinking had started. Meanwhile, soldiers, citizens, and children alike kept stealing glances at him. Of course, he was the hero of the recent battle. Though Rem and the Mad Company drew their share of attention as well, they were used to ignoring the stares of others. Meanwhile, Jaxen had disappeared again. Perhaps he had gone to the red-light district. "I was thinking about how many strong fighters I might meet if I wandered across the continent." It was an honest response. Hearing it, Rem chuckled. "I''ve wandered a bit myself, and let me tell you, it''s not easy. Half the so-called strong ones you hear about are just full of hot air." "That''s true," Ragna agreed from the other side, having arrived at some point. His cheeks were flushed from a few drinks, but he didn''t look drunk¡ªhe must not have had much. Ragna was never much of a drinker, as the others recalled. From their remarks alone, it was clear they both had experience wandering the continent. "Is that so?" Enkrid asked back, feeling a peculiar thirst. What exactly was this thirst? Did he simply want to fight more? It didn''t seem that simple. Was he impatient to train with his sword? No, that didn''t feel quite right either. Could it be an obsession with reliving today, over and over? Or perhaps he was anticipating repeated deaths? For Enkrid, the concept of repeating today, encountering barriers, or dealing with the "boatman" were all separate matters. Though he joked to himself about blaming the boatman, Enkrid didn''t care whether today''s repetition existed or not. He had gotten to where he was simply by moving forward. The repetition of today was just a tool he used as needed. It, too, was something that had settled into him by chance. Thus, this thirst must have been for something else. Something entirely different. It had begun after he understood the form of the disciplined swordsmanship¡ªan intense desire to clash with skilled fighters across the vast continent. It was pure competitive spirit, a burning drive for conflict. "Fight and experience." That was the path to fully realize the patchwork of dreams he had. In the past, whenever he learned something new, he was always dragged along by circumstances. But this time was different. By observing Marcus''s strategies, Enkrid had identified his own shortcomings. It was no longer just about absorbing past experiences¡ªit was about building a tower of new ones. A path he realized and marked out for himself. "Should I start gathering rumors about skilled fighters for you?" It was the bald Gilpin. Who knew when he''d arrived. He, too, seemed to have had a few drinks, but his demeanor remained composed. Gilpin wasn''t one to make mistakes, drunk or not. Hearing him, Enkrid thought: If he got a list of names, should he leave? Abandon the city? It was something to consider. Krais, who had been quietly observing, suddenly spoke. "But, Commander, there''s an easier way. Why bother wandering around and becoming a drifter?" "What are you talking about, bug eyes?" Rem asked, taking another sip of his drink. Krais, the large-eyed soldier, had a uniquely sharp mind to match his striking appearance. "With this recent battle, your name is already widely known. There are plenty of people in Martai and the frontier villages who can act as our mouthpieces. So it''s simple¡ªdon''t go looking for them. Make them come to you." Krais''s suggestion was spot-on, like a thunderbolt of revelation. Was competitive spirit unique to Enkrid? If someone was confident in their skills, they''d surely rise to the challenge. "That''s plausible, Big-Eyes Brother," Audin agreed, while Dunbakel nodded beside him. "Even among mercenaries, there are plenty of drifters who wander to hone their swords," Dunbakel added. It was true. "And what about soldiers who''ve finished their wars? They''ll flock here in droves. Beat them time and again, and your reputation will grow. If they want to, they can fight to their heart''s content¡ªor until they drop dead. Of course, if this place becomes too much of a battlefield, fewer will come." "Krais, you handle it." Impressed, Enkrid handed him the most fitting reward¡ªa coin pouch. It was one he had been saving to commission new armor but now found better use for. "Oh!" Krais''s quick reflexes snatched the pouch out of the air, as if catching a flying dagger. Thank you, sir!"" He grinned widely, while Enkrid felt satisfied. "Spread the word well." "Don''t worry, sir!" Now that was a deal everyone could smile about. Even Rem smirked faintly. It wasn''t a bad victory party, after all. As time passed, a few soldiers approached, expressing interest in joining the Mad Company. "I want to go mad too!" "Make me one of the crazies!" "I''ve always been a lunatic!" Why all their applications sounded like this was beyond understanding. Half-drunk, Rem happily declared that he''d accept them all, glancing at Enkrid for approval. "Our company is too small for a company, anyway," he added. That was true. If these applicants didn''t regret their decision after sobering up, they would officially join the Mad Company. Not exactly a formal test, but if their words were sincere, their skills would be evaluated. Beyond that, rumors swirled of glory, of a hero''s birth. One thing was certain: Enkrid was the centerpiece of this party. "Wouldn''t you like marmalade for life? All free, of course." Here and there, merchants and charming women tried to tempt him. "No!" A young man in the crowd cried out in despair. Even without the man''s dramatic outburst, Enkrid had no intention of indulging in anything with the "Marmalade Maiden." Especially not after seeing someone look as though their world had crumbled. "I''ll just buy it at full price." "Tch." Some market women were bold, others more subtle in their flirtations, but the situation came to a close¡ªand grew more complicated¡ªwith the arrival of a particular figure. "The Count is entering!" The herald''s cry echoed through the party grounds. Chapter 219 - Wanting to Cross Blades Just Once Chapter 219 - 219 - Wanting to Cross Blades Just Once The city was abuzz with excitement, but even amidst the celebratory atmosphere, a contingent of guards remained stationed, watchful. Two carriages rolled through the city streets, cutting a path to the central market square. There was no pretense for stopping them¡ªtheir passage was officially sanctioned, and they bore the mark of one of the great aristocrats of the region. A coachman with muscular arms descended from the first carriage and opened its door, revealing a man with a strikingly groomed mustache. "Count Molsen?" Marcus murmured under his breath, stepping forward to meet him. "I heard there was a victory to celebrate, so I thought I''d stop by on my way," said the Count. The arrival of such a figure here was entirely unexpected¡ªmuch less in the middle of the bustling market square. Even the squad leader, who also served as the city''s security captain, hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. Marcus gave him a subtle nod, and the captain wordlessly stepped back, leaving Marcus to face the Count. The Count exuded an aura of confidence, an unshakable self-assurance stemming from a deep awareness of his own authority. His voice resonated through the quieted square, his commanding tone seeming to fill the space entirely. "I hear the hero of this recent battlefield is among us," the Count declared boldly. "I thought I''d like to see this gem for myself." Despite his aristocratic status, Count Molsen was no peacock. He wore no satin or silk but instead a simple, elegant linen outfit. Even so, there was a sense of nobility in his appearance, further emphasized by the clearly defined muscles visible beneath the light fabric. The muddy, liquor-soaked ground of the market square squelched beneath his boots, yet he carried himself with the composure of someone who would seem regal even amidst filth. Enkrid, observing from a distance, couldn''t help but find the Count intriguing. There was something undeniably striking about the man. "I hear you''ve been keeping this treasure hidden away," Molsen continued, his voice laden with good-natured curiosity. "Let me take a look, will you?" Marcus remained silent, his expression unusually tense. Enkrid watched this unfold from a short distance, noticing the uncharacteristic seriousness on Marcus''s face¡ªso unlike the man who had been quietly smirking even during the chaos of war. "That bastard''s face is just asking to be smashed in," Rem muttered beside him. Though his speech wasn''t slurred, it was clear the alcohol was doing some of the talking. Enkrid sighed, gesturing to Audin and Ragna to take Rem away before he did something regrettable. After sending Rem off, Enkrid decided to step forward. Marcus had been the one to conceal him thus far, but that had been Marcus''s choice, not his. Now that his presence was no longer a secret, Enkrid saw no reason to remain hidden. Besides, the Count''s arrival seemed less a threat and more an opportunity. Molsen had a reputation for gathering talented individuals under his banner, earning him the moniker "The Collector of Talent." Enkrid found himself wondering¡ªdid this so-called collector have swordsmen, spearmen, or perhaps even martial artists under his employ? Surely he did. The thought stirred a flicker of anticipation. Perhaps some of these people would come seeking him out once rumors of his prowess spread further. "I believe your name is Enkrid?" Molsen called out, his voice cutting through Enkrid''s musings. Before Marcus could respond, Enkrid stepped forward. However, a man¡ªa coachman, likely one of Molsen''s personal guards¡ªmoved to block him. The coachman placed a firm arm against Enkrid''s chest, more a shove than a simple act of prevention. His well-trained physique and sharp, menacing eyes made his intention clear: this was a deliberate provocation. Enkrid felt the push, his instincts flaring. Was this a challenge? It certainly seemed that way. And if the coachman wanted a fight, who was Enkrid to deny him? Enkrid''s actions were calculated, even if partially influenced by Rem''s earlier antics and the alcohol still faintly clouding his judgment. Deep down, he harbored a hope: If I make a strong enough impression here, perhaps the caliber of those who come seeking me in the future will be higher. So, when the coachman''s arm struck his chest, Enkrid reacted without hesitation. Grabbing the man''s arm, Enkrid first pushed, drawing the coachman''s strength forward, then suddenly pulled while sweeping his left foot behind the man''s heel. It was a flawless execution of Balrafian martial arts¡ªa technique Audin had once taught him for breaking an opponent''s balance. Caught off guard, the coachman found his feet lifted from the ground, his rear slamming into the dirt with a heavy thud. Whether Count Molsen had intended to create such a tense silence in the square, Enkrid shattered it entirely. The hush grew even thicker, interrupted only by an involuntary groan from a soldier in the crowd. "Looks painful," Enkrid remarked, breaking the awkward quiet as he glanced at the fallen man, who now sported a flushed face. The coachman, seething with embarrassment, began to rise, his fists clenched, but Enkrid turned his attention away before the man could act. "You came to see me, I presume?" Enkrid said casually, addressing the Count without sparing the fallen coachman a glance. His words were bold, directed at the Count as if ignoring the coachman''s existence entirely. The Count was watching the scene intently. The coachman, fists still shaking with the urge to retaliate, held back. After all, his lord had his eyes fixed on the very man who had humiliated him. Enkrid''s display had achieved its goal. The subtle commotion had caught Molsen''s full attention. Now, Enkrid stood with a calm demeanor, meeting the Count''s gaze directly¡ªa level-headedness that bordered on arrogance. Molsen''s mustache twitched faintly, as if hinting at amusement. He studied Enkrid closely, his gaze lingering on the sharp, steady blue eyes and the raven-black hair. ''He takes good care of that mustache,'' Enkrid mused absently, taking note of how precisely groomed it was. Marcus, who had been about to step in, hesitated. Enkrid''s unexpected initiative left him with no room to intervene. "So, you are Enkrid?" Molsen finally asked. "Yes, that''s correct," Enkrid replied. Their eyes met again. This time, it was a battle of silent observations. The Count''s calm gaze searched Enkrid''s face, while Enkrid returned the look without flinching, as though testing the nobleman in turn. For a fleeting moment, Enkrid wondered if he had overstepped. Was knocking down the coachman¡ªa man who served Molsen¡ªtoo much of a breach in etiquette for a first meeting? Then again, Enkrid thought wryly, Why should I care? Molsen''s forces meddled in the battlefield before. Everyone knows it. Though he couldn''t openly confront Molsen about his involvement, the Count''s forces had certainly deployed clandestine units that complicated the war effort. Marcus had deliberately avoided pursuing those retreating soldiers, following Krais''s advice: "What good would confronting them do? If you accuse Molsen, he''ll just deny it and spin it as slander. Worse, we might end up having to grovel instead of holding him accountable. Sometimes, it''s better to pretend you don''t know." This had left Enkrid with no lingering guilt about his actions. After all, the coachman wasn''t Molsen''s heir or anything¡ªjust a guard who had gotten a little too bold. Or so he thought. "Are you all right?" Molsen suddenly turned to the coachman still standing awkwardly behind Enkrid. "Yes, father," came the unexpected reply. Father? Enkrid froze momentarily, a sharp urge to clear his ears overtaking him. "You chastise my son so harshly upon first meeting?" Molsen asked, his voice tinged with curiosity rather than anger. "Your boldness is... quite remarkable." Enkrid blinked, realizing there had been a grave misunderstanding. "Ah... yes. I see how that... might have happened," he replied awkwardly. Silence returned, heavy and suffocating. It felt as though the earlier tear in the veil of quiet had been hastily sewn back together, the atmosphere now awkwardly tense. "You thought he was just a guard?" Molsen broke the silence, this time with a question that carried an almost playful edge. "I didn''t know," Enkrid admitted candidly. "Now you do," the Count said with a faint smile. The Count''s remark, "Now you know," hung in the air, almost inviting Enkrid to apologize. The nobleman turned fully toward him, his gaze carrying a faint glimmer¡ªsubtle yet sharp, as though it sought to pierce through Enkrid''s surface and lay bare his inner thoughts. It was the kind of look that unsettled Enkrid, reminiscent of the sly, probing stare of a beast encountered on a desolate road¡ªone that seemed to weigh both strength and intent. Should he apologize? It wasn''t difficult. A few polite words would suffice, nothing more than a superficial gesture. Yet, for some reason, his lips refused to move. It wasn''t arrogance born from growing skill, nor stubborn pride. It was something else entirely¡ªan inexplicable dislike for the man before him. The tense silence began to spread, drawing the attention of onlookers who now watched with bated breath. Then, unexpectedly, the Count burst into hearty laughter. "Ha! It''s fine," Molsen declared, his voice carrying a booming quality that broke the tension. "If anything, the idiot deserved it." Enkrid saluted in acknowledgment, his gesture one of disciplined respect rather than warmth. "I mean it¡ªno harm done. I only dropped by to see for myself if the rumors were true. They weren''t exaggerated." The Count scrutinized Enkrid''s face, his tone turning playful. "Not just skill, but that face of yours¡ªno wonder every maiden in the nearby villages must be struggling to sleep at night." "Perhaps insomnia is a common ailment around here," Enkrid replied with a dry wit, the humor faintly laced with fairy-like sarcasm. Molsen chuckled, clearly amused. After a few more inconsequential remarks, the conversation shifted. Turning to Marcus, the Count offered a vague apology. "The swarms of beasts and monsters rising from the south have been relentless. As you know, defending one''s lands is a duty entrusted by the crown. Holding them back was no easy task. Alas, I couldn''t spare the forces to assist against the Martai. That city''s ties to the eastern influence ran too deep, but your efforts were commendable." The Count spoke as though he were royalty himself, a subtle arrogance underlining his words. Marcus, ever poised, replied with a polished smile. "Such recognition is best heard from our queen, the rightful sovereign of this land." The undertone was clear: You''re no king, pretender. Molsen either didn''t notice or chose to ignore the jab, departing soon after with a dismissive wave. Though his stay had been brief, the weight of his presence lingered, leaving a sour taste among the soldiers. As soon as the Count was out of earshot, Marcus let out a bitter laugh. "What an insufferable bastard," he muttered, his disdain sharper than usual. "Not on good terms, I take it?" Enkrid inquired. "Do you know what that snake dreams of?" Marcus shot back without waiting for a response. "Being a usurper. A madman aiming for the throne itself." Enkrid had little room to criticize another''s ambitions, but the revelation made Molsen''s unsettling demeanor clearer. Still, it didn''t explain everything. ''It''s not just the dream¡ªthere''s something off about his eyes,'' Enkrid thought, the image of Molsen''s probing gaze lingering in his mind. That night, as the camp''s energy slowly revived from Molsen''s departure, Rem''s voice suddenly broke through Enkrid''s thoughts. "It''s him!" Enkrid blinked, startled by the outburst. "Who''s him?" "The Count. That bastard," Rem declared, slapping his palm with realization. Enkrid raised a brow. "And?" "I told you before, didn''t I? The reason I ended up wandering here." Enkrid recalled the story¡ªRem had once killed a noble''s son after catching him committing unspeakable atrocities. It was an act of justice that had cost Rem everything, forcing him into exile. "That bastard''s his father. Count Molsen." "...Are you certain?" "Ha! I knew I''d seen him somewhere before." As Rem''s face lit up with a mixture of vindication and unease, Enkrid could only wonder: Did Molsen fail to recognize Rem, or did he simply not care? The Count''s cunning was legendary, and the possibility of him hiding layers of intent beneath that polished exterior seemed all too real. If anything, Molsen reminded Enkrid of a mythical hydra, each head holding a different scheme. And those eyes... "He''s not ordinary," Enkrid muttered to himself as he returned to the barracks. Later that evening, as he contemplated Molsen''s strange aura, Esther¡ªthe panther¡ªwatched him intently, her fiery gaze almost mirroring the Count''s penetrating stare. "You''re overthinking it," Rem interjected. "Let''s spar instead." "Hmm?" Enkrid blinked at the sudden suggestion. "You''ve got that look again¡ªthe one that says you''re about to spiral into madness. A good spar should help." Enkrid smiled faintly. Sparring with Rem proved therapeutic, allowing him to test new techniques in a refreshing, enjoyable bout. Two days later, the camp underwent its first full-scale training under Enkrid''s leadership as the newly appointed Training Company Commander. Even the heavy-armored first company participated, their disgruntled expressions revealing their disdain for the drill. Unlike other units, their rigorous training was considered unparalleled, and some resented being grouped with others. Enkrid, standing atop the platform, remained unfazed, his focus solely on the task at hand. The murmurs of discontent were irrelevant to him¡ªhe had a job to do. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Your support is apreciated! https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 220 - Hmm, not bad. Chapter 220 - 220 - Hmm, not bad. The Count of Molsen had three wives and six mistresses¡ªa detail unremarkable for a noble of his time. He had sired numerous children, far surpassing even the royal family in number. Yet, to his dismay, not a single one fully satisfied his expectations. Life rarely unfolded as planned. "Let me handle it," one of his sons offered. The Count turned from his seat in the carriage, meeting his son''s eyes. There was jealousy and anger in them, unmistakable even in the dim light. Was it because of a simple reprimand? Or had this son, like others, grown envious of the rising name of Enkrid¡ªa name now whispered as far as the royal capital? Envy was natural, but to wear it so openly... "He''s a capable fighter," the Count mused. "But lacking elsewhere." The boy lacked the judgment to discern when to crush his emotions and when to unleash them. At best, he could serve as a loyal guard, nothing more. This disappointment was yet another reminder of why the Count had ceased seeking to expand his line. Still, when his son spoke of handling Enkrid, the Count reflected, "Were it me, I wouldn''t waste my time hating him. I''d make him an ally." There was one thing, however, that gave the Count pause. "You didn''t meet his eyes, did you?" The son blinked, bewildered by the question. "No." The Count chuckled. "Thought so. His eyes...they tell a story." He paused, mulling over his next words. "He wanted to fight me." "What? That''s absurd!" the son snapped, bristling with indignation. "And why not?" the Count retorted. Deep down, even he felt a spark of curiosity¡ªa desire to test himself against Enkrid''s raw determination and fiery gaze. That kind of fervor ignited a fighter''s instinct in anyone worth their salt. But no, such a clash could never happen. A man like him couldn''t afford to indulge in reckless duels. Giving others what they want too easily was a surefire way to lose control. "Interesting fellow," he thought. "But one I can''t leave unchecked." The Count''s mind turned to the matter of control. To bring a man like Enkrid into his fold, debts of the heart worked best. What kind of debt would bind him? "What of the southern beasts?" his son asked, jolting the Count from his thoughts. The Count dismissed the question with a wave. "Leave them." The creatures ravaging the southern lands were the reason for his current expedition. While some had been culled, others had been left untouched. Inevitably, the Border Guard would face the beasts and, when they struggled, they would have no choice but to request his aid. It was only a matter of time. "And those who move under cover of night?" The Count''s eyes gleamed. His son referred to the infamous assassins of Geor''s Daggers. They had infiltrated the Border Guard¡ªa piece of information the Count had ensured would reach him. Before the conversation could continue, the driver called out. "Someone blocks the road ahead. What are your orders?" "Stop." If someone had the gall to halt the Count of Molsen''s carriage in the northern lands of Fen-Hanil, they were either foolish or bold. The Count suspected the latter. When the carriage stopped, the figure ahead was shrouded entirely in black. "Brazen," thought the Count, stepping to the door of his carriage. "Who are you?" "Geor''s Daggers," came the curt reply. The son erupted in outrage, leaping from the carriage with a litany of curses. But the assassin stood still, unfazed by the tirade. "What''s your business?" the Count asked, calm and composed. "To deliver a message." Unperturbed, the assassin spoke their piece, ignoring the son''s fuming presence. But when the son drew his sword, the air grew tense. Ching! "Cut off an arm first, then we''ll talk," the son declared, his voice heavy with disdain. Though renowned within his territory for his skill, he was far from a match for the likes of Geor''s Daggers. Yet, the assassin standing boldly in their path exuded confidence¡ªa dangerous, unshakable confidence. "Enough," the Count said sharply. The son''s jaw clenched, his frustration visible as he stepped back. "I need someone in the Border Guard eliminated," the Count continued. Assassins such as these thrived on death and shadows, so it was fitting to meet them on their terms. Yet, deep down, this was a test. Would Enkrid survive even against such odds? Half of the Count''s intention was to gauge the man''s strength; the other half was to rid himself of an increasingly inconvenient thorn. "Who?" "Enkrid." "Impossible." "...What?" The assassin rejected the task without hesitation. The bluntness of the refusal gave the Count pause. Did even this shadow-dweller know Enkrid''s name? It wouldn''t be surprising, given the recent buzz surrounding him. "He doesn''t have to die," the Count offered. "Impossible." The response was as firm as before, without the slightest trace of deliberation. The Count raised an eyebrow. He knew assassins as mercenaries of death who would do anything for the right price. Yet here was one turning him down flat, as if gold and glory meant nothing. "Are you afraid?" he taunted. But the assassin didn''t flinch. "Impossible," he repeated. Realizing the futility of pressing further, the Count changed his approach. "Then just investigate him. Find out if he has family, allies, or possessions. Learn why he''s there, what he wants, and how he operates. Do you understand?" The assassin, still cloaked in black, hesitated before nodding. "I''ll send someone on the second of each month. Exchange information for payment then," the assassin said, his tone cool and detached. "Don''t overreach," the Count warned. "You lot live on blood. Don''t forget your place." To the son, it sounded like the Count was standing up for him. But to the assassin, it felt more like a demand for precision¡ªa reminder not to fail. Without another word, the shadowy figure withdrew into the darkness. The Count climbed back into his carriage. "Father," his son began. "Control yourself," the Count interrupted. "Revealing your emotions recklessly does you no favors." As the carriage rolled away, the assassin stood silently, watching until it disappeared into the distance. Finally, he removed his mask, exhaling as if relieved. "It''s been a while," he muttered, his breath catching on the cool night air. The full-body attire felt stifling after years of fighting with his face exposed. "How strange," he thought. Living in relative comfort had softened him. The battlefield, with its unflinching honesty, had been different. There, fights were straightforward and brutal¡ªexcept when he struck from the shadows, swift and final. As his thoughts drifted, a figure approached, joining him on the path to the city. "What was it like?" she asked. It was the woman from the brothel, his occasional lover and a master of gathering information. She led a network of spies, all of them adept in their trade. "Like a snake," he replied. His instincts told him that the Count was calculating, dangerous, and coiled with deceit. "Not great, then," she remarked dryly. "Did you find out anything?" he asked. She nodded. The two walked in tandem, exchanging quiet words. "There''s a connection. At least, that''s what I suspect." Not every contract came through Geor''s Daggers. And as things stood, he wasn''t in a position to accept just any job. But the clues tied to this one struck a nerve. He had nearly abandoned his search until this lead reignited his purpose. Revenge. That was why he was here. The information pointed toward his goal, a resolution he had been chasing for years. "They''re asking you to kill that Company Commander," she said after a moment. "I refused," he replied. "Was that wise?" she asked, her tone probing. The Count, often referred to as the Grand Duke of the North, bore a title that stopped at Earl. This limitation wasn''t due to a lack of merit but stemmed from the royal family''s watchful restraint. Yet, in strength and influence, he was every bit a Grand Duke. In truth, if the Count ever resolved to strike, even Geor''s Daggers would find him an imposing adversary. Such was the nature of a great noble governing an entire territory. "That''s not my concern," Jaxen replied curtly. The woman accompanying him nodded internally. Indeed, this was how he''d always been¡ªindifferent to anything outside his narrow focus. He had often claimed that his Company Commander was losing his mind. But was Jaxen himself much different? "I''m off," Jaxen announced, stepping toward the city. "Visit more often," the woman called after him. He didn''t reply. Though Geor''s Daggers had taken on the mission, it wasn''t out of loyalty to the Count. There was information to be gleaned¡ªknowledge that could tip the scales. Jaxen didn''t feel burdened by the task. He''d briefly considered informing his Commander in advance but quickly dismissed the idea. There wasn''t much to report, after all. "No family. Obsessed with swords. Dreams of knighthood," he thought. Ridiculous as it sounded, some people simply lived that way. From the outside, Enkrid''s ambitions might appear delusional. After all, he was little more than a former mercenary who had clawed his way up to a Company Commander''s rank. Yet, those who worked closely with Enkrid saw him differently. Even Marcus seemed to have come around to his vision. Jaxen grumbled to himself. This city was full of lunatics. Still, he had made his choice. It was time to blend into their midst, becoming less of an assassin and more of a sly alley cat¡ªa soldier guarding the battlefield and a subordinate assisting his mad Commander. Because if left unchecked, that madman would undoubtedly wreak havoc again. "The Grand Duke''s position is simple," Krais explained at length. "He wants a ducal title. But the royal family refused. And why? According to the Count, it''s because they''re trying to marginalize him." "Why would they do that?" "They''re afraid he might seize the throne. And the Count''s response? If they''re too weak to keep it, they deserve to lose it. It''s the natural order of things, he says." Krais leaned back, mimicking the Count''s mocking tone. "But the royal family remains silent, hiding behind their laws. ''It''s for the good of Naurilia,'' they claim. ''If you want the title, earn it.'' It''s all for show. Anyone who knows court politics knows the Count''s true ambitions." "Strange," Enkrid mused. "The nobles in the Border Guard seem oblivious to all of this." "They''re fools," Krais replied bluntly. Enkrid nodded. These were nobles in name only, clinging to minor titles and ignorant of real power. Recently, one such noble had met their end at the hands of Rem''s axe, their soul sent to heaven¡ªor perhaps hell. Officially, it was said they were killed by bandits, perhaps the infamous Black Blade. But sharper minds suspected Marcus might have had a hand in it. Enkrid didn''t concern himself with such speculations. What intrigued him was the Count himself. He had spent years honing his skills, refining his Isolation Technique, and sharpening his instincts under Jaxen''s guidance. "The son..." The Count''s heir failed to stir his fighting spirit. But the Count? The moment Enkrid saw him, his competitive nature ignited. The Count''s body was like tempered steel, honed and unyielding. But his eyes... "A mage." It wasn''t often that Enkrid encountered magic users. Still, they existed. Even Rem, who could transform into a leopard, wasn''t exactly human. That wasn''t a secret¡ªat least, not to Esther. She seemed unconcerned by it, though Enkrid had noticed long before it was ever mentioned. Esther had once teased him: "Even during baths?" Mages pursued the arcane, walking paths of mystery and secrecy. They had little regard for the trivialities of physical contact. Enkrid, never one to dwell on such things, let it pass. Lately, though, Esther had been curling up in his arms less frequently. She claimed she no longer needed it as much as before. It didn''t bother him. Not really. "What are you doing?" Rem''s voice cut through his idle thoughts. Enkrid had been lost in them, overseeing the company''s grueling training regimen. From his perch, he observed the soldiers returning from their drills. "Are they back?" "Yeah, they''re back," Rem said with a mischievous grin. Rem, as always, seemed to thrive on others'' suffering. "Did everyone run the full course?" Enkrid studied the soldiers and thought grimly, Their stamina is pitiful. A strong heart was the foundation of everything. For a full week, the soldiers had done nothing but run. Armed, armored, and exhausted, they ran from dawn until dusk. The first company suffered the most. "First Company''s training is different from yours," some had boasted early on. It hadn''t taken long for those same soldiers to turn pale and drop their bravado. "That''s unfair! We should all wear light armor!" someone protested. The First Company had to run fully armed, with heavy gear. Hearing this, Rem''s grin widened. He bolted to the protestor''s side¡ªa soldier who had been particularly vocal at the start. Enkrid had warned Rem to avoid unnecessary violence. "Train them, don''t break them," he''d said. But as a drill instructor, Rem relished moments like these. "Unfair, huh? Then transfer to Second Company! Weren''t you bragging about how your training was tougher? Where''s that pride now?" The soldier quickly averted his gaze, knowing full well that Rem wouldn''t hesitate to resort to force. "Not bad," Enkrid thought, watching from his post. Things seemed to be progressing well. If anything, he wondered if the training wasn''t intense enough. Such was the thinking of a Commander with his own unyielding standards¡ªone who had endured far worse and expected the same of his men. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Your support is apreciated! https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 221 - Having Endured the Time of Training Chapter 221 - 221 - Having Endured the Time of Training When Enkrid stood alone on the platform, he noticed something in the soldiers'' eyes¡ªsomething akin to resentment. "If you run back, at least pretend to rest for a bit. Makes it easier on them, trust me," Rem advised. Following his lead, the soldiers complied. Did it motivate them to keep running? Who could say? "Listen here, grinding people down is my specialty," Rem boasted. Enkrid didn''t argue; he simply let the man do his thing. And admittedly, Rem wasn''t wrong¡ªhe had a knack for pushing people to their limits. Otherwise, how could the soldiers'' eyes carry such a haunted, almost fiendish look after only a week of training? The soldiers, drenched from the unrelenting rain, ran into the parade ground. The downpour only heightened the eerie glow in their stares. Rain poured steadily, a minor annoyance to Enkrid. "Not bad," he thought, noticing the fire in their eyes. Their sheer determination as they ran made an impression on him. It wasn''t just about standing idle on the platform anymore. Even before this routine, Enkrid had always been a training fanatic, his hands often bloodied from endless drills with his sword. Now wasn''t much different. If anything, it was harder for him to restrain his own urges. Memories of the Count Molsen spurred him, making him long to swing his sword. Beyond personal training, Enkrid subjected his body to grueling regimens both on and off the platform. "This is borderline absurd," muttered Krais, who had been quietly observing. But this relentless intensity was what defined Enkrid. He was pleased by the fierceness in his soldiers'' eyes and satisfied with his own progress. "Time to wield your weapons," he finally commanded. After a week of relentless running, the soldiers were now allowed to train with their arms. No formations, no drills¡ªnone of that. Those weren''t Enkrid''s forte. Instead, his focus was on further developing their foundational abilities. From afar, Marcus observed the training, his expression a mix of bemusement and pity. "All I did was give him a title," Marcus remarked. "Why''s he so dedicated?" Beside him, his adjutant nodded. "Indeed." "Any deserters?" The adjutant hesitated before replying, "It''s... clear they''d like to, but..." "Like to?" Marcus prompted. "They don''t seem to have the energy left for it," the adjutant finished. It was true. Without the strength to flee, even escaping was impossible. Such was the nature of Enkrid''s training. To Marcus, it was clear that Enkrid enjoyed the admiration and praise of others. Yet, above that, he was someone wholly committed to his goals. Enkrid pursued his aspirations with single-minded determination, heedless of others'' opinions. "What must I do to become a knight?" The answer was simple: hone one''s swordsmanship. And so, Enkrid did. Every day, without fail. It was hard not to respect him for that. But now, Marcus wondered, What is driving him so hard now? Had he been waiting for the title of Training Company Commander all along? Watching Enkrid, it seemed like he enjoyed both admiration and hostility in equal measure. "Or does he simply take pleasure in tormenting others?" The thought was not unwarranted. Marcus sighed with relief at not having to join them down below. *** Bell had a history with Enkrid. The man had saved Bell''s life, and since then, their paths had crossed multiple times. For that reason, Bell thought: "He''ll go easy on them." Surely Enkrid wouldn''t expect others to endure the same brutal regimen he himself underwent. He would keep it reasonable. That belief crumbled within two days. The tower of faith Bell had built in Enkrid came crashing down without a trace. "Haah, hah... huff..." Bell''s breath was ragged, his lungs burning. "If you fall behind, you''ll get hit," came the cheerful voice of Rem from behind. Rem, grinning from ear to ear, casually swung his axe through the air. Though he hadn''t struck anyone yet, it was clear that getting caught would result in punishment worse than running. "You''d better run, eh?" Initially, the training had been limited to laps around the parade ground. Now, however, they were being chased uphill by the mad axeman. Those who lagged behind quickly learned that getting hit was far worse than simply running harder. "Want to kill me? Then do it! Sneak attack, ambush, whatever¡ªbring it on!" Rem taunted, laughing uproariously. Several soldiers twitched at his words, their shoulders trembling with restrained rage. Bell wasn''t one of them. He didn''t have the energy. After climbing several hills at full sprint, the parade ground loomed ahead. "Pick up your weapons," Enkrid ordered. The next stage was simple: repeat the basics. "If you want a break, fight me and last five moves," Rem added, smirking devilishly. "Once you''ve proven your skill, you can rest." This offer enticed a few to challenge the golden-haired swordsman. His name was Ragna. At first glance, he seemed approachable, even mild-mannered. But in practice... WHAM! CRACK! The wooden sword moved so fast it was barely visible. If it had been a real blade¡ªno, even a blunt iron sword¡ªthere was no doubt about it. "I''d be dead." Ragna glanced indifferently at the unconscious soldier sprawled on the ground. "Weaklings," he remarked coldly. Weak? No, dammit. It wasn''t that they were weak; it was that he was absurdly strong. Bell clenched his teeth, words of protest rising in his throat but swallowed them down. "If you''re pissed, come at me. Please, I''m begging you," said the grinning mad axeman, taunting the group. Bell''s excitement drained instantly. He understood the unspoken message: attack him and you''ll die. The training was straightforward yet brutal. Sprint at full speed all morning, eat lunch, then spend the entire afternoon swinging your weapon with all your might. Repeating this simple schedule daily was what made it hell. "Is he a devil?" someone muttered before falling asleep. Bell silently agreed. Devil bastard. But as much as he hated them, it was hard to complain. After all, Enkrid himself trained harder, longer, and rougher than the entire group combined. "Come watch the sparring, brothers," Rem would announce with glee, as Enkrid squared off against a burly, devout soldier. "Here comes the mad axeman," someone else would mutter as Rem entered a match. Enkrid fought Ragna, Jaxen, and others in succession. While he gave his all, he rarely emerged victorious. Audin, in particular, made an impression. With a quick kick to Enkrid''s ankle, followed by a spinning strike delivered with startling speed for his size, Audin sent Enkrid flying. Enkrid crashed into a pile of training weapons at the edge of the muddy parade ground. Thud! Head-first into the muck, he landed with a sickening splatter. For a moment, everyone froze, wondering if this was it for him. "Rest when you''re dead," Rem barked, snapping the soldiers out of their daze. Nearby, Jaxen nudged Bell in the ribs with his elbow, silently telling him to keep moving. Though their arms moved automatically, their eyes were glued to the fallen Enkrid. And then, like a demon risen from the pits of hell, Enkrid stood once more. Blood trickled down his cracked skull, and mud dripped from his battered frame. All eyes focused on the sludge clinging to his arms as it dripped to the ground. Is he okay? That question hovered unspoken among the soldiers. "Hmm, hurts a bit," he muttered, brushing off the concern. He''s insane, Bell thought. A madman devoted to the sword. A sword lunatic. Bell suppressed the words threatening to escape his lips. "Company Commander, it''s getting harder to keep my guard loose, especially with how recklessly you''re fighting," Ragna commented dryly after a particularly harsh bout. Scenes like this became routine. At first, they shocked Bell and the others. Then they became disturbing. After a month, they adapted. By late summer, as autumn approached, the grueling cycle of relentless training¡ªwith only a half-day of rest every ten days¡ªwas suddenly interrupted. "Reports say the number of beasts in the area has increased," said the Battalion Commander. "They''ve spotted fanged horse-beasts. We''ll be organizing an extermination operation." The Second Company Commander led the charge. "Hah, does that mean no training today?" asked Lieutenant Vengeance, a fierce gleam in his eye and a palpable intensity radiating from him. In just two months, he had transformed. "We''ll be fighting all day. Wouldn''t you agree?" Bell replied, his tone equally sharp. Bell had changed, too. Anything less, and he might have deserted already. Dying during training would have been the ultimate mockery. "Let''s start by taking down those rabid beasts," Vengeance said, brandishing his longbow. With his increased strength, he''d earned a new bow¡ªlarger, sturdier, and stronger than his last. The same was true for the archers under his command, all now equipped with superior gear. Marcus hadn''t spared any expense on their armaments, which was one thing Bell appreciated. Entrusting training to a mad commander, however, had been a different story. "There!" A three-man scouting team reported a group of beasts approaching. While most beastly transformations occurred in carnivores, herbivorous beasts occasionally became threats, too. And the most troublesome of them all? Horses. Fanged horses, capable of turning their sheer speed and mass into weapons, were terrifying adversaries. "Over ten of them!" At the scout''s report, the Second Company Commander barked, "Archers, ready!" Vengeance responded instantly, leading his unit to take position. He was a commander who led by example. "Fire!" With the command, Vengeance pulled back his bowstring. The sinew string creaked, his bow groaning under the strain. Gone were the days when their muscles screamed in protest. After all, they had spent the past two months training alongside a demon far worse than any fanged horse. Now, it was time to see if it had all been worth it. *** The arrows flew, one embedding itself into the skull of a charging horse-beast. The crisp sound of the arrow cutting through the air was followed by a satisfying thud as it struck its mark, the beast''s head exploding on impact. The monstrous horse tumbled and rolled to the ground. Vengeance felt an odd sensation wash over him¡ªa new awareness of control over his muscles, each fiber responding to his will. His grueling training had not only enhanced his strength and stamina but also granted him a clarity of focus he''d never known before. "One more shot." Even as the next wave of beasts charged, he could assess the situation calmly. "Fire!" As he drew his bow, the head of another horse-beast seemed to fill his vision, every detail vivid and clear. Releasing the string, he watched his arrow streak toward its target. Thwack! The volley from his unit was perfectly synchronized. Within moments, over ten beasts lay dead, their bodies riddled with arrows. The air was filled with the shrieks of the dying beasts. "We''ve got more incoming!" There was no time for celebration as another wave¡ªthis one a dozen strong¡ªdescended upon them, closing the distance too fast for another volley of arrows. "Engage!" The Second Company Commander''s order rang out, and the clash between man and beast began. Two months wasn''t enough to turn ordinary soldiers into masters, but the rigorous training had undeniably changed them. Bell felt it too¡ªhis body was lighter, stronger. Compared to Enkrid, the horse-beasts felt manageable. "Kill them!" "Take them down!" "Slice them to bits!" Battle cries erupted as soldiers pierced beastly heads and hacked at their toughened muscles. Spears thrust forward, and glaives¡ªloot from past victories¡ªwhirled through the air. The Second Company Commander himself wielded a glaive with unparalleled strength, its blade severing a charging horse''s foreleg with a clean strike. Splat! Violet blood sprayed from the wound. The distinct colors of beast blood¡ªblack for monsters, and blue or purple for beasts¡ªpainted the battlefield. Despite the ferocity of the fight, it was over quickly. One soldier, drenched in beast blood, muttered incredulously, "Why were they so easy?" It was a sincere question. There had been no real sense of danger. A piercing whistle split the air as a griffin dove into the fray. The beast, more dangerous than its lesser kin, was an upper-tier monster in its own right. But it was alone. Vengeance'' archers peppered its wings with arrows, crippling its ability to fly. The rest of the company swarmed the grounded beast, cutting it down with practiced precision. After the skirmish, the soldiers exchanged knowing glances. There was no denying it¡ªthey had grown stronger. The Border Guard Regulars had always been seasoned warriors, but now they stood on a new level. *** As they returned to camp, Enkrid greeted them with his usual deadpan intensity. "We haven''t run today, have we?" It wasn''t a question; it was a command. Bell, who had been reflecting on how far he''d come, finally snapped. "You''ve got to be kidding me, you bastard!" His outburst came unbidden, a natural reaction to the absurdity of Enkrid''s expectations. "Sounds like a sparring request to me," Rem chimed in, adhering to his own twisted rule: complaints equaled challenges. "Been a while, Bell," Enkrid said with a nod. There was no way to back down now. Pleas for leniency wouldn''t work. If he was going to fight, it would have to be with everything he had. Later that day, as dusk approached, Krais came to Enkrid with unexpected news. "We have our first visitor," he announced. Although Enkrid never grew tired of training, the idea of someone seeking him out brought a spark of excitement. "Quite the heavyweight, too," Krais added as they headed toward the marketplace. The guest awaited at Vanessa''s Pumpkin Inn. As Krais had promised, spreading rumors had worked¡ªthose who heard them didn''t need invitations. They came on their own. At the inn''s sparring yard stood a man with a face marked by two prominent scars. One ran across the bridge of his nose, while the other cut deep into his cheek. His presence radiated menace. The weapon in his hands matched his aura: a spiked morningstar, its wicked spikes and sheer weight oozing lethality. "I''m Ivarn," the man introduced himself, his deep voice steady and firm. "Mercenary Ivarn," Krais added from behind. "A city-class powerhouse with the nickname ''Constraining Ivarn.''" "My nickname sounds flashier," Enkrid remarked dryly, earning a shrug from Krais. "Flashy names attract attention, just like flowers attract bees and butterflies." Indeed, the moniker "Soldier Who Ended the War" was the kind of title that made people seek him out¡ªa calculated move on Enkrid''s part. As he approached the scarred mercenary, Ivarn spoke first. "Let''s see what you''ve got." Enkrid nodded. The challenge was accepted. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Your support is apreciated! https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 222 - The Soldier Who Ended the War Chapter 222 - 222 - The Soldier Who Ended the War ''Whatever rumors they''ve spread...'' Enkrid could sense something unsettling in the eyes of the man before him. This wasn''t just someone testing his skill in a friendly spar. The look in those eyes betrayed greed¡ªa hunger born of self-serving desire. "The Soldier Who Ended the War, huh? Don''t you think that''s a bit arrogant?" The mercenary, Ivarn, raised his morningstar as he spoke, his tone laced with hostility. His posture and demeanor were unmistakable¡ªa predator sizing up its prey. His body language seemed to say, "This weapon can crush your skull, you know?" Yet Enkrid remained unmoved, standing in place and answering plainly, "Perhaps." "Confident in your skills, I take it?" Ivarn looked like he was about to charge immediately, but his hesitation betrayed an attempt to gauge his opponent. Enkrid disliked this tactic. "Somewhat," he replied nonchalantly. The lack of concern in his tone made Ivarn''s brow furrow. "You cocky bastard," Ivarn spat, his insult deliberate and calculated to provoke. It was a common tactic to unsettle one''s opponent¡ªa trick Enkrid himself had often employed in the past. Back then, Enkrid had relied on his sharp tongue as much as his sword to survive. "RAAAH!" Ivarn could take no more. He surged forward, swinging his morningstar with all his might. So this was Constraining Ivarn, a city-class powerhouse? The mercenary''s approach was laughably slow¡ªby Enkrid''s standards, at least. Compared to someone like Rem, Ivarn might as well have been standing still. Still, Enkrid didn''t intend to take this lightly. If he fought, he would do so with everything he had. That was the principle he lived by¡ªalways giving his best, no matter the circumstance. It was the only way he had managed to reach where he stood today. ''Appearances can be deceiving,'' he reminded himself. This might all be part of a larger tactic. Feigning weakness to lull an opponent into a false sense of security was a staple of mercenary combat. As the morningstar descended, Enkrid stepped to the side, his left foot sliding smoothly out of harm''s way. Spinning his body, he drew his sword in a single motion. Ching! The blade gleamed as it sliced through the air. Ivarn, realizing too late that he''d overextended, tried to recover his swing. The weight and momentum of his morningstar made it impossible, causing his movement to falter. "Ugh!" The scar-faced mercenary grunted as he abandoned his weapon and threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding Enkrid''s blade. The sword cut through empty air, intentionally so. Enkrid wasn''t about to let his guard down, suspecting that Ivarn might feign retreat only to launch a surprise attack. But nothing came. ''Why isn''t he charging?'' It wasn''t as though Enkrid had left himself wide open, but the opportunity was there if Ivarn had the skill to exploit it. "Let''s do this barehanded," Ivarn suddenly declared, abandoning his weapon entirely. Enkrid immediately sensed the truth. ''An empty shell.'' Later, he would learn that Ivarn''s nickname, Constraining Ivarn, stemmed from his renowned grip strength. But against Enkrid¡ªwhose arms had been honed to iron through the Isolation Technique¡ªthose vaunted hands left little more than faint marks on his skin. When Enkrid responded in kind, snapping Ivarn''s wrist with a brutal twist, the mercenary howled in agony. "AAAAH!" It was over. Ivarn''s reputation was a lie, built on hollow boasts and the ignorance of others. "Hmm." Krais, who had been watching from the sidelines, let out a low hum. A few of the Second Company''s soldiers had gathered to observe, curious about the so-called first challenger. Rem shook his head, unimpressed. "Only idiots are going to show up at this rate." Jaxen said nothing. Neither did Ragna nor Audin. What had been intended as a way to attract worthy opponents had, so far, only brought a fraud. "Are we done here?" Enkrid asked, turning to Ivarn. "No! No more!" Ivarn stammered, his bravado shattered. Enkrid thought briefly that even Bell might have handled this fight. With a slight shrug, he turned away. "Don''t be too discouraged," Krais said with a shrug. "They say every great journey starts in the village. You can''t expect perfection from the first bite." It was an old Eastern saying: One can''t be full from the first mouthful. Enkrid nodded absently, his mind elsewhere. He thought of Rem, wild and feral. Of Jaxen, whose indifference masked a deadly edge. Of Ragna, whose skill in both swordplay and strategy made him formidable. Of Audin, a natural powerhouse with extraordinary physical control. Each of them had pushed him to grow in different ways. And yet, he craved something new¡ªa hunger that drove him forward, searching for what was missing. It was an instinctive need, as natural as breathing. This, however? ''An empty shell.'' A disappointment, perhaps, but not one that could truly dampen Enkrid''s spirit. He was a man of patience, capable of enduring far worse than this. "It''s fine," he muttered to himself. Of the next five challengers who came seeking him, four were no different¡ªfools who sought to claim his reputation for their own. "If I beat you, do I get to be company commander?" "Is that how you fight? You look trained, but you''re lacking something." "You''re not drawing your sword? If I kill you, don''t blame me." And so it went. Enkrid sprinkled his own seasoning on the table set by Krais, doing things his way. Those who had challenged him with lackluster skills were all left nursing broken limbs. Some had been mercenaries with respectable names, others were wanderers calling themselves swordsmen training for personal growth, and a few were former squires who arrogantly boasted about their past. But the majority were mercenaries, many of whom sought the title of The Soldier Who Ended the War for themselves. Seven more challengers arrived after, but there was nothing of value to learn from them. Most of them were pathetic, worse than actual soldiers. Among them, the only somewhat decent opponent was a beastman named Barakal. Barakal was a member of the beastkin, whose human speech was clumsy but who possessed exceptional physical abilities. He was one of the rare few Enkrid could consider a real challenge. The beastmen used claws¡ªblades extending from their knuckles¡ªas weapons, and they were adept at using them in unpredictable ways. He would often raise his knees to distract his opponents, slashing downward with his claws, or lower his stance and charge at them from below. It was clear that such attacks were made possible by his natural athleticism. Enkrid studied his movements, learning from the experience. It wasn''t a bad session at all. Even if the day was not repeated, the time spent absorbing, testing, and training had its value. Without any threats or walls in the way, Enkrid continued to live as if he were repeating today, striving to always do his best. Rem, on the other hand, was relentlessly hounding Dunbakel. It wasn''t just teasing anymore¡ªit was full-on torment. "If you don''t do this right, you''re going to die, beastman." At first, it had been in jest, but now it was a matter of life and death. How else would you handle it? Dunbakel, like the others, seemed to lack the discipline to properly harness his power. So, what was the solution? Push him to the edge of a cliff, and he would instinctively exert himself to avoid falling. And that was exactly what Rem did. As he fought, he also reflected on something. ''She has potential.'' Her natural physical abilities were extraordinary. She had a certain quickness and instinct when it came to physical combat. But she was far from Enkrid''s level. The difference in willpower and endurance was clear. "I''m done for..." After a few more rounds of brutal training, Dunbakel collapsed, half-conscious. If she had any endurance or willpower, it would have paled in comparison to Enkrid''s. Rem, now thinking about Enkrid, felt a shift in his thoughts. He realized that Enkrid''s abilities had grown significantly. He was no longer someone who could be handled easily, even for Rem. A small slip-up could lead to disaster. As he considered Enkrid''s progress, a word came to mind: "A knight." The path Enkrid was walking was one that, in a way, Rem had walked before. Of course, it wasn''t the same kind of knight the continent typically referred to. Rem''s tribe had their own interpretation of what it meant to be a knight. Lately, Rem had been feeling more reflective than usual, which was why he was pushing Dunbakel so harshly. He needed to push the others, so that he could push himself as well. That was how Rem worked¡ªthrough pressure and trial. "Are you crazy? Lying down? Sleeping? Are you seriously sleeping in the middle of training?" He yelled, forcing Dunbakel to struggle back to her feet. In Rem''s mind, he could easily believe someone would say he was a demon, risen from the depths of the cursed lands. *** The Soldier Who Ended the War. "That bastard, it''s him." In the northern part of Pen-Hanil, a member of the cult of the Sacred Place muttered this in a small pub, while scheming in the back. The pub was empty for the most part, as it was early in the day. On the table in front of the cult member was a drawing of Enkrid''s face. ''He''s the one who''s been constantly interfering with our plans.'' The one who had destroyed the colony in the frontier village and killed the inquisitors. The one who had killed the manticores and their handlers, sent by them to assassinate him. ''He''s a nuisance.'' The cult''s member made a decision. Coincidentally, this nuisance had spread strange rumors about himself, asking people to come find him. "Go kill him," the cult leader commanded. A simple task¡ªdestroying a colony was nothing to them. Their power was more than enough to do that. But they had power that surpassed even that. The cult member''s command was answered by a woman sitting across the table. She was large, with shoulders broader than most men and thighs like tree trunks. Her eyes were narrow, making her pupils nearly invisible, and her lips were even thinner. A warrior raised by the cult of the Sacred Place, she had no talent for magic but had climbed to her current position purely through her physical prowess. "Yes," she said, rising from her seat. She looked like a giant, and her true strength came from the blood of giants flowing through her veins. The cult had conducted experiments on her, infusing her with giant blood. If it weren''t for Will, her physical abilities and combat prowess could be considered on par with a knight. She would have no trouble killing Enkrid. There was no need for an assassin¡ªshe would take care of it herself. And if he wanted to die fighting, she would grant him that, too. The Black Blade Bandits understood the importance of reputation more than anything else. "We can''t just leave things at being beaten and retreating, can we? If we back off, we can''t just quietly slip away either." Marcus had already taken care of the matter within the Black Blade main group. And one of the Black Blade thieves had also been involved in similar dealings as the cult. ''What if we kill the one Marcus put forward?'' There were many nobles with connections all the way to the capital. Enkrid''s fate was intertwined with them. This matter would shrink Marcus''s standing. It was all about fulfilling contracts. If necessary, Marcus might even have to be killed. But before that, the one who first took action would be dealt with. As they thought this, the hidden figure in the border guard began doing something strange. The rumors about the soldier who ended the war had reached this place too. "Is he trying to provoke us into a fight?" There were many skilled fighters within the Black Blade Bandits. The main group decided to send one of them. A man with brown hair and an unremarkable appearance. His nickname was "Swallow Blade." It was given because of the impressive way he wielded his sword with one hand. "He''ll do the job." He was a madman who took pleasure in the act of murder, often grinning as he drove his sword into someone''s throat. "Let''s go." The Black Blade Bandits'' leader sent Swallow Blade on the mission. Swallow Blade was originally from a squire background. He was known as a tragic genius who had been cast out after committing too many murders. Had he not joined the Black Blade Bandits, he would have likely been dead by now. ''I''ve spent a lot of gold keeping him around.'' The nobles they intended to kill had been coerced, and much krona had been spent hiding them and providing what was needed. The reason they sharpened their blades was to use them, after all. This time, it was necessary to do so. But they weren''t the only ones sending people. Several had moved under the banner of Count Molsen as well. "Doing something fun, huh? Isn''t there a warrior who can prove the Count''s blade is greater than his?" At the Count''s request, his two sons and a warrior set out. One of them was the very man who had been defeated by Enkrid in the past. "I''ll go." The son wasn''t stopped. Whether it was a positive or negative impression, it was important for them to make their presence known. This wasn''t the end, though. Even places completely unrelated to Count Molsen, the Black Blade, or the cult had heard of Enkrid. "Has he really grown that much?" This came from a man who had once served as a rapier swordsman guarding the Rockfreed merchant group. He absentmindedly stroked his mustache, a gesture he had done many times before. Now, it was gone completely. The lack of a mustache made his hand feel empty. "Apparently." After finishing his business, he found himself with some free time. ''Should I visit?'' He hadn''t expected much growth from Enkrid, but if he had indeed improved significantly, perhaps there was more to him. Maybe he had even sold his soul to some demon. But he couldn''t just leave it at that. There was a genuine curiosity about how Enkrid had changed. It was on his way, after all. "Should I go around?" One of his subordinates spoke up. The rapier swordsman paused and looked at the map for a moment before replying. "Isn''t it on the way?" The subordinate thought for a second and nodded. "Yes, I guess it is." They all nodded in agreement. Considering the man''s stature and authority, no one would dare oppose him. It would be a good way to clear his head. The man began to walk, curious about how Enkrid had changed. After knocking down Ibarn, many mercenaries came looking for Enkrid. At first, he would accept anyone, but now things were different. *** "This seems pointless. I''ll only fight after they''ve at least beaten someone like Bell." Krais, who had been watching, made the suggestion, and it was followed. "Next!" During training, it wasn''t just Bell, but several other soldiers stepped up. Though some soldiers lost, higher-ranked ones would take their place. "If that''s all you''ve got, you''re no match!" The second platoon leader, with a sword wound on his cheek, shouted. "Woah!" "Just as expected!" "Palto! Palto!" Such cheers were now a regular occurrence. The innkeeper, Allen, who had been confused at first, now found this all quite routine. "Extra beer!" He was busy serving drinks to those who came to watch. Life seemed uneventful for the most part. Then, a warrior who had defeated Palto, the second platoon leader, appeared. "I haven''t heard your name before, but your skill is impressive. And you''re a woman." The female warrior stood before Enkrid. Behind the inn, in the training area, many local merchants had gathered to watch. "A giant?" Enkrid asked, eyeing the opponent. He had never seen someone taller than Audin, and the fact that it was a woman made it even more surprising. "Mixed blood." The woman responded in a husky voice, but her femininity was still clear. Enkrid raised his sword. He held it with the tip pointing upward, and his weight was centered on the middle of his feet. His instincts told him this would be no easy fight. The woman also raised her weapon. A sword and a shield made of solid iron. Just the sight of her weapon revealed her incredible strength. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Your support is apreciated! https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 223 - The Gentleman Who Was Smacked by the Lady Chapter 223 - 223 - The Gentleman Who Was Smacked by the Lady No words were needed to begin. Both Enkrid and his opponent had already taken their stances, and that was enough. The woman raised her shield forward. Enkrid thought that his opponent would use a defensive strategy based on the shield, as that''s the effectiveness of wielding a sword and shield. Up until now, those with similar armaments had fought in that way. Experience guided Enkrid''s movements. One step forward. It was a move to take a more advantageous position in the fight. The moment she advanced with his sword raised, the shield expanded. It grew. In an instant, it covered his entire field of vision. ''Damn it.'' A curse involuntarily rose in Enkrid''s mind. There was no time to speak it aloud. Before he knew it, the gray steel wall was right in front of him. Everything else disappeared from view. In a split second, Enkrid crossed his arms in front of his chest and face, taking a defensive stance while still holding his sword. Bang! The gray steel wall slammed into his forearms. The impact shook his vision, and a second jolt followed as his back hit the ground. Reflexively, his slammed her left hand onto the ground to execute a roll, something akin to a breakfall. It was all thanks to the relentless practice of the Balaf-style martial arts. Though his insides twisted with nausea, his didn''t vomit. The strike had come at an unexpected timing, and it was a heavy blow. Thrown backward, his back hit the ground, causing her to fall awkwardly. "Ha!" Enkrid exhaled sharply and took a deep breath, trying to recover from the shock. He attempted to rise quickly, but there was no time. Something flew over hisr head with a swoosh. She didn''t have time to confirm what it was. Of course, he didn''t have a moment to catch his breath either. Feeling a sharp tightness in his chest, Enkrid swung his sword upward while half-lying on his back. Clang! As his struck, his right foot slammed into the ground and he rolled to the side. He couldn''t deliver a proper overhead strike. His posture, position, and timing had all been taken from him, so it was unavoidable. Attempting to deflect the blow with a half-hearted swipe of the sword, he was only partially successful. His sword veered off, but he couldn''t block the follow-up attack. The opponent let her sword pass by and used her foot. It felt like a mace was coming right at her face. ''Steel boots.'' The sight of the iron boots flashing before his eyes was unmistakable. Thunk! The toe of the boot struck his chest. He was knocked back and rolled, the distance far greater than when he had been knocked by the shield. The shock from the impact had sent him further away. "Ha." While rolling, Enkrid planted his left hand on the ground and used it to propel himself into a quick recovery, flipping back to his feet. "You''ve got some skill." The woman warrior said, already in a defensive posture again, pulling her shield back to cover herself, just as she had at the beginning. That bothered Enkrid. It was hard to find an opening. More than that, her opponent''s combat style was no joke. ''Experienced.'' She knew how to exploit the weaknesses of her opponent through her equipment and stance. That meant she was well-versed in both combat and fighting. Drip. As her foot was struck, a sharp stone may have grazed her forehead, and a drop of blood trickled down to her temple. The blood slowly ran down her cheek and gathered at the tip of her chin before dripping off. That seemed to be the signal. The giant hybrid woman warrior stomped the ground again. Boom! With a noise, the same gray steel wall appeared before him once again. It was a large, round shield made of solid iron, covering half of her body. If swung, it could function as a blunt weapon. Even for a well-trained person, it would be heavy, and unless you were a giant or a frog, it would be hard to handle. It was the same tactic, the same surefire move. How could he block such a wide, fast, and powerful weapon? ''If I can''t block it...'' Then she would dodge. The beast''s heart awakened. A single point of focus created total immersion. With that focus, he opened his eyes and heightened his senses, moving accordingly. Enkrid''s body bent sideways like a shadow stretching along the flickering light of a lamp in the night. The sharp acceleration gave the impression of flowing shadows. At the same time, he aimed at his opponent''s sword arm and slashed down with his sword. It was a heavy, downward strike. Her opponent''s shield also moved, swinging sideways. The shield blocked and pushed forward. The swords clashed. The force of both collided through the blades and shield. Boom! The sound of the collision was deafening. One side awakened the heart of immense strength, while the other carried the blood of giants. It sounded like an explosion spell had gone off, and all the onlookers covered their ears. "Ugh!" "Ack!" Various exclamations filled the air. As Enkrid''s sword struck his opponent''s shield, he saw a blade grazing his side. He twisted his body to avoid it, but the glancing strike was inevitable. It wasn''t a deep wound, but blood flowed. His side quickly became wet. He wore thin leather armor, but his opponent''s blade was sharp. It wasn''t an ordinary weapon. It was at least as sharp as Enkrid''s own sword. Though it appeared to be a heavy and blunt-looking blade, it performed like a razor-sharp weapon. The sword was a modified longsword, and though his opponent''s large body made it look like a typical arming sword, it was far from ordinary. "Fast." His opponent spoke. Her face remained expressionless, as if she didn''t feel any excitement from the fight. ''Strong.'' She fought well, sliced well, and her reflexes were exceptional. Enkrid had hoped to meet someone like this, a worthy opponent outside of Rem, Audin, Ragna, and Jaxen. He felt like he had found a rare gem in a drought. "Ah, let''s do it again." Enkrid couldn''t help but smile. It was a rare expression, one that only appeared when he was truly enjoying herself. "Look at that expression. She probably thinks we''re crazy." It was not an easy opponent. Rem and everyone else recognized it at once. In the midst of it all, Rem spoke while watching his broken leader, who was grinning uncontrollably. "Well, it is disorienting the first time you see it," Rem said. Ragna added to his statement. "He probably didn''t know that''s how they are." Unusually, Jaxen spoke up. "Heh, looks like the brother doesn''t like it." Audin joined in. Rem, too, nodded slightly at his words. Even when he didn''t have the Beast''s Heart, he''d still be like that. Rem had seen it before ¡ª he''d climb up something as decayed as a rotten tree trunk, laughing like that. How long before it breaks? What''s so enjoyable about that? ''Back then, I thought he''d die any moment.'' Before he knew it, they were already behind him. The human who had been far off in the distance was now close enough that a shout could reach them. ''I don''t want to be caught.'' Rem observed the fight, thinking to himself. No matter how he looked at it, the female warrior had come to kill his leader. Should he stop it? In the past, he would have. If this was a battlefield, he would have intervened. But now, he couldn''t do that. This was a human who had carved their own path toward their dream. ''If I stepped in now, they''d resent me terribly, right?'' Of course, if things were close to life-or-death, he would step in. It didn''t seem like he was the only one thinking this way. Ragna, standing beside him, narrowed his stance slightly, and the sly presence of the hidden cat faded. Audin, still chuckling, subtly leaned forward. ''Crazy bastards.'' At least he was the only normal one. His leader was obsessed with fighting, no matter if he lived or died. The rest were all just as abnormal. ''I need to pull myself together. I have to.'' After all, didn''t he almost kill Dunbakel, the beast-woman, to get to this point? ''Beast-women are sturdy.'' There''s satisfaction in beating them. Well, they''d recover quickly. He knew that, so he didn''t hesitate to push her limits. Rem continued to watch the fight. Enkrid had been cut across the side, but he didn''t even seem to feel the pain. Another shield charge came. ''That should split it.'' But it wasn''t going to be easy. Previously, Rem had dodged and looked for openings, but it had been blocked. And now, it was the same. The opponent took a step aside, leaving a faint afterimage behind. At first, it seemed like the same move, but it wasn''t. As the shield followed, Enkrid moved faster than before. He usually used only about half of his Beast''s Heart strength, but now it seemed like he was using his full power. Enkrid''s body sped up. Soon, he had grabbed the back of the hybrid giant''s shoulders, and his sword swung around in a wide arc, following the opponent''s movements. Kkakakakakakakak! As the sword grazed the surface of the gray iron shield, it clashed and bounced repeatedly, sparks flying. For most people, the speed of this exchange would be difficult to even see with the naked eye. Soon after, Enkrid''s blade grazed his opponent''s side. But the opponent didn''t falter. Losing sight of Enkrid, she swung her sword downwards without even looking. Hwang! The modified longsword, with its thicker blade, cleaved the air. Having just grazed the side, Enkrid was already distanced from his opponent. As soon as he avoided the blade, he charged forward again. It seemed like vengeance for the earlier shield strike. This time, Enkrid used his body like a decoy, launching his sword as if it were an arrow. ''That move...'' It was the same technique used by the opponent who had last stepped forward in Martai. ''Used it on me like crazy back then!'' Now, he pulled it out again. The sword seemed to fly from its sheath like a divine weapon. Clang! His opponent blocked it, but this time, she didn''t manage to block it fully. Enkrid''s sword scraped along the side of the shield and struck the opponent''s shoulder guard, knocking it off. Of course, it wasn''t just the shoulder guard that was hit. Thud. Blood began to flow from the hybrid giant''s shoulder. But she didn''t care. She continued her movements, bringing her shield back in front to block her body, while her right hand awkwardly raised her sword in a defensive stance. It was a textbook-like stance for using both sword and shield. The hybrid giant didn''t even grunt. Instead, she clenched her teeth so tightly that her jaw muscles tightened. And then she charged again. Enkrid pulled his sword back from the thrust and spun his body, swinging it with great force. It was a heavy, rotating strike, almost as fast as a thrust, but with the heavy power of a giant. Bang! The hybrid giant blocked with her shield, holding her ground. The opponent blocked with her shield and swung her sword with the same hand. That was the reason she carried both a sword and a shield. Her sword fell from above once again. Thanks to the perfect timing, it was a strike that almost stole Enkrid''s breath. Rem couldn''t help but twitch his right index finger. He almost threw his axe. And it wasn''t just him. Ragna, Audin, and Jaxen also felt the same. But they stopped. There was no need to act yet. Just when they thought it was a crisis, Enkrid drew a second sword. Thud! After blocking once, the middle of his sword cracked, but it still did her part. The sword he drew with his other hand blocked the opponent''s strike. "...Left hand?" The hybrid giant spoke while their swords clashed. Enkrid nodded. "It''s one of my specialties." "Do you have any other specialties?" "Many." "Maybe it''ll end before I see them all." The giant''s words were urging Enkrid to show everything he had. In the extreme bluntness of her words, this was the first time the usually quiet hybrid giant spoke at length. Enkrid smiled as he answered. "I can''t show you everything. Flirting with women is also one of my talents." Rem, overhearing this, smirked. He has a way with words too.'' Enkrid''s tongue was indeed the sharpest of his weapons. "Is he insane?" The hybrid giant briefly spoke the truth about Enkrid''s identity before swinging her sword once again. The classical techniques of sword and shield. If one were to describe it, it was a technique of sword fighting with the added skill of handling a shield. Enkrid threw away his half-broken sword and readied just one. ''Dual swords are for when they''re really needed.'' It was a solid strategy. Their battle ended by dusk. If one had to judge the winner... ''He lost.'' It was Enkrid''s defeat. It was clear even with the eyes. His cheek was slashed. When the cheek was cut¡ªno, more accurately, after it was cut¡ªseveral of the women watching screamed in shock. Enkrid''s reputation within the city had been at its peak. He was considered the best match for a spouse, and there were women who would sell everything they had just to be with him. Yet here he was, with his cheek cut and a few ribs broken. He had sustained small cuts all over his body. After trying to engage in close combat, he had landed eight hits but had taken one in return, breaking a few of his ribs. The opponent had been struck in the jaw and sternum, but withstood the blows. It was the endurance of a giant. Enkrid hadn''t underestimated his opponent. But no matter how well-trained the body, it couldn''t withstand overwhelming force. ''Lost by judgment.'' It was likely the conclusion everyone had reached. Enkrid breathed heavily. His irregular breathing signaled that he was exhausted and had reached his limit. The hybrid giant had realized she couldn''t finish off her opponent. The mission had failed. Despite her opponent''s frenzy, he hadn''t even reached the rank of a knight, so she thought it wouldn''t be too difficult, but... ''He''s strong.'' The man before her was strong. In skill, in resolve, and especially in his mental fortitude. ''Is he strong because he''s insane?'' While this thought rippled through the warrior''s mind, Enkrid assessed his own condition coolly. He examined himself once, then looked up at his opponent. The opponent was in as bad shape as he was. "Let''s do it again tomorrow." "...What?" For the first time, his opponent looked astonished by Enkrid''s words. Before she could say anything, an axe was thrown right between them. "Didn''t you hear? If you want more, we can do it tomorrow or the day after. Take some time to recover. Oh, the inn is free, meals too. The gentleman who was smacked by the lady over there will cover it." Rem pointed to the severely injured Enkrid with his thumb. At this rate, it couldn''t be killed. The chance to fight only existed when it was happening. Right now, there were dangerous people all around. Even the one holding the axe in front of them. As the warrior pondered, Rem spoke again. "If you''d rather leave, feel free to go." He sounded like he didn''t care at all. Even though his leader had been half turned into a bloody mess. Of course, that bloodied mess was still standing. Unbelievable resilience. Not quite as strong as a giant, but there was something fundamentally different about him. In reality, it was thanks to the Isolation Technique and Audin, the demon, but that was beyond the hybrid giant''s understanding. "You''re planning to intervene in the fight?" The warrior asked. "No, after watching today, I don''t think it''s necessary." The warrior didn''t immediately understand the meaning of those words. However, she knew that she had another chance. There was no way she could return now. After failing the mission, could she go back unscathed? Betrayal and treason would be the talk of the town. Every action and movement would be questioned. "Then." The warrior silently stepped back. "Well, that''s good then." Rem turned to his leader with a glance. "Yeah, it''s good." Enkrid seemed satisfied. Could his body heal in just one day, covered in wounds? Audin had said that after breaking, things would become stronger during recovery, so now, he had no choice but to rest. "I learned a lot." "Was it that enjoyable?" Enkrid, his legs wobbling, was supported by Rem. With his arm around his shoulder, Enkrid replied. "Moderately." Moderately? He was about to drool from exhaustion. Rem silently grumbled to himself while supporting him. And then the next day came. The female warrior realized she wouldn''t be able to easily achieve what she wanted. Enkrid, however, wore a smile twice as bright as the day before. Anyone who knew him would recognize that it was a smile that rarely showed. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Your support is apreciated! https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 224 - It Was a Bountiful Year Chapter 224 - 224 - It Was a Bountiful Year It was a bountiful year. As soon as they returned to their quarters, Jaxen handed over some ointment. The ointment, which was in a small wooden container, was applied evenly all over Enkrid''s body by Finn, and the bandages were wrapped by Krais. "I thought I was going straight to the grave," Krais said, skillfully wrapping the bandages. "I was taking it easy while doing it," Enkrid responded. Krais let out a bewildered chuckle at Enkrid''s words. "Did you not see that woman''s forearm? It was thicker than our brother''s," Krais said, glancing at Audin. In other words, if he saw that and still said he was ''taking it easy,'' what was he talking about? "Arm thickness doesn''t prove skill," Enkrid said, without changing his expression. He didn''t seem bothered by the pain of his injuries. "Let''s not talk about it." Krais made a gesture with his eyes and removed his hands. The dangerous wounds had mostly been tended to. "Well, um... don''t be too down if the result isn''t good," Finn chimed in. She still didn''t know Enkrid very well. Anyone with ambition would have a fearsome desire to win. Normally, that would be the case. Enkrid wasn''t without a desire to win either. The company commander Finn had seen before didn''t like losing. That wasn''t an incorrect observation. However, this time the situation was a bit different. Losing wasn''t the problem. Enkrid had learned a lot from his encounter with the mixed-blood giantess warrior. What mattered more than losing. What mattered more than dying. The sense of fulfillment that quenched his boiling thirst. The satisfaction of walking toward tomorrow. "Tomorrow again." Moreover, it wasn''t over yet. He wasn''t dead. They had just parted ways, promising to meet again tomorrow, and right now, Enkrid felt joy not in the loss, but in looking back at the path he had walked and the path ahead. In other words, he was thrilled by the idea of fighting again tomorrow. It was clear from his face. A smile escaped his lips, and seeing that, Finn, cautiously, stood up from her crouched position, turned around, and mouthed a question. "Did you hurt your head too?" There was no answer. Audin, who had been silently observing, stepped forward. He approached Enkrid, kneeling on one knee to face him like a bear-like monster. Was he trying to show some divine power? Enkrid, with one eye wrapped in a bandage, looked at him. "Do you have a hobby of getting hit, brother?" Audin asked. There was no such hobby. It was a question with a predetermined answer. So the real point was this: Was this Audin''s way of scolding him? It certainly felt like it. "No one can dodge every attack. What should we do then?" Audin didn''t seem to want an answer to his question and immediately continued. "If you get too caught up in how your body moves as you wish, and stop there, it will be difficult to move forward, brother." Saying this, he tapped his finger lightly on the side of his head. Enkrid didn''t immediately grasp what Audin was saying. However, he had a sense that there was something to gain from what had been said. He didn''t speak, instead pondering Audin''s words. Then, when the religious monster stepped back, the axe-wielding monster spoke. "You don''t need to be pushed by strength either. Don''t hold back, try to explode." Enkrid still didn''t immediately understand, but he continued to reflect on the words. Later on: "If you know how to get hit, it doesn''t hurt as much." That was Jaxen''s statement. "Is it fun?" That was Ragna''s question. At least he could answer the last question. "Very much." Enkrid replied with calm sincerity, and Ragna chuckled softly. Enkrid, with bandages on his eye and cheek, smiled too. Ragna felt that smile stirred something in his heart. Why wouldn''t it? Watching Enkrid fight had reignited his own desire. It was a feeling he hadn''t experienced in a long time. He wanted to swing his sword. Whether or not there was an opponent, he simply wanted to enjoy it. The sword, the moment, everything. So, he wanted to say the same thing to his own commander. "Enjoy it." Enkrid answered that he was already doing so. Ragna then left his quarters and went to his personal training area. As he swung his sword, several soldiers nearby began to do similar things. Some of them approached Ragna and immediately asked for a sparring match. "I''d like to give it a try, is that okay?" There were those who would get beaten badly in training but never break. They hadn''t been noticeable before, but now they caught Ragna''s eye. Such people grow. They move forward. They will learn more. "Sure." He didn''t refuse. He didn''t refuse. He genuinely gave it his all. Ragna enjoyed today. It made him very happy. It was a rare moment. He felt a sense of fulfillment and pride in how the day had turned out, and he was satisfied. Enkrid lay there, just breathing. With his regenerative powers, the body naturally heals most wounds quickly when it''s being restored and trained. What does one need to enhance the body''s regeneration? First, it''s a trained body. Even without moving, a body that is activated will naturally circulate the blood rapidly throughout the body. The blood, circulating, helps heal wounds. The strengthening of muscles and strength increases recovery, as the heart becomes stronger alongside the muscles. Enkrid had learned this through his training with the Isolation Technique. Next, adequate nutrition. The energy the body needs comes from what you eat. Didn''t Audin keep saying it? "You need to eat well to build muscle." "You need to eat well to make resting worthwhile." Enkrid had followed this advice. He ate well after returning to the quarters. It was a meal of finely ground meat patties mixed with vegetables. The dish was made with meat and a mix of potatoes and firm root vegetables. It was hearty and satisfying, and now, it wasn''t a problem to eat like that. "Order whatever you want and eat it, and if you need anything, just take it." Those were the words Marcus had said after the battle. Of course, he said it in a more eloquent way, but the meaning was the same. He ate well, rested well, and there was no pressure. And there was Esther. The foolish human, the Lake Panther, spoke with his eyes, and Enkrid''s arms were filled with her. "Long time no see?" Enkrid scratched Esther''s head with his finger as she snuggled into his arms. And of course, Esther didn''t reject it. They weren''t so much lovers, but more like friends or comrades. That''s how Enkrid treated her, and Esther, without any particular expression, released her magic. It wasn''t a healing spell, but mana naturally has an effect on the body, so it helped. She did what she could. For this reason, it was no surprise that Enkrid''s recovery was swift. However, Dunbakel, who didn''t know any of this, widened her eyes when she saw Enkrid''s recovery speed. "Already getting up?" He''s getting up after just one day? It was surprising, wasn''t it? She knew herself how badly she had been beaten by Rem. It felt like she might have been left with permanent injuries. Not that she was thinking of running away, but the pain and suffering couldn''t be avoided. Being a beast-woman didn''t mean she was immune to pain or particularly good at enduring it. They were a species that fought based on their natural athletic ability and reflexes. They couldn''t afford to be slow like giants. Dunbakel had mentioned this repeatedly, but of course, Rem just snorted. "Alright, let''s double the punishment today." That was all he said. "Didn''t you say it was training? Not violence?" Rem had always said that with his own mouth, that he didn''t want to hit anyone, that it was just part of the necessary training. But sometimes, it seemed like he forgot that and revealed his true feelings. "Ah, right. Training, training, double the amount." Then he shamelessly started to backpedal. Of course, Dunbakel couldn''t really complain about it. Enkrid twisted his body left and right at the waist and answered. "My ribs still hurt a little. Has your skill improved? Former thief." Dunbakel didn''t like being called a former thief, but she couldn''t argue back. "A little." "That''s exciting." What was that supposed to mean? Was she excited about struggling to survive? It was a confusing statement. Enkrid got up after just one day. ''The ribs are mostly healed.'' It wasn''t perfect, but lying down felt uncomfortable. That warrior woman might have gone back as well. Enkrid didn''t think about where she came from anymore. He just had the desire to fight again as soon as possible, as long as there was someone who could be his opponent, and she was still around. So, it wouldn''t be surprising if people called him crazy, but Enkrid didn''t care. In fact, he probably didn''t even have time to think about it. There are geniuses in this world. There are prodigies and talented people. Some people are born with talent. Among them, geniuses are those who must reach places that even those with talent can''t reach. To reach that place, ordinary efforts won''t suffice. One has to go crazy. Luckily, Enkrid did all of this without consciously realizing it. Anyone who knew his inner thoughts and situation would have been shocked. No one could read Enkrid''s mind right now. They could guess, but they couldn''t know everything. Enkrid slept deeply and woke up, his mind clear as he began to think. More specifically, he thought while walking. When his thoughts got stuck, walking through the streets was a habit he had since childhood to clear his mind. As he trudged toward the market, one side of his head tingled, and the answer to the lingering question appeared before him. It wasn''t a sudden, lightning-like realization. If he had to express it, it was more like the gradual rise of a tide¡ªa realization that crept up like the incoming tide that eventually reached his ankles. ''Was I too arrogant?'' What he had learned from his comrades had awakened something in his body. It was as if new talent had been born. That''s how it felt. Had that become a poison for him? Did he think that he no longer needed to think deeply, to deliberate, like before? What Audin spoke of was the original intention. Keep thinking and thinking. Enkrid walked, contemplating like that. The female warrior''s attacks were swift, forceful, and accurate. They were hard to avoid. "If you know it''s coming, it hurts less." Jaxen had said that. He had told him to know and take the hit. ''Perceive it through my senses.'' If he tried to track it with his eyes, it would be too late. Did he have confidence in his dynamic vision? Was it because his body had changed? Was it still insufficient, though? If he stopped now, his dream of becoming a knight would be nothing but a mirage shattered. There was no storm brewing inside him, nor a tsunami crashing in. He just didn''t stop thinking. ''Open all five senses and even the door to intuition wide.'' If that were the case, he would have recognized the first shield push. There had been so many dummies thrown his way that he had confined himself to the well of experience. He broke through it. For an ordinary person, it would have been difficult, but Enkrid was used to breaking through his own limits. Wasn''t he someone more accustomed than anyone else to breaking his own boundaries? ''Explode.'' The beast''s heart was one of boldness. The heart of immense strength was for increasing physical power. Was it the right way to use the heart to maintain boldness? No. He had already half-realized it. ''In every moment.'' In sudden bursts, he was supposed to unleash his brute strength. For now, he couldn''t maintain the heart of monstrous power throughout the fight, so this approach seemed correct. He was going to break things down even more than before. He didn''t think it was impossible. Whether it worked or not, he would try. All of this was naturally part of his thinking process. ''Capture it with intuition.'' Explode the heart in the moment. While retracing his thoughts and trying to figure out how to fight, he finally reached the market. "The atmosphere feels oddly tense." "Everyone seems formidable." "I heard Bell almost had his leg broken." Hearing snippets of gossip, something seemed to be going on. Enkrid, noticing that no one¡ªRem included¡ªwas around, realized they were all gathered here. "I was wondering where everyone had gone." He mumbled to himself as he walked, and those who recognized him cleared a path for him. "You''ve arrived?" From soldiers at the start. "Already? Is your body alright?" To the shoemaker. "Have some jerky, won''t you?" And even to a woman running a small shop. He passed through them and arrived at the central intersection of four inns, marked by the Border Guards. The way was blocked. Several carriages had stopped. This was a road used by merchants. Blocking it like this shouldn''t have been happening. He looked ahead to see why it was blocked. There she was¡ªthe woman from yesterday. Thanks to her giant-like endurance, the small wounds she had before were no longer visible. She stood frozen with her sword vertically planted in the ground and her shield beside her, striking a pose that resembled a statue. There were other faces around her as well. "Hm, I''m Zebilkal. Anyone know my nickname? I came here to challenge that former soldier in the hopes of a rematch." His eyebrows were thin, and his lips curled into a faint, unsettling smile. It was the kind of face that made one feel uncomfortable. His smile didn''t seem genuine. A sword hung at his waist, likely an arming sword of appropriate length. His thick belt caught Enkrid''s attention, and just by looking at his posture, Enkrid could tell he was no ordinary man. The man Zebilkal was not the only one here. "Full of worthless types. I''m Edin Molsen, Count Molsen''s son! I''ve come to challenge the Independent Company Commander, Enkrid!" A bold man with blonde hair stepped forward. He was familiar. He had been the groom before. To be precise, he was the son of Count Molsen. Behind him was another younger man with a similar appearance. Behind them was a man with a long face. ''Not bad.'' The bodyguard, who seemed to be a real expert, stood with them. Edin Molsen also appeared more impressive now than when he had been by his father''s side. That''s what Enkrid judged. Finally, "So, does that mean that friend is too injured to join us?" At first, Enkrid didn''t recognize him due to the absence of his mustache, but then he realized the familiar face. The name that came to his mind was Rockfreed. ''That swordsman from back then?'' The master of the quick sword. The man who had told him to forget about swords. Wasn''t he a guard from the Rockfreed trade guild, standing opposite Leona? "Everyone, just wait a bit. If you don''t like it, you can play with my axe. We had a little fight yesterday, but we''ll probably go again today. Our captain says there''s something wrong with this place." It was Rem, speaking from the center of their group, tapping his head with his finger, spinning it around in the air. ''That bastard.'' Enkrid had no reason to hide. As he was recognized by those around him, they cleared a path for him. "Did they all come to see me?" Hmm. How should he put it? The moment Enkrid noticed all eyes were on him, he understood the feeling of a farmer. It was a good harvest. They all seemed to be of giant mixed-blood heritage. And they were all here to see him. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Your support is apreciated! https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 225 - Unwavering Eyes Chapter 225 - 225 - Unwavering Eyes "Line up!" It seemed Enkrid wasn''t the only one enjoying this situation as Krais boldly stepped forward, shouting without hesitation upon seeing Enkrid arrive. Yet the others'' gazes never wavered from Enkrid. Their eyes seemed to hold questions. Enkrid instinctively met each gaze in turn. The half-giant warrior''s eyes seemed to say: "Keep your promise to fight me again." The one called Jevikal wore a provoking smirk, shrugging as if to dismiss Enkrid as insignificant¡ªa taunting gesture, though it came off crude and unpolished. "I''ve come to settle a debt," declared the Molsen Count''s son with a commanding tone, assuming without question that he would go first. Lastly, the swordsman from the Rokfried caravan, who once mocked Enkrid for pursuing the path of the blade, widened his eyes as he scanned Enkrid from head to toe. He made no effort to hide his astonishment. In fact, he outright voiced it: "Unbelievable. You''ve really improved. I thought even a hundred deaths wouldn''t make it possible." He wasn''t wrong. Enkrid had indeed reached this point by risking his life hundreds of times¡ªnot merely coming close to death but truly dying countless times to arrive here. Though, of course, no one else could know that. Now, Enkrid had to decide: Who should I fight first? "What''s this nonsense about lining up? Hey, you fought that woman yesterday and survived? Impressive." It was Jevikal, flashing that insufferable grin. There was something inherently unlikable about him, but his demeanor wasn''t the most pressing matter. From his stance to the way he let his arms hang, every detail revealed his skill. His positioning allowed him to draw his blade at any moment, poised for action. Enkrid found himself marveling. "It''s amazing that I can notice these things now." "Think. And think again." Audin''s words resurfaced in his mind like a mantra. "I don''t care who I fight first," Enkrid concluded aloud. "What... Are you saying you can beat anyone?" The response came from... Who was it again? Enkrid had heard the name earlier but promptly forgot it. "Sorry, what was your name again? The Count''s son?" When Enkrid asked, Edin Molsen''s face turned crimson. True provocation requires sincerity. Jevikal''s attempt had been clumsy, but Enkrid''s question cut deep¡ªbecause he genuinely didn''t remember. "WHAT?" Edin''s disbelief quickly morphed into anger. Ignoring the stares of the others, he declared, "I''ll teach you some manners." Edin stepped forward. "I said, line up!" Krais, seemingly fearless, spoke up again. This time, Edin''s fury turned toward the towering soldier. "If you wish to die, keep talking, soldier," Edin threatened, oozing arrogance. Krais merely shrugged. "It''s just... You''re causing a bit of trouble here. Blocking the path for the merchants'' wagons and pedestrians." "Fine. I''ll kill you first," Edin snapped. Drawing his sword, he stepped toward Krais with deadly intent. But before the blade could descend, Krais darted behind Rem, shouting, "Rem! Captain! Captain!" Edin''s sword paused mid-air as Krais sought refuge behind Rem, who sighed and muttered, "Why do you always manage to be so irritating?" Stepping forward, Rem casually swung his twin hand axes, their movement relaxed yet deliberate. His slouched posture belied the sharpness of his gaze. "Listen, seems to me he''s got a point. How about we move this elsewhere?" Rem suggested, sweeping his gaze over the group to emphasize his point. Then he noticed something that left him momentarily stunned. "This crazy captain..." What had Rem noticed? Enkrid, seemingly energized by the crowd''s attention, was assessing the distance between himself and three opponents: the half-giant warrior, the rapier-wielding swordsman, and Jevikal. It wasn''t just posturing. He genuinely appeared ready to take them all on at once. "He''s going to get himself killed one day." Unbeknownst to Rem, Enkrid had already died countless times before. "This is pure greed, brother," As Audin spoke from behind, the sharp, tense atmosphere radiating from Enkrid seemed to ease slightly. "Whatever this is about, it''s not something worth causing harm to the city over," Audin stated. The rapier swordsman nodded in agreement, stepping back. "Well, I don''t really care," Jevikal added, retreating a step as well. Seeing this, the half-giant warrior also subdued his presence without a word. "...I did clear out the area behind the inn," spoke Allen, the innkeeper. A shrewd businessman at heart, he had noticed the tension brewing and seemed to predict that all of them would likely stay in the city¡ªand more importantly, perhaps his inn. None of them appeared to be particularly concerned with money, and there was an air of ease about them. Recently, the inn had faced minor competition due to rumors of Vanessa''s pumpkin soup and herbal pies drawing patrons. Allen, however, had chosen a different angle to stand out¡ªnot food, but space. Behind the inn, he had constructed a proper training ground, complete with adequate room for sparring. "Excellent," Enkrid said with a nod. Soon, Allen began leading the group toward the back of the inn. While everyone moved, Rem approached Enkrid. "Are you trying to get yourself killed? If you''ve hit your head, you should rest." "At the very least, I don''t want to hear that from you," Enkrid shot back. Krais, overhearing the exchange, chimed in. "What do you think, Captain?" He was fishing for praise, clearly pleased with how his scheme had played out. Enkrid couldn''t deny it¡ªthe situation had turned out quite favorably, like planting seeds and yielding a bountiful harvest. "This month''s guild dues? Take them," Enkrid offered. For Krais, this was a significant reward, perhaps the most meaningful thing in his life. "Much obliged," Krais replied with a grin. As they exchanged banter while walking, Edin, the last one to remain, finally erupted in rage. "You insolent wretches! Do you have any idea who you''re dealing with?!" If he were a dragon, he''d have breathed fire. Ah, right. I almost forgot, Enkrid thought to himself before making a decision. "I''ll take on the Count''s son first. Everyone else, kindly wait your turn." Even if Edin was insufferably arrogant, he was still the son of the Molsen Count¡ªthe so-called King of the North. Some degree of respect was due. "You insolent fool! I''ll strip you of your arrogance myself," Edin snarled. With Edin leading the way, his two companions followed closely behind. The trio passed Enkrid and his group without another word. Whatever the outcome, Enkrid found himself content. The group moved silently to the inn''s back lot, which had been transformed into a spacious sparring ground. An old warehouse had been demolished, its foundation replaced with neatly laid slate. Chairs had even been set up, creating a space that looked intentionally designed for duels. "The Count''s son will go first! Please wait your turn!" Krais played the role of a circus clown, hyping up the atmosphere. To Enkrid''s mild surprise, there were no complaints¡ªjust quiet observation. In some eyes, there was curiosity. In others, a touch of arrogance. Enkrid stood face to face with Edin. Edin raised his blade and declared, "Come at me first!" Enkrid did as he was told. He strode forward deliberately, closing the distance. His own sword remained sheathed. "Are you mocking me?" Edin growled, clenching his teeth as he swung his sword downward with all his strength. Yet Enkrid didn''t stop. Why? Because he wanted to show everyone watching. Show them what he could do. Show them what his sword was. Show them the kind of person they had come to witness. Perhaps it was reckless. Or perhaps it was bold confidence. If his intent succeeded, it would be seen as valor. If not, mere folly. After all, the line between confidence and arrogance is razor-thin. And Enkrid chose confidence. He watched the descending sword without flinching. At the last moment, he drew his blade with his left hand. Sching! In a single fluid motion, he raised his sword, catching Edin''s strike¡ªnot at the center of the blade, but near the hilt, the ricasso. The closer to the hilt, the easier it is to absorb force. Thunk. Despite the power behind Edin''s swing, the sound was dull, thanks to how Enkrid bent his knees to channel and disperse the impact. Then came the bind. The swords locked, and Enkrid seized the moment. Stepping forward with his left foot, he closed the distance, twisting his torso as he launched his right fist forward. Crack! Though defense and offense appeared distinct, the actions unfolded so seamlessly that they seemed like a single motion. "Guk!" Even with leather armor for protection, Enkrid''s punch was more than just heavy¡ªit was a weapon in itself. It was a strike that even the half-giant warrior, quietly observing, couldn''t help but find impressive. The months of strength training hadn''t been in vain. With that single blow, Edin coughed up something involuntarily. Edin Molsen¡ªbetter than when he stood at his father''s side, sure. But still... Not enough. His practical combat experience was lacking, and many aspects of his technique felt unpolished. If it were a drawn-out duel relying on tactical exchanges, Edin might stand a chance. But against unpredictability, he was weak. That was Enkrid''s conclusion. In some ways, it was a reckless move. Walking in defenselessly to block the opponent''s attack and land a single punch? If there had been any mistake, the advantage would have shifted to Edin. But in combat, results matter more than method. Enkrid stood over the fallen Edin, raising his gaze. "You, just going to keep watching from the sidelines?" The question was directed at Edin''s escort. The bodyguard''s expression hardened as his piercing eyes met Enkrid''s. Clenching his jaw, the escort shook his head¡ªa refusal. He didn''t seem like the type to shy away from a fight. Perhaps he thought it wasn''t the right time. It didn''t matter. There were plenty of others left to face. The rapier swordsman was genuinely astonished. Has he improved? Watching someone''s stance was one thing; seeing them in real combat was another. Enkrid was seasoned, bold, and capable of enjoying the fight itself. It was unexpected. To the swordsman, imagining Enkrid transforming like this had seemed impossible. He''s improved immensely. How could this be described? What was once a barren wasteland had somehow turned into a lush green field. "Remarkable," he muttered to himself. Enkrid didn''t seem like a prodigy, yet his skills had grown at an abnormal rate. "Surprising, isn''t it?" A female warrior, towering a few heads taller than him, spoke beside him. "Well, you wouldn''t know what he was like before," the swordsman replied. "What matters is now," she said, her eyes gleaming. This woman was no ordinary person, either. She carried an air of something exceptional. She glanced at the rapier swordsman as if questioning his nature. Who are you, really? But that was as far as their mutual interest went. Neither felt compelled to probe further. Right now, they each had someone more important to focus on. The rapier swordsman felt curiosity surge¡ªa rare feeling for him. Once hailed as the reincarnation of Frok, he had always been susceptible to intrigue. And now, he wanted to fight Enkrid. To measure him, to test himself against him. But before he could act, the female warrior stepped forward. "My turn, then?" "Not so fast." Audin interrupted with a grin. "How about sparring with me for a day, sister? Looks like our friend over there is eager to get his hands dirty." The swordsman called Jevikal stepped forward, signaling his intent. "Good eye, big guy," the female warrior remarked. She wasn''t wrong. Watching Enkrid fight had stirred something in Jevikal as well. There was something about him that made you want to slice him up. "Suits me. I''ll leave him to you," she said, stepping aside. Jevikal made his way to the center of the sparring ground. His eyes were fixed on Enkrid. "You''re good with your fists," Jevikal said. "I''d like to think I''m better with a sword," Enkrid replied calmly. The audacity of that response. Jevikal''s grin vanished. His exterior joviality had always been deceptive. When he was smiling, he wasn''t truly enjoying himself. But when his expression turned serious, it meant he was having fun. I''ll take an arm. That''ll change his attitude. Jevikal prided himself on reading his opponent''s temperament. And on breaking it. Those steady, resolute eyes¡ªhe would relish the moment they filled with fear. The very thought thrilled him. I can''t wait to cut him apart. He would press his advantage slowly, like a chef preparing a meal. And he hoped Enkrid wouldn''t crumble after just a few scratches. Jevikal sincerely wished for a fight worth savoring. The duel between them lasted a while. Both used an array of precise techniques, constantly probing each other. By the end, Jevikal had managed to leave sixteen cuts on Enkrid''s body. One of those strikes, a puncture in the abdomen, could have been fatal if it had landed slightly differently. Even so... "You''re something else," Jevikal remarked. Yet Enkrid''s unyielding gaze remained unchanged. Jevikal smiled¡ªonly because he wasn''t truly enjoying this. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Your support is apreciated! https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 226 - Jevikal Chapter 226 - 226 - Jevikal The fight against Jevikal was a brutal clash. For every strike Enkrid aimed, he had to endure two in return. Even so, Enkrid remained unchanged. He was the same as ever, unflinching even when his life hung by a thread. That unwavering resolve, that steadfast temperament¡ªit was what had brought him this far. "Damn, those eyes are really starting to piss me off," Jevikal muttered, his grin widening. Watching the fight, Rem flinched more than once but couldn''t help muttering to himself. How could anyone tolerate such a situation? Finally, he spoke up. "Right? Annoying, isn''t it? Totally understandable." Why was it that, in this moment, he found himself empathizing with Jevikal''s frustration? He wasn''t alone in this sentiment. Ragna, Jaxen, and even Audin nodded in silent agreement. No matter what you did, Enkrid remained the same¡ªunshaken, unyielding. He simply kept doing what needed to be done. A man who acted first and debated right and wrong later. Because of that, Audin had introduced the Isolation Technique into Enkrid''s repertoire for the first time, Jaxen had taught him the elusive Sense of Evasion, and Rem had imparted the essence of the Heart of the Beast. Even Ragna had been compelled to pass on his skills to Enkrid under similar circumstances. Those eyes, that dogged persistence¡ªnever giving up. Watching him could drive anyone to madness. "Aren''t you scared?" Jevikal asked, exasperated. As he spoke, he subtly twisted his blade, shifting to an unconventional stance while repositioning his feet. Enkrid matched his movement, adjusting his sword''s angle and shuffling his feet across the ground without lifting them, his body sliding into a new position. "Of what?" "You almost died just now." "Didn''t you, too?" Earlier, Jevikal had feinted by extending his left foot forward, only to retract it and launch a surprise thrust. Enkrid had fallen for it, swinging his sword prematurely, which allowed Jevikal to counterattack with precision. At the critical moment, as Jevikal''s blade split into four deadly arcs, anyone else would''ve been frozen in fear. Enkrid wasn''t immune to the terror, but he didn''t let it kill him. How had he evaded it? Sense of Evasion. Jaxen''s technique had saved his life. Though it cost him¡ªa slice across his neck burned like molten iron branding his skin. And that wasn''t the only injury. Enkrid''s abdomen had been pierced, his arm tendons narrowly missed, and his neck had nearly been severed moments earlier. "That''s enough for today! Remember, there''s always tomorrow!" Krais shouted, prompted by Rem''s signal. Jevikal had no intention of stopping. He was ready to strike a decisive blow. But his intentions were thwarted. "Careful, you''re getting on my nerves," Rem warned, stepping in abruptly. Somehow, he had closed the distance and was now behind Enkrid''s left flank. If Jevikal struck down Enkrid now, what would happen? Even with revealing his trump card, Jevikal realized: I''d die too. Naturally, Jevikal valued his own life far more than anyone else''s. "Fine." He sheathed his blade and raised his palms in a gesture of surrender, though the faintest trace of killing intent lingered. Rem scoffed and turned away. He didn''t need to keep an eye on Jevikal. At this range, whatever Jevikal tried, Rem''s axe would reach him first. Besides, Rem wasn''t alone. The wily wildcat of the group had positioned himself on the opposite side. How many had noticed? Certainly not Jevikal. "Alright, folks! Today isn''t the only day, you know! How about some rest? Make friends, bond a little. And if you''re bored, the alleys behind the tavern have plenty of spots to spice up your night. Don''t know the good places? That''s tragic! Luckily for you..." Krais took the opportunity to peddle his wares, his antics strangely disarming the tension. "This here is the Border Guard Gourmet Map!" It was a simple map, marking shops that sold spiced jerky, marmalade, freshly baked bread, and more. "Each one''s just ten copper coins!" The price was oddly reasonable¡ªnot too high, but not negligible either. "I''ll take one. Need a good meal after all that bloodletting," Jevikal chuckled, grabbing a map. Encouraged by his purchase, others from the merchant guild and even the Earl''s entourage followed suit. Finally, the half-giant warrior timidly asked, "Shouldn''t the injured gentleman get this for free?" Krais snatched back the map he was handing over. "That was yesterday''s policy. Starting today, everyone pays. Even you, my lady." Hearing herself addressed as lady for the first time, the half-giantess nodded solemnly and handed over the exact amount. Clapping his hands, Krais addressed the group with a theatrical bow. "You won''t regret it. Rest well, explore the city, and feel free to spar amongst yourselves. But no causing trouble, and ensure the safety of the townsfolk." Rising from his bow, he added, "Welcome to Border Guard." Despite the blood he''d lost, none of his injuries were life-threatening, so Enkrid observed the scene in silence. Does that guy really think this is some kind of tourist destination? Border Guard, for all its trade city facade, was fundamentally a military outpost. There wasn''t much for tourists to enjoy. Not that anyone seemed ready to leave. And why would they? "I''ll go next time," Enkrid muttered to himself. How Did the Eyes of the Rapier Fencer Look? They shone¡ªwith a glint of competitive spirit and an unmistakable curiosity. Whatever his motives, it was clear this man wasn''t leaving anytime soon. The same could be said for the half-giant. She seemed fully intent on staying as well. As for Edin Molsen''s party? That went without saying. "Fight me again!" As soon as his wounds were healed, Edin had roared this challenge. But after watching the battle with Jevikal, he fell silent, though his twitching brow betrayed his displeasure with the situation. Regardless, with Edin staying, the guards accompanying him would also remain. Ah, what abundance. Was this what it felt like to be nourished in spirit? Enkrid almost felt full without eating. "You''re really determined to make a killing, huh? And that last bit about civilian safety¡ªwhat''s that all about?" Surely that was something people could figure out on their own. When Enkrid voiced his curiosity, Krais, back from his antics, whispered his answer. "That Jevikal guy... I don''t have a good feeling about him. If we leave him be, he might cause trouble. I''ll let the higher-ups know we need to tighten security. Sure, if he dies fighting soldiers, that''s one thing, but if an outsider murders a civilian, we''ll have a real headache on our hands." Enkrid thought back to his fight with Jevikal. That blade, that technique¡ªit was memorable. The clash had been so intense he''d had no time to gauge Jevikal''s personality, only his skill. But if Krais''s judgment was sharp, it was worth trusting. "Jaxen, report this to the higher-ups." "Got it." Sending the cunning wildcat to handle the task, Enkrid began his limping journey back to the lodging. "You''re gonna wear yourself down to nothing at this rate," Rem said, falling in step beside him. It was nagging, sure, but Enkrid couldn''t argue. Rem was right. His body was a mess¡ªa hole in his abdomen, tendons in his arm nearly severed. If he died, it would all be healed, leaving only the strength he''d gained from the ordeal. In a way, it was a convenient, even advantageous, ability. But Enkrid held on. Why? If someone asked, he wouldn''t have an answer. He just wanted to. He clawed and scraped forward with everything he had. He had simply erased the word "give up" from his dictionary of life. Unbeknownst to him, this relentless mindset was the true essence of the Boatman''s Curse. Its core was to leave one perpetually striving, never satisfied with resting in the comfort of the present. If the boatman understood this, he might have been so frustrated that he''d throw his lamp into the black river in a fit of rage. Of course, Enkrid wasn''t aware of any of this. He was just doing what he''d always done¡ªmoving forward. "Well, I didn''t die, did I?" "You make it sound so simple. Anyway, did you really get a good look at that guy''s swordsmanship?" "I saw it." Enkrid replayed the fight in his mind. Jevikal''s swordsmanship combined true blade forms and phantom blade forms. On the continent, this hybrid style was called Ki Swordsmanship. More specifically, it was the Eastern Ki Sword. The blade''s trajectories were strange, and its targeting was uncanny. One moment, it seemed aimed at the arm; the next, it shifted to the shoulder. Aiming for the shoulder, it suddenly struck at the thigh. It was hard to read. So how had he responded? At first, he tried matching Jevikal blow for blow. If he took one hit, he aimed to land one in return. He swung fast and hard, meeting Jevikal head-on. How did Jevikal respond? By blocking and immediately countering, targeting his wrist with precision. From a technical perspective, Jevikal''s moniker wasn''t undeserved. And the blade techniques that had earned him the nickname? He hadn''t even used them. So, Enkrid had been overwhelmed. He lost. It was a defeat. But did that dishearten him? Not in the slightest. I can catch up. If one day of training wasn''t enough, he''d train for two. If two days weren''t enough, he''d train for a week. If a week wasn''t enough, a month. Given time, he believed he could close the gap. It wasn''t a matter of tactics, strength, or speed¡ªit was purely a difference in skill mastery. And Ki Swordsmanship was inherently that way. A peculiar, mystifying art. "If you saw it, that makes it simple. Just read it all and counter," Rem said, his lessons hitting home once more. Do I need to defeat him with the same skills? Even if there''s only one destination, there are many paths to reach it. "Use your head for once." Instead of fixating on running down a single path, Enkrid decided to widen his perspective. Even if his body could handle it, he wouldn''t let himself settle. "You''re Winning Me Over." Rem grinned, a genuine smile that Enkrid found oddly pleasant. It struck him then¡ªhe had disliked seeing Jevikal''s grin. Perhaps Krais''s assessment of the man was accurate after all. When Enkrid returned, blood still dripping, Esther let out a sharp, disbelieving cough. The expression on her face said it all: I sent you out perfectly fine this morning, and now you''re like this? Hmm, how does her nagging somehow feel worse than Rem''s? It was fascinating, really. Rem chuckled at the sight. "Hey, leopard mage, you might as well get used to it. This guy''s going to be like this forever." The black leopard mage didn''t bother replying. Instead, Ragna quietly asked, "Did you have fun today?" Enkrid nodded. His injuries this time were too severe to shake off in a single day, but for Dunbakel, who watched over him, even his recovery speed was astonishing. "Three days?" "I''m fine now." Was she going to be surprised every time he got back on his feet? Enkrid wondered as he started moving again. Word was that Jevikal''s group was still staying at the marketplace inn. Who will I face next? The anticipation made his heart race, pushing his feet forward. Though his arm hadn''t fully healed, his other arm was fine, the salve Jaxen had given him was effective, and Audin had secretly infused him with divine energy. It wasn''t visible, nor was it strong enough to glow, but it had accelerated his recovery. Without it, even with his regenerative ability, he should have been bedridden for over a week. Jevikal, meanwhile, was seething. The urge to kill was boiling inside him. Should he head out into the night and slit a few throats? After two days, the wounds from his fight with Enkrid had scabbed over, and just looking at them stoked his frustration. Unable to hold back, he began to move, only to be blocked by the half-giant. "Stop, little human." "Hmm?" "I said stop." "What for?" Feigning ignorance, he smiled, but the half-giant didn''t budge. From a table in the inn''s first-floor tavern, another man glanced over¡ªa rapier fencer. "Jevikal, you''re with the Black Blades, right? Always clinging together, squawking like crows. Knock it off. You''re making life harder for everyone staying here." "What are you even talking about?" Jevikal smirked and feigned innocence, but neither the half-giant nor the fencer replied. Yet, leaving while being ignored felt awkward. "I just wanted a night walk," he muttered, retreating up the creaking wooden stairs. Once he was gone, the rapier fencer sipped his drink while the half-giant stood lost in thought. Whatever they were thinking remained a mystery. "Why haven''t you fought the giant?" the fencer suddenly asked. "She''s not my target," Jevikal replied. Though he was also curious about Audin''s abilities, his answer sufficed for now. The rapier fencer nodded. Their conversation was interrupted by Edin Molsen''s escort descending the stairs, the wood creaking under their steps. Both men instinctively glanced upward. The escort walked past without a word and stepped outside. Jevikal, who had lingered long enough to notice, asked, "Why''d you let that guy go?" "He won''t cause trouble." "And me?" "You will." The rapier fencer''s answer came without a moment''s hesitation, leaving Jevikal momentarily stunned. Should I just kill this guy? But he hesitated, ultimately backing down. Though he wasn''t bedridden, he was still recovering, and both the fencer and the giant had already seen his swordplay. It wouldn''t be fair unless he got to see theirs, too. And soon, fate aligned with his desire. When Enkrid returned to the inn, it was the rapier fencer who stepped forward. "Looks like it''s my turn now." "Fine by me," Enkrid replied calmly, indifferent to who his opponent was. Watching this, Jevikal felt a pang of irritation. That guy''s eyes¡ªwhy do they have to be so damned earnest? Regardless, Enkrid squared off with the rapier fencer. This time, the fight was clean and evenly matched. Neither sustained serious injuries. Or rather... What is this guy even here for? Jevikal thought, a faint smirk forming as he observed. He could see the motives of most of the people accompanying Enkrid. He even recognized the identity of the towering female warrior but chose to feign ignorance. The rapier fencer, however, was different. Through their duel, it was clear¡ªhe wasn''t here for his own benefit. He was teaching Enkrid. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Your support is apreciated! https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 227 - Sparring, Training, Testing Chapter 227 - 227 - Sparring, Training, Testing 227. Sparring, Training, Testing How did he come this far? The rapier fencer was no stranger to teaching. It was second nature to him, and his keen eyes went beyond familiarity¡ªthey were masterful. Unlike the natural talent of Frogs, who could instinctively perceive potential, the fencer''s insight stemmed from personal experience and refined skill. By those eyes, Enkrid had undoubtedly improved. It was almost unbelievable that he possessed no Will. Occasionally, his attacks gleamed with intensity, unleashing a whirlwind of strikes that cornered even himself. "Orthodox forms." He had woven heavy sword techniques into his repertoire, steadily forming a cohesive whole. The fencer had initially held no expectations for the black-haired man. His talent and skills were middling at best. Yet, he had never been so wrong in his judgment. This realization stirred something in the fencer, tugging at his heart and compelling him to act. Sparring. Instruction. That was his intent from the start. He had once pursued the path of a knight but abandoned it when his talents fell short. Even so, he had never lost to someone without Will. Not before, and not now. But Enkrid had grown. It was remarkable and praiseworthy, yet the fencer''s judgment was firm: the man standing before him could not yet match a true knight. The clashing of swords erupted in a flurry, sparks flying with every strike. Through the relentless exchange, the fencer''s sharp blue eyes assessed every detail. "Even his footwork..." It was exceptional, clearly surpassing human limits. Against complacent opponents relying on mediocre talent? Enkrid would prevail. As for his fight with Jevikal? Having witnessed that clash and now facing him directly, the fencer understood the difference. Jevikal fights to kill. Enkrid fights to challenge. For him, sparring comes first. That was the fundamental gap. Jevikal had fought to end lives, while Enkrid sought only to test himself. And yet, the margin between them was paper-thin. If Jevikal had noticed this subtle distinction, the outcome might have been different. But he hadn''t. Enkrid''s rapid progress was undeniable, surprising even the fencer. It was this unexpected growth that had prompted him to unsheathe his sword and spar. He didn''t need to fight at full strength to teach. But he did wield his blade swiftly and powerfully, mixing his rapier''s elegance with fluidity. His strikes flowed like water¡ªhitting and slipping, slipping and hitting. He wanted to show Enkrid that such swordplay existed. At the same time, he engaged in a battle of wits. Encouraging mastery of a single style was a flawed approach, he believed. While specializing was natural, a swordsman should at least dabble in all five forms. Why? Because only by understanding them can one defend, evade, or counter effectively. This was why the fencer emphasized variety in swordsmanship. He wanted Enkrid to see that strategy wasn''t confined to orthodoxy. For instance: "Let it flow." As he moved to deflect, Enkrid''s eyes lit up. A feint. Enkrid responded with a vertical slash, the kind of strike that seemed capable of cleaving anything in two¡ªa thunderous attack. But the fencer sidestepped at the last moment, redirecting the blade with finesse. A rapier technique: deflection without contact. The thunderous slash tore through empty air, the sound of its passage clear and sharp. It was a demonstration of advanced, even masterful, swordsmanship. The fencer followed with a precise thrust, disrupting Enkrid''s stance. From that point, victory was his. He pressed his advantage slowly but steadily, employing a technique akin to boiling a frog. Starting from cold water, the heat builds gradually¡ªuntil the frog cannot escape. The essence of this method was pressure. Through his sword, the fencer conveyed a single message: "You cannot surpass this point. This is your limit." He drove Enkrid into a corner, trapping him. Not even Enkrid''s monstrous strength, evasive instincts, or learned techniques could breach the wall before him. Was he disheartened? Hardly. Enkrid simply continued to swing his blade, unwavering. The fencer found this both admirable and disappointing. The duel had not gone as he had hoped. In the end, the fencer saw no brilliance, no spark. "Perhaps I was wrong. Maybe he isn''t a prodigy I overlooked." Otherwise, how could this growth be possible? Yet, why was there no glimmer of genius? Why was his potential so dull? He had expected the frog to leap from the pot, at least to stretch its legs¡ªbut it merely withered. "This is enough," the fencer said at last. "Hah... hah... an excellent lesson," Enkrid replied, bowing in gratitude. It had been a spar worthy of respect. This opponent had no interest in Enkrid''s life or reputation. He had simply appeared and taught him. "Now, it''s my turn," the half-giant said, stepping forward with sword and shield. Unlike the duel just now, this one demanded no rest. Enkrid nodded and prepared himself. The fight was as intense and brutal as their first encounter, mesmerizing to those who watched. If Jevikal''s battles felt like mortal combat, where a single mistake could mean a fatal wound or dismemberment... Then the half-giant''s fights felt like they would crush or shatter something at any moment. Enkrid endured. He sustained injuries similar to those from their first duel. This time, the half-giant demonstrated a new trick¡ªwielding her blade like a blunt weapon by gripping the edge. She also used his shield for deceptive feints. Enkrid countered by combining heavy and orthodox sword techniques, seemingly applying lessons from the earlier duel. The fencer, observing from the sidelines, remained unimpressed. "He hasn''t improved." However, Enkrid barely made the cut as an average fighter. That annoyed him. The swordsman''s eyes naturally narrowed into a scowl. "That''s it for today. If you''re bored, take on a request to clear some nearby beasts. The rewards are generous, and it might help you vent your frustrations," Krais said. "Sounds good," Jevekall replied. Jevekall''s face lit up at the suggestion. His hands were itching for action. More than anything, the two opponents he''d observed today were no pushovers. One was his natural nemesis, while the other seemed to be hiding their true skill. "Troublesome bastards," he thought bitterly. Still, he couldn''t simply walk away. Fleeing without a proper reason might even prompt the Black Blade to send an assassination squad after him. He''d abused the gang''s resources freely until now, and the time to risk his life had finally come. Besides, his bloodlust was simmering, making him crave the sensation of his blade piercing through soft flesh. But he couldn''t just kill anyone¡ªnot a vagrant in the city, only to be mobbed and beaten to death in return. Especially with these sharp-eyed, highly skilled comrades nearby, watching his every move like hawks. "Bad luck, all around," he grumbled internally. While he hadn''t expected things to go smoothly, the situation had grown far more complicated than he''d anticipated. "Guess I''ll just cut down some beasts," he concluded. It was a reasonable decision. Krais nodded and gestured for a nearby soldier to lead Jevekall away, marking the end of today''s sparring. *** Enkrid, on the other hand, had to be half-carried back. His thigh muscles trembled so violently that he couldn''t even walk. "This is nothing; I''ll be fine after a little rest," Enkrid said. "Yeah, sure," someone muttered skeptically. "You might recover now, but if this keeps up, you''ll cripple yourself. Brother, faith is admirable, but overconfidence should be avoided," Audin added, quoting a teaching from the sacred scriptures. The message was clear: trust your body, but know your limits. "Yeah, got it," Enkrid nodded. Of course, it wasn''t a promise he intended to keep. "Once we''re back at the quarters, let''s practice blade-hand techniques," Ragna suggested. "Sharpening your senses makes it easier to predict the opponent''s moves," Jaxen chimed in. Everyone seemed to have something to say, especially since Enkrid had been on the receiving end of today''s beatdowns. Was it different from when they were the ones dealing the blows? Enkrid didn''t care. What did it matter? There was so much to do, and his training still wasn''t yielding immediate results. But that was how it was. Step by step, he would keep moving forward. At least his body was no longer stagnant as it once was, which in itself was a significant improvement. Brushing aside idle thoughts, Enkrid returned to the quarters and began blade-hand training with Ragna. "Unbelievable. Training in that condition?" Finn remarked, clicking her tongue at the sight. Recently, Finn had been busy as well. She often whispered with the fairy commander and frequently disappeared at dawn. "Where have you been sneaking off to these days?" Rem asked out of boredom. "Moonlit dew is supposed to be good for the skin," Finn replied casually, not even looking up as she organized her belongings. "...Is she messing with me?" Rem muttered. Enkrid silently agreed but sided with Finn. "You''re being paranoid. You have a habit of taking people''s words the wrong way." It wasn''t revenge for the times Rem called him "broken" in the head. Definitely not. "Hmm?" As Rem frowned, Ragna nudged Dunbakel forward. "Go. Do your job," Ragna ordered. "What job?" Dunbakel reluctantly approached Rem. "Oh, right. Time for training. Been slacking off lately, haven''t we?" Lately? They''d only cut back from two beatings a day to one¡ªand that had been just for two days. Slacking off? Dunbakel shot him a venomous glare, to which Rem grinned approvingly. "Yes! That fire in your eyes¡ªthat''s what I like. Let''s have a spirited... training session today!" Dunbakel wanted to cry, but her pride wouldn''t allow it. The pair left for their session while Enkrid resumed his sparring matches. Once his body recovered, he grabbed whoever was available at the inn and sparred with them. Jevekall was a master of sharp strikes and unpredictable, unconventional attacks. Even from him, there were lessons to be learned. The half-giant wielded her sword and shield with immense power, blending heavy swordsmanship with shield techniques. While her style incorporated orthodox elements, the deeper the fight went, the more versatile his attacks became. The shield charge that had initially caught Enkrid off guard remained a constant threat. Even the slightest opening would be mercilessly exploited, driven by monstrous stamina and overwhelming strength. While Enkrid''s endurance wasn''t lacking, his opponent''s sheer size made her a walking weapon. The rapier swordsman? Predictable as ever. He repeated the same tactics over and over. Edin Molsan also kept challenging him but failed to make any significant progress. After being knocked out during their third sparring session, he stopped coming as frequently. Instead, his bodyguard stepped up to take his place. "What''s your name?" "You don''t need to know." He was a blunt and prickly man. Enkrid didn''t care. He wasn''t concerned with why this person was finally stepping forward either. All that mattered was that now there was another suitable opponent, and that made him happy. He smiled at the thought. "Definitely not normal." The bodyguard spoke, but Enkrid didn''t pay any attention. The opponent''s swordsmanship was based on the "Flowing Sword Style," a technique that aimed for openings, swiftly slipping the sword in when the opponent let their guard down. Enkrid was familiar with this style. It wasn''t the first time he''d seen it. It wasn''t a mistake either. He''d replayed and analyzed this style countless times, never forgetting it. ''This...'' It was the same technique used by someone from Aspen. More specifically, it was the style of someone he''d once struck down with his left hand. The name of that opponent, Mitch Hurrier, was one Enkrid could never forget. The Hurrier family symbolized Aspen''s military might. So, was this person an agent? Enkrid didn''t care. As long as they were a worthy opponent, that was enough. And so, they clashed. The fight was even, neither side yielding easily. Enkrid didn''t focus on winning, though. "If I really wanted to kill you, I could''ve done it a hundred times over." Rem, knowing that Enkrid wasn''t just a simple swordsman, mocked him. "What''s the point of killing someone?" This wasn''t a battlefield. They were here to test their skills against each other. When it came to swordsmanship, they just wanted to test their limits. "He''s smiling again? You actually find this fun?" Jevekall often smiled. His grin deepened, and his tone grew sharper. He too often mocked Enkrid''s smile. It wasn''t just a simple sparring match for Jevekall anymore. From that moment on, only Enkrid occupied his mind. He was consumed with thoughts of killing Enkrid, no room left for any other impulses. It was a new experience for Jevekall. The half-giant, too, had a similar experience, though she felt something else instead of murderous intent. ''Why does he keep coming at me?'' She knew she was superior. That much was clear. If Enkrid had truly wanted to kill her, he could have, but it wasn''t that simple. Jevekall likely had hidden moves, and if they fought seriously, the odds were fifty-fifty. That was her judgment. But was there anything to gain from this sparring? And yet, why was he so delighted? "Alright, it''s your turn today." Despite taking a beating, he seemed pleased, and she couldn''t understand why. With a faint smile, Enkrid raised his sword, and the emotion on his face was all too clear. Even she, not particularly adept at reading emotions, could see it. He looked like a child. A child experiencing an incredibly joyful moment. A joy so pure it felt like a birthday celebration. She had heard Enkrid wasn''t particularly young. So why did he look like that? "Let''s start." How could he say it so cheerfully? She didn''t know, but one thing was certain: everything about him made her blood boil. It was a mix of fighting spirit and pride, stirring the giant''s blood within her. At this moment, she was no longer a follower of her teachings but a warrior. For the first time, she felt she wanted to be a warrior, not just a disciple. It was the first crack in the indoctrination that had been drilled into her since childhood. The teachings of the cult, the orders¡ªeverything was cast aside as she recognized a deeper desire within her. All the feelings she had never outwardly expressed, things no one, not even the bishop, had ever known¡ªthose emotions now twisted in her heart. "You''re really a strange one." The half-giant spoke up. Her words were clumsy, but the meaning was clear. "I told you from the start. Something''s wrong with you." From behind Enkrid, a gray-haired subordinate of his spun a finger around his temple. At first, that attitude had been something she ignored, but now it made perfect sense to her. "Yeah, you''re wrong in the head." The half-giant agreed. And so did she. Enkrid, uninterested, extended his sword. "Let''s fight." He only craved the fight. He displayed his desire for it. He relished the moment. The half-giant also, almost unconsciously, found a faint smile curling at the edge of her lips. To enjoy fighting for the sake of fighting¡ªthis was a first for her, a new experience. She felt something stir within her. Each swing of the sword, meaningless in itself, brought her a sense of fulfillment. And so, she smiled too. Thus, countless sparring matches followed. Each opponent had over a dozen rounds. There were moments when Enkrid was seriously injured. Other times, it ended with only minor wounds. But in the end, after all the duels, the rapier swordsman shook his head. "Guess not. This is the limit. Though, I might have misjudged, so I''ll give it one last test. I wonder, can you actually win? That''s the only thing I''m curious about." Muttering to himself, the rapier swordsman faced Enkrid. Before Enkrid could even process what was happening, countless blades erupted from the swordsman''s body. Enkrid had faced something similar before. It was from a red-cloaked knight named Aisia. Willpower, formed into intangible blades, pressed in on Enkrid, overwhelming him. It was pure intimidation. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Your support is apreciated! https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 228 - Bell’s Day Chapter 228 - 228 - Bell''s Day Junior Knight Aisia. She was a member of the knight order who came with Froch Luargarne. What she used was a technique called "Will," based on willpower. The technique the swordsman before him showed was similar. No, it was even more advanced. Enkrid saw the formless blades that cut, stabbed, and slashed his body. There were more and faster than Aisia''s. Even knowing they were fake and illusions, he couldn''t ignore them. Even though he instinctively understood that they came from the opponent''s will, the feeling to evade triggered within him. He almost reflexively retreated, but Enkrid gritted his teeth. His body flinched. His shoulder trembled. To not avoid the oncoming blades, he would have to embrace the knife in his chest. It was the same as before. If he couldn''t break through, escape or dodge would be his only choice. It was like Aisia''s "Will" again. If he couldn''t overcome it, he would be crushed against the wall. Without even fighting, without raising a finger, it would be admitting defeat. The laugh of the boatman came to mind. It was certain the mockery would ripple through the waters. Enkrid suppressed his instincts. "You could die," the rapier swordsman said as Enkrid didn''t retreat. Enkrid didn''t listen. Even in the days when death was the end, he risked his life. He wasn''t struggling to die, but struggling to move forward. So, should he retreat now? Should he? "Retreat." The rapier swordsman said again. And Enkrid began to swing his sword toward the oncoming blades. He turned the feeling of evasion into an offensive form, unleashing his tremendous strength and opening the door of his intuition. The focus activated, and he completely immersed himself in the moment. The approaching blades, the formless swords, all became visible. Slow and certain. Enkrid swung his sword. He knocked them aside, parried, and shattered them. The broken blades disappeared like ghosts. They shattered like glass. And for every one he shattered, a new blade formed. "Foolish," the rapier swordsman said. That was the last word Enkrid heard from him. He missed one blade. It bent as it came in, a quick blade like a hawk''s strike. It was easy to miss. Enkrid felt the blade cut through his throat. It felt real. It was horrible, and he could feel the heat. The thought of certain death crossed his mind. Enkrid closed his eyes. But he did not meet the boatman. When he opened his eyes again, he heard a voice. "Did you wake up? You crazy captain?" It was Rem''s voice. Enkrid, overcome by the pressure of the "Will," had swung his sword wildly at the air, only to collapse with his eyes rolling back in his head. Yet, his posture with the sword was strangely perfect, his movements showing the signs of someone who had been trained. Soon after he collapsed, there was a loud bang! Someone hit the ground. Not one, but several moved. Audin rushed forward and caught Enkrid. Rem took out his axe. Alongside him, Ragna stood, blocking the path between Enkrid and the rapier swordsman. Jaxen was already behind the rapier swordsman. "If I wanted to kill him, I would have done so by now," the swordsman said. Rem knew that this was no ordinary opponent. He couldn''t even guarantee his own victory. "Well, I could have killed him alone if I wanted to," Rem thought. But was he alone here? There was no need to unleash his hidden power. "If he was dead, you''d be gone," Ragna said. There was no doubt in his voice. If he decided to kill, he would do it. Rem, usually smiling, now had a serious expression as he spoke, "Let''s be careful, alright? My axe tends to go off on its own. It''s got a mind of its own, you know." His casual words, spoken without a smile, carried a deadly edge. "His body''s fine. I''ll have to check his head once he wakes up," Audin said as he checked Enkrid''s breathing. He didn''t use his usual ''brother'' title. The "Will" technique affects the mind. It is a force that presses and constricts. When Enkrid woke up, he might be left a fool. But Audin didn''t worry about that. Enkrid wasn''t the type to fall easily. He wasn''t the kind of man who would be defeated by something so trivial. However, if fear had settled into his heart? That was the kind of damage his opponent caused. It wasn''t a physical chain, but a wound in the mind. It was something that could be called psychological trauma. A fear engraved deeply would not break easily. "Let''s check his condition once he wakes up," Audin said, still not using the term "brother." And so, the fight ended. When Enkrid woke up, he heard everything about what had happened right after he passed out, nodding slowly. "I see." The "Will," a technique based on willpower. That meant his opponent was at least a Junior Knight. And that he knew how to use a sword. "Fun," Enkrid muttered. Fun? Everyone''s eyes turned to him. If this was sincere, there was something wrong. His mind was broken. But then again, it wouldn''t be surprising if Enkrid said something like that. He truly might be insane. That thought crossed everyone''s minds. A brief silence followed. Was he really okay, or was he just showing off? Could someone really say that after seeing such a blade? "Looks like he''s still broken, so it''s fine," Rem concluded. This was Enkrid''s normal. Would he be afraid of a blade? It could happen. Soldiers who''ve rolled around in battle sometimes break mentally. There''s even a story about a soldier who saw a giant and would faint just hearing the word "giant" for the rest of his life. But Enkrid wasn''t like that. He had truly died before, endured pain, and faced death head-on. He wouldn''t be shaken by a virtual blade cutting him. "When you drew your sword back then, it was the same. Looks like you''re really broken," Krais said, recalling a similar experience when he drew the cursed sword. He mimicked the motion of spinning a finger around his ear Rem struck the back of Krais''s head with such force that it looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his face, justifying his "Big Eyes" nickname. "Ah! Why are you hitting me?" "That''s mine." "What do you mean, yours?" Enkrid shook his head inwardly and sat up. "I''m the only one who can do it." Rem was just being mischievous. Krais pouted, but quietly stepped back. Wasn''t this someone who wasn''t even worth talking to? "Are you really okay, Captain?" "I must have slept too long. My body feels light." In response to the question of whether he was okay, Enkrid replied that his body felt light. Audin smiled slightly. "Truly amazing mental strength, Brother." Audin looked at Enkrid again with a renewed sense of awe. Why wouldn''t he? The long hours spent honing holiness¡ªwhat was required of everyone was patience and a stable mindset. "Only those who do not succumb to any hardship or threat can raise their heads." Audin murmured a part of the scriptures. No one paid much attention to it. Ragna wasn''t a particularly suspicious person, but still felt the need to confirm something. Ching. He drew his sword and stopped just a finger''s breadth away from Enkrid''s nose. "...You want to spar?" Enkrid looked blankly into Ragna''s eyes. Anyone who fears a sword can''t hide their unease. But how were Enkrid''s eyes right now? Still the same. Straight and true. The same look that even Jevikal found tiring to look at. "We can do it next time." Ragna sheathed his sword. As always, Jaxen was just amazed by Enkrid. ''He doesn''t seem like someone who could ever die.'' Of course, Jaxen wouldn''t just stand by if Enkrid was in danger. Still, Enkrid was perfectly fine now. And the sparring continued. The rapier swordsman, instead of the soft and friendly blades of before, showed more pressure. Once again, Enkrid was struck by formless blades, falling unconscious. To be precise, he fainted; it wasn''t actual death. It was just something that felt like death, something that dug deep into the mind and spirit. That wouldn''t change Enkrid. "Is he enduring it?" The rapier swordsman spoke. Jevikal, watching from the side, grumbled. "Hey, just finish him off already. If you''re going to kill him, then do it! Why are you stabbing him so lightly, testing him?" The rapier swordsman ignored him. The giant and Edin Molsen''s guards had a different opinion. "Next time, let''s do it at the end. He keeps passing out before even getting started." The guards spoke, and the hybrid giant nodded. They didn''t want their own opportunities to be taken away. It was an odd situation. The rapier swordsman saw Enkrid''s limits, but still acknowledged something. "Is it willpower?" Among everyone present, no one was the same as when they first arrived. They were all changing, little by little, as they faced Enkrid. The heat of summer had passed, and it was now a dry fall. Border Guard''s Pen-Hanil North had a short autumn, meaning the cold would soon follow. It had already been about a month since they arrived in Border Guard. "Next time is the last," the rapier swordsman said. "Do as you wish," Rem replied. After fainting from the pressure, Enkrid nodded when he woke up. "I want to beat this." "There''s only one way." As always, there was advice given when they sparred with visitors to the city. Once again, Ragna stepped forward. "If you can''t defeat all of them, you can strike the phantom blades with your heart." This wasn''t vague advice. "Will." At the very least, if you didn''t have something intangible to counteract the pressure, you wouldn''t be able to win. "Will is said to be something you realize, but in truth, if that kind of power existed, forming a knight order itself would be impossible. Junior knights are those who have awakened their will forcibly. It''s possible, but even if you awaken it, countering this kind of pressure is a different matter." The last part was the analogy of learning to walk but not being able to run immediately. Anyway, based on Ragna''s words, the conclusion was that the opponent was testing him. Whether the intention was good or evil, kind or malicious, Enkrid didn''t care. For him, it was just about: "Pressure." Every time he met something that constricted him, like before, he only wanted to overcome it. But he wasn''t planning to sacrifice his life and repeat today. Another day passed, and it was a night just like any other. Bell, who was on duty at the city gates, noticed someone approaching in the middle of the night. "Who''s there? A merchant?" Although Bell asked, he already knew the person wasn''t a merchant. Logically, it was strange for someone to be traveling alone, and emotionally, the person didn''t seem easy to deal with. "Is this where the soldier who ended of the war is?" The man wasn''t wearing a black cloak, nor was his outfit suspicious. The man, who had approached to the reach of the torchlight, was young. His skin was somewhat dark, and he had a sword at his waist. One arming sword on one side, and three daggers lined up on the other¡ªhis attire looked natural. In other words, he looked like someone armed, but didn''t seem to be. "I was hoping to meet him," the man said again. Bell tilted his head slightly, then turned it back and replied. "At this hour, we can''t let outsiders into the city. If you plan on coming, it''s best to come tomorrow at noon. And we''ll meet tomorrow, right?" The last question was directed at his colleague. "Yeah, that''s right." His colleague replied. Coincidentally, tomorrow was the day Enkrid would recover and come out. It was the day after the recent days of continuous sparring. There had been rest days, but tomorrow, he would be out. He hadn''t been seriously injured. "Well, you''re lucky. You''ll be able to meet him tomorrow." Upon hearing Bell''s words, the man mumbled something before speaking. "I only have time tonight. Could we meet now?" Bell thought the man was being stubborn, but there was something strange about his demeanor. ''Let''s test him out.'' There were many people searching for the soldier from the end of the war, but it was rare to find someone who could overpower him. Many had left after being defeated. "Is this just some soldier?" Bell muttered under his breath. Saying this, Bell tapped his colleague''s shoulder. "I''ll check this out for a moment. If anything happens, ring the emergency bell." "Don''t worry, I''ll put an arrow through his forehead before the emergency bell even rings." His colleague, who always carried a bow, spoke with a quick jab at his side. Jaxen, their trainer, was a master archer. Bell thought as he opened the side gate and stepped out. There were a few guards keeping watch, watching him closely. Bell spoke, using the light from the torches as a reference. "If you knock me out, I''ll send the message, would you like to give it a try?" "Sure, sounds good." Soon, Bell aimed his spear at the man, but the man stood there unarmed. "...Aren''t you going to draw your sword?" Bell''s voice deepened. "If I cut you with this, you''d die, but I don''t think I need to kill you." This guy? Overflowing with confidence, huh? Bell''s irritation surged, and that frustration was channeled into a thrust with his spear. The fight didn''t last long. The man caught Bell''s thrust, but Bell could see his movement coming. However, Bell was a fraction too slow. The man closed the distance and struck Bell''s stomach with the palm of his hand. Thud! The shock felt like it penetrated his stomach. Bell thought for a moment that his stomach had been pierced. He barely managed to hold back the urge to vomit, and the man''s voice reached him. "You have great endurance." "...If I fall from just one hit, I''ll have an instructor who would get really mad at me," Bell replied, exhaling, his legs shaking from the heavy blow. Still, Audin''s punches were even heavier than this. Bell made a decision. The man was more skilled than he was. And he''d said he didn''t want to wait until tomorrow. ''All I have to do is deliver the message.'' Bell figured he''d just relay the message to Enkrid. The rest of the judgment was up to him. Hadn''t Enkrid mentioned there might be people like this several times? Enkrid himself had said he wanted to meet everyone, even those passing by. If the person was someone whose skill was proven, it wouldn''t matter if it was late at night. He had already met others like that. "I''ll go check on it." Bell stepped back willingly. The man didn''t show any murderous intent or act rudely. Bell entered the barracks and relayed the message to Enkrid. "Wait a moment, I''ll go check it myself." Enkrid suddenly stood up. "Are you going alone?" "Yeah." "Well, I suppose that''s fine." Bell, who had been the gatekeeper for those who came looking for Enkrid, didn''t find the man to be as imposing as the others. He didn''t sense any overwhelming presence or pressure. When he relayed this to Enkrid, Enkrid, with a light step, headed out alone. "Let''s go." Enkrid stepped forward, and they exchanged a few words under the torchlight before their swords clashed. Clang. The fight continued between the two. It was intense and lively. It felt as though the dawn was rising between them. The light seemed to shine through in their movements. Then, something strange caught Bell''s eye. Suddenly, the man''s drawn blade grazed Enkrid''s forehead, and in that instant, the man seemed to shake his head as if disappointed. Afterward, Enkrid''s body began to tremble, and he collapsed forward. He fell face-first. He couldn''t keep his body upright. Bell blinked. ''Is he dead?'' The world seemed to distort and tear apart. Enkrid''s death was like the pendulum of a clock, turning back the day. The curse had activated, and a day Bell could not remember passed. And once again, the same day began, repeating the same events. Bell, having gone to find Enkrid, spoke again. "The independent platoon commander had someone visit." "Yeah." Bell tilted his head. Without any detailed explanation, Enkrid just immediately left. Enkrid, who left with a bright smile on his face¡ªone he usually didn''t show¡ªwas absolutely filled with joy and excitement. "Do you know him?" Bell asked. "No." Enkrid replied as he walked. Though he said he didn''t know him, the answer was filled with undeniable joy and excitement. It was so apparent that Enkrid could not hide it. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! Your support is appreciated! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit .gg/3kwX2x2c55 or Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 229- Should I Fix My Broken Head First? Chapter 229 - 229- Should I Fix My Broken Head First? 229. Should I fix my broken head first? "If I get hit one more time, I might really die. Are you going to keep going?" Although it wasn''t time for bed yet, the sun had set, and the evening was growing dark. Rem, scratching his toes, asked the question. It was a remarkably indifferent attitude. Before washing up, Enkrid was cleaning his sword and checking his equipment. Next to him, Jaxen was cleaning his dagger with linseed oil. His touch wasn''t delicate, but it was skillful. He was a talented guy, with many skills. Enkrid casually responded. "I won''t die." To be precise, even if he did die, he would just come back. He had nearly died facing the hybrid giant. He had come close to the edge of death in his battle against Jevikal. Even the swordsmanship of Edin Molson''s guard was no joke. It was a duel with real blades, and of course, it was common to be stabbed somewhere if things went wrong. From the perspective of an ordinary person, it might seem like he was desperately trying to get himself killed. A fight where carelessness could lead to death. Normally, this would be something to stop, but his superior was a true lunatic who actually enjoyed this kind of thing. However, was it right to face that ''intimidation'' head-on? If he didn''t have the strength to break free and win right now, it would be like jumping off a cliff with nothing but his bare hands, or like leaping onto a sharp rock. "Going up against a heavily armored cavalry with only a quill pen is pretty much the same thing." Ragna chimed in, dressed in casual clothes with wet hair, as if he had just finished washing. It was a sign that it was all pointless. Didn''t Audin and Jaxen think the same? Both had said similar things while going about their tasks. "It''s fine." But Enkrid thought differently. Was it because there was a way? Or because there was a way to handle it? No, that wasn''t it. It was simply because he knew that once something appeared in front of him, retreating would make it impossible to move forward. The Beast''s Heart, Focus of Concentration, Sensory Blade, the Isolation Technique had granted him talent. However, they didn''t turn him into a genius beyond others. So, what changed? Nothing. There was always something to learn, something to practice, something to gain. So why should he avoid it? Ragna was stimulated by seeing Enkrid not give up. ''Will.'' Though he didn''t perfectly control his power, it wouldn''t be wrong to say he knew how to use it. He just couldn''t use the technique of intimidation. No, even if he could use it, controlling it freely would be a different issue. In other words, he couldn''t prepare him for it in advance. A sharp sensation pierced his chest. And it was the first time he had experienced such a longing. A thirst, something others would call ambition if they knew. ''Higher.'' Ragna quietly sank into himself. Everyone was on a break, a resting period. It was also the evening when Esther had turned into her human form. Now, she had to be in her human form once or twice a month, as she had said. Esther''s eyes turned toward Enkrid. Actually, she had been looking at him for a while. It was only now that Enkrid noticed her gaze. Her eyes were captivating. They were like a blue lake, or the deep blue of a moonlit night. With those eyes, Esther had been staring at Enkrid when she finally spoke. "How foolish." Enkrid was used to hearing this. In some ways, he was quick-witted and perceptive, but when it came to swords and his dream, he was stubborn to the point of being foolish. Enkrid was well aware of this, so her words weren''t meant as an insult. "Can you only become human once a month?" In response to Enkrid''s question, Esther replied that it wasn''t his concern. To be precise, she could turn into a human as many times as she wanted, but she still preferred being a leopard. However, Esther also had plenty of tasks to take care of in her human form. She hadn''t forgotten, but she had put off adjusting the world of her spell and fixing the golem she had obtained earlier. The world of spells grew dull if it wasn''t regularly tended to, like a blade losing its sharpness. "Foolish? His head is broken, I told you." Rem laughed, tapping his head with the hand that had been scratching his toes. Enkrid neatly ignored him. It was that kind of evening. Audin was meditating, Ragna had already gone to bed, and just then, Bell arrived. "Someone came to challenge you. What do we do?" Bell coming to fetch him in the middle of the night meant that the challenger was quite skilled. "Anyone who comes at night always has something shady going on." Krais muttered from behind, rummaging through his belongings. He had finished cleaning his dagger and seemed to be looking for something. "I''ll just check it out." Shady or not, a breakthrough was needed at this point. A duel with a new opponent¡ªthat was Enkrid''s breakthrough. Although the rapier swordsman didn''t acknowledge it, Enkrid felt that his skill had improved through fighting the giant, Jevikal, Molson''s guard, and the rapier swordsman. To others, it might seem small and insignificant, but he had definitely grown. Training and reflecting on his sword, they had helped him. He believed this duel would be the same¡ªsomething that would help. Bell asked if he was going alone, and Enkrid casually nodded. There wouldn''t be any immediate danger. The others, including Rem, weren''t that concerned. That was understandable. Many had asked for duels in the middle of the night before. Some of them were afraid their reputation would drop if they lost in front of spectators, so they came secretly. Others claimed they couldn''t showcase their techniques publicly. Both were valid reasons. Enkrid generally respected his opponents. After all, just the fact that someone came to challenge him was a pleasant thing. But that didn''t mean he would accept anyone. It was natural to only accept opponents whose skills had been proven. And Bell was the gauge for that. So, if Bell called him, the opponent was worthy of fighting. "What happened? How did you lose?" "I tried to use my sword, but he only used his fists and slapped me with his palm. It hurt." Bell mimicked the technique of the opponent. It seemed awkward and hard to gauge. They then left for the city gate. Under the light of the torches, a man with reddish-brown hair appeared. His face was youthful, and his arms were long. Using the skills he had learned from the Isolation Technique, Enkrid assessed his opponent''s abilities. ''Long arms, good balance.'' The well-balanced body and long arms were excellent conditions for wielding a sword. "I''m the soldier who ended the war" Enkrid stepped forward and spoke. The wind that blew from behind caused the torch''s flame to flicker to one side. Thanks to that, the shadows between the two tangled and then fell apart. "Ah, it''s you?" The opponent''s eyes widened. They weren''t particularly bright or clear, but there was no malice or intent to kill in them. This was someone who had probably killed people before, but seemed to have a clear standard, a belief or something similar. Someone who appeared to have their own principles. Of course, it was just a guess. You couldn''t know a person just by their appearance. A playful look could also be seen across his face. While Rem''s youthful face carried the mischievous cunning of a seasoned devil, this one had the pure, innocent feel of a child. "I''m sorry for coming so late." The opponent apologized first, bowing his head slightly. He then observed Enkrid with his eyes. His posture was good. "It''s fine." The man''s gaze scanned Enkrid''s entire body. From his chest to his toes, and then back up again. He spoke without hiding his stare. "You''ve got a well-trained body." The emotion in the voice when he spoke was noticeable¡ªwas that an exaggeration? It didn''t seem like it. "Where are you from?" Enkrid asked, hiding his anticipation. "A shepherd from the wilderness." It wasn''t a long conversation. To be honest, it was rather trivial. Enkrid had gotten used to the somewhat embarrassing title of the soldier who ended the war. It meant that many had come to challenge him. But he hadn''t expected someone like this to show up. A shepherd from the wilderness. Literally, a group with absurd combat strength that lived in the wilderness, herding sheep. Their history and traditions were said to date back even before the Empire''s rise. Well, that didn''t change anything. If anything, it only increased his anticipation. The wilderness was a land teeming with monsters and beasts. And to herd sheep there? Clearly, these people were no ordinary folks. "Let''s go." At Enkrid''s words, the shepherd moved. The speed of their feet was startling. Before the opponent''s sword could even be drawn, Enkrid''s blade split the darkness first. Cling! Whoosh! He drew and struck in one motion. It was a medium-sword style draw cut, an upward slash. Through the blade slicing the air, Enkrid could see the gleam in the opponent''s eyes. Before long, a dagger appeared in the opponent''s hand. And Enkrid felt that a line had been drawn between them. Ping. A high-pitched sound rang out, and the dagger''s speed was incredibly fast. Before Enkrid could fully register it, the dagger was already right in front of him. Enkrid pushed down with his left foot, twisting his body and leaning backward. It was a reflexive reaction. The sense of evasion kicked in. The dagger then sharply changed direction, taking an angular path. In that instant, Enkrid switched his sword to a single grip. Enkrid reached for his waist with his empty left hand and pulled out a black-bladed dagger to block the opponent''s dagger. It was a weapon he had obtained after defeating the Black Blade Bandits earlier. Clang! The two daggers clashed, sending sparks flying. In that brief moment, Enkrid pulled his right-hand sword. He didn''t slash but drew it in a straight line. The opponent didn''t retreat; instead, he found his distance. It was the range where short weapons like a dagger would be effective. Enkrid''s blade was angled to meet the opponent''s dagger. Ka-cha-cha-ching! Sparks flew from the close-range clash, but neither of them flinched. Neither had a chance to catch their breath. The battle had entered a phase of intense, rapid exchanges. It was as though there was no world outside of the two of them, as if failure meant death. With the moonlight shattering and dirt flying, they fought, isolated from everything around them. The opponent''s hands became faster. Enkrid''s own hands and feet also moved more quickly. The shepherd of the wilderness was skilled in hand-to-hand combat as well. Enkrid didn''t back down either. Neither of them had gained the upper hand when Enkrid suddenly lost all awareness of the surroundings. The place, the weather, the situation, the opponent¡ªeverything vanished. His heart pounded, craving short breaths. In that exchange, Enkrid had become lost in the moment. He had been immersed, drawn in. It was a sensation similar to when he had fought Mitch Huryer. In an instant, Enkrid grabbed the opponent''s extended elbow and shattered their will with sheer strength. Enkrid hadn''t calculated his move or understood the sequence of his actions. It had all been done purely on instinct and sensation. He pushed the elbow towards his own right side, then moved his foot to position himself behind the opponent. With a swift motion, he raised his sword horizontally and placed it against the opponent''s neck. With his back secured, Enkrid moved his sword between his body and the blade. He pressed the opponent''s elbow, twisting their body, and prepared to perform a guillotine cut. Enkrid pulled the sword, not hesitating. It was just moments away from victory when¡ª Thwack! He felt resistance from the blade. Enkrid knew that his sword was not ordinary. Yet, the blade had been blocked. Somehow, the sword at the opponent''s waist had wedged between Enkrid''s blade and their neck. The sword now looked more like a mere stick than a weapon. Ha! The shepherd let out a battle cry. At the same time, he twisted his body, then slammed his back into Enkrid''s chest. Despite Enkrid''s overwhelming strength, he was pushed back. The opponent''s strength was formidable. The shepherd turned his body. In his eyes now was the intent to kill. Enkrid could not afford to lose, and so he gathered his own killing intent. From below, stepping out with his left foot, he executed the Greatsword Strike again. Power, weight, rotation, and timing. Everything aligned perfectly, and Enkrid felt a surge of exhilaration. At the same moment, his rising sword met the opponent''s staff. Crash! A sound like an explosion rang out. Along with it, the scabbard shattered, and the blade sprang out from inside. Enkrid reacted, but he couldn''t stop the blade from grazing his forehead. Immediately after the cut, the opponent mumbled and quickly retreated. The immersion was broken. "Ah, I wasn''t supposed to use this." The muttering reached Enkrid''s ears, a beat too late. "Damn. I''m sorry." The man spoke. "Wha..." Enkrid couldn''t finish his sentence. What was going on? Something began to seep into his body from his forehead. Poison? No, it was something else entirely. "Excuse me, are there any priests nearby? If we hurry, maybe you can still live... though, it''s probably too late." The shepherd seemed flustered, speaking out of order. A terrible pain started from his forehead and spread throughout his body. At the same time, a scream echoed from somewhere. "Well, you see, this... you shouldn''t just cut people down recklessly... this sword cuts a person''s soul. The moment you''re cut, if you can endure it, you might survive. But... I think it''s too late." The shepherd rambled, offering unnecessary explanations. Enkrid felt something tightening around his heart, unable to process the shepherd''s words. The shepherd was right. He couldn''t understand everything, but the last part ¡ª that it was too late ¡ª was clear to him. Something had overtaken his mind that he could not overcome with everything he had learned. His vision darkened. He had thought he had faced countless challenges before, but this kind of death was something new. Something was tearing and prodding at his head. It was something mental. Enkrid''s forehead felt like it was being burned with black scorch marks. Yet, he did not feel unjust. Immersion and concentration. It had truly been a meaningful moment. It was hard to determine who was superior in skill, his or the opponent''s. The shepherd fought well. The advantage of the weapon? If this were a life-or-death battle, using the weapon was the right choice. Though, now it was a sparring match, and he had gotten too caught up in the fight, which led to this situation. He hadn''t meant to cut, it was a reflexive reaction. He didn''t mind that. He had done the same. Enkrid could not bring himself to blame the opponent. In the final Guillotine Cut, he had intended to strike the opponent''s neck as well. If he had hesitated, he would have lost. What was it, though? There were moments when you didn''t want to lose, no matter how much you fought. He felt something similar from the opponent right now. ''Why?'' It wasn''t that he didn''t care about victory, but if there was something to learn from this day, he didn''t mind the loss. If it had been different, he would have fought to the death, no matter who it was, whether it was Jevikal or anyone else. Enkrid was used to strategizing and retrospection. That''s why it was easy to understand his complicated feelings. ''Ah.'' A brief realization struck him. The opponent in front of him resembled the young boy he had met when he was wandering the continent. The one who, despite having only held a sword for six months, had created a hole in Enkrid''s side. Of course, this wasn''t the same child grown up, but the opponent reminded him of that moment. The position, the time, the weather ¡ª everything was the same. Even the innocence in the opponent''s face. That was why he didn''t want to lose. The child who had broken his beginnings came to mind. He had once made that child his goal for a while. "Anyway, sorry for killing you." The shepherd also acted similarly. He gave a half-hearted bow. This guy. Sorry, but there was nothing that could be done. The shepherd turned around and added one last remark. "If you somehow survive, let''s call it a debt. I''m Shepherd Pell." He quickly walked away, seemingly aware of how troublesome staying would be. Enkrid collapsed forward. As he fell, the only thought in his head was whether this was poison or something else. A sudden blackout, dying from a wound on his forehead. This was death. Just before dying, he heard the woman''s eerie scream, and cries like those coming from the depths of hell. It was strange. When he closed his eyes and opened them again, he saw the familiar dark river. The ferryman was holding a violet lantern and smiling. "Do you think you can survive knowing?" The ferryman asked. Enkrid responded flatly. "It doesn''t matter if I know." If he was cut by the sword, he would die. So, he just had to avoid being cut. No, even if he was cut. ''Once more.'' He wanted to experience that moment of immersion again. He wanted to fight the shepherd again. Regardless of victory or defeat, just fighting itself with such a person filled him with joy. Enkrid was sincere in this desire. "...Shouldn''t you fix that broken head first?" After hearing those words, Enkrid lost consciousness again. By the way, did the ferryman hear the sounds from the outside? The "broken head" phrase that Rem keeps bringing up had reached this place. In any case, Rem was the problem. It was a new day again. "If you do it again, you might die." It was another evening like the last. "I don''t care. You should teach Dunbakel properly, Rem." "...Why do I feel like you''re treating me worse than usual?" Rem expressed his doubts, but Enkrid didn''t answer. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! Your support is appreciated! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit .gg/3kwX2x2c55 or Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 230 - Ah, This Sounds Fun Chapter 230 - 230 - Ah, This Sounds Fun The question from the ferryman lingered in his mind. "Do you think knowing will help you win?" Enkrid remembered his own answer. "I don''t care if I know." It was the truth¡ªthere wasn''t a single lie in it. What mattered more was that fighting the shepherd was incredibly enjoyable. How should I put it? The half-blood giant, Jevikal, Count Molsen''s guard, the rapier-wielding swordsman, and all those who had been by his side: Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, Audin. All of them had been motivating, but the shepherd was different. The skill was almost equal, and the attitude, the age¡ªeverything was a factor. Above all, Enkrid felt like he was advancing. It wasn''t that his skill had dramatically improved after a single duel or a brush with death. Even though his senses had sharpened, his body now moved as he wished, and he possessed superhuman concentration that allowed him to dodge arrows, it was the sense of progress that brought him joy. "A star has risen." Enkrid stepped out before Bell came. The sky was filled with twinkling stars and two moons¡ªdual moons. It was an exceptionally bright night. The cool autumn air was far more refreshing than summer. A gentle breeze brushed against his ear. It wouldn''t be long before the cold would set in. The short autumn was to his liking, and he felt content with the temperature. Just as he was lost in thought, Rem peeked out of the inn with his head sticking out. "There''s still mosquitoes. What are you doing?" Weng. Before he could finish his sentence, a mosquito flew past his ear. With a swift motion, Enkrid raised his left hand and snatched the mosquito out of the air, crushing it in his fist. "Going for a night stroll," Enkrid said as he turned to leave. "Suddenly?" "I feel like it." "You''re being awfully sentimental. What, are you upset for losing again?" Enkrid took a step and asked, "What would you do if you had a foe you couldn''t even touch?" "I''d smash their skull before they even moved," Rem answered easily, having become used to Enkrid''s random questions. After that, he scratched his ear and added, "You know, your questions are always kind of random." "Really?" Enkrid agreed, understanding why. There were times when only he could walk, only he could experience the present, and only he could enjoy the moment. Enkrid''s questions came from the very moments and timelines that he was going through. "They really are random," Enkrid replied lightly, continuing to walk. "Make sure you visit the temple. Your head''s been rattling pretty badly, you know." That guy. Really, Rem''s mouth was a problem. Thanks to him, the ferryman had also said something strange earlier. Anyway. Enkrid thought that walls seemed to appear unexpectedly in front of him, as if manipulated by the ferryman. Or was this simply how life worked? Unexpected moments, unpredictable deaths¡ªif this was another wall, then it couldn''t be overcome through just one death. Yet still, ''Ah, this sounds fun.'' He felt an irresistible thrill. He walked on and soon met Bell, just as he had expected, walking down the road that led to the gates. "Ah? Where are you going?" Bell asked. "Where are you going?" Enkrid replied. "I was on my way to call the captain." The same conversation as before happened again. Enkrid reflected on the things he had experienced. The priest, the scream that shook his head the moment the blade struck, the horrendous shrieks that seemed to come from the bottom of hell. It wasn''t the sound that mattered, but the sensation of something sinking into his body. It wasn''t a spell or poison. If anything, it was the scream of someone filled with rage. ''For now,'' he thought, shaking off the thought. First, the fight. The duel. The opponent''s skill was impressive, even without the sword. Let''s see, maybe he should approach it like Rem. Enkrid couldn''t hide his joy, and a smile spread across his face as he thought about it. Bell tilted his head. He couldn''t help but feel like something was off. "Are you feeling sick? If you are, I can bail you out." Bell said with concern. "No," Enkrid answered firmly, his eyes wide open and his back straight. "Eh?" "No." He said it as a warning. Enkrid''s steps were light. If anyone knew his current situation, every one of the company members would shake their heads in disbelief. This was the step of someone approaching death. Was it really like a child''s steps on a picnic? Enkrid walked briskly out the gates. Another familiar conversation ended. "Then." Enkrid readied himself, and the opponent drew a dagger. Joy, excitement, and anticipation stirred his heart. His skin prickled in excitement. Then Enkrid followed Rem''s advice. Boom. He unleashed the full force of his heart, swinging the sword. Whoosh. The lion''s strike with the greatsword. It slashed downward in a way that was so fast, the moving target barely had time to react. The opponent responded. Maybe he realized he couldn''t block the attack with just a dagger. Clang! Thud! The blade was drawn halfway from its scabbard, the shepherd''s hand gripping the hilt while his other hand held the scabbard to block. Clang! The lion''s strike was blocked. Both opponents exerted force, holding each other in a deadlock. Grrrrk. The two blades met, exchanging greetings. Iron against iron, the battle was now a symphony. The blades crossed in mid-air, and Enkrid''s and the shepherd''s gazes locked. For a moment, the two assessed each other''s strength with just their eyes. Enkrid thought to himself that the shepherd''s skill might be superior to what he had seen on this repeated day. ''What if he''s someone who usually uses a sword but is using a dagger now?'' That could be the case. But it didn''t matter. Whether the opponent drew his sword or not, that was his choice. Enkrid had chosen his path and would press on. Bell, who had been watching from a distance, swallowed nervously. At that moment, their blades parted. The battle continued, much like the intense combat from earlier today. Enkrid pressed the shepherd, ignoring the minor cuts caused by the dagger. As long as he avoided vital spots, he tried to land blows wherever possible. Trusting his physical senses and natural athleticism, he aimed to end the fight with a single strike. In response, the shepherd drew his sword again. This time, the strike was different from the one that had grazed his forehead. Ting! Tang! Clang! The shepherd deftly blocked Enkrid''s swift one-handed thrust with his dagger, then used his other hand to toss the scabbard upward. As the scabbard flew, he drew his sword. Fully immersed in the fight, Enkrid reacted to everything his opponent did. He pulled the dagger away from his sword with force, allowing him to bring down the sword in a heavy, cleaving strike. The scabbard, flying through the air, was blocked with his forehead. Even though the scabbard bounced off his forehead, Enkrid didn''t close his eyes. If he didn''t lose sight of the opponent''s sword, he could still evade. He had a sense of evasion. It wasn''t impossible. Whoosh! The shepherd grabbed the sword he had thrown into the air. The blade twisted like a snake and slashed across Enkrid''s cheek. He tried to dodge, but he was just half an inch short. The intense battle, immersed in focus, continued. ''I saw it, but...'' The opponent''s skill was formidable. Enkrid judged that the shepherd was on a level above Jebikal. To not even touch such an opponent''s blade¡ªit was difficult, very difficult. Of course, just because it was difficult didn''t mean Enkrid would give up. He simply reflected on what he had learned from today''s duel. A scream echoed in his ear once more. "Damn, I didn''t mean to do that..." He heard the shepherd muttering to himself. Groooan. The eerie, hellish sound that seemed to drag his ankle down from the depths of the abyss. His body felt heavier. Enkrid already knew what was happening from past experience. And the pain he knew could kill him, but it wouldn''t stop him. "What''s that sword?" "...Are you ok?" "I think I''m about to die. Answer me." "Even after being cut, you still talk? You''re an interesting one. This is a sword with the soul of a demon in it. I swore never to use it on a person... so I apologize." His words were scattered, still as mindless as ever. "Alright, I understand. Fell." "...Did I say my name?" No, Enkrid had heard it during their first encounter. That was the end. He died. "You''re insane." The ferryman appeared twice in a row. Seeing this, Enkrid unwittingly voiced his thoughts. It wasn''t intentional. This was a dream, and because of it, he couldn''t hide his true feelings. "Bored lately?" The ferryman''s body swayed on the boat, the violet lamp swaying along with it. Silence fell. Brief, but profoundly quiet. The black river made no sound at all. At the end of the silence: "Damn..." The ferryman muttered something that sounded like a curse, but then Enkrid woke up. Enkrid immediately began questioning Ragna. "Is there a swordsmanship style that can block every strike?" "Where did you hear that? It''s the peak of the Flowing Sword style." The Flowing Sword was a sword that flows¡ªboth attacking and defending simultaneously. "Can you do it?" "Basics, at least." If the speed and timing were such that even evasion wouldn''t work... ''Then I''ll just block it.'' Enkrid decided to learn the basics of the Flowing Sword style from Ragna and head out again in the evening. Still. ''Today''s going to be even more fun.'' Thanks to two prior encounters, Enkrid had learned a few habits of his opponent. Today, he would use them against him. Thus, the third day of the repeated battles. "Do you know me?" "No." "Then why do you look at me like that? Is pretending to be friendly your habit?" The shepherd tilted his head, puzzled. Enkrid ignored him. They clashed again. What he had thought was a habit turned out to be a trap¡ªa lesson learned only after falling for it. Barely winning and clashing swords once again. Snick. This time, the blade grazed his thigh. Without armor, the blade cut through his pants and left a wound. Another scream echoed from the abyss. Before Enkrid could speak, a similar question came again. "Do you have it?" Why did he keep asking if he had something? "What?" The shepherd answered as though it was obvious. "Will." "No." Enkrid didn''t get another word out before he died. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! Your support is appreciated! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit .gg/3kwX2x2c55 or Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 231 - Really Not Going To Visit The Temple? Chapter 231 - 231 - Really Not Going To Visit The Temple? Todays, walls, threats, crises, turning points, obstacles. Just as there are many ways to call it, there isn''t just one way to overcome it. The easiest way. Demons spawned by the temple, axe-wielders, sneaky assassins, sharp-tongued leopard mages, lazy swordsmen. They are comrades, assets. If asked to follow, some of them would gladly do so. Even with just them, threats would no longer be threats. There were many paths, even without their help. In the end, it was a matter of not being cut. There was also a way to fight until victory without being cut. Due to the curse, Enkrid would die but live only for today again. He could be called a soldier who only lives for today. Repeat and repeat and repeat countless times. In the end, that repetition would open the door. But none of that stayed in Enkrid''s mind. Some humans focus only on the goal once they find it, and move forward with only that in mind. Enkrid stood at the extreme of such humans. Above all. The wall seemed to be provoking him to climb over it. Even if there are hundreds of ways. Even if there is an easier way. Even if there is a faster way. Enkrid had the stubbornness to move toward the destination he set. That''s why he heard the words that his head was broken. ''That''s unpleasant.'' It wasn''t something he hear from anyone, but from Rem. And he definitely didn''t want to hear it from the boatman either. One of them enjoyed hitting subordinates or chopping with an axe. The other enjoyed trapping people in "today" and watching them go mad. Both of them shouldn''t be the ones saying something about the state of his head. Of course, it wasn''t just those two; Enkrid would never admit to such a thing. ''My head''s broken, huh?'' That''s nonsense. He was simply clear on his dreams, and was an ordinary person. Anyway. "What? You had it?" "Did you already have it?" "If you have it, you might not die. Ah, thank goodness!" "Ah, you surprised me." These were the reactions after Enkrid was cut by the shepherd''s sword and spoke nonchalantly. It was hard not to ask what he had to have. So he asked. That was the word he had heard. "Will." The shepherd spoke, and Enkrid felt the need. Something blocked his path forward. As Enkrid fumbled at the wall blocking his way, he saw a clue. He felt it. Vague but certain. After sorting out his thoughts during the technique of isolation, he had just entered the lodging. The sun was bright, the sky was blue, and the clouds were white that day. Behind the lodging door, there was a beautiful sky. With that as a background, Enkrid raised his left hand and spoke. "Will, can anyone do it?" At the question, everyone momentarily fell silent. Leopard Esther, being a mage, naturally ignored it. From the morning, this person was spouting nonsense again. It was just a part of daily life. "Meow." Esther lightly purred to express her feelings, then rolled around on her soft fur. It was the fur that Krais had brought when he saved her previously. He was also the one who was most shocked to see her transform into a human. "Why? Why did you become a human? You were a leopard." "Arrogant human." Hearing that, Krais turned pale and started bringing various things. Among them, it was one of those things. It might have looked strange, sitting on beast fur in a beast''s form, but Esther was satisfied. Warm leather was nice, but the softness was the best, wasn''t it? There was an indifferent beast, and the others each had their own situations. Rem, to put it coldly, couldn''t deal with "Will." "That''s something the people of this continent use." Instead, Rem could reach a similar destination in a different way. Equipping oneself with the power of a knight and "Will" were entirely different things, but would they accept it if he told them? Enkrid clearly said. He wasn''t asking how to reach the destination. It was that he had clearly spoken the word "Will." Rem thought for a moment before replying. One boot was on, and the other had stopped halfway, indicating that Enkrid''s words had troubled him. "I can''t do it." If it''s another method besides "Will," it might be possible similarly. In any case, what''s not possible is not possible. Rem answered like that and bent down to finish putting on his boots. Jaxen had never wanted to be a knight, nor had he ever trained to awaken "Will." However, when he saw knights who were about the same level, he instinctively felt something. He vaguely felt something similar inside himself. But was this "Will"? The "willpower" they spoke of? He didn''t know. He couldn''t teach something he didn''t fully understand. Jaxen shook his head. Audin had the divine power within him, and it was said that no evil could enter a body filled with divine power. But evil didn''t always just contain harmful or bad things. Humans, based on willpower, awakened their own strength, and from the gods'' perspective, that too could be considered evil. It wasn''t necessarily wrong, but those who first acquired divine power would not choose the path of awakening "Will." Audin was the same. For him, divine power was enough. "Are you in a hurry, brother?" It was a gentle question. He had seemed lost in thought while training with the technique of isolation. But even then, he had diligently applied the technique. Enkrid was a self-disciplined ascetic who faced and challenged his limits every day. At least, that''s how it seemed to Audin. He effortlessly broke through the limits of his natural abilities and kept moving forward. That was what he wished for. He wanted to give, but since he hadn''t gained it himself, there was nothing to give. ''Taking divine power might be faster, though.'' Without sincere faith, it would only be an obstacle. Audin also shook his head. "I''m not in a hurry." Enkrid spoke in a clear voice. His hand, which had been raised, was now lowered. His relaxed posture, with no tension in his shoulders, showed that he wasn''t anxious or in a hurry. The only remaining person was Ragna. Ragna woke up to Enkrid''s voice. His late sleep was a kind of symbol for him. The blonde man shook his head with sleep in his eyes. "Dandruff is falling. Lazy bastard." Rem grumbled, but Ragna, unfazed, spoke. "I could teach you if you want, but it''ll be a waste of time." "Why?" Enkrid asked while standing. Ragna calmly continued. "Explaining it is like saying the captain''s hair is black, and mine is blonde." Ragna nodded slightly after saying that, as if he was impressed by his own words. He seemed to think it was a very wise thing to say. This was something like... It felt like explaining with a big dog. "Is that really an explanation?" Rem, the second authority on bad explanations, interrupted with a sneer. Jaxen snickered, and Audin turned away, pretending not to notice. At Jaxen''s little chuckle, sparks flew between Rem and Jaxen. "If you''re going to fight, go out and fight." In the past, Enkrid, clueless, would have gotten in between them and stopped them with his body. He was in that naive stage. Now, he could tell by looking whether they were actually going to fight or just showing off their bad moods. This time, it was just showing off. Ragna''s straightforward words continued. "Even if you dye your hair blonde, your original hair will still grow back. And even if it''s the same blonde, the shades are subtly different. In the end, you have to live with your original hair." If this guy really didn''t know how to use a sword, he''d probably have been thrown out somewhere. He can''t find his way, his explanations are terrible, he''s lazy, and he''s not quick-witted either. But give him a sword, and he''d be a swan flying alone among a flock of chickens. No, not a swan¡ªmaybe a golden pheasant? Since he kept emphasizing the blonde hair. "Don''t talk, act, huh?" Enkrid''s sweat hadn''t dried yet. Seeing that, Ragna slowly stood up. "Right." They both went outside. Rem and Jaxen also stopped their display of aggression, exchanging blessings instead. "You''ll die from a venereal disease, you bastard." This was Rem''s blessing for Jaxen, who frequented the red-light districts. "I hope you die by the end of the year." This was Jaxen''s blessing. Audin watched the two of them cheer each other up with a smile. "What are you looking at, bear?" Naturally, Rem''s anger was aimed at him as well, but Audin ignored it. The muttering Rem was more dangerous than a horny dog. "Let''s go. Sister Dunbakel should also watch. Sister Finn has been away quite often recently." "She''s been busy, they say." Krais answered, and everyone went outside. Just as Enkrid and Ragna were about to clash their training swords. "I don''t know how to intimidate people." That was Ragna''s remark, while their swords met. The suggestion to explain with a sword instead of words was, after all, the most fitting. Enkrid was just thinking that. Why wouldn''t he? After all, this was happening right in front of him. "Instead, I can do this." Hmph. The wooden sword in Ragna''s hand disappeared. That''s how it seemed to Enkrid. It was that fast. Like lightning leaving a trail of light, there was a lingering afterimage, but it was impossible to track in real time. Chik. All Enkrid heard was that sound. The result of the invisible wooden sword left a deep crack in Enkrid''s hand. He cut the wooden sword with another wooden sword. Enkrid could do that, too. But not like this. It wasn''t a matter of breaking it, but of cutting it. All Enkrid heard was the sound, but the speed was such that there was no chance to respond. He had said he couldn''t use intimidation, but the pressure was similar. Even though Ragna had only swung his wooden sword once, Enkrid felt a sudden burst of something explosive from him. Looking at Ragna''s eyes, they seemed like jewels shedding light. "It''s a cut." This was what Ragna had said before, the thing he had mentioned when advising Enkrid to learn steel cutting and lion cutting. "This is my Will, for now." There were things that couldn''t be understood through simple sparring. Enkrid asked and heard. Even if the speaker''s words were poor, the truth within didn''t change. As long as the listener''s ears and heart were open, it was difficult but possible to understand. Above all, there was the advice of Rem, Audin, and Jaxen to consider. What is "Will"? It''s willpower. That''s the foundation. But if it''s only willpower, how does "Will" allow humans to surpass their limits? Why has it become a symbol of knights? It''s the intangible force forged through willpower. That''s what they call "Will." "It''s different for each person, just like how hair color differs." Ragna seemed to really like the hair color metaphor, repeating it several times. Now, Enkrid understood. "Will" can''t be taught. It can be hinted at through baptism or help someone stuck in a wall, but you can''t teach someone how to awaken their "Will." Awakening and learning are separate. Through baptism, you can learn, but you can''t awaken it. But you can learn. If you experience it over and over, you might start to feel it. That''s what baptism is for. "I practiced lion cutting and steel cutting more than a thousand times a month for at least a month, just to learn the cut." Based on Ragna''s overflowing talent, Enkrid deduced: "Will is something you awaken, not something you''re taught." It might seem like a long path, but there was also the mention of baptism in the middle. "Baptism." It wasn''t the original meaning used in the temple. It''s the intangible force forged from willpower. Once that''s the basis, you create techniques and expose yourself to them. "Squires in the order will receive baptism once a month or, at most, once every three months." "That seems too little." "Even so, you''ll get guys who feel like they''re going crazy. That''s why the intimidation from the guy with the rapier is so dangerous." This was why Rem and the others had reacted so sensitively to the intimidation from the semi-knight, Asia. "Forcing baptism, that''s the way to learn ''Will'' on your own." Surprisingly, Ragna knew quite a lot. Enkrid thought, What if he had told us all this from the beginning? "Why did you use the hair color metaphor?" "To make it easier to understand." Enkrid inwardly sighed, wishing he''d just dropped that effort. He couldn''t dismiss the effort as worthless. That effort would surely pay off, maybe not today, but sometime in the future. Just as he learned the sword, Ragna could be learning something as well¡ªhow to speak, how to find his way, things like that. "But why split it?" Rem, who had been watching closely, asked. Enkrid touched his face. Ah, I laughed without realizing it. He couldn''t help it. Even though he had been told that baptism wouldn''t teach him how to awaken "Will," it was still hard to grasp even the smallest clue. Enkrid laughed, because he felt like he had already seen something. It wasn''t an easy path. He knew that. So what? Was it ever easy? For Enkrid, neither the sword nor his dreams had ever been an easy path. The shepherd needed "Will" to resist the unknown power the sword gave him. The answer wasn''t far off. In the repetitive today, the sword in the shepherd''s hand¡ªthat''s the baptism, the opportunity. He had already experienced it more than eighty times. It was inevitable when he didn''t know. But now, through explanation, he had a vague understanding. Intuition and instinct, too, were the same when they couldn''t be seen. When he trained his senses and opened the door to intuition, wasn''t it similar when he broke through traps made by spells? If that''s the case, what if he did the same this time? How do you resist an unseen force? He didn''t know. The path? He couldn''t see it. Was that the problem? No, it wasn''t a problem. Enkrid laughed. Even if the path was harsh, he could still laugh until the end of his life, or even as he was dying. Because that would raise him a step higher. Rem, who had been closely watching Enkrid''s smile, spoke with a serious expression. "Aren''t you really going to the temple?" ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! Your support is appreciated! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit .gg/3kwX2x2c55 or Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 232 - Feels Like I Could Die Of Joy Chapter 232 - 232 - Feels Like I Could Die Of Joy Having chosen a path and deciding to walk it doesn''t mean one must march forward blindly. Didn''t the great merchant Lenga Dis once say: "Keep your eyes wide open and watch the ground around you. You never know where someone might have dropped a stray krona." Surely, Lenga Dis wasn''t a man who picked up copper coins like some miser. After all, he was a person worthy of being called a great merchant. But the meaning behind his words was clear. For instance, if a purse of gold coins were lying on the road, wouldn''t it be wise to pick it up? Or if a traveler anticipated sleeping outdoors, wouldn''t it be prudent to gather some dry branches along the way? And if one could kill two birds with one stone, wouldn''t it make sense to throw the stone? That''s what Enkrid did. "Will." Even as he set his sights on this goal, he didn''t act foolishly or stubbornly. He didn''t become a racehorse fixated on a single finish line. During the repeated days, what could he do before the shepherd visited in the evening? Spar, fight, and ponder. Enkrid distilled his tasks into these three. He learned the basics of the Flowing Sword technique from Ragna and repeatedly trained on his own. Later, he delved deeper into the Balafist martial arts style under Audin''s guidance. Their reactions were similar: "Have you studied this before? Or have you secretly been practicing swordplay all this time?" "When did you hone your martial arts skills so thoroughly? Brother, you bring me such pride." To both, Enkrid offered a modest nod. While his training stemmed from being trapped in today, it was true that he trained alone, so it wasn''t a lie. That said, hearing such words wasn''t common. Enkrid prioritized solitary training over sparring. He would contemplate, ponder, swing his sword, and move his body alone. When his thoughts hit a wall, he pushed himself to the limit with the Isolation technique, drenching himself in sweat. "Are you hoping I''ll tell you not to overdo it, brother?" Had he worked himself hard enough to worry Audin? Enkrid nonchalantly replied: "Moving my body helps clear my head." "That''s true. Your brain can''t think without blood flowing through it," Jaxen murmured from nearby. It was only a guess, but given Jaxen''s former profession¡ªor if he still dabbled in it¡ªhe was likely more knowledgeable about human anatomy than anyone else. "Yeah, that''s exactly it." Enkrid had realized this through experience. When his thoughts stalled, he moved his body. And when physical exertion couldn''t solve the problem, he''d sit down and think. By the 180th repetition of today, Enkrid had mastered the basics of the Flowing Sword technique, further refined the Balafist martial arts through Audin, and learned more about sensory perception from Jaxen. If the time must pass anyway, he saw no reason not to refine and organize his skills. And that wasn''t all. Beyond swordsmanship, martial arts, and sensory training, he sharpened his judgment, instincts, and courage through lessons from his comrades and subordinates. Even though his senses became sharper and his focus more precise, even though his judgment grew bolder¡ª Swish! He couldn''t avoid every blade that grazed his skin. The sword that grazed the back of his hand swung back with a whirl. Its movements, like a serpent, were based on the Rapid Sword and Illusion Sword techniques. "Once unsheathed, it''s hard to block." If he had the skill to dodge and block without even being grazed, he could surely overwhelm his opponent. To achieve that... "I''d need to become a knight right away." The opponent before him was more skilled than that sword wielder. If it were the mixed-blood giant? "It would come down to who lands a fatal blow first." What does it mean to gauge an opponent''s skill? If Enkrid had intended to kill his opponent, he could have done so several times already. Not a single one of the nearly 200 repeated days had been wasted. That''s why it was possible. But avoiding even a graze was still difficult. It felt like an entirely separate matter. Would it be impossible unless he became a knight? If not, then he''d have to spend all night defending himself. He''d already tried that. And once midnight passed, the same today would begin again. "Enough with the defense." Relying solely on evasion and blocking all day served no purpose. So, what should he do? From that point on, it became nothing but real battles. Enkrid fought and fought again. In the moments between conscious resistance after being cut, he made full use of the time beforehand. After defense and evasion, he sought ways to overcome this wall, learning from his opponent and mastering what he''d trained alone. It wasn''t tiresome or urgent. There was no reason for it to be. Each day was filled with something new to learn, and he was utterly engrossed. Even if resisting the force within the sword was meaningless, he ignored that. He pursued joy. Naturally, this revealed many truths to Enkrid. "All this time..." Had he been learning too many scattered skills? As he integrated them into his body one by one, even Enkrid could feel himself becoming more solid. But there was no time to revel in that. Even with the repetition of today, each day was busy. There was never a moment without work. He pondered, contemplated, and pushed his body to the limit. Anyone observing him would surely think he was utterly and completely mad. "What is it that drives you so relentlessly?" Even the ferryman asked him that. Despite the endless repetition of today, why couldn''t he let a single day go to waste? It wasn''t that he couldn''t. He simply didn''t. Enkrid was having the time of his life. Even if he floundered in pursuit of a faded dream, it was far better than wandering blindly in darkness, unable to see even an inch ahead. The sheer joy of knowing there was light beyond, even when the path was blocked or a wall loomed before him, filled him with an exhilarating thrill. Even if pain and suffering trailed behind, Enkrid relished the joy of growth once again. While he had never thought of himself as stagnant, the opportunity to advance was always a source of delight and exhilaration. This happiness was what drove him. After sustaining yet another wound to his wrist, Enkrid glanced at the graze on the back of his hand. The shepherd''s expression grew grim as he furrowed his brow, clearly displeased with the situation. Enkrid casually wiped the trickling blood from the wound, a cut about the size of two finger joints. He had grown accustomed to the screaming shrieks akin to a banshee pulling at his earlobes or the ghastly roars of a ghoul ramming its head into his guts. It wasn''t as though the agony no longer affected him, but he had learned to suppress it outwardly. This was why his tone remained composed as he spoke. "Does that sword have a name?" "Huh? Are you alright?" The shepherd appeared startled. Enkrid, having seen such reactions before, simply ignored him and repeated his question. "The sword''s name." The shepherd hesitated before replying. "It''s called Idol Slayer." A name befitting such a weapon, though Enkrid was hearing it for the first time. He knew neither the sword''s properties nor how its embedded power caused death. Despite asking, answers were hard to come by. For the shepherd, this was their first meeting, so providing detailed explanations would be challenging at best. Enkrid reflected briefly. ''Even if I heard something, it probably wouldn''t help.'' In the world of Wil, some things defied explanation, transmission, or understanding. Wil wasn''t necessarily something that could be unlocked by rituals or traditions. "If a talented person faces the brink of death, might they awaken to Wil? Perhaps being cut by a blade forged of sheer willpower would help them understand the feeling?" Thus, baptism was born¡ªa method born of such musings passed down through the ages. The shepherd watched Enkrid endure the blade longer and longer with growing curiosity. "Can you shape it? Can you block it?" Enkrid shook his head. This inquiry had become a routine as his resistance increased. The looped repetition of today began anew. Enkrid used this time for a different approach, one of clever improvisation. Instead of merely evading and blocking the sword all day, he worked to prevent his opponent from drawing it at all. He used techniques like a palm strike to tilt the shepherd''s chin upward, immediately following up with a slicing motion toward the neck. Though the shepherd deftly evaded, Enkrid had already stepped in close enough to immobilize the shepherd''s feet by stepping on them. Close-quarters maneuvers like these were part of the Valah-style Martial Arts. When the shepherd attempted to draw his sword, Enkrid''s hand locked the hilt in place. The shepherd eventually acknowledged his defeat. "You''ve bested me." "Not yet. Let''s go again." Enkrid backed away to a sword''s distance and drew his own blade, signaling for another round. "Your weapon is sharp and dangerous. Be careful." The shepherd grimly nodded, drawing his sword and adding, "Even the slightest cut is lethal. Think of it as being laced with potent venom." The moonlight cast their shadows at odd angles, the shepherd''s silhouette towering over Enkrid''s. ''How kind of him to warn me not to get scratched.'' Enkrid, familiar with the shepherd''s polite reminders, nodded once more and raised his weapon. Their swords clashed with a metallic clang, sparks flying. No matter how many times he sparred, Enkrid always found it fresh and exhilarating. ''He improves as we fight.'' It was talent¡ªsomething Enkrid lacked. Yet, he felt no jealousy, only admiration for his opponent''s growth. Each repeated today was a fresh challenge, a new opponent to face. However, defeating this sword without being grazed remained impossible. Surviving the night was one thing; winning was another. Still, Enkrid had no intention of merely enduring the night. The inevitable scratch came, and the searing pain returned¡ªsharp and burning. It felt as though his heart stopped, his mind blanked, and a blazing poker stabbed into his skull. He died. Over and over again. More than three hundred times. Yet, in those repeated deaths, Enkrid refined his techniques. He mastered the Valah-style Pummel Suppression, preventing his opponent from even drawing their sword. But those achievements were secondary. ''Still... I can''t be caught.'' Lost in the pitch-black darkness, Enkrid had become a wandering soul. Though a light shimmered faintly in the distance, it remained elusive, unreachable. Did anything change because of it? Even if no path appeared before him, nothing altered the fact that Enkrid trudged onward. Whether crawling, stumbling, or flailing, the mere act of moving forward made him a traveler and a wanderer. "You idiot." The ferryman''s voice broke the silence. Every so often, he emerged to hurl such insults. "You fool." "You dimwit." "You ignorant dolt." It was as if he never considered how his words might wound the listener. Of course, he didn''t. Enkrid continued his journey through the sluggish, hazy days of late autumn. On the path, he picked up fallen leaves. Clutching them close to his chest, he walked and walked until, one day, light brushed against his hand. "Die." Amid shrieking cries, a voice rang out. Enkrid instinctively reacted. That word¡ªspoken with such raw finality¡ªwas something he had resisted countless times before. Outwardly, he maintained composure, but inwardly, he was thrashing, desperately struggling against it. This resistance always boiled down to a single thought, a singular desire: ''I refuse.'' No. He didn''t want to die. He wouldn''t die. No matter what the blade intended, he would not succumb. It was a declaration of his will. This time, though, he died again¡ªbut it was a death unlike the ones before. The pain was identical. Yet for a fleeting moment, he resisted. How could this be explained? Humans do not possess tails. If one suddenly sprouted, it would undoubtedly take practice to use it. So too was this newfound awareness something that needed honing. On a path blanketed by shadow, when the realization finally struck, it was as though sensation fused with intention. What is willpower? What is Wil? ''It is whatever I desire.'' If the shepherd''s sword demanded death, if it insisted upon it with relentless force, then there was only one course of action for Enkrid. On the 485th today, despite overwhelming his opponent with both sword and fist, Enkrid failed to block a blade grazing his shoulder. The sword exuded a palpable will to kill¡ªa suffocating, searing pressure that constricted his heart and scorched his mind. Yet, because he could now sense it, he could reject it. Where once he would have perished unaware, he could now defy. Like swatting away an incoming hand, he could assert his own intent. "No." The word left his lips, a vocalized manifestation of his will. It was something he hadn''t grasped before. Not until willpower, or Wil, transformed into an unseen force could he understand it. "Ah." The shepherd''s astonished gasp escaped him. Enkrid deflected the deathly intent emanating from the wound on his shoulder. There was no explosion, no divine light piercing the darkness, nor any magical phenomenon. Yet for those attuned to the power of Wil, the dismissal of such force was unmistakable. Both the shepherd and Enkrid knew it now. The shepherd''s sword could no longer deal fatal harm to Enkrid. Its edge, stripped of intent, was no longer a mortal threat. Enkrid recognized what he had rejected: someone''s lifelong devotion, their soul, their grudge. Someone had embedded their Wil into that sword. And he had just shattered it. "Have you only just realized?" The shepherd caught on quickly. "Yes." Enkrid didn''t deny it. For a moment, he wanted to explain the truth¡ªthat it hadn''t been a mere realization but the culmination of over 400 todays. But, of course, he couldn''t say that. "I''ve lost." The shepherd let his arms fall, the tip of his sword grazing the ground. His expression was one of resignation yet also relief. Enkrid knew the day was over. The two moons continued to illuminate them, their shadows intertwining. In the subtle shift of light, Enkrid''s shadow appeared larger. Enkrid mused silently to himself: ''So this is Wil.'' But he knew it wasn''t everything. It was merely the tip of the iceberg. He had achieved only the power to reject. And yet¡ª "This is insane." He was elated, nearly to the point of madness. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! Your support is appreciated! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit .gg/3kwX2x2c55 or Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 233 - The Weather Is Nice Chapter 233 - 233 - The Weather Is Nice "Believe it or not, I owe you a debt. I''m Fel, the Shepherd of the Wasteland. I hope we''ll meet again someday when the opportunity arises." Fel spoke, his voice carrying a faint warmth. Enkrid, standing with his back to the moonlight, nodded in acknowledgment. Fel looked at him and, unable to suppress his thoughts, said, "You''re the first genius I''ve ever met like this." Enkrid didn''t bother to deny it. Honestly, even if Fel had asked, "Is your brain broken or something?" he would''ve laughed it off. That''s how deeply the euphoria of his newfound understanding had filled him. The joy, the thrill, was coursing through every fiber of his being. It was so intoxicating that he felt compelled to test it further. "Mind if I get cut one more time?" That''s why. Even though he noticed Fel''s face contorting in disbelief, and despite knowing full well how absurd his request sounded, Enkrid couldn''t stop himself. "Uh...um...s-sure." Defeated, Fel had no choice but to comply. As the former soldier prepared to cut Enkrid''s arm once again, he couldn''t help but feel uneasy about this peculiar man. The anticipation in Enkrid''s eyes unnerved him. "This guy''s nuts," Fel thought. He recalled how he''d once been called Mad Commander. It was beginning to feel less like an insult and more like an apt description. Was this what geniuses were like? Thinking back, there had been someone similar in his own circle. "Do I need to go mad to catch up to him?" Enkrid, unknowingly, was leading another person to a moment of self-doubt. After being cut again: "Die!" The shrieking demand rang loud and clear¡ªa forceful intent and suffocating pressure. Enkrid collected his thoughts and replied calmly: "No." He deflected the oppressive intent. This was only the second time, but he already felt he didn''t need more practice. ''It''s not hard.'' And that realization brought him so much joy. Every lesson he had ever learned had come at great cost. He had been forced to stumble, crawl, and fight tooth and nail. To master the Heart of the Beast, he hadn''t just faced death¡ªhe''d had to die. Nothing had ever come easy. This was no exception; after all, it had taken over 400 todays. Yet, the act of rejection, once understood, felt as natural as breathing. It was almost laughable how easy it felt now. Though his head spun slightly after deflecting the second intent¡ªlikely from overexertion¡ªhe found himself grinning. A trickle of blood dripped from his nose. "Are you okay?" Fel asked. Judging the situation, Enkrid responded, "Think I can try once more?" He couldn''t resist. Fel''s expression crumpled like a man who had just been forced to watch something unthinkable. And so, for the third time, Enkrid was cut. A shallow gash was made along his arm once more. "Die!" The overwhelming pressure assaulted his senses again¡ªchoking him, threatening to shatter his heart. This time, Enkrid responded effortlessly, "No." As soon as he rejected the intent, Enkrid closed his eyes and collapsed. "Wha¡ª? Sir Madman?" Before losing consciousness, he thought he heard Fel mutter something odd about him. "Captain!" And somewhere in the distance, another voice¡ªBell''s¡ªcalled out. Enkrid fell to the ground with a smile. The dark, undulating river resembled thick, black mist. On it floated a ship, atop which stood the ferryman holding a violet lamp. The scene was as it always had been whenever Enkrid conversed with the ferryman. Except, this time, something had changed. "You..." The ferryman paused, looking at Enkrid. For the first time, his face was fully visible. Previously, only one eye had been faintly discernible; now, both eyes, nose, lips, and skin were in full view. His skin was a dull, grayish hue, like weathered stone. Black eyes that matched the dark river, a sharply defined nose, and ashen lips. He didn''t look human, but neither did he resemble a giant, frog, fairy, or dragonfolk. That was to be expected, of course. The ferryman was something beyond Enkrid''s understanding¡ªa being from outside his perception. Perhaps even a god. Or a demon. "Is getting stabbed your hobby?" For all his otherworldly presence, the ferryman''s words carried an oddly mundane tone. Enkrid wondered if he was to blame for the ferryman''s casual demeanor. "I do prefer being stabbed to being slashed." Their conversations always seemed to devolve into this kind of nonsense. The ferryman quickly changed the subject. "You walk because you''re mad. You see because you''re mad. So? How does it look? My face?" The ferryman posed his question. Enkrid answered honestly. "You wouldn''t be popular, with either men or women." Though perhaps demons or demon bastards might find him appealing. The ferryman let out a chuckle, but only the sound of laughter echoed across the space. His lips didn''t move, yet his laughter filled the void. As Enkrid''s vision blurred and his consciousness began to fade, the distant laughter seemed almost... incredulous. But there was no way to discern what the ferryman truly felt. Left alone on the black river, the ferryman muttered quietly. "Well then, how does it feel to have crossed the wall?" Had Enkrid been there, he would''ve nodded a hundred times over. When he opened his eyes, it was clear the day wasn''t repeating itself. "What kind of person comes back from a late-night outing with stab wounds all over? And on top of that, I hear you deliberately let yourself get stabbed? You should''ve told me¡ªI could''ve carved you up with my axe, and it''d look much better." Waking up to such words made it hard to process their meaning. Letting Rem''s words flow in one ear and out the other, Enkrid raised his head. Fel was probably long gone. Bell must have been the one who brought him back here after the fight. Bell would''ve likely explained things in his own way, despite not wanting to, as he wouldn''t have been left alone after returning late at night carrying a collapsed Enkrid. With a quick assessment, Enkrid pieced together what had happened. Even Rem''s teasing began to make sense. "Is something imbued in your axe as well?" "Bloodlust?" Rem shot back without hesitation. Was this guy just bored? "Where''s Dunbakel?" "Passed out." What could have possibly happened to knock out the beast-woman? Dunbakel didn''t seem frail, though. Not by a long shot. Sure, she wasn''t as sturdy as a giant, but still. "Are you heading out again today, brother?" Audin asked, snapping Enkrid from his thoughts. He realized he''d skipped the morning training session. The sun was already high. Even with his regenerative body, he''d slept until noon. ''So it takes a toll on the body.'' He was starting to grasp what "will" truly was. Though it was hard to define yet, the act of showing the will to reject had become as easy as pulling a coin from his pocket. Of course, performing it and enduring its effects were entirely different matters. "Sniff!" He blew his nose, and dried blood came out. "Gross," muttered Rem, sounding annoyed. His axe hung at his waist, and he was slightly sweaty¡ªlikely from his earlier sparring session. Judging by the fact that Dunbakel had passed out, it seemed he''d been in the middle of an intense practice. Aside from Audin and Rem, only Esther, who was napping in a corner, was nearby to witness Enkrid''s awakening. Since it wasn''t the first time he''d collapsed, no one panicked or seemed overly concerned. They only wanted to know who he''d fought this time. Bell, the one who had carried him back, hadn''t been able to provide much detail. "Who was it?" The question referred to the opponent who had come to see him the previous evening. To Enkrid, it was someone familiar, someone who had shared over 400 todays with him. "Fel," he answered plainly, feeling no need for further explanation. "Oh, Fel, huh? That Fel." Rem''s expression didn''t change in the slightest. A slip-up. "The Shepherd of the Wasteland," Enkrid clarified. A group insane enough to herd sheep among monsters and wild beasts¡ªthe Shepherds of the Wasteland. Their name was well-known among the continent''s mercenaries. "Huh? What brought them here?" "No idea." Were they wandering as part of their training? Or perhaps they had business nearby? Thinking back, he hadn''t asked at all. "Looked like you were having fun, though." Rem pressed further. Why was he so nosy today? "Quite." "You passed out smiling, boss. I don''t think I''ve ever seen you do that¡ªnot even after flipping out during a fight with me." Passed out smiling, huh? Enkrid chuckled faintly and shook his head. "You''re noisy. Move aside." Having skipped morning training, he planned to complete it first. "I''ll head to the market this afternoon." "Understood, brother." Audin nodded with his usual warm smile. No one tried to stop him. Rem, having asked everything he wanted, tossed his axe aside and went to clean up. Enkrid, meanwhile, did some light training with the Isolation Technique, checked his equipment, and swung his sword a few times in the air before preparing to leave. During this time, Jaxen entered and left, while Krais came by to ask if he was feeling better. "Probably a good age to start eating something nice," Krais joked, poking fun. "Then bring some over," Enkrid replied, smiling as he embraced yet another day. More than 400 todays had passed. In that time, he had sparred and trained with these companions. Yet no matter how much he grew, being stuck in paused time couldn''t bring complete satisfaction. Thus began a new today. While not identical every time, it was still a today only Enkrid could remember. Because of that, he avoided speaking much with others, passing through as indifferently as possible. He had already come to understand why a repeating day only he could remember was a curse. And so, he endured. Silently, he let the weight of solitary time pass and fade. Above all, the act of defiance he had mastered through these days filled him with a strange satisfaction, making the repetition bearable, even enjoyable. "What''s got you in such a good mood?" Ragna asked just as Enkrid was about to step out. A sword hung loosely at Ragna''s hip, swaying with his movement. It wasn''t a fine blade¡ªjust one scavenged from a battlefield during the last war. Enkrid thought it might be good to find him a proper weapon someday. Though his tone was gruff, almost confrontational, Enkrid knew there was no malice in the question, so he answered plainly. "The weather''s nice." Ragna glanced up at the sky. Yesterday had indeed been a pleasant day, but today seemed overcast. The clouds were thickening, turning a heavy gray. Soon, they''d likely turn to storm clouds, and a sudden downpour seemed imminent. The autumn rain heralded the changing of the seasons¡ªsummer''s end was near. "This weather?" Ragna asked, skeptical. "After seeing nothing but clear skies," Enkrid replied. It was a cryptic answer. To Enkrid, it was obvious. Though he preferred bright, sunny days, he had experienced 400 of them in a row. Even if the rain soaked his boots and made things inconvenient, the change itself was welcome. After finishing his morning training, compressed and completed efficiently with the Isolation Technique, he headed for the marketplace. When he entered the inn, Allen, the innkeeper, greeted him warmly. "It''s nice seeing you so often these days, but... are you sure you''re alright?" The rank of Company Commander in the Border Guard was prestigious, second only to nobility. Allen, ever polite, spoke with deference. Enkrid found the remark about frequent visits odd. For him, nearly 400 days had passed since his last visit. "Well, perhaps I should stop coming before we grow too attached," Enkrid replied. Allen chuckled, taking it as a joke. In the training grounds, a rapier-wielding swordsman leaned casually against the wall. "Were you waiting?" "I figured you''d come today." "Before me?" "No, but three others seemed unwilling to." The swordsman crossed his arms and continued. "This is the last time. There''s no need to endure unnecessary pain. You don''t have to challenge this." "That''s for me to decide. If you''re afraid, feel free to run." Enkrid''s tongue was as sharp as the continent''s finest blade. Even simple words, when wielded by him, could cut like a deadly dagger. "Is that so?" The swordsman hated the words coward and run too much to let them pass. His resolve hardened. I''ll break that spirit. It would be for Enkrid''s own good, he thought. To reach greater heights required talent. From what he had seen, regardless of whatever luck Enkrid had on his side, this was his limit. The end. Enkrid had drawn from the well of talent until it was dry¡ªor perhaps he had dug out talent that wasn''t even there to begin with. But this was the farthest he could go. As Enkrid passed him, the swordsman narrowed his eyes. Something about his gait was... different. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what, but it had changed. In just a single day? What could have changed so drastically? A shift in mindset, perhaps? Nearby, a barbarian soldier who had followed Enkrid spoke up. "Our commander tends to break down worse in just one day, so don''t think too much about it. But if it gets out of hand, my axe might start dancing, so watch yourself." "No worries, brother. He''s not the kind to die from mere pressure." A bear-like soldier added his own comment, followed by the usual nonchalant presence of a blond soldier passing through. Meanwhile, a red-haired soldier had already claimed a spot at the side, though no one had seen when he''d entered. The usual crowd had gathered. Among them was Edin Molsen, who stepped forward with an uncharacteristically serious expression. "I challenge you to a duel." Had he not suffered enough? While others thought this, Enkrid was deep in thought. ''What was this guy''s name again?'' It had been 400 days. He had forgotten. "Uh... What was your name?" To Edin Molsen, that question was like flipping a switch. "What?" For Enkrid, it had been 400 days. For Edin, only a few. Forget his name? My name? Edin lost all composure. "Oh, you''re dead!" Clang! Edin drew his sword and charged with full force. The onlookers frowned. Falling for such a simple provocation... Enkrid, regretting the question, reacted with his hands and feet. There was no need to draw his sword. As the blade came, he used movements from the Way of the Blade, stepping softly to avoid the attack. It was as if the duel had been choreographed. His evasive steps came first, and Edin''s blade sliced through the empty space where Enkrid had been moments before. Though it was a feat of foresight and precision, to an outsider, it might have seemed like a staged performance. Why was Edin swinging at empty air? In the next moment, Enkrid''s hand struck Edin''s wrist. Smack! Using the momentum, he stepped in and slammed his palm into Edin''s abdomen. Thud! It was a textbook example of Valah''s martial arts¡ªa palm strike delivered with rotational force generated from his ankles, through his hips, shoulders, and finally his palm. With Enkrid''s strength added to the technique, it was no light blow. But the most surprising part wasn''t the power. The first time he had knocked Edin out with a single blow, it had been a gamble. This time, he was brimming with confidence¡ªas if he had become a different person overnight. After pushing Edin back, Enkrid glanced at his palm, thinking. ''Why is this so easy?'' Had Edin''s skills deteriorated? That seemed unlikely. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! Your support is appreciated! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit .gg/3kwX2x2c55 or Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 234 - Fel was a Genius Chapter 234 - 234 - Fel was a Genius ''What did I just do?'' Of course, none of those present were blind. They had all seen what Enkrid had done, and they understood it. ''Evade, close in, and strike.'' A sequence of actions anyone could theoretically perform. However, it was different. Even if anyone could perform them, doing it so effortlessly was an entirely different matter. If Enkrid had used a unique sword technique or a trick to achieve that result, they might have marveled at his ingenuity, but they wouldn''t have been this astonished. "Hm?" The half-giant''s eyebrows twitched. Beside him, the rapier wielder did the same, suddenly gripping the hilt of his sword tightly. It was a reflexive action. ''If he did that to me, could I block it?'' Yes, he could block it¡ªbecause he had seen it beforehand. ''But what if I hadn''t seen it?'' Even though it wasn''t cold yet, he felt a chill as if an icy wind had passed through. The rapier wielder released his sword and rubbed his arm, feeling goosebumps rise alongside the eerie sensation. ''What is that guy?'' It had only been a few days, hadn''t it? He wasn''t the only one astonished. Even his allies, including Rem, were startled. However, none of the squad members revealed their shock outwardly or expressed it. Truthfully, they had become somewhat accustomed to it by now. They didn''t understand it, of course. They simply refrained from showing surprise because they''d seen this happen a few times before. ''What exactly did he do?'' Rem stroked his chin, deep in thought. Audin shared similar sentiments. ''Even if the Isolation technique changes one''s constitution...'' Could it create talent where there was none? Audin trusted his insight. He could see and analyze a person''s body through the Isolation technique. While not quite like Frog, who could discern talent with precision, he, too, had an eye for it. From what he could tell, Enkrid was not someone who had ventured into the realm of talent. He wasn''t a genius. In fact, calling him a mere prodigy seemed like an overstatement. ''Sheer persistence.'' It was his unyielding determination. His refusal to falter no matter what trials the gods threw his way. And so, he stood here now. Audin felt he could glimpse the will of the divine. The gods spoke; the Father conveyed His will. "Will you give up? Why? Because I did not grant what you desired? So, that is where your faith ends. That is where your flower of faith wilts. That is where your spring fades. That is where your seasons end." "No, Father." Audin muttered softly. Ragna, standing next to him, didn''t turn his head at Audin''s words. In fact, he didn''t even hear them. He was too busy watching Enkrid. ''Again?'' Enkrid had changed. Amazing. That was the only conclusion he could draw. He had changed, and Ragna was astonished¡ªbut he now simply acknowledged it. Watching Enkrid''s improvement had become almost routine. How had he improved? How could he change like this? Ragna had given up searching for answers. Knowing wouldn''t change anything, and he wouldn''t figure it out anyway. If he asked, the answer would be predictable. "I worked hard." Sometimes, with a touch of humor, Enkrid would say something like: "Turns out I''m a genius." It wasn''t worth asking anymore. All that mattered was accepting the reality. Everyone was surprised, but the most astonished person was Edin Molsen, the one who had taken the blow. The second-most surprised was Enkrid himself. "Again!" Edin leapt to his feet and shouted. Considering how hard he''d been hit, it was remarkable how intact he seemed. Enkrid had instinctively pulled his strength at the last moment. More specifically, when he extended his hand for the final strike, he''d held back. The count''s son looked as though he might spit up blood if Enkrid had gone all out. So, he had restrained himself, and now Edin Molsen was back on his feet and running his mouth. Enkrid blinked three times. He was processing what had just happened. ''Ah.'' A short realization struck him, like sparks flaring and vanishing from a flint. ''Fel.'' Why had he so desperately struggled to defeat the shepherd boy in the wilderness the first time they met? ''Because he''s a genius.'' A younger genius than himself. The boy had given him the same feeling as that brat who had knocked him down when he first stepped onto the continent. In other words, Fel was a genius. That genius had matched Enkrid''s growth step by step, raising his own skill in tandem. Even though the repeated today had prevented Fel from drawing his sword, when he finally held it, he was formidable. His habits constantly changed, and he corrected his flaws on the spot. Even though Enkrid was the one trapped in a repeating day, his opponent had evolved as well. Thus, he couldn''t feel his own growth. Because his opponent''s talent was too extraordinary. ''It was thanks to Fel.'' Enkrid had been so fixated on Fel''s sword that he hadn''t seen the full picture. No, he had noticed the opponent''s brilliance but hadn''t realized how much he was changing himself in response. Now that he understood everything, Enkrid opened his mouth. "Alright." He nodded at Edin Molsen''s suggestion. He wanted to move again, to feel it in his body. This was a moment to perceive and fully grasp his transformation. "...You." The rapier wielder was equally stunned, unable to form words. His eyes quivered as he stood frozen, his mouth slightly ajar. Enkrid, however, responded by facing Edin Molsen once more. "Don''t rely on the goddess of fortune!" Edin snarled, suggesting that their earlier bout had been a matter of luck. Once again, Edin swung his sword. Whoosh. Enkrid avoided the attack ahead of time. When fighting Fel, he had learned to predict movements by observing the positioning of his opponent''s feet, shoulders, hands, arms, and waist. If he failed, he''d be injured immediately, and the sparring would end then and there. What he had gained from those battles now opened the gates of his instincts, allowing him to make full use of them. His heightened senses, honed through countless sparring sessions and brushes with death, now clearly read the trajectory of Edin''s sword. After dodging the strike, Enkrid pressed down on Edin''s wrist, hooked his left foot behind Edin''s heel, and shoved his palm against his chest. Edin tried to twist his body in resistance, but despite having launched the first attack, his position, balance, and timing were completely thrown off. With a whoosh, Edin was lifted into the air. He landed moments later with a thud, gasping for air. He looked like a fish out of water. Reflecting on it, Enkrid recalled their first meeting. Back then, he had mistaken Edin for either a coachman or a bodyguard and had used the same technique to take him down. It was a move from the Valah school of martial arts¡ªa technique for breaking one''s balance. "Are you alright?" Enkrid asked. Edin''s face turned red. They had sparred twice, and both times, the outcome had been similar. Moreover, the second time, Edin had fallen for the same technique as before. He could no longer blame it on luck, nor was he shameless enough to try. Edin stood up. "I lost," he admitted, turning away. But he stopped mid-step, glancing back to ask, "Have you truly forgotten my name?" Enkrid looked at his face for a moment. He thought he should have remembered by now¡ªhis memory was rather good. But for the life of him, nothing came to mind. What would happen if he admitted it here and now? Before Edin Molsen''s face could fully twist in frustration, a clear voice rang out. "Brother, that was a taunt. Why even ask that question?" It was unmistakably his sibling, someone who clearly shared his blood. At the sibling''s remark, Edin clicked his tongue and turned away with a frustrated expression. Yet, at the same time, there was an air of relief about him, making for an odd sight. The younger sibling stared at Enkrid with a blank expression. It was hard to read any emotion from those eyes. Enkrid turned his head. There were still others left. The rapier wielder, the half-giant, and the Count of Molsen''s guards. "Who''s next?" He asked. "Me." The answer came almost before the question left his lips. The half-giant stepped forward, striking her shield with her hand¡ªa challenge from the warrior. "Let''s fight." Up until four hundred days ago, Enkrid had thrown himself into sparring with these individuals with relentless fervor. He fought without retreating, and in the process, changes occurred. Unintended by Enkrid, these changes had naturally taken root. The half-giant felt her fighting spirit ignite. She was acutely aware that she was in an unusual state of mind and body. ''I don''t know what he''s done, but...'' The man standing before her had a knack for making her want to fight him. Morning and night, she found herself pondering over the use of sword and shield because of him. Above all¡ª "I''ll break you." Her desire to win against him was overwhelming. Had she ever encountered someone she absolutely had to defeat? No, this was the first time. For that reason, the half-giant''s lips twisted into a grin. A smile. Enkrid found it slightly absurd. ''This person almost never used to show any expression.'' That much he could remember clearly. Even if he had forgotten Eddin Molsen''s name, the half-giant''s face, skills, and techniques were etched vividly in his mind. When Enkrid raised his sword, the half-giant tapped it with her own blade. Ting. It was a greeting. Soon, her shield obscured his vision. That gray wall was her specialty and something he had fallen victim to many times. Previously, he had needed to use footwork to counter and strike back, but now there was no such necessity. When the shield blocked his view, Enkrid charged straight ahead. He didn''t sidestep or move his feet nimbly. It was a straightforward rush. He closed in on the shield, switched his sword to his left hand, and laid the flat of the blade against the top of the shield. He adjusted his stance, placing his right foot against the lower edge of the shield. Naturally, his body pressed sideways against the shield, his right hand pushing near its lower center. The force behind the shield was immense, but this proximity made it impossible for the half-giant to see all of Enkrid''s movements. No matter how skilled someone was, they couldn''t react to what they couldn''t see. Enkrid used a modified version of Valah''s "Lifting Throw" against the shield. "WELL DONE, BROTHER!" Audin unintentionally exclaimed. Enkrid ignored the shout, focusing on his intent. Woosh. He reversed the shield''s force, lifting it from below. Had Enkrid lacked raw strength, he''d have been crushed by the shield like an insect beneath a wagon. But the Heart of the Beast granted him unparalleled power. Repeatedly experiencing this day had further strengthened that heart, driving his blood with renewed vigor. He pushed with his right foot and hand, while using his left hand and torso strength to lift and throw. Drawing in a silent breath, he braced his core and hurled the half-giant into the air. The sight of her being thrown was enough to widen the eyes of everyone watching. For the half-giant, who had never been tossed like this¡ªespecially by another''s strength¡ªit was a shocking experience. She soared through the air, bewildered. It felt as if some natural law had been defied. Reflexively, she angled her shield downward as she fell. Thud! True to Enkrid''s intentions, his sword had already reached the giant''s neck and stopped just before the blade cut into the skin. The hybrid giant realized she had been defeated. "...You threw me?" Surprised, she asked. "Why? Is this your first time? Everyone has a first," Enkrid replied nonchalantly. Sometimes, Enkrid''s sharp tongue moved before his thoughts did. "I see." The hybrid giant acknowledged her defeat. However, Enkrid didn''t think there was any need to leave just because she lost. After all, there had been some luck involved this time. Her inability to gauge his strength played a part. She hadn''t been able to prepare for his sudden change, and she wasn''t the type to lose easily. Enkrid, who had experienced that firsthand, knew this well. Thus, he said, "Let''s try again tomorrow." The hybrid giant stared at Enkrid with her large brown eyes. For the first time, there seemed to be something more than indifference in her gaze. "You''re really something." The hybrid giant said, then with a hearty laugh, she stood up. "Well, you sure can throw." Rem''s voice came from behind, expressing his admiration in his own way. "Care to try against me?" It seemed that Enkrid had made an impact not only on the hybrid giant but also on others watching. Even the guards, who had been quietly burning with their own feelings, were affected. Enkrid spun his arm around. ''A little while ago...'' Had his heart''s power surged even more intensely? Rem''s words of admiration¡ª"You sure can throw"¡ªweren''t just empty praise. Rem must have seen it too. His heart was more alive, expelling power more dynamically. This, too, was the result of repeating this day again and again. "Alright." Enkrid nodded, beginning to enjoy the challenge. The process of realizing and using his changes through sparring was becoming increasingly fun. The sparring with the guard was different from that with the hybrid giant. The guard were cautious from the start, their swordplay focused heavily on defense. At first, Enkrid moved slowly, then gradually picked up speed with each swing of his sword. The rapier-wielding instructor, watching from the side, realized that Enkrid was assessing what he was truly capable of. And naturally, the question arose in the instructor''s mind. ''What exactly is he doing?'' How had he changed so much in just a few days? It wasn''t as though Enkrid had suddenly learned some great technique. Rather, it was that every technique he knew had... ''Become perfected.'' It seemed like he had tested his skills countless times with his life on the line. This had allowed him to gain full confidence in his techniques. His persistence in finding the right way was evident in his steps and in the sword he wielded. This wasn''t a bad thing. Someone who has wandered down the wrong path countless times will never hesitate when they finally find the right one. The traces of that journey could be seen in the swings of his sword, in his confident steps. ''How?'' Enkrid''s body now bore the marks of time. Though the method was unclear, one thing was certain. The rapier-wielding instructor caught all of this. It was an incomprehensible thing. Their sparring went on for quite some time, but in the end, the guard was defeated. From the beginning, the guard had been on the defensive, which led to his downfall. It wasn''t that he was hiding his true strength¡ªhe had never been a match for Enkrid from the start. But it didn''t matter in the end. The rapier-wielding instructor finally stepped forward. This was the moment of confrontation, where he would apply pressure and dominate the situation. "Just because you''ve improved doesn''t mean anything will change." Had he honed his abilities? So what? ''Will'' was the privilege of the born elites. If success were simply a matter of desire, effort, and time... ''Anyone could do it.'' Then knights wouldn''t be so rare. If effort alone could make it, the number of knights would have already doubled. Thus, the instructor was certain. Enkrid couldn''t possibly overcome his pressure. "Step aside." With those words, the rapier-wielding instructor exerted his will. Soon, an intangible blade of energy appeared. Enkrid responded by cutting through each one that came his way. That''s what he''d done in the past. But this time, things were different. Cling. Enkrid sheathed his sword. There was no need to swing it anymore. The moment he met the instructor''s pressure, he realized something had changed. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! Your support is appreciated! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit .gg/3kwX2x2c55 or Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 235 - The Fairy’s Joke Echoed Through the Bath Chapter 235 - 235 - The Fairy''s Joke Echoed Through the Bath ''Is he insane?'' All the rapier swordsman could think was that. Could it be that his head has finally broken for good? The speed at which his skills had improved in such a short time indicated that it had to be a result of both hardship and luck. Had the combination of intensive training and luck ruined his mind? Rem had similar thoughts. ''Is he mad?'' His hand trembled instinctively. There was a great difference between resisting the pressure and accepting it. Ragna gripped his sword. He judged it was futile. He was about to charge forward, swing his sword, and ''cut'' through. In other words, he intended to break the ''pressure'' his opponent was applying. Audin prepared his healing magic. As long as the person didn''t die, he could heal them. Jaxen quietly drew a stiletto from behind the swordsman. He would strike and kill. No matter what the opponent was doing, he could kill them. Jaxen was confident, whether his opponent was a knight, a pseudo-knight, or anything else. Everyone was about to react when the intangible blade came close to Enkrid''s body. In that split second, Enkrid focused his will towards the intangible force within him. ''I refuse.'' The will embedded in the blade would be cut. Then, what of the will behind the pressure? ''Step back.'' Enkrid rejected it. He rejected the intangible pressure pressing on his shoulders, and the blade that was about to strike him. ''Will'' is the act of manifesting one''s will outwardly. Soon, some intangible force would manifest. If the pressure was that force, then rejecting it was also a manifestation of that force. The pressure, which had caused pain akin to real suffering, now felt like nothing more than an unseen momentum. Enkrid could ignore it. It was easier than resisting the sword of Shepherd Pell. Thus, there was no doubt that his actions were not over-exerting himself. Enkrid demonstrated this in his actions. The intangible blade shattered into dust as it approached. It was a blade that had only appeared in his imagination. Thud. Enkrid took a step forward and casually spoke. "What are you doing, Ragna? Jaxen?" Ragna, who had approached, was holding his sword vertically beside him, while Jaxen stood behind the rapier swordsman. The two, who had been startled, blinked their eyes. The first to react was Jaxen. Without a sound, he silently stepped back. The rapier swordsman had no idea someone was behind him. Ragna stood frozen with his sword raised. Perhaps he had thought of a reasonable excuse, as Ragna spoke up. "It''s a good day to hold a sword." Was Enkrid''s statement about today being a good day that impressive? Before the words could finish, the sound of thunder roared, followed by rain starting to fall. Pitter patter, patter. "...Huh?" The rapier swordsman didn''t seem to notice the rain falling, his eyes locked on Enkrid. He couldn''t speak properly, his mouth open in disbelief. It seemed he had gone mute from shock. "Huh?" All that came out of his mouth was a confused exclamation. Enkrid tilted his head. "Is there something you want to say?" "Huh?" The swordsman repeated the word "huh," still unable to speak. Enkrid had seen people stunned before, but never like this. The opponent was still staring, mouth agape, unable to say anything. Enkrid spoke carefully. "We should find a healer." Those who suffer mental harm do not recover easily. Even if a healer arrives, they might refuse treatment. "I think your head is broken." Enkrid finished. "Pff." At that, Rem burst into laughter. It wasn''t meant to be a joke, but it certainly came out that way. Enkrid had spoken seriously, but... "Huh?" The rapier swordsman only repeated "huh." He was deeply shocked. "That sword will rust if it gets wet. Is today really a good day to be holding a sword like that?" Enkrid asked, looking at Ragna. Ragna, having said something earlier, was still holding his sword, but soon enough, he agreed with Enkrid''s statement. "Yes. Today is good enough for this." "Right, better oil the sword." If left as is, it would rust. "I''ll do that." Ragna sheathed his sword and stepped back. Behind him were three individuals as startled as the rapier swordsman. All of them were staring at Enkrid with their mouths agape. "How?" The somewhat composed half-giant asked. "Will." Enkrid kindly answered. There was really nothing else to add. It was something that could be explained as ''will.'' "Will?" Javikal muttered. It wasn''t really a question, but Enkrid answered willingly. "Yes." The guard furrowed his brow. It was hard for him to accept or understand the situation, so he couldn''t continue speaking. The rain, which had started pouring heavily, soaked his hair. Of course, it soaked everyone else as well. "Perhaps we should avoid the rain for now?" Enkrid suggested. "Huh?" The rapier swordsman responded. Of course, it seemed like the man had completely lost his mind. "Someone help him." Enkrid spoke and turned away. Rem and the others followed behind. No matter how accustomed they had become to their leader''s changes, this had gone beyond any reasonable limit. This was not simply about wielding a sword well and controlling one''s body. "Is it ''Will''?" Ragna, who possessed the ''Will'' of cutting, asked. His voice was higher and quicker than usual. It was clear he was shocked. Due to the pouring rain, Ragna''s blonde hair hung down, blocking his view. "You need a haircut. Yeah." Enkrid answered nonchalantly. While he was pleased and didn''t mind enjoying himself, this wasn''t the end of it. This wasn''t why he had come this far. The ''Will'' of an actual knight was not about rejection, but naturally displaying one''s will. To suppress, to reject, to cut¡ªit all happened naturally. After realizing some things, he understood. The pressure of Aesia, the pressure of the rapier swordsman. Both were developed and specialized in this manner. From the same perspective, Ragna''s cutting was similar. Even if one had mastered lion-cutting or steel-cutting, his ''cutting'' was beyond imitation. In the end, it was a matter of realizing the ''Will.'' "What''s this? Where did you learn it? Or did you train to the point of almost dying in your dreams?" Rem was equally shocked. Enkrid responded to his words. "In my dreams, there''s more of a perverted boatman than training." "Huh? A perverted boatman? What''s that?" It was a question Enkrid couldn''t answer, so he ignored it. Rem would likely treat it as a joke anyway. Then Audin muttered. "It''s as if you''re running a different time altogether, brother." Like the rapier swordsman, Audin had sharp insight, being a religious, devoted bear. His words were spot on. "Did you train while time stood still, brother?" Though his appearance was dull, he was sharp. Enkrid thought to himself as he replied. "Something like that." Instead of answering, Audin quietly began chanting a prayer. He assumed Enkrid''s answer was just a joke. Who would doubt it? Jaxen remained silent as usual. But his gaze was intense. He kept looking Enkrid up and down. "I trained normally, and didn''t use any drugs." Enkrid said, causing Jaxen to flinch, a rare reaction. It was an unusual sight. "Why did you think I suspect you used drugs?" Jaxen asked. "There''s suspicion all over your eyes." It seemed Jaxen, known for his skill with drugs, was the one with doubts, but it turned out to be true. "Hmm, have you also mastered telepathy?" It wasn''t telepathy; it was more that the sharpness of the blade Jaxen had taught him had heightened his senses. He could easily read an opponent''s intentions or emotions. Especially when something was hidden. For example, Jevikal, who had hesitated earlier¡ªhe had spoken with a smile, but... "I''m good. I can tell if I try to charge, I''ll get beaten." But what was hidden behind those eyes? It was malice and hostility. There was also the opposite. The half-giant, who outwardly displayed fighting spirit and competitiveness. After being thrown, what did the woman''s eyes reveal? It was a feeling of regret and sympathy. Of course, it wasn''t directed at Enkrid. It was self-deprecation. ''Well, maybe I''m not completely right.'' At least that was the general feeling. Enkrid, as he was about to enter the lodging, stopped and undressed. He placed his equipment neatly aside under the eaves, and Krais came out of the building. "Dry off the equipment and organize it." Enkrid instructed, and others began piling their equipment on top. "Isn''t this too much?" On top of it, Rem tossed a pouch. "Payment." "Anytime, come visit Krais'' Equipment Cleaning Service!" Krais quickly changed his tone. Since Rem frequently used krona, the amount of money in the pouch was likely not small. "If we go in wet, the place will get all messed up. Let''s head to the bath." It was Enkrid''s suggestion. The Border Guard barracks had many great facilities, including a well, but since they had become an independent company, they had access to the private bath for the unit. There were large wooden tubs filled with water, and the staff constantly boiled more water. In other words, they could wash with hot water. The place was built with a well covered by a roof, so there was no shortage of water. Steam filled the room, as they kept boiling water on one side. "Let''s go." Everyone went to the bath, stripping down casually, and the maids boiling water greeted them with laughter. "Wow, after only looking at our husbands, coming here feels like heaven!" One of the rough-voiced maids said, and everyone burst out laughing. "Be good to your husband. Living with a woman bigger than yourself isn''t easy for him either." Rem laughed teasingly, and the maid splashed cold water on him in retaliation. "Oh, that''s cold." Rem wasn''t startled by the cold water and simply laughed as he spoke, to which the maid responded with a laugh. "You grey-haired guy, your tongue is sharp." It seemed they were familiar with each other. Later, when they were in the bath, Enkrid asked how they knew each other. "Well, Dunbakel kept passing out and rolling around in the dirt, so I often tossed her into the bath, got used to her face. She''s a cheerful lady." Talking like that with Rem was impressive. Come to think of it... ''Rem, huh?'' He''s kind to women. It''s rare that he picks a fight with anyone, but when it comes to women, he hardly ever resorts to violence. ''Then, Dunbakel is...?'' "Dunbakel? She''s a soldier, not a woman." Just to make sure, Enkrid asked, and Rem replied casually. "By the way, now when we''re up against the leader, I really think we''ll need to use some serious ''strength.''" Rem said while submerged up to his neck in the bathwater. Enkrid ignored the fleeting glances of the maids and looked at Rem. What was in his grey eyes? Rem, too, had the spirit of competition and fighting. This was something new¡ªsomething Enkrid hadn''t seen before. Even though he had been reckless in the past, had Rem ever shown such feelings towards him? Had he ever displayed such intensity? There had been times when Rem said it was difficult to hold back his strength, fearing he might accidentally kill him. "Seriously?" Splash. With a flick of the water, Rem answered. "It''ll be fun." At that, Enkrid laughed. The eyes of a mad trainer and a mad ax-wielder met. It was the first time such intensity had turned towards each other. Jaxen, observing this, spoke up. "Are you all insane?" Audin laughed as usual, while Ragna said nothing. But it was clear that his eyes were constantly shifting, lost in deep thoughts. "Is it really ''Will''? Really? No lies? Not a trick?" Krais, who had hurriedly undressed and joined the bath, asked. Krais, with his big eyes, never stopped training, so there was a lot to observe. Some of the maids commented that their tastes were more aligned with the others. "If you want to watch, it''s one copper coin each!" Krais''s joke caused a few of the maids to laugh. Krais, still maintaining a friendly attitude towards everyone, posed his question. Amidst the rising steam, all eyes turned to Enkrid. They say he overcame the pressure. It was no longer just a rumor, but something that could be heard by those who knew. Enkrid initially told the truth. "Today is just the same day repeating over and over." "Not a novel, next." The response came from Jaxen. It was such an unrealistic story that it felt like a lie. Enkrid scratched his head and responded again. "Just lucky." It was the same answer as always. Honestly, there was no better excuse. Everyone, including Rem, fell silent. Was that really an excuse? Could this guy actually be a genius? It didn''t seem likely. He had been taught, but there was no talent, no special ability. Everyone had doubts in their eyes, but there was no suspicion. In truth, there was nothing to say except luck. "Did you sleep with the goddess of luck or something?" Rem muttered, and that was likely the right answer. Just then, another guest entered the bath. "Will? Really? Is it true?" It was Marcus, dressed in casual clothes. His face was red, possibly from the rain, and his clothes were soaked. "Since you''re here, why not join for a bath?" Enkrid said casually, and Marcus swiftly stripped off his clothes and dove into the bath. His body was more trained than Enkrid had expected, though not as scarred as his. "Really?" Markus''s eyes sparkled. It seemed like he was asking, "What are you? How far are you going?" "Yes." Enkrid acknowledged. He had said he wanted to become a knight, that it was his dream, and he had shown his will. But could Enkrid really become a knight? How many people had wondered the same? Markus, too, had his doubts. Though he believed Enkrid would advance, hearing that reality close at hand still caught him by surprise. "Heh." A chuckle escaped Marcus, and then he asked, "Fiance?e?" The Fairy Company Commander entered the bath, and immediately greeted by Krais. "It''s all men here, but you sure are full of confidence. Want to join us?" The commander shook her head. "Anyone who sees my naked body, other than my fiance?e, will have their eyes plucked out. Are you sure you''re fine with that?" Her fairy''s joke echoed through the bath. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! Your support is appreciated! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit .gg/3kwX2x2c55 or Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 236 - The Path to Becoming a Knight Chapter 236 - 236 - The Path to Becoming a Knight Enkrid''s "will" was neither complete nor perfect. It was a fragment, a shard, and just a part of something larger. Despite this, it was still his "will." This was why Marcus was shocked, and why the fairy squad leader, who had briefly left for business or perhaps leave, returned almost immediately. She hadn''t denied that she had come to enjoy the view while soaking in the bath. "It''s quite nice," she said, which was an implicit acknowledgment. "Anything else to say?" "No." Her visit was simply to confirm if Enkrid had truly withstood the pressure, that was all. It was a strange thing, Enkrid thought. He knew what he had done was impressive, but was it really worth all this fuss? Moreover, Enkrid himself knew it was just a piece, just a part. Of course, that in itself brought both joy and satisfaction. No other feeling could give him as much fulfillment as this. While feeling fulfilled, he also felt the urge to continue. "If this is just the beginning..." He could go even further. It was like a torn dream, stitched together and becoming something magical, something whole. "No, it really is that," he thought, scratching his cheek. The curse of repeating today had mended the torn dream into something complete. Enkrid didn''t deny it. "Well then." The fairy squad leader turned and walked out, braving the pouring rain. Enkrid, watching her leave, thought to himself how strange her personality was as well. Even the swiftest fairy couldn''t avoid the rain, and she was drenched to the bone. As she walked, Shinar checked the wound on her side. "It hurts." She would need to apply some medicine and rest for a day or two. It wasn''t unbearable, but she could still move without issue. As Shinar treated her wound, her thoughts drifted to Enkrid. She remembered his blue eyes, staring at her in the bath. She had liked his face from the start. So, had she targeted him from the beginning? No, he had merely been the subject of some teasing at first. Now, somehow, he had become a figure of intrigue. "I''d like to pull him in..." But she knew it wouldn''t be as easy as it sounded. She had just returned after handling some tasks for the guild related to regaining the kingdom''s language, tasks that she believed would be beneficial for her future. If they hadn''t been useful, she would have stayed here. And yet, after returning, the news had been that Enkrid had collapsed. No, to be more accurate, he had passed out, but now he had endured and resisted without fainting. Those who didn''t know wouldn''t understand, but those who did would catch on immediately. ''Pressure.'' ''Will'' could only be resisted by a force of equal measure. Anything less than that couldn''t fight back. And if someone managed to endure it... ''Will.'' Was that man, the one who had just been the subject of a joke, really able to withstand it? Shinar couldn''t help but feel alarmed, so much so that she didn''t even attend to her wound. It wasn''t surprising. She too had eyes and could recognize the situation. Even if lightning struck repeatedly, it was impossible. And yet, against hardship or crisis, he overcame and stood up again, no matter what stood before him. How could that not be thrilling? ''I want to show him to the idiots back home.'' She had half a mind to take him to her parents, and it was half-serious. Fairy humor often hid deeper intentions, after all. "It''s fun." Shinar muttered to herself, her red lips moving. The rain poured down relentlessly. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Without realizing it, Shinar smiled. The work she had been doing had been tiresome, painful, and seemingly endless, but she had rarely smiled while doing it. But now, because of some man, she couldn''t help but smile. She thought it was a bit ridiculous but was satisfied with the feeling. Was that why she hadn''t left yet, even though she should have? ''Maybe I''m making excuses for myself?'' Perhaps. Shinar continued walking, unfazed by the pain or the tasks she had yet to complete. She was simply inwardly congratulating Enkrid on what he had achieved. For now, that was enough. "I think she''s hurt." Enkrid also had keen senses. His heightened sense of smell caught the faint scent of blood among the steam. He could tell by sight too. If he had noticed, others would have surely noticed as well. "Seems like you''ve taken quite a fall," Rem said. "What are you talking about?" "Boss... if you''ve got something like that, you''re truly a master of the arts." Enkrid had just gotten out of the bath, rinsing off the sweat and other things. At that moment, Rem spoke while looking at Enkrid''s legs. "You crazy bastard." "What?" Enkrid responded to him, and Rem shook his head. "I lost. Can''t beat that." Really, Enkrid was not a normal person. Enkrid kicked Rem''s side, and Rem naturally avoided it. "Even if it hurts, you need to come to see it. Truly a madman." Ragna added his own commentary. "Definitely the kind of face to have a salon or something with me, haha, especially for that." Krais also made a remark while looking at Enkrid''s legs. "Watch out, it''s the captain." Enkrid warned them to be careful. Marcus, laughing next to them, added: "I envy that." "What is it that you envy?" Everyone was heading back after they had all bathed. "You must''ve been through quite a rough job. I can see the fairy''s injury. But it doesn''t seem too serious, so you can stop worrying about your fiance?e," Jaxen said as they were nearing the inn. Enkrid heard what was said and corrected him immediately. "Not my fiance?e." "Yes," Jaxen replied absently, opening the inn door. Dunbakel and Esther''s gazes turned toward them. And, somehow, Finn had returned as well. "Is it true?" Finn asked. Enkrid realized that the question was directed at him. Was the "Will" true? Had he truly withstood the pressure? This was probably a question about the truth of the rumors. "Just luck," Enkrid answered, having nothing else to say. "Wow," Finn exclaimed in surprise. "Does that mean you''re actually going to become a knight?" Finn mused. He had thought Enkrid was not an ordinary person from the start, but this¡ª"Will" now? Enkrid didn''t respond to Finn''s surprise. Becoming a knight was a dream, something he was moving toward. Whether or not he achieved it had never crossed his mind. He would keep moving forward, regardless. That forward movement had now borne fruit. As they settled down for the night, exchanging casual jokes, with Rem teasing Dunbakel and Enkrid asking Finn where he''d been, Finn muttered something about hanging around language-obsessed weirdos. He shook his head, unable to elaborate, and no one seemed particularly interested in hearing more. Enkrid had asked, but he wasn''t eager for the details. "Why ask if you don''t care? And why aren''t you interested in me? There''s a beautiful woman in this room, you know?" Finn said, his hair a bit disheveled, but her face not unattractive. Thanks to the repetition of today, Enkrid no longer remembered her face clearly, but compared to the woman bandit with the black sword, Finn was definitely more beautiful. "Grrr," Esther snorted, a clear mockery. "Even the leopard''s mocking," Rem laughed as he teased, prompting Finn to curse and resent the pouring rain. "Damn rain." With that, Finn made a move to leave to bathe, but as he reached for the door, Jaxen caught her wrist, and Esther had approached Finn''s feet. Rem, Ragna, Audin, and even Enkrid turned their attention to him. Dunbakel seemed to sense something as well, tensing and baring her fangs. "...What is it?" Krais, who hadn''t noticed anything, asked. "Guest," Enkrid answered. This was the Border Guard''s barracks, not a tavern in town, and it wasn''t a place where unexpected guests could easily arrive. But someone was here as a guest? "Can we have a moment?" a voice suddenly called from outside as everyone stared at the door. Enkrid stepped forward. "My guest," he said. Opening the door, they found a middle-aged man soaked from the rain, looking like a drowned rat. He was a rapier-wielding swordsman, once a guard for the Rokfried Guild. He was the same man who had tried to intimidate Enkrid earlier that day, only to be rejected, leaving him stunned and repeating the word "uh" over and over. "Looks like you''ve come to your senses," Rem sneered from behind. Was it a trait of his species? The rapier swordsman ignored Rem''s mocking comment. "I wanted to see you once more, so I took the liberty to come," he said, his words revealing how much the events of earlier had shocked him. His current state made it obvious. His face was pale, his eyes were dark from fatigue, and his cheeks had hollowed out in just half a day. "Of course," Enkrid replied, not turning him away. "Just had a bath, but you''re not tired?" Krais asked practically. Enkrid shook his head slightly. "Not at all." If he''d been bothered by such things, he would have dropped his sword long ago. The man before him was valuable. He knew how to use pressure and likely had considerable skill, so Enkrid had planned to challenge him again tomorrow. "I have business to attend to tonight. I''m sorry for the rudeness of coming here like this," the swordsman said, explaining that he had climbed over the barracks wall in the dead of night, avoiding the guards'' watch. His skills were impressive. But more than that, Enkrid felt a small thrill at the situation. "Another illness?" Rem muttered from behind, but the man who sought him out for a duel was still standing there. It wasn''t some useless man. The shock from the encounter had been so profound that, even though he had forgotten Edin Molsan''s name, the name "Ibarn" had stuck with him. The man before him was someone who wielded "Will," a true semi-knight, in some senses. The rain still hadn''t stopped. The downpour had lightened, but the fact that they were getting wet hadn''t changed. Though Enkrid had just bathed, he didn''t mind getting soaked again. What was wrong with getting a little wet? When he stood in front of the practice field, the ground was slick. The dirt surface was usually forgiving when someone fell, reducing the risk of injury, but on a rainy day, it made it easier for one to slip. Of course, for the two standing before each other, the slippery ground wasn''t much of an issue. "I''ll go alone," Enkrid said as he stepped forward. Though everyone generally agreed, Jaxen, being human, was inherently suspicious. ''If anything goes wrong...'' He moved cautiously behind. This was the reason why Jaxen had disappeared from the inn. Noticing this, Rem stayed still, and so did the others. Esther, too, sensed a subtle change in Enkrid''s demeanor. ''What''s this?'' Though she was skilled with weapons herself, it was unusual for her to sense anything so acutely unless it was related to magical forces. Had the power that had obscured her curse faded? No, that wasn''t it. Had his attitude changed? No, he was still the same crazy man as before. But still, Esther couldn''t shake the feeling that something had shifted. Even so, she wasn''t about to stand out in the pouring rain to watch. So, she closed her eyes, feeling drowsy. Recently, she had been transforming into a human several times and had honed her spellcraft with each experience. Through those many lessons, she had learned something important about the world. She had learned that life could change in an instant. So, she had to always be prepared. As a mage, preparation was second nature. Esther rested her head on her knees. She wasn''t worried about Enkrid. He wouldn''t die. So, she shut everything out, sinking into her own world. "Since the stray cat''s gone, I might as well sleep," Rem muttered. "Oh, really. Jaxen disappeared so quickly, huh?" Krais responded, noticing after the fact. Not long after everyone had agreed to spend their time in their own way, Rem, feeling a bit bored, stood up. "It''s kind of boring, isn''t it?" he said. That seemed to echo everyone''s feelings. They all decided to go and see what was happening, even if it meant making up an excuse. Standing in the practice field, Enkrid once again rejected the pressure from his opponent. "Truly," the rapier swordsman said, still shocked. Of course, it was understandable. Who could have expected someone to return and fully grasp the power of "Will"? But at that moment, blood began trickling from the left side of Enkrid''s nose. ''It''s easier than a sword fight.'' Still, it wasn''t something he could use recklessly. But he did sense something. "The more you use it, the more you''ll hone it," the rapier swordsman said, seeing the blood mixed with the rain. Enkrid felt the same way. The more he used it, the more his body had begun to adapt to it. The two of them stood, staring at each other. The rain intensified, and the rapier swordsman locked eyes with Enkrid before speaking. "I cannot reveal my affiliation, but I am a member of a knightly order. That''s all I can say for now. But, perhaps, would you consider joining me?" The sound of the pouring rain filled the space between them. Thunder rumbled, and a flash of lightning illuminated the sky, lighting up the world in bright white light. The rapier swordsman''s eyes met Enkrid''s. ''This isn''t about a duel.'' The man hadn''t come to fight but to measure Enkrid''s strength and potentially win his loyalty. He had mentioned that he belonged to a recognized knightly order. Which meant that he was offering Enkrid a path forward. "This is an invitation to join the knightly order. I will show you the way to become a knight." It was an opportunity to walk the path toward knighthood. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! Your support is appreciated! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit .gg/3kwX2x2c55 or Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 237 - What is a Knight? Chapter 237 - 237 - What is a Knight? ''It''s not a duel.'' It''s a proposal, an invitation. ''It seems like this happens often these days.'' Didn''t Marcus say something like that? ''He told me to become a battalion commander.'' He had refused. And now, it''s a knight. Enkrid looked at the man in front of him. He was clearly not a noble from Naurilia. So what does that matter? Not at all, it doesn''t matter one bit. Even if he was born in Naurilia, what would those born in a rural village know about the king or nobles? The best are simply those who keep their stomachs full and don''t cause trouble. Especially since the king is someone they''ve never seen in their lives, the people grow up thinking that the local lord is the king. Enkrid grew up in such a village. So, Enkrid didn''t feel particularly loyal to the country. Thus, the reason he didn''t answer right away was not out of loyalty. He also didn''t hesitate to accept help. Without advice and aid, he would not have come this far. In that regard, Enkrid was grateful to Rem, Audin, Ragna, and Jaxen, and even to Krais. But despite all this, upon hearing the proposal, Enkrid honestly felt deflated. It was as if his racing heart had suddenly turned cold. He had set out thinking he would get to properly witness the skill of the man in front of him. That''s why he didn''t care about the pouring rain. "You haven''t even said where it is, should I follow you?" "You won''t regret it." His eyes were shining. His gaze was one of genuine belief in his own words. Even if the man in front of him had no ill intentions, Enkrid knew that it wouldn''t necessarily benefit him. Even a stone thrown carelessly can kill a frog. Whether the stone is thrown with good intentions or bad, whether it was meant to chase a snake or hit a frog''s head, it is still just a stone. More than that... ''Do I want to join the knight order?'' Enkrid briefly looked at the sky and asked himself. The rain was pouring down heavily, and it didn''t seem like it would stop any time soon. For an autumn rain, it was pretty intense. The thought was brief. It wasn''t a question that needed much contemplation. Becoming a knight and joining a knight order are different matters. They always have been. Just because he admired the red cloak didn''t mean he would give up everything to wear it. It was the same now. "I Refuse." "Refused? If it''s because I haven''t revealed my affiliation, think again. No one can offer a better path than the one I can give. Especially if you want to go higher, you will have to go where people of that caliber gather." Can one become a knight just by joining a knight order? No, but the chances are much higher. Those who reach the level of a knight can be found among mercenaries and thieves as well. However, the fact remains that knights most often come from knight orders. At least, that''s where the opportunities are. For a soldier in a borderland territory, it seems like a golden opportunity. "A place better than the Red Cloak Knight Order. I can assure you." The rapier knight said again, but Enkrid did not nod. ''A knight order, huh.'' Yes, it might be an opportunity. But by spending countless hours of training and practice, can one achieve that level just by being in a knight order? Can one reach their desired destination? Can one truly become a knight? Enkrid reflected on the path he had taken. Reflection was part of him. What had been on that path? What had brought him here? He didn''t need the best environment given to him without worry. Furthermore... ''I haven''t even seen the end of my subordinates yet.'' He owed what he had now to them, so he couldn''t just ignore them. Just as he was about to speak again, rejecting the offer... "Do you know what the most dangerous thing to touch among a fairy''s belongings is?" Where had that come from? Even with his heightened senses, Enkrid couldn''t detect the presence before the voice spoke. Before his rejection, the fairy commander''s voice rang out. Had she washed up? She looked more radiant than before, wearing casual clothes. Her long sleeves billowed as she wore a thin shirt that fluttered in the wind. Then she spoke. "Their fiance?." Was she answering her own question? What are they both doing over there? Both Enkrid and the rapier knight turned their heads. "Right. Fiance?. Do you know what happens if you treat a fairy''s fiance? carelessly?" "Execution, right?" It was Rem, too, who appeared. Hadn''t he been acting like he wouldn''t leave the lodging? "My lord, my father, I beg of you again, please don''t take my small, precious company commander away." Audin, too, popped out while praying. When had they been watching? They were on one side of the training ground. They were gathered around Audin, who was praying, Ragna, who was quietly shining his eyes, Rem, who was grinning and radiating killing intent, and Jaxen, who was next to him. At Jaxen''s feet was Esther, and the beast-man with golden eyes stood out as well. "If you''re going, I''ll go with you." It was Dunbakel''s voice. She was always serious and never spoke in circles. If Enkrid was going anywhere, she was going with him. The fairy company commander, standing a step away from them, stared at Enkrid. Finally, it seemed like Finn had come out late, grumbling and asking, "So, are you going?" That last question was directed at him. Enkrid scratched his head. Looking back, even though he had done nothing for them, they still stepped forward for him. They fought, taught, and had stayed by his side until now. ''What am I, to them?'' What is a knight? He believes a knight is one who protects honor. What is a knight? He believes a knight is one who holds firm to their beliefs. What is a knight? He believes a knight is one who upholds justice. That is the ideal knight Enkrid believes in, follows, and wants to become. For him, this was about honor, belief, and justice. The loyalty to these people was just as strong as the loyalty to his three closest companions. "If you''re not going to fight, leave. I won''t join your knight order." The path to becoming a knight, Enkrid had already decided. From here, in this moment, he was moving forward to the next. "Well, I wasn''t planning to stop you from going." Rem muttered an unnecessary comment. Why was he here if he wasn''t going to try to stop him? "Hmm, I''m better." Ragna suddenly spoke out. "I''m better than any knight order." He added that without hesitation. It sounded arrogant and reckless, but Enkrid knew Ragna''s genius, so he had no words to counter it. Audin simply smiled gently. "It''s your choice, brother." Hadn''t he been praying to God just moments ago, asking not to take anything away? Even though he said that, if Enkrid had decided to leave, they would have accepted it without question. They were indeed curious people. In any case, Enkrid had made his decision, and he wasn''t looking back. That''s what kind of person he was. Boom. Once again, thunder roared, and blue lightning passed over their heads, illuminating the surroundings. The rapier knight, who had been staring into Enkrid''s eyes, nodded. "You''re not going to change your mind, huh?" It was a concession. The knight brushed his hands off. He traveled across the continent, finding promising individuals and guiding them to his domain. Normally, he would have revealed his affiliation. But... ''I figured he''d refuse.'' So he didn''t reveal it. Even if he had, it wouldn''t have changed anything. Still, maybe he should say it, just in case? But it wouldn''t matter. Despite his lack of talent compared to others he''d seen, the knight had always respected that unwavering gaze from the beginning. That''s why he had tried to take him. At the time, he had been watching for something other than his sword skills. "Be careful of Jevikal. He''s not a gentle one." "I understand." Enkrid nodded. "Don''t overuse Will. If a child who has just started walking is made to run without resting, his knees and ankles will break. First, make sure his ankles are strong, then he can run." "Right." It was good advice, an additional point. "Then, I''ll be leaving now. I don''t know if we''ll meet again." It was an unnecessarily honest farewell. "We''ll meet again." Enkrid responded, as if answering. The rapier knight turned and left. In the end, there was no duel. That was what Enkrid felt a little regretful about. "Are you disappointed that you couldn''t fight now?" Rem pinpointed his feelings. Enkrid, feeling the disappointment, turned to face Rem with renewed determination. "Since we''re already soaked?" "Damn, fine. But just so you know, I''m not going to let you off easy this time." "I''ve never gone easy on you." "That''s obvious. Anyway, that damn tongue of yours." On a rainy night, Enkrid stood with his sword in hand. Rem, in front of him, pulled out his axe. The two, with the rain pouring between them, ignored the darkness and the heavy downpour as they charged at each other. In the end, Enkrid lost again. "You''re really not going easy anymore." Enkrid said this while getting soaked by the rain. Fortunately, they had fought with some restraint, so neither of them was bloodied. ''Rem...'' He could still go further. It seemed like he was holding himself back in some way. Enkrid didn''t ask about it, though. It was something he would figure out on his own. As for him, he was simply determined to uphold his loyalty based on his beliefs, justice, and honor. His bond with these people meant he would keep it, no matter what. "What will you do if your axe breaks?" Enkrid''s sword was sturdy. He had swung it with purpose, breaking the blade of Rem''s axe. Rem used that as a ruse to win. "Didn''t you say you''d buy me a new one?" "I don''t have any krona." "I don''t have any either." It was because of the recent generous gifts given to Krais. Enkrid couldn''t even afford an armor to match the krona he had now. Neither he nor Rem were the type to carefully gather krona for themselves anyway. Naturally, their gazes drifted toward the lodging. "If we don''t have any krona, we''ll just trouble that big-eyed Krais." Rem made that judgment, and Enkrid didn''t stop him. "Will starts now." It was Ragna''s voice, watching their sparring. The lazy one was now watching them, getting drenched by the rain. Esther, who was soaked through, leapt into his arms. "I know, too." She knew because she had felt and realized it. As they stood there, pondering whether to go to the bath or just wash up quickly and sleep... "Company Commander!" A soldier''s voice called from the entrance of the barracks. It was already late at night. Enkrid could hear the soldier looking for him. Everyone''s attention shifted toward that direction. Even Rem, who had been about to tease Krais in the lodging, stepped out again. "No, you''re all soaked. At least dry off before coming in." Between Krais''s grumbling, the soldier cried out, "There''s been an incident!" He had come to find Enkrid. Enkrid wondered what was happening now. *** The original party of the rapier knight gathered around him as he was leaving. "You''ve done something pointless ." One of them mocked. "As long as it was fun, that''s all that matters." "Are you sure? But you''re just going to leave that guy behind? He was up to something." Among them was Jevikal, a madman whom one of them pointed out. The rapier knight stroked his chin. Even though his beard was gone, the habit had remained. "He''ll figure it out." It wasn''t his problem anyway. Besides, he wasn''t the kind to be easily beaten by someone like Jevikal. ''Though he''s somewhat clever.'' "Was it really true?" One of his subordinates asked. The rapier knight didn''t hesitate and nodded. "I don''t see the talent, but I believe in him." It was high praise. Though it had taken many deaths to get to this point, his subordinates would never know that. "Oh." The subordinate was surprised. It wasn''t the kind of praise one would often hear from their superior. "Then, where are we headed now?" "We''re going back. To the Empire." At those words, a smile appeared on the faces of his subordinates. Finally, they were returning. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! Your support is appreciated! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit .gg/8y7mFVah or Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 238 - Hostage Situation Chapter 238 - 238 - Hostage Situation The half-blood giant gazed silently at the pouring rain. As she wiped herself off and sat by the window, watching the rain pour down, the words of a man named Enkrid came to her mind. "Tomorrow as well?" Not today, but tomorrow; not the present, but the future. Was it alright to live with such thoughts? Was there really no issue with it? Such questions swirled inside her. As a member of the Church of the Abysmal Sanctuary and a follower of the Cult, her purpose was clear. "Hey." And so, she had to waver at the words of the man in front of her. Though her heart didn''t budge, she had to agree, forced as it were. Jevikal, leaning against the doorframe of her room, spoke. "I''ve never been interested in a duel. Didn''t you feel the same?" Jevikal was quick-witted and had a good memory. The half-blood giant was familiar with him, meaning he knew her identity. That was why he made the proposal. The Cult wasn''t an organization that revered physical power, and since she had come this far, it was clear she had a purpose. "Let''s kill them. That''s the way, isn''t it?" She knew that was the way. But still, her head didn''t move easily. She couldn''t speak. Yet, knowing this was what she had to do, she nodded in agreement. "To survive, you must endure, and to survive, you must kill." The teachings of the Cult were still vivid in her mind. Until she died, she would remain a devoted member of the Cult, a warrior of the Abysmal Sanctuary. She acted according to those teachings, agreeing to Jevikal''s plan. "I have a plan." Jevikal stepped closer, his breath reeking of decay. The words that followed carried the same foul stench. And so, it began. Jevikal wandered near the city gates and called out to a soldier. "Hey, friend!" "Hmm?" The rain fell heavily, making even the oil-soaked cloaks look ineffective. The surroundings were dim, and the visibility was naturally limited. Even with a torch under the roof, the darkness made it hard to see. Bell, standing under the light, looked to the source of the call. It was a face he recognized. What was his name again? He thought, but realized he hadn''t even asked for his name when he entered the territory. One thing was clear, though: he was a guest of Enkrid. He stayed at the inn and was a sparring partner, a duel opponent. He was also someone Marcus had warned him to keep an eye on. "What''s going on?" Jevikal grinned. That grin was unsettling, but Bell said nothing. "Do you have some time?" The filthy grin persisted. Bell was on patrol duty and clearly had no time. What kind of nonsense was this? Just as she was about to respond... Crack! A sudden sound made her whip her head around. A large warrior appeared behind her. A half-blood giant warrior. Bell recognized her as well. He had seen him multiple times during Enkrid''s duels. At that moment, she saw the cold, hardened face of the female warrior. Just as he was about to shout out about the ambush or surprise attack, he felt a cold blade against her throat. The speed was beyond her ability to react. "Shh." Bell''s awareness faded. Something hit the back of his head, and when he regained consciousness, his hands and feet were tightly bound. His entire body was soaked, and he wasn''t alone. "Lord in the heavens." A prayer sounded from right beside her. It was a middle-aged woman muttering with tears streaming down her face. She was a colleague''s mother, a vendor who sold dried meat. There were a few more familiar faces in the room. "Vanessa?" "Damn, are you finally awake?" The coarse-voiced innkeeper was there too. Her tone was still rough, but her eyes were trembling, fear showing through. Bell scanned her surroundings again. His vision was blurry, but he could still make out the faces. Looking around, she realized that, including herself, dozens of people were all bound. And then... "If you resist, we''ll kill one of you at a time." The voice, coming from some distance away, made Bell realize she was in some sort of cabin. A few familiar things caught Bell''s eye. An old leather sunshade, some decaying leather sheets with a pungent smell, and a fireplace that hadn''t been used in years, now dead and cold. This wasn''t inside the manor but a secluded hunter''s cabin outside the castle gates. In other words, a forgotten hut. What was happening here? The familiar faces, all bound, were trapped in the hunter''s cabin. Sunlight filtered in through the window. Bell, still lying on his side, tensed his abdominal muscles. "Whoop!" He straightened up and looked through the window. There, just before he lost consciousness, he saw the back of the man she had recognized. ''That bastard?'' His head still throbbed. As he woke, he felt something sticky on the side of his face and realized he must have bled a little. He wasn''t dead, but his skull was cracked. Behind the man, a vague figure appeared, but it was unclear. However, the voice was unmistakable. "Then, you''re going to die too." It was Enkrid''s voice. Bell quickly understood the situation. It was a hostage crisis. But at the same time, he couldn''t help but wonder: would it even matter? It was a world where people killed and were killed. In such a world, would Enkrid really die for these people, even if there were dozens of them? It seemed utterly impossible. Yet, why was he still in this situation? Questions continued to swirl in Bell''s mind. He would have to keep watching to understand how things unfolded. Jevikal''s tactics were neither extraordinary nor particularly brilliant. They were simple and annoying at best. "I told you, I''ll kill them all." Since his first day at Border Guard, Jevikal had been observing everything around him. He had watched, learned, and discovered a few things. First: "Damn? They put a watcher on me?" He realized there was someone keeping an eye on him. This was thanks to Krais, who had reported to the higher-ups on the first day. Because of that, Marcus had placed a watch on him. Jevikal was displeased by this. Though the surveillance was one thing... What he had learned next was that Enkrid seemed to be surprisingly close to the people around him. But if Jevikal were to take those people hostage and demand Enkrid''s life, the response would likely be one of indifference. For hostages to be effective, they had to be valuable to the target. "Not family, not lovers." And they weren''t even his hidden children. Just people he knew. That was all. "I''m not asking for something grand. Just that you bite one of them, and leave yourself here." That was it. Jevikal was offering terms he thought Enkrid would accept. Honestly, Jevikal believed that if the half-blood giant woman fought alongside him, they could kill Enkrid. But what was the problem? ''Those bastards?'' The ones laughing behind him, the guy fondling his axe, the bear-like man who looked like he was twice Jevikal''s size, and the quiet one who could strike with a knife at any given moment. "Especially you, don''t disappear. If I don''t see you, I''ll kill this woman first." Jevikal was holding a woman, a resident who made marmalade. A knife was pressed tightly against her neck. A drop of blood dripped down. Enkrid didn''t remember her name, but Krais did. "If you touch Juri''s fingers, you won''t die easily." Krais spoke seriously, which was rare for him. She was the one who made excellent marmalade, so her fingers were crucial. Juri, pale as death, couldn''t utter a word. She was stiff, like wax, being dragged around by Zibical''s brutish hands. Watching this, Enkrid didn''t show impatience. This only made Jevikal grin wider. ''That bastard''s eyes are so damn annoying.'' If things went as planned, he''d gouge those eyes out first. "Is what I''m saying difficult? It''s not, right? If you''re unsure... well, then the story changes." Still crude provocation. Jevikal''s terms were simple. Everyone else leave. Leave only Enkrid behind. Then what? "Then, you just have to defeat both of us in turn, and it''s over." If Enkrid could do that, he would let the hostages go. Though it was clearly nonsense, it wasn''t asking him to die or even cut off a limb. But Jevikal would kill someone if Enkrid didn''t comply. That made the situation more ambiguous. Couldn''t he even accept such simple conditions? ''That''s probably what he''s counting on.'' Coldly considered, it was an absurd demand. He was asking Enkrid to fight both of them after everyone left. What if both of them tried to kill him at once? ''Then, would I be able to handle the aftermath?'' If he were seriously injured? Even if he retreated, people like Rem wouldn''t just stand by. They would chase him down immediately. Did he have another way? Having survived by using his wits for so long, Enkrid could read Jevikal''s intentions. Not just that, he sensed something more beyond it. His instincts spoke to him. ''There''s something else hidden, aside from this escape plan.'' Next to Jevikal stood the half-blood giant, armored and wielding a sword and shield, staring vacantly. Handling that one warrior alone had been impossible. No, it had been impossible back then. Before, that is, before meeting the shepherd Pell. ''But now... maybe.'' He felt indifferent, calm. His eyes mirrored the same. Jevikal''s smile grew wider as he met Enkrid''s gaze. It had been a detestable smile from the beginning. However, he kept his distance, wanting to gauge Enkrid''s hidden abilities. Enkrid thought this was his responsibility. Just as he was about to respond, a loud voice interrupted. "Damn it!" A booming voice from behind. It came from inside the abandoned cabin. Bell''s shout rang out. If he keeps that up, he''s going to die first, Enkrid thought with mild concern. Everything happening was because of him, and it was all faces he knew. This wasn''t a battlefield, but if they got stabbed and died here, it would be troubling. He wished they would just be quiet for a bit. Jevikal''s face now looked less like a smile and more like a distorted mask. Doesn''t his face hurt from grinning like that? "Heh heh, you''re an annoying one. Why don''t we talk it out? The scriptures say to turn back when a person is on the wrong path. So, look behind you." Jevikal spoke cryptically and gestured as if to turn their attention. Jaxon subtly lifted his left foot. Rem let hisleft hand hang, while Ragna just yawned, observing. "Stop spouting nonsense." Enkrid made his decision. It didn''t seem like it would cost him his life. "You all go back, wash up, and rest." "Ugh, are you doing it alone?" "I think I can manage." He had said this often before. If he had said this in the past, Rem would have sarcastically retorted. Would he go die alone, he would ask. But now? After the sparring session right before coming here... ''Ugh.'' Rem swallowed his words. It was different now. He was no longer someone easily underestimated. On top of that, he had learned even a fragment of ''Will''. He was now qualified to join the only knight order in the kingdom, the Red Cloak Knights. Though, of course, to actually join the order, he would have to meet various conditions. He had even received a proposal to join, despite not fully understanding what it meant. "So?" Enkrid nodded toward Jevikal, whose eyes were nearly hidden by his twisted expression. He pushed everyone back, making sure they were out of sight, far enough that they wouldn''t be able to see him anymore. Jevikal had not let go of his hostage the whole time. If it weren''t for Juri, the woman in his arms, Enkrid would have made a move long ago. Even now, Jevikal was hiding a knife, ready to strike. He was prepared to use the technique called the "Carbon Blade." If he threw it now, Jevikal would use the hostage as a shield. ''Should I kill him with my own hands and rush to help Bell?'' Killing the hostage might be a way to defeat the enemy, but it was also a sacrifice. It would solve things quickly but would lead to the death of an innocent. Though Enkrid wouldn''t feel much guilt for a death caused by his own actions, he wasn''t one to just sit by and watch when something could still be stopped. Cling. "I never swore to protect the Border Guard people, but they are from my land." Enkrid drew his sword as he spoke. "I can''t just leave it at that." The sky had cleared after the rain. Beneath the bright blue, Enkrid stood, sword in hand. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! Your support is appreciated! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit .gg/8y7mFVah or Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 239 - A Battle’s Start Chapter 239 - 239 - A Battle''s Start It wasn''t bad either. There was determination in his words and actions. Because that will was visible, Enkrid''s words were backed by conviction. The message was clear: everyone had retreated. He had said he would protect, and if he said so, then he would be the kind of person to follow through. What if he failed? That was a problem for later. The last to leave was Ragna. Before leaving, he quietly watched Jebikal for a while, muttered a parting word, and then turned away. "We''ll meet again later." Jevikal ignored him. Enkrid thought it was unwise to disregard that. ''It''s rare for Ragna to say something like that.'' It wasn''t a common sight. With that, everyone moved away and distanced themselves from the line of sight. Once Enkrid was left alone, Jebikal spoke again in a tone without any hint of a smile. "Impressive, really." The smile had vanished from Jevikal''s face. He seemed rather indifferent. Up until that moment, Enkrid stood silently, his sword drawn, watching quietly. "Let''s begin." Jevikal said. For a moment, silence fell. Nothing happened yet. It would have been awkward, but Jebikal twisted his lips into a smile again. Enkrid, watching the expression, thought it was a smile that seemed to squeeze something out. The original plan had been for the hybrid giant to charge first, followed by Jevikal seizing an opening to attack. But the hybrid giant didn''t move. "Talking?" Enkrid asked lightly, intending to relieve the awkwardness, but his attempt was futile. "Shut the hell up," Jevikal snapped, glaring at the hybrid giant. The giant, wearing a helmet, stood still, not turning to look. If the two of them teamed up, they could probably kill it, so why was she doing this? Of course, Jevikal didn''t think the hybrid giant would attack just because he was charging in. He had prepared dangerous tools for such a moment. ''If used wrong, I''d be dead, though.'' But if used properly, it would be a lethal weapon, as dangerous tools often were. When Jevikal said "Let''s start," and the hybrid giant still didn''t move, Jevikal spoke again. "Let''s go." It was an urging tone. Only after hearing that did the hybrid giant silently raise her shield. Enkrid looked at the hybrid giant. The helmet concealed her face. The visor was a single horizontal slit, so only her eyes were barely visible, but her eyes were so narrow and small that her gaze couldn''t be discerned. That said, it didn''t mean she couldn''t feel the atmosphere. People often revealed their feelings through their posture, even without saying anything. "Don''t want to fight?" Enkrid asked, facing her. During their previous sparring sessions, Enkrid could tell that the hybrid giant had been getting more excited without realizing it, and he had sensed it. It had been a long time ago, but that memory remained vivid. Some memories didn''t fade easily. It was different from forgetting Edin Molsan''s name. "I''m just doing my duty." The hybrid giant replied. Her husky voice echoed through the helmet. It was clear she was a woman, but her voice had a rough edge to it. She raised her shield. A gray iron wall. At the same time, she bent her body and slammed it into the ground. Her massive thigh muscles and ankle strength sent dirt flying, propelling her forward. Boom! The sound of her impact reverberated through the air. And then, the hybrid giant charged at Enkrid with all her might. It felt like a massive mountain was rushing toward him. The hybrid giant had also given this move a name ¡ª "Landslide." The tilted shield came crashing down on Enkrid. It was aimed to strike from above. Enkrid instantly activated a focus that made everything slow down around him, a technique he had long since grown accustomed to, despite its drain on his concentration. Even in his concentrated state, the speed of the shield''s approach was exceptional, formidable. He quickly judged that merely attempting to deflect it with a slight tilt of the shield wouldn''t be enough. So, what should he do? If he couldn''t deflect it, maybe he could deflect it by redirecting? Though his opponent had lost some enthusiasm, Enkrid had not. As the shield surged toward him, he was poised to act. That''s when he felt a sudden surge of intent targeting his back. His instincts kicked in, and he immediately began preparing to evade. Jevikal had schemed something. Enkrid didn''t mind it. ''It might be interesting.'' A smile appeared on his face, and upon seeing it, Jevikal seemed about to lose his temper. The repressed malice within Jevikal surged in an instant. ''Die.'' Jevikal muttered silently, reaching for his belt and unleashing his weapon. It was the very weapon that had earned him his current nickname. A slender, bendable blade made of soft steel¡ªhis "thin sword." It wrapped around his waist, and what had appeared to be his belt transformed into a long blade, extending forward. It was nearly twice the length of a regular longsword, looking like a pointed iron whip. Swish! The thin blade sliced through the air, its tip targeting Enkrid''s neck like a viper''s strike. Enkrid had just raised his left hand to deflect the incoming landslide-like shield. *** "This feels like it''s my fault," Krais muttered, and Rem glanced at him. "Why?" "The guide map. I sold it carelessly, even though I knew better." Krais had drawn and sold a map of the territory''s inner areas. The map had been a means to guide them through the area, and had they used the Gilpin Guild to monitor things, it could have been avoided. They had avoided making it a larger issue because they couldn''t afford to lose too many guild members to a skilled adversary. Krais was expressing his discomfort over this lapse. "If you look at it that way, the commander should take responsibility," Finn interjected from behind. Dunbakel was by her side, seemingly lacking in thought, only curious. "Can we just leave it as is?" Rem responded, "What, are you going to secretly help if we don''t? Think you can do it without getting caught?" While some beasts were born with hunting instincts, Dunbakel was not one of them. She was a warrior, not a hunter. "I''d probably get caught," she admitted. "Then why even bring it up?" "If that person dies, there''s no reason for me to stay here." It was strange how openly Dunbakel spoke like that. She was staying only because of Enkrid. Rem kicked Dunbakel''s calf with a lower leg strike, which was easily blocked by Dunbakel, thanks to her training. Thud! It had impact, but no real pain¡ªafter all, she had faced far worse violence before. "Good job, beast girl. But you can stop worrying now. Is this really your concern?" Then Rem harshly criticized Dunbakel''s skills. "You''re a beast who can''t even protect yourself, yet you''re worried about someone else? Who, the commander? Huh? Are you worried about that commander, the one who recently ''discovered his will''? Think you can beat that weird guy with the strange sword? Oh, you can''t? But you still want to charge him? Maybe your head''s been knocked too much; why are you still walking around with a helmet that''s useless as a helmet hook?" It wasn''t the perfect rhythm, but the insults came together in a surprisingly poetic form. "Four and a half stars," Krais evaluated Rem''s impromptu work. Though Krais felt responsible for what had happened, he also trusted in the situation. He had regrets, sure, but regrets were fleeting. The reality was in front of them, and it had to be faced. Since things had already transpired, Krais chose to believe in the leader. Who else would have stepped forward if not him? Krais still hadn''t forgotten the commander''s back¡ªthe one who had saved him. ''That commander...'' In recent times, Enkrid''s skills had grown to an incredible level. He had improved, progressing upward. So, Krais believed. More than that, just before retreating, when Krais saw the man with the black hair standing under the blue sky, he instinctively thought of two words. ''A knight.'' What did it mean to be a knight? It wasn''t just about superior strength. ''A knight is someone who protects.'' It was a phrase Enkrid had once spoken. If he had said he would protect, Krais believed he would. "Damn it," Rem muttered, then stopped walking. He had gotten quite far. Worrying and watching were two different things, and he regretted not being able to see things properly from such a distance. Especially with the lazy bastard next to him. It was rare to see him so full of energy¡ªtruly, a sight as rare as a mad lazybones being so eager. Ragna stopped and turned around, preparing. To Rem, it seemed like he was getting ready. He hadn''t drawn his sword and simply stood still, facing Enkrid. "That''s preparation," Rem thought, watching as Ragna poised himself. If things went wrong, he would charge straight ahead. It seemed unlikely that things would escalate, though. "Father will protect us," Audin murmured beside him, offering a usual prayer. Saxon had already disappeared from sight. Once out of range, he had become like a wild cat. Esther hadn''t followed either. In fact, the mage, who had just turned human today, had said: "I''m busy. Don''t bother me." That was all. The blue-eyed beauty''s words came with no concern. There was a mystical aura about her that made it obvious she was a mage, yet she still pretended to be a leopard to the outside world. ''Pretending not to care, but never leaving the commander''s side.'' As Rem chuckled to himself, he saw someone hurriedly approaching from the opposite side. "Is it true? Did they take hostages?" It was Commander Marcus, with a swift group of soldiers, mostly archers. Sergeant Vengeance was also with them. Once the situation had unfolded, Rem and the others had moved, and Marcus had arrived with the archers after receiving the report. "Yes, but don''t worry. Once we get closer, they said they''ll kill the hostages, so we need to stay here and wait." Krais answered. Marcus himself had come directly to handle this? Rem thought to himself, considering that if he had "awakened his will," he must now be seen as a high-ranking individual. Rem observed Krais as he spoke, glancing at the back of his head. "Are you saying that we should trade hostages for commanders?" Edin Molsan, who had followed Marcus, raised his voice. With faded blonde hair, he scolded them as if furious. "Guide me now! I''ll personally deal with them!" Since when had he been this worried about the commander? Edin Molsan snorted, visibly agitated. His usual brash attitude was on display, but now, it seemed to be directed towards Enkrid. That made it all the more surprising. "Let it go," Rem said reluctantly. "What?" Edin Molsan raised his eyebrows sharply. The guy knew how to show his anger. Though it was troublesome, he couldn''t afford to kill a noble son. That would be a real disaster. Rem chose to exercise patience and spoke again. "Let it go. Nothing will happen." His tone was firm, almost certain. What kind of nonsense was that? Edin silently fumed. Rem, again exercising restraint, spoke up. "It''s fine." Enkrid''s last sparring partner had been Rem himself. During that fight, he lost an axe but also came to realize something. ''He''s not a threat.'' The hybrid giant''s skills weren''t bad, but Jevikal was not a match for him. And with Enkrid now? ''Fighting that hybrid giant and removing Jevikal''s sneaky head would be no problem.'' Plus, the sneaky wildcat had likely already moved. "We just need to watch and wait for the show," Rem added, though Edin didn''t seem to see the need to back down. "Step aside. Insolent barbarian," Edin spat, and as he moved forward, a sharp, chilling intent wrapped around his neck. Edin thought he was going to die, feeling as though death was imminent. What stopped it was Edin''s guards. "Enough," one of the guards said. "Listen to me, would you? Do you really think you can just cross the line?" Rem grumbled. What had happened just now? Edin rubbed his neck, still processing the oppressive force he''d just felt. Was it pressure? Or something else? "Did you know how to use that?" one of the guards asked. It was a question only Rem understood. Even Audin caught on. Ragna seemed uninterested, still facing Enkrid, oblivious to anyone approaching from behind. "I tried it out just now," Rem answered. Did observing someone make it something you could mimic? The guard thought Rem was mocking him, but he didn''t draw his sword immediately. It wasn''t the time for internal strife. "The commander said he would protect and save us, so we should wait." Rem spoke again, and with that intense energy, Marcus didn''t argue. Being a commander and having to speak now would only bring shame. Marcus knew it was better to keep silent, displaying the political acumen he was known for. "Wait," Marcus finally said, bringing an end to the discussion. Edin Molsan huffed a few more times, but that was all. They waited. There was no need to wait long for news from the front. Though they had moved out of sight, Rem had no problem gauging the situation from a distance. He could already get a sense of what was going on with just a glimpse of movement. "Let''s go," Rem said, seeing the situation was nearing its end. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! Your support is appreciated! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit .gg/8y7mFVah or Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 240 - It Can Be Cut Chapter 240 - 240 - It Can Be Cut Jaxen slipped away as soon as he was out of Jebikal''s line of sight. There was no need to notify anyone separately. ''That barbarian.'' Every time Jaxen disappeared, Jevikal seemed to sense his movements. While part of it was intentional¡ªa trail left for detection¡ªit still demonstrated Jebikal''s sharp awareness. There was no sound, no visible trace. Sliding through the brush, Jaxen moved so subtly that the grass shifted no more than if a single bee had landed. Utilizing his expertise, avoiding the fool Jevikal''s gaze was effortless. Thus, Jaxen infiltrated the area where the hostages were being held. Once out of sight, his swift pace had paid off. ''Not the sort of thing I''d do for free.'' He hadn''t been hired for this task, neither through the guild nor personally. Was he working too hard for nothing? The fleeting doubt barely surfaced before it faded away. His body moved on its own. It was an unfamiliar sensation, though not unpleasant. After all, he was a member of the Mad Company for now. Entering the abandoned hut, he was met with a voice. "How did you¡ª?" Bell, recognizing Jaxen, questioned him. "Easily." Jaxen replied curtly, then sliced through the ropes binding Bell''s wrists and ankles. With a few more movements of his dagger, the rest of the hostages were freed in moments. Jaxen then led them to the back of the hut, toward a small storage room. A cramped and sealed area¡ªwhy were they going there? As doubt filled their eyes, Bell, who had entered first, asked, "Did you break through the wall?" Jaxen silently pointed outside. Instead of using the door, he had carved a new exit at the back of the hut with his blade. A back door, in essence. The ease with which he had sliced through the wall was thanks to his unique magical weapon, but there was no need to explain that. He wasn''t obligated to answer such questions. Jaxen had done his part. "Get out." He hadn''t expected the enemy to keep their word, so he took matters into his own hands. Clearing these people out of the way would also help their eccentric leader. The key now was to remain unseen. If he didn''t, the woman caught in the grasp of that irritating, smirking man might end up dead. ''The Commander swore to protect her.'' So he would help make that happen. Jaxen couldn''t help but think this was unlike him. ''Saving instead of killing?'' How utterly ill-fitting for someone like him. And without compensation, no less. But it was what his Commander wanted. After ensuring all the hostages were freed, Jaxen peered out of the window to assess the fight''s progress. *** A giant charged forward, and a snake-like blade lunged toward Enkrid''s back. Enkrid moved just in time, and that was when Jaxen caught sight of him. Enkrid placed his left hand against the charging shield, unleashing the Heart of the Beast in a powerful burst. Rather than resisting directly, he redirected the force to the side. The momentum shifted, and immediately after, a massive blade descended vertically¡ªa follow-up attack from the half-giant. The shield strike had merely been the precursor. Simultaneously, a sharp thrust came from behind. Enkrid deflected the shield, blocked the snake-like sword with his shoulder guard, and shifted his stance, stepping his right foot backward. It was a technique to redirect force, something Audin had taught him. Moving fluidly, he swung his blade upward. Meeting the descending sword, he released half his strength, allowing the force to flow away. It was a soft deflection¡ªan application of the Sense of Evasion honed through relentless practice. All of this transpired in the span of half a breath. Thud. Ting. Clang! Shhhriiing! He redirected the shield, blocked the snake sword with his shoulder, and parried the downward blade. Sparks flew, but the impacts were negligible, leaving him enough energy for the next move. Finishing his sequence, Enkrid kicked the half-giant''s shin with the tip of his boot. Crack! The giant endured it and swung the shield like a club. At the same time, the snake-like sword aimed for his back once more. Enkrid calmly deflected, blocked, and redirected again. His movements adhered strictly to the basics, yet they were strangely seamless. "How is that even possible?" While Jebikal''s mind swirled with questions, the half-giant had no such doubts. In that instant, she understood Enkrid''s movements. ''Faster, stronger, more flexible.'' If one could outpace their opponent, anticipate their moves, and wield superior strength, such movements were indeed feasible. ''Ah.'' Her techniques were being read. The half-giant almost found herself intoxicated by the thrill of battle but couldn''t allow herself to succumb. "Take this!" Jevikal''s shout came from behind. Ssssssshh! An ashen-faced hostage was hurled through the air, too terrified to even scream. A living projectile aimed directly at Enkrid. It wasn''t something he could simply deflect¡ªan excruciatingly troublesome kind of weapon. The hem of their skirt was damp, likely from sheer terror. Time slowed. Enkrid''s gaze shifted to the hostage and then to Jevikal. Meanwhile, the snake-like sword slithered toward his ankle. Enkrid''s body twisted entirely. The half-giant readied herself, whether to strike with her shield or sword. Wasn''t that the whole point of her positioning? Why had the fight been staged with Enkrid at the center? Even though they''d been played by that conniving tongue, all for this moment. And yet, her hand refused to move. Enkrid responded to the approaching snake-like sword with a sharp kick of his boot. There was a snap as the tip of his boot was sliced off, but his toes remained unharmed. The flying hostage was caught softly. With a deft motion, he absorbed the weight with his knees, twisting to disperse the momentum. If this were a competition for catching flying humans, he would have easily taken the gold. "Are you alright?" Enkrid''s question was directed at Juri, who made marmalade. She still couldn''t speak, too shaken to respond. "I can''t do this." The husky voice from behind belonged to the half-giant. "Is that so?" Enkrid glanced back and replied nonchalantly. "Yes, I can''t." She nodded. This wasn''t the kind of fight she had wanted. This wasn''t an opponent she was meant to kill. Though ordered to do so, her hands refused to act. ''This isn''t right.'' Her mind rejected it, and her heart stopped her hands. Though she knew it wasn''t how things should be, she simply couldn''t bring herself to strike. The half-giant gave up. Unbeknownst to all, this was tantamount to giving up her life. It was, effectively, suicide. Yet¡ª ''I doubt I''ll regret it.'' She thought as she lowered her hands, abandoning any further intent to fight. "You crazy woman!" Jevikal shouted from behind. Without waiting for a response, he sprinted away. Where was he headed? Straight to the hut where the hostages had been held. His speed was remarkable, but Enkrid had ways to stop him. He could throw a dagger or charge after him. Even if it didn''t completely stop him, it could delay him long enough. With luck, he might not reach the hut at all. But there was no need. Jevikal flung open the door of the hut. Enkrid watched his actions quietly. The image of the snake-like blade flashed in his mind. ''The tip of my boot was sliced.'' He had intended to deflect it after dodging, but the blade had twisted unpredictably at the last moment. How should he counter this in the future? Seven possible methods came to mind. The experience he had accumulated over time now flourished, ingrained in his body. Fel might have fastened the last button, but the rest had already been secured long ago. And when a button couldn''t be fastened, he had stitched it together, or even crafted a new one. There was no need to thank Fel. "...Damn it." Jevikal muttered. It was only natural to curse. The hut was, of course, empty. ''Because Jaxen was here.'' Enkrid had anticipated this. Jevikal clearly hadn''t. "Surprised?" Enkrid asked as he began lowering the hostage in his arms. The half-giant extended her hands. "I won''t hurt her." Not only had she refrained from attacking, but she also wouldn''t harm the hostage. It was only natural. Enkrid handed the woman over to the half-giant, who gently placed her on the ground. Enkrid then walked toward Jevikal. Slowly, steadily. The rain-soaked ground squelched with each step. The wet earth clung to his boots, their sound drawing Jebikal''s attention. "You smuggled out the hostages? You liar!" Look at that¡ªhis shamelessness rivaled Rem''s. To stab someone in the back and then call them a liar? "Quite the thick skin you have." Enkrid no longer had the luxury to smile. Jevikal gripped his blade in one hand and the dangling snake-like sword in the other, preparing his stance. Enkrid raised his sword behind his head, placing his free hand by his right ear. It was the killing strike stance of the heavy blade¡ªThe Stance of Wrath. "To cut down a charging lion or cleave through unyielding steel." Ragna''s words came to mind, and the stance came naturally to him. If the snake-like blade was troublesome, how should he handle it? If it lunged back after being deflected? The answer was simple: cut everything down. ''There is nothing in this world that cannot be cut. If I fail to cut something, it''s because I lack skill¡ªor the right tools.'' That was what Ragna had said. That mad sloth of a man¡ªbut his genius was undeniable. Learning the sword from him had been a stroke of luck. "Hey, I''m going to kill you." Jevikal let his intact blade drop with a sharp ting as he spoke. Kill me? How? Enkrid''s confidence wasn''t arrogance. Jebikal wasn''t his equal. Even before meeting Fel, Enkrid could have handled him. If he had resolved to endure injury, he could have killed him then. Of course, that was before Jevikal started using the snake-like blade. Now? He wouldn''t lose. He could cut it. He would cut it. This repeated determination planted a small seed in Enkrid''s heart. It was a formless energy born from rejecting defeat. Though it hadn''t sprouted yet, the seed had undeniably been sown. "Come on, then." He spoke. "Yeah, you bastard." Jevikal, cornered, reached into his coat. A bullet technique? Was he going to throw something? Enkrid''s expectations were off. What Jebikal pulled out was a scroll. It was a tool, an artifact Enkrid had never seen before in his life. A scroll, an exceedingly rare item. So, it was something that stored a spell, to be activated at a critical moment. Magic was mysterious, and spells were peculiar things. "Explode!" With that shout, Jevikal threw the scroll above Enkrid. Enkrid didn''t recognize it as a scroll¡ªhow could he? It was the first time he had seen such an artifact. However, his instincts warned him. Something was about to happen with that scroll. And then, it did. Fwoosh! The scroll ignited, summoning a massive fireball that surged downward. It wasn''t as fast as an arrow, so it was avoidable. But from the moment he had assumed his stance, Enkrid had etched the surrounding area into his mind. ''If I dodge?'' The fireball would pass behind him. In its path stood the half-giant and the terrified woman. Even if the half-giant blocked it with her shield, what if it exploded? The rescued woman would die. Enkrid''s mind accelerated. He evaluated everything in an instant, reached a conclusion, and extracted the best response he could from the Wrath Stance. Thud! He dashed toward the oncoming fireball. His feet pushed off the ground, his breath steady, his sword raised. His grip, the balance of his body in motion, and the alignment of his sword all unified into one seamless movement. Boom! It sounded like an explosion. To Jevikal''s eyes, Enkrid''s figure blurred and seemed to stretch. ''Idiot!'' Jevikal was convinced of his victory. What kind of swordsman charges a fireball with nothing but a blade? If it hit him, that was the end. He''d be gravely injured, unable to stop Jebikal. The half-giant woman had stepped back, but she wouldn''t interfere. Victory! Elation! The thrill of imminent triumph mixed with the release of pent-up bloodlust from suppressing his killing instincts. Cornered only to break free, Jevikal''s mind also accelerated in this pivotal moment. For an instant, their thoughts intersected. When Enkrid''s stretched figure reached the fireball, his most logical action in the Wrath Stance manifested. He pivoted on his left foot, channeling rotational force from his toes to his waist and into his arms¡ªa diagonal slash of the heavy blade. Whoosh! Everything happened in an instant. On a tree beside the hut, Jaxen''s brows twitched as he watched. ''He cut it?'' From the Wrath Stance, Enkrid''s blade delivered a decisive strike. The fireball, flying straight for him, split into two along the diagonal path of his slash. The divided flames fell to either side of Enkrid. Boom! Boom! KA-BOOM! Explosions erupted. The wet ground dried instantly, dirt and debris scattering everywhere. Bits of stone, now fiery embers, zipped past Enkrid''s head and struck his back. After exerting such force, Enkrid knelt on his left knee. For a brief moment, he replayed the instant he cut the fireball before standing again. "Hmm. It can be cut." His tone of admiration was excessively plain. If it worked, good. If it hadn''t, he figured he''d get a little singed. Half his face might have been burned away. But to Enkrid, his appearance mattered less than the refusal to retreat or give up. And so, Enkrid cut through magic itself. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! Your support is appreciated! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit .gg/8y7mFVah or Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 241 - Teresa Is Dead Chapter 241 - 241 - Teresa Is Dead "...What the hell? Does this even make sense?" Jevikal muttered, his eyes wide with disbelief. Enkrid didn''t respond, instead reflecting silently on what he had done. A voice from behind answered in his stead. "Are you not going to believe it when it just happened right in front of you?" When had he returned? It was Rem. Had he seen the half-blood giant stop? Everyone''s shoulders rose and fell as if they had just sprinted at full speed. Led by Marcus, the group stood in formation, several archers with longbows already nocked with arrows. They looked ready to fire at any moment. Some aimed at the giant, though not skilled marksmen, they would have no trouble hitting their target. Among them were a few with archery skills who redirected their aim toward Enkrid. "Don''t end up decorating the captain''s head with arrows; hold your fire." Rem addressed them sharply. "And leave that warrior alone." Enkrid spoke as well. Several archers aiming at the half-blood giant quietly relaxed their bowstrings. Besides, with a hostage right beside her, they couldn''t recklessly release their arrows. That hostage was the one Enkrid had personally saved. "So, it can actually be cut?" Even from a distance, it was clear the flame had been cleaved. It wasn''t something one could miss, even if they tried. Krais muttered in disbelief, but Enkrid didn''t shrug or make a show of it as expected. His enemy still stood before him. "Haha, what is this? Seriously." Jevikal let out a laugh of disbelief. Until now, he had concealed and unleashed his chain sword to claim many lives. Even then, he had saved the scroll for last. It was like a spare life, a trump card. He had seen others dodge flame spells before¡ªsome swordsmen could. Of course, dodging was the usual reaction. Most swordsmen, even skilled ones, were too preoccupied with avoiding it to do much else. Dodging was anticipated. And when they were caught off guard, that moment of surprise created an opening he could exploit with the fastest, most fatal strike. It was a perfect tactic and a last resort. But why had it been cut? How could it be cut? How could a spell-created fireball be cleaved in two? "Cut it? It was cut? That thing can actually be cut?" Jevikal was in shock, his mind reeling at the sight of the impossible. "Well done." When had he arrived? A blonde man with a languid expression spoke. He now stood beside Enkrid. "Oh, you''re here?" Enkrid asked nonchalantly. "I am." Ragna replied. These weren''t the type of men to simply stand back and spectate. Enkrid silently looked forward, as if asking what would happen next. "Fine, I lost." Jevikal spoke as if conceding defeat and reached into his coat again. Seeing this, Ragna uncharacteristically muttered. "I told you to wait and see." "Yeah, let''s meet again." What emerged from Jevikal''s coat was another scroll. Another fireball? Enkrid reacted, and a few archers hesitated, debating whether they should shoot. Bang! Before anyone could act, Ragna launched himself forward. Moving like a blur, he closed the distance at a speed that made him appear almost intangible. Jevikal hastily ripped the scroll. Rip! As the scroll activated, Ragna''s blade carved a diagonal slash through the air. Screech! A strange sound lingered in the space he had cut. Thunk. And then a dull noise followed. "Didn''t I tell you to wait and see?" Ragna spoke over the sound. The dull thud had come from the ground. Enkrid saw what had fallen and silently nodded. When Ragna said "wait and see," it was never to be taken lightly. The lazy swordsman could be downright deadly when he said those words. The scroll appeared to be related to spatial movement. Jevikal''s upper half had vanished in a flash of light, leaving only his lower body behind. The severed lower half spilled blood and entrails onto the ground, the remnants of the spatial tear. The rest of him had disappeared into the void. "Arghhh!" The spatial escape scroll had about a fifty percent success rate. If misused, it could easily deposit the user into a dangerous, unknown location. This time, it worked¡ªmostly. But before the spell could fully activate, a blade had cleaved through it mid-cast. "Damn it!" Jevikal''s eyes rolled back from the sheer agony. Was this the magic''s backlash? Or the residual effects of the blade strike? He couldn''t even tell. The aftereffects of the spell rendered him temporarily blind. When his vision cleared, he felt excruciating pain and looked down. Below his waist, there was nothing. "Ugh." No one can survive after losing half their body. Blood and entrails poured out, a mess beyond salvation. Even a high priest couldn''t heal this. Crawling across the ground, Jevikal met his end in a desolate wasteland. Foaming blood and gasping for air, he died with half his body missing. Over his corpse, vultures with bald heads circled, and soon, crows began to gather. *** "What about that one?" Vengeance asked, directing the question at the towering half-blood giant. "I have no will to fight further. Kill me." The giant''s voice remained resolute. It was rough, yet strangely pleasing to hear. Enkrid exhaled and approached. "No matter your reasons, don''t you think you''ve done something filthy?" He asked bluntly. The half-blood giant knelt on the ground, raising her head to meet his gaze. "I was sent by the archbishop of the Sanctuary of Demonic Light." With that, her identity was revealed. She was an enemy, someone marked for death. Yet, Enkrid did not immediately swing his blade. Marcus thought to himself as he watched Enkrid. Why? Does he want to lock her up and torment her? It seems like killing her would be the best option. "The traitors of the cult must die. Every single one of them has met that fate. So, I will die here." The half-blood giant spoke again. Enkrid silently watched her. A heretic. It didn''t seem like she had chosen this path willingly. Above all, her final actions lingered in his mind. She had turned away, refusing to fight, and at the moment the fireball exploded due to the scroll, she had shielded the hostage with her own body. If she hadn''t done that, the hostage might have died. Even now, the singed hair and the blisters rising on her arm were still visible. Burns. Were heretics people who would risk their lives to save others? "Do we really have to kill her?" Julia, who had wet herself, finally spoke. It was her first words. "I must die." The half-blood giant answered. Markus left the decision to Enkrid. What he had done here was a minor act in comparison. "There will be a pursuit by the cult. Be careful in everything." Despite the giant''s concern, Enkrid remained silent. "Why? Should I deal with it?" Rem, who had been watching, finally spoke. He raised his axe over his shoulder, his tone as wild as ever. "If she doesn''t die, will the cult chase her?" Enkrid asked, sensing the underlying meaning of the words. "There''s nothing more dangerous than being considered a heretic by them." The reply came swiftly. Believing in the cult was a difficult and arduous task. There was no known case of someone leaving once they had entered. Well, there might have been a few, but they were rare. But why did this woman seem to want to quit the cult? "Do you want to repent, sister?" Audin, who had been quietly watching, asked. "My name is Teresa." She introduced herself with a grand name. The name Teresa had a sacred connotation. "There is no saintliness in my blood. I was born and raised in the cult, fulfilling my duty within it." Her faith seemed absent, filled only with doubts. Her words and expression conveyed regret and inner turmoil. "I will go to rest in peace through death." She muttered to herself. She wasn''t talking about the cult''s sanctuary. Enkrid raised his sword. "If you were reborn, what would you want to do?" The blade reflected the light. It was a sharp, sturdy sword. It could easily sever the giant''s neck, so cutting the half-blood giant''s head would be no trouble at all. The giant answered. "I would fight and fight, proving myself and living." She smiled as she spoke. It was a clear and refreshing smile. Enkrid found himself drawn to her. Then he swung his sword. Whoosh. The blade moved so swiftly that no afterimage remained. With that, the heretic Teresa died by Enkrid''s sword. "Is this really alright? Isn''t this just a form of self-deception?" "It seems so." Enkrid nodded at Krais'' words. It was a sign that things would be fine. In truth, Enkrid wasn''t sure. This was a choice made impulsively, not something calculated. It was similar to when he had saved Dunbakel. "Are you sure this is fine?" "I don''t know." "Isn''t this a bit too carefree?" "Is it?" "Yeah." Their brief conversation inside the lodging was interrupted by Rem. He stepped between Enkrid and Krais, draping his arms over both their shoulders, initiating a sort of comradery while asking a question. "Why? Who''s causing trouble? Tell me, and I''ll deal with them, huh?" "You''ll deal with them?" Krais thought there was no need for that. Who would hold a grudge against them? In this unit, only those known for being the strongest gathered. Within the barracks, they were called the "Madmen''s Battalion," a name filled with reverence. And now, a new member had joined. A woman wearing a mask. "I want to keep my name as it is." Teresa. A former heretic. Now... well, what should one call it? "I wandered the continent for the rest of my life and finally settled down. I ask for your favor." She claimed to have been reborn. She said she had forgotten her past through death. But it was strange that she was following them so easily now. What was going through her mind? "I don''t know." Krais didn''t bother worrying any longer. What difference would it make? After all, the captain would decide everything. It was the captain who had convinced this woman, who had wanted to die, to reconsider. "Heh. If you want to die in battle, then so be it." It wasn''t a long statement. The half-blood giant had agreed to follow those words without hesitation. "Will you take responsibility for me?" "I will take responsibility myself." "You''ll cut ties with the cult? They will relentlessly come after you." "...Did you come here just to eat?" Teresa had come to kill him. The cult had already marked him as an enemy. They had defined Enkrid as their enemy. So she spoke with a face that showed no concern at all. Did Teresa''s heart waver at that face? It was unclear. All that was certain was that¡ª "You''ll regret it." "I won''t." In the end, it was just the acceptance of her death after such trivial conversation. "From today, the heretic Teresa is dead." That was the end of it. Marcus, the battalion commander, didn''t say anything more. He didn''t ask if they should take her with them or whether they were worried about the heretic. He simply let it go. "It''s none of my business." As expected, the commander''s nature was one of indifference. Krais'' wandering thoughts. "Let''s go." Today was another training day. Enkrid led his troops and moved out. He remembered when the rapier-wielding soldier had infiltrated before. Had the unit''s discipline become lax? A hostage had been captured, and one of the soldiers had become one of the captives. "I''ll fight back! I swear I''ll never embarrass myself again!" After being captured once, the soldier seemed to have gained some determination. Enkrid spoke to the soldiers gathered on the training ground. "I will make you all be reborn." He had said before that the training would only be bearable, but now it would be hell. And yet, he said they would be reborn. "Rem." "I''m here." "Ragna." "Yes." "Audin." "Yes, brother." The three instructors stood ready. "Dunbakel." "Mm." "Anyone who dares to challenge us, strike them down." Dunbakel, the expert in violence, responded. "Wandering Teresa." "Yes." The half-blood giant responded calmly, making some of the soldiers flinch. It was a response filled with immense power. "I won''t say anything even if you leave them half-dead." What was this? Was it like a death sentence? The soldier named Bell felt his enthusiasm gradually wane. He really wanted to escape. ''Should I retire?'' That thought echoed in his mind. Of course, he wasn''t the only one. Everyone felt the urge to flee. Before, they could just run, but now, with their much heavier backpacks, they would have to run even harder. From morning to evening, there was no time to rest. The occasional sparring was no relief either. "Today, you''re my choice. You look like you have good striking power!" Rem would pick anyone and just start hitting them. Other than him, everyone else was the same. "Your legs are giving out. Let me help you up, brother." Wasn''t it normal to grab someone''s arm and help them up? Why was he being hit to be helped up instead? Most of the soldiers wanted to be on guard duty. That was the only time they could get some rest. Desertion during guard duty was out of the question. No one would even dare to slack off. Didn''t someone infiltrate the barracks before? They had said it was something that could never be tolerated again. And now there were hostages? Is it even possible for a soldier to be taken as one? Because of that, Bell had been reprimanded all over the place for a while. "Is this all Bell''s fault?" For a while, those words circulated among the soldiers. Bell, who had been half-dead from the training, couldn''t even hear the rumors. Training continued, and occasionally, there were new recruits. This was Enkrid''s everyday life. The training was the same. But something had entered into his routine. "One more time!" Edin Molsan. The spoiled son of the count, who should have been home, remained. Behind him, there was also a man who seemed to be his brother, along with a bodyguard. "Aren''t you going back to your territory?" Enkrid knocked him down several times after Edin had tried to pick fights with him repeatedly. When asked about his plans, he answered: "None of your business." It seemed that Edin Molsan had no intention of leaving. Did he have some sort of purpose? Enkrid didn''t care. Winter was approaching. It was the most biting season in Pen-Hanil North. "Do you drink?" When the cold wind began to blow, Edin Molsan asked while lying down. Enkrid answered honestly. "I don''t have time for that." A man obsessed with training more than drinking, that was Enkrid. "You''re definitely a crazy bastard." Edin identified Enkrid''s true nature. It wasn''t a wrong statement. After Edin got up, someone who resembled him approached and asked. "Is this the best option?" "I believe it will be one of the best options." "Is that so?" Edin smiled faintly at his brother''s somewhat gloomy words. The smile on his face, with one of his eyes swollen and blue, wasn''t particularly attractive. Soon, the bodyguard approached, and the two of them fell silent. This was not a conversation for in front of the bodyguard. ------------------------------------------------------------ Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! Your support is appreciated! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 242 - Everyday Life Hasn’t Changed, But What’s Inside Has Chapter 242 - 242 - Everyday Life Hasn¡¯t Changed, But What¡¯s Inside Has "Why isn''t he leaving?" Edin Molsan wasn''t an intimidating presence. At first, Enkrid wondered if he should really be hitting him like this, but as repetition dulled the impact, the situation shifted. Rather than the fact that he was the Count''s son, Enkrid respected the unwavering spirit of the man who kept challenging him, never giving up. In other words, Enkrid found himself focused on pummeling him. "Stop hitting too hard. Just enough." Krais couldn''t stand it anymore and spoke up. "He keeps coming at me," Enkrid replied. It wasn''t just mindless hitting; this was a challenge that never stopped. How could he not take it seriously? Enkrid couldn''t afford to treat him lightly. Given the path Enkrid had walked, it would be more poisonous to act dismissively¡ªdoing so would only bring more dissatisfaction. Respecting the opponent was the easier and more comfortable choice, at least for him, based on his own views and methods. "Here." Again, Edin Molsan came forward with a wooden sword. He wasn''t foolish enough to attack without thought. At least now, he didn''t use a real sword. Initially, Enkrid had knocked him down without drawing a blade, but that was no longer the case. Now, Edin swung and stabbed with intent. Enkrid never lost his manners. To him, manners meant not disregarding the effort the other person had put into the challenge. His manners looked like this: Wham! No mercy, just a solid hit to the head. Crack! With a scream, he struck Edin in the chest with a blow that nearly knocked him out. "Brother!" Eddin''s younger sibling, watching in surprise, was startled¡ªat first. But as time went on, it became routine. "Are you okay?" the younger brother asked, though his tone had lost its earlier concern. Enkrid hadn''t tried to kill Edin¡ªif he had, he''d have done it already. If his intention was to break him, he''d have done so long ago. How many times had they sparred by now? Over twenty? "Wait, is he back again? The guy''s got a sturdy body." In a sense, Rem might have been Edin''s nemesis. After all, he was the one who killed his brother. But Rem didn''t seem to care at all. Indeed, his face was made of steel. Was this the nature of all barbarians? It was an irrelevant question. The important thing was that Rem was Rem¡ªa beast who wielded two axes with astonishing skill. Enkrid was satisfied and pleased with Rem''s abilities. "My body''s warmed up," Enkrid said. A smile appeared on Rem''s face at Enkrid''s words. "I''ll say it again..." "You could die?" Enkrid teased. Even though his words were interrupted, Rem still smiled. His broad grin was met by Enkrid''s response. "You could die too." "You know, I don''t usually swear, but do you know what excites me the most? Smacking the hell out of the leader''s face." Enkrid agreed wholeheartedly¡ªboth mentally and physically. He could deeply relate to that sentiment. "We''re alike." "...Do you have a habit of slapping your own face?" Enkrid''s gaze fixed on Rem. Rem, with his grey eyes, met Enkrid''s blue ones. Rem hadn''t been idle either. If Enkrid had learned the heart of a beast, Rem had learned something too. Now, Rem''s skill had grown tremendously. His mastery of tongue techniques, able to twist his opponent''s emotions and bring heat to their heads, was a testament to that. "Yeah. It''s a bad habit of mine." Rem frowned slightly at Enkrid''s sudden admission. "You''re admitting it here?" Above those who run, there are those who fly. Ignoring the mental blows, countering the unexpected¡ªthis was the heart of verbal sparring. "Are you just going to yap?" The challenge of ending the verbal sparring brought Rem''s axes down with a whoosh through the air. Again, two axes in his hands. Their Madmen unit is already highly regarded and has acces to benefits. Asking for a new axe from the blacksmith as part of their supplies was nothing unusual. What had changed was that, unlike before, Rem was now particular about the weight and balance of the axe he requested. "We can''t make it that precisely," the blacksmith said. "Then, it can''t be helped," Rem replied nonchalantly. It seemed like he wasn''t too concerned with the details, but the real question was what he would do with this changed axe. Clink. Enkrid thrust his sword forward and tapped the axe''s blade. "Stop wrecking my axe." Rem muttered as he charged forward. His movements were so fast and bold that it felt like his body was growing larger. It was a reminder. The heart of the beast¡ªwhose was it originally? If boldness and audacity were what counted, Rem was the top contender. Enkrid drew his sword vertically, bringing it down with lightning speed. A sharp cut through the air. Screech. The sound of the sword cutting through the air. Rem''s body blurred, and his axe, now speed-infused, glittered as it struck¡ªone from above, one from below. At first, Enkrid would''ve been hit by the axe, which had twisted like a whip. He''d endured it, only to be struck by a flashing, deadly blow. So now, what about this? Thud! Enkrid swung his sword up and down. The blade rippled like a wave, deflecting two strikes. The Sword Technique: Wave Overturning. He had seen it from a rapier master, refined through Shepherd Pell, and perfected in his battles against Rem. Rem, however, was unfazed by the block. The moment it was blocked, he tossed an axe into the air. Then, with only one axe in hand, he charged forward. Unconventional, daring. Strange yet bold. That was Rem. To put it simply, Enkrid lost. "That was close." "Really?" "Rival." Was he supposed to be satisfied with those words? Should he be? No, there was no need. Enkrid had learned something new today. To be exact, he had realized what he lacked. From the feel of the blade to the sixth sense, to the sense of evasion. As Jaxen said, it was "sensory artistry." He had diligently honed it, but that very thing had become his downfall. ''Too sensitive.'' He had paid too much attention to the axe Rem had tossed. Should he have ignored it? In the end, the axe dropped from above, and Rem used his foot to accelerate it, striking his shoulder. ''Choice and focus.'' It was a review. Reflecting, realizing. A familiar process. It was Enkrid''s daily routine. The only difference now was his increased capacity to learn. It was similar to when he first realized what talent was. Heart of the Beast, sensory artistry, pinpoint focus, and isolation technique had been the same then. Now, it was no different. ''Rejection.'' A mere rejection, but he had experienced ''Will.'' That experience gave Enkrid a fresh perspective. What is genius? It''s impossible to explain. To them, everything is natural. It felt as if he had obtained a part of that naturalness. Even now, after his defeat, the process of reviewing, realizing his mistakes, and identifying what was needed had sped up, unlike before. But Enkrid was unaware of it. He simply continued doing what he always did. Of course, it was apparent to everyone, including Rem. ''Will.'' That reckless captain, has ''Will.'' ''Really.'' The chick who didn''t know when it would die had now become a bird with a steel beak. No, perhaps it was better to call him a beast. Rem, hiding her admiration, spoke. "The bastard son of that spoiled Count, he''s got something going on. If he keeps acting like that, there''s a reason behind it." "I see." Already submerged in his own thoughts, Enkrid didn''t pay it any mind. Even if he had heard it, he would have ignored it. Hadn''t everyone said something like that? "That brother is hiding something." Audin had said it too. Jaxen had cast a dubious glance, and Krais had come up with a few hypotheses. "Why is he here? I''d say there are two reasons. One is that the Count might be eyeing the captain, and the second is that he''s trying to find the captain''s weaknesses." Krais had actually felt something similar from Edin Molsan''s gaze. It was a look of surveillance, or perhaps, exploration. Enkrid agreed with part of it. Edin Molsan''s guard had shown similar signs, but to Enkrid, what mattered was not the guard''s gaze. ''Should I pull him out?'' The guard had never shown his full strength. Sometimes, his eyes glinted dangerously, and Enkrid had expected something from it. But he had restrained himself. He hadn''t gone further. He hadn''t revealed all his abilities. He hadn''t escalated the tension to a dangerous level. "That bastard knows what he''s doing." Rem said the guard had stepped into ''Will'' as well. So, he was at least on par with Enkrid. Anyway, the guard had since refused any further sparring requests. "I''m just Edin Molsan''s guard." Then, why did he challenge him before? A test. A check. A gauge. ''For what?'' Enkrid briefly wondered if he should figure it out. There was no need for that. So, he ignored it. Even if Edin Molsan looked at him with strange eyes, he ignored it. Even if his brother stared at him with odd eyes, he ignored it. Even if the guard hovered occasionally, he ignored it. When Jaxen was bothered by something, he subtly suggested removing it, but Enkrid ignored that too. However, if Edin Molsan requested a spar, he would face him seriously. Months passed since Edin Molsan had stayed at the estate, and the weather had grown cold enough for the word "snow" to be whispered. Changes had occurred during that time. "I''m wandering Teresa." The half-blood giant muttered to herself often. During the day, it seemed fine. It looked like a resolution or reflection. However, when she said it in her sleep, it was a mumble drenched in cold sweat. When Audin heard such mutterings, he quietly placed his hand on her forehead. "May you sleep like settled ashes." The god of war, the embodiment of burnt ashes, was who she prayed to. It seemed an odd sight, but Teresa didn''t express any discontent upon waking. When she woke up, she simply blinked and gave Enkrid a final glance before falling back asleep. It had become a familiar routine. There were many other changes in their daily lives. Dunbakel had decided to do something else instead of taking blows from Rem, due to Rem''s insistence. "I should be paid for my teachings." Rem argued that since she had taught Dunbakel, now she should be compensated. Dunbakel didn''t say that she hadn''t wanted any of it. In fact, when speaking to Enkrid, she said: "What is that savage?" It was a difficult question to answer. ''A madman? A broken head? A noble murderer? Axe murderer? Crazy axe-wielder?'' Too many possibilities came to mind. Fortunately, Dunbakel didn''t wait for an answer. "I''ve improved." When Enkrid personally sparred with Dunbakel, he realized that what she said was true. She wasn''t insulting Rem, but genuinely curious. "You''ve improved." When her thigh was harshly struck with a sword blade, Dunbakel would tear up and nod. "Alright." It had been a long time. Was it typical for beast-women to be like this? Or was it the legend of golden eyes? It was hard to tell. He didn''t care either way. Enkrid noticed Dunbakel''s gaze and looked her way. He saw the golden eyes. She was now thinking of Enkrid as a monster. Having endured Rem''s violence, she felt confident she could defeat her old self, even if she had two of them. But Enkrid had gone even further in the meantime. ''A genius.'' She was mistaken, but it wasn''t entirely her fault. Anyone would think the same. More importantly, ''Will,'' even if only in part, ''Will.'' She had realized it. Willpower, something reserved for knights, and those with knightly strength. That change had descended upon Enkrid. Ragna, seeing this, realized it was time to fill his own deficiencies. He had been aware of them before, but lacked the motivation to address them. Now, Ragna acted on it. "Krais, I want a double-edged sword." "If you want it, I''ll get it for you. Seems like you''ve got the right idea." Krais, who had counted the weight of the purse Ragna handed him and the number of silver coins inside, maintained his loyalty to Krona. Ragna now had a sword in hand. It had no sharp edge, and its size and shape were similar to that of a bastard sword, but it was several times heavier than a normal sword. With the sword in hand, Ragna slowly began to swing it. There was no speed. Unskilled, yet dutifully, he performed every motion slowly. He spent more than half of his waking hours doing so. It was a great development, and anyone who knew Ragna would be astonished. Enkrid, who had spent most of his waking hours training, saw the change in this human. The embodiment of laziness. It hadn''t even been half a day, but seeing Ragna train like this was an odd sight. Anyway, returning to the present, Rem had requested Krona from Dunbakel. Dunbakel agreed without complaint. "Get me some Krona." Lately, there had been a growing number of monsters and creatures lurking nearby. It was winter, after all. It was expected. When food became scarce, such things would inevitably become more aggressive. "It looks like it''s going to snow," Krais remarked, cutting Ragna''s hair. Enkrid silently looked at the sky. The dull, gray clouds were slowly creeping across the sky, obscuring the sunlight. It would be cold enough soon for the devil''s excrement to fall from the sky. Well, last year around this time, he had struggled to clear the snow. Now, though... "Training unit, assemble!" With that single command, it was enough. Life continued after the rapier master had left. The routine hadn''t changed, but the things inside it were starting to shift. Edin Molsan had become a long-term resident, and in the meantime, his guard had left, citing some business to attend to. There was no farewell, no parting words. Winter was on the cusp, with the first snow likely to fall soon. Dunbakel had gone out on a quest to eliminate monsters. Finn had been wandering outside for some time and had recently moved from the independent unit to the fairy unit''s command. "Can I go now?" She seemed more lively leaving than when she had arrived. Should he be relieved? "Go ahead." Enkrid responded indifferently. There was no reason, nor any need, to stop her. Teresa entered, and Finn left. It wasn''t a day when things changed, or was it? "Independent unit commander, you''re called!" Late in the afternoon, despite the winter chill, Enkrid was sweating heavily as he swung his sword when a messenger arrived. "They said it was urgent." Enkrid immediately made his way to the battalion commander''s office. ------------------------------------------------------------ Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! Your support is appreciated! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 243 - The Longing for Life Chapter 243 - 243 - The Longing for Life Martai had coniferous forests to the north, plains and the Border Guard to the west, the eastern kingdom''s domain to the east, and a large forest to the south. The forest was called the "Grateful Forest." "Why is it called Grateful Forest?" Torres was trying to familiarize himself with the surrounding terrain of the newly established domain. A soldier, one of the former Rangers from the forestry unit, was walking with him and answered. Five Border Guard soldiers followed behind them. "Because it''s grateful." Torres, just before his face twisted with the thought, ''Is this guy mocking me?'' heard the soldier continue. "Have you been to the coniferous forest up north? It''s not a place for people to live. Even Rangers won''t go there. Do you know its nickname? It''s called the Cliff Forest." Torres had heard of it. It was a famous place. The northern part of Martai was coniferous forests, marking the boundary of the continent. The name "Cliff Forest" was fitting because anyone who ventured there was likely to fall to their death. "But to the south, there''s a rich forest with fruits and beasts. Because of that, people who lived around here for ages have been so grateful, it became known as Grateful Forest." Grateful Forest¡ªdid the name have any distinctiveness or not? Torres wasn''t thinking much about it, as he was just familiarizing himself with the terrain and on patrol. At that moment... Hee-hee-hee! It wasn''t the sound of a regular horse; it was a blood-curdling, ear-piercing screech. It was a howl filled with malice and murderous intent, sending chills down their spines. It was the cry of a beast. "What''s that?" In Torres''s line of sight, a single horse appeared on the outskirts of Grateful Forest. Of course, it wasn''t a normal horse. What kind of horse grows its tusks that long? "It looks like a beast-monster." "Looks like it?" Horses were herbivores, and it was rare for herbivores to turn into beast-monsters. But it wasn''t entirely impossible. Torres furrowed his brow, then relaxed it and gestured. Was it just one? Or were there more behind it? Had they not spotted them yet? It was possible. "Horse beast-monsters, huh? Interesting." The soldier, a former Ranger, remarked. "Are there any forestry units in that forest?" Martai had stationed Ranger units in the surrounding forests. Forestry units were essentially scout squads that operated in forests. This continent was constantly threatened by beast-monsters and demonic creatures, so regular patrols were a given. "There are." The soldier responded again. He had a habit of speaking in short bursts instead of saying everything at once. "There have been instances of beast-monsters and demonic creatures in the Grateful Forest, but in this area, the appearance of beast-monsters is quite rare, to the point where it''s considered a safe zone." He seemed to have gotten dry mouth from speaking, so he swallowed before continuing. "A squad of Rangers enters regularly, rotating shifts." "Even now?" "Yes, even now." Beyond the horse beast-monster, more demonic creatures appeared. They were humanoid wolves. The torn flesh and red bloodstains could be seen between their fangs. "Everyone, get into defensive positions." Torres made the quick and correct judgment. What happened to the Rangers who entered the forest? Were they wiped out? He figured that at least they had been ambushed and couldn''t carry out their duties, so they withdrew. Had they been defeated by just that many? Or had it been a surprise attack? Whatever the case, something must have happened. The group of at least ten beast-monsters, including the horse beast-monsters and humanoid wolves, didn''t charge immediately. Torres found it puzzling. "Do these beast-monsters just get excited when they see humans?" "Huh?" He was starting to regret wanting to see the face of Zimmer, the idiot who assigned him this soldier. Was there anyone who didn''t understand a single thing said? "Oh, no. That''s not it. There was nothing unusual during the last patrol. We didn''t find any traces of such a group." That was strange. Rangers who operated in Grateful Forest hadn''t found any traces, yet a group of beast-monsters appeared? And the mix of horse beast-monsters and humanoid wolves¡ªwhat was that about? It was odd. A few demonic creatures that had been watching slowly began to approach. Torres didn''t wait and charged forward. "Kill them all." Kraaak! Several humanoid wolves charged. The horse beast-monsters backed off. It wasn''t a difficult fight. Torres and his group killed three or four humanoid wolves, and the horse beast-monster, after watching for a while, retreated. They were still in the forest. Going further in was too risky, so they stopped there. Wiping his bloody sword on the fur of a humanoid wolf, Torres spoke. "I need to report this." Torres returned to report to the now-lord, the former Border Guard Captain. The lord, suspecting that there were more beast-monsters, issued a mission request to the Border Guard. The mission request was beneficial in many ways, so they hadn''t handled it internally. The Border Guard had many tasks to handle besides dealing with beast-monsters. The internal security of the domain wasn''t fully established yet. There were rumors that the Eastern Mercenary King didn''t view Martai''s full annexation of Nauliria favorably. In fact, a few soldiers from the East had deserted during the night. "It''s probably best to let them go." Zimmer had given that advice. After all, they were from the East, and they would likely turn their blades against their own anyway. They were tough, stubborn, and incredibly persistent. That was something an explorer had said about Eastern nomads. After that, Torres focused on other matters. The demonic creatures in the southern Grateful Forest would be dealt with by the Border Guard. The lord of Martai and the commander of the Border Guard''s Battalion, Marcus likely wanted the two domains to naturally engage with each other, so this reallocation of tasks made sense. Torres, along with Zimmer, spent two days deliberating on the formation of a domain security force. During this time, he also received reports from a newly assigned Ranger unit that had been observing the Grateful Forest. "It doesn''t seem like a large colony has been established." That was a relief. ''But why were the Rangers wiped out? Was it desertion again?'' Desertion seemed possible, but... A few days later, a small contingent from the Border Guard arrived for the mission. They were no more than ten soldiers. One of them stood out to Torres. A beast-man with golden eyes from one of Enkrid''s squads, the Black Blade Bandits, was among them. While Martai''s forces could handle the beasts, this was the first step toward cooperation between the two domains. "Please take care of this." Torres spoke to them, and those who approached nodded. The soldier, who had a habit of speaking in short bursts, took the lead again. The group, led by the beast-man woman, proceeded to carry out the mission. ''Rather than hiring mercenaries, it''s better to use the Border Guard soldiers.'' Beasts would be particularly rampant in winter. As Torres continued to deal with the beasts and demonic creatures, it seemed inevitable that the two domains would soon work as one under a single banner. By spring, even if the Mercenary King caused trouble, Martai would have enough strength to withstand it. Torres didn''t worry. Border Guard soldiers were of high quality. They were no match for mere horse beasts or humanoid wolves. And now that the beast-woman had arrived... There was no reason for anything to go wrong. *** "Look at that. Where did you learn that?" Rem asked, and Dunbakel answered. She had learned it by watching others while being a mercenary. Back in her homeland, no one had taught her anything. The cursed transformation and her golden eyes were enough to make everyone reject her. She tied her long white hair back and twitched her cat-like nose. Rem smiled widely and raised his fist. "Let''s begin." What began? Violence, of course. The beating had begun. A day that started with a beating ended with a beating. Well, it had ended. Was this a memory, or was it pain caused by mental trauma? Dunbakel, walking, suddenly felt a chill and instinctively wrapped her arms around herself. "Cold?" "No." A soldier behind her asked, but the beast-man shook her head. For beastkin, cold wasn''t a sensitive issue. Their body temperature was higher than that of humans, and they were warm-blooded creatures. Beastkin were more sensitive to heat than cold, so they were strong against cold. Their fur was thicker and grew better than humans. The soldier didn''t ask any more questions. Dunbakel was heading toward the place where beasts had been sighted, lost in thought. She was recalling how Rem had taught her. Had it been helpful? She wanted to say no, but she couldn''t. "Is this how you teach?" "No, have you ever seen a stupid beast-woman like you? What do you think I''m doing right now?" "Fist-fighting, kicking." The blunt answer made the ignorant barbarian grin broadly. "How did you survive until now? How can you be so oblivious?" She was hit again. After a couple of days of this, Dunbakel felt like she might die. Desperate to survive, she had crawled under Enkrid''s command, and in doing so, she discovered a burning desire to live inside her. ''How do I survive?'' It wasn''t her mind, but her body that reacted first. After being beaten countless times, her body instinctively learned. Dunbakel learned Rem''s movements by watching. "Now we''re getting somewhere." It was the correct answer. "Learn on your own. If you don''t want to die, that''s what you''ll have to do." Anyone who saw that barbarian''s eyes at that moment would have felt their bladder shake. Dunbakel was no exception. With a strange expression that seemed both excited and irritated, Rem hit Dunbakel again. To survive, what should she do? Learn on your own. And that''s what Dunbakel did. It took a week to forget what she had learned while mercenary-ing, and another week to relearn it and make it part of her body. "I have a question." By then, Dunbakel finally spoke up. Whatever Rem said, Dunbakel was determined to get an answer to her question. "Why do you seem so kind when teaching the independent squad leader?" Was that some kind of a seizure switch? Dunbakel didn''t know. In other words, it was a big misunderstanding. She was simply curious. It was all just curiosity. "Shiiiiiit?" That was the beginning. Rem, without answering, grabbed an axe. Dunbakel had to draw her scimitar. Thud! It was fortunate she didn''t die from one blow. "This bastard!" While fighting, Rem spoke. How he could talk while moving his body so well, Dunbakel couldn''t comprehend. Dunbakel didn''t even have time to catch her breath, yet Rem kept mocking her, speaking without pause while moving. "No matter how much I explain!" "Even if I show it, you won''t improve!" "You won''t improve." The last words were spoken so close that their breaths almost touched. Surprisingly, there was no foul smell coming from Rem''s mouth. Despite the fact that beast-men had sensitive olfactory senses, Dunbakel didn''t smell anything. "But you are complaining? You should roll around every day like the captain." It had been a misunderstanding from the start. She had just asked out of curiosity, not because she had a complaint. The ignorant barbarian didn''t seem to care for any response, and after finding an opportunity, he kept pressing her. At the end of her thoughts, she heard a soldier''s voice. "We''re here. The Grateful Forest. The reason it''s called the Grateful Forest is..." The soldier rambled on, and Dunbakel stepped forward. Without intending to, her left eyebrow twitched. The eyebrow that had been raised trembled. The instincts of a beast-man triggered a warning. "Didn''t they say there were about ten horse-beasts and humanoid wolves?" Dunbakel asked. "So, to show their gratitude, they called it the gratitude forest, huh? Yes." The guide, whose speech had faltered, tilted his head. "Everyone, prepare for battle." Dunbakel spoke, her golden eyes scanning the forest beyond. Her vision pierced through the darkness. With her battlefield experience and the instinctive intuition of a beast-man, she sensed danger. She could feel it. Humans, giants, frogs, beast-men, fairies, and dwarves. Among them, giants were the strongest in terms of raw strength. Fairies were the most sensitive. Frogs had an eye for talent and exceptional abilities. Beast-men had superior physical constitution. "You idiot, you''re not even using half the power of your own body." She had learned from watching the swordsmanship of human mercenaries. She thought that was the correct way to move. The ignorant barbarian''s teachings weren''t in vain, though. "Don''t limit your fighting ability based on your physical skills." Instead of following a set stance, trust your body''s abilities and fight like you''re going wild. That''s what Rem had said. It wasn''t about going wild, but using her body''s control to move in the correct way. Since Rem had pushed her so hard, Dunbakel felt her skills had grown considerably. Now was the time to test those skills. Grrrrr. Did they say there were just a horse-beast and a few humanoid wolves? That was nonsense. From the forest, Dunbakel could see the numbers of the approaching creatures. There were at least twenty horse-beasts, and the humanoid wolves were so many that counting them was pointless. Dozens of red eyes gleamed in the forest. "Hey, you go call for reinforcements." Dunbakel spoke to the guide soldier. "Eh?" Did this idiot never understand anything at once? Bang! Dunbakel was relentless. She slapped the soldier on the back of his head. "Ugh!" The soldier, who had been hit, lowered his head and raised it again, placing a hand on the back of his head. His eyes were filled with bewilderment. So what? "If you don''t want to die, run." Dunbakel was speaking like Rem now, but there was no time to dwell on that. The soldier, with his hand on his head, began to run. What had started as a request to hunt beasts had turned into a life-or-death battle, and the soldiers began to feel the tension. "Shit, what the hell is this?" "How the hell were we supposed to know, doing the request without proper intel?" Dunbakel twisted her neck left and right. If this was all the number there was... There was no danger. She made that judgment. She could show that much confidence now. "Do you want to live? Don''t want to die? Then resist." Rem''s voice echoed faintly in her mind. Although she didn''t want to think about it, her battles with Rem, the trials with that barbarian, had repeatedly fueled Dunbakel''s desire. A yearning for life that burned brightly, separate from reproduction. That was what set her eyes ablaze. Ting. Dunbakel drew her scimitar. "Don''t come near me or get too close." With that command, the beast-man darted forward. The ground under her feet erupted with dirt and gravel. Her body blurred as she moved in a flash. Two horse-beasts reacted simultaneously. Hiiing! The shrill cry of the horse-beasts echoed in the air as they charged toward her at a fearsome speed, their bodies built for running. Soon, Dunbakel and the two horse-beasts met in a straight line, crossing each other in a flash. ------------------------------------------------------------ Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! Your support is appreciated! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 244 - I’ll Never Die Chapter 244 - 244 - I¡¯ll Never Die As beast-kin mature, they develop extraordinary dynamic vision and elastic muscles, enabling them to perform movements that far surpass human limits. Just like now. The moment the horse-beasts'' charge collided with Dunbakel''s own, she pressed her left big toe into the ground to pivot her body. A narrow gap between the two beasts appeared, and her golden eyes locked onto it. Seizing the opportunity with boldness, she moved into the gap¡ªa clear demonstration of the audacity she had learned from Rem''s teachings. She boldly slipped between the two horse-beasts, her body twisting with incredible agility. One wrong move, and her head would have been torn off, but she had confidence, and her skill ensured that she was in control. Twisting sideways, Dunbakel used her superior physical abilities to dive between the gaps, her scimitar gripped firmly in hand. She thrust the blade into the oncoming horse-beast''s body with all her strength. The blade struck with a deafening CRACK, slicing through the beast''s body horizontally. Despite the force, the scimitar held. It wasn''t a magical weapon, but its solid construction and Dunbakel''s precision allowed her to endure the impact. Her weapon was built for durability, not sharpness, and at this speed, the lack of sharpness was inconsequential. The blade cleaved through the beast''s body and pulled away. With astounding speed, the fallen beast''s blood and entrails trailed along the ground, a gruesome yet impressive sight. Dunbakel exhaled sharply, then immediately spun her body, pivoting on her right foot to change direction and charge forward again. The horse-beast had lost its target and veered off, realizing too late that Dunbakel was already making her next move. As the beast attempted to turn back, Dunbakel sliced through the air with a powerful strike, her scimitar cutting downward, powered by her entire body''s momentum. The strike connected perfectly with the beast''s neck, severing it cleanly. The beast''s head flew off, its body rolling to the ground as blood sprayed into the air, staining Dunbakel''s white hair with dark streaks. She wiped the blood from her scimitar, then rushed forward, ready for the next wave of attackers. This time, a pack of man-faced wolves charged at her. Without missing a beat, Dunbakel''s scimitar danced through the air, cutting through the wolves'' necks, limbs, and heads with devastating precision. Rem''s voice echoed in her mind: "What kind of weapon are you wielding?" Dunbakel had found the answer for herself. It was a weapon that, at one time, had nearly led her to death for the mere act of using it. "Do you even think about the efficiency of your weapon? The only thing you care about is cutting the head?" Rem had once mocked her. "And just so you know, if you come at me naked, I''ll split you in half with an axe." But for Dunbakel, that "head" was something more than just a target. Shouting the words, "I''ll never die!" she swung the scimitar with such force that even the soldiers watching could barely follow its movement. The weapon sliced through the air, leaving behind only severed limbs and bodies in its wake. The soldiers, stunned by her lethal precision, were left speechless as Dunbakel continued her rampage. With the beasts defeated, the soldiers formed ranks quickly, positioning their spears in response to the incoming charge of the horse-beasts. They knew they could handle a few. But they weren''t prepared for the speed and ferocity of Dunbakel, who was more than just a warrior¡ªshe was an unstoppable force. A heavy impact shot through the spear, and the soldier felt his arm muscles twist under the force. The group of soldiers pushed their spears left and right, trying to maintain control. With a snap, the spear embedded in the beast''s body broke, leaving the soldier with only half the shaft as he collapsed forward, barely staying on his feet. Meeting the charge head-on was a fool''s move, as their instructor, Ragna, had always said. He didn''t teach them much, but his words were sharp like blades. Despite his lazy demeanor, his words cut through the air, and the soldiers knew that failing to heed them would mean certain death. When they faced Teresa, the hybrid giant, they had no choice but to give everything they had. Had this been just a normal drill, they would have been overwhelmed in seconds. But thanks to their training under Audin, they managed to deflect the charge of the two horse-beasts. Instead of trying to block the force directly, they redirected it to the side. It was a move only possible because of their immense strength. The physical conditioning they''d endured under Audin made it possible for them to stand firm. "Damn it. This actually works," one of the soldiers spat, watching the broken spear shaft lodge in the side of a beast''s head. The beast, crazed with rage, still revealed its fangs, even as the spear stuck deep into its chest. Its eyes bled black tears. Seeing this, the soldier felt his knees weaken. Despite facing beasts before, there was something different about this one. It wasn''t acting normally¡ªsomething was off, but there was no time to think about it. "Dammit! No time to stare!" shouted another soldier, thrusting his spear into the creature''s skull. The spear hit with a solid thunk, and the beast fell. Now, the soldiers faced the man-faced wolves, a terrifying new threat. There were too many for Dunbakel to handle alone. The soldiers, however, didn''t falter. They were trained to endure. Thanks to Enkrid''s grueling training, they had gone from elite soldiers to powerful warriors. One soldier, having lost his spear, pulled out a shortsword. Another drew an arming sword, while the third clutched the half-broken spear. A few soldiers even used their bows as clubs. "Damn it!" they cursed, but fought fiercely. They struck and stabbed, cutting down the man-faced wolves with skill. They formed protective circles, shielding each other, while slowly retreating. If they could hold on a little longer, reinforcements would come, and they believed the battle was almost won. Dunbakel fought even more ferociously. Her scimitar became like a crescent blade, cutting through the wolves with terrifying precision. She swung and punched with such force that it was as if she had lost all control. She handled the horse-beasts, and now only the wolves remained. She hacked and punched, kicking those that got too close. Every movement was fast and powerful, her muscles working with a fluid, bouncy rhythm. But despite her brutal attacks, she didn''t seem to tire. She was a whirlwind of raw power. Her strength seemed nearly unstoppable. The soldiers could only watch in awe. She was like a one-woman army, a maddened force of nature. After killing half of the wolves, the others began to retreat in fear. But they were still under the curse of rage, and they kept charging at her without thought. "Kahhh!" "Karrghhh!" The chilling cries of the man-faced wolves rang through the air. Dunbakel was too focused on the battle to notice something strange coming from the forest. The thud of heavy steps grew louder. Thud! Thud! Thud! It was the sound of hooves, but something was wrong. A large, dark figure emerged from the trees. It was faster than the horse-beasts¡ªmuch faster. But it wasn''t a horse. It looked like a horse but was something far worse. The creature had a horse''s lower body, but its upper body was human. It was a centaur, a monstrous hybrid. Its muscular chest glistened, and seeing the rippling muscles made Dunbakel''s stomach turn. "What the hell." Dunbakel muttered under her breath as the centaur charged again, swinging a thick wooden club. The man-faced wolf pack was scattered, crushed underfoot as the centaur barreled through, ignoring the destruction it left in its wake. With a loud whoosh, the club swung through the air again. Dunbakel threw herself back to dodge. It was close but manageable. It was a small relief that the centaur had already cleared the wolves, giving her a brief chance to catch her breath. But that respite was short-lived. There was no time to relax. The centaur wasn''t alone. More centaurs were emerging from the forest. "Kiiiii-yohhh!" The centaurs shouted as their blood-red eyes locked on to Dunbakel. Some of them turned their attention to the soldiers. I want to live, Dunbakel thought. The desire to survive overwhelmed her. She hadn''t realized when this yearning had begun, but ever since meeting Enkrid, it had surged uncontrollably, like a burst dam. The desire for life, like this, was an unexpected burden. Enkrid. Her mind echoed his name. She needed to see him again. Could she escape now? Would he think poorly of her for leaving the others to die? There was no clear right answer. Only the choice to make. Is it better to survive alone? Dunbakel wanted to be with Enkrid, to join him and the others. Was that the way forward? She reflected on how Enkrid always sought to find the best path and acted decisively. Could she do the same? There was no time to hesitate. She made her decision. "Did I thank him for saving me?" Dunbakel wondered. No, she hadn''t. But she would live, and she would live in the way he would want her to¡ªsurviving, not just for herself but for what he taught her. Though the thought process felt long, it was short in actual time. In moments of crisis, the mind becomes clear. She had made her decision and now it was time to act. "Look at me!" Dunbakel roared, triggering her transformation. Her golden eyes shone with intensity, and her body shifted, growing fur as she took on the form of a lion. With a deep, low growl, she launched herself at the closest centaur. "Grrrrrrr!" The sound was enough to unsettle anyone in earshot. Dunbakel slashed with her scimitar, but the centaur, a skilled fighter, twisted its body, avoiding the blade. It was a move that no cavalryman could replicate. Dunbakel swung her right hand, but as the centaur dodged, she quickly struck with her left, her claws slicing across its eyes. "Kggghh!" the centaur screamed. "Follow me, you bastards!" Dunbakel shouted, either at the centaurs or the wolves, leading them deeper into the forest. The soldiers were left behind, alive for the moment. Centaurs were known for being dangerous, even among mid-level beasts, and especially when they formed a colony. Their threat was said to surpass that of flying monsters. "...This is bad," one of the surviving soldiers muttered. *** "So, Dunbakel has been missing for four days?" Four days had passed since Dunbakel disappeared into the forest. Reinforcements were dispatched from the Border Guard, with the vanguard arriving swiftly¡ªa small unit of a single company. The captain of that unit asked the question, and a soldier nodded. "Yes." "And the centaur group has now formed a colony and taken control of the plains near the forest?" Everyone turned to Enkrid, noting his expression. It was as neutral as ever, but there was something about it that made it look as though he was angry, though no one could figure out why. ------------------------------------------------------------ Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! Your support is appreciated! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 245 - Centaur Colony Chapter 245 - 245 - Centaur Colony "Centaur Colony in Martai," Marcus, the battalion commander, stated. When monsters gather in groups, it forms a colony. Enkrid immediately decided to take action after hearing this. He had only learned just before departure that Dunbakel had gone there, and the suggestion was made to move quickly, given the large number of centaurs said to be a significant threat. "Let''s ride. Running will take too long," Marcus suggested. It would be faster to ride horses rather than take a carriage. The only concern was whether everyone knew how to ride. "Are you worried about me? I''m Rem. Rem," came the answer. Everyone had some experience riding horses. In fact, they were all skilled enough at it. Enkrid himself had some expertise in handling horses, having done it as a stable master when swords were not required. His riding skills were not bad at all. "You ride well," Ragna commented, noting Enkrid''s handling of the horse. "Well?" Enkrid replied, not taking it too seriously. Was it meant to imply that there was something else lacking? "Don''t lead the way. Keep close and follow," Enkrid instructed. He had learned the importance of watching out for those who had a poor sense of direction. Audin, Jaxen, and Krais were all used to riding, and Finn was no exception. "If you can''t ride, you can''t carry a lady," Krais quipped, making it clear he was confident in his skills. He had even intentionally trained under the noble Krona to master horsemanship. He had chosen a sturdy draft horse. It wasn''t fast, but it was known for its endurance. Recently, the Border Guard had seen an influx of various goods through trade, and among them, there were horses. Though not yet military steeds, a few skilled individuals had been selected to manage a proper stable. Thanks to this, quality grazing lands had been set up on the Green Pearl Plains, and the horses were now being raised there. One of the rewards from the war against Aspen was acquiring the land, which now had the potential to train cavalry. The Border Guard had always had messenger and draft horses, but now they were in the process of raising them more seriously. Marcus had provided some of these horses. "You know this won''t be easy, right?" Marcus asked just before they set off. Enkrid nodded. The centaur monsters, part of the colony, were a serious threat. The problem with a colony wasn''t just that monsters gathered together¡ªit was that there was always a leader among them, and that leader was often a unique and powerful entity. Centaur colonies were especially dangerous because they were already skilled cavalry by nature. ''And they also tend to use strategic tactics, which makes them even worse,'' Enkrid thought. A group of skilled horsemen using human-like strategies would be an overwhelming force. Even with fifty thousand of them, the danger would be immense. Of course, the Border Guard had to roll up their sleeves and help. At the same time, they were trying to open the Eastern Trade Route, which was why the cavalry was needed in the first place. There were other motives as well¡ªstrengthening ties between the territories, among others. Martai was an important buffer for the Eastern Trade and would serve as a key defense should any conflict arise in the East. For the Border Guard, making Martai an ally and strengthening their ties was essential. However, the news upon arriving in Martai wasn''t exactly encouraging. "Dunbakel entered the forest and has gone missing," they were told. And to make matters worse, a monstrous group had set up camp on the plains near the forest. It wasn''t just the centaur colony causing problems¡ªit was worse than expected. "This situation''s pretty messy," Torres said as he approached, his head wrapped in bandages. They had been fighting monsters for the past three days, and many soldiers were gravely injured. Dozens had died. Zimmer was limping, and the former border defense commander now turned lord grimaced. Enkrid climbed the castle wall and gazed out at the monster horde in the distance. Was the real problem the hundred or more centaurs? That was dangerous, yes, but the larger issue lay elsewhere. "The leader''s roar freezes everyone in place," Torres added. Enkrid had heard that this was what caused Torres to take a blow to the head. One soldier had been killed instantly when the leader''s club struck him, and over fifty soldiers had died in total. Enkrid didn''t know the exact number of soldiers in Martai, but the damage they had already suffered could be considered catastrophic. It was fortunate, though. Thanks to the efforts of Zimmer and a few of the most skilled soldiers from the border defense, the situation hadn''t escalated further. Enkrid tried to inquire about the situation and gather more details but decided against it. The real issue was clear¡ªit was the centaurs. Enkrid remained expressionless, as usual. He didn''t dwell on Dunbakel''s disappearance too deeply. This was a battlefield. ''Death is inevitable,'' he thought. If that was the limit, then it was simply something that had to happen. But the question still lingered. ''Why?'' With the soldiers, Dunbakel could have easily escaped. Why didn''t she? Among the mercenaries, there were the Luchi and Rich brothers, whom Enkrid had trained with and whose names he had easily memorized, thanks to his remarkable memory. He remembered everyone he trained with¡ªeach soldier''s features and habits were etched in his mind. The two soldiers had said: "If she wanted to run, she had plenty of time to do so." "No, she didn''t. She just charged right in." "We saw it for the first time. There was a monster twice the size of the others, making these horrible sounds." "It was when Dunbakel, trying to escape, slipped off a tree due to that creature''s roar. That was the last we saw of her." "If Dunbakel hadn''t done that, everyone would''ve been dead. The territory would''ve suffered even greater damage than it has now." That was the story they told. Why? Was it to protect them? Did Dunbakel want to secure a reputation as a protector of the territory? Or perhaps there was a man among the soldiers she cared for? She was a beast-woman, after all, and she had always been earnest about breeding. Enkrid looked at the faces of the soldiers. There didn''t seem to be anyone who would cause such feelings. It was hard to imagine her having any personal desire for them. So why? That was what intrigued him. Then, suddenly, a loud cry broke through his thoughts. "Ki-yoooot!" About ten centaurs broke away from the main group and started charging¡ªnot in a direct assault, but in a wide arc, making loud calls. It felt like a threat, as if they were taunting them. ''Are they trying to intimidate us?'' Enkrid wondered. Though Enkrid himself was unbothered, the soldiers around him grew restless. Their discipline was faltering. "Those damned things," Torres growled, grinding his teeth. From what Enkrid had heard, this kind of behavior often preceded an attack by a larger group of monsters. The centaur leader seemed especially powerful. They had more than fifty mounted creatures, and Enkrid could even see a few harpies circling above, strange monsters with breasts and wings. To make matters worse, there were over three hundred man-dogs in the mix. Several dozen ghouls, their ever-present allies, joined the horde, along with some wolf-like creatures. They had gathered such a mix of monsters that even Enkrid, Marcus, and Torres didn''t know the full extent of the danger. However, a local ranger knew that the deeper parts of the forest were far more dangerous than they realized. The ranger speculated that some of the monsters that had previously disappeared in the south had been hiding in the forest, hunting smaller animals without revealing themselves. Now, however, they had grown bold, using the expansive grazing lands beyond the forest as their new base. The discovery didn''t change anything immediately, but it had given Enkrid a clearer picture of the situation. "Rem," Enkrid called, his mind racing as he watched the approaching centaur horde. He didn''t care if they charged or not. If they attacked, he would kill them. Though the expressions on the faces of the lord and Torres told a different story¡ªthey were clearly concerned. ''Has Dunbakel already died?'' Enkrid wondered, caught in a brief moment of contemplation. Then, Rem''s voice interrupted his thoughts. He spoke lazily, stretching and wiping the tears from his eyes. "I don''t usually say things like this..." "Don''t you?" "The beast-woman... she''s got talent," Rem commented. Talent? Enkrid found it surprising to hear her say such a thing. Rem wasn''t one to casually make such comments. Enkrid thought to himself. It wasn''t easy to earn such praise, after all. He himself had never been told he had talent, but he''d often heard of his stupidity. "So?" Enkrid asked, trying to dismiss his own curiosity. "She probably didn''t die easily," Rem said. "Maybe she didn''t," Enkrid replied with a cynical chuckle. Rem laughed too, but there was something dangerous in her smile. Enkrid wasn''t particularly fond of Dunbakel, but she was still part of his team. He''d give her a proper funeral, using monster blood and heads as offerings. Perhaps Rem thought the same. It crossed Enkrid''s mind briefly. As he thought about how to fight, his mind worked quickly. He discarded the idea of fighting on horseback. The cavalry in Martai might be able to fight, but... "They can''t. If the leader roars, the horses will flee. Many of them freeze in place. We lost half of our cavalry in the first battle because of that." What about using infantry to block? Martai''s famed charge infantry were light but armed with long spears and shields. Would that be effective against centaurs? No, that had already been proven ineffective. At the very least, they had to deal with the leader. His roar froze everyone in their tracks, almost like an ability to manipulate morale. "It''s like a ''will'' or a ''spirit.'' I''ve heard of monsters with such abilities," Torres added. Enkrid understood what that meant. He then considered how to lure the centaurs into a trap and turned to Krais for help. "Hey, big guy." Enkrid wasn''t sure about the exact strength of Martai''s army, but it could certainly be considered a devastating blow. It was fortunate, however. Thanks to the few elite warriors from the frontier defense forces, they managed to handle things to this extent. Enkrid had initially wanted to ask about the situation and get a clearer picture but abandoned the idea. The problem, after all, was the centaurs. They needed to handle the leader''s presence. The roar alone had paralyzed everyone. It was a nearly psychological weapon. "I''ve requested support from the center. At least a few knights should be here soon." The Lord was experienced. It wasn''t by chance that he had become the frontier defense commander. He believed that the monster leader''s power was similar to the "will" effect. There were often leaders among monsters that could exert this kind of overwhelming presence. It was called "presence," "aura," or even "scent" by some. Enkrid understood this now, but he wasn''t intimidated. "Then, should we go out?" "What?" "Where?" Both the Lord and Torres responded in unison. "To fight." Enkrid answered plainly. "What did you just say?" "Are you saying we should just go and die? We need to wait for reinforcements. At least until the Border Guard''s units arrive." Torres responded first, followed by the Lord. They didn''t understand Enkrid. The decision to face the threat head-on had only been made after they had left. "Krais." Enkrid didn''t explain further. Instead, he called for Krais, who had been his sounding board. "Things have gotten worse. The monsters have only grown in number. They''re gathering everything they can. Their leader is a ''general''-type. It''s the most dangerous kind of monster. Time is not on our side. We have to take care of the leader while we can." Krais placed a hand on his neck and replied. "If you get close to him, your body will freeze." Torres shouted in frustration. If that was the case, he wouldn''t be stopping them either. "It''s fine. You worry too much. You just hold out against the crazy monsters and beasts." "Hold out? What are you talking about, Rem? You help out too." "Haha, of course, I''ll join in too." "I''m going as well." Rem slapped Torres on the shoulder, and as Enkrid spoke again, Audin and Teresa joined in. Torres was bewildered. Why were they all acting like this? Had they all chewed on some strange herbs? No, these were the same crazy ones they had always been. That''s why they were the Madman''s Brigade. Torres couldn''t help but admire Marcus now. "Did he really trust these idiots and bring them to battle?" They didn''t listen to warnings. It was maddening, but there was no point in trying to stop them. They wouldn''t listen anyway. Kiyooooo! More screams rang out. What about support from the center? There was a very low chance of that. Things at the center seemed to have escalated into an even more complicated situation. Rumors of a guild assassinating nobles were spreading even to the north. "Let''s go." And so, Enkrid led the Madman''s Brigade down to the base of the walls. His steps were calm and collected. It didn''t matter if the centaurs were screaming or charging. With Krais staying behind, Torres asked with a tired look. "Why aren''t you going?" Kriss gave him a look that said, "What are you talking about?" "Why would I? You want me to die? Why would I leave the safety of the walls to go out there?" And them? Torres wondered if he should ask, but he didn''t bother. He already knew what the answer would be. "Yeah, the boss is the boss." Something like that was bound to come up. "Well, then. We''ll go fight too." Morale was at rock bottom, but the strange atmosphere helped. At least, it prevented things from getting worse. "All units, advance!" Torres turned and shouted toward the troops. The scream rang out in the distance once more. "Attack." ------------------------------------------------------------ Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! Your support is appreciated! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 246 - The Rejection Chapter 246 - 246 - The Rejection "Damn it." He wasn''t in a rush, nor was he running. He walked out the gate, opening it like he was simply watching a group of monsters charge. Behind him, the Luchi brothers followed. The older brother, Luchi, was always muttering "Damn it," like a bad habit. He did the same now. "Damn it, be careful. Those things are up to something." Luchi was wearing studded leather armor with chains added around his waist, making a clinking sound with every step as he followed Enkrid. The Luchi brothers were strong but not exactly clever. "Damn it. I came here to buy a crossbow, and now I''m stuck in some colony war." There were some things that could never be fixed, even if you beat them senseless. And frankly, Luchi didn''t even care to fix them. There were many soldiers with loose lips, and Luchi''s constant "Damn it" was at least considered moderate compared to others. "If we''re gonna fight those man-faced dogs, the damn horses will rush in on us!" Rich, the younger of the two brothers, added from the side. Luchi muttered a creative insult about "those damn horses" under his breath. "That seems to be the case," Enkrid said, noting the movement of the centaur units. From the wall, Enkrid had already seen what was going on. He had heard Torres talking excitedly, and now he saw him running behind them, eager to join. ''They''re thinking.'' The centaurs were naturally excellent cavalry, and now their numbers were growing, with a ''general'' form among them as well. The previous colony leader was merely an "ordinary" type, a capable individual but with no leadership. The general was different. Enkrid had never encountered such a creature before. Dangerous monsters like that were hard to see up close unless you were near a battle zone. But now, as it was in front of him, he just had to watch and understand. ''They split into three groups.'' One was the man-faced dogs and ghouls, another was the main force of centaurs, and the last was a group of horse monsters. At the moment, as the man-faced dogs and ghouls charged, Enkrid noticed the horse monsters were veering off to one side, possibly intending to strike at the human army''s flank. Several centaurs were leading them, much like commanders leading soldiers. So, was this a tactical move? Not really. It was fairly obvious. So, why was this difficult to counter? It wasn''t the horse monsters charging that posed the issue. It was the centaur leader standing at the front, unmoving and watching. Enkrid spoke, concluding his thoughts. "Rem." "I know. But... are we drawing him in?" Rem asked, gesturing toward the centaur leader with a tilt of his chin. It was a question about whether they should fight cautiously. "No need to," Enkrid replied. He had thought about it while descending from the wall. Krais had said it was fine to just fight. A battle of strength. This was exactly what the monsters wanted. Watching Rem dash forward, Enkrid took a deep breath and shouted. "Torres! Don''t close the gate!" "... Damn it." Torres was so startled he nearly stopped in his tracks. "I thought my ears were gonna burst." Jaxen, having caught up, added his comment. "Is it really that bad?" Enkrid replied lightly, watching as Rem swung his axe. Rem''s steps were light, and his strikes were merciless. ''So these are the ones that hit my pet?'' Rem thought. If someone asked him if he cared about Dunbakel, Rem would strike them over the head. Well, if he saw someone mistreating a pet in front of him, he would just watch, but if they got hurt, he would defend them. After everything was over, he''d scold the one who hurt the pet. "Wanna play with me, huh?" That was his mood now. The man-faced dogs charging at him seemed half-mad. But Rem didn''t care. He saw the red eyes of the man-faced dogs, eyes with no sense of boundaries, and heard their frantic cries. As they drew near, Rem crossed his arms over his chest. He then flexed his arm muscles and swung his axe. The crossed arms spread out, and the axe whipped through the air, slashing without hesitation. The trajectory of the axes cut through the heads and bodies of the ghouls and man-faced dogs. With a loud crunch, the axe cleaved through them like dry twigs. A spray of black blood burst out around him, like ink spilled from a broken bottle. Red eyes popped out, and sharp teeth shattered. Bones cracked as the axe sliced through bodies and severed limbs. The air was thick with black blood, swirling like rain in the wind. "Let''s have some fun." Rem muttered, then began swinging his axes vertically. With each down swing, another man-faced dog or ghoul''s head flew into the air. Swinging up, then down, up, then down. He spun on his heel, and once again, heads and limbs of the enemies flew overhead. What could be said? Rem was just Rem. "Damn it." A former Martaian soldier, watching from behind, cursed under his breath as he saw Rem in action. "Are we really about to fight these things?" It was hard to believe, even as they watched. It felt like a continuous string of unbelievable events. At some point, Rem''s axe was barely visible; only the monsters that were torn apart or severed, flying in different directions, could be seen. In an instant, more than twenty creatures were torn apart, dismembered, and exploded in various directions. It seemed like Rem had eight arms, the way his movements flowed without pause. His legs never stopped either. Before long, he had strayed far from the rest of the army and plunged into the midst of the man-faced dogs, creating chaos. The shrieks of the man-faced dogs filled the air. One of the soldiers nearby muttered in awe, "He fights like a monster." "Are you just going to watch?" Zimmer shouted from behind. He was just as startled. While he didn''t think of Enkrid as the only monster, no one could have anticipated that the axe-wielding Rem could be this much of a monster. Suddenly, a harpy screamed and circled in the air, one of the many creatures that had caused numerous casualties over the last few days. Zimmer, limping, glared at the sky and shouted, "Shoot!" A few archers who were skilled in their craft loosed their arrows into the air, but it was pointless. There were only a few hits, and even then, the harpy''s tough hide repelled most of the arrows. Then one of the harpies dove down toward them. Zimmer''s eyes caught the harpy''s descent as it plunged toward Rem, who was still fighting among the man-faced dogs. "Watch out!" Zimmer yelled, about to throw a spear himself. ''Damn it, what is that?'' Zimmer couldn''t close his mouth after what he saw next. The harpy descended, and Rem, who had been fighting off enemies from all directions, stopped momentarily, planted one hand on the ground, and kicked into the air, crossing his legs. The kick landed squarely on the harpy''s head. Boom! The head exploded, sending black blood splattering in all directions. The harpy''s body rolled, crushing several man-faced dogs as it tumbled. "Ugh!" A man-faced dog cried out as it was crushed under the harpy''s body, but Rem quickly righted himself and kicked the head of the dog trapped underneath. Boom! The power and precision of his moves were terrifying. How could he pull off such moves? Zimmer was relieved he wasn''t the one fighting him. But before he could dwell on it, the ground started to shake. Boom! Boom! Boom! The rhythmic thuds of approaching hooves began, signaling the start of a familiar tactic. The man-faced dogs were thrown forward as meat shields, and the horse monsters charged in behind them. At the head of the charge were three centaurs, wielding thick wooden clubs in their hands. They weren''t professional weapons, but more like hastily prepared clubs made from thick branches in the forest. Even so, they were threatening enough. A blow from them would easily crush the skull of an average soldier. "Hold the line!" Zimmer shouted, aware that the battle had now escalated. Though the battle had started unexpectedly, now it was clear that something needed to be done immediately. Zimmer didn''t think they would lose. ''Crazy bastards.'' He assumed they had faith in their abilities, which was why they had taken the risk. More than anything, seeing their strength firsthand, he couldn''t imagine Rem dying from a mere bite of a man-faced dog. Now, the rest of the unit just had to hold their ground, killing and wounding the man-faced dogs and ghouls, pushing back the attacking wolf monsters. Just as Zimmer had hoped, Enkrid sent Audin to handle the charge. "Go stop them, Audin, Teresa." "Yes, Brother. We''ll knock their asses back," Audin replied. Without another word, Teresa followed him silently. Boom! Boom! Boom! The thunderous sound of the horse monsters'' charge filled the air, followed by the loud pounding of hooves. This wasn''t just any charge; it was a charge from monsters, not humans. The border defense unit and the regular soldiers of the Martaian forces braced themselves, grinding their teeth in preparation. ''Damn it, here they come again.'' They needed to stop them. In the midst of this, two large figures stepped forward to block the way. One of the defenders recognized Audin. "A priest?" "Just because something comes out of your mouth doesn''t mean it''s true. Is that my title, Brother?" Audin replied without even looking back. The defender was taken aback, impressed by how sharp Audin''s hearing was. Once the two large figures blocked the way, an odd sense of calm settled in. With their imposing stature, it was hard not to feel reassured. But what was with the woman? Her massive frames didn''t seem human, and even standing next to Audin, her heads and shoulders loomed high, giving the impression they could never be moved. "Move to the right." Audin said, his voice calm. "Understood," Teresa responded. With their large figures and shields, they were in perfect formation, ready to block the charge. Could they really stop the horses'' charge alone with just their shields? The sound of thunder grew louder. The charge of the horse monsters was fearfully fast. The moment they came into view, they were already right in front of them. There was no time to think about their size. One of the defenders threw a spear just before the monsters reached them. The spear, propelled with all the defender''s might, struck the head of one of the horse monsters. Thud! One creature collapsed, hoping to take a few others down with it, but as it fell, the remaining beasts swiftly leapt over its fallen body. The speed of their reactions was terrifying. Then, the mace of the lead Centaur struck the shield of the bulky figure with a mask. Bang! The defenders could not immediately understand what had happened. The Centaur, having struck the shield, lost its balance, teetering sideways and nearly falling. In that instant, the masked figure naturally sliced down with a sword at the approaching beast''s head. That wasn''t the end, though. As the sword was withdrawn, the figure attached the shield to their body and shoved the charging beast aside. It was a repetitive and systematic motion. They shoved the beast to the right and swung the sword, pushing it away. "What is that?" It was at least the strength of a mid-tier knight. Even without ''Will'', the person who inherited the blood of a hybrid giant fought with precision. In fact, Enkrid hadn''t even unleashed all of Teresa''s abilities. It was with meeting Enkrid that Teresa discovered the joy of handling a sword and fighting. The original Teresa had been worthy of the giant''s nickname. She was a red-blooded beast, another term for a giant. "Ha!" A husky shout erupted as a beast slammed into her shield, and it was knocked to the side, stumbling away. She stood firm, deflecting the blow with the shield as her feet scraped backward. Despite the force, her arms didn''t break, nor did her stance falter. She withstood the beast''s charge with sheer power. "The gates of heaven have opened!" Her performance was astounding, but the religious zealot''s figure was even more impressive. What seemed like a slow, lumbering body soared into the air. It rose and landed atop a descending beast, swinging a mace down upon its head. Wham! The beast let out a brief scream before dying, and the zealot jumped off its fallen body, thrusting the mace into another approaching beast''s head. Wham! Crack! The impact ripped the beast''s skull and spine out of its body, sending the remains flying through the air, spraying blood. The zealot moved through the midst of the charging beasts, swinging the mace without stopping. Rather than just blocking the charge, they were actively killing. At the same time, they intended to push the left side of the charge. Though a few beasts managed to strike allies, the previous three days of fighting made the new attacks feel almost insignificant. "Is this the time to watch?" a voice called. Turning, Enkrid saw a soldier with reddish-brown hair, wearing a round helmet. It was a Madmen unit member. At his feet, a Centaur lay bleeding, having been knocked away earlier. The creature, with its incredible sense of balance, had attempted to rise again, but a blade had already pierced its neck and was swiftly withdrawn. "Fight. That''s your job," said Jaxen, choosing only the words that fit. "Counterattack!" A shout from Torres echoed from behind. Two massive beasts split the charging group, scattering the herd of horse-beasts. There was no time to watch now. "Fire!" Charging together would be dangerous, but what if the enemy''s flank was exposed? There was no beast easier to fight than one with a weak side. Those armed with bows, crossbows, and slingshots all launched their projectiles. Arrows flew, stones whizzed through the air, and by chance, a bolt pierced a beast''s eye. Enkrid surveyed the situation, using all his senses. ''When will it come?'' He focused on the one in front, trying to target it. Wasn''t this the one that would end the fight? Though things hadn''t gone this badly before, the gates had been opened wide, and a chaotic brawl had broken out. The leader of the beasts had no intention of retreating. Most of all, the creature hadn''t yet shown the ''killing intent'' that had made it so dangerous. Enkrid''s anticipation quickly became reality. "Kyoo-yoo-ot!" The Centaurs, the main force of the enemy, surged forward in a third wave. The tactic the beasts employed was a three-wave assault. The first wave drew attention, the second wave dealt damage, and the third wave crushed the enemy. Simple, yet effective if the strength advantage was clear. The third wave charged forward, unstoppable. Enkrid unsheathed his sword and stepped forward. His position had always been at the junction between his army''s center and the enemy''s main force. Ragna stood by his side. "The killing intent of the beast is overwhelming." Unlike the soldiers whose courage faltered at the approaching beasts, Ragna''s tone remained steady. It was calm, cutting through the muffled sounds of hooves with crystal clarity. "Yeah." Enkrid responded. Then, the leader of the Centaurs, holding a glaive, bellowed and rushed at them. "Kiiaa!" Enkrid felt a force, something intense, reach him. It was like the gaze of a cat trapping a mouse. A chilling killing intent consumed his body, overwhelming the surrounding soldiers. The pressure and killing intent spread fear of death throughout the area. But Enkrid rejected it all. ------------------------------------------------------------ Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! Your support is appreciated! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit Ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 247 - Unstoppable Force Chapter 247 - 247 - Unstoppable Force The more Enkrid learned about and delved into "Will," the more fun, fascinating, and enjoyable it became. If a sword required a hundred swings to feel satisfying, just one touch of "Will" brought a noticeable change. It was different from the sword. ''I think I''m losing.'' Outwardly calm, Enkrid was internally more exhilarated than ever before. It was almost maddening. Not even the time spent sleeping seemed worthwhile. Even in sleep, he continued to research and indulge. A person who had once enjoyed the arduous path of sword training would naturally find "Will" even more fulfilling. Training in "Will" was pure bliss. What if the rapier-wielding knight applied pressure again? What if they saw Enkrid now? They would be even more astonished than before. No, they would be horrified. It was a known fact that it took years for someone to become accustomed to "Will" after realizing it, even if they understood it initially. The desire for achievement spurred Enkrid onward. No, it gently pushed him forward, offering comforting words. After learning and mastering it, the desire to test it out was inevitable. Above all, he was curious. ''How far can this go?'' How far would his refusal hold? He had heard that among the monsters of the Demon Territory, some leaders with killer intent could suffocate a human''s body with their presence. A leader like that stood before him now. ''Is this luck?'' Had the goddess somehow graced him, leaving a kiss on his cheek? It was hard to believe it was just a peck. "Ki-yo-o-o-oht!" Killer intent brushed against Enkrid''s body, and he rejected it. The process was effortless. Enkrid drew his sword. Cling. The leader of the Centaurs had closed in to within ten paces. Beasts under its command passed by, but Enkrid ignored them. One swung a wooden club at his head. Enkrid naturally ducked and rose, the movement seamless, as though it was preordained. The club passed over his head. Whoosh! The rush of air pushed his hair, and the breeze brushed his cheek. Ragna had vanished by now. He would have held his own, not succumbing to this level of killing intent, so he was probably fighting elsewhere. Enkrid focused solely on the leader of the monsters before him. "What''s wrong? Surprised?" Enkrid asked softly, clearly enjoying himself. The rejection of the monster''s killing intent felt so natural, so easy that it was exhilarating. The Centaur leader hesitated, as it was a creature of intelligence despite being a monster. What was this human? Wasn''t he just prey? How could he endure this killing intent? He had fled from the Demon Territory and come here, only to meet others who couldn''t withstand his aura. But this human¡ªthis one was different. Blue eyes locked with the monster''s gaze. "Let''s go to heaven." Enkrid thought of Audin and spoke, swinging his sword. With his left foot forward, he shifted his weight, his forearm muscles swelling. The sword fell from above, a downward strike, an overhead cut. The blade glowed like Ragna''s, striking with radiant force. "Ki-aht!" The leader reflexively pushed away its glaive. Its reaction was impressive¡ªrecoiling and then thrusting its weapon forward. The glaive intersected with the sword''s trajectory. Clang! The sound of metal clashing rang out like a burst of sparks, like thunder. In that exchange, Enkrid realized that the leader didn''t just carry killer intent. ''Strength.'' Raw power. The impact sent a shockwave through Enkrid, but he staggered back only a step, absorbing the force with his knees. The glaive, having been knocked away, soared into the sky. Enkrid''s senses sprang into action, honed by countless battles. He predicted the monster''s next move. His sharpened senses glimpsed the future. The glaive swung back in a sharp diagonal, cutting a path toward him. It was an unavoidable strike. He had to block it. For a monster, this one was particularly clever. The glaive''s trajectory forced Enkrid to act. It felt like a swordsmanship move. Enkrid raised his sword, focusing as he did. At the precise moment of impact, he relaxed his wrist and allowed the blade to slip, deflecting the blow. It was a feint. Ding! Tling! Enkrid''s sword blade deflected the glaive, and in the opening, Enkrid stepped forward. His right hand held the sword for defense, but his left hand wasn''t idle. Enkrid had already drawn a guard sword with his left hand and threw it. A counter-sword. He deflected the glaive with a feint and twisted his body, redirecting the power into his left arm. Then, with his elbow as a pivot, he unleashed a wide blade, a dagger with tremendous force. Pang! Thwack! The thick blade sank deep into the side of the leader''s body, with only the hilt visible. The monstrous strength used in the throw almost pierced the heart. That the blade didn''t pierce was a miracle. It only meant the monster''s body was extraordinarily tough. "Kiaaa!" The leader''s rage grew, and with it, its aura intensified. Once again, the killing intent became thick and heavy. ''Die. Die, you''re my prey.'' It almost felt like these words were echoing in his mind. Enkrid didn''t need to speak. From deep within his core, a heat surged up, and that heat dispelled whatever the monster was throwing at him. It was rejection. "Hah!" Taking a deep breath, Enkrid stepped forward, straightened his knees, and swung his sword with his elbow extended, pivoting his waist. It was a horizontal cut. Whoosh! The monster stepped back instead of blocking. It was intentional. From there, Enkrid moved forward gracefully, as if dancing. His feet pushed against the ground while the sword sliced and thrust. Whenever the monster dodged or blocked, Enkrid continued to attack. He swung his sword above his head and brought it down, pulled it back, then thrust, only to pull back again and slash to the left, followed by a sweeping strike. Thud! Thuck! Swoosh! Thud! Some attacks were blocked, others landed. The glaive''s path was fully restricted. The unnamed, ordinary sword in Enkrid''s hands relentlessly battered the monster, forcing it back. As a monster, it didn''t even realize it had fallen into a trap. The leader could barely use its strength. Strength came from movement. Before it could apply its full power, Enkrid''s sword restricted and blocked its actions. The Centaur leader, whose muscles appeared to be solid and numerous times stronger than a human''s, was forced to retreat despite its size. The more it retreated, the more the tide turned against it. Enkrid was overwhelming the monster. "Ki-aaah! Ki-aaah!" The leader struggled and let out another burst of killing intent. Enkrid easily ignored it. His rejection instinctively repelled it. When he first used "Will," it felt like a newly grown tail, but now it was as natural as his own body. It felt like drawing from a deep, unending well. A well that would never run dry. From that well came the strength to reject the monster''s aura. This was nothing. Enkrid''s sword danced, thrusting, slashing, and pulling, eventually landing a deep cut on the monster''s right foreleg. The blade sliced through the Centaur''s muscular leg. The blade went in about halfway, cutting through muscle and nerve, then came back out. Whoosh. Blood poured from the wound, the deep red gushing as if a major artery had been struck. The monster''s regeneration abilities were terrifying, especially for a leader like this one, who might be as tough as a troll. ''This is the end.'' Enkrid saw the conclusion, and the leader was filled with fear. It had led the monster horde using its unique abilities, but once it faced a stronger predator, it realized why it had been chased to this point. It had been another human before, too. "Kii-yaah!" The leader sent a signal and began retreating. Despite the cut to its front leg, it slapped the ground with its forelegs, then twisted its body on its back legs with astonishing agility. It was a remarkable display of physical ability. But Enkrid was not about to stand idly by and watch. He was ready to strike down the leader, but suddenly, an interruption occurred. "Ki-yaaak!" Two Harpies swooped down, their claws raised for an attack. If they made contact, the Gambeson and leather would be shredded. Was this a surprise? No. Even focused on the monster, Enkrid''s senses were wide open. He wasn''t caught off guard. Instead, he slashed diagonally from his left, cutting across their abdomen, then reversed the strike to the other diagonal. Screech! Thud! Bang! Bang! In two swift slashes, Enkrid took down two Harpies, turning them into a heap of mangled flesh. As he cleared his way through the winged monsters, the leader was already running. ''If I let it escape, it''ll be trouble.'' It would be. It was clear just from the group of monsters around. If the leader retreated to the forest and regrouped, it would be a nightmare. A monster like this could develop even further with time. Enkrid kicked the ground. He recalled the Squire from the battlefield. The reckless charge still burned clearly in his mind. ''Like the Squire''s charge?'' Could he do it? Could he apply "Will" to his legs, like that? It wouldn''t be easy. After learning to use rejection, it became easy and enjoyable, but learning something entirely new was still a great challenge. There was no way to force something to work if it wasn''t meant to. Enkrid remembered the Squire''s charge as he harnessed his explosive strength. The overwhelming power surged into his thighs. He put his full weight into the ground, propelling himself forward. Boom! The sound of his foot slamming into the ground was as deafening as a battering ram striking the city gate. Kiyah! A subordinate monster came at him, swinging a club. Enkrid ran forward, drawing his sword. Screeek! The Centaur charging at him had its neck severed. The club was dodged as Enkrid bent his body low, swinging his sword in the same motion. It was a fluid series of movements, ones he could never have imagined performing in the past. His body, powered by the ground beneath him, surged forward like a straight line. He pursued the retreating Centaur. And there were those who were watching this unfold. As most of the soldiers froze in place, gripped by the aura, it was a moment of doubt whether they would even be able to act. "Die." A muttered word sliced through the air. It was Ragna. He swiftly moved through the frozen soldiers. The charging Centaur didn''t last even two strikes against Ragna''s sword. Ragna knocked aside the club and cleaved the Centaur''s skull. He sliced vertically through the torso of another charging horse-monster. It all seemed so simple, so effortless. It didn''t feel dynamic. It was like cutting dry hay with a sickle. It was laborious, systematic swordplay. ''What is this?'' Everyone was surprised. But what shocked them even more was Enkrid. ''Why is he moving like that?'' The killing intent before him had momentarily blurred his vision, but it cleared almost immediately. Torres watched Enkrid fight in front of him. ''Why is he fighting so well?'' He had always been skilled, but this was different. Even if someone didn''t have the eye to recognize talent instantly, this was far beyond what they expected. Enkrid swung his sword, easily ignoring the leader''s killing intent. He struck, thrust, and launched a flurry of blows. He overwhelmed the creature. "Wow." Torres'' body, frozen by the aura, slowly began to move again. Still, he didn''t make a move. The monster horde was being sliced apart one by one by Ragna. Soon after, Jaxen joined in, dispatching each monster with swift precision. Enkrid, seeing the leader flee, chased after it. "Hey! Don''t go that way!" Torres shouted, but trailed off. Chasing the leader into the forest was a risky move, but he knew they had no choice. If they let it escape, things would only get worse. "Rem! Your leader is heading into the forest!" Torres opted for a different approach. "Dammit!" Rem responded, though it seemed directed at someone else. His actions followed as intended. Rem swung his axes left and right, cleaving through several man-faced hounds in an instant. His axes sliced like beams of light, cutting through the monsters as if they were nothing. Then, he sprinted forward. His body darted through the monsters as though it were his own backyard, leaving a trail of slain beasts and monsters behind him. "Fight when you''re ready." Ragna muttered as he moved. His sword danced in the air, cutting down anything in his path. After clearing his way, he pursued Enkrid, heading into the forest. The two large figures slicing through the monster horde beside him also began running. "Let''s go!" Audin, the religious zealot, shouted as he knocked the skull of a ghoul with his fist. What had once been chaotic was now a battlefield where humans had the clear advantage. The monsters were too busy taking blows to retaliate. ''Insane.'' Torres couldn''t help but exhale in awe. A ghoul''s eyeball rolled in front of his feet. Torres stomped on it. Crunch! The eyeball burst, splattering across the ground. The battle was still ongoing, and there was no time to admire the carnage. "Kill them all!" Torres shouted, rallying his comrades to finish off the remaining monsters. So fast? Enkrid ran as hard as he could, but chasing a monster built for speed was difficult. He was barely managing to stay close, trailing behind. The forest wasn''t ideal for running. That was the only reason he hadn''t lost the leader yet. What if they hit open ground? ''I''m probably going to lose it.'' A cold evaluation. Should he throw a dagger or something? Even with its front leg wounded and a sword lodged in its abdomen, the monster wouldn''t stop just because a few knives were stuck in its back. Instead of stopping, Enkrid figured it would be better to keep running. He knew he would eventually lose it, but that didn''t mean he would give up. Even if the outcome seemed inevitable, quitting in the middle of the chase was simply not who Enkrid was. ------------------------------------------------------------ Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! Your support is appreciated! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit Ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 248 - The Wild Horse which Sweats Blue Chapter 248 - 248 - The Wild Horse which Sweats Blue Chapter 248 - The Wild Horse of Blue Sweat The centaur leader ran. It was not the time to be cautious about wounds. He was a monster who had already fled twice. Having intelligence meant knowing when to escape in dangerous situations. And that was exactly what he did. The first thing that came to the beast''s mind was the creature that had made it flee the first time. In the place the humans called the "Witch''s Domain," deep within, all sorts of creatures lived. Of course, the centaur leader didn''t understand the meaning of the Witch''s Domain or any geographical significance. It was merely the creature that had toyed with him that came to his mind. With long arms, anything caught in those hands was torn apart. It was a creature with tearing hands, one that enjoyed ripping things apart even when it wasn''t hungry. Thud, crack! The leader smashed through branches hitting his shoulder with sheer force. Black blood poured from his right foreleg. The pain brought his mind back. The memories followed. He had escaped the tearing hands, broken the boundary, and fought. Then, he was defeated and chased. Eventually, he had been driven by the human group all the way to this place. The monster kept repeating only one thought. Surviving is what makes one strong. What must be done to survive? Instinct urged the monster forward. "Subdue the wild horse herd on the plains and form a bigger group!" If the monster had any ambition, it was now. More precisely, the monster was learning something by being close to humans. Its intelligence allowed for that. It had learned how to hide and gain strength. This time, it had also learned how to gauge its enemies. From the humans'' perspective, it was obvious that a missed opportunity would lead to an even bigger threat. No, it was a clear threat. The leader thought that if it survived this time, it would subdue the entire wild horse herd on the plains. Then it would gather even more monsters and beasts. "It will be troublesome if I miss." Instinct spoke. Even without it being pure instinct, his mind understood the same. Monsters were said to become more monstrous the longer they survived. What did that mean? It referred to becoming treacherous and malicious. If a monster''s cruelty was combined with cunning and malice... *** "It''s going to be a huge pain." Above all, it might turn into Dunbakel''s final battle. He didn''t feel guilty for the death of the beastkin. However, from the moment he took responsibility for them, from the moment he accepted them under his command until they went out, it was his responsibility. If he hadn''t taken them in, it would be different, but he had, and he had placed them under his wing. And once they were under his wing, it was his duty to take responsibility. Death in battle was naturally the individual''s responsibility, but beyond that, it was something a commander had to handle as well. Especially since Dunbakel had done all this in an effort to save a life. "Why did she do that?" If the beastkin were still alive, this would be the question he wanted to ask as soon as he saw her. Pushing the brief thought aside, he focused on running. Leaves approached rapidly, and tree roots thrust up from the ground like traps. Everything seemed to slow him down. That applied to the centaur monster as well. But because of its significantly thicker skin and body than a human, it could crush through obstacles. That''s exactly what the leader did. Ignoring most obstacles, it continued to run. Enkrid had already discarded his helmet, which was obstructing his vision, and although it hit the leader''s back, it didn''t make him flinch. The helmet bounced off his back without a second thought. He didn''t even flinch. It looked like he had decided to run. Of course, the throw hadn''t been powerful due to the running. "Should I train throwing while running?" It would be useful in situations like this. It was something to think about later. Enkrid wanted to catch it. The responsibility for Dunbakel, the dangers to come, he wanted to end it all here. At the current speed, it wouldn''t be long before they were out of the forest, and then the open plains, the pastures would follow. That land, which had the highest concentration of wild horses nearby, meant he would lose track if they reached that point. "I don''t want that." He didn''t want to miss it. This was a moment when he focused entirely on one thing. As he ran, his concentration activated, and at the same time, all his senses sharpened. The sixth sense, developed through the sense of evasion, and his intuition were both activated by one singular purpose. "I won''t miss." The moment he mentally repeated that desire. His eyes caught the half-broken shape of a tree about twenty paces ahead, and the twisted grain of the wood exposed by the break. His senses wildly surged, showing him the way. The rejection he had felt earlier awakened a little bit of "Will." Enkrid''s body naturally followed the path laid out before him. With a sharp thud, he stomped on a tree to his right and shot up into the air. At the same time, he thrust his knife vertically into the thick branch above his head. His body was propelled forward by the momentum of his running speed. Enkrid released the knife and swung forward like a monkey, grabbing the next branch as he soared again. He flew through the air twice, then fell upside down, throwing his sword. It was not just an acrobatic move, it was a stunt. The physical control gained from grueling training, almost bordering on torture. This led to developed athletic abilities, explosive strength through the heart of monstrous power. The courage to hold onto a well-developed body and the sharpened senses that predicted every step ahead. All of it came together. Everything was crushed into one and realized through his body. If someone had seen it from the side, they would have seen him suddenly spring up while running, then darting through the air, shooting a beam of light. The leader, running ahead, had just escaped the forest. The leader felt a sense of joy. ''Now, I''ve shaken them off!'' Just as he broke through and stepped out of the forest, a sword pierced his skull. The sword Enkrid had thrown pierced straight through the leader''s head. And the moment the sword sank into his skull, something slammed into the side of the leader''s body. The sword was a shadow. Enkrid''s head tingled, starting from his eyes. It was due to the extreme focus. More precisely, it was the result of ''Will'' activating during that focus, though he didn''t realize it. Anyway, Enkrid twisted his body from a falling position and rolled to soften the fall. Using the momentum from the roll, he pushed with his ankle and stood up. Enkrid paused, kneeling on one leg, and looked at the leader, who had fallen with a sword lodged in his head. The leader, with the sword stuck in his skull, fell sideways, struck by something that had charged and collided into him. The body of the dying creature trembled. No, was it already dead? Enkrid''s gaze shifted. The entity that had rammed into the leader was now visible. Hee-ee-ee-ing. A wild horse, releasing steam-like vapor from its body, appeared. It seemed to spread from its back like wings, but the blue vapor quickly dissipated into the air. Enkrid was in a similar state. Sweat streamed from his body, and when he stopped, it began to evaporate like vapor. A beast and a man stood facing each other silently. The fallen centaur leader continued to tremble on one side. Black blood stained the dirt beneath him. The standoff between man and beast was brief. "Did you catch it? Oh." From behind, Rem''s voice rang out with a short exclamation. He wasn''t alone. "Brother, did you get it? Well done." Audin, unusually, gave his praise. Though he was unseen, there was someone else coming from far behind, breaking branches as they approached. Jaxen, moving silently, followed. The one breaking branches, trailing behind, was likely Teresa. The giant''s steps were slow, even for a half-giant. "Did Ragna follow, by any chance?" Enkrid asked, just in case. "Oh, that guy. He came in with us but ran off on his own, taking a shortcut." Rem muttered. Ah, Ragna. Enkrid shook his head inwardly. The guy, other than swinging a sword, was truly hopeless, always getting lost. "Is that a monster? Hmm?" Audin asked. Was it because of his divine nature that he could easily sense magic? His tone showed curiosity, something similar to a question. Perhaps Rem felt something too, as he added to the conversation. "Quite a deadly one." Enkrid continued to speak without turning his gaze. He was still fixated on the wild horse''s eyes, the ones that turned its blue sweat into steam. Its body was black, but the sweat dripping over its skin had a bluish tint. It was a fascinating sight. The vapor from its sweat took on a bluish hue. That wasn''t the only unusual feature. Its eyes were two different colors. One was blue, and the other was red. Could there be such an odd form, even in a creature with an odd eye? Especially since one of its eyes appeared almost like that of a monster. Enkrid watched the leader''s lifeless body trembling on the ground. ''How do monsters create beast-hands?'' Krais had a lot of random knowledge. "Knowledge is a weapon that shows a different kind of charm to women." Well, that was certainly a clever reason. Anyway, as Krais said... "Just infect them with monster blood. Once done so, the brain of a healthy animal becomes tainted by magic. Especially if used the blood of a creature that forms a colony¡ªit''s highly effective. Without doing so, commanding beasts would be difficult." This was how the pack of beasts was led. The same method was likely used for this creature to lead the horse beasts. The reason why herbivores were turned into beasts in large numbers. ''But there weren''t that many horse beasts, were there?'' Were there fewer wild horses in this area? No, that didn''t seem to be the case. Didn''t the creature before him prove it? "Look at this one, it almost made it, huh?" Rem said. Enkrid saw the same thing. The reason for the mismatched eyes, the vapor pouring from its body, and the beast charging straight into him. Grrr. The wild stallion snorted again, casting a wary glance. Enkrid caught its gaze. It felt like the beast was speaking with its eyes. ''I will win. I will prevail. I will not submit to this blood.'' It was a sense of defiance, stance, and energy. Rem seemed to have perceived something similar, which is why he spoke up. What did it mean to endure? Oddly enough, even though it hadn''t been long, Enkrid found those words not unfamiliar. ''Why?'' He asked himself and quickly found the answer. Enkrid saw himself in the wild stallion. A beast tainted by the blood of a monster becomes a beas-hand. It was an immutable truth. "An interesting thing, Brother." Audin''s mutter could be heard. Enkrid stared at the one rejecting the immutable truth. He locked eyes with it. The air was thick with hostility. There was even a hint of combat. The creature had fangs growing, unusual for a horse. Enkrid recalled the past. "A knight? Pfft." There was someone sneering. "Stop saying foolish things. Get your head straight and live." Someone was scolding. "Stop it. I''m saying this for your sake." There were those who worried for him. All of them had seen the immutable, unchanging truth. Enkrid rose and reached out towards the horse. Even if he hadn''t thrown his sword to catch the beast, the creature would have been halted by a body slam. So, it was as if both had captured it at once. "Were you targeting it too?" Enkrid asked. It was likely an extremely intelligent creature. He stepped closer as he spoke. For the horse to resist the blood of the monster, it had overcome that immutable truth. The horse bared its fangs. Grrr. Once more, it snorted. It seemed ready to bite at any moment. Given the monsters he''d seen, it could very well have severed his wrist. The horse, about to show its fangs, shook its head, releasing another snort. Its eyes wavered, shifting between murderous intent and wariness multiple times. Enkrid moved forward, and though the horse stepped back, it did not run away. All eyes, except for the lost Ragna, were focused on Enkrid and the horse. Only the heavy breathing of Teresa, who had arrived late, could be heard. No one spoke. It felt like the meeting of something new with something new. And then, Enkrid''s hand touched the head of the black horse with its dark mane. Was the sweat on its skin blue because of the blood of the beast, or was it just its natural state? It was an unknowable mystery. And the creature, half-beast and half-wild, did not reject Enkrid''s touch. That was all. ------------------------------------------------------------ Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit Ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 249 -Because I Could Chapter 249 - 249 -Because I Could Rem stared blankly at the human and the horse. What was going on here? Petting a beast close to becoming a monster? ''Won''t it bite?'' Even if it did, it wouldn''t be a calm bite, so he was particularly worried. Enkrid''s hand touched the horse''s head, petting it, and the horse remained still, feeling the touch. Watching all of this, Rem was stunned. There was definitely monster blood mixed within that horse''s body. Even without any magical explanation, it wasn''t hard to tell. The sharp fangs sticking out, the subtle scent of flesh emanating from its body¡ªeverything about it was saying so. And yet, Enkrid was petting its head and saying, "You''ve done well." He was soothing it? Rem thought about it carefully. Was he really trying to make friends with it? Was that what was happening? Would a horse tainted by monster blood really listen without biting? And even if it was becoming a beast, why was Enkrid not cutting it down, but doing this instead? Was it really enough to hold out like that, even if it was half-turned? Rem didn''t know. He''d never seen anything like this before. What kind of beast could endure monster blood and resist becoming a full monster? It was worrisome, but the creature in front of him was just one monster, and besides, its leader was a strange person too. So, Rem just watched. While Rem blankly observed the interaction between the human and the half-monster beast, Audin sought divine guidance. ''Father, am I to understand that this monster too is overcoming its fate?'' Audin, more than anyone present, was in awe. Is fate a predetermined path? Is it something unchangeable? There were times when he felt this way. When he stood as an Inquisitor, when he saw the eyes of those who had died by his hand, when he heard the high priest declare those who were not heretics as heretics: "That is their fate! The fate our Father has determined!" At that time, he didn''t think the words were true. But he couldn''t shatter the chains of fate, nor could he break those shackles. ''Father, what must I do?'' Under the burning sun, he prayed. He recited the hymns. And so, Audin nurtured his disbelief. Later, he saw the one who would break the very disbelief he had cultivated. That person was Enkrid. Watching and getting to know him, Audin was conflicted, but he also gained strength to move forward. And now, he saw the human and the beast rejecting the immutable truth. "In the name of my father, by his will, I dedicate my life." The chant flowed from his lips. Divine power surged, and a headache struck, but Audin smiled, enduring the pain and murmuring the hymn. Teresa, who had heard the song beside him, found herself unknowingly listening closely. It was a voice like the gentle warmth of the sun, something she''d never felt while in the embrace of her previous life. ''A song.'' The deep voice entered her body, striking her heart. As she watched Enkrid and the horse, and heard Audin''s hymn, Teresa felt her heart trembling. She couldn''t help but reflect on her life. Her life had begun and ended with the cult. What was she to live for now, as a newly reborn self? She thought she was to live for battle again. That was all she believed. But now, no. Teresa felt a sense of emptiness within herself. It felt as if a hole had opened near her heart. Yet, she wasn''t sad or tormented. "My father said, whether full or empty, it is all within oneself." After finishing the short song, Audin recited part of the holy scripture. Those words resonated deeply with Teresa''s heart. Jaxen merely watched the situation unfold. What was that horse? What was the leader doing? In the midst of this, a stray thought crossed his mind. ''Is he taming even beasts now?'' Was this the appropriate role for the Company Commander of the Madmen? Jaxen simply observed. A human placed a hand on the head of a horse. That moment left an impression on the hearts and minds of many. Enkrid felt a strange sense of kinship. It was a bizarre situation. ''Why is this so troubling?'' This monster was drawing his attention too strongly, both his gaze and his thoughts. Why? Was it because the beast was resisting becoming a full monster? Maybe. He saw his own past reflected in it. Suddenly, Esther came to mind. Hadn''t she said something about how, on the battlefield, they had been surprised that they hadn''t followed along? A sorcerer who transformed into a leopard and rampaged. At first, he had just thought she was a beast. The first connection they''d formed was when they saved each other''s lives, and a bond had formed between them. But what about now? There was no such exchange with the wild horse in front of him. Despite that, Enkrid still felt a sense of affection. He placed his hand on the horse''s head, but the horse only lowered its head, not enjoying the touch. It just stared at him. The blue eyes were clear and sharp, while the red ones flickered like flames. Enkrid spoke from his chest, not his head. "Do you want to come with me?" The horse snorted. As if it had understood, the horse stamped its hooves. It seemed to be a sign of agreement. There was no conversation between them. There was no time between them. They had simply encountered each other, and recognized one another¡ªthat was all. Enkrid saw the half-monster horse. The horse, on the other hand, was merely facing the strange human who had suddenly appeared. "...Are you going to take that one?" Rem asked from behind. "Yeah." Enkrid answered, giving the horse''s mane one more stroke before turning around. The wild horse behind him was close to a monster, but his actions carried a certainty that it wouldn''t attack him. "Well, hell, this is even surprising to me." If even Rem was saying that, what would others think? "In the temple, it was said that no matter how small, every creature has something in its heart. Love life. Love it as much as you kill." Audin, as a disciple of the War God, spoke. Jaxen merely watched indifferently. Teresa, for some reason, felt a moistness in the eyes behind her mask. What''s with them now? Enkrid tapped the horse''s head. "It''d be nice to go together, but if I''m going to hold some sort of funeral, I''ll need to find the body." He was referring to Dunbakel. This was separate from taking in the wild horse. Enkrid hadn''t forgotten about Dunbakel. "I''m assuming she''s dead?" he added. Upon hearing this, Rem snorted in disbelief, then immediately pulled out his axe. "If she isn''t dead, I''ll just kill her myself." Was Rem speaking with certainty, or hope? Enkrid didn''t know. No matter how sharp his senses were, even Rem, the barbarian, was good at hiding his true intentions. "The forest is vast." Even if she were alive, finding her wouldn''t be easy. "If she''s alive, it''s easy enough to find." Rem spoke, then took a deep breath, swelling his chest up twice as much. Enkrid observed, and Jaxen raised a hand to cover his ears. Enkrid attempted to block the horse''s ears, but the horse stepped back, as if to say it was fine. Enkrid quickly covered his own ears. Then, Rem expelled the air he had gathered in his chest with a shout. "Dumb¡ªbeast¡ª!" It was a roar that seemed to tear the air apart. A thunderous shout, a skill in itself. It felt like thunder was striking. The forest trembled as if in response. Hee-heeing! The clever horse stumbled, and startled winter birds flew into the sky with a loud sound. Caw! From far away, a crow seemed to respond to Rem''s shout. It sounded like it was telling him to be quiet. Even though Enkrid covered his ears, his head still rang with the sound. "Foolish barbarian." Jaxen, whose senses were the sharpest, spoke with a rare frown. "Couldn''t you have warned us first?" Enkrid muttered, "Didn''t you notice?" "So?" "If we shout in the forest, something will come running." Enkrid considered that it wasn''t a bad idea. More than that... "Ragna will come looking for us too." They had to find Ragna, the soldier who had gotten lost and was a poor swordsman at best. "Let''s go look for the foolish beast-woman." Rem said, and Enkrid nodded. They had already killed the monster leader; now it was time to move on. As Enkrid turned to leave the wild horse behind, the horse didn''t follow. Instead, it stared at him. "Aren''t you coming?" It spoke as if it were human. It was strange, but when Enkrid placed his hand on its head, there was some sort of communion. He thought the horse would understand him. It couldn''t understand language, but its meaning would come across. The horse snorted. It shook its head, then stomped the ground a few times. Then it turned its body, gesturing toward the rear. The stomping seemed to indicate it would wait here. The direction it pointed toward¡ªwhat was it for? The forest, kind as it was, was vast. The path the monster had carved through the forest was near the border between the forest and the plains. As winter approached, the brown grass that had turned with the season stretched over the wide plain. In the distance, Enkrid could see a group of wild horses. It wasn''t just one or two. There were dozens of them, at least. Upon reflection, it made perfect sense. Monsters and beasts were common on this continent. For survival, it was only natural for them to live in groups. Just as humans formed villages, towns, and communities. Even a small village typically had over fifty households, with walls erected for defense. Enkrid felt a strange sense of kinship, something akin to it. It was a peculiar situation. "Why does this keep haunting my thoughts?" The wild beast was drawing his gaze and mind far too much. Why? Was it because of resistance to the Beastification? Perhaps. It might have been because he saw his own past reflected in its form. Suddenly, Esther came to his mind. Hadn''t she once said that they wouldn''t follow because they were startled on the battlefield? A wizard who could transform into a leopard and rampage. At first, he had only thought of her as a beast. The first time they had some form of mutual understanding was when they had saved each other''s lives, and then a bond had formed between them. But what about now? There had been no such exchange with the wild horse before him. And yet, Enkrid still felt a sense of affinity. "Were you the leader?" The ones left behind were its subordinates, its family. Was it that it couldn''t leave them behind? It didn''t seem like that. Then what? Thud. It stamped the ground again. It was an unknowable thing. Enkrid decided that, instead of searching for Dunbakel and returning to Marta, he should turn back to this place again. "Wait, the subordinates come first." Enkrid spoke, and the half-beast horse stopped. It seemed to be waiting. ''First, Ragna.'' Find him, then find Dunbakel. "Rem. Shout." He entered the forest and Rem shouted again. "Meh-der-ree-geel-chee!" He was doing it on purpose, of course. "Shouldn''t you just call their names?" "No way." Rem had his freedom. Enkrid let it go. Finding Ragna was easy. As they shouted, a few dumb beasts came rushing, but before they could approach, Theresa''s sword melted them away. Their bodies were sliced and scattered, like melting butter. It looked like winter snow melting in the sunlight. Caw! The dreadful shrieks echoed as the beasts came rushing, and Theresa blocked their bites with her shield, striking downward with her sword. The body of the one she struck burst open, leaving a dirty trail on the ground. The next one flew away after being hit by the shield, its body pierced and hanging limply. It would still be alive, but Theresa swung her sword and split it vertically. With her giant blood mixed into her body, her sword, shield, and blade made quick work of the beastmen. At first, there was just one, then several more followed. But were they really so stupid to keep rushing this way? Wasn''t it obvious they''d die? Could they not feel fear, even though they were monsters full of malice? The reason soon became clear. "It was a shortcut." It was Ragna. It seemed he had met the retreating beasts and had blood splattered all over his armor. He must have been frustrated, as he had removed his helmet, holding it in one hand, while black blood dripped from the sword in his other hand. Ragna had no injuries. He had sliced through the fleeing beastmen who had happened to be running this way. "Fool, goat-shit fool, dog''s balls fool, you''ll die lost all your life." Rem greeted Ragna with joy, and Ragna immediately returned the greeting with his sword. It was a light swing. Before long, Rem pulled out his axe and blocked it. Clang! The blades of the sword and axe met, exchanging pleasantries. "I dug you a grave while you were lost." Rem said with a grin. His mood was unusually fierce. Ragna was no weakling, so a fierce fire flared up between them. Why were they so fierce? Enkrid thought he knew the reason. "Why aren''t you looking for Dunbakel?" He had noticed the absence of his student. Rem was surprisingly fond of those he had trained. It had been his own decision to rush across the battlefield, trying to save those he saw potential in. "He knew she had potential, even though he always beat her half to death." In fact, most of those who owed their lives to Rem didn''t know it. Enkrid had only realized this after gaining a better understanding of people. "Crazy barbarian." Jaxen muttered. And then, just then... "I have blood coming from my ears." A voice echoed from above. It was from one of the ones they had been searching for. A beast-woman with a torn forehead, blood clotted on her brow, and similar wounds on his thighs. "Stupid beast." Even though the forest was vast, with Rem''s chaos, it seemed like it could be heard anywhere. Eventually, his ruckus had worked. Dunbakel came down from the trees. Stepping on the ground with a soft thud, she seemed to have no major injuries. "Why are you here? I was planning to kill the leader and return on my own." Enkrid nodded when he heard that. It seemed that Rem had taught her well enough that her tone was becoming similar. "Well done." Jaxen responded, and Audin only laughed. After being called a stupid beast, Rem flashed a soft smile and said, "When we return, we start again." That remark made Dunbakel''s face twist. Why? She truly had planned to kill the leader here, hadn''t she? She was a beast. She was confident in her fights in the forest. Her purpose had been to shift the battle''s terrain to her advantage. She had another reason, though, which was to follow Enkrid''s lead. She had been saving her allies, after all. Enkrid turned to face Dunbakel and spoke. Without wasting time with indirect questions, he asked directly. "Why did you do that?" He was referring to her using herself as bait to save their comrades. Dunbakel blinked before she spoke. "Because I could." It wasn''t a profound expression of faith or will. Enkrid actually liked that answer. After that, Dunbakel added a word that Enkrid hadn''t expected to hear. ------------------------------------------------------------ Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit Ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 250 - Now You Talk to Horses? Chapter 250 - 250 - Now You Talk to Horses? Chapter 250 - Are You Now Talking to Beasts and Horses? "Thank you for accepting me." Enkrid tilted his head. Suddenly? Now? It felt strange to hear such words. Saying that one saves people because they can was awkward. The beastwoman had been a mercenary among a group of thieves, one of the most notorious in the kingdom. Was it possible for someone like her to fight with her life on the line to save soldiers? And was that something he should like? No, it was exactly what Enkrid liked. Though he dreamed of being a knight, he didn''t expect the people around him to behave like the knights in stories. He didn''t expect them to adopt the same actions, attitudes, and mindsets. But when someone could help yet chooses not to, when they see the oppressed but turn away, why was that? Was it because their hearts had nothing in them? Was it because abandoning and ignoring others was familiar to them? Was it because it was to their advantage? There was no honor, no belief, no loyalty, and no burning passion in those who valued ignoring others and seeking personal gain. ''What can you become by living like that?'' What value was there in living that way? Enkrid was a man with a dream. He hated passing by the weak and injustice. He couldn''t just pass by because there was something hot inside him that wouldn''t let him ignore it. Just like when Rem beat the noble''s son or cracked the officer''s skull, Enkrid didn''t dislike Rem. "Well done." That was what Enkrid said. The others were astonished. One said "Thank you" immediately, and the other said "Well done." It felt like everyone was only saying what they wanted to say. It was funny how the conversation flowed so smoothly, making it even more absurd. Enkrid didn''t know what mindset Dunbakel had, but he liked that something in her had changed. After all, it was an act to save a weaker companion, and she hadn''t sacrificed her life. She had encountered unexpected enemies and tried her best. In doing so, she saved a comrade. That change in mindset made her seem more like a team member than a thief, and Enkrid was glad about that. He didn''t care that she had just said "thank you." ''She''s a strange one too.'' Their group had always been the one with the oddballs. The former thief''s present state wasn''t bad, and that was enough. Enkrid moved on. Words like "thank you" meant nothing. What mattered was that they lived, saved others, and their mindsets keep changing for the better. That was enough. Dunbakel accepted Enkrid''s praise in her own way. She felt that saving a comrade and surviving was the right thing to do. If it wasn''t for that, there would be no reason to search for her. It was then that Enkrid caught her attention. Black hair, blue eyes, an indifferent demeanor, and subtle kindness. He was the man who had accepted her, an extraordinary leader she could trust. She had survived, and she had saved her comrades. Her actions followed his will. Thus, it seemed she had become part of Enkrid''s team. Until now, she had reluctantly stayed with them, but now, she felt like she truly belonged to the group. "Hey, your eyes look like they ate something emotional. The boss was about to arrange your funeral. He thought you were dead." Rem spoke. It was true. "Is that so." Dunbakel didn''t care. Rem clicked his tongue and snorted in disbelief. "Tch, they say the black dog does the work and the white dog gets the love." No one paid attention to Rem''s words. Ragna was roughly sketching a map of the forest in his mind. Of course, it was a pointless and useless thing to do. ''Wasn''t that supposed to be the shortcut?'' He had thought it was a fast route, but why did it lead to the wrong place? His sense of direction was messed up, but Ragna just thought it was bad luck. Audin smiled softly. Seeing Dunbakel''s attitude toward saving her comrades seemed like the beginning of a change. He enjoyed watching people break their limits. Theresa nodded as she looked at Dunbakel. She had heard that her background was complicated, just like hers. She felt some kinship with the beast-woman. Of course, she didn''t express it outwardly. Jaxen was indifferent. ''Has she finally become somewhat useful?'' The beast-woman, who had only ever known how to fight, was still clumsy in that regard. It would have been easy to just kick her out, but she was accepted. That was the leader''s choice. Jaxen didn''t think much of it. He thought she would die soon, but she stubbornly survived. That was his only observation. Enkrid examined Dunbakel''s face, shoulders, chest, stomach, and thighs. He even pressed on the wounded areas with his hands. "It''s troublesome to do it here." Dunbakel spoke with the typical mindset of a beast-woman. Just because her reproductive instincts were strong didn''t mean she had no sense of modesty. This was a place with many eyes watching. It would be uncomfortable to be exposed and do anything, but the place itself didn''t matter much. She could do what she needed to standing up. "You stupid beast. He''s just gauging whether he should send you back like this." Rem, quick-witted as ever, scolded from the side. Dunbakel wasn''t embarrassed. She was only disappointed. "Come with me. The wound won''t worsen." Dunbakel spoke first. There were some useful herbs in this forest. It wasn''t called the "Grateful Forest" for nothing. Dunbakel had found a herb called "ground bean" or "silk herb," which, when crushed or cut, released a white sap. Applying that sap to a wound prevented infection. It was one of the things she had learned as a mercenary. She had already treated the wound by this point. The sap had dried on the wound, turning into white powder that fell away. "If you think you''re going to die, ask Rem to carry you." Enkrid spoke, and Dunbakel frowned while Rem laughed. "Try it. I''ll chop your legs off with an axe." Of course, that was just a joke. Enkrid resumed walking. "Do we really have to?" Jaxen asked. He followed without speaking, but was wondering if there was a reason to return to that remark. If they were planning to return to the territory, they wouldn''t have bothered with Dunbakel''s wounds, so it wasn''t hard to guess Enkrid''s destination. "It''s bothering me." Enkrid replied. There was no need to follow; this was especially just a matter of his own whims. They could have ended things if they simply returned to the territory. ''Why?'' Enkrid asked himself, but there was no answer. It was a decision based on emotion, not reason. "You can go ahead." "No, I''m fine." Jaxen didn''t argue anymore, and when Rem saw him, he mischievously teased him, saying he seemed like a hungry wild cat who should go catch a few dead rats. Jaxen ignored him. Dunbakel didn''t need to be supported. Though she wasn''t as large as a giant, beastwomen were also physically strong. She wasn''t limping. "A wandering Theresa." Hadn''t they not even exchanged greetings until now? The newly born hybrid giantess immediately spoke her name, and Dunbakel looked up at the much taller female giant before speaking. "Don''t you know my name?" "I do." "Then that''s enough." Both of them belonged to Enkrid''s group, and that was enough to understand. Theresa understood as well. The group then returned to the place where the wild horses had been. The wild horse was still there. Thud. The horse made a sound when it saw Enkrid, as if pleased. How many days would it have waited if they had just gone back? "Did you wait?" Thud. "Yeah, what''s going on?" Thud. "Hm. You want me to follow?" The wild horse turned its head and wagged its tail, signaling. After watching that for a moment, Dunbakel spoke carefully. "Are you now talking to horses?" For a moment, no one spoke. It certainly looked that way to all of them. "Do you see it like that too?" Rem asked in an unusually serious tone. Jaxen also frowned. ''Everything''s fine, but why is he talking to beasts? There''s a difference between communication and conversation.'' "Haha, they say everything in the world is connected, so there''s no difference." Audin chuckled and murmured something cryptic. Dunbakel decided to trust and follow along, accepting it as it was. In fact, she herself thought she might try talking to a horse sometime in the future. Wasn''t he doing what he wanted and walking the path he chose? "Hmm." Having been both killed and revived by him, Theresa took everything calmly. Talking to a horse wasn''t something to criticize. "Right, so we''re going there?" Enkrid was not one to care about others'' opinions. He moved based on the horse''s gestures. The group followed behind the wild horse, which stomped its hooves on the ground. Dozens of wild horses, which had been further away, began to follow them as well. If someone were watching from afar, it would certainly look like a strange sight. As they walked, the path descended. Though there were always differences in elevation, this was a particularly steep decline. From the forest''s edge, it was a cleverly hidden deppresion that was barely visible. What should this land be called? There were no mountains, just a sunken terrain. A plain basin? It seemed as if a colossal god had dug the land with his hands. But the strange geography wasn''t the only odd thing. Enkrid, distracted by random thoughts, noticed traces of something not natural, but man-made. A gray stone wall. It was half-collapsed, with signs of age, and somehow, despite winter approaching, grapevines were tangled over it. Black grape berries were visible on the vines. "What is this?" Rem muttered. He seemed just as intrigued. A gentle warm breeze blew from inside the basin. It was actually a warm breeze. Something not easily found in the northern regions at this time of year. Enkrid picked a few grapes and put them in his mouth. They were sour but sweet. They were fine fruits. Wild horses also ate a few, and those who followed also popped some into their mouths. Dunbakel put a whole bunch in her mouth and chewed. She seemed hungry, as she chewed the seeds too. It was understandable. She had been hiding in the forest for three days. There was no proper camp setup. "Eat." Theresa pulled some jerky from her pack. Dunbakel ate a few more grapes and then took the jerky without saying thanks. "This place is suspicious." Enkrid muttered to himself. Or was it a question thrown toward the wild horse? Hee-ing. The wild horse neighed low and lowered its head, showing hostility. It wasn''t aimed at the group. It was facing forward. Sunlight was shining down below the basin, but there was a bluish glow inside the stone wall. The glow wasn''t just floating. Clatter. The bones of a skeleton soldier creaked with a unique noise. "A skeleton?" It was an undead soldier holding a rusty sword and shield. "A collapsed tomb, perhaps, brother?" Audin spoke as he surveyed the surroundings. "It seems like the ground collapsed, causing the tomb to fail in its purpose." Jaxen added. In the past, undead were sometimes placed to guard tombs. That''s what this looked like. A hidden tomb, one often noted in treasure hunters'' journals. Beyond the gray stone wall on the right, the glowing eyes of undead began to appear, increasing in number. The undead had rejected death and reversed the path of life. Enkrid casually counted the numbers. "One, two, three, four... seven?" The number wasn''t small, but it wasn''t particularly threatening either. These were the ones who had confronted the centaur colony head-on. Clatter! Clatter! The skeleton with glowing blue eyes rattled its jaw. Undead, especially low-tier ones, couldn''t speak. Only high-level undead could show intent or will through lingering thoughts. Well, there was no need to talk with monsters anyway. The undead, some holding rusty swords and shields, others with bone spears, and even skeletal hounds, moved forward. There were two skeletal hounds and five skeleton soldiers. Enkrid, staring at them, unsheathed his sword. Clink. Before Enkrid could act, a massive figure moved forward first. "I strike down those who have fallen and entered the path of reversal." Undead were targets that must be punished by priests or those devoted to gods. Audin moved forward, clasping his palms to his chest, then spreading his arms to the sides. Boom. A rusty sword swung at Audin, who dodged with a half-step, the sword slicing through the air. From the side, a rusty spear thrust toward him. To an average soldier, this might have been a dangerous moment, but not for Audin. He grabbed the spear''s shaft mid-air. At the same time, he swung his fist like a hammer, vertically, to the skull of the one who wielded the sword. Whoosh. Crack! Snap! With one blow, he split the skull in two, then grabbed the opposing spear and lifted its owner into the air before smashing him down. Crash! With a loud noise, the entire body of one skeleton shattered. "These bastards." Audin''s eyes glinted with intensity. There was no need for Enkrid to step in. In the blink of an eye, the seven skeletons were wiped out. "There''s more inside." Jaxen, with his keen senses, spoke. Enkrid felt something similar. It was a sensation reminiscent of when they had encountered magical traps before. Along with the ominous feeling, there was a strangely irritating smell in the air. Burnt smell? Another skeleton appeared before the group. It was holding a trident, and its body was burning. Whoosh! Even from more than ten steps away, the heat wave hit them. The intense warmth could be felt, and it made their skin feel hot. If they stayed a little longer, sweat would start to pour. "A burning skeleton?" Rem muttered. It was exactly that. Undead don''t feel pain, so this was possible. It was a monster under the effect of an unquenchable fire spell, its entire body burning. Hee-ing! The wild horse cried out when it saw the creature. It seemed to be saying that this was the reason they had come here. And that was true. The wild horse was the master of this land. The horse was reflecting on the past, specifically the threats it had faced when the land had collapsed. The wild horse had a duty to protect its herd. That''s why it had to eliminate this threat. Despite deciding to leave, the horse knew what it had to do, and it had come to ask for human help. ------------------------------------------------------------ Come back tomorrow for 3 more Chapters! For more Chapters or if you want to support me, visit Ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 251 - Unexpected Fortune Chapter 251 - 251 - Unexpected Fortune To the wild horse, the flaming skeleton was an unmanageable threat. That was why it sought help. And now, as fate would have it, the flaming skeleton was out of luck. Fwoooosh! A trident engulfed in flames in hand, with skeletal hounds and soldiers lined up behind it. Thirteen in total. Twelve, if the flaming skeleton itself wasn''t counted. "Corrupt and twisted." This was part of their misfortune. There was a devout soldier who couldn''t help but react violently at the sight of undead. Fwoosh! The flaming trident came down, and Audin deflected it with his palm. Flames briefly licked his hand, but Audin swung his arm in the air. Whoosh! The sound of wind accompanied his swing, and the fire on his hand extinguished, vanishing into thin air. It wasn''t magic, but rather a feat of physical power and speed. After diverting the flaming trident, Audin began smashing the approaching skeletons. A single punch turned a skeleton''s skull into shattered fragments. The skull broke into roughly sixteen pieces, scattering everywhere. "...That brute." Even Rem was impressed by Audin''s skill at extinguishing flames. Audin continued to crush every skeleton he encountered. He smashed skulls, shattered ribs, and even grabbed a skeleton soldier''s spine, ripping it out and swinging it like a club to destroy a skeletal hound''s skull. The flaming skeleton raised its trident high, aiming for Audin''s back. Ragna, who had been observing, suddenly stepped forward. With a single step, he unsheathed his sword and twisted his waist to swing. A mid-sword-draw slash. Ragna''s blade sliced cleanly through the skeleton''s neck. Its severed head fell to the ground, and as it fell, the flames around it disappeared. What remained was a charred, blackened skull rolling amidst vines and short grass. The skull came to rest against a jagged rock. Even without its head, the flaming skeleton continued to flail its arms and legs. "What a nuisance." Rem stepped forward, using his axe to dismantle the flaming skeleton''s limbs.He chopped, kicked, and broke it apart. The skeleton resisted, swinging its trident in a wide arc, as if in defiance. Despite being mere bones, its strength was formidable. Rem dodged the swings with a slight tilt of his head, then swung his axe upward from below. The axe blade gleamed as it severed the skeleton''s elbow joint, sending the trident flying through the air. The trident spun wildly, scattering embers. Enkrid shielded his eyes from the flying sparks with the back of his hand but instinctively reached out. The trident was falling straight toward him. He had two choices: dodge or catch it. The trident seemed to carry a will of its own, as if intentionally flying toward him. Trusting his intuition, Enkrid chose not to dodge and caught it. If it became too hot, he could always drop it or throw it away. He was confident he could do all this in an instant. Noticing that the flames on the trident didn''t spread to the surroundings, he calculated that the fire wasn''t the kind to burn indiscriminately. Of course, all these calculations were instinctual. Relying on his gut, Enkrid grabbed the trident without hesitation. Fwoosh! Thud! Surprisingly, it wasn''t as hot as he expected. It wasn''t scalding enough to make him drop it. Instead of heat, he heard a voice. "Burn!" "Turn to ash!" "Be consumed by fire!" "Die in flames!" In an instant, the life of a man bound to a cross-shaped stake and burned to death flashed through his mind. A man had been burned alive, accused of practicing magic. There had been betrayal by ignorant villagers and a lord who orchestrated it all. Was it a curse? No, it was something slightly different. "It''s similar to the sword Fel wields," Enkrid thought. It was a lingering grudge. That grudge had been infused into the weapon. The grudge that led to death transformed into human will. It resembled the concept of Will. Enkrid reflected on the man''s life, accepted his will¡ª And rejected it. He refused to burn to death. The trident''s curse dissipated, its grudge vanishing completely. Through sheer strength of will, the trident had been purified. Fwoosh! The flames on the trident extinguished abruptly. It was as if it had been dunked in cold water. Though oddly, no steam rose from it. In a sudden, almost anticlimactic moment, the flames simply went out. What on earth was happening? Audin was the only one who understood the full context of the situation. From the beginning, he recognized that the weapon was forged from deep grudges and resentment. He also understood that the flames seemingly engulfing the skeleton originated from the weapon itself. Audin had intended to both subdue and purify it, knowing it would require him to endure immense pain due to the divine energy he would have to unleash. Using divine power came with excruciating agony because of a restriction placed on him, but the weapon was too dangerous to leave unattended. "I might pass out," he thought. Purifying such a strong grudge might indeed take a toll on him, and enduring pain was not something entirely within his control. The ones who imposed the restriction on Audin had intended to render him completely incapable of using divine power, but Audin had chosen to defy them. So, he had resigned himself to the potential consequences, even if it meant fainting. In the meantime, he focused on handling other malevolent threats first. Yet, before he could act, Enkrid grabbed the trident, and the flames abruptly extinguished with a fwoosh. By then, the entire horde of skeletons had been dealt with. Theresa crushed a skull lying on the ground with her foot. The sound of bones crunching echoed in the sudden silence. Even the wild horse fell quiet, observing the scene. Amidst this stillness, it was Rem''s voice that broke the silence. "...Got sweaty palms, huh?" Putting out flames with sweat from his hands? A ridiculous notion. "Sometimes, your brain astounds me to no end," Jaxen commented with a hint of disbelief. As someone familiar with cursed artifacts, he couldn''t see this outcome as "normal." "What are you rambling about, you mad lynx?" Rem turned to Enkrid with a questioning look, silently demanding an explanation. "It said it wanted to burn me alive, so I said no." Was that an explanation? Seriously? Rem''s incredulous expression sought confirmation from the others. Ragna showed no interest, while Audin, already grasping the underlying principle, simply marveled. "How long has it been since he discovered Will, and he''s already this proficient?" Audin couldn''t help but be impressed. "Well, it worked out, didn''t it?" Jaxen remarked lightly. After all, when had anything Enkrid done ever been "normal"? Among this group, Jaxen was the only one who could claim to be remotely ordinary. "Damn," Rem muttered, grabbing the trident. "Let me see that." The lingering resentment within the trident reacted to Rem, attacking him with the same fiery curse: burn to death. Unlike with Enkrid, it didn''t show him any visions, merely striking with its remaining malice. But it was weak, a mere remnant of defiance. For a moment, flames seemed to flicker in Rem''s grasp before they abruptly fizzled out. "Huh?" Audin was surprised again. This time, it wasn''t sheer willpower suppressing the curse. "Looks like someone tampered with it. Can I use this?" Rem muttered, inspecting the weapon with a knowing expression. Enkrid didn''t ask for details¡ªwhat would be the point? "Sure," he replied indifferently. Having no particular attachment to weapons, Enkrid watched as Rem examined the trident carefully before chopping it in half with her axe. With a dull thud, the weapon''s handle was reduced to half its original length. Now, it resembled a hand axe, except for the sharp, spike-like tip at the end. While its weight distribution was suboptimal, it could still function as a makeshift weapon. "If I add a counterweight to the end of the handle, it''ll work." Rem nodded in agreement with Enkrid''s suggestion, appearing quite pleased with her modification. "Feels like I just hit the jackpot." He expressed her satisfaction, and Enkrid nodded in silent agreement. To reiterate, the skeletons here were truly unfortunate. Who were these people gathered here? The Madmen Unit. A group of brutal individuals capable of altering the course of any battlefield. Enkrid sheathed his sword with a shing and turned to the horse. "Is that all?" The horse hesitated. What were these humans? The skeletons had been a major threat! Then again, this was the same human who had plunged a blade into the skull of that fearsome centaur. The horse eventually nodded in submission. Neigh! It let out a cry of joy. "Good." Enkrid moved forward, scanning the area. Whose graveyard was this? It didn''t seem to belong to the impoverished, that much was clear. So what was it? The flaming trident and skeletons couldn''t possibly be all there was. Due to the skeletons and wild horses, there were no signs of grave robbers having visited. "Should we dig?" Enkrid suggested digging around the area, particularly near what appeared to be remnants of walls. "There are a few chests inside," Jaxen replied. So that''s what Jaxen had been up to while avoiding the fight¡ªscouting the area. "Typical sneaky wildcat," Rem remarked, half-praising him. Jaxen ignored him as usual, and the group began heading inside. The terrain was rough, likely from rain eroding the ground, snow melting, and drying under the sun. Sharp rocks protruding from the ground resembled natural traps. Not that any of it posed a problem for this group. "Let me show you something interesting." Rem paused mid-stride and swung his axe at the air. Whoosh. First, from top to bottom, then a second swing upward. The second swing was different. Fwoosh! Flames ignited along the blade of the axe. "Fire Axe Rem. How does that sound? My new nickname?" Fiddling with it for a while, it seemed he had figured out how to use it. "Sure." Enkrid nodded calmly. If he fought with that thing, he''d probably go from being a crazy axeman to a crazy fire axeman. Of course, he didn''t say it aloud. People always needed some encouragement, after all. "Heh, I like it. I like it a lot." As long as he was satisfied, that was what mattered. The group ignored him and continued deeper into the basin. The terrain gradually became easier to walk on, leading them to a stable plain. At the innermost point, the ground leveled out entirely. A faint warm breeze blew from somewhere, and they saw a partially open chest. Gentle warmth emanated from within. "Thermal stone? The Sun God''s Blessing? Oh Lord," Audin murmured. Enkrid concluded that whoever had built this tomb had an excess of gold to spare. "Pack it all up." Enkrid issued the order. Inside the chest, there wasn''t a single silver coin¡ªonly gold. Alongside the coins were artifacts worthy of the name. To start, there was the thermal stone referred to as the Sun God''s Blessing, and a peculiar bandage that felt like metallic fabric. "These are rare items," Jaxen remarked. Coming from him¡ªa man who typically reacted with indifference unless handling an assassin''s custom-forged dagger¡ªit was high praise. Meaning it truly was a precious item. Enkrid examined the thick, black bandage. It was about the width of a palm and not too long in length. Enough to wrap tightly around a torso if necessary. "This is made from the hide of a soft wild beast, treated through a special process, and designed to be worn as an inner garment. Think of it as a kind of under-armor," Jaxen explained. Apart from that, there wasn''t anything particularly noteworthy. A glowing stone was discovered, but since they all had excellent night vision, it didn''t draw much attention. Damaged boots and gloves were among the other items, as well as a few jewels and a journal. The contents of the journal were unremarkable¡ªfilled with fanciful tales of flying on a Pegasus and other implausible adventures. The writer had settled in this land, citing it as the hometown of a friend. The journal concluded with lines that suggested a life without roots, endlessly wandering without a home. A name was scrawled at the end, but then scratched out with charcoal. Enkrid felt that the person buried here¡ªthe author of the journal¡ªhad expressed their fulfillment through that act of erasure. The journal was filled with words that exuded a sense of achievement, marveling at the wonders of the world and the thrill of exploration. Enkrid found himself recognizing a kindred spirit in those words. A dreamer in pursuit of their aspirations. However, this person had achieved their goal, found satisfaction, and chosen to settle in their friend''s hometown. By erasing their name, they signified the end of their journey, a life fulfilled. "Is that romantic, or just foolish?" Romanticism and naivety often walked a fine line, after all. A swordsmanship instructor had once said something similar. Enkrid allowed himself a moment of reflection, drawing a parallel to his own life. But it was just a fleeting thought, unimportant in the grand scheme of things. The journal was kept; it struck a chord with him. Meanwhile, Jaxen inspected the surrounding walls and mechanisms but found no hidden features. There had been a time when he''d found himself trapped in such a place and obtained his current sword. But here, the sky above was open and unobstructed. The unusual layout suggested it had been intentionally designed to reveal the sky, even before the ground had collapsed. Perhaps this was why the chests and other contents had remained so well preserved. Neigh. The horse approached, and Enkrid placed a hand on its forehead. "All done here?" The sun was now setting, casting long shadows. Thanks to the thermal stone, the air wasn''t cold. It seemed this resting place had been designed as a refuge, with warmth emanating not only from the thermal stone but also from the remnants of the fiery skeletons. Jaxen pointed out strange symbols carved on the walls. "Such a perverse individual," Enkrid thought, recalling the journal. The journal even explained the creation of the skeletons. "Every adventure needs its challenges! Whoever finds this place should at least overcome this much! Then, enjoy my inheritance!" As far as inheritances went, it was nothing extraordinary. "Expensive, high-quality items, sure," Enkrid thought. "But where''s the legendary artifact or holy relic?" According to the journal, the rest of the adventurer''s possessions had been scattered across the continent, given away here and there. Oh, and apparently, this wasn''t their only tomb. "If you''re a true explorer, find my other tombs too." A strange man indeed, but Enkrid couldn''t help but feel his heart race at the thought of such a passionate pursuit of a dream. It was exhilarating. "We''ll rest here tonight and return tomorrow." The tomb served well as a resting place. Its unseasonable warmth seemed to encourage repose. The horse deserved some time to part with its herd, too. "Sounds good," Rem agreed, seeming content. In his left hand was the fire axe; in his right, the thermal stone. The thermal bandage was also a valuable item, but just that single stone could warm an entire tent. A high-ranking noble would pay a fortune for it. But none of them were particularly concerned about money. Enkrid had simply handed the stone to Rem, knowing how susceptible he was to the cold. Ragna remained disinterested, Audin began his prayers, and Jaxen sat silently with his eyes closed. Theresa and Dunbakel were equally indifferent to financial matters. Their thoughts were preoccupied with their transformed lives and uncertain futures. Night fell, and without a campfire, they lay beneath the open sky. Starlight poured into the tomb, creating a breathtakingly surreal scene. It was a night unlike any Enkrid had ever seen. Lying under a blanket of stars, he felt the subtle warmth envelop him as he closed his eyes. In his dreams, he met the Ferryman once again. As always, the Ferryman mocked him, lacing his words with biting sarcasm. "You really do keep the company of fools around." Enkrid wondered if that was meant as a compliment. The dream was fleeting. Chapter 252 - The Horse Thought This to Itself. Chapter 252 - 252 - The Horse Thought This to Itself. After Enkrid and his group departed, Torres heard a feral scream echoing from the forest. "Shouldn''t we send reinforcements?" A clueless soldier asked, to which Hyo-wun, a guard standing nearby, responded in his stead. "Reinforcements? Those four could probably roast an entire domain for breakfast." Hyo-wun, a swordsman with strong pride stemming from his Northern roots, spoke with certainty. Even Torres agreed with his assessment. "Leave them be. They''ll handle it." Who was really supposed to worry about whom? Torres instructed his soldiers to gather centaur sinews and intact beast hides, while the remaining corpses were burned. How many have we lost? Several dozen had died in the previous battles, and Torres himself had narrowly escaped death during the first skirmish. Zimmer had nearly been killed as well. It had been a crisis of immense proportions, one where Torres had even considered desertion. He had voiced his concerns directly: "Lord Commander¡ªno, my lord¡ªif we stay here, we''re finished. Barricading ourselves inside the castle won''t hold for long." The fortress had towers, but no moat. When the centaurs came charging in with their massive wooden clubs, tearing trees apart to forge their weapons, the walls shook relentlessly. What if the reinforcements didn''t arrive? "And if we abandon the walls, do you have a solution?" The lord of the castle had asked, challenging him. Torres had none. Outside was even deadlier. The creatures, centaurs by name, were relentless. Evading them was harder than holding the walls. Trapped on all sides. All they could do was send out a request for reinforcements. This centaur colony, led by an extraordinary leader, inspired bone-deep terror. When its leader howled, soldiers faltered. Some even wet themselves. Yet this seemingly hopeless situation had been resolved by fewer than ten people. Fwoosh! Crackle, crackle. Among the carnage of beasts and monsters, there were three casualties. One soldier had misstepped and been crushed under a beast''s foot. Two others, eager to demonstrate the bravery of the East, had charged ahead recklessly and met their end. Only three dead. The number of beasts and monsters slain? Too many to count. Over two hundred, at the very least. The Madmen Unit wasn''t solely responsible for this staggering victory. They were the cutting edge of the assault, shredding through the enemy like a singular, devastating blade. But the remaining monsters had been dispatched by the rest of the soldiers. The sky was overcast, threatening snow. After a grueling day of cleaning up the battlefield and taking brief, restless naps, Torres, while wandering, spotted the returning group passing through the fortress gates. It was drizzling¡ªsoon to turn into sleet with the dropping temperature. Having risen early to oversee the aftermath of the battle, Torres could finally smile. It was a day to be thankful for survival and to rejoice in victory. The ones who had delivered that triumph were now back. Enkrid and the Madmen Unit walked in with the hazy sunlight at their backs. The heat of battle had long dissipated, but their presence still carried a weight that silenced all. "Colony Slayers," someone murmured, breaking the stillness. A soldier by the gates repeated the phrase louder, and soon the crowd joined in a thunderous chant: "Colony Slayers!" "Long live the Madmen Unit!" "Woohoo!" "They''re amazing!" "Marry me!" "Gods! Thank you!" Relief, victory, and admiration for the overwhelming power displayed combined in a raucous cheer. As the drizzle turned to frost, Torres watched Enkrid''s approach. Behind him trailed a wild horse emanating a strange energy, and his team carried crates and the glaive of the colony leader, which now rested in Rem''s hands. But none of that mattered. Torres straightened, placed his feet together, and pressed a hand to his waist in a salute. Bowing his head, he expressed his gratitude for their salvation and the defense of the castle. Enkrid acknowledged him with a mere nod before walking past. Behind him, Rem spoke up. "Hey, know any decent blacksmiths?" "There''s a dwarf working near the outskirts of the market." "Great." Rem walked on, followed by the rest of the unit, who paid no heed to the cheers that echoed around them. The raucous gratitude of the soldiers couldn''t hold them back. *** "They said there''s a dwarf?" A master of metallurgy, smelting, crafting, and skill¡ªrenowned as the epitome of artisanship. Of course, not every dwarf is a master blacksmith. Elves have their own superior metallurgy, and among humans, there are exceptional craftsmen as well. However, on average, dwarves are known for their superior and fundamentally exceptional smithing and metallurgy skills. So when a dwarf wandered into a human domain, it naturally piqued interest. Especially when such a craftsman was currently needed. Though dwarves were infamous for their steep demands, no one here hesitated to pour out kronas in exchange for weapons. In fact, many thought it better to spend some gold for a quality sword. For those who live and die by the blade, a good weapon was like an extra arm, and sturdy armor was another life. Even Enkrid felt the absence of a blade on his right hip. "It wouldn''t hurt to have another sword," he thought. A sword forged by a dwarf would undoubtedly be worth having. He had grown used to cobbling together armor from whatever he could find, and he had just acquired an inner layer made from beast-hide, wound tightly like a bandage. As they entered the fortress, Lord Martai himself came to express his gratitude. "Thanks to you," he said. "No need to mention it," Enkrid replied, observing the courtesies. After advising them to rest, the lord left. "We don''t have private rooms here. This place is just as barren as the border garrisons," Torres remarked as he followed behind. Their assigned quarters turned out to be a shared room with eight simple beds lined up in a row. Just as Torres said, the place was desolate. Apart from the beds, there wasn''t a single piece of furniture. The room had no purpose other than sleeping. "Shall we stake it here?" A soldier skilled in handling horses approached, eyeing the wild horse cautiously. The horse snorted. It seemed to understand it was the subject of discussion, shaking its head. "Leave it," Enkrid said casually. He had brought the horse along on a whim, and it had followed. That was all there was to it. If the horse wanted to leave, he would let it go. Of course, the horse had no intention of leaving. With its blood tainted by a monster, it was now half-beast. Its herd instinctively avoided it, sensing the fearsome presence of the monster''s blood. For the same reason, it couldn''t enter the stables. As a result, the wild horse had to leave its home. It was the only way for the rest of the herd to live safely. As the herd''s leader, this was its duty. It had even helped dispose of the burning skull as a final act. Although, technically, the human before it had finished the job. Just as Enkrid felt an inexplicable closeness to the horse, the horse also felt a peculiar connection to him. This was what the world called bonding. "Good work. Rest," Enkrid said. The horse neighed softly, as if understanding. Watching this interaction, Rem stared quietly before speaking up. "Hey, is there any chance that thing turns into a human too?" "It doesn''t," Enkrid replied firmly. Unlike Esther, he instinctively knew this for certain. "Don''t be so sure. Who would''ve guessed the leopard could turn human?" Rem teased, but no one paid him any mind. While unpacking and sorting through their crates, Krais returned. "What is that thing?" He had been busy even here in Martai, running around with a constant air of urgency. Now, seeing the wild horse standing idly outside their quarters, he couldn''t take his eyes off it. "It''s a horse," Enkrid answered plainly. Krais, looking skeptical, asked again, "Does it turn into a human too?" He wasn''t entirely unreasonable¡ªafter all, Esther''s transformation had set a precedent. "It''s male. And just so you know, if you try to check from behind, you''ll get your skull bashed in," Enkrid warned. While Esther had been fierce, this wild horse carried monster blood. If Krais wasn''t careful, he might end up with hoof prints on his chest. "Do I look like Rem to you?" Krais retorted indignantly. "Did anyone call you an idiot?" "What I mean is, I don''t go around checking a horse''s balls from behind," Krais clarified. "I was just giving you a heads-up." Enkrid shrugged. With Krais being as peculiar as he was, it didn''t hurt to warn him. "Do you even realize I''m right here listening to all this?" "Yeah." As soon as Rem voiced his complaint, Krais got smacked by him on the head. Thwack! "Argh!" Considering the ridiculous conversation that had just transpired, Krais accepted the blow without protest. After rubbing the back of his head a few times, the conversation moved on. To be precise, Krais''s attention shifted to something inside the quarters as soon as they entered. A scent lingered in the air. The scent of jewels. "What''s in those chests?" "Gems," Enkrid answered. Krais''s eyes immediately sparkled with interest. As always, humans had a strange talent for turning their eyes into golden coins at the mere mention of wealth. Opening the chests one by one, Krais let out a whistle. "There''s quite a haul here." "Did you see the dwarf that came into the village?" Ragna, who had been watching Krais examine the gems and coins, asked. Hmm? Did Ragna have an interest as well? Was he perhaps tired of using scavenged swords? While mulling over this thought, Enkrid watched as Krais replied, "Oh, I was just about to mention that. It really is a dwarf. I''ve never seen one before, but they''re quite... pretty?" Pretty? What did he mean by that? To confirm, he''d have to see for himself. After spending the late afternoon unpacking and loosening up his body using the Isolation technique, Enkrid decided to visit the estate tomorrow. More accurately, his goal was to meet the dwarven blacksmith. After eating dinner, Enkrid closed his eyes. It was time to do what he always did: reflect. "What if I hadn''t missed at the start?" Because he had let the monster leader slip away, he had to chase it. During the pursuit, he experienced an uncanny focus. He had always combined concentration with Sense of Evasion, but the moment he hurled his sword at the leader''s head felt different. Was it Will at work? No, it wasn''t. He now understood what Will was. It was a force rooted in willpower, an intangible strength. A mysterious phenomenon, difficult to explain in human terms. While it bore some resemblance to magic or sorcery, it was a power confined to individuals. It manifested in those who trained their bodies, wielded weapons, or turned their fists into their weapons. So, no. What Enkrid felt when he struck the monster leader¡ªwhen he hurled his sword at its skull¡ªwas something crushed, fused, and unified. He had seen what he needed to do next, and it felt as though his senses had merged into a new form. "It''s called Sense Arts," he remembered Jaxen explaining during training. The countless sparring sessions with Fel, his prior experiences, the insights gained through life, mindset, and even the rejection he had honed through Will¡ª It all came together to create that moment. "There''s no need to separate the sixth sense and evasion. It''s simply Sense Arts," Jaxen had said. Damn Jaxen. His explanations were as convoluted as Rem''s. At the time, none of it made sense. Enkrid closed his eyes, merging his senses. He stepped into the realm of the sixth sense. Without dividing them, his senses allowed him to hear, see, and feel. Half-opening his eyes, he looked ahead. He saw Audin, praying. "May he follow the will of the Father. Watch over the lamb, that it may not lose its way." A prayer for Ragna? That wasn''t important. What mattered was that Enkrid felt as though he had opened a third eye. Despite Audin''s thick tunic and wide cloak, Enkrid sensed his body beneath. The firm muscles, the bursting strength, the unwavering posture even in prayer¡ª Audin''s body was something perfected. The realization that struck Enkrid came naturally. Without realizing it, he slightly parted his lips, lost in thought. Through the Isolation technique, he saw a new path forward. The path revealed by merging his senses. "Without training the body, none of this matters." Everything starts with the body. It was an unexpected realization, yet also something he had always known. To reaffirm what he already understood was, in its way, another form of insight. Enkrid decided on the direction of his physical training. Of course, he would need Audin''s help. Rem, watching this moment of realization, muttered, "Hey, didn''t someone say there''s a temple in Martai?" Beside him, Krais¡ªpolishing a gem¡ªanswered, "Yes, there is. It''s smaller than a shrine, but there''s definitely a priest. Though the rumors about it aren''t great." "That guy is definitely broken, should we send him?" Rem murmured. Krais glanced at Enkrid. With his mouth half-open and drooling, he didn''t exactly look normal. "That''s just how he always is," Krais said. It wasn''t the first time they had seen him like this. While no one else paid much attention, Dunbakel made a bold decision. Mimicking Enkrid, she parted her lips halfway and tried drooling. From now on, she would learn and follow everything Enkrid did. As her first step, she intended to discover why he behaved as he did by copying it herself. "Should I bash your head in? Why are you copying him?" Rem scolded, but Dunbakel remained steadfast in her drooling. She was certainly mad. The door to the quarters was half-open, and the wild horse peeked inside. For a moment, it deliberated. "Should I leave?" Should it take this chance to slip away? It hadn''t responded to Enkrid''s words by chance. Even before the monster blood, the horse had been exceptionally intelligent and discerning. It knew this was the moment to decide. If it were to leave, it had to be now. The horse thought this to itself. Chapter 253 - A Night of Stimulation Chapter 253 - 253 - A Night of Stimulation 253. A Night of Stimulation If you''ve had a realization, act on it immediately. "If even the smallest clue comes to mind, act on it right away. If you delay, you''ll lose it. And once it''s lost, it''s no longer yours. Lost things disappear forever. Even the slightest epiphany should be engraved into your body through action." It was a brief lesson, as Enkrid remembered. The lesson came from a fencing school near the gateway to the southern continent. The instructor was a dark-skinned man. Following this wisdom, Enkrid rose immediately. It didn''t matter what he had done earlier that day, whether it was time for rest or anything else¡ªit held no significance to him. He stepped outside, where the sun had long set. The sleet had ceased, leaving the ground wet and mushy. Beside him, a torch on a nearby post illuminated the surroundings with flickering flames. Whoosh. The wild horse Enkrid had rescued watched him silently. Passing by the horse without a word, Enkrid began moving his body in front of the barracks. "What muscles are critical for wielding a sword?" The entire body is crucial. The forearm muscles influence grip strength, while a solid core serves as the foundation for generating centrifugal force in a strike. "When slicing through fire..." His thoughts reached the moment when he had cleaved through flames. A spell cast through a scroll¡ªan astonishing and mysterious feat¡ªbut the only reality before him had been a fireball heading his way. He recalled his movements in that instant. He swung his sword perpendicular to the ground. The back. In his mind, Enkrid dissected his body, breaking down its muscles and scattering them into fragments. He merged his senses into one intuitive realm, then used this unifying observation to fuel his training. Enkrid mimicked the motion of splitting firewood. It was the movement he needed at that moment. Simultaneously, he analyzed how his muscles worked. This was the beginning of transformation, the foundation of progress, the cornerstone of something new. Inside the barracks, a few observers watched. Members of the Madmen Unit. Dunbakel slurped the drool back into her mouth, stood up, and thought, If I copy him, perhaps I''ll understand. "Don''t, Sister. You''ll ruin your body," Audin said, stepping in to stop her. Audin moved forward, watching the man acting wildly under the moonlight with a mix of curiosity and amazement. Why does the Lord grant me such joy through this sinner? Audin whispered to his god, his father, as he approached. What Enkrid was doing wasn''t about following instructions or seeking guidance from others. It was the pursuit of self-driven discovery. Through observing and understanding the deficiencies in his body, he was forging his path to improvement. How could such a sight not bring joy? Although Audin had taught the Isolation Technique to countless individuals¡ªor simpler, less effective versions of it¡ªno one had reached this realm. It was rare to find those who found delight in mastering the technique, let alone improving it. "Weight, balance, breathe deeply into your diaphragm. If your core wavers, everything else is useless, Brother," Audin advised, standing beside Enkrid. Enkrid absorbed Audin''s guidance. What had been mere habit and inertia yesterday transformed into purposeful navigation today. Like a sailor who had finally found his direction, he was ready to row his small boat properly. Audin couldn''t suppress his laughter as he taught, his joy audible enough to draw the attention of nearby soldiers. They turned to look, their pupils quivering with confusion. "What''s wrong with him?" "Didn''t he just get back today?" "Why is he dancing with a rock in his hands?" "So, the ''Madmen Unit'' isn''t just insanely good at fighting¡ªthey''re literally insane?" Such whispers passed among the onlookers, for to them, Enkrid''s behavior was far from normal. Inside the barracks, Rem quietly shut the door. "You''re letting the cold air in." Dunbakel was disappointed. She had wanted to observe Enkrid''s actions further. "Just ignore it. Pretend you didn''t see anything. Why is he doing this in the dead of night? It''s embarrassing to even look at," Rem grumbled. No one responded to his remarks. It was their nature to remain indifferent. Unable to suppress her curiosity, Dunbakel stepped outside. Rem didn''t bother stopping her. In truth, he was preoccupied with his own thoughts. What kind of man does this? He enters battles and emerges victorious. He doesn''t gloat over his absurd strength or revel in others'' praise. Even the cheers of those he''s saved barely register with him. A spell-infused axe doesn''t tempt him, nor do gold coins or gemstones. Then, after meditating until his eyes glaze over and drool drips from his lips, he runs outside to do this. Is that normal? No, it wasn''t. But that very abnormality stirred something in Rem as well. After all, hadn''t a flame-wreathed axe fallen into his hands just recently? It was undoubtedly an item imbued with magic. That made it manageable. Though some resentment lingered in the axe, Enkrid had erased it. Rem reflected on what he had left behind when he departed his tribe. Those were things he would have to reclaim someday. As his thoughts churned, he began to process the stimulus Enkrid had provided. Grasping the axe, Rem retreated into his own world. There are moments when physical training is paramount, but there are also times when refining and manifesting what one already possesses is key. For Rem, this was the latter. For Ragna, it was the former. He, too, couldn''t take his eyes off Enkrid. Even after Enkrid left, he stared blankly at the door, continuing even after Rem shut it. The same when Audin stepped out, and again when Dunbakel followed. Is this what it feels like? This sensation of blood boiling? In truth, if blood were to boil, a person would die. But that''s how it felt, nonetheless. Seated on the edge of his bed in the vast yet stifling barracks, Ragna felt his blood simmering, his heart pounding with urgency. It seemed to demand he grab his sword and train immediately. But he didn''t. The practice swords crafted back at Border Guard were of poor quality. Strength. Ragna was a genius, well aware of his shortcomings from early on. He had already grasped the methods of training but required proper tools to support him. Not things he would typically need, but¡ª Look at that man. He felt an inexplicable urge to show the world a person like Enkrid. How could one not be stirred after seeing such a figure? Even a laid-back genius like Ragna had been seized by urgency. The profound impression Enkrid left had led him down an unanticipated path. Ragna resolved to create the tools he needed. If he sought out a dwarven blacksmith, couldn''t he craft exactly what he desired? He yearned and aspired¡ªto move forward, beyond his current state. This was more than a desire to wield a sword; it was an intense stimulant, almost toxic. Like a forbidden mushroom or addictive drug, it set his heart and mind aflame, shaking him beyond his own will. Ragna wasn''t the only one affected. Even Teresa, her gaze obscured behind her mask, couldn''t stop her eyes from darting about. What was it that drove Enkrid to move as he did? The answer lay within her. The joy of battle. The instinct to fight, the blood of a giant stirring within her veins. Teresa kicked open the door and stepped out. She felt she wouldn''t be able to sleep without sparring with that man at least once. A sudden duel under the moonlight¡ªit hardly mattered if it was appropriate. Thus, Teresa slammed the door open and left. What''s her deal now? Krais, who had been examining jewels and other items, lifted his head. Everyone here was far from normal. Through the open door, he saw Enkrid, Audin, and Dunbakel outside. Dunbakel appeared to have paused in a half-crouch, listening to a few words from Audin. Whenever she faltered slightly, Audin chuckled and grabbed her shoulder with his palm, pulling her upright. "That hurts!" Dunbakel exclaimed. Pain, after all, had a way of forcing words out immediately. "It''s supposed to hurt, Sister. So fix your posture," Audin replied. Nearby, Teresa muttered something under her breath, though it wasn''t audible. A few soldiers watched the scene with sidelong glances, while the wild horse observed indifferently. Krais felt a twinge of concern but brushed it aside. In his hand was an expensive ruby nicknamed "Red Flame." If I trade this properly, I could get several hundred gold coins. They had called it some explorer''s tomb, hadn''t they? And there were supposedly more like it on this continent? Maybe I should switch to treasure hunting. No, that''s madness. Even with a surplus of lives, it''s not worth it. Even the greatest swordsman could fall victim to a single misstep in a trap, ending up knocking on heaven''s gate or swimming in the rivers of hell. Better to stay here. Enkrid was a whirlwind of upheaval. Sticking close to a captain like him might mean encountering more tombs, but it would also lead to adventures of a similar kind. The Border Guard''s guild was already providing steady income, wasn''t it? Knees deep in gold coins¡ªthat''s the life I want Krais, his eyes practically transformed into gold coins, glanced outside and then spoke to Jaxen beside him. "Honestly, everyone here is just so strange, don''t you think?" It was a statement made without any awareness of himself. Normally, Jaxen would have ignored such a comment, brushed it off, or looked the other way. "Is that so," Jaxen replied unexpectedly. What''s up with him now? Krais turned his gaze to Jaxen, whose eyes burned with a similar intensity. Cold, yet hot. That''s what it felt like. Jaxen, too, had been stirred. "What do you seek from techniques meant for killing?" That was a question his mentor had once asked him. Why had he posed it back then? "You enjoy this too much. I''m not sure if I''m doing the right thing here. But hey, that''s not really my problem, is it?" The mentor''s words came back to him. A man broken in many ways, but honest in that moment. Jaxen had enjoyed learning techniques. Even perfecting skills meant for killing had been a source of joy. Yet, after engraving his mentor''s words, his life experiences, and his own goals, he had set that enjoyment aside. He hadn''t needed it anymore. But now, someone had dragged a long-buried desire violently to the surface. Ah. Jaxen felt his heart race as it had when he first held a sword. Desire and ambition fused into a stimulant, pushing him to wield his sword once more. Why not refine his techniques? Why not revisit every skill and push further through disciplined training? A hunger for growth roared within him. All of this was triggered by Enkrid running out under the moonlight. Though the barracks remained quiet, with everyone experiencing these changes internally, the transformation was undeniable. "Honestly." Krais shook his head and returned to his task. Thus, the night of stimulation passed, and by the next morning, Enkrid was up early again. Whereas he used to find joy in rejecting others, now he was obsessed with refining the Isolation Technique. Every movement felt like a unique form of stimulation. After finishing his morning training, the lord invited him to a meal. "Let''s go fill our stomachs." Enkrid led everyone there. "I need to thank you again, but seriously, what was last night all about? Why do something like that under the moonlight?" Even the lord, familiar with Enkrid, couldn''t help but comment on how peculiar the previous night had been. "It was a perfect night for training," Enkrid replied casually. Anything more detailed would be incomprehensible to them. Missing even the smallest thread was unacceptable to someone like him. It was about living life with purpose and direction, ensuring that his aspirations were always within reach. How could he possibly explain all that? "Fair enough," the lord conceded, giving up on understanding. Breakfast turned out to be a feast. Perfectly roasted lamb, marinated pork ribs, steamed catfish, butter and cheese, a mix of milk and watered-down wine, and clear water. The star of the meal was the bread. Its soft, white texture lived up to Martai''s reputation as the Land of Bread. "Unbelievable," even Rem admitted in admiration. "What about the blond?" The lord asked, referring to Ragna. "He''s not much of a morning person," Krais answered on his behalf. Enkrid didn''t seem to care, and the lord let it slide. After all, weren''t they all eccentrics? It wasn''t unusual for them to ignore a summons from someone like the lord. Resting and eating well were just as important as anything else. Enkrid ate and drank without pause, as did the rest of the unit. "They''ve got a good appetite," the lord remarked, offering thanks to the fighters who had protected his domain. He seemed to have gained a sense of gravitas since assuming the role of lord from his position as garrison commander. "Are you heading back this afternoon?" "No, we''ll stay a bit longer," Enkrid replied. He mentioned his intention to commission something from the dwarves, and the lord nodded in understanding. "The local folks might be a bit rough. Still, go easy on them, if you can." What did he mean by that? Enkrid, chewing on a mouthful of catfish, nodded indifferently. After the meal, they spent more time in training, the effects of the previous night''s stimulation still lingering. Only after sweating it out and washing up did they head to the estate''s marketplace, with Krais leading the way. "I already memorized the layout," Krais explained. A habit of his, always scouting escape routes and surroundings. Their first stop was a small tavern, despite Martai''s bustling marketplace being filled with narrow streets, throngs of people, newly built houses, and even domed buildings that turned out to be temples. Seeing one, Rem suggested cautiously, "Why not visit that place, Captain?" But Enkrid ignored him. Inside the tavern, Krais spoke up. "The bread here is a treat. They call it rusk, I think? Sprinkled with sugar and butter¡ªit''s amazing." He gave a thumbs-up to emphasize just how good it was. It wasn''t served at breakfast, but Krais was right¡ªit was exceptional. Though hard instead of soft, it was made by double-toasting bread, almost to the point of charring. Still, as long as it tasted good, that''s all that mattered. Their lunch consisted of rusk paired with well-cooked duck. At this point, it seemed like all they were doing was moving, eating, and drinking. Once lunch was finished, they planned to visit the dwarves. As they were eating, someone kicked open the tavern door and walked in. "What are you looking at? Bring me a plate of bread!" The man sat down and cast a long, deliberate look at Enkrid. From his glaring eyes to his mannerisms, it was obvious to anyone¡ªthis was a provocation. Chapter 254 - So You Want to Die Chapter 254 - 254 - So You Want to Die It''s a common saying among the people of the continent when speaking of Easterners: "They''re tough, unyielding, and stubborn to the core." Hans was one of those Easterners. And those among them who remained in Martai shared a certain mindset: "Let''s see how good you really are." This meant they bore resentment against the current lord of Martai. Hans was no exception. "Stopping the colony? Damn, isn''t this whole thing rigged?" Hans, with his deep experience in dice games, let his imagination run wild. Dice games, when tampered with, become games where only the same people win, don''t they? Back in the day, whenever Martai faced a threat, it was common to request support from the Eastern Mercenary King. But after losing a battle, the lord was killed. A new commander took over, and since then, the domain had fallen under the Border Guard''s control. Soon after, a major crisis hit the domain, and a handful of soldiers from the Border Guard supposedly defeated it. "Damn, nothing about this sits right." To Hans, the whole situation was as irritating as a dog''s anatomy. If monsters could be driven off by just a few soldiers, then how dangerous could they have been in the first place? Hans had not witnessed Enkrid''s battles. While others fought on the battlefield, he was drinking and sleeping, treating the domain''s safety as separate from his own. A divide had emerged¡ªsubtly yet clearly¡ªbetween the Easterners and the Continentals. Even so, those in the know understood what had truly happened. But Hans? He only heard what he wanted to hear. A textbook fool. His job was to lend out his fists and collect meager silver coins in return. "If it were me out there fighting," he thought, "Wouldn''t I have no trouble handling a few ghouls? And that so-called dog-headed beasts? Isn''t it just a mutt with a human face? One thrust of a spear and it''s over." Easterners, after all, were known for taking down lions with just a sword. The Mercenary King himself had done so at 18, killing a man-eating lion on the Eastern plains¡ªhis first legendary feat. "Must''ve been using some sort of artifact or tricks," muttered one of Hans'' drinking buddies, nudging him on. The man handed Hans a glass of wine. Hans took a sip. The sweet taste was almost like honey, warm and fiery. The slight dizziness quickly passed, but he clenched his jaw, unwilling to appear intoxicated. "Not bad, sweet but light," Hans remarked. "Good, isn''t it? It''s a fresh batch," replied the friend, grinning. Unaware of the subtle change in Hans'' movements, the conversation shifted to insults. "They say that guy''s got nothing but a pretty face. Women fall for him left and right." Hans'' blood boiled at the mention of Leni, the tavern keeper''s daughter¡ªsomeone he fancied. When Hans overheard that the so-called "Charming Commander" and his group were at her tavern, he decided it was time to act. "That bastard''s getting beaten today." Fuelled by liquid courage and wounded pride, Hans stormed into the tavern. The moment he saw Enkrid, his rage grew. What noble soldier looked like that? And then there was Leni, her eyes fixed on Enkrid, barely glancing away. Hans stood abruptly, his chair screeching and toppling over with a loud crash. Enkrid observed the scene with quiet amusement. "So this is trouble?" He exchanged a glance with Rem, who raised an eyebrow. Rem''s gaze then swept across their group¡ªAudin, Dunbakel, and Teresa. Anyone with a shred of common sense would think twice before picking a fight with this group. And yet, here was this man, fists clenched, reeking of bravado. Enkrid internally sighed. "What kind of idiot is this?" With a flicker of his heightened senses, Enkrid assessed Hans. It was clear the man had some training. His body showed signs of regular exertion, his muscles were decently developed, and there were habits in the way he placed his hands and shifted his feet when moving. Even the sequence of his motions when he shoved his chair back and stood up hinted at experience. After assessing everything, Enkrid subtly extended his left hand forward while sliding his right foot back. Anyone observant would recognize the intent behind Enkrid''s stance. However, his opponent showed no sign of comprehension¡ªnot even a flicker. Absolutely nothing. "Hey, don''t you think you''re acting a little too high and mighty in someone else''s territory?" the man snarled. "Should I kill him?" Dunbakel asked casually. Enkrid suddenly recalled the lord''s instructions: go easy. "I''ll take care of it," Enkrid said, rising to his feet. None of his companions paid much attention, but his opponent''s eyes turned bloodshot¡ªalarmingly so. They were now heavily congested with rage. Not that it mattered. "You bastard!" the man bellowed, charging at Enkrid. With fluidity and precision, Enkrid twisted his body sideways to evade the man''s punch, nudged his forearm, and lightly kicked his thigh. The entire sequence unfolded seamlessly, one movement blending into the next like a flowing stream. Even Rem and the others couldn''t help but admire the execution. It was a practical adaptation of Valah-style technique, utilizing its principles in a physical form¡ªa skill Enkrid had recently become enamored with. The assailant stumbled forward, nearly slamming his head into a table. Yet Enkrid, rather than letting him crash, caught the back of his neck and hoisted him upright. Bewildered, the man looked around, struggling to comprehend how things had escalated so quickly. Enkrid shoved him away, and the man staggered to his feet, seething with rage. "What... what the hell just happened?" he muttered, his anger intensifying further. Unable to restrain himself, the man reached for the knife at his waist. "If you draw that, you''re dead," Rem muttered, nonchalantly chewing on a piece of rusk. The sugar dusted around his lips made his warning oddly comical. But the words didn''t register with the man. All he could focus on was his overwhelming need to stab the smug bastard in front of him. By now, the rational part of his brain had completely shut down, and his fury spiraled out of control. Enkrid noticed something strange about his opponent''s behavior. As he considered whether to break a limb or two to put an end to this, a sharp snap echoed through the air. The man collapsed, knife still clutched in his hand, his eyes rolling back as he crumpled to the ground. Standing behind him, Jaxen grabbed the man''s limp body, flipped him over, and sniffed his open mouth. "What are you doing? Got some weird fetish?" Rem quipped. Ignoring the remark, Jaxen turned to Enkrid. "Someone drugged him," he stated flatly. "Drugged?" Jaxen elaborated, explaining that the man had been subjected to a concoction designed to impair judgment and induce a hypnotic state¡ªsomething that could leave permanent damage if improperly administered. A slow clap interrupted the conversation. "Impressive," a voice chimed. "To think you''d figure it out so quickly." The group turned to see a man approaching, his swagger accompanied by a jangling noise. He wore a leather water flask at his belt, two knives strapped to his right side, and a short sword that swung loosely from its scabbard on his left hip. Just from the way he walked, it was clear¡ªthis man was no amateur. Enkrid stared silently at the newcomer, scrutinizing him. The man''s sharp, rat-like features twitched with a nervous smile as he greeted them. "Hello there." No one replied. Even Rem, who rarely stayed silent, crossed his arms and simply watched with mild disdain. The sugary remnants on his lips did little to diminish the intensity of his presence, as if he might swing his unwieldy war axe or the pike he''d confiscated from a centaur chieftain at any moment. Enkrid could feel that Rem was poised for action. This could end quickly. "Who are you?" Jaxen finally broke the silence. The man spread his hands theatrically, pretending to deliberate before answering. "I''m here from Black Blade." The name drew immediate tension. Black Blade was a notorious band of thieves. Enkrid''s arms hung loosely at his sides. Nothing good had ever come from dealings with them. The man raised his hands defensively. "I''m not here to fight! I just came to deliver a message." The tavern''s staff and remaining patrons froze, watching nervously as the scene unfolded. "Have you ever considered switching sides?" the man asked, a sly grin creeping across his face. Enkrid''s brow furrowed. "So you''re asking to die?" "Now, now," the man stammered, "I''m here with the best intentions, I assure you! Black Blade doesn''t take no for an answer, you know. That little stunt with the drug? Consider it a small demonstration." The man gestured toward the unconscious Hans as if to punctuate his point. "It''s a genuine offer¡ªa great opportunity. Think it over," he urged, his tone growing more desperate. Enkrid''s gaze hardened. "So you''re really asking to die, huh?" Behind him, Rem let out a snort of laughter, clearly enjoying the predictable exchange. The man tried to maintain composure, though beads of sweat began forming on his brow. "Black Blade won''t give up. And Dunbakel¡ªdon''t you have some debts to settle?" He glanced at the beast-woman, his words laced with veiled threat. Dunbakel nodded calmly, her expression unreadable. For the first time, the messenger faltered. "This lunatic''s gotten even crazier," he thought grimly. Sighing, he tried again. "Listen, this is a golden opportunity. Dunbakel''s issues could be overlooked, and we can give you anything you want¡ªeven a place in the knight''s order if that''s your ambition." Enkrid remained expressionless, though the implication was clear¡ªBlack Blade had done their homework. The man''s smile turned sly. "Well? What do you say to that?" The man asked with his eyes. Enkrid spoke carefully. "Do you want to die? Or not? Why won''t you answer the question?" Pfft. It wasn''t until Rem chuckled for the second time that the messenger''s expression changed. These bastards... Should I really show them a taste? He moved his fingers subtly, in a way hidden from view. It was time for a few assassins on the roof to fall. Silence followed. Hmm? The man flicked his fingers a few more times, still keeping the motion hidden. Only then did something swoosh down from the roof. "Kyah!" A scream erupted from a waitress who witnessed it. Thud! Thud! Two corpses. Their necks had been pierced. Standing near them, a man with auburn hair spoke. "Seems like that''s all your tricks." Ah, damn it. What the hell is this? Everyone gets their turn, but how can top-class assassins be found and taken out so easily? The messenger''s face darkened further. "If you kill me, the Black Blade will..." Whoosh, thud! Swoop, crack! Bang! "Kyahhhh!" The messenger reached for a smoke bomb at his waist while speaking. But before he could act, Rem threw his axe without even taking a breath. His right hand moved so quickly it was barely visible. Enkrid''s enhanced senses caught every step of the process. The unbalanced, flame-less axe soared through the air, showing off its blade as it embedded itself in the man''s head. The force sent the Black Blade member''s legs flying up, his body crashing backward into the tavern wall before crumpling to the floor. That was all. The Black Blade''s messenger was now a corpse. Another scream erupted from the waitress, and Jaxen, unfazed, began rummaging through the man''s belongings with practiced ease. Folded pieces of paper, a leather pouch, a smoke bomb, poison, a knife¡ªthose were the items he found. Inside one neatly folded piece of paper was a strange powder. It seemed to be a drug that could enchant people. "Don''t be too alarmed. If you contact the garrison, they''ll come and clean this up," Enkrid said while still standing. To him, it was no more than a fly interrupting their meal. It was a commotion, sure, but nothing too serious. What stood out was Rem''s skillful axe throw and Jaxen''s precise movements. "Haha, seems like even the devil''s bandits are making moves, brother," Audin quipped carelessly, and the group moved on. Whatever schemes the Black Blade was plotting, their goal was to meet the dwarf. After all, that was the original purpose. The dwarf was sitting in a corner of the forge, eating wine, cheese, and bread. Clang! Clang! The sounds of metalwork and the heat seemed irrelevant as the dwarf dipped melted cheese with her fingers and licked them clean. Apparently, news traveled fast within the territory. By the time they returned from exploring the market, word of Enkrid''s actions had already spread far and wide. The dwarf looked around at the group and said, "You seem like you know how to fight." Her tone was cheeky. Enkrid studied her. How old could she be? Her kind often looked younger than they were, so it was possible she was older than him. But outwardly, she resembled a small girl of about fifteen. Of course, she wasn''t just any girl. She was a muscular youth with a neck that appeared thicker than his. Yet, her face was delicate and neat¡ªshe was rather pretty. Krais wasn''t lying when he said she was beautiful. Still, by conventional standards, it was hard to classify her as a true beauty. "Do you think that''s pretty?" Rem muttered with a note of disdain. The dwarf mumbled back, "I can hear you, grey-haired idiot." Her manner of speaking was fiery. And Rem was, well, Rem. The barbarian chuckled softly and asked Enkrid, "Thinking of getting a stuffed dwarf trophy? Looks like I just picked up a freshly dead one." ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 255 - What the Dwarf Sees Chapter 255 - 255 - What the Dwarf Sees "So, what do you want?" The dwarf ignored the barbarian, and Rem didn''t make a fuss, brushing it off as if it didn''t matter. From the first moment they spoke, it was clear¡ªthe dwarf''s words were sharp, but not meant in earnest. Enkrid took the opportunity to step in, speaking directly. "If you''ve got a good sword ready, I''d like to buy it." He didn''t beat around the bush. To be honest, he found her quite fascinating. Does she know how to fight? Probably not. His assessment was based on her posture, gestures, positioning, and general demeanor. "Alright." The dwarf wasn''t picky. She simply scanned Enkrid from head to toe. It was said that dwarves didn''t judge humans by their appearance. Even so, her gaze lingered on Enkrid''s face, refusing to leave. Watching from the side, Krais thought to himself: No way... is she smitten with him too? A faint sense of unease crept in. Everyone knew dwarves didn''t care about human beauty or ugliness. Instead, they judged refined inner qualities¡ªone''s eyes, attitude, and habits were indicators of their character. Free of outward bias or prejudice, dwarves possessed an innate ability to discern a person''s nature at a glance. Having roamed the continent for so long, this dwarf could read someone''s personality by observing the way they blinked or spoke. Though not magical, her innate abilities and experience allowed her to glimpse part of Enkrid''s inner self. It was vast, unyielding, and utterly beautiful. Just as metallurgy is about extracting and refining ore, and blacksmithing about heating and shaping metal, dwarves had eyes honed through years of working with stone and steel. To her, Enkrid appeared as a rock. But not just any rock¡ªabsolutely not. What is this? A rock that, despite endless chipping and grinding, refused to break. It didn''t erode or decay. A rock she couldn''t comprehend. For her, this was the first time seeing such a human¡ªor such an ore. It was utterly fascinating. And that fascination stirred her heart. Mystery, novelty, and the unknown were sure to pique any dwarf''s curiosity. "Hey, I''m not going to kill you, so fix up my axe," the barbarian chimed in arrogantly from the side. He casually handed over his axe, brimming with some sort of latent power. This bastard, didn''t he just threaten to kill me earlier? She judged he hadn''t meant it. Dwarves had an innate insight for distinguishing truth from lies. Still, she thought he was odd. Even if he wasn''t serious, he looked ready to swing his axe at the slightest provocation. Her eyes scanned him next. What''s with this one? He was like a self-igniting stone, burning everything around him¡ªa dawn fire. Anyone near him would either need to be just as sturdy or have someone shield them from his flames. And who was shielding him? Need it even be said? A rock that didn''t burn or decay. A rock with black hair and blue eyes. The dwarf''s gaze shifted across the group. Everyone else was just as peculiar. One seemed like Truesilver, refined for tens of thousands of hours. Another resembled Black Steel, a blade sharpened to an extreme edge. And then there was a grayish Ash Gold¡ªa rare metal said to only reveal itself after burning countless stones. Ash Gold was something even she had only glimpsed once in her life. No, all of them¡ªTruesilver, Black Steel, Ash Gold¡ªwere exceedingly rare and precious. And yet, here they all were, standing before her. She couldn''t help but wonder: What''s with these people? The dwarf''s eyes, unwavering and resolute, didn''t falter. Dwarves, with their steadfast wills, rarely showed surprise. Even against powerful magic affecting the mind, they were largely immune. The dwarf carefully examined them all. The most remarkable was still the rock¡ªa rock that didn''t wear down, decay, or shatter. It shielded the flames, enveloped the Truesilver, dispelled the darkness of the Black Steel, and even encompassed the Ash Gold. Each stood with their unique qualities on full display. It was truly fascinating. Curious, the dwarf finally asked, "What''s your name?" Enkrid guessed she was much older than she appeared¡ªher tone betrayed her age. "Enkrid," he replied. "Alright, give me your hand." When Enkrid obediently extended his hand, the dwarf inspected his calluses and knuckles with meticulous care. "Not bad. Looks like you''ve done a bit of everything." She wasn''t wrong. Enkrid thought to himself. His body bore the marks of countless skills he had trained. From Sense of Evasion and Heart of the Beast, to the Isolation technique and even swordsmanship derived from Healing Sword. When he thought about it, he''d dabbled in almost every form of swordsmanship. Recently, he had been immersed in Eugen Swordsmanship, honing his body further. Even without mentioning the mastery of Will, his body carried the weight of countless techniques. "Alright, I''ve got a decent sword lying around. I''ll adjust it and give it to you. And you," she said, turning to the barbarian, "your axe¡ªjust needs its handle and balance fixed, right? Why are you even carrying that? The steel''s good¡ªI''ll melt it down and make something better. As for you... hmm, looks like you don''t need anything. And the rest of you, hmm... right, Ash Gold." She pointed at Ragna. "What do you need?" Dwarves sure talked a lot, didn''t they? But within her torrent of words was the sharp insight unique to her kind. If Frogs admired talent, dwarves excelled in perception. With just a glance, she had pinpointed what each person in the group needed. Her nickname for Ragna felt odd, but since she was a dwarf, no one paid it much attention. "A long, thick sword with balanced weight," Ragna replied. He didn''t care what the dwarf said, only voicing his purpose clearly. His focus was unwavering. The same thing happened when the Black Blade Bandits showed up. It didn''t matter, so they were ignored. Instead, Jaxen took action. Rem remained as he always was. Audin simply kept smiling nonchalantly. The dwarf nodded. "Understood." Thus, it was decided that Enkrid''s sword and the flaming axe would be repaired, and the spiked lance used by the Centaur leader would be melted down and reforged. Additionally, the dwarf offered to craft a new sword for Ragna personally. Enkrid had heard that the dwarf was a picky craftsman, but seeing how accommodating she was, he realized that rumors couldn''t always be trusted. "Hey, didn''t you say even a single dagger for me was too much?" Krais spoke up from behind. "Well, you''re just... you know, not good enough. Giving you something I made feels like a waste. Just go grab some random human-made weapon." Wow, blatant discrimination. Krais muttered, genuinely looking hurt. He wasn''t someone who had ever been particularly attached to weapons, so it was puzzling why he was suddenly so fixated on getting a dagger. "Should I buy one for you?" Enkrid asked. "No, it''s fine." But why was he so hung up on it? "It''s just... been a long time since I''ve been rejected." "Rejected?" "Later." Krais said, and the dwarf chuckled. Cute kid¡ªher expression seemed to say so. "But to get all of this done, it''ll take about a week. Could be faster, though," the dwarf added. Enkrid glanced around the forge. Everyone who had been hammering metal had stopped, eyeing them cautiously. Two craftsmen were working, with metal arranged neatly along one wall and the furnace''s fire driving away the cold. The place wasn''t large, but the intense heat made it feel as though sweat might break out any moment. "Give them a few silver coins. You should pay for using the forge," the dwarf said again. Krais handed over a few silver coins. Enkrid added a few more after observing. There was no such thing as a "proper amount" when asking for a favor. Enkrid never held back on spending coins when it came to matters like this. Krais didn''t make a fuss about it either. With the money the commander had earned during this journey, they wouldn''t be lacking anything for a while. Not that they had been struggling before. The man who seemed to be the forge''s owner hesitated, then nodded. "Feel free to use it as you like." "And for the cost¡ªhey, big eyes, hand over that pouch of gems you''re carrying," the dwarf said, revealing his sharp insight by instantly guessing Krais''s nickname. "You want this?" Krais had kept a few precious gems with him, unable to leave them behind. "Yes. Hey, I''m giving you a discount." The dwarf''s tone was cheap and inconsistent, a hint of his age slipping through. "Give it to her," Enkrid said. Krais frowned but nodded reluctantly. Just as he was about to hand over the pouch, he paused and asked, "But how did you know I had this?" "What do you think a dwarf''s nose is for? I can smell the expensive stones reeking from you." So dwarves could detect that too? Not that it mattered. Enkrid didn''t dwell on it and moved on. It meant they would need to stay in this area for roughly a week. They returned to the market. The forge''s heat had warmed their bodies, so they didn''t feel the chill for a moment. But soon the cold air seeped back into them, though Rem still wore his usual smile. "I''ve decided to swear my love to this rock," he said. Thanks to the heat stone he was carrying. Well, no surprise, as he hated the cold intensely. Ragna silently walked on without paying much attention to the surroundings. "Do you need a decent sword? Suddenly?" Enkrid asked curiously. "Yes, I do." Though he was curious about the reason, he didn''t press further. Of course, it was because of Enkrid. What had the Night of Stimulation left them with? A drive and a desire to grow. They hadn''t achieved victory, but knowing that they could filled them with excitement. Ragna embraced it too. These were emotions and experiences he hadn''t felt before. In the past, achieving something had been so predictable it was dull. Now, it was the opposite. So, he needed a good sword¡ªone that suited his hands and body. He believed the dwarf''s craftsmanship would deliver. They continued to browse the market. It was smaller than the Border Guard''s market but still lively. This place was emerging as a trading hub connecting the East. Krais casually chatted with a few merchants here and there. Some spoke to him comfortably, having apparently become familiar with him at some point. Among the passersby, there were soldiers who recognized Enkrid and saluted him. They had seen him wield his sword and chase the Centaur leader. There were quite a few patrolling soldiers, moving in groups of three or four, seemingly focused on internal security. They bought a few white breads, as well as some with raisins baked in, and wandered around the market. While they were browsing, a young woman with a youthful face blocked their path. "I just... I just have to deliver the message. That''s all, just the message," she stammered, trembling with nerves. "What is it?" Krais asked gently, seemingly trying to calm her. "The Black Blade won''t let this go." Her anxious eyes scanned them nervously as she spoke, her legs shaking visibly with fear. "It''s okay. It''s okay," Krais reassured her and asked a few questions. Apparently, someone had approached her, tossed her two silver coins, and told her to deliver the message. She desperately needed the coins because her younger sibling was ill. Krais even asked for her name and handed her three additional silver coins. Save when needed, spend when necessary¡ªthat was the rule. "If anything happens around here, I''d appreciate it if you could let me know." With his characteristic smile, he reassured her and sent her on her way. After she left, Krais let out a heavy sigh, glanced toward the alley she had disappeared into, and said, "They don''t seem like they''re giving up. Shouldn''t we do something?" Krais asked. Without missing a beat, Enkrid replied. "Think about it." "...Pardon?" "I don''t know, so you figure it out," Enkrid said as if it were the most natural thing. Krais found himself noticing a change in his commander. Had he always been this good at delegating tasks? Before, it felt more like he would make requests. The shift in attitude was undeniable. This was appropriate, of course, for someone responsible for a unit. "If they come at us, just split their heads open," Rem said. "They''ll probably just send some pathetic assassins," added Jaxen. "Shall we ask the War God if it''s permissible to send such insolent ones to the afterlife?" Audin chimed in, his tone sharp. "I''m a wandering Teresa. Bandits? I''ll cut them down," Teresa declared. Enkrid''s gaze shifted to Dunbakel. "What''s this debt you owe?" "I borrowed about fifteen gold coins at the end," she replied. "Why?" Krais asked out of sheer curiosity. "To have some fun." Spending fifteen gold coins for fun? What, did she hire a male escort in the capital and indulge in lavish drinks and extravagant feasts? "All of it?" "Well, I spent two coins. The rest I gave away." "To whom?" Krais''s tone grew curt as he struggled to comprehend her casual use of borrowed funds, but Dunbakel didn''t seem bothered. To her kind, etiquette boiled down to not stealing another''s meal. "To kids on the street or orphanages raising children." She had spent the borrowed gold freely. Dunbakel, figuring she''d die anyway, had simply followed her heart. Of course, seeing abandoned children had resonated with her own past, but she wasn''t about to explain all that. Krais was baffled. "You borrowed gold from bandits and thought you''d just get away with it?" What kind of lunatic borrows fifteen gold coins for this? Her head could''ve been on the chopping block! "Well... yeah, I guess that''s true." She''s not normal either. The group headed to the marketplace. The atmosphere here was distinct from that of Border Guard. The goods, the people¡ªit all felt different. Some eyes lingered on Enkrid. With his striking features and presence, he drew attention wherever he went. In fact, it would''ve been stranger if he didn''t attract stares. None of the group paid attention to the market vendors, patrolling soldiers, wandering peddlers, or the occasional thug whose expression mirrored that of the fool they''d beaten earlier. "That looks like fur," Rem said, his gaze fixated on a pile of pelts. Enkrid''s attention was caught by leather trousers spread on a merchant''s mat. Audin bought a small wooden rabbit figurine from a young carver. The rabbit was recognizable, but barely, as the craftsmanship was rudimentary. As they wandered, three thugs approached. Would they try the same idiotic move as the last guy? Krais''s eyes gleamed with amusement. He was curious to see what these fools would attempt. But things didn''t go as he expected. Thud! The thug leader threw himself face-first onto the dirt in front of Enkrid. The bold motion left his clothes smeared with grime, but he didn''t seem to care. "That guy wasn''t one of us! He was some drifter, been freeloading in the region for about half a year. Went by the name Bento," he babbled. Who? Enkrid''s expression asked wordlessly. The thug scrambled to clarify, referring to the man from the tavern earlier. "Hans didn''t know anything either, so please forgive us! I''ll make sure to punish that guy myself!" His explanation was disjointed, but it showed loyalty. Enkrid gave a small nod. The man called Hans seemed to be the one who had been drugged and hypnotized into attacking him earlier. "Handle it yourself. And don''t kill," Enkrid said, brushing past him. "...What?" Ignoring the bewildered thug, Enkrid moved toward the leather trousers he had been eyeing. Rem picked up some furs. "Big Eyes, hand over a few gold coins!" "Don''t just buy things without bargaining!" Krais shouted as he dashed toward them. Audin casually addressed the thug leader. "What the Commander meant is, don''t let it happen again, buddy." With a bear-like hand, he tapped the thug''s shoulder. On the other side, Teresa did the same and added, "If you mess around, you''ll die." A short warning. And yet, the menace in her voice carried a weight that made the thug think she could snap his neck without hesitation. While Krais haggled, the rest of the group made their purchases. Dunbakel tried to get trousers similar to Enkrid''s, but when the vendor said there weren''t identical ones, she settled for the closest match. Of course, Krais negotiated to ensure they paid a fair price. After a day of thoroughly combing through the market, they returned to their lodging. There, a bald-headed man stood waiting outside their quarters. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 256 - How to Handle Fools (1) Chapter 256 - 256 - How to Handle Fools (1) "''The Lord who bestows radiance upon this land speaks thus,''" announced the bald-headed man. Enkrid tilted his head at the remark. "I am a servant of the Radiance," the man added. This meant he was a priest, one of those who replaced greetings with the words of their holy scripture. "What brings you here?" Enkrid asked. "I have come to bestow blessings," the priest replied with a serene smile. "A blessing out of the blue?" Enkrid mused silently. "Isn''t this the sort of thing one typically receives before a battle?" The priest, however, was undeterred and carried on with his sermon. "The hand of Radiance that protects this land has sent heroes to this domain. Ho ho ho!" Krais''s Krona''s finely attuned senses began to pick up on the priest''s intent. He had merged his advanced sense of smell into an instinctive ability, almost like a sixth sense, allowing him to discern the disposition of others. Or perhaps it was simply that this man wasn''t trying to hide anything. The priest rambled on, eventually claiming that the recent protection of the land was entirely thanks to his three days and nights of unceasing prayer. Rem paused as he adjusted her fur cloak, raising his head in disbelief. What did he just say? His face showed her incredulity. "Don''t," Enkrid said, cutting him off. Even Ragna, who had been heading into the lodging, stopped in his tracks. Enkrid noted the shift of weight onto Ragna''s left foot. The man''s unique sensitivity had been triggered. Enkrid raised a hand, palm out, toward Ragna. A clear signal to stop. While Rem might give some visible warning before acting rashly, Ragna was the type to act first, usually with fists flying. Of course, the most dangerous one here was Jaxen. That man could strike without warning, with chilling precision. "Nobody do anything," Enkrid said again. Though he felt the same irritation and anger as the others, he was the only one keeping his composure. They were, after all, in the heart of the domain, right in the middle of a military camp. Beating¡ªor worse, killing¡ªa priest here was not an option. Although... a little beating might not be too bad, he thought. "This is troublesome," Krais said, his voice cold. His tone suggested he wasn''t worried about the situation itself but rather pondering how to cover it up if the priest ended up dead. It wasn''t about Krona, nor about Krais''s aversion to unnecessary conflict. Krais had fought on battlefields. But if victory was due solely to prayer¡ªif survival came purely from divine intervention¡ªwhat did that mean for the soldiers who bled and fought for it? Enkrid reached a conclusion: This guy is an idiot. And the first rule of dealing with fools? Ignore them. The first step in avoiding filth is to steer clear of it. But contrary to expectations, someone typically passive stepped forward. Audin''s movement cast a long shadow across the plump priest in the late afternoon sun. "So, since victory came through prayer, are you asking for a victory offering?" Audin''s usual title of "Brother" was absent from his words. Enkrid knew Audin well. Though deeply religious and skilled in sacred arts, Audin kept these facets of himself private. He also avoided violence, even against corrupt priests or those driven by greed. This made his current actions all the more surprising. "Yes, precisely! For the temple, the domain, and its people. Make an offering, and I will ensure your generosity is widely praised," the priest replied. Enkrid understood the implication. A few gold coins, and they''d be praised. But praise was not something this group sought. "Since Radiance''s will is so lofty, what of the funerals for the fallen?" Audin asked suddenly. Enkrid hesitated, considering whether to stop him. "That will come in time," the priest said dismissively. His tone betrayed his disregard for the soldiers who had died. This was a world rife with monsters and beasts, a place where war threatened at every turn. The specter of another cataclysmic conflict like the Holy Demon War loomed over them. In that historic war, humanity and its allied races had suffered losses so vast that rivers of blood were said to have flowed, and mountains of corpses were left behind. Even now, the continent remained embroiled in chaos and strife. Life, though fragile, was no less valuable for it. A warlord might see their troops as mere numbers. A general might view them the same way. But should a priest? "You''ve brought many fine goods, haven''t you? Ho ho, if you make an offering in goodwill, blessings will follow," the priest said. There was not a shred of divinity in this man. The words "blessing" sounded more like "extortion." Audin looked at the priest. It was a common occurrence. There were plenty of idiots in the world, and this territory seemed to have more than its fair share. A fool, intoxicated by drugs and hypnosis. A fool belonging to a group called the Black Blades. And on top of that, a fool wearing the guise of a priest. "A common sight." Audin knew this wasn''t anything special. After all, how had he dealt with such people before? Even though there were no clergy in Border Guard, wandering priests occasionally appeared. Hadn''t they seen them committing robbery under the guise of collecting donations? Everyone had turned a blind eye. For a long time, the excommunicated priests had ignored every problem in sight, placing someone who was said to break through walls above them, someone who was called the limit. Recently, though, he had seen a human defy its fate. That human''s name was Enkrid. The words spoken before the one who defied fate were before Enkrid himself. A lot of thoughts flashed through his mind. It was the end of the thoughts he had concluded while watching Enkrid. Audin faced his own change. "Was I told to watch something wrong?" No, his father, the god, and his lord hadn''t asked him to do that. So Audin responded to the wrong, moving because his lord, who now resided within him, had steadied him. This priest was a fool. Enkrid knew it. It was the moment when he decided to ignore it and turn a blind eye. Whoosh. As the air shifted and something brushed against his sixth sense, Enkrid reacted. What if Rem couldn''t hold back and threw an axe? That would cause chaos. He reached out and tried to block it with his body. The one who moved was a person. And the one who moved slipped like a snake under the arm that Enkrid had stretched out, swinging their palm. Clap! There was no groan. No final cry. The one who moved was Audin. He had swung his palm, and it landed on the priest''s cheek. Enkrid turned his body. In that moment, Audin''s movement caught his keen senses, and he asked, "What was that?" "Snake steps," Audin answered. To anyone else, it would surely sound like a conversation between madmen. After satisfying his curiosity, Enkrid watched Audin''s actions. "Is he dead?" "Almost dead, I''d say." Rem responded to the question. Ragna, silently observing the situation, muttered under his breath as he looked at Audin. "Troublemaker." Jaxen then said flatly, "Was it really necessary?" Wouldn''t it have been easier to just sneak by without being seen? Finally, Rem looked at the priest, who was sprawled on the ground, wriggling, or more precisely, having been thrown a few steps to the side of his previous position. It didn''t seem like he was dead, but his body was trembling. "People should learn to endure a little," Rem muttered. Was that really something he should be saying? Enkrid, thinking this over, gestured to Krais, who moved in to check the priest''s breath. "Luckily... No, not exactly luckily. He''s breathing." His cheek was swelling red immediately, but he was alive. The fact that his eyeballs hadn''t popped out or exploded was fortunate. Now, the problem remained. Enkrid was the leader of the troublemaking squad. This kind of accident was familiar to him. "No, I think this is the first time I''ve hit a priest." There were no priests in Border Guard. It wasn''t because of any special reason, but more of a series of coincidences. The first commander had distanced himself from religion, and those who came after him followed his lead. Most recently, before Marcus came, the commander had despised the fat pigs who coveted their own portion. So, he hated the corrupt priests. Whether they had a strong sense of sacrifice or not, they were still receiving donations, and that alone made them disliked. The current battalion commander, Marcus, was the same. He believed in the gods and donated to temples. But when a temple tried to establish itself within his territory, he didn''t allow it. He would cut anything that didn''t benefit the territory. It was also strange that the priests who visited the territory seemed to only care about Krona. Sure, if someone were dispatched from the temple, a new temple could easily spring up, but so far, there had been no temples in Border Guard. But had this been the first time encountering such a fool? No, it hadn''t. The real question was why he had chosen to strike now. Enkrid, looking at Audin with this thought in mind, saw him clasp his hands together in front of his chest and said as if praying. "I have no regrets. It is merely that my lord commanded this, and I, as a servant, must follow." He meant that he wanted to hit him. Enkrid completely understood. "Let''s just kill him and bury him." Rem spoke. That didn''t make sense. There were already many eyes watching the commotion outside their lodging. Instead of responding to this meaningless question, Enkrid once again examined the priest. He was definitely not dead. Squatting down to inspect, one of the soldiers watching spoke. "...Why does it feel so refreshing?" "Right?" "Foolish pig." A few thoughtless soldiers snickered, and a smarter soldier called for their commander. The commander quickly arrived and, upon hearing the situation, immediately reported to the higher-ups. Soon, Zimmer appeared. "Let''s say it was me who hit him." "Hm?" Enkrid looked at Zimmer as if questioning him, and Zimmer spoke, his eyes gleaming. "I think it will be easier to deal with this if I take the blame instead of you." "Appreciate it, but..." "You are the heroes who defend this territory. Surely I can handle something like this." Zimmer spoke proudly. What happens when a priest is beaten? It would be reported to the higher-ups immediately. The temple would send someone to claim that their god had been disrespected, or use this as an excuse to extend their influence over the territory. If Border Guard and Marta were becoming a "trade territory," as they knew, the temple might try to bring some of their offerings here to claim a portion of the profits. But what about Zimmer, who had beaten the priest? He would suffer consequences in the form of fines or punishment. If things went wrong, it could become a bigger issue. If they pursued it, he might even be imprisoned. That''s what it meant to hit a priest sent to the territory. But Zimmer, in this case, would fare better than Audin. It was different when an outsider hit the priest compared to a conflict with someone they already knew. There was also the difference in influence within the territory. Enkrid scratched his temple thoughtfully. He looked at Audin, who was hiding his divinity. What troubled him the most was: "Should I really associate that bear-like person with a priest?" It didn''t seem like a good idea. He was hiding his divinity, staying in a territory without any priests. And he was part of a unit. He was a fugitive. Enkrid could sense that without being told. It was a clear problem. Whether he believed in heresy or had sinned against the temple¡ªboth could be true. "Everyone here will be a witness," Zimmer said confidently. He was from the East and was the commander of this territory. It wouldn''t be too hard to influence the divided group of soldiers. The soldiers from Border Guard were friendly to Enkrid, so there was no need to persuade them. "Let''s do that." Krais nudged Enkrid with his elbow. Enkrid decided to accept the offer. "Thank you." Zimmer nodded in response. He was the same bold character in battle, even after a defeat. "That settles it." Zimmer had a soldier carry the fallen priest inside. The next day, the priest, with his memory lost, started yelling and complaining. Enkrid happened to witness the scene during his morning routine in the barracks. "How dare you lay a hand on the servant of the gods? Do you think this will just be forgotten? The Radiance is watching! Huh? I''ll report this to the temple and make sure this is dealt with!" It was near the outer edge of the barracks, where the thick brush grew. Enkrid overheard the conversation and was relieved to find out the priest didn''t know it was Audin who had hit him. From the rest of the conversation, it seemed that Zimmer was even more bold and carefree than Enkrid had realized. "You won because of prayer? Damn, you pig." The priest''s words faltered. The once smooth tongue now stammered. "What? What did you just say?" The tremor in his voice was unmistakable¡ªhe was "scared," to put it simply. "Damn, have your ears gotten fat? How about I just cut that ear off?" Zimmer drew a dagger. The morning sun gleamed off the blade, making it sparkle. "Or maybe I should cut off the tongue that''s spewing nonsense?" Zimmer''s movements radiated menace, the kind of threat that felt like he might actually follow through. The priest hesitated to respond, but after a moment, he attempted one last defiance. "I''ll report this to the temple..." "If they hear it, you''ll end up as the midnight meal of a ghoul that suddenly attacks during a prayer. Or, maybe you''ll be a proud casualty from the battlefield in the previous centaur colony. You were charging into battle and got seriously wounded, couldn''t be treated, and died. Everyone would believe it was because you were a priest and tried to heal yourself with divine power." Not every priest could use divine power, but that was not something to boast about. The priest was silenced. It was a wonderfully bold scene, one that left a deep impression on Enkrid. It was also curious¡ªwhy was Zimmer the one making the threats? Surely, Enkrid could have done the same, but it would not have carried the same weight. Zimmer had the freedom to do so in this territory. It was an amusing thought¡ªZimmer, that Eastern man. Back at the barracks, Krais yawned and said, "Come to think of it, they''re kind of nice people." "Who?" Enkrid hadn''t broken his routine, preparing to go back out and practice with his sword before his sweat dried. He moved as usual. Krais answered from behind him. "The Black Blades." "...How are they nice?" "Heh, it''s getting chilly. Can''t you ask Rem for his fur coat?" "You think I won''t stick an axe blade into your neck if you''re wearing it?" "Even if the commander stops you?" "Absolutely." "Ah, I should''ve bought one myself." Krais talked like that, but it was clear he would never buy one. He was a tight-fisted man when it came to things like fur, especially regarding the Krona. "Let''s go. You''re going to swing that sword, right?" Krais spoke as they headed outside. The sun was warm, but the air was cold¡ªit was the drop in temperature that signaled the arrival of winter. Enkrid grabbed his sword and stepped outside. They had to stay here until the day the dwarf had promised, so for now, he focused on his training. Meanwhile, Krais mused about why the Black Blades were so "nice." Enkrid considered this, thinking that, since coming to Martaia, he had been encountering more fools and such groups than usual. Now that the Black Blades were drawing their swords, and the priest had been struck by Audin, it left him wondering how to deal with such people. The answer was simple. "Just beat them all." The answer was clear, but it was Krais who would now decide how to carry it out. Since Enkrid had given the command, Krais would follow it to the letter. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 257 - How to Handle Fools (2) Chapter 257 - 257 - How to Handle Fools (2) Krais followed Enkrid''s orders. "Find a way to deal with the Black Blades." That was the task. Krais thought hard, considering various possibilities. It was a given that the Black Blades would make a move. So, what would they do? Before that, how did Krais know they had such intentions? It was simple. They told him. And that was why they were being "nice people." "Or they could just be idiots." Though he leaned toward the latter, it didn''t really matter. "Think about it," Krais spoke as he walked toward the sunlit area, pulling his coat tighter to block out the cold morning air. Enkrid was practicing with his sword, swinging it this way and that. In Krais''s eyes, Enkrid looked like he was stirring a stew with a ladle, aimlessly waving the sword. "This time, they''re sending someone who isn''t even part of their group, telling us not to kill. I think these guys are actually pretty harmless, don''t you?" "Thieves?" "Or idiots." The enemy, in Krais''s eyes, was made up of friendly idiots. Despite this, Krais continued to entertain grim thoughts, influenced by his upbringing and nature. ''What if they send a knight?'' Would he be able to handle someone of that level? He glanced at Enkrid, still swinging his sword, then at the closed door of their barracks. The stone walls of the courtyard, made with gravel and plaster, stood between them and the dreary brown door. Inside, there were barbarians wrapped in furs and warming stones, a bear-like clergyman who had pummeled a priest yesterday , a troublesome man who wandered off on his own despite being hopelessly lost, a gangster with a habit of disappearing, a former cultist giant, and a former bandit, all within those walls. ''Could they deal with a knight?'' A fleeting hope entered Krais''s mind, but he immediately dismissed it. It was ridiculous. Knights were monsters, disasters waiting to happen. Krais shook his head. "So, what''s the plan?" Enkrid continued to move, making a few more attempts with his sword, trying different stances and footwork. To Krais, it looked like a dance¡ªa messy dance, like stirring stew. He watched his commander, lost in thought as his mind kept returning to unsettling possibilities, before he spoke. "We''ll do everything we can." That was the plan. The enemy had kindly informed them of their likely attack plans. ''If I were a thief...'' If Krais were the leader of the Black Blades, and if he wanted to kill them, what would he do? ''The commander is a knight who has mastered Will.'' Moreover, each of his subordinates was a monster. The dwarf had a sharp sense of insight, comparing people to metals. The fairy had an acute sensitivity, often likening their foes to animals and plants. And Krais, for his part, saw his comrades as gold coins. ''How many pieces?'' It was immeasurable. He couldn''t yet calculate their value in a way that made sense. They might be a group that seemed to cause more harm than good, but on the other hand... ''An unparalleled force.'' From an external viewpoint, they were clearly a formidable force to be reckoned with. Krais''s mind began to calculate the possibilities of what the Black Blades could do¡ªwhat they might try, or what they were highly likely to attempt next. "It can be assassination, ambush, poison, and bribery." Those were the four possibilities. Enkrid, though no fool, paused briefly, letting his sword come to a stop. His next move didn''t immediately follow the previous one. He had tried to mimic a snake step, but it hadn''t worked. "Most likely, the trouble will start on the way back." "And the plan?" The same question. Krais only had one request. "Do you think we could request reinforcements from Torres, or now from Colonel Torres? Would he lend us some troops?" "Probably." But there was something they couldn''t lend. The real issue was time. They couldn''t afford to leave the territory for too long. Enkrid didn''t need to point that out¡ªKrais already knew. Martaia was short on manpower. That''s why the mercenaries were being hired and converted into private soldiers. The plan was already in motion. They were about to take on something big this time. Krais was determined to pour all his energy into clearing out the monsters and beasts of the grateful forest area. Enkrid, in the midst of his training and battles with the colonies, pondered on what could be done to ensure the safety of the trade routes. ''What if we expand the border guard''s territory?'' It was a vague thought at first, and further contemplation was necessary. "Once we get the weapons from the dwarf, we''ll head back, right?" "As soon as we get them." There were no issues if that was the plan. "Understood." And so, Krais disappeared into the morning, leaving Enkrid with time for himself again. This time, it was time for the sword and for himself. Earlier that morning, Enkrid had practiced the Isolation technique with Audin. His words stuck with him. "Why do you train your body? Once you find that answer, the next question is ''how''¡ªand I believe I''ve already given you that answer." Audin was a good teacher. His advice was simple¡ªthink for yourself. He had already provided the foundation. Enkrid wasn''t foolish, nor was he slow. The real issue was that his body didn''t always cooperate as he wished. So, what about now? ''To move forward.'' He was ready for tomorrow, prepared to face it. His mindset hadn''t changed, but there was one thing different¡ªhe was more at ease than before. Enkrid swung his sword, even if it seemed pointless. It didn''t matter. This was his way of thinking. This was Enkrid''s meditation method. He immersed himself in his world. He sank into it, observing and contemplating everything with precision. He reflected on his past realizations. ''No one ever told me which swordsmanship to learn.'' Even Ragna, who had taught him two-handed swordsmanship, didn''t care what sword he wielded. Coincidentally, Ragna was now beside him, swinging a massive, heavy sword he had bought at the blacksmith shop earlier. There were no fancy moves¡ªjust a simple downward strike. The sunlight seemed to glint off the blunt edge of the sword. ''Cut and cut again.'' It didn''t matter what tried to block it. It would cut through. That was Ragna''s swordsmanship¡ªtwo-handed sword style. Enkrid recalled the techniques he had learned. The mercenary sword of Valen was the sword of the dawn. Unknown swordsmanship was the sword of truth. What he learned from Ragna was two-handed sword style. Then, he had learned the basics of one-handed swordsmanship from Ragna and practiced it alone, refining his technique. He had learned to observe, understand, and strike from his experience with the sword. ''No, I also learned this from Audin.'' Valah-style martial arts. Martial arts, after all, used hands, feet, and the body as weapons. It was the shortest weapon a human could wield. What, then, was the foundation of martial arts? To flow, to be fast, to be heavy, and to be light. Everything blended together. There was no simple division of it into offense and defense. Valah-style martial arts was a technique that embraced everything. It was the ideal form, perfected. However, it wasn''t swordsmanship. Still, elements of it could be added to his sword technique. With full concentration, Enkrid focused on refining his one-handed sword style while swinging his sword. When physically training, he emphasized flexibility. Lifting heavy stones or iron might be similar, but the important part was the time spent loosening and stretching each muscle in his body. It was all for the purpose of increasing flexibility. Why focus on one-handed swordsmanship? Because it had opened his senses. ''One-handed swordsmanship is defensive, a style of defense.'' The most important thing for that was vision. In other words, it was about perception. To properly perceive and understand, one had to see and understand the point of contact of strength. To see, hear, taste, smell, and feel¡ªeverything converged into one unified sense. The sixth sense was no longer just an extension of the five senses¡ªit was a truly new sense. This wasn''t just a metaphor for opening the third eye. At some point, Jaxen, sitting on a roughly carved stone chair, noticed him. The chair was a large stone that had been crudely shaped into a seat, cold enough to be uncomfortable in the winter, but Jaxen seemed unfazed. Why wouldn''t he be? His training had been far more brutal and painful than this. Cold like this didn''t even feel like cold to him. Jaxen''s eyes now turned toward Enkrid. ''What drives him?'' That lingering question still remained, but now there was a new reason for him to stay here. ''He''s tangled.'' The leader had become someone who was essential for fulfilling his own goal. "Ugh, you''re like a damn wild cat. Why do you keep staring so hard?" The barbarian, Rem, lazily walked out. It was an idle challenge, but Jaxen ignored him as usual. Rem''s gaze turned to Enkrid. "...Look at this?" The barbarian was surprised, something rare for him. Ragna and Audin also reacted similarly. They had all once been absorbed in their worlds while swinging their swords. That''s why they could see Enkrid''s current state. He had become absorbed, trapped in his world. Was it dangerous? No, it was an opportunity. A rare chance for intense training in his lifetime. It was a chance to realize his limits and take a few steps forward¡ªsomething that would be achievable in no time. "Hey, cat, we need to control the area. You, too, lost one. Hey, bear?" "I understand, brother. Sister Teresa and Sister Dunbakel should also join us." Audin spoke, and they moved quietly. From an unexpected winter morning, Enkrid''s group began to form a circle around their quarters. What they did was simple. "Don''t come closer. Don''t make a sound." It was control. They were pushing away anyone who approached. "Hey, I heard you beat up a priest. I came here to talk about it." Even though the territory lord had come to visit, "That person was hardly worthy of being called a priest. Brother Lord. Anyway, it''s not the time for that." Some couldn''t understand. Some of the soldiers frowned at the behavior. Those who knew Enkrid''s state simply retreated quietly. Martai''s camp was made up mostly of Easterners. And Easterners were tough, sturdy, and loud, "Yell and I''ll split your head?" "Silence is golden. The Lord said, go to the battlefield and shout, but when you come back, speak softly. So, please, sew your mouth shut and stay quiet." "Quiet. I''ll split you." "Don''t cross this line." The four acted as usual. Dunbakel quietly watched Enkrid and began to move as well. Impatience gnawed at her. Thus, it was necessary to train like this. Teresa, in turn, found the man intriguing. ''I''m wandering Teresa.'' After gathering her thoughts, she looked up, swinging her sword alone with a madman''s grin. ''Is training just as enjoyable as combat?'' Born and raised in the world of society, Teresa was unaware of many things. Her world was narrow, and even now, she didn''t fully know whether her choices were right or wrong. But there was one thing she knew. ''I want to fight.'' She wanted to swing her sword at the man occupying the small training area in front of the quarters. She wanted to strike his skull with enough force to crack it. She also wanted to charge at his torso with her shield. She wanted to punch, kick, anything. She wanted to fight. A desire so intense it made her skin crawl. In this moment, right or wrong didn''t matter. "Calm yourself, sister." It was Audin''s ever-present voice. Teresa adjusted her mask and replied. "I''m wandering Teresa. I''m good at enduring." Patience was a virtue. Although born without it, now she was learning to keep and value it. Because only by doing so could she face the thrill of fighting that man. Enkrid wandered in his world, sometimes lost, sometimes running, sometimes crawling. It didn''t matter what he did. He thought about his swordsmanship. In the middle of it, a vision, like a mirage, appeared¡ª a ferryman speaking. Now that the face was visible, it seemed there was meaning to it. Seeing it often made it that way. "Crazy fool, this is not a wall I made." What was he saying? It was an illusion, a hallucination. So he ignored it. What mattered now wasn''t the ferryman or today''s endless repetition. The swordsmanship. Of the five types of swordsmanship, Enkrid had mastered the righteous and the middle. Yet, even with that mastery, something felt off. He had never experienced the perfect feeling of alignment. Why? ''It doesn''t fit my body.'' Talent, talent-based, and talent-built swordsmanship. It wasn''t the path of the clumsy. He didn''t realize this all at once. But in the realm of his instincts and intuition, he felt the way forward. Still, he kept walking, crawling, and running. It was simple. ''Where is my path?'' Through the brief question, he found his direction. Thus, Enkrid moved beyond the foundation of one-handed swordsmanship, seeking a new path. It was the process of creating a new sword style. Not everything happens at once. When Enkrid emerged from his immersion, he realized what he had done. Moreover, he understood that there was still more to refine and develop the work he had achieved today, turning it into something even greater. ''My own Swordsmanship.'' To become a knight, to create a new sword style? It would sound like a senseless tale to others, one with no practical gain. But so what? When had someone''s judgment ever mattered to him? Awakened from his immersion, he realized the sun was still high in the sky. ''It was just a moment.'' Enkrid thought this as he looked up, only to find a dwarf girl pouting in front of him. "Hey, I''m busy too." And the dwarf spoke. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 258 - How to Handle Fools (3) Chapter 258 - 258 - How to Handle Fools (3) "How about you? Aren''t you one busy guy?" Enkrid blinked twice while staring at the dwarf. There was a disconnect between the situation he had perceived and the present moment. Enkrid first checked the condition of his body. He felt as if he had gone days without food, and his muscles trembled as though they had been overworked. His vision was also blurry. The issue with his sight stemmed from fatigue. And it wasn''t just ordinary fatigue¡ªit felt as though he had climbed a mountain without rest or food for days. His body was heavy, weighed down by extreme exhaustion, and he even felt a sense of weakness, as if his entire body had no strength to move. He hadn''t slept for two days and had only swung his sword the entire time, yet this state was unnatural. "How long has it been?" Enkrid clenched and opened his fist, speaking with a noticeable strain in his voice. He could clearly feel the toll on his body. "...This guy''s as shameless as a demon." The dwarf girl raised her lips, speaking in disbelief. Enkrid didn''t need to hear the dwarf''s answer. Behind her, Rem and Lagarne appeared. Rem, who had been cleaning his ears, spoke first. "It''s been three days. Did you have fun?" "Was it good?" It was a question from Ragna, who had been watching with his arms crossed. Both of them asked without even catching their breath, so Enkrid took a moment to reflect on his own condition. What had happened? The time that passed seemed like a blur, but it remained etched in his mind like a dream. Every moment, every step had been a realization. At the end of each step, Enkrid had been absorbed, immersed in the process. He had taken his goal and reached his destination. ''Swordsmanship.'' He had created something. Though he couldn''t name it yet, couldn''t neatly categorize it, the fact remained¡ªhe had created a sword technique. Masters of swordsmanship usually spent their later years refining and passing on the techniques they had mastered. Even the greatest masters of swordsmanship would only polish their craft. But Enkrid had created something. His heart raced. Despite the exhaustion, the joy of having created something new filled him, and a smile of exhilaration spread across his face. "You''re smiling? Have you gone a bit mad?" "I was planning to send him to a temple in the great territory for some treatment, you know. Little dwarf ." The dwarf spun her finger around her ear, and Rem spoke. Enkrid, filled with exhilaration and joy, didn''t respond to Rem''s words. "You''re really enjoying this." Rem sneered as he observed Enkrid, but it didn''t reach Enkrid''s ears. And Ragna, who had been quietly watching, nodded alone. "Good." The dwarf was a wanderer, traveling the continent. She had seen the world for more than ten years. This was a rare experience even for her. Regardless of her own talents and tendencies, those around her, including Enkrid, were simply madmen¡ªpurely insane individuals. The day before Enkrid woke up, the dwarf had arrived. Before then, they had been blocked from coming close. When they saw him waking up and started complaining, they brought him here. "Then why not just leave the weapon behind?" Even as Enkrid said that, the dwarf shook her head. "I have to see the faces of those who will use the weapons I made. That''s the rule I set." The dwarf made it a strict rule that whenever she passed on something she made, she had to personally hand it over and speak with the recipient. Dwarves sometimes followed their own rules obsessively, and this was one of those cases. Despite grumbling about wasting time, it was the reason she had stayed. Nevertheless, the dwarf''s complaints soon faded. "Got it." Ignoring his fatigue, Enkrid listened intently to the dwarf''s words. The rest of the unit members either didn''t pay attention, didn''t respond, or gave some vague advice as though imparting divine wisdom, or simply ignored him altogether. At least Krais, the big-eyed man, could hold a conversation, but he was so busy that it was hard to even see his face. In the meantime, Enkrid''s attentive listening seemed to melt the dwarf''s heart. When it came to attitude and mindset, Enkrid had the best on the continent. That alone made the dwarf''s heart soften quickly. His personality, distant from pettiness, also played a part. "Yeah, I guess it''s good that you''re crazy in a nice way." The dwarf then commented on Enkrid and handed over the weapons. The commission was for two swords and two axes. They were neatly placed on a large piece of leather. The dwarf spoke while holding one of the weapons. "To be honest, refining isn''t my strong suit. My talents lie elsewhere. But these are still better than anything those amateurs could make." The dwarf, whose name was unknown, spoke, and Enkrid acknowledged the statement. The dwarf handed over the weapon she had placed in the scabbard. She extended the hilt toward Enkrid, and he grabbed it. It was quite heavy. The blade wasn''t long but was thick. It was as thick as the guard sword he was currently using. The length was slightly longer than a short sword. It was a sword made by modifying the shape of a gladius. When he drew the sword from the scabbard, the blade smoothly revealed itself to the world. The silver body of the blade flowed with a soft, streamlined curve. "Well-made," Rem said, watching. That was the truth. If it were a woman, it would be a beauty; if a man, a handsome one. It had a similar look to the sword used by the fairy Company Commander but was distinct in its own way. It was heavy and felt solid just by looking at it. "There''s one good sword already, so I figured this would be an appropriate backup," the dwarf said, gesturing to the sword Enkrid had originally worn at his waist. Though she had made it without being asked, her reasoning was spot on. Enkrid''s original sword was indeed worthy of being called a fine weapon. The fact that the dwarf could recognize that without even drawing it was impressive. He briefly wondered if it was typical of a dwarf, but the thought soon passed. Enkrid, without rest, stood in the training area and swung the new sword a few times. What stood out more than anything was the balance. It felt perfectly centered around a point a couple of hand lengths above the hilt. It seemed like it would be an excellent weapon even for a thrusting technique. "Throw it, cut with it, block with it, strike. I made it sturdy enough for any use," the dwarf explained. The feel of cutting and throwing was exceptional; it fit perfectly in his hand. The blade''s point was sharp, and the upper part of the blade was long enough to make thrusting easy. Enkrid tossed the sword up, letting it spin a few times before catching it. As expected, the balance was excellent. He grabbed the hilt with a snap and lightly swung it in the air a few times. The ease with which he wielded the sword now was much smoother than before. There was a flexibility in his movements that wasn''t there before. Something had changed after breaking through his own limits. Though only a few could notice it, Enkrid nodded in approval. It was a satisfied gesture. And the dwarf, watching him, couldn''t help but admire. "Look at that?" The stone had been shaped, carved, and refined by someone. Was this transformation possible in such a short time? "Not ordinary talent, huh." The dwarf mistakenly thought this, but the truth was that it was the result of countless efforts that had finally converged and broken through at the right moment. To the dwarf, it seemed like raw talent. "Are you not giving me one?" At Rem''s urging from behind, the dwarf tossed the axes. She threw both at once, and Rem caught the handles of both axes with precision. It was obvious that the axes were excellent. Even Rem, that bad-tempered Rem. "...I''m glad I didn''t make a trophy out of that dwarf." That line made the dwarf burst into laughter. It was unclear what was funny, but it definitely made her mental state seem questionable. Rem examined the two axes closely. The fire axe had a sharp spike at the end and could also be used as a weapon where the end of the handle was used to strike. The other one was made from the glave of a centaur leader, which had been melted down to create the axe. "It''s heavy. So, I like it." Rem gave his honest opinion, and naturally, everyone was satisfied. Lastly, Ragna, who had received a sword, spoke to the dwarf. "Not bad." The sword he received was a northern-style zweihander. It was a two-handed sword, and its thickness was double that of others, with a large pommel and hilt. "I finished it in the northern style," the dwarf said with a smile. Although she wasn''t a master, and refining wasn''t her specialty, perhaps it was in the nature of her race. She smiled with satisfaction as she watched everyone who had received the weapons. "Good, this will be the last of it. If there''s a chance later, let''s meet again." The dwarf spoke cheerfully and turned to leave, giving one last look at Krais, who had been watching the others receive their weapons. He was staring blankly at the dwarf. "You little human." From appearance alone, he might look like the little one, but the words suited him perfectly. "What?" "I''ll consider it when you become a gem." At those words, Krais nodded, not knowing what they meant. It seemed like a good thing because it sounded like she would see him again. And with that, the dwarf left. And once she was gone Enkrid drew the attention of everyone. "How''s your body? What kind of person skips meals and just swings a sword around?" Krais asked. "As you can see." Though his muscles were fatigued, he wasn''t about to collapse. He was hungry, but it wasn''t as if he''d die from starvation right away. It was known by all that Enkrid had grown stronger by seizing an opportunity. However, no one brought it up to ask about it. When he had regained his senses, only Rem and Ragna had said anything. According to rumors, during his intense focus, Enkrid had been oblivious to his surroundings, so much so that he ended up warding off anyone who came near, alternating shifts like a sentry. When he later met Torres, Torres had said, "You seemed like someone more difficult to meet than the king." Anyway, after the dwarf left, Enkrid slept for the entire day. He woke up, ate, and went back to sleep again. What he thought was a short rest turned into three full days, during which he continued swinging his sword. Sometimes fast and strong, other times slow like a turtle from the sea. However, there was never a moment of rest. Of course, his muscles were strained, but they were honed by the Isolation technique. After a long sleep, he woke up feeling refreshed. Enkrid had sorted through what he had learned during his focus while resting and eating. It wasn''t until the late afternoon of the next day that he spoke. "Rem." Rem, sitting in a corner of their quarters, was polishing his axe. He was getting bored of tormenting Dunbakel, and a bit of restlessness was starting to set in. "You''ve been waiting long." At the sound of Enkrid''s voice, Rem quickly stood up. He had oiled his axe and it gleamed in his hands. It was time for their sparring. Looking at the results, Enkrid did not win. In fact, he lost more easily than before. "Again." He thrust his sword toward the axe''s blade and repeated the same moves, but it never worked out easily. Some attempts were half successful, but they were unsatisfactory. So, it didn''t matter whether he won or lost in the sparring. What mattered most was getting the new techniques into his body. "That''s good." Their sparring continued until the evening, and they were drenched in sweat, finally finishing past midnight. A maid who had been heating bathwater grumbled, but when she saw Enkrid''s body, she fell silent. Meanwhile, Ragna, who had been practicing with his sword morning and evening, caught the attention of Zimmer, who requested a sparring session. Audin''s prayer time had increased, and his expression seemed gentler than before. Dunbakel, watching Enkrid, began imitating the Isolation technique on her own, even though no one had instructed her. "There''s a way that suits your body. I''ll teach you a few techniques." Audin, noticing her, assisted her, although Dunbakel looked like she was being tortured more than helped. Teresa also silently worked up a sweat, swinging her shield and sword, refining her own skills. In fact, the very sight of Enkrid immersed in his focus served as a catalyst for the others, motivating them in their training. The wild horse spent its time watching the humans, and the soldiers placed hay for it in a corner as its food. Usually, horses would relieve themselves anywhere, but this one was remarkably intelligent, digging a hole with its hooves to do its business at one side of the barracks. The stableman was astonished by its strength. "Ah, if only we could get a saddle on it..." This was the man responsible for the cavalry horses in Martai. He knew that cavalry and warhorses were essential to the army. He sighed in frustration but didn''t attempt to do anything about it, as the wild horse would release an aura of hostility if anyone approached carelessly. Enkrid observed the wild horse silently, thinking. ''Maybe I should give it a name?'' Its odd behavior wasn''t that unusual¡ªthere were people who acted similarly, after all. Would adding one more horse really make a difference? In the Border Guard, there were even magicians who could transform from a leopard into a human. Enkrid decided to put off naming the horse for now. The creature seemed too busy exploring its surroundings. Everything around it likely piqued its curiosity. It didn''t, however, approach people. Soldiers who had seen its strange blue and red eyes said they felt an inexplicable chill when looking at it, perhaps due to the beast''s inherent hostility. Thus passed the time of intense training and sparring. On the third day after the dwarf left, the group began to prepare to move. Krais, who had been exploring the local market and having private talks with the lord, declared that it was time for them to leave. "Let''s head back." It was time to return to their territory. Enkrid took the lead, and the lord saw them off. "May fortune guide you." They left in the early morning, and by the time the sun rose, the city was no longer in sight. Krais led the way, with no horses, traveling by foot. Only the wild horse walked alongside Enkrid. "Ah, snow," Enkrid remarked. "The damned devils are at it again," Krais muttered. As they walked, small white flakes began to fall from the sky, landing on the ground and on their armor, slowly melting away. Luckily, the wind wasn''t strong, and the snowfall wasn''t heavy. The tiny white particles didn''t hinder their vision much. The snow fell quietly, and it wasn''t uncomfortable at all. As they approached a path with two mounds on either side, someone stood in their way. One of them was a familiar figure. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 259 - How to Handle Fools (4) Chapter 259 - 259 - How to Handle Fools (4) "Didn''t I tell you that idiots tend to stick together?" Rem said, looking at one of the people blocking their path. The man tried to hide his appearance with a black robe, but the bulging belly and exposed lip shape made it clear who he was. "Hmph!" The fallen priest snorted. Before they set off, Rem had mentioned that he had met that fat idiot at the market and that something about his gaze was odd. He had also said that this idiot could end up partnering with another idiot. And so, the prediction came true. Of course, there had been some manipulation for the prediction to come true. "You can call me the Seer Rem," he said. It was like he had tripped and fallen on his backside, with an arrow whizzing overhead, but Rem had the right to act smug. Since things turned out just as he had said, Enkrid called him what he wanted. "Idiot Rem." "Did you break your hearing? I''m a Seer, you know?" "An idiot and a Seer are basically the same thing." "Did you just make that up?" "No." Enkrid spoke with honesty and confidence, and Rem reluctantly gave up the title of Seer, muttering "Let''s stop this nonsense." "There are many who are confused and foolish in this world, and it''s the duty of our kind Lord to lead them to repentance and rebirth at the side of the gods." Audin recited a prayer. It sounded more like he wanted to kill everyone. It almost seemed like every time he saw that fallen priest, Audin wanted to end his life. Enkrid took a step forward. He was the representative of their group. With his sword belt and hand resting on the pommel of his sword, he stood with one leg crossed. To an outsider, his stance might seem careless, but those who had experience with swords would recognize it as a well-prepared posture. Behind the bloated fallen priest, a man stepped forward and asked. The man had a solid, well-grounded stance, without any apparent openings. "The client wanted me to ask you last, do you have any interest in joining the Black Sword?" A tempting offer amidst all this? Good luck getting him to fall for that. Krais snorted internally as he watched the man closely. The man, taller than the bloated priest, took a step forward as well, showing that he was the one in charge. He had a ferocious look in his eyes. He held a long sword, his gaze sharp, and his attitude seemed somewhat irritated. A mercenary known for planning and killing his targets efficiently. Krais figured out the man''s identity just by his appearance. "Calculated Blade?" Enkrid, too, had keen ears and caught the words. It seemed this mercenary was somewhat famous. Enkrid''s interest was piqued. His arms hung loosely, his legs slightly spread, and his eyes focused on his own feet and legs. He subtly adjusted his posture as if preparing to draw his weapon. This man knew how to fight and was skilled, that was Enkrid''s judgment. "You know me?" the mercenary asked. His voice was monotone, sounding rather rough. "I didn''t realize you were so corrupted that you''d take a job with the Black Sword," Krais replied, feigning surprise. It wasn''t a particularly sharp insult, but the mercenary frowned. He seemed offended. "... You have a sharp tongue." "And you seem to have a talent for selling your body for a few gold coins." The mercenary, tall and fierce with a large sword, was likely someone who could be classified as a strong warrior of noble rank. He was a mercenary known for always being well-prepared in battle. Krais knew the man''s reputation for preparing for every fight, which had earned him the nickname "Calculated Blade." Krais prodded the mercenary, hoping for a reaction. He knew that someone who got worked up was easier to handle than a calm opponent. It was a simple strategy. "I told you, those idiots probably don''t have a single thought in their heads," Krais said, his words aimed at the fallen priest behind him. Krais hoped that the mercenary would get agitated and charge at them, but contrary to his expectations, the mercenary merely raised his left hand in preparation. And then, heads began to appear over the hills on both sides. These were soldiers who had been lying in ambush for the past two days. Some of them were from the Black Sword, and the rest were mercenaries from the Calculated Blade''s group. The mercenary named Calculated Blade had heard enough about his opponents. He had heard about the incident with the Jevikal, and he thought he was far superior to idiots like him. He didn''t understand why someone would rely on something like a scroll in a fight. Such a foolish thing. Unless you were a knight, you wouldn''t survive the countless arrows that rained down on you. That''s why he had prepared fifty archers. The hills were steep, and among them, there were probably a few who could scale them. To prevent that, he had positioned two squads of heavily armored men at the base of the hills. To capture just ten or so people, they had mobilized over seventy soldiers. Was that all? Including himself, Calculated Blade''s group of elite mercenaries provided solid backup. It had been difficult to get this far without getting caught, but the real battle would be easy. That was ''preparation.'' The Calculated Blade spoke with a raised hand. "Those who don''t even realize the value of their lives." How long would they last against the Black Blade? Mercenaries had to be sharp and quick-witted if they wanted to survive for long. He was one of those types. And Krais, peeking his head out from behind Enkrid, spoke up. "Good thing. I was wondering if a bunch of wizards were going to show up, but it''s not as impressive as I thought. Guess they won''t amount to much after all?" Krais made a circle with his thumb and index finger as he spoke. Enkrid couldn''t help but feel a bit proud of Krais for using the right tactics to get under the enemy''s skin. "Heh, I''m going to peel that bastard''s skin off myself." The Calculated Blade muttered. Krais pretended to be scared, his eyes widening, and stuck his tongue out in response. "Do it if you can." Sometimes, childishness could be a lethal move. This was one of those times. "That son of a bitch..." Krais had definitely managed to rattle the enemy commander. ''Hmm, not bad.'' It was a clever little trick. Enkrid admired it. Even while Krais was scheming, he kept his mind active. Spells were always unpredictable, and it was important to be cautious. ''Well, even if they''re the Black Blade, there''s no way they have dozens of wizards with them.'' When he saw someone using scrolls before, it naturally sparked an unsettling thought. However, Krais thought the enemy''s forces seemed too weak. They had low quality, and their numbers were few. ''Why?'' The question came, and the answer arrived almost immediately. ''They still don''t know our real strength.'' Enkrid and all the members of their unit had fought so well that rumors had spread about them. They had shown their worth on the battlefield, and had even destroyed a colony. ''But what if those rumors spread?'' Rumors, by nature, grew and were exaggerated. And foolish people who thought they were clever would use the rumors to form their strategies. If it were Krais, he would be checking the truth of these rumors frantically as they spread. The Black Blade''s position was misunderstood. When they tried to take control of the streets in Border Guard, the Gilpin Guild had resisted their influence. They couldn''t just plant spies inside the castle either, as Marcus was particularly skilled in that area. Contrary to the rumors about him being a warmonger, he had managed to tighten internal security thoroughly. Since his arrival, there had been rumors among merchants that the Border Guard''s took their duties even more seriously and they had become even stricter. Of course, that too was a misunderstanding. It was just that under Enkrid''s harsh training, those who found it difficult were simply more dedicated to their duties, trying to stay on patrol a bit longer or guard the gates more vigilantly. Anyway, the Black Blade didn''t know this. Not only had they misjudged the abilities of Enkrid and the others, but they had no idea about Krais. On the other hand, Krais understood the enemy''s foolishness and, in some ways, even sympathized with it. ''Well, it''s not like there are any Knight-level monsters running around here.'' Not even a knight order. Lack of information had been something Marcus had exploited well on the battlefield. Furthermore, there would always be those who doubted Enkrid''s abilities afterward. ''Most importantly, the abilities of the unit members wouldn''t even be known by rumor.'' One strong individual at the squire level, a group of archers, and a bunch of mercenaries who knew how to fight. Even if they weren''t knight-level, they were strong enough to be considered elites. So, the enemy wasn''t necessarily weak. It was just that the Black Blade didn''t know about them. ''Maybe I overdid the preparation.'' Krais thought, snapping his fingers. Snap! Naturally, nothing happened. The finger snap wouldn''t have reached over the hill. "...What?" Ragna, who had been watching from the side, asked. "Should we send you to the temple too?" Rem also asked. Krais cleared his throat and responded. "Timing''s a bit off." Krais had no shame. It happens. So, he spoke confidently, and just after those words, a commotion erupted at the top of the hill. "Shit, what is it?" "It''s an ambush!" The cry of the enemy ambushers rang out. Some of the archers turned around quickly. It was already too late for coordinated fire from above. Some of the armed troops near the archers immediately turned around and charged at the ones who had come up behind them. "How dare you!" One of the enemy soldiers bravely stepped forward, swinging his sword. He was a mercenary wielding a bastard sword. Gripping the sword with both hands, he brought it down. His technique wasn''t bad. The person opposite him was unarmed. As the sword came toward him, he ran forward, meeting the strike head-on, and dove straight into the opponent''s arms. A dull sound followed¡ªthud! The mercenary wielding the bastard sword collapsed forward, and the man in his arms pushed him away and came out from it. Torres wiped the blood from his dagger onto the dead man''s collar. He wore thin leather armor over his gambeson, with the insignia of the border defense unit on it. "Well, we''re not too late," he muttered. On the opposite side, a man was quickly closing the distance, darting into the enemy ranks with a swift pace. He drew his sword in a flash, and the speed was like lightning. His steps and his strike were so fast that by the time anyone saw it, a hole had already been pierced through one enemy soldier''s neck. Crack! A mercenary grabbed his neck, staggering, before falling to his knees. Blood poured from his fingers. With his throat pierced, survival was impossible. Zimmer had displayed his skills and then stopped. "Foolish bandits," he muttered, his face clearly visible from the small hill. "Well, seems like it''s over," Krais murmured smugly. It was impressive for a mere bandit group to gather such a force so quickly. This was a demonstration of the Black Blade''s remaining strength. And it wasn''t just any group, but they had hired a squire level mercenary. That was no small feat. Though there was a gap between true knights and squires, still, how many people like that could there be? In the northern regions, they were probably rare enough to count on one hand. However, they had simply underestimated their opponents. After all, it was hard to believe something like this until you saw it with your own eyes. That was what Krais thought. "A bit of a shame," Enkrid muttered. Krais ignored him. He was always imagining the worst and preparing for it accordingly. That was what he had prepared for. Soon, the Border Defense and the Martai forces began occupying the area near where the ambush had been set. The archers from the Black Blade, who had been caught off guard, fell into a state of panic. ''Shit, they''re attacking from behind? What about the front? Do we have an escape route?'' None. From the very start, everything had been predicted and planned. Torres, who had gotten behind the archers, couldn''t help but admire Krais'' mind. ''That big eyed bastard is no joke.'' The preparations of the Black Blade on the hill had come to an end. The ones who had taken the hill were the finest of the fine¡ªthe border massacre specialists, hidden by the presence of Enkrid. The face of the Calculated blade remained expressionless. In contrast, the mercenaries who had been holding out at the back began showing visible signs of panic. "Hell''s broken loose." One person murmured, showing anxiety. "Bullshit, we''ll kill them all and it''ll be over." Another spoke with defiance. "Shouldn''t we retreat?" Someone else suggested a more practical option. "Well, who''s the idiot now?" Krais asked, and the prepared blade''s brow furrowed deeply. "It would''ve been better to solve this with force from the start." A large man stepped forward beside the calculated blade. Looking at the group behind him, there were about twenty soldiers, none of them weaklings by any means. At least, compared to regular soldiers. "Only the confident ones come at me. I''ll kill them all." The heavy footsteps of the one who charged forward, wielding a massive flail in both hands, were quite intimidating. If they won the battle before the skirmish on the hill even began, it would be over soon. Despite his dull appearance, the mercenary was sharp. After wandering the battlefield for so long, he must have developed a natural sense for these things. "I think that''s the right call too," said the woman standing next to him. She had an abnormally long tongue, almost reaching her chin, and her face was similarly grotesque, long both up and down. She held three throwing knives in each hand, reminiscent of a whistle dagger. Rem growled as they approached. "I''ll go first. Just try to step forward, and I''ll chop your head off with my axe." Enkrid almost stepped forward but told Rem to go ahead. Shifting his perception, evolving his instincts beyond the usual senses. With all that help, Enkrid momentarily was unsure if he should act as well. In that moment, he predicted the outcome. None of those who charged forward would be able to handle Rem''s axe. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 260 - How to Handle Fools (5) Chapter 260 - 260 - How to Handle Fools (5) Chapter 260 - On Dealing with Fools (5) It was a conversation they had before leaving Martai. "You trick them and beat them." When it came to dealing with fools, whether it was the Black Blades or the priest, Krais had a firm belief. Enkrid agreed. "Let''s do that." "Aye!" With an energetic response, Wide-Eyes had prepared a great deal. And this was the result. "Quickly, kill them all!" The rotund priest, who had secretly delivered information about Enkrid''s group, shouted. Where did that priest get his information about Enkrid''s group? ''Hmm, he was really stupid.'' The priest had trusted a cunning brat who sold out the information for just a few coins. Too easily, far too easily. After that, Krais anticipated the Black Blades'' assault. Specifically, he scouted the best locations for ambushes and sneak attacks along their path, choosing them in advance. He also predicted overcast days by simply observing the sky. Snow would be ideal, but a heavily clouded day would suffice. Through several thoughts and adjustments, Krais ensured the Black Blades would find the conditions favorable for an ambush. ''These people really do seem stupid.'' Krais doubted if the Black Blades were truly a renowned bandit group. Do such people resort to these tactics? Sending a few mercenaries and hoping this group dies? Of course, this stemmed from a lack of information. No one from the ones already sent, had survived to report anything. Relying solely on rumors to gauge Enkrid''s party''s strength was a challenge. Especially when it came to understanding the capabilities of those under his command. Rem leaped forward with a light push off the ground, disappearing from Krais''s sight. Boom! The ground he had kicked tore apart with a thunderous sound. At the same time, a streak was left behind, and that streak sliced through the neck of the man wielding the mace. "Goddamn, this thing cuts beautifully!" Rem''s voice followed soon after. Though Krais hadn''t fully caught Rem''s movements, he could deduce everything from the results. His sharp mind made that possible. ''The mace was swung downward, and before it could fully descend, the axe cleaved the neck.'' Rem''s hands and feet were far faster than the mace''s swing, making such a result inevitable. The reason Rem remarked on the sharpness of the axe was that it had split through the enemy mercenary''s face-covering helmet with ease. Crimson blood sprayed across the thinly spread snow beneath the mercenary''s body. The white snow melted into the vibrant red. Above it, new snowflakes began to fall. Enkrid scanned the battlefield. Krais deduced the process from the outcome, but Enkrid saw everything clearly. "Don''t surrender!" Rem charged ahead with excitement, and alongside him, Dunbakel and Teresa also advanced. One of the mercenaries, seemingly familiar with Dunbakel, greeted her with angry words. "You damn mutt! Traitor!" He lunged at Dunbakel with a long spear. His skills weren''t bad. At least, he surpassed Dunbakel''s previous self. But that was all. Dunbakel was no longer the foolish beast-woman she once was. Her body seemed to ripple, appearing to multiply into three faint images. This feat was possible due to her exceptional athletic ability. The afterimages were created by her quick sidesteps. Simultaneously, her scimitar was drawn, slicing through the falling snow and air to strike her opponent''s head. To Enkrid''s sensitive perception, every moment unfolded as though time had slowed down. Thud! The scimitar shattered the enemy''s skull and withdrew. "Sorry, I didn''t catch that. What did you say?" Only after killing her opponent did Dunbakel respond. ''She''s becoming more like Rem,'' Enkrid thought, though he chose not to interfere. After all, she was finding her own path, no matter how it looked. It wasn''t his place to criticize. As he stood with arms crossed, more mercenaries charged, and Teresa intercepted two of them. "Shit! Where the hell did this monster come from?" One of the mercenaries screamed. It was the tall, lanky female mercenary who had been throwing daggers. Teresa blocked all the daggers with her shield. One dagger, enchanted or otherwise, changed direction midair, but Teresa deflected it with her shoulder guard by twisting her body. Using the armor on her body as a defensive tool was Teresa''s specialty. Adding to that, she wielded her shield to pressure opponents and a thick-bladed sword to crush them to death. And that''s exactly what she did. "Ahhh!" When she struck the female mercenary''s head with the flat of her blade, the skull fractured inside her helmet. Brain matter and blood spilled out. A crushed eye socket burst, leaking a clear fluid mixed with blood. "I''m Teresa the Wanderer. If you want to die, come at me." She spoke. With just those few words, some enemies froze in place. No matter how experienced, fear in the face of overwhelming violence was a natural reaction. The mercenaries fell quickly. Above, the ambush should have been starting, but those stationed on the hill saw their leaders being annihilated. Naturally, their morale plummeted. "Hey, surrender. There''s a labor shortage in the domain these days. Prove your identity, work diligently, and you''ll be reinstated within two years." Torres attempted to coax them. After all, they were mercenaries motivated by coin. Since they planned to clear out monsters and beasts anyway, using these captives as cannon fodder would be an advantage. They could sift through and select only the competent ones to accept. His offer was calculated. "I s-surrender." One soldier lowered his longbow and spoke. In the end, none of the soldiers stationed on the hill fired a single arrow. Watching the mercenaries die one by one, the rotund priest turned and fled. He moved with desperation, running faster than anyone could imagine for a man of his size. A thick forearm blocked the way. "Ugh!" Startled, the priest fell on his backside. The jolt traveled from his rear to his head. Propping himself up on the dirt, he craned his neck upward. What he saw was a soldier with the bulk of a bear. ''This bastard.'' Although Zimmer had been accused of hitting him, the priest had his own men within the territory. They had told him the truth. The real culprit who had struck him was this brute. Yet, Zimmer''s menacing glare and threats had cowed him into submission, leaving him unable to voice even the slightest protest. The humiliation was unbearable. Later, those he thought were his allies egged him on. Of course, all of it was Krais''s doing. Being a contemptible wretch beyond redemption, Krais had hired a few scoundrels who thrived on scraps from his table. It was through such machinations that the corpulent priest had been manipulated to arrive at this point. Why? The reason was simple. Eliminating potential threats was far better than letting them linger. The priest''s level of corruption wasn''t the issue. His status as a priest was. The best solution was to kill him and bury the evidence. That''s why they had let him in on purpose. When it comes to dealing with fools, the best method is to ignore them. The next best? Bury them. From the moment Audin had slapped him, Krais had envisioned the current outcome. After all, wasn''t the Black Blade and a greedy priest a match made in hell? Things had gone even smoother than expected, though. The opponent had been too foolish. "The Lord of Radiance commands us to reveal and reveal again. Have you done so?" Audin questioned, his voice calm but heavy. The rotund priest stammered, trembling with fear. "Of-of course I-I-I have!" His voice quivered, and his tongue stumbled over the words. "You were supposed to illuminate the world, not just gather Krona." Audin muttered quietly. The priest tried to protest, claiming he had always aided the unfortunate and cared for orphaned children in the temple. But Audin already knew the truth, thanks to Krais. The priest had not only hoarded wealth but had also defiled women. It was said he had taken some of the orphaned girls as his concubines. Smack. Audin raised his hand and brought it down hard on the priest''s crown. The blow caused the priest''s eyes and tongue to bulge forward. Blood gushed from every orifice, including his ears. Audin despised those who used their faith as a guise for committing heinous acts. There had been times in the past when his own doubts had stopped him from delivering justice. He had turned away from such individuals before. ''No more. Never again.'' With someone by his side who overcame their own limits, Audin could no longer turn away from truth, life, conviction, faith, and belief. ''I will live, Father.'' He would not forsake the life granted to him by God. By divine permission, he would strike down his enemies and live. And in so doing, he would also punish those who shattered his faith. It would not be an easy task. If he faltered, it could simply result in a meaningless death. But he wouldn''t die so easily. Every day was a lesson. Audin learned not only from teachings but also from Enkrid and Krais. "By the light you''ve shown me, I too will shine brightly." Audin prayed silently, not to God but to his commander. Praying to a human rather than a deity felt awkward, yet strangely natural. Enkrid, observing from the sidelines, released a sigh. ''Lunatics.'' He muttered a curse inwardly. Shouldn''t they at least leave an opponent for him to deal with? Why were they so excited? Even Audin had rushed forward, smashing the priest''s head, and then turned to look at him. In Audin''s eyes burned a fervent longing¡ªa gaze filled with fiery intensity. ''A bear desperate for a fight.'' Unable to grasp the full meaning from afar, Enkrid misinterpreted. Rem, of course, was rampaging. Even Ragna, who usually stood back and watched, didn''t hold back. He suddenly stepped forward and swung his blade. The strike was unlike anything before. A diagonal slash from above, cutting downward¡ªa strike reminiscent of an eagle diving toward its prey. Naturally, it was faster than an eagle, yet it evoked the same imagery. As the blade completed its descent, it immediately rose again. The foe preparing his own sword was reduced to three pieces scattered on the ground. After the swing, Ragna looked at his blade with rare admiration. "Ho." The weapon seemed to satisfy him more than he had anticipated. It was, after all, a masterpiece crafted by dwarves. Enkrid also wanted to test his newly developed swordsmanship in battle and wield the blade he''d received from the dwarves, but¡ª "It''s over already." Krais''s words, laced with disappointment, summed it up. It had ended almost instantly. Rem had cleaved through five or six opponents in a flash, not even giving his flaming axe a chance to ignite. The disparity between the two groups was glaring. Krais, prone to overestimating dangers, had prepared excessively. Even if there had been archers, the outcome of this battle was predetermined. In the midst of the chaos, Jaxen had also captured a mercenary. A handsome young man, at that. The man, who turned out to be a known figure, begged as blood poured from a wound in his thigh. "Spare me, and I''ll do anything." Whatever proposal Jaxen had made, the man''s desperate plea followed. "This one''s mine." Jaxen rarely made requests. Enkrid owed him plenty. "Take him." Enkrid didn''t question or probe further. Frankly, no one cared. Dunbakel felt the changes in her abilities clearly. Teresa, on the other hand¡ª "Let''s have a match when we return." She spoke with uncharacteristic fervor, her eyes ablaze as she looked at Enkrid. Her blood was boiling. "Gladly." It was a welcome suggestion, and Enkrid nodded, surveying the group as he thought to himself. ''Lunatics.'' It was a grumble aimed at those who had left him nothing to fight. The Black Blade''s first ambush and strike were anticlimactic. Krais blamed it all on them. "Too considerate." Of course, from now on, such kindness would be a distant memory. When even one of their tactics landed, someone''s life would inevitably be at risk. As ominous scenarios played out in his mind, Krais devised corresponding countermeasures. What choice did he have? Following a man like Enkrid into the battlefield came with unavoidable complications. At the same time, Krais resolved to himself: "I won''t allow any losses." His goal remained the same: the noblewomen''s salon. Even a short-term contract with Enkrid would be enough if he could get him to visit the salon. To make him host guests there. The thought alone thrilled him. The group busied themselves cleaning up the aftermath of the battle. Torres and Zimmer, who had previously greeted them, returned to exchange farewells. "Well done." Enkrid spoke, and Torres nodded in acknowledgment. "Safe travels." The rain had stopped, and the group walked on briskly. When they reached the border guard post, the wild horse nudged Enkrid''s shoulder. "What is it?" "Ah, just let you roam around a bit?" "Fine, do as you please. It''s dangerous to enter the territory on your own, so come back when I call you." "Go. Explore and have fun." Enkrid muttered to the horse, as if speaking to himself. Watching this, Rem murmured: "That thing is definitely going to transform into a person. Let''s have Esther check." No one responded. After entering the border guard''s territory, the group headed straight for the barracks. It was already evening. Rather than spending another night camping, they decided to walk a little longer and rest inside. It was late when they arrived. Predictably, there was no trouble at the castle gates. "You''ve arrived!" A soldier who had grown familiar with their faces during training opened the side gate. Although they were glad to see Enkrid, their expressions weren''t entirely cheerful. They knew training would resume, and their faces darkened. "I trust you haven''t been slacking. I''ll check tomorrow morning." Enkrid, ever dutiful to his role within the unit, hadn''t forgotten his obligations as the training officer. "...Yes, sir." The soldier was sure to spread the joyous news to everyone. The trembling of his cheeks betrayed how overwhelming this "joy" was. "Ugh, I''m exhausted! Let''s rest!" Krais exclaimed as he headed toward the barracks. Meanwhile, Teresa''s fiery gaze hadn''t left Enkrid. "Want to spar before we wash up?" Enkrid asked. Teresa nodded eagerly. The two engaged in a duel, and though Teresa lost, she was satisfied. Fighting someone like him made her feel it was worth following him. Battling him brought a strange sense of fulfillment she couldn''t quite explain. After delivering a brief report to the battalion commander, Enkrid spent the night with Esther curled up in his arms. The leopard¡ªsometimes human¡ªhad little to say, choosing instead to sleep soundly. "Let''s begin training." The day started with his duties as the training officer. It was after lunch when a soldier approached him. "Someone named Gilpin is here to see you. He seems to be in a hurry." Enkrid tilted his head. It wasn''t often that Gilpin would come looking for him at this hour. But as soon as he heard the name, a past incident came to mind. Specifically, the time when a certain frog had visited. When Enkrid went to meet this friend named Gilpin, he spotted the fairy Company Commander standing next to him. "Where are you going, fiance?? No greetings for me?" The Commander teased. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 261 - Striking Softly Doesn’t Turn a Blade into Cotton Chapter 261 - 261 - Striking Softly Doesn¡¯t Turn a Blade into Cotton 261. Striking Softly Doesn''t Turn a Blade into Cotton "Did you enjoy your time as a recruitment officer? Found anyone promising?" At the familiar question from his old friend, the rapier swordsman nodded. "There was one." "...Really?" It wasn''t like him to make such a comment lightly. The last person this friend had ever described as "promising" had been an exceptional talent, even among prodigies. In an empire teeming with geniuses, those who received this man''s recognition were rare indeed. And now he spoke so casually? How could that not spark interest? Hadn''t he said he''d been wandering the kingdom''s territories on the continent? For the man before him, this recruitment assignment had been a sort of vacation. Given his workaholic tendencies, it was a rare break from his usual duties. Yet, for him to say something like this during a so-called vacation was highly unusual¡ªand unexpected. It was not the sort of response one would expect to a casual jest. Inside the keep of the empire''s border territory, the two sat in a small room. A round table and a few chairs lined with woolen cushions were all it held. One was the lord of the territory, the other a training officer just returned from his leave. The rapier swordsman recounted what he had seen and felt, speaking plainly. Even as he described the facts calmly, there was a spark of heat in his eyes. The lord thought it resembled a quiet but impassioned speech. "So, you''re saying this talented guy of yours repelled pressure that should''ve overwhelmed him?" The rapier swordsman relayed only the facts, leaving out how shocked he''d been, how he''d stood in the rain for half a day murmuring, "Huh?" "A curious one, indeed." The commander of the border keep stroked his chin and downed the whiskey before him. It was a potent liquor called "Farmer''s Tears." The liquid burned its way down his throat, asserting its presence, and warmed his stomach as it settled. "Is he one of those capable Frogs?" "Capable Frogs" was slang for Frogs hired by the empire, referring to those who could survive on their own while fulfilling their roles. It was a way of gauging someone''s competence. "Frog, huh." The rapier swordsman twirled his glass in his hand, dismissing the notion without a second thought. "Not even close." Was he saying this person wasn''t at a Frog''s level? Or that a Frog couldn''t compare to him? Naturally, it was the latter. The lord understood that much. Was his mastery of Will special? Yes. But there was more to it¡ªpeculiarities that couldn''t be captured in mere words. "Even his swordsmanship." It had progressed absurdly, changed, grown, evolved. And all in an instant, witnessed with his own eyes. If someone had told him about it, he wouldn''t have believed it, even under threat of death. "It''s easier to think I was duped by some magic." As for Frogs wandering the fringes of the empire? "How many exchanges could they last?" They wouldn''t stand a chance. That was the level Enkrid had reached. The rapier swordsman held his glass up to the lamplight. The amber liquid within had undergone a long and arduous process to be created, earning its name, Farmer''s Tears. It symbolized the grueling effort required to produce it. For ordinary soldiers, squires, or junior knights, such effort was necessary. "Time, effort, tempering." As a training officer, he could vividly picture that process, as clear as if it were before his eyes. He was known among Frogs as a talent evaluator, renowned for his discerning eye. And with that same eye, he''d looked at Enkrid. Effort was evident, but it defied logic. Time was supposed to be equal for everyone. Thus, talent was the deciding factor. Given the same day and the same training, it was only right to foster the one with greater talent. So, what was this man, Enkrid? He was something beyond common sense, a being of explosive, inexplicable talent. This was his conclusion. "If not that, then perhaps he entered another world where he trained for years by repeating the same day over and over, only to return." He chuckled. It was such an absurd thought, dismissed as nonsense. It was easy to say, "Repeat a single day to hone your skills." Spoken aloud, it seemed simple¡ªalmost effortless. But who could endure such a process? He had seen countless talents and helped shape them. No one, he thought, could withstand such a relentless cycle. And if someone could? "If such a person existed..." Whether it was the empire or elsewhere, he would want to nurture such resolve and watch it blossom. Such a talent was worthy of desire. Once, in an academic paper written within the empire, he had posed the question: "What is the greatest talent?" The liquor in his swirling glass continued to catch the lamplight, shimmering faintly. As he emptied the glass into his mouth, he clarified his thoughts. "The greatest talent is the ability to remain unbroken, to always look forward no matter the circumstances." An unyielding spirit. That was his conclusion. Of course, without physical aptitude to support it, such a spirit would simply burn out. How many such individuals had he tried to train before? Judging their disposition and nature, he had attempted to force talent upon them. Such attempts were countless. All of them had failed. For a talent to explode into growth, whether through the intervention of a demon''s curse or a goddess of fortune, it required some element of the mystical. If such a person existed¡ªone who could endure something as torturous as that, whether by innate or acquired willpower, and ascend to the rank of a knight¡ª "It would be the birth of a monster." The rapier swordsman pictured a face in his mind as this thought crossed his mind. Black hair, blue eyes. A rare appearance, and one not easily forgotten. *** "I''m looking for someone," said Enkrid, responding to the fairy Company Commander. Beside him, Gilpin stood, sweating profusely, his face drenched. Though clearly nervous, Gilpin didn''t interrupt, instead casting glances between Enkrid and the fairy Commander. "I see," the fairy Company Commander nodded, standing firm as if prepared to follow Enkrid anywhere. Should Enkrid refuse? There was no need for that, so he let it be. Enkrid turned to Gilpin. Wearing a coif made of fur, Gilpin was soaked in sweat. His flushed face and heaving chest attested to the effort it had taken to get there. "Huff, please help us," Gilpin said, his words pleading. At that moment, Enkrid''s mind drifted unexpectedly to the name of the Frog he had encountered at the Border Guard. He hadn''t forgotten that name. The Frog had promised to return, and Frogs kept their word. "Maelon?" The thought bypassed his brain and slipped straight out of his mouth. Gilpin''s eyes widened in shock, his pupils dilating. He was clearly astonished. "...How did you know? The Guildmaster has been captured. Again." The way he emphasized "again" was telling. Officially, the bald man in the coif before him was the Guildmaster of the Gilpin Guild. But to its members, Krais was their true leader. The Gilpin Guild had begun as a gang of illiterate thugs, forming a criminal organization. Though its nature had shifted somewhat over time, its original character hadn''t completely disappeared. To them, the leader was the Guildmaster¡ªin this case, Krais. And above that Guildmaster stood Enkrid. "When it''s dangerous, just run and call for him. Say ''Commander Enkrid.'' Don''t forget the name. If you meet him in the market, lower your gaze immediately. And if you see a gray-haired savage with him, just flee. If you lock eyes with him, run." Krais had emphasized this so thoroughly that every member of the Gilpin Guild knew Enkrid''s name and face. That included Rem and others as well. They had repeatedly been told to avoid provoking him at all costs. And Gilpin had witnessed Enkrid in action. When trouble arose, it was only natural for him to seek Enkrid out. "Let''s go." Enkrid spoke and began walking without hesitation. "Wearing armor, carrying weapons¡ªit''s all part of training." That had been advice he''d received during his first days as a mercenary. Enkrid had taken it to heart. Because he had been inexperienced with weapons, he had followed that advice diligently. Even now, it remained a habit. He was dressed in a coat of beast-hide under-armor and bandages wrapped around his body. On his left hip hung the cursed sword Tutor, and on his right, a gladius gifted by a dwarf. A knife sheath strapped to his chest carried five throwing knives. Unable to procure a Whistle Dagger, its specialized sheath was left in his quarters. Add a gambeson, chainmail, and helmet to this, and he would have been fully equipped. Even so, he was adequately prepared as he was. "Ah, are you heading out?" A soldier guarding the barracks asked. Enkrid replied, walking at a steady pace. "Just stepping out for a stroll." "So am I," said the fairy Company Commander, falling into step beside him. With a straight face, the fairy added a characteristically dry joke. "Spending time together builds bonds, or so I''ve heard. Didn''t you know?" "Is that so?" "Some washerwoman told me while drawing bathwater. Seemed like sound advice. So I think we should spend more time together." A joke at a time like this? Enkrid replied casually. "If you''re suggesting we train together, that''s fine." If it were an ordinary woman, she might have kicked him in the shins. Suggesting training when asked to spend time together? Not a meal, a sunset, or whispered words of affection? But Shinar was neither an ordinary woman nor even human. As they walked, the fairy spoke. "That wouldn''t be bad, but what about visiting the market? The Border Guard market has some intriguing new arrivals lately¡ªthough it''s also brought its share of problems." It hadn''t been even a month since they''d left their territory. How much trouble could arise in that short time? Thinking about it, Enkrid and the fairy continued walking, while Gilpin trailed behind, wondering, What useless nonsense are these two talking about? What were they planning to do about the Frog? Even as such thoughts filled his mind, he struggled to keep up with their pace, nearly jogging while they seemed to walk effortlessly. Why are they so fast when they''re just walking? Just as Gilpin hurried to catch up¡ª "You said it was a Frog?" Enkrid asked. "Huff... Yes, that guy from last time. Huff, huff. The one with the white scar on his neck," Gilpin replied, panting heavily. He raised his hand to touch the skin on the right side of his neck as he spoke. It was the same Frog who had come to collect payment from the Gilpin Guild. Enkrid hadn''t forgotten the name. Back then, they had barely managed to drive him away. And now? "There!" Gilpin pointed. The situation was almost comical. The same place, the same circumstances. Should Krais be called an idiot for getting caught again? Enkrid instinctively understood. Inside the mansion, past the corridor, there was a single door blocking the way. Had the Frog learned something from their previous encounter? The door was wide open this time. Last time, he had kicked the door open and thrown a Whistle Dagger right away. Pushing aside overlapping memories, Enkrid raised his left hand, palm facing forward, and spoke. "How have you been?" It was a greeting. Sitting inside the hall on a chair, with Krais beside him, was the Frog, Maelon. "Fuck, do you think we''re friends? Happy to see me after all this time?" Maelon greeted him in turn, though his tone lacked the warmth of Enkrid''s. Enkrid, for his part, was eager to showcase the difference between them, especially after their previous fight. And there was no reason to prolong the encounter. As soon as Maelon opened his mouth, Enkrid had already launched forward. The sound of his foot slamming against the ground echoed behind him. Despite Enkrid''s terrifying speed, Maelon didn''t flinch. This guy excelled at creating unpredictability and chaos in battle. He''d experienced that firsthand before. Before even finishing his sentence, Maelon had drawn his loop sword, hooking his hand through the ring and swinging its thick blade downward. The blade came down with the strength of a Frog''s formidable power. Enkrid responded by drawing his own sword. From his left hip, the blade flashed upward, meeting the silvery loop sword mid-swing. Clang-clang-clang! A strange noise reverberated. Maelon intended to press his blade down with brute force, then crush Enkrid''s head with his fist. But he never got the chance. His descending blade veered off course, as if something had pulled it aside. What the fuck? The curse escaped his lips as the tip of Enkrid''s sword, now like a snake, shot towards him. In the next moment, a blade of blue steel grazed Maelon''s eye. "Argh!" The Frog screamed. Enkrid watched as the Frog, struck in the eye, rolled backward. He shook his sword in the air, flicking off the blood. Drops of Frog blood splattered onto the floor. With a single strike, Enkrid had demonstrated the overwhelming difference between them. More importantly, it was the first time he''d used a new sword technique in live combat. It works. A surge of exhilaration and joy filled him. Raising his sword again, Enkrid thought to himself as he refined his Soft Blade Style. "Just because you strike softly doesn''t mean a blade turns into cotton." ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 262 -Are You an Onion? Chapter 262 - 262 -Are You an Onion? Enkrid had learned the snake''s walk from Audin, combined it with the swordsmanship of Swallow Blade, and layered it with the Fluid Sword techniques taught by Ragna. He then added all the skills he''d observed, learned, felt, and experienced so far. The concept was simple: "The Fluid Sword technique blocks, deflects, and disperses." It''s a swordsmanship that prioritizes exhausting the opponent into mistakes. Leonis Onniak, the first to compile the five initial swordsmanships, defined it this way, and those who mastered the Fluid Sword technique afterward adhered to the same principles. But does it have to be like this? Enkrid wasn''t the first to ponder this, but he might have been the first to infuse his ideas into a form and turn it into swordsmanship. This was how he created it: Combining deflecting and striking simultaneously to create openings. Deflect the opponent''s attack while thrusting his sword forward. The concept was simple, but executing it required sharp senses and years of sparring experience. Enkrid had those. However, using this method reduced the power behind slashes and thrusts. In fact, delivering even half the usual force was challenging. Would that be a problem? If power was insufficient, it could be compensated for. A sharper weapon would suffice. It just needed to cut at the slightest touch. Enkrid sharpened his blade with a whetstone. The blade, reborn from a mere magic sword into a fine one, was sharp enough to make up for the lack of strength. And so, he used it this way: He deflected the opponent''s sword to the side, rode the motion, tapped, and withdrew. This was the result: "You''re one-eyed now." Enkrid stood still as he spoke. Opposite him, Maellun covered one of his eyes with his palm, blinking his remaining eye. He had fallen backward while trying to avoid Enkrid''s sword, landing on his rear. What kind of guy is this? What the hell is he? And what was that just now? Confused thoughts swirled in Maellun''s mind. Instead of dwelling on them, he pushed off the ground, launching himself at Enkrid. Though it seemed like he propelled himself with his hips, it was actually his knee''s rebound that allowed him to shoot forward from a fallen position. Losing one eye didn''t matter. Years of accumulated combat experience guided Maellun''s hand and helped him pinpoint his target''s position. He deflected it. Even as he moved, Maellun recognized the strange technique his opponent''s sword had used. If his blade couldn''t be deflected, then it should be smashed down with brute force. He needed only one step to close the gap, and in that moment, his forearm seemed to double in size. Simultaneously, it appeared to twist unnaturally. The thick-looped sword in his hand blurred like a mirage as it descended in a powerful arc. Enkrid sensed the incoming strike. He opened his five senses, and his newly developed intuition read the trajectory of the blow. He placed his sword precisely in its path. To ordinary eyes, the exchange would have been too fast to follow, but to Enkrid, it was a clear, tangible contest of swordsmanship. The force behind Maellun''s loop sword was weaker than before. A feint. Why was he pulling such muscle-flexing tricks? Enkrid began to deflect the blade with his sword''s flat edge when Maellun''s weapon abruptly changed course. Enkrid twisted his waist, pivoting on his ankle, and applied techniques from Valah-style martial arts to his swordsmanship. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. By adding rotational force, he struck Maellun''s blade with the flat of his sword. Clang! The collision of metal produced a resounding noise. The deafening roar was accompanied by a wave of vibrations and invisible shockwaves that swept toward both combatants. Neither flinched. Their trained bodies absorbed the impact. Maellun didn''t falter. Nor did he underestimate his opponent. Using the rebound force, he spun half a turn and swung his blade horizontally. Enkrid, as if dancing, drew a curve in the air with his sword, bringing it up to meet Maellun''s blade once more. Screeeeech! The clash produced a grinding sound and sparks that scattered between them. Splurch! Amidst the cacophony, the sound of flesh being torn was heard. Enkrid stepped back, flicking his sword downward to shed the blood clinging to its blade. "...You." Maellun blinked with his remaining eye. What the hell just happened? After his first encounter with Enkrid, Maellun had worked harder than ever to improve his skills. In his relentless training, he had even cut down a few cultists, narrowly avoiding death on several occasions. He had slain monsters and magical beasts, wandering near cursed lands. It was all for this day. To crush the human who had interfered with his ambitions and bask in the satisfaction of victory. Frog warriors'' desires were often frighteningly obsessive. Maellun''s desire was simple and clear: To relish the sense of achievement after defeating an opponent. The man before him was the perfect challenge. Weaker than Maellun, but ferociously tenacious. Yet all his efforts to savor the most profound satisfaction were in vain. No, his efforts had paid off, but his opponent had changed. "This makes no sense." Fighting someone vastly superior was antithetical to Maellun''s desires. With his talent for reading abilities and his varied experiences, it should have been impossible for him to lose. His combat instincts still told him so. But what was this? What was happening? His current strength far surpassed what it had been before. And yet the man who had barely held his ground against him last time had taken his eye in one blow. And now... "Where''s my arm?" The absurd words spilled from Maellun''s mouth involuntarily. It was there. Now it''s not. After just two exchanges, he''d become one-eyed during the first and one-armed during the second. His arm was severed. The chunk of flesh from his elbow down lay on the ground, with his loop sword still clenched in its twitching fingers, blood pooling beneath it. Even with his astounding regenerative abilities, Maellun could only watch as his lost limb started to regrow faintly. For now, though, he was without his weapon and arm. His rage overcame him, and his obsession betrayed him. His eyes rolled wildly, his mouth agape, and his tongue writhing unnaturally. "Are you going to keep going?" Enkrid glanced at Krais, relieved to see him unharmed, curled up in a corner rather than bound. That meant this Frog hadn''t killed anyone. He still had questions. Who had sent Maellun? Would others like him come? Was it the work of the Black Blade? Or had the Count been plotting against the territory from the start? Enkrid simply observed, his mind set on getting answers. "Enki." Behind him, the fairy commander called his nickname. He found it preferable to "betrothed." He realized why she had called him when he saw Meelun reach inside his breastplate and pull something out. It was a small leather pouch, flat and just the right size to fit inside his armor. He held it up and twisted it open, pouring something powdery into his mouth. "Be careful." The fairy warned, and Meelun''s eyes turned bright red. Lost in the hope of victory, Meelun, obsessed with a singular desire, made a regretful choice. He had taken the powder, and soon its effects began to take hold. "Kkhhhhhaaaaaa!" Meelun screamed as he charged forward, faster than ever. Enkrid had already positioned himself, stepping back as the frog tossed the powder into his mouth. His senses heightened, and everything seemed to slow. Krais''s eyes widened as the frog rushed forward. The fairy commander stepped back, preparing herself. Outside the mansion, Gilpin, who had been guiding them, slipped and fell. Enkrid''s senses were sharper than ever. His concentration triggered, and everything around him seemed to slow, giving him time to react. The frog''s powder glittered in the air as it scattered, and Enkrid saw the frog growing larger as it approached, closing the distance. He held his sword diagonally. The frog charged forward, aiming to crash into him with its full weight. Slash! The impact was deafening as one of them was sent flying into the wall. "Captain!" Finally, Krais shouted. He hadn''t noticed the fight until the frog''s sudden burst of speed had caught his attention. When the two collided, the wooden floor of the mansion cracked, and dust filled the air, obscuring Krais''s vision for a moment. Through the dust, a blurred figure moved its arms, opening its mouth. "What are you calling me for?" "Shit, I thought he was done for." Krais let out a relieved sigh. The fairy commander, still shocked, unknowingly opened her mouth. Her stance was shaky, her hand still on her sword. "What was that just now?" She pondered what she had seen. The frog''s foot came flying toward Enkrid. He deflected it with his sword, brushing against the frog''s shin. The frog''s skin was slick. Enkrid used this to his advantage, skillfully dodging. It wasn''t easy. A slight misstep and he could have been knocked out by the frog''s powerful kicks. But Enkrid wasn''t finished. He drew a shorter sword with his left hand, using it to strike the frog''s breastplate. With a precise hit to the heart, the armor shattered, sending shockwaves through the frog''s body. Was this impressive? Yes, it was. His reflexes and the way he handled the situation were remarkable. "Your growth is incredible." Shinar, the fairy commander, realized she couldn''t easily predict the outcome of their fight anymore. If they fought seriously, perhaps, but in a simple spar, Enkrid was no longer someone she could easily defeat. "He might be tougher than that barbarian." Seeing the fairy''s surprise, Enkrid simply shrugged. "Seems like you know something." He asked, having heard her exclaim about the powder. Her tone was one of familiarity. "I''ve seen something like that recently." "Let''s clean up first." With that, Krais approached, finally snapping out of the shock. Enkrid nodded as he watched the frog, now knocked unconscious, lodged between the broken bricks of the mansion wall. His heart hadn''t exploded, but the shock had knocked him out. No matter how much the frog struggled with the drug, Enkrid had aimed for its weak spot. That was the difference in skill. "Captain, you''re really strong." It was surprising, even though he knew it. Krais said this, while Gilpin, who had witnessed everything, stood there with his mouth wide open, unable to say anything. He didn''t even get up from where he had fallen on his backside. After all, weren''t they monsters that had nothing to do with him? He hadn''t really seen much, or at least hadn''t properly observed it. But would anyone believe the story if he told them? ''They''ll believe it, won''t they?'' Does this even make sense? Is that person some kind of knight or something? No, they''re just a mere company commander, right? But they fight too well for it to make sense. "We''re heading back." Enkrid captured the frog. If it didn''t die, it would regenerate, so taking it alive was the right call. He also wanted to resolve a few questions and curiosities. Enkrid slung the frog over his shoulder, with the fairy company commander and Krais following closely behind. As they stepped outside the mansion, a cold breeze brushed against his cheeks. Though the battle hadn''t been long, he was sweating. The wind on his face felt quite refreshing. As sweat trickled down his temple, the fairy commander reached out and wiped it away. "Are you an onion?" Enkrid didn''t understand what she meant. "What do you mean by that?" "Every time, you show a new charm, so I thought you might be like an onion¡ªpeeling off layers to reveal something new." Enkrid was deeply curious. What kind of joke was that in the fairy world? Was this what normal fairies were like? Or was the fairy company commander exiled for making such jokes and ended up here? He glanced at Krais, wondering if he had heard it, but Krais didn''t even seem to notice. "Oh, you''ve got a lot going on." He was rummaging through the frog''s bag as they walked. "Didn''t you hear me?" Enkrid asked. Krais looked up, his head lifting from where he had bent down to the bag. "Huh?" He hadn''t heard, or maybe he had heard but simply didn''t listen. Enkrid knew this technique of Krais well, so he mimicked it. "What''s this powder?" Krais didn''t respond, changing the subject. "There''s something troublesome in here. Onion betrothed." The fairy commander wasn''t bothered, calling Enkrid by a fresh nickname. Should he curse? Enkrid thought for a moment but remained silent. As for the powder, he could just have Krais look into it later. "Onion betrothed, did you just say something with your eyes?" He could tell the fairy commander seemed a little too excited. Enkrid didn''t ask why. He just acted like Krais. He had heard it but didn''t listen. "Hey, betrothed. You look like you don''t want to answer me right now." "Esther came to greet us." Enkrid pointed ahead at the leopard by the barracks and greeted it with a smile. Just as he said, Esther was there, waiting in front as though she had come out to meet him. Enkrid walked lightly. He had barely managed to hold his own against Frog Meelun before, but now, it was different¡ªvery different. It was almost as easy as a quick stroll. Such had been the change. Enkrid thought this as he looked at Esther. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 263 - Change, Change, Change Chapter 263 - 263 - Change, Change, Change For a long time, the continent''s most renowned strategists, military leaders, and commanders sought to create magical divisions. In other words, they tried to gather magicians and elevate them into military forces under their command. "If we gather magicians to form an army, it could rival a knight''s order in strength!" The first fool who had this idea carried it out faithfully. He traveled across the continent, gathering those who were skilled in casting spells, and promised them many things. From providing them with locations and supplies to fulfilling the wishes of the magicians. Dozens of magicians gathered and formed a collective. Thus, the "Womb of the Demon" was born. Of course, it wasn''t named the Womb of the Demon from the outset. "It shall be called the Tower of Wisdom." That was what it was originally called, but in later years, historians would refer to it as the Womb of the Demon. Why? Because the magicians there summoned demons and twelve Beelrogs, so it was only fitting. The nameless demon¡ªat least as far as humans were concerned¡ªwas a being who had no name and swept through three neighboring territories, creating an undead army, and earned the title "Father of the Dead." The twelve Beelrogs who served him, born for battle, fought as only monsters born for war could. This is not myth, but a legendary event that happened between history. That demon still exists today. Eventually, to defeat the "Father of the Dead," the greatest knight orders from across the continent set out. The demon fought fiercely and eventually retreated deep into the forbidden realm. That is the history of how the demon known as "The Father of the Dead" or "The Last Door of Life" took refuge in the depths of the cursed land. [Immortal, possessing a body and soul that cannot be killed by human hands, that demon.] This phrase is often used to describe the demon. From this, there should have been a lesson learned, but still, many attempted to organize magicians. Some succeeded, but their ends were far from beautiful. Rebellions, spells gone out of control, and magicians killing each other even when no one instructed them to. "They are an uncontrollable threat." Later, the Empire unofficially referred to magicians as such, and there was a time of witch hunts and magical repression. Today, most people avert their eyes and fear or revere witches when they see them. The same goes for magicians. What lesson can be drawn from all this? "Magicians are fickle, unpredictable, and troublemakers." Yet, some still secretly cultivate friendships with magicians or make deals to establish positions like court mages in their kingdoms. But the consensus is that it''s more of a transactional relationship. Enkrid thought this to himself as he looked at Esther. Along with the fairy commander, they had just dunked a single frog, which was still unconscious. And then there was Esther. This leopard¡ªwhat was it dissatisfied with? It just kept staring at him. "I have a problem." He could feel it without words. The senses, muddled and intertwined, told him something new through his heightened instincts. ''What''s with her?'' "Oh ho." Just before parting, the fairy commander let out an incomprehensible exclamation. "Until we meet again, onion fiance?e. I shall peel your layers and one day, see you completely bare." Why was that prayer directed at him? Enkrid wondered, but since the fairy wasn''t someone with whom ordinary logic worked... "I''m leaving." He waved her off. He mentioned that the frog interrogation could be done together, and they agreed. Back at the camp, Esther continued to give him strange looks, which reminded him of the historical tales of magicians causing trouble. Was she also some sort of witch who might cause trouble? "What?" He asked directly. Instead of avoiding it or letting things go wrong, he asked outright, which was typical of Enkrid. But thinking it over, she was a witch. A witch who could even transform into a leopard. For some reason, she preferred to stay in her leopard form more than as a human. But that was a misunderstanding. Esther had to maintain her leopard form due to a curse, not because she enjoyed it. Well, everything has its ups and downs; where there''s good, there''s also bad. The curse of transformation wasn''t necessarily all bad. For a genius witch who had lived opening her own world of spells since she was young, it wasn''t hard to pick out useful aspects from a curse. Of course, all of this started because of the man in front of her. ''Why?'' At first, there were only questions. As she nestled into the man''s embrace, the power of her curse weakened. If the curse was a tangled thread, it was as if that knot had unraveled on its own. If she had severed it by force, her world would have been tainted and ruined, but if she found the starting point and slowly untangled it, there was no danger. The man was the type of person who could gently unravel the threads of a curse. Because of him, she found herself in his arms, falling asleep and waking up, still here. ''Why?'' The questions continued. For a witch, such questions were poison. Thus, she had to dig deeper. She had to continue contemplating. That was the answer. Of course, there was more to be done than just thinking. She had also tinkered with the summoned creatures placed in her spell world and gathered various items to extend the time she can transform back into a human. It wasn''t enough, but unless she captured a master alchemist, she had acquired everything she could for now. Afterward, there was the process of refining her spell world once again. She wouldn''t fall victim to such a foolish curse again. Esther, too, had her own goals. After overcoming the curse, there were two major tasks to complete. The first was revenge. She needed to plunge a fiery arrow into the skull of the one who had done this to her. The second, while a different path, was the ultimate goal of her magical pursuit. ''The world must be governed by magic.'' To create a new world through spells once again. Even if thousands of humans and different races died, nations fell, the land decayed, and lakes turned black with the coming of an era of destruction. ''If that must happen, then so be it.'' When had she harbored such a goal? Was it when she was called the Witch of Fire? Or was it when she was known as the Sage with Blue Eyes? Either way, it was a dream she had nurtured from then on. With magic, with spells, and with mystery, the world would be reshaped. Grin. While lost in thought, Esther unconsciously bared her fangs. Despite this, the man didn''t seem to mind. He simply raised his hand and gently patted her head. "Are you upset?" The tone, however, displeased her, so she lightly bit his hand. It should have hurt, but the blue eyes peeking through his black hair only smiled. "That hurts, you brat." Though she still didn''t like his tone, she let it go. Seeing that smiling face, she couldn''t stay angry. He really was strikingly handsome. Esther harbored within her a strong will and a resolve to overthrow the world. She had nurtured that belief until now, but recently, her thoughts had begun to change. It was the first change she had encountered in over a hundred years. If the curse was the beginning of the change, then this man was the end. ''Why?'' Why did she feel like she was rooting for him when she looked at him? Why did she want to see his future? Why did she want to help him? Why did watching him wield his blade bring her joy? While these thoughts swirled, the man left for a neighboring territory. She had expected him to return soon, but days passed without word. If she went to look for him, it would feel like a bother, but waiting also made the time drag on. She needed the man''s embrace again. The power of the curse needed to be suppressed once more. But first, she needed to clear her thoughts. ''In the spell world, distractions are poison.'' This was a fact proven by countless magicians. Poison that harms the body is dangerous, but poison that affects the mind is far worse. As she stabilized her inner poison, the man finally returned after a few days, but he didn''t even look for her before leaving again. She heard that some frog had arrived, and it seemed to be playing with the big-eyed guy. ''Why do I want to hit him?'' Esther didn''t know why she felt this way, but she didn''t dwell on it either. If something like this happened again, she would act on her instincts. She was a witch, a magician. She was by nature unpredictable, a selfish and unknown seeker of knowledge, with her spell world always taking priority. It was perhaps inevitable that the man in front of her had entered her life, given her curiosity. ''How could he be like that?'' She had met dozens, maybe hundreds, of people who wielded swords. But she had never seen anyone like him before. From the very first time she was called a witch, until now, she had never encountered someone like him. How could she not find him interesting? "Want to go to the market? I saw a lot of things being sold there." At those words, Esther stood up. She cleared her thoughts from her spell world. ''According to my instincts.'' She decided to go with it. Enkrid, noticing that Esther had stopped sulking, picked her up in his arms. "Let''s go together." "What about the frog?" "I''m not sure what he ate, but he''s still out cold. That poison is strong." "Did you figure out what it was?" While carrying Esther, they stepped outside, where they saw Rem hitting Dunbakel, and Audin and Teresa sitting nearby, seemingly lost in thought. Should they bring them along? That thought crossed his mind, but when he asked, they all shook their heads. "I''m trying to find the answer to the question the Lord gave me." Audin muttered some nonsense. "I''m wandering Teresa, it''s time to train. I need to prepare for the next sparring." Teresa was covered in sweat, fully committed to her training. "I''m busy. You go on and have fun by yourself. You can''t even go to the market if I''m not there, huh? Would people think I''m your father?" Crazy Rem. Enkrid, instead of emphasizing his own age, stared at Dunbakel. "Give him a good one. You can do it." With a word of encouragement, the beast-woman''s eyes lit up with determination. "I''ll make sure to do so." "Huh? You''ve lost it. Let''s make this training session count." Rem, seeing the fighting spirit in Dunbakel, broke into a broad smile. It seemed like he was looking forward to the fight. Still the same crazy guy. Jaxen was nowhere to be seen, and Ragna was swinging his sword, making it hard to approach him. So, they headed toward the market. Esther bought some of her favorite spiced jerky and marmalade. They also heard that some artisans who made bread in Martai had joined, so there would be plenty to eat and see. It wasn''t all there was. Until now, due to the rush of movement, she hadn''t noticed it until she looked closely. "Don''t you think something has changed a lot?" Enkrid asked as he scratched behind Esther''s ear with his finger. Esther, who had her chest puffed up and was wrapped in his arms, let out a contented sound. Krais answered carelessly to his superior''s words. "Things have changed." Things had changed. He hadn''t really looked closely at the market before, but now... "Marcus, that guy... really a madman." It was a compliment. Krais briefly summarized what he had heard and seen. "He was crazy like a colt with its tail on fire, using Krona like mad." The sky above was cloudless, and the sunlight fell from above. For a northern winter, it was truly great weather. There were many more people wandering the market than before, and the inns were overflowing. Vaness''s pumpkin soup inn was in the middle of expanding. Workers were seen hauling lumber and stones. It wasn''t just happening at that inn. The streets, the gates, the walls of the castle, and every building were bustling. There were workers swarming everywhere. "I overheard..." As Krais continued speaking, Marcus''s actions began to form in their minds like a picture. "Raise the watchtower." "Huh?" "Also, dig a moat in front of the inner castle gate." "...We don''t have enough manpower for that. And we don''t have an outer wall." "Then build one. Make it." Marcus didn''t get angry at his subordinate''s words. He had a lot of experience and didn''t think everyone around him was clever. ''It would be weird if there were only people like Enkrid around.'' Most people were foolish. They were idiots. Marcus knew this well. So he didn''t bother to explain. "Send the soldiers out." "Huh?" "Don''t we have a lot of mercenaries coming in from outside? Hire them, make them dig." The work started in the office, but Marcus''s will was firm, and his direction was clear. No objections were entertained. "Raise the watchtower." Both the moat and the watchtower construction went on at the same time. The poor district outside the territory was pushed aside. And all the poor were hired as workers. "From now on, anyone who doesn''t work doesn''t eat or sleep." If anyone dared to challenge them? How dare they? One word from the Border Guard Captain could make the birds of the sky tremble. Even a dragon could lose a scale. The battlefields he had been on with Enkrid gave him strength. Most importantly, since they had recently stepped up as a trading territory, taxes within the area had sharply increased. In other words, the territory was becoming rich. Marcus didn''t keep much for himself, but mostly invested it. The moat was dug, but instead of doing something crazy like filling it with water, he just made it deep. It was enough for preventing siege equipment or close combat siege weapons from getting close. Bringing in water could be done later. He had dug a few more wells as well. He had started that a long time ago. It was something to do before the population increased, as you had to solve the water and food problems first. Marcus did just that. He kept working relentlessly. "Train archers. If there are any mercenaries who can shoot a bow, hire them and get them into the army." He also had an aggressive recruitment strategy. "They said they won''t come unless they bring their mercenary group along..." "Bring them all. Pay them in gold coins." All they had left was gold coins. They had gotten Martai, and previously had won against Aspen. They didn''t need to worry about a sudden attack from Aspen anymore. Naturally, merchants and traders gathered. And mercenary groups that would guard them came into the territory. Thus, Krona was in full swing. The lord of the territory became a rich man in an instant. *** Radical archer training. Along with cavalry training. Adding more watchtowers and strengthening defenses. Krona was used for all of this. There were no shortages of capable people either. "Didn''t we have some that didn''t leave after being beaten by Enkrid?" There were many such people. Those who came after hearing rumors and got beaten up. Those who got scared after watching a battle and hesitated to leave. The ones who stayed outnumbered the ones who left. Normally, such people would become a problem for law and order. "Bring them all in." They were made into slaves of Krona. They were immediately brought inside after being given Krona. Naturally, the barracks expanded. This was something that had already started, but they couldn''t do everything on their own. "Contact the northern division." The Border Guard had two divisions. One had gone to Aspen to set up a new garrison. It was intended to lay the foundation for a new territory. Within the range of gold coins, Marcus did everything he could. Krais was astonished and shook his head. He was truly a master at administration, politics, and resource management. "So now, here''s what''s happened." The number of watchtowers increased to sixteen, and the repair work on the castle walls was underway, while the moat was being dug. He had also bought countless arrows. Everything was being spent on fortifying and developing the territory. "Someone must have died in the process." Enkrid asked as he imagined what might have happened in Marcus''s office. Not every job gets done just because it''s ordered. There''s plenty of administration and organizing work. Krais nodded. "Of course. The heavy infantry squad leader collapsed two days ago. Even some of the nobles who could handle numbers and people were already on their last legs." Marcus''s specialty. Neither Enkrid nor Krais knew, but that man''s specialty was grinding people down to work. He skillfully played to his strengths. He was once called "Grinding Marcus" within his family, and he unleashed that talent fully. The Border Guard territory was transforming in dazzling ways, day by day. It wasn''t surprising; it was expected. It was the result of people, Krona, and capable individuals coming together. As Enkrid looked around the now bustling market, there were indeed a lot of people. And among them, there was someone sneaking a knife into his side. Feeling the blade about to enter, Enkrid grabbed the wrist. Esther, half awake, opened her eyes. In front of her, there was a hunchbacked figure, appearing to bow. An assassin. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 264 - What is the Black Blade Going to Do? Chapter 264 - 264 - What is the Black Blade Going to Do? "So, how was it?" Edin Molsan''s father asked the question. He didn''t bother lifting his head, merely moving his lips as he wrote at his desk. As a result, Edin Molsan''s guard had to address the top of his head. The guard stood upright and replied, "He has opened his Will. At least at the level of a squire-knight." To ascend in mastery over the Will¡ªto awaken, open, touch, realize, or fulfill it¡ªthere were many terms, but the crux of the matter was singular: the person in question could now wield Will. A man with black hair and blue eyes, intriguing but not someone who urgently needed to be brought in, was now someone noteworthy. "Will, you say?" The quill scratching against paper abruptly halted. The Count raised his head, his eyes betraying a shift in emotion. The guard, who found such reactions rare, saw the Count''s contemplative pause as he repeated the word internally. Will. The implication was clear: the person had genuinely reached the level of a squire-knight, not just the nebulous "squire-knight level" often thrown around. In reality, the distinction between an actual squire-knight and someone merely at a "squire-knight level" was vast. Comparing an untrained swordsman to someone who wielded Will was an absurdity. And yet, the world often misapplied such terms, suggesting someone could be "squire-knight level" without actually mastering Will¡ªa fundamentally misleading statement. The Count, setting aside his quill entirely, leaned back in his chair, repeating the word aloud again in disbelief. Will. It wasn''t something to gloss over. He''d known this individual''s reputation, suspected he was far beyond the level of a typical squire, but this? It was a revelation. True squire-knights were not just physical and mental warriors; they carried the power of Will, something only those who had transcended ordinary human limitations could wield. Most fighters who reached that level were celebrated figures, famous across entire regions. The Count''s face betrayed a subtle smile. "Things have gotten interesting." Discarding most of the plans he''d been formulating in his mind, he leaned forward. "What do you think of him?" Seeking the guard''s perspective again, the Count''s probing gaze lingered. The guard hesitated briefly, pondering how much to reveal. This man was an enigma. Trusting him was out of the question. A madman. Though a noble of Naurelia, this Count had forged an uneasy, shadowy alliance with Aspen''s Harrier family, with the guard himself as proof. Officially, he served as a bodyguard and retainer to the Count''s family, but in reality, he belonged to the Harriers. He was a squire-knight from Aspen, tangled in this web of political machinations that were beyond his comprehension or concern. One fact, however, was unmistakable: this man was scheming, and Aspen had decided to entertain those schemes. Does this man even know fatherly affection? It certainly didn''t appear so. The room gradually filled with the warm orange hues of the setting sun spilling through the windows, casting a soft glow on the Count''s desk. Finally, the guard chose his words carefully. "He''s an extraordinarily difficult opponent. Not just in combat but because of the strange influence he exerts on those around him." "A man who gathers others and makes them follow him, is that it?" "Not exactly." The guard paused, searching for the right words. "Rather, even without trying, those around him seem drawn to him, as though they enjoy merely being in his presence." The guard''s thoughts drifted to the half-giant woman. Though she called herself a wanderer named Teresa, anyone who failed to recognize her was blind. She had been an enemy, from an entirely different faction, and had even caused trouble. And yet, where was she now? Whose side had she chosen to remain by? How such a transformation had occurred was beyond comprehension. And what about the people surrounding him? Finally, the guard also noticed a change in Edin Molsan. He intended to mention the Count''s son, but the Count spoke first. "The Black Blade is targeting him, you say?" The setting sun cast its light on the left side of the Count''s face. At that moment, the guard saw two faces in one. The sunlight divided the Count''s expression, creating two entirely different visages. Neither revealed any concern, worry, or even interest regarding his son. For a fleeting moment, the guard found the phrase "targeting" peculiar, as if it should have been "targeted." But he chose to hold his tongue. "That''s what I''ve heard," he replied. "Well, that''s certainly amusing." "Yes, then I''ll take my leave." The guard suddenly felt nauseous. Dealing with this man always had that effect on him. How far can human malice grow? What is one willing to sacrifice for ambition? If someone opened the path of knighthood for him, how much would he be willing to give up? Family? Children? Would he offer it all as a sacrifice for ambition? Or should he stop in the name of humanity? The Count seemed like someone who would never stop. Concepts like family, children, or affection seemed entirely absent from his mind. As the guard exited the study, he noticed someone standing by the door. It was a man wearing a black helmet and letting his silver hair flow freely beneath it. The man gave a slight nod of his helmet, and the guard responded with a similar gesture before stepping into the dark hallway untouched by the sunlight. The black-helmeted bodyguard closed the door behind him. Thud. The Count leaned his chin on his hand, staring at the closed door. Feeling idle, he pulled out a pipe, flicked his fingers, and a burst of flame ignited, pushing back the glow of the sunset. He moved the flame to light his pipe, then smiled. Inhaling deeply, he let the smoke settle in his lungs before exhaling. The smoke mixed with the sunlight, appearing like orange mist. "The Black Blade folks..." They must be having a hard time. If the target was not merely "squire-knight level" but an actual squire-knight... And if, as the guard reported, the people surrounding him were all formidable... It would be difficult for them to achieve what they wanted. "Even if they succeed..." If the Black Blade managed to harm Enkrid and his group, then he would weigh the scales and act accordingly. But such an outcome seemed unlikely. It was an intuition, but such feelings rarely missed the mark. "This will indeed be entertaining," he muttered, lost in thought, his mind entirely devoid of any concerns about Edin Molsan. *** The moment Enkrid grabbed his opponent''s wrist, the man pulled back with all his strength. Of course, the wrist didn''t budge. It remained motionless, like a still-life painting. Veins bulged on the back of the hand from the grip''s intensity. Even though everyone of the madmen seemed like monsters themselves, Enkrid''s raw strength was not inferior to theirs. Crack. Enkrid twisted the wrist backward, bending it at an unnatural angle. The joint snapped. Yet the opponent didn''t let out so much as a groan. The marketplace was a chaotic sea of people. Half of it was filled with bodies, the other half with goods. Few around them even noticed the commotion. "Hey, watch it! What are you stepping on?" shouted a furious peddler. "There''s no room to walk here!" someone else complained. The need for wider streets was evident, and some efforts to expand the main road were already underway. The hunchback, whose wrist had been broken, reached out with his other hand. Before the arm could fully extend, Enkrid''s right fist shot forward like a hammer. To Krais, standing nearby, the movement was invisible. He only heard a whoosh followed by a snap. Even though she was being held close to Enkrid, Esther barely felt any tremor from the strike, and it left her slightly astonished. "He''s gotten even sharper." Though a witch, Esther couldn''t fully grasp what had changed about Enkrid, but her instincts told her something had. After breaking the hunchback''s jaw, Enkrid grabbed the hood of the man''s thick robe and pulled it off. Beneath the hood was a figure with a bulging back and unkempt hair. Breaking the wrist, delivering the punch, and removing the robe all happened in the span of a few breaths. But just as this brief sequence concluded, a projectile flew through the air with a whoosh. With his heightened senses, Enkrid swung his open palm, deflecting the incoming projectile. The object clattered to the ground, landing vertically with a sharp thud. It was a dart. "They''re no ordinary folks," Enkrid muttered, nudging the dart with his foot. "...That''s what you say after casually dismantling them?" Krais responded, his voice tinged with disbelief. Just what about these enemies was supposed to be remarkable? Esther leaped from Enkrid''s arms, landing gracefully like a panther. Several bystanders, startled by the sight, gasped in surprise. Some noticed the fallen hunchback, while others saw the dagger in his hand or the presence of Enkrid and Krais. While itinerant merchants might not recognize their faces, the local border guards couldn''t fail to. "A dagger!" "An attack!" "An assassin!" Well, wasn''t that quick? They jumped straight to "assassin" the moment they saw it. The outcry only added to the chaos. The area erupted in turmoil, with screams, shouts, and merchants yelling to protect their goods. Stall owners scrambled to shield their wares, turning the market into a complete mess. Enkrid extended his senses, calmly observing the confusion. There was nothing to detect immediately. This was why he had said the enemy wasn''t ordinary. I didn''t sense them until they struck with a dagger. Whoever had thrown the dart earlier must have hidden in the crowd the moment they attacked, leaving no trace. Their stealth skills were deeply ingrained. Had the area been less crowded, he might have pinpointed them, but he focused his attention nonetheless. Where are you? He sharpened his perception, using his sight, hearing, smell, and touch in tandem. Adding his instinctual sixth sense to the mix, he finally caught a faint trace¡ªan almost imperceptible killing intent. At that moment, something heavy and slower than a dart whooshed through the air from behind him. A slingstone? The thought crossed his mind as Enkrid turned. His enhanced reflexes, honed through relentless training, allowed him to see the projectile clearly. It was a leather pouch. Trusting his instincts, Enkrid drew his gladius. Twisting his wrist to angle the flat of the blade upward, he swung it forcefully at the incoming pouch. Thwack! Pop-pop-pop-pop! The pouch burst in midair, scattering a spray of sharp metal spikes in all directions. Well, now, he mused, that''s a first. Screams followed as some of the spikes hit the ground. Fortunately, being winter, most people were wearing thick clothes, minimizing injuries. However, the confusion grew even worse. "Dammit! Everyone, get inside a building! If you stay out here, we''ll treat you as enemies!" A patrol soldier''s shout cut through the chaos. It was a timely order. In situations like this, it was better to suppress with force and regain control. Enkrid remained motionless, scanning his surroundings carefully. Krais, looking around nervously, decided it might be safer to stay where he was and stopped moving. Ping! Two more darts flew through the air. One was aimed at Krais. In Enkrid''s heightened perception, the dart''s trajectory became a visible line. Following that line, he determined its origin and end point within his sensory range. His focus sharpened to a single point. Combining acute senses, intense concentration, and an unflinching will, Enkrid moved like a well-practiced performer. The dart meant for him was evaded with a slight tilt of his head. The one aimed at Krais was snatched out of the air with his hand. All of this happened in a single, fluid motion, within the span of one breath. Had the assassin seen this, their hair would have stood on end. Their bladder might have quivered, urging them to flee on the spot. And of course, they were watching. Enkrid twirled the dart he had caught between his fingers, dangling it mockingly. So, they''re targeting Krais now? Meanwhile, another dart flew with a delay, aimed at Esther. But the panther had already moved. When it came to sheer agility, how many humans could rival a beast? The dart struck where she had been, embedding itself into the ground. It was the only proof she had been the target. Growl. Esther snarled, radiating hostility, while Enkrid kept his heightened senses active. The assassins¡ªor rather, the assassin group¡ªwere highly skilled. Letting out intentional killing intent, throwing a pouch of spikes... And the spikes weren''t poisoned? Unlikely¡ªthey almost certainly were. Traces of killing intent flickered here and there before disappearing again. "Don''t push! I said, don''t push!" "Don''t step on me!" "Do you know who you''re shoving?!" "Help me!" "Aaaaahhh!" "Get out of the way! Move!" And so, the market descended further into madness. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 265 - Misconceptions Can Be Fatal Chapter 265 - 265 - Misconceptions Can Be Fatal Chapter 265 - Misconceptions Can Be Fatal The chaos was absolute. People shoved each other in panic. A construction worker, pushed by the crowd, stumbled and rolled toward Enkrid. Curling into a ball and clutching his head, he desperately tried to protect himself. It was a survival instinct. Whoosh! "Shut up and move!" Several patrol soldiers shouted angrily, swinging their spears to control the panicking mob. Enkrid''s senses were sharper than ever, honed to a razor''s edge. This heightened awareness and concentration intertwined, forming a blade of unmatched precision. He recalled how he had captured the centaur leader¡ªseeing and understanding everything around him as if it were within arm''s reach. He knew where to step, how to act, and what to do next. In this state, Enkrid remained motionless. With his eyes half-closed, he calmly regulated his breathing. "Commander?" Perhaps unnerved by this stillness, Krais called out to him. Aside from the construction worker rolling on the ground, a middle-aged woman and a small child were also pushed by the crowd and fell. No one wanted to be near Enkrid, fearing they might get caught up and killed, so the crowd instinctively distanced itself from him. This left an open circle around Enkrid, where the worker, the woman, and the child found themselves. The child, pale with fear, trembled violently. His coat was torn, and his elbow, scraped from falling, bled steadily. "He''s hurt," Krais muttered, noticing the boy. However, he didn''t step forward. If it had been a girl, perhaps he might have, but this was a boy. Moreover, Krais understood that making any rash movements now would only worsen the situation. Though not a fighter, Krais knew his role well¡ªthis was a time to trust and rely on his commander. The boy kept his head down, too frightened even to sob, his wide eyes darting nervously. Enkrid suddenly threw the dart he had been holding. His arm moved so swiftly that it was a blur, and by the time the air whistled from his motion, the dart had already flown, aimed at the worker''s thigh. The worker twisted his ankle at the last moment, narrowly dodging the dart. Thwip! The dart grazed the thick fabric of his pants and embedded itself in the ground. It might have seemed like a lucky escape, but the movement was far too precise to be mere coincidence. Evading an attack like that in such a chaotic moment? It was instinctive, reflexive¡ªand in doing so, the worker had unwittingly revealed his true nature. Despite the sudden attack, the worker did not appear confused. Instead, he calmly brushed his hands off. Six darts flew from his hands in a calculated assault. Three were aimed at Enkrid''s chest and abdomen. The other three targeted Krais¡ªhis forehead, chest, and thigh. It was a well-coordinated ploy. But before the darts could even close the distance, Enkrid''s left hand moved, wielding the gladius. Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! All six darts were deflected harmlessly into the air. At that moment, the child¡ªwho had somehow crept closer¡ªlunged, thrusting a short sword at Enkrid. The boy had moved so stealthily and quickly that it was hard to believe how far he had been near moments ago. The short sword, the length of a forearm, appeared from seemingly nowhere. The boy gripped it with both hands and stabbed with surprising strength and speed, aiming for a critical opening. Enkrid, having just deflected the darts, smoothly turned his body as if expecting the attack. He rotated, extending his gladius to meet the strike. The short sword clashed against the gladius with a sharp ting! and was deflected to the side. Without hesitation, Enkrid followed through, using the momentum of his blade to strike the boy squarely in the chest. Thud! The boy didn''t bleed, likely protected by a sturdy leather cuirass under his clothes. But "soft" didn''t mean "weak." The force behind the blow was enough to crush the boy''s chest. Enkrid''s strength was now formidable enough to rival even that of a frog-beast like Lagarne; even a glancing strike could be lethal. The boy let out a choked gasp, coughing violently. Yet even then, he reached into his coat, determined to continue his attack. But his attempt was thwarted. The small panther, Esther, leaped forward and swung her paw in a powerful arc, striking the boy squarely in the chest. Crunch! The sound of breaking bones echoed loudly. The boy froze, choking on his breath. Esther''s blow had broken his wrist with her paw''s initial strike and delivered a second, decisive impact to his already damaged chest. He stopped moving entirely, crumpling to the ground. The boy''s life ended with his hand still in his coat. And then¡ª "You bastard." The voice came from the lips of one of the assassins, disguised as the middle-aged woman. Enkrid had already heard her but was ahead of her movements¡ªno, he had already completed his actions. In a single fluid sequence, he had deflected the darts, crushed the ribs of the boy who had attacked from behind, and extended his right hand forward. His outstretched hand pointed directly at the worker who had thrown the darts. The knife Enkrid had thrown struck its mark with precision, embedding itself deeply into the worker''s forehead. The impact forced the worker''s head to snap back before he collapsed to his knees, his head slumping forward. Instant death. "What did you say?" Enkrid finally responded. The woman, dressed in fine clothes, dropped something at her feet. Boom! A smoke bomb. Thick white smoke quickly spread from the ground, enveloping the area. "Esther." At his command, Enkrid entrusted Krais to the panther and focused his senses. He sharpened his intuition and hearing, tracking the assassin''s movements through the haze. She was running fast, heading out of the estate. And she wasn''t alone. How many are there? The memory of the mixed-blood fairy assassin who had once gifted him the Whistle Dagger surfaced in his mind. These assassins likely had similar hidden weapons, techniques, and tools perfect for killing. When fighting that fairy, he had seen countless possible futures. What about today? Enkrid felt confident. He had gauged their level and understood his current strength. Above all, these assassins wouldn''t retreat quietly. Letting those who aimed their blades at him walk away wasn''t his style. Thus, Enkrid moved without hesitation. "Krais, handle the aftermath." He left only that command behind. "Huh?" Krais''s bewildered question came from behind, but Enkrid trusted his sharp-minded subordinate to manage the situation. He sprinted, chasing after the group of fleeing assassins. "Handle the aftermath? Seriously?" Krais stood amidst the chaos, surrounded by panicking people and the lingering smoke. "Are the assassins really all gone?" He recalled the one who had thrown darts at him earlier. As the wind began to disperse the smoke, it became apparent that it wasn''t poisonous¡ªif it had been, things would have ended differently. If there was poison, this wouldn''t blow over so easily. "Damn it! Everyone shut up and get down!" Uncontrolled crowds were little more than mobs, and mobs were quelled with force. Nearby, a patrol soldier slammed his spear into the head of someone causing a commotion. Thwack! The sound of the strike was brutal, and the man staggered sideways, blood dripping from the wound. "Ugh!" The scream was inevitable. The wounded resident stumbled and fell. The soldier''s neck veins bulged with anger as he shouted for order. Maintaining security was one of Marcus''s top priorities, and the soldiers were determined to uphold their duties. An assassination attempt here? An ambush? Chaos? If they mishandled this, they''d all be dead. That''s the way to do it. The soldiers would suppress the chaos on their own. Krais shifted his focus, assessing the situation. The dead boy caught his attention. Looking closely, it was clear he wasn''t a boy. His face was weathered, with wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. The others¡ªlike the hunchback¡ªalso had unusual appearances. Krais''s gaze fell to the short sword the supposed boy had wielded. The blade, lying on the ground, gleamed unnaturally as if coated with something. Poison. He had already anticipated this possibility. What was the "Black Blades''" plan? Persuasion. If persuasion failed, the next step was intimidation. And that intimidation took the form of an ambush on their return journey. Hiring mercenaries¡ªswords bought with gold¡ªwould have been their first move. They must have realized that didn''t work. The mercenaries didn''t succeed? The bandits didn''t succeed? Would they give up? If it were me? Never. Retreating now would tarnish the reputation of the "Black Blades" as feared assassins. It was almost as if they were asking, Did you think we''d let you off so easily? An assassination attempt of this scale had never been part of their assumptions. Krais scratched his head in frustration as the noise began to settle. "Esther, I''m counting on you." He muttered softly. If any assassins remained, he''d be as good as dead. But abandoning the task his commander had given him wasn''t an option. He had a rough idea of the enemy''s intent. No assassins were left here. Their target had been Enkrid. If this had been an attack on the estate itself, it would be a different story entirely. A deliberate massacre of the kingdom''s citizens within the territory? That would have drawn the Knights into action. Even amidst the chaos, the Knights would take up arms against such blatant lawlessness. "A clean way to handle this without going that far." Target just one person. What they had done was bait. Did Enkrid not realize that? Of course he did. "Alright, everyone calm down. You there, don''t step on other people''s belongings. Merchants, gather your goods, and laborers, move to one side and keep your heads down. Patrolman, what unit are you from?" "Second Company, Second Platoon." Under Vengeance''s command. Krais nodded and addressed the patrolman and another soldier. "Stop hitting people and focus on cleaning up." With the patrolmen and soldiers rallying, the situation was soon under control. "My goods! My goods are ruined because of this!" "Your goods? You''re just selling a few wooden arrows, aren''t you? And not even many of them broke." "Hehe...did you see?" The merchant who had been sobbing like the world had ended immediately changed his tone. Krais subdued a few shameless merchants with words and reassured the ones who had genuinely suffered losses. "You know what''s great about our commander? He''s got more gold coins than we know what to do with. We can''t compensate you for your lost goods right now, but there are plenty of places where we need extra hands. Work as laborers for a couple of months, and I bet you''ll earn more than you did selling your goods. Better than those wooden arrows, right?" Krais had a knack for turning crises into opportunities. After all, the road had to be widened, towers had to be built, and even the moats needed to be completed. And weren''t there plans for a drawbridge too? The more hands, the better. There was plenty of coin in reserve to manage it. "Alright, anyone with experience in construction, come forward." While at it, he directed the situation toward something beneficial for the territory. The people quickly adapted to the unexpected change. The attack was an attack, the smoke was smoke, the cold was cold, and gold coins were gold coins. At Krais''s nod, two soldiers began dealing with the corpses. Raising his voice to the crowd, Krais called out, "Anyone here ever built a structure before? Raise your hand!" *** Gold coins couldn''t sway everyone. Sometimes you couldn''t charm your way past an obstacle. And when someone stood in your path, the simplest solution was this: hand a passerby a blade and say, "Go stab him." A straightforward but effective method. That was how the Black Blades operated. Enkrid was fully aware this was a lure. As he ran, he had already dodged more than five volleys of darts. Amidst it all¡ª Fweeeet! The distinct sound of a Whistle Dagger reached his ears. There weren''t many assassins skilled in using them. Enkrid instinctively pinpointed the assassin''s location. Hiding and stalking wasn''t his style, so he charged forward openly. Naturally, this made him an easy target. Assassins hurled projectiles from all directions. But with his sword in his left hand, Enkrid deflected every incoming attack, proving it a reliable shield substitute. Some of the assassins were visibly startled at the sight. What is this guy? Weren''t his subordinates supposed to be the problem? How is nothing even grazing him? Everything was coated with poison¡ªjust a scratch would suffice. But nothing touched him. When a Whistle Dagger was thrown, Enkrid nonchalantly caught it mid-air and pocketed it. It was the only weapon not laced with poison, but did he know that? How does he do that? Catching a Whistle Dagger mid-flight? Even the skilled assassins among the Black Blades couldn''t pull off such a feat. Deflecting incoming bolts with his sword, Enkrid''s sharp gaze swept his surroundings, locking onto every hidden threat. Despite this, the assassins pressed on toward their designated meeting point¡ªa reed field to the northeast of the estate, between the upper outpost and the estate. The Black Blades didn''t know. They didn''t fully understand. They were aware that Enkrid''s companions were dangerous. But they hadn''t realized that Enkrid himself was a greater threat. Mistakes and misconceptions could be lethal. At least for them, misunderstanding and a lack of information were synonymous with meeting the Reaper. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 266 - A Near-Certain Premonition Chapter 266 - 266 - A Near-Certain Premonition The assassin disguised as a middle-aged noblewoman felt her mouth go dry. Each time those cold blue eyes under the black hair glanced her way, a chill ran down her spine. Here. The moment she stepped into the reed field, she prepared to hide. It was time to lose him and demonstrate her specialty. But then¡ª Bang! A thunderous noise rang out. What was that? Instinctively, she drew a dagger, the blade coated in poison, and pointed it defensively in front of her. Suddenly, a shadow loomed over her. The sound of something bursting, like a leather drum or a clap of thunder, was still echoing in her ears. Her quick reaction to the explosion was commendable, but that was all she could manage. "Here, right?" At the cryptic question, the assassin looked up. Flash! Lightning illuminated the sky above her. That was the last thought she ever had. Someone whose head had been split in two could no longer think. Activating the Heart of the Beast, Enkrid closed the distance in a single leap and brought his sword down vertically, splitting the assassin''s skull. It was a simple yet utterly unpredictable move. Shouldn''t he have been catching his breath, watching for hidden assassins, or worrying about traps? Instead, he lunged forward and cleaved her head open. Blood splattered everywhere, painting the surroundings and even Enkrid''s clothes crimson. Looking down at the blade in his left hand, Enkrid felt a newfound appreciation. Was this really just a sword I carried around? He once again marveled at the craftsmanship of the dwarves. While it lacked the mystical aura of a legendary blade, it was exceptionally sturdy and sharp. Even more impressive was its thick edge, capable of deflecting most attacks. More than just liking the sword, Enkrid found it immensely practical. He didn''t even need a separate guard sword. This blade could handle anything. Standing amidst the reed field, Enkrid admired the weapon before letting it hang loosely at his side. At the same time, he unsheathed the sword in his right hand. Sching! A blue-glowing blade appeared. It was the cursed sword, Tutor, which had transformed into a razor-sharp masterpiece. Holding a blade in each hand, Enkrid surveyed his surroundings. The assassins had hidden themselves so well within the reeds that not even a glimpse of them could be seen. But was that a problem? Not really. He was simply curious. What gives them the confidence to come at me like this? Whizz! Whizz! Whizz! Three round objects flew toward him and exploded overhead. Boom! Boom! Boom! A dull gray powder rained down, covering the dried reeds below. The reeds withered and collapsed. Poison powder. But Enkrid was no longer in that spot. The loud noise of him charging in and dispatching the assassin disguised as the noblewoman had been deliberate. From a tactical perspective, Enkrid was already operating at an advanced level. How could he not? The Valah mercenary swordplay he had mastered was rooted in individual combat tactics. Combined with his heightened physical abilities, sharpened senses, combat experience, and the lessons learned from countless battles, Enkrid had become a force to be reckoned with. Most importantly¡ª Sloppier than Jaxen. Among his sparring partners was Jaxen, a renowned assassin. Jaxen''s strikes were silent and swift, devoid of any detectable presence. The countless days Enkrid spent honing his senses to perceive such attacks had not been in vain. His acute instincts encompassed everything around him. Within his sensory range, he could detect even the faintest presence. If he thought someone might be there, there they were. If he sensed something flying toward him, it was. With deft movements, Enkrid sidestepped as projectiles rained down on his previous position, now rendered meaningless. Not far away, a thief of the Black Blades, holding a Whistle Dagger in each hand, gaped in shock. When did he get here? Enkrid thrust his blade. Squish! The assassin''s throat was pierced clean through. He withdrew the blade and momentarily sheathed it. Schink! Grabbing the dying man by the collar, Enkrid flung him aside. The body spun through the air, a spray of blood arcing across the reeds as it landed well outside the poison cloud. Without pausing, Enkrid twisted and launched himself forward in a silent burst of speed. Rustle-rustle-rustle! The sound of reeds bending under his rapid movement reverberated. "Shit!" One of the assassins cursed aloud. A rare lapse for someone trained to remain silent during missions. But who could blame him? Enkrid was a monster. Even for elite assassins of the Black Blades, he was an opponent beyond comprehension. To kill such a beast, they would need the master of Geor''s Dagger¡ªthe top assassin guild on the continent. The thought barely crossed the assassin''s mind before¡ª Swish! Thud! A wide blade severed his neck. His head floated briefly before falling. Amidst the reeds that concealed everything below the waist, the remaining assassins felt a chill of terror. Boom! Despite their fear, they didn''t stop. To survive, they had to kill him. That much was certain. They released clouds of poison, hurled poisoned darts, throwing knives, and axes, even deploying pouches designed to explode into toxic barbs. Every weapon and trap had been prepared to kill this one man. Enkrid parried or evaded it all. His superhuman senses foretold every move. Half a step back. As one assassin approached soundlessly, Enkrid twisted and struck with his elbow, shattering the man''s skull. Bang! The sharp sound of the impact echoed. The assassin, whose specialty was silently taking down his targets, had his head burst open. Unable to withstand the pressure, his eyeballs popped out and rolled across the ground, while his head split apart, spilling brain matter and blood. A pinkish brain shyly peeked through the gore. Enkrid didn''t even glance at the one he had struck with his elbow. He knew the blow was more than enough to kill. After swinging his elbow, Enkrid hurled his gladius forward with all his might. As his left hand drew a semicircle through the air, the blade turned disc-like from a side view and plunged into the head of another assassin with a dull thud. Two assassins, seeing an opportunity, coordinated their movements and cast a net from either side. The moment the net spread with a rustling sound, blocking the sky, Enkrid was already retrieving the sword he had thrown. It was the synchronization of the Heart of the Beast and his advancing steps. The step, called a lunge, was typically used in swordsmanship to move forward. Enkrid mixed it with a slope step¡ªoriginally a large diagonal step forward to evade an opponent''s attack. He blended them without overthinking. Additionally, he incorporated passing steps and gathering steps. He wasn''t picky. Combining this with raw, brute strength and the thigh muscles capable of enduring it all, the result was a forward movement that transformed into a dashing thrust. A lateral swing became a long slash that cut through the reed field. In simpler terms, Enkrid was employing swordsmanship against the entire group of assassins. Only, he had greatly expanded its range. Unbeknownst to him, this approach mirrored the battle tactics of a mid-level knight wielding a sword to fight multiple opponents. It was a method of mass slaughter centered around swordsmanship. The outcome was hardly surprising. Enkrid had reached this point through learned techniques. Thus, his combat was grounded in the various swordsmanship styles he had mastered from both personal study and observing others around him. On top of that, he infused his unique Swordsmanship into his techniques. Where strength fell short, the quality of his weapon also compensated. Of course, strength was relative. "Urk!" To the assassin caught by his fluidly advancing blade, it was nothing short of a death stroke. Even though he wore armor enchanted to absorb impact, one assassin realized that two of his ribs had broken. The enchantment had been shattered by sheer force¡ªa level of strength that defied reason. Enkrid''s power grew daily, and now he possessed the Heart of the Beast. He didn''t envy even Frogs anymore. ''What kind of brute strength is this?'' The overwhelming force left them stunned. Unfazed, Enkrid launched into his next attack. With the synchronization of his steps and the Heart of the Beast, his body momentarily vanished from the assassin''s sight. A step that would have simply turned to outflank an opponent became, from the assassin''s perspective, a ghostly teleportation. A split second after disappearing, a blue flash struck the assassin''s crown and passed through. Another assassin fell dead. Even as poisonous fumes spread throughout the area, Enkrid pressed on undeterred. In fact, he held his breath and pierced through the toxic smoke in a single stride, killing one more assassin with a Zimmer-style thrust. "Ugh, this... this madman..." Breaking through poison gas with brute strength and continuing to fight like this? One assassin, holding an antidote in his mouth to endure within the toxic cloud, uttered a curse as his final words before departing to meet his god. Enkrid, letting both swords dangle at his sides, continued moving. Rustle, rustle. Slice, slice, slice, slice! The reeds caught by his blades were cut down in countless numbers, clearly marking his location. He didn''t care. He actually preferred it, inviting the enemy to attack. It was easier to pinpoint their position that way than if they remained hidden. The result of the fight was clear. Out of over fifteen assassins wielding black blades, only two remained. "You''ve messed with the wrong person." The leader, a first-rate assassin, finally spoke. His name was Barcello, a man who had drifted into the Black Blade organization from the eastern continent. Once, he had been considered an assassin on par with those from the guild Daggers of Geor. A top-tier elite among elites. His specialty was using claws to catch his target from behind and rip out the back of their neck. Yet even Barcello couldn''t find an opening in Enkrid. No matter how many times he moved and repositioned himself, Enkrid''s gaze flicked to him momentarily. ''He sees me?'' An unbelievable sensory ability. A first-rate assassin like him being detected? How was that possible? Barcello was thus locked in place. *** The other remaining assassin had already started running. It was his duty to distance himself from the battlefield and report what had transpired. But as he fled, something suddenly caught his neck. With a strangled cry, his cervical spine snapped, and he fell dead. The tool was made by repeatedly oiling, heating, and treating tanned leather with special substances until it became thin yet durable. The fleeing assassin''s neck was caught in it, his body lifted into the air. The weight of his body broke his neck, and the person holding the strap twisted and pulled, ensuring his death. The body dropped to the ground with a thud. From the assassin''s shadow emerged a man. It was Jaxen, with his auburn hair. *** "I''m a bit late." Jaxen spoke as he moved toward the chaos Enkrid had created. But even Jaxen wasn''t the first to arrive here. A fairy had beaten him. "Are you late? Or is my love simply too fast? Love is always swift, striking my heart without warning. I don''t believe I''m late." The fairy Company Commander stood at the edge of the reed field, speaking aloud. Enkrid sensed the fairy''s presence but focused on the last remaining opponent. It was the leader who stood motionless. From the start, Enkrid had noticed something different about him. The way he moved, the way he concealed his presence¡ªeach skill was unlike the others. Locating him wasn''t difficult. Enkrid''s instincts far surpassed ordinary levels. Even without hearing his breath or sensing his presence, Enkrid had a gut feeling someone was there. And when he looked, there he was. Just exuding bloodlust toward him was enough to reveal his position. It was purely instinct, aided by Sense of Evasion, a technique of sensory refinement. But from his opponent''s perspective, it was nothing short of a cheat. But what can be done? Jaxen, who was next to Enkrid, was truly a genius beyond ordinary talent, one who also worked tirelessly at his craft. What Enkrid had learned through the repeated days with such a genius was now fully matured in his own body. "It''s mine," Enkrid said to the fairy. He had purposely left it for himself. It was like a final treat. The opponent was a skilled assassin¡ªone whose abilities were anything but ordinary. *** The leader of an assassin group, wiped out to near extinction, had inserted a weapon into his hands. With a sharp click, the man emerged, claws on both hands. "Promise me you''ll let me live if I kill you." At the answer, given without a single breath, Barcelo? knew there was no way out for him. Still, he hid his final move. Would the other stop this too? Tap, tap, tap. Barcelo? began running through the reed field. To his left, there was poison smoke, and the ground was littered with corpses and metal debris. The target sheathed a short sword and began to approach with only a longsword gripped in both hands. It wasn''t fast. There was no lightning-fast step like before. The figure only narrowed the distance while holding the sword. Tap, tap, tap! The sound of the grim reaper''s footsteps. The rustling of reeds crushed by the reaper''s path created a duet of sounds. Barcelo? increased his speed, lowering his waist slightly. The surrounding reeds flew past him. Lowering his stance, he led with his claws, already engaging the battle from the start. The outcome would be decided in a single strike! He repeated in his mind and unleashed his hidden move. Boom! Crack! A third hand rose from his chest. It was a hand that pierced through his coat. His chest was thicker than most, and the hand shot out. It was just when Enkrid''s sword and claws clashed. This was the secret move. The third hand, something mystically implanted, held a long blade and aimed to pierce Enkrid''s chest. ''What?'' Barcelo? realized that the claws on his right hand weren''t moving as he wanted. When the opponent''s sword collided with his, the other''s strength pressed down on his claws, forcing a movement he hadn''t intended. Thus, the third hand holding the dagger met the claws. Thud! At the same time, the left claw slashed across the opponent''s head, but the opponent ducked and avoided it. Before he knew it, the opponent had lowered himself, and his head rose again. Barcelo? saw blue light. Two blue lines streaked like falling meteors. A black mass surrounded the two blue lines from above, brushing past him. He tried to resist by pulling his arm, but couldn''t. Scrape! The opponent''s sword had cut off his arms and even the third hand. Afterward, something hot, like a fire poker, lashed across his torso, rising up. "Argh!" Barcelo? screamed. But it was a scream no one could hear. His head screamed, but it was just his thoughts. Enkrid froze at the sight of the third hand. ''What is this?'' Fortunately, his body and senses moved on their own. As soon as he saw the third blade, he smoothly swept his claws down to block the opponent''s dagger, lowering his head. It seemed simple, but in that motion, his eyes burned, and his head grew hot. The brain was overwhelmed with information, processing everything at once. Enkrid lifted his sword, drawing it from below, slashing upward. It was an extension of the first form of the sword style he had developed from observing snake steps and the Sabikal''s swordplay. The flowing sword lacked aggressive force, but the sharpness of a fine blade supported it. It cleaved through the three arms as he advanced, stepping lightly with his toes to pivot and thrust the sword into the opponent. He didn''t hesitate as he carved upward through the opponent''s abdomen with the sword. The ensuing movements were so fluid, yet to the opponent, it must have seemed like a monstrous strike, severing arms and splitting the body. Thus, the final opponent was slain. "Who are these guys?" Jaxen, one of Enkrid''s group, approached. "A blood engagement?" The fairy company commander muttered some crazy words. "Hoo." Enkrid exhaled deeply, surveying the bodies he had slain and spoke. "Guests." "You''re treating your guests quite lavishly," Jaxen muttered as he approached. In his hand, there was a small leather pouch, which he used to search through the dead bodies. From his hand came something Enkrid had seen before. Pouches of the same form, he untied one and gently let the powder spill, glittering. It was powdered poison. "Familiar medicine," Jaxen commented. At that moment, Enkrid recalled the powdered poison he had found in the possession of the black-clad messenger in Martai. He also remembered the poison the frog had ingested. Those two poisons were almost identical in Enkrid''s memory¡ªboth with a strange scent. He was the type not to overlook anything, and he had learned this. And if he knew it, his soldier in front of him likely did too. Jaxen wasn''t the type to miss things easily. "Did you interrogate the frog?" Jaxen asked. Everyone knew the frog had been knocked out and captured. Of course, Jaxen knew too. He must have known the frog had been on a rampage after taking the poison. There was no way that chatterbox Krais had stayed quiet about it. And it seemed all of this was connected. It was just a feeling, but Enkrid had a strong premonition about it. With that feeling, Enkrid shook his head. The interrogation was something to be done from now on. "I want to be part of this too. If I''m left out, I''ll be sulking," the fairy company commander interjected. Enkrid nodded. She had already shown interest. Her tone was light, mixed with jokes, but her green eyes exuded a seriousness that wasn''t light-hearted. It seemed like this was no ordinary problem. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 267 - Not Only You Can Strike Chapter 267 - 267 - Not Only You Can Strike As soon as he opened his eyes, the first thing that appeared was a ceiling covered with moldy stone. Meellun recalled the moment before he lost his memory, and Frog''s strong will allowed him to clearly remember everything. Because of that, he realized, in common terms, that he had ended up in a ridiculous situation. "Give me some water. And if possible, bring me some food. I like fruits." Meellun said, half rising from his body. His arms had regenerated, and both arms and legs were shackled, connected to a pillar by chains. Even for a Frog, it was impossible to break free. So, what was left? All he could do was wait. Due to the last desperate dose of medicine he had taken, his head was throbbing as if it was about to split open, and his heart ached. ''Can I get out of this?'' Like most Frog, he regretted not being able to escape his desires and cravings more than fearing death. ''Weird bastard.'' This led him to naturally think about the one who knocked him out. ''He seemed weak.'' Why wouldn''t he seem weak? He was clearly someone who could be taken down, someone weaker than himself in his view. ''Why?'' Frog''s combat instincts made him judge the advantage or disadvantage in an instant. He fought according to his instincts, which led him to believe that at the very least, it should''ve been a draw. So why did he get overwhelmed and defeated? Their combat instincts were an extension of their ability to read talent. In that regard, Enkrid was the most incomprehensible type of person for a Frog. His talent was negligible, but he climbed to the top no matter what, and his persistence over countless repetitions had caused this phenomenon. Enkrid was the type of human who could not be read by a Frog''s combat instincts. Meellun wasn''t particularly confident in his own ability to read talent, either. Among Frogs, talents varied widely. Some were specialized in reading talent, while others were focused on combat. Meellun was particularly good at walking. ''He aimed for my joints mercilessly.'' The regenerated forearm ached subtly. His arm had been severed before, and now it had been severed again. No, this time, even his eye had been gouged out. ''He knows how to fight.'' There was a big difference between being skilled with a sword and actually knowing how to fight. The idiots who locked themselves up in their noble family to learn swordsmanship would swing their swords gracefully, wouldn''t they? In the continent, those people were often mocked as practicing "noble swordsmanship." The one who knocked him down wasn''t like that at all. He knew how to target the weaknesses of Frog''s slippery skin. He aimed for his eyes and joints, stabbing and cutting them. Had he fought like this before? Had he always been so good at fighting? Honestly, Meellun couldn''t remember. He was sure the opponent was someone who could be defeated, but he thought that when they met again, he''d dominate. ''All gone now.'' He was exhausted, hungry, and irritated. "Water and dried fruit. It''s winter, so fresh fruit is hard to find." The guard kindly brought him food. Surprisingly kind. Meellun thought as he drank the water and chewed on the dried fruit. There was also well-baked bread and marmalade. "Hey, this is delicious." "I''m glad." The guard replied without any smile, his face showing signs of tension, though his limbs weren''t rigid. ''Training is well done.'' Frog could read people''s behavior with ease. Of course, his talent reading wasn''t the best, but¡ª ''Still, that guy is a bit unusual.'' This was the same opinion expressed by countless talent readers who had seen Enkrid. Two more days passed. Meellun realized he couldn''t break out with force, so he tried to bribe the guard, but that too was unsuccessful. "If I let you go, I''ll die." "I don''t think they''ll kill a soldier for a mistake." He tried to charm the guard, but the soldier showed a hint of self-mockery, almost as if sighing. Of course, Meellun didn''t catch that, but it was clear from the soldier''s words that something was off. Another guard "If they catch me, I''ll be fired from guard duty and fall into eternal training hell. Death might be better." What''s that supposed to mean? The guard wasn''t lenient, but it didn''t seem like he could be bribed either. Even if gold was offered, he would probably refuse. "If I get caught, I''ll really die. I don''t mind what I''m earning right now, but I don''t want to end up dead, leaving my kids behind." "Are you married?" "Not yet." "Then who''s this kid you''re talking about?" "My future child." Was this territory so sharp-tongued, even the soldiers? With that thought, another day passed, and Meellun began to wonder if he had been forgotten in his prison. Trapped underground without knowing day from night, a feeling of sadness began to creep in. ''Why did I get involved in this mess?'' Another two days passed. Meellun grew restless. If this continued, he might be trapped here for the rest of his life. What if he tried to break his limbs to escape? He might be able to tear off his limbs and deal with the shackles, but no matter how much Frog he was, he couldn''t destroy the iron bars before him while bleeding like crazy with severed limbs, right? ''What''s going on?'' Impatience began to engulf Meellun. Every day was agonizing. A Frog loyal to his desires and cravings, when would he die? When his head was severed? When he got a terminal illness? When an arrow pierced his heart? The heart would stop, and death would be inevitable, but there were more cruel ways to die. A Frog couldn''t endure being suffocated to death. Aren''t we the species driven by curiosity and desire? "Hey, they didn''t forget about me, right?" Having woken up from what felt like either a nap or a night''s sleep, Meellun asked the guard standing outside the bars. As he spoke, his gaze shifted to a small table and two chairs, where, instead of a guard, four figures stood. One was the person who had knocked him out, another looked fragile with large eyes, and the third was half-shadowed, only their face illuminated by torchlight. The guard was absent. Finally, they had arrived. They hadn''t forgotten him, they had come to find him. Meellun felt a strange joy, realizing this moment had come at a time when change was inevitable, even if it meant facing death. "Where did you get that powder?" That powder had nearly made him die from the pain in his insides. He didn''t need to immediately ask about his identity, so Meellun answered calmly. He had waited for a long time, and he had no desire to waste words and send them away unnecessarily. "I picked it up on the way." "Where?" "It was a small village." The one asking was a fairy. They were expressionless, exuding a cold atmosphere, clearly not beneath Meellun. Is this place full of monsters? Was this what the border territories were like, filled with creatures like these? Meellun continued. He had no intention of hiding anything. "If you head west from here, it would take me two days on foot, maybe just over a day and a half on a horse. There''s a small village on a highland with a fence around it. I don''t know its name, but the village chief was a young, pretty woman. Her name was Kaisella." The Frogs had an aesthetic preference for beautiful humans. "Did they send you from Black Blade?" "Assasins? Black Blade? No." Meellun had been imprisoned for days, and being stuck like this for a Frog was more torturous than having his nails pulled out or his eyes gouged. If he stayed locked up like this, he''d wither away, suppressing his desires until he died. Ah, nothing could be worse for a Frog than that. "This works," Enkrid muttered as Krais chirped from behind. "It''s working better than expected." Enkrid nodded while sitting in his chair. Enkrid had a vague understanding of the Frog race from his time with Luagarne, but Krais had a different take. That''s a curious head. Krais''s words came back to Meellun. "Frogs follow their desires. If this wandering Frog is like that, what do you think its desires are? If we lock them up, they might spill their answers more easily." Though Krais wasn''t entirely sure, it was unusual for him to even think this way. They decided to wait it out. If left for a few days, they might not need to interrogate at all. The judgment proved correct. However, "Do you know of a merchant named Fromshell? That guy had ears all over the continent. I was hired by him. To put it simply, he runs an information guild." Meellun was not expected to reveal everything like this. Enkrid couldn''t read the Frog''s expression, but there was no doubt that he wasn''t lying. If a Frog were to want to lie about something like this, they would just remain silent. That meant this had nothing to do with Black Blade. The powder had been an accident, and it was some merchant who had made him do this job. He was running an information guild, apparently. It sounded plausible. That''s probably why it stuck in his memory. Fromshell, Fromshell. Enkrid repeated the name to himself a couple of times, memorizing it. "Noble?" "I don''t think so." "Is that all?" "If there''s a lie in what I just said, let me be punished by the gods of impulse and the wave." "Can you make a pact?" "Of course." For a Frog, a pact was a vow, something that must be kept. "I was deceived too. By that bastard, Fromshell." Meellun snorted, and Enkrid decided he had heard enough. No, he had heard more than he needed. He had learned the location of the village where the powder was obtained. "I went through all that trouble to find it, only for it to be hidden in the village." The fairy murmured. "What about the combat-ready personnel?" The fairy asked. With nothing more to add, Meellun responded freely. "From what I saw, most of the village population are combat-ready." "All of them?" "Over fifty people, I''d say." The Frog spoke, and Enkrid nodded. "Will you release me now?" Enkrid nodded again, standing up from his chair and walking to the bars. "We''ll see." "What?" "We''ll see about releasing you." "Hey, what about the promise?" That hadn''t been made. Of course, Enkrid intended to release him, but before coming here, Krais had pleaded earnestly. "Could you leave it to me?" With that pleading look, Enkrid agreed. "Wait, wait. Let''s talk for a moment." Just as Meellun was about to unleash a string of curses towards Enkrid, Krais stepped in. His large eyes and his appearance were sure to win the Frog''s favor. However, Meellun, being a man, had no interest. Still, he didn''t mind the large eyes. Meellun had a tendency to favor faces with big eyes. "Well, Meellun?" Krais smiled innocently. Enkrid could already sense that Meellun was going to fall for it. When Krais smiled like that, it was only when he was about to take advantage of someone. *** Emerging from the underground prison, Enkrid was heading toward Marcus''s office. He planned to report after finishing the interrogation of the Frog. Marcus, the battalion commander, was certainly busy, managing the territory, he could use three or four bodies. There had been news of a heretic being caught during his absence, and other incidents had occurred in the territory. The underground prison was located in a corner of the barracks, and as soon as they left, Enkrid spoke. "I''d like an explanation." The fairy commander was involved in this. He had kept things vague, mentioning the search for the village earlier, but now there was no Frog around to listen. "Classified mission," the fairy responded, his green eyes locking onto Enkrid''s. Enkrid thought he would have to hear it from Marcus. But just as he was about to think that, the fairy continued, "But what''s the point of secrecy between us?" "If it''s important. Let''s keep it a secret," Enkrid quickly replied. "No, it''s about the Black Blades, those monsters who''ve rooted themselves in the kingdom," the fairy said. "Let''s keep it a secret," Enkrid insisted again, but the fairy seemed unfazed. "They kidnapped an alchemist and made a drug," the fairy continued. "I don''t think you''re listening to me," Enkrid muttered. "Obviously, it''s not a regular drug. It''s one that''s forbidden by the kingdom and opposed by the Alchemist Guild. Of course, they might accept research results behind closed doors, but¡ª" Enkrid gave up on stopping him. The explanation revealed the drug was far from ordinary. The Frog had taken it, causing his eyes to spin wildly. "Normal people who take it turn into berserkers, but once the effects wear off, they die from the backlash." The fairy mentioned the Black Blades'' base of operations. He had been on a lot of external missions to track it down, and he''d recently brought Finn for a similar purpose. "Finn seemed suited for that kind of job," the fairy added. Enkrid listened quietly and then turned to Jaxen, who seemed to know something. "Do you know anything?" he asked. Jaxen explained, "I was looking for something, and it turned out the Black Blades were involved. While I was in Martai, I found traces of alchemy in a drug used by one of their messengers." Enkrid''s suspicions were confirmed. He had been right to think that Jaxen was hiding something. But Enkrid didn''t push further. He didn''t need to. Jaxen wouldn''t be the type to admit anything unless necessary. "Alright, let''s go with that," Enkrid finally said. "You don''t believe me, do you?" Jaxen asked with a neutral expression. "I believe you," Enkrid replied, thinking of Audin and the trust he had in Jaxen. He believed him, wholeheartedly. As they arrived at Marcus''s office, the guards saluted, and the fairy commander and Jaxen entered. They were met by a pile of documents and Marcus, who looked up from his work. "How does it feel to be assassinated right in the heart of the territory?" Marcus asked. Enkrid replied sincerely, "It feels like crap." "Same here." There was something unspoken between them, an understanding shared with just a few words. Enkrid had thought about it ever since dealing with the assassin, rummaging through his belongings. Why should he always be the one getting hit? He had asked Krais, "If you were the head of the Black Blades, where would you strike to cause the most pain?" "Probably strike at someone''s gold pouch," Krais had answered. "Any group would feel it if their pockets were empty," Enkrid had replied, and it made sense. If that was the weakness, then surely there was a way to exploit it. After a brief report, Marcus''s orders came down. "This is not a request or revenge. This is an order from the head of the territory," Marcus said, his eyes gleaming. "Crush them," he commanded. Enkrid nodded. It was clear. The Black Blades needed to be taken down. The idea of always being the victim bothered him, and it lingered in his thoughts. "Until further notice, you have independent operational authority. Shinar, that includes you," Marcus added. "Understood," Shinar responded in a cold tone, unlike his usual demeanor with Enkrid. Enkrid found it strange. It was a thought that crossed his mind. ''Why target me?'' he wondered. He had heard similar comments when he had joined mercenary groups. Perhaps it was just his appearance. Either way, Enkrid knew one thing: he was going to make the Black Blades regret underestimating him. He would show them that they weren''t the only ones who could go on the offensive. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 268 - Imitating Krais Chapter 268 - 268 - Imitating Krais "You''re going to leave me behind? If you''re going to do that, step on me as you leave first!" At Rem''s words, Enkrid moved quickly. He pushed his body forward with his left foot, smoothly extending it. For a moment, his body seemed to vanish. Of course, no one missed Enkrid''s movements inside the quarters. However, ''My step?'' Jaxen was a bit surprised when he saw Enkrid''s step. ''Snake step?'' Audin felt the same. Enkrid had combined both of their steps and absorbed them into his own. What is the sword, and what is swordsmanship? Through a continuous process of enlightenment, Enkrid created a swordsmanship that utilized his whole body, which of course included using his feet. In fact, in any art involving the body, like dance or martial arts, the feet are crucial. The use of the feet accounts for more than half of the whole technique. Naturally, Enkrid paid as much attention to his steps as to his swordsmanship. And now, that was clearly evident. The left knee that pushed forward bent and straightened, pushing with consistent force. This step was similar to Jaxen''s silent step, and the following smooth bend of his right leg was the snake step that Audin had taught him. In reality, he blended the two quite well. To an untrained eye, it might have looked completely different. As he tried to step on Rem, the barbarian huffed and blew air through his nose, rolling his body. Whatever trick he was playing, he spun sideways to dodge. With a thud, Enkrid''s right foot struck the ground as he asked. "Isn''t it normal not to dodge in a situation like this?" "Who said I''d let myself be stepped on? Want to learn something new? It''s a vision technique, called the ''Indestructible Dung Beetle.''" It was obvious he had made that up on the spot. "No." Enkrid declined, and after a few more outbursts from Rem, they couldn''t take him with them. Just because it was the village where the potion came from didn''t mean they could immediately lead a battalion to strike. "We''re still under the kingdom''s jurisdiction. You know that, right? The people here have been looking at us suspiciously lately." Of course. If things went wrong, Count Molsan could cause trouble. Was it only Count Molsan? Enkrid knew that other nobles were eyeing this place with greed. He''d also heard that while he was away from Martai, some noble had fled. "He probably went to rely on another noble. He''s likely planning to sell the information about this place and make a profit. What a fool." Marcus spat as he cursed, but when Krais overheard the rumors, he said, "Seems like it was a real mess. If you can''t do your job properly, whether you''re a noble or not, you''re going to get beaten." If you half-ass it, you''ll get hit. If you do it properly, the workload piles up. Some nobles had escaped, having used their wits to flee. For someone to leave everything behind and run, they must have been tormented severely. Of course, Marcus'' words made sense, so I believed the reasons overlapped. And Krais said, "Marcus would probably prefer it if all the nobles ran away. He might have been harassing them under the excuse of lacking manpower, but he may also want to replace the entire workforce in the domain with his own people. But I''m not sure if that''s a good idea." "What do you mean?" "Nothing, just a thought." Krais was a worried guy. Enkrid didn''t ask more. The task at hand was more pressing. To put it simply, even though there were suspicions, they couldn''t just charge in with swords drawn. The other side sent assassins and swordsmen, but the Border Guard standing army couldn''t act the same way. Well, they could do things secretly, but this wasn''t the time for that. They needed to gather evidence first to determine if the village was guilty. At least they needed to have fabricateevidence, and more importantly, "There could be innocent people in the village, right?" Marcus'' words made sense. Just because some people caused trouble didn''t mean they should round up all the innocent villagers. There could be people in the village who had no idea and were simply making potions. That was why, "Only me, Shinar, Finn, and Jaxen will go." Enkrid decided it was best to infiltrate and investigate first. The fairy commander had also been looking into this for quite a while. She''d been chasing it for almost a year, she said. "For all that, not knowing the location of a village... Well, it''s strange. Do you often go out to gamble or something?" Krais tilted his head when he heard that. A fairy at a gambling den? It didn''t seem likely. But Rem did have a point. It seemed like they hadn''t been doing their job properly. Of course, Meelun, the Frog, might have some special talents, but if the place was so poorly guarded that travelers were talking about it, they should have noticed it much earlier. "She''s good at fighting, but maybe she''s not so great at tracking. That''s why she took Finn with her." "Are you defending your fiance??" Enkrid had learned many techniques from Audin, but naturally, the core of his martial arts was Valah-style combat. Among these techniques were joint locks that caused pain without breaking the opponent''s body. As part of his training, Enkrid demonstrated a joint lock on Krais. The key was to stand side by side with the opponent, clasping hands as if interlocking fingers, ensuring that the opponent''s elbow touched Enkrid''s bicep, entangling the arms. Once locked, pulling back would end the move. It wasn''t torture, but if he exerted force, he could break the wrist here. When Krais carelessly offered his hand, Enkrid immediately pulled the interlocked hands. Crack. "Does it hurt?" "Arghhhhh!" Krais screamed in pain. Enkrid casually released the lock and let go. "My arm nearly became useless!" "Should I have just cut it off?" Krais hurriedly ran away. Enkrid didn''t chase him. It was just a joke. And then Enkrid regretted it. ''I just acted like Rem.'' It was a bad thing. It wasn''t worth thinking twice about. Shaking off the bad thought, Enkrid felt a presence behind him. When he turned slightly, Ragna appeared. "Why can''t I go with you?" Ragna asked, munching on an apple he must have gotten from somewhere. Then Audin and Teresa appeared. For obvious reasons, the two large figures couldn''t come along. Even Dunbakel, who outwardly acted like a beast-woman, was in the same position. And then Enkrid added, "If things go wrong, we might have to scatter. In that case, we''ll need to regroup at the agreed-upon place." "Is that a problem?" An unaware lost person is a frightening thing. "You don''t need to use your sword." Instead of a long explanation, Enkrid patted Ragna''s shoulder. Ragna accepted it. He wasn''t the type to volunteer for such tasks. Although he had become a bit more motivated recently, it wasn''t to the extent of getting involved in matters like this. Enkrid''s absence would be close to a week, which was why Ragna had reacted like that. Thinking about it, these people seemed to only act actively when it was something they had to do. Then, what would happen if Enkrid wasn''t around? It was just an unnecessary thought flickering in the back of his mind. "I''m going to go rogue from today! Waaaahhh!" Rem shouted, wearing heated fur and hugging a heated stone. Despite it seeming like he would be hot in all that, Rem stubbornly endured it. It was strange that someone who hated the cold so much would ask to go. Of course, Enkrid ignored him. Reacting to him would only lead to more complaints. Leaving behind the shouting Rem, Enkrid got to work. He located the village and checked his equipment. Two swords, six daggers recovered from assassins, and several vials of poison powder and poison liquid. He couldn''t use the poisons properly, and they would harm him too, so he was about to discard them when Jaxen took them all. Having finished his personal preparations and tasks, they gathered in the fairy commander''s room for a strategy meeting. The fairy commander had decided to station part of her unit near the village. It would be about two platoons, and to avoid being caught, they needed to stay a bit farther apart. However, they couldn''t wait too long. Because of the wild beasts and magical creatures roaming in the winter, they couldn''t fight indefinitely. Staying outside the village without any defenses would be feasible at most a week. If things got too noisy, the village would notice. "If we go in, won''t two days be enough to gather information?" The fairy commander, Shinar, unfolded a military map. Seeing the serious look on the fairy''s face, Enkrid nodded. "If we''re not making progress fast enough, we can send them back. Otherwise, we can just surround the village." Finn, who was originally a ranger and very skilled, was also present. Enkrid greeted her, as they hadn''t seen each other in a while. "Yo, you''re still talking to horses?" Enkrid casually waved it off. "We''ll leave tomorrow morning." The strategy was led by Shinar. Enkrid nodded in agreement. After the meeting was over, as he was leaving the room, Shinar called after him. "My fiance? can stay and sleep here." Enkrid simply left the room. He could hear Finn''s giggles behind him. "Is this really funny?" Enkrid thought, but even he couldn''t help but chuckle at it. When Jaxen noticed, he spoke up. "That fairy..." "Hmm?" "That one. At this point, you might as well just say yes." Was this a joke? Or was he serious? Enkrid didn''t feel the need to seek an answer. Jaxen, realizing what he had said, turned away and assured him it was nothing to worry about. By the way, what was going on with him? Normally, Jaxen wouldn''t have said something like that so easily. Enkrid noticed that Jaxen''s expression seemed heavier than usual, which gave him pause. It was something that could only be felt by those who had spent time together. Part of it was due to the extraordinary sensitivity honed by his sensory techniques. To anyone else, Jaxen''s expression would have seemed the same as ever, but to Enkrid himself, he felt that something was different. ''His focus seems a little off.'' It didn''t seem like he would neglect the task at hand, but it felt as though his attention was directed elsewhere. Even so, there was an energy about him that felt sharp, almost like someone preparing for something. ''Why?'' It was just a mission. Did he dislike using drugs? That didn''t seem to be the case. Jaxen was often involved with various types of medicine. He didn''t consume the drugs himself and didn''t even burn incense, but whenever Krais brought something back, Jaxen was the one who sorted it out. So there must have been some other reason. Enkrid didn''t ask, though. Even if he did, there wouldn''t be an answer, and even if he heard one, nothing would change. When they returned, Esther was in sight. Alongside her was the wild horse, and for some reason, they were together. The wild horse looked at Enkrid and let out a neigh as though asking where he had been. Enkrid thought the horse was asking about him. It was the same wild horse that, as soon as it arrived at Border Guard, had run around the area madly. "I''ve got something to say. Cross-eyed." In the end, they hadn''t come up with a proper name, so Enkrid was calling it that. Grrrr. Hearing that, Esther let out a small cry. "Ah, I''m going on a mission." Enkrid mentioned he''d be gone for about a week, and Esther pretended to go along with him. She raised her front paw to point at Enkrid, then pointed at herself and slapped the ground. "Alright." This leopard was naturally skilled at hiding, so as he had been away for so long, it seemed her mood had soured a little, and it wasn''t surprising that she wanted to follow him. Enkrid occasionally found it odd that this leopard would transform into a woman with long black hair and blue eyes. Even though he had seen it happen right before his eyes, it was hard to think of her as a woman when she turned back to a leopard. Neigh! "Cross-eyed, take a break." The wild horse was very curious and could understand some human words, though not all of them. The horse was particularly upset by the name. Neigh! The horse stomped the ground, and Enkrid asked if the name bothered it. The horse nodded. After a moment of looking at the wild horse, Enkrid came up with a new name on the spot. "Let''s call you Unyielding." Unyielding could be interpreted as having a will of steel in the language of the eastern continent. Unyielding was a word from the eastern continent, and it was surprising that Enkrid knew it, so Esther stared at him intently. She had thought of him only as someone who lived for his swords and didn''t think he had much knowledge beyond that. But it seemed there was more to him than expected. Enkrid liked ancient stories. If there was a storyteller who knew about chivalry and tales related to it, he wouldn''t hesitate to hand over a few silver coins to listen. That''s how he knew so many things. Neigh! The wild horse neighed roughly. To be honest, Enkrid wasn''t too concerned about the name. The next morning, Enkrid and his group departed from the estate. "I''ll guide the way." Finn led the group. Following the instructions from Meellun, they walked for two full days. After walking for two days, they arrived at the village that the frog had mentioned. They decided to pose as wandering merchants near the village. Enkrid would play the role of a guard, and Jaxen would pretend to be a merchant. Shinar, the fairy, would also act as a guard, and Finn would be the merchant''s subordinate. "Do you think it''ll work?" After deciding on the plan, Finn asked with concern. It was unnecessary worry. As soon as Jaxen set foot in the village, he changed. "Is this a nice village? Can we buy and sell goods here? This is a good village!" Enkrid was taken aback by the sudden change in Jaxen. Turning around, Jaxen continued. "Can''t you tell? Look at the faces of the people. You rarely see thin people, so this must be a village where it''s easy to survive. That means there should be plenty of things to sell, and the people here must be generous, right?" As he spoke, Jaxen slapped Enkrid on the shoulder. It was an unguarded gesture, without care. Enkrid recognized the familiar speech style. It was the chatter of a skilled talker, always going on without pause. Jaxen was imitating Krais. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 269 - Preparation and Readiness Chapter 269 - 269 - Preparation and Readiness Two young members of the village''s militia, stationed at the entrance, exchanged glances before turning their attention back to the road ahead. One of them, casually holding a leather coif in his hand, lazily placed it on his head and spoke, his manner sluggish and almost indifferent. "Not exactly wrong, but still..." The other, with sharper eyes, stepped forward. "I think we''ll need to ask for permision to let you in. Just wait here a moment." With that, one of them went inside, leaving Jaxen to continue his ceaseless chatter. "Well, there don''t seem to be any monsters around the village, and doesn''t that smell wonderful? It must be dinnertime already. It''s been four days of nothing but jerky for me! I''ll make sure to show my gratitude, so please consider cutting me some slack." He was gently coaxing the remaining young militia member, who had large, innocent eyes. The young man, barely nodding, seemed tempted but still didn''t let them in easily. "That''s not allowed... but if you wait here, I think someone inside will come out and talk to you..." He trailed off awkwardly, a habit that made him somewhat frustrating to deal with, but Jaxen didn''t seem to mind. "Ah, I see!" He simply nodded enthusiastically, acting as though everything was fine. Enkrid was quietly impressed, over and over again. ''How is he this good?'' It felt like Krais himself had swapped faces and showed up here. But was it normal for a village to enforce entry restrictions so strictly? Some villages might, under certain circumstances. For example, if there were dangers nearby or if they were at war with another village. But this village didn''t seem to fit those scenarios. "It''s just that... A wandering swordsman caused trouble before, and, well... even a frog..." The militia member, who had been fidgeting, offered an explanation without being asked, nervously watching for a reaction. He seemed incredibly timid. Enkrid had a guess about the frog. So that frog had caused trouble after pretending to have simply "come by"? Just as Enkrid was feeling exasperated by the young militia member''s hesitant tone, a message came from inside. The sharp-eyed one who had gone in earlier strode out and shouted, "Come in!" Permission was granted. Jaxen broke into a wide smile at the news. His performance was astonishingly smooth, to the point it was almost magical. On reflection, it made sense. ''He always seemed like the kind of person who scratched everyone''s itch in the unit.'' Yet, at some point, Jaxen had methodically cut off ties with those around him, doing so in an instant. Afterward, rumors circulated that he spent all the money he earned at brothels. The fact that he often disappeared into the market and didn''t return to the barracks lent credence to these stories. Enkrid didn''t believe the rumors. If Jaxen had truly fallen for a prostitute, he was the type to bring her back with him. But for him to simply visit repeatedly and leave silently? Only those close to Jaxen understood the truth. To those who didn''t know him, he seemed like another soldier wasting his wages on brothels. However, Jaxen was far from simple. Sometimes, he spent entire days in tea shops or idly sipped beer while lingering near gambling dens. To an outsider, he seemed like someone killing time without a purpose. But was there more to it? Enkrid had noticed long ago but didn''t bother looking into it deeply. ''He must have his reasons.'' This ability to adapt his behavior, switch expressions, and mimic Krais perfectly was one of Jaxen''s strengths. Silent footsteps, seamless movements, and a blade without a trace of killing intent. All of it was quintessentially Jaxen. Enkrid was simply reminding himself of what he already knew. He still saw no reason to push Jaxen away or question him. As the commander of the Independent Unit, Enkrid was responsible for Jaxen, and as long as the mission was completed successfully, that was all that mattered. In that sense, Jaxen was an excellent subordinate and even a great mentor. If Jaxen ever turned his blade on Enkrid, the latter would ask twice before retaliating and might even take the blow once. That was how much Enkrid owed him. Right now, however, Enkrid wasn''t particularly focused on Jaxen. "Wow, that''s impressive." What caught his attention was Shinar, standing beside him and marveling openly. Why hadn''t the fairy, with all her keen senses, noticed this village brimming with the scent of herbs and potions? As they entered the village, the militia youth called out a warning from behind. "Don''t cause trouble. Just because you''re good with a sword doesn''t mean you can go around picking fights. You''ll only get yourself hurt." Most villages maintained some level of defense, employing mercenaries or militia for protection. This village seemed particularly well-organized. The fences were high and double-layered, with clear signs of regular maintenance. Thorny bushes intertwined with the outer fence added another layer of protection, and their height would deter most monsters or beasts. As Enkrid had noticed earlier, the entrance was narrow, barely wide enough for a single cart to pass through. To an uninformed observer, it might look like an ordinary village, but Enkrid thought otherwise. Many saw Enkrid as nothing more than a "sword fanatic" oblivious to anything else, but Krais and a select few knew better. "See? The captain''s smart. He''s just not used to showing it," they''d say. And they were right. Above all, Enkrid had a sharp sense of intuition. Combined with his mastery of sensory techniques, he could detect subtle changes in the air and discern scents others might miss. That was one of the reasons he had survived so long despite his modest skills. Now, with his sharpened senses and the ability to assess his opponents, Enkrid scanned his surroundings. This village did not practice farming. Its location, situated atop a high plateau climbing along a mountain range, also showed no signs of slash-and-burn agriculture. So, how were they sustaining themselves? A few goats could be seen, but the village itself clearly housed several hundred families. On the continent, to survive the threats of beasts and monsters, people had to live in close-knit communities. Building wide fences and cultivating fields within them was considered basic common sense. Even if an orchard was established separately, it would require its own fences and stationed guards. Without these measures, everything would be surrendered to beasts and monsters. Though colonies of monsters or beasts could still render such efforts useless, the first rule was always clear: gathering together ensured survival. The population here seemed to easily exceed three or four hundred people. Among them, the number of young people made up more than half. No farmland. They had very few livestock. And the ratio of middle-aged and elderly individuals compared to the population was shockingly low. Not to mention, wasn''t the village chief said to be a young and beautiful woman? Nothing about this place felt ordinary. And yet, there were no rumors about this village in the surrounding areas. Wouldn''t at least a few traveling merchants have mentioned it? For a village to conceal its existence and avoid becoming the subject of rumors, what steps would it need to take? Enkrid pondered for a moment. Beside him, Jaxen, slipping into his Krais-like persona, was chatting animatedly. "They''re selling goat milk! Imagine the cheese you could make with that... wait, they''ve got cheese too!" Cheese made from goat''s milk had a rich brown hue. If stored properly, it became sweet and robust in flavor. Jaxen eagerly highlighted this fact while pulling out a few bolts of fine silk. These were items he had prepared for his merchant disguise. Watching this, Enkrid fell into thought again. How does one keep a village from spreading rumors? "By burying every visitor," he mused. If someone couldn''t be silenced by force? You could give them enough to placate them and send them on their way. Was this why the village''s location remained undiscovered? After all, this area lay west of Moder Guard and wasn''t a shortcut for any mountain routes. Some might say this made it safe from bandits or brigands. But, "Is that truly the case?" The level of training in the local militia was anything but ordinary. Enkrid stood idly, observing the people passing by. The most peculiar sight was a woman in a wide skirt walking by. "Hey, what are you hiding under that skirt?" Her right leg and left leg carried noticeably different weights, and her stride was uneven. Even Krais would bet his tongue that she had a blade long enough to pierce a human torso strapped to her right thigh. "What an interesting place." "Try this." As soon as Enkrid muttered, Jaxen suddenly flicked something into his mouth. Even with his heightened awareness, Enkrid only noticed the touch when it reached him. Despite his acute sensitivity as a practitioner of martial techniques, Jaxen''s sleight of hand remained elusive. The item in question was a piece of brown cheese, now in his mouth. Rolling it around a few times, he discovered its taste. Rather than a cloying heaviness, it left behind a refreshing sweetness. The cheese was well-made. Clearly, someone here was skilled with their hands. "A fine village!" Krais¡ªno, Jaxen¡ªdeclared with exaggerated gestures. The cheese vendor smiled in response. "Is that so?" The vendor''s smile revealed a missing front tooth, causing a faint whistling sound to escape as he spoke. Despite his seemingly simple smile, Enkrid could tell this man wasn''t ordinary either. The movements of his hands revealed palms thick with hardened calluses. Those were the kind of calluses only acquired through years of handling weapons. Pretending not to notice, Enkrid turned away, only for Shinar, the fairy, to murmur beside him. "Enki, this feels like a honeymoon to commemorate our union." On the continent, such trips were called "honeymoons." Of course, this was nothing of the sort. The fairy seemed to possess a tongue that sprouted needles if it wasn''t busy making jests. Enkrid, with his usual composure, let it slide. The atmosphere, outwardly unremarkable, betrayed subtle truths that only the discerning could notice. Shinar, with her exceptional sensitivity, had already picked up on them. Numerous eyes were watching them from the shadows¡ªhidden in alleyways, rooftops, and cracks between windows. "The inn serves a liquor made from goat''s milk. You must try it. There''s only one inn here, so you won''t get lost." "Thank you." Jaxen, beaming, handed over a few more coins. The vendor grinned widely again, his missing front tooth leaving a lasting impression. After completing their lap around the village and heading toward the inn, Jaxen couldn''t stop expressing his admiration. "Though small, this village is full of life!" Enkrid silently translated Jaxen''s words in his head: The village is disproportionately populated and highly trained. "The architecture here is quite unique. Is this how houses are built in these parts?" The inn is positioned perfectly for encirclement. "And the women here exude such a healthy vitality!" Even the women are well-trained. "The sun is setting. We''d better turn in early if we want to start fresh at dawn. The people here don''t seem to sleep much at night." This place feels alive, but it hides sharp edges beneath its surface. Moving recklessly at night might expose us. It would be better to act at dawn. Jaxen''s ceaseless chatter had the unintended effect of making everyone dismiss his words as harmless banter. "If Rem were here, this could have escalated into a real mess. These kind folks wouldn''t take well to rough people." If we cause a commotion, it will make achieving our goals difficult. The villagers will keep watching us. Though not coded language, Jaxen''s remarks often seemed like it, with Enkrid being the only one able to decipher them. His words were fragmented and scattered across their conversation, blending seamlessly. After entering the inn, they requested a dinner made with goat''s milk liquor and unpacked their belongings in their room. The two men shared a room. "Why split the rooms like this?" Shinar grumbled but relented when Finn tugged her arm and led her to the adjacent room. Jaxen stood by the wooden-framed window. The hinges squeaked as he opened it, clearly in need of oiling. He paused to look outside for a moment before turning back. And in that instant, the essence of Krais vanished from him. The possession had ended. It was evident just from his expression. The spirit of Krais had left Jaxen''s body. "Hmm." Enkrid found himself marveling once again. Jaxen''s acting was good enough to rival the leads in theatrical performances occasionally seen in the capital. If a playwright saw him, they''d likely go to great lengths to recruit him. "What''s wrong?" Catching Enkrid staring, Jaxen asked. "Nothing." Enkrid had nothing more to add. What could he say to someone who did their job flawlessly? But Jaxen wasn''t done. In fact, he had plenty to say. The number of things he had observed and deduced was staggering. Internally, Enkrid couldn''t help but feel a twinge of admiration for the level of preparation these villagers had gone through. Of course, Jaxen, as always, spoke casually. "They''ll likely lace the food with sleeping agents." Jaxen predicted their actions, and though Enkrid found it hard to believe they''d resort to drugging them right away, he decided it wouldn''t hurt to proceed with caution. "Shouldn''t we warn the next room?" Jaxen shook his head lightly. "They''ve got the fairy, don''t they?" Their heightened senses wouldn''t miss such details. Could their taste buds be any less discerning? That was why fairy cuisine was always deliberately mild. With their sensitivity, even a light seasoning would bring out the flavors and aromas vividly. Of course, this didn''t mean they weren''t connoisseurs. With their keen senses, they were naturally drawn to fine music and exquisite food. "They''ll manage." Jaxen spoke confidently, inspecting the bed and pulling a small bottle of oil from his belongings. He applied it to the creaky hinges, ensuring they wouldn''t make noise later. It was meticulous work. Moving silently didn''t rely solely on physical agility¡ªit required preparation and foresight. Preparation and anticipation. A part of Enkrid''s mind was always occupied with swordsmanship, leaving room for thoughts of swords, knights, and dreams. Among those occupying this mental space, some whispered: "Isn''t this just like the structured form of a sword ritual?" It was true. While it didn''t lead to a breakthrough, it was a moment to reflect on the craft of the sword. While Enkrid lost himself in thought, Jaxen finished his preparations. He oiled the hinges, checked under the bed, and even tapped along the ceiling with his fingernails. Finally, he spread a large cloth above the bed, pinning it at the corners with needles to secure it. Enkrid didn''t bother asking what he was doing. For a moment, he was absorbed in his own world, preoccupied with practicing his mental sword swings. Jaxen, relieved by Enkrid''s silence, found it easier to focus. Explaining every little thing was tedious work. "We make a surprisingly good team, don''t we?" Jaxen thought about how crucial it was in their line of work to gauge how well a team worked together. And he knew this was one of Enkrid''s strengths. "Who wouldn''t get along with him?" Enkrid got along effortlessly with Audin, Rem, and even Shinar. That was the kind of leader he was. So while Enkrid might not seem suited for this kind of work, in a way, he excelled at it. As Jaxen moved, his mind painted a picture of what was to come. These weren''t deductions made through intellect but rather experiences etched into his bones. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 270 - Not Everything Goes as Planned (1) Chapter 270 - 270 - Not Everything Goes as Planned (1) The Black Blade Bandits were large enough to be considered a small sovereign state. Thus, they were one of the greatest blights and afflictions plaguing Nauirilias and the kingdom alike. They were that dangerous. A piece of cheese slipped from the mouth of one of their high-ranking members. He had just heard something utterly absurd. Grabbing a linen napkin, he wiped his mouth roughly before speaking. "All the assassins were taken out?" He sent knife-wielding assassins¡ªswiftly eliminated. Then a mercenary unit¡ªcompletely decimated. Faced with such failures, the Black Blade officer decided to up the ante. He dispatched an entire unit of top-tier assassins. And yet¡ªfailure. Bam! The officer slammed his fist onto the table, shouting furiously. "Are you trying to drag the name of the Black Blades through the mud?" Fine, so you''re a skilled fighter, huh? Then, let''s see how you handle this. He gathered all the assassins in their branch, sparing none of their elite killers. No matter how great a warrior or fighter, there''s no defense against a blade striking from the shadows. Especially one laced with poison. He sent over fifteen assassins, all adept in the arts of poison and stealth. Surely, with such numbers, even if they couldn''t kill their target, they should at least have inflicted a grievous injury. "And the target?" "Completely unharmed." "Our men?" "All dead." "What about the scout left behind to report?" "He''s dead too." If they hadn''t stationed another observer further away for cleanup, they wouldn''t have received any intel at all. "If I had gone closer, I would''ve been killed too." The scout, sweating profusely, knelt on one knee as he spoke. Beads of his sweat fell onto the smooth stone floor, darkening the pale gray surface with each drop. The puddle of sweat slowly spread, leaving a blotchy pattern on the ground. The scout had not even seen Jaxen directly¡ªonly the grisly demise of his comrades, who were closer to the target. "We couldn''t even see him." His comrades flailed in midair, seemingly caught by something unseen, before dying one by one. The scout had immediately turned and fled. Even though he had sensed no presence, the sight of his comrades'' deaths had sent him running. His instincts screamed at him to leave¡ªor die. "What kind of monsters are they?" The officer''s voice carried an undertone of despair. Every assassin he had spent a lifetime gathering was dead. They had existed¡ªand now they didn''t. Gone, wiped out. Meeting them again was now impossible, except in the afterlife. "Who are these bastards?" His mouth hung open, the absurdity of it all leaving him speechless. Turning to the scout, the officer demanded more details, but the scout only buried his head further. There was nothing else to report. The only information he had was that they were all dead. "What should we do now?" A servant standing behind him hesitantly asked. "What do you mean, what should we do?" The officer snapped back, chewing over the servant''s question. "Damn it." The situation was spiraling into the worst possible scenario. If he failed to resolve this, he would be overthrown by those scheming beneath him. There were plenty who coveted his position. Though they couldn''t replace him immediately. After all, the web of operations he had built wasn''t something that could be unraveled so easily. "The businesses..." His position was secured for a simple reason: the drug trade. Thanks to his dealings, there were few nobles in the kingdom unfamiliar with his "goods." The profits from those drugs had funded the operations of the Black Blade Bandits. The main branch will send assistance. Until then, leave it be." There was no one left to send. It was true that nothing could be done until reinforcements arrived from the main branch. "In the meantime, we focus on the ''burrow'' we''ve dug." The term was slang, but everyone in this room understood it. As long as the ''burrow'' remained intact, his foundation would be secure. For the time being, he decided to forget about Enkrid¡ªthe madman of the abyss. Of course, that grudge would resurface soon enough. He had no intention of letting it go. "Where is that man now?" "Likely swinging his sword somewhere on the estate." The sharp-eyed, quick-witted attendant answered. He was a striking man, with a clean-shaven face that made him stand out. His judgment was reliable. They had previously conducted a detailed investigation into Enkrid''s daily life. ''That sword lunatic.'' The kind of man who earned such a nickname naturally. Marcus had concealed the departure of Enkrid and his party for their mission. It wasn''t a calculated move but rather a habitual one. Marcus knew too well that limiting information always worked to one''s advantage. Above all, Enkrid was an easy man to hide. He was the sort to vanish into the training grounds or his quarters for days on end. Sure, eventually, his absence would be noticed, but a week might pass without anyone realizing. This meant that even the lieutenant of the Black Blade Brigade didn''t know that Enkrid was in their ''burrow.'' *** Shinar entered the room and stood silently, concentrating. The faint sound of activity drifted from the adjacent room. She assessed the situation through the surrounding noises, scanning for any prying eyes. There were none. Once certain, she raised her right index finger and made a small circular motion in the air. It was a gesture only known to select members of the Fairy Company. "This is the last one, right?" Finn asked. "It seems so." The Fairy Company Commander spoke, reclining on the bed at an angle and stretching her long legs. Her supple, flexible muscles extended smoothly. Unbothered by the cold, she wore only leather pants, allowing for unrestricted movement. Otherwise, her demeanor was entirely composed. Only the small brazier in the inn room seemed to bother her. She had pushed it aside upon entering. When asked why, she replied, "It might start a fire." "Are we fine just idling here?" Finn, fastening her layered armor, asked again. Her armor was made of hardened leather sandwiched between fabrics. Though stiff due to the poor quality of the leather, it was warm and sturdy. Without a hint of amusement, Shinar replied, "This is important too." "Fair enough." Finn pulled a chair to the window and leaned partially against it, watching outside and oiling her hinges. They had plans to sneak out under the cover of night. As a ranger experienced in various operations, Finn was adept at such tasks, though not quite on Jaxen''s level. "Seventh one, huh," Finn muttered. It was the count of incidents Shinar and certain Fairy Company members had initiated so far. *** Jaxen missed no details. He was meticulous to the extreme. Watching Jaxen, Enkrid felt as if he was on the verge of grasping something. It was tantalizingly close yet just out of reach. Strangely, it wasn''t frustrating but rather fascinating. He marveled at how his thinking had evolved. Once, such thoughts had never occurred to him. This, too, was evidence of growth. As Enkrid observed, Jaxen spoke. With Krais''s spirit absent, it was purely Jaxen''s words. "Small things build into something great. Streams converge into rivers, then lakes, and finally oceans." While it sounded abstract, it felt as though the elusive thought Enkrid had been chasing moved one step closer. Now, he could almost see its indistinct form. "Mastery in swordsmanship or training is vital, but a single small preparation can decide victory. Imagine if it were a life-and-death battle." Enkrid had once lacked innate talent in his body. Now that deficiency was mostly resolved, and his once-decent mind worked sharper than ever. He revisited lessons and realized things he had previously overlooked. Especially regarding swordsmanship and combat. In Jaxen''s explanation, one could find hints of the Valen-style mercenary swordplay. Enkrid now possessed the ability to classify swordsmanship. For example, the orthodox techniques of unnamed schools taught how to wield a sword, building upon fundamentals. In contrast, Valen-style mercenary swordplay was on a different trajectory. ''It''s more like personal tactics.'' ¡ªA fighter must always use their head. This phrase was written in the Valen-style manual when Enkrid first learned it. The line itself had been helpful, but realizing it anew, he thought, ''That line saved my life.'' Since learning it, how many times had it allowed him to escape death? His reflections led to a series of small revelations. It wouldn''t drastically improve his swordsmanship or bring about a dramatic change¡ªhe knew this instinctively. However, the accumulation of experience and knowledge left Enkrid with something meaningful. If an opponent used a long sword, how should one respond? If their belt seemed unusually thick, what might they be hiding? What if they wore a curved blade like a saber as a belt? Could the angle of their sword belt hint at habits? Before any of that, what about positioning oneself advantageously for ease of movement? Everything seemed possible, and Enkrid realized he could make such preparations too. It was the realm of personal tactics. Now, the indistinct thought solidified into something tangible he could grasp. Elation and the joy of growth welled within him. However, he didn''t burst into laughter or drool like an overexcited fool. ''I''m not Rem, after all.'' Enkrid occasionally drooled when overly focused, though he would never admit it. "Dinner, perhaps?" Jaxen suggested. Enkrid nodded in agreement. The dining area on the inn''s first floor doubled as a tavern. Sitting down, Jaxen summoned Krais''s spirit back into his body, while Shinar silently played the role of the taciturn fairy guard. It wasn''t hard¡ªshe only needed to avoid her usual jokes. "A fairy, huh? What an esteemed guest," remarked the innkeeper, personally bringing over stew and roasted pork. He stole glances at Shinar multiple times, clearly fascinated. Shinar had kept her face concealed beneath a robe while entering the village. Only inside the inn was it revealed that she was a fairy. Otherwise, she would have drawn stares everywhere she went. The innkeeper''s awe prompted Jaxen to play along with an air of mild arrogance. "Ah, best not speak to her too casually. My father assigned her as my guard, and her temperament is... particular." With a single line, Jaxen established himself as the spoiled son of a wealthy trading company while hinting at his bodyguard''s no-nonsense attitude. He played the part so well it was almost natural, as if born into such a role. ''He''s changed since merging with Krais.'' Behind the innkeeper, a clumsy servant tripped, dropping a cup and spilling wine on the floor. "Clumsy fool!" The innkeeper shouted, advancing angrily, as the servant bowed repeatedly, apologizing profusely. It was a minor commotion. Two nearby patrons¡ªa bearded man drinking fruit wine and another with plain brown hair¡ªbriefly turned their heads before resuming their business. "Come on, go easy on the lad," Jaxen interjected lightly. This level of interference felt very much like Krais''s influence, meddling just enough to be annoying. Shinar stood impassively, her gaze fixed on a corner of the table like an unmoving doll. Finn, playing her part, leaned in and remarked, "Master, remember you must return to the caravan in two days." The words were all part of the act¡ªsimple lines scripted by Jaxen. "One day''s delay should be fine," Jaxen muttered. The plan was straightforward: their departure in two days would buy them enough time to act. Shinar''s presence served as both a deterrent against poison or treachery and a warning to their enemies. Jaxen''s carefully crafted persona reinforced this perception. "I''ll manage with this," Shinar added, holding up some dried fruit, signaling she didn''t require a full meal. "What a joyless existence!" Jaxen quipped, digging into his stew. Enkrid also ate comfortably¡ªJaxen''s actions served as a signal that the food was safe. Later that night, when all had fallen asleep, the oiled hinges allowed a window to open without a sound. "Let''s go," Jaxen whispered. On the roof of the inn, Jaxen met Finn. They acknowledged each other silently and then parted, each heading to their assigned tasks. Jaxen leapt over two rooftops, while Finn descended to the ground. Suddenly, a blade emerged from the shadows, slicing through the air toward Jaxen. It moved without a sound, undetected by even the keenest senses. The blade tore through his clothes with a sharp hiss. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 271 - Not Everything Goes as Planned (2) Chapter 271 - 271 - Not Everything Goes as Planned (2) Finn subtly glanced in the direction Jaxen had taken. "Is he heading straight for the village chief''s house?" To her, this village raised far too many suspicions. Among the people passing by, wasn''t there a woman whose movements were noticeably sharp? Even Finn could tell that woman wasn''t ordinary. "These thieving bastards." Finn had seen enough through her work with Shinar to understand just how deeply the shadow of the Black Blade had infiltrated the kingdom. Perhaps central nobles or lords with vast estates were involved. Among them, the biggest problem was, of course... Lost in thought as she walked under the cover of darkness, her ranger instincts led her to avoid the eyes of others and move carefully. Her steps were deliberate, always conscious of whether someone was tailing her. Finn made her way toward the mill on the hill. Just as she neared it, something struck her head. Reacting immediately, Finn twisted to deflect the point of impact and minimized the force of the blow. Her reaction, right before the strike landed, was half luck. The other half, however, was skill. Since meeting Enkrid, Finn had constantly trained in martial arts alongside Audin and Shinar. Her focus had been defense, not out of preference but necessity. "If you get hit, you''ll meet the gods, sister." Audin''s punches, if miscalculated, were enough to knock on the gates of heaven. "You''re full of openings." Shinar, without warning, often jabbed her in the back of the head or neck. For various reasons, Finn''s awareness had sharpened, her senses heightened, and her reaction speed improved. Thud! The sound of impact echoed, but Finn neither fainted nor fell. The strike aimed at the back of her head hit closer to her ear instead, thanks to her instinct to tuck her chin and tense her trapezius muscles. Though her head throbbed, she was still on her feet. Her assailant wasted no time. A second attack came swiftly, this time targeting her legs with a well-placed sweep. The assailant was skilled, employing tactics to disorient. The first strike aimed high; the next, low. It was a strategy designed to be difficult to counter. But Finn wasn''t caught off guard. She bent her knees and planted her feet, using stabilization techniques. As the attacker''s leg swept toward her shin, she twisted slightly, deflecting the blow once again. "Damn bastard." Her head still rang, but she knew that if this continued, she''d lose the upper hand. In one swift motion, she drew the short sword strapped to her sword belt. Shing! Without hesitation, she swung it horizontally, blindly but with full force. The blade met no resistance. The attacker retreated, and Finn could feel their movement away from her. Though her vision blurred, she frowned and concentrated. "Don''t move. If you move, you die." The voice came from her left rear. Accompanying it was the click of a crossbow being drawn. "Damn it all," Finn cursed internally. She''d fallen into a well-laid trap. Her opponent was adept at ambushes and seemed to have been waiting for her. This wasn''t just a random attack¡ªit was premeditated and dangerous. "You think we''re blind fools? I swear, I''ll cut your limbs off and sell you to some filthy brothel for pocket change!" The attacker, holding a short club, spat out vulgar words. Instead of responding, Finn focused. Sweat trickled down her temples, the cold of winter entirely forgotten. Her head still spun, though slightly less than before. Right now, her priority was to escape the situation, and for that, she needed to assess her surroundings. "Don''t shoot." Finn raised her hands slowly, letting the short sword fall from her grasp. It landed with a dull thud, embedding slightly into the dirt below. "You fools have no idea where you are." The club-wielding thug sneered, his lips curling into a mocking grin. "This isn''t good," Finn thought. By pretending to surrender, she managed to piece together the situation. There were three key takeaways: First, the villagers weren''t stupid or oblivious. Second, her team''s actions had somehow made them appear careless. Lastly, not everything went according to plan. The original plan was to observe the village for two days before unleashing their stationed forces to sweep through. "Gather evidence first," she reminded herself. Using that evidence to gain approval from the local lord overseeing this region was the priority. The Border Guard was technically part of a fief, and there was nothing truly resembling a border outside of it. If anything, this area belonged to another noble. In fact, there were numerous political elements at play in this situation. Marcus had been planning to turn the Border Guard into a fief under his control and needed this incident to assert his influence. While he was certainly angered by the drug makers and the Black Blade''s assassination squads, there was more to it than that. Marcus, the politician that he was, had been plotting this course of action for some time. His ultimate goal was to liberate the village, remove the criminals, and reestablish order by organizing the innocent inhabitants. Instead of the village being a haven for the Black Blade''s drug-dealing thugs, he sought to make it a village protected by the Border Guard. The noble overseeing the area would undoubtedly make a fuss, but Marcus knew there were many ways to handle that. The best course of action would be to find proof of the connection between the local lord and the bandit groups, though he knew that might not be possible. But he was confident he could exert his influence and gain control of a village with ease. Once he had one, getting more would be easy. He understood that once the first village fell, it wouldn''t be the last. But who would know? The local lord was just a fool, a pig-headed idiot. And on top of that, Marcus had prepared various plans and entangled the situation with plenty of intricacies. But it all started to go awry. Of course, Finn couldn''t know any of this. She only focused on her mission, remaining a soldier through and through. As she surveyed the situation, she realized that finding evidence had become like trying to gather spilled water from dry earth. "I''m really down bad" She had fallen into an ambush. Sweat trickled down her face, but she steeled herself and prepared for her next move. She wouldn''t just surrender. Fight and fight again. She had learned that much from watching Enkrid. Never give up¡ªkeep moving forward, and in doing so, you change. Finn had watched Enkrid do just that, right beside him. With a swift motion, her foot kicked the sword lodged in the ground, sending it flying. At the same time, she drew two hidden daggers from her forearms. It was time to fight. Even if victory was impossible, it was a moment where she had no choice but to act. It was after Jaxen had slipped out through the window. Enkrid absentmindedly gazed outside. "How did he slip through that small hole?" The window was tiny. Jaxen had somehow managed to squeeze through with almost no effort, a feat that seemed almost magical. He didn''t struggle or squirm. He simply judged the window''s size and his own body and made a quick leap, vanishing outside in an instant. It looked as if he had been pulled by some invisible force, his body perfectly aligned as he glided out. Jaxen''s kinesthetic awareness was impressive. "I wonder if I could have done that." Enkrid doubted his own ability to pull off such a feat. His curiosity didn''t extend further than that, and he continued to stare through the window at the moonlight, which scattered and shimmered like dust. It was a clear, moonlit night. After observing the outside for a moment, Enkrid turned his gaze back inside. Though it was a winter night, the air was cold, there was a hearth burning nearby. The hot stones and glowing red charcoal beneath a large piece of firewood provided warmth. Enkrid moved the hearth closer to the bed and gazed at it for a while. He placed another log into the fire, and it immediately began to sizzle as the embers met the wood, flickering with a bright red flame. The crackling sound of the fire was soothing as Enkrid watched, almost trance-like. The flames danced and spat embers, creating warmth that cut through the chilly air. The heat from the fire mingled with the cool air, creating a comfortable, warm atmosphere. Enkrid felt as though the heat was wrapping around him, holding him gently, almost as if he were being cradled. He didn''t remember the warmth of a mother''s embrace, but in this moment, the sensation was close enough. Like a child seeking comfort, he curled up, feeling the peace of the moment wash over him. A warm bath and a brief dream helped him to relax deeply. In his dream, Enkrid was a child again, whining in his mother''s arms. Then, he left home to embark on a long journey. Ten days into it, he was faced with a life-threatening situation. After narrowly surviving, he regretted his decision. "Why did I leave home?" Leaving had only led to hardship and danger. Every step was a risk, like crossing a cliff on a thin rope. "Would you still cross it?" A voice asked him. He could have gone back home, but Enkrid didn''t. Even though he yearned for the peaceful air, the pastoral landscape, the warmth of his mother''s embrace, and his father''s hands, he didn''t turn back. "I''ll cross." "Why?" "Do I need a reason?" "No, but everything has a reason, whether you know it or not. Why are you walking this path?" Enkrid thought it was a question with no answer, but his dream-self replied without hesitation. "It''s fun." "Is that all?" "Should I show a smile on my face? Or should I frown? Is it better to feel pain or joy?" "What?" The person who asked the question couldn''t be seen. The last sentence was spoken aloud. "I''m walking the path I believe is right and enjoyable." There was no hesitation in that answer. Enkrid didn''t even call it a belief. He opened his eyes. It had been a very short dream. The fire from the logs had hardly gone out yet. Before the wood had completely burned down, before it turned completely black¡ªjust a brief moment of rest. And yet, his body felt light. His feet were swift, and strength surged into his hands. Normally, after waking up, it takes time for the body to regain strength, but not now. It was as if someone had breathed life into every muscle, and his body was full of power. At that moment, someone knocked on the door. Knock knock. "Are you there?" It was the voice of a tavern servant. "Are you in there?" The question came again. Enkrid quickly dressed. He wrapped a bandage-like undergarment around himself, then layered a thin leather armor over it. He fastened his sword belt. His speed in gearing up was extraordinary. Why wouldn''t it be? If your swordsmanship isn''t great, you end up doing a lot of menial tasks. Enkrid had seen many mercenaries who had to take care of others. Still, for survival, it was crucial to wear armor and be prepared. His preparation was flawless. "You''re here, and you didn''t say anything," the servant said with a tone full of mockery. "Hey, you idiot." Then there was a clicking sound, and the door opened. The lock had no real meaning. The room''s light from the fire and the light from outside met as the door opened. The light didn''t clash¡ªit merely illuminated the surroundings. The tavern corridor was narrow. Beyond it, there was the tavern servant, the owner, and a man with a thick, bushy beard. They all had gleaming eyes and an intimidating presence. "Just three?" Enkrid asked bluntly, skipping the usual preliminaries. He lowered his head, glancing sideways, and adjusted the position of his sword belt. He shifted it slightly forward, making it easier to draw. The servant laughed at the sight of Enkrid. "Just three? You must be crazy." The servant mocked him. Enkrid continued adjusting his gear, realizing again how important these small preparations were. The angle of the gladius on his right hip didn''t feel right. He adjusted it, pulling it and tightening it. "You use swords, huh? Then what''s with that clumsy act?" Suddenly, Krais'' voice echoed in his mind, telling him to stop acting. Enkrid briefly felt frustrated at how the world didn''t recognize his acting skills. Once he got to the fief, surely some playwright would recognize his talent. "No need to talk long, right?" The servant continued to mock him. Normally, the servant would try to exploit any openings or moments of carelessness, but Enkrid looked so clumsy that he didn''t seem worth the trouble. The fairy standing nearby was trickier, but¡ª ''Do they even know where they are?'' The servant was confident. He was sure he could overpower all these ''actors'' who had come into the village. "Kill him quickly." The gruff, bearded man who had been silently observing spoke up. This wasn''t some playful salon¡ªit was a life-or-death situation. Enkrid tightened his sword belt once more, ensuring it rested at the front of his pelvis, making sure it was now in the perfect position for quick use. Finally, he stood tall and straightened his back. While he did this, the tavern servant smirked and shook his hands. The once naive eyes he had were now gleaming with malice. Everything about him caught Enkrid''s attention. In the slowed moment, he noticed the expression and gaze of the servant. It was only a few steps away. The servant threw a dagger, and Enkrid swiftly turned his head. He didn''t draw his sword just yet, though. The dagger passed by his hair and embedded itself into the wall behind him. "...Not bad, huh?" The servant shouted aggressively, raising both hands. In each of his hands was another dagger. Enkrid instinctively gauged the servant''s abilities from his movements and the way he threw the daggers. That led directly to more minor adjustments in his own preparations. He shifted his left foot forward. His leather boots slid with a soft screech. It was a subtle move no one else noticed. And now, everything was in place. The small preparations were complete. The servant, confident in his throwing skills, swung his daggers again, while the tavern owner unsheathed a short sword. The metal clanged loudly as they all revealed their weapons, proving their presence in the room. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 272 - Not Everything Goes as Planned(3) Chapter 272 - 272 - Not Everything Goes as Planned(3) [Extra Chapter because why not] "Things don''t always go as planned." Enkrid muttered quietly as he moved. "Esther." He pressed his left big toe, lowering his waist. In a sharp, low stance, he leaned forward. In a single swift motion, two daggers whizzed by, embedding themselves into the back wall of the tavern. Enkrid drew his sword. The tavern room wasn''t wide enough to swing a longsword. Especially with the wall blocking the entrance. They believed in that fact. What would be the point of drawing a sword here? What could he possibly do? Enkrid could almost hear the servant''s thoughts. He pressed his left hand against the scabbard, adjusting the angle. Instead of a horizontal slash, he transitioned to a vertical strike and drew his sword. With a powerful upward swing, the sword cleaved through the servant, from his groin to the middle of his chest. The sound was soft but distinct¡ªa whisper of fabric, leather, muscle, and bone being sliced. The sword had been that fast. Enkrid had gauged the distance perfectly, cutting just deep enough¡ªno more than the width of a finger. At this depth, a person would die. The adjustment of his sword belt and the careful positioning of his foot were all for this single strike. It felt satisfying. "Ugh, crack!" The servant let out a short scream before collapsing, his insides spilling out as his lungs and vocal cords were undamaged. "Dammit!" The tavern owner, now revealed as a thief, drew a short sword and yelled. But he didn''t step forward. Hadn''t he seen his servant die with a single blow? Then, from above, a shadow descended and struck the thief''s skull. Thud, crash! The blow shattered his neck, and his face was marked with three deep claw marks as his nose and eye sockets were crushed and torn. It was the power of a predator''s paw. The leopard panther, usually calm, was terrifying in battle. Esther, the one who had struck the fatal blow, landed next to Enkrid. With a light thud, she stood easily, her movements seeming faster than usual. Enkrid could sense his own body''s condition through the precision of that strike. I feel light as a feather. His body was in excellent condition. Truly, he felt great. "Mm." Enkrid''s light admiration was interrupted as he noticed the wide-eyed, grizzled man in the back. He soon spoke. A cry mixed with tension, fear, and excitement. "You''re dead!" With that cry, there was a sharp, snapping sound. Enkrid''s acute instincts immediately pinpointed the source¡ªit was from behind. "What the hell is this?!" Another shout followed, sounding from a bed. There were two beds, and specifically, it came from the one chosen by Jaxen. Soon, the sound of fabric tearing filled the room. The thief hidden inside the bed had tried something, but it seemed blocked by the fabric added to the ceiling by Jaxen. As the fabric tore, something dropped. "Ugh!" Esther made a sound as she saw what fell. It was a leather-like sphere, and it soon burst. It wasn''t an explosion, per se. There was no pressure or light, just green smoke quickly spreading. Although Enkrid didn''t smell it, he felt dizzy¡ªthe unmistakable scent of poison. And then, an arrow flew in through the window. Enkrid slashed his sword quickly, deflecting the arrow. With a thwack, the arrow''s middle splintered and bounced off the floor. While blindly shot arrows were always dangerous, dodging daggers at close range was far more challenging. This wasn''t a serious threat. But the poison gas was another matter. His gaze shifted. Behind the dead servant and tavern owner, the grizzled man slammed the door shut. Trying to lock me in and kill me with poison? Enkrid held his breath, not hesitating. He quickly turned to his side. Outside the window, an arrow was aimed at him, and behind the door, the grizzled man was standing firm. Was it better to break through the door? No, considering the situation, there was probably something prepared on the other side as well. It was a gut feeling. And it was right. The grizzled man had prepared the poison spheres the moment he saw Enkrid''s swordsmanship. The poison would twist the insides, causing vomiting until death after two or three doses. However, the effect had a limited range, and if it wasn''t inhaled, it wouldn''t do any harm. If Enkrid tried to break through the door, the same poison would be spread into the corridor. The grizzled thief thought to himself. You fool. How dare you come here. The man didn''t know who the enemy was. To him, they were just fools who had stumbled into the wrong place. This village, a key base of the Black Blade Thieves, was supposed to be guarded by skilled individuals. Even though their recent leader had recruited elite assassins, there were still formidable members left. Most importantly, this was one of their strongholds. The grizzled man, despite his appearance, was a crafty strategist, capable of setting up complex plans. He had anticipated everything, made his judgments, and restricted his enemy''s actions. He believed it would go according to his plan. Enkrid, however, didn''t care what the grizzled man was doing, or what was happening around him. That could all be dealt with later. Just from Esther''s reaction, Enkrid knew the poison gas was dangerous. But it wasn''t spreading quickly. It was a heavy smoke. While smoke wouldn''t normally have weight, that''s exactly how it looked to the eye. Rather than spreading out, it lingered thickly in the air. The problem was that the smoke was overlapping with the spot where Enkrid had been standing. But that was easy enough to avoid. Without a second thought, Enkrid turned his body. He didn''t need to pause for a breath. The tavern had been hastily constructed. It was made of wood, and the walls were thin. Even the voices of Shinar and Finn could be heard. This was no accident; the thieves had intentionally made the walls thin so they could eavesdrop easily. Of course, Enkrid didn''t need to care about such details. He turned and swung his sword toward the wall. The blade sliced through the wall with a single stroke. He repeated this twice more, then kicked the wall. Several beams and planks broke with a heavy sound, creating just enough space for a person to move through. Breaking through the wall, he entered the next room. This was supposed to be where Shinar and Finn were, but instead, three men with gleaming eyes were inside. "Dammit?" One of the men muttered. Their language was foul. Enkrid didn''t hesitate. Since the smoke hadn''t spread to the next room, he took a deep breath and swung his sword. Slash, slash, thud! Two quick slashes severed the necks of two men, while the last one was stabbed through the heart. The frog would be horrified. After a brief thought, Enkrid punched the wall near the window with his gloved fist. Crash! The window frame and part of the wall shattered. Even though the structure was built with wood, there were bricks mixed in. Enkrid crushed everything with sheer strength. More arrows flew from outside, but Enkrid easily dodged them, smashing a few as he leapt out. He landed on the roof of a nearby house and quickly rolled off to the side. As he rolled, arrows continued to land where he had been, one of them even aiming at his expected path. While rolling, Enkrid slapped the roof with his palm. The roof broke apart with a loud bang, creating a hole, and the recoil sent Enkrid''s body spinning faster to the side. Arrows continued to embed where he had just been. After rolling softly down from the roof, Enkrid leaned against a wall. Just as expected, a hand reached out from a nearby window. Since he had already anticipated this, Enkrid didn''t hesitate. He grabbed the wrist and twisted it. There was no need for any special technique¡ªhe just used his strength. The sharp sound of breaking bone was accompanied by a scream. Crack! "Ahhhhh!" These assassins lacked the patience of the ones before. Their screams came far too quickly. Enkrid yanked the broken wrist forward with force. There was a loud thud and a strangled grunt from beyond the wall. They were either unconscious or dead. Letting go of the broken wrist, Enkrid turned and stood in the wide open space in front of the tavern. Things never went smoothly. Not everything went as planned. That was only natural. So, what to do next? He would adapt as needed. The Black Knife Thieves guarding the village didn''t know this, but with Enkrid''s abilities, stamina, and skill, he didn''t even need the fairy company commander''s troops. The thieves didn''t know that. "Who the hell is this guy? Kill him!" Someone shouted. Enkrid couldn''t help but think that these fools were truly something. The ones who revealed themselves weren''t just a few. There were at least twenty, and the number was still growing. From somewhere, figures with gleaming eyes and weapons began to appear, one after another. "You fight too well..." One of them, a soldier blocking the front, was the one who spoke in a trailing tone. This was the person Enkrid had noticed when he first entered the village. In his judgment, the soldier with the trailing speech was the best weapon handler, the most skilled among them all. "Ugh... why not just die quietly..." The tone didn''t seem like an act. Kaaak! Before long, Esther, having rushed out of the tavern, landed next to Enkrid. "The rest of your party is probably already dead..." Enkrid didn''t respond with a smile or a word. He simply scanned the surroundings. Then he asked, "Is this everyone in the village?" "You''re quick to catch on." The answer came from behind him. The sound of clinking metal followed, and a woman with claws on both hands appeared. She was young, and her three sharp blades gleamed ominously. Enkrid looked at her face and thought, Was that what she was hiding in her thigh back then? The claws were long enough to pierce through a person''s torso. She was a woman whose movements Enkrid had noticed before. She was the second person Enkrid had focused on. The third one wasn''t visible. "Where are you from? You seem like a soldier, not a mercenary. Who gave you orders? Which fool sent you?" The woman asked again. Enkrid spoke up. "Nothing left under there? Didn''t you hide a jar of honey or something there?" Her brow furrowed at his answer. They had been exchanging questions instead of giving answers. "Don''t you realize what''s happening?" "If it''s not a jar of honey, then maybe a jar of medicine," Enkrid casually replied, scanning his surroundings. He hadn''t answered her question, but he had already gathered most of the information. The number of people surrounding them had exceeded thirty, maybe fifty. They all moved lightly, and every one of them was skilled with a blade. Still... ''They seem less skilled than the border guards who came to visit.'' There were a few clumsy ones among them¡ªthose who had just picked up their weapons. A few movements looked familiar. They had the same scent as the assassins from before. That was no surprise. The Black Blade Thieves had recruited top assassins from somewhere. They were all from the Black Blade Thieves'' base. This was the place they called their den. Even so, a few highly skilled individuals remained to guard the village. Two of them had surrounded Enkrid from the front and back. "From the awkward acting to the uncomfortable attitude. What are you really?" The woman didn''t get angry. She tried to provoke him gently, but it didn''t work. She seemed to be holding her composure well. "Either we kill you or capture you and interrogate you..." The former soldier spoke from behind. Enkrid still thought these people were impressive. The growing number of enemies, their actions, and the situation they were in. The conclusion was clear. This entire village was a bandit stronghold. ''To turn an entire village into a den of thieves.'' It was proof of the Black Knife Thieves'' immense power. Where were all these bandits coming from? Should he be afraid? No. Enkrid couldn''t help but smile to himself. Esther glanced at him from the side. ''Why is he smiling?'' Enkrid was genuinely pleased. The power of the Black Knife Thieves seemed extraordinary. Difficulties, danger, obstacles, crises, walls, death, the boatman, and the overwhelming uncertainty ahead. Enkrid knew how to enjoy difficulty. The harder it was, the more fun it became. And the more fun it was, the more motivated he felt to act. So when asked if the ones surrounding him were a threat, Enkrid concluded: ''Not at all.'' ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 273 - Not Everything Goes As Planned (4) Chapter 273 - 273 - Not Everything Goes As Planned (4) Jaxen twisted his body the moment the blade that had stabbed into his side pierced his coat and grazed his skin. Thunk, crack! The blade had only pierced his clothing. It had grazed his skin but left only a minor scratch. However, a slight tingling sensation emanated from the wound. ''Poisoned with paralysis.'' It didn''t matter. Jaxen had trained with various poisons since he was young, so this kind of effect was useless against him. At the same time as the thought crossed his mind, Jaxen smoothly extended his hand and grabbed his assailant''s wrist. From the assailant''s perspective, it was as if his outstretched arm was seized before he could pull it back. All the movements were executed as if they were promised in a single breath. The one whose wrist was caught applied force. Jaxen didn''t resist. He followed the movement. The assailant, more flustered, reflexively swung his other hand. It was a short, well-balanced dagger with a single sharp edge, and of course, it was coated with poison. As the blade aimed at Jaxen''s cheekbone, he tilted his head back, and the blade grazed the area just above his nose. This time, there wasn''t even a scratch. It was a fleeting moment, barely perceptible. Normally, this would be the moment when one would take time to process the situation, but Jaxen''s instinct dismissed all calculations in an instant. It was an instinctual, intuitive reaction¡ªa realm of pure sensation. Normally, one would observe, react, assess what the opponent had, and then decide on an action, but Jaxen bypassed all those steps. This was the same shortened cognitive process that Enkrid had performed many times before. It would be ridiculous for Jaxen, the one who taught Enkrid, to be unable to do this. And so, he did what was necessary at that moment. Gurk! The sound of an unseen voice echoed in the air. That was to be expected. In the time it took to block and dodge the two strikes, Jaxen also made his move. His foot stepped on the opponent''s and the blade in his hand pierced the empty air. With a dagger held in his left hand, Jaxen stabbed it diagonally upwards, and red blood sprayed out, splattering in the air. It wasn''t until Jaxen finished his actions that he understood what his opponent had been wielding. ''An artifact that helps with stealth.'' If it weren''t for something magical, the opponent couldn''t have completely escaped his senses. Of course, there might be an assassin skilled enough to deceive his senses, but the opponent''s skill with the blade was far from impressive. This, of course, was all relative. Though the opponent was also used to striking from behind, his skills were lacking. Blood poured through the air, dripping over Jaxen''s hair and face, but he didn''t flinch. His red-brown hair seemed to absorb the blood, turning a dark crimson under the moonlight. Blood splattered into the air, the wrist still gripped in his hand. In that state, Jaxen pried the weapon from his opponent''s hand, casually threw it onto the roof, and then began feeling around his attacker''s face. After a moment, he swiftly yanked off the hood. Naturally, his hands were covered in blood, but Jaxen remained unfazed. His touch was as calm as if he were handling a lifeless object, creating a chilling atmosphere. Even those nearby, cold-hearted as they were, couldn''t help but feel a shiver. Without concern, Jaxen checked the belongings his opponent had been wearing. ''A hooded robe that covers the entire body.'' It was an expensive item, easily worth its weight. He carefully removed it, noting the cord to fasten it and the additional straps around the waist inside. ''The hood is simply worn.'' When worn, it needed to be carefully adjusted to prevent it from being removed. Jaxen knew this because he had similar items himself. After quietly untying the cords and collecting the robe, he discarded the corpse as if throwing away a stone. "...You bastard." At that moment, black shadows began to gather around Jaxen on all the surrounding rooftops. They formed a tight encirclement. Several more figures appeared beneath the roofs, gripping throwing knives, and a few more highly skilled assassins also showed up. The leader, who appeared to be in charge, stepped forward and spoke. The leader, who had been stunned for a moment, finally opened his mouth. He had seen many strange things in his time, but this felt different. It was as if he were facing some kind of otherworldly creature. A cold, emotionless killing¡ªthis battle felt like the slaughter of something worthless. Jaxen silently met the leader''s gaze. Since Krais wasn''t there, his eyes only gleamed with an eerie, unsettling light. The feeling of the moonlight could change depending on the situation, but at this moment, it was like the cold, merciless blade of winter. His blood-streaked hair seemed almost supernatural, its dark red color reflecting the moon''s light, making him appear more demonic or inhuman. But if anyone allowed themselves to be intimidated, all the fame and reputation they had built would be for naught. Whoosh. A sound like wind whistling through clenched teeth came from the leader, who then bared his fangs in anger. His eyes were bloodshot. He had discarded any masks or disguises; there was no reason to hide his face. Jaxen naturally took in this information and understood a few things. But none of that showed on his face. Still, with the sword in his hand, he remained motionless. "Kill him." The leader said. No long speeches were necessary. This was someone who raised assassins and was himself among the best. He had sent his "puppet" to do his bidding with the artifact. The puppet moved swiftly to kill the target. But would that be stopped? Jaxen didn''t just block the attack ¡ª he countered with a fatal strike and claimed the artifact. What was happening here? How could he move so calmly in this situation? From the start, there had been something about him. That''s why they decided to strike first before pulling any tricks. It was an effective strategy. The unexpected blow had caught the enemy off guard. Neither Enkrid, Jaxen, Shinar, nor Finn had anticipated this. The issue wasn''t that they underestimated Jaxen''s skill, but that they had misjudged his abilities entirely. They had seen him as just a quick-footed swordsman. Jaxen, without a hint of a smile, immediately stood tall. In his left hand, he casually held the coiled-up artifact. It looked as if it had always belonged to him. To take someone else''s property made them thieves. But to have something stolen from them? Watching the scene unfold twisted their stomachs. "Don''t just take things so boldly!" The merchant-turned-assassin''s master spat out the words as if to mock him. The words lingered in the air, ringing in the ears. It was part of the plan, after all. The voice was meant to mask the sound of an attack. The sudden shout would distract the opponent''s attention. Jaxen read the tactic naturally. He wasn''t unfamiliar with it; he had used it himself many times. Three people aimed for Jaxen''s back, while one masked their presence to strike at the right moment. The assassin''s mentor, once a toothless merchant, sneered. "Has he ever even been on a rooftop? Fool." The assassin was skilled, but Jaxen had dodged the first strike with surprising ease. It seemed more like luck than skill. The second strike wouldn''t be so easy. Jaxen didn''t move. Three sharp blades, resembling skewers, stabbed toward his back. It wasn''t until they were almost upon him that Jaxen moved. In an instant, he vanished from his position. The assassin, wide-eyed, watched as Jaxen''s movements slipped past his senses. As a child, he had ingested fairy blood, gaining some of their heightened sensitivity. But Jaxen''s movements had eluded him. Thud! A sudden thud echoed, and the assassin felt a blade at his back. He tried to dodge, to counter, but his mind could no longer command his body. He turned and struck, aiming to deliver a low blow while drawing a hidden weapon. It was a thin, needle-like weapon, forged using the unique materials of the fairy folk. His mind reacted before his body, but it was already too late. The moment his weapon came into play, it was already over. His body had failed to respond as he expected. "Why?" The leader briefly questioned himself but didn''t have time to think further. The moment the assassin''s head was separated from his body, it remained alive for a brief moment. The severed head''s optic nerves recorded something ¡ª a second blade, a doll wearing a belt artifact that muffled sound, was clearly visible. This was the true backup plan in case the first doll failed. The assassin had struck with precision, but the expected result didn''t unfold. In a flash, Jaxen, who had killed three assassins in an instant, struck down the fourth. A simple motion, but the hidden strike was thwarted. The skewer-like blade snapped, and the assassin retreated immediately. This was the hallmark of a great assassin ¡ª never initiating an attack unless it was a surprise. Then, a dull thud sounded. It was over. The world turned dark for the leader''s eyes. Once the most notorious assassin in the Black Sword Band, he now faced the inevitable fate that awaited all men ¡ª death. "Direction, position, the tremor in the air." Nothing. This was the troublesome foe, as elusive as a hooded robe. A skilled assassin, with methods that were effective. He had struck out with precision, deflecting the incoming attack. Using that, he gauged the direction and position, locating his target with the tremors of air. From there, it was simple. Before the opponent could evade, he threw the Silent Knife exactly when their swords collided. The Silent Knife lacked the power of a whistle-dagger, with a blade no longer than a thumb. However, in close range, it was harder to stop, as it flew soundlessly through the air. It was a skillful weapon and technique combination, often referred to as a "silent blade." By coating the blade in black and using certain poisons, it could become invisible and inaudible to the naked eye. It was one of Jaxen''s signature weapons. And that was the end. The Silent Knife sank deep into the assassin''s forehead, undetectable even by touch. There were six assailants in total. The battle had ended as quickly as it had begun. This was the true nature of an assassin''s fight. Jaxen rummaged through the fallen assassin''s belongings, finding the belt with the artifact. "This is the item that mutes sound," he observed, instantly recognizing it and taking it for himself. At the same time, Jaxen thought to himself. If it were him, he would have given both of these items to a single person. "Ah, maybe not." Could the one holding them have used them to eliminate their superiors? Perhaps they were intended for mutual deterrence? That could be it. In fact, it was true. The dead leader had used the two dolls to keep each other in check. However, no words could come from the lips of the already dead. Jaxen opened his senses from the rooftop. He felt a heavy, sinister presence everywhere. So many. The entire village was a den of thieves. It wouldn''t be much of a problem, though. The Black Sword Band didn''t know it, but even if their combat forces numbered over a hundred. They were capable of handling a handful of skilled people, but not the likes of Enkrid and his group. Had they known the true identities of Enkrid and his team, they would never have dared to strike. But, as they say, ignorance often leads to being punished. Finn kicked her sword away, rolling to the side as she raised her wrist forward. The shortsword flew awkwardly through the air, but as the blade moved, her opponent dodged. Moving sideways, the enemy kept his eyes locked on Finn. In the moment, Finn used the small crossbow attached to her wrist ¡ª a gift from Enkrid ¡ª to fire a short arrow. With a ping, the arrow shot out, but her opponent swung a club, deflecting it. Thud! With a loud noise, the arrow veered off course. The enemy, having blocked the shot, was glaring at her with malice in his eyes. What the hell? It was pretty dark now, wasn''t it? Even with the moonlight, it was still quite dim. And yet, this guy had managed to knock away a short arrow in the dark? That meant he was at least as skilled as a border patrol guard. Finn, who had been outmatched by Enkrid and the Independent Unit, realized that this man was also no pushover. Finn was well aware of her own strengths and weaknesses. She was good at hand-to-hand combat, but when weapons came into play, it put her at a disadvantage. She had many special tools outside of combat, but when it came to personal tactics, things weren''t so simple. So, what should she do? As always, she needed to create an opening and close the distance. After rolling on the ground and analyzing the situation, Finn honestly thought it was getting pretty dangerous. "You''re talking a lot of shit." The thug spat out curses, smacking his crotch as he taunted her. "You''d better be ready." If she got caught, it wouldn''t end well. Shit, she''d escape if things went south. But then, she felt a wave of relief. Finally. Shinar, who had disappeared without a trace, now appeared and swiftly severed the crossbowman''s throat. The fairy''s touch was chilling and deadly, moving without sound. With a splash, blood sprayed into the air as the carotid artery was severed. The crossbowman''s eyes dulled, and the last light vanished from them. Behind the fallen crossbowman, in the darkness, only her emerald eyes glowed, floating in the void like an eerie specter. The darkness seemed to swallow her entire body. "You bitch!" The remaining thug cursed, his foul mouth still running. Finn ignored him and lunged at the third man, who was dazed by the sudden turn of events. There were three opponents waiting for her, but one was already lost to Shinar''s dagger, leaving two remaining. The last man, clumsily holding a dagger, tried to find an opening. It was a huge one. Finn dropped low and charged. The enemy swung his sword downward. She had anticipated the move and shifted to the side. In her twisted stance, she pushed off the ground and soared upward. It was a tackle in the style of Aelkaraz. The thug who had been watching in shock didn''t react in time. Finn grabbed his wrist, twisted it, and broke his arm at an unnatural angle. Crack! "Argh!" "Shut up." Finn spoke as she broke his finger bones, her voice cold. Tears flowed from the thug''s eyes, and saliva dripped from his mouth as his vision swam in pain. Finn grabbed his neck and twisted it to the side. Snap. The thug''s neck snapped, and he crumpled to the ground, dead. It all happened in the span of a few heartbeats. During that time, the sounds of curses and insults echoed from the other side. While Finn had shattered one man''s joints and snapped his neck, Shinar, with her dagger, silently pierced the heart and throat of the one who had been cursing. The thug fell, his body twitching. With a gurgling sound, blood poured from his mouth instead of words. Rich, red blood soaked in the moonlight as it flowed freely. Before her, Shinar, without a word, turned her gaze away. Blood from the corpse splattered across her face. Her white face, her inhuman beauty, was stained with a few droplets of red. The moonlight shone on her face, turning her into something like an unknowable piece of art. Shinar, now looking at Finn, spoke in a calm voice. "We''ve got a mess on our hands." ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 274 - Is That All You Have To Show? Chapter 274 - 274 - Is That All You Have To Show? "Looks like it shouldn''t be a problem," Finn responded. The situation was getting complicated, but would it really be an issue? It didn''t seem like it. Who came along? It was Enkrid and Jaxen, wasn''t it? With Enkrid''s reckless swordsmanship, it seemed like half of the thieves here would be cut down without a second thought. Would the band of thieves really stand there and watch? If they did, half of them would probably run away just by watching. Would it be dangerous? No, it wouldn''t. Finn had a clear sense of how a band of thieves would behave. It was predictable. Even in the worst-case scenario, if they all came at them, it was Enkrid they were dealing with. He wouldn''t go down easily. "The scent of magic is in the air," said the fairy, Shinar. Her senses were sharp. Finn frowned. A wizard? That was a troublesome variable. Even so, she thought, It doesn''t seem like we''ll be caught off guard. After all, Enkrid wasn''t alone. Finn had lived with the Madmen unit long enough to know that Jaxen wasn''t ordinary either. That''s why she said, "That''s that, but it looks like we''re not drawing much attention here." She intended for them to handle their own business while leaving the others to do as they wished. Her eyes scanned the village center. The place where Enkrid had stirred up a commotion earlier. She could see torches lighting up the dark night, casting light onto the central square of the village. The thieves were gathering there, at least the ones who hadn''t fled yet. "Exactly." "Shouldn''t we first find out what''s going on?" Finn thought it over. No matter how dangerous things got, it was Enkrid. He would find a way out if necessary. Shinar nodded in agreement. There was one problem, but Shinar knew clearly what had to be done first. In the village center, the thieves had dug something up. The most urgent task was to find out what was going on inside. That was the reason they''d come after these traces. *** It had only been a month since he joined the village. His name was Bond. He had been a mercenary for a while, but then his greed got the better of him, and he stabbed a comrade in the back. It wasn''t an unusual thing to happen. He wanted to pocket the reward for himself. The mistake he made was that the guy he stabbed didn''t die right away. The guy had something like a brother, and he was a guard for some noble. Soon enough, Bond had to run for his life as the guards chased after him. "Damn, what rotten luck." His mother was a prostitute. "Better off dead!" After being driven out by his mother, he ran through back alleys and spiraled into a cursed life. He became known for stabbing his comrades in the back, switching to mercenary work. But his bad habits followed him here too. He stabbed another comrade in the back, and now the situation had him cornered. How many places could he go? By some stroke of luck, he ended up joining the Black Blades, and now he was slowly adapting. And the two most important things he''d learned in the past month were: One, that if you went against the village''s ruler, you''d be dead before you knew it. Two, don''t mess with the guards or that woman who uses claws. One wrong word, and your tongue would be cut off. He had seen someone lose his tongue after one wrong word, so he made sure to avoid the woman as much as possible. Still, he knew her face. He had to if he was to avoid her. In Bond''s eyes, those two were the very symbols of power in the village. And now those two had truly become symbols, treated like statues that could no longer move. Although, they weren''t exactly in a pretty state. "Grurk." In truth, what Bond saw was more like shadows moving and flying about. There were those like him, holding rusted short swords, hammers, slingshots, or crude weapons like blackjack clubs filled with sand, but they didn''t even get a chance to react. "Ugh, ugh." The eyes of the thieves were fixed on the two figures who were laying waste to them. The guard who had been muttering under his breath was using a short spear. Bond had heard that he used to be a mercenary, and it was said he was skilled. But the moment their blades met, the mercenary''s head was cleanly severed. It was real. He couldn''t understand what had happened. As soon as the blades clashed, the sword-wielder''s blade sliced through his opponent''s neck. How was that possible? There should have been some kind of clang when their swords met, but there wasn''t. It was a swift, smooth strike. It was Enkrid''s swordplay¡ªthe type that tore through the enemy with ease. His blade didn''t just push but cut precisely. Then, the woman wielding claws was struck, an upwards slash, and the second symbol was cut in two. That was it. What had just happened? Bond had heard of swordsmanship like that, where the skill was so exceptional it looked like magic, but now he was seeing it firsthand. The skill gap was so vast it made the swords seem like they were casting spells. Bond froze. Could he fight? No, if he did, he''d be dead in seconds. His instincts screamed at him to run. Run away, right now. "Eh?" "Move." And through the ranks of thieves, the true ruler of the village appeared. Bond instinctively began to step back but halted. It was the moment the woman with the spiral-shaped hair caught his eye. Her name was Kaisella. Her curly brown hair, gently slanted eyes, thick lips, and her full chest and hips were all noticeable features. Kaisella, who placed a hand on her slender waist accentuated by her chest and hips, furrowed her brow. It was after she had seen two corpses. As soon as she laid eyes on them, a monstrous being who had split the two symbols of power waved his hand. The enemy instantly drew a knife and threw it. Bond couldn''t follow the movements. They were too fast. Instead, he only perceived the results, drawing conclusions based on the scene that unfolded. The blade he threw was stopped by an invisible barrier with a soft thud. Kaisella''s brow furrowed deeper. Whenever this happened, villagers either disappeared, or entire groups who stumbled into the village would vanish altogether. Alternatively, someone would die. "No hesitation," she spoke, her voice resonating. Beside her, a leopard''s eyes began to glow brightly, but Bond couldn''t see it. Bond still didn''t understand what was going on, but he knew something big was about to happen. At this point, he no longer thought of running. It felt as though something was holding him in place, like his legs had been tied down. Kaisella''s fingertip pointed at Enkrid. The other party didn''t move. At least, that''s how it appeared to Bond. With his sword held in his right hand, Enkrid simply faced Kaisella''s finger. "I''ll strike," Kaisella muttered simultaneously. A thunderous sound split the air! There was no warning, no prelude. A massive blue lightning bolt crashed down from the sky, directly above the man''s head. Bond was blinded by the light, unable to see anything. Then the light pushed him back, the shockwave throwing him into the air, but he didn''t even feel the sensation of floating. No, it was as though he didn''t even remember it. When Bond regained his senses, all he could see was the dirt beneath him. "Ughhhh." He heard a groan, though it wasn''t his own. Soon, he realized he was groaning in a similar way. Bond twisted his body, trying to get up, struggling to rise. His eyes caught sight of bodies, half-burnt. Some of his comrades had become charred lumps. What? What just happened? The pain hadn''t fully registered yet. The shock had erased the memory of the moment it happened. Bond slowly began to move, feeling a little better than the others. His whole body hadn''t been burned. Once he regained awareness of his body, only his right arm ached. He clenched his teeth involuntarily. His gaze dropped. From his right arm to his thigh, his skin was blackened. It looked like it had been scorched. The searing pain made it hard for him to focus. It was lightning. Lightning. He remembered seeing a bolt strike near him when he was young. A flash of white fire, a hit from some invisible force. The memory of that lightning bolt resurfaced. He was still in shock. Perhaps it was fortunate. If not, the pain would''ve caused him to scream. The mere proximity had singed his hair and made it feel as though someone shoved a ball of fire down his throat. Bond blinked a few times. His eyes were fine. As his senses slowly returned, the pain became clearer, swirling through his body. Crack. Bond couldn''t help but silently scream as cold sweat poured down, his body wracked with pain. It felt like rats were chewing through his body. He thought he was standing, but he was wrong. He had staggered back and collapsed to the ground. He crawled, his back touching the wall. The cold wall seemed to numb the pain a little. Only then could he lift his gaze. The distance between him and the black-haired woman was at least fifteen steps. Yet, it still felt overwhelming. What about the one who the spell was cast upon? He had probably died, burned to ashes while standing. As he had suffered the same fate, Bond understood. Those closer to him were charred and dead. And yet, Bond saw someone still standing. How? There was a new figure beside the black-haired woman. A woman with long black hair, dressed in a gray robe. She raised one hand into the air, her lips parting. "A lightning spell, impressive," she said. Her voice carried a childish tone. It was like an adult watching a child''s antics. She looked down on them, judging their level without mercy. Even as Bond groaned in pain, he could sense that the caster had to have noticed this tone. "A madman and a madwoman," she remarked. Kaisella spoke again, her fingers moving. Unintelligible words began to spill from her lips. It was the beginning of another incantation. Despite the pain, Bond couldn''t tear his eyes away from the black-haired woman. She was mesmerizing, a beauty who seemed to draw in all attention and perception. Her black hair, each strand like smooth silk, her red lips, and her blue eyes were captivating. There was an aura of mystery about her. If Kaisella aroused desire, this woman evoked a sense of awe. Bond absentmindedly thought about this, even as he felt foolish for becoming entranced by her beauty. But, of course, he wasn''t the only one. As soon as Enkrid sensed the presence of the mage, he tightened the muscles in his thighs. The throwing blade had been blocked, so now it was time to cut straight through with his own sword. But just as he made that decision, something fell from above with a speed impossible for a human body to match. The moment he recognized and felt it, his body instinctively reacted to the destructive flash above him. Time seemed to split, and he braced for impact, preparing to block with his arms to protect his head. At the same time, a whispering voice came from beside him. "I will stop it." No, more precisely, the voice had spoken before the flash of light above, but Enkrid had perceived the light first and then registered the voice. By now, Esther, wearing a gray robe, had transformed into her human form. With her palm open, she extended it forward. That was all. Two magics collided in the realm beyond Enkrid''s senses. An invisible barrier, similar to the one that had blocked his dagger, met the destructive lightning before it could reach his head. The crackle of thunder followed. The lightning struck, and its force sent the nearby band of thieves flying in all directions. Enkrid saw the translucent shield that had blocked the light. A faint blue glow shimmered from it. When the lightning collided with it, the shield scattered the light, causing the fragments to bounce off and scatter, never to return. The rebellious light, now scattered, burned and pierced the bodies of those nearby. Thanks to Esther''s spell, half of the lightning was blocked, and the rest was deflected. "Mirror of Bannath?" The enemy muttered under their breath, their eyes showing a hint of surprise. Esther didn''t even flinch. Her attitude was clear: she didn''t care what words came from her opponent. Arrogant and aloof. But it wasn''t off-putting. It felt as if it was how things should be. Enkrid, despite the chaotic situation, found himself noticing the mysterious aura of Esther''s appearance. However, that didn''t cause him to waver. If he had been the type to be swayed by a woman''s looks, he would never have been able to walk the steadfast path he had chosen. The enemy muttered something else, and Esther also mumbled a series of words, incomprehensible to Enkrid. Suddenly, the sound of insects buzzing echoed from somewhere, and Kaisella''s hand began to glow with a blue light, which quickly transformed into lightning. But this time, instead of falling straight down from above, the lightning shot out in a zigzag pattern from her fingertip. Esther raised her hand to meet it. The lightning came at her but was stopped by a transparent barrier, which sent it right back. The flashes of light left afterimages on Enkrid''s retina. "Disappear!" Kaisella shouted urgently. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth for an unknown reason. "Tsk, tsk, child. What do you think happens when you reverse a spell you''ve just cast? You can''t even handle the mana backlash," Esther chided. Kaisella''s face stiffened, her expression one of shock. She was flustered. And rightly so. If her opponent had been a mere swordsman, she wouldn''t have been afraid. She had prepared for that. A prepared mage could take down a hundred men or stop a thousand in their tracks. But against a mage of a higher tier, she had no chance. This was the established truth. Kaisella glared at the woman who had suddenly appeared¡ªwho had transformed from a leopard. "Who are you?" Esther did not answer. She simply looked down at her opponent. She was entitled to act that way. The gap between their magical worlds and the owner of that curly hair was at least three tiers of difference. "Impossible." Kaisella muttered. How could such a mage appear in this rural village? What could she possibly gain from being here? Arrogant? Yes, that was a mage. Selfish and narrow-minded? Again, a mage. Kaisella began murmuring words again. Her spell was one that brought her magical world into reality. Esther, without hesitation, moved forward, murmuring her own incantation. Every step she took drew the gaze of everyone around them. No one dared to shoot crossbows or even approach them. Even with the force of the lightning, more than five of the crossbowmen remained unharmed, but none of them made a move. Enkrid, too, had become nothing more than a spectator. ''She''s quite skilled.'' He thought idly. He knew Esther was a mage, but he hadn''t realized her level of power. Now, seeing her, it seemed she was far superior to this voluptuous woman, Kaisella. That was enough for him. After all, Enkrid had never expected anything from Esther. In fact, Enkrid had never expected anything from anyone around him. He simply walked his own path, and that was enough to make others follow. "How dare you!" Kaisella cried out. Enkrid couldn''t understand what was happening between the two. He simply noticed that no magic, no spells, no mysterious forces were manifesting. There was only a trembling in the air between them, and something seemed to be happening, but it was invisible to the eye. Soon, Esther stood before Kaisella. Kaisella was taller, her curvaceous body making Esther appear slender in comparison. However, Enkrid had already seen beneath her robe. As Esther raised her hand, the edges of her robe parted, revealing her body. Enkrid''s keen sight and senses allowed him to piece together the full picture from the glimpses. Esther wasn''t lacking in physique either, despite her more concealed form. "Is that all you have to show?" Esther asked, standing before Kaisella. Her words and gaze openly mocked her opponent''s physique and magic prowess. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 275 - What Was Inside the Village Chapter 275 - 275 - What Was Inside the Village Esther noticed that Enkrid''s gaze swept over Kaisella''s entire body. Having observed him for a while, she didn''t miss that look. Kaisella was wearing clothes that clearly displayed her figure. Her face wasn''t ugly, but that was about it. It might catch a frog''s eye, but not hers. It was below average. ''No, it''s just that Meellun, that frog, had particularly low standards.'' As they had traveled here, Enkrid had casually mentioned that, so she knew the words of Meellun the frog. She also knew what kind of place this village was. So, she had already sensed the spells prepared here, and had finished her own internal preparations as well. Esther''s eyes casually regarded her opponent. It wasn''t just her appearance, but what kind of dark magic was she trying to cast? Was she really attempting to burn that man''s hair or something? In reality, the lightning spell wouldn''t be enough to kill Enkrid. Even though it was a prepared spell, Enkrid''s body could now withstand it. Moreover, Esther herself had implanted several defenses on the new armor he had acquired. But did that mean she should forgive someone who did such a thing? Esther was inherently far removed from the concept of "forgiveness." She would interfere with and dismantle any magic the enemy attempted to summon, disrupting the mana as it gathered and dispersed. Even now, with "Banah''s Mirror," she had reversed the summoned spell and twisted the enemy''s insides. As the repeated spells failed, her complexion grew pale. As she drew near, Kaisella pulled a dagger from her waist and lunged. She cried out. "Fire!" The crossbowmen, who had been hesitating, reacted. Without a hint of worry, Esther struck at Kaisella''s wrist holding the dagger. One of the most useful things gained from the curse was now revealed: the strength of a leopard, manifested in her slap. The slap, with a perfectly straightened hand, struck Kaisella''s wrist, producing a clear, bone-breaking sound. The power from a slender hand twisted Kaisella''s wrist. It dangled limply. "Ahh!" The one who had ruled the village in fear screamed. The bolts fired by the crossbowmen were blocked by the rapidly moving Enkrid. Two were deflected with his sword, and one was grabbed mid-air. When the onlookers saw him catching the arrows, their faces turned pale. It was clearly beyond their ability to fight. "When you''re spared, it''s better to stay quiet." Enkrid spoke calmly. All the bandits dropped their weapons in fear. Some quick-witted ones had already begun to retreat. There were too many to chase, so they were left alone. Esther took Kaisella''s dagger from her hand and drove it into her heart, turning it into a brooch. With a dull thud, the dagger pierced her heart and twisted. Kaisella gasped and whispered. "Why... why?" Why was there a mage like you here? "You don''t need to know." Esther murmured with a smile. A small sense of satisfaction crept in. Enkrid, who had been watching, approached. "Good fight." "Not bad." She answered quietly, and Enkrid nodded and looked around. A mage had appeared, gritting his teeth, and at the moment of battle, Esther had done it all herself. It wasn''t necessarily a bad thing. There was no problem with her stepping forward if she wanted to. Enkrid considered Esther part of his group. Whatever she did, it would be better than Rem. The defeated ones, those who had been shocked by the lightning, and those still staring blankly. And from the back... "Throw down your weapons!" The fairy commander''s unit entered the village and began to surround it. He wondered how they had known to arrive at this exact moment. A man who appeared to be the squad leader hurriedly approached. He looked around, his confusion obvious. "Everyone, huh? What? Oh, have you already thrown down your weapons?" He muttered in disbelief. He was panicking, but asking the enemy wouldn''t give him any answers. "...He said to throw them ." An answer came from one of them. The one with a burned arm murmured, his eyes spinning wildly in panic. "Throw them, throw them just like that?" The squad leader repeated. Enkrid silently watched the back of the squad leader''s head, wondering what kind of exchange that was. The squad leader was baffled. Having seen the increased number of torches in the village from a distance, the atmosphere in the village seemed strange, so he had hurried the unit in. But as they entered, everything seemed already over. The village was in disarray, seemingly under the control of a few individuals. A thief using magic was lying dead with a dagger embedded in her heart, and those who were still alive had lost the will to fight. All the rest were dead. That was all they could see. The squad leader didn''t understand the situation fully, but there was one thing... "Scary." Though he had always felt uneasy around his squad leader, this place was far more terrifying. "Should I gouge your eyes out?" A voice came as Esther''s gaze was drawn to the figure beneath a robe, where faint skin could be seen. Black hair, red lips, blue eyes. A mysterious aura, illuminated by falling moonlight, and a curved silhouette. Everything about her stole his attention. It was only natural for a man to be captivated. But despite the brief glance, the words coming from her mouth were chilling. "He''s an ally. Don''t gouge his eyes out." "Then should we beat him?" "That''s not allowed either." "How about blinding one eye?" "Just keep your own eyes well-covered." "Disappointing." In truth, Esther was awkward with all things human, and everything felt strange to her. Enkrid, while speaking, thought to himself that training this one would be a hassle. Anyway... "I''ve seen it too,are you going to gouge my eyes out as well?" "You''re an exception." "What?" "Never mind." Esther pretended to think for a moment before shaking her head. Then she nodded, signaling she would leave his eyes alone. Enkrid exhaled lightly and gestured toward the squad leader. "Clean this up and tie them all up." "...Huh? Okay, but where are you going?" "Inside." Neither Shinar, Jaxen, nor Finn had returned. They must have gone inside. The village chief''s house in the center of the village was quite large. It looked like a good place to hide something. "I smell magic." Esther spoke, and Enkrid also sensed that something was amiss there. Esther confidently moved forward, with Enkrid by her side. "Do you know the way?" He asked, half-jokingly, wondering if she might be like Ragna. "Do you think I''m some fool who can''t find his way?" So, she had thought that about Ragna all along. Enkrid silently responded, "No, you''re not that kind of fool." Then, the two entered the village center, while the squad leader, looking over the remaining enemies, shouted. "I''ll gouge your eyes out if you move recklessly!" His voice echoed as he and his subordinates began tying up the remaining bandits. By the time they were finishing, Shinar, Jaxen, and Finn had already descended into the underground tunnels beneath the village center. There were a few things left behind by the mage preparing for them. For instance, ghouls and werewolves. And naturally, those creatures posed no threat, being sliced and cut down easily. When the three entered, they were met with a scene of indescribable horror. "Gr-gr-gr... medicine... give me... medicine..." One of the victims mumbled, his nails broken and bleeding as he clawed at the walls. A small child lay collapsed nearby, drooling uncontrollably. There were no words left but for "horror." *** The bodies of ghouls, werewolves with severed heads and arms, and a few man-faced dogs were scattered around. The collars around their necks suggested they had been used as guard dogs. The man-faced dogs, too, were cleaved in half. It seemed like a path paved with the blood of monsters. The village chief''s house was an unusual structure. Inside, there was a sloped path leading further down. It led to a large underground cavern, which felt like a vast cave. Though there was no wind, the space seemed quite expansive. ''A wide but blocked cave.'' It was the perfect place for strange things to happen. Enkrid and Esther entered. Torches were placed along the walls, illuminating the way. As Enkrid observed the monster corpses, he noticed signs of Shinar and Jaxen''s presence. ''They''ve cut their way through.'' They arrived at a rather large cavern, where Shinar, Finn, and Jaxen were already waiting. "You''re late," Jaxen remarked. Enkrid sensed a slight awkwardness in his tone. The cavern had more tunnels, and some were barred with iron bars, holding people inside. They looked like half-mad individuals. Enkrid approached. Amidst the crowd, he saw an older man muttering. He had a stubborn face, with a hooked nose, sunken cheeks, and protruding cheekbones, his small eyes glaring. His demeanor didn''t seem typical. "Shut up," Finn said coldly, reflecting the torchlight off her blade. The man only pouted. The light didn''t penetrate deep inside. Enkrid grabbed a torch from the wall and illuminated the room. "Do you have medicine? Huh? Medicine? I''ll treat you well, I promise." A frail woman, her chest sunken as though she were starving, whispered. It was clear from her vacant gaze that she was not just addicted to the medicine, but had already lost all sense of reason. If left alone, she would spend the rest of her life searching for drugs until she eventually died. "Do you have any medicine?" This one was a slightly better case. A man with broken nails and scabs, scratching at the wall, was beside her. His eyes were hollow. Next to them, a child lay on the ground, drooling, but Enkrid could tell the child was already dead. There was no life left in his eyes . The chest did not rise and fall. No sound of breath was heard. "He was alive just a moment ago," Finn muttered from behind. Shinar was busy surveying the surroundings. As a fairy, she remained focused on her task, whether it was horror or anything else. She searched for hidden items. "Do you even know what that is? And you''re touching it!" The middle-aged man with the hooked nose shouted. Meanwhile, Enkrid continued his silent examination of the tunnel. One by one, he observed everything without a word. "Leave it!" Shinar ignored the man, and when Finn noticed his eyes were sinking, the man backed off, not daring to interfere. After all, it would be foolish to challenge someone with a weapon drawn. With a small snort, the man crossed his arms and turned around, showing some semblance of defiance. But he remained silent. Shinar continued her search. Enkrid then spotted something strange in the next tunnel. It was a human, but their eyes were a strange color, the pupils missing and replaced with dull, monochromatic sclera. The blackened eyes and the visible split muscle fibers of the thigh were unmistakable. "What is this?" Enkrid asked, his gaze not wavering. "Ah, that''s a failed experiment," the middle-aged man answered nonchalantly. "A failed experiment?" "It didn''t work out." "Was it human originally?" "Why ask if you already know?" Enkrid silently watched for a moment before drawing his sword. The blade sliced through the iron bars, ending the life of the half-ghoul, half-human creature that had been breathing weakly. The tunnels contained several such creations. "The werewolf we saw on the way here was similar," came Jaxen''s cold voice, even colder than usual. Enkrid''s head turned slightly, and his foot took a step. He did not show anger or sadness. Finn watched him, wondering if it was because he didn''t feel anger at something that could no longer be undone, or if he was detached from the horror, like the fairy. Did he, like Shinar, not accept the atrocity as his own and simply view it as a result of someone else''s actions? Finn noticed something about the difference between humans and fairies in this situation. She saw that Shinar did not react to the horror with any emotion. "Monster deserves to be torn apart," was all she said before returning to her task, searching for clues about the drugs and any potential noble involvement. If she could find any leads here, it would define who to punish. She wasn''t sure whether it was acceptable to kill freely in pursuit of answers, but... Enkrid trudged forward. Finn, holding her sword, watched him. Jaxen remained behind, not seeming to care about confronting anyone. Upon arriving, Jaxen asked a few questions, received his answers, and then stepped back, as if it were not his concern. Finn''s heart ached. Seeing the dead child, the drug-addicted woman, and imagining the screams and horrors that had happened here, she was in pain. She wanted to strike down the alchemist with her sword, but she knew that wasn''t something she could decide on her own. The alchemist was quite famous. His name had spread across the kingdom. Lavan, the alchemist. Though he couldn''t create gold from nothing, his skill in brewing potions was unrivaled. "Hey, I was forced into this. The Black Blade ordered it," Lavan muttered, seemingly aware of something as Enkrid approached. Esther, who had transformed from a leopard into a human, silently observed Enkrid. And it wasn''t just Esther. Everyone''s eyes turned toward Enkrid¡ªJaxen, and Shinar, who had stopped what she was doing. What would he do? If they took Lavan and sent him to the kingdom, it would be a significant achievement. His value wasn''t just in his body but in his mind. Perhaps by helping him now, they would owe him a favor. After all, he was an alchemist. The lives of many could be saved with his healing potions. He had experimented on humans, but was that truly a crime? Among the great alchemists of the continent, how many hadn''t used people for their experiments? Moreover, it wasn''t entirely his fault, since the Black Blade had ordered it. If someone dies by a blade, should the blame fall on the blade or the one wielding it? Enkrid locked eyes with Lavan. There was no remorse in those rotten, soulless eyes. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 276 - Going Touring Chapter 276 - 276 - Going Touring "Hey, it''s me?Lavan." The middle-aged man spoke, but Enkrid did not stop to think. When had he ever thought things through with his head? He had come this far by following his instincts and chasing his dreams. Enkrid swung his sword. The blade rose, reflecting the light of the torch as it moved from below to above. A dull thud echoed. Yes, dull. It wasn''t sharp. The blade, once known for its extreme sharpness, cleaved through the opponent''s arm slowly and without speed. Lavan watched, feeling his arm being severed, but he could not avoid it, only watch as the pain hit. "Ugh!" A terrible scream echoed through the vast cave. The severed arm, still part of a human body, fell to the floor. The arm, now detached, flailed about, splattering blood everywhere, as if to emphasize its claim to independence. The man, now missing an arm, screamed in opposition. "Ah! Ah!" The shrill cries mixed with the blood splattering in all directions. Much of it splashed on Enkrid''s armor and face, but he did not avoid it, simply watching indifferently. Blood dripped from his cheek and fell to the floor. Enkrid, watching Lavan writhing in pain after losing his arm, casually spoke. "Can you stop the bleeding? Esther." "It won''t be hard." Esther''s method of stopping the bleeding was rather aggressive. She extended her hand, and flames ignited from her palm, pressing down on the wound. "AAAHHH! S-Stop! Please, stop!" Enkrid thought for a moment about how many desperate screams this crazy middle-aged man had probably heard, but then he stopped thinking. "Why? I was just doing what I was told!" Lavan had already bled considerably by the time the cauterization began, and his voice was now weak from the agony. Enkrid raised his sword. "Leg." With a neutral tone, he ordered, and then cut off Lavan''s leg. With a sickening thud, the severed leg flew to the side. The limb, now independent from the body, flailed around, as if asserting its existence. Under the many torches casting light, the red blood splattered everywhere again. Once more, Esther used her magic fire to cauterize the wound, and another agonized scream rang out. "AAAHHH!" Lavan, now missing both his arm and a legs, wept blood. His teeth broke, and blood mixed with saliva spilled from his mouth as he screamed in horror. "Looks like it''s painful." "If you cauterize like this, it always ends up like that," Enkrid replied, while Jaxen added, "It''s not just cauterizing with an iron; it''s cutting off limbs and sealing the stumps." Jaxen wasn''t a master torturer, but he knew enough. He understood the structure of the human body and where pain would be most excruciating. Jaxen was familiar with various methods of torture, such as pulling out nails and inserting needles beneath them. From his perspective, Lavan was lucky to still be alive. Their conversation was indifferent, as if they were discussing a rock on the roadside. Lavan, unable to withstand the pain, finally passed out, his eyes rolling back. He seemed to be on the verge of death. Enkrid stepped forward and prodded Lavan''s forehead with his sword. No matter how much pain one is in, the body is instinctively sensitive to new pain. Enkrid slowly dragged the blade downward, amplifying the pain to its maximum. "Ugh..." Lavan moaned in a hoarse voice. Enkrid asked, "Is there a way to restore the person trapped inside to their original state?" Jaxen thought it was a ridiculous question, but Enkrid had asked it anyway. If you didn''t open your mouth at that moment, you weren''t truly human. Even trained assassins, if faced with such a fate, would choose death before enduring such torment. Lavan blinked repeatedly, shaking and trembling, but his eyes still managed to focus. Clearly, his mind was still functioning, proving his value lay in his intellect. After some time, Lavan managed to speak, though his words were slurred and hard to understand. "T-There''s... a way..." The words were difficult to catch, but Enkrid understood enough. Without hesitation, Enkrid swung his sword down, slicing through Lavan''s head. The blade cleaved through his skull, and his brain, which might have had some value, spilled out onto the ground. "Why?" Jaxen asked without thinking. "Why ask when you already know the answer?" Enkrid responded, and Jaxen nodded. He understood. Lavan, the alchemist, had babbled whatever came to his mind, but there was no way to reverse what had been done. There was no method for restoration. Even if the most renowned clerics in the continent came, some things simply cannot be undone. While those called saints might be able to reattach an arm that has been torn off, they cannot restore the mind of one whose head has been destroyed. That is beyond the realm of the divine. The woman intoxicated by drugs might bite off her own arm, but what can be done about the boy already dead? What about something that is neither ghoul nor human? If it could be undone, then perhaps that person could be called a god. "It would have been valuable if we had taken him," Shinar said. A reasonable thing to say, to which a reasonable answer came. "I didn''t like how he looked." "I see. That makes sense." Shinar nodded in understanding, and Esther seriously nodded in agreement. "He was ugly." Those who walk the path of magic, mystery, and spells are also treading the path of the non-human. However, at the same time, they must face the real world. They should never forget their body, their flesh, and that they are human. A proper magician should understand this. Be it a fairy, a dwarf, or a dragon, because they have a physical form, a magician must never forget that. But that alchemist strayed from that path. The things he had done were evident everywhere, and the contents of his research journal reflected that as well. It was truly a foul, rotten stench. Thus, he was ugly. That''s what I meant when I said that. Of course, his appearance was also part of it. Esther observed that Enkrid seemed untouched by any anger or emotion. Then, what was the motivation behind his swing of the sword? Esther had her doubts but didn''t ask. It was better to investigate, analyze, and observe to find the answer. It was a way of discovering more than simply asking for a direct response. In fact, there was no complex reason. Enkrid swung his sword as if discarding something filthy, like washing off dirt from his hands. Was the one wielding the sword to blame? What kind of nonsense was that? This was not the sword''s fault; this was the work of a human. A human who could control their own life. One with both the ability and the will. They had simply done what they wanted to do. The one who gave the orders and the one who carried them out were both at fault. From Enkrid''s perspective, those who committed such acts had no worth. What if the opponent was the ruler of a nation? What then? It wouldn''t matter. Even if he had to live his life as a fugitive, always pursued, treated like a bounty for gold, Enkrid would still act as he did. That was how he saw his dreams, how he walked his path. Had Finn known his inner thoughts, she would at least have shaken her head. It would have sounded like the ravings of a madman. That was why Enkrid wanted to kill anyone like that as soon as he saw them. That was why he wielded his sword. The knight of old wasn''t just one who fought well. Of course, Finn could not read his thoughts or understand what was in his mind. "Well, they died good and proper. Some foolish alchemist was here, and now he''s dead. What can you do about someone already dead?" She spoke as though nothing could be done about it, implying no need for responsibility. Enkrid had no further thoughts, and Jaxen silently respected his commander''s decision. After all, he had already gained what he needed. And honestly speaking... ''I might have killed him.'' He had no intention of keeping him alive. That was not a matter of calculation but a matter of feeling. It was emotion. A response driven by feelings for the first time in a long while. ''This is not the place to release it.'' He could not release the emotions that had worn away and decayed here. His emotions were like a prepared blade, and those who would receive it were already determined. "Captain, some members of the unit have entered. We should bring them in and finish up. And for the few survivors, it''s better to keep them locked up." Since they were all drugged, they would surely cause a ruckus if let out. "Let''s do that." Shinar spoke, then flipped through a few sheets of paper in her hand. Looking at the common language written on the thin paper, she opened her mouth. "There are several more villages like this. Looks like it''ll be quite the long trip. What do you think?" Though many things were implied in the question, Enkrid understood it clearly. Jaxen would follow if he spoke, and Finn would follow Shinar''s orders. "One of the villages raises monster beasts." Through what Shinar said, Enkrid realized. ''It''s not that we haven''t learned anything.'' There were simply too many opponents. To learn everything, they would have to take time and effort. Enkrid''s mind quickly processed the current situation. ''If we don''t move with a small, elite force, everything¡ªexperiments, research data¡ªwill be lost and vanish.'' ''Then after the battle, we won''t gain anything.'' ''The ones we need to kill will also get the chance to escape.'' They were enemies that needed to be tackled with a more focused, elite force. Even in this village, there was a lightning-wielding witch. Therefore, preparations had to be made. The Black Blades, that band of thieves, were no small-time group. Enkrid had misunderstood slightly. The Black Blades had prepared various traps. Among them, there were places where slaves were sold. And places where they tamed monster beasts with potions. The most important one was this village, where the valuable magician was located. No matter how powerful the Black Blades were, magicians were rare and precious. The thought process was complete. It wasn''t something worth overthinking. "Let''s go." Enkrid gave his answer. If there were more like this, they would have to be cleared out. An elite, secretive group had gathered, and magicians were among them. Even if Esther didn''t step forward, if she showed signs, he would let her speak. In many ways, this was a good opportunity. Above all, if they didn''t deal with it now, they would only end up hiding again. "Don''t you wonder who the leader of the Black Blades is?" Shinar asked without waiting for an answer. "Do you know?" "I''ve learned that they are one of the nobility of the kingdom." Jaxen, too, had been listening to this conversation. There was an intent behind it. The information that had been deliberately leaked to parts of the kingdom was now beginning to bear fruit. Jaxen, too, was eager to meet the leader of the Black Blades. Even if he had a wife separated by war, there was someone else he wanted to see more than her. After leaving the cleanup of the village to the incoming troops, the group moved on. "That''s brutal," the squad leader said, shaking his head at the scene inside the cave. Several inexperienced soldiers couldn''t hold back their nausea and vomited, and the foul stench of vomit filled the cave. One of the reasons he wielded his sword was to prevent leaving such things alive. The group then ascended the mountain. It was a rough path, but it would serve as a shortcut. Finn was an excellent guide in such terrain. One of the villages of the Black Blade had four village chiefs who moved as one. They were four men who had been together since childhood, and they were known as the Ballun brothers. Bald, fierce-looking men, they were the archetypal bandits, and their skills were formidable enough to rob around the village. The Black Blade bandits were originally a group that dabbled in banditry as well. In front of the four stood a man with black hair. It was midday. "How did you get in?" the eldest brother asked, rubbing his shaved head. Though it was cloudy, it wasn''t a rainy day. The second brother narrowed his eyes. It was strange. The village was quiet. There should have been dozens of their members around, but it had been suspiciously silent until now. The man silently adjusted his sword belt and placed his hand on the grip of his sword before speaking. "If you''re upset, you should speak up now. I''m a bit busy." "Busy?" The third brother rolled his eyes. The fourth brother was quick to sense unease. He subtly stepped back and grabbed the hidden end of a net. If things went wrong, he was ready to throw it. The net, with weights attached at the corners, was the fourth brother''s proud weapon. The brothers often used nets in their battles to great effect. The third brother was an expert in throwing darts. He stroked the poisoned darts with his hand, preparing for the fight. The first and second brothers were masters in hand-to-hand combat. No words were exchanged. A tense standoff began between the four brothers and Enkrid. The tension filled the air. The bald brothers, accustomed to their palace-like home, now found the space cramped. ''What is this guy?'' After a brief thought, the fourth brother threw the net. Enkrid stood calmly, watching the net fall. He observed the two bald brothers and connected the dots in his mind, moving his foot to draw an imaginary line in the air with his sword. The sword cut through the air, hitting the weight on the net, tangling it mid-air. Then, it slashed through the necks of the fourth and third brothers, leaving deep gashes. Blood gushed out from the wounds. The second brother''s eyes turned wild in fury. "You bastard!" he yelled. The fight was short and brutal. It ended in an instant. Enkrid used a sword technique that parried the thick blade of the incoming enemy while simultaneously delivering a strike. He avoided the attack and struck the enemy''s forehead. The blade dug into the forehead with a sickening sound. "You bastard!" The first brother hurled his axe with all his might, the heavy weapon showcasing the brute strength of its wielder. The first brother gave his all. Enkrid created a hole in the second brother''s forehead and used his left foot as a pivot to collide with the first brother. The clash was followed by a resounding bang. And then... "...Who are you?" The first brother, unable to withstand the force, spoke in a voice of disbelief, his arms broken. Enkrid took a deep breath, relaxed his grip on his sword, and responded. "What does it matter to you?" The man was about to die anyway. Enkrid showed no mercy or forgiveness. That was the end of it. There were no more mages, and Jaxen, who had picked up some kind of artifact, had gone wild. The five thieves guarding the central part of the village were swiftly taken out by Jaxen without anyone noticing, and Enkrid entered the inner area of the village. However, even after searching the village thoroughly, nothing of significance was found. What is this place? Just a gathering point for troops? While Enkrid pondered this, Finn stepped forward. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 277 - Marcus. That Damned Bastard Chapter 277 - 277 - Marcus. That Damned Bastard Chapter 277 - Marcus. This Cowardly Bastard "There''s something hidden in the forest. As I followed the trail, it led me this way," Finn said. Finn had a knack for tracking people. Wherever humans traveled, traces were left behind. The scent was different, and footprints remained. Even a single broken branch on a body would leave a mark. Finn was able to detect these signs, and Enkrid, having traveled across the continent and seen various types of people, guessed that Finn had once been a bounty hunter. Of course, the past didn''t matter¡ªhe simply thought Finn''s skills would be useful. Thus, they found the hidden cave near the village. It was a small village built near a forest, a little off to the north. In the distance, the Pen-Hanil River could be seen. The bandits had dug a cave deep within the forest to hide their beasts. All of them were high on some kind of drug. There were traces of alchemy¡ªthe remains of a wolf-like beast, but with deer-like legs, and the scars from previous alchemists who had amputated limbs, chopped off heads, and performed gruesome experiments. That bastard had his hands all over this place. The wolf-beast, though, had legs like a deer''s. Success in such hybridization would make the world call it a chimera¡ªa monster made by humans, neither beast nor man. "Who''s there!" Five people, probably trainers or those who served as emergency food for the beasts, shouted. "If you attack, you''ll die," Enkrid said bluntly. They attacked immediately, and they died. The one who had been nervously watching from behind saw this and released the remaining beasts. The screech of a manticore with a serpent''s tail echoed as it charged. It attempted to attack but lost its balance and tumbled to the ground. Enkrid swiftly split the creature''s head in half with a clean sword strike, blood and brain matter spilling out. Jaxen and Shinar also fought, while Esther climbed a nearby tree to watch. The one who released the beasts tried to flee but was killed by an arrow lodged in his head. It was Finn''s handiwork. "Where do you think you''re going?" The arrow was one that Enkrid had taken from the Black Blade bandits earlier. ''It''s being used far better than it was by that bandit.'' Finn concealed the arrow launcher in her sleeve and waited until the target''s attention shifted before shooting, aiming for the back of his head. Any decent marksman would have found it impossible to avoid the arrow''s path to the skull. The beasts they released were brutal. The human-faced wolf with a snake''s venom sacs sprayed poison all around. However, it was half-baked. There was no need to waste much time on them. They killed all the beasts, cleared the village, and finished up in just over half a day. "The next one is four days on foot," said the fairy commander. Enkrid nodded. From then on, it was like a circus troupe on a tour. Find a village, enter, strike, fight, kill, clean up. It was a routine. When the village bandits saw that the village chief and all the beasts were dead, most of them fled. That made things easier. "If the higher-ups find out about this, will they let us off? Someone''s gonna think we''ve started a rebellion! Anyone who wants to live, follow me!" The cunning bandit assessed the situation, fled, and tried to gather followers. In any organization, there would always be someone with ambition. Enkrid didn''t bother chasing them down one by one. It was a waste of time. "Something feels off. It''s unsettling," a perceptive bandit muttered as he fled. Only a few remained. The village that Enkrid attacked soon became quiet. The villagers, who had been exchanging information, tried to prepare, but it was meaningless. Five of the guards who were stationed throughout the village were silently killed by a slash to the carotid artery, and the remaining bandits were filled with fear. "Shit! Did a ghost come out of nowhere?" The leader, an elite assassin, was overwhelmed with fear. Impossible things were happening. Six of his personal guards had vanished without a sound. But he didn''t sense a thing. No, he had seen it. In the corner of his bedroom, hands emerged from the darkness, grasping his guards by the neck and twisting with a practiced motion, as if they had snapped hundreds or thousands of necks. What was most terrifying was that there was no sound as the necks were snapped. Even more terrifying was the fact that the guard who died didn''t even realize he was about to die. The guard''s expression didn''t show any surprise. He remained alert, his lips tightly sealed, and his neck twisted and snapped without a sound. "There!" The assassin-turned-village-chief quickly threw a poisoned dart. The dart, coated in a deadly toxin, disappeared into the darkness. Several of his guards stabbed at the spot where their comrades had disappeared with their spiked swords. As they flailed, a horrifying scene unfolded. A hole had been pierced through the ground behind their fallen comrade''s body, and it was clear it had been made some time ago. "When?" That was the dying chief''s final words. A blade streaked down from above, slicing through his neck. It was an alchemical assassination tool¡ªa string knife. The razor-sharp blade, thinner than a pinky finger, severed the village chief''s neck, leaving his head suspended in mid-air. "Uaaagh!" Dealing with the remaining guards was a trivial task. In their panic, the guards ended up stabbing each other. Jaxen, hanging upside down from the ceiling, watched for a moment before throwing two Silent Knives to finish the job. Well, what else could be done with such a situation? The villagers were all too busy running away. The place where a group had been staying had become deserted, as if a ghost might appear. A gust of wind swept through the village center. "If only a wraith would pop up, this would be a perfect scene," Finn said. Enkrid agreed, but that didn''t mean he was slowing down. Of course, this wasn''t going to be left like this forever. After dealing with the village''s combat personnel and taking the chief''s head. Shinar extended her arm toward a tree, and a black bird flew over to land on her arm. The trained crow immediately flew off to the border guard to deliver the news. It meant that forces were on the move to seize the village abandoned by the thieves. Meanwhile, Enkrid''s group kept moving, heading toward the next village. They bought horses when needed, and let them go when they didn''t, crossing cliffs along the way. The path was steep, but the rough mountain roads didn''t pose much of a challenge. Dust scattered beneath their feet as they made their way down. If someone were to fall, they would never be able to walk again, given the height of the cliffs. Yet, no one felt a sense of danger. Finn wedged a dagger into the crack of the cliff and, using her elbow protector, pushed the weapon in deeper, gripping it tightly as she climbed. With a confident air, she looked down and spoke. "If someone falls and dies here, it might actually be funny." It was a statement that made sense. Starting with people, what about the leopard trailing them? Its claws seemed like they were tearing through the cliff like a deadly weapon, easily scaling the surface as though it were flat ground. It wasn''t surprising. The claws and skills were suited for vertical walls. The rest of Enkrid, Jaxen, and Shinar were no different. They all knew how to take care of themselves. Enkrid steadily climbed, one step at a time, while Jaxen seemed as if he had glue on his hands. Shinar made jokes as she expertly scaled the cliff. "Have you ever kissed a cliff, fiance??" "...Do you think so?" "Sometimes I wonder if my fiance? is still a virgin." She made jokes as though falling off a cliff was as trivial as sipping tea in a sitting room. Enkrid, however, found it fascinating that he was the one responding to such jokes. In any case, the likelihood of these people dying here was as slim as a crow being killed by an ant. Eventually, they reached the next village. In a place where many slaves were gathered, Shinar found three of her kin. She didn''t show a single sign of displeasure. "Captured like idiots." She scornfully criticized them, but the three didn''t respond. One of the male fairies, upon being freed, grabbed a dagger that had fallen to the ground and stabbed a smooth-faced thief in the belly. "S-s-splurt! Gah!" The thief, who had been begging for his life, wasn''t prepared, and received six holes in his stomach. A sense of vengeance was clear in the fairy''s actions. "An idiot who wouldn''t even be eaten by a bug, like a peach." Enkrid overheard the male fairy''s muttering and pondered the meaning. He was accustomed to fairy expressions thanks to the fairy commander. It wasn''t fairy language, but the common tongue of the Empire, so he understood. It referred to a fruit that, despite being untouched by bugs, was utterly useless and worthless. A metaphor for a person who was equally useless. Enkrid wasn''t surprised by where this vengeance came from. The two female fairies had likely met a similar fate. They had been targeted for their bodies. Even the male fairy had fallen victim. "Seems like he doesn''t discriminate between men and women," Enkrid thought. The guy had very broad tastes. While such acts weren''t rare across the continent, it wasn''t a pretty sight. Could this all be fixed by cutting them down with a sword? When Enkrid was young, he thought it was possible if he became a knight. After leaving the village, he realized it wasn''t possible. It wasn''t a matter of talent. It wasn''t even a problem that a boy of only a few years had beaten him. Enkrid had been young and naive. The concept of a village expanded into a fief, and a fief into the entire continent, changing his perspective. Then he realized. Even if he became a knight, a battlefield disaster capable of cutting down a thousand people with a single sword, he couldn''t solve this kind of issue. So, was he supposed to give up? Was he just supposed to remain a flashy swordsman, nothing more? When he dreamed of becoming a knight, was it because he desired to wear shining armor and radiate a halo? Was that all? That was not the case. Enkrid had never thought that way. What he dreamed of being wasn''t just a tool of slaughter skilled with a sword. As these thoughts filled his mind, Jaxen spoke up. "Do you want to wipe them all out? Burn it all down? I''ll help you if you need." Jaxen''s eyes were burning red, and his words didn''t seem like something he''d thought through. It seemed more like something he said out of the heat of the moment. That made Enkrid wonder. ''Is he in pain?'' He did tend to say strange things from time to time. Enkrid paused, gathering his thoughts, before replying "Your eyes are burning," At his words, Jaxen briefly closed his eyes, then opened them again. The flames he had seen earlier were gone. At least the destructive blaze Enkrid had spoken of was no longer there. "Let''s go." Enkrid refocused on the task at hand. Had the newly acquired sword skills or the knightly training triggered these other thoughts? That wasn''t it. The ember in Enkrid''s chest had always been burning; it was just now becoming visible. "Oh? A dwarf, too?" Was this some kind of race-collecting game? This was a village that had dug tunnels all over to hide slaves. "Damn, what are these bastards?" A few thieves, as soon as they resisted, had their throats slashed open, blood spurting from them. It was Jaxen''s work. With silent steps and concealed presence, he used the tools he had gathered. "I received a useful relic as a gift." Picking up the dead man''s possessions with pride, he showed that he was no different from the rest. The thieves, caught unaware by Jaxen, didn''t even have time to react before they were swiftly dealt with. Jaxen systematically cut down each of them with his dagger, and soon, eight trembling thieves lay dead, their bodies sprawled across the ground. The village chief had already been slain. This wasn''t a mage or assassin they were dealing with. He wasn''t even skilled with a sword. All he did was exploit gaps, repeatedly trying to pull tricks, even setting traps in his bedroom. "Good job." Once again, Enkrid didn''t need to intervene. Well, there was one time he had to swing his sword. When two somewhat skilled men from the village tried to ambush him, he parried their attacks with his blade, then struck with a serpent strike. Thunk, thunk! Two loud thuds echoed as their bodies hit the ground, and no one dared challenge Enkrid after that. With such brutal measures, Enkrid and his group subdued the village. The remaining slaves were freed, and those who still resisted were cut down. Most of the village had been like this. Some so-called strongmen tried to fight, but once they were slashed and defeated, the rest either surrendered or fled. Over the course of two months, they moved from one village to the next, hunting down the hidden villages of the Black Blade Band. It had only taken two months. Considering the pace they had set, it was nothing short of impressive. The Black Blade Band''s leaders hadn''t even realized half of the villages they had set up were falling before they noticed. They were fast. By the time they figured it out, the remaining villages were already beyond saving. "Damn bastards!" The leader of the Black Blade Band slammed a candleholder onto his desk in frustration. The wooden desk, made from rosewood, cracked in the center, and splinters flew everywhere. "Huff, huff!" Still, the leader''s anger didn''t subside. If anything, it surged. He threw the silver candleholder out the window in a fit of rage. Crash! The high-quality stained-glass window, which had been painted with red, yellow, and blue, shattered, and glass dust filled the air. The silver candleholder fell into the garden of the three-story mansion. The gardener, who had been trimming the bushes with scissors, startled and lowered his head, trying to stay out of sight. He quickly picked up the fallen candleholder and went to find the butler, concerned something was wrong. Of course, neither of them could figure out what was happening. The leader of the Black Blade Band had kept his true identity hidden well. Most of the mansion staff just thought of him as a noble from the royal palace, a mere bureaucrat. The leader seethed in frustration but felt helpless. A new guild had risen in the royal capital, and they were uniting the back alleys at an alarming rate. "What the hell is this Language Revival Guild?" The purpose the guild claimed to uphold seemed ridiculous. Many of the criminal gangs they were targeting had been supported by the Black Blade leader himself. That''s why he couldn''t just back out now. "Dammit." He couldn''t do anything about the men who were gunning for his hideout. The truth was, even if he stepped in, it wouldn''t make a difference. He had no troops left to send and no capable fighters. The enemy''s preparations were far more solid. They were systematically wiping out the villages. He had no choice but to send word to the main base. A thought that he might die filled his mind. "Damn it, damn it!" His empire, the very one he had built over a lifetime, was crumbling. The leader wanted to scream, but the attendant stopped him. "Are you really going to throw everything away? Find out the name of one of them. That''s the best option." It was sound advice. The leader had already used his connections. He''d bribed the information guild with gold coins and hired mercenaries. Through these efforts, he had learned a name. "Marcus, that damn bastard!" ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 278 - Starting with Jaxen Chapter 278 - 278 - Starting with Jaxen "That coward, that dirty bastard, curse him, that son of a bitch!" The Black Blade lieutenant spat blood as he cursed Marcus. Of course, there was some misunderstanding. This ordeal had begun with Shinar, and Enkrid had swiftly resolved it. Still, the more they dug, the clearer it became that the Border Guard regulars were involved. So, who gave the order? Who was behind all of this? One name constantly surfaced. Marcus. A nobleman, tied to the royal court, rumored to covet the Grand Duke''s position in the North. "That damn bastard!" No matter how many times he muttered it internally or shouted it aloud, his anger wouldn''t subside. Frustration and resentment consumed him to the point of madness. He wanted to throw himself on the ground, scream, and flail. That''s how enraged he was. Only after a long while did he manage to calm himself down slightly. The lieutenant gritted his teeth. But rushing to kill Marcus was impossible. The Border Guard was a place where assassins disappeared without a trace. Even attempts to kill Enkrid had never succeeded. Did they even manage to leave a scratch on him? Despite sending in men armed with poison, why had they all failed? Was it because the opponent was just that skilled? The Black Blade considered the possibility. The lieutenant believed as much. At the very least, Enkrid seemed to be at knight-candidate level. Enkrid''s feats had been both exaggerated and underestimated. But none of them believed that Enkrid had truly reached the level of a squire. To claim that someone who had been wielding a sword in the dirt had suddenly grasped "Will" and started using it was unbelievable. While there were occasional prodigies, if Enkrid were one, why hadn''t he gained fame sooner? Unless he had been hiding somewhere, which wasn''t the case. There were traces of him everywhere. He had been a mercenary, paying lowly instructors with krona to learn swordsmanship. He was a man who, when not using his blade, repaired city walls for spare coin. Someone like that couldn''t have reached knight-candidate status. The Black Blade was logical. Their doubts were well-founded. Furthermore, Count Molsan had manipulated the flow of information to obscure Enkrid''s true capabilities. As a result, the Black Blade couldn''t accurately assess him. They weren''t dismissive, though. They recognized that something had changed for the late-blooming Enkrid. But believing he had truly attained knight-candidate status? That was too much. Surely, there had to be a benefactor. And among the names of possible benefactors, the most suspicious was... Marcus, that scheming son of a bitch. "Now it''s war!" The lieutenant shouted alone in his study. It wasn''t just his thought. The Black Blade''s leader had issued similar orders. Mobilize the forces. Seek the help of cultists. Burn down the Border Guard. Though not a lord or a landowner, the Black Blade, a bandit group wielding unusual power and influence, prepared to unleash their might. They spent the dark gold they had hoarded and called upon their connections. Members of the bandit group assembled. Among them were mercenaries willing to kill their own parents for the right price. In this way, a force of over 500 gathered on a small hill west of the Border Guard. Could such a force breach the Border Guard''s walls? It wouldn''t be easy, but the Black Blade''s strength lay in subterfuge, not direct confrontation. And that''s how they operated. The bandit group''s rampage¡ªostensibly a land war initiated by Marcus to seize nearby territories¡ªhad widespread consequences. It marked the beginning of a civil war, dragging countless others into the conflict. Marcus, stationed within the Border Guard, hadn''t foreseen any of this. Right before the declaration of territorial conflict, he had said: "How many villages are there? Send forces to occupy them all. From now on, we''re not just the Border Guard regulars¡ªwe''re the Domain Border Guard." "And who is the lord?" "The first lord is me." In response to the captain''s question, Marcus confidently pointed to himself with a thumbs-up. Soon after, Tarnin, the piggish baron responsible for the neighboring territory, declared war. "To act without royal approval! Your greed knows no bounds, and you have no shame! Marcus, beg for forgiveness immediately! If you do not repent, I shall cut off your head and offer it to the gods!" The baron''s rallying speech, delivered to his gathered troops, quickly reached Marcus''s ears. "That pig must''ve lost his mind." Marcus muttered as he leaned on his desk, resting his chin on his hand. It was the start of the civil war. Of course, it didn''t lead to immediate fighting. Like most territorial conflicts, Baron Tarnin began by sending a messenger. Such wars often started with arguments and escalated reluctantly into battles. "What''s his game, though?" This time, however, things were different. Baron Tarnin had gathered mercenaries and skilled fighters from somewhere, instigating and provoking Marcus''s forces. It seemed like a fight could break out any moment. But instead of attacking, Tarnin''s forces dug in and held their ground. Why? Who benefited from merely holding the line? Marcus wasn''t a fool. Rather than attacking now, it was more advantageous to let Tarnin and his backers waste their resources. Marcus sought to unravel his opponent''s intentions, analyzing and strategizing carefully. What is that pig Tarnin''s specialty? Eating. What is Fool Tarnin''s strength? His thick skin makes blades less effective. What power does Baron Tarnin''s domain possess? Absolutely none of significance. What does that bastard rely on? The Black Blade bandit group. Marcus sorted out the sequence of events and confirmed the situation. But why was Tarnin acting this way? Gathering troops, of course, cost money. They had to be fed and housed. And there were mercenaries, too. Their wages needed to be paid. If they weren''t paid silver coins, some mercenaries might simply turn around and carve star-shaped holes in Tarnin''s belly. ''Then why?'' Despite assembling his forces, Tarnin showed no intention of attacking. All he did was spout nonsense about conducting training. Marcus waited. There wasn''t much he could do for now. He had indeed invaded Tarnin''s domain. His plan was to quietly seize a few villages, establish a semblance of a territory, and then seek royal approval afterward. ''But it feels like there''s someone behind that pig Tarnin.'' The question was, who? The maneuver orchestrated by the shadowy force behind Tarnin soon struck a heavy blow. It hit Marcus squarely on the back of the head. "...Ha." [Due to the growing chaos in the North caused by territorial conflicts, Marcus, faithful friend of the royal palace and pillar of the Centerfold family, is hereby commanded to...] So began the letter. Marcus was a gambler. He knew how to seize the moment in a game of chance. But the contents of the letter effectively tied his hands before the game had even started. It was a scheme to keep him out of the decisive moment, leaving him with no way to escape. "Ha." A hollow laugh was all he could muster¡ªhe had been completely outmaneuvered. *** "Had your fun without me, huh?" As soon as he returned, Rem greeted him. Enkrid couldn''t help but think that some things never changed with him. "I was on a mission." "Oh, you must''ve had a blast. And me? Stuck here babysitting some abandoned beast-woman while teaching her. How delightful, huh?" Rem''s long-winded complaint boiled down to one thing: he wanted a sparring match. Off to the side, Dunbakel stood with both her eyes swollen. It didn''t look like she''d been spared much torment. Enkrid felt a pang of pity. If he didn''t step in, Rem would undoubtedly take it out on her again today. Besides, Enkrid himself wasn''t injured, just a little tired. "Come at me, you trash-talking barbarian." Enkrid''s joke made Rem grin widely. "Let''s settle the score!" And with that absurd remark, the sparring began. "Still the same, I see!" Rem crossed his axes and swung, displaying an intimidating presence he claimed to have learned from the rapier-wielding swordsman. Enkrid found it absurd. Could you truly mimic something just by watching? Of course, the execution was entirely different, though there was no way for Rem to know that. Enkrid declined the intimidation tactic and responded with his blade instead. Clang! Clang! Clang! Their weapons clashed, golden sparks flying between them. Teresa, uncharacteristically quiet, sat cross-legged nearby, patiently awaiting her turn. It was a normal day. The next sparring match would be Teresa''s. She had devised and honed several techniques while training with Audin, and she was eager to test them on Enkrid. Her heart pounded with excitement. The days had felt dull in his absence. Even as she polished her skills and strengthened her body, a sense of emptiness loomed, like a landlord with nothing in the storehouse. "Why are you so down?" Noticing her slightly listless demeanor, Audin asked. Teresa reflected on her feelings for a moment before responding. "Wandering Teresa says this: If our leader doesn''t return, what will become of us?" Audin chuckled heartily. "He''ll return." Audin, a man who always spoke in the name of the divine and valued deep contemplation over certainty, displayed an unusual clarity when it came to Enkrid. He had no doubts. And the moment she saw Enkrid return, Teresa''s heart raced like never before. Her face turned red. How could it not? "Her new technique." A challenger to test it against. Someone who could embrace her fighting spirit. The one who had pulled her away from the cult. The only person who could truly match her sword and shield. Others could spar with her, but it wasn''t the same. Enkrid was different. Teresa didn''t try to pinpoint exactly what made him so. What mattered to her was the process of fighting him. The act of sparring with him. Standing before him, sword and shield in hand. For that, she would burn her very life away if necessary. Blazing with that fire, she would cut through and kill any foe who dared to block his path. She would not leave enemies standing before him to hinder his way forward. She would make him turn back to face her. With this newfound resolve, Teresa knelt on one knee and prayed. It wasn''t in the way of the cult, nor did she invoke the name of any god, but it was undoubtedly a prayer. "Are you asleep? Who''s next?" Rem interrupted her, but soon the captain, freshly risen, called out. Teresa stood, raising the knee she had bent. She smiled, lifting her shield to guard the front. "Wandering Teresa is here." Should it be called an enjoyable sparring match? At least, Enkrid thought so. Rem enjoyed it, and Teresa charging at him was also fun. Even Dunbakel, who insisted on fighting with two swords, was an interesting opponent. "You''re still clumsy." "I know!" Despite knowing, Dunbakel stubbornly insisted on wielding two weapons. Enkrid couldn''t help but wonder why as he watched. "She''s crazy. Crazy. If you run into a high priest while wandering around, kidnap them or something. Everyone here needs treatment." That was Rem''s assessment. Apparently, Dunbakel had been deeply impressed by Enkrid''s fighting style, inspiring her to use two weapons. Enkrid let it go. It wasn''t his place to say otherwise. And so, Enkrid returned as he always had. "But why haven''t you improved at all?" Rem''s question carried a hint of dissatisfaction. Was his skill stagnant? That might have been true. Had nothing changed? No. During those two months, Enkrid had plenty of time to think. Climbing cliffs, riding horses, walking, running, entering villages. The battles were brief, but the marches were long. Along the way, Shinar would crack fae jokes, Finn would chatter about trivial things, and Jaxen would occasionally mutter: "Whatever you desire, pursue it. Suppressing it will only harm you." Enkrid found that odd. ''I''ve never suppressed anything.'' He meant it sincerely, though others might not see it that way. Despite his capabilities, Enkrid wasn''t tied to worldly rewards. Then, what did he desire? Jaxen''s question pointed directly at that. Enkrid knew what he wanted and was following the milestones toward it. Walking and walking over those two months had, in a way, cleared his mind. Enkrid re-evaluated his training methods. What he had, what needed growth, what could be honed further to yield results. Previously, he had been preoccupied with absorbing and adapting to his surroundings, but no longer. In those two months of walking, Enkrid had solidified his training methods. It was time to put them into practice. "I''ll need you to lend me a hand." The beginning would be with the stray cat, Jaxen. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 279 - The Black Blade Excels in Politics (1) Chapter 279 - 279 - The Black Blade Excels in Politics (1) "Throw it." As soon as Enkrid spoke, Jaxen''s hand moved. There was no time to concern himself with the whistling sound of the projectile. The sly stray cat with reddish-brown hair, standing seven steps ahead, hurled a stone. The tiny speck in the distance quickly expanded before his eyes. As Enkrid''s focus heightened, he perceived the stone''s trajectory. In the instant he twisted his body to evade, he noticed another stone where he was dodging. It was a throwing technique designed to occupy space with timed intervals. Enkrid''s body moved instinctively, twisting out of the way. Using his left foot as a pivot, he stepped back to the right, his torso rotating in the opposite direction. His movement was grotesque, contorting his body unnaturally. He used the torque from his twisting waist to roll forward, dodging all the stones. "Weren''t you supposed to evade without leaving your spot?" The detached tone reached his ears. "I will, eventually." Though not yet, Enkrid knew it was something he''d achieve with repetition. It was a matter of practice and persistence, not foresight. Steady walking leads to milestones, which, in turn, bring you to your destination¡ªa truth he had proven with his body and learned through life. Enkrid answered calmly, standing up and brushing the dust off his clothes. The blue light heralding dawn was being crushed by the rising sun, transforming into hues of orange and yellow. It was the early hours of the day, the time when everyone began to wake. As if by unspoken agreement, all the company members were outside, watching Enkrid and Jaxen. Their gazes varied. Rem, wrapped tightly in his warm fur coat, glared as if questioning what backwater custom compelled such madness at this freezing hour. Audin wore a satisfied smile. Ragna observed indifferently, twirling his wrist. Teresa was absent, being on duty. Dunbakel glanced between Rem and Enkrid before shaking her head to herself. She seemed tempted to imitate Enkrid but feared that asking Rem to do so would result in a boulder smashing her skull. Unbothered by their stares, Enkrid immersed himself in thought. It was the same idea he had been mulling over for two months while walking, running, and fighting. "The sense of evasion operates within the unconscious realm, as a reflex." Seeing, hearing, feeling, tasting, and smelling are the five senses. When these senses merge, leading to conclusions before the process is fully understood, it''s called intuition. The sense of evasion is a skill forged from the intuitive realm, honed by reflexes. Until now, he thought that was enough. "No, it isn''t." Pondering was Enkrid''s habit and his everything. He pondered and saw the path he must take. It was, as always, a thorny one¡ªrugged, treacherous, like climbing a sheer cliff. But he would enjoy every step of the way. "In the conscious realm." He would fully read the trajectories of incoming stones, evade them, and incorporate deliberate movements. This would serve as "preparation" for his next action. It was a conclusion derived from what he had learned through Nameless Swordsmanship, gained through experience, and realized by observing Jaxen''s techniques. "Again." The goal was to evade every stone hurled at close range without moving from his spot while achieving intentional reaction speeds. Of course, that wasn''t the only part of his training. After this came Audin''s turn. "You enjoy hardship, brother." "Why are you saying that with such a bright smile?" "Because, as the Lord has said, one cannot discuss hardship without first walking the path of penance." Enkrid interpreted the hulking religious fanatic''s words in his own way. Essentially, he thought, Audin was ecstatic at the prospect of half-killing him through training. Enkrid smiled back. Walking the path of penance, if there was fruit at its end, he would be satisfied whether it was ripe or withered. For a man who never stopped moving, even while standing still, any fruit of his efforts was priceless. Whether sweet or bitter, fruit was fruit. And that seemed to please Audin greatly. Even as he hinted at half-killing Enkrid, he laughed. "Let''s do it." Audin introduced Enkrid to partial strengthening training. It was an advanced technique even among Isolation techniques¡ªa path of true hardship. Previously, he had trained flexibility by breaking his body down to its joints and stretching them. This time, it was about isolating and training individual parts of the body. Dividing the day into three, mornings were for the upper body, afternoons for the lower body, and evenings for discovering and straining hidden muscles. "There are visible muscles you can easily feel, but there are also unseen ones. In Isolation techniques, we call these inner muscles. For example, here." As he spoke, Audin jabbed his fingers into Enkrid''s lower back. An excruciating pain, like being stabbed all over with knives, shot from his lower back through his entire body. "Ugh." A groan escaped him despite himself. "Exactly. We''ll train those muscles." This would follow regeneration training. "It''s the Steel Body." From inner muscles to outer muscles, he trained himself to the point of abuse. He rolled and rolled again. "Normally, this would take years of effort, but the Company Commander might just be a genius when it comes to body conditioning. Physical training is also a realm of talent. Many don''t realize this. To add, it''s fascinating¡ªyour physical aptitude was insignificant at first, but to reach this point, you must have an unseen gift." Audin''s stream of words barely reached his ears. When you''re balancing on one leg, repeatedly sitting and standing with three boulders tied to your back, the world around you tends to fade away. Sweat poured down his face. Winter weather was no match for the fervor of training. "Well done," Audin said with a grin. Enkrid returned the smile. Just because something was grueling didn''t mean it wasn''t worthwhile. In its own way, this was enjoyable. Every exercise was extreme. For instance, he walked on all fours like a beast while carrying either a boulder or Audin on his back. To improve ankle flexibility, he stood on one leg with a stone strapped to his back, picking up objects scattered on the ground. He repeated such routines dozens, even hundreds of times. It was grueling, exhausting, and difficult. He couldn''t afford a lapse in focus. Since these efforts didn''t yield results overnight, monotony was inevitable. Yet, he continued. Without perseverance, what would be left of Enkrid? For him, this wasn''t monotonous at all. "I''ll do it too!" Nearby, Dunbakel tried to join in, training her muscles with Isolation techniques¡ªcrawling on all fours and walking like a beast. However, after 50 round trips, her face turned pale. Still, even as sweat poured onto the ground, Dunbakel persisted. Her occasional glances at Enkrid, filled with an odd intensity, were strange but ultimately unimportant. Enkrid was too preoccupied refining and reinforcing his training methods. Breaking his body down and building it back up became routine. Naturally, he didn''t neglect his swordsmanship amid this regimen. The first rule of his Nameless Swordsmanship: just because a strike is soft doesn''t mean it isn''t a blade. Ultimately, he honed a style he loosely named Serpent Swordsmanship. After that came Nameless Straight Sword Technique. He would then revisit the Middle Sword Technique, before contemplating speed and precision. He polished, sought, and refined his skills, repeating the process endlessly. "Rem!" He didn''t forget to test what he''d learned on Rem. "Damn it! Do you think I''m some sort of combat puppet, summoned whenever you call? You''re treating me like a human golem!" Enkrid was taken aback. Internally, he did see Rem as something close to that. Does he read minds? "If you don''t want to, leave." Ragna, who had been idly watching, spoke while sharpening his blade. Shiiing, ting! Watching him maintain his sword, unlike before, gave the impression of a maturing child. "Get lost, you lazy weasel, before I crack your skull with an axe," Rem retorted immediately, glaring at Ragna. Just another day. "Sure, with my blade freshly sharpened, it wouldn''t hurt to stain it with a savage''s blood," Ragna replied, standing as though ready to escalate matters. "Both of you can come at me," Enkrid taunted them. This shifted both their gazes back to him. Rem blinked, while Ragna sat back down. Shiiing. He resumed sharpening his blade. It was a single sentence, but it was an effective way to diffuse a fight. "You''d lose," Ragna said from where he sat. "Fine." Rem slapped the back of his axe against his palm as he approached. Ragna rose and moved to a spot in the training yard, where he began swinging his sword¡ªsometimes slowly, sometimes quickly. Enkrid observed briefly, then gripped his sword with both hands, focusing on reading Rem''s movements. Blades and blades. Steel met steel. The cold air sliced between them. Their first sparring session had been nothing more than Rem''s whim, not even a proper pastime. Later, it was playful, full of antics with an axe. But now? Even Rem couldn''t take Enkrid lightly anymore. "A monster, a real monster." Rem thought to himself. If breaking through the limits of talent with effort made someone a monster, then no word suited Enkrid better. And that made it all the more entertaining. At first, Rem only intended to watch until he faltered, but before he knew it, he had become this man''s subordinate, truly a part of his company. "The folks back home would be horrified." For a moment, Rem recalled the past, the home and people he had left behind. Then he dismissed the thought, casting it from his mind. What did it matter? He crossed his axes in both hands. The blades met with a soft clang, as if greeting one another. Thunk. At the sound of the crossed axes, Enkrid moved. Bending his upper body forward, he kicked off the ground, charging in an instant. Rem''s eyes caught everything. The boldness surged from deep within his chest, forcing him to face his opponent squarely. His dynamic vision was leagues beyond that of an ordinary person. Twisting his left foot, Rem swung his axe. Whoosh! Ordinarily, even if blocked, the sheer force of the blow would cut through sword, forearm, and torso like a streak of light. With weight and speed combined, it was a devastating strike, yet Enkrid deflected it with his sword. However, unable to advance even half a step further, he couldn''t follow up with a counter despite redirecting the axe. The Serpent Sword was halted. Rem swung his second axe. A double strike. A technique Rem was confident in. Enkrid blocked the second swing as well. At that moment, realizing this, Rem couldn''t help but feel thrilled. "Excellent!" The heated fur draped over his shoulders flew off with a swoosh. Exposing his muscular arms, Rem bared his fangs in a wide grin. Enkrid, having parried two strikes, raised his sword again to face him. Naturally, he smiled as well. From an outsider''s perspective, they might look insane¡ªlaughing while fighting as though to kill each other. Regardless, this had become Enkrid''s daily routine of late. Since his return, he focused solely on training, sparring, and conditioning. He neglected even his duties as the Training Commander. Before he could offer the excuse of being busy, additional scout units had to be assembled, and the number of troops deployed to active duty doubled. The situation around them was too dire. It wasn''t the time to venture outside for training runs or hunts against magical beasts. Naturally, commissions came to a halt. However, they couldn''t stop merchants or large trade caravans from passing through. Their territory was becoming a hub of commerce, despite the tension. While all this could be swept away in one blaze, for now, it was the best they could manage. It was around this time that Marcus, dealing with the aftermath of an explosion, came to speak with Enkrid. Neither the black sword nor Viscount Tarnin concerned Enkrid. He had decided what to do and acted accordingly. When the time came to step forward, he would. But not now. Marcus would have found it absurd, but truthfully, there wasn''t much Enkrid could change by intervening. This was the right course of action. Thus, about a fortnight passed. "You haven''t changed," Marcus remarked. He sought out Enkrid at the independent company barracks, inside their private training ground. Snow was falling heavily, eliciting curses from the soldiers. Left unchecked, the snow would freeze over, creating an icy ground that would be harder to clear. They sighed deeply as they watched the flakes pile up. A makeshift roof and columns had been set up in part of the training yard. Leaning halfway against a central pillar, Marcus offered a bitter smile. "I''ve been had." "What do you mean?" "I''m heading back." Puzzled, Enkrid stared at him as Marcus exhaled deeply and continued. "To the capital, the central city." Out of the blue? Enkrid had ears. He knew the surrounding situation had turned into chaos. They were like a flickering candle in the wind, with no reinforcements to support them. Of course, that fragile flame wouldn''t be extinguished so easily. But for Marcus to withdraw now? No, it wasn''t a retreat. He had said he was forced, which meant someone had exerted pressure. "I''ll hand over the position of successor lord to the First Company Commander." Blowing out a puff of breath, Enkrid set down the iron cudgel¡ªequivalent in weight to ten swords¡ªthat he had custom-made by the blacksmith. It was an excellent training tool, strengthening not just forearms and shoulders but core muscles as well. It also helped refine swordsmanship through precise training methods. The dull thud it made drew Marcus''s gaze downward. The blunt sword tip was lodged firmly in the frozen dirt at an angle. What was that? Marcus was reminded once again of how monstrous this man was. Just then, Krais peeked his head out from the barracks. "Oh, the Battalion Commander is here?" Opening the door, Kraiss gave a sort of salute. Though it was far from formal, it was clearly intended as a gesture of respect. "Clear off." Marcus waved dismissively. Enkrid clasped his hands over the grip of his sword. "Smoke?" Marcus asked. "I don''t smoke." Marcus bit down on a cigarette. Just as he wondered about striking flint, Krais hurried over and offered a small flame. Lighting the cigarette, Marcus took a deep drag, exhaling smoke that mixed with his frosty breath, the acrid scent stinging their noses. It was a simple cigarette rolled from dried leaves¡ªnot exactly pleasant smelling. What followed was straightforward and clear. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 280 - The Black Blade Excels in Politics (2) Chapter 280 - 280 - The Black Blade Excels in Politics (2) Why must Marcus heed the summons from the central government? "Those damn noble brats. This is when they should shield me and act as my support, but instead, they''ve turned me into a scapegoat. Political rats, all of them." These words came directly from Marcus. For a brief moment, Enkrid wondered if Marcus was berating himself, but it wasn''t the time to bring that up. "Some of the Border Guard''s activities¡ªraising warhorses and training archers beyond the border¡ªcould be interpreted by the central government as signs of rebellion. Why concentrate power in the North, especially wile having a noble family of such prominence at the helm?" "A family of prominence?" "My family." Enkrid didn''t bother asking about the name of the family. The point was clear. Marcus intended to restructure the North with the Border Guard as its backbone. But to the central government, it looked like they were consolidating power for some ulterior motive. When Marcus answered, "To govern the North effectively," The reply came swiftly: "Doesn''t seem like it. Come to the capital, and let''s talk this out. Besides, isn''t your family supposed to be a protector of the capital? Come back. We''ll even make you a central official." "And if I refuse?" "What? Refusal means you''re definitely planning rebellion. Is that what you''re up to?" "I told you, it''s not rebellion." "Then come to the capital. Let''s talk. Don''t antagonize the neighboring territories. If it''s just defense, they won''t bother you." "If I leave, they''ll attack. Let me finish handling this first." "So it is rebellion. You''re a traitor, aren''t you?" "No, it''s not!" "Then come." Stripped of any flowery language, titles, or pleasantries, this was essentially the exchange that had taken place. Marcus resisted, but it was futile. He was summoned back to the capital. "This isn''t the end. There''s bound to be some band of rogues orchestrating things behind the scenes." Such were the words of Marcus, a natural-born politician. But why did he bother to seek Enkrid out just to share all this? Before Enkrid could voice his doubts, Marcus spoke first. Straightening from the pillar he had been leaning on, he stood upright, like a soldier offering a salute. At that moment, it seemed as though Marcus absorbed the surrounding air. He steadied his breathing. "Help Graham defend the territory." It wasn''t a command. To Enkrid''s ears, it sounded like a plea. "Yes," he replied. Satisfied, Marcus exhaled wearily before muttering, "...My worries were pointless." "Pardon?" "Nothing." Marcus turned away. On his way to this point, Marcus had wrestled with several concerns. Would Enkrid stay to protect the territory until the end? Should Marcus abandon the place altogether and summon Enkrid to the capital instead? Or would Enkrid simply follow his own path? "Damn those bureaucratic rats of the capital." Marcus felt an overwhelming urge to curse the rotten nobles and officials yet again. He cursed them often, but now, he wanted to put holes in their foreheads. He even entertained the idea of hiring a legendary assassin¡ªsomeone infamous enough to be mentioned in history books. A killer nicknamed "Red Dot," known for leaving a single crimson mark on the foreheads of his targets. Or was it just "Red Spot"? Regardless, Marcus wanted to sever the rot and cut them down. "Fine. I''ll go." But he wasn''t planning to behave obediently. He vowed to track down and crush every fool who had been manipulated by the Black Blade. However, for that to happen, this place needed to remain intact. The enemy was clearly targeting the Border Guard. So, what could Marcus do? "What else? Stick to what I do best." Leave the fighting to those who excel at it, and focus on what he was good at. Before leaving, Marcus resolved to write a few more letters. He needed to prepare for every possible outcome. Amid these preparations, his thoughts turned to the biggest wildcard¡ªEnkrid. "Will he stay?" Half out of doubt and half as a means of persuasion, Marcus had sought him out, but the answer came far too easily. Enkrid agreed without hesitation. His response was neither deceitful nor overly patriotic, but Marcus knew Enkrid would defend this place. That was simply the kind of man Enkrid was. Though Marcus couldn''t fathom the flames burning in Enkrid''s heart, they were undeniably there¡ªburning quietly, without revealing themselves. If Enkrid had truly desired knighthood, he would have long since gone to the central kingdom or the royal court to join a knightly order. Even though he possessed "Will," why did he remain here? The question resurfaced in Marcus''s mind. "What kind of knight do you want to be?" Next time, he thought, he would ask. For now, he felt reassured. The weight on his chest eased, as though he had untangled a stubborn knot. Though he couldn''t predict everything or understand all the reasons behind it... "They won''t take us down easily." It was strange. No matter how hard Graham or the First Company Commander fought, none of it gave Marcus as much confidence as a single word from Enkrid. "Because of the difference in skill?" Now, it was clear. Enkrid had become a formidable swordsman, walking the path of knighthood. He had even awakened to "Will." Was that the reason? No, it wasn''t. Marcus instinctively knew. When he returned to his office, he found Graham, the First Company Commander, waiting for him. "I''m sorry. A proper appointment ceremony won''t be possible, and more importantly, I have no idea what the battalion commander at the Green Pearl garrison is thinking. If even he has been swayed, things will become very difficult." "Do not worry. I will not lose to the likes of the Black Blade." Graham was a remarkable soldier, a great man in his own right. Yet, Marcus couldn''t help but think, Why does a sentence from him inspire less confidence than a mere word from Enkrid? Suppressing his inner doubts, Marcus patted Graham on the shoulder. The situation was deteriorating rapidly, and Marcus had to leave. The thought stirred a peculiar sense of determination. He reaffirmed his resolve. He would see to it that every neck involved in this treachery was severed. "Heretics have risen to power south of Martai!" Such rumors spread among merchants and travelers passing through the territory. It was said that a bishop of the heretical sect had appeared in the South, leading hordes of monstrous beasts. The so-called "Wolf Bishop," a prominent figure within the sect, was rumored to have mobilized his forces. Of course, it wasn''t just a rumor. "As winter approaches, I shall personally proclaim this place a holy sanctuary for those shivering in hunger and cold." The bishop''s proclamation had been written on paper and distributed widely, eventually reaching the Border Guard. "What the... are they insane?" Some of the soldiers clicked their tongues upon reading it. The proclamation declared Martai and the surrounding Border Guard area as sacred grounds of the heretics. The unspoken message: vacate the area or face total annihilation. This posed a significant problem. After Marcus departed, the First Company Commander, now acting lord and battalion commander, found himself drenched in cold sweat before the approaching wave of crises. Why had the heretics suddenly appeared? The situation was dire. The troops were already stretched thin, and now the Black Blade and heretics were attacking from different directions. "Did Marcus flee in fear?" Viscount Tarnin''s rant was as fiery as ever, and he subtly pushed his troops forward. The scent of war began to waft through the air. "We must send envoys to Count Molsan for reinforcements." Graham immediately took action. A high-ranking noble from one of the most influential families in the region happened to be visiting his territory. Surely, he would provide support. Subtly, Graham also mentioned that the count''s two sons were present in the area. The response came swiftly: "Heretics are rising within the count''s lands as well, and the monsters are more numerous this winter. Handle it yourself." Bang! The First Company Commander struck the wall with his fist. The wall, made of solid bricks, didn''t break, but the pain shot through his nerves from his fingertips. "Dammit! Your land is next in line after ours!" Surely, Count Molsan couldn''t remain indifferent to such a threat. The Black Blades hiding behind Tarnin were clearly involved. No, at this point, they weren''t even trying to hide. Some mercenaries with unmistakable ties to the Black Blade had shown their faces openly. This was a declaration of intent. While the heretics advanced from the south to check Martai, the two groups seemed to have formed some kind of non-aggression pact, refraining from encroaching on each other''s territories. It looked as though they were colluding. If it looked that way, it likely was. Would the two groups stop at occupying the Border Guard and call it a day? Would they pat their bellies in satisfaction and disband? Not a chance. If they succeeded, they would rampage even further. Graham sent messages to the capital via ravens and pigeons. No reply came. Instead, other news arrived. "Battalion Commander." Marcus had apologized earlier, saying he regretted leaving such burdens to Graham. Though there had been no formal ceremony, Graham had intended to solidify his position as battalion commander through this crisis. But now, Marcus''s parting words resurfaced in his mind. "If things seem truly hopeless, retreat when the time is right." Was this that moment? The news that reached him drove the new commander further into despair. Graham''s expression darkened. "Aspen has made its move." There was a former reserve battalion commander stationed in the Green Pearl plains. He had been training cavalry, opening new farmlands, and establishing villages. Prioritizing fortification, he built barracks and palisades, expanding from villages to territories, turning the garrison into fully Aspen-controlled land. Now, a messenger from Green Pearl arrived with grim news. Aspen had mobilized its forces, broken its promises, and crossed the border. It was an invasion. Aspen, once defeated, was not the sort to sit quietly on the sidelines. But why now? This was an issue that required central support to resolve. Border Guard alone could never handle it. Help would eventually come. Aspen''s movement guaranteed that. However: "Of course, it only matters if we''re alive by then." Having just been appointed battalion commander, Graham wanted nothing more than to flee. The Black Blade''s schemes were cutting Border Guard to pieces. They had ousted Marcus, summoned the cultists, and provoked Aspen into action. The sky was dark. Heavy clouds blocked the sun even during the day. A figurative shadow loomed over the territory as well. *** "So, what are you going to do about this?" A Black Blade officer chuckled to himself, his laughter echoing in solitude. He took a swig of strong liquor, savoring the satisfaction. Dared to cross us? They had used their connections and poured out gold coins. And this was the result. Viscount Tarnin and the Black Blade army. To the south of Martai, the cultist forces. To the east, beyond the Green Pearl plains where the Border Guard stood their ground, Aspen''s aggression. So, what will you do now? News of calamity closing in from all sides began to slowly cut off merchants'' travel to the territory. "They say war''s coming." "I heard cultists are invading." "No, no, it''s not that. Word is, the forces stationed at Green Pearl have turned against them. They''re saying, why make someone else the leader of the Border Guard when they have their own?" "I heard the central government''s turned their back on this place, abandoning it." "Not just that. Even Count Molsan seems to have washed his hands of it." How long until the Border Guard falls? For Enkrid, such rumors were easy to dismiss. But for some, it was impossible to ignore. The newly appointed battalion commander, Graham, felt his throat tightening. It was as if someone had pressed a blade against his neck. Holding a military meeting to block Viscount Tarnin left their rear vulnerable. When they sent a messenger to the Green Pearl battalion, the reply they received only worsened their predicament. "The enemy forces are too many. If you don''t want your soldiers wiped out, you must send reinforcements." Reinforcements? What reinforcements? They were short on manpower here, to the point of wanting to raise a makeshift army immediately. His scruffy beard and bloodshot eyes mirrored his despair. "Marcus, you bastard." In the end, Graham cursed Marcus. What joy was there in becoming both battalion commander and lord of this mess? As the leader of the territory teetered on the edge of panic, someone in Enkrid''s unit began to display similar behavior. "Commander, commander, isn''t it time we ran away?" What nonsense was this? "Did you swear loyalty to the queen or anything? You didn''t, did you? Then how are we supposed to stop the cultists, the Black Blade, and Aspen all at once?" A departure from their usual self. Enkrid studied Krais for a moment. His leg trembled, his nails scraped against his teeth before he spat in frustration and blinked repeatedly. Even now, Krais blinked three or four times as he looked at Enkrid, his trembling pupils betraying his unease. Not in his right mind. Enkrid didn''t presume to know every detail of his unit members'' pasts or understand their personalities perfectly. But there were a few things he did know. Rem hated the cold, and Ragna was a lazy navigator. Jaxen had many secrets and could be chilling at times, but his intentions were unclear. And Krais had his quirks. This wide-eyed one hadn''t had an easy life. Then again, who among them had lived peacefully? Those who had wouldn''t have ended up here. This unit wasn''t called a pack of troublemakers for nothing. Krais was one of those troublemakers. "It''s hopeless." Krais muttered, listing the events to come. "Even if we manage to hold off the Black Blade forces storming the walls, what about the cultists attacking from below? That Wolf Bishop is quite famous. I even did some digging myself." His complexion was pale, devoid of any attempt at a bitter smile, as he spoke. "He leads hundreds of wolf beasts. He''s even got a bounty on his head. What does that tell you? It means the kingdom''s abandoned this place. Whatever they''re gaining in return, they''ve already collected it. So this land has been discarded by the queen. Look, Aspen has lined up their forces blatantly, but there''s not a single reinforcement here. At the very least, the knight order should have sent a detachment. But they haven''t. What does that tell you? Politics. Maybe they struck a deal to give up Green Pearl in exchange for something. Or maybe they made a pact with the cultists. At the very least, the Black Blade is..." The speech was long. Half of it Enkrid understood, the other half he let pass. He glanced around. All eyes were on him. And he realized something. They would follow him, no matter what. Even if he ordered them to abandon the territory and flee, they would obey. Rem, Ragna, Audin, Jaxen, Dunbakel, Teresa, and the anxiety-ridden Krais. Even the stealthy leopard that had slipped in unnoticed. Eight others, and himself. A total of nine. A force originally deemed dispensable. But now? The last battle had been won easily because Marcus had concealed this unit''s true capabilities. Krais'' analysis matched Enkrid''s judgment. So what happens if they leave now? What else but utter ruin? ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 281 -The Black Blade Excels in Politics (3) Chapter 281 - 281 -The Black Blade Excels in Politics (3) "Big Eyes." Enkrid called out to the muttering Krais. Blink. Krais blinked, looking at him. What is causing this anxiety? It''s because he''s been beaten down since childhood. One wrong step, and you either die or get a wound to match it. ''I heard there are some who aim for your ass when they feel like it.'' Scratching, Enkrid scratched his cheek. The world doesn''t accept those who are untainted. The pure are easily corrupted. If you spill ink on a blank canvas, you can''t erase it. Krais is no different. To avoid the worst outcome, he always predicts the worst. When pushed into a corner, Krais'' head stops. It doesn''t function properly. He knew this from experience, especially from when he almost died standing cluelessly on the battlefield. Enkrid knew this because he had seen it before. This guy''s head is broken again. It''s all just speculation, but it would be easy to convince him if it were true. "Shut up. If you want to fight, fight. If you''re going to die, die." Dunbakel spoke up, her straightforward tone and attitude cutting through the air. It probably bothered her. He spoke as though everyone was going to die immediately. Well, that could have been the case. Getting hit by a blind sword on the battlefield and dying? Isn''t that too common? Enkrid knew that too. You could die, but you could also survive. Not everything goes the way you want. You just try your best to make it happen. For that, Big Eyes was necessary. To be precise, he needed a Big Eyes who wasn''t broken. "That fool''s entranced. Let me slap him to bring him to his senses." Rem, lying on his side like a caterpillar, spoke up. Winter had turned the barbarian into a caterpillar. It was a scene they saw every year. It was a seemingly reasonable suggestion, but violence wasn''t necessary. They had already tried it. Even when they slapped him on the battlefield, he couldn''t snap out of it. Audin, standing by, folded his hands and spoke. "Pray. If you pray, everything will be fine." Of course, praying wouldn''t solve anything. Even if they used divine power, they couldn''t fix Krais'' current state. Fortunately, Enkrid knew the method and took action. His mouth opened. "Hey, if things go south, we''ll all run." "...Eh?" Krais stopped blinking, looking at him in disbelief. His trembling legs also stopped. "If things go as badly as possible, it wouldn''t be hard to take you out and run. Rem or the others, no need to mention them. Do you think the rest are going to die here?" What he needed to give Krais wasn''t fear, but reassurance. The fingers that had been lingering near his lips, wondering if he should bite his nails, dropped down. Krais turned his head sideways. His gaze swept from Rem to Ragna, Jaxen, and Audin. No matter how he thought about it, he didn''t think they were going to die. What about Teresa? The half-giant muttering about being a wandering Teresa, wearing an iron mask in the barracks, was she going to die easily? Lastly, Dunbakel, well, she might die, but... "It doesn''t matter to you if the beast-woman dies." Enkrid''s words slipped in at just the right moment. The anxious mind that had been spiraling from considering the worst began to come back to its original state. His vision cleared. The fog blocking his view dissipated. The trembling legs, the uncertain hands, all stopped. The blinking eyes began to sparkle like usual. The trembling pupils returned to their normal position, and focus was regained. At the same time, the eyes with light brown irises softened into a smile. "Ah, right. Well, Dunbakel, hang in there. You''ve got to hang in there if you want to survive." He spoke with a smile. "Should I kill you first?" Dunbakel pulled out her claws in a flash. "Rem, the beast-woman is bothering me." "So what?" It was the usual Krais again. The Big Eyed Krais had been scolding Rem for how he could do this to him, but when the caterpillar squirmed and seemed ready to rise, he hid behind Enkrid. "Captain, aren''t we going to the military meeting? Graham, the battalion commander, is going to lose his head." "Yeah." "Let''s go together." "Mm." Enkrid left, taking Krais with him. Among the remaining ones, Audin was the first to laugh and speak. "The squad leader brother is truly fascinating." When did he realize that prayer alone doesn''t solve everything? It wasn''t when he was working as an inquisitor. The beginning of everything was here, on the battlefield and in the barracks. It all started with one person. He was someone who didn''t back down, someone who knew how to look around. His sword wasn''t for him alone. "What is a knight?" What is a priest? What is a servant of the gods? A sudden realization led Audin deep into thought. Among the members of the unit, no one was concerned about the battles or wars to come. Who''s coming at us? Then we''ll just fight. Most people used their heads in such simple terms. And so, Rem, like a caterpillar, quietly sank into his afternoon nap. Ragna pulled out his sword again. It seemed like he wouldn''t be able to hold back much longer. He hadn''t seen the captain training like a madman. He had only seen a few words soothe Krais and watched him go. That was all. Still, there was something he could feel. Something indescribable tickled his chest. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts. Teresa, too, felt the urge to fight rise within her. "I want to fight." For now, it didn''t matter whether it was Enkrid or not. The blood of the giant was pulling her to the battlefield, and the changing air seemed to ignite every nerve in her body. "Whatever." Dunbakel still seemed indifferent, but oddly, it felt right now. Jaxen, as usual, remained expressionless, though inwardly, he agreed with Audin''s words. "An interesting person," he thought. Esther had already sneaked into the barracks and was curled up in a corner, watching everything unfold. The one most surprised by Enkrid''s mysterious aura was Esther. A single word from Enkrid had restored clarity to the minds around her. What she had said could have been a spell, or something similar. Kyar. Esther licked her paws, a habit from when she was in leopard form. She stretched out her front legs, laying down and feeling the warmth from her fur comfort her body. The change in the atmosphere of the territory was something every soldier in the company could feel. No, it was evident throughout the entire barracks. But nothing had changed. Those who would flee from the coming battle had already left. It became immediately clear when they entered the military conference room. "It looks like there are empty seats." Commander Graham had reorganized the heavy infantry company into an independent unit under his command. He appointed Paltor as the first company commander and filled the second and third company positions, which allowed Vengeance to become the third company commander. He had previously recruited a large number of soldiers, so the reorganization allowed for more flexibility. Vengeance, the newly appointed third company commander, immediately noticed that many people from the previous meeting were missing. "They fled." "What?" "They took their things and ran last night," Paltor answered, as he was currently responsible for maintaining order within the territory. "Were they let go quietly?" Vengeance asked, his anger rising. Was this really how they were handling it? Shouldn''t they have been killed or disposed of? Nobles abandoning the territory in times of crisis was unforgivable. "They fled freely," Paltor confirmed. Vengeance''s motto was to repay a grudge tenfold. He couldn''t let such scum go unpunished. At his words, Paltor''s eyes narrowed. Was he being questioned? The tension in the room grew, and it felt like a spark could ignite the situation at any moment. Then, a clear voice broke the silence. "We should just let them go." It came from behind Enkrid. All eyes turned to Krais, who believed it was pointless to waste time on trivial discussions. "If things go wrong, the commander said he''d get us out," Krais added, showing confidence. He didn''t fear death; at the very least, his safety was assured. Even without the commander, he had already planned an escape route. Still, imagining the worst-case scenario made him uneasy. "It''s an absurd thought," he admitted. He had imagined a pack of wolves guarding an escape tunnel or an assassin waiting to kill him under orders from the Black Blade. But now? It didn''t seem as frightening. "Do you think the three of them will cooperate?" Vengeance suddenly asked, bringing the conversation back to the heart of the matter. The conversation circled back to the beginning. Enkrid found Krais'' straightforward approach unique. "If there''s someone undermining internal unity, they should be dealt with swiftly. Didn''t Commander Marcus want to expel them?" Vengeance didn''t know; he wasn''t particularly sharp, but he was persistent and loyal. "That''s true," Graham said, nodding. He looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes. He turned to Krais. "You''re from the independent unit?" "Krais," Krais answered. Enkrid''s independent unit was well-known for its strength, and Krais, though overshadowed by that strength, was a face only those who truly knew him would recognize. Graham knew him, but only by name. He had paid attention to Krais'' comment and now turned to him for clarification. Krais spoke matter-of-factly. "Aspen won''t act immediately. It would cost them too much to destroy everything at Green Pearl." "The commander stationed at Green Pearl has already requested support," Graham added, but Krais stood up beside Enkrid. Without Marcus, the situation was dire. Krais needed to take action to avoid the worst-case scenario. At the very least, he needed to understand what the military leadership was thinking. "They didn''t seem to think much," Krais muttered. At the very least, they weren''t using their heads. Graham had done his best. He had gathered the troops, spread rumors to maintain morale, increased patrols, and used scouts. Any soldier caught spreading rumors or causing trouble was immediately punished with clubs. It wasn''t just about maintaining order; even now, improvised squads were watching the surroundings. Otherwise, they were just waiting. "The commander at Green Pearl is likely saying this because Aspen is right in front of them. But the real issue is here," Krais added. "Also, I don''t think those three will get along." The meeting shifted back to Krais'' words. Enkrid pulled up a chair and sat down. Vengeance sat next to him. "Who''s that guy?" Vengeance asked. Enkrid, arms crossed, replied. "Krais." "Wasn''t he the one who used to sell stuff on the side?" To Vengeance, Krais seemed like a soldier who made a few extra coins through underground dealings. "That''s right." Vengeance furrowed his brow in deep thought, eyeing Krais with a stubborn expression. He was probably trying to figure something out. Most people like him had that kind of attitude. Graham and Paltor only deepened their frowns. They were sharp, after all. "The fact that those three aren''t getting along means they''re all keeping an eye on each other. When that happens, what we need to do is make ourselves look a little bigger than we are." It was time to show the enemy their strength. Had they been spooked by the Black Blade, the social circle, or Aspen''s threats? If they had, they''d just be easy prey for those creeping in. But what if they were sharpening their teeth? What if they were hiding their weapons and waiting to strike? "They won''t attack recklessly." "What can we do by buying time like that?" Krais blinked his big eyes at Graham''s question. He smiled softly, dimples appearing as his lips and eyes curved gently. It was a smile that had won over many women before. "Gather real combat experience. And maybe we''ll be able to take down the key players too." What was Krais thinking? Enkrid thought this was a necessary plan. Real combat experience. There were those who had been forged in battle, tempered like steel through training. Their combined strength wasn''t weak. Marcus hadn''t just dismissed the Black Blade''s forces lightly. He knew that taking down that noble pig was just a matter of time. However, many of them lacked battlefield experience. The Border Guard, for example, was a military unit that had been formed under Enkrid''s command. They were strong from brutal training but lacked combat experience. Krais knew this well. The only flaw was their lack of battle-hardened veterans. There were soldiers who had survived the battle with Aspen, but many had come in from mercenary work or had joined after hearing about the Independent Unit''s exploits. There were still many new recruits with little experience on the battlefield. This was a battlefield where people died easily. ''We need to know our weaknesses.'' It was a matter of covering those weaknesses and fighting with strength. It was like swordsmanship. Enkrid thought as he listened. It''s one thing to know that you should hide your weaknesses and show your strengths, but it''s difficult to actually put that into practice. In situations like this, it wasn''t common to find someone who was thinking clearly. On the continent, most tactics boiled down to brute force or sending in spies. Krais, however, was taking things a step further. If they lacked experience, they would gain it. If there were weaknesses, they would eliminate them. "We''ll split the unit into two. A day unit and a night unit. The day unit will fight, and the night unit will rest. Then, the night unit will fight, and the day unit will rest. We''ll alternate fighting, but not engage fully." "...So you''re suggesting small-scale skirmishes?" Graham asked, his tone serious. It might have been the exhaustion speaking. "If we jump straight into a large-scale battle, the losses will be heavy. Before that, we need to ''prepare.''" Krais placed his hand on the table, fingers spreading as he pointed to one side of the military map. "We''ll fight here. Then we''ll retreat to here." He wasn''t just giving ideas; Krais spoke clearly, as though everything was already decided. Enkrid was drawn into the plan, realizing what needed to be done. In small-scale skirmishes, Enkrid wouldn''t be needed. More specifically, the Independent Unit wouldn''t need to act. "The fairy unit and the Madmen unit will move separately." Krais had imagined the worst-case scenario in detail, letting the fear and uncertainty consume him. That fear was based on information, and from that, he predicted what would happen next. As he spoke, a strange intensity started to fill the room. It was the first time Krais was actively involved in planning a unit''s operations, but there was no hesitation in his words. "I''ll add one more thing: there''s something the commander needs to do." Krais turned to Enkrid with his final remark. Enkrid nodded. Whether it involved wielding a sword or going out to slay dozens of beasts alone, he was prepared to do whatever was necessary. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 282 - The Pain That Kills Me Only Makes Me Stronger Chapter 282 - 282 - The Pain That Kills Me Only Makes Me Stronger "All troops have assembled." This was the gathering of all forces, except for the soldiers on patrol. Enkrid stood on the platform set up at one end of the parade ground. He looked at the assembled troops with a neutral expression. ''Can this really work?'' He had doubts. Part of him thought this was a pointless endeavor. A speech, out of the blue? It was Krais'' request. Just before the strategy meeting ended, Krais had asked: "What does a group in crisis, facing danger, need?" Then he answered his own question. "It''s simple. What our territory needs right now is a focal point." As he said this, he made a sweeping gesture with his arm. His movements were theatrical, almost like a stage actor, but it seemed fitting. It was a gesture that drew everyone''s attention. As Krais explained, Enkrid''s gaze drifted to one side, towards the head of the meeting table. At the far end sat the unfortunate officer, his face shadowed with exhaustion. "Commander Graham?" One of the platoon leaders muttered, his tone uncertain, as though even he questioned the words he was speaking. "Well, to be fair to Commander Graham, no one has gained more recognition around here than the Madmen''s unit commander. And there are still those who stay in the territory only because of you, Commander Enkrid. They haven''t exactly promised that they''ll fight for us." Krais didn''t waste time making the point, keeping the conversation concise to avoid undermining Graham''s reputation. And Krais was right. Thanks to Marcus''s gold, mercenaries had been incorporated into the army, but not all of them were committed. Some were still half in, half out. They could watch for a while, and if things went wrong, they might just run or even join the enemy. How many swordsmen live like bats, waiting for an opportunity to turn? "Then there''s the morale issue." Krais raised his right hand, fingers forming a gesture beside his face. Rumors spread by the socialites and the Black Blade had worsened the situation. There were rumors that Aspen would attack immediately, that Marcus was planning a rebellion and would be executed, and that the socialites would bring monsters with them tonight. The constabulary had been using clubs to suppress rumors within the territory. Would that really be effective? ''No,'' Enkrid thought to himself. You can''t silence people by force. You can''t shut them up with your hands. So how should it be stopped? Krais lowered his hand, making a fist, and with a swift motion, he spoke again. "Rumors can be countered with more visible actions." And that''s where the focal point came in. To put it in a way that might sound embarrassing, like something out of an old myth or legend, it was a hero. In the last battle, and especially for those who fought alongside him, Enkrid probably seemed like that hero. The man who was once stumbling beside them was now the commander of the Independent Unit, a symbol of power. It felt like a scene from a hero''s tale. A few soldiers who knew how to compose music had even written a few songs. They weren''t anything too impressive, though. "I see." Vengeance, who had been listening, muttered without thinking, then quickly turned his eyes away. He was careful not to meet Graham''s gaze. It wasn''t something you said in front of the commander. But Graham seemed to acknowledge it too. Honestly, he had thought a few times that maybe it wouldn''t be so bad if that guy became the commander instead. Did he lack ambition? No, that wasn''t it. ''With this crazy guy...'' Wasn''t it exactly someone like him who was needed? And above all, Enkrid was acceptable. If Enkrid became the commander, he could even hand over the responsibility of the territory without hesitation. There was no great reason for it. It was just that Enkrid''s success seemed to matter to him more than anything else. If you asked if that meant he''d be willing to give up his position, he wasn''t sure, but at least the Madmen''s commander wasn''t someone who couldn''t do the job. If you looked only at managing the territory, it wasn''t a bad choice. It was just a stray thought. "Proceed." Graham''s tired face softened a bit, a sense of relief in his words. It was something that felt like it could ease the situation. Also, there were no nobles interrupting with irrelevant chatter, which helped keep his mind at ease. "Are you sure about this?" Paltor hesitated for a moment, but it was just a formality. He too felt that something had to be done immediately. Whether it would work or not, who knew. And so, Enkrid stood on the platform. "Let''s just fight as hard as we can. That''s all I need to say." Just before stepping up, Krais had given his advice, and Enkrid nodded in agreement. "What we need now is to stop as many spies from entering as possible and to show the outside world that we''re still strong. Then we have to show our soldiers something they can believe in. Commander Graham, you should rest for now. After you''ve had a good rest, just show your face with no worries and clap behind me during the speech. After that, I''ll take care of the rest." It felt like a theatrical performance. It was all about raising the morale of the soldiers and undermining the enemy''s intentions. Enkrid joined in on the plan. And so, he stood at the platform. Amidst the murmurs of the soldiers, there were some seasoned veterans, familiar faces and strangers alike. It hadn''t snowed yet, but the sky remained dark. For a brief moment, the clouds parted, and sunlight broke through, and that was when Enkrid spoke. "Do you think we''re going to lose?" The soldiers didn''t respond. They just stared blankly at Enkrid. There were many soldiers gathered. Even if they shouted, their voices wouldn''t carry properly. Esther, in her human form, made a hand gesture behind Enkrid. It was a spell to amplify the voice. Not just listening well, but something that bent the surroundings. Thump. His heart pounded, and something hot boiled deep within his abdomen. "I don''t think I''ll lose." The simple and clear statement spread widely. It was filled with conviction. How could he be like this? The question about Enkrid matched the thoughts he often had. How could he endure such grueling training every day? How could that man do this? "I won''t lose. Hold the Border Guard!" One soldier shouted after Enkrid''s third line. "How do you endure it? How do you train like that?" He was a new recruit who had been terrified by the training and struggled to keep up. He had been a thief and troublemaker, eventually joining the guild, and later saw Enkrid fighting in the territory. He enlisted in the military after that. Enkrid thought he wasn''t a suitable speaker, so he only spoke honestly. Because of that, he was happy to hear the question. It allowed his feelings to spill out unintentionally. "The pain that kills me only makes me stronger." The deeper meaning of those words didn''t matter. Silence fell. Many soldiers were reflecting on Enkrid''s words. The sunlight broke through the clouds, and it felt like a ray of light was shining from the dark sky. The soldiers who stood in the sunlight felt a gentle warmth. This silence lasted only a moment. Just as someone was about to speak again, one of the soldiers shouted. "I''ll endure the pain too!" What was that supposed to mean? Enkrid stared down, his expression unchanged. Despite his indifference, the soldiers felt a strange sense of relief and confidence. "I''ll overcome the pain!" Another soldier shouted. "I can do it too!" Another one shouted. "The pain that kills me!" "Only makes me stronger!" An odd cheer was born. Fortunately, it went as Krais had predicted. The soldiers'' morale began to rise visibly. Rem, who had been watching, blinked and asked, "Isn''t it ''the pain that doesn''t kill me makes me stronger''? I feel like I''ve heard that somewhere." That''s right. The words had come out wrong. It was because he knew that pain that could kill would make him stronger. "As long as the desired result comes out, that''s fine." Paltu muttered under his breath. The soldiers, who had once been on the verge of desertion, now cheered enthusiastically, fueled by Enkrid''s speech. Pain only makes them stronger. Pain that could kill would make them stronger. In reality, pain that could kill would indeed make them stronger, but that wasn''t important. The soldiers were captivated. Their training had also helped, shaping them little by little. They had begun to notice the changes in themselves. Some of them knew Enkrid, and some knew his infamous "Madman Unit." Even those who hadn''t known about his exploits had heard of them. It was the words of such a man. As the cheers and roars briefly stopped, an ominous atmosphere spread between the soldiers. "Not all spies can be stopped. We can only push them out as much as possible." Suddenly, Krais'' words came to mind. Even Enkrid couldn''t find every spy hidden among the troops. But maybe he could exert a strong influence over them, he thought. It was a moment of quick insight. In the midst of the cheers, Enkrid''s voice rang out, loud and clear. "My name is Enkrid! Madman Unit Commander! From now on, I''m going to chop off the enemy commander''s head! Tonight, it happens! Look forward to it!" It was a madman''s act. At those words, Rem whispered from behind. "Are we really going tonight?" The soldiers'' cheers echoed loudly, shaking the stage. Jaxen, hearing Rem''s question, thought it over and made a decision. He had also sensed the uneasy atmosphere among the soldiers. "No, we''re not. You''re a fool, barbarian." Jaxen quickly understood his commander''s intentions. Rem, not even pretending to listen, replied, "Let''s leave that bastard behind. He''s useless, right?" Ignoring Rem, Enkrid unsheathed his sword. Ching! A subtle blue light sliced through the sunlight, rising high. "All units, forward!" The cheers grew louder. "Pain!" "Give us pain!" "Pain!" The cheer grew even louder. Graham wondered if this was right, but in the end, the morale had already been lifted. It was more than expected. Krais sometimes thought that Enkrid didn''t understand his own position. But when he thought about it, it made sense. The Enkrid they had seen at the Border Guard was twice as mad and twice as monstrous compared to what they saw outside. And what would it be like to hear that this madman, this monster, was fighting alongside them as an ally? They''d probably go insane. Morale would rise. Everything had gone as expected. Graham didn''t care about Krais'' internal thoughts. But he did understand this now. The morale was up, and the madness was on display as the soldiers cheered. Now, more than anything, passion was needed. The calmness would be left to the veteran soldiers who led the charge. Graham shouted. "All units, prepare for battle!" The soldiers moved in formation without hesitation. It was the beginning of the day and night operations *** Gilpin shot a brief glance at the Frog''s face, showing clear wariness. If things went wrong, it would be himself who would end up hit and dead. "It''s fine. The deal''s done. You''re a guild member now." Despite everything, Krais, the actual guild master, accepted the Frog into the guild. Gilpin wondered, "Is this really the right move?" This was the same Frog who had caused havoc at the guild mansion twice. But it was an order. Gilpin had been loyal. Was there ever anything wrong with following Krais'' orders? No. He dug holes when asked. He took the Frog in when instructed. He was loyal to Krais. "This way." Meanwhile, the Frog, Meelun, showed no suspicion. "I''m hungry." "Here." Meelun, who had just come out of prison, ate bug stew while looking at a bald man. As he chewed on the larvae, he felt a sense of happiness. He ate fruits and human food, but nothing matched bug stew. It was both nutritious and delicious. After three days of eating and resting, Gilpin carefully spoke. "Could you watch the people passing by?" "Sure." Meelun immediately stood up. He liked Krais'' offer. What he liked most was the absence of a pact. ''That bastard Fromshell made me sign a pact first.'' He had taken advantage of the Frog''s weaknesses. But Krais was different. "Eat what you want, do what you want, just stay within the territory." "Why?" "What do you want to do? I just want to make sure you can do it without restraint." Meelun hesitated. The Frog was driven by desire. Krais, however, was clever and observant. He understood Meelun''s reluctance. "Why do I have to tell you?" "You can leave as soon as you tell me. It''s no trouble, is it? I''ll open the prison door immediately." Krais took a step back, and Meelun finally spoke. "My desire is to experience achievement, to feel the rush of victory." Krais, sharp as ever, understood immediately. Meelun longed for victory and accomplishment, not the fight itself. Many people wanted results, not the effort. The Frog was no different. "It''d be nice to face many weaker opponents." "Fighting anyone won''t satisfy me." Meelun said, sticking out his long tongue with irritation. He enjoyed the raw thrill of a hard-won victory. "Ah, that''s great. There are lots of people like that in the Border Guard. If it gets out of hand, just tell me. We have people who deal with that." People like Rem, or people like Rem. They liked crazy challengers. Other martial artists or swordsmen would be under Enkrid''s command. There were still many swordfighters, mercenaries, and traders coming to the village. Half of them came because of Enkrid''s fame. ''They could serve as a good filter.'' If the Frog beats most of them, it would work. "Can I freely roam the territory?" "Wouldn''t it be better if you find someone hiding their skills and defeat them? Right?" Raw combat was about the opponent. The ones who would truly challenge you. Defeating them would bring satisfaction. Meelun felt exhilarated just imagining it. His skin responded, slick with oil. "Without a pact?" "Without one." Krais smiled. What did a pact have to do with anything? The Frog had a pact to control his desires. If desires and urges came first, a pact wasn''t needed. Meelun was naive. And so, Meelun became part of the guild and roamed the territory. Gilpin noticed the movements in the back alley suggesting they were being excluded. New faces appeared, claiming to form a new guild. Among them, a swordsman with thick scars on his face stood out. He wielded a heavy mace, and if hit, the pain would not be easily dismissed. This scarred man was no ordinary fighter. However, a knight-grade fighter wasn''t that rare, and he was just so-so. At most, he seemed like a former frontier defense soldier? But he wasn''t a match for the Frog. "Oh, really? You''re gonna fight?" Meelun laughed. The opponent''s skill seemed perfect for playing with him before winning. "Why is the Frog here?" The opponent squinted. "Does it matter?" Meelun responded while drawing his loop sword. The unexpected appearance of the Frog took the man by surprise, and the result of the fight was clear. "Failure?" The wolf bishop leading the heretics paused while chewing his meat. A piece of half-chewed meat flew across the table. "Yes. The group sent to seize the back alley has lost contact." "Send more." The bishop thought the situation was boring but knew he couldn''t just wait and let it finish. ''Are they going to wait until it''s over?'' The one who started the job should draw the sword first. Besides, he''d gotten word of an assassination squad targeting the commander tonight. Would he sit back and take it? "How dare they target us?" It would be amusing to cut off their heads and mount them on poles. The wolf bishop chuckled. But the expected attack never came that night. The following morning, the Border Guard''s standing army marched out. Their direction was toward the camp of the Black Blade Corps. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 283 - Thankfully, They are Stupid Chapter 283 - 283 - Thankfully, They are Stupid "Uh, um, that''s good." Enkrid stood on the podium and declared that he would kill the enemy commander. Of course, that wouldn''t actually happen. To be precise, not right now. What was being sent now were the underlings. Krais understood this perfectly. That''s why he took advantage of Enkrid''s words. What would happen if they suddenly killed the enemy commander? What if word of it reached the enemy? ''What would I do?'' It would be difficult to take the lead. They would increase the guards and raise the vigilance. If that happened, the need for a full-scale attack would be unnecessary. ''They''d just move more cautiously.'' They had even made it look like they were moving their troops at night. Subtle hints were dropped for the spies to report. Krais fully utilized Enkrid''s words. ''Even better.'' The strategy was based on the premise that neither side would act rashly due to mutual caution. It would have worked well anyway, but Enkrid''s comment made it work even better. ''As expected, his mind works well.'' Although he seemed to dislike thinking, the leader was quite perceptive. His judgment was sharp. Even now, things were going smoothly. The ones who had only been watching cautiously didn''t take action but thoroughly reinforced their defenses. The number of torches lighting the night increased. The scouts running in all directions worked tirelessly, with horses and riders moving swiftly. Yet, Krais still couldn''t shake his unease. So what should he do? Visually, the unease would be reduced a little. What they needed now was eyes. On the battlefield, those eyes were, of course, the scouts. "The scouts will determine the outcome," Krais said, and Vengeance nodded more deeply than ever. "Yes, of course." Afterward, he fiercely pushed his own scouts. "Move, all of you! If you''re lazy, the rest of the soldiers will die! The pain!" "It will kill me!" The chants became increasingly bizarre, but they were effective. They moved. The forces gathered, reorganized, and spent the day preparing. At dawn, they left the gates against the dim sky. "Forward, all units!" The voice of veteran soldiers rang out through the ranks. Krais watched, still uneasy. It was always like this. It always felt ominous and uncertain. ''It''s fine.'' He spoke to himself. If things go wrong, he could flee. That thought gave him a small sense of comfort and allowed his mind to focus. A ship anchored is less easily pushed by the waves. To the west of the Border Guard, the troops moved over barren land unsuitable for farming. A little to the south, Krais stood on a small hill, surrounded by two squads of guards, watching the battlefield. What would happen? Would it go as expected, or would something unforeseen occur? Or would the enemy read his intentions and counterattack? ''What if they launch a full-scale attack from both sides?'' That would be the worst. There would be no way to block that. Even if Enkrid had ten men, it wouldn''t be enough. "I''m bored. Big Eyes." Rem, who had accompanied him for the guard, grumbled. He subtly lowered the axe resting on his shoulder, his eyes gleaming with bloodlust. His stance and gaze said he wanted to fight immediately. Krais was not his usual self. He said without paying any attention. "Wait. We''ll fight enough that you''ll beg me to stop." Right now, he was too busy thinking. The enemy''s intentions, the enemy commander''s thoughts, their personalities, their tendencies in judgment¡ªhe was processing all of that in his head. It was a harsh thing to say, but Rem, unlike usual, kept quiet. Even he could tell that Krais was acting differently. ''This guy has some use after all.'' Rem wasn''t as foolish as he appeared. He, too, could think things through. Though, he just forced everything into his own way of seeing things. Krais didn''t notice that Rem was being unusually quiet. His mind was still working at full speed. In any case, the key was a small elite force. How to use them would determine the outcome of the battle. Amidst the ominous and uneasy feelings, Krais felt a strange sense of satisfaction. ''If things go as planned.'' He could probably block it. He didn''t consider minor variables. Those were for the troops to handle. Krais'' mind naturally began to plot the next steps. What could they do to win more easily? What would they need? ''What if we unify the troops and equipment here?'' His thoughts continued, envisioning the future. Unified equipment, reorganizing the soldiers based on the same tactics, creating an army that moved like the hands and feet of the commander. He''d heard the imperial army fought like that. Could the Border Guard''s standing army do the same? The elite group of special individuals could be kept separate. But the rest of the troops would have unified strength. That''s the unification of military power. ''With unified troops and equipment.'' Even if the soldiers might lose in a duel... "Victory is certain in battles at the company level and above." While the elite small forces are important, large-scale battles are just as crucial. To win in large-scale battles, unity is key. Even if they lose in a one-on-one or ten-on-ten fight, winning a hundred-on-hundred battle will still secure the victory. Watching the allied forces assemble, Krais realized this anew. As he named different units like swordsmen, spearmen, and shield-bearers, Krais quietly sorted his thoughts. He believed that the current approach would eventually have a useful application or become profitable. When the Border Guard''s standing army appeared, Baron Tarning was suddenly struck with fear. "The pain is mine!" "The joy is mine!" "Bring it on!" It was clear that the enemy had more soldiers and better equipment. "Don''t be afraid. That''s exactly what they want," said Lykanos, a warrior from the Black Sword group. A weapon handle stuck out from his shoulder, with a spiked flail slung diagonally on his back. The weapon was heavy, with sharp needles attached to the round metal end, giving it a menacing appearance. Lykanos'' arms were as thick as the thighs of most women, and his gloves had metal plates on them. At a glance, it was evident he could easily crush a human skull. In fact, he could do nearly everything Tarning imagined. He was one of the top warriors within the Black Sword group. Aside from the leader, no one else could give him orders. "What are those damn cultists doing?" Tarning asked. "They''re probably just waiting for an opening," Lykanos responded. Lykanos was a great fighter, but not particularly bright. Tarning was even less so. One of the cautious nobles finally spoke up. "There''s bad talk within the Border Guard. There''s a line of people ready to flee at any moment." This noble was someone who had run away from his fief. Tarning frowned at his words. If things had truly fallen apart within, what was the current state of their forces? "The pain!" "The torment!" "I want to hurt!" "Make me suffer!" "Kill me!" Were they all just insane? Had they all taken some kind of drug together? "...When I left, the army wasn''t even properly controlled," the noble muttered quietly. Lykanos wanted to crush the man''s skull right there, but he restrained himself. It wasn''t really his concern. "Just respond appropriately!" Tarning snapped. Would the cultists respond if they launched a full-scale assault? And Aspen beyond? Tarning didn''t think they would. All of them were disgusting creatures. If their own forces weakened here, they might not have another chance. They couldn''t afford to be backstabbed by the cultists. "Damn it, I''ll just crush anyone who tries to charge!" It was an appropriate response, or so Tarning thought. One of his subordinates, a noble who had come from Border Guard, muttered under his breath. "If we go all-out, the cultists and Aspen will join forces. That''s the end for us." He hesitated for a moment but kept quiet. If he spoke up now, he''d immediately be accused of being a spy for the cult. "You, you''re a spy!" Tarning, in a fit of rage, slapped the noble across the face. The slap made a sharp, satisfying sound. Slap! "Ah! Oh no! No, please, I swear! When I left, the morale of the army was already a mess!" The noble fell to the floor, groaning as he spoke. "Shut your mouth!" Tarning''s outburst rained down on the noble. The noble begged for his life. Seeing a man getting stomped on, Tarning decided to let the matter go. It would be handled from above. Lykanos followed his orders and kept the battle response to a minimum. "We''ll wait until they''ve spilled some blood, then we''ll attack." The Wolf Bishop followed Lykanos'' lead. ''No need to spill the blood of our own followers first.'' The cultists held their breath. The assassination squad hadn''t come yesterday, but it might today. A messenger from the Black Blade came, spouting nonsense about needing help. "Martai''s garrison needs to be kept in check, and we must prepare for assassins." Lykanos seeing the rejected request, had veins bulging in his forehead, but there was nothing he could do. Tarning''s threats were the only sound in the air. "At this rate, we''ll be finished!" Lykanos was tempted to deal with the noisy Tarning immediately, but he was the one who had caused this war, the excuse for everything. He was a pig that couldn''t be killed. *** Aspen had invested resources to understand the situation beyond the fief. They used spies, scouts, and even magic to gather information. "Are they moving?" one of his subordinates asked. The man ran a hand through his green hair, feeling it slide back into place. His cold eyes gleamed as he spoke. "It''s not our turn yet." The man was Abnaier, Aspen''s genius strategist, who had been relegated after their previous defeat. This time, he had a clear goal for the battle. That one''s head was the priority. Expanding the territory was a problem for later. There was a mountain of preparations made because of it. My heart raced. How long could we last? I wasn''t the type of person who enjoyed torturing others for pleasure, but as a strategist, watching how well my preparations would work was a pure joy. *** "Crazy bastards! What did I say? My words are the words of a god! I said light! What, huh? Charge! Hear me!" At the squad leader''s shout, the squad members shouted in unison. "Ah!" They were all overcome with rage. It was understandable. They had learned to obey orders unconditionally in a very short time. The newer recruits were treated even harsher. It wasn''t out of malice. Veteran squad leaders and platoon leaders were called. They would just do as they were told. "We will fight hot but cold, not to get caught up in the heat of the battlefield." Krais came barking, and naturally, no one paid attention. Then, Enkrid stepped up. With his black hair and blue eyes, the madman of the battlefield spoke. "Even if half of them die, make them listen to the commander. And you all listen to your superiors. If you don''t, you''ll die. Rem and I will alternate training and beating you." No matter what their previous rank had been, whether clever or not, once they joined the military as soldiers, simplicity was the best. They followed Enkrid''s words. Among them was Bell. Now a platoon leader, Bell shouted out in anger. "Do you all want to die?!" "Ugh!" "Don''t go out! I said don''t go out!" The frontline was here. Bell''s shout from the front rang out. Krais had intentionally told Graham to do it that way. The forces they had were mostly new recruits, most of whom were experiencing battle for the first time. One recruit couldn''t hear anything around him. All he could see was the devil-like enemy soldiers. Spears, swords, shields, hammers, maces, and flails filled his sight. ''Ah.'' Am I prepared? Is my judgment sharp? Should I thrust the spear like this? Should I raise my shield and block? The doubts continued, and when his mind turned completely white... Bang! Someone hit him on the back of the head. It was so hard that stars appeared. His white-blond head had color return to it. The surroundings started to come into focus. "Damned bastard, didn''t you hear me say that?" The curses pierced his ears. It was the platoon leader''s shout. "Yes!" "Thrust ten times!" "Thrust ten times!" They did as they were told. The new recruits all thrust their spears forward. "Back! Back! Fall back, damn it, fall back! You get in there and see! I''ll kill you myself!" The veteran soldiers who had become squad leaders shouted all around. And so, the first small-scale battle passed. It started at dawn, and due to the slow march, it was noon when they encountered the enemy and the battle began. There were eighty total, two platoons of infantry fighting. Six wounded on their side. No casualties. They fought fiercely, thrusting their spears and holding up their shields, but kept enough distance to fall back. In reality, this wasn''t because of the enemy, but thanks to their own command. "Why do they keep doing this?" A mercenary from the Black Sword unit spoke awkwardly. His blood was boiling, ready for a frenzy, but the enemy retreated. Naturally, he couldn''t chase them alone. So, the Black Sword unit also received orders to retreat. The next day, a similar battle occurred. This time, the faces had changed. Only the soldiers'' identities had shifted. In the second battle, one unfortunate soldier from the Black Blade unit failed to block an attack, and the spear grazed his neck, killing him. He was a serf from the Tarning Viscount''s territory. It was a hastily assembled unit. Graham and the frontline commander immediately recognized the state of the enemy. The Tarning Duchy''s forces were a haphazard, unsteady bunch. Still, they didn''t charge straight into battle. The third battle was even more unusual; they opened the south gate and provoked the enemy. "Is this kid a little slow? Come at me, are you here to watch?" A soldier''s taunt in the northern dialect sparked the battle. It was another similar skirmish. With three companies at most, and two at the least, they rotated and fought, retreating at the right moments. So, four, five, six times, a total of twelve small-scale battles took place. The death toll was six. And of the remaining soldiers, most had now learned a rough idea of what battle was about. More importantly, these were the ones who had survived Enkrid''s training. Combat experience quickly filled in the gaps for them. And as Krais had hoped, the Border Guard''s elite force looked much larger. To the enemy, their combat seemed irregular. Naturally. Who would conduct real combat training in such a crisis? "It''s fortunate that only idiots seem to have gathered." Krais sighed with relief and looked at Shinar and Enkrid. "Now, you can finally do what you''re meant to." Shinar, with a calm gaze, looked at Enkrid. "This seems like too much for a pre-event meal." "What event?" "Our engagement, of course." It was a typical lighthearted fairy joke. Enkrid grabbed the central torch of the camp. Shinar responded. She changed the direction of her left foot. It was toward the outside of the camp. This fairy seemed oddly sensitive to fire. "Are you alright?" "This is getting ridiculous. You''re cruel." The fairy said this expressionlessly and then stepped outside the camp. Enkrid chuckled softly and returned to the camp to check his equipment. "Oh, well, we''ve got a mission." And then he said it. Everyone rose to their feet. The pack of beasts, restless after not fighting for the past few days, was there. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 284 - If you lack experience, build it up, and if you have weaknesses, eliminate them. Chapter 284 - 284 - If you lack experience, build it up, and if you have weaknesses, eliminate them. Several small-scale battles subtly changed the atmosphere of the battlefield. ''Are they going to fight or not?'' The Black Blade and the cultist''s army wanted to ask this. They had expected a fierce battle, but it deflated quickly. This had happened a dozen times before. Still, charging in first wasn''t an option. "The Lord of the Demon Realm has told us not to trust these bandits." It seemed like the Black Blade was going to stir things up from behind. Viscount Tarning wasn''t any different. "Don''t rush in first. Hold steady." "Are we charging again today? Aren''t they tired of this by now?" At Raikanos'' words, Tarning stuffed a piece of jerky between two slices of bread. He never stopped eating. There was no longer the same tension as before. The Border Guard''s standing army had been doing strange things, and so, the tension had naturally eased. Of course, Lykanos was different. ''What''s going on?'' He couldn''t say exactly, but his instincts honed over years of battle told him something wasn''t right. The opponent''s tricks weren''t ordinary. It felt ominous. Very ominous. Nearby, Viscount Pig was muttering something. He seemed to be talking nonsense about charging in and eliminating the enemy, claiming they had superior numbers. "Shut up." Lykanos wasn''t one to ignore his instincts. Viscount Pig squawked something in response, but Lykanos ignored it. "Take up defensive positions." Lykanos had to stick to the same strategy. There was no choice. Neither the cultists nor the people of Aspen could be trusted. Would they be betrayed? ''The Black Sword''s name will scream out.'' He was part of a band that would one day become the greatest thief guild on the continent. There was no way they would get caught up in something so obvious. Soon, the clouds parted, and on a bright winter day, a new day of battle broke. "The pain of killing me lies ahead!" "Kill the pain!" Bell thought the chant was getting more and more strange, but for some reason, he couldn''t help but contribute to the weirdness. "Pain that kills!" It was becoming more bizarre, but it wasn''t just the chant that had changed. The soldiers'' movements had changed too. There was no longer any need for the mix of insults and orders that had been part of their previous routines. It was only natural. These were already trained soldiers. Soldiers who had been tormented and beaten by the crazy squad leader. Those who hadn''t even received training weren''t even included in the unit. This was also Krais'' idea. ''We''re already short on manpower.'' Bell thought it was just nonsense. He wanted to argue that the battlefield wasn''t like that. Of course, in the end, he didn''t say a word. "Do it." Enkrid stood behind him, and Graham had given his approval. "The point is this. If you lack experience, build it up, and if you have weaknesses, eliminate them. That''s what we''re doing here." If untrained soldiers are mixed in, the overall strength of the unit weakens. They would focus only on those who were well-trained and strike them with the hammer of real combat, like steel being tempered. This was the theory that Krais had brought to reality, and it was these soldiers like Bell who embodied it. Soldiers, and more soldiers, those who had survived hellish training and been forged in the hammer of real battle. "The flower of the battlefield is!" "Infantry!" "The flower of pain is!" "The hellish joy!" Corrupted chants, heat, cheers, and something boiling inside their chests burned at their hearts. "Kill them all!" Bell shouted. In the previous battle, they had been told to take one step; in this battle, it seemed they were being told to take two. This time, they were charging in first, a bold move after a long while. Bell was at the front. He could see the eyes of the Black Blade mercenaries coming closer. Through the tightly pulled-down iron helmet, the killing intent in their eyes shot through at him. The mercenary swung his large sword overhead. With all his weight and power behind it, the strike came down toward Bell''s head. He didn''t react. If it hit, he''d be dead. Instead of blocking, Bell slammed his left foot into the ground, twisted his waist, and put strength into his arms. His muscles swelled with a crack. He concentrated, adding more force. He thrust forward with his spear. It was a thrust he''d crafted over the past few days, a strike that twisted his whole body into the attack. Was the mercenary crazy? The mercenary seemed confused but continued to swing the sword down. Was he trying to die together? The mercenary figured he could just cut Bell down and avoid the thrust. But the sword couldn''t complete its task. Two soldiers had moved to Bell''s side and covered his head with thick round shields. Thud! The blade struck the shield. Then, an attack that no gambeson, leather, or chainmail armor could block crashed into the mercenary''s torso. Thunk! The well-sharpened spear pierced through the gambeson and leather, creating a hole in the mercenary''s belly. The spearhead stuck out of his midsection like a decoration. "Sh... Shit, you crazy bastard!" The mercenary cursed, spewing blood from his mouth, grabbing the spear that had pierced him and staggering back before falling. Ka-ka-kak, the spear''s head scraped against the ground as the mercenary''s body tilted and collapsed. He died sitting at an angle. "This is strategy. You dumb monkey bastard." Bell spoke as he put down his spear. He hesitated to pull it out further, so he backed away and picked up a new spear. The three of them made a team. One would pierce the enemy''s body, and the other two would block and hold their ground. "A spear soldier with two soldiers who can handle shields makes up one unit." It was a makeshift tactical unit. Even though it was hastily assembled, there was no reason it couldn''t perform. The majority of the training they had undergone, which had made their bodies tough like golems, was aimed at improving individual physical capabilities. It wasn''t a complex strategy. After several days of adaptation, the first large-scale battle between the Border Guard''s regular army and Viscount Tarnin''s forces certainly pushed the enemy back. "Slash them! Hit with the shield! Smash them with the mace!" "Archers! Are you just going to watch?" It was a straightforward infantry vs. infantry fight. The enemy had sent archers first. "Dammit, kill them." And that''s when Vengeance''s archers moved. A squad of fast, sharp-eyed men quickly nocked arrows and loosed a volley, their arrows filled with fury. Thud-thud-thud-thud! There were fifty longbows. The rain of arrows poured into the enemy''s flank. "Fall back! Fall back!" Bell shouted as they fought. The Border Guard quickly retreated. Anyone watching would have been impressed. The two sides didn''t have much of a difference in number. The Border Guard had just over a thousand men. Viscount Tarnin''s forces had swelled to over two thousand five hundred. Reinforcements were pushing forward from somewhere. Of course, not every soldier had engaged in the fight. Both sides had deployed only a sufficient number of troops. The Border Guard sent about two hundred fifty soldiers, while Tarnin''s forces threw nearly four hundred into the fray. There was a numerical difference, and Tarnin''s army had many well-known mercenaries. The poison masters in the back, wielding swords with deadly precision, fought with a deadly resolve. Even so, the outcome was clear. "A trained army beats individuals." Kraiz muttered from the hilltop. Finn, who was assigned to his guard detail, responded. "What nonsense are you spouting?" She didn''t understand what he was getting at. "It''s just how it is." "I''d rather be assigned to the commander than be stuck guarding." Finn grumbled. Meanwhile, Enkrid was also handling things as expected. "This way." Jaxen said, walking with heavy steps, and Enkrid opened his mouth. "Ragna?" "Why do you call me?" It was good to see him. With Ragna around, everything was in place. Enkrid noticed Teresa, whose face was covered by a helmet. Is she alright? He had told her she could retreat, but she refused. "I''m just wandering Teresa, following the path my sword and shield must take." Jaxen led the way, with the madmen''s squad not bothering to hide as they moved. There was no need to. With a large-scale battle unfolding, all eyes were on them. Thus, they encountered and killed all the scouts they met. Without eyes to see, there was no tongue to tell. While the Black Sword and the regular army clashed fiercely, Enkrid''s squad reached the stronghold of the heretic forces. "I thought you''d be tired of this." Rem spoke, his eyes gleaming. It was as though he had contracted a disease that made him twitch whenever he didn''t kill someone every few days. "Let''s go." Enkrid spoke, advancing toward a makeshift barricade. As they approached, a low growl echoed. A stench hit their nostrils. Their eyes turned in the direction of the sound. Yellow eyes appeared. It was a wolf beast, with four legs planted firmly on the ground, showing its fangs. Grrr! Without hesitation, the beast lunged forward, a streak of motion, its fangs bared. It appeared from the left, near where Dunbakel was positioned. As the wolf''s claws hit the ground, there was a loud clang, the sound of metal scraping. The wolf met a silver line in the air. It was Dunbakel''s skill. Her scimitar, drawn from her waist, slashed through the air in an arc. The silver blade cut the wolf from its right shoulder to its left leg. With a burst of blood and entrails splattering on the ground, the wolf''s body twitched and fell apart. Blood sprayed everywhere. "Finish it cleanly." Rem said, watching the scene. Dunbakel shook her scimitar, blood dripping onto the ground. "This should be clean enough." "Clearly, you don''t understand." Rem snickered. Grrr! Before Rem''s words could end, yellow eyes multiplied from all directions. It was not midnight, but broad daylight when the scouts were wiped out and a swarm of enemies stormed in. The stench was overwhelming, and it made their nostrils burn. Even the smell of dung from all around was enough to make their noses ache. The cult''s army had not read the movements of the Madmen unit. It was, in fact, something no one expected¡ªa dagger struck at a time when no one thought, "Would they really come here?" Thus, the wolf beast pack that surged here was not predicted. It was simply the wolf beasts guarding the stockade. The cult''s formation was situated between rolling hills, and the surrounding terrain was uneven. It was a small hilly area with many places to hide. Through this, the wolf pack began to appear. Yellow-eyed heads popped up, and beasts tainted by demons bared their fangs from all directions. Grrr! Rem held two axes horizontally with the ground. "Look, this is neat." Then he kicked the ground and leaped. There was no time to say anything. It was a charge half a beat faster than the wolf beasts'' reaction. In an instant, he closed the distance and suddenly appeared right in front of the closest beast. He rushed in and struck. His axe-wielding arm bent, and with a thud, the wolf''s head soared into the air. Afterward, several more heads floated in the air one by one. Rem acted as he always did. In other words, he hacked, slashed, and chopped at whatever came in his way. "How is that neat?" Dunbakel commented upon seeing this. Enkrid agreed with her. It wasn''t neat at all. But it was destructive. "That''s quite a sight, Brother." Audin muttered. It was exactly as he said. The wolf beasts, loyal to their scouting mission, were relentlessly slaughtered. Enkrid, then, adjusted his sword belt while watching the cultists appear beyond the stockade. A small preparation, for any opponent, any battle¡ªit''s the best preparation. He tightened his sword belt. "An ambush!" He prepared to draw his sword, looking at the shouting enemy soldier. It was a posture that clearly suggested he''d immediately draw his sword and charge. Some of the enemy soldiers, upon seeing this, raised their crossbows. "The lord of the demon realm watches over us!" With a fanatic''s cry, the cultists loaded their crossbows and aimed. Enkrid, in a pose as if about to draw his sword, suddenly spread his hands to the sides. It looked like an odd move, but the result was far from it. Piiiing! The sound of a whistle tore through the air, and the throats of four crossbow-wielding soldiers were torn open. It was the whistle dagger. "Crack!" One soldier clutched his neck and fell. The newly torn throat, large enough to be visible from the outside, spilled blood instead of air. All four of the cultist crossbowmen had their heads hit the ground. "Quite the deception," Jaxen muttered from behind. It was unclear whether he was impressed or mocking. Enkrid paid no attention. Pretending to draw his sword, he launched the whistle dagger. It was a brilliant tactic. The repositioning of his sword belt and the setup were all for this single move. The posture itself was part of the preparation. Deceiving the opponent was also part of the preparation. Aooowooooo! A chilling wolf''s howl echoed from inside the cult''s camp. It was a howl infused with magic that caused the body to stiffen in an instant. "Let''s keep that damn dog from barking." Rem, covered in the black blood of beasts, spoke. He grinned, showing teeth that looked oddly white, and the combination of the axe, blood, and his grin made him look like a symbol of fear. No one here was stiffened by such a howl. Even Dunbakel just grumbled. "Chopping heads doesn''t make it clean." "My, my, my god of the demon realm!" One of the fanatics trembled upon seeing this. "Eh? What? I can''t hear the words of idiots who worship a shitty god." Rem spoke, cupping his hand near his ear while holding his axe. Then he started going wild, even more so than before. From the enemy''s point of view, it seemed like he was going insane. Enkrid and his party did their part. Jaxen set fire to the barracks and supplies, while Ragna cut down enemies charging behind Enkrid. Teresa and Dunbakel also ran left and right, breaking heads, human or beast, indiscriminately. There was no need to cause a commotion for a long time. Once Enkrid saw the rising black smoke, he signaled. He threw his whistle dagger into the sky. Piiiiiing! The long, echoing whistle caused the entire unit to fall back. The purpose was to strike quickly and retreat. When a commander increases his guards to protect himself, they set fire to the supplies and flee. A simple but effective strategy. "Rem!" Enkrid called as he withdrew. "Go on ahead!" Rem didn''t follow, so Enkrid called again, and the answer came back. Was it because he was too excited? That was half the reason, and the other half was the need to block the rear. Before they knew it, four other wolves, twice the size, were charging at them. Someone needed to either cut them all down or block and retreat. "I hope they die here." Jaxen said, unfeeling. "Otherwise, I''ll be the one to stay and end them." Ragna said something unacceptable. If he stayed behind, it would be hard to come back before the winter ended. Enkrid wasn''t worried about Rem. Of all people, it was Rem. Getting himself out of a situation was nothing. "I''ll go first." Enkrid said. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 285 - The Language of the West Chapter 285 - 285 - The Language of the West [Extra Chapter] As Enkrid pressed forward against the cult''s forces, Shinar also moved. She took twenty of her fastest and most dexterous subordinates and circled the outer edges of the battlefield. Their role was that of snipers. The twenty soldiers did not participate in the front-line battle. Instead, they observed the flow of the battle and analyzed the enemy''s composition as they moved. Meanwhile, Shinar, with the keen sensitivity acquired through countless experiences in battle, began to read the flow of the fight. She distinguished and identified the sounds she heard, honing in on her target. Thus, the first target was confirmed. "Let''s go." The selected subordinates followed her. Shinar''s group swiftly circled the battlefield''s outer edge and struck from one side. "Shit, they''re crazy!" The enemy soldiers responded fiercely. The twenty managed to hold them off and endure. Their combat abilities were exceptional, though not extraordinary. They were elite, but not on the level of frontier defense soldiers. However, Shinar was different. While the enemy''s focus was distracted by her twenty soldiers, she leapt up and crushed the head of one of the enemy soldiers. She pushed off the ground, soaring upward with ease, as if someone were pulling her from above. It felt as though she had wings. She crushed the enemy''s head beneath her foot, and with the tips of her toes, she struck at their throat. Thunk! With the blade hidden beneath her boots, she pierced the soldier''s neck, then pulled out her knives. The shining leaf-shaped blade reflected the light as it was drawn. She casually stabbed downward a few times. Clang, thud, whack. The unlucky soldier whose helmet was struck wobbled and fell to the side. The second soldier, on bad terms with the goddess of fortune, had his forehead torn, blood spilling from his face as he collapsed. All of this happened just before the soldier she had stepped on died. Shinar yanked her knives and struck at the spear that flew toward her. The spear''s shaft was split by her knives. The spearhead was lost, and the short staff remained. The soldier, now holding the staff instead of the spear, raised his shield. Rather than parrying with the shield, Shinar stomped on it and dashed forward. She was like an arrow aimed at her target. She crushed three more heads, shields, and shoulders beneath her feet, lightly landing as her next target appeared in front of her. Her finely tuned hearing had led her to her next target: the commander. Specifically, the commander of a small detachment, the head controlling a portion of the forces. "Stop them!" The commander''s shout was hollow. The moment he shouted, his throat was pierced by Shinar''s knives. Twisting her waist, she shot out her blade, snapping her arm as if flicking it. It was the "skipping stone thrust," one of Shinar''s specialties. One of the reasons the Tarning Viscount''s unit was able to hold together was because of these commanders in strategic positions. That day, Shinar took down three more of such commanders. *** "That crazy fairy bitch!" An upper-level commander watching the battle ground his teeth and shouted. Of course, he did so while doubling the number of guards. Simultaneous strikes. Krais had aimed for this. One side was to attack the supplies, the other to target the commanders. He wanted to deliver the largest possible blow to the enemy forces coming from both directions. Shinar had accomplished her task, earning a few scratches in the process. ''Am I doing well?'' She thought as she wiped the blood from her knives. How were Enkrid and his forces faring? Had the joke turned into reality? ''To think his face would appear right after the battle ends.'' Shinar felt something dull inside her, but she smiled. This too was a part of life, a part of the enjoyment. That man had a strange kind of magic. It wasn''t the kind that cast spells, but one that made you watch and cheer him on. It was only natural that he would be on her mind. "Retreat." As she finished her task and began the return, under the noonday sun, the fairy thought of the human. It wasn''t merely a feeling between rational beings. It was more of an expectation of what one human could achieve. ''How far will he go?'' The fairy silently wondered. Naturally, there was no answer. *** If one remains in a constant state of tension, the body will stiffen. A stiffened body finds it difficult to perform at its usual level. "Muscle growth and stamina growth are the same. Just as mindless training is important, rest is equally so. Only after resting will your strength and stamina improve." These were Audin''s words. Enkrid reflected on these words. Through the battle, he gained another small insight and pondered it. It was the balance of tension and relaxation. What if, even during battle, there were moments to loosen the body? He had noticed this when watching Ragna and Jaxen. Jaxen seemed to put no strain on his body unless swinging his sword, while Ragna seemed to strike without exerting force, even as he constantly wielded his blade. Audin was the same. Dunbakel and Teresa had similar habits as well. The elasticity and rhythm that result from controlling tension and relaxation. Resting improves stamina. Resting also enhances strength. Could swordsmanship be similar? "Rest is important." Audin had said this countless times, but it had never fully resonated with him. That small phrase had only now sunk into his skin and taken root in his innermost being. As soon as he thought about it, he was able to put it into practice. This battle had become his learning ground. "What if I relax even more?" Self-reflection and accurate understanding were crucial, and for Enkrid, it was as natural as breathing. Thus, through this self-reflection, he discovered the beginning of relaxation. It was the first ability he had gained through repetition of the day. "The Heart of the Beast." Boldness was needed when blades clashed, and even when quarrels targeted the head, he learned to appropriately rest his muscles and control his breathing. It was also the way to fight long battles. If one were to face many with a small force, managing stamina was essential. Of course, Enkrid''s stamina was monstrous. Compared to ordinary soldiers, he possessed an endurance that was beyond comprehension. But even he wasn''t invincible. From that perspective: "Rem will be fine." This thought came naturally. Who had taught him the Heart of the Beast? Who was the one that often spouted nonsense during the battle? He was a master of relaxation. "That''s not a master of relaxation. He''s just clueless." Enkrid spoke his thoughts aloud, and Jaxen responded from the side. "He''s just an idiot." Ragna also commented. "When he''s about to strike, it seems like his muscles are all tensed." Dunbakel added her criticism, while Teresa said nothing. Then Audin spoke. "Are you worried about the barbarian brother?" Worry? About Rem? The monster with gray hair? The one who would chop up any demon he encountered with his axe and return? "Me?" Enkrid briefly searched for the right words before asking with a serious tone. Did he look like someone who would worry? Audin smiled softly. "If there is bitterness in your heart, your eyes become clouded. If there is worry, your thoughts will follow that path. Focus solely on the lord, erase the bitterness, and praise your lord. Thus, you will find peace in your heart." Audin recited a prayer. Teresa, beside him, muttered, "Find peace," repeating Audin''s last words. Though her face was hidden behind a mask, she seemed to be deep in thought. It seemed awkward to face the cult again. Wasn''t her original allegiance with this side? She had mentioned she was born and raised there. Her heart might have been uneasy. Enkrid glanced at Teresa and reflected on whether he was really concerned. "Impossible." Why would he worry about that insane Rem? But something bothered him. There was a subtle discomfort. "Why?" He was withdrawing. There were no signs of being pursued. No comrades had been struck by a blind arrow. Naturally, no one was injured. Everything had happened in the blink of an eye. An ambush, a raid, arson, retreat. They hadn''t needed to move under the cover of night, it had all been done in broad daylight. And it had been done quickly. The deaths of the scouts he had sent out hadn''t even reached them before they finished. So why did he feel uneasy? He was used to self-reflection, so retracing his steps was familiar as well. "They were too weak." The wolf pack, which should have been a formidable threat, had been easy to deal with. "Did the cult not know about our forces?" That was unlikely. Then why did it feel so vulnerable? Enkrid recalled the time when Marcus had hidden their unit well. "Making it seem weak means there''s something hidden." The cult''s forces were not all there was. Which meant... "The black Blade also hides something." After considering a few things, the conclusion came naturally. Could Krais not know this? "No, he knows." He knew, which was why he had set up this strategy. Before the enemy could unleash all their hidden moves, he wanted to wear them down and take whatever could be taken. That had been the core of this supply-burning operation. "If he desperately hopes for death, he''ll be back." With a single comment about worry, Jaxen added, his eyes indifferent. Looking into those red eyes, Enkrid nodded. "I know." There was no need for worry. Who was he even worrying about? Behind him remained the insane barbarian, Rem. *** Rem admitted that he had become excited. Everything begins with recognition. Only after acknowledging and recognizing something can there be change. If you have a tendency to get excited easily, you must recognize that in order to remain calm. "Are all beasts the same? No. But the beasts that survive all share the same characteristics." This was something he had been told when he first learned about hunting. It''s not about having longer fangs or sharper claws. Whether it''s a lion running across the plains or a tiger ruling the mountains, the reason they survive is because they know something. And if you want to know something, the starting point is always yourself. You recognize your own claws, leg strength, and endurance. That''s where it begins. ''In that sense, the boss is really unique.'' He is someone who knows what he is capable of and what level he is at, but his body couldn''t keep up. Or, it didn''t used to. But now it''s different. His skills had grown to a level where they became threatening. Watching that had sometimes felt like a stroke of luck. Knowledge, change, and the mix of reasons that had come to the surface after just a few days of stillness. Rem''s excitement surged, and he couldn''t help but feel a little exhilarated. He understood the situation, recognized himself, and didn''t hide it. "Damn idiot mutts." The three wolf beasts that charged at him were different from before. Speed, strength, and the level of intelligence they used were extraordinary. Are all beasts the same? No, there are always exceptional ones among them. The three beasts were just like that. Faster than expected, and incredibly clever. To quickly deal with them, Rem allowed himself to be scratched lightly on the side. He let the claws brush past him. In that instant, he swung his axe and split the head of one of the beasts in half. The blood and brain matter splattered, momentarily blurring his vision, but Rem didn''t blink, using the remaining axe to sever the neck of the beast whose head had been split. He swatted the split head away with his palm, sending it flying. As the head soared through the air, one of the remaining beasts sidestepped, and Rem, anticipating this, threw his axe. The axe flew, spinning like a disc, and buried itself deep in the skull of the wolf beast that had just dodged. The simultaneous action of throwing the axe and the wolf beast rushing toward him was deliberate. Now, only one remained. Rem twisted his mouth into a grin. A full smile. "Monster!" "Freaking monster!" "May the curse of the magic realm fall upon you! May the master of the beasts devour you whole!" The cultists watching from the side kept babbling. "What the hell are you saying, crazy fanatics? Come at me." Rem grumbled as he shifted his axe to his other hand. "Hey, mutt, aren''t you coming?" The last wolf beast lowered its stance and bared its fangs, its eyes glaring with deadly intent. In the meantime, one of the cultists threw a dagger. Without taking his eyes off the wolf beast, Rem merely nodded and dodged the dagger. In that moment, the beast pounced. There was no sound as it charged. The wind brushed against his nose first. It shot toward him with incredible speed and ferocity, its large body lowering just enough for Rem to gauge its position. As the wolf beast lunged, Rem swung his axe even faster than before. Whoosh. Among the onlookers, few could properly track Rem''s movement. His right arm and the axe disappeared in a blur, moving from the upper right to the lower left. He had been swinging casually before, but now he struck with all his might. The beast couldn''t react. Its throat was cut in mid-pounce, blood spraying everywhere. However, the remaining momentum caused the beast to slam into Rem. Rem swiped his axe and stepped aside, shoving the beast''s body away. The wolf beast''s corpse landed with a thud, blocking the path of the cultists. Rem, still smiling, looked at them and said, "See you again." Though it seemed like a normal farewell, to the cultists, it was as chilling as a death sentence. They had to face that monster again? Rem withdrew, picking up his axe as he ran. ''Let''s see.'' A scratch on his side, maybe a cracked rib? Rem calmly assessed his condition. It wasn''t a major injury. Considering he had just sliced through three monstrous wolf beasts that would be considered demons anywhere, it was nothing too serious. A few of the cultists had tried to pursue, but they were just pretending. "Want another axe to the face?" Rem shouted over his shoulder, his words dripping with menace. He was about to find Enkrid to boast about his victory over the three wolf beasts, which could be considered monstrous. ''They''ll probably be so shocked they''ll ask me to teach them again.'' As he had those thoughts, Rem''s body swerved to the side. With a powerful push of his right foot, he halted his forward movement, executing an impossible maneuver with the kind of leg strength and balance that seemed inhuman. He turned abruptly, moving at a right angle. Whoosh! A spear, the length of his forearm, pierced the ground where he had just been. The spear lodged deep, quivering in the earth. It was stuck so firmly that it would take considerable strength to pull it out. Rem''s eyes locked onto the shape of the spear. Familiar. No, not familiar anymore, but once it was. It was a spear commonly used by the tribes from the West. "Looks like I''m seeing my own kind here?" Then, a voice came from behind him. It wasn''t the Empire''s language but the tongue of the Western tribes. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 286 - The Madman of Immortality Chapter 286 - 286 - The Madman of Immortality Before the words even finished, a sharp spearhead fell from above. It was a vertical thrust. Rem kicked the ground. He quickly flung his body sideways, and the spear seemed to follow, as if it had eyes. In mid-air, it abruptly changed direction. ''Descending weapon?'' Before he could even wonder, Rem swung his axe. With his right hand, he swiped at the spear shaft, and with his left, he turned his axe to block the spearhead with its broad side. Thud, smash! Half success, half failure. He managed to block the spearhead, but in the process, a cracked rib shattered completely. However, the spear shaft was broken, so it was at least partially successful. ''Tricked me.'' It wasn''t a descending weapon. A descending weapon was an artifact of the West, something like a relic. Of course, this was very different from the so-called "relics" spoken of on this continent. A descending weapon couldn''t be shattered this easily. He''d expected it to be a descending weapon and had intentionally struck it. He''d hoped that with this blow, he could sever the ''connection.'' A descending weapon needed a connection to its owner to function. "Not bad." The word "holding" was left unspoken. Rem saw a Westerner appear before him. "What are you?" Rem asked, stunned. He could tell just from this one blow. ''Strong?'' Strength, speed, techniques targeting the opponent¡ªeverything was excellent. This wasn''t the level of some amateur mercenary. "You''re asking that after stepping onto a battlefield where lives are at stake?" The opponent replied, casually tapping his shoulder with his characteristic spear. He was incredibly laid-back. His appearance was unusual. A leather breastplate covering his chest, leather guards on his legs from shin to thigh, and similar protective gear from his palms to shoulders. His entire body was covered in leather. His hair was graying, and half his face was wrinkled while the other half looked as smooth and pale as a child. It was an unnaturally mismatched face. He let go of the spear, which he''d been tapping on his shoulder. Instead of falling to the ground, it stopped at knee height and hovered in the air. ''What''s this nonsense?'' What was going on now? ''Some kind of technique?'' It wasn''t magic or a spell. It felt like a kind of magic, but there was no sense of magic coming from the spear itself. So it wasn''t a descending weapon, but it was still floating in mid-air by itself. Rem, not wanting to show any weakness, subtly raised his left arm to protect his side. The pain followed, but if he couldn''t bear this much, he would have already died long ago. "Let''s go." "Where to? Home? Why? What are you giving me?" Rem muttered as a habit, looking for an opening. Every time he tried to throw his axe, the opponent changed the position of his feet. More than anything, the spear floating in mid-air was irksome. It seemed ready to fly at him any second, not moving more than a certain radius from the opponent''s body. ''Where did this come from all of a sudden?'' Just moments ago, three wolf beasts had damaged his ribcage. It had seemed like an easy victory, but it was a deadly battle. The wolf bishop of the cult would be furious at the loss of the beasts he raised. But the beasts weren''t the issue. "I''m going to pull out your tongue." Woosh. Before the words were even finished, the spear flew. It wasn''t in front of his right knee anymore; it had been subtly redirected by his left hand behind his back. He visualized the path of the spear in his mind. Rem swung his axe. It was an axe swing that Enkrid often described as resembling a beam of light. Bang! A loud crash as one of the spears bounced away. Rem felt a slight tremor in his hand. Immediately after, the spear that had been floating in the air also came flying. Not a descending weapon, yet it''s being used this way? For now, there was no time to figure it out. Rem kept swinging his axe. Clang! Clang! Clang! The spearhead and axe clashed, creating red sparks in mid-air. The sparks flew and the heat started to build up. He had completely forgotten about the cold as sweat began to pour down his body. The warmth from the heating stone tucked in his shirt became bothersome. Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Even as this continued, the spear retreated and charged again. Even after dozens of blows, the spear returned and attacked. After blocking the spear about eighty times, Rem stomped with his left foot, smashing a stone buried in the ground. Boom! The broken rock shards shot forward. One of the thick stones blocked the space between them. Wham! The spear pierced through the rock and halted. For a brief moment, the spear''s movement was restricted, and Rem swung his right-hand axe to knock the remaining spearhead off course. Finally, Rem threw the axe in his left hand. The axe in his left hand reached the enemy''s head in an instant. It seemed as though it would split the head open, but the axe stopped mid-air. The axe blade and shaft trembled violently. "I was wondering what you were using," Rem muttered, finally catching on. The enemy tilted his head slightly and replied, "Was it a half-baked one?" With white hair and skin that didn''t match his age, Rem knew who this was. In fact, he had realized it earlier. "A madman chasing immortality, an ageless lunatic, right?" "Knowing that won''t save you." The words came with a gentle smile, one that naturally carried an eerie quality. With an appearance like his, it made sense. Rem recalled stories he had heard during his time with the tribe but quickly pushed them aside. "You never fully learned, did you? That half-baked technique¡ªhow many ribs did that left one take out? Two? Three?" The enemy asked. Two of Rem''s ribs had broken due to the pressure from the earlier attack. It was only thanks to the strength of his muscles that he was able to hold on¡ªif things had gone wrong, the broken bones could have pierced his lungs or organs, sending him to an early grave. In truth, he couldn''t argue with the enemy''s words about being half-baked. It was true. Rem had learned some techniques from the tribe, which he had then adapted and refined in his own way. But he had abandoned other essential teachings, choosing not to pursue them. So, he was indeed "half-baked." "You''re just a fool who never properly mastered the arts. No soul connection, nothing." Whoosh. As the enemy spoke, he pulled a small metal ball from his pouch. A blue beastly shape flickered over his left arm. "Ah, a spell." It was a summoning spell. The strength of a beast had likely fused with his natural power through his left arm. The simple stone in his hand felt like an overwhelming threat. Rem hesitated for a moment. Whether it was a summoning or a spell, his ribs were broken, and his left ankle was strained from blocking two spearheads. But he pushed the discomfort aside. ''Is he planning to kill me?'' If it came down to a fight for life, he could face him head-on. But did it really need to go that far? Though he appeared to be a brute warrior who didn''t know how to retreat, Rem was, at his core, someone who lived life his own way. So, he spoke up. "Hey." The ageless lunatic, the one who had slaughtered an entire tribe in the West and stolen all their visions, responded. "What?" "See you again." "...What?" Rem pulled out two marble-sized orbs wrapped in paper from his pouch. Boom! As soon as the enemy saw it, he threw his spear. The thrown spear, however, was a mere distraction. The orbs Rem had taken out exploded. Gray smoke quickly billowed up, clouding the vision. Whoosh! The spear pierced through the smoke but only hit a tree with a crash, leaving behind the sound of splintering wood. "What''s this?" The ageless lunatic listened intently. Despite the smoke, he was a skilled hunter. A good hunter knew how to both chase and hide. But retreating wasn''t something he would do easily. The lunatic closed his eyes and then opened them again. Soon, his eyes glowed blue. It was magic. The spell had activated, and the lunatic''s eyes pierced through the obstacles before him. "Try running away." The lunatic moved. He was following the trail his eyes had found. His steps were no slower than Rem''s. *** "Is he off playing somewhere?" The question was almost rhetorical. Enkrid''s comment was met with nods of agreement from the entire unit. "He''ll come back when the time is right. Probably." Enkrid didn''t seem worried about Rem at all. It wasn''t because there wasn''t time for concern; it was just that this was Rem. The mad barbarian who had earned the nickname "The Lunatic of the Unit." "He may have gone back to his homeland." Jaxen said something unnecessary. It sounded more like wishful thinking. The two of them shared a close camaraderie. Now that he was gone, they were concerned, but still joking about it. "Right, there''s no need to worry." Enkrid replied, casually sharpening his sword. "...Me? Worry?" Jaxen shot him a glance, a hint of menace in his eyes. One wrong word here, and it seemed like Enkrid would be in trouble. "Heh, looks like our barbarian brother is just going to take a nap and come back." Audin half-heartedly tried to defuse the situation. Worry? There was none of that. Enkrid thought about Rem and believed that he would come back on his own. "Eventually, he''ll show up." It was just the way Rem was. He would have fun and then come back when he felt like it. When they finally heard word, it turned out Krais''s plan had been a great success. Shinar had beheaded four of the enemy commanders, and the cultists had lost a portion of their supplies. "Rem? He''ll show up soon enough, I guess." Krais commented on the absence of the gray-haired lunatic. Despite his usual talk of bad omens and uncertainty, he was calm now. Enkrid, too, just thought that it was business as usual. He focused on what needed to be done. Looking ahead, he analyzed the upcoming situation. "What about the enemy?" "As expected." Back at Graham''s tent. In the end, who would win if the two armies clashed head-on? "Who else but Aspen?" The one who had just been watching would sweep the area clean. So, the troops sent to Green Pearl couldn''t be pulled back. Instead, they were now requesting reinforcements. The fact that Aspen''s garrison was located at such an aggressive point meant it was a place where trouble could start at any moment. If things went wrong, they would strike without hesitation. That was the only option available. Krais knew he had to break up the black blade and the cult''s forces with minimal losses. ''There''s no need to kill them all.'' He just had to break their morale and make them retreat. He needed to buy time while keeping as much of his forces intact as possible. This was the best strategy. Before they could both charge, he would strike. Then, he would inevitably force them into a full-scale battle. One battle. He would make them retreat and crumble with that single fight. He needed to make them collapse on their own. That was the goal. "First, break the blade that the enemy prepared. This is something the commander needs to handle." Krais had spent several days thinking about how to approach this if he were in charge of the black sword or the cult. The answer he had come to was this. They were wary of the Madmen unit. Although he wasn''t sure of their exact abilities, they must have prepared some trump card. He couldn''t risk facing them unprepared. ''We''ll draw them into a full-scale battle.'' The two armies would unite after losing some supplies and their commanders. They would know this wasn''t a battle that could drag on for long. And with Enkrid''s presence... ''We can draw them out and still manage.'' "Second, Lord Tarning must die." Cut off the justification. "Third, as soon as the battle ends, we move towards Green Pearl." This meant they had to finish before Aspen could act. "If things go wrong, we''ll all end up buried here." Graham spoke. Krais himself had no intention of dying, but he nodded vaguely. After all, many people would have to fight, risking their lives. As Krais intended, the cult, having lost some supplies, decided to join up with the main force of the Black Sword. The combined forces of the Black Sword and the cult began advancing toward the wide plains. The Border Guard''s standing army had to move forward, away from the walls. If they stayed in defense, it would be the same as inviting an attack on their exposed back. They had to move out. A biting wind blew, carrying dust between the two armies. The dark sky and frozen, barren land set the stage for the confrontation. "We must win." The Madmen unit gathered around the center of the battlefield. Krais also came out. He had to stay close to Enkrid in case they needed to flee after the battle. Enkrid understood Krais''s thoughts, but didn''t interfere. He thought it was a reasonable approach. ''We have to win,'' Enkrid thought, mulling over Krais''s words. But he didn''t believe that winning required him to be the one to deliver the final blow. Ultimately, the battle could be won as long as it was won. A few thoughts flashed through his mind, but he didn''t speak up to Krais. Now, it was the time for those wielding swords to step forward. Just as they were about to move, a sound interrupted. Clop-clop, clop-clop! It was the enemy. Someone on horseback appeared in the center of the two armies, throwing something. It landed just outside the range of the arrows. "What''s that?" Vengeance furrowed his brow and muttered to himself. "Go fetch it." He gave the order. One of the scouts quickly rode out and retrieved the object. It was soon in Enkrid''s hands. The weapon looked familiar. As he looked at the axe that had been retrieved, Ragna spoke up. "It''s the barbarian''s weapon." "Hmm, I''ll make a grave and bury it. Let''s bury it together when the time comes." Ragna and Jaxen both muttered something, and it seemed like they were on the same wavelength for once. Several soldiers recognized the axe, and some even noticed that Rem was absent. Some of the soldiers murmured. "Wait, did Captain Rem die?" "No, I heard he set fire to the cult''s camp a few days ago..." "He didn''t return after that." "Maybe he''s on another mission?" "How urgent could it be, though?" Enkrid paid little attention to the murmurs around him as he examined the axe. The blade was dull, with deep gouges and signs of fierce combat. It looked like it had been used in a brutal fight. "He''s probably just off having fun." Enkrid muttered. "Just assume he''s dead." This time, Dunbakel murmured. It was hard to tell if they were being sincere, but they certainly sounded like they were. Enkrid ignored the gossip around him, keeping his focus on the enemy. On one side, the wolfish claws were gathering, and on the other, a full human army of the Black Sword and the cult stood. Among them, Lord Tarning, dressed in an ill-fitting chainmail, stepped forward and shouted. "I will personally decapitate the rebel scum and offer their heads to the king! Whoever dares conspire against us, strike them down!" He raised his sword high. His voice was loud and carried well, possibly enhanced by some magical tool. However, no one moved. "That fool." Krais muttered, cursing the pig who had no value outside of his role as a figurehead. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 287 - The Challenge Chapter 287 - 287 - The Challenge As Enkrid moved to the front of the unit, a keen-eyed scout spoke up. "Someone''s coming." As they said, a figure appeared from the direction of the noble''s army. The faint sunlight, hidden behind clouds, flowed over the figure''s head. ''Big build?'' It was large, as big as Audin. Enkrid stared intently at the figure from a distance, noting the way they walked without a horse. The person wasn''t moving fast or slow, but there was a distinct confidence in their stride. To walk alone to the heart of the battlefield¡ªit was nothing but confidence. "Shall we shoot?" One of the archers asked. "No." Enkrid replied. Despite his answer, some of the archers nervously raised their bows before lowering them again. In war, the beginning of a battle often starts with the archers'' arrows. It was the foundation of the conflict. Kang! Kang! Kerrrrrr! A few wolves barked behind the man. It was loud, but the man simply scratched his ear before shouting. "My name is Lykanos! The best fighter, step forward!" With that, he stomped his foot, and the ground shook with a loud thud. What kind of strength does he have? The morale of the soldiers froze. Rem had been taken down, and the incoming opponent was menacing. Even Enkrid, the legendary warrior, seemed to be evenly matched. One of the most effective strategies before a battle is to break the enemy''s morale and crush them. A duel. If the trump card is a flower, it should be used wisely. The Black Sword had prepared its own trump card. Ragna stepped forward, and Audin responded in kind. Enkrid drew his sword and stepped forward lightly. It wasn''t fast, but the blade, shimmering with a bluish hue, blocked their path. "This one''s mine. You two take care of the rest." Enkrid''s gaze remained fixed on Lykanos. But as he stood there, Enkrid also considered the strategies for the battle and the broader plan. How many more skirmishes would there be? And what could be gained today? The board had been set by Krais, and now it was Enkrid''s turn to take what was his. ''When did I become this confident?'' Confidence surged within him, pushing him toward the battle. Enkrid didn''t mind it. The place he had always wanted, the place where he belonged, was waiting for him. "Jaxen." "Yes?" "Take the pig''s head when the chance comes." It could be today or in the next battle. It didn''t matter, but the task had to be completed. "Understood." Jaxen nodded nonchalantly. That was reassuring. He wouldn''t fail. "Audin, Teresa. I think there''s something huge among the wolves." When they infiltrated the enemy''s territory before, they had encountered three large beasts. It seemed like one was still around. Or maybe something even larger? It didn''t matter. No matter how big the beast was. But it was clear: regular soldiers shouldn''t face such creatures. His instincts warned him. "It will be as you wish. Let us pray." Audin quietly clasped his hands and withdrew, while Teresa knelt beside him. "As ordered." Then, Dunbakel tugged at her cloak. Ragna was also there. Cold, but his eyes were sharp with intent. He was ready to fight. His enthusiasm was evident. With his sword, he could strike down anything. It was a pleasure to see Ragna like this. He''d never felt frustrated watching him slack off, but seeing his talents wasted was something Enkrid couldn''t bear. Of course, it didn''t matter much, as Ragna had a strong heart. ''A genius with desire.'' It was enjoyable to see Ragna motivated. It wasn''t that he disliked it when Ragna wasn''t motivated, but the fact that he was now was something Enkrid could appreciate. And it was enjoyable to be beside him, following his lead. "Do as you please. Cut everything in sight. But only after the wolves are dealt with." If the enemy had prepared monstrous wolves, they had something even fiercer: a beast-man and a sword that could cut through anything. By having the elite troops charge through the regular soldiers, the battle could be tilted in their favor. There was no need for more chaos to raise morale. Just having these two step forward would be enough to change the direction of the battle. A battlefield ruled by elite forces¡ªthis was the truth that these two would show. That alone was enough. Dunbakel nodded and snorted in response. "Make sure it''s enough to show to Krimhart." Krimhart was the god of the beast-men. The god of war and reproduction. Showing something to the god meant fighting without shame. Thanks to Rem, the torment of the barbarians had evolved one beast-man into a crazy one. "I will yield." Ragna said calmly, and Enkrid took another step forward. "Finally showing up, huh? I thought there was no one left there. Are we waiting for daybreak?" Lykanos shouted as he struck between his legs. It was a taunt, meant to raise the morale of his own side. It wasn''t a question expecting an answer. "Wow! No one''s left!" "No one''s here!" "Pathetic!" The enemy troops hurled insults. In response, Enkrid''s troops shouted back. "Ridiculous!" "He''s here!" "Biggest one yet!" "Filthy thieves!" Amidst the insults and cheers, Enkrid advanced, and Graham asked from behind. "You think we can win?" "Yes, even if I die, I''ll win." Was he preparing for death? Graham crossed his arms, hiding his unease. Enkrid was just being honest. It was as simple as that. If what stood in front of him was a wall, and if that wall was death... He would cross it. And win. Enkrid stood before his opponent, strangely calm, without a hint of excitement. His physical condition wasn''t particularly good or bad. "I''m here." As they faced each other, the words Enkrid spoke made Lykanos twist his lips in a grin. What an arrogant bastard, he thought. "Coming to die?" "By someone like you?." "...What an arrogant bastard. I''m going to cut you down. You''re the one, right? The one called Enkrid." Lykanos already knew Enkrid''s name, and Enkrid knew his opponent''s name as well. He had heard that Lykanos was one of the key figures in the Black Sword Bandit Group. He was as large as Audin, and the heavy weapon on his back gave away his fighting style. Soon, Lykanos pushed his left foot forward. He was now within the range Enkrid had carefully kept. Enkrid reacted immediately. He drew his sword from his left waist and slashed. Lykanos, despite his size, quickly stepped back, avoiding the strike by two steps. Huuung! The blade sliced through the air. As Lykanos raised his own weapon, Enkrid readied himself to dodge. Boom! A shadow of the blade came flying from Lykanos''s back, aiming at Enkrid''s head. Seeing the weapon fall vertically, Enkrid stepped back swiftly. Swish! He changed position, stepping to the side and circling around to Lykanos''s flank. The flail that had aimed at him slammed the ground where he had just stood. Bang! Dirt and stones flew in all directions. Some of it hit Enkrid''s body and head, but he ignored the small distractions and immediately moved to strike. He pulled out the Gradius from his side and thrust it forward into Lykanos''s side. A swift thrust. Lykanos raised his arm to intercept, his sword hitting the side of his own body. It was an impressive reflex, the speed and precision of his reaction. However, despite his attempt to twist his body and break the sword, it didn''t go as planned. "That''s damn sturdy!" Angrily, Lykanos swung his flail again. Boom! The flail flew horizontally toward Enkrid, the wind pressure hitting his face first. Enkrid didn''t even look; he only judged the trajectory of the flail by sound. Without hesitation, he ducked. The massive weapon, capable of tearing through flesh, passed over his head. Enkrid, using his immense strength, twisted the Gradius in his hand. "Huh." With a sharp intake of breath, his left arm muscles bulged, almost about to burst. The blade twisted, aiming to shred Lykanos''s side and forearm. Unable to dodge, Lykanos let go of the sword, leaving it behind. "This bastard." Blood began to flow from Lykanos''s forearm. The side armor was only slightly scratched, but the inside of his arm was severely cut. "Does it hurt?" As he spoke, Enkrid calmly adjusted his breathing and brought his right-hand sword down vertically. At the same time, he sheathed the Gradius. Lykanos, retreating, prepared himself to dodge the incoming strike. He was no simple brute swinging a flail; his movements were clean and purposeful, a result of years of training and real combat experience. The blade sliced the air. Through the whoosh, Lykanos''s gaze remained fixed on Enkrid. His dull eyes reminded Enkrid of something. They had the same kind of malice, almost like a hidden agenda. He looked sly. Thud. Lykanos slammed his foot down and rushed forward. The frozen, hard ground cracked beneath his step, sending chunks of dirt flying. Enkrid placed his left hand on the Gradius handle. He pretended to draw it as his foot shifted back. Performing a backstep, dodging the rocks flying through the air. ''Dodged?'' Lykanos, confused, continued his attack, swinging his flail diagonally from above. At the same time, he crossed his legs, propelling himself forward. Enkrid, just before Lykanos finished his move, let go of his right-hand sword mid-air and swung it downward. To anyone watching, it might seem as if Enkrid was swinging at the air, but in his hand, a Whistle Dagger was now gripped. Piiing! The dagger shot forward, embedding itself into Lykanos''s face from close range. Enkrid had anticipated that his opponent would try to dodge or block the sword, so he had switched to the dagger. The tactic paid off. Lykanos''s head snapped back, then quickly returned forward. Unfortunately for Enkrid, it wasn''t the result he had hoped for. "This bastard." The blade was stuck in Lykanos''s front teeth, causing a crack in his upper teeth, but he had blocked the blow. "Spit it out, that''s not for eating ." Enkrid mocked, his taunt always well-timed. Lykanos spat out the dagger, his eyes filled with fury. "I''ll kill you. Before I do, I''ll crush that too. Think you''re shit? I''ll flatten you so bad you won''t even see it coming." His words were laced with anger, but Enkrid didn''t give him the satisfaction of a smile, achieving a psychological victory instead. Hoo. The hammer came again. This time, Lykanos gripped it with both hands and swung it. It was a serpent-like swing, aimed to strike. ''So reckless.'' Even though Enkrid activated the Heart of the Beast, his opponent''s strength was still superior. ''Will?'' A fleeting doubt crossed his mind. If there''s a ''Will'' that denies, there must also be one that grants strength. Unable to make a clean swing, the hammer and sword collided, locking in place. Lykanos pushed his hammer forward, adding strength with his other hand. He took a deep breath. He intended to press down with sheer power. Enkrid pulled his left foot back. His knee bent slightly with the force. As Lykanos bore down, he opened his mouth. "What, you didn''t think you''d be overpowered by strength? Huh, did you think you were the only strong one?" ''No, there are many stronger than me. Always.'' Not just Audin, but Rem, Ragna, and even Teresa¡ªhe didn''t feel confident in his strength against them. "Your front teeth are broken." Thanks to the force, Enkrid noticed that Lykanos''s front teeth, which had blocked the dagger earlier, were now cracked. "I don''t think girls would like that." Enkrid''s well-timed remark was enough to provoke Lykanos''s fury. "AAAAAAAH!" The beast roared. Enkrid gathered his own strength to release a battle cry of his own. Was his opponent easily enraged? A brief thought passed through the midst of the fight, but it was soon discarded. There was no time for doubts. His opponent was strong. Very strong. Far superior to the clumsy mercenaries who called themselves knights. Still locked in combat, Lykanos released his left hand and clenched his fist. He swung. Thud! Enkrid braced his shoulders and turned his head, deflecting the punch. It was a classic Valah-style martial art, deflecting with the body. He didn''t just take the hit. As his body twisted, he kicked Lykanos''s shin. Thud! A heavy sound echoed against the armor. "That hurts, you bastard." Lykanos growled, releasing his weapon. Then, he attempted to grab Enkrid by the collar with his right hand. Enkrid responded quickly, drawing his second sword, the Gladius, to slice through his fingers. Lykanos seemed to anticipate it, pulling his outstretched hand back. A series of blows and kicks followed. Enkrid mixed in sword strikes as they continued close-quarters combat, but none of the strikes were lethal. Both exchanged fierce, deadly blows, but neither could land a killing blow. Enkrid''s head was split open, blood streaming, while Lykanos, whose helmet was knocked off during the fight, had his lips torn and his cheek cut, bleeding profusely. Enkrid took a blow to the abdomen, causing his breath to hitch, and his movements slowed for a moment. In that brief moment, he spun, kicking Lykanos''s chin with the tip of his boot, and executed a spinning martial arts move that sent Lykanos''s head reeling. When they finally separated, both were far from unscathed. "Been a while since I''ve faced someone like you." "I see them all the time." "This is the first time I''ve met someone who doesn''t back down with a single word." "Oh, that''s familiar." Winning is familiar. Lykanos ground his teeth. His front teeth were broken, and his face was disfigured, but the killing intent remained. "You''re a lucky bastard." After those words, Lykanos swung his hammer again, but Enkrid found something strange. Something was different, but he couldn''t quite place it. Not that there was time to figure it out. There was no room to create distance for a proper dodge. He had to block. Enkrid raised his sword, not to hold it firm like before, but to deflect it sideways with the serpent-like blade. Clang! The sword and hammer collided, but in that instant, something shifted. Lykanos moved faster than before. Enkrid''s focus reached its peak. The hammer? That was just a shell. Slowed down in time, Lykanos pulled out his weapon. It wasn''t the hammer. It was a three-pronged spear, a wicked, pointed weapon. Before Enkrid could even react, Lykanos thrust it toward him. It was faster than any sword Enkrid had ever seen. As the weapon clashed with his sword, a light-like arrow seemed to shoot out. Before Enkrid could register it with his eyes, it had already struck his body. The spear was about to impale his torso. In that split second, Enkrid''s sense of evasion kicked in, driven by an overwhelming focus. He twisted his body instinctively, and the spear grazed his side, sinking into his upper arm instead. Everything seemed to slow, like a fleeting dream or a passing image. The sound of the sword being drawn, the sound of it piercing flesh, and the pain¡ªit all became distant. It was just a blur of moments, where Enkrid fought to survive, instinctively moving to avoid death. Then, in a seamless motion, Enkrid pivoted and drew his Gladius with his left hand, swinging it at Lykanos''s face. The Gladius became a blur, cutting from Lykanos''s chin to above his left eye. Thwack, crack! The distinct sound of flesh being torn echoed, and both fighters were thrown back. No, it was more like they were flung away. "Fire!" someone shouted. After that, both armies fired their arrows. The duel had ended, and the full-scale battle had begun. Enkrid staggered, kneeling on one knee. Someone from behind grabbed his body. "We need to fall back." It was Jaxen. Enkrid nodded. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 288 - Escape Chapter 288 - 288 - Escape The moment Jaxen grabbed Enkrid, his unsettling instincts kicked in. "Crazy bastards." As soon as Lykanos, the thief bastard who didn''t even know his own mother, retreated, others rushed to fill the gap and attacked. It was a trained movement. A promised strike to deal with such a situation. The sound of blades cutting through the air reached his ears first. Whoosh! From when they had been waiting, figures dressed in black lunged forward with spears resembling blades. Each one of them was a reckless charge, risking their lives in their swift attacks. They were all aiming for a single point. Heavy and quick strikes, attacks that burned their lives for a single slash. Jaxen pulled Enkrid closer with his left hand and swung his sword with his right. At the same time, a calm judgment flooded his mind. ''I can''t block all of them.'' Jaxen''s sword danced as if it were alive, reminiscent of the flutter of butterfly wings. The tip of the blade rose, weaving through the incoming strikes like a butterfly among them. The wings of the butterfly collided with the long blades, causing unpredictable movements. The butterfly weaved, bouncing, shifting the trajectory of most of the incoming strikes. Clang! Clang! Clang! He couldn''t deflect all of them. He missed two of the attacks. One grazed Enkrid''s left shin. To be more precise, Enkrid twisted his waist to dodge it. The fabric and leather of his armor ripped and fluttered. The last strike grazed Enkrid''s waist. With a thud, the blade made no penetration, instead bouncing off. ''Armor.'' It was the strength of the armor he had gained before. He had seen the captain wrap his body in bandages, like a shield. Jaxen gritted his teeth and added more power to his left arm. He was ready to throw Enkrid behind him and slice through the remaining enemies. But as soon as he threw Enkrid back, the enemies scattered. ''Damn.'' Fighting to protect someone wasn''t Jaxen''s strength. He was used to fighting with enemies at his back, but protecting an ally while fighting was an experience he had rarely had. It was a very rare experience. That was why. ''I''ve made a Mistake.'' He should''ve suffered a little damage, positioned Enkrid behind him, or retreated to a place where the enemies couldn''t reach him. But he had missed the timing. The men in black clothes leaped from above, attacked from below, and charged from both sides. The blind, relentless assault was terrifying. As he let his attention shift to the back. "It''s fine." He heard Enkrid''s voice. His right arm was injured, and he was exhausted, but it wasn''t to the point of death. But the problem was. ''These crazy bastards...'' The men in black, charging forward without regard for their lives. They wore thin, elastic leather instead of armor, but their attacks couldn''t be ignored. Whatever their training, their thrusts, aiming for a single point, were exceptionally precise. Jaxen swung his sword without stopping, shifting his feet. Slash, thud, clang. The blade severed half an arm and left a hole in his thigh. Jaxen''s sword remained cold and mechanical, striking without emotion, but the men, as long as they weren''t dead, twisted their bodies and launched new attacks. They were a mad, emotionless group, relying only on quick sword strikes to pierce their target. He dodged with his feet, and a sword flew to the spot where Jaxen had just been standing. Thanks to his instinct, he managed to avoid it just in time. The blade stabbed into the cold earth. Thud! The man who had stuck the sword into the ground looked up, his eyes wide as if he had seen a ghost. Of course, none of this mattered to Jaxen, who simply stabbed a knife into the failed attacker''s forehead. The simple knife flew through the air like a reaper, taking the life of one man. Jaxen wasn''t someone who liked to reveal himself in battle, but he methodically cut down the opponents one by one. Enkrid watched Jaxen''s battle and took note of the men charging toward him. ''Not good.'' His right arm was injured by Lykanos, and moments ago, a strike had grazed his shin. It wasn''t just a scratch. The leather of his armor had been cleanly cut, and there were clear traces on his skin and muscles. The blow aimed at his torso was blocked by the armor, but the impact remained. His insides were trembling. His abdomen had held firm enough to prevent internal rupture. If he were an ordinary person, his organs would have ruptured. On top of that, Lykanos'' final strike had rendered his right arm nearly useless. He could only move his left arm. Enkrid did what he could. He sheathed his Gladius and took his original sword in his left hand, swinging it. Minimizing the movement of his legs, he gripped the sword smoothly. It was a style of swordsmanship. He deflected blow after blow. His breathing was steady. Physically, he was a monster, not lacking in stamina compared to anyone. Ting! Ting! Ting! At that moment, after deflecting a few blades, the next one was suddenly right in front of him. It was a blade gleaming with a deadly shine. ''I can''t block this.'' The heart of the beast awakened, and a single point of focus ignited in his brain. No matter what best move he could make, he thought he would lose an eye. His opponent''s trick was skillful. After failing to kill him using Lykanos, they deployed the sword-wielding unit they had prepared. This was the result. He could clearly see the future where he would lose an eye. In the brief gap between strikes, he couldn''t dodge, but he could ask and answer himself. Losing an eye? So what? Would it be a problem? Losing one eye wouldn''t change anything. Enkrid turned his head. He twisted it and tried to dodge. There was no option in his mind about dying here and starting again. If someone would throw their life away for something like this and start over, they would have stopped at the repeating day and been left behind. The blade loomed larger, like a club with a thickened point. Thwack! With a cheerful noise, the club-like object in front of his face vanished. The sword aimed at him flew through the air. Naturally, the enemy followed. "Ahhh!" He screamed, and away he went. For that moment, he didn''t envy the guy at all. Of course, his flight had a limit, and the end was far from auspicious. The one who had flown fell between the members of the Border Guard, and due to a spear raised by a startled soldier, they were impaled and killed mid-air. Enkrid was in the process of stumbling backward to avoid death. He fell flat on his rear. Looking beside him, a wild horse had just sent a human flying with its rear hoof. Heeheeheehee! "One-eyed?" The name seemed to be rejected, but at this point, the name didn''t matter. Grrrrr. Before long, Esther had arrived. She hadn''t been able to transform into a human, so she remained in the form of a Lake Panther. Her black fur, soft like silk, reminded him of the hair she would have in her human form. Alongside her, a man who could survive anywhere as long as he had his sword, despite losing his way, flew past the assassins in black. Whoosh, thwack, whoosh, thwip, whoosh, wham, whoosh, crack! Enkrid''s eyes moved rapidly. He was tracking the continuous sword strikes happening in front of him. Ragna charged from the side, cutting through five attackers with five swift strikes in one step. ''What kind of trick is that?'' He only made one step, but his sword strikes were five. How was that even possible? The slashes were beyond comprehension. It was speed faster than the opponent''s, a preemptive strike. Ragna''s sword was demonstrating just that. "I''ll kill them all, so go ahead." His blunt words came while his bangs hung over his eyes. Through his blonde hair, his dry red eyes silently looked forward. He cut down those coming at him while swatting away arrows that flew overhead. Ragna''s sword was moving so fast, even Enkrid''s eyes couldn''t fully keep up with it. As an arrow fell above Enkrid''s head, soldiers with shields came toward him from behind. "You use that sword well." This was Dunbakel, who had been watching from the side. She said this while smashing the skulls of assassins with two daggers. As soon as she sensed the assassins'' movements, she stamped her right foot and drove her left knee into their skulls. Of course, Enkrid was also reacting, holding up his sword. Either way, his gaze shifted toward Ragna. Enkrid saw arrows raining down from above, the horse dashing to save him, and Esther and Dunbakel joining in. Behind them, their allies with large round shields surrounded him, making it seem unlikely he would die. His gaze automatically turned forward. ''Lykanos.'' Even though Enkrid''s sword was fast, at the final moment, Lykanos'' sword had been faster. And now, the swords of those charging at him were similar. The attackers, having been sliced by Ragna, retreated. In the meantime, Ragna was grazed on the thigh. His armor was slashed, and blood stained At a glance, there seemed to be more than fifty of them left. Considering the number of dead, and accounting for the hidden assassins'' attacks that had been fended off, it wasn''t hard to guess the magnitude of the danger. ''This is going to be a headache.'' Enkrid thought to himself, a sentiment shared by Krais. The battle had been short. Audin didn''t step in because the so-called ''Wolf Bishop'' didn''t move, and Ragna didn''t push forward any further either. Jaxen returned soon after. The two army commanders didn''t seem interested in ending the fight today. Before the situation could settle, Graham, pale-faced, rushed to Enkrid''s side, quickly bandaging his wounds. Krais, watching, spoke up. "I knew from the beginning that one attempt wouldn''t be enough. We''ll finish it in three. We just need to break their main force. After all, battles are ultimately decided by the elite troops." His voice was weak. It couldn''t be helped. Krais had put his faith in Enkrid''s strength. Even though it wasn''t possible to end it with a single strike, he believed they would eventually win. But no, the first battle had been nearly as bad as a defeat. Relocating to the stronghold would be the worst option, so they had to end it here. And they had to do so in the shortest time possible. In that limited time, three attempts were needed. ''If we hold on, we lose.'' Behind the Border Guards, Aspen still hadn''t drawn their swords. ''Damn it.'' Krais tried to maintain his calm exterior, but in his mind, he was already considering an escape route. He needed to find a way to run away now. ''Maybe through the hole?'' He had made some preparations just in case. "Looks like the heretics are just watching. A few wolf beasts have charged, but that''s it?" Graham surveyed the battlefield and delayed the deployment of the heavy infantry. If the enemy was conserving their strength, they had to do the same. If they recklessly deployed more forces and were pushed back, it would lead to total annihilation. If the battle was close, the remaining soldiers would have to bear the brunt of it, especially the heavy infantry. "That''s true. I''m not sure if they''ll just watch tomorrow." Krais nodded, glancing at Enkrid. The leader always remained calm, his face expressionless. ''Damn, this is tough.'' He couldn''t just run away. Krais, though a merchant and once a thief, had never turned his back on someone who had saved his life. It was a matter of character, not just occupation. Besides, it wasn''t as if it was impossible to save himself. He had no reason to throw his life away. "You''ll just have to cut him down next time." "He was faster." Ragna replied, and Enkrid responded in his usual calm tone. "If that''s all, just cut him down." At Ragna''s firm words, Enkrid paused for a moment. He had been fast, indeed. His right arm was still unusable, and his left shin was also causing discomfort. Though his armor had protected him, his side still ached. His internal organs weren''t damaged, but they throbbed. The technique of isolation was a skill built on repetition and endurance. The sustained strength from maintaining and training that technique had kept him going. So, a few body blows weren''t a big deal. With some good rest and food, he''d recover. But his right arm was a different story. "For now, we rest. We''ll get through tonight. Watch out for night raids, and the scouts should keep moving." Graham shouted. The heavy infantry would take over the night watch. Although the battle had been short, casualties were the highest yet. The number of dead had surpassed ten. Enkrid was deep in thought. Krais, watching, stepped in front of him. With the torch on his back, his shadow swayed, moving above Enkrid''s head. They were inside a newly built tent, with wild horses outside, and Ragna, Audin, Dunbakel, Teresa, and Esther inside. Whoosh. The cold wind swept into the half-open tent, making the torches flicker. Krais''s shadow grew, split into two, then merged back into one as he moved. "Why?" Enkrid was leaning back slightly, just after Krais had finished changing his bandages. Krais swallowed and then spoke. "Let''s run." ---------------------------------------------------------------------- TL here! Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 289 - Duty and Responsibility (1) Chapter 289 - 289 - Duty and Responsibility (1) For Krais, this was all too obvious. Why would anyone risk their life in a hopeless battle? Why fight here, prepared to face death? ''If only reinforcements would show up, maybe things would be different.'' But when you weigh the circumstances, the possibility seems slim. Slim, but not impossible. To even catch a glimpse of those reinforcements, one would have to give up certain things. The Green Pearl, the Border Guard Fortress... There were the watchtowers they had built and the newly dug moats, but if they were to be surrounded from both sides, all of those preparations would be useless. ''What we have right now is meaningless.'' It was wise to consider the next step. Holding on alone wasn''t always the best option. Having come to this conclusion through his reasoning, Krais spoke. "Let''s run." Enkrid stared at the man with the big eyes and thought to himself. ''This time, his eyes seem to be fully functional.'' He didn''t appear to be scared or consumed by anxiety. So, is he asking about running because he''s still thinking clearly and wondering what would happen if they flee? Enkrid widened his view and looked around. All eyes, not just Krais''s, were fixed on him. No matter what choice he made here, they would follow his lead. It seemed like that was the case. Even the one-eyed man lingering outside the tent would probably follow him once he returned. And Esther, of course. Even Rem, who had been missing and lying down somewhere, would follow him if he wasn''t there. He was sure of it. Ragna, even if he got lost partway, would find his way back. Why? What was it about him that made them follow? What had they seen in him? He couldn''t force his will on them. He couldn''t impose what he had decided to protect on them. Enkrid couldn''t do that. "You can go." That was what he said. Krais looked pleased but waited for the next words. "And you?" Jaxen, who was quick to be blunt, asked right away. That guy always seemed to speak in a more casual tone once the opportunity arose. "I''m not going." "Why not? You''ve done more than enough." Krais also dropped his formal tone. Enkrid didn''t press him about it. Instead, he spoke his mind. "If I sell my sword for gold, then I''m just a mercenary." It might have sounded like nonsense, but everyone was listening in silence. The way they all waited for the next words made Enkrid realize that, just as he had learned from them, they too had learned something from him. They were all paying attention. Even if ears were closed, it wouldn''t mean they couldn''t speak, but if they listened, it was certainly better. "And I''m going to be a knight." Enkrid swallowed. His usual thoughts, the ideas he had formed on certain days, had been refined into a firm pillar. Enkrid shifted into a more comfortable position as pain shot through his shin and right arm. It wasn''t painful, just bearable. At least it was much better than when he was about to die. Constant pain reminded him that he was alive, that he hadn''t spent the day in vain. "I hear that a lot." Jaxen commented, almost like an interjection. Enkrid pulled his legs up and adjusted his posture to a more comfortable position. "If you don''t plan to sell your sword for gold, then you must sell it for duty and responsibility. And that is my duty and responsibility now." What is a knight? A knight is someone who protects. What should they protect? The knights of legend and myth, those who shone like the sun in the past, said: Protect the weak. Defend justice. Keep your vows. Which of these is most important? Enkrid reached a conclusion by himself. A knight is... Is it noble to sacrifice your life for a lady? If he swore to do so, then yes. If that is his knightly vow, then it should be accepted. However, he would not sell his sword for just gold. He would not become a murderer who enjoys killing people. An intangible value. To protect what you believe in. Those who swear and keep their vows for that. To an ordinary person, they would seem like fools. That is Enkrid''s dream. That is the path he has walked until now. He didn''t give up even after dying countless times, and he never became complacent, which was the reason he was here today. If Enkrid were to run away now, how many people inside Border Guard would die? Children, women, the elderly, young men¡ªperhaps there would be a massacre with a death toll in the hundreds. Maybe fewer would die. Or perhaps even more might perish. One of the enemies was a cultist. A mad group was included. Of course, even considering all of that, retreating right now could be seen as more efficient. It might be better to give up what needed to be given up and reclaim what could be reclaimed. But he wouldn''t do that. Enkrid''s emotions did not waver. It wasn''t a situation where he could hesitate. He had made his decision, and he would follow through with it. Behind him was Border Guard, and Enkrid had sworn to protect them. Though he wasn''t a knight, from that day in the past when he had sworn to live in such a way, he had kept his vow. That was how Enkrid had lived. Krais''s face turned pale again. His eyes drooped, clearly displeased. "You''re foolish." "I admit it." Enkrid responded to Krais''s words, recalling a certain day from the past. The rain poured heavily. "It''s really pouring like crazy." The mercenary captain didn''t mind the rain too much, but as they passed through the sticky swamps for a mission, his irritation grew. At least they weren''t going through the swamp''s heart, but rather a small forest beside it. However, that didn''t make it pleasant. The swamp bordered small forest often gifted long worms between armor plates, and mosquitoes, bold enough, bit the backs of mercenaries'' hands. "Damn it!" Thwack! One mercenary slapped his hand, irritated. With the rain pouring down, where were all these mosquitoes coming from? "Are we there yet?" The mercenary, his eyes fierce, shouted. The guide pushed his damp, long black hair aside and replied. "Almost there." "I thought you said that earlier." The captain, a large, intimidating figure, came closer. His appearance alone was enough to impose a sense of authority. Despite looking directly at him, the guide''s blue eyes remained calm. "The rain slowed us down." "Right, let''s go, go." Thwack. The captain lightly slapped the guide''s back of the head and shook his head. Then, he turned to calm his men. "Goddamn idiots. Shut your mouths before I throw you into the swamps." The captain spoke roughly as he sliced through a thick vine with a large sword. With a sharp thwack, the vine was severed and the path cleared. Though the captain''s words were rough, they quelled the discontent. The guide, Enkrid, thought to himself that this mercenary group was actually pretty decent. At least the captain, despite his appearance, took care of his subordinates, and the mercenaries were the type to protect what mattered. They weren''t the kind of people who would stab their comrades, friends, or clients in the back during a mission. If the guide didn''t have that kind of sense, he would have been nothing more than food for the bugs or nutrients for the trees, dying on the roadside. If you didn''t want to die on the roadside, you had to pick your people carefully. It seemed like he had picked well this time. "But why are we using that guy instead of a proper pathfinder?" Did he ask because he knew they could hear him, or was he just saying it on purpose? One of the mercenaries, walking behind the captain, asked. The heavy rain was coming down, but their conversation could still be clearly heard. The trees above shielded them somewhat from the rain. "Cheap." "Pardon?" "Cheap, that guy. His pathfinding skills aren''t great, but on the other hand, he can fight." It was a case of using him as both a combatant and a pathfinder. So, while they were only paying for a guide, they were getting an additional fighter for the same price. The mercenary captain explained that Enkrid''s rate was low. Of course, one dumb mercenary muttered, "It''s not that cheap." He boasted that he knew other guides who were cheaper. "Are any of them good at finding the way?" One of his comrades mocked from the back. "Want me to kill you? Stop talking nonsense." From there, the usual exchange of meaningless jokes continued. Kill him, save him¡ªthose kinds of jokes. The rough conversations of mercenaries were a common sight. The mission was to stay in a small village nestled in a forest and take care of some tasks. There were few monsters or beasts around, making it a relatively safe village. Although surrounded by swamps, it was thought that there might be a Lizard Colony here, but about a dozen years ago, a wandering swordsman had come and slaughtered all of them. Since then, whenever the lizard beasts began to gather, the village hired mercenaries. For just a few gold coins a year, they were free from threats. Splash. The rain poured. The blurred view. The sticky wet clothes and armor¡ªat this point, the gambeson he wore was practically disposable. It was a lucky day to wear cheap gear. However, when the rain eased up a bit, the bugs started swarming, and it got hotter. Why did the trees here feel like totems, maintaining a humid air instead of refreshing air? It was the usual kind of mission. Lizard extermination and repairs around the village. Enkrid, who had been surviving in this nearby village for over six months, had been working as a guide to make a living. "We''ve arrived." It was a village he had guided them to, albeit clumsily, along a familiar path. "Welcome." The middle-aged village chief greeted the mercenary group, and after dealing with the lizards tangled in the swamp''s scent, he hung strips of bark around the swamp trees. They had also planted stakes in the ground, though it didn''t seem like it would be very effective. "It''s wisdom passed down from the past," the chief said, believing it firmly. There were many tasks that required mercenaries'' help in the village. If any lizards slipped through, another sword would be needed, and there were almost no one besides the mercenaries to step up. Some villagers could fight, but most seemed distant from combat. Following the guide, Enkrid had once again found himself swinging his sword in a village corner. "Hey, mister." A little child approached. She had gentle eyes and pale skin, no older than twelve. Enkrid, having once been taken down by someone of her age, didn''t underestimate her, but she didn''t seem like she could wield a sword. "Why are you working so hard?" It was the usual chatter. A little child coming over and asking a familiar, silly question. That''s how Enkrid became friends with one of the village children. "I''m leaving the village in three years." To say that dying outside was your dream¡ªit was bold for such a young one. What could someone her age want to do alone? "No! It''s not like that! Did you see the herbs that drive away the lizards? Do you think they only grow here? The herbs from this swamp are different." Enkrid had heard that the village''s main source of income was herbs. "So your dream is to be a guest house owner?" "Ugh! Really!" So, what did she plan to do? "I''m going to find amazing herbs! And I won''t go alone. I''ll join a mercenary group when the time comes and travel with them!" She dreamed of finding rare herbs and selling them. Enkrid didn''t mock other people''s dreams. He just felt a bit worried. "So, your dream is to die while looking for herbs?" "Ah, really!" It wasn''t that their relationship was particularly deep. Just a friendly connection, a way to pass the time. A way to rest his weary body from training, that''s how he spent his time. Perhaps the little girl thought similarly. Among the mercenaries, others were fierce-looking, but Enkrid seemed to be the only one who would quietly practice his sword in the corner. She probably didn''t mind talking to someone like him. It was a simple enough friendship. The mercenary group''s mission lasted over a month, and during that time, they had these trivial conversations. "Is being a guide your dream?" "No, a knight." "A knight? The nightmare of the battlefield?" "Yeah." "...I think it would be nice to gather herbs together. You can come with us when you''re older!" "Let''s not talk about that." "No, I respect you, really. I mean it." "Look me in the eye when you speak." Why was she looking at the distant mountains while speaking? "What? What did you say?" "Stop pretending you didn''t hear me." Such a ridiculous little girl. And then the crisis came, as always, without warning. "Hey, what will be left if we fight here? I''ll say it bluntly¡ªif you''ve taken what you came for, leave. This isn''t even your mission." Enkrid thought that the mercenary captain was a decent person. For a mercenary captain, he was quite genuine. Then came fifty bandits, suddenly appearing. They had heard rumors about some hidden treasure in the swamp village. The mercenary captain had to make a choice. The villagers would be left alone to face despair. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 290 - Duty and Responsibility (2) Chapter 290 - 290 - Duty and Responsibility (2) The rain had stopped, but the damp air remained. The sticky, oppressive sweat made it uncomfortable to wake up each morning. By midday, that discomfort only worsened. As the sun climbed higher, the humidity intensified, and a subtle heat began to add to the misery. Under the humid midday sun, the discomfort, sweat, and heavy air pressed on as the village chief urgently shouted. "I''ll give you whatever you want!" The bandit leader, clearly the one in charge, sneered and laughed. It was as if he were daring them to attack. When the mercenary captain didn''t respond, the chief''s face twisted in distress, and it seemed as though tears might come. "Please..." A few villagers, nervous, looked at the mercenaries with pleading eyes. Still, no answer came. The captain swallowed a short, frustrated sound. ''Are they not going to accept the request ?'' Enkrid''s gaze shifted to the captain. The original task had been completed earlier that morning, and the mercenary group was only supposed to leave. Then, a sharp-eyed mercenary spotted something, and a scout from the bandits was captured. Without needing to interrogate him, the bandit revealed the location and numbers of his group. They weren''t well-known bandits, but they were numerous. There were over a hundred of them. When you combined the villagers and the mercenaries, the total number of fighters barely surpassed thirty. The difference in numbers was more than double. The mercenary captain was troubled. "Mercenaries sell their swords for gold. We don''t fight without a contract. This isn''t a request, it''s a rescue. We owe no such loyalty." He wasn''t a bad person for a mercenary captain. For someone in his position, his decision made sense. So, his choice was justified. There was no reason to risk their lives. "Wise." The bandit leader exhaled a sigh of relief. Of course, why wouldn''t he? If the mercenaries decided to fight, the bandits would have to bear the consequences. No matter how skilled they were, at least ten would die. No, more than twenty could fall. The captain seemed to be a formidable fighter himself. Even if they won, the casualties would be severe. If it wasn''t for that, the mercenaries would have already wiped out the bandits. Had the scout not been caught, the mercenaries would have simply left after finishing their task. "Let him go." At the captain''s order, the mercenary released the captured bandit. "Where is the justice in this?" "We''ll all be killed!" "Please!" "Why?" "We''ll give you everything we have! We have jewels!" One of the villagers shouted. Another tried to grab the bandit''s pant leg, but was swiftly brushed aside. Wham! "Approach, and I''ll cut you down." One of the mercenaries spoke harshly. He seemed ready to strike without hesitation. In truth, just by not siding with the bandits and sharing the village''s wealth, the mercenaries had already shown loyalty. The captain was wise. "Stop. If you come any closer, we''ll draw our weapons. Everyone step back." The captain quickly took control of the situation. He signaled for the mercenaries to step back, and the bandits stood by, watching. Enkrid found himself caught in the middle. As part of the mercenary group, he could have simply stepped aside, but his indifferent gaze caught sight of the reckless little girl who had entered. The same wild child who had once told him she planned to leave the village in three years and become an herb gatherer. "Uncle, let''s go." How reckless could she be? Even as the villagers begged for their lives, her eyes were scanning the surroundings, and in the midst of it all, she even waved at Enkrid, using the back of her hand. Her expression wasn''t one of giving up. She was likely considering making a run for it. Enkrid had dealt with many bandits in his time, and he knew how this would end. They would all die. His contribution wouldn''t change the outcome. Should he stay out of it? Should he turn his back and walk away? Was he really willing to abandon everything he had sworn to protect? ''What am I hoping for?'' What if I turn my back now? What if I ignore it? I can do nothing. How many times have I just watched, unable to act because I wasn''t strong enough? Should I do the same again this time? I don''t know. Until now, I''ve ignored things, even when I knew better, but why does this feel so heavy in my chest? "Hey, let''s go." A mercenary from behind tapped my shoulder. His face was unpleasant, but he was a good-natured guy. He had been helping the villagers with their chores too. But when it came time to leave, there was no hesitation. That''s the basic mentality of swordsmen in this world. It''s rare for someone to seek death. A fool who stands their ground, knowing they''re going to die, would be incredibly foolish. And if they did it to protect the weak, with some misguided sense of romantic idealism, they''d be even more foolish. ''I feel like people would call me crazy for this.'' I knew that even without him saying it. Yet, I couldn''t turn my back. If I take one step back now and turn my back on even this, I''ll never be able to move forward again. That''s how it felt. "Hey." Have I survived so far just because the goddess of luck felt sorry for me? But I don''t think I''ve even received a kiss yet. If luck were to help me, it would come in full force, right? What a ridiculous thought. The sound of raindrops started to fall again. "Enki, you bastard." The mercenary captain was angry. The words he said stuck with me for a long time. "They won''t die. Even if we leave, they won''t die. Why would they kill a group this big? What are you going to gain by killing people? Are you a pervert? They''re not going to kill anyone. If we leave, they''ll probably be sold to a slave trader. Honestly, being a slave might even be better for them!" Life in the swamp village wasn''t exactly prosperous, but at least they were alive. But I couldn''t say that being a slave would be better. "We were going to hire you, you fool." The captain pulled his foot back. It couldn''t be helped. They weren''t in a position to force him to come with them, and it wasn''t their place to get involved to that degree. More importantly, he was just a guide who could wield a sword¡ªnot some great talent. He was just a fool who couldn''t see even a step ahead. "Why?" The village chief asked, his eyes filled with disbelief. It wasn''t gratitude but because it was so absurd that he couldn''t believe it. "Do you see the guy standing third from the left in that group?" "Yeah, I see him." "That''s my enemy." It was the second time I had seen him. When I said "enemy," the bandit blinked in surprise. He studied Enkrid''s face. Someone who looked like that wouldn''t easily be forgotten. "Are you from the mining village?" I nodded. "Shit, the bastard who survived there is here too." It seemed like they were troublemakers, causing problems in various places. If that was the case, it would be fine to kill them all. Though they might die before that happens, I needed to strengthen my resolve. "Really?" The village chief whispered in my ear. "Just kidding." "...Are you crazy?" Enkrid smirked. Since we had already decided to fight, the reason didn''t matter. The village chief was so shocked that he didn''t even think to stop the mercenaries from leaving. "That bastard isn''t our responsibility." The mercenary captain said. "Is he just going to stay behind?" The bandit leader asked. The mercenaries began to retreat. Two of them, however, decided to stay behind. "Goddamn, what''s wrong with you?" "Ger?" "I''ll stay. That guy is bothering me. If things go wrong, I''ll take him and run." "Asshole, if you''re going to do that, I have to stay behind too." "Pete, you too?" "I''m worried because he''s like a little brother to me." The captain narrowed his eyes. Deep down, he wanted to stay, but if he did, the mercenary group would be wiped out. The captain told them both that if they wanted to stay, they should leave the mercenaries. And that was that. Ger and Pete. Two mercenaries stayed behind. "I''m older than you." I said to Pete, who was tough-looking but loved children. "On paper, I''m definitely the older one." At that, Enkrid couldn''t help but laugh. Though it had only been about a month, the two mercenaries who had gotten to know Enkrid couldn''t just turn their backs on him. Enkrid drew his sword, blocking the path of the bandits. "Are you out of your mind?" The kid asked, but it wasn''t entirely unreasonable to think that being sold into slavery would be the better outcome. Seeing the perverse way the bandits had been eyeing the children earlier, it was clear their future wasn''t looking bright. "Did you fall for him, kid? It''s only right to watch a man''s fight." Ger responded to the kid''s question with a mocking comment. "What''s he saying?" The kid, ignoring him, didn''t care. "Sort of." Enkrid shrugged off the kid''s comment and raised his sword. He was crazy, there was no denying that. Was there anything to gain by protecting these kids? No. Was there any honor or reward to be found in this mess? Absolutely not. The nobles in the kingdom probably had no idea what was happening here. They were too busy filling their own pockets. Enkrid knew the nobles well. What if the local lord was asked to deal with the bandits? Let''s pretend there''s a benevolent lord who would listen to such a request. But by the time the entire village had been reduced to slaves, corpses, or crippled people, scattered and sold or buried, it would be far too late to intervene. Moreover, this particular lord would never bother to send soldiers to deal with a group of bandits that even the lord''s men didn''t know existed. The conclusion: If left alone, they would all die. There was no one else coming to help¡ªexcept Enkrid. "Those guys could be sold too. Not bad-looking." The bandit leader grinned, thinking of the profits. Enkrid fought back fiercely. He used every trick he knew, cutting down three of the bandits before the fourth one swung a club at his head, causing him to stagger. Ger and Pete were also fighting hard. Ger swung his axe with power, while Pete thrust his spear, making holes in the bodies of several bandits. "If you don''t want to be captured, get your act together!" The village chief shouted boldly. But just then, an axe came flying, striking the chief in the head, killing him instantly. Still, they fought. Some of the villagers grabbed weapons and rushed forward, swinging axes meant for chopping wood and wielding long sticks. "Throw!" The kid, dreaming of becoming an herbalist, joined in, picking up rocks and throwing them with the other children, some of whom were just a year or two older than her. It felt like they might have a chance. If they were lucky, they could even find an opportunity to escape. What if the mercenary captain decided to intervene and launch a surprise attack? But that didn''t happen. "Fire!" The archers let loose, and Pete fell, an unlucky arrow piercing his neck. "Ugh..." Pete never even got to say his final words. Did Ger and Pete know they were going to die? Of course, they did. But they had hoped for a twist of fate. Ger had even made a plan. Before the fight started, he said that if he saw an opening, he would capture the bandit leader as a hostage. Ger was good in one-on-one combat¡ªhe''d never lost. It seemed like a solid plan. Pete, quick on his feet, darted around like lightning, stabbing at the bandits with precision. One would create an opening while the other would seize the leader. That was the plan. But it failed. The bandit leader was strong, skilled, and much more capable than they had anticipated. When Ger saw an opportunity and lunged, the bandit leader met his axe with a sword. Clang! Sparks flew as Ger''s face twisted in pain. The bandit leader''s skill was far superior. "Shit." Ger felt despair. Pete fought on, but in the end, an arrow struck him in the neck, and he fell. Hope vanished. "You bastards!" Ger let out a final, desperate scream and charged. "Where do you think you''re going?" The bandit leader remained calm, not letting his guard down. He directed his men with precision, trapping them in a circle. There was no escape. It ended as expected. The bandit leader severed Ger''s head with a swift stroke of his sword. "Did you think you could win? What were you hoping for?" Enkrid fought until the end, but the bandit leader strangled him with his bare hands. Enkrid''s sword had slipped from his hand, and it lay discarded in the mud-soaked ground. In the distance, Enkrid saw a kid who had kept fighting until her skull was crushed, blood pouring from her head. "Looks like she''s dead too." Enkrid muttered without thinking, and the bandit leader followed his gaze, responding casually. "She fought too hard. Every time we touched her, she fought back like a wild animal." The bandit leader''s tone was indifferent. In this world, it was kill or be killed. It wasn''t surprising. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 291 - Duty and Responsibility (3) Chapter 291 - 291 - Duty and Responsibility (3) "I don''t think you''re looking to die." The bandit leader spoke. In the midst of all this, his words seemed like an attempt at persuasion. He suggested that Enkrid join them in their banditry. Ah, and maybe serve them at night, too? Enkrid wasn''t sure. His thoughts were fragmented. His memory, especially of these moments, was hazy. All he could see in front of him were the bandits, looking like nothing more than dogs. They were like rabid dogs, grinning and laughing. Their mouths stretched unnaturally wide, reaching all the way to their ears. Everything in front of him blurred. The bandit leader, the one who looked like a dog, approached with his tongue flicking in and out. They had already been subdued. Under normal circumstances, it would have been time to wait for the next chance. As long as he didn''t die, tomorrow would come. Another opportunity would arise. But when he thought of tomorrow, his gaze fell on the body of the child and he heard the bandit leader''s voice. He thought the leader said something else, but Enkrid didn''t hear it. The last thing that stayed with him was the sight of the bandit leader undressing the dead child. "Why take off his clothes?" Enkrid thought, struggling against his blurred thoughts. Then, with a sharp pain, he grasped the blade of a broken knife. The handle had been removed. The edges of his palm were torn, blood dripping, but no one would suspect the blood came from his grip on the sharp edge. With that makeshift knife, he thrust it forward. It sank deep into the bandit leader. Crunch. He twisted the blade. Snap! The bandit leader swung a punch. Enkrid''s body flew through the air and crashed to the ground. His shoulder twisted painfully. His left arm hung uselessly by his side. Enkrid lifted his head to see the bandit leader, clutching his stomach with one hand. The leader''s dog-like features disappeared, revealing his true face. "You want to die that badly? Fine, die." "Ger, now." Enkrid''s tongue uttered the spell. It was as if he could hear Ger swinging his axe behind the bandit leader, even though he was already dead. The bandit leader flinched, startled, and rolled forward. Of course, Ger wasn''t alive. He had died. A dead man swinging a sword would only be an undead. A zombie or a skeleton soldier would be the only ones capable of such a thing. Enkrid smirked as he saw the leader''s eyes flash with murderous intent. In his haste to move, the leader''s wound opened further, and blood began to pour out. "You won''t die easily." He thought to himself. He never truly lived a decent life to begin with, did he? It suited him, though. Enkrid was indifferent. He had done all he could. If someone came close, he would just bite. That was his plan now. ''What a strange feeling.'' It was like a sick joke. Like a dog. Like madness. He had failed to protect the kid, who had died before she could fulfill her dream. His two comrades were dead. The villagers were all dead. Now, he was going to die too. "What the hell did that guy think he was doing?" One of the bandits muttered. "You have no faith," Enkrid answered flatly, just as usual. Hearing that, the leader and his men confirmed that Enkrid was definitely insane. In a situation like this, who talks like that? It was clear that Enkrid had suffered a severe head injury when he was younger. Bang. Then, a sudden sound. A head flew through the air, blood pouring out, and a lifeless body fell to the ground, decapitated. It was the guy who had been undressing the child. Whoosh, bang, swoosh, crack. The other two, who had been standing by, seemingly waiting their turn, had their necks sliced clean off. Nothing was clear. It was all too fast to see. "What the hell, fuck!" The mercenary group? No, even if they had returned, it would have been pointless. This was unbelievable. It was as if the wind had come and sliced off the necks of several men. It was that fast. Invisible. Then, a voice came from the direction of the bandits. Standing there, among them, was someone who had appeared out of nowhere. The person wore a hood that covered their entire face, leaving only their eyes visible. Enkrid could tell that this person was a woman dressed as a man. But none of that mattered. "Those who touched my village, is it you?" The woman dressed as a man, with a longsword slung over her shoulder, spoke. She wore black leather armor and appeared slender overall. Despite her frame, her swordsmanship was brutal. Cutting off a person''s head is no easy task. Even now, there weren''t many who had their necks severed instantly. Yet, she sliced through the necks of three burly bandits with ease, even though they had the upper hand. "It''s you, right?" With incomprehensible words, her sword moved, and with each swing, another body hit the ground. Enkrid swallowed the blood flowing from his split lips and gasped for air. He had been struck in the lungs during the fight, causing internal damage. It wasn''t enough to kill him, though. After taking so many blows, he had learned which injuries could threaten his life. This much he could endure. He wouldn''t die. Ignoring the pain, Enkrid watched the woman with the sword wreak havoc. "Kill him! Arrows!" Whoosh! A few arrows flew at her, but they were pointless. Her movements were too fast to track. All Enkrid could see were the villagers'' reapers, who were his own reapers, falling one by one. "You''re upset over losing just one rabbit you were roasting?" the bandit leader shouted. The woman answered with her sword. She cut through with a swift motion. "Foolish insects. You should''ve thought before attacking." There was no hesitation or mercy in her hands. She sliced, stabbed, and killed without a second thought. Enkrid watched as the remaining bandits fled, before he collapsed, overwhelmed. He had lost too much blood and his injuries were severe. "Do you know someone with blonde hair, red eyes, and a lazy demeanor, about this height?" She asked, though he was drifting in and out of consciousness. The woman glanced briefly at him as he lay unconscious. Their eyes met, and she spoke. "If you don''t know, don''t bother." Enkrid had heard that she had left after receiving a few gold coins from the villagers. It wasn''t in exchange for saving them. She took what was given and attached no significance to her actions. She hadn''t been there to save anyone. She just cut down those who got in her way as she passed by. That was all. When Enkrid regained consciousness, he joined the villagers in burying the dead. Ger and Pitt were buried, as was the child. "Why did you do that?" It was as if the dead child was asking. Standing alone between the graves, Enkrid answered indifferently. After recovering, he earned the nickname "The One Who Let His Comrades Die." It had been a fight where he gained nothing and protected nothing. But it was a fight he couldn''t back down from. *** "You don''t like what they''re doing, do you? You want to strike them. It feels like if you run away, you''ll lose. Ah, and that''s something you can''t stand." Her words were completely indifferent. There was no change in tone or pitch. It was the epitome of apathy. "Yeah." "How can you say that so nonchalantly?" "I''m just a cold fire kind of guy." "Ah, I see." Krais gave up. If he could have persuaded him, they wouldn''t have come this far. Enkrid stood up, memories of that day surfacing once more. "I''m not going to say ''let''s run.'' Just tell me. Really, why?" It felt like the same question the kid had asked as an echo from the grave. "Because I want to." It was the same answer Enkrid had given back then. What is a knight? They were those who kept their oaths. Enkrid grew up hearing stories and dreaming of them. That dream, from childhood, had evolved into the dream he held now. To Enkrid, knights were those who kept their oaths and never betrayed their hearts. He had often found himself in such situations since then. Maybe it was luck, or perhaps the blessing of the goddess of fortune. But he had barely survived. Then, he had received a charm in a mountain village that made him relive the same day. "Who knows how things will turn out?" So, he would do what he had to do. He would follow his heart and keep his oath. "Ah, so in the end, you''re going to protect our backs? If you leave now, half of the Border Guard''s people will suffer, right? Some might die, and there''ll be heretics too. There''ll be chaos. You''re going to protect that, right?" "No, it''s just that I don''t like the way they look." "Seriously! No, it''s about protecting people!" "You''re still speaking so informally." "Fine, fine. Alright, let''s just say that''s what''s happening." Krais genuinely gave up. Enkrid smirked. Yeah, he wanted to protect them. That was his responsibility and duty. If he couldn''t protect those behind him, then what was the point of swinging this sword? What could he protect in the future, who could he protect? If he couldn''t even take responsibility for his own back, then he couldn''t do anything. That was Enkrid''s oath. "May the Lord''s blessing be with you." Audin prayed without a smile. Ragna silently cleaned and oiled his sword. Jaxen had already stepped away. Teresa and Dunbakel said nothing. Esther didn''t need to say anything. The leopard didn''t seem to care what they were talking about. "Seriously, are you all crazy?" Krais muttered, but no one, including him, seemed like they were planning to leave. The night passed, and Enkrid judged that he couldn''t use his right arm just yet. Well, he''d use it if he had to, but for now, it was on hold. His shin injury surprisingly wasn''t as bad as he thought. ''Just as long as I don''t move too much.'' In the middle of the night, Audin asked. "Shall I heal you?" Enkrid was quick to pick up on things. Luck often followed him, but he had survived many situations because of his quick instincts. Because of this, he had a general understanding of what would happen when Audin used his divine powers. Above all, should he force him to do something he didn''t want to do? Should he sacrifice something of a loyal, bear-like soldier just to heal his arm a little faster? "Enough." He pushed it away. Audin, hearing this, smiled again. Late at night, a strategy meeting was held. There were many urgent matters to discuss. "We have to retaliate. We need to force the enemy to reveal their numbers first. We hold on for one more day, then we fight on the third day." Graham nodded as well. He was thinking of when to deploy the heavy infantry, while Krais was imagining all the ominous things that could happen on the battlefield and methodically breaking them down one by one. By the time morning approached, Krais''s eyes were dark from lack of sleep. "Staying up all night is the enemy of your skin." Krais grumbled but continued to think hard. The battle resumed early the next morning. "Kill them all!" Lykanos shouted as he charged forward. "We must hold on. Stay intact." Krais spoke, and Enkrid followed his instincts, moving to the front line, the vanguard. Enkrid only held his sword in his left hand. "Hold on!" "The pain that can''t kill me!" "Will only make me stronger tomorrow!" The distorted rallying cry fell back into place. Before the battle could fully start, a group of spear soldiers rushed toward Enkrid, aiming for him. Lykanos watched from the back. The gleam from the single eye of the man who had become half-blind flickered, but it didn''t reach Enkrid''s gaze. Enkrid held on again that day. He wasn''t dead, but he couldn''t move forward without straining himself. As Enkrid held on, the morale of his allies soared. The injured could not stop the mad unit. Moreover, Enkrid''s subordinates hadn''t fully joined the fight yet. They were still keeping their last move hidden, fighting cautiously. "Kill them all!" "F*cking bastards!" Amid curses and shouts, the soldiers fought on. Enkrid, too, didn''t die, but he allowed three strikes to his abdomen. It had been intentional. Fighting with only his left hand, his movements were twisted and strained. The armor he had obtained from the explorer''s grave was a treasure. He trusted it. Thud, thud. Enkrid patted his belly and laughed. "Feels solid." Such crazy talk, truly. Krais sighed deeply, his face showing his frustration, as he spent a second day in the camp. The next morning. "Is this really necessary? Really?" His face and arms were covered in small scratches, and his body was a mess. It was the result of yesterday''s battle. He didn''t care; a bit of ointment would heal it. But it didn''t look good, and that''s why Krais said it this morning. "They keep hitting and running. Trying to block them feels pointless." By exposing his belly, he had taken two of their necks. One with the serpent sword, the other with a heavy sword strike. "Let''s stop talking." When the battle resumed, Enkrid saw something unexpected. "Ughhh!" A child, barely able to scream or shout, had appeared at the front of the battlefield, among the enemy ranks. Not just at the front¡ªthis child had stepped right into the arrow''s path, standing well within range of the incoming arrows. It wasn''t a bandit, nor a noble of the Tarnin House, nor a cult member. It was a familiar face. A child Enkrid vaguely remembered. A child from the Border Guard. A child who had been protected within the territory, one he had sworn to protect. "It''s a gift! You little sh*t!" Lykanos shouted from behind. Even as he spoke, there was no real expectation in his voice. It was a petty trick to break morale. "Vengeance." Enkrid''s call immediately made Vengeance understand. "Don''t shoot!" Vengeance shouted, and the archers lowered their bows. The enemy archers didn''t fire either. The child ran. With trembling legs, the child somehow managed to approach. Enkrid took a few steps forward. He was prepared to block any arrows coming from behind with his shield, which he held in his left hand. The child kept running, determined, until they reached Enkrid. And then, a flash! Light erupted from the child''s abdomen. And then... "Is this really necessary? Really?" Enkrid woke from his reverie, hearing Krais''s exasperated remark. The day had begun. It was the same day he had experienced yesterday. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 292 - Tailored Schemes Chapter 292 - 292 - Tailored Schemes "What''s with that bastard?" Lykanos had heard the name Enkrid and had a general idea of his abilities¡ªor so he thought. That''s why he revealed his hidden trump card, confident of an absolute victory. Yet, Enkrid evaded it, managing to inflict only a temporary injury on one arm¡ªnot even a decisive blow. "Ha." For Lykanos, it was baffling. Never before had he drawn his sword and failed to achieve his intended goal. This was a blade known to only two people in the entire world. A weapon designed for speed-based thrusts, with hidden blades within a flail. And somehow, this man¡ªwho wasn''t even a knight¡ªavoided it. The swordplay didn''t end there. Even after losing an eye, Lykanos signaled his forces. He had prepared a secondary blade just in case. "Kill him." His handpicked unit charged but failed to kill their target. "One eye down, and still..." Half his world was now covered in darkness. Though medicinal herbs had been crushed and applied to his injured eye, they couldn''t alleviate the pain entirely. It hurt. Unless a high-ranking cleric appeared out of nowhere, the loss of his eye was inevitable. That fact alone irritated him. Failure and injury. With these two setbacks, frustration bubbled within him. "What a cursed situation. Hoo." With a single curse and a deep breath, Lykanos suppressed his emotions. "Are the preparations ready?" He asked afterward, and an immediate reply came, "Yes." Recalling his orders, Lykanos calmed himself. Getting riled up wouldn''t change anything. If his hidden technique and handpicked forces failed, did that mean there was no next step? Of course not. Lykanos wasn''t a genius strategist, but he had survived long enough in this world to learn one thing: "Humans are creatures with weaknesses." No one was without flaws¡ªnot even those lauded as geniuses. The trick was finding them. How? By probing and testing. Using every method available. Trying this and that until something worked. If even one tactic hit its mark, that was success. No one was immune to a blade piercing their flesh. That applied even to knights. A single lapse in vigilance, and the blade could penetrate skin, muscle, and delve deep into vital organs. "Probe him. No matter what it takes, find out what makes that bastard tick." From the very beginning, the Black Blade operated as an intelligence-gathering entity. Their reach extended deep into Aspen, uncovering secrets about border guards, religious zealots, and even Marcus''s forces. They had investigated Enkrid, too. "Being good with a sword isn''t everything." Initially, they had tried persuasion. The Black Blade could offer anything¡ªgold, women, power. The plan was to tame him, turn him into their tool. But Enkrid didn''t even pretend to listen. "No interest?" Lykanos couldn''t fathom such a man. When persuasion failed, the next step was elimination¡ªan easy solution. Although it was regrettable, plunging a blade into a man''s chest was no challenge. Yet again, the attempt failed. "Not even that?" Neither assassination, poison, nor bribery worked. Was he truly without weaknesses? The leader of the Black Blade personally intervened. By analyzing Enkrid''s past, present behavior, emotions, and idiosyncrasies, he constructed a psychological profile, which he handed to Lykanos. "A lunatic?" Lykanos was taken aback. Enkrid was an idealist¡ªa man who wielded his blade to save others. A true madman. It wasn''t without reason that people called him "The Madman." Even the tale of his last duel spread far and wide, carried by countless storytellers who eagerly sold their accounts for a few coins. "Would he really surrender just because hostages are taken?" Was it because of overconfidence in his skills? Or perhaps a genuine desire to save others? Through countless resources and information, they constructed a plan. "Will this work?" Lykanos wasn''t certain. It was a gamble, one he wouldn''t have attempted if Enkrid had died by his blade or his men''s weapons. The plan itself was simple: infiltrate the Border Guard, kidnap a few children, and send them back with scrolls wrapped around their bodies. The scrolls contained a volatile explosive magic spell. This scrolls were relics of a fallen kingdom. The magic was powerful but could only detonate at close range. It was so unstable that the caster would often perish without adequate protection. But what if the caster''s death didn''t matter? By binding the spell to scrolls and attaching them to individuals, and carefully controlling activation, it became a viable tactic. Though resource-intensive and risky, its potential to disrupt the battlefield was undeniable. Lykanos chose to act rather than hesitate. Sometimes, action was more important than deliberation. Now was one of those times. Sometimes, actions mattered more than overthinking. Now was one of those times. Lykanos resurrected a tactic once pioneered by the strategists of the old kingdom. "Will this really work?" one of his subordinates asked doubtfully. In a world of killing and being killed, what could they accomplish with some half-familiar brat? People valued their lives above all else. Even if their own mothers were killed, most would prioritize survival. Besides, would the enemy even recognize the child? Nobles'' lands were full of kids scurrying around. "Want me to wrap it around your body and send you instead?" Lykanos bared his fangs as he spoke, a green liquid trickling from his mouth, the remnants of some herbal concoction. The sight was unsettling. His subordinate lowered his head and moved to comply. What an idiot, Lykanos thought with contempt. This was what it meant to abandon morality for the sake of victory. You kept probing until you found a crack in your enemy''s defenses. The Black Blade thieves operated the same way. They infiltrated the Border Guard under cover of night, sending in a handful of men disguised as robbers. Though many were caught by some frog-like creature, beaten, killed, or driven off, a few managed to kidnap a single child. Barely. Hearing this, Lykanos felt a dull ache in the back of his head. Are these fools really part of the Black Blade bandits? From the child''s perspective, it must''ve felt like the sky was falling. But would such a petty act disrupt the battlefield? No. It wouldn''t change anything. A mother might despair at the loss of her child, but even she would know deep down that the child wouldn''t return. Such was the world they lived in. Will this even work? Even the subordinate tasked with wrapping the scroll around the child''s body seemed doubtful. A mage muttered something incomprehensible in a hollow voice, his expression shadowed and grim. "Everything''s ready." "Send him." The order came from an old mage, his bulbous strawberry-colored nose speckled with black spots. Following his command, the child was pushed forward. "P-please... Please spare me!" The child, sobbing and trembling, begged as tears and snot ran down their face. The bandit drew a dagger and lightly grazed the child''s cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. "If you don''t want to die, do as you''re told. Now go." The child staggered forward, legs shaking, dragging their feet yet forcing themselves onward. Tarning, the viscount, saw the captured child but paid no mind. What''s the big deal about a kid or two dying? Even if they were one of his own subjects, it wouldn''t matter. This was a rebel brat plucked from the Border Guard. If the sacrifice of a few subjects could win him the war and make him the ruler of these lands, he would force it without hesitation. Tarning''s ambition was boundless. Overlord! His vague desires and ambitions teetered on the edge of becoming reality, igniting his greed. Thus, colluding with bandits, wrapping children in scrolls, or adorning them with iron thorns was trivial to him. Even if they wore crowns of spikes, so be it. "Go." At the bandit''s urging, the child continued forward, crossing the range of arrows and heading straight into enemy territory. Trembling all the way, yet they kept moving. The child walked toward their own homeland¡ªthe land they once lived in. No arrow harmed them, and no one blocked their path. Instead, someone stepped forward to meet them. Who it was didn''t matter. The mage maintained their connection to the scroll wrapped around the child''s body, linking it to their own magic world. It was a dangerous gamble. One slip-up, and their magic world would suffer severe damage. Even success would leave scars. It was a reckless act, and thus an effective one. What kind of lunatic mage would resort to such measures? Only an old, diseased mage, driven more by greed than the pursuit of knowledge, could sink to such depths. "Detonate." The mage whispered the command. The ferryman''s eyes appeared, staring at him as the violet lantern swayed in his hand. The voice, deep and intrusive, echoed again. "Do you enjoy it?" Enkrid hadn''t yet grasped what had happened. He only knew death. Facing the dreamlike presence, he spoke. "It''s been a while." Despite his greeting, the ferryman showed no emotion. Indifferent as ever, he responded. "You won''t enjoy it." The black river receded as Enkrid opened his eyes, waking to face yet another repetitive day. "Are you seriously going to keep this up?" Krais''s voice reached him as he got up and prepared for the morning. He ate heartily and checked his injuries. They hadn''t healed. He''d have to survive the day with this battered body. He reviewed the last situation. The Black Blade had kidnapped a child, placing something in their hands¡ªor more accurately, wrapped it around their body¡ªand sent them. He''d pinpointed the source of the light. A scroll? What else could it be? Right before the child''s body seemed about to burst, a chilling sense of foreboding struck him. Light, a flash, searing pain engulfing his body. The sensation of being torn apart piece by piece. It was a dread he''d felt before¡ªa magical trap he''d encountered when his sixth sense had first awakened. This time, there was no way to avoid it. What a joke. Would they just let the child approach and shoot them down with arrows? Yet, to kidnap a child, smuggle them out of Border Guard territory, and use a scroll¡ªan expensive one, at that¡ªfor this scheme? None of it had been easy. "Ridiculous." "Excuse me?" "Nothing." "I''m the one feeling more ridiculous here," Krais muttered, letting out a deep sigh. "Yeah, sure," Enkrid replied, dismissively. He ignored the complaint and focused on thinking. It was absurd, truly, but Enkrid had no intention of turning away. A solution. If something was in front of him, he would break through it, overcome it, and push past it. Just like always. Enkrid deliberately concentrated his thoughts in one direction. The goal: a way to face and survive the explosive magic. To endure it. To surpass it. And if possible, to save the child as well. How could he achieve all that? Facing another repetitive day wasn''t a new ordeal for him. The first name that came to mind was Esther. A magician who embodied mystery, and if the scrolls involved a spell, she might resolve half the problem. The issue, however, was that Esther needed to assume her human form to cast magic¡ªa limitation she herself had explained. Enkrid glanced down by his thigh. There lay a Lake Panther, quietly resting on the floor. When he placed his hand on her back and gently stroked her fur, she purred softly, seemingly pleased. "Isn''t it about time you turned back into a human?" Enkrid spoke as he ran his hand from Esther''s head down to her back. "Turn back into a human. Yab!" he declared, almost whimsically. He hadn''t said it with any real expectation. However, everyone in earshot turned their attention to him, their gazes gathering. Among them, Dunbakel stepped forward, placed a hand on Enkrid''s forehead, and muttered to herself, "...Does he have a fever?" Watching this scene unfold, Krais shook his head silently. "Good grief... Why do I even bother?" Krais groaned in frustration. Esther, on the other hand, simply stared at him with languid eyes. Her gaze seemed to ask, What are you doing? "Never mind," Enkrid said, pressing his palm once more against Esther''s head. She tilted her head slightly, then settled back into her original position, completely unbothered. He hadn''t truly expected much from the attempt. Esther still spent more time as a panther than as a human. When in human form, she had once told him she could only maintain it briefly. "Not even once a week, it seems," Enkrid mused. If only she could become human right now¡ªnot during some formal speech but here, in this critical moment¡ªhow helpful would that be? Wishful thinking. Esther had already proven herself capable in other ways. She had single-handedly taken down a magic-wielding foe during their raid on a Black Blade-controlled village. Her assistance was valuable, but reliance wasn''t an option. Since when had he ever escaped a challenge by depending on someone else? "This is my responsibility." The entire day was spent contemplating the situation. When that spell triggered, the child would explode. That much was certain. Dragging a chair over, Enkrid sat down, leaned forward, and rested his chin on his hand, lost in thought. Nearby, Dunbakel tried coaxing Esther to turn into a human, only to have her hand bitten in return. "Ouch!" Teresa remained silent, as did Ragna and Audin. In the brief silence that followed, Enkrid''s thoughts were interrupted by Krais''s weary voice. "What are you thinking so hard about?" Enkrid was aware of Krais''s knack for clever thinking. He lifted his eyes to meet Krais''s, then briefly explained the situation. What if someone charged with a scroll wrapped around their body? How would he respond? "What else? If you know ahead of time, you dodge or shoot them down with arrows." "That''s not an option." "What?" "No." "Then what is it? Stop saying no and just do it!" Though Krais grew irritable, Enkrid ignored him. The cold, pragmatic logic of "Big Eyes" was correct: avoidance was the simplest solution. But that wasn''t an option here. Enkrid had wielded his sword to slash, pierce, and kill. He had cut down beasts, monsters, and even men. He did so for duty and responsibility. There was a grim satisfaction in it, if all he wanted was to revel in slaughter, he wouldn''t have aspired to be a knight. "I swore to protect those behind me." That was why he fought. It was the source of his resolve and the root of his dream to become a knight. If sacrificing a child was the only way to escape this situation... If it had to be done... Enkrid would do it. But if it was merely a desperate attempt to escape today by discarding the child... That was unacceptable. A knight''s oath was born of conviction, and conviction stemmed from the heart. Enkrid couldn''t achieve his dream by betraying his own heart. The dream he sought, the kind of knight he wished to become, was not built on such actions. That was why there were things he could never abandon. The enemy''s ploy was utterly preposterous, but... It was effective against him. A scheme tailored to exploit his principles. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 293 - Training Begins Chapter 293 - 293 - Training Begins "Why are you acting like this?" Oh, he''s still here. Krais was standing right in front of him, waving his hand in the air like he was swatting at something. "Can you see this? Ah, can you even hear me?" "What are you doing?" "Oh, you can hear me now." "My ears are fine." "Not so sure about your head, though." Is he trying to provoke me into hitting him? With Rem out somewhere, maybe Krais thought it was his time to act out. But before I could react, Krais spoke again. "If it''s about the weird question earlier, why not just ask Esther? And by the way, you do realize we have a mountain of urgent tasks to handle right now, don''t you?" "Handle them yourself. I''m giving you full authority." "Ah, hell no! If you do that, I''ll just run away!" "Except for that." Krais muttered a curse under his breath, one that I couldn''t quite catch, and turned to leave. "Why is my life like this..." His lamentation sounded oddly comforting. At least he wasn''t running away for now. Enkrid placed a hand on Esther''s head again. Even if she couldn''t be fully human, the knowledge she held wasn''t going anywhere. So far, Esther had proven to be no ordinary mage. Among those who wove spells to manifest mysteries, she stood out as exceptional. Perhaps she knew something. He wasn''t hoping for much when he asked her a question. "Esther, you heard that, right?" It was a simple comment, thrown out casually. Slowly, Esther rose to her feet. If she had been human, her joints might have cracked noisily, but her supple, feline body stretched like a bow, fluid and silent. With a clawed finger, Esther began drawing something on the dirt floor. Scratch, scratch. It was a simple sketch: a geometric shape followed by three straight lines. What could it mean? The crude artistry made it difficult to decipher. Is this abstract art? Then Esther drew something long and sharp a little further away from the first shape. Definitely abstract. Enkrid took a moment to appreciate Esther''s attempt at art. She''s never been taught drawing, clearly. Magic and art must be unrelated. There was once a mage who claimed magic was a form of art¡ªwhat nonsense. Esther slapped her palm on the long, sharp shape she had drawn, then pressed her hand on the geometric shape. The dirt floor quickly returned to its original state, erasing her canvas. Enkrid, sharp as always and a good listener, understood her intentions despite the abstract presentation. "Attack it before it activates?" Esther let out a low growl, almost like a purr, then curled up into a ball. The chill in the air seemed to bother her, prompting her to seek warmth and sleep again. Seeing this, Enkrid picked her up and carried her back inside the tent. He laid the leopard-like creature near the fire and began stretching, loosening his muscles. Soon, Audin walked in. Krais was probably busy running around, trying to fix something. Ragna, for once, seemed motivated and was likely practicing swordsmanship nearby. As for Jaxen? Who knows¡ªhe''d manage somehow. That left just him and Audin. "Brother," Audin called out. Even before he spoke further, Enkrid already knew what he was going to say. It was about healing. Audin possessed divine power, which could theoretically heal the injuries still lingering in his body. If only his right arm and left leg could fully recover... ''That would make things so much easier.'' But is it the right thing to do? Would that truly be the correct path? Enkrid, ever perceptive, had pieced together a lot about Audin. Though Audin hadn''t shared his full past, his actions, demeanor, and past words painted a picture that wasn''t hard to decipher. ''Exiled, bound by restrictions, or otherwise unable to fully use his divine power.'' When Audin had healed him before, he had acted calm, but Enkrid could tell there was a toll. "I can''t completely heal you, but I can reduce the pain," Audin offered. "No need." The refusal was quick. There was no point in it. Partial healing wouldn''t solve anything, and dulling the pain wouldn''t help either. Pain was a sign of being alive. Now, more than ever. When that scroll¡ªor whatever it was¡ªhad detonated around the child''s body, he had felt every bit of his own body being torn apart. But it must have been far worse for the child. Thinking about it made his blood boil. Whoever had devised such a thing... He had no intention of letting them get what they wanted. Running away wasn''t an option. He wanted to face them head-on¡ªcut, pierce, slash, and crush them with his own hands. "Just strike first." Simple. Almost too easy¡ªit felt anticlimactic. Enkrid pulled a piece of seasoned jerky from his pocket and placed it in Esther''s mouth. The leopard-like creature bit down on it with sharp precision, chewing contentedly. "Brother, as you wish," Audin said, turning to leave. ''What an interesting brother,'' he thought, sensing that Enkrid had pieced things together about his condition¡ªthe restraints on his divine power and other limitations. Not that Enkrid could know for sure; Audin had never explained it outright. His understanding was based purely on intuition. And yet, even with such insights, Enkrid showed consideration in this situation. He wasn''t running away, nor was he trying to avoid the fight. Despite his injuries, he showed no signs of seeking a way out. Audin found it fascinating. ''Oh Lord, my Father in Heaven, what tempers this man''s resolve?'' Of course, there was no answer. But Audin didn''t need one. He prayed silently: ''Dear and precious brother, if it is your wish, I shall lend my strength on this battlefield.'' He knew exactly who their enemy was. For Audin, crushing the skull of the wolf-beast leading the pack was a divine mission bestowed upon him. After Audin left, Enkrid contemplated swift strikes. His ability to review, refine, and prepare was one of his key strengths, and now he applied it again. ''A faster sword.'' He reflected on past encounters: Martai''s Zimmer, Rem, Ragna¡ªall were quick. "Through pain, I shall advance. I shall not pray to forget the suffering, but embrace the pain granted by the Lord and move forward," he murmured. Even that prayer-spouting oaf outside the barracks was quick. Everyone was fast. The most recent and perhaps fastest blade he had witnessed was that of Lykanos. ''Too fast.'' By far, Lykanos had been the fastest. Speed. That''s what mattered now¡ªabsolute speed. Immersing himself in this realization, Enkrid wielded his sword, pushing forward through another day of relentless practice. "Pain that cannot kill me..." "...only makes me stronger!" Amid the roaring chants of soldiers, Enkrid stood resolutely. His path was clear, carved by lessons learned. ''The last time, the blast was here.'' This time, he''d reach it first. "Hey!" The startled cry of a nearby soldier reached his ears as Enkrid suddenly bolted past the front lines. He ignored it, picking up speed despite the dull ache in his left shin. It was manageable. Ahead, the child''s eyes widened in shock as Enkrid closed in. The scroll was visible now¡ªa drab, reddish parchment wrapped around the boy. Striking just the scroll wasn''t a challenge anymore. Once impossible, it was now a simple task. He swung his sword. But just as his blade was about to slice through, there was a flash of light. The spell triggered again. It was faster this time. Despite his earlier action, the scroll''s activation had been adjusted by someone from the rear. The explosion incinerated the child''s eyes, tearing flesh and shattering bones, sending fragments of viscera flying in every direction. The searing heat reached Enkrid''s head and stung his own eyes. His heightened focus forced him to witness every gruesome detail. He saw it all, endured it all. And once again, Enkrid died. ''What the hell.'' Even as a new day began, the vision burned into his retinas refused to fade. Still, he had learned enough now, after just one more cycle. The third morning dawned. "Yes, I''ll do it that way," he muttered. "What? Wait, seriously?" Without waiting for Krais''s inevitable protests, Enkrid grabbed his sword and got up. Esther growled softly in discontent from her spot, curling back into her sleeping place. Sighing, Enkrid stepped out of the barracks. "What''s going on now?" Krais asked, watching in bafflement. "What does it look like? Training," Dunbakel answered, stepping forward. She had decided to follow Enkrid, reading his intent from his actions. She grabbed her scimitar, eager for a vigorous workout. With Rem away, her body practically itched for activity. As Enkrid moved toward the training grounds, he shook off the lingering visions and cleared his mind. The path ahead was clearer than ever. "What''s wrong with him?" Krais muttered in exasperation behind him, but Enkrid paid no attention, his usual indifference intact. Sword in hand, he stretched it forward. It was madness, perhaps, but it was also his routine. The training began anew. Enkrid approached each new day with unwavering commitment, often unintentionally so. What began with contemplation always transitioned into action¡ªthoughts made tangible through effort. Audin, as usual, offered to heal his wounds. "No," came the curt refusal, as always. It was a part of their daily rhythm now. While some things changed, others remained constant. Audin''s demeanor was one of them. Every rejection was met with a solemn prayer or a shift in posture that suggested he was about to cause trouble. Yet, despite appearances, he spent his days in relative calm. "Healing?" "Enough." It was a repeating day. Audin never asked for the reason each time and let it pass. Enkrid, too, accepted it as a part of daily life without digging too deeply. "Transform." On some days, he would grab Esther and lightly toss her against a wall, shouting what sounded like an incantation. He thought that maybe provoking her anger would trigger a transformation, but all it did was leave more scratch marks on his face. Honestly, he didn''t expect much to begin with. Sometimes, he wandered across the battlefield, poking around aimlessly. Other times, he approached an exceptionally skilled archer. "Do you think you could hit just the edge of the cloth draped around someone''s body from this distance?" If done well, he could manage it¡ªshooting an arrow that would pierce only the very tip of the cloth without harming the target. "Is that even possible?" The soldier''s incredulous response was enough to make him give up the idea. That left only one option¡ªhe had to get up close to deal with it directly. What if he infiltrated the courier''s route before they departed? What if he rescued her before everything started? "Where''s Jaxen?" "No idea. Haven''t seen him since last night." Krais''s reply revealed that Jaxen hadn''t been around since the previous evening. Now that he thought about it, in all the repeated days, Jaxen alone had been absent. Throwing Esther or snooping around elsewhere¡ªit was all just a habit by now. The wall that kept today repeating had its cracks. Hadn''t he used those cracks several times before? That''s why he checked. He even tried asking around to see if there was a magician within the unit. But where could one find a magician so easily? ''Though, for something so rare, it feels like I''ve encountered them rather frequently.'' Scratching his chin, he mulled over the thought idly. Aside from a brief midday inspection of his surroundings, he spent his time wholly immersed in sword practice. At times, he forgot about the passing hours, forgot today, and even forgot his purpose. ''Ah.'' In thrusting and slashing, he lost himself in a state of no-mind but never achieved success, not even once. And so, nine iterations of today had passed. Not a single one of those days allowed for complacency. Yet every attempt ended in failure. Close but not quite. ''Why?'' He questioned himself, searching for an answer. There had to be a way¡ªthere was no wall that could not be overcome. Enkrid reviewed what he''d learned so far. Thanks to nine repeated days, he had both confirmed and solidified a few truths. First, the scroll was indeed the trigger for the spell. Second, Esther would emit a warning sound just before it activated. Third, someone was observing and detonating it remotely. Fourth, even if he ran straight for her, he couldn''t outrun the spell''s activation. These were the known factors. However, some things remained unclear. Was it truly possible to nullify the spell simply by slicing through the scroll? Was this the right path to take? On the fifth iteration of today, doubt and distrust began to rise, but Enkrid brushed them aside. Right or wrong, if this was the only course of action available, then he had to follow it. "Stop wasting time thinking and run. If you lack talent, at least build stamina." This was something a fencing instructor from a minor trading estate had once told him. That man was the first proper teacher Enkrid had ever met. It was only natural that stamina formed the foundation of everything. It was equally natural that the body that executed those actions had to be in top condition. "Don''t get hurt. Neglecting your body''s maintenance means you''ll flail helplessly in critical moments. And when you flail, you die." That instructor had taught him mercenary-style combat based on countless real battles. One of the merchant''s sons who had listened alongside him had remarked dismissively: "Stop with the obvious advice and teach us properly." But Enkrid had paid close attention to the mercenary instructor''s words. Even if he had paid only a few kronas for the lessons, he didn''t disregard them. Unlike the merchant''s son, who scorned the advice as mere cliche?s, Enkrid had chosen a different path. He listened and acted. Instead of wasting time deliberating, he wielded his sword. He internalized their words, their advice, and the lessons forged through swinging a sword. ''Never neglect your body''s upkeep.'' That advice, too, he had faithfully adhered to. Even with injuries to his shin and right arm, he was fine. Ever since circumstance forced him to rely on his left hand, Enkrid had been punishing it just as much. He never ceased his training. If he struck a hundred times with his right hand, he struck a hundred and fifty times with his left. Because of that, his left hand no longer felt awkward. "In case you lose a leg, train for it." This was something he''d learned from Rem. In combat, anything could happen. What would you do if one leg suddenly stopped working? "Then you fight like this." It was a nameless footwork technique¡ªa skill that involved shifting stance and position by flexing and releasing a single foot. The move was absurdly difficult, and perfecting it felt like it would kill him, but the effort hadn''t been in vain. "It''s a good way to kill time." Jaxen had praised it in his dry way as he observed him practicing. If he had truly thought it useless, he would have told him to practice dodging with a dagger instead. After mastering the technique, Enkrid had even given it a name. "Let''s call it the Limping Step." What he learned, he hammered into his body, refining it again and again. Through nine iterations of today, Enkrid was now honing a sword strike faster with his left hand than his right. It wasn''t easy. Failures were plentiful. On some occasions, his blade came dangerously close to touching the child''s body, but that was when the scroll would immediately detonate. Whoever was observing and triggering the spell had impeccable timing. Enkrid envisioned countless hypothetical scenarios in his mind. ''Preparation is key.'' Drawing upon what he''d learned from Jaxen, he contemplated the fastest way to draw his blade. Could he block the observer''s gaze somehow? By the fifteenth iteration of today, he faced a seemingly insurmountable wall¡ªone that might evoke despair in anyone. "I pity you, so I will teach you the way. You have two paths before you." It was the boatman who spoke. Pity? That word didn''t suit the boatman at all. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 294 - The Boatman Spoke Chapter 294 - 294 - The Boatman Spoke On the ferry drifting over dark waters, the scene was eerily familiar, yet today it felt more foreboding. A solitary purple lamp stood still, casting a faint glow that barely illuminated the hands of the one holding it. The boatman''s voice was heavier than usual, resonating deeply as though it reverberated through the heart and rattled the mind. Enkrid''s attention sharpened on a particular phrase. "A path?" He had always assumed the boatman relished watching him struggle, trapped by the wall before him. But now, he was offering guidance? "Step back and observe. Evade, and the path will open." Evading meant pushing the day forward. Normally, skipping today would only lead to its repetition. In other words, evasion wasn''t a solution. Yet, the boatman insisted. "Evade." The words, heavy and resonant, dug into his entire being. It wasn''t a physical sensation but a mental intrusion, something deep in the realm of consciousness. Despite the boatman''s strange demeanor, Enkrid didn''t doubt him. Nor did he question the boatman''s purpose¡ªto keep him bound to today. Perhaps it was because he understood this that Audin''s oft-recited phrase from scripture came to mind: "A devil always arrives in the guise of an angel." "Evade." The boatman''s words sliced through Enkrid''s psyche, as if mixing up his thoughts. Suddenly, the black waters faded away, and though his eyes had been open, he felt as though he opened them once more¡ªa bizarre experience signaling the arrival of another today. Unlike other dreams that blurred into hazy memories, the boatman''s words lingered vividly in his mind this time. It was different, almost as though he had been brainwashed. "Flee. Turn away. Leave the child behind, and you can easily break free of today. That will suffice." Clarity struck Enkrid like lightning. The boatman was giving him an easy way out. He mulled over the words, turning them over and over in his mind, and the urge to follow them grew. "Does it have to be this way?" Krais''s slightly altered words echoed faintly. The boatman''s logic was sound, and every fiber of his being whispered that this was the path to take. Yet, why now? A memory surfaced¡ªa little girl, hands on her hips, chin raised as she prattled away. "Someday, I''ll act like I know you. If I make a famous potion, maybe I''ll even give you one. So you better be nice to me, got it?" Willpower resisted through sheer force, rejecting the weight of those suggestions. ''Reject it.'' Even so, the words ''easy path'' echoed in his mind, as if compelling him toward them. Enkrid limped forward toward the battlefield. "Out again today?" The soldier beside him inquired, noting the scratches covering Enkrid''s face. "I''ll head out again tomorrow." With that, he cast aside his leather helmet. The helmet narrowed his vision and dulled some senses¡ªthis time, he would pierce through before the spell could activate. ''The fastest path.'' He envisioned the trajectory, etched the movement into his mind. The wind brushed his cheek. Though it was daytime, the sky remained dim, and the gusts were sharp and cold, carrying the stench of battle¡ªblood, iron, waste, fear, and tension¡ªall coalescing into a single overwhelming scent. As his five senses merged, a sixth awakened. A point of focus ignited, making everything on the battlefield appear to slow down. The child entered his vision. He shut out every other sound. There was no need to hear. He saw nothing but the child. There was no need to see anything else. All sensory input blurred into a single thread¡ªa line. A point connecting to another point. ''I am also a single point.'' He perceived himself as a point, the child''s path as a point, and the fastest route between them. Bending his right knee, he pushed off. Though devoid of Will, his rigorously trained muscles launched him forward with terrifying speed. At the same time, he extended the sword in his left hand. To the watching soldier, the blade seemed to move faster than Enkrid''s body, like an arrow shot from a bow. The blade glimmered faintly with blue light as it hurtled forward. Faster than ever before, Enkrid confronted today. The child''s face came into view¡ªher eyes, nose, lips. The face of the already deceased child, who had once dreamt of becoming an herbalist, overlapped with the one before him. Enkrid''s sword pierced near the child''s shoulder, delicately severing the strap. The scroll hanging from their chest trembled as it split in two, spilling light into the air. It was a failure. "Foolish." The boatman''s voice was flat, devoid of emotion, making it impossible to discern his feelings. Enkrid did not respond, simply repeating his actions, reliving the same day. When does despair truly set in? When told something is impossible from the start, one accepts it with a degree of calm. They recognize the end and move on. But what if the goal seemed just within reach, only to remain out of grasp? Despair comes in those moments. And if someone then pointed to a shortcut or hinted at an easy way out? The boatman, transformed from his usual self, felt an unfamiliar curiosity toward Enkrid. Why does this man not give up? Why does this man not falter? Why, how, what allows him to persist? Curiosity birthed doubt, and doubt led the boatman to make a second offer, after eighty-six repeated todays. "Even if you regret it, it''ll be too late." The sudden statement made Enkrid tilt his head in confusion. In the realm of the mind, such displays of emotion were rare. It was surprising, but this man had provided many reasons for surprise, so it was hardly noteworthy. "But I am generous." "Generous?" Enkrid''s questioning tone and unwavering demeanor revealed his firm resolve. In the realm of the mind, words are shaped by will rather than the body. Though his attitude bordered on irreverence, the boatman wasn''t offended. He was already aware of the situation and knew playing along would only make him appear foolish. With calm detachment, the boatman pressed on. "I''ll give you one more chance." "Again?" Even so, Enkrid''s sarcastic tone grated on him. The way he tilted his head and furrowed his brows seemed mocking. But the boatman had long since transcended humanity and remained composed. Had he been a mere mortal, curses would have spilled from his lips. But he was not. "Keep the wall from closing in. Force it to cross the river before it reaches you." Maintaining his air of calm, the boatman answered, and Enkrid, still in his previous posture, questioned back. "The river?" The boatman took a deep breath¡ªa rare action for him, one born of necessity rather than habit. Then he dismissed Enkrid from the realm of the mind. After Enkrid vanished, the boatman allowed his true emotions to surface. "Bastard." Short, yet thick with meaning. Even after prodding and planting his intent into Enkrid''s mind... "That bastard will act on his own." The boatman foresaw that Enkrid would betray his intentions. And recognizing this, he couldn''t help but laugh. "Heh." It was the first genuine emotion he had shown since becoming the boatman. Half exhausted, half amused, it was a peculiar kind of laugh. ''The nonsense he spouts. Is he bored?'' Enkrid, who had always forged his own path, crushing anything in his way, naturally ignored the latest offer as well. His mind was consumed by a singular thought. ''Can I be faster than this?'' Connecting the dots, focusing until his brain felt as though it would burst from the strain¡ªit was still a failure. So, what is speed? Enkrid had seen countless swords hailed as swift, yet their meaning was clear. The answer came suddenly, and with unexpected ease. "When I picked pockets, my hands weren''t the fastest. But I was the best. My hands were slower, but I had sharp instincts. All it took was timing¡ªstriking when they weren''t looking. Trying to rely on raw speed when someone''s watching? Only idiots do that." It was something Krais had once said in passing. Enkrid had been sparring with Ragna to exchange the fastest strikes and learning initial attack techniques from Audin''s Valah style when Krais commented while walking by. At the time, it had seemed trivial, spoken without much weight. No, the follow-up was likely Krais''s true point. "They know us. It''s like trying to steal coins from someone''s pouch while they''re staring at you. Idiotic." The situation was dire enough to demand variables. That''s what Krais meant, but Enkrid hadn''t responded. No, he couldn''t. Krais''s words struck him like lightning. ''Outside their perception.'' Speed is relative. If your intent is seen, no matter how fast you are, it will seem slow. If your intent is known, they will prepare. "Hey! You''re ignoring me again? Enki, you bastard!" Krais was waving his hand and bouncing around in front of him, but Enkrid didn''t hear him. Enkrid sank deeper into his own world, his jaw slack, drool trailing down. Yet his thoughts didn''t stop. "Enough." Ragna dragged Krais away. Enkrid was breaking through something that had confined his thinking. Intent¡ªhis own and that of his opponent. Humans can communicate meaning with a mere gesture. Techniques that distract an opponent''s gaze stem from this. Sleight-of-hand tricks, non-magical illusions, employ this principle. Such methods are even commonplace in gambling dens. Intent works like that. ''Deceive.'' You can fool your opponent with intent alone. Speed exists outside the opponent''s perception. This wasn''t about a contest of speed visible to the eye. No, Enkrid refused to interpret it that way. This wall was about saving the child¡ªor failing to do so. He had made up his mind. Therefore, what he needed was either a sharp sword or a quick sword. Valah-style mercenary swordsmanship had countless techniques for such purposes. ''Ah.'' The realization struck. Lightning seemed to hit his head one after another. What is speed? It''s simple: move outside the opponent''s perception. Don''t show them the fast sword, just end it before they realize. The thrust that Jaxen had demonstrated¡ªa killing strike¡ªbrushed past his mind. He added something new to it. ''The sense of evasion is driven by instinct.'' The sense of evasion avoids everything that falls under the realm of intuition. What if you add intent on top of that? What if you direct instinct toward a purpose? This was a path that hadn''t been seen until now. It seemed within reach, just barely. That''s why. That''s why he had focused only on speed in his mind. No. The path is not singular. ''But still, if it''s absolutely fast, it''s better.'' They say if you chase two hares, you catch none, but... The experience accumulated until now, and the left arm honed by repeated misjudgments, combined with speed, all seemed to point to a way where both hares could be caught. Most of all, training from his previous experience with Jaxen proved helpful. Hadn''t he trained using the sense of evasion in close quarters? What was the significance of the training dodging stones? Questions must have intent. Training, too, must move toward a result through its process. For Enkrid, the result was one. ''Instinct, with intent.'' The sense of evasion is a symphony of instinct. It makes the body react to intuition and perception. That''s why it''s called the sense of evasion¡ªa skill born from the instinct to protect oneself. Enkrid twisted that skill. ''Infuse it with intent.'' It could just as easily be called the sense of attack. clang. The psychological shackles the boatman had planted within him shattered. An easy wall that seemed almost within reach. Yet still, it was an impassable wall. The offer presented to him at that moment. Everything was a trap. Everything was a prison that tightened around him. But Enkrid never stepped close to the prison. He ignored the offer, finding a new path instead. ''Ah.'' At the end of this realization, a new today awaited him, and the battlefield stood ready. "Today too..." "The pain that can''t kill me..." The lead of the battlefield. He cut off the soldier''s usual question. The soldier stared blankly at him before responding. "It only makes me stronger." In truth, the pain that could kill him would only make him stronger. But he preferred this rallying cry. Enkrid pushed through the biting winds. On the far side of the battlefield, a child wrapped in scrolls came running toward him. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 295 - What is Your Dream? Chapter 295 - 295 - What is Your Dream? Enkrid stopped and looked up. The dark sky, thick with gloomy clouds, stretched overhead. ''It feels like something''s about to fall.'' How many times had today passed? It was different from before. In the past, no matter how many times he repeated things, he could always gauge what number today was. He had remembered today in different ways each time. But this time, it was different. Why had it changed? Why was he accepting things differently now? ''Because my field of vision has narrowed.'' It felt like he could handle what was right in front of him and move forward. Being human, Enkrid had grown impatient. That impatience consumed his field of vision. It blocked him from seeing the situation properly. It felt like he was a racehorse. His peripheral vision was blocked, forcing him to run only in one direction. Who did this? The situation did. And the boatman added his own flavor to it. ''Have I been had?'' Or had he learned? He had learned. There''s always something to learn from everything. Enkrid felt the wind and smelled the scent of the battlefield, which had lingered for two days, as he looked up at the dark sky. It didn''t end with just seeing, hearing, and feeling. Enkrid forgot the gazes of others. For a moment, he even forgot where he was. He pushed the current situation aside. Afterward, he reflected. He reflected on the today that had passed, over and over again. This was a new experience even for Enkrid. Even though the child''s steps were slow, it wasn''t a long time. In that short time, the reflection began and ended. ''The boatman''s words were part of the problem.'' But his own fault for focusing too much on one thing was even greater. ''Focusing on one point also blurs the vision.'' Everyone around Enkrid had questions about his behavior. It was strange enough that he stepped forward just because one child was running toward him. Even stranger was that he had gone out alone, as though to meet the child. Then, he didn''t approach the child. He stood there, still. That was the strangest part of all. This sequence of absurd actions had left everyone''s minds in disarray. "Damn, what''s he doing?" One of the enemy muttered. "Just watch." A mercenary from the Black Blade group tapped a soldier on the head and said. No matter who was involved, the situation itself was simply bewildering. Why wouldn''t it be? On one side, a child had appeared, and on the other, the hero from Border Guard, who had been fighting the enemy leader, emerged. It was utterly absurd, but those watching expected Enkrid to embrace the child. If not, they thought he would treat the child as an enemy and cut him down. Humans try to predict the next event based on the current situation. This is called anticipation. Now, Enkrid had gathered everyone''s attention with an unexpected, out-of-the-ordinary action. "Looks like snow is coming." Enkrid muttered while standing alone on the battlefield, but no one was listening. What is he doing? The confusion and absurdity mixed, causing the hands of the enemy to stop. They were forced to observe the current situation. The old mage, who had connected the spell''s link to activate the scroll, was still in a state of concentration. If he took his eyes off it for even a moment, the magical link would disappear. Then, he wouldn''t be able to remotely activate the scroll. The child had no room to check the surroundings. He just ran because he was told to. ''I want to live.'' The child wished desperately. From the moment he was captured, he instinctively knew survival was impossible, but a sliver of hope pushed him forward. Maybe, somehow, he could survive. Who knows, maybe the goddess of fortune would shed a tear for him. Luck was always a variable. ''I''ll survive no matter what.'' The child''s survival instinct made his feet move instead of shedding tears. Then, Enkrid, after taking in the surrounding situation and reflecting, realized several elements he had missed. The scroll... ''Someone is watching and will trigger it. They can''t be far. They must be within my visible range. This wasn''t a move made with high expectations, but still, it was a clever ruse. How? They know me.'' His intuition flared again. Now was not the time to focus entirely. If someone was watching him, all he needed to do was hide his intent and buy some time. ''How to hide my intentions from the opponent.'' All he had to do was divert their attention with an unexpected action. This was the foundation of Valah-style mercenary swordsmanship. With this, Enkrid showcased his swordsmanship. He also mixed in what he had learned from Krais. Krais knew how to capture the attention of those around him and exude an atmosphere. Enkrid mimicked that. Subtle hand gestures and minute movements of the body, shifting weight to his right foot while pulling his injured leg back to stabilize himself for a limp. The posture suggested that he might spring forward at any moment. While Krais focused attention through speeches, Enkrid used his actions to draw all eyes to him. In the stance that looked as though he would leap forward at any second, his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. ''He''s drawing it.'' ''He''s striking.'' These were the movements that made everyone think that way. It was only then that the child finally recognized Enkrid. ''Ah, I''m going to die.'' The child gave up on life. His steps slowed. Enkrid was now in the old mage''s line of sight. The preparation to activate the scroll had been made. His field of view widened, and the target was clearly identified. The child was just five steps away from the activation range of the spell. Enkrid used the technique from that stance. It was called swordsmanship, but it was a skill that could not truly be called swordsmanship. Whether it could truly be called swordsmanship was uncertain. The author called it a technique, an art. Valen''s mercenary sword style, "One-Eye Diversion." Enkrid twitched slightly, shaking his shoulder before turning his head to the side. The distance was too far to see his expression, but it was clear to anyone that he had turned his head in surprise. People can convey their intentions through actions, without having to speak aloud. "It''s not about hiding the intention, but covering it." What was needed was just a brief opening. Even the wizard, whose head turned sideways, seemed momentarily dazed. What''s over there? Everyone''s awareness shifted to the side for a moment. This included Lykanos and the entire enemy force. Even the allies, including Commander Graham, Audin, and the Madmen unit, were deceived. It was perfect. And there was nothing there. Only the wind blowing, accompanied by swirling dust. A dry, harsh, biting wind. "I''ve been tricked!" Lykanos shouted. In the meantime, Enkrid leaped forward. The instinct for evasion triggered in an instant. Enkrid added his intent to that instinct. Combining all his speed from today, the fastest sword strike flew. The strength in the joints of his left fingers was just right, and the muscles that extended were flexible. On the other hand, his body felt heavy. The air pressed in on him as though he were stuck in mud. In the suffocating pressure of the air, his head and eyes burned. He saw the child''s shocked eyes, the snot running down their face, and their mouth agape. Everything seemed slow. In the slowed world, Enkrid alone stretched his sword forward. The wind was pushed back as he sliced through. The blade cut the string that held the scroll, stabbing and slicing the tied parts. The space the blade passed through left faint scars on the child''s body. It wasn''t a flashy technique¡ªit was a strike focused purely on speed. He couldn''t perform some magic to merely cut the outer garments. A quick snap. The scroll was severed and flew into the air. Enkrid, still holding the child, leapt sideways. The forceful movement caused a wound on his left shin, but now was not the time to worry about that. The old wizard had not completely lost focus, but there was a crack in his concentration. This delayed the magic activation slightly. In a flash, the scroll once again emitted light. Enkrid rolled with the child in his arms. A burning heat swept across his back. It felt like a flame licking his back. His back burned, but he survived. The child in his arms was still alive. "Ha," he exhaled, his hot breath brushing the child''s hair. He lay diagonally on the ground. "...Ah." Everyone fell silent. No one could speak about what Enkrid had just done. Even the allies couldn''t find words. Meanwhile, Enkrid took a brief pause to catch his breath, still holding the child, and asked: "What''s your dream?" "...Huh?" The child was in such a dazed state that they couldn''t even tell if they were alive or dead. They had probably wet themselves. Their thighs were damp. Enkrid ignored the mess flowing over his armor and asked again: "What do you want to be when you grow up?" It was an unimportant question. It was meant to reassure the child, and it was also something that had come to his mind from some past moment. It wasn''t deeply meaningful. "I... I want to be a herbalist, like my mother," the child said. Their eyes, once filled with terror, now spoke of life. The days ahead, the days of living. The child was determined. They walked steadily, running toward life even as they dashed toward death. Enkrid had wanted to be a knight. The childish dream from his youth had led him to this point. He often asked himself why he swung his sword. The answer had never come clearly. However, today, his sword would be swung for the child who held a dream. "Alright." He rose, pushing the child from behind him. "My back, my back!" The child mumbled, voice trembling. "Run. Don''t look back." In response to the child''s murmuring, Enkrid shouted without taking a breath: "Ragna!" Come and cover my side. Without needing to say more, Ragna would understand. Enkrid''s gaze returned to the front. It was right after the magic activation had failed. Lykanos was charging toward him, wearing a menacing expression. Around him, red-eyed figures were charging forward, each holding a spiked sword. They seemed to be on something, their state was abnormal. Their eyes were bloodshot, and their limbs swelled unnaturally. With their thickened legs, they stomped the ground, rushing forward fiercely. "Kill them!" Lykanos shouted as he discarded his flail''s scabbard. He had just been struck a moment ago. If they let their guard down, it would be their turn to fall. The enemy''s injury was irrelevant. Enkrid raised his sword. The blue-bladed longsword in his left hand faced the oncoming enemy. He pointed the sword''s tip forward, meeting the advancing foes. From all four directions¡ªleft, right, up, and down¡ªspiked swords rushed at him, with Lykanos leading the charge. The blades aimed at him seemed to come at once, but they were not synchronized. Little by little, there was a difference. It was visible. In Enkrid''s line of sight, points and points once again appeared and connected. Then, squeezing his muscles, he swung his sword. Thud thud thud thud! Five swords were deflected. The swords, moving with terrifying speed, stayed true to their defense, yet none of the blades touched Enkrid''s body. When the five swords aimed to strike at him, Enkrid acted before the swords could reach him. He stretched his left foot sideways and then, with a push of his right foot, took a slope step. Naturally, his body turned slightly. Shifting his position to the left, he knocked aside two swords coming from that direction. Then, with quick footwork, he took a step and a half back, deflecting two more sword strikes coming from the right. The final strike was deflected with the blade of his own sword, sending Lykanos''s thrust off to the side. ''A mistake!'' Blocking the attacks of his four subordinates left a gap, and he had intended to strike in that gap, but he didn''t use his fastest sword technique. He simply struck at a speed he considered appropriate. As a result, Enkrid was able to block the five swords. What shocked Lykanos even more was the speed of the opponent''s sword. "You bastard!" Did he suddenly improve like this? At least, the speed of his sword strikes was never this fast. Now, it seemed to rival his own speed. In reality, it was all the repetition of today and the experience he had accumulated over time. But to his opponent, there was no way to know that. It only looked like Enkrid had simply mimicked his most powerful sword technique after seeing it once. Of course, Lykanos himself had also trained endlessly by observing other swordsmen. But did that really matter now? The move Enkrid showed earlier was just unsettling. Lykanos was confident that if he swung his sword a few more times here, he could kill Enkrid. But things don''t always go as planned. Thwack! The sharp sound of a strike echoed. Skrrrk! A sickening sound of flesh and armor being torn followed. Pwooooosh! A scream, accompanied by a loud noise, rang out. Something slammed into their ranks, crushing their soldiers. But it wasn''t a whole unit. It was a lone human charging forward. Blonde hair flew in the air. Without a helmet, the figure swung a long and massive sword with frightening force. Red eyes left trails in the air, followed by the blonde hair, and the sword came after. The way the sword was swung so violently made the large, thick sword appear as if it was bending. Swish! Thwack! Downward slashes, horizontal strikes, and thrusts followed in quick succession. Every strike was a deadly art. His own troops were falling one after another without rest. "Ughhh!" Even though they had taken drugs before the battle, they were being overwhelmed. The opponent was a monster. "This is my part." Ragna, who had arrived, spoke as he passed by. Blood dripped from his blonde hair, a result of his previous upward strike that cleaved a soldier in half, scattering his innards and blood. "Damn it." Lykanos''s eyes widened. It was a crisis. A danger. A threat. But this couldn''t be the end. Because there were more than just swords involved here. "Now!" The Wolf Bishop decided that if they delayed any further, they wouldn''t be able to have any fun. "Destroy the unbelievers!" At the bishop''s cry, the fanatical group sprang into action. In reality, their numbers were not that many. Their main force consisted of wolf monsters. The Wolf Bishop gave a command to the leader of the monsters connected to him. "Kill them all." Soon, the monsters rushed forward like a wave. Their numbers were far more than what was predicted within Border Guard. Hundreds of monsters appeared here and there and charged forward. "You must move as well." The bishop spoke to a man standing nearby. He was an outsider, a barbarian mercenary type. The man, who had been idly spinning his halberd a few times, replied. "It''s not my turn yet." "This guy?" The Wolf Bishop didn''t like him, but he acknowledged his strength. Had he come to gain something for the sake of immortality and fire? What a ridiculous fool. If he truly wanted something, he should throw himself into the church. It was laughable that he thought he could gain something through a transaction. The bishop sneered at him and followed the monsters. Soon, his eyes caught sight of enemies charging towards them. "Heavy infantry, move forward!" Some of them stepped forward to block, but it was laughable. ''Brother.'' The bishop called out to his brother through their mental connection, and from the wolf monsters'' ranks, a much larger one rose up. Howww! The howl of a wolf pierced the air. It wasn''t just a wolf; it was a monstrous wolf whose howl shattered the air and exuded an overwhelming presence. Just looking at it was enough to send chills down one''s spine. A dire wolf born into a monster. Its black, glossy fur absorbed all the light around it, making everything seem darker. Snowflakes were falling from the sky, but the heat radiating from the dire wolf caused the snow to melt before it even touched its body, evaporating into thin air. It felt as though this was the fate of the future¡ªtheir very existence melting away. The leading soldier of the heavy infantry swallowed his saliva as he stared at the creature. Could they stop it? Doubt filled his mind. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 296 - I ask of the Father in Heaven. Chapter 296 - 296 - I ask of the Father in Heaven. "Father in the Heaven, I ask of you." Audin knelt down and quietly prayed. In that position, he saw Enkrid''s seemingly impossible head turn. Then, the rush, the charge, the sword strikes, scrolls, incantations, and explosions followed, all making him doubt his eyes. "Kyaak!" As soon as she saw it, Esther rushed forward, but Audin didn''t try to stop her. She was no simple leopard who couldn''t care for herself. Then, he saw Ragna stepping forward. The clumsy swordsman, who often lost his way, ran straight toward where Enkrid stood. His steps seemed remarkably light. "Are you envious?" That blonde, clumsy soldier running ahead? "Teresia the wanderer says, ''When do we fight?''" She seemed to thirst for battle like a sheep. Despite that, Audin didn''t turn away from his own thoughts. "An unripe fruit is bitter when picked, as my father says. He says waiting allows the fruit to ripen and the heart as well. He wants to give you something good, but He tells you to be patient, and to wait and wait again." "Patience, yes." Teresia quietly knelt beside him. Even so, she wasn''t smaller than the surrounding soldiers. Audin wasn''t any smaller either. The two of them, like two bears, calmly waited for the right moment. "Learn patience, and move forward." Audin whispered a short blessing toward Teresia and continued his prayer. "What is the shepherd, who leads the crazy squad, doing right now?" The holy texts say to help the weak and the young. As the shepherd of the flock, the Lord commands that you protect and guide them. It seemed like his captain was doing something of that nature now. He cut through the ominous presence surrounding the child, and in doing so, destroyed what had been wrapped around him. "Father." As he continued his quiet prayer, a group of monsters appeared on the horizon, lifting their heads and beginning to rush toward them. Under the dark sky, dust rose in a yellowish cloud. "If we''re pierced by the monsters, we''re all dead! Block them!" At Graham''s words, the heavy infantry unit began to deploy. Audin started a new, short prayer. "Father in the sky, I ask of you. Is there no need for a few dogs to guard your side?" There was no answer. But Audin thought it was necessary. Sending one to be by the Lord''s side was the greatest blessing against the monsters. Audin stood up. "I must go personally to give my blessing." "Teresa the wanderer will go with you." Audin stepped forward, and Teresa followed closely behind. The two walked toward the group of monsters. The soldiers waiting behind naturally made way for them. The two large figures walked down the path they had cleared. The sound of monstrous howls echoed. "Hold firm!" With a loud crash, a few wolves, enlarged by their transformation into monsters, blocked the soldiers'' path. The wolves slammed their forepaws down on a square shield that covered more than half of the soldier''s body. The impact made the soldier''s arm tremble. "Stab!" Block and strike¡ªthis was the basic tactic for the heavy infantry. With the strength of the soldiers, several monsters were impaled on their spears, their heads shattered or their chests punctured. But there were too many monsters. It was a dizzying number. It could be called a wave of monsters. Paul, a soldier from the coastal village, knew the terror of the sea well. He often joked with his comrades that if a huge wave ever covered his head, he would have to endure it like a true sea man. Now, it was the same situation. Though this wasn''t the sea or the coast, a wave of monsters was crashing down on them. "AAAHHHH!" Paul drew strength from deep within. He had always been strong, second to none in his village. Had he not crippled the chief''s son out of frustration, he wouldn''t be here now. But the strength that had once made him do that was now his shield and his strength. With all his might, he swung the iron mace in his hand. At the end of the mace was a round, spiked ball. Whoosh, thud! The wolf''s head, at the very front of the wave, was shattered by the mace. The shattered skull sent blood and brains flying, splattering across his face. Paul blinked once and pulled the mace back before swinging it again. "RAAAH!" With a yell, he brought it down from above. Thud! Crack! The mace broke the shoulder of another monster, and the creature collapsed, falling to the side. The mace then dug into the ground, and Paul lifted it from below, bringing it up with force. Thud! This time, he struck the chin of another monster, smashing it. The creature rolled away, and another took its place. "AAAHHH!" Paul shouted as he felled three monsters with his raw strength. "Dammit, Paul!" "Good job, country bumpkin!" "Block them! Block them!" Paul didn''t even care about his shield anymore and kept fighting. A few of the soldiers nearby used their shields to cover Paul''s openings. After catching his breath, he made up his mind to do this damn thing a few more times. "Mom!" One of his usually quiet and brave comrades flew through the sky, calling out for his mother. Half of his body had been torn apart. Thud, thud, thud. Internal organs and blood mixed with snowflakes as they fell from the sky. What is this? Grrr. Among the beasts, Paul saw something horrifying. What is that? It was much bigger than the others. No, it wasn''t even comparable. Even though Paul lowered his body, his eyes couldn''t meet the beast''s. He had to look up to see its face. A giant beast? No. It wasn''t that kind of creature. A beast is an animal that has been tainted by evil and transformed. What he was seeing now was a monster. A creature carrying ancient evil, a natural enemy of humans. A monster, a Dire Wolf. The grey-furred beast with red eyes looked down at Paul. One of the comrades blocking the way trembled violently. Just looking at it made fear rush in. The urge to run away surged up suddenly. Yet, they stopped their feet and raised their shields. Their brutal training had prepared them to endure such fear. That alone was worthy of praise. Grrr. When the Dire Wolf let out a low, heavy growl, the soldier''s legs began to shake even more violently. Even if they wanted to resist, their innate fear was too much to overcome, and their entire bodies were trembling. Paul was the same. His hand holding the flail shook. His knees buckled. Goosebumps rose on his skin. The fear made everything in front of him turn black. ''Am I going to die?'' Paul thought of the weaver girl. ''I loved her.'' He had planned to propose to her when he got back. He wanted to say that if someone like him was good enough, he would live with her. He wanted to settle here after leaving his hometown, to live together happily. He wanted to show her the sea someday. He wanted to have children. He wanted to teach them how to fish. There were so many things he wanted to do. Paul sensed death. He would die. But if there hadn''t been a huge figure like a bear approaching behind him, he would have died. The bear-like figure''s hand landed on Paul''s shoulder. "May the Lord bless you." Strangely enough, with that one phrase, the crushing pressure that had been bearing down on Paul disappeared. "Whew, whew, whew." Sweating coldly, he panted heavily, and the bear spoke again. "Even the most vile beasts need to be granted blessings." A blessing? What kind of blessing? He briefly wondered about it. Then, the big, insane soldier Audin charged forward. He moved faster than his size would suggest. To Paul''s eyes, Audin suddenly appeared to blur and vanish. Around a dozen wolf-like beasts blocked the path of the Dire Wolf, but it was useless. Bang! Crack! Clang! Snap! Stomp! Boom! What is that? Paul''s eyes filled with confusion. And it was understandable. The vanishing Audin was now standing in the middle of the beast horde. Only then did Paul notice the movement. Audin stretched out his fists and legs at full speed. It looked like a battle cart. It was like a reinforced assault cart. The two wooden clubs extending from the cart turned the pack of beasts into nothing more than stray dogs¡ªor filthy street mutts. Their heads were like squashed tomatoes. Crushing, bursting, breaking. While Paul killed three beasts with his courage, Audin had killed five or six just by passing through. Some of them flew through the air. The rampaging Audin''s body once again faded and disappeared. It was like a display of acceleration, as if showing someone what speed truly meant. Thud, boom! Footprints remained where he had been. The yellow-brown ground had sunken, leaving behind the marks of the vanished figure. It was an assault with overwhelming force. The Dire Wolf''s eyes followed the disappearing Audin. The beast''s huge paw moved swiftly. The monster also moved at an unexpectedly fast pace. The massive paw moved dynamically. Soon, the beast disguised as a human and the wolf-like monster collided. Clang! The shockwave from the collision between the two monsters sent dust scattering in a circular pattern. The sight of the wolf monster and the human monster facing off was clear to everyone. At that moment, what emotion should have replaced the fear and dread that had been there? Usually, people who were hard to approach, or those who stood beside you on the battlefield, were people who gave you an overwhelming sense of security. Enkrid''s crazy unit was like that. "Give you Blessings, my Lord!" Audin shouted again as he swung his fist. The Dire Wolf, unusually fast, dodged and immediately lunged to bite. Clang. The punch and claws clashed. The wooden club had already been discarded long ago. But why did it make that sound when the fist and the monster''s claws collided? And what was this blessing? The blessing Audin had spoken of was something meant to send the wolf to the heavens. It was the power he now held in his hands. It was violence based on sheer physical strength. The greatest blessing for a monster was dying and staying with the gods. Audin intended to grant that blessing himself. "Are you just going to watch?" The commander leading the infantry shouted. At the sound, Paul raised the flail he had let droop. "Let''s wipe them all out!" "Crazy talk, form up! Anyone who charges out first gets killed!" "Paul, you country bumpkin. If you want to go back and finish things with that girl Desian, shut up and maintain formation!" The squad leader suddenly lost his temper. Paul followed his command. A surge of joy, the feeling of being alive again, filled him. Of course, it was not yet time to enjoy it. The battle was still ongoing, and he was right in the middle of it. However, Paul didn''t think he would die. He had just survived facing the Dire Wolf moments ago. Would he die to some mongrel-like beasts? "Raise your shields!" "Raise your shields!" The heavily armored infantry, the Border Guard elite unit, proudly unfolded their ironclad defense once more. The true powerful attackers were not them, so right now, holding the line and maintaining formation was the best option. Their efforts were soon rewarded. "If you have anything, use it all." That was Krais'' words in the third battle. Graham followed them exactly. "Charge." At his command, a spear flew into the side of a beast. "Is this your secret move?" Hiiiiing! For the first time, a cavalry unit appeared. "Whiiing." A mercenary soldier at the front blew a long whistle. At the signal, the horses galloped. Those who had been hiding inside the castle walls rushed out in a single line. Thud, thud, thud! As the cavalry charged forward in a line, the ground rumbled with the sound of hooves. This was an improvised cavalry unit, made up of mercenaries skilled in horseback riding. Even though it was hastily formed, it had not lost its mobility. Though they lacked training and technique, they were more than capable of charging and clashing. More than anything... Hiiiiing! A wild horse, larger than the ordinary battlehorses that had just joined, took the lead and did something outrageous. ''What is this now?'' The mercenaries were startled, but their long experience with swords and fighting quickly took over. The wild horse charged, and swung his front legs in sync with the mercenary''s swords. As they matched the speed of the charge, their swords collided with the beasts'' heads. Thud! The beasts'' heads were cleaved off and flew to the side. The wild horse, seemingly overjoyed, rammed its head into another beast, then quickly pulled back and, after a short distance, accelerated once more and charged again. It repeated this several times, and it was something Paul had never seen before. ''Is this some kind of trick?'' The mercenary was stunned, but he realized this was an ally and that it was a horse brought by Enkrid, so he let it slide. Trying to understand it would only give him a headache. Amid the chaos, Teresa passed by the beast horde and headed towards the back. Some beasts, underestimating her as she was alone, tried to charge at her. Teresa dealt with them calmly. She blocked with her shield, gripped her sword, and swung it like a mace, roughly knocking the beasts back. Clang! A few of the beasts, hit, spun around in circles. They were fearless. Should I kill them? Teresa hesitated for a moment, but then realized it was too late. "You." In front of her stood the Wolf Bishop. When did he arrive? Was he really born and raised in the Demonic Realm, as the rumors said? It was a sudden thought. More importantly, he was the one who had sent her here. "Traitorous bitch." The bishop spoke, and Teresa replied. "I''m just wandering Teresa. What are you talking about all of a sudden?" She denied knowing him. Teresa was more brazen than expected. At least, she was not the Teresa the bishop once knew. She was dead. Therefore, it was perfectly fine for her to be so shameless. "What did you say?" "I don''t know you, so I don''t understand why you''re saying that." The Wolf Bishop was furious. "You bitch!" ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 297 - Teresa and the Bishop Chapter 297 - 297 - Teresa and the Bishop "You don''t know me, but do you know this?" "Repent to the One True God, you bitch." The Wolf Bishop spoke. At his gesture, the pack of beasts moved. Leading the charge were two large wolves, with a dozen wolf-beasts following them, their yellow eyes gleaming as they drooled. Their exposed fangs looked sharp enough to pierce the flesh of giants or anything else. Teresa didn''t move. She held her shield in her left hand, her right arm hanging loosely. "There are truly many interesting things in this world." Teresa said what she wanted to say. "Traitor, apostate, let''s see how pretty your innards are." He said what he wanted to say too. The Wolf Bishop scoffed. He would tear her apart and kill her. He would cut off her limbs and take out her intestines, showing them to her face. The bishop knew this was possible. He knew how resilient a blade was Teresa. He was the one who had used her skills and power. "I enjoy fighting." And doing so crazily. A smile twisted on her face under his mask. It was a smile, not meant for anyone, just a natural expression. The Wolf Bishop didn''t listen to the apostate''s words. Nonetheless, Teresa spoke. "Have you ever seen a giant fight with joy?" No, he hadn''t. The bishop''s eyes began to slowly turn yellow. "You rotten bitch." The bishop recalled Teresa''s indifferent gaze from when she was his underling, remembering how she looked at him with that deadpan expression. "Don''t think you''ll die easily." "I''ll show you." A brief word gleamed like a light of determination. Since when had this been? Was it after her hair was cut by Enkrid? Or was it after that? Teresa did not lower her stance. But was the opponent in front of her someone worthy of respect? If there hadn''t been such people, would it have been easier for her to escape the clutches of the cult? It made her question life itself. If there had only been proper people, perhaps she would have had faith instead of doubt. No, should she call them benefactors? If they were benefactors, she should repay them, and she would do that with her sword and shield. The Wildling''s blessing was enough for that. As she thought that, hair began to grow from the bishop''s yellow eyes, pushing through his skin. The sound of the thick, coarse hair piercing through his skin was as harsh as it was strong. "Ugh..." The bishop groaned. The transformation was painful. He was a werewolf, and that was his true nature. Thick fur sprouted across his entire body, and his fingernails elongated, turning into sharp claws. Eight clawed daggers, four on each hand, formed from his nails. These claws were so sharp and hard that they could cut through even well-crafted swords. Auuu! The transformed bishop threw his head back and howled. The werewolf''s howl reverberated, and its sound made the intestines churn. It disturbed the mind, spreading fear. Teresa, even then, was unmoved, and even now, she remained unaffected. Whether the bishop stripped his clothes or transformed, her expression did not change. She held no grudge. She didn''t resent him for showing his perverse desire. That was simply her life at the time. And now? "This is going to be fun." A rough, yet pleasant voice echoed. She enjoyed fighting Enkrid, and she also enjoyed swinging her sword under his command. Her blood boiled. The giant''s blood surged fiercely through her veins. Ah. Some people find the meaning of life in power, wealth, success, or love. Teresa found the meaning of her life. That was the reason she left the church. "I was born to fight." As soon as the words left her mouth, two wolves charged from both sides. Teresa swung her shield leftward and, using the pommel of her sword as a blunt instrument, struck the right side. Thud! "Mm?" The Wolf Bishop noticed that Teresa''s movements were different from before. She was faster and cleaner in her actions. Originally, she was more suited to defensive fighting. She wielded her shield and relied on her stamina as a weapon. But now, she fought in a new way. A hybrid form of a giant, one he had never seen before. It made sense. Who had Teresa been with all this time? "I''ve never fought with full strength before, Bishop." Teresa spoke, killing the two wolves. "What the hell are you saying, you damned apostate?" Despite transforming into a werewolf, the bishop''s words were clear. He charged alongside the wolf-beasts. Teresa smiled and swung her sword. Whooosh! A blast of wind from her sword sent the approaching beasts reeling back. The thick edge of the blade created a pressure that pushed them away. In that brief moment, Teresa lifted her shield horizontally and moved. She slammed it into the ground. Thud! The ground cracked. The sleet that had been falling followed her movements as she shifted direction. As she charged forward, she raised her shield at an angle, swinging it. Thwack! The corner of the shield struck the head of one of the beasts. The skull shattered, and the beast''s body slammed into Teresa''s thigh before falling to the side. There was no shock. Her body itself was as deadly as a weapon. "Where do you think you''re going?" As she swung her shield, the bishop''s claws stabbed from behind. The sensation of the claws digging into her back rang sharply in her head. The Wolf Bishop''s claws sank into her back. Teresa stamped her foot into the ground, adjusting her balance and twisting her body before swinging her sword horizontally. Whoosh! The bishop withdrew his claws, retreating. His movements, charging and then pulling back, demonstrated incredible agility. But Dunbakel''s movements were more dynamic. The Bishop lacked the raw intensity of a beastkin''s. The ferocity of the wolf''s claws was not as powerful as Rem''s axe. The savagery of the wolves charging from the sides was not as brutal as Audin''s punch. "Hahaha!" Teresa laughed loudly in the midst of the fight, then drove her sword straight down. Thud! The sword hit the ground, sending dirt flying and lifting the sleet up into the air. Dust and sleet mixed and surged like waves. Momentarily blinded, the beasts lost track of Teresa. Bang! Teresa, having disappeared, kicked the skull of another beast. Black blood and brain matter splattered from the shattered skull. "Let''s keep going!" She broke through the ones in her path and cleaved them down. It was too much fun. And what made it even better was that it was a fight for Enkrid. Teresa fought according to her instincts. The bishop sensed something was wrong. He urgently called for a direwolf, but it was too late to help now. "What the hell is this?" Teresa''s abilities were far beyond what he had expected. Teresa, too, realized that her skills had grown significantly. Most importantly, she felt at peace. Fight. Fight. Fight without holding back. Pour everything into it. It was a joy, and that''s exactly what she did. After a few exchanges, the number of beasts dwindled. Thud! The bishop, now in his werewolf form, threw three swipes at Teresa''s side. Teresa neatly accepted the hit and retaliated by punching the bishop''s head. Thwack! The bishop pulled his chin back to absorb the blow. "Damn." Despite that, part of his skull caved in. One of his eyes popped out. Blood, both red and black, flowed from his head and nose. The blood of a man who had taken the blood of a lycanthrope and turned into a demon. "Fine, let''s die together." The bishop spoke. Even as he said this, he had a strange belief. The barbarian mercenary was coming from behind. There was something else that caught his eye. Was it because his eye had popped out? Behind the sorcerer, another figure appeared. One that did not look like an ally. *** "Ah, it''s been a while." This level of injury was truly rare for him. Even when he had killed a noble''s son and was being hunted, he had never been forced to move like this. Was it because he was next to Enkrid, or because the situation around him had become so chaotic? "I just wanted to live quietly." Rem thought sincerely. Of course, no one else saw it that way. For someone who claimed to want a quiet life, he was too violent, loud, and reckless. Even Enkrid and the other soldiers knew that Rem would swing his axe if he found someone he didn''t like or when the situation called for it. Rem denied it, of course. Anyway, Rem had entered the forest to hide. He used thick branches to cover his tracks, moving with his back to the wind. "They''re still following me?" He didn''t even need to look. His senses told him. His back felt a chill. "Persistent little bastards." Should he just turn around and face them? Normally, his temper would make him want to do just that. But if he killed here, what would come next? This was enemy territory. Could he make it back to the main force alive? Was it easy to win without preparation? Would he sustain worse injuries in the process? Ah, he wasn''t sure, but should he just take it head-on? No, he couldn''t. For whose benefit? If he died, that sly cat might smile smugly. The bear would probably hold a celebratory prayer for his funeral. And the lazy one would probably just fall asleep. Though recently, that bastard hadn''t been sleeping much and seemed to be wielding a sword. Strange fellow, that one. As he thought, he found himself deep in the forest. If he really wanted to escape, he knew he wouldn''t be caught. Since childhood, whether in the wastelands by the desert, the forests, or swamps, he had never been caught. There was a game in the western tribes called "chase and be chased." It was just a simple game. One chases, the other runs. Rem had never been caught. When he became more experienced and ventured into true hunting, it was the same. There was a time when a conflict broke out with a neighboring tribe, and he had to hide for over two weeks. How did he manage it? He ate caterpillars and chewed on tree bark to survive. He lived by hiding and killing one after another, earning himself the nickname "Death''s Sorcerer." A sorcerer? He was more of an idiot. He had run off without receiving proper training in magic. His past memories resurfaced, fragments of the old days. The ones who played with him. The ones who followed him around, not knowing why. Those who believed they were superior. And eventually, the one who stabbed him in the back. The betrayer, and the naive one who fell victim. Himself In the face of rapidly changing situations, he had to abandon many things. "Those bastards." Rem thought about the ones who had chased him, and the ones who had beaten him senseless. Even so, his movements remained practiced. He climbed a large tree and plucked a few leaves, crushing them and scattering them. The thick green liquid dripped onto his body. It was a way to mask his scent. ''If they''re using magic to track me...'' He couldn''t afford to run away half-heartedly. They wouldn''t just track his physical trail, but his spiritual trace as well. ''Then, I just need to run until they can''t see me.'' It was simple. Even though there was magic that could track him, not all of it could see everything. Once he increased the distance, it was enough. Now that he had shaken off the human pursuit, it was time to elude the magical eyes. Rem moved swiftly. After creating some distance, he dropped to the ground and began running. The forest was familiar to him. After losing the trail, he felt the sharp sensation in his back fade away. If they came after him again, he''d just run again. He took a brief break, sitting on a large tree stump. Now that he finally had the chance to check his body, it was a mess. ''My side is bruised.'' A deep, blue bruise on his side. He didn''t need to touch it to know because of the pain. His ankle was swollen. It wasn''t broken, but it would be difficult to move at full strength for a while. Well, pushing himself a few times wasn''t a big deal. At the moment he assessed his injuries, he mentally rethought his fighting approach. No matter what anyone said, Rem was also a genius. He was thinking of throwing a stone at the bastard''s face the next time they crossed paths. ''It''s been a while since someone called me an idiot.'' It wasn''t an untrue statement, but it wasn''t a pleasant one either. He had never been beaten by half-measures. But this time, it was dangerous. Rem looked around and moved to a new position, walking slowly. His steps were calm, careful not to strain his body too much. Now was the time to recover. He swept the ground lightly, gathered leaves, and peeled some tree bark with his hands. "It hurts. It really hurts." He muttered to himself as he crushed the leaves and applied them to his wounds. Mixing silky herbs with a citrus scent might burn his skin, but it was good for broken bones. To endure the pain, Rem silently asked himself. "Boss, tell me. What should I do with that bastard?" Enkrid answered. "Why are you asking me?" "Why not? Why are you so grumpy? You only act like this around me." "You crazy bastard, just do what you always do." "Alright, I''ll do that." He answered, laughing to himself. Enkrid probably chuckled too. He was such a strange person. Watching him was always interesting. The sorcerer barbarian seemed like he had come to kill Enkrid, so Rem had to take care of him as well. After all, some of the western chiefs had even put bounties on his head. It didn''t mean much now. "Those who need to die should just die." Rem tended to his wounds, gathered more leaves, and set up a temporary camp. He wandered around, caught a few snakes that had gone into winter hibernation, and started a fire. Click. Striking flints a couple of times, he created a spark and blew air into the embers to keep the fire alive. The fire grew quickly from the kindling, roaring to life. It was something he had done countless times before. After peeling the snake, he grabbed his axe and used the long blade to poke into its poison sack, pulling it out before severing its head. He drank from its blood, then split the body vertically, skewering it with a stick to roast it. "It''s damn cold." He hated the cold. Even though he tried to close up the openings in his warm leather tunic, the cold seeped through. No matter how he tried to fix it, it was still cold. He absolutely hated being cold. The well-roasted snake meat dripped with oil. He ate it right away, and then, while at it, threw stones to hunt a few more. It would be nice to pluck their scales and wash off the blood with water, but it was too much of a hassle to go to the stream, so he endured the smell and roasted them. Having eaten enough, he lay down and slept soundly. Rem rested for the next two days in the same manner. He took short naps, kept the fire burning, folded his body, ate well, and rested well. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 298 - I Won’t Lose My Words Chapter 298 - 298 - I Won''t Lose My Words "That damn bastard, finally starting to move." Rem cursed at someone who wasn''t even there and stood up. His ribs were still a mess, and his ankle creaked with each step, but... "You, I''ll kill you for sure." His body was good enough for now. He didn''t need to get too close or make any unnecessary moves. More importantly, if he waited any longer, that bastard might kill someone else or get killed himself. A stray cat, a lazy beast, or a giant, or even a beastkin dying didn''t matter to him, but not the leader. "It''d be a waste if he died now." The madman who dreamed of being a knight dying here would be a waste. Watching him thrash around and struggle was fun. For now, anyway. He was even curious if that guy might actually become a knight. "Well, he won''t die that easily though." But the opponent was bad. It was a bad match-up. If they fought now, the chances of losing were high. So, Rem had to be the one to face him. More than anything, the madman known as the Immortal Maniac would be aware of him and wouldn''t let this go. "He won''t just let me go and act recklessly." If he had a chance, he would definitely take it. Thinking this, Rem surveyed the area. Luckily, a good tree caught his eye. He peeled off its bark and rubbed it between his hands, twisting it into a long rope. He repeated the same task over and over. When he got hungry, he''d catch snakes or badgers, and sometimes he even met a bear that hadn''t yet entered hibernation. To others, a ferocious bear, but to Rem... "Is this a special dish?" It was just good meat and tough hide. He threw his last axe into the air and caught it, then threw it forward. The axe flew straight, splitting the bear''s skull in half. The bear''s body staggered, then collapsed with a loud thud. The ground trembled beneath its weight¡ªthis bear was as big as Audin. Rem would have liked to skin the bear, but he didn''t have the energy to tan the hide right now, and his ribs still hurt, so he couldn''t waste strength on such labor. After killing the bear, he tore out its gallbladder and drank its blood, then roasted the meat. It stank, but what else could he do? He cut some of the hide into squares, layering them two or three times, then poked holes in the corners. The spearhead from the Centaur leader''s halberd made a better axe in this situation. The extra weight of the axe was handy, and he used it to punch holes in the hide. He tied the holes with the rope made from bark. He arranged the long ends of the ropes into a length that reached about the width of his arms. He swung it around a few times in the air. It wasn''t bad. He had also carried around some snake venom in a pouch he made from the bear and snake hides. He then picked up several stones of a similar size. With bear and snake hides, he fashioned pouches, making a bag that slung diagonally across his shoulder. "Labor, huh? It''s just labor." It had been a while since he had sweated like this. Even in winter, beads of sweat dripped from his forehead. Only then did he find a stream. He hated the cold, but if he left his body in this state, he''d get sick. Cleanliness was essential. He built a fire and took a deep breath. "Alright, let''s go." He needed to steel himself for what was to come. He dipped his toes into the icy water, and the chill ran through his whole body. "Damn it." The hatred grew stronger the colder he felt. He thought of the bastard who pushed him this far¡ªthe Immortal Maniac. "I''ll definitely kill you. I''ll kill you like a dog." The grudge deepened with each second he spent submerged in the cold water. Grinding his teeth, he washed off and then rubbed his body with herbs like silken grass and others he had gathered, before warming himself by the fire. The tremor in his jaw was uncontrollable as his teeth clashed together. Rem, despite his unnatural strength, could not withstand the cold. "I should have learned some kind of spell" He regretted it in moments like this. The cold was unbearable. If he had at least learned a fire spell, he wouldn''t have to endure this freezing misery. But that was out of his control now. Holding a warm stone, Rem endured. When his body dried out, he wrapped himself in the warm leather again, finally starting to feel alive. "Ah, you, I''ll definitely kill you." His grudge was as strong as ever. In fact, it might have deepened. After finishing the necessary preparations, Rem set off for the main camp. He wasn''t like Ragna. It wasn''t difficult for him to retrace his steps, and tracking was one of his specialties. Gradually, the sounds of battle could be heard. He assessed the distance and situation, then left the forest, making his way quickly to the battlefield. The area was full of monsters. Red-eyed wolves stared at him. Several of them growled and charged at him, creating an atmosphere of fear and aggression. This was the wild energy, mixed with demonic power, demonstrating the viciousness of the creatures. Although it might have startled an ordinary person or even a trained soldier, it didn''t affect Rem. "Get lost." He exuded pressure. It wasn''t the same as the knight''s intimidation, but it was similar enough to suppress the surrounding atmosphere. His presence alone let them know who they were dealing with. Some of the monsters hesitated, but none fled. Rem moved forward, breaking his movements into small, precise actions, and swung his axe. Vertical, horizontal, diagonal. Three swift axe strikes, and four monsters were cut down. Not three, but four. The second horizontal swing took two heads in one blow. After killing several monsters, he finally saw the one he had been looking for. The one who had been tossing the spear into the air. Rem had figured out the trick long ago. It was a string wrapped around the spear, using momentum. This wasn''t a string seen in the West. No, attempting to mimic a throwing weapon with such a childish method was absurd¡ªhe hadn''t recognized it at first. But now, having figured it out, he understood his opponent''s nature and fighting style. There was always a reason for someone to act so confidently. That weapon was both the man''s specialty and his weakness. At least, that''s how Rem saw it. ''He only learned some grabs on the continent. What a fool.'' The string was so thin it wasn''t visible at first, making it look as if the spear was floating in the air. "Hey!" Rem called out, and the man, running forward, looked back. His eyes widened as he half-turned his head. ''This guy, he ran like hell before, but now he''s coming toward me on his own?'' It seemed like that''s what he was thinking. "You''re dead." Rem declared, and the Madman grinned, a strange mix of youthful and aged expressions, as if amused by something absurd. The madman had been rushing, ready to attack, but the moment he saw Rem, he hesitated. Several fanatical followers of the cultists rushed toward Rem. "Blasphemer!" "Ah, for the Lord!" Rem''s right hand, gripping the axe, swung twice. Two heads soared into the air with clean, swift strikes. The Madman''s eyes observed Rem''s movements carefully. It was obvious he hadn''t fully healed from his wounds. Had he sharpened the axe blade? It was extraordinarily sharp. The Madman stopped smiling and turned his body around. One of the advantages of the Wolf Bishop was his relentless vitality. He wouldn''t die easily. He needed to deal with Rem first, since he couldn''t afford to leave his back exposed. The fanatics watching glanced nervously, unsure how to proceed. It was clear that Rem wasn''t an easy match. Rem felt his ribs, testing his ankle, and checked his physical state. He pressed the tips of his feet into the ground, turning them to assess. It wasn''t too bad. "You came to die." The Madman said. "Yeah, I came to kill you." Rem didn''t back down with words. The Madman threw a spear into the air once again. From the side, it looked like something mystical. This kind of magic was called the "Western spell." To be considered a legitimate form of spellcraft, one had to perform feats like this. But then... "Hey, that''s not a proper throwing weapon, is it?" Once the trick was revealed, it lost its mystique. "What an idiot." Rem''s veteran combat experience immediately recognized the trick. He had figured it out, and now, observing the invisible thread, it was easy to discern the movements. With the string hidden, the Madman sent the spear forward. The string was no doubt connected to his forearm, fingers, and probably to his whole arm. Clang! Rem deflected the spear with his axe, but a sharp pain shot through his side. Lowering his stance to charge forward, the Madman retrieved a second spear. But it didn''t stop there. The spears kept multiplying. From two to three, then three to four. The Madman threw all the spears he had strapped to his back into the air. Quite the trickster, Rem thought. A crafty bastard. Rem grimaced, feeling the sharp pain in his side and adding that frustration to his desire for vengeance. It was all that bastard''s fault. "Die, you half-wit." The four spears, combined with the Madman''s bear-like arms and leopard-like legs. Even if he didn''t inherit the magic, Rem could recognize the remnants of power in the way he handled the spears. The Madman had refined his technique, mixing it with magic to create a weapon that could pressure and kill. "Son of a bitch, always staying at a distance." Rem thought aloud as he watched the Madman''s technique, but the Madman simply mocked him in return. This half-wit had no sense of combat. His mind was dull. Had the warriors of the West grown weaker? Maybe, but that didn''t matter much. He had killed enough of those who thought they could fight him, so it wasn''t like it was a new problem. ''If he wanted to win, he should have closed the distance.'' That was the moment he should have taken. Of course, he had prepared for such a situation. The one who failed to block two spears in the previous fight. At this range, about fifteen steps, the Madman''s spears were perfectly effective. In other words, the Madman had never lost in a fight at this distance. Rem took a slow step forward. The Madman observed him closely. If he could just move a little further, that would be ideal. The range of his spears, connected by the string, stretched far beyond twenty steps. ''Not a throwing weapon, huh?'' What an idiot. With experience and training, my spears can be more than just magical weapons. The Madman was confident of his victory. The four spears, attached to the threads, responded to his fingers and floated freely. They flew lightly, two around his head, and two along his arms. The four spears darted through the air, moving in every direction, eager to pierce his body. ''He thinks this is over.'' The Madman was already certain of his victory. He thought this distance was his advantage. "Hey, you idiot." With those words, Rem pulled out his weapon. There was no magic or invisible strings. But if he could launch a projectile ten times faster than the Madman''s spears, that distance would be his advantage too. He pulled out a weapon made from bear hide and tree bark, braided together. It was a slingshot. The leather, which had been whizzing around his shoulder, arm, and hand, was moved above his head. With centrifugal force, the sling holding the stone formed a disc above Rem''s head. Wheeeeee! The noise tore through the air like it was splitting space itself. For Rem, the sling had been a toy he''d played with since childhood. The sound of a familiar weapon. So he wasn''t about to miss. Aiming, he stretched out his arm. The slingshot, enhanced by centrifugal force, launched a stone with destructive power. The stone flew so fast that even Rem couldn''t properly see it. No one in this place could see it properly either. "Uh!" The Madman, startled, set the four spears upright to create a wall. It was a split-second instinct and decision. Moreover, he was lucky. Wham! The stone collided with the spearhead, shattering into dozens of pieces as it fell upon the Madman''s body. Fragments of rock scattered across his thick leather armor. "You crazy bastard!" The Madman''s hands moved desperately. That single blow had caused the spear-wall to shift backward. The simple stone had shown greater force than magic itself. Is this even possible? No matter how skilled he was, a stone? It''s not just about being strong. To handle a sling at that speed, it was nothing short of an extraordinary feat. The second, dreadful screech of the sling echoed in the air as Rem prepared the next stone. "Got a good view?" With the question, the second stone was launched. The Madman lowered his body. The spears responded by fanning out horizontally, then flying low. Even if he aimed, lowering his body would make it difficult to hit. Additionally, he threw the spearheads as well. The spears flew low, using the "Dragonfly Wings" technique, a spear technique where the spear ascends from below. Two spears flew through the air, with two left to guard his own body. The Madman, known for never aging and never wishing to die, was protective of his body. Rem deflected the flying spears with his axe. This time was different. With minimal movement, he deflected them. It was almost like the art of deflecting a sword. Originally, the technique was for handling weapons, not just swords. However, the art of deflecting didn''t quite suit Rem. "Where did you learn such a trick?" The Madman muttered. "I know a guy. Someone who tries to deflect my axe in front of me." Rem was a genius. A technique he had seen dozens of times in front of him, a technique he himself used. There was no reason he couldn''t master it. Since it wasn''t his main technique, it hadn''t been visible until now. But now, he was using it with minimal movement to defend himself. He had blocked four spears before, so two would have been no more than a nuisance. It wasn''t a serious threat. After all, he had already experienced this kind of attack. And so, he easily deflected the two spears. The third stone was launched, whizzing through the air. The Madman''s face turned pale. No matter how strong a bear''s power was, or how fast a leopard''s legs were, he felt that neither could be as fast or powerful as this stone. From the very beginning, Rem had determined the outcome of the fight. There was no reason to engage in close combat with injuries hanging on his body. The fact that his opponent was an idiot played into this. "Damn idiot." If he had fought for his life, the outcome might have been different. But the Madman was too focused on protecting himself, too concerned with his own body. He fought from a distance, like a child too shy to get close. Even a Western kid wouldn''t fight like that. He had lived too long and had too much to lose, so he couldn''t risk anything. The Madman, who had too much pride in his own body, was now giving Rem the advantage. "The idiot," Rem thought. If it had been Enkrid, he would''ve charged head-on without hesitation. But the Madman, a fool, had forgotten the art of real combat. "To someone who can''t even handle magic!" The Madman shouted in anger, but it wasn''t anger¡ªit was fear. Enkrid never showed fear, no matter the situation. He was a pilgrim who kept walking without stopping, a wanderer searching for signs. He was a madman in his own right, walking his path without care. "You''re not going to make it." Rem said. The Madman had once blocked the third stone with the four spears, but now, the shock from the impact created a swirl of rock dust and snowflakes in the air, forming a strange gray vortex before it disappeared. The fourth stone was launched again, but this time, the string snapped midway through its flight. It was Rem''s strength that had caused the weapon to break. The centrifugal force was too much. This was expected. The broken string flailed sideways, and the Madman''s eyes lit up not with fear, but with exhilaration. "You fool! Even the best weapon is just part of the whole! You think you can challenge me with such a pathetic tool? Hahaha!" What was he saying? While the Madman reveled in his moment, Rem pulled out a second sling from his pack. Didn''t he really think this string would break? In the diagonal sling bag, there were plenty of stones. He had at least five more slings in his pack. "Well, three should be enough." He had thought the first two would break, but they hadn''t. "Oh? I have more slings?" The Madman''s eyes trembled. "Idiot." Rem mocked his opponent. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 299 - Lykanos Chapter 299 - 299 - Lykanos Lykanos watched as the advance of the heretics was halted. There was a man fighting a direwolf with nothing but his bare hands, making it impossible not to notice him. Krhh! The man took the direwolf''s front paw with his chest, but¡ª "Hahaha! This is refreshing!" What kind of body was this man made of, that even after taking the paw of a monster, only scratches and bruises remained? Though his body was bruised yellow, it looked strangely normal, too. Normally, he''d be a bloody mess. Anyway, after enduring the monster''s front paw, the man retaliated with his own paw. Thud! "Is that refreshing!" What exactly is refreshing about that? It was simply fascinating to see the monster stagger after being hit. ''Is this guy insane?'' He wasn''t the only one. The heretic group''s advance was chaotic. They couldn''t even engage in proper combat. What could be the reason? Lykanos sensed it. There was a problem with their command. While the heretics were a problem, the opposition was no less formidable. There was that Enkrid, who had never been killed. And there were swordsmen who could single-handedly slaughter their own unit, slicing and dicing. ''That guy''s not weak either.'' They had clashed once, and no matter how he looked at it, he was not inferior. Could the fastest sword hit him? Lykanos had wondered, but there was no desire to test it out. No, whether it landed or not, he didn''t want to share his last sword with that person. Was this the selfishness of the end? Or perhaps the warrior''s fighting spirit he had long ignored? ''What good would it do to dwell on it?'' He hadn''t expected his end to come like this. "Let it end with just the two of us." Lykanos spoke, addressing Enkrid, who had stepped aside. The blonde opponent didn''t seem unpleasant to him, but he wanted to choose his own end. ''The one who first blocked my sword.'' The one who had caught up to his fastest sword was still in his mind. He had set out to kill him, and the failure to do so was the first. No, it was the second time. But the first to evade was a knight, wasn''t it? That''s why it felt like the first time. The knight, however, was an exception. Enkrid simply stared at him. He saw the man rise on unsteady legs, gripping his sword several times before finally holding it tight again. What did that posture, that attitude, reveal? It was the image of a human who neither retreated nor gave up. ''I shouldn''t have left it to my subordinates from the start.'' That was his mistake. ''Let''s fight.'' It wasn''t a strong desire to kill Enkrid, but simply a desire to face him once again. His fighting instincts, the youthful spirit he thought he had forgotten, were suddenly awakened. A genius, they said? If so, then take on the sword I''ve built. Let''s compete in speed. That was all. Lykanos'' eyes shone brightly. Like a twinkling star. They were not the eyes of a man who had given up. Having regained his breath, Enkrid gripped his sword once more. Finally, he felt at ease. It was a small preparation. "Very well." Enkrid did not refuse. There was no reason to. Both of them were eager to fight again. As Enkrid moved forward, Ragna cleared his way by cutting down the surrounding enemies, ensuring no one could approach. That was enough. Enkrid stood with a limp. His legs were already far from normal. Lykanos, however, wasn''t in perfect condition either. He had rushed to block Ragna''s sword and had taken a hit to his right shoulder. Blood was flowing from the wound. The two faced each other. Snowflakes began to fall between them, and the snow on the ground thickened. "Got something good wrapped around your belly?" Lykanos asked. Enkrid nodded. The same thing that had stopped his stomach from being pierced several times was wrapped around him. Lykanos nodded, contemplating. ''The target is set.'' He dropped his arms and would strike with explosive strength, aiming for one point¡ªone perfect spot. He would finish it with the best possible angle. Finish? Is that really the end? Winning and then dying? Looking at it now, his opponent didn''t seem all that impressive. Then, should his life end here? Why must it end? Lykanos changed his mind. ''After I finish, I''ll live.'' He hadn''t considered this to be the end, which was why he was here. His will to live, what he had accomplished, what he still had to do, the things left behind, and what would be his in the future. Lykanos'' eyes clouded. His pure white eyes mixed with the blood and dirt on the ground, becoming murky. Even so, his spirit remained like a finely honed blade¡ªsharp and keen. Lykanos also wielded ''Will.'' His ''Will'' was focused solely on his arm. The moment the power in his outstretched arm was infused with will, that was when his fastest sword came to life. Realizing he was ready, Lykanos swung his sword back and forth. The strange, pendulum-like motion drew attention. Enkrid was slightly different from usual. ''How fast was it?'' There was a time when Rem''s axe had appeared like a beam of light. However, his opponent''s sword was faster than that light, piercing his body in the blink of an eye. That was probably why his right arm wasn''t functioning properly. Enkrid suddenly recalled the moment he had saved the child. He had decided to become an herbalist. It was his skill, hidden behind his true intentions, that had saved the child. Now, should he be the same? No, that wasn''t it. He didn''t want that. Enkrid wanted to face off with the sword. He wanted to face his sword against the fastest sword. ''The fast one.'' He wanted to take it in, realize it, and master it. Today''s repetition was evident. It was like chasing and capturing two rabbits that had fled in the opposite direction. Now was the moment to catch the second rabbit. The heart of the beast raced. The instant he recognized his opponent''s speed, his tense muscles relaxed. It was possible only because confidence had settled in. With the appropriate strength in his arm and hand, he gently gripped his sword, aiming it forward. The tip of his longsword rose diagonally from below, piercing the sky. Next was the sense technique. He layered his intention onto the sense of evasion. The will he needed to focus on now was to thrust, and only that. With his focused concentration, the moment his sword swung, it would explode in its use. The body he had formed through the Isolation technique was the foundation for all of this. Enkrid recognized all of it and then forgot it. He cleared everything from his mind, leaving only the opponent in front of him. Who he was, who the opponent was, what it was for¡ªnone of that mattered. Only the fastest sword remained. Whoosh. The wind pushed forward. Faster than the approaching wind, the sword had already reached just before his opponent''s throat. Thwack! The sound of flesh being pierced erupted, and Enkrid collapsed as if he were crumbling. As he fell to the ground, the ferryman appeared like a mirage. The ferryman, his upper body floating in the air through the snow, asked, "Is it fun?" A smile had already spread across Enkrid''s face. At the moment of his final strike, he had felt something akin to rejection. That was the will, ''Will.'' This time, the ''Will'' didn''t reside in his arm. This ''Will'' resided in the moment. For just an instant, it flowed from his toes, through his knees, waist, shoulders, elbows, and into his fingertips. Just that one moment. Enkrid''s sword was faster than Lykanos''. *** Graham did not spare his body even against the assassin''s ambush. He did not retreat from the battlefield, displaying his courage. "Don''t fall back!" In the middle of it, Dunbakel had barged in, overturning the battlefield, while Shinar hunted down the enemy mercenaries'' leaders. It was in the midst of the chaos that they struggled. "Over there, the enemy commander." The escort, who wore a helmet, spoke, and behind him, the enemy commander could be seen. Enkrid stood before him as well. The two faced each other, with Ragna still fighting and cutting through the enemies around them, but the atmosphere between the two immediately drew attention. Graham stopped his attack on the enemy, pausing. Neither was swinging their swords, nor had either pressed their blades against each other''s necks. But the moment their eyes met, sweat appeared on Graham''s palms. The tension made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. The sweat running down his face felt cold. The snow falling around them was no longer visible. Graham unconsciously focused, watching the two of them. The soldiers watching them were in a similar state. It was like a storm, sucking in every gaze around them. It was the ''Will'' of the two that had created this moment, but few would understand the reason behind it. ''Ah,'' Graham felt an ominous feeling. The enemy commander''s sword was that terrifying. ''He''s going to die.'' He could almost see Enkrid''s death in front of him. Though Enkrid had not moved yet, once the enemy commander did, it was certain that Enkrid would be pierced in the neck. It was clear. ''No!'' He had to stop it. He wasn''t the one who was supposed to die here. There was no need to risk his life in this fight. There was no need for it. Naturally, Graham never had a chance to intervene. The enemy commander and Enkrid moved suddenly, without any apparent signal or indication to start. Their swords crossed. No, they had passed each other. Graham did not blink, but he could not see how their swords had met their purposes. It started and ended in an instant. The process was unseen. But the result was clear. "Ah." Graham let out a breath of astonishment. Graham was just as surprised. It was completely unexpected, and mixed with that shock was a sense of relief. He could see Lykanos falling. However, Enkrid wasn''t unscathed either. He too was bleeding heavily from his neck. But calmly, he applied pressure with one hand to stop the bleeding and rotated his neck to show that he was still fine. ''Good!'' Without thinking, Graham slapped his own thigh with his fist. "Madman Commander!" "Ugh, the Commander of Pain!" The soldiers watching, as well as Graham''s own guard, cheered with what could almost be considered a victory shout. Everyone''s hearts were full. They had won! Graham thought the tide of battle had shifted in their favor. It was over. Perhaps it was natural to feel complacent. No, Graham hadn''t become complacent. It was the guards who had let their guard down. Boom! Suddenly, the ground behind Graham exploded. Three assassins, who had been hiding underground, emerged. Whoosh. The three assassins immediately lunged toward Graham''s back. Of the three, only one achieved his goal. Thud! The three sprang from the ground at once, but two of their necks were severed by a sword that resembled leaves. Where had it come from? The sword swung through the air, its leaf-shaped blade cutting through the air, instantly decapitating two of the assassins. "Complacency is forbidden." The Fairy Company Commander spoke as she swung her sword. She had been staying near Graham at Krais''s request. The fairy had done her job. However, the third assassin was persistent. He stretched his arm toward the fairy''s sword. Though one of his arms was severed, he used his remaining hand to thrust a short spear into Graham''s back. Thwack! It was a spear with poison on the tip. "Dammit." Graham gritted his teeth and staggered back. Though it wasn''t a fatal wound, it was deep enough. "For the new world." The assassin muttered his final words, and Shinar swiftly swung her leaf sword. The fairy''s sword, shaped like a leaf, severed the assassin''s neck. Lykanos watched the entire scene from where he lay. He sensed death was approaching. The reasons, the circumstances, and the process of how he got here did not come to mind. All that was left was regret. ''Brother.'' He thought to himself. His mouth couldn''t form words, for the hole in his neck silenced him. Lying on the ground, watching the subordinate who had stabbed the enemy commander and died, he naturally gazed up at the sky. It was snowing heavily, and the white snow was soon stained red with blood. Everything around him began to turn a shade of crimson. As he died, Lykanos recalled a moment from his past. "If you''re going to be a thief, then be a thief who steals a kingdom. We''ll create a new world. We will steal freedom." Was he meant to sacrifice his life just because he was born a serf? Was it only natural to be oppressed for having nothing? Was it right to have everything taken by the powerful? If that was the case, then he too would live the same way. "We will be kings." The thieves who stole the throne. The beginning of the Black Blade Thieves. Lykanos thought as he faced his end. ''Is this the world we wanted, Brother?'' The change had been quick. They had gained power, Krona, and control. They had stolen the throne and promised a new world. But the vow to ensure no one else would suffer the same pain had long since disappeared, dissipating like snow melting away. As Lykanos lay dying, he saw a glowing door through the falling snow. The door opened, and his younger sister, along with his parents, who had died when he was young, appeared. His sister had been taken by the lord after failing to pay her taxes, and his parents had been killed by bandits simply because they had nothing. They all greeted him, blood dripping from their eyes and noses, as they appeared to him. It was too late. "Son, it''s too late." They welcomed him to hell. Lykanos''s eyes closed. Beneath where his family stood, he saw the place he would go. A river of dark red flowed beneath the glowing door. He let himself be carried by the river to hell. The river of blood, swelling and flowing beyond the door, greeted him. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 300 - The Last Stand Chapter 300 - 300 - The Last Stand Snow fell heavily. ''Well, you sure make a mess at the end.'' A body honed by years of training and experience. The madman barbarian was no pushover. It wasn''t until part of his skull was shattered that he gripped his spear and charged. Blood gushing from his wound, he closed the distance relentlessly. He was now within reach. "You think, I, I, would fall so easily?!" Rem couldn''t help but admire the man''s tenacity. Yeah, this was how it should''ve been from the start. From then on, it was a bloody battle. Literally, blood was splattering everywhere. The spear pierced through the thick leather, stabbing deep into his thigh. He twisted his foot to dodge, and luckily, or he would have become a limping Rem. Instead, he cleaved two of the madman''s fingers off with his axe. He was fortunate to dodge and only lose two fingers. Originally, he had aimed to sever the hand entirely. A little disappointing, but the fight was still a fight. Rem was exhilarated. A rush of excitement filled him. It had been a while since he had faced someone like this. A foe who displayed strength comparable to that of a giant, even with a heart of monstrous strength. And he showed that strength continuously, through his madman techniques. "How are you doing this without any magic?!" The madman from Fulo was shocked many times. The first shock was Rem''s heart of the beast. "Son of a bitch." Rem growled. "My mother died a hundred years ago!" "Oh, so that''s why you don''t have one." The madman was angry. They both fought with a fury. Rem felt threatened more than once. The enemy wasn''t just dangerous; there was more than one of them. Clang! The scent of a wolf reeked as it pounced without stopping. It circled around, constantly looking for an opening to show its fangs. Finally, it bit into Rem''s arm, and in that moment, the barbarian drove his spears into Rem''s back with full force. Rem swung his axe while still holding the wolf. He blocked the incoming spear by swiping it above his head in a wide arc. Despite the force of the strike, one spear still managed to graze his side. Tears welled up, and the pain made his body hair stand on end. It was a broken rib. The madman had concentrated his power into one spear, and though it hit Rem, he didn''t stop. With his axe in hand, Rem crushed the wolf''s skull with his remaining fist, then deflected the spear with ease as it came at him again. There was no time to catch his breath; he was moving like a man possessed. Amidst this chaos, something sticky grabbed at his foot. ''What is this?'' It was sticky magic. He hadn''t expected this trick. It seemed the old fox was showing just how cunning he could be. Among prey, the most experienced was always the trickiest. Rem tensed his thigh and pushed against the sticky magic, assuming it was spread out over a certain area. Boom! With a powerful kick, he sent the axe flying sideways, killing three of the beasts that had been after him. Two died from being cleaved in half at the neck and chest, while the third got a spear through its skull. Rem continued to fight furiously, but at this point, he felt a sense of satisfaction as well as disappointment. The madman barbarian retreated. He pulled back. The attacks that followed lost their strength. Even the spear he was wielding with both hands was blocked. And then, that technique again. A spear connected by thread. ''Ah, this bastard.'' Rem''s excitement quickly evaporated. Boom! With a swing of his axe, he blocked the spear, watching as the madman swiftly retreated. The spear flew in an arc and passed by. The madman yelled. "The next time we meet, I''ll definitely kill you." ''Oh, really? You think next time you''ll kill me? You, not me?'' Rem ran forward and slammed his axe down onto the wolf''s head, aiming for a vertical strike. Boom! The axe sunk deep into the skull, splitting the beast''s body in half. "Damn, I get it now. You must''ve survived this long by running away whenever things went south." Should he chase and kill him? Maybe, but it seemed like too much effort. The excitement had completely died down. For Rem, it was just a matter of losing interest. But for the Wolf Bishop, this was a whole different story. "Hey! Where are you going?!" He couldn''t hide his shock, his voice laced with disbelief. Even Teresa could tell. The surprise was so evident on his face. He was so shocked that his mouth hung open, and in the process, a wound on his head opened up, spilling blood. Dark red blood trickled down his cheek, dripping from his chin to the floor. There was no answer. The immortal berserker left without a word. Not even an apology. Even if he had said sorry, my blood pressure was already sky-high, and it felt like blood was going to burst from my head. "Brother Bishop, it''s time to go." The bishop frowned at the title and turned around. There, a limping half-giant stood. The shield was broken in half, and the sword had a crack in the middle. "Heretic bastard. I''ll curse you even after death." The wolf bishop muttered a curse. It was unjust. It should''ve been a fight we won. No matter how powerful the enemy was, the immortal berserker of the continent and the bishop of the cult had come together. They even brought along his soul companion, the dire wolf. Yet, this was the result? A person like Teresa should have been an easy victory. But no, it went wrong. Instead of sighing or looking to the sky, the bishop mumbled with his final bitterness. "Damned bastards." He could feel the death of the dire wolf, bound to his soul. There was no hope. "I''ll curse you all for life. Your flesh will rot, and you won''t die easily. The god of the curse won''t forgive you! Immortal berserker, you too shall not be forgiven!" His final bitterness was directed at his former comrade. The one who was supposed to fight alongside him and save him was running away, turning his stomach. "Yes. Go ahead and soak in the river of hell. I''ll see you there later." "Fine!" Teresa finally crushed the bishop''s skull completely. The pommel of the broken sword was the fatal blow. As Teresa, her mask stained with blood, adjusted her mask, she saw Rem limping toward her. "Did you come back?" "Of course I came, would I not? What about the captain?" There was no beautiful scene where they helped each other. They trudged forward. Neither of them was in perfect condition, but neither was dying either. No helping each other, damn it. A wild horse approached them from the side. "Did you fight too?" Neigh! At the response of the one-eyed beast, Rem pouted. "Even the damn horses fight, and yet a person runs off." He was still full of complaints. Just when he should''ve been pumped with adrenaline, it all felt flat. This kind of experience was rare, especially when the opponent was of the same race and had the advantage. ''Next time, I''ll make sure to get you, old man.'' Rem vowed. And there were those who watched their battle. The heavy infantry and cavalry. The mercenary leading the cavalry realized his position. ''Don''t get involved.'' Never complain about being exhausted. If you charge in, you die. It''s certain. Watching them fight the enemy made it clear. Even the large woman, who seemed quiet, should be approached with caution. Though he never underestimated her, his perspective had completely changed. Had this been before, people might have been discouraged and retreated after watching Rem and Teresa fight. It happened often. They showed overwhelming strength. It didn''t even seem human, almost inhuman. They were allies, so there was relief, but still, a sense of distance remained. Even among their own allies, they instilled a kind of fear. But this time was different. They both limped, and the horse they were walking with looked the most stable. Had it not been for them, they might have been wiped out. Relief, joy, exhilaration, and the thrill of victory surged through them all. "Madmen squad." "Rem, the ax-wielding Rem." "Crazy axe Rem." "Didn''t die, huh." "He''s not dead." "Immortal Rem?" Someone''s mutter turned into a nickname. During this, Rem rubbed his ears. What were they saying? The soldiers soon joined in. "Immortal Rem!" They thought he was dead, but he came back and drove the enemies away. From ''that damn temperament Rem'' it evolved into a much grander nickname. "Immortal Rem! The undying Rem!" "The undying madman!" "Wooaah!" The monsters had already been mostly killed. This was the most advantageous battlefield. The remaining monsters scattered after the deaths of the dire wolf and the bishop. Monsters don''t gather without a focal point. They cheered and shouted as they moved to the center of the battlefield. "God, it''s so damn noisy." Rem kept rubbing his ears. "Wandering Teresa!" The soldiers shouted her usual self-title. She fixed her mask with one hand and raised her other. She wanted to. It was an act driven by her feelings. When she was in the cult, she was so stiff that there were times she didn''t say a word for a week, but now, it was different. "I am the Wandering Teresa." It was different here. She had changed. After learning the joys and pleasures, everything felt different. "Nomad Teresa!" Everyone chorused her mutterings in unison. It sounded so good. "What are you doing? Immortal Rem!" Rem, for no reason, got a little annoyed and said it. The soldier group followed and shouted. "Immortal Rem!" It was childish, but anyway, they were heading toward Enkrid, Ragna, and Audin. Ragna seemed relatively okay, but Audin was not. His body was covered in numerous small wounds. His left arm was completely hanging limp. Had it been broken? "It''s sprained. I couldn''t give my all in catching a dog, so you''ve taken quite a beating, brother." "Ah, just a scrape. Was only showing some respect to the old man." Teresa remained silent. Ragna stared at them for a while before speaking up. "You''re all so weak. If you''re running around with kids like those, all they do is cause trouble for the Captain." "...Shit, why did I even spare him?" Rem grumbled, and Audin, smiling, clenched his fist. "It seems like you''re missing the embrace of the gods, brother." Enkrid, watching this, ran a hand through his hair. It was all nonsense. Then he turned to Rem. "Stop fooling around." "What''s wrong? Were they getting beat up because I wasn''t around?" "Wasn''t that you getting beat up?" "I was spared because I''m old." "Right." "What''s this? But why does it end just when I return? I was planning on having some fun now." "With that body of yours?" Enkrid said with a deadpan face, but it sounded like that. Rem shouted back. "Don''t you know me? This is just the beginning! Don''t you know who I am?" With that, he spread his palm outwards. A few sharp-eyed soldiers quickly muttered. "Immortal Rem!" Hearing that, others joined in. "Immortal Rem!" Oh boy, they''re excited. Enkrid chuckled and shook his head. "The enemy''s movements are strange." Graham''s adjutant spoke up from the side. Enkrid responded without looking. "It''s the work of my men." "How so?" No need to explain. It was Jaxen. He had been able to kill Count Tarnin long ago, but he was waiting for the right moment. When would be the most effective time to strike? Jaxen was clever. Would killing the enemy commander end the battle immediately? No. There were still others left. Among them were several mercenaries who were quite skilled. Compared to Enkrid and the Madmen unit, they were a different class, but still, in terms of normal forces, they were not to be underestimated. They had considered it. *** "We have the justification on our side." They just needed Viscount Tarnin live and retreat. That way, they could keep the moral high ground and maintain a threatening position. Some of them even knew about Aspen. First, they would fall back, leaving the Border Guard to fight Aspen. Later, they could initiate a campaign for the land again. They would face the Border Guard in a more favorable position after they had used up their forces. The clever ones came to a conclusion. They had planned to find the Viscount first. By now, Viscount Tarnin''s head was hanging from a pole. "...When did that pig die?" The clever mercenary was shocked. And unlucky. Jaxen didn''t need to use a magical relic to hide his presence and move around. He simply disguised himself in the enemy''s clothes and observed. He found the few soldiers worth killing, giving them red necklaces as a gift. He did the same for an unnamed clever mercenary. The dagger was peculiar in shape¡ªdull on the outside, sharp only on the inside. When pressed against the neck, it was over. He grabbed the surprised mercenary''s wrist, but his right hand traced a semi-circle, slashing the neck. A red necklace appeared on the mercenary''s neck, and blood poured out as he died. Seven had already met this fate. This was enough. Jaxen withdrew. He didn''t believe that the captain would die just from a brief absence. So, he returned as planned. Enkrid was there, along with a ghost. "A ghost, huh? We should perform an exorcism. A few daggers should do." "...Why is that damn wild cat talking to me?" The ghostly barbarian spoke. Saxen insisted on exorcising the ghost, but it didn''t take. Instead, he only heard the words of a mad barbarian holding an axe, blessing him. "Why don''t you die instead? You go die." He ignored it. He had done his job, and the captain was fine. "I really thought I was going to die this time." Krais said. Enkrid casually glanced at the big-eyed soldier. Krais, who hadn''t slept properly for days, smiled. "You''re lucky. Truly. It seems like the goddess of fortune kissed you. The kiss of a goddess brings luck." As Krais spoke, white snow began to fall heavily above his head. By the time the conversation ended, it had turned into sleet, snowflakes falling thick and fast. "I hate this weather." Rem grumbled. Devilish dust was falling heavily. Jaxen and Audin had the same look. Enkrid, however, was different. He understood immediately. "As expected, the captain''s got a good head on his shoulders." Krais said, and Rem, angry, muttered, "Alright, let''s see if we can pluck out those eyes today," but it was just a small commotion. The snow kept falling. Even those who had been fighting needed to regroup. That meant. "We''ve bought some time." Krais thought what they all felt. The falling snow was the luck that would keep Aspen from moving forward. It bought them time to recover and reorganize. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 301 - The Right Choice Chapter 301 - 301 - The Right Choice Waaahhh! The roar hit their ears as soon as they entered Border Guard. His whole body vibrated. With everyone shouting, it was no wonder. "My ears are going to fall off." Amidst the tired soldiers, cheers erupted between falling raindrops. The Black Blade threatened, and heretics gathered. Officially, it was the Tarning family''s troops, but it looked like a ghoul dressed in human clothes. It was an obvious ploy. Everyone knew. Even the innkeeper knew about it. Although Aspen was still around, there were moments that should be celebrated. When is life most precious? It''s when you''ve overcome a threat. When you''ve escaped danger. When you realize you''re alive. Right now, the Border Guard civilians felt that way. Everyone had overcome the threats and escaped danger. There were those who couldn''t hold on and fled in the middle of the night. Some couldn''t bear it and ran away early. On the other hand, there were those who stayed in the city. They spared no strength in their shouts. Their hearts seemed ready to burst as they yelled. "You! For you, I''d give what I''ve kept for twenty years!" Innkeeper Vanessa shouted. Vanessa, who lost her first husband when she was twenty-five and never met another man since, had kept her body precious. If anyone tried to make a move, she''d swing a cast-iron pot at them. "Who''s going to take it!" A burly mercenary yelled. He seemed to have gotten injured in battle, with bandages wrapped around his left eye and chin, and blood stained his face. He was laughing loudly, though his injuries were likely to worsen. "It wasn''t meant for you!" "Get a grip! Innkeeper!" Everyone laughed. The mercenary kept shouting boisterously. "You fight like you''re going to kill!" "Fighting dirty, but you''re damn good at it!" The voices of rough men erupted with the mercenary''s lead. In between, there were also women''s screams mixed with the cheers. Everyone was intoxicated with the joy of victory. "Hey, have you forgotten that Aspen''s still out there? Is this really the time?" Krais muttered. Seeing this, Rem patted Krais on the back of the head. Slap! The slap was a bit too fast, with Rem''s hand reaching Krais'' head a little too quickly in his excitement. Krais, rubbing his head, turned it to the side with a sour expression, and Rem chuckled as he spoke. "You gotta enjoy when you can, kid." "Are you going to keep enjoying even if you''re about to die?" "Look, you''re enjoying this too. I''m about to split your skull into six pieces with an axe." "Enough." Enkrid interrupted. If they left it alone, Krais would surely get hit again, even if his skull wasn''t split. "Habitual bullying of the weak is not a good habit." Seeing this, Ragna spoke. Somehow, with Enkrid in the center, those on the left were the injured ones, and those on the right were the uninjured. On the left were Rem, Audin, and Teresa. On the right were Ragna, Jaxen, and Dunbakel. "Huh? What? I can''t hear you, your words are always lost," Rem said, putting his hand behind his ear, and Jaxen responded. "Bullying the weak is bad. Don''t do it." Jaxen made a hand gesture, drawing an imaginary line, explaining like he was talking to a wild animal. Regardless of the cheers or the "Immortal Rem" shouts, Rem pulled out his axe. "Wanna say that to my face?" "No, wait, don''t! Stop, please." Jaxen made a cross with his hands, signaling him to hold back. If they left it alone, things would escalate. Ragna added to the conversation. This was like pouring dozens of barrels of oil onto a fire. "An arm broken by a dog, and a traitor who survived..." Ragna''s tone didn''t seem to provoke, though. This was his strength, and also his weakness. His honesty was his strength, and his refusal to hide it was his weakness. Of course, now it was more of a weakness. "Haha, brother. Do you wish to sleep forever?" Jaxen didn''t react. He just moved quietly. Ragna genuinely thought they were weak. Enkrid heard all of this. If they were left unchecked, they would walk into cheers only to end up in a bloody mess. Everyone subtly raised their spirits. It had been a while. Now that he thought about it, they had gotten along well over time. In a way, this was a huge improvement. At least this time, they weren''t fighting as one group. Rem and Audin were one side, and Ragna and Jaxen were another. No, actually, looking at it now, it seemed like a bigger mess. "Are you not stopping them?" Krais, ever perceptive, quietly nudged Enkrid''s side. Enkrid was now an expert at stopping these situations. One word was enough. "I think I''m faster now. Rem." The heated atmosphere immediately cooled down. What did he just say? Rem asked. "What did you just say?" "You''ll see later." The intense tension dissipated. Enkrid''s gaze turned to the front. The leopard that had entered first didn''t look injured, but appeared tired. The wild-eyed horse, though, wasn''t bothered by the crowd and walked with confidence, observing everything around him. Despite the large crowd, he seemed unafraid. Although he was a bit timid with his words, his demeanor was calm, perhaps due to the fact that he had survived despite the blood of beasts running through him. He had the confidence to escape if things went wrong, an attitude that showed he trusted in his abilities. Watching him charge and fight on the battlefield, he seemed reliable enough. "He''s one of the unit members, huh?" Enkrid inwardly acknowledged him. Leaving behind the cheers, they entered the city, and Rem stood before Enkrid. "Ta-da, ta-da, let''s check this out. Let''s see what''s quick." "Are you okay?" Enkrid asked with genuine concern. It wasn''t meant as a provocation. "Shit." Rem responded, stretching his mouth wide to express his distaste with his face, showing his skill at making it clear. It was a masterpiece. His expression was grotesque. It was a calm and harmonious conversation. "Let''s see. If you''re slower than me, this won''t be fun." Ah, this is a fun guy. Enkrid assumed his stance. With everyone watching in front of the barracks, he repeated the process he had learned. Although he couldn''t quite stretch his technique in one go, and still lacked some precision in manifesting his will, when it was done, it was faster than Lykanos. It was similar to the ''Will'' of rejection. Though the technique was rough, when it activated, it was overwhelming. Relaxation, contraction, explosion. Repeating the previous steps, he extended his sword. The sword, extending in a straight line, cut through space, splitting the air with sound. Ka-ang! Rem tried to deflect the sword with his axe but failed. He had no choice but to block the sword with the flat side of the axe. The result was a screeching metallic sound. "Not bad." Enkrid said, secretly impressed. He wasn''t trying to kill him, but that speed wasn''t something that could be blocked easily. "...What have you been doing while I was gone?" Rem couldn''t hide his surprise. Was it only Rem who felt this way? "Hmm." Ragna coughed briefly. Jaxen opened his half-lidded eyes wide. Audin froze, his smile intact. He looked like a well-made statue. Ragna, at least, had seen it once before, so he was relatively calm. But having seen it once didn''t mean he was familiar with it. In fact, it proved that killing Lykanos wasn''t just a coincidence. The surprise wasn''t different from anyone else''s. Two words flashed through Ragna''s mind. "Very fast." Even now, it''s fast. Speed is relative. In that sense, how many people could block that thrust now? A barbarian, a bear-like zealot, or a stray cat might be able to, but... For the beastkin or Theresa, it would be difficult. Well, if it''s Theresa, she could block it with a shield if she really tried. But a beastkin wouldn''t stand a chance. It''s not because of a skill gap, but because of their different fighting styles. Other weaknesses were apparent as well. "But after one thrust, the pause is too long." The burst of acceleration was unprecedented. "Let''s see if you can properly move your body afterwards and try again, okay?" Rem''s words were right. It wasn''t flowing properly. His arm was shaking, and his posture was subtly breaking down, his balance disturbed. Of course, that didn''t mean the strike should be dismissed. "This was also a part of his ''Will''." In other words, Enkrid''s thrust was at a level one might expect from a sub-knight. If he hadn''t realized the fragment of ''Will'', such a technique would never have appeared. "Rejection and thrust." Two fragments of ''Will''. "Let''s spar." Enkrid said calmly. Amidst the snow pouring down, everyone retreated into their own worlds. Everyone in this place was the same. Watching Enkrid, stimuli ruthlessly surged. "Father." Audin muttered in prayer, while Dunbakel''s eyes burned with intensity. Theresa, forgetting her injuries, was eager to fight. And Krais, who had been observing it all, "Are you serious? Are you really going to spar right now?" "Then should I clean my eyes?" Rem retorted. Instead of sighing, Krais took a deep breath and turned his gaze to Enkrid. "Commander, one last question." "Ask." "I''m going first." As Dunbakel muttered nonsense from the side, Rem kicked her in the behind. "Didn''t you get hit enough?" "Why are you picking on me?" "Why do you think?" Leaving them behind, Krais continued. "We''re still going to fight, right?" There was a lot behind that question. They could still escape. As long as they gave up Green Pearl, defending Border Guard would be no trouble. Now that they''d passed the hardest part, the Martai forces could be mobilized. Due to the upheaval caused by the cultists, they couldn''t move recklessly, but they would be heading out soon. Probably by tomorrow. Even so, would they still fight? "What if we leave it?" Enkrid asked in return. "Hah, I know why you''re asking, but if we leave it, this city will be hard to protect." Krais made that judgment. Inside Naurilia, there was chaos. If reinforcements were going to arrive, they should have been here by now. At least, Count Molsan shouldn''t have been able to ignore it like this. ''The central power doesn''t reach this far.'' Meanwhile, Commander Marcus had quietly withdrawn. There was no good signal in sight. The conclusion was the same. If they wanted to survive and protect what they had, they had to strike first. The geographical advantage and timing were on their side, and it would be to their benefit if they struck now. "What do you think the Aspen people are doing?" Enkrid asked as he sheathed his sword and glanced at the falling snow. By now, the snow had grown heavier. If left unchecked, the surroundings would soon turn into a white land. For the soldiers, it wasn''t a good situation, but with the fatigue of battle and all, the snow needed to be cleared first. If left, the drainage would freeze, and the accumulated snow would eventually collapse the wooden roofs of makeshift buildings. The barracks were made of stone, so there was no problem, but if the fences broke, it would take more effort to repair them. It was better to clear the snow before that. Krais, while considering the damage the falling snow could cause, also wondered why Aspen was waiting and what they were aiming for. The conclusion was anticlimactic. "I don''t know. If they wanted Green Pearl, they should have attacked earlier. But it seems like we''ll have to wait a little longer." He had a troubling prediction based on ominous thoughts, but it wasn''t very likely to come true. "We''ll have to move out once the snow stops." Krais finished, and Enkrid nodded. There was nothing more to be done now. It was time to rest. They ate and slept. But as evening came and the snow continued to fall, dissatisfaction began to bubble up among the soldiers. "Let us drink and have some fun, damn snow!" Krais dismissed the complaints. With the snow falling, this was still a rare opportunity to rest. In the meantime, those who wanted to drink and relax did so. Enkrid, instead of drinking, reflected on what he had gained. He replayed the battles in his mind, carefully thinking through every detail. Did he miss anything? Was there anything to learn? By reviewing and reflecting, there was always something to learn. He spent the day thinking and resting, gradually loosening up his body for the next day. "Here." Shinar came over and tossed a salve made by the fairies. The specific ingredients were unknown, but it was certainly a good ointment. After applying it, his minor wounds quickly healed, especially the burn on his back. "Apply it for me." The fairy commander even personally applied the ointment to his back. The sharp pain and cool sensation ran across his back simultaneously. This rapid healing was due to the activation of his natural healing powers through the Isolation technique. This was the body of regeneration; even broken bones would heal swiftly. "Give me a few more, there are many injured." Upon Enkrid''s request, Shinar looked around and said, "That one is enough. A little ointment and it''ll be fine." The platoon leader said, and without further word, walked off. Despite the wounds, it was clear that Rem had sustained more serious injuries. "This is discrimination. Why does he only get treated like that?" "Don''t pretend you don''t know." Dunbakel said seriously from the side. "I don''t know, I don''t know. So let''s train. Beastkin. Beastkin, let''s have some fun." Rem growled, and Dunbakel quickly ran out of the barracks. Her movements were swift. With a snap, she kicked the ground and dashed out like a white shadow, slamming the door open. Her skills had clearly improved, that was evident. Outside the barracks, amidst the falling snow, Dunbakel stuck her tongue out. Rem didn''t rush out. The heated leather was worn out and patched back into a vest. Rem stood there, deep in thought. The snow was falling, and it was cold. Should he go out and deal with that immortal barbarian, or not? It would be easy to chase after a fleeing barbarian. He was all wounded; leaving them be would probably just make things worse. "Just hold on, brother." Audin''s gentle discouragement made Rem lie back with a grunt. It would come back around someday. When that happened, he could deal with it. He had avoided injury this time, which meant he was still holding onto the habit of fighting while withdrawing. That meant he still needed to relearn how to fight properly. That was the duty of the one responsible for training them. Rem swore to himself. He would make sure to beat them. Audin, with one arm broken, examined Enkrid''s shin wound. "It''ll heal soon." But Audin''s own arm didn''t seem to be healing anytime soon. Even in this situation, his divine powers weren''t manifesting. There must have been a reason, but it wasn''t something Enkrid asked about. Enkrid nodded vaguely and went outside. He just needed to warm up. There were mercenaries who had fought for the city, so he intended to check in with them. The snowstorm had lessened by now. A few soldiers recognized Enkrid and saluted stiffly. Considering what they had seen on the battlefield, it was understandable. Though this was limited to the battlefield, he certainly stood out there. As Enkrid walked out of the barracks, he noticed a woman standing by the gate, her nose red from the cold. She looked up as Enkrid stepped out. "Ah." She recognized him. The woman approached, knelt, and bowed her head. "Though I am of humble station, I was taught never to overlook a kindness." The woman said. She appeared to be over forty years old. "Thank you for saving my son." She bowed and spoke through tears. Everyone had told her to give up. He was a lost cause. But he had been saved. Her son. Enkrid had become her god, her savior, her everything. He was the one who saved her child¡ªa life she would trade her own for. Enkrid felt a strange warmth in his chest. His heart trembled. It felt like someone was whispering in his ear. "You made the right choice." It almost sounded like the voices of Ger and Pete, the ones who had died. "I''ll cheer for your dreams." The voice of the child mixed in. He wanted to end the war on the continent. Enkrid wanted to become a knight and accomplish that goal with his own hands. To stop mothers from losing their children in the chaos of war was the reason he wanted to become a knight. He helped the woman to her feet and calmly sent her away. His fight, his dream, had only just begun. In terms of a journey, he had just reached the starting point. In truth, he hadn''t even reached the starting point yet. He wanted to become a knight. The faded, torn dream now gleamed and mended, right in front of him. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 302 - Whose Side Is the Green Pearl Unit On? Chapter 302 - 302 - Whose Side Is the Green Pearl Unit On? "Not great." That was the response to the question of whether he was okay. Lying on the bed, Graham barely raised his head to look at Enkrid. Graham had been stabbed deeply in the back and could hardly move. Effectively, the Border Guard''s standing army had lost its commander. The battle would have to be fought without a lord, a battalion leader, or an overall commander. "You''ll manage without me," Graham muttered. One of the two adjutants almost nodded in agreement but caught himself. Yet, the other one didn''t bother to hide his reaction and nodded plainly. "Look at that¡ªhe''s nodding!" Graham growled. "No, no! That''s not what I meant!" When Graham snapped, the nodding adjutant quickly turned his headshake into a frantic denial. Watching the little drama unfold, Enkrid asked matter-of-factly, "So, do I take command?" "Who else would?" Graham replied, sounding resigned. At that moment, Graham had a realization. They call me the lord, but am I, really? The true hero of the city wasn''t him. The man before him had slain enemy commanders and led a unit of madmen, all while being the type of person who would save a child in the middle of chaos. Pointless as it was... That same quality made Enkrid reliable. It made him trustworthy. Graham realized he had no complaints. If Enkrid were to say, Hand me the title of lord, Graham would relinquish it without hesitation. Not that Enkrid would ever say such a thing¡ªsuch notions were only whispers in his head. Even so, being called "lord" felt hollow. It was a strange thing. Graham couldn''t find it in himself to feel any jealousy toward the man standing before him. Maybe it was because he''d seen Enkrid''s rise from nothing. Or because he knew how hard this man trained, even now, to the point of blistering his hands. Enkrid''s improved skills were undeniable, yet he still punished his body with relentless effort. To envy him, Graham thought, would be to admit he himself was trash. Perhaps that was the answer¡ªhe didn''t want to become trash. Graham came to his conclusion but still had a question gnawing at him. "Why did you save that child?" It had been dangerous. It had been pointless. Between the flashes and explosions, just one misstep would''ve cost him his life. Yet this man had rolled across the battlefield, shielding the child with his body, even earning burns on his back and shoulders. Why? For a single child? A life that could have been snuffed out by an arrow or simple inaction? Enkrid didn''t hesitate before replying. "Because I wanted to." It was such a simple answer, yet that nonchalance struck Graham harder than anything else. This man truly was a remarkable madman. Feeling provoked, Graham decided to poke further. "Show a little respect to your commander, Captain. What''s next, acting like Rem?" "That''s an insult. Are you challenging me to a duel?" "Saying you act like Rem is an insult?." "Yes." "Win and return alive. When you do, I''ll personally lead the parade to welcome you back." "What, an old man welcoming me? Not exactly something to look forward to," Enkrid replied, his tone suggesting he genuinely didn''t understand the appeal. One of the bumbling adjutants nodded in agreement, earning Graham''s ire. "Why are you agreeing with him? Get out!" Graham dismissed both Enkrid and the adjutant, his concern for the city weighing heavily on his shoulders. Still, watching Enkrid leave, Graham could sense a profound responsibility in him, something Graham admired. As Enkrid stepped outside, the snowfall was easing. Aspen''s forces wouldn''t wait forever, so it would soon be time to move. The Green Pearl Unit''s role as reinforcements was about to be tested. "If only oblivious subordinates like you could pick up on things as quickly as the weather clears," Enkrid muttered at the adjutant by his side. The adjutant''s obliviousness was remarkable. He hadn''t even realized that the snowfall had bought them precious rest time. How did this guy ever become an adjutant? "Maybe I need to teach you how to notice things," Enkrid said, shaking his head as they walked on. Enkrid offered some pointed advice before turning back. He had seen the child''s mother and also witnessed the injured mercenaries in the city. The mercenaries were staying at the city inn. Some had pledged to join the campaign, while others chose to remain as mercenaries. Among them were some intriguing individuals¡ªEdin Molsan included. "Be wary of my father," Molsan said abruptly upon meeting him. "Do you realize that''s essentially the same as telling me to be wary of you?" Enkrid replied. "It''s advice, not a warning." "Understood." Enkrid brushed it off lightly. Was Count Molsan really important right now? Not at all. The order of priorities was clear. The immediate opponent was Aspen¡ªthe Aspen forces who had come prepared for an all-out fight. "Don''t forget my words," Molsan repeated firmly. Enkrid responded with a grin, "What''s your name again?" "...Did you forget again?" Before Molsan could erupt in frustration, Enkrid quickly made his way back to the barracks. "Got any food? You know injured folks need to eat well to recover, right?" Rem greeted him as he entered, looking like a hungry chick waiting to be fed by its mother bird. That appetite was relentless. Coincidentally, Enkrid had just returned from a round through the village. He''d gone out to recover and also to check on the mercenaries who had decided to stay and fight. In his hands were bread, marmalade, and some seasoned jerky. "Eat this. At least if you die, your complexion will look decent." "Ah, that''s a western joke, isn''t it? You''re surprisingly well-versed." Rem chuckled as he stuffed the bread into his mouth. Watching him eat brought back thoughts of Gilpin, whom Enkrid had encountered just before returning from the market. That guy seemed... off. "Several spies infiltrated us, and we lost a few of them," Gilpin had said bluntly when they met. "I''ll ensure stricter surveillance," he added, determination evident in his clenched teeth. Enkrid didn''t reply but found himself wondering¡ªwhy were they in charge of catching spies? Wasn''t that the city guard''s job? Or perhaps not. It seemed logical enough. Regardless, Gilpin''s resolve burned fiercely, as if he were fulfilling some divine calling. Although in reality, it was more likely Krais''s orders driving him than any divine purpose. "Sure," Enkrid had replied nonchalantly. "Meillun''s been going after anyone who claims to wield a blade well. We''re expanding the guild and aiming to bring the city''s nights entirely under control." Unknown to Enkrid, Gilpin had also witnessed the battle. He had observed everything, paying particular attention to Enkrid. He''d known Enkrid was an exceptional individual, but this time, something about him was different. He led the charge, faced blades head-on, and fought the enemy commander. While impressive, what left the deepest mark on Gilpin''s mind was the moment Enkrid rolled through the dirt to shield a child. For days, that scene lingered in Gilpin''s thoughts. "Was there any reason to save the child?" No, there wasn''t. Yet Enkrid had done it. The child''s abduction had been a result of Gilpin''s failure. Despite help from Meillun, a Frog, the spies had slipped through. "I failed." That day, Gilpin had clenched his jaw so hard his gums bled. A century ago, there had been a man who unified the thieves'' guilds alone. He wasn''t just a thief but a noble rogue who made it his mission to help the poor and downtrodden. Having known nothing but thievery since childhood, he rose to the top of that world. The continent''s only Rogue Master. The minstrel who sang of the romance of the night. The emperor of alleyways, Kiwzelas. As a child, Gilpin had dreamed of being a protector of the night. The "Protector of the Night" was a concept created by Kiwzelas¡ªsomeone who ensured peace for others by safeguarding the shadows. Watching the smiles of those around him, Gilpin thought he was becoming something other than just a thief. He believed he was contributing to the safety of the city where he was born and raised. "This is my city." Protect it. If not me, then who else? He had failed to save the child. He had let several spies escape. No one blamed him¡ªnot even the child''s mother. Yet Gilpin blamed himself. "It''s my fault." Mock him for being a lowly thief who dared speak of duty, but... "If all I do is dream..." Gilpin wanted to reclaim the childhood dream he had nearly lost. And just as it was about to shatter entirely, Enkrid saved the child. Gilpin had seen the mother''s gratitude. In that moment, Gilpin recognized something extraordinary in the man before him. It wasn''t about swordsmanship. "Was Kiwzelas like this?" Enkrid had a different heart, a unique resolve. Gilpin could see it. "Why did you do it?" When Gilpin asked Krais, the answer he got was a masterpiece. "Probably because it was infuriating. That enemy commander''s actions were revolting, so saving the child must''ve felt like spitting in his face." Was that really the reason? No. It was about saving people. By saving them, the city was preserved. What Enkrid had done, though unintentional, had completely won over the heart of the aging thief. Gilpin made a new resolve. "Even if it costs my life..." He would protect the city''s nights, and if needed, he''d take on the role of clearing even the smallest obstacles from this man''s path. Although Krais had cared for and taken in Gilpin, his loyalty had shifted entirely elsewhere. Even later, when Krais learned of Gilpin''s intentions and thoughts, nothing changed. "Do as you please." That was Krais''s attitude¡ªcalm and indifferent. As long as the job got done, it didn''t matter. If anything, knowing in advance was appreciated. At least it meant he wouldn''t get stabbed in the back at the worst moment. Of course, Enkrid was oblivious to all of this. He simply found joy in witnessing someone''s passion and enthusiasm. "I''m cheering you on." "Even if it''s just to clear small stones from the road." Enkrid couldn''t fully understand the words that followed, but he interpreted them as a commitment to keeping the city''s alleys clean. For such a brief visit to the city, a lot had happened, and he had met quite a few people. Even Graham had been seen along the way. Ending this brief contemplation, Enkrid turned his gaze to Dunbakel, whose cheekbone was visibly swollen. She clearly looked like someone who''d been hit. "If the snow stops, we''re heading out. What''s the point of making her useless before that?" Enkrid scolded. She was a key part of their fighting force. "This will heal in half a day. Do I look like someone who hits recklessly without thought?" Enkrid nearly nodded but managed to hold back. He couldn''t afford to act like the tactless subordinate from earlier. "Her jaw looks a bit out of place now." "Her eye seems injured too." Ignoring it and moving on, he spotted Krais sitting with a dazed expression by the fire, his face fresh from a long rest. Though he seemed idle on the surface, it was clear his mind was working hard. At least that''s what Enkrid wanted to believe as he observed him. Slurp. Krais drooled momentarily but quickly wiped it away. "Ah, I dozed off." So, he really was just lazing around. Enkrid briefly considered smacking him on the back of the head. Right then, Krais stretched and stood up. "You''re here?" "Yeah." "I''ve been thinking." "Thinking about what?" Enkrid wondered if he should start with a smack if anything pointless came out of Krais''s mouth. Unaware of these thoughts, Krais continued in his usual tone. "The Aspen bastards must have set a trap." The heavy snow had gradually lessened, and Krais had been using that time to think. "If they had attacked from behind instead..." It would''ve been a difficult fight, but at least it was the kind of battle they had anticipated. Aspen should''ve exploited its advantages and launched an attack. But they hadn''t. Winter battles were already arduous, so why stall for time? Aspen had waited instead of advancing. Even now, as the snow eased, there was no ambush. It was only now that they appeared to be preparing to move their forces. It was as if they were waiting for the battle here to end. That was deeply unsettling. Something was off. It felt terribly, ominously wrong. Anxiety surged once more. "If it were me, I''d have struck." There''s no easier fight than ambushing someone mid-battle. But Aspen hadn''t. Something was going on. Something unpredictable. And that meant the worst-case scenario. After repeated contemplation, Krais reached a conclusion. "They''ll be tougher to deal with than the Black Blade and the Cultist alliance. They might even have a knight hidden away somewhere. And even if they do, it''s uncertain whether we''ll have knight-level support on our side. They could also redirect some of their forces to target the city directly." "What''s your point?" "They''ll do anything." "And our response?" Enkrid asked, and Krais replied. Despite the calm tone, the conversation across the fire resembled the dialogue between a field commander and his soldiers. And why not? Graham had been incapacitated by an assassin and had handed over full authority to Enkrid. The firelight cast a reddish glow on Krais''s face. "Do you know much about the battalion commander stationed in Green Pearl?" Enkrid shook his head. He had never encountered the man but had heard rumors¡ªa self-serving opportunist who would do anything for personal gain. Good at logistics and building fortifications, but not a skilled fighter. Not exactly reassuring. "In the worst case, we''ll face a magic trick that doubles our enemies." At the mention of magic, Esther snorted from the side. "Hmph." She was in her human form today. As they spoke, the snow had completely stopped. Now was the time to reorganize and march. Their bodies were halfway recovered. Without Graham, Enkrid would have to take the lead as the overall commander. "That''ll need verification." Who was the Green Pearl battalion loyal to right now? Had Aspen delayed all this time because they were already on their side? It was a plausible suspicion. No, it was something they had to question. "Let''s start with the march." The short reprieve of dreams had passed. After taking down a few wolves, it was time to face the tiger lurking behind them. Preparation, then advancement. Even as they checked the palisades and watchtowers around Green Pearl and moved inside, tension remained high. And then, fully armed, the Green Pearl battalion commander greeted Enkrid. The moment his expression twisted, Krais felt his worst fears turning into reality. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 303 - "Why, Not ’Really.’\" Chapter 303 - 303 - "Why, Not ''Really.''" Chapter 303 - "Why, Not ''Really.''" "Who is he?" Graham adjusted his posture at his subordinate''s question. A sharp pain ran from his back to his head. Shinar. He had heard that the fairy gave Enkrid some ointment for his wounds. But he was the lord of the castle, wasn''t he? If nothing else, he''d been a long-time companion, hadn''t he? So why was it that not even a single root or scrap of herb made its way to him? Graham brushed aside the errant thought and answered. "Who?" "The Green Pearl commander," the subordinate clarified. One subordinate was clueless and dull, but the other was more than average. Even their questions were different. ''Or is it relative?'' Maybe the clueless subordinate just made the other one seem sharp. Even so, he couldn''t dismiss the clueless one. People could go to surprising lengths for others. That subordinate wouldn''t stake his life for Graham, but he might sacrifice an arm to save him. That made him indispensable. "Garrett Gairo." Graham named the man who had once been his superior but now held equal rank. The name didn''t exactly roll off the tongue. Garrett''s battalion had been the second reserve unit of the Border Guard, but thanks to their victory at the Battle of Green Pearl, they had become a new battalion entrenched on the Green Pearl Plain. "He''s said to be an opportunist, willing to do anything for his gain. Rumors abound that the reason Aspen hasn''t launched an attack is because Garrett has already switched sides." As if only Enkrid had heard such rumors. Graham suddenly felt an itch in his ear and scratched it with his pinky. "Think someone''s talking about me?" He suspected the clueless subordinate he''d sent out earlier. "If Aspen pushes forward, the city will be in danger too, Commander." Graham, both the commander and the lord, nodded. "Who doesn''t know that?" What could be said about Garrett Gairo? "Has he betrayed us? I don''t think so. If I were to bet Krona, I''d wager he hasn''t." He was a shrewd and cunning man, but betrayal wasn''t his game. "Why do you think Marcus stationed him there?" *** The battalion commander was a striking man with dull blond hair. He appeared to be in his middle years, striding forward with purpose. Enkrid instinctively measured the distance. Two and a half paces. If needed, his sword could reach in less than a heartbeat. "If you judge him an enemy, cut him down, subdue him, or dominate him outright. Then immediately seize control of his forces." That was what Krais had said before Enkrid left, and Enkrid had agreed. He subtly shifted his left foot forward, ready. He could thrust quickly, or if the man struck first, counter with a snake-like deflection. His right arm, partially healed, was good enough for that. With the right hand deflecting and the left thrusting, Enkrid was prepared for anything. He held all options open as he faced the battalion commander. Behind the man stood some archers, infantry, and guards¡ªall showing strange tension. Garrett Gairo closed the distance with large strides. "Graham, you sly bastard!" Then he bellowed, his tone carrying a peculiar energy. "I missed you!" Garrett''s booming voice rang out. Thorough, opportunistic, and willing to do anything for profit¡ªsuch was the common assessment of Garrett. But this... didn''t seem to fit. "You''re better-looking than me, Graham! How about that?" "Quite handsome, sir," answered one of the guards, a dark-skinned woman. The battalion commander, Garrett, was a man who knew how to laugh¡ªa bright, unrestrained laugh at that. And he added with a grin: "You''re officially the most handsome in the Border Guard now." "Confirmed," Krais muttered from behind. The tension and worry that had been etched onto his face earlier seemed to dissipate into thin air with that anticlimactic comment. Enkrid himself relaxed slightly. If this were all calculated, the man would be more devious than Jaxen himself. Of course, Jaxen would never admit to that comparison if he heard it. "Come on in." Garrett turned his back to them. Even if he hid his skill, turning one''s back had its implications. Garrett wasn''t a traitor. Enkrid understood this on both an instinctive and rational level. "Still, be cautious," Krais whispered from behind. What if he was luring them in to trap them after they entered? But for such a plan... He seems far too careless. Enkrid scratched his chin and followed Garrett inside. If Rem were here, he might have called him a bold fellow. But Rem, Audin, and Theresa had been left behind. "Someone has to guard the rear. If things go south, we''ll need someone to run for it," Krais had explained. Enkrid''s reasoning, however, had been different. "If you''re planning to die in battle, fine. Otherwise, why bother?" Everyone had taken injuries. When it was time to rest, they needed to rest. "This stuff heals with a little spit," Rem had protested but had still liberally applied the fairy''s ointment. He had even eyed Jaxen''s herb collection, nearly starting a fight. "That fairy ointment is too fine for your hide. Go smear yourself with some mud instead," Jaxen had remarked. Breaking up fights had become second nature by now. "Stay behind." Enkrid issued the command with a tone that left no room for debate, effectively cutting off any attempt at resistance. Even invoking the force of their ''Will,'' he ensured his decision was final. It was a display of sheer determination. "If you die out there, I''ll personally take up the axe of vengeance." Rem gave up first, while Audin simply chuckled, though it didn''t seem to stem from amusement. "It''s because I''m weak," Audin muttered in self-deprecation, attempting to prick Enkrid''s conscience. "Exactly. So why not focus on getting stronger?" Enkrid countered smoothly, turning the jab into a quip. After all, wasn''t his silver tongue already at the level of a knight? "If you think you can win a battle of words with him, you''re just asking to get crushed, bear-brain. Take it from me¡ªjust keep that tongue of yours still around him," Rem advised from the side. Unsurprisingly, Audin ignored him and began muttering a prayer. "Did you see the arrogance of our small, pitiful commander? Father, even if he ascends to heaven, please don''t be too harsh on him." A prayer that danced on the fine line between blessing and curse. "Thanks for the benediction," Enkrid quipped, delivering a parting shot that sealed his victory. Audin could only laugh and shake his head. Enkrid, sensing that further teasing might provoke the man into challenging him outright, held back additional remarks, though he had plenty more he could have said. Only Theresa refrained from opposing him, likely because her injuries were too severe. Nevertheless, she expressed satisfaction at having killed the Wolf Bishop, her words carrying a weight of personal vindication. Although Enkrid didn''t know the full story, it was clear their relationship had been anything but amicable. "You did well." With that praise, he left behind Rem and Audin, kept in place through a combination of force and words. Now he journeyed with Esther, the mage; Krais, who was ready to flee at the slightest provocation; the ever-silent Ragna; and Jaxen, who outright stated he was glad to have left Rem behind without so much as a hint of humor. "Feels like someone doused my face in oil," Jaxen muttered. Oh, and Shinar was there as well. The Fairy Company Commander was carrying a few scratches, but nothing severe. "He''s got a greasy look about him," Shinar said quietly, referring to Garrett. Though the remark seemed odd¡ªGarrett''s appearance was more in the "handsome" category than anything else. "Really?" It was fortunate Garrett hadn''t heard the comment. Then again, even if he had, he seemed the type to brush it off. He was proving to be an enigmatic figure. "Now, you''re technically my superior," Shinar said. "And I''m perfectly fine with that." Throughout the journey, Shinar had emphasized the importance of issuing orders with authority. "Is this some kind of personality that enjoys being dominated by commands from a superior?" Unable to suppress his curiosity, Enkrid asked. "Being dominated by one''s betrothed, huh? Intriguing. I wonder what that would feel like." What absurdity. Even for a fairy-style joke, this was pushing the limits. "It''s just a joke." Shinar''s expression remained devoid of humor. Her insistence on altering his tone wasn''t entirely whimsical or strange¡ªit was rooted in practicality. "If the chain of command breaks down, it''ll cause problems," she explained. That was the real reason. "Fair enough." Sometimes, it seemed Shinar didn''t fully grasp the influence of her presence. Every gesture, every step, every word¡ªshe carried herself in a way that commanded respect and reminded everyone that she was a fairy. "How old are you? If you''re younger than me, I''ll stop being so formal." "The chain of command doesn''t concern me," Enkrid replied with a smirk. As they entered the encampment established in Green Pearl, Enkrid took in the sight. "This looks like a small village." Massive logs had been cut to form defensive walls, and though most of the dwellings were tents, there were scattered wooden buildings as well. Some structures appeared abandoned mid-construction, likely due to the war and the onset of winter. "If only we could''ve held out until next winter. Then, the village could''ve been properly established." Garrett made the comment as they approached the largest tent in the center of the camp. Inside, Garrett sat at a large table, flanked by several guards. Among them was a tall black woman with dark skin¡ªa rare sight in this region, though more common in the eastern parts of the continent. "I''ve been dying to meet you," Garrett said abruptly, his words catching Enkrid off guard. "I''ve heard all about that battle¡ªGreen Pearl, the war, everything. Tell me more¡ª" "Commander." The woman called Nurat interrupted, bowing slightly at the waist. "Ah, now''s not the time for this, is it?" "No, it is not." "Aspen is on our doorstep, Commander," added another guard, a large man with a chiseled jaw and a tightly clenched expression. "Yes, that''s a personal matter for later." Garrett''s demeanor shifted in an instant. His smile remained, but something in his presence changed. It was as if his very aura had twisted. Krais reacted involuntarily, as if he sensed the stakes were suddenly much higher. It was a shift akin to the intensity Audin displayed when confronting blasphemy, or the sharpness of Ragna''s focus when he prepared for battle. "Personally, I think our best option is to cut our losses and retreat. What do you think?" Enkrid noticed Krais twitch at Garrett''s words. Clearly, this was a sentiment he enjoyed hearing. "Why?" Enkrid asked. "Because I can''t predict what the enemy will do." "That''s your reason?" "It''s a reason." This time, Krais interjected, likely feeling this was his moment to shine. Enkrid didn''t stop him, even nodding slightly to encourage him. Garrett''s gaze shifted to Krais with interest. "A sharp one, eh? What''s your name?" "Krais." "In my life, I never imagined a moment where I''d ask for the name of a man over two beautiful women. Well then, Krais, care to explain?" Garrett''s tone carried a distinct rhythm. It wasn''t unpleasant to listen to¡ªit almost sounded like a melody. Though Krais had already explained this once before, he decided it was worth summarizing his points again. "Whether it''s the Black Blade or the cultists, Aspen merely observed while we fought at the front." "And that''s supposed to mean something?" Shinar, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. While Enkrid was the official commander, Shinar''s rank was arguably on par with his. "Even just the voice of a fairy has the quality of an instrument." Garrett, seemingly unable to resist spouting nonsense, chimed in. Shinar, as expected, ignored him entirely. "It does mean something. If everything were as it seemed, Aspen would''ve attacked us first. But instead, they''ve just been watching. It''s winter now, and we''ve secured a supply route to Green Pearl. It''s not entirely stable, but it''s enough for us to defend this position. Even without a fortress, we can hold the line. How many watchtowers do we have?" "Eight," Garrett answered. "Spread out?" "Compactly placed." Their rapid exchange made it difficult for the others to follow. Enkrid simply waited¡ªsurely, they''d explain things again later. "And Aspen? Their supply lines? Their advance? Their encampments?" Krais continued to press. His questions, however, were rhetorical, intended to emphasize a point. Supplying, advancing, and setting up camps were not trivial tasks. Those who prepared ahead of time had a significant advantage over those who didn''t. "Given that the odds are in their favor, why hasn''t Aspen made a move? They had every reason to." Krais was starting to suspect that Aspen had a mastermind on their side. Otherwise, none of this made sense. "They must have a plan," he concluded. "Exactly," Garrett agreed. "Honestly, I thought they might just retreat after sitting around and watching, but nope, that''s not it." "They''re coming?" "They are." "How fast?" "Slowly." "That''s not good." "It isn''t." From the back, Nurat bent slightly to address her commander. "None of us can follow this conversation." "Krais, speak in the common tongue," Enkrid interrupted tactfully. Garrett gestured toward Krais, who began explaining in simpler terms. Aspen hadn''t seized the high ground or moved quickly. Instead, they were advancing steadily and deliberately. There were two possible reasons for this. "One, they''ve already gained a full understanding of our forces," Krais began. "Two, they''re confident they can win," Garrett finished. The two exchanged glances, then, as if on cue, lightly clapped their hands together in agreement. The sound echoed inside the tent. "Commander," Nurat said again, bowing. "Oh, right, now''s not the time to celebrate?" "No, it isn''t." Garrett was an odd character, but at least he seemed sharp and loyal. Enkrid refrained from smacking Krais upside the head. "So, what happens if we retreat? If we just run away like this?" "The city falls, we become war criminals, and we''re dragged to the kingdom''s tribunal. So yeah, running isn''t really an option anymore," Garrett replied, even though the question was directed at Krais. When the two raised their hands again, Enkrid pressed down on Krais''s head and spoke firmly. "Then come up with a plan to win." Thinking wasn''t his strong suit¡ªthat was Krais''s domain. "It''s not like solutions just pop out of thin air. First, we need to analyze the surrounding terrain¡ª" "Nurat," Garrett interrupted. At his command, a map was brought out¡ªa military map outlining the area''s geography. "Any issues with our supply lines?" "None. For the enemy to interfere, they''d have to break through the narrow path guarded by four watchtowers." As Krais and Garrett continued their conversation in their own little world, Enkrid gave up and stepped back. He observed for a moment longer but realized it was a miracle if he understood even half of what they were saying. By the time he looked again, Shinar had already stepped outside. Enkrid followed her, eager to breathe in the crisp mountain air. The tent''s interior was stifling, with oil burning in the brazier. Outside, he noticed Ragna standing in the distance, quietly watching him. There was a look in Ragna''s eyes that suggested he wanted to say something. Enkrid approached him, and Ragna tilted his head slightly, gazing beyond the wooden palisade at the sky as he asked, "Why do you want to be a knight?" The question was sudden. But it was also a delightful one. It wasn''t do you really want to be a knight? It was why do you want to be a knight? The nuance carried a completely different weight. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 304 - Rest and Prepare Chapter 304 - 304 - Rest and Prepare Ragna stood alone outside, reflecting on his past. "A thousand times. Don''t even think about coming back in until you''ve done it." A thousand downward swings of the sword. It didn''t seem impossible. But Ragna wondered, Why must I swing a sword? His arms hurt. His body ached. It wasn''t enjoyable. Was it ever fun when he first picked up a sword? He couldn''t tell. He couldn''t remember. "Why? Why are you even asking that? As a man of the Yohan family, it''s what you''re supposed to do." They called it natural. But could that really count as a reason? The same tasks repeated endlessly. Why must he do it? "Uphold the Yohan family''s honor." Why? "Become a knight." Why become a knight? "Kill." Why kill? From childhood, Ragna had struggled to find his path. For him, finding his way was the most challenging thing of all. And why was that so hard? Because he didn''t know the right path. He didn''t know any path. Ragna lacked a destination. That''s why he was always asking. How could a man like Enkrid be so certain? Surely, everyone questions their path at least once. Is the road they''re walking the right one? Are their reasons valid? Does it make sense as a purpose for living? But Ragna had never seen confusion or uncertainty in Enkrid''s eyes. People occasionally waver. But not Enkrid. He was always resolute. That''s why Ragna had to ask: Why do you want to be a knight? Enkrid looked at Ragna, habitually scratching his chin. The answer was obvious. But whether it was the answer Ragna wanted¡ªthat, he didn''t know. "Honestly, Rem''s easier to deal with," he thought. Rem was flexible in his thinking. While his madness obscured it, his mind bent without breaking. Audin was steadfast. His mental fortitude was unparalleled, solid as tempered steel. "At first, he seemed unstable," Enkrid reflected. Audin still wavered at times, but it was the refined wavering of a tempered resolve¡ªa strength that assured he wouldn''t break. Jaxen was steady. Detached, even cold. He rarely displayed passion, but at times, there was a smoldering intensity beneath his cool demeanor. This was how Enkrid saw his subordinates. And Ragna? "A blade that cuts through anything but could just as easily snap," he thought. Ragna was unstable and precarious. A man who epitomized talent, yet wielded his gifts with dangerous uncertainty. Enkrid didn''t deliberate over his words. He didn''t see the need. He simply tapped his chest and said, "Because it tells me to." Ragna froze. For a moment, it seemed he forgot how to breathe, holding his breath for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he exhaled, steadying himself before speaking. "That''s why you want to be a knight?" When he was younger, it was a dream. Later, it became a burning ambition. At one point, it was a desperate longing. Now, it was the road he had walked and would continue to walk. A knight who would bring the war to an end. The subject of a bard''s song. If he had to articulate it, that would be the reason. But at its core, the reason was simpler. His heart told him to. Saving children, protecting the weak, keeping promises¡ªit was all the same. There couldn''t be just one reason to want to be a knight. That''s why this was his answer: "Does my ''why'' even matter?" He responded to the question with a question. Ragna fell into thought again. Though his eyes were on Enkrid, his mind was drifting elsewhere. Enkrid could tell. Rem, Audin, Jaxen, Ragna¡ªthey were all the same. They looked to him for answers, to find something. Even Esther was like that. If Enkrid lacked this level of intuition, he wouldn''t have made it as their chaotic squad leader. He would''ve ended up as a crow''s meal in some forgotten corner of the battlefield. "I''m heading back in," he said. It was a pleasant question, and Enkrid thought his answer was equally pleasant. Still, he felt an absurd worry that if he left Krais alone, he and Garret might start plotting some elaborate escape plan. As he re-entered the tent, Ragna''s voice stopped him. "When the fight''s over, let''s have a duel." "As much as you want." "I''m betting more than half my life on it." It was a serious challenge. "As much as you want," Enkrid repeated and stepped into the tent. Left alone, Ragna quietly felt the explosion erupting inside him. It was like a volcano about to burst. Something boiling in his lower abdomen surged upward, pounding against his chest. Why am I alive? When the question of why he swung his sword touched on the reason for his existence, Ragna lost his will. He became idle, a lost sheep. Had he not met a shepherd, he might have remained that way forever. Ragna spoke into the empty air, "Let''s have a match." No response came. The person who could answer had already disappeared into the tent. Ragna turned his attention inward, focusing on the sound from within. It was the voice of his heart, the cries of his inner world. "Hey, can you hear me now?" He could. The screams he''d long ignored now rang clear with reproach. At some point, even fighting formidable opponents stopped being enjoyable. "It''s just killing." He didn''t see it as crossing blades but merely following a prescribed path to take lives. It wasn''t a duel¡ªit was labor. That said, Ragna felt no guilt over the killings. Anyone who raised a weapon must accept the risk of death. His opponents also carried swords; they bore the same burden. Ragna always believed he would die nameless in some barren field. But life rarely unfolds as expected. "You idiot, do you get it now?" Listening to the chastisement from within, Ragna smiled. A grin spread across his face. "Ah, yeah, I get it," he muttered aloud. Through his inner turmoil, Ragna confronted his desires. He acknowledged his yearning. He found his path. He wanted to fight against someone who made his heart race. "I want to face someone who pushes me to my limits." Unbeknownst to him, Shinar had stepped out of the tent some time ago and overheard their entire exchange. With the hearing of a fairy, even distant conversations couldn''t escape her. To her, Ragna''s question had seemed odd, and Enkrid''s response even stranger. And now, Ragna''s muttered soliloquy only added to the peculiarity. It was all so bizarre. And yet, Shinar felt inexplicably delighted as she listened to their conversation. She couldn''t explain why, but simply overhearing it left her feeling warm and lighthearted. It had been a long time since she felt such emotions, and without realizing it, a smile crept onto her face. A smile she''d never let anyone see. *** Staring at the map, Krais analyzed the terrain. In his mind, he sorted through dozens of potential scenarios, isolating the most probable ones. "It''s not enough." Their forces were insufficient, and the enemy''s information remained scarce. "How do we win? No, surviving is already a victory in this fight." As long as the palisade didn''t fall, it might be enough. The answer was clear: defense. Not an advance, but fortification. "No, that''s not it." If they relied solely on defense, they''d lose. Aspen wasn''t a coalition of fools. If the enemy had been imbeciles, they would have attacked recklessly already. As thoughts cascaded and tangled in his mind, Krais sighed. "That''s why this doesn''t work. Well, the best option is defense." Garret, the battalion leader, interjected. Somewhere behind them, Nurat''s aide mumbled something incomprehensible. It didn''t register. This wasn''t the first time Krais had felt overwhelmed during this battle. He could have run and spared himself this burden. "Why do we have to defend this city?" Why couldn''t they simply flee? The most important thing in this world was one''s own life. Second was Krona. Third, perhaps, was Enkrid. In the end, it was all because of their commander. "Ah, forget it." Krais finally raised both hands in surrender. This unexpected strategy meeting had stretched for hours, leaving him drenched in sweat. When he glanced back, Enkrid was standing there, having returned at some point and silently observed. "The best option is defense, holding out until winter passes. But do you think Aspen doesn''t realize that?" Garret asked, breaking the silence. "That''s why their slow advance is concerning," Krais replied. It was a repetitive process of articulating the same thought to uncover a solution. When Krais and Garret first met, their dialogue had gone like this: "What''s their pace?" "Slow." "That''s bad." "Yeah, it is." Why was it bad? Because moving slowly while knowing the advantage of defense meant Aspen had something up their sleeve. Enkrid, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. "What''s the worst-case scenario?" "A dragon suddenly descending and spewing fire over our heads," Krais responded without missing a beat. "Dragons are absurd. That''s impossible," Nurat interjected. Garret didn''t stop him. Krais continued, "Or the sudden appearance of knight-level forces." "We''ve tracked the movements of all knight-level threats," Garret assured. "Judging by their speed, the army could arrive in four to five days at most. In the meantime, we''ll need to organize scouting parties and hold our ground." Enkrid also studied the map, memorizing the terrain. His memory had been sharp since childhood, and his experience as a pathfinder made this task second nature. "What do we need most right now?" "Variables," Krais answered immediately. If you don''t know what''s in a box, shake it. That was Krais''s philosophy. But what kind of variable could they create now? Would they have to sacrifice soldiers to gauge the enemy''s reaction? That would just be stupidity. So, what could they do? Attack their supply lines? That wouldn''t work either. The enemy''s slow advance was deliberate, ensuring thorough preparation. Aspen''s forces were so meticulous they seemed to probe every pebble along their path. A continental adage stated, "If striking the stone bridge doesn''t suffice, turn back." If something felt off, don''t proceed, no matter how long it took. Their opponent exemplified this philosophy. Thus, the best options were endurance and disruption. "Sometimes, observing reactions can reveal intentions," Krais remarked. "A good approach, but not an easy one," Garret replied, folding his arms. Nurat chimed in, "They''re advancing so slowly and flawlessly, leaving no openings. We even sent a ranger unit to strike their supply lines, but none returned." Enkrid nodded. What else could he do? "Rest and prepare." "That''s settled then." Garret nodded as if he agreed with the statement. "After this battle is over, could you tell me some stories from the past?" After the meeting ended, Garret approached with these words. What is he? He was not an ordinary man. It was him who had set up the stronghold in Green Pearl and organized the army as soon as Aspen appeared. His preparedness was solid and impressive. "What stories are you talking about?" "The ones about battles, incidents from the troublesome squad, the moment you became the company commander, the battles from that time, and all the past events." Garret''s eyes sparkled with excitement. He looked eager for the stories, like someone waiting for a good time. Enkrid scratched his chin. Once the battle ends, there would be many things to do. Surviving first seemed like the most important thing. It was something Enkrid also had to think about. If Aspen came out like this, what could be done to make the enemy commander''s life difficult? "Sure, later." He answered casually, lost in thought. Garret seemed satisfied with that and nodded. Was it a good thing that Garret wasn''t a traitor? Enkrid thought his best option would have been to defect. If he had joined Aspen''s side and pointed a sword at this side, wouldn''t that have been much easier? Enkrid didn''t hide his thoughts and asked directly. "Why didn''t you defect if running away and fleeing are the answers, and if you''re likely to be treated as a war criminal? I''m sure Aspen offered you that option." It could be considered a delicate question, but Garrett didn''t seem to care. "Romance." "Pardon?" "Because romance is here." What could romance be? Garret''s dream was to be a poet. He was quite skilled at handling rhythm and meter. For him, everything that happened in Border Guard was material. It was a story. It was romance. It was his dream. Especially, Enkrid was like the protagonist of a play to him. He was an enthusiast for heroes. So, he couldn''t help but like Enkrid, even if Enkrid didn''t do anything. The more he learned, the more he realized that Enkrid was pulling off unbelievable feats one after another. "It would be a hundred times more fun to live and die this way." Garret laughed. In a way, he was a madman, much like Enkrid. So, if he were to get inspiration for a romantic poem today, he wouldn''t mind dying tomorrow. Enkrid didn''t know everything in detail, but he instinctively understood that this man would not betray them. If the sword of betrayal had been drawn, there wouldn''t even be a meeting like this. "You''re similar to the boss." "To whom?" "To the boss." Krais, from the side, tapped Enkrid''s head with his finger. Enkrid found it unpleasant and elbowed Krais on the head. "Ow!" Krais grabbed his head and rolled around. Nurat, seeing this, rushed to his side to help. "Are you okay?" "Oh, Nurat, right? How about we talk over a cup of tea?" Even in this situation, he was flirting with women. Yeah, that''s Krais for you. He wasn''t panicking or losing his composure, so it was actually better this way. Whether it was because he had given up or thought he had a chance, Enkrid couldn''t say for sure. Enkrid stepped out of the tent. He was going to take a look at the fortifications that Garret had set up. As he was observing the fortifications, he saw a group of soldiers gathered around. They were roasting something over a fire, and the smell was incredible. As he got closer, he saw long pieces of meat skewered on sticks. On one side, they were brushing on seasoning, and on the other side, they were grilling it. The division of labor was impressive. "Let''s sit together." Enkrid squeezed into the group. "What''s this? Haven''t seen you around." "I just joined today." Most of the soldiers didn''t know Enkrid''s face. This was the supply corps. They were all handling something with practiced hands. Garrett''s unit was like this. His specialty was support, not combat. "Give me one." There was a female soldier among them, and she openly looked at Enkrid''s face. It was natural for her to show a friendly attitude. Enkrid''s face could be used as a weapon sometimes. "Stop staring. You''ll wear your eyes out." The soldier who was seasoning the meat scolded her. "Hey, it''s my eyes. Let me enjoy it a bit. I''ve been rotting away looking at you guys every day." "Shut up." They were joking with each other, but it was clear they got along well. Despite the teasing, their teamwork was perfect. Enkrid squeezed himself between them and sat down. Even though they had laid thick blankets on the ground, there was still a chill in the air. Soon, the grilled meat was ready. He took a bite. He thought it was snake meat, but as soon as he bit into it, the meat melted in his mouth. "What''s this?" When he asked, the soldier who was roasting the meat smiled and answered. "It''s good for men." Enkrid judged that these soldiers were better than Martai''s baking squad. It tasted that good. One more thing he realized was that Garrett was excellent at managing his unit. ''They may not be great at fighting, but...'' There was a sense of ease among the soldiers. It was a well-managed unit. Enkrid grabbed a few more pieces of meat and ate them. "You''re eating well." The female soldier remarked. Enkrid just nodded and kept stuffing his mouth with meat. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 305 - Eating, Drinking, and Resting Chapter 305 - 305 - Eating, Drinking, and Resting When Enkrid asked about the delicious melting fish, the soldier responded with a grin. "It''s eel." It wasn''t snake, but rather a long-bodied freshwater fish. The female soldier, quickly peeling the skin with a small knife, explained. Everyone was fast and efficient, their hands and movements well-coordinated. "After we go back to the city, how about moving and selling fish from the river all the way here?" The soldier who had been applying seasoning asked. Enkrid quietly gave a thumbs-up. As he raised his thumb, he thought about the distribution routes between the river and here. If the roads were paved properly, it would only take two days by cart. And if they could get an Spell Objects that exhaled cold air even in the middle of summer, there wouldn''t be any issue with freshness. While artifacts were relics, Spell Objects were magical tools created and sold by mage guilds. Among them were tools that could maintain a subtle cooling effect. These tools were used in big cities to enjoy things like shaved ice even in the summer. Of course, such items were prohibitively expensive, so it was rare to see them in places like Border Guard. But if trade developed further, it might become more common. He knew that even silk had made its way here. If not for the war, things might have grown even more, but that couldn''t be helped. "This taste is amazing," Enkrid said with genuine appreciation. Though he had some seasoning on the corners of his mouth, it didn''t lessen his feeling; in fact, it added to it. The soldier who had been seasoning the eel grinned. While not particularly handsome, his smile was sincere and reflected pure joy, as though he took delight in someone enjoying his cooking. "Think it will sell well?" "Definitely." "That sounds good, even if it''s just talk." "Hey, will you take me along when you do?" The soldier grilling the eel, with soot smeared on his face, asked. He didn''t seem to be very old. "Helma! Is it all done?" Some soldiers approached from the side and shouted. The female soldier who had been eyeing Enkrid was named Helma. "Did you catch anything?" Helma replied without looking back. From what Enkrid overheard, it seemed they had paved a route all the way to the Pen-Hanil River, and they occasionally brought back catches from there. The soldier who had approached set down a heavy pouch. Inside the leather pouch, which had thin ice shards clinging to it from the cold, were pieces of frozen ice that fell out. "What''s this?" "Crayfish." When the pouch was opened, Enkrid could see the crustaceans, complete with their claws. The soldier who had been preparing the seasoning licked his lips and said, "Just grilling them makes them delicious." Enkrid joined in with the soldiers, eating and enjoying as if he had always been one of them. "Want a drink?" Helma asked, offering him a bottle of whiskey that smelled strongly. "It''s not great, but it''s not bad either," Enkrid said, accepting it. It was the perfect drink to warm up on a cold day. The soldier, skilled in cooking, grilled the crayfish, removing their heads and coating the insides with seasoning. "Eating them this way is crazy," Enkrid muttered. After tasting it, he almost went crazy. There was no fishy smell, just a rich umami flavor that overwhelmed his taste buds. A sweet, pleasant taste that lingered. "You should open a restaurant," Enkrid said, offering his praise. Next came trout. The internal organs had already been cleaned by the river, so it only needed to be grilled. A bit of salt and pepper, and it too became a delightful dish. "But, where are you from?" one of the other female soldiers asked. Female soldiers weren''t rare in the unit, which was normal. Naurilia strongly advocated for women to join the army. Born as the daughter of a serf? If you wanted to change your life, enlist in the military. It was the female enlistment system. It was the third of Naurilia''s military reforms, after the soldier grading system and the mercenary soldier system. This was so well received that female soldiers could now be found with ease. "Reinforcements." "From Border Guard?" "Yeah." "Is the commander really handsome? I heard rumors about him. Is he more handsome than our commander? Hm?" Enkrid, who had been growing his beard, still managed to maintain his looks, though it was somewhat messy. Despite the stubble, he couldn''t fully hide his features. Helma, who had been glancing at him repeatedly, seemed quite interested. "No, I''m better looking," Enkrid said, jokingly brushing it off. His remark caused a few soldiers to laugh, though some gave him jealous looks. Others liked Enkrid''s easygoing attitude. "Don''t get too involved," one soldier advised, his tone mixed with envy and complex emotions. "Yeah, I won''t," Enkrid replied calmly. What would be the point of fighting? If it had been Rem, he would have cracked open their skulls without hesitation, but Enkrid was not Rem. After eating and drinking, Enkrid entered the barracks where he had been assigned. There, he saw Esther sitting quietly, waiting. Some of the soldiers had already heard rumors about her and developed a crush. With her long, silky black hair and the thick black fur cloak draped around her, Esther''s appearance, much like Shinar''s, captured the attention of the nearby soldiers. So, did she not go outside? That probably wasn''t the reason. Esther had never been one to particularly concern herself with those around her. The mage, looking at Enkrid, spoke in her flat, emotionless tone, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I need to go somewhere for a while." "Okay." Enkrid didn''t feel the need to stop her. Just like that, Esther left in a hurry. The next morning, from the early hours, Krais approached with bloodshot eyes and asked, "Do you think magic or a spell could help?" He was asking why Enkrid had just let Esther go. After all, she had been in human form; she could have been useful. It was something Enkrid had considered too. "No." "Why not?" "If it were possible, I would have already sent her." Krais, if it were any other time, might have realized it immediately. Esther had been in human form for quite some time. If magic could have helped, she would have done something already. But she hadn''t. That meant there was a reason behind it. Enkrid knew that and let her go. He didn''t think he needed help right now. If she wanted to, maybe, but forcing her might end up being detrimental. It wasn''t just a thought, but rather a feeling. Enkrid trusted his instincts and followed them. "Why do you only get smart at times like this?" Krais muttered. It was an unspoken acknowledgment. Enkrid went on with his usual routine, warming up and starting his training. Isolation technique. He carefully contracted and stretched each muscle, enduring the painful process before swinging his sword. This time, after killing Lykanos, he had recovered his sword and brought it along. Now, he had two swords hanging at his left side. "Isn''t that uncomfortable?" Sinard, who had been watching from the morning, asked. "Once you get used to it, it''s fine. It''s even lighter than I expected." "Is that so?" "How about a light spar?" "Why not?" Thud. Sinard''s leaf-shaped sword was agile, smooth, and fast. Her movements were light, almost like she was hopping with her toes barely touching the ground, swinging her sword with ease. Even though it was a light attack, it was tricky to deflect. "Are you preparing for my techniques?" "You''re quick to catch on, fiance?e." Whenever Enkrid tried to deflect, Sinard was already back, having attacked and retreated before he could react. Enkrid switched his swordplay. He used the broadsword now¡ªswinging it heavily and chopping with a solid weight. He also added speed to it. It wasn''t the five swings in one step that Ragna had shown him before. Each step came with two strikes. After some practice, he could now imitate it. "Nice." Sinard commented, impressed. Her leaf-shaped sword also changed its form, from a quick cutting attack to a more defensive style. It was a dynamic transformation. The fairy sword was sharp yet smooth. Enkrid observed that too, storing it in his mind. There was something to be learned from it for later. Even though his right arm injury hadn''t fully healed, they weren''t fighting seriously. Neither of them were being too intense. After a while of sparring, Sinard wiped the sweat from her forehead and casually asked, "What''s the name of that sword?" "Does it have a name?" Enkrid held up the sword Lykanos had used, the one he had recovered. He looked closely at the blade. The sword had a sharp point, almost resembling a stiletto, from the hilt all the way to the tip. The blade was silver, and the hilt had a rough texture, which wasn''t uncomfortable. There was no need for a leather wrap. It felt custom-made for a perfect grip, lightweight but well-fitted. It was clearly no ordinary sword. Also, there were intricate markings, like a kind of writing, carved into the hilt. Not a secret, apparently, as Sinard quietly added, "It''s a sword made by the Fairy Clan. Its name is ''Fulti.''" "Is it famous?" "Somewhat." Enkrid had already suspected it wasn''t an ordinary sword. It was tough yet light. It wasn''t made from regular iron. "Fulti" was a sword created by a renowned fairy craftsman. Fairy swords were typically made from two kinds of metal¡ª"Naia" and "Nidul." This one was a sword made from "Nidul," named after the sword itself. Giving a weapon a name meant the maker had great confidence in it. It was said to have been lost ten years ago, and now, here it was. A light, sturdy sword, particularly suited for thrusting. It was one of the finest "Nidul" swords, capable of piercing through armor with ease. Enkrid recalled, "How many swords did I lose back then?" The swordsmith who had made "Fulti" had also crafted other swords, but they were all lost under mysterious circumstances. The story was vague, but the truth was that they had been lost due to some foolish bloodline issues. "Endurance, destruction, Fulti." There were a few other names that came to mind, but he couldn''t remember all of them. Perhaps they were records in the fairy cities, along with the accounts of the treacherous human thieves. These swords were lost when the fairy warriors were ambushed. The swords had been given to those unworthy, lacking in skill and honor. That''s why they had been lost. It was a shame, really. But if someone worthy held them, they would be rightfully claimed. And that''s why Enkrid having "Fulti" made sense. In Sinard''s eyes, it was only natural. "Is there a need to recover a famous sword like this, or anything like that?" "Unless you get close, even a fairy won''t recognize it. The word ''Fulti'' is written right under the guard in the fairy language, so just keep that hidden." Shinar said, turning away. Enkrid understood those words clearly. ''He''s saying to keep it hidden and use it.'' That''s what Enkrid decided to do. He had found a good sword, and there was no need to return it. Enkrid had a strong desire for swords. After sweating it out with Shinar, Enkrid became hungry again. He washed his body and wandered around the interior of the camp, which was somewhat village-like. There wasn''t a forge, but he saw people baking things or sewing fabrics to make various items. Everyone seemed busy. This time, he brought Ragna and Dunbakel with him. The two had been staring at the sparring earlier. They didn''t seem to have anything to do. "Want to come along?" "Sure." "I thought I smelled something good from you yesterday." Dunbakel, a beastkin, had a keen sense of smell and, as she herself admitted, was quite fond of good food. "Come on, follow me." Enkrid settled into a spot and started picking at various things to eat. He didn''t reveal his identity immediately, but from the way he interacted with the soldiers, Dunbakel quickly figured out that they were part of the supporting forces. "So who made this? This is amazing." "I did." "Good job, kid." Dunbakel casually patted a young soldier on the head, and the soldier briefly turned red. Some of the soldiers asked questions about Ragna, but he remained silent. He appeared to be lost in thought, or perhaps looking for something. The soldiers kept their distance from Ragna. "They seem like they''re in pain, huh?" One soldier remarked, cutting to the heart of the matter, but no one listened closely to him. Enkrid heard him and understood. While he himself was fine, his troops looked somewhat lacking. "Hey, I told you not to bring strange friends along." One soldier spoke sharply, but Enkrid calmly let it slide. "Yeah, be careful." "This bastard, just talking..." "Hey, stop it." "Seriously, this guy..." "Cut it out." "Jeez." "Stop acting like a fool." Though the soldier''s words were irksome, Enkrid knew better than to escalate the situation. The other soldiers stepped in to stop the argument. Some of the soldiers who had been grumbling fell silent. "Watch yourself." That was all. Enkrid thought the soldiers maintained good discipline. Though the situation could have turned troublesome, it didn''t. If it had, Enkrid might''ve had to step in, just like he did with the soldier earlier. "Ugh." Enkrid sighed and then noticed Helma giving him a strange look. He ignored her and went back to eating and relaxing. The trout, crawfish, and grilled eel caught Ragna''s attention, even. His eyes sparkled with interest. For someone who usually didn''t care for food, this was unusual. "This seasoning... It''s the best." The soldier''s seasoning was impressive. Dunbakel gave him an approving look. He was quite the foodie. Enkrid did only the bare minimum of training, focusing mostly on eating, drinking, and resting, since his body hadn''t fully recovered yet. While the rear soldiers were busy with cooking and making things, there were a few different soldiers near the front lines with a different kind of energy. Garrett''s battalion was generally low on available combat personnel, and the standout unit here was the Green Pearl Rangers. "Going out for a patrol?" "Who are you? Which unit are you from?" Patrols were risky, and the unfamiliar face brought a cautious response. A few soldiers eyed Enkrid warily. "I''m part of the reinforcements." Enkrid showed his shoulder insignia. It had the high rampart design of the Border Guard. "I don''t think it''s any of your concern." One of the soldiers, at least of the elite class, said this curtly. Though shorter in stature, he looked quick and agile. Enkrid analyzed the soldier''s light frame and quick movements. He also observed where his weight was distributed when standing. ''He relies on speed and thrusting.'' The soldier had a stiletto hanging from his belt, a clear indication of his preferred fighting style. Enkrid, through the techniques he had learned from Isolation and Audin, gauged the soldier''s level of training and made his assessment. "Try this." Enkrid pulled some seasoned jerky from his bag and tossed it to the soldier. The elite soldier caught it but eyed it skeptically. "What''s this?" "Try it, it''s good." The soldier tore off a piece and chewed it. "Got any bread? Try dipping it." Enkrid handed a jar of marmalade to the soldier next to him. It was a specialty of the Border Guard. If this didn''t taste good, something was wrong with their taste buds. Though the supplies weren''t lacking, they weren''t abundant either. The soldiers couldn''t go hunting freely, and sometimes they had to deal with monsters causing trouble nearby. Excluding the archers guarding the ramparts, the Rangers were the main force here. There were no cavalry at all. "This is delicious." One of the rangers mumbled. The elite soldier, likely the leader of the group, scoffed. "I don''t know why you''re giving us these, but shouldn''t you be asking your superior for permision?" Enkrid had not reported yet. But if he needed to, he would. Enkrid then mentally reported to his superior and answered the soldier''s question. "It''s because you''re working hard. Eat up." "Strange guy." Enkrid spent the rest of the day surveying the camp, focusing on eating and resting. He learned a lot by observing. The camp was small, with watchtowers placed close together. The defensive area was narrow, but that made defending easier. However, it also made them vulnerable to flank attacks, something they had to accept. On the fourth afternoon of Enkrid''s arrival, as the sun set, a messenger came rushing into the camp. All eyes turned to the messenger. "The enemy is right on our doorstep!" The messenger''s words spread quickly through the command tent. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 306 - Variables Chapter 306 - 306 - Variables Whether it was luck or misfortune, the sky was incredibly clear. Even the wind didn''t blow. The days had been unusually warm for winter. The snow that had fallen previously had melted away. Greenpearl wasn''t a place where snow typically accumulated, though the northern parts of the Pen-Hanil Mountain Range were always covered in white. In other words, it was an ideal day for fighting. The sky seemed to be pushing them toward battle. "The enemy is right at our gates!" It was the report from the messenger. By then, Enkrid had been casually walking among the regular soldiers. "Meet them at the palisade! Everyone, out!" At the commander''s call, Enkrid also started moving. "Aren''t you supposed to return to your position?" Helma turned her head, speaking to Enkrid, who had stayed close by. She had just grabbed her buckler and spear. Enkrid matched her pace and responded vaguely. "It''s fine." Helma blinked, unsure of what he meant by "fine." But she did notice that the guy could fight. Usually, people with delicate appearances didn''t fare well in fights, right? Helma, who had only seen Enkrid for two days, was worried. "If your superiors find out, you''ll get in trouble." Enkrid replied vaguely again. "I''ve been granted permission." He had just asked himself and answered it. So, it was like permission had been granted, especially since it was a previously agreed-upon action. The variable of the battlefield: what would Enkrid create? The only thing he could do was one thing. "Hey, if you''re going to do that, you might as well lead the charge." A soldier said indifferently. He had been grumbling for a while. It seemed like he harbored some resentment, but Enkrid didn''t care. In the situation where they were all going to be fighting, this kind of whining seemed almost cute. Compared to Rem, it was nothing more than the complaints of a child. "Alright." Enkrid replied and kept walking. He was already heading forward. Helma, who seemed to be part of the front-line unit, adjusted her steps to join the others at the front. "Hey, mind your own business." Helma snapped back at the soldier behind them. The soldier didn''t say anything more. It seemed like they hadn''t expected her to retort. Up until now, Enkrid had assessed the soldiers'' level. While Rem had been a bit of a mess, there were a few soldiers who were quite advanced by the standards of the Naurelian soldier ranking system. Helma was at least intermediate level. Her strength wasn''t bad at all. Most soldiers were close to basic rank, and the only two main types of soldiers were infantry and archers, but they had good discipline. There were horses, but no cavalry, and carts were prepared for the supply lines in the rear. Of course, the carts were carrying supplies. ''If things go wrong, we''ve got an escape plan in place.'' Whether they became war criminals or were chased, they wouldn''t let anyone die meaninglessly here. Neither he nor his subordinates would allow that. Garret''s voice could be heard in the formation and preparations. Enkrid liked that too. As he walked, he swung his arms lightly. The pain was faint. His right arm had recovered somewhat, and his left shin had healed as well. The injuries from everywhere else had left only faint scars. Saxon had said that his face wouldn''t bear any permanent scars. However, there would be scars on his shin, forearm, and torso. When Enkrid heard that, Krais made another silly comment. "Scars on the face wouldn''t be so bad, but it''s better if there are none." It was clear he intended to take him to a salon for some sort of beauty treatment. What a ridiculous guy. Enkrid moved around, feeling the soft armor wrapped around his shoulders, chest, and thighs. Although it was a thin leather armor, it still felt stiff. On the inside, there was a light gambeson, so it was somewhat constricting. But if he took it off, he would be cold and his defense would be halved. A little discomfort was helpful for his defense. "Three swords? If you go to the front, you''ll end up dead." Helma spoke with concern. She was a nice person. Just as she was about to say something, Jaxen appeared. No, he sprang up. Enkrid, with his heightened senses, had already noticed, but Helma hadn''t. "I''ve brought him." Helma was startled. It was as if the man had suddenly popped up from the ground. He was wearing a thin hat instead of a helmet, and a blonde man was right next to him, constantly adjusting his leather helmet. "Did you come?" "Yes." "Where''s Dunbakel?" "Big Eyes has separated her with Shinar. He says the cards need to be kept hidden." "Ah, I see." It was a trivial conversation. Helma didn''t quite understand it. However, she realized that the man before her was no ordinary person. Actually, it wasn''t that she had just realized it; she had known it from the start, but now it was clearer. He had been a man who had drawn attention from the beginning. He was someone who moved around the camp, carrying no trace of the tension that others felt. Enkrid paid no mind to Helma''s gaze. He focused on what he needed to do. What was needed were variables. Something the enemy wouldn''t expect. Enkrid decided to initiate it right from the first strike of the battle. It was something Krais had agreed with as well. It had been a method that had worked well in the past. By landing an unexpected blow, he could observe the enemy''s reaction. With that, he could confirm part of the hidden cards. Even if he couldn''t see everything, it was fine. Just seeing part of it would allow him to make educated guesses about the rest. It would be a completely different situation compared to now, when they knew nothing. ''Ah, please.'' Krais was struggling to shake off the ominous thoughts. Enkrid remained indifferent. ''There are a lot of them.'' Despite the enemy approaching right in front of him, he didn''t feel overly tense. In fact, he didn''t feel much danger at all. Whatever the enemy had prepared, he felt it wouldn''t matter. His instincts, which usually warned of danger, were quiet, and his body felt surprisingly good. His right arm had recovered more than half. ''Not bad.'' It really wasn''t bad. "Waahhh!" A battle cry rang out across the field. Aspen continued its slow advance. As the enemy approached within the range of arrows, their forces fired first. Fwip, fwip, fwip! Arrows flew through the air, marking the start of the battle. Aspen''s forces responded, and a black rain of arrows began to fall overhead. It was a very ordinary beginning to the battle. "Hold firm!" "Raise shields! Don''t lower them!" "Ugh!" "Idiot!" The arrows shot in an arc hovered in the air before raining down. A misfortunate soldier had an arrow embed itself in his shoulder. A comrade pulled the injured soldier away while another raised a shield to protect them. The coordination wasn''t bad. They were well-trained. Though they were still lacking. In comparison to the Border Guard reinforcements brought in, they were weak. It was like the difference between solid stone and hardened clay. ''They need more rigorous training.'' He would have to schedule additional training for those who survived today. Though it was a thought that came unbidden, it wasn''t a bad one. Preparing for the future, for what comes next, was always helpful. Such thoughts were also part of the preparation. It was a way of focusing the mind. Fixing his sword belt and gripping the sword wasn''t the only form of preparation. Enkrid observed the incoming arrows and casually avoided them. It was no different than dodging daggers thrown at him from close range. He didn''t even carry a shield. While being fully equipped was important, at this moment¡ª ''For now, just the three swords.'' It seemed to be the better choice. Looking to the side, Ragna was already dodging arrows without even looking, while Jaxen had vanished. ''He''ll be fine on his own.'' Was there any reason to worry about Saxon? He didn''t think so. Enkrid focused on his own business. "Ha." He took a deep breath. No matter the battlefield, the enemy, or his current state¡ªgood or bad. Danger was always present, and threats should never be ignored. As always, Enkrid put his best into everything. His first move was to grip the one sword with both hands. Cling. The blue-toned steel sword slipped out of its scabbard. He raised it to the brilliant winter sunlight. The sword had lost a few teeth, but it was still sturdy. He had tried to maintain it, but it had taken a rough beating. At least it was a good sword. If it had been a regular steel sword, it would have broken by now. A good sword is always the right choice. ''Please, once more.'' Enkrid spoke to his sword. When the time came, he would lay it to rest, but now was not that time. The armies on both sides were steadily closing the distance. Enkrid moved along with them. He walked forward without hesitation. He took a step ahead of his forces, one step more, and soon the gap between him and his allies grew larger. It was only natural that he would seem to be rushing ahead alone. "Hey, where are you going?" Someone shouted from behind. It sounded like a complaining soldier''s voice. "You crazy bastard! Hey!" Enkrid ignored it. Now was the time to draw everyone''s attention. "Shake them with the first strike." There had been Krais'' request, but Enkrid''s own emotions were already rising to the surface. What had they prepared? A knight? A cursed sword? Magic? Sorcery? Did they bring any knights along? If not, how were they going to block this? Such thoughts flitted through his mind briefly before he stepped forward, his boots crunching against the frozen earth as he met the enemy. He was the fastest, so he was the first to reach them. "You crazy bastard!" The enemy, now fully tense, thrust their spears forward. Enkrid adjusted his speed as he ran. In an instant, he lowered his thighs and accelerated. The enemy soldier''s gaze couldn''t keep up with the sudden change in speed, and before they knew it, Enkrid''s foot collided with the soldier''s shin. He kicked as he ran. Crack, snap! With one strike, the soldier''s bone shattered, and his body was sent flying into the air, only to crash back down to the ground. "Ahh!" The scream echoed as Enkrid swiftly slammed his elbow into the head of another soldier standing beside the fallen one. He used both his foot and elbow almost simultaneously. Crunch! A final scream rang out as the soldier''s neck snapped. Blood poured from the gap in the soldier''s helmet, and the man collapsed, his skull shattered with one blow. Only then did Enkrid swing his sword. Planting his left foot firmly, he swung the sword from his right waist to the upper left. The heavy sword cut through the air in a diagonal arc. It was a wide, sweeping blow. Enkrid added a trick to the move. Using the force of the swing, he shifted the axis from his left foot to his right. As he did, he lowered the sword from the upper left to the lower left, and then swung from the lower left to the upper right. His left and right legs crossed, and in the process, the trajectory of the sword traced an infinite symbol. Everything touched by the blade broke, shattered, or was cut and sent flying. "Ugh!" "Ahh!" Those who screamed were the ones lucky enough not to die instantly. Anyone who had their neck or skull hit by the blade didn''t survive. Two mighty swings of the sword killed nine enemy soldiers. By shifting his footing left and right, the range of his sword grew wider. "Kill him!" One of the nearby commanders glared with bloodshot eyes. Rather than retreat, he clenched his teeth. ''Better discipline than our side.'' The training, the quality of the soldiers, and even the commander''s skill were better. Enkrid, focused on the fight, hadn''t taken in everything around him. But his instincts told him: the commander speaking now needed to be dealt with. It would increase their chances of winning, and Enkrid recognized this through experience. As he moved forward, spear points rushed toward him from all sides. The long spears poked and prodded. Enkrid parried what he could and avoided the rest. He navigated the forest of spears, moving closer to the commander, and finally delivered a blow to the top of the man''s head. With a clean strike, he didn''t just cut; the skull was crushed, as though broken by immense strength. When the blade hit the helmet, the skull shattered, piercing through the scalp. Blood and brain matter spilled out. "Ha!" Enkrid swung his sword widely, intimidating the surrounding soldiers. They hesitated. Taking a deep breath, he unleashed his immense strength. This power wasn''t infinite, but right now, it was the time to thrust, strike, and break. "Shit, what the hell is this!" One of the soldiers screamed in frustration. Enkrid''s blade didn''t stop. He was like a reaper, harvesting lives as he moved through the enemy ranks. "Crazy!" The soldier''s shout was meaningless. There was no hesitation in Enkrid''s sword. As he cut down dozens alone, the enemy formation began to fall apart. "Are you just going to watch?!" The enemy commander shouted loudly, and soon, someone stepped forward. If left unchecked, their formation and ranks would crumble. A warrior from Aspen, who had been catching his breath, stepped out. He approached Enkrid but then stopped. The man assessed his opponent''s skill. ''Heavy sword style.'' Focusing on the weight of the sword while ignoring smaller attacks. He had made his judgment¡ªnow, it was time to fight. The man stepped forward. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 307 - The Most Foolish Commander Chapter 307 - 307 - The Most Foolish Commander Chapter 307 - The Most Foolish Commander Jaxen observing the battle field, was standing hidden amongst the allied vanguard. His gaze was fixed on Enkrid. Now, what was he supposed to do? He observed the enemy soldiers. More specifically, he used his senses to read the entire enemy group. There was no need to see everything with his eyes. His trained senses allowed him to gauge the enemy''s skills just by listening. The footsteps without hesitation, the confident battle cry, the speed at which they were approaching, and the calm eyes amidst the chaos. Jaxen, who had a different way of reading his opponents compared to Audin, pushed his sword forward between the ranks. A long blade slipped from his waist and jabbed forward. "Kill them all!" The first one was a soldier wielding a heavy battle hammer. With a weighted head, the hammer struck one of the shields of their own side. After the impact, the hammer bounced back with a satisfying recoil as it was recovered. Jaxen''s blade pierced through the soldier''s stomach. It stabbed deep and retracted swiftly. "Huh?" What was this? It was, of course, a blade. Behind the shield, cold eyes stared at the enemy soldier. Swoosh. The moment their eyes met, the snake-like curved blade slashed across the hammer soldier''s neck. This was a technique that Jaxen had roughly interpreted from watching Enkrid''s unique sword style. While the trajectory of the blade resembled that of a fencing style, it was different from Enkrid''s unique approach. "Grrrk." The soldier, who had tried to speak, collapsed with his own neck in his hands. Blood and foam spilling, his boots stepped on the fallen hammer soldier. Jaxen continued repeating the same actions. He stayed hidden among his allies, thrusting once in a while. His targets were only the elite soldiers. He spared those who were too hard to kill with a single blow. Jaxen thoroughly did his job. While his allies were unaware, some of the commanders felt a strange shift in the flow of battle. "Why does it feel like we''re winning?" One of the squad leaders spoke. Didn''t the external strength still seem to be in the enemy''s favor? So why were they winning? No one knew. But did it really matter? No. "Fight! Push forward!" The commander did his part. He shouted with all his might. "Stick together, don''t scatter!" Infantry battles on the continent were mostly chaotic. It was advantageous to stay together; if they scattered, they were in danger. The battles of both sides followed a similar pattern. The Border Guard reserves, who had come as reinforcements, were also fiercely fighting. "They''re flanking! Don''t let those bastards go!" "They can''t kill me with their pain!" "Pain!" "Strength!" Those who had survived the previous battlefield were all veterans. It was a unit composed of seasoned soldiers, different in quality from the troops stationed at Green Pearl. They stopped the enemy soldiers flanking to the right. "It''s the Gray Dogs!" "Damn persistent bastards!" They was a well-known enemy unit to their side. They were trying a flanking maneuver. The Border Guard reserves fought to block them. "Crazy bastards." The Gray Dogs were still the Gray Dogs. Even though the Border Guard reserves outnumbered them, it seemed as though they were being pushed back. But it didn''t matter. There were others wreaking havoc from the front. Enkrid rampaged with his heavy sword style, and Jaxen hid among the Green Pearl forces, picking off the strong fighters and those giving orders. It was because of this strategy that the balance was oddly maintained, despite being at a disadvantage against Aspen''s powerful forces. Ragna had slipped behind Enkrid''s left rear. He was taking on one soldier at a time, doing his part. He swung his sword, slowly getting fired up. It had been years since he had any motivation. He still needed a trigger to really get going. Ragna was one of those whose enthusiasm took time to build. In that moment, however... A killing intent appeared from the left, and before he could react, a metal object flew past his face. Ragna jerked his head back. He had barely avoided it. It was a result of his slow warm-up. The fortunate thing was that no matter how slow or fast, his body instinctively reacted to such attacks. A drop of blood splattered from the blade that grazed his cheek. The leather helmet that had covered his face was cut by the sharp blade, and the bottom of it now hung loosely. "You avoided it?" The soldier who had thrust his sword took a step back. Ragna immediately recognized him. ''A skilled fighter.'' He didn''t know the soldier, but a sense of excitement rose within him. He found himself wanting to face this opponent. There was a craving that Enkrid alone could not satisfy. A fight where blood was spilled and lives were at stake¡ªthis was what Ragna longed for. There was no need to search for a path. So there was no reason to get lost. He simply followed the soldier who was retreating. Ragna threw off his uncomfortable helmet. After taking a few steps, an enemy soldier with a short sword stood in his way. "You bastard!" The one who had struck him earlier was not one to retreat easily. Behind him was his own side. If he allowed Ragna to follow, he would be diving deeper into the enemy''s lines. The enemy soldiers reacted. But Ragna reacted even faster. With every step he took forward, he thrust and withdrew his sword. A single strike pierced through an enemy soldier''s neck. Perhaps the momentum from his spear thrust carried him forward, and the soldier collapsed. As the enemy fell, Ragna slashed through five more soldiers and broke through the enemy''s formation. It was a reckless charge, but it had the effect of completely disrupting the enemy''s formation. As a result, the allied commanders nearby once again felt that the battle had oddly become easier. ''This is manageable, huh?'' The retreat plans, in case something went wrong, now seemed unnecessary. "Fight! Fight and kill them all!" The formation had long since broken down. In chaotic battles like this, the more you kill, the better. The squad commander, knowing this well, kept shouting. "Pain!" It had become a slogan that spread across the battlefield. "N-n-no! Our forces are being pushed back!" At the adjutant''s words, Abnaier smiled. Everything was going according to plan, and how could he not laugh? "It''s going just as expected." The adjutant bit his lip. This strategy didn''t make sense. Victory now felt almost like failure. "I''ll be the legendary fool who killed a thousand soldiers," Abnaier muttered. "Is this really what''s happening?" "There''s no doubt about it." The voice of a genius was clear and certain. The adjutant lowered his head. There was no stopping it now. ''Now, show me what you''ve been hiding.'' Krais kept his eyes on the enemy''s movements. They were bound to do something. Wasn''t Enkrid rampaging over there? Thanks to Jaxen, the enemy''s momentum had also been broken. Meanwhile, Ragna, although not sure where he was headed, was still on his course. ''This can''t be the end, right?'' Shinar and Dunbakel were still in reserve, kept as trump cards. It was a rule to not reveal all of your moves until you had seen your enemy''s full hand. "Big Eyes, I want to fight too." Dunbakel, with her hand on her scimitar''s hilt, nudged Krais. "Wait." "Am I a dog? Just telling me to wait like that?" Next to them, Shinar stood with his arms crossed, half-closing her eyes and silently observing. "Try to be calm like the fairy company commander." "I''m a beast, not a fairy." While trying to calm down Dunbakel, Krais''s gaze never left the battlefield. The overall battlefield was strangely balanced, but on the micro level, the odds were increasing in their favor. Ultimately, these small skirmishes would build up to lead to the overall victory. This was the strategy Krais had envisioned. He didn''t just treat variables as simple variables¡ªhe had ensured they would affect the entire battlefield. He had already planned to withdraw and delay if the enemy made a move, but it had not yet been necessary. So far, things were going as expected. Then why was Aspen just sitting back and watching? Why hadn''t they revealed their hidden cards? There was something there, something definite. If not, why had they advanced so slowly and started the battle at the end of winter? ''No hidden moves? Just an idiot?'' Of course not. "Frontline! Frontline!" A messenger came running from behind. He had deliberately pulled back Nurat, who led the fast and sharp-eyed units. Garret had been symbolically left behind at the command post. Nurat was the de facto commander of the Green Pearl Regiment in battle. She had sharp eyes and a quick mind. And now, she had just provided the help they needed. "Some of their forces are flanking; it''s not a small number!" Krais''s mind raced, mapping out the terrain and the enemy''s movements. What were they aiming for? ''Border Guard.'' They were aiming for the rear. Perhaps some of their forces had already slipped out. "Pull back!" Dunbakel and Shinar moved. It was their turn to stop the enemy''s card. *** "The second flanking force has been spotted." "Good!" At those words, Abnaier clapped his hands. Not everything would go according to plan. The battlefield was always shifting. But if you focused on a single goal, ''That can be achieved.'' The battlefield was ruled by elite forces. Abnaier knew this well. So, what if you took out those elites? Talent was finite. It wasn''t infinite. How many geniuses are there in a single generation? Not many, as the knights'' ranks show. So... ''Let them have the battlefield,'' And win the war. That alone would make Abnaier smile, even if he was called the greatest butcher or the most foolish commander in the world. "Ready?" "It''s all set." "Good, proceed." The adjutant bowed his head and withdrew. *** As Krais had anticipated, Abnaier had sent part of his cavalry to the Border Guard. "Enemy forces!" The Border Guard, of course, wasn''t careless and had noticed the enemy''s approach early. Rem, who had been grumbling all day, suddenly sprang to his feet. It was a piece of news that made him forget the cold in an instant. "Who''s here?" Even if an old lover returned after ten years, it wouldn''t be as welcome as this. "Brother, you always said that when you''re in a hurry, you don''t see the puddles and get your shoes wet." Audin stepped forward and spoke. "You should have left your club behind before speaking, huh?" "Heh, Brother. The Lord said that protecting oneself is the beginning of all things." It sounded just like the words of the Apostle of the God of War. Wasn''t it the attitude of someone ready to smash everything? Teresa, who had also been preparing to get up, halted after catching Audin''s gaze. Her injury, acquired after killing the Wolf Bishop, was severe. At her current state, continuing to fight would only damage her body further. Audin had no intention of watching her suffer. "Sister, be patient." "...Yes." Teresa, feeling disappointed, restrained herself. Rem, who was as excited as Audin, stepped out to face the enemy, but their expectations were not met. "What is this?" The situation felt strange. The enemy cavalry, despite coming to attack the walls, was barely a handful. They kept their distance, observing the situation without committing. Rem had waited for two days. "These bastards." The enemy didn''t charge. They just dragged out time. It was a move planned by Abnaier. Previously, Marcus had tricked Aspen''s city, Cross Guard, and got a good laugh at the expense of the enemy. Though the circumstances were different this time, the result was the same. Abnaier had tied up the Border Guard. With this small cavalry, they couldn''t attack the walls or cut off the supply lines. In fact, the cavalry of Aspen was the one in dire need of supplies. They didn''t even have many soldiers. Upon closer inspection, Rem saw that each cavalryman had two or three horses. It was a show of force, filled with arrogance by inflating their numbers with horses. "Got nothing to do, huh, these bastards?" Because of this, Rem was left frustrated, but Abnaier had clearly achieved his objective. He had temporarily blocked the path for reinforcements from the Border Guard. He''d bought some time, and that was enough for Abnaier. *** Esther sensed the scent of a high-level spell. She followed the trail. Climbing a small hill, she saw a group gathered there. One of them, his eyes wide open, was watching her intently. "You." The man, a wizard from Galaph''s Order, was known for wielding the magic of the River of Life. His short brown hair and handsome face were his notable features. Though Esther didn''t know his exact age, he had looked the same for the past ten years. He was rumored to have drunk from the River of Life. But that was just gossip. Esther gazed at him silently. "You were said to have been ruined by a curse." Was that just nonsense? Seeing Esther now, Galaph looked surprised. Esther said nothing, merely continuing to observe him. She had followed the trail of this man''s magical residue to this spot. It had been pure coincidence. The flow of mana, coupled with the traces of a prepared spell, had snared her senses. Was it a sign of destiny, a guiding star? No, she didn''t believe in that. She only trusted in herself and her own magical world. She believed in what she had accomplished, for she was a sorceress. "Master." One of Galaph''s disciples stepped forward. He was known for training many apprentices. Currently, he had six disciples. "You all should leave." Galaph said, inspecting Esther closely. Even just looking at her, something was apparent. ''She hasn''t broken the curse yet.'' The witch wouldn''t be able to unleash even half of her true power. "The Fire Witch of Battle?" Galaph asked. He didn''t need to personally engage if his disciples were ready to act. But there was no real reason to fight the witch either. Esther had no idea what they were doing here, but it was clear they were up to no good for her current nest. If not, why would such a powerful wizard be here? Her current nest was with Enkrid, a man of danger even to magic. She had gained something by staying there. ''At least, I need to stop this.'' "Dumiller''s Scythe." Instead of answering, Esther spoke the incantation she had prepared. A slicing vacuum spell materialized and cleaved the air, following the motion of her fingers. Even though it was one of her specialty spells. "Vartan''s Shield." A blue barrier rose up, blocking the scythe of wind. The shield rippled like water. Between the two wizards, magic circles were drawn as they prepared to open their respective magical realms. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 308 - Trapped Chapter 308 - 308 - Trapped "I''ve got her." When magicians speak of a duel, they say they open each other''s magical worlds. The spells they''ve accumulated in their respective worlds become their weapons. Galaf pulled the stream of water from within his world. "Charge and strike!" A staff appeared in Galaf''s hand. From the tip of the staff, a brilliant white gemstone served as the origin, and a stream of water began to spill forth. It quickly gathered into a massive mass, transforming into water projectiles that shot through the air. "You think you can beat me while cursed? Foolish!" Galaf shouted as he launched the water projectiles. Just as Galaf commanded the attack, Esther''s hands formed a seal. She did not show emotion, only revealing her spell. Whoosh! As Esther''s fingers finished their movements, a fireball formed in her eyes, soaring toward the target. Two spells, made of different elements, collided in mid-air. Boom! A loud explosion echoed, and steam rose into the air. The fireball vanished, and the water mass veered off-course, striking the ground. Boom! The ground cracked, and the steam surrounded the area, obstructing vision. However, the two magicians didn''t lose track of each other. They could sense each other''s movements by the flow of mana, so visual obstruction didn''t matter. "You fool!" Galaf repeatedly called her a fool, fueling Esther''s determination. Esther had already decided what to say when the time came to kill him. Now was not the time for words. Galaf, while speaking, secretly sent two of his disciples behind Esther. The others had been sent to handle the main task, but these two remained. They weren''t particularly skilled in magic, but they were excellent with swords. "Foolish girl." Galaf muttered to himself, repeating the earlier insult as he chanted more spells. His disciples moved stealthily, using the mist to conceal themselves. Since they hadn''t yet formed their magical worlds, Esther wouldn''t detect their presence through mana. The disciples advanced through the mist, one gripping his sword tightly as he scanned the area. They intended to strike if they saw Esther, turning their eyes rapidly, but something suddenly appeared before them. Thud! The first disciple, who had stepped ahead, suddenly found himself engulfed by something. Pressure started building on his head. "Ugh!" "You bitch!" The second disciple drew his sword and thrust it toward the figure. Clink! The sword bounced off. "Ugh!" It felt like he had struck a stone. The disciple lost grip on his sword, and his hand went numb. Suddenly, a large hand emerged from the mist and grabbed the second disciple by the neck. The disciple clawed at the hand and pulled, but it was futile. The sword''s edge bounced off, and the disciple''s struggles proved pointless. Gasp! Both disciples hung limply in the air, unable to scream as their breath was cut off. The disciple whose neck was grabbed began to turn purple. The pressure on his throat was suffocating. The disciple''s face began to turn an even deeper shade of purple, and his tongue slithered out, dangling from his mouth. Meanwhile, Esther calmly chanted another spell. "Demuler''s Scythe." It was the same spell as before. A vacuum blade appeared, cutting through the air and temporarily dispersing the steam. "Same trick!" Galaf blocked with the same blue shield as before. The shield dispersed, and before Esther stood a creature that resembled a golem. It was too human-like to be a standard golem. The two dead disciples were also visible. One had his tongue hanging out as he died, while the other bled from his eyes, ears, and nose, lying lifeless on the ground with his skull shattered. "Summon?" "I found it." Esther replied without a hint of amusement in her expression. Galaf gritted his teeth. He couldn''t afford to lose to a half-hearted magician who barely opened her magical world. On the other hand, Esther found him laughable. The reason her alias was "Witch of Battle" was clear. She was good at fighting. Her magical world began with combat and battle. "Ah, it''s been a while." This was a fight with a worthy opponent. Though she would need to spend over a month as a leopard afterward, she didn''t regret this small bout. *** Thud! Strike when they come close. Approach and strike again when they pull away. Enkrid was a siege weapon in human form, breaking through the enemy''s lines. He demonstrated that power now. Among the enemy soldiers, some began to retreat in fear. "Don''t fall back!" The commander drew his sword from behind. If they retreated, they would die by their own comrades'' hands. The soldiers, resolved, grit their teeth and continued their assault. Enkrid observed their reactions and pondered, as always, about swordsmanship. How to wield his sword. It was all about the way of combat. "When fighting Commander Shinar she adapted her swordsmanship to deal with me." Why did he do that? It was because she was using the proper method for the situation and moment. Now, what should Enkrid do? He would revisit and reapply everything he knew, recalling his experiences, embedding them in his body. It was the usual process. With that mindset, he swung his sword again. Whoosh. The murderous intent hit his chest before the wind. Enkrid pulled back the sword he''d been swinging. He adopted a defensive stance using the form of an unmarked sword style. His right foot moved behind his left, turning his body to raise his blade and guard his center. Thud! It was a timely response. The enemy''s blade struck the middle of Enkrid''s steel sword. Had he been a moment slower, he would have taken a devastating blow. The enemy''s sword rebounded, and the man who wielded it took a defensive stance. Enkrid observed his opponent in one glance. He was shorter than Enkrid, with his helmet just reaching his chin, no helmet, a solid physique, and large feet. Enkrid instantly assessed him. "A fast, explosive attack-based fighter." If this were a swordsmanship assessment, it was the style of swift strikes. The language from the southernmost regions described the types of swordsmanship as "a straight sword, heavy sword, deceptive sword, fast sword, soft sword." Swordsmanship could be broadly divided into five categories, each combining various techniques to form new styles. The opponent''s swordsmanship was such that it combined swift feet with fast hands. A blade that moved as quickly as lightning. The enemy jumped up a few times from the spot and then moved again. His movements were lightning-fast. He swung a curved sword, one that resembled a scimitar. It seemed as though anything caught on that curved blade would be sliced to pieces. Enkrid moved his feet, stepping back. Thud! Clang! Thud! Twice, three times, four times, five times, he managed to block the strikes, but his opponent did not relent. There wasn''t a sound of heavy breathing, yet the attacks came one after another. Even more startling, they didn''t seem to slow down. It was as if his opponent could swing like this all day. Enkrid wasn''t fazed. The opponent was slower than Lykanos. After blocking nine strikes and retreating ten steps, Enkrid held his sword in his right hand and attempted to deflect the next attack. The enemy seemed to feint a strike before pulling back his sword, quickly bending his knees and lowering his stance. Enkrid kept his right hand steady, but with his left hand, he grabbed the sword from the sword belt at his right waist. The sword was named Fuli¡ªextremely light, making it difficult to handle, but the best choice for a quick thrust. The opponent''s movements were so fast that Enkrid suddenly found the man floating in the air. There was no sound of him pushing off the ground. It seemed as though he had appeared from above, performing a near-magical maneuver. In mid-air, the enemy slashed downward. A strike filled with speed and weight, coming half a beat faster than the previous nine strikes. It was a decisive blow, a final strike. Enkrid did not back down. Instead, he moved his left hand. The downward strike and the upward surge of light narrowly passed each other. Flick! The curved blade grazed Enkrid''s chest. But it didn''t cut through. The final effort lacked the necessary power. "Damn, you''re faster than I thought." The opponent''s sword lodged into Enkrid''s chest, but he couldn''t follow through with the attack. The sword merely brushed the man''s chest. The leather armor and gambeson were cut, but the inner armor stopped the blade. The armor he had gotten while saving the "one-eyed" was quite useful. The man, with Enkrid''s sword in his chest, fell to the ground, convulsing. "I''ve been playing with someone really fast lately," Enkrid muttered to the dying man. The man blinked a few times before his breath stopped. It was a fatal wound. It was amazing that he had spoken after his heart was pierced. Enkrid swung his sword through the air to shake off the blood. The strike from earlier had left his chest aching. The gambeson and leather armor had deep gashes, but the bandage armor underneath had held. The bone ached, so the strike had definitely been powerful. Enkrid didn''t know who he had killed, but the Aspen commander did. He was a fast-handed man named Janus, a mercenary among the best in Aspen. His swift slashes and light movements had haunted many, but the nightmare ended here. "Shall we finish this?" Enkrid said as he walked toward the enemy soldiers. His own soldiers were watching from behind. Especially one soldier, who had been whining to the end, couldn''t take his eyes off the scene. ''I''m an idiot.'' He had fought brilliantly. So brilliantly, in fact, it was beyond what he could even comment on. Now, as enemies charged toward him, they fell one by one, too quickly to even register. ''Fighting against someone like him...'' It was because of Helma. He had secretly admired Enkrid, but now, seeing him fight, he was envious. He felt shame. He felt humiliated. He wanted to hide in a mouse hole. What had he been thinking, speaking nonsense about someone like that? ''Tell him to take the lead?'' He had even criticized him indirectly. But now, seeing this, he couldn''t help but be in awe of Enkrid. "Damn it!" The soldier''s anger turned into raw strength. "Kill them all!" The excitement was contagious, and all the soldiers were whipped into a frenzy. "Don''t you dare!" Helma shouted. The enemy faltered. Though Aspen had the advantage in numbers, their morale was breaking, and they were losing ground. This was due to Enkrid''s overwhelming presence, which shifted the tide in favor of Naurelian. It was strange, however. The enemy''s movements were odd. It seemed as though they fought with certain patterns and rules. If someone were to look from above, they would see strange formations on the battlefield. Enkrid pushed in, while the enemy pulled back. Despite this, they maintained some order, and the number of enemies between Enkrid and his troops increased steadily. But no one felt any real danger. It was a fight they had clearly won. This was a battle that would end when the enemy either retreated or gave up. Enkrid kept pushing forward. After Janus, two more mercenaries with decent reputations stepped in. "My name is Joy Hurrier." A swordsman from the Hurrier family joined the fray. Enkrid took him down between five and seven exchanges. "You''re a monster!" The enemy''s cry sounded like an admission of defeat. At that moment, no one dared speak of Naurelian''s loss. The Aspen troops that had pulled back were moving stealthily in their ranks. They were forcing themselves into formation, secretly trying to create a divide between Enkrid and his allies. Abnaier watched the battlefield from afar, muttering to himself, "Come on, come closer." The front was a plain, while the back consisted of small hills, rising erratically. If one moved towards the river, a valley would appear, and turning right would lead into a forest. Everywhere, there was Abnaier''s meticulous planning. Krais blocked those attempting to retreat. Keeping cards like Shinar and Dunbakel in reserve had been worthwhile. "I''ve stopped them!" Nurat shouted as he approached. Krais quietly clenched his fist. That was it. If the situation remained in a stalemate, they would be fine. Even in this situation, the enemy continued to fight relentlessly. They showed no intention of retreating. It was a foolish move. "Do they really want to fight all night?" That would only cause heavy casualties on both sides, but Aspen would bear far greater losses. A single battle like this would result in irreparable damage. And yet, they refused to retreat. However, his side couldn''t pull back either. It was a fight they had clearly won. So why did it feel so frustrating? Krais couldn''t understand the enemy''s motives, and despite their victory, his face remained dark. "Block with your bodies." Some members of the Gray Dog unit, having retreated, now followed Enkrid. These were people who made persistence their greatest asset. "Push them to the end!" Were they mad? Enkrid thought to himself as he swung his sword. It was as they began to retreat. Aspen was barely holding on with the lives of its soldiers. If the battle continued until morning, the odds would shift heavily in favor of Naurelian. And yet, the enemy did not give up. It wasn''t just the Gray Dog. The eyes of the surrounding enemy soldiers had changed. Their morale was unlike anything he had seen before. "Kill them!" "Kill them!" Enkrid didn''t know. Some of them had families held hostage, while others were criminals. They were people willing to sacrifice their future for the present. If they survived here, their sins would be forgiven. If they survived, their families would be granted Krona. By killing one man, they could receive immense ammounts Krona, something they could never dream of. These were the desperate soldiers, willing to sacrifice everything. Of course, at first, they had tried to run after facing Enkrid a few times, realizing that all they were doing was offering their lives. But they couldn''t retreat now. "Shoot them all if they retreat." If they tried to retreat, their backs would be pierced by their own allies'' spears and arrows. They were the poison unit. A retreat meant death. They had to fight forward. The atmosphere was growing more tense. Enkrid continued to fight, kill, and resist, but despite his efforts, he couldn''t return to his original position. "Joy Hurrier." The swordsman from the Hurrier family and mercenaries, having abandoned their lives, blocked him with their bodies. Enkrid''s muscles began to tremble. It was impossible to break through them with strength alone. Their barrier was too thick. Meanwhile, Naurelian''s main forces also attempted to push forward, but Aspen resisted with all its might. In the end, things went wrong. Enkrid became isolated. There were several reasons for this. First, the enemy was willing to sacrifice lives. "Shit, what the hell is this?" Krais was the first to realize it. They had sacrificed hundreds of lives just to isolate Enkrid. Some of the Gray Dog unit, in unfavorable terrain, had even charged the Border Guard regulars. All they gained was separating Enkrid from his forces. Second, the enemy''s resolve. This resolve was also Abnaier''s resolve. Those who clung to Enkrid did so with their lives, holding on, making the situation even more difficult. Third, the terrain, formations, and preparations. Abnaier had prepared many things, and among them were such strategies. As Enkrid attempted to retreat, he realized he had lost his way. Magic was involved here, but no one could notice it. Naturally. These were preparations made while advancing slowly, with each step being meticulously set up. It was all made to capture a few key individuals. Among the preparations were human traps and formations, known as the "Eastern or Southern Formations," which were strategies at the far eastern or southern ends of the battlefield. Enkrid looked to the sky, but he couldn''t find his way. The magic had obscured the stars. Before he knew it, night had fallen. Trapped in a dense thicket between the hills, Enkrid realized too late that Abnaier had won. "We''ve got him," Abnaier declared solemnly ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 309 - Cutting Through Alone Chapter 309 - 309 - Cutting Through Alone A day passed without Enkrid returning. The enemy, at some point, began retreating like the ebb of a tide. Ragna had not returned, and neither had Jaxen. Krais realized that the situation was serious. No, a sense of foreboding kept piercing his thoughts at every turn. "Where is the highest point around here? A vantage point where we can observe." Despite his anxiety, he remained calm. If something had already happened, there was no time to panic. Especially with Enkrid missing. If the commander dies, what happens to me? What if Enkrid died? It would likely provoke Rem to throw an axe immediately. Of course, it was a jesting thought. This isn''t good. Even if he didn''t die, things wouldn''t be ideal. If the commander disappeared, countless problems would arise. If asked what exactly those problems were, Krais would have to think hard to pinpoint them, but one thing was clear. The Madmen unit would be over. Who would control Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, and Audin? No one. In the past, they might have placed a puppet in charge, but over time, those men had changed. Now, they could only be controlled by the commander. Without him, could the Border Guard hold off Aspen''s attack in the spring? It was impossible. Then, I''ll just leave without looking back. What did he think he was, a patriot to stay here? While Krais stood under a tree, lost in thought, Nurat, recalling the terrain from maps and memory, spoke. "Follow me." Krais, in the shadow, gave off an eerie vibe. Nurat thought as much but didn''t voice it. It was strange. Was it because Enkrid wasn''t with him? An instinctive thought. It was true. Krais with Enkrid and Krais without him felt like two different people. "Let''s move faster." Krais urged. Nurat brought two horses, and they rode off, passing several mounds until they came upon a rough trail. It was a path they had to climb, half hanging to ascend. No lady would dislike a strong physique and well-trained muscles. It was natural for an attractive lady to be interested in physical beauty, and Krais never neglected his training. Thanks to that, he easily climbed the steep mountain path. Nurat, a seasoned warrior, ascended even more swiftly. Upon reaching the top, Krais scanned the distance. "Madmen." The morning sun illuminated the area, revealing the enemy''s formation. They had hidden between the mounds. Should they pursue? Should they counterattack? Bad move. If they followed and were ambushed? The terrain was ideal for an ambush. No matter how high their morale was, and despite their victory in the previous battle... The overall force still isn''t overwhelming. If they were caught, the situation could change in an instant. No, they had initially decided that driving them out would be a win. That was their goal from the start. Winter was on their side. How will they hold out in the cold? What about supplies? Why would Aspen covet Green Pearl? Beyond the plains occupied by Naurilia lay rough terrain¡ªmounds, valleys, steep mountains, and land infested with monsters. Enduring the winter and maintaining supplies was no easy task. They can last four or five days at best. That was how long the enemy could hold out. In other words, they were already winning. Now, all they had to do was remain hidden and shoot arrows to buy time. The only problem was one. Enkrid''s absence. Did they really abandon the battlefield just to capture the commander? It seemed too bold. Using elite forces was to win the battle, but abandoning the battlefield altogether¡ªwhat would be left? Their future, their future gains. Had they truly gone that far? The unsettling thought lingered, but Krais couldn''t be sure. It was too bold a move. "One more day." Krais waited for the commander. Nurat found those words ominous, but she couldn''t say anything. Krais, the man with the big eyes, exuded a strange intensity. Abnaier waited a day. There was no need to strike immediately. He too needed time to prepare. The place where he had trapped Enkrid was nestled between three mounds, with a ravine and cliffs creating a perfect trap. It was a deliberate setup to kill a few men. Are there any variables? He had planted the seeds and was now waiting for the harvest. It would require much blood to reap the benefits, but Abnaier considered it worthwhile. Therefore, things mustn''t go wrong. Abnaier pondered deeply, sipping tea sweetened with sugar. The sugar was meant to keep his mind sharp. What variables might arise here? He couldn''t afford to make a mistake. No matter how skilled the enemy was, as long as they weren''t knights, they wouldn''t escape. He had prepared enough tricks for this. After losing the previous battle, Abnaier had thoroughly investigated the Border Guard. Did the card of a knight brought by the enemy signify a lost battle? No. He had reconstructed the battle and found the real answer. They had lost before the pseudo-knight even appeared. He found the reason for their defeat. He revisited the battle. He combed through the battlefield. And thus, he had the answer. It was the Madmen unit, Enkrid and the others. The battles they fought on the outskirts, the attacks on their supplies¡ªthose were the factors that painted the picture of their defeat. Every time he heard about their exploits, it thrilled him. The soft hairs stood up. Even within the city, there were those who didn''t stay quiet. The assassins would be wiped out, and nothing would remain but failure in the face of the name Enkrid. He was like a ghost¡ªone that couldn''t be caught, couldn''t be grasped. That''s why... ''I''ll catch him.'' Abnaier was a strategist who prepared. And he did just that. He preserved his strengths. He prepared, repeatedly thinking, and cornered the enemy. It all began with thieves and fanatics. By chance, he had drawn a good card. Naturally, he used it. ''The Black Blade and the Cultists aren''t weak either.'' They would certainly affect the strength of the Border Guard. Abnaier intentionally refrained from fighting and waited for them to split. It would have been even better if the Black Knife or the Cultists had killed a few, but such luck wasn''t granted. But in any case, they split. Enkrid had left behind Rem, Audin, and Theresa. ''Catching a group together is amateurish.'' Above all, Abnaier''s ''craft'' was something he had buried deep in this land. For Enkrid, he had created the Triangle Seal to bind them. For the rest of the Madmen, he sent the appropriate blades. He also brought out the card of the assassin clan. ''With this.'' He would kill. His mouth was dry, so he took another sip of tea. Swallowing, he organized his thoughts. The cost would be enormous. If things went as planned, the only thing he would gain would be a few heads. To the outside, it would appear as though he had taken the heads of a few elite soldiers. But to Abnaier, they were heads of those who would one day become the greatest threats to Aspen. Once his plan was set, it was time to proceed. He had opened the tent flap wide, letting both sunlight and the winter breeze in. The wind wasn''t too cold. It was a pleasant day. "Let''s begin." With a click, Abnaier set down his teacup, and his lips parted. First, it would be the head of Enkrid. Enkrid didn''t think this was a crisis. This much couldn''t even be called danger. After all, there was no knife at his throat just yet. He hid his body in the thickets and focused on resting. ''No matter what, it starts with the body.'' His physical strength was already at a level that could be called superhuman. A single night''s rest would be enough to replenish the lost stamina. Though he wouldn''t reach perfect condition, at least some recovery was possible. His body had become like this. It was thanks to the Isolation Technique and Audin. ''Should I thank him?'' It was a thought that came to him unexpectedly. When he returned, he''d at least say something like "I owe you one." ''Strength is strength.'' Aside from his stamina, his body was still under strain. He had swung his sword all day long. If he was fine, that would have been strange. His forearms were bruised from broken capillaries. He hadn''t just swung his sword but also punched and kicked. He couldn''t focus entirely on just attacking. He had jumped into the enemy''s ranks alone. He couldn''t block every attack either. Using his sense of evasion, he blocked or avoided only the most dangerous strikes, taking the rest on his body. More precisely, he deflected them with his shoulder pads, gauntlets, and shin guards. It was reckless, but with the techniques he had learned from Audin, it wasn''t as crazy as it might seem. ''A true knight wouldn''t find this difficult.'' He briefly reflected on the battle and then chewed some jerky, heading toward a stream to drink and wet his throat. The water was clear. He drank it without boiling it, but if he developed a stomach ache, it would be a sign that it had been poisoned. From the sound of the flowing water in the distance, he could tell he was near a valley. ''Rest today, and leave tomorrow.'' Even when the direction was unclear, there was always a way out. He just had to choose a direction and go straight. Even if it turned out to be the wrong way, as long as his sense of direction returned, getting out wouldn''t be difficult. Enkrid thought this through. ''How did the battle go?'' It wasn''t the time to look back or survey the battlefield. Enkrid had done his best. It was through his effort that the battle had taken this shape. What he didn''t know was that, with just one battle, the tide had turned. The outcome of this battlefield would soon be sealed with a victory for Naurlilia. Though those who died in between were unavoidable, Enkrid was unaware of the full situation. Still, he knew that there was no need for him to fight further here. Aspen had become a deer, torn apart by a beast''s fangs. He hadn''t controlled or observed the entire battlefield, but he could feel the flow of it. Enkrid found a tree with a large trunk, laid some leaves underneath, and settled down, seeking shelter from the wind. He closed his eyes. He needed sleep. It wasn''t long before he woke up, with dawn breaking. His body, trained over time, immediately shifted into a combat stance. Crunch. The sound of stepping on grass reached his ears. It was fortunate he hadn''t lit a fire. Had he done so, his position would have been revealed. ''It worked out well.'' He was able to find the enemy''s position and ask them for directions to an escape route. Enkrid held his breath and focused his hearing. He relaxed his muscles, starting from his fingers. He warmed up his cold body to prepare. His ears pinpointed the enemy''s position. Crunch. At first, it was from the left. Rustle. Now, from the right. The presence was closing in. Enkrid, focusing on hearing, peered out from his crouch. ''What''s this?'' It wasn''t a small reconnaissance unit. It was a large force. They were cutting through the thickets with their blades. The sounds of the brush being pierced echoed one after another. There were more than one set of eyes. The enemy was everywhere around him. Counting their numbers was pointless. It was no surprise that he was spotted like this. "There!" The enemy locked eyes with him. Their vision was sharp. Enkrid thought as he stood up completely. "Capture him!" The enemy rushed at him. Fighting wasn''t always the answer. Enkrid pulled back. He wasn''t a fool. Krais always praised his leader''s intellect. He wasn''t wrong. Enkrid was thinking. Rather than face them, it was better to move and escape... Thud, thud, thud! While still thinking, arrows rained down from one direction. ''Madmen.'' If they fired like that, they''d end up hitting their own side. Enkrid raised his sword and deflected the unavoidable arrows, spotting a large tree nearby. He quickly moved to take cover behind it. Thud! Several arrows hit the tree. "Ah!" "Ugh!" As expected, a few arrows struck their own side. Yet, the arrows did not stop. "Fire!" "Fire more!" Arrows kept flying. Enkrid briefly checked the blade of his sword, then swung it wildly toward the tree. It was a full-powered spinning strike. Boom! A loud explosion echoed. With the sword strike, half of the tree was shattered, as if it had been cleaved. Along with that, the blade itself developed a crack. The wear from battle had taken its toll. With the tree half cut, Enkrid then drew his Gladius across it. The heart of the beast''s strength surged. The muscles used for swinging the sword reacted and swelled. Then, the blunt yet solid blade cracked through the remaining part of the tree, splitting it apart. Whoosh! Crack! The tree tilted. "Huh?" The enemy soldier underneath, who was directly beneath the tilting tree, panicked and stumbled. The tree fell, breaking branches as it went down. "Move!" "Crazy!" The enemy troops panicked and scattered. Enkrid seized the opportunity and dashed forward. He ran toward what he assumed was the south. He discarded his cracked sword and switched the Gladius from his left side to his right. "Where are you going?" Then, a line of heavily armored infantry appeared ahead, blocking his path. They were holding thick shields, forming a blockade with more than fifty soldiers. As Enkrid tried to move past them, more enemies began to swarm from the sides. "Why are there so many?" There were far too many. Had others been caught up in this, too? Enkrid quickly reevaluated. Charging in would definitely kill half of them, but what would happen afterward? He had learned to avoid paths that led to certain death. He pulled back and kept running. While running, he kicked a stone from the ground. With a sharp sound, the stone flew into the air and was struck with the edge of his Gladius. Clang! With a bright clang, the stone flew faster than any arrow. Thud! The stone hit the head of a soldier who was aiming a crossbow ahead. ''This is the way.'' He spotted a gap where the crossbowmen had clustered. Enkrid dashed through the gap between the enemy soldiers. It was like a predator among herbivores. With the Gladius in his right hand, he slashed, stabbed, and fought. The Gladius, however, wasn''t designed for slashing¡ªit was meant for thrusting. After killing half a dozen soldiers, he broke through and saw a path ahead. It appeared to be a deliberately created trail through the bushes. ''Got it.'' Just as he thought he had escaped, he heard the command. "Fire." Crossbow bolts flew from both sides. It was a trap, using a crossbow unit as bait. ''Who set this up?'' A nasty trap. Enkrid dove forward. One bolt hit his armor. It didn''t pierce through to his flesh, but there was no time to remove it. Enkrid kept running. He dodged to the side, slashing and killing about six or seven enemies. Then he jumped backward, cutting down another fifteen or so soldiers. He fought, stabbed, ran, and repeated this cycle. The battle that started with the sunrise continued until dusk. There was no way out. It felt like being trapped in a maze. Eventually, he saw a wall made of stacked stones. When did they prepare that? It was ridiculous. There was no way to break through with sheer force. And with the enemy forces closing in from behind, it was impossible. "What are you guys?" Enkrid wasn''t injured, but his limbs were trembling from nonstop running and swinging. Even the strongest have limits. They say a knight can cut down a thousand men. Then, what about a sub-knight? A sub-knight can''t take down a thousand. That''s why they''re called sub-knights. As Enkrid struggled, Abnaier muttered to himself. "Try cutting down a thousand by yourself. Then maybe you''ll survive." Otherwise, you''ll die. The strategist of Aspen was certain of this. Thwup! Dozens of arrows. After fighting fiercely to the very end, with arrows flying, and battling back until the very last, the battle was nearly over. Behind him were three swordsmen from the Hurrier family. Ahead, dozens of heavily armored shield soldiers blocked the path. And dozens of arrows flew toward him. There was no time to dodge¡ªone hit his stomach, another struck his shoulder. The bandages under his armor protected his stomach, but the arrow to his shoulder was poorly blocked, leaving his left arm unable to move. His shoulder guard had long been lost, and only one gauntlet remained on his right hand. His boots were also torn. The wind biting through the torn armor and flesh was unbearable. His body was in tatters. Enkrid killed the two Hurrier family swordsmen with his Gladius, and took the last one'' arm. The man whose arm was severed glared at Enkrid with bloodshot eyes. "Seems like you under-prepared." He said. Enkrid had no time to respond. "Kill him." The final act was concluded with dozens of arrows. No, in truth, one hundred and fifty arrows were shot by a hundred and fifty archers aiming at a single target. Enkrid held two swords and ran forward. Desperation. "Where do you think you''re going?" The Huryer family soldier who had lost his arm threw himself at Enkrid. As Enkrid split the man''s skull with his Gladius, dozens of arrows embedded themselves in his body. Thud! The arrows hit his thighs, shoulders, and, most dangerously, grazed his neck, ripping away a chunk of flesh. With a thunk, his knee hit the ground, and his body collapsed, headfirst. ''Crazy bastard.'' Enkrid finally understood. They had mobilized all this force and preparation just to capture him. It was madness. A small part of him was, surprisingly, a little irritated. This kind of death was something new for him. He closed his eyes, his body shaking. He had lost so much blood that he couldn''t regulate his body temperature. Death was close. The darkness clouded his vision. The coldness brought on by his falling body temperature made it feel like a chilling death. He died, and when he opened his eyes again... He heard the sound of flowing water. A boatman appeared with a purple lantern on a swaying boat. "Are you enjoying yourself?" The boatman asked. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 310 - Abnaier’s Resolve Chapter 310 - 310 - Abnaier¡¯s Resolve What was Abnaier doing? Though Abnaier''s army advanced slowly, their pace was anything but leisurely. In reality, they were incredibly busy. It was akin to a swan appearing graceful on the surface while frantically paddling below. There was so much to prepare and construct, from rituals to fortifications. The work exceeded even the effort required to build a fortress on a mountainside. This was the foundation of Abnaier''s methods. "Nilf, go ahead and pile stones here. Build a wall," he ordered, pointing to the map. "Yes, sir," Nilf responded, nodding. "That''s an overwhelming schedule," another subordinate remarked. "Use your energy to act instead of complain," Abnaier retorted sharply. Loyal commanders were sent ahead. Nilf, meticulous as he was, would handle it well. Meanwhile, disguised as scouts, another detachment moved forward¡ªengineers in practice. They built barricades between the hills, the very ones Enkrid later encountered. Despite maintaining the main force''s pace, other units were dispatched to continue the work. Building stone walls, digging trenches, and setting traps was no task for the fainthearted or the unprepared. "This doesn''t require massive effort," Abnaier thought. The traps weren''t meant for entire armies, only small elite forces¡ªthree at most, perhaps just one or two. Every variable had to be calculated, every possibility anticipated. That was Abnaier''s way. Since childhood, Abnaier was known for his brilliance. Yet what underpinned that brilliance? Those who knew him well often praised his boldness, even audacity. Some called it a knack for exploiting others'' vulnerabilities. "You''re insane. Always coming up with daring yet impossible strategies," a peer once remarked during their shared lessons under a master strategist. Their criticism wasn''t unwarranted. Abnaier''s plans were bold but often seemed unfeasible. But what if they succeeded? This was where his second strength shone: meticulousness. Even when hunting a single rabbit, Abnaier prepared second and third traps. No resource was spared to ensure success. And success was guaranteed. "This is inefficient," the peer complained again. "A rabbit yields some fur and meat, but your efforts cost more than the prize." Short-sightedness, Abnaier thought. "I''m simply in the habit of being thorough," he replied dismissively. But his vision extended far beyond a single rabbit. "Once traps are laid, they can be reused. All it takes is herding the next rabbit into them," he reasoned. His groundwork wasn''t wasteful¡ªit was an investment. Each subsequent hunt would become easier, yielding greater returns. With careful maintenance, he could secure larger prey, even deer, before summer arrived. Abnaier''s strategy was rooted in this blend of precision and persuasive structure. Still, he rarely shared his entire thought process. His peer, after all, was a nobleman¡ªa member of the Eckins lineage close to the royal family. If the Hurriers were the body of Aspen, the Eckins were its head. Meanwhile, Abnaier was of common birth. He was perceptive, quick to read the room and adapt. "Things may be this way now, but circumstances always change," he thought, harboring his own ambitions. Abnaier had been brilliant from a young age, skilled in seizing what he desired. Few goals escaped his grasp. Confidence came naturally to him. Even joining a soft-hearted nobleman''s tutelage was part of his careful calculation¡ªa calculated gamble of audacity and planning. He orchestrated an encounter, arranging for a gang to ambush him on a road his future mentor frequented. His struggle against them wasn''t coincidence but premeditation. "Come with me. You''ll have a better life," the man said, impressed by the staged valor. "Yes, sir," Abnaier replied, concealing his satisfaction. His path had always been his own. From childhood, Abnaier harbored a single desire. "Why should Aspen be content as a mere duchy?" A stronger, more prosperous nation was possible. Aspen might be a duchy, but it had knights and knight-level forces. Even the neighboring Naurelia posed little concern. "Aspen has only one enemy: Naurelia. But Naurelia? It has many enemies besides Aspen." The desire to prove his capabilities burned within him. Moreover, his mentor''s love and aspirations influenced him deeply. Though Abnaier was practical, even he couldn''t ignore genuine affection. "I love this country, my son," his mentor had once said. The man who eventually adopted Abnaier as his own might not have understood politics but was a true patriot. Even knowing he''d been manipulated, the man gave his love freely. That man was both Abnaier''s mentor and father. Abnaier balanced his ambitions and the influence of his mentor, wielding both as weapons. "I will prove myself on this land," he resolved, intent on carrying out a part of his mentor and adoptive father''s dream. "And so, you must die." Few in Aspen paid as much attention to Enkrid as Abnaier did. He delved into Enkrid''s life with the fervor of an obsessive reader, scrutinizing every detail. The conclusion was clear: Enkrid and his unit posed a significant threat to Aspen and, by extension, to Abnaier''s own aspirations. "A future knight," he assessed. Perhaps more. Though his methods differed from Krais''s, Abnaier''s predictions were not far off. Both held Enkrid''s future potential in high regard, though Krais envisioned Enkrid joining the elite ranks of his personal salon. While Krais had his reasons, Abnaier saw Enkrid''s potential knighthood as a direct and undeniable threat. Though voicing such concerns to the royal family would be dismissed as paranoia, the thought lingered: What if¡ªagainst all odds¡ªa knight arose from Naurelia''s frontier? Worse still, what if that knight emerged from the border shared with Aspen? A single knight could shift the balance of power, and the appearance of such a force within an enemy nation was an unmitigated disaster. "It''s unacceptable," Abnaier concluded. Thus, Enkrid had to die. Abnaier designed the "Triangle Seal," a formation comprising three fortified positions enhanced with artificial constructs. "To win a war, the terrain must favor you," he believed, transforming the battlefield with deliberate ingenuity. He reshaped the land to his advantage, wielding earth and sky as allies. On top of that, he employed sorcery. A mist obscured the heavens, disorienting enemies. While less complex than the deadly mists of annihilation, it still drained the sorcerers of their strength. It was only viable because it needed to last less than a day. Any longer, and such a strategy would''ve been unthinkable. Through calculated maneuvering, Abnaier drove his opponent into this prison, blinding them with sorcery at the critical moment. He was confident they''d be unable to escape¡ªand he was right. Within this natural prison, over a thousand soldiers were unleashed on their prey. Was this an efficient fight? "Of course not!" Efficiency didn''t matter. What mattered was ensuring the kill. If capturing a single rabbit meant setting twenty traps and deploying five hunters, so be it. What if that rabbit was destined to become a monstrous beast, wielding a sword in its jaws and wreaking havoc? Would such efforts still be a waste? For Abnaier, the answer was clear. He dispatched dozens of messengers and issued orders to the standard-bearers. "Move the white standard!" Each standard-bearer became a silent herald, as even drumbeats were forbidden in this prison to maintain absolute secrecy. And so, the Triangle Seal was complete. One side relied on man-made walls, another on sorcery and magic, and the third was fortified by a thousand soldiers. "Even a knight cannot escape this easily," Abnaier thought. This was his trap. The boatman asked a question. On the dark river, the purple lamp swayed, its glow casting distorted shadows that bent and stretched. "Did you not enjoy it?" The boatman repeated his question, his face now partially visible. Enkrid, staring at the face, said nothing. The boatman waited, but no answer came. Time passed, though in this surreal realm, time was intangible. The boatman knew their meeting was nearing its end. Soon, Enkrid''s form began to crumble like grains of sand, his body dissipating into the void. It was his return to the external world¡ªa cycle repeated. The boatman watched as Enkrid scattered into fragments, speaking at last. "Ah." It was strange, as if Enkrid only now acknowledged him. Had his silence meant he had nothing to say, or was it deliberate disregard? The boatman felt a stirring within but said nothing more. "Next time, I''ll ask again," he murmured. His voice lingered in the emptiness where Enkrid had vanished. Enkrid had no time to respond. Whether at death''s door or on the brink of survival, he never resigned himself to death. Yet, as if by habit, he absorbed the events around him, storing them in his mind. It was a reflex¡ªa practice for reflection, a preparation for tomorrow. So much had happened. The influx of information into his mind, the things he memorized, remembered, and deemed necessary¡ªall of it piled up. He sifted through it. Still, it was overwhelming. "There''s too much." Questions naturally arose as Enkrid pieced together the information around him. Had the enemy truly deployed such a massive force to capture just him? He didn''t know. But did the reason matter now? It wasn''t the time for deliberation¡ªit was a time to accept what had happened and find a way forward. Dismissing the idle doubts, Enkrid replayed the events in reverse. As he did, he heard the faint rustling of movement. Of course, he would notice it the moment he opened his eyes¡ªthis had happened countless times before. The cycle repeated. There was never enough time to fully reflect, as battle always came swiftly after regaining focus. Still, it wasn''t a crisis. "It''s thin," he noted. Enkrid didn''t consider this situation a true wall. Give it another day of relentless struggle, and he''d have a rough sense of the events unfolding around him. At most, two days¡ªhe had already calculated as much. Today was one he could survive. Avoiding danger was something he''d done countless times. He''d done it when he fought the thorn-covered Letsha, the werewolves, and Aspen''s elite forces. He''d done it when he infiltrated a pack of gnolls and even when facing that deranged spear-wielding freak for the first time. Some things changed, but others didn''t. "The grand pattern remains the same," he thought. And now, with the enemy''s movements discerned from a single encounter¡ª "Will I need a second today?" No, this wasn''t an insurmountable obstacle. Compared to what he''d endured, today would almost be laughably easy. Enkrid took a step forward. What if he ran in a completely different direction than yesterday? "Surely, there''ll be a gap somewhere." It was unthinkable that the enemy had truly committed an entire battalion just to hunt him down. But they had. The struggle repeated. Yesterday, today¡ªit was all the same. "My name is Cent," declared a figure suddenly blocking his path. Enkrid was slightly startled. He''d chosen a different route, yet the same man now barred his way. "Why?" This day was repeating itself. Unless he made a significant disruption, nothing would change. With his aching arm and broken sword, now replaced with a gladius, Enkrid confronted Cent once again. Though the fight was brief, Cent''s interference had complicated his escape. Enkrid countered with the first technique of his self-taught swordsmanship: Serpent Sword. He parried and deflected, slicing through Cent''s fingers in the process. Clang! The clash of blades sent blood and severed fingers flying through the air. A brief opening appeared. The moment Enkrid registered it, his body moved instinctively. While it wasn''t exactly Will, the reflexes he''d honed during countless bouts with Lykanos remained intact. "Guh!" As Cent tried to stifle his scream, Enkrid drove the tip of his blade¡ªa glowing ember¡ªinto the man''s throat. The action was seamless: striking with the gladius and following up with the burning tip felt like one fluid motion. Thud! As he withdrew his sword, a jet of blood erupted from Cent''s neck. "Grrrk," Cent gurgled, clutching his throat. Blood poured freely from his severed fingers and neck as he collapsed to the ground. "Let''s not meet again," Enkrid muttered, hoisting Cent''s body. Using the corpse as a shield, he intercepted the incoming projectiles¡ªa volley of bolts embedding themselves into the dead mercenary. Thunk! Thunk! "They just keep coming." There were so many, far too many. He still couldn''t fathom why. Arrows, crossbow bolts, spears, heavily armored infantry, warriors of the Hurrier family, and capable mercenaries all poured in like a relentless tide. It was the same overwhelming assault as yesterday. Enkrid pushed through, barely surviving by sheer endurance, only to find more foes blocking his escape. "A persistent one, aren''t you?" "Stay sharp." Four men stood in his way, clad in shoddily layered gambesons suited for the cold. To Enkrid, they seemed unremarkable as combatants. And his instincts were correct¡ªthey weren''t adept with their weapons. Instead, they wielded something else: spells. They intercepted him as he attempted to escape along the riverbank. Enkrid regretted not bringing his Whistle Daggers. "No, even if I had brought them..." They would''ve been spent by now. Every escape route had been met with ambushes. Every direction, another squad of soldiers. It felt as though ghosts were toying with him. And this was the result of his flight. "Press him and box him in," the leader commanded ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 311 - The Relentless Onslaught Chapter 311 - 311 - The Relentless Onslaught The ferryman would have applauded. Two men chanted identical spells. A surge of water from the river formed a wall in front of Enkrid, blocking his path. He swung his gladius lightly, slicing through the barrier. While it split momentarily, it quickly reformed. It was like cutting water. The water wall spanned only five steps across, but it wasn''t the only obstacle. "Rise, rise, heed my call!" At the command of two other spellcasters, rounded masses resembling water clubs emerged from beside the barrier. These entities had smooth heads, thick chests, and limbs akin to hands, but their legs were replaced by swirling currents of water. They resembled water spirits or golems¡ªmanifestations of magical worlds crossing into reality. "Block him!" At the mage''s command, the two legless water fiends surged forward, their bases churning into frothy currents. "Surged" wasn''t quite the word¡ªthey crashed forward like tidal waves rising and falling, ready to strike. Enkrid thrust his sword. Being crafted by the fairies, it might have had some enchantment¡ªthough, of course, it didn''t. It was the product of exceptional metallurgy, not infused with magic. The blade pierced through the water creature, but it showed no sign of pain or hesitation. It swung its watery club, connected to its form, toward him. Enkrid withdrew his sword and leaped aside. Crash! The water club smashed into the ground, leaving a noticeable dent. Judging by the deep impact, it was clear the weapon couldn''t be underestimated. From this single exchange, Enkrid deduced the solution. "The caster." When it came to magic, there was no answer other than to eliminate the caster. But this group had coordinated well. Two restricted his vision and movement with the water barrier, while the other two controlled the spirits to hinder him. What''s more, they seemed to understand they couldn''t kill him outright, so they focused on pinning him down. Whenever he tried to escape, the spirits would swell and loom closer, making it impossible to ignore them. Despite the short span of the confrontation, Enkrid soon found himself with three swordsmen from the Hurrier family closing in behind him. "Didn''t think I''d see you again today," Enkrid muttered, genuinely surprised. He''d acted almost the opposite of yesterday, yet the results were eerily similar. "Don''t engage with him. He''s insane." "Stop your pathetic tricks." "You think I know you? You think this is a reunion? Feels like I''m meeting you for the first time." The three swordsmen didn''t seem thrilled to meet him¡ªthey radiated the kind of fervor that promised a deep "kiss" with their swords and his innards. Enkrid adjusted his grip on the sword. His arm muscles quivered. He hadn''t rested properly since yesterday, and even his well-trained body was beginning to falter. "This is exhausting," he admitted to himself. His lungs burned from overexertion, and his pounding heart echoed in his ears. He steadied his ragged breathing and surveyed the scene¡ªthe water spirits, the three Hurrier swordsmen, and the throng of soldiers behind them. Surrender was not an option. No day passed easily, and today would be no exception. And so he fought. He resisted, killing the two spellcasters and the three Hurrier swordsmen. "Well... this makes sense... ugh," the last swordsman muttered before coughing blood and collapsing. But Enkrid had been injured¡ªa water arrow pierced through his thigh. Had he not been wearing his inner armor, the arrow would''ve struck his abdomen instead. Water arrows were worse than regular quarrels. They dissolved after hitting their mark, leaving nothing to stem the bleeding. Blood pulsed freely from the wound. It was a bad spot to get hit. Among the Isolation techniques, there was a method of muscle reinforcement to stem bleeding. Enkrid employed it, but the severed blood vessels resisted. This wasn''t something muscles alone could fix. Dizziness set in from blood loss. Even so, his focus didn''t waver. Until the very end, he remained resolute. With the Heart of the Beast pounding in his chest, Enkrid refused to falter. Adrenaline surged, keeping him upright. "You''ve adorned yourself with something precious," one of the surviving spellcasters remarked. Perhaps overconfident, the mage closed the distance. Enkrid planted one foot firmly on the ground and launched himself forward. A lurching charge. Blood sprayed from his wounded thigh, but he reached the mage faster than his blood could hit the ground. With no sword in hand, he swung his fist instead. Crack! "Ugh!" The mage''s skull caved in, spilling brain matter and blood. No human could survive such a blow, especially from a man putting all his strength into it. This was the natural outcome. The mage hadn''t even been wearing a helmet. With the mage dead, Enkrid barely had a moment before a spear pierced through his back. Thud! Thud! Thud! The red-hot steel ripped through muscle, spine, and organs, tearing its way through his body. The searing pain was something he could never grow accustomed to. But it was something he could endure. "Die, monster!" "Kill him!" "Die!" The enemy soldiers thrust their spears with manic fervor. Their eyes gleamed with desperation, as though staring into the abyss. Enkrid remained calm. No screams, no groans¡ªjust silence as he died. To be precise, it wasn''t even a matter of stifling pain; he simply lacked the energy to take a single exhale. And so, he died. Overcoming the agony of death was something one could never grow used to. Hoo... With a single drawn-out breath, he shoved the pain of the day aside. There were no dreams. No ferryman appeared. All that began was his third iteration of today. And on this third day, he took another path, sprinting as far as he could. Yet still¡ª "Why the hell is there a cliff here?" He hadn''t climbed a particularly steep hill, but a sheer drop greeted him nonetheless. Could he survive if he jumped? Only if luck was on his side might he escape with half his body intact. But even that would require the Goddess of Fortune to court him incessantly. Without such luck, his chances were slim. Falling would mean death. "That will be your grave." Behind him were three swordsmen of the Hurrier family, a group of seasoned mercenaries, and, for good measure, a shaman he''d never seen before. ''I went a different way today.'' Scratching his chin with his uninjured left hand, Enkrid thought. There was something uncanny about all of this. How did the outcome always remain the same? Instinctively, he fought to find an answer. On the third iteration of today, the shaman''s spell ended it. The technique known as "Invisible Force" struck him, a blow from an intangible power. Of course, this came after Enkrid had hurled his gladius into the skulls of the Hurrier swordsmen, the shaman, and the mercenaries. He had killed everyone who needed killing. "Fall!" The shaman''s cry echoed, right before the gladius impaled his head like a macabre ornament. And so, Enkrid fell from the cliff. Naturally, the fall was as horrific as one might expect. At first, the air itself seemed to choke him. Then came the relentless shockwaves coursing through his body. And yet, he didn''t die easily, experiencing pain so excruciating it felt almost divine in its cruelty. The fourth day, the fifth day, passed. On the ninth day, he died again. This time, one of the Hurrier swordsmen dropped his blade to pin him down, allowing a mercenary to slit his throat with a dagger coated in poison. That day, Enkrid had overextended himself annihilating the enemy''s heavy infantry battalion. His body had reached its limits. Even his Sense of Evasion could only delay the inevitable for so long. No one, no matter how skilled, could stand against such numbers indefinitely. Twenty-five iterations came and went. The forms of death varied, yet their essence remained the same. Every path led to an inescapable labyrinth. A maze. He was trapped. A prison with the sky for a ceiling, the wind as its bars, and commanders who sought only his demise. By then, he realized something. It wasn''t new knowledge, but a continuation of what he had come to understand in previous iterations. Why had rescuing the child always led to the same outcome, no matter what he did? ''Someone is watching and triggering the scroll.'' Even now, it was no different. Someone outside was manipulating the enemy forces, ensuring his death. That was why every outcome was identical, regardless of his actions. So how could he overcome this? He recognized the wall, but the question remained: how to scale it? On the thirty-fourth iteration, the ferryman returned and posed the same question. "Do you have an answer today? Tell me¡ªare you enjoying this?" This time, Enkrid had the leisure to respond. Moreover, he actually wanted to speak. "A little." He paused, thinking for a moment before continuing. "Maybe a lot." A mindset the ferryman could never comprehend. Enkrid smiled¡ªit was simply his nature. In darkness, most would despair, unable to see a way forward. But Enkrid was always different. Even when the path was shrouded in shadow, he found joy in moving forward. He knew that with each change, he could add something new. He hadn''t uncovered much yet, but that didn''t matter. Not knowing didn''t stop him from greeting each challenge with joy. "You truly are a madman," said the ferryman, offering a peculiar kind of praise. The continent''s greatest tactician and strategist once said there were five key factors to evaluate before a war. First, does the king share the same will as his people? A war waged for the king''s selfish desires, neglecting the people, could never earn their support. Second, is the timing appropriate, considering the seasons and weather? Third, has the terrain been meticulously assessed? Fourth, is the commander fit for the role? Fifth, are the military structure, chain of command, and supply lines robust? Summed up, they addressed politics, timing, geography, leadership, and organization. Among these, Abnaier prioritized the third, fourth, and fifth. The second, timing, had been forfeited¡ªthey were fighting in unfavorable weather and terrain. The first, politics, was an issue to be addressed once they returned to the capital. In terms of terrain, he had reshaped unfavorable ground. In some areas, trenches were dug. In others, traps were set. As for leadership, he had worked extensively to ensure capable commanders. "Will you bury the name ''Grey Dogs'' here? If not, do what must be done." Appropriate pressure coupled with promises of future rewards. Even if the Grey Dogs were destroyed, they could be reborn anew. The current commander had resolved to make the ultimate sacrifice out of loyalty and patriotism. Abnaier simply exploited that resolve. Finally, organization was where Abnaier''s meticulous attention shone brightest. Criminals, men with families held hostage in the homeland, soldiers desperate for a single victory to turn their lives around¡ªall had been carefully assembled. With desire and fear as his twin weapons, Abnaier bound the army together. Enkrid knew none of this. He didn''t even know the name of the enemy commander. Yet he was certain of one thing. Standing on this precipice, he couldn''t shake the feeling of being trapped against an unyielding wall. Even so, Enkrid remained unyielding. He rose, opened his eyes, and prepared to repeat the day once more. This time, Enkrid charged straight into what he thought was the heart of the enemy lines. The first to greet him was Cent, the mercenary. It felt like the first time he met Cent without a single scratch on him. "You''re not going anywhere." "Nowhere?" "You won''t get away." Cent gritted his teeth and took a fighting stance. Behind him, the man who once slashed his own throat with a poisoned dagger came into view. Enkrid still didn''t know that man''s name. No solution came to mind for escaping today. The future looked murky. The familiar markers that once guided him blurred once again. Yet... "Are you smiling?" Cent raised an eyebrow at the sight of Enkrid''s expression. Who in their right mind would smile in a situation like this? Cent questioned Enkrid''s sanity. Truly a madman. Enkrid, though faced with bleak uncertainty, felt exhilarated. Even without clarity, he wasn''t stifled. No matter what blocked his path, he was determined to break through. Where would this lead him? He wouldn''t give up, wouldn''t retreat. He patched his shattered dreams together and moved forward. And so, Enkrid smiled. He had gained much from his previous experiences. Hadn''t he endured countless todays already? What did he gain from all those days? The accumulation of experience allowed him to embrace an uncertain future with excitement. "Kill him!" From behind Cent and the two mercenaries came a wave of archers. Having faced Cent numerous times, Enkrid knew this time it would only take three swings of his blade¡ªperhaps two, if he could afford to throw his gladius. Should he throw it? No, not yet. A prolonged fight demanded keeping his weapons at hand. Fortunately, he still held a steel blade gleaming with a faint blue hue. This one, he could afford to throw. The blade often broke after a few swings, but luck was on his side¡ªtwo more swords remained in his possession. Planting his left foot forward, he drew the blade with his right hand and hurled it. The movement flowed seamlessly, honed through repeated practice. Through the endless repetition of today, Enkrid didn''t waste his time idly. He honed his skills. Even throwing swords, a technique derived from dagger throwing, became second nature. Thud! The blade cut through the air with a sharp twang, startling Cent, who hastily deflected it. Enkrid surged forward, activating his Will of Momentum. This was proof of how he had spent his time¡ªproof of the second Will he acquired from learning the fastest sword techniques. He charged with unparalleled speed. The world blurred as his thighs burned with explosive power. Blood coursed through his veins like a wild stampede. With fiery intensity, Enkrid drove his sword forward, piercing Cent''s throat. This today began with Cent''s death. "Peek-a-boo." The jab and quip were likely wasted on Cent, who couldn''t hear him anymore. But it was enough to terrify the mercenaries behind him. "You crazy bastard!" The sheer terror spilling into curses marked them as seasoned warriors. As Enkrid thrust his gladius at one, the others closed in. With a second burst of Moment''s Will, he dispatched two mercenaries in an instant. Later, he encountered heavily armored infantry and three knights from the Hurrier family. Among them were crossbowmen, archers, and even a few fairies. Some of those archers had astonishing precision. They only attacked when his movements concluded, targeting even the smallest disruptions in his breathing. This wasn''t the first time Enkrid faced such tactics. He endured. With each repetition, his endurance stretched further. After fifty todays, Enkrid had fully mastered Moment''s Will. He refined his swordsmanship, crafting a second technique after his Snake Blade. "Should I call it Stab Blade?" His naming sense remained abysmal. "Stab Blade" because it ended with a stab? Ridiculous. After more repetitions of reflection and battle, he renamed it Thunder Fang. A lightning-fast strike. A blade that flashes like a storm. It had a better ring to it. A good name lent a technique greater weight and significance. With Four Blades and Thunder Fang, he was finally crafting a system. His battles weren''t just about killing; he learned and adapted constantly. Falling into pits riddled with poison arrows improved his footwork. Getting caught in nets and dying taught him to slice through them with precision. "It won''t cut through everything, though." Still, he reached the level where he could cleave through steel while moving. He absorbed the fundamentals of mid-weight swordsmanship, blending power with destructive force. The day repeated. And repeated again. Endlessly. For 105 todays, Enkrid trained and reflected. His techniques grew sharper and stronger. Yet he remained ensnared in Abnaier''s web. On the 255th today, the Ferryman, who had once urged him to give up, said something entirely unexpected. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 312 - The Wall is One Chapter 312 - 312 - The Wall is One What is the wall? "You''ve taken the wrong path." In his mental realm, Enkrid rubbed his ears as if he''d misheard. "The wall must be faced," the Ferryman continued. Though suspicion arose, the words were crystal clear: Face the wall. Look at it properly. What is the wall? It''s the numbers of those blocking his path. It''s the quality of their forces: Hurrier family knights, mercenaries, the Grey Dogs, mages, shamans. It''s the terrain itself. Until now, Enkrid had concluded that the solution was this: Grow stronger and break through. But every time, a new challenge awaited him. Once, just as he thought he''d barely escaped: "The Grey Dogs never lose their target." More tenacious than even Rem, they stood in his way. Even as their heads flew off, their bodies would ram into him. The arrival of the Grey Dogs¡ªa maddening persistence personified. Once he managed to overcome them, they too became part of today. They were included now. At first, it was Cent and three knights of the Hurrier family. Then came the mages, followed by the shamans. Overcoming all of these, the Grey Dogs awaited. In the midst of it all, waves of ordinary soldiers ceaselessly charged. Even though he experienced the same scenarios repeatedly, today always felt different. The order of enemies shifted, their strategies changed. Enkrid wasn''t a master of military tactics, but one thing was certain: "I''m definitely caught in something." So what should he do? What did he need to escape? He still believed the answer lay in strength. Some days, he didn''t encounter the Grey Dogs. On others, he bypassed the shamans or mages. Occasionally, even Cent didn''t appear¡ªa rare relief. But those days were far fewer than the ones where they all showed up. "Oh, Cent again. Nice to see you." "Do you know me?" This was how he greeted Cent, wielding the Valen-style mercenary sword like an old friend. With Ember, he pierced Cent''s throat, broke through the human wall blocking his path, and then¡ªinevitably¡ªdied again. Another today arrived. Climbing down a cliffside in search of a possible escape route, he fell to his death. Throwing himself into a river, he was struck down by a mage. By then, Enkrid had begun to categorize the walls he faced into five. Cent and his mercenary group. The three knights of the Hurrier family, whose names he now knew: Roch, Merior, and Leblanc. The four mages who conjured water spirits or blasted water cannons. Their water whip was particularly dangerous, a swirling current that shredded armguards with ease. It even left them gasping for air after use, their faces pale. Then there were the shamans. They mostly wielded curses like "unseen force," though they weren''t as difficult to face since their presence wasn''t entirely undetectable. With his Sense of Evasion, Enkrid could avoid them. Still, their techniques were annoying, making the ground beneath his feet sticky or pulling similar tricks. Shamans always appeared with heavily armored infantry carrying spears, making them a formidable challenge. Finally, the Grey Dogs. In terms of raw strength, the Grey Dogs seemed the least intimidating. But in terms of tenacity? They were unmatched. Their relentless persistence deserved not one, but two thumbs up. These were the faces of today. Five walls: Mercenaries, Hurrier knights, mages, shamans, and the Grey Dogs. If he could break through all five simultaneously, perhaps he could escape. But it was impossible. Especially when mixed with archers, crossbowmen, spearmen, and heavily armored infantry. Some were skilled elf archers, while others included beastkin with unpredictable movements. Thankfully, there were no Frogs, draconians, or giants among them. Should he consider these additional forces as a sixth wall? Adding them into the equation only worsened the situation. "Not good," he muttered inwardly, though outwardly, he still relished the challenge. Through the endless repetition of today, Enkrid used the time wisely. He struggled. He raged. He used everything he had gained, maximizing every moment. Under the unseasonably warm winter sun, he fought with everything he had. But the outcome remained bleak. It was experience in slaughter. Killing and being killed became second nature, the scent of blood numbing his senses. Yet no path out of today revealed itself. And so, the Ferryman''s words struck a chord. Five or six walls¡ªwhat difference did it make? He faced them all and nothing changed. In the repetition of today, he dreamed again, and the Ferryman spoke. "You cannot overcome what you do not understand. The wall is one." Enkrid took the words to heart. Even though they didn''t immediately change him, they prompted reflection. After several more todays, he met the Ferryman again. "Hey, aren''t you bored yet?" the Ferryman asked idly this time. "Bored? It''s more that difficult," Enkrid replied. And because it was difficult, boredom never set in. Did the uncertainty of the future weigh on him? If it had, he wouldn''t have dared to dream. Enkrid racked his brain over and over. What is the wall? It was right after he returned to the starting point. "How much do I have to tell you? How far do I need to go before you understand?" The Ferryman mocked him with a smirk. Curious about the emotion he sensed, Enkrid asked, "Are you mocking me?" He wondered if he had misunderstood. "Do I need to spell it out for you?" The Ferryman''s expression instantly turned blank with distaste. The fact that the Ferryman conveyed that distaste was the only reason Enkrid knew it existed. As Enkrid found himself stuck, meeting the Ferryman became a regular occurrence. In those moments, he sought to satisfy his curiosity. "Why a ferry?" Wouldn''t a sentinel dragging a hellhound suit you better? Why a river, why a ferry, and why a Ferryman? "Because a boat can go anywhere." "What''s that supposed to mean?" "It''s not meant for you to understand." Through countless repeated meetings, Enkrid concluded that the Ferryman had multiple personalities. The personality changed at will. "Do not indulge in curiosity," one persona would solemnly declare. On other days, a playful voice would say, "I''ll call you a bastard." Then there was the Ferryman who constantly spoke of the wall, no matter the question. "Have you faced the wall?" And, of course, the kinder Ferryman, who at least offered some semblance of a conversation. When Enkrid asked what he normally did, the kind Ferryman replied, "I steer the boat." He gave answers but rarely ones that made sense. "I see," Enkrid would respond, brushing it off. "You too will steer a boat," the Ferryman said once, but Enkrid let the comment pass without much thought. In over 300 iterations of today, Enkrid felt the limits of his skills. "I can''t improve any further," he thought. It was a feeling he''d had before, back when he encountered a master of thrusts¡ªa perfectionist of a single technique. There''s only so much one can gain from a moment or a situation. Without facing tomorrow, nothing would change. And so, the wall of today had to be overcome. "Five walls, or maybe six." No, just one wall. Could the five be unified into one? Should he gather them in one place and fight them all at once? Following his instincts, he tried it. He struggled to gather the five groups and engage them in battle. He died. The four mages and the shamans worked well together despite appearing to be strangers. They quickly synchronized their efforts. Cent''s specialty was confirmed: striking from behind rather than engaging directly. Enkrid realized he had forced Cent into direct combat every time they met. Now he understood why¡ªCent''s sneak attacks had been thwarted each time by Enkrid''s heightened senses. "So he was always aiming for my back," Enkrid mused. It took over 300 iterations of today to realize it. But it wasn''t the answer. Next, he kidnapped an enemy soldier. Normally, enemy soldiers moved in groups of ten, but when nature called, they moved in trios. "I need to take a leak." After waiting in hiding, Enkrid seized his chance. "Stick together," said the squad leader, and Enkrid followed the trio. When one began relieving himself, Enkrid snapped his neck and used Ember to pierce the throats of the other two. He hid the bodies in the bushes and stripped one of its uniform. The act of changing clothes was more tedious than killing. Draping the enemy''s attire over himself, Enkrid improvised. "Ambush!" he shouted, running toward a different unit instead of his target. Would this let him escape? Would evasion result in his return to today? Did he truly need to overcome the five walls to move forward? But the Ferryman had said the wall was one. And one cannot overcome what they don''t understand. "What am I missing?" He still didn''t know. The thrill was fading, but despair did not replace it. Enkrid sought a solution, wandering and digging deeper¡ªa survival skill of his. "Was it you who shouted?" He encountered another enemy unit. The soldier didn''t lower his guard, keeping a distance. Why? Their uniforms matched. Could it be that every soldier knew each other''s faces? No. "Wilted flower." There was a code phrase. Would he uncover it after a few more iterations of today? Regardless, he had been discovered. It was time for another desperate fight. A chaotic battle ensued. In the next iteration, he stole another uniform and asked first this time: "Wilted flower." "Enemy!" The response was immediate. What had he done wrong? Enkrid couldn''t discern the mistake. The truth, however, was simple. Abnaier did not underestimate Enkrid. Time and again, he dissected him, studying the man thoroughly. What he discovered was telling. "He''s cunning and adept at deception¡ªa tactician by instinct." Abnaier devised countermeasures, anticipating that Enkrid might try to escape through trickery. The passphrase "Wilted Flower" wasn''t about the words¡ªit was about the accompanying action. The response required both a verbal and physical component. Observing the movement, one would confirm unit affiliation and reply accordingly. It wasn''t overly complex, but without prior knowledge, it was impossible to decipher. Abnaier left no gaps. He ensured that Enkrid could never simply overhear and escape using the passphrase. He trained nearby units to recognize one another''s faces and introduced subtle differences in uniforms for additional verification. These were safeguards Enkrid couldn''t breach, no matter how many times he repeated today. Above all, even Enkrid''s instincts eventually told him this path wasn''t the solution. "This is a headache," he muttered, steadying his resolve. "What am I missing?" Reflection and recollection became his tools. Enkrid repeated his process, relying on his strengths. He revisited the Ferryman''s words. Having endured countless iterations of today and faced death repeatedly, Enkrid came to understand. "The wall is one." What is the wall? It is something to overcome. "The wall is one." He repeated the phrase over and over until clarity struck. The reason behind the Ferryman''s words became evident. "I see now," Enkrid said. "What?" His realization came face-to-face with Cent, whose eyes widened in shock. But what could Cent do? Enkrid smashed Cent''s jaw with the pommel of his sword. Crack! The jaw shattered, sending teeth flying through the air. Without hesitation, Enkrid''s gladius severed Cent''s neck. Slash! The severed head fell to the ground. "Kill him!" Once again, the cycle of endless fighting resumed. Near death, Enkrid repeatedly evaded his enemies to catch his breath. He had mastered the art of prolonged combat. Each brief respite allowed him to organize his thoughts. To move forward, Enkrid needed to understand. "You can''t overcome what you don''t know." It was obvious. The wall wasn''t physical¡ªit was a strategy he needed to uncover. It wasn''t five walls. It was one. "A strategy." Or perhaps a tactic, or even a doctrine¡ªsomething that required dismantling the enemy commander''s carefully laid trap. "But how?" He was not Krais. So how should he proceed? Enkrid delved into his memories. He recalled a conversation with Krais, one that offered a glimmer of insight. When the memory surfaced, so did a possible approach. Though the path ahead was still long, Enkrid now had a direction. "I think there are two kinds of strategists," Krais had said. "One predicts everything and prepares for it. The other moves on instinct and intuition." Krais had smiled, adding, "You, Commander, belong firmly to the latter." Enkrid hadn''t questioned why. Instead, he reflected on over 300 iterations of today. Moments he''d overlooked in the chaos of battle surfaced in his mind. Warnings he''d sensed but ignored, feelings he''d brushed aside, choices he had dismissed. "Why did I overlook them? Why did I ignore them? Why did I feel I had to?" Because he was focused solely on overcoming the wall in front of him. But now, his perspective widened. This was different. Previously, he couldn''t overcome the wall because he didn''t understand it. But now that it was visible, he knew what to do. "Minimal combat. Battles for survival." Not reckless resistance, but a methodical use of intuition, instinct, and perception to dismantle the enemy''s strategy. That was the path forward. "If I don''t have to fight everyone..." Abnaier had miscalculated two key points. The first was that Enkrid could repeat today. The second was that Enkrid''s mind worked far better than Abnaier anticipated. "Ah." On exactly the 378th iteration of today, Enkrid found the path forward. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 313 - Light in the Darkness Chapter 313 - 313 - Light in the Darkness There are things that remain darkness if unknown, but become light when understood. Enkrid had grasped and recognized this truth. And now, having glimpsed the path illuminated by that light, he shifted his approach. In previous iterations of today, he had prioritized intent over instinct, believing that to be the best way to save the child. This time, he would blend instinct with intent. "The belief that brute force is the solution..." Such a narrow mindset. He discarded it. The wall was not rigid. What confined him in today wasn''t just the enemy''s spears and swords. Certainly, those weapons were direct threats¡ªreal, physical forces that had pierced his flesh and broken his bones. But was that all there was to it? Was the physicality of the weapons the true barrier? No, the true cage was the strategist''s mind¡ªthe design of a masterful tactician, under whose palm Enkrid had unknowingly danced. "Where do I start, then?" As today repeated once more, Enkrid awoke with one objective: to break free of this day. The answer was hidden in what he had already experienced. Only now did Enkrid admit that his mind wasn''t as sharp as he once thought. The endless cycle felt like a repetition of the same mistakes. Previously, the Ferryman''s cryptic words had narrowed his vision. If not for the Ferryman''s aid, he wouldn''t have seen the true wall beyond the false one. Or perhaps it would''ve taken much longer. Did it matter? No. Even without the Ferryman, he would have repeated today hundreds or even thousands more times, flailing against the wall. He wouldn''t have given up. Eventually, he would have overcome it. He suddenly thought of the young herbalist boy. The child he had saved, whose mother had thanked him. Yet, he hadn''t actually seen the boy. Had his words back then been spontaneous, or had he truly yearned for a life of gathering herbs? What was his dream? In a world like this, where dreams seemed like a luxury, the question itself felt strange. "Interesting," he murmured. Even so, he would ask. Even so, he would dream. Muttering to himself, Enkrid stood, only to immediately spot an enemy soldier. He had slept longer than usual¡ªsomething different from the other todays. "Here¡ª!" The soldier didn''t finish his cry. Enkrid lunged, clamping his hand over the man''s mouth. But another soldier nearby shouted in alarm. "Ambush!" Ambush? Hardly. They were the ones intruding while he rested. With a thought, Enkrid gripped the first soldier''s jaw and pulled. Crack. The sensation of the dislocated jaw traveled through his fingers. It was the kind of brutal feat Audin would appreciate, but for Enkrid, it had become second nature. After countless repetitions of today, his techniques were honed to perfection. "Argh!" The soldier resisted, throwing a punch despite his broken jaw. Enkrid caught the incoming wrist, twisted it sharply, and spun behind him, locking the soldier in a hold. Snap. The sound of bones misaligning followed. "Grrrk!" With his jaw dislocated, the soldier couldn''t even scream, only drooling as his face turned pale. Would taking a hostage work? He already knew the answer: it wouldn''t. "Fire!" As expected, it failed. Thwack thwack thwack! A barrage of bolts flew toward him. Enkrid flung the soldier''s body forward and rolled to the side. Thud thud thud! Over a dozen bolts pierced the drooling soldier''s body, killing him instantly. Enkrid drew his sword mid-roll, spotting another enemy soldier nearby. Their eyes met briefly before Enkrid struck. A blue arc of light traced a sharp half-circle. Whack! The slash cleaved the soldier''s helmet and skull in one motion, splitting them like an orange, the rind and flesh still faintly connected. The contents, however, were not fruit but brain matter and blood. Splatter. Blood sprayed onto Enkrid''s face, but he paid it no mind. Instead, he sharpened his sense of evasion, heightening his instincts and intuition. He had experienced something like this before. A similar today. Back in the cobbler''s basement at the Border Guard market, where the mage had set traps. That was the day. "Pure instinct." He had to rely solely on his senses to navigate the spell traps back then. The scale and circumstances were different now, but so was he. Far different. Was it thanks to the Ferryman''s advice? Or perhaps sheer luck? Enkrid didn''t dwell on it. He realized that beyond instinct and intuition, there was another essential component. "Strength is also necessary." It wasn''t enough to merely dismantle the enemy''s strategy or avoid their traps. Understanding and evasion weren''t the endgame. He had to combine them with sheer strength. That was the answer. As his honed senses detected looming threats, Enkrid incorporated his strength into the calculations. "Here." He began to move. Enkrid died six more times after that. As always, he didn''t waste a single day. Even so, it took seven more iterations of today to succeed. The nearly 400 previous cycles made it possible. By now, he had encountered every tactic the enemy strategist had prepared. Though he couldn''t fully grasp how these strategies interlinked or the exact nature of their warfare, he relied solely on his intuition. Guided by instinct, he judged each moment with split-second clarity, sensing danger and exploiting gaps. Disguising himself as an enemy was futile. Hiding was even worse¡ªthe shaman always found him. Taking hostages didn''t work either. "As always," he thought. He would win with his arms and legs, as he always had. Burn marks scarred his back, and the wounds from previous battles still weighed on him. The aftermath of what felt like an eternity of fighting lingered in his body. "Absolutely maddening." Enkrid muttered to himself, his words spilling out unbidden. To walk a path as it reveals itself¡ªevery hair on his body stood on end. The sheer thrill coursed through him. The elation of it was nearly unbearable, a rush of excitement that verged on madness. Progress didn''t solely mean a growth in strength. The act of moving forward, of evolving, sent a euphoric wave crashing through him. He realized this truth and could only revel in its joy. "Chase him!" The result of all his desperate struggle thus far had led to this moment. Certain of his first move for this day, Enkrid ascended a tree and began moving swiftly through its branches. His eyes scanned the surroundings for his target. It wasn''t easy. "There he is!" The shout rang out behind him. "Not so fast!" One soldier''s head served as his foothold as he leaped, while his sword cleaved cleanly through the neck of an adjacent archer. Fighting relentlessly, darting and weaving amidst the chaos, he finally saw it. "Urgh!" A shaman. As soon as their gazes met, an invisible shockwave engulfed him. The Sense of Evasion flared within Enkrid, showing him the very structure of the spell in vivid detail¡ªnot with his eyes, but through sharpened intuition. The heightened clarity of his honed instincts allowed him to perceive the oncoming, shapeless attack as clearly as if it were visible. It wasn''t even a challenge. He ducked just in time to evade the shaman''s invisible strike. The shaman, unperturbed, moved their lips again, weaving a new spell. But Enkrid had already anticipated this moment. His muscles tensed as he gathered power in his legs, a coil of explosive energy ready to spring. The frozen soil beneath him gave way with a muffled crack. The Will burst forth. Boom! The ground ruptured beneath him, scattering dirt and rocks like a geyser as Enkrid surged forward. It was a charge that could be mistaken for the force of a battering ram. With the speed and momentum of a lightning bolt, he slashed his gladius. His movements were a series of seamless transitions: relaxation, tension, explosion. The power transferred from the ground to his torso, and finally to the blade, creating a strike that cleaved through the shaman''s torso. Boom! The force of the blow resounded like thunder, and the shaman''s upper body erupted upwards. The devastating combination of speed and power tore their body apart. ''That''s one.'' It was only the beginning. Shamans always radiated an ominous presence. Their elimination was a necessary step to ensure progress. This required strength. The next steps, however... Surrounded by encroaching dread, Enkrid moved toward the least oppressive zone. To the enemy, his actions must have seemed utterly insane. He appeared to run directly toward the most fortified areas, where heavy infantry held the line with their solid formations. "Block him!" The commander''s shout pierced the air. For many, this day was their one and only. For Enkrid, it was his several hundredth. "Nilf, the situation!" Abnaier had cornered Enkrid entirely¡ªor so it seemed. In truth, he had killed him hundreds of times. But for someone repeating today, death was merely a postponed opportunity. Enkrid had been nearly trapped. The strategist''s intricate snares had proven formidable, invisible daggers poised at his heart. And yet, there are those who wrench such blades free and press on. "It''s bad. Even eels don''t slip away like this. It''s as if he knows exactly what''s coming." Abnaier was receiving constant updates on Enkrid''s position. His intent to kill this man was absolute. A faint twitch formed on Abnaier''s brow¡ªa rare sign of his irritation. His fingers drummed against his thigh, not out of anxiety but from intense focus. He had no intention of letting his prey escape. "Press him. Don''t give him a single gap to breathe. "Where are the Grey Dogs?" "They''re pursuing. He''s cutting through the densest concentrations of troops, making it hard to follow." "Does he know the layout?" Could he? When faced with overwhelming numbers, human instinct dictates moving toward gaps, natural openings in the formation. Abnaier had accounted for this. He created those gaps deliberately, positioning Grey Dog, mages, and shamans to exploit them. On the table before him, pieces were scattered, and he quickly rearranged them. ''If he''s interpreting my strategy and countering it, I can adapt as well.'' Originally, Abnaier had stationed elite swordsmen from the Hurier family in low-density zones to intercept him. Now, he moved them all toward Enkrid. "Pursue him. Relentlessly." ''You are no knight,'' Abnaier thought. And thus, you cannot break through a wall forged by a thousand soldiers on your own. Organizing an engineering unit to build stone walls¡ªwhere exactly was that done? The cliffs? The hidden traps in between? Over eighty pits had been dug. It wasn''t as if the slow advance was for no reason. Bang! Abnaier''s hand slammed down on the podium. ''After all this effort, it would make no sense to let him escape.'' Foreboding¡ªan ability inherent to everyone. Enkrid''s sixth sense and intuition leaned closer to a gut feeling than reason. He hadn''t grasped Abnaier''s intent. ''It feels like something bad will happen if I go this way.'' It was with such a simple and brute thought process that he moved, throwing Abnaier into disarray. As time passed, the reports kept coming. ''He''s retreating again.'' What sort of madness was this? They had laid traps for him near the outskirts. Now, he was turning back toward the center? He had already moved beyond the range of the sorcery. He should have found a clear direction by now. Yet, he returned to where the original encirclement had been. Of course, it was a trap. If he charged straight in, they were ready to capture him. But how did he know to pull back? "What about his injuries?" "He''s been hit by two quarrels in the back." "And the poison?" "We didn''t coat them." Abnaier had provided poison arrows to select sharpshooters but not all. ''Did he know and let himself be hit?'' Could he have deliberately avoided the lethal ones? ''No, that''s paranoia.'' It was an exaggerated guess¡ªa baseless delusion. No human could discern everything. ''Unless... could he really be a knight?'' No, that wasn''t it either. While his skills had clearly advanced significantly compared to yesterday, he wasn''t a knight. And yet, he couldn''t be caught. It felt like he was placed right into Abnaier''s palm, but he still slipped through as if greased. How could that even be possible? The news that followed left Abnaier even more dumbfounded. "Commander." Nilf''s voice was urgent. "Speak." Abnaier''s expression hardened as he received the report. The man called Enkrid had been contained in his palm but managed to pry it open and escape. This wasn''t over, though. There was more prepared. "What about Galaph and the sub-knights?" "A messenger has been sent." "Tell them to come immediately!" Galaph was a mage recruited at a great cost of gold coins. It wasn''t just gold¡ªmany promises had been made to secure him for this operation. Even royal permission had been obtained to borrow such a valuable figure. Yet here, Abnaier was still the commander, and Galaph would answer his summons. Such was the agreement. He couldn''t simply send his disciples and wash his hands of the matter. Galaph and the sub-knights were the second wall of defense, prepared in case Enkrid somehow slipped through. Of course, they each had their tasks to complete beforehand. Abnaier''s sharp mind left no resources idle. And he wasn''t merely thinking about this immediate operation¡ªhe was looking ahead to the future after killing Enkrid and his elite companions. ''I''ll turn everything around.'' He envisioned reversing the flow of the battlefield, flipping the outcome entirely. As long as everyone executed their roles, that was possible. Such was Abnaier''s intent. "Call in the assassination squad as well!" After deploying Galaph and the sub-knights, he committed everything he had. Abnaier''s determination was absolute. But things in this world rarely go as planned. ''Everything feels ominous.'' Still, there was a path. It might not be much of a gap, but even a small one could be widened with force. Sensing the foreboding danger, Enkrid wielded his strength. He deliberately targeted the stone wall. Swinging his gladius at the artificial barrier raised by enemy troops, he thought: ''This much won''t break it, will it?'' Though the dwarf who forged the weapon hadn''t been overly confident, Enkrid was half-certain. This gladius was the sturdiest blade he had ever wielded. Bang! He struck with the flat of the blade, not the edge. Part of the stone wall crumbled. He kicked and pulled at it with his hands. In the meantime, arrows flew toward him. Some he dodged, others he withstood. He acted entirely on instinct. Avoiding every arrow was less effective than enduring a few. Hadn''t he learned this from a week of failures? Indeed. Looking to the side, he spotted several longbow-wielding elves armed with poison arrows. Had he evaded recklessly, his body might''ve been riddled with additional shafts by now. The elves were quick on their feet, making them too bothersome to chase. That area felt particularly foreboding. The tower of experience he had built over hundreds of deaths and resets provided him with intuitive answers. It was the foundation of the acute sense that warned him of danger. Enkrid struck the stone wall again. Bang! A second thunderous crash echoed. Pieces crumbled away. He finally managed to carve out a gap he could crawl through, striking the man-made wall several times. Enemy forces surged toward him, but ultimately, he found his opening. The shoddily constructed outer section of the wall collapsed at its edge, where it met the cliffside. What seemed like an escape from Abnaier''s grasp was just beginning. As the wall gave way, a plume of dust rose. The dry and warm winter in the northern region made for a landscape prone to such moments. The dust obscured everyone''s vision. "A mage!" Leblanc Hurrier shouted. He had just lost two of his comrades. Of the four mages in their group, only two survived. The earlier skirmish had been awkwardly handled. Though Enkrid could have eliminated the remaining two mages with a bit more effort, he had withdrawn. Had he hesitated at that moment, he would''ve been thoroughly pursued. But how could anyone make such a decision in that instant? Amid the cloud of dust rising from the crumbled stone wall, Enkrid''s blue eyes glowed fiercely. His heightened senses and instinctive sense of evasion were opening new paths for him. Thus¡ª ''I can see the way.'' As his senses blended and sharpened, a virtual path materialized before his eyes. A glowing blue trail. It was the path that would finally bring this endlessly long day to an end. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 314 - The Duel Chapter 314 - 314 - The Duel Esther grabbed her opponent''s arm and broke it effortlessly. Galaph, witnessing his defensive barrier shatter, was left stunned. Pain coursed through his nerves a moment later. "Guh..." That was the end. The battle of mages often unfolded in the domain of spells, but their physical forms were not immune to damage. Simply put, pain disrupts concentration. Despite Galaph''s overwhelming ability to draw mana in the spell realm, the fight was proceeding on an even keel. The only explanation was that his opponent wielded magic far more efficiently. Galaph endured the agony, cold sweat dripping from his brow. The attack moments ago had been truly shocking. He had invoked a defensive spell, but Esther, the "Witch of War," had conjured flames in her hand and simply tore through the barrier. Her sheer physical strength was palpable in that motion. Whoosh! A burst of steam filled the air as her fiery touch clashed with his water magic. Galaph tried to retaliate with spells of his own but found his arm captured and broken before he could act. "What''s with her strength?!" His thoughts swirled in disbelief. Had she always been this formidable? The nickname "Witch of War" wasn''t just due to her temperament¡ªit came from her exceptional combat prowess. Galaph had dismissed it as mere hearsay, assuming it was part of some elaborate ploy to mislead others about her true capabilities. But now, faced with the expressionless witch before him, he realized one thing for certain: her title was genuine. "You won''t escape unscathed." The witch, her hair like black silk, spoke without a hint of emotion. His two apprentices had been subdued by summoned creatures, leaving only their grotesque, patchwork golem, a marvel of craftsmanship, standing idly nearby. "Damn it!" Galaph lashed out, desperation laced in his actions. Escape had crossed his mind, but the gap in their abilities was evident from the start. Esther had gained her reputation through relentless battles, while Galaph had built his through scholarly pursuits and mentoring disciples. The difference was glaring. Esther had sensed it from the beginning: this wasn''t a fair fight. Galaph''s spell density and complexity? Superior, yes. But effective combat demanded precision¡ªspells used at the right time and place. Esther excelled in this, while Galaph faltered. The result was inevitable. "Goodbye." Her tone was eerily bright as she delivered her farewell. Thud. Esther plunged a knife into the mage''s heart, then withdrew it. Galaph staggered, blood gushing from his mouth. His knees buckled, and he collapsed with a dull thud. "S-Son... of a..." He muttered curses with trembling lips, but Esther silenced him by pressing a boot firmly on his mouth. A mage''s mouth was a dangerous weapon. She crouched, gripped his hand, and drove the knife through the back of it, pinning it to the ground. A mage''s hands were equally perilous. Galaph convulsed once before going still. One of Abnaier''s trusted cards had fallen unexpectedly. Esther briefly inspected the corpse, checking for traps or lingering magic. Finding none, she stood. Her long black hair was matted with blood, as were her velvet coat and the pale skin it concealed. A droplet of blood traced a path down her chest, but she ignored the discomfort. Instead, a different thought crossed her mind. "I wonder what Enkrid''s doing." She muttered to herself, curious if he was still out there somewhere, likely getting himself beaten up. Galaph had been a prominent mage, even one Esther had vaguely heard of. If someone of his caliber had been stationed here, there were likely others of note elsewhere. After scavenging Galraf''s belongings, she dismissed her summoned creatures, storing them in her spell domain, and walked on. The stitched golem, Bonehead, could still operate, but its usage was limited due to her current physical state. Though the fight had seemed effortless, maintaining a human form had drained her mana reserves. "I''ll have to live as a leopard for a while." Esther abandoned her human form without hesitation, transforming into a sleek leopard and disappearing into the shadows. *** The Aspen troops watched in shock as a lone figure charged recklessly into their formation. "What the hell is that?" "Is he insane?" "Should we stab him?" The figure broke through their ranks, positioning himself at their rear. Some soldiers cautiously readied their spears. The intruder who had broken through their formation looked undeniably dangerous. Three soldiers exchanged glances. "Let''s kill him quickly and return," one of them suggested, and the squad leader gave a silent nod of approval. They were just about to charge when¡ª "Hold." A nearby platoon leader intervened, taking a closer look at the stranger''s face. More specifically, a distinct set of features caught his attention: ''Blond hair, pale skin, red eyes.'' It was a description Abnaier had personally emphasized to all commanding officers. "Leave him." The three soldiers reluctantly backed down, deferring to the superior''s command. The platoon leader''s gaze lingered on the enemy soldier. Helmetless and striding confidently through their ranks, the intruder moved with no hesitation, as though his destination were already decided. His pace wasn''t quite a run but faster than a walk. With his sword in hand, he advanced steadily, each step covering the ground of two. Ahead of him stood a soldier clad in hardened leather armor, distinct from the standard Aspen uniform. The leather-clad figure scratched his head through his helmet and spoke. "You really followed me all the way here." Ragna didn''t reply. Instead, he took another step forward. Ping! The leather-armored soldier flicked a dagger at him. Ragna tilted his head slightly, evading the blade. It buried itself into the ground behind him. Without so much as glancing back, Ragna continued walking. The thrown dagger hadn''t even slowed his stride. If you''ve greeted me, you might as well see it through, Ragna thought as he pursued his target relentlessly. His opponent wasn''t trying to escape but instead seemed to maintain a precise distance, neither too close nor too far. The notion of cutting through enemy ranks didn''t even register in Ragna''s mind. Enkrid had once said that the so-called "madmen" of the independent unit could surpass even Rem in their reckless behavior depending on the situation. Ragna himself had once slaughtered hundreds of enemy soldiers and returned unharmed, simply because he''d lost his way. This was nothing new for him. No one expected strategy or tactics from Ragna anyway. "All you need to do is fight," Krais had often remarked. Even Enkrid had said, "Just fight however you see fit." And so, Ragna had fought. Always. But today was different. Something stirred within him¡ªa desire beyond mere duty. "Are you really going to keep following me?" the leather-armored soldier asked, scratching his head again. His steps, however, didn''t falter. Ragna didn''t need long to realize this was no ordinary soldier. ''I''ll catch him.'' Why? Ragna wasn''t entirely sure. But he had a feeling that chasing this man would lead to something worth seeing. That vague intuition alone was enough to fuel his determination. His crimson eyes burned with singular focus. The soldier deliberately led Ragna further away, distancing them from both the Naurilia and Aspen lines of sight. He ran hard, just enough to make his breathing labored. He''s keeping up well, the soldier thought, glancing back. Running was something he excelled at, and yet his pursuer remained close, breathing steadily, showing little sign of exhaustion. Damn, this is humiliating. The soldier wasn''t just anyone; he was a squire of the Royal Knights of Kong. Among his peers, his agility was unmatched. Yet here was someone who appeared less winded and less fatigued than him. "Who the hell are you?" the squire demanded, bewildered. Ragna stared at him for a moment before speaking. "You''re not alone, are you?" The squire didn''t respond. What difference would it make if he did? Ragna felt his motivation sharpen into something fierce¡ªa combination of desire, drive, and raw instinct. Was it the urge to fight? Yes, but not solely because of the man before him. It was something deeper, primal. Ragna raised his sword. The squire took a cautious step back, retreating into the tall grass. And from the shadows emerged a figure who made Ragna''s pulse quicken. "I warned you, didn''t I? And now you''re surprised?" The newcomer addressed the squire. His skin was dark, his tall frame exuding an intimidating presence. His long hair was tied back, and he wore a custom-fitted helmet with a raised visor, its design peculiar and distinct. The back of her helmet was open to let her hair flow through, and on top of it, two pointed protrusions jutted out like the ears of a predator. Her speech pattern was peculiar¡ªclearly, she wasn''t from this continent. Her dark skin and features confirmed it. She seemed to be from the East. And she was a woman. "You''re truly fearless, aren''t you?" she remarked, extending her long arm, which was roughly the same length as Ragna''s. Ragna stood still, gripping his sword and regulating his breathing. His breaths had already steadied. The squire frowned deeply at the sight. How is he still in such good condition? It was no mystery, really. Ragna often lost his way. Getting lost had become so habitual for him that what might take someone else a month to traverse could stretch into a year-long journey for him. Without a detailed map or a guide, his travels were chaotic. But Ragna didn''t feel the need for a guide¡ªhe had no specific destination. For someone like him, the concept of being "lost" didn''t even exist. He thought of himself as never having been lost, merely wandering. There were times when he didn''t see a village for months, walking endlessly. His stamina and endurance had developed to the extreme through sheer necessity. "If he''s supposed to be squire-level, shouldn''t he be about my equal?" the squire muttered, idly touching the hilt of his sword. "He''s above your level," the woman immediately retorted, her eyes never leaving Ragna. "Are you sure?" "Are you questioning my judgment? Or is that your pride talking?Neither is a good look." "...My mistake. It''s just irritating, having someone like him outpace me." "He''s not just squire-level; he might as well be a full-fledged knight." Ragna listened to their exchange, instinctively searching for openings in the woman''s stance. Not out of strategy, but because it came naturally to him. In his mind, he had already made four hypothetical attacks: A sweeping slash from left to right. A downward strike with precision. A direct thrust aimed to pierce through. And an upward diagonal slash from the lower right. Each imaginary attempt ended the same way¡ªthe woman effortlessly deflected the blows before counterattacking, her blade landing on either his shoulder or his abdomen. Could I dodge it? Yes, if he moved his feet skillfully. But doing so would put him on the defensive, and once he was on the defensive, it would be hard to regain momentum. Victory seemed unlikely no matter the approach. Ragna''s sharp intuition painted the potential flow of the battle, though it could all be just idle speculation. After all, no one could predict the outcome of a fight before it began. Without changing his expression, Ragna wiped the sweat from his palm on his thigh. "You''re not a true knight, though," the woman said, taking a few steps forward. "You seem to have a little grasp of Will, but still. I was told to kill you, though it feels like a waste." She paused before adding, "I''m Ayada, a knight of the Aspen Royal Knights. Have you ever considered defecting?" A knight of the Royal Knights¡ªand the squire standing beside her. Ayada''s confidence was palpable. She had been a knight for four years now and knew better than anyone that not all knights were created equal. The Royal Knights were composed of individuals with extraordinary skill and talent, refined through countless duels and training. The gap between a knight trained in a prestigious order and a rogue knight wandering the continent was vast. Ayada didn''t even entertain the idea of losing, which was why she extended her proposal. Ragna, however, wiped the sweat from his other hand, gripping his sword in both hands and raising it in front of his face. The honed blade caught the crisp winter breeze and the glint of sunlight. The weather was fine. His heart pounded in his chest. The feeling that sometimes surged within him when he looked at Enkrid now struck him even harder. Why? Why was this surge of determination so overwhelming? Was it a desire to cut her down? A murderous impulse? No, it wasn''t that. It was because his opponent was strong. Not only was her movement extraordinary, but her affiliation also spoke volumes. The Aspen Royal Knights. A symbol of power. A significant factor in Aspen''s decision to start this war despite the presence of the Red Cloak Knights in Naurilia. And now, such an opponent had appeared before him? But it wasn''t just that. Ragna''s drive had been simmering for some time, stoked by the influence of Enkrid. It gave him a thirst¡ªa desire that occasional training sessions could not quench. He realized he needed something more. A catalyst to push him forward, to reach the next level. He couldn''t show his full potential against Enkrid or the other halfwits around him; killing them wasn''t an option. But this knight? She was an opponent he could face with everything he had. The offer to defect didn''t even register in his ears. All he wanted now was to fight. Provoking her would help. Ragna had learned that much from Enkrid, and he applied the lesson now. "What are you even saying, you walking pile of brown dung?" he spat. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 315 - Turning Points in Battle Chapter 315 - 315 - Turning Points in Battle "Ah, this is entertaining." Having wandered countless battlefields, Ayah had heard insults of every kind¡ªfrom curses aimed at her parents to words too vile to repeat¡ªbut this one was different. Never in her life had anyone dared to compare her heritage to something so degrading. For Ayah, her brown skin was a source of pride. She carried her Eastern lineage with honor, and as a knight, her appearance was something she cherished. "...What?" Ayah tilted her head slightly, disbelief etched into her expression. "It stinks. You should wash yourself more often." Ragna was simply doing what he had learned. Enkrid was a master at exploiting his opponent''s weaknesses, and if the weakness was mental, Enkrid was undoubtedly among the best on the continent. Though Ragna wasn''t his direct disciple, he had spent years observing and picking up tricks here and there. "...Did that brat just say I stink?" Ayah was a knight, but she was also a woman. Being called "brown excrement" and being accused of "stinking" struck deeply, each insult hitting a different nerve. Moreover, it was the way Ragna delivered those words¡ªwith such a neutral, matter-of-fact expression¡ªthat made it worse. It was as if he truly believed his accusations. "No! You smell lovely, like flowers!" the squire interjected hastily, but the damage was already done. Ayah''s face hardened. Her jaw clenched, and the muscles along her cheek tensed visibly. "You little bastard..." Despite her anger, Ayah didn''t lose all composure. She funneled her fury into power, as she''d learned from years of experience. That brat was going to die¡ªshe would make sure of it. "I''ll start by cutting out that tongue of yours," Ayah said, drawing her blades. Ting. She dual-wielded a pair of swords: a longer, standard longsword in her left hand, and a slightly shorter blade in her right. "You''ll die... though maybe not so cleanly," she muttered, her tone sharp and venomous. The squire, too, unsheathed his weapon from behind with a metallic scrape. Sching! Even without looking, Ragna could tell the squire held a longsword. Meanwhile, his eyes quickly analyzed the weapons Ayah wielded. The squire moved into position, carefully closing the distance from behind, his weapon pointed at Ragna. "Did you think this would be a fair duel? Watch your back, idiot." Ayah''s words dripped with mockery, a combination of her anger and amusement. Ragna accepted the advice, staying alert to his rear. The squire began to circle, shifting positions with soft, deliberate steps. Ragna moved as well, matching their pace. Now he was caught between Ayah in front and the squire behind. What to do? Ayah initiated the attack. She darted forward, closing the distance in an instant, her thrust aiming with uncanny precision. Ragna raised his sword to block. Clang! But her attack was just a feint. The real danger came from behind. The squire''s sword swung down toward Ragna''s exposed back. Instinct honed by years of survival kicked in. Ragna dropped into a crouch while thrusting his sword upward. A heavy attack like his required strength, and Ragna knew how to apply force even in such confined movements. The squire hesitated, halting his attack just before impact and pulling back to reassess. The moment his upward thrust cleared, Ragna rolled to the side. Whoosh! The spot he had just vacated was cut cleanly by Ayah''s rising slash, the speed and force of her blade slicing through the air with an audible hum. "Call me Ayah, the fragrant knight of the Grand Royal Order." As Ayah stepped forward to attack again, Ragna felt another strike coming from behind. He couldn''t see it, but he could sense it¡ªa ripple in the air, a wave of killing intent. Surrounded and with no clear way to block both attackers, Ragna made his choice. Whoosh. He swung his sword in a wide arc. If he couldn''t block them, he would force them back. The large blade traced a spiral trajectory, faster than his usual speed, aimed to disrupt both Ayah and the squire. Clang! His blade met Ayah''s, and the force of the impact was enough to halt her momentum. Ragna''s mind raced. The squire wasn''t an ordinary combatant¡ªhis attacks carried the finesse of an illusion sword technique, enhanced with hints of "Will." That made him much stronger than the average squire. Illusion swordsmanship was a deceptive style. Though the blade itself was an illusion, the intent behind it was real, and with enough focus, it could still harm. Ayah''s style, meanwhile, was balanced between speed and power, a fusion of heavy and fast strikes. She had clearly undergone formal training and belonged to an established school of swordsmanship. Their coordination was seamless, and it was overwhelming. Ragna was in danger. A single misstep would mean death. And yet, he was exhilarated. This was the moment he had been waiting for¡ªthe catalyst he needed to push forward. "Are you... smiling?" Ayah''s voice was incredulous as she saw the faint grin on Ragna''s face. Ragna wasn''t mocking her. He was truly enjoying this moment, his satisfaction unmistakable. "Does getting stabbed make you this happy?" Ayah''s disbelief turned to irritation. Ragna remained silent, savoring the intensity of the battle. This was his chance to break through his limits, to leap forward. He had waited for this moment. "Close your mouth," Ragna said at last, his voice calm but sharp. "It stinks." His taunt struck again, this time not just a provocation but a tactic to destabilize Ayah. "Alright, alright," Ayah hissed, her voice tight with anger. "I''ll carve you into pieces. Slowly." Her blades moved again, carving streaks of light into the air, faster and sharper than before. Ragna quickly realized his earlier assessment was wrong. Ayah''s style wasn''t just a blend of heavy and fast strikes¡ªit included illusion sword techniques as well. It was a complete and well-rounded form of swordsmanship, refined and deadly. And that only made Ragna smile wider. Seizing the gap, he struck. Clang! Bang! Zing! Occasionally, metal met metal, sparking. Swish! He pushed against the floor with his soles, moving his body without rest. No, he had to move. If he took a breath, he''d get hit by a sword. So, he minimized the moments of respite. And he endured. "Hah!" A battle cry rang out from behind. The moment he sensed the attack coming with unstoppable momentum, Ragna reacted. He raised his sword vertically and spun his body to block. Bang! The loudest sound erupted since the fight began. It was the blow from the Squire''s strike he had blocked. Not only did the squire have a sweeping sword technique, but he was also skilled in heavy sword strikes. Ragna had to lift his body while blocking, but the shock wasn''t fully absorbed. His knee ached. Then, once again, Aya''s sword descended from above. It was a blow to the crown of his head, as quick as a bird snatching a fish. There was no time to raise his sword, so he twisted his body instead. Swish, thud! Aya''s blade skimmed Ragna''s shoulder. Blood sprayed into the air. Clumsy, but despite wearing armor, he was still cut through. Aya''s sword was no ordinary blade. Its cutting power was exceptional. In that moment, Ragna also swung his sword. His sword, about half again as long as usual, whipped through the air like a whip, cutting the front with light-like speed. Crash! The thunderous sound of his sword echoed. Aya didn''t block but dodged. She knew. This wasn''t the kind of attack one could block. Her eyes were a little special, so she could see it all. "Huh." Ragna took a brief moment to catch his breath. Having employed all the sword techniques he knew, a stab landed behind his thigh, and the flesh on his left shoulder was also torn. It was opening, weakness. Still, Ragna didn''t retreat. In his mind, defeat was not an option. All that filled his mind was the thought that he was getting closer to something elusive, something just out of reach. And it wasn''t an illusion. Ragna was standing before a wall he alone could perceive, having found his moment. "Ah, this is fun." In the midst of their battle, Ragna muttered. "You crazy bastard!" Aya became angrier. She was winning, yet it was her side that was anxious. It was obvious. Aya had ''the Will to See.'' From her perspective, Ragna was catching up to both of them in real time. "You monster!" Aya could feel her opponent''s sword changing. She saw it. Naturally, her heart started to race. "Shit." Squire Bill cursed. He was usually calm, but when pressed, he became savage. The fact that Bill was speaking harshly meant something was off with the atmosphere. The man who should have already died was still holding on. He held on, and his superior, the Knight, gestured with her eyes. It felt like the situation was turning into something worse than a mess. Bill was burning up inside. Aya felt the same way. "Who the hell is this guy?" Aya''s swords in both hands moved faster. In an instant, it felt as if her arms had turned into four, fooling the opponent''s eyes. A speed-induced illusion. Ragna''s eyes followed. Thunk! He couldn''t block them all and allowed a strike to land on his abdomen. But he didn''t just take it. The thrust only partially hit. The squire withdrew, twisting his waist to avoid a fatal wound. ''Atacking back while being hit?'' Ragna extended his sword long as he twisted his body. Aya couldn''t continue with a follow-up attack. She could clearly see his intentions¡ªwhy would she charge forward to be caught in his fangs? She, too, pulled back. The thrust, aimed at exploiting a gap, only grazed her skin. Squire Bill moved to regain his footing. During the brief moment Aya pulled back, Ragna staggered a few times. It wasn''t an attempt to deceive anyone. He had pushed himself too far, trying to absorb this hit. Aya''s body instinctively reacted. The opponent''s opening was clear. Her eyes saw it. In response, Squire Bill adjusted his grip on his sword. ''This time, we end it.'' It had to happen. It was the only way. An ominous feeling ran through Aya''s entire body. She felt that if she didn''t kill him now, it would be too late. What kind of person was this? ''Getting stronger while fighting?'' It didn''t make sense. What kind of talent could do this? Just before Aya and Bill rushed in, Ragna realized. ''This is it.'' It had been a long, yet short battle. Ragna reflected on his previous fights. He remembered the sword he had wielded. Since he was a child, once Ragna held a sword, he could see the path it should take. He knew where to swing the sword. It wasn''t a skill he could explain. All he had to do was swing as he saw, and the opponent would either be killed or injured. That''s what made Ragna a genius, possessing that innate sense. But now, between the knight and the squire before him, that path was cut off. It no longer continued. He was forcing himself to continue down a broken path. And then he understood. He had only walked the paths that were given to him until now. Ragna followed the path shown by his talent. It was a passive and defensive stance. So, what is the opposite of that? ''With the sword I swing.'' He creates the path. He carves his own way. The two swords in the knight''s hands traced two separate paths. From behind, the thunderous force of an attack came charging forward. Between the two experts, Ragna did not try to bridge the gaps of the broken paths. Instead, he walked a new one. The muscles in his arms responded, and his entire body moved, his heart pounding. Thump! To create a new path, one must first take the first step. And Ragna did just that. He blocked Aya''s first sword with his right forearm. Thud! The sword struck, but he forced his muscles to tense. Then, a short blade came from below and pierced his abdomen. He lifted his knee and swung at his opponent''s hand, knocking the strike off course. Flick! The blade grazed his side, and the cut flowed along his back. At the same time, he used his knees. Ragna grabbed the sword in his left hand and spun his body. Ragna too was a human with superhuman strength. The middle sword stance required strength training, after all. Aya''s sword lodged into his forearm. Ragna used his right foot as a pivot and swung his left hand backward. It was a reverse cut. "Venga." He infused his cut with the ''Will of Severance.'' Whoosh. The blade sliced through the air, making a sound like a sharp gust. Before the sword of Squire Bill could descend, the sound-devouring strike struck Bill''s torso first. Ragna blocked the sword with his right arm, drove his knee into Bill''s sword hand, then spun around to split the enemy''s torso, all while the remaining sword grazed his shoulder. Ragna then rammed his forehead into Aya''s helmet. Thanks to the face guard of Aya''s helmet, Ragna''s forehead was torn, and blood began to spill. But it didn''t matter. Thud! Aya forced the sword stuck in Bill''s right arm out. Ragna released his strength, allowing his opponent to do as they wished. Instead, he drew his left hand up, raising his sword. The sword that had split Squire Bill''s body now came down to strike Aya. Aya''s eyes grew dim. ''Mad.'' For just a moment, the opponent before her displayed a power similar to her own. Like the ''Will'' in her eyes. In every battle, she found and executed the best move. Aya crossed her swords, but Ragna''s fallen sword was heavy. Bam! At the point where their swords met, a loud explosion rang out. Crack! "Ugh!" Aya''s arms were broken. Thus, the tide of the battle shifted. "A." Blood poured from Ragna''s right arm, shoulder, and thigh, and he let out a short groan. He staggered as though he might fall any moment. Slowly shaking his head from side to side, Ragna tried to stand straight while catching his breath. His body still swayed slightly. It was a sign of how exhausted he was. Even in that state, Ragna spoke. "Thank you." He was sincere. Aya understood that the opponent was truly insane. "You, you''re..." This wouldn''t end like this. Do you think I''m alone here? I didn''t come here alone. Those words did not continue. Instead, Ragna''s sword struck Aya''s helmet directly. Thud! The helmet caved in, and Aya''s skull was shattered. And so, one of the knights of the Kongwang Order, and her squire, was killed. **** Enkrid thought this wasn''t the end. As he continued down the path, he remained prepared for any situation. Not long ago, ropes had flown toward him, almost trapping him. Of course, they had been ineffective. Isolation technique, making oneself appear larger. He crouched his muscles and then expanded them rapidly, wrapping his immense strength around his heart and extending his arms. Thud. The moment he was grabbed, the ropes scraped his skin before breaking. Afterward, the frequency of arrows coming at him decreased, but vigilance was still necessary. Just because he could repeat today''s events didn''t mean he should slack off now. If he didn''t give his all, he wouldn''t be Enkrid anymore. So, he gave it everything. The sound of the pursuing soldiers'' footsteps grew distant. But Enkrid did not relax. ''Until the end.'' He kept moving. Whether to find his comrades, or to notice a signal, he was hunting for change. He had six bolts stuck in his back. There was also a knife wound on his thigh. That wasn''t all. His right boot was torn, and he had even taken a stone to the forehead. He had bled quite a bit. The dried blood on his forehead cracked open again with his intense movements. Every muscle fiber trembled. He had long passed his limit. So, was that a problem? No, it wasn''t. Therefore, Enkrid kept running. He thought this wasn''t the end. He couldn''t afford to relax. He kept running, and running. Suddenly, a four-legged beast jumped out in front of him. Enkrid took a defensive stance. He dropped his sword in his right hand and thrust the one in his left. The quick reaction was almost instinctive. Along with the beast, there was also someone wielding a long sword. Enkrid instinctively reached for his sword, then stopped. The opponent spoke. "We''ll duel later. My arm''s dislocated." It was Ragna. Clang. Standing beside him was Lake Panther, Esther. They had broken free from the encirclement. Enkrid couldn''t tell when it had happened. In truth, it didn''t matter. He had no intention of stopping, whether he was running to the death or until he escaped. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading! For some extra Chapters or if you want to show your support head here: https://ko-fi.com/samowek .gg/eXsm6WsQE6 Chapter 316 - Turmoil, Ignorance, Despair Chapter 316 - 316 - Turmoil, Ignorance, Despair The ones chasing Enkrid gave up. The commander at the front could not speak. The adjutant beside him spoke instead. "We''ve lost him." There was nothing to be done. They had thrown the rope, thinking it would be the last chance, but he broke it with sheer strength and escaped. An extraordinary power. That wasn''t all. He didn''t even seem to get tired, continuing to run forward, always forward. The madman never stopped to rest. He didn''t stop his feet. Watching that, they couldn''t even think of catching up. The target never rested, always moving, relentlessly. Eventually, the commands from the commander became fewer, and his steps stopped. Enkrid had completely escaped the trap laid by Abnaier. Even the Gray Dogs stopped. The commander of the Gray Dogs stared vacantly at the vanished traces of the man. Not only had they crossed the encirclement, but they had also entered the enemy''s territory. If they pursued now, they would be countered. Thus, it was over. ''Abnaier, Abnaier.'' The commander of the Gray Dogs repeated the name of the one who had vowed to take full responsibility. Hadn''t he said that he didn''t mind if all the soldiers died just to capture that one man? "Right, call me an idiot in the future. Call me a fool who sacrificed a thousand soldiers just to capture one elite soldier!" He recalled Abnaier''s impassioned speech. Had they all died, what would he have said then? But not even half of his forces had died. No, only a very small number had been killed. Two shamans, two magicians, a few mercenaries, and two swordsmen from the Hurrier family. The number of regular soldiers lost was small. The enemy had evaded them. A retreat path that seemed impossible, one that no one would ever believe if told. The commander of the Gray Dogs acknowledged it. ''He can''t be caught.'' Only the report remained. Did Abnaier truly think that sacrificing a thousand soldiers would be worth catching that man? Abnaier couldn''t even become a failure. He had been denied that opportunity. Abnaier acknowledged that something had gone wrong with Galah and the Knight. "They''re not coming." As he looked toward the distant battlefield, his adjutant Nilf lowered her head. With this, Abnaier had bet everything. It was as if he had gambled with the King of the Kingdom himself. The end was approaching. "What about those who said they were confident in assassinations?" Even those who had worked tirelessly under the cover of darkness. "They''re not responding. They''ve either fled, or..." "You mean, they''ve been taken out." Flee? They could not escape. The moment Abnaier even lifted a finger, their entire clan would be doomed. In other words, they had been taken out. By whom? It was unbelievable. It was a complete defeat. "Hahahaha." Abnaier laughed. If he didn''t feel a sense of emptiness, then he wouldn''t be human. "Is the world against me? Has the goddess of fortune turned her back on me? Or did I miss something? What did I miss?" He muttered to himself. The calm words he spoke felt like daggers he was plunging into himself. What Abnaier didn''t know, Nilf couldn''t have known either. Nilf kept silent. They were inside the command tent. Only the two of them remained. Abnaier sat down in a chair by the stove and lowered his head. The hot flames scorched a few strands of his hair. Crackling sounds came from the fire as embers jumped from the stove. Some of the embers even landed on Abnaier''s face, but he didn''t even flinch, lost in his thoughts. He kept pondering. Should he curse everything for not making sense? Or should he accept it? What should he accept? What was there to accept? Was it that luck hadn''t been on his side? Or how had they escaped? What had happened to Galah and the Junior Knight? He had sent them to intercept. It was his second plan to capture the elite soldiers. But that plan was cut short before it could even begin. He had sent them to capture a few conspicuous ones from the enemy''s camp and return. But had they been captured in turn? Could it be them? What happened to Ayada? What about the mage who grasped the river? And what of the assassination clan? What had happened to them? They had been assigned to kill the enemy commander, but there had been no disturbances in the enemy camp. They had disappeared without a sound. How could that be? ''Did they send a knight from Naurilia?'' "Nilf!" Without realizing it, he spoke. "Was it a knight? A red cloak? Cyprus?" He shouted the names of those infamous in Aspen, but it was meaningless. The most important task Nilf had was to monitor the inside of Naurilia. They couldn''t send knights now. That was the conclusion. "No." Nilf''s voice lowered to almost nothing. Abnaier closed his mouth again. His mind continued to explore possibilities and search, but would there be any answers? If one didn''t know that Enkrid was repeating today, it would be impossible to understand what was happening. "I''ve lost." A clean defeat. When considering the possibilities, the enemy could do too many things. Perhaps during the fight, they grew to the level of knights, or maybe they were knights from the beginning without anyone knowing. In that case, it was inevitable that something had happened to Galaph and the knight. The outcome of the situation on their side was clear. The assassination clan was taken out in turn. Could it be that the fairies were involved? He had heard there were fairy warriors among the enemy. However, even if they were fairies, it couldn''t have been an easy task. But, let''s assume they had hidden skills. Then there was Enkrid¡ªEnkrid, Enkrid. Enkrid was the one who slipped away. That side was truly beyond comprehension. What kind of person could do that? Maybe it was sheer luck. But if not... "A genius of intuitive judgment." A commander who acts with his senses, not his head. He had heard of such people. He never thought there could be such a person. Intuition is the sum of experience. You cannot discuss tactics purely with instinct. You can hope for luck by sensing the flow of military morale once or twice, but in general, you need knowledge to develop intuition. Only then can your instincts be the basis for judgment. Thus, experience must back up intuition before one can sense danger. But the enemy was a late-blooming genius, not a commander who had spent his life on the battlefield. Even an experienced veteran couldn''t do this. Not even a veteran who had fought a hundred battles could have slipped away. Yet, he was missed. "I can''t just let him go, can I?" he murmured. He had used every means available, but there was still something left to gain by risking his own life. "Are you going to use it?" Nilf asked knowingly, and he nodded in understanding. "I have to finish what I started." By bringing in mages and junior knights, had unexpectedly acquired new allies. However, using them meant admitting his defeat. Once he returned to the empire, he would face considerable criticism. He might even lose his position. It would be a miracle if he didn''t face execution. But even so, he couldn''t let it end in defeat. Abnaier stepped outside. "I don''t think I''ve ever lost so thoroughly before." None of his plans had come to fruition. What were his original plans? The top priority had been to reduce the enemy''s main forces, represented by elite troops. The first target was Enkrid, and the second was his subordinate forces. "I never thought Ayada would fail." Her eyes were special. In some ways, they were even better at reading talent than the Frook''s ability assessment. Eyes imbued with ''Will'' could recognize an opponent''s strength at a glance. Thanks to this, Ayada had earned the nickname "The One Who Never Fights Losing Battles." She herself liked to walk around with the title of "the most beautiful woman in Aspen," but... "How could Ayada have failed?" It didn''t make sense, but he had to force himself to understand. He couldn''t stop here. Ayada the knight, always finds and kills her target. Galaph had been kept as a trump card for later. Enkrid should have been captured and killed. That had been the primary goal. And this wasn''t the end. There had been further plans. Throwing away a thousand soldiers to kill a single enemy wasn''t the conclusion he had envisioned. There had also been secondary objectives. "It''s regrettable, so regrettable." With this battle, Aspen could have at least gained the Green Pearl. If things had gone as planned, it could have happened. After capturing the enemy''s elite forces, he had plans for what to do next, but now those plans were useless. What remained was either stubbornness or lingering attachment. He didn''t know which. Abnaier gritted his teeth. *** "Is that sprained?" At Enkrid''s question, Ragna raised his arm, which was wrapped with a torn piece of clothing. "It''s sprained," Ragna replied nonchalantly. Was that all it took? Was it really that simple? Even though Ragna clearly had an injury that seemed close to a serious wound, he said it as though it was nothing. Without proper treatment, his arm would be unusable. Of course, Enkrid wasn''t in a normal state either. "My whole body is sprained too," he said, inspecting his own body. Ragna didn''t even smile. Esther, who was below them, made a curious sound, almost a growl. Enkrid made a half-hearted joke and turned around. There were no traces of the ones that had been chasing them. Had they escaped? It seemed so. The ominous feeling that had loomed over them earlier and the sense of impending doom were completely gone. Now, what should they do? Should they relax? Perhaps it was time to. "Yaaaaa!" A cry, almost like a cheer, came from afar. It was a loud female voice. When Enkrid squinted his eyes, he saw Dunbakel rushing toward them. Dunbakel was also covered in blood, her white fur stained red, making her look like a dark-red beast. Her fur was now a mixture of white and dark red, patchy like a spotted cat. ''She looks like a spotted cat.'' Enkrid had an unimportant thought. She came charging toward them. Behind her, the movement of their own forces could also be seen. It was thanks to Krais not being able to hold back and sending troops. "My fiance?, are you going to do this every time I take my eyes off of you?" Shinar came from behind Dunbakel. She lightly tapped the ground and leaped forward, moving quickly, characteristic of the light movements of a fairy. As she approached, she spoke, and only then did Enkrid realize. ''Tomorrow.'' Today was drawing to a close. The long sun cast a shadow stretching down the hill. The light that had illuminated everything was fading beyond the western horizon. It was the time when the orange-hued sunset began to speak of a new day, different from the previous one. Enkrid basked in that light. He had survived, fought, and was now ready to greet tomorrow. "Let''s go back." Enkrid spoke, but no one knew what was going on with him. They couldn''t know the details. However, the regiment soldiers had seen Enkrid fighting. It was known that he had charged into the midst of the enemy alone, swinging his sword like a madman. To someone trapped in the curse of repeating today, it was something from long ago, yet to those around him, it had only happened a day or two before. Aaaaaah! The roar tore through the air. It was a song for the hero who had pierced through the enemy''s lines and returned alive. "What kills me!" "Makes me stronger!" "Death!" Even the trivial slogans echoed. To Enkrid, all of it felt distant. The sounds seemed to fade away. As he wondered why, his body began to tilt. Someone came to support him. Unexpectedly, Ragna placed his shoulder under Enkrid''s. "Idiot." Ragna muttered to Enkrid. With the sunset behind them, both wounded men staggered. Ragna wasn''t in any condition to walk properly either. Making it this far was a feat in itself. "Grrr." Esther, who was behind them, shook her head. It seemed like she was calling them idiots. "Alright." Dunbakel stepped forward. She was just as exhausted. There were so many skilled fighters on the enemy side. She hadn''t been in a life-or-death situation, but she was physically drained. However, she wasn''t about to collapse from exhaustion. Dunbakel lifted Enkrid up. The soft, beast-like fur from her body cradled Enkrid as she lifted him. "Wow, you''re soft." Enkrid muttered through his haze. Indeed, she was soft. "Did you take some medicine or something while fighting?" Dunbakel grumbled. Enkrid glanced back again. The enemy behind the hill wasn''t getting any closer. "I could carry him too." Shinar, who was next to them, spoke, but Dunbakel ignored her and kept moving forward. Ragna, who had tried to help, finally collapsed. Several soldiers took care of Ragna. It was unbelievable that he had made it this far. There was hardly a part of him that wasn''t injured. Aaaaah? The cheering quickly died down. They weren''t chasing after the enemy, but seeing the two of them walk back, it was a miracle they were still moving. Among the cheering, some sharp-eyed soldiers stepped forward. "Clear the path!" "Inside!" "Medics!" The soldiers scattered, doing their tasks. The commanders moved into action. Enkrid and Ragna entered the unit. Esther, following behind them, took one look at Enkrid''s condition and shook her head in silence. It looked as though he had crossed dozens of life-and-death situations. Although Ragna appeared to be more injured on the outside, in reality, Enkrid was in a much worse state. There were broken or dislocated bones, showing just how much he had pushed himself. Ragna wasn''t in perfect condition, but... Esther had little interest in Ragna. By the time the sunset passed and the evening arrived, they could receive treatment within the unit, and Enkrid was attended to by Garrett, whose eyes sparkled with energy. Though it was called medical care, its true purpose seemed to be elsewhere. "You didn''t hurt your mouth, huh?" Garrett was probably hoping to hear some interesting stories. Shinar, overhearing, gave him a pointed look. "I think you need to learn how to respect the wounded who led the victory in battle." It seemed like he was about to hit Garrett if he kept pushing it. Garrett, quick to pick up on the mood, said, "Nuart, I messed up, didn''t I?" Nuart, always there to back him up, immediately responded, "Yes, and if it goes on, my superior might change." "Why would it change?" "If you die, it''ll change." "Let''s go." Were they keeping him around just to entertain them? Enkrid, wrapped in bandages, lay back and watched the two chatter away. "Tell me later." Garrett said as he left. "Focus on your treatment." Shinar, seemingly lost in thought, stood by. "Not going? I''m sleepy." "Sleep. Let me watch you sleep." Enkrid hadn''t yet grown used to the fairy''s humor. Slowly, Enkrid let go of his consciousness. He returned to the camp, receiving cheers, though his memories of the events were fragmented. He had pushed his body that far. Finally, he entered the medical tent, ate a little food, had ointments and herbs applied, and lay down. His whole body felt like it was burning up. If he wasn''t tough, it would have been hard to even survive. Enkrid fell asleep. When he closed his eyes, he saw a black river. A ferryman. "The first is turmoil, the second is ignorance, and the third is despair." Enkrid couldn''t understand what that meant. The ferryman today was much more somber than usual, and Enkrid himself was so exhausted that his mouth couldn''t move, even in his dreams. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters Your support is apreciated! https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 317 - The Assassin’s Waltz Chapter 317 - 317 - The Assassin''s Waltz His body demanded recovery, Enkrid repeated the same grueling day, pushing himself through fire and fury. Dunbakel and Shinar moved swiftly to deal with the light cavalry attacking their rear, clashing with the enemy in fierce, bloody combat. Meanwhile, Ragna, excitedly proclaiming he had discovered a "turning point," rambled on with his usual nonsense, something about brown excrement. Jaxen, however, was busy in his own way. Hmm. For the first time in a long while, Jaxen caught the faint scent of his own kind in the air. Not that there was an actual smell. It was his sharpened senses blending into an almost sixth sense, allowing him to "perceive" the presence as a kind of smell. Silent footsteps. A blade approaching. The intuition painted itself in his mind, visualizing the threat before it arrived. Jaxen slipped out from among the soldiers. His opponents also recognized him instantly. They were members of the infamous assassination lineage who had founded Aspen''s assassin guild, The Monster''s Swamp. They were not just any guild members but the actual masterminds behind the organization, while the official guild master was little more than a figurehead. These were three assassins who carried absolute confidence in their own skills. As soon as they identified Jaxen, their bodies moved in unison. "There''s an amateur among them. Let''s kill him and move on." Without exchanging words, their intentions aligned through their glances. Jaxen deliberately made himself noticeable, allowing small sounds and traces to leak, intentionally luring them. Yes, this was a lure. It was an invitation to kill. While Jaxen was skilled in such combat, he broadcasted subtle signs that he was inferior to them. It was a calculated provocation, almost a seductive dance inviting them into his trap. "Three." Counting the faint killing intent pursuing him, Jaxen confirmed the number of enemies. He maneuvered with the grace of a tango dancer, slipping through the allied ranks until the three assassins followed suit. Within the formation, an older soldier, awkwardly wearing his helmet, stumbled as if clutching his spear to his chest. The old soldier fell with an exaggerated motion, letting out a groan of "Oof!" as his knees hit the ground with a loud thud. The spectacle was oddly captivating, drawing not only the enemy''s gaze but also the attention of nearby soldiers. Amusingly, the uniform he wore was that of the Border Guard, stolen at some point. Without looking, Jaxen knew the "old soldier" had hit the ground with a gloved hand rather than his knees to create the noise. At the same time, he sensed a blade flying toward his back. It was a needle-like sword. Jaxen mimicked the clumsy antics of the old soldier. "Ah!" He stumbled forward as if startled, collapsing in a manner that resembled a bumbling rookie soldier. "You idiot!" An allied commander watching from behind shouted in frustration. To the commander, it looked as though Jaxen had broken formation and narrowly escaped an enemy ambush. The commander''s anger was understandable, as it appeared that Jaxen''s mistake had nearly cost him his life. But Jaxen had no intention of dragging out the fight. He had grown weary of this kind of battle after experiencing it far too many times. Even as he fell, Jaxen had already thrown a silent dagger, a bladeless knife designed to kill without sound. Thuck. The old soldier raised a hand to clutch his chest, where the dagger had landed as though it were a flower pinned to his chest. "Blocked it." Jaxen muttered indifferently, his body slightly bent. Through his lowered gaze, the old soldier caught sight of Jaxen''s expression. His eyes, devoid of emotion, were shaded with crimson hues encircled by a deep, earthy brown. That stare alone sent shivers down the old soldier''s spine. The assassin pulled the blade from the back of his hand, his movements fluid as he gestured with his fingers. [Kill him.] The order was conveyed through hand signs. It was reflexive, driven by the ominous feeling crawling up his back. The other two assassins sprang into action, throwing poison-laced daggers and releasing toxic smoke at Jaxen''s feet. The allied commander, who had initially moved to save the "rookie," stopped in his tracks. Upon closer inspection, the "rookie" wasn''t a fool but Jaxen. Although Jaxen had deliberately shown his face to signal the commander not to interfere, the commander couldn''t fully grasp his intent. Even so, if someone rushed in and died, it was their own fault. Jaxen had maintained enough distance to ensure their safety. The reason he had left the formation was simple: he didn''t want to involve allied soldiers. Using an allied soldier as a human shield would''ve made the fight easier, but Jaxen refrained. Even Enkrid, the captain, would''ve approved. He disliked unnecessary sacrifices. "I''m worrying about the strangest things." Jaxen felt as though the blade he carried in his heart was becoming dull. But that didn''t mean his skills, honed to perfection, had lost their edge. Swish, swish! Daggers flew through the air, steel wires tightened, aiming for his ankles. Jaxen detected and evaded them all. His senses were monstrous. Of course, they were. In terms of sheer sensory prowess, Jaxen was a genius who had surpassed even the fairies through sheer effort. The outcome was predictable. The assassins resisted, then fled, but Jaxen hunted them down one by one, carving new mouths into their throats or pinning daggers into their hearts like macabre flowers. By the time it was over, they were far from the battlefield. No one, ally or foe, had witnessed the fight clearly. Even if they had, all they would''ve seen were flashes of movement and fleeting shadows. The last opponent, disguised as an old soldier, muttered bitterly as he lay dying, his voice tinged with resentment. "Who are you?" "Would knowing make it less bitter?" Jaxen replied indifferently. "Shit..." Blood trickled from the man''s lips. A dagger was lodged in his chest. Removing it would only hasten his death, though leaving it might grant a few fleeting moments. Jaxen saw no reason for such charity. With a swift motion, he pulled the dagger free and leaped back, just as the man used his dying breath to fire a needle he had concealed in his mouth. The needle zipped harmlessly through the air. "This bastard..." the assassin thought, astonished by Jaxen''s unrelenting vigilance. Regardless of his opponent''s manner or gaze, Jaxen remained composed, staring indifferently at the dying man from a short distance. The assassin trembled violently until life finally left him. Jaxen took the time to inspect his wounds. Traces of poison were evident; black foam bubbled on his skin. Though potent, the toxin wasn''t fatal to him¡ªit was a type he recognized. As he tended to himself, he habitually searched the assassin''s body. Among the usual items¡ªneedles, poison powder, and smoke bombs¡ªhe spotted a tattoo: a black lily. It was a symbol Jaxen had been pursuing, though he hadn''t expected to find it among Aspen''s assassins. He stared at it for a moment. This discovery left him with no choice. He would have to leave briefly. "Briefly?" The thought of returning struck him as strange. When had he ever considered having a place to come back to? The notion of a home or sanctuary felt foreign, even indulgent. Despite this, Jaxen resolved to do everything necessary to ensure he could return. He still wanted to see what Enkrid would do. That man had an inexplicable quality that made him impossible to ignore. "I''ll let him know before I go," Jaxen decided. A short report requesting leave should suffice. Enkrid alternated between sleeping and waking, fully aware that rest and proper nutrition were crucial for recovery. His body, shaped by the Isolation Technique, demanded it with uncompromising urgency. Hunger became his singular focus. "Is there anything to eat?" he asked as soon as he regained consciousness. "Y-yes, sir! Right away!" An overly disciplined medic scrambled off, returning with a bowl of watery porridge. "I''ll feed you!" the medic offered eagerly. "No need." Despite the bandages wrapped around his arms, Enkrid wasn''t so incapacitated that he couldn''t handle a spoon. Snatching the bowl and utensil, he swiftly finished the meal. "Don''t eat so fast," the medic cautioned. "I''ll be fine." Even before mastering the Isolation Technique, Enkrid''s body had been adept at digesting food. Proper rest and nutrition were survival skills he had honed as a mercenary¡ªessential when strength and stamina were paramount. Now, with his current condition, he thought he might even digest dirt if necessary. "Eat well, rest well¡ªthat''s the foundation," he muttered, closing his eyes to sleep again. It was during one such moment of rest that Jaxen appeared. Enkrid awoke to the faint scent of blood and earth, his half-lidded eyes catching sight of Jaxen''s grim expression and dried, blood-matted hair. "I need to step away for a while," Jaxen said without preamble. "If I stop you, will you stay?" Enkrid asked, his tone casual, almost curious. It was an unusual question, one he wouldn''t typically ask. Still groggy from sleep, it slipped out unbidden. Jaxen''s expression didn''t waver. His answer was clear without words. "Go ahead," Enkrid finally said. He respected that each of his men had lines they would not cross, principles they would not forsake. Though he didn''t always know what those principles were, he acknowledged their existence. As Jaxen turned to leave, Enkrid added, "Don''t be late." "I''m not one to get lost," Jaxen replied, his tone flat but subtly laced with humor. Neither smiled, yet the exchange carried the weight of a shared jest. Exhaustion soon pulled Enkrid back into sleep. When he next opened his eyes, Jaxen was gone. Instead, he found Shinar sitting by his bedside, holding a spoon. "Ah." The fairy, with her inhuman beauty, was expressionless as she wordlessly motioned for him to open his mouth. "You''re not busy?" Enkrid asked. "Shouldn''t I do this much for my betrothed who just came back from death''s door?" It was a joke, fairy-style. Enkrid blinked at her, too tired to argue. Reluctantly, he opened his mouth, allowing Shinar to feed him. "Want me to chew it for you?" she teased. "It''s porridge. What''s there to chew?" "Just saying it''s the thought that counts." "Fairy society seems quite... liberal." "Is that an insult?" "Not really." "I''m the exception." "And it''s only with you." Enkrid still found fairy-style jokes awkward. This was about as much as he had adjusted to them. "Shall I prepare a fairy-style meal next time?" Shinar spoke as always, with not even a trace of a smile. "What are the ingredients?" Frogs ate bugs, after all. "A green nutritional porridge packed with high-quality fiber." "And the taste?" "Exquisite, heavenly flavor." "I''ll pass." No matter how he thought about it, it seemed like something that would torment his taste buds. The porridge he was eating now suited him perfectly. It was made by grinding meat and onions finely, with spices added on top. Whoever prepared this dish had done an excellent job. It was superb. Since collapsing that evening, he''d spent most of the day resting. Enkrid had slept for the majority of the day. In between, he saw off Jaxen, ate some porridge, and occasionally woke to see Ragna sleeping. Dunbakel also came by to grumble. "This fight was too easy. I can do much better." But why was she saying that to him? Yeah, I know you fight well. Anyone can tell just by watching you get beaten up by Rem. "I''ll do better next time." Why she kept emphasizing that was beyond him. Sleeping, eating, and resting became a cycle. His body demanded recovery. Enkrid listened to his body''s needs. Since his waking hours were short, he had no time to review the fight. Occasionally, he wondered where Jaxen had gone, but knowing wouldn''t change anything, and he had no particular desire to find out. If it had been something worth telling, Jaxen would''ve told him. Enkrid focused on eating, drinking, and resting. "Do you work hard at resting too?" A female soldier asked when he briefly woke. Blinking twice, Enkrid recalled her name. "Helma." Beside her stood the seasoning expert soldier. This one seemed to have gotten injured in battle, as his head and shoulders were wrapped in bandages. Nearby, another face hesitated awkwardly. Who was that again? "Why hide your identity like that? You surprised me." Helma spoke, and the soldier next to her nodded. "I... I have committed a grave sin!" The third soldier suddenly bowed, head hitting the ground with a small puff of dust. "For what?" "I... spoke out of turn..." "Oh, forget it. It''s in the past. "You didn''t even know who I was, so technically, I was the one being deceptive." "No, absolutely not!" So it was that loudmouthed soldier. The one who had said something about stepping forward if there was going to be a fight. Enkrid dismissed it casually. More interesting was the bowl next to Helma. A savory aroma wafted to his nose, rekindling his hunger. "Feels like a god of beggars took up residence in my stomach." In truth, it was merely his body''s demand for recovery after blood loss. His body had already become that of a regenerative deity, optimized for healing. Audin would''ve been proud if he had seen this. "Brother, they say the ground hardens after rain. Once you recover, you''ll grow stronger. Shall I break a leg for you?" Audin might have said such a grim joke without hesitation. The thought almost made him laugh. Every single one of his comrades pretended otherwise, but deep down, they were dying to banter with him. Rem was the worst offender. What would he say if he saw him now? "Hey, does it hurt? Mind if I poke it?" Yeah, probably something like that. What a lunatic barbarian. Even now, Rem was probably doing nothing but somehow getting blamed. He might be picking his ear with his pinky finger at this very moment. As Enkrid got momentarily lost in thought with a vacant expression, Helma spoke and lifted the bowl. "Would you like some?" Enkrid reflexively opened his mouth. Only after eating the porridge did he wonder why he didn''t just feed himself. This odd habit had probably formed thanks to Shinar. Still, it felt awkward to suddenly start feeding himself after already being fed. As spoonfuls entered his mouth, he noticed the unique flavor. Soft beans and savory meat blended together. "It''s boiled chicken and beans," a soldier explained beside him. The seasoning expert also seemed skilled in cooking. "This is good." "Thank you." He looked embarrassed. "I want to feed you too," the third soldier blurted out absurdly. What nonsense was this? "Are you crazy?" Helma preemptively shot it down. Good job, Helma. Enkrid had barely woken up. After eating and sitting idly for a bit, drowsiness crept back in. His body still demanded rest. "It was an honor," Helma said just before he fell asleep. Enkrid only nodded slightly before dozing off again. "I''ll be applying for a transfer. I want to fight by your side," said the loud soldier. Whether he transferred or not was his business. Just before sleep overtook him, Enkrid faintly heard Ragna''s voice nearby. "Won''t you feed me too?" To which Helma replied, "Your arms seem fine to me." Truthfully, his arms were fine as well. In his dreams, Enkrid wielded a sword with his toes, arm-less. Ragna appeared, asking why he was doing that, to which he replied that he had no arms. A ridiculous dream. Thus, the cycle of sleeping, eating, and waking repeated. The next afternoon, Krais arrived to inform him that Aspen had retreated. "Good news." "Though who knows what they''re planning next," Krais replied, suspicion clouding his face. He looked as if someone had cheated him out of his money. Was he bitter about how things had turned out? Enkrid didn''t ask and simply went back to sleep. After two days of continuous rest, he could move again. "Impressive," said Shinar, genuinely surprised, though her expression remained as stoic as ever. Still, she was surprised. How could his body recover so quickly? A normal person wouldn''t have survived such injuries, let alone recovered in a few days. Could the ointment she had given him truly heal everything it touched? Shinar recalled stories of miracle ointments made with divine holy water, but her fairy tribe''s ointments had no such divine properties. "Did you eat something special without telling me?" "What are you talking about?" Finding the remark meaningless, Enkrid ignored her and inspected his body. "Let''s see." If his normal condition was a ten, he was at about a five now. His body wasn''t fully healed yet, but he no longer needed to remain bedridden. His body itched for action. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters Your support is apreciated! https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 318 - I should commend everyone for their hard work. Chapter 318 - 318 - I should commend everyone for their hard work. As Enkrid got up, his head spun. He had been lying down for far too long. Though he stumbled briefly, he quickly regained his balance. His well-trained senses adapted to the subtle differences in his usual state after days of repetition. "Not bad," he mused, appreciating his body''s resilience. Looking around, he noticed Ragna sitting nearby, eating porridge with just one hand. His other arm and torso were wrapped in bandages. After swallowing a mouthful, Ragna''s gaze swept over Enkrid, observing his full figure. Shinar''s eyes followed a similar path, both reflecting the same thought¡ªsomething about Enkrid seemed different since he got up. It was only natural. Throughout his countless days of repetition, Enkrid hadn''t just mastered evasive techniques; his body had also undergone subtle yet significant changes. However, neither Ragna nor Shinar voiced their thoughts. For Ragna, this only fueled his anticipation for a sparring match. His unyielding determination remained intact. "Is it good?" Enkrid asked, breaking the silence. Ragna nodded. Though no one had fed him, a soldier named Helma, along with her companion, had cooked the porridge. Its flavor was distinct from their usual meals¡ªit included the tender flesh of eel. As Ragna ate, Enkrid began to stretch and loosen his body. Two days of inactivity had been enough. Ragna sat upright as well, seemingly ready to take full advantage of their rare downtime. The unit''s unpredictability often made their motives difficult to discern, and Enkrid saw no need to dig deeper into their thoughts. "How''s the recovery going?" "I just twisted it slightly," Ragna replied. If this "slight twist" had kept him in bed for three days, a more serious injury would have been catastrophic. Typical, Enkrid thought, though he kept his observations to himself. People like Ragna, Rem, Jaxen, and Audin were all the same¡ªtalking wouldn''t change their ways. Instead of engaging in banter, Enkrid focused on his recovery, performing movements from the Isolation Technique. These exercises stimulated his body, increasing blood circulation and generating warmth. Even during winter, a faint steam began to rise from his skin. "Sprains? Move to generate heat. Fractures? Move to generate heat. Cuts? Move to generate heat." This was Audin''s approach to injuries. Though even Rem had laughed in disbelief, there was a kernel of truth to it¡ªprovided one''s body had been conditioned with the Isolation Technique. The enhanced blood flow accelerated healing, and stronger muscles contributed to improved recovery rates. Enkrid had experienced this firsthand. Still, his current recovery speed was abnormal, bordering on monstrous. Of course, Esther, curled up nearby, had contributed as well. Her presence at his side had subtly enhanced his regenerative abilities. It was a minor trick, barely a spell, but it made a difference. Such factors explained why Enkrid was already on his feet, surprising Shinar despite her usual composed demeanor. "You really do have a remarkable body," Shinar remarked, sitting in a chair near the tent entrance with one knee drawn up. Enkrid nodded casually, heat radiating from his body as he performed his exercises in a short-sleeved shirt. Shinar''s gaze briefly scanned his form, but Enkrid paid it no mind. "That''s true," he replied. For him, this routine of eating, sleeping, recovering, and analyzing battles was ordinary. It felt natural to be surrounded by his comrades like this. The medical tent was spacious, capable of accommodating about twenty soldiers. A large brazier stood in the center, with Esther curled up asleep beside it. Ragna sat nearby, and Enkrid moved around the brazier as he warmed up. Shinar stayed by the entrance, and further in, Dunbakel dozed off. Though she bore a few scratches, her injuries weren''t severe. Enkrid had heard she''d charged into the fray like a madwoman after learning of a trap. Once, she had served as a henchwoman for the Black Blade, yet now, she was an integral part of their unit. Why? Enkrid often wondered what drew these people to him. Krais, nicknamed "Big Eyes" for his distinctive feature, sat a couple of steps away from the brazier, his expression thoughtful as always. "It was my mistake," Krais said abruptly. Enkrid paused his movements, looking over at him. "What was?" "I didn''t anticipate the situation properly. It made things dangerous." Though his words lacked context, Enkrid grasped the meaning. This was the same "Big Eyes" who strained himself trying to predict the enemy''s intent. "Isn''t it strange to expect to predict everything?" Enkrid replied sincerely. "Especially when the enemy is insane." Krais turned his gaze toward Enkrid, his eyes brimming with emotion¡ªa mix of doubt and disbelief. "Even when you almost died because of it?" Krais locked eyes with Enkrid. How could there be no resentment in those eyes? Why did they always seem so steady? Krais couldn''t help but wonder. How could a person be like this? "I''m alive. I''m no ghost." The message was clear: he hadn''t died, so it was fine. "You really are something else," Krais muttered. Though a flicker of gloom passed through him, he quickly buried it. There was no point dwelling on it. He knew what kind of person his commander was. ''What''s with him?'' Krais thought. Even now, Enkrid''s gaze seemed to silently ask, What''s bothering you? There was no blame, not even after a brush with death that had been Krais''s fault. Ragna, sitting nearby, seemed equally uninterested. When Enkrid''s questioning look fell on him, Ragna''s expression simply asked, What''s there to ask? "Forget it. It''s nothing," Krais said, shaking off the lingering emotions. There was no point asking questions. Enkrid wouldn''t care either way, and even if he did, it would only hurt Krais in the end. He wasn''t about to fall into a spiral of self-recrimination over this. Krais settled his thoughts with cold rationality. Next step? Review. As he had learned from Enkrid, he analyzed the sequence of events: Enkrid''s near escape, Ragna''s actions, and even the enemy''s movements. The conclusion was clear¡ªhe had been outplayed. What had he been thinking, trying to anticipate everything like some master strategist? And yet, the risk had nearly cost Enkrid his life. Even more unsettling was the enemy''s strategy. They had once saved his life, yet here he had nearly gotten the man who saved him killed. The sheer audacity of the enemy''s plan chilled him. ''Deploy a group of apprentice knights to make us cautious, and then use regular soldiers to capture an elite?'' A mad plan, but effective. Sacrificing a thousand soldiers to capture a single target, who wasn''t even a knight? Insane, but feasible. He should have foreseen it. But he hadn''t. Why? Lack of experience. But chalking it up to experience was a poor excuse. Such scenarios could happen again. What now? Krais resolved to broaden his imagination, to consider the most bizarre possibilities the enemy might concoct¡ªshort of something absurd like a dragon swooping down from the sky. Though this wasn''t Enkrid''s intent, Krais reflected deeply. Above all, watching his commander¡ªso unwavering, even in the face of his own mortality¡ªleft an impression. "Never again," Krais thought, vowing not to repeat the same mistake. After organizing his thoughts, he blurted out, "Why don''t we just open a salon?" It was a meaningless suggestion. He knew Enkrid wouldn''t listen. "If you open one, I''ll visit," Enkrid replied casually. Sure you will, Krais thought, incredulous. Enkrid would more likely spend that time swinging his sword. ''He says things he doesn''t mean so easily,'' Krais mused, though he knew that wasn''t entirely true. If a salon were opened, Enkrid might indeed drop by¡ªif only briefly, because Enkrid always kept his word. But Krais wouldn''t be surprised if Enkrid spent his time there training instead. ''That would be the worst. Absolutely the worst,'' Krais thought, halting his imagination before it spiraled further. Enkrid, who had been stretching and touching his toes, glanced at Krais, amused by his ever-changing expressions. It was entertaining to watch. Krais, finally finishing his train of thought, shook his head. Regret was regret, but he had learned his lesson. It was time to move forward. It was a lesson Krais had learned from childhood. So, he let it go. There was no consolation to be had, but he brushed it off. What good was lamenting a mistake now? Did I even do anything? The truth was, he had done plenty. If not for Krais, Enkrid would have fallen into every layer of Abnaier''s trap. Esther had also played her part, eliminating the wizard Galaph and cutting off a crucial means for the enemy to block Enkrid''s retreat. Ragna''s actions were no less significant. What role had the knight-apprentice and knight he killed been meant to serve? Shinar and Dunbakel, too, had made substantial contributions. Without them, the initial skirmish might have turned into a rout. If the enemy''s rear force had been more than a feint, they might have posed a genuine threat to Border Guard. That would have endangered their supply lines, cutting off their escape and throwing the battlefield into chaos. The people gathered here had held this front together. Enkrid sincerely believed that. If ever there were words to be spoken without reservation or hesitation, it was this kind. He halted his movements, knowing how to imbue words with sincerity and resolve. Standing upright, he lowered his hands, scanned the room, and spoke. "I should say this¡ªyou''ve all done well." Ragna paused mid-spoonful. Krais blinked in surprise. Dunbakel lifted her drowsy head. Near the tent''s entrance, Shinar fixed her gaze on Enkrid, her lips curling into a smirk. "Not a hint of blush, and you say that with a straight face. Is this why they call you charming?" she teased, clasping her hands in front of her raised knee. "That''s not what I meant," Enkrid replied, pushing back against her fae-like humor. "But wasn''t the hard work yours, Commander?" Krais asked, blinking again, his tone incredulous. Esther, stirring from her nap, glanced briefly at Enkrid before tapping her paw against the ground, as if to say, Don''t mention it. Ragna simply stared at Enkrid and, with quiet resolve, said, "I fought for myself," before resuming his meal. Dunbakel nodded in agreement, adding, "Yeah, I''ve worked hard, too." Enkrid couldn''t help but think how fascinating they all were¡ªa whimsical fae, a human, a beastkin, and a wizard. "Where''s Jaxen?" Krais asked. "He said he''d be back later," Enkrid replied. "Where''d he go?" "No idea." "And you just let him go?" "Why not?" Fair enough. It wasn''t like they could stop him even if they tried. From their days in the "Troublemaker Unit," Enkrid''s approach had always been the same: Do what you need to do. I won''t get in your way. Ragna showed no interest in Jaxen''s whereabouts. What did it matter if that sneaky stray cat wandered off? For now, Ragna sat deep in thought, reflecting on what he had gained. His spark of determination hadn''t yet dimmed. Shinar observed Enkrid, while Dunbakel sharpened her scimitar. Swish, swish. She sprinkled water from her canteen and pressed the blade against the whetstone, honing its edge with the practiced hands of a seasoned mercenary. Krais sat quietly, marveling at how such an eccentric group had come together. Everyone spent the moment in their own way until Enkrid, heating up from his exercises, was interrupted by the sound. Rip! The sharp tearing of the tent fabric. Shinar reacted instantly. Clang. Without hesitation, she drew her knives and rose to her feet. Esther''s eyes snapped open, and Ragna gripped his spoon like a sword. "Well, well," came a voice through the torn tent, accompanied by a gust of cold wind. "Black hair, blue eyes, and a decently handsome face¡ªyeah, it matches." The flickering fire in the brazier flared, casting chaotic shadows. It was past dusk, the time when twilight surrendered to night. Through the torn opening, blue moonlight mingled with the red glow of the brazier, painting a surreal scene. At the juncture of those lights stood a figure. "Apologies for the intrusion," the man said. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters Your support is apreciated! https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 319 - This is Despair Chapter 319 - 319 - This is Despair Enkrid''s nightmare had manifested into reality, taking the form of the man before him. Instinctively, Enkrid''s eyes scanned the stranger. His stance was balanced yet unassuming, legs slightly apart, hands relaxed at his sides. His tousled brown hair and dull eyes lacked any distinctive features. His shabby attire suggested he belonged neither to the enemy nor to his own forces. Several questions arose simultaneously. First, how had this man made it here? Second, how skilled was he? Third, what exactly was he apologizing for? "I have my reasons," the man said calmly. "So, let''s keep this clean." With that, he drew his sword. Clang. It was a cheap shortsword, and Enkrid didn''t need a closer look to notice its flaws. The blade was nicked, the leather wrapping on the hilt hung loose in a single strip, and the blade itself was dull and rusted. What struck Enkrid wasn''t the sword''s appearance but his inability to sense it until the man had drawn it. From the mere act of unsheathing, a sense of foreboding washed over him. It was a feeling unlike the oppressive presence of the ogre leader or the knight-apprentice Aisha. If their aura was indirect, this was pure inevitability¡ªan overwhelming certainty that the blade would strike and could not be stopped. Why? Enkrid''s finely honed senses, sharpened through relentless training, had reached a new threshold. His Sense of Evasion had transcended into something more¡ªan instinct that delivered a dire warning. It was an unexpected gift, yet entirely useless in this moment. The sheer weight of dread bound his limbs like chains, leaving him frozen. "Betrothed," Shinar murmured, breaking the silence. What had her faery-like intuition discerned? "We need to dodge," she said. Then, the man disappeared. Enkrid''s eyes caught only an elongated afterimage as his gaze instinctively tracked the blur. The figure, now a streak of motion, had closed the distance to Shinar in an instant. Even with Enkrid''s finely tuned vision, the man''s movements appeared fragmented, almost incomprehensibly fast. Clang! Sparks flew. The sound came first, followed by the image of what had happened. Shinar had shifted into a defensive stance, but it wasn''t enough. Enkrid saw the jagged shortsword trace a line from her chest to her abdomen, slicing through as her knives deflected only part of the blow. Fae blood sprayed into the air. The force and precision of the attack combined with sheer speed overwhelmed her defenses, driving the blade forward. In that moment, Enkrid understood. This was what a perfect strike looked like¡ªa masterful blend of strength, speed, and technique. "If luck''s on your side, this might not happen again," the man said, his voice calm yet piercingly clear, as if etching itself into the air. "But even if it does, I won''t strike twice. I know this isn''t honorable, so I ask for your understanding." His words were a riddle, incomprehensible to Enkrid. What was once, and what was luck? His talk of honor was equally baffling. Yet one thing was certain¡ªShinar had fallen. Clutching her chest, she slid to the ground. Her knives clattered as she tried to brace herself, but her strength failed. Her blade merely scraped the floor as her body crumpled. Thud. "I hate this too," the man muttered, his voice sincere. As he turned, Enkrid locked eyes with him. Even if the weapon in the man''s hand had been nothing more than a rusty dagger, the result would have been the same. This man''s presence alone brought Enkrid''s questions to a single conclusion. The figure before him was no mere knight-apprentice. He was something far greater¡ªa knight. A reaper who could cut down a thousand men alone. A nightmare of the battlefield. A calamity born of human hands. A weapon capable of changing the tides of war. Enkrid''s dream had taken form, standing before him as a harbinger of death. "What the hell is this?" Krais muttered in shock from behind. "Step aside," Ragna ordered, yanking Krais back by the collar and stepping forward. His hands were empty, save for the spoon he still gripped. "What''s going on?" Dunbakel growled, her voice a low rumble. She had already completed her transformation into beast form. The man lowered his shortsword and moved toward his next target. There was no sound of his feet striking the ground, no rush of air to betray his motion. He simply moved and slashed. It was a straightforward act, yet following it with the eye was nearly impossible. This time, his target was Dunbakel. Before he reached her, Dunbakel drew her scimitar, her instincts finely tuned. If the man hadn''t moved first, she would have struck first instead. Clang. Thud! Whack! Three distinct sounds overlapped, blurring into a single moment. That''s how Enkrid heard it. The aftermath revealed itself. Enkrid couldn''t follow the shortsword''s trajectory. It was faster than before, and the man''s back obstructed his view. Instead, his eyes landed on Dunbakel. Her scimitar had been sliced cleanly in half. One shattered piece ricocheted off to the side, tearing through the tent canvas. The man''s shortsword, unimpeded, drove directly into Dunbakel''s heart. "Damn it... should''ve used a better blade," she muttered, dropping to one knee. She clutched at her split chest, but blood gushed between her fingers in thick, pulsing streams. It was a fatal wound¡ªthere was no saving her. "Come at me." The next to step forward was Ragna. He charged unarmed, even though he had no chance of victory, blade or no blade. His arm was still far from healed. The enemy wasted no words. His blade swung silently, aimed straight for Ragna''s head. Ragna didn''t falter. In an instant, he twisted his body, thrusting his uninjured hand forward. Thunk! The man''s hand intercepted it with ease. Ragna''s hand held... a spoon. With one hand gripping Ragna''s wrist, the man raised his blade with the other. "You were the most capable," the man said flatly, as he brought the sword down in one fluid motion. Ragna resisted until the very end. Twisting his body sideways, he aimed to ram his shoulder into the man, but the blade was faster. Slash! The sword took Ragna''s arm, and only his arm. Ragna tumbled to the side, blood spraying in arcs around him. The loss of his arm meant certain death if left unchecked. "See? No second chances," the man said, turning his gaze to Ragna. Enkrid understood the meaning behind those words now. No second chances. He had declared he would strike only once. "If I''m blocked, I withdraw. That''s the minimum I''ll grant you¡ªmy terms. It''s my conscience, perhaps even a sliver of honor," he added, swinging his sword again. This time, his blade aimed for Esther, who had crept behind him unnoticed. The strike was thunderous, a lightning bolt crashing down, yet fluid like raindrops trailing along a surface. Thwack! Esther lost her front paw¡ªand more. The blow cleaved through her chest. Rrrraaaaaagh! The Lakepanther''s anguished roar echoed, shaking the very air. It pierced straight to the heart. "Get out... leave," rasped Ragna, his voice weak. He tried to rise but slipped on the blood pooling beneath him, his face slamming into the ground with a sickening squelch. The earth beneath him was soaked in his own blood, and his face came up drenched in red. "Damn it..." And then, a trembling figure stepped between Enkrid and the man. It was Krais, his small frame visibly shaking. Enkrid still couldn''t move. The chains of dread immobilized him completely, a cruel reminder of the inescapable grip of fate. It felt as though the goddess of fortune herself had turned her face, revealing the cold visage of destiny. You cannot escape. This is the end. "I always figured it''d come to this... but still, Captain, I''ll repay the debt," Krais said, stepping forward to shield Enkrid. Enkrid couldn''t lift his hand. His mouth refused to open. All he could do was recall the moment he had shielded Krais in the past. "Big Eyes, run," Enkrid urged. Why had he done it back then? It wasn''t a conscious decision¡ªit was instinct. "Go. I''ll hold him off," Krais whispered, knowing as well as Enkrid that his words were meaningless. The man knew, too. He showed no emotion, no sign of exasperation or pity. He didn''t even sigh. He simply raised his blade. In the flickering light of the brazier, the blade cast multiple shadows. One shadow became real, piercing Krais''s heart. Crunch. Krais collapsed with a final gasp, blood pooling beneath him. Tears of blood spilled from his eyes. Enkrid bore witness to it all. Outwardly, he appeared calm, his face emotionless. The man with brown hair turned toward Enkrid, his expression indifferent. But the twin embers burning in his eyes were striking. Enkrid''s own eyes burned brighter than the brazier. The knight noticed. "One strike," the man muttered, exhaling a displeased sigh. He loathed the situation. Knights lived by honor, and this was far from honorable. An ambush¡ªwhat knight would resort to such tactics? Yet such musings were meaningless now. What mattered was what had happened. Everyone had fallen. Only then did Enkrid''s lips part. "Never thought I''d have to say this..." His eyes fell upon his fallen comrades: Shinar, lying motionless on the ground. Ragna, writhing with one arm missing. Dunbakel, her heart split in two. Esther, growling fiercely despite her torn chest. Krais, shielding him with a gaping wound in his chest. The only ones barely clinging to life were Ragna and Esther. Shinar was dead. Dunbakel, dead. Krais, dead. How must Ragna feel, struggling on the ground? "Leave," Ragna muttered. He told them to run, to escape¡ªeven if all that awaited was a hollow end. Even if the blade wasn''t swung again, he would die from the bleeding. And even if he survived... would that be any better? He had lost an arm, yet all he did was repeat the words run away like a broken record. It was absurd. Laughably absurd. Enkrid turned his gaze to the knight. Then, he spoke. "I guess I''ll have to die." If he died, today would repeat. And he needed that repetition. The man casually leveled his sword. "My apologies," he said, devoid of emotion. Enkrid tried to gauge the man''s skill. He couldn''t see it. It was as if he were walking down a pitch-dark road without a torch. Thud. The blade pierced his heart. Enkrid chose not to dodge. He chose to accept it. So today would repeat, for the first time. Again. For the first time, he let go. He had no other choice. Enkrid realized something anew. Shinar with his constant jokes. Dunbakel with her frequent nonsense. Lazy Ragna. Krais, obsessed with Korona. The temperamental panther wizard with her troublesome sleeping habits. They must not die. ''I won''t allow them to die'' Seeing their deaths unfold before his eyes¡ªit wasn''t something he could bear. Enkrid embraced his death. The knight''s sword, like that of a grim reaper, cleaved through his heart and withdrew. "You... I''ll kill you." Ragna''s voice, faint but persistent, echoed behind him. The voice grew distant. Enkrid endured the pain without a sound. "Yeah, live. You''ve earned it. Stop the bleeding properly," the man said. True to his word, he turned and walked away. Enkrid collapsed, closing his eyes. Death slowly enveloped him. A ripple. Of course, he saw the black river. On the flowing waters, a ferryman holding a violet lamp opened his mouth to speak. "This was despair," the ferryman said. Silence fell over the river. Instead of agreeing, Enkrid asked, "What about agony and ignorance?" It was impossible to read the ferryman''s expression. What state would he be in today? Perhaps fortunately, the ferryman chose to answer this time. As the faint movement of his lips became words, Enkrid understood. "First is agony¡ªshould you do what you need not do?" Was it a test from the ferryman, or simply fate shaped by circumstances? He didn''t know. But saving that child hadn''t been because it was necessary. Why should he agonize over doing what his heart had compelled him to? Such things weren''t worth the pain of deliberation. Thus, it wasn''t agony. At least, not to him. "Second is ignorance." Enkrid hadn''t perceived the wall. Not knowing is ignorance. In the today defined by ignorance, the ferryman had helped him. Why he had helped, Enkrid didn''t know. But even if he hadn''t, Enkrid would have understood eventually, would have overcome it. Ignorance, too, would someday be revealed, and in the meantime, Enkrid would keep moving forward. The wall of ignorance, therefore, held no real meaning. "Third is despair." Within those words lay the meaning: You cannot overcome it. The ferryman''s intent was plain. Face the knight''s blade. It was the most wretched today Enkrid had encountered. And before even that, he had to watch his comrades¡ªthose he called friends¡ªfall before his eyes. To say it left no mark would be a lie. "Savor despair." The ferryman spoke without a trace of humor, just as he always did on these todays. -------------------------------------------------------------------Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters Your support is apreciated! For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 320 - Another day of repeating death. Chapter 320 - 320 - Another day of repeating death. The second morning of extreme praise arrived. Enkrid repeated the same today once again. The chain of ominous feelings that went beyond the instinct to evade still tightened around his body. His limbs were stiff, unable to move. In the meantime, today felt no different from watching someone die. As the evening drew near, Enkrid said what needed to be said. It was the minimum preparation. "Ragna, grip the sword and rest." He had said it in advance, but the sword wasn''t the issue. He was exhausted. He was injured. He was not at his best. Knowing that didn''t make it preventable. And so it was a disaster. It was not without reason that it was called a disaster. The knight had once again killed all of his comrades. The third day passed, and then the fourth. It repeated. Ominous feelings, tightening chains, the deaths of comrades, his own death, pain, and occasionally, the ferryman on the river. "Despair." The ferryman came once again, embedding the word "despair" in Enkrid''s mind. Enkrid did not respond. "Despair." Twelve days passed. The same day repeated again and again. Bound by the chains of dread, Enkrid kept the deaths of his comrades in his eyes. He had never turned away. He couldn''t. Krais, who couldn''t even fight properly, insisted on blocking his path. The man who spoke of escape every day¡ªwhy did he not run in this moment? This was a curse. And so, he didn''t grow numb. Both physical and internal pain felt the same. He had to endure the same pain always. He had to watch everything unfold. Enkrid had never considered turning away, but pain was still pain. "This is despair." The ferryman with a light tone passed by. The twenty-second day. A stir. Just after Shinar''s chest split, Enkrid''s fingers twitched. This day felt slightly different from the previous twenty-one. "Fiance?e." She hadn''t died. He had thought she was dead on the first day, but she too was no ordinary fighter. With age, she twisted the path of the sword, minimizing the damage. Her style mixed both the sword that strikes and the one that receives. As for Ragna, he didn''t rely on speed to overcome the opponent''s strikes, but instead used his sword to block and endure with sheer strength. They were all worth learning from. A stir. Ragna, Krais, Dunbakel, Esther. After seeing all of their deaths, Enkrid found the freedom in his hands. "Finally moving." And with that, a simple remark. "Hm?" Yet, the blade in the brown-haired man''s hand pierced his heart once again. Enkrid died again. The black river and the ferryman. He kept appearing as if there were nothing else to do. "Despair." The ferryman''s unfocused gaze was now fixed on Enkrid. Enkrid looked at the ferryman with indifference. Every time he spoke of despair, there was no sign of weariness or boredom. As Enkrid continued to gaze indifferently, his body slowly began to fade. It was time to return to reality. He had to live through another day of watching his comrades die. Another day of repeating death. It was the moment where his body and face dissolved like smoke. The ferryman looked at Enkrid. He did not speak through expression. However, sometimes he would express a fragment of his inner feelings. And so it was now. As the time in the dream drew to an end and Enkrid''s body began to blur, the ferryman expressed some of his emotions. He even chose to speak them aloud. "Smile?" The river disappeared. Enkrid woke up from the dream. Thus began the start of the repeating today. It was the thirty-second day. "Such a rough dream." Enkrid mumbled as he woke up. The first thing he did was treat the past day as a dream. It wasn''t so much that he dismissed it as a dream, but rather he used it as the first step to move forward. To think that today was one he could do nothing about. Quite, no, very unpleasant, wasn''t it? It felt as though insects were crawling all over his body. "What kind of dream was it?" Krais, wiping his eyes on the side, asked. "A dream where I die." "Lucky you." In response to Enkrid''s honest remark, Krais gave a sincere reply. "Ragna, I had a dream where you died too. Grip your sword." "That''s really unlucky." Ragna also answered with sincerity, and it was indeed a cozy morning. Ragna didn''t believe in superstitions, but hearing that from Enkrid would likely make one think twice. "Is it normal to hear nonsense from someone like you?" Ragna muttered, sounding a bit like a complaint. It was indifferent, but the content didn''t sit right. "Is that an insult?" Enkrid responded naturally. "I''m challenging you to a duel." Can someone really compare me to Rem? Casually throwing in a joke, Ragna received no response from Enkrid. This morning, Enkrid moved more vigorously than any other day he had passed. Despair? That was a word that couldn''t easily reach his heart. The extreme situation was acknowledged. The opponent was acknowledged to be an absurd and grotesque level of strength. But the answer was clear. ''Once.'' If he could endure the first blow, the opponent would retreat. So, is this despair? No. Even if there was a way to avoid it, he wouldn''t take it. The opponent was a knight. Even if that knight had come as a reaper, Enkrid felt nothing but joy as his dream approached. Just as there was pain, there was also exhilaration. The deaths of his comrades were buried in the dream, and Enkrid used it as the starting point for moving forward. In other words, no one would die. Thus, only one clear answer remained. ''Endure it.'' If it doesn''t work? Keep going until it does. If necessary, do whatever it takes to make it happen. That was the way to do it. To see his comrades die over and over? If that''s despair? ''That''s weak.'' How many "todays" had he overcome? There were many ways to break out of the repeating today. Did the same thing have to happen every time? He already knew the answer. Now that his body moved again, he could do things he hadn''t thought of before. Enkrid began by gathering his equipment from the corner of the barracks. Should I wrap myself in bandaged armor? No, that would be meaningless. Didn''t you see the knight''s sword? No armor can block that. What Shinar wore wasn''t normal armor either, but it was still sliced through. Something dwelled in that strike. I think I know what that is. ''Will.'' A knight is someone who wields ''Will.'' Enkrid clearly understood that. So, what should I do? Should I just let it go for now? Would the Snake Sword be effective? He had already forgotten that his body was in ruins. Another day like today passed. "Everyone worked hard." Enkrid always said similar things. There are things that shouldn''t become numb, even if they''re repeated. Enkrid hadn''t forgotten that. After the usual words of "thank you for your hard work," a few trivial exchanges followed. "I won''t make the same mistake again." Krais''s words finished, and with a whoosh, the tent was torn, and a man with brown hair entered. It was always the same start. "I''m sorry." The man spoke, and Enkrid began to prepare. "If you can block it just once, I''ll let you go. That would be the only way to respect my honor." He acted as if he didn''t want to do it. Yet, he still couldn''t stop a single strike. While he was saying something, Enkrid moved. In truth, Enkrid didn''t listen to what the man said. Had he heard it once or twice? If something is repeated, it either numbs you or it doesn''t. The words that remained were just tiresome. Honor or whatever¡ªhis focus had ignited. The chains of ominousness tightened around his body, but he had already begun to overcome them once. He commanded his muscles, from his fingertips to his whole body. Move. Enkrid''s feet naturally fell. His body moved as it willed. The ominousness still tightened around his throat, but it didn''t matter. It could be ignored. The important thing was, he was moving. The man noticed first that someone was walking despite not listening to his words. His gaze turned to Enkrid. Enkrid spoke. "I''ll go first." "Fiance?e." Shinar tried to stop him, but it was already too late. "I''m the target, right?" He spoke while taking another step. He was right. From everything he had learned through these repetitive days, he understood it all. To overcome today, you had to recognize and face what was necessary within it. ''The knight''s target is me.'' If he showed determination, the person wouldn''t turn their back on him. He spoke and met the situation head-on. The man, the knight, raised his sword. With a ting, the short sword, missing a few teeth, was drawn¡ªthis was the weapon of the reaper. The reaper in the dream had taken up the weapon. "Impressive." He swung the sword. Wham. Enkrid tried to block it, but the opponent''s sword was faster. Was it faster than Lykanos? Was it similar to Jaxen''s no-kill thrust? Enkrid had seen it countless times, but this was the first time trying to block it. He felt the difference in speed. The opponent''s sword was launched without any transmission of force, starting from the feet. It was a sword that couldn''t be read in terms of timing. ''I was slow.'' Enkrid accepted it like that. He was slow, and having missed it, it was natural that his heart was shattered. Death was approaching. Even so, Enkrid grinned. Wasn''t the first thing he wanted to achieve accomplished? The reaper had seen it too. ''Crazy bastard.'' He saw through Enkrid''s true nature in an instant. The opponent wasn''t normal. Of course, that wasn''t Enkrid''s problem. He was just satisfied that his trick had worked. If he didn''t want to see Shinar, Ragna, Krais, Dunbakel, and Esther die, all he had to do was step forward first. His eyes closed. Death was approaching. The dark river surged. A ferryman had entered, though it wasn''t a moment to open a dream world, he still managed to slip into it briefly. He passed by and left high praise. "Crazy bastard." This was already the second time such praise had been given. Enkrid barely managed to leave a response. "Thank you." There was no time to speak longer. Was it just an illusion that the boat on the far-off river seemed to rock heavily? Who knows. Anyway. ''My body moves.'' Now, all that was left was to receive it. "Phew, good." "What''s good about it?" Krais asked as soon as Enkrid woke up. "Don''t worry about it." Enkrid thought. Can he recover his body right away? No. Thinking, he picked up Ragna''s sword and set it beside his bed. "...What''s this? Do you want to spar?" "Hold onto it." It was easier to act than explain the reason. Anyway, to raise even a bit of heat in his body, it was important not to start moving. He continued stretching his muscles by the brazier, repeatedly performing motions that stimulated his regenerative abilities. Yet, his thoughts didn''t cease. ''How can I block it?'' He was still at a loss. Just because he could move didn''t mean he could block it immediately. But still, wasn''t it just one sword strike? ''No.'' It wasn''t just one strike. It was the knight''s sword. ''This is insane.'' Enkrid wasn''t an idiot. He knew what he had done on the battlefield. His own sword hadn''t been stopped by ordinary soldiers. He had defeated mercenaries skilled with swords, even those from the Hurrier family. Among them, there were also mages and shamans. The most recent time, he had been surrounded by enemy forces. Although he escaped using his senses, it hadn''t been an easy feat. To someone who didn''t know he was repeating the same day, it would have seemed like something beyond magic. One sword, or rather, three swords, but he had made it through that peril just by wielding a sword. "Are you a mage?" Krais naturally asked this. Esther also gave him a questioning look. Of course, he wasn''t. He couldn''t cast spells. He recalled the knight''s sword again. Now, he felt like a regular soldier. His thoughts continued. If Jaxen were here, would he have noticed? No, if Jaxen were here, he wouldn''t have easily fallen to the knight either, would he? Would he have done something to stop it? What if Ragna hadn''t been hurt? These were just idle thoughts. Was this despair? Was it the lingering emotion the ferryman had drilled into his mind? Enkrid didn''t try to discard or erase any of it. He simply let it go naturally. It didn''t matter. What was despair? Despair is when there is nothing to look at, so hope is cut off, and one crumbles. It''s about self-pity, crumbling from within. None of that was relevant to Enkrid. Was he going to be trapped in today because he couldn''t block the knight''s strike? Actually, that was welcome. He would rather see his dreams fade and tear apart as he struggled through another day of doing nothing, with no turning point, watching them grow old. "Another stormy day." Even if he had to fight with all his might, even if death was approaching, it didn''t matter. He wasn''t going to live just to die. What mattered was that today, the things the ferryman had said in agony and ignorance, the countless other days before, had broken a shell of Enkrid. His mind was upright, as it had been when he first greeted today. It was a small realization. But also, a big one. ''There''s no rule saying not to use today.'' He had used it when dealing with werewolves and mages, and when breaking through spell traps. It was an expansion of concepts. He fought back, enduring and using the curse of repetition. This was the moment he recognized with his mind what he had been doing physically. Enkrid''s eyes opened. The task ahead came to mind. "Ragna." "...What is it?" His voice naturally became stronger. Ragna reacted to Enkrid''s change in attitude. Why was he suddenly like this? "Assuming your body is fine?" Enkrid''s eyes sparkled. How should he put it? He seemed oddly excited, with a gleam in his eyes. As he spoke like this, Ragna cut him off. "I''m fine now. Better than the commander." In some ways, arrogance was the most powerful weapon. Just like Enkrid''s gaze, Ragna''s arrogance shone brightly. Enkrid naturally responded. "My body is at ninety percent." The truth was, it was fifty percent. "I''m completely fine now." "I''m fine too now that I think about it." Shinar, listening to their conversation, spoke softly. "What are they doing?" "They''re having a contest to see who''s the bigger fool." Krais summarized the situation. "I''m not hurt." Dunbakel spoke up. She too had been hurt. Of course, no one reacted to her words. Enkrid and Ragna weren''t paying attention to the others either. More accurately, Enkrid ignored them, so Ragna naturally followed suit. The main point was this. "Can you block a knight''s sword?" That question, the attitude, the weight carried in his words and gaze, and the rising determination beyond the arrogance. All of it was a stimulus. Ragna paused, sinking into his own world for a moment. This battle had been a turning point. For Ragna, the path was clear. He could easily tell where his talent was headed. But just because the path was visible, he hadn''t walked it yet. He hadn''t experienced it, so he couldn''t be certain. However, the shining talent had already shown him the way. It was the path revealed by the talent awakened by the trigger. Ragna was half certain. This was the path to becoming a knight. So, "I''ll block it." If he set aside the arrogance, it was possible. If he used the cut infused with ''Will,'' and made the first step with what he had gained, he could block the knight''s sword. It was a vague certainty. It was confidence. At the very least, he wouldn''t fall weakly to a single strike. Contemplation wasn''t about shutting yourself up and acting foolish. Also, just as Enkrid had changed, Ragna''s change was subtly noticeable too. Especially when looking at the knight, Ragna''s reactions to the repeating today were gradually different. What did that mean? Could it be that something was visible to him? It was doubt and questions. Enkrid saw the easy and comfortable path. He sought the answer from Ragna. "How?" Now, tell me the method. Ragna seemed to be intoxicated by something. Enkrid''s voice and gaze had that effect. So, Ragna willingly spoke up. He imagined the knight''s sword and pictured it. In terms of talent, he was undoubtedly one of the best in the continent. He didn''t hesitate. His mouth opened quickly. -------------------------------------------------------------------Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters Your support is apreciated! For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 321 - A Battle of Wits Chapter 321 - 321 - A Battle of Wits "Will." Just one word. The silence that followed was natural. It was cold, after all¡ªit was winter. The fire in the stove crackled as flames shot up. At that moment, a cold wind swept in through the entrance of the tent. The biting winter wind. If it were a normal person, they might have felt like a dagger had been driven into their heart. But there were no ordinary people here, not even including Enkrid. "That''s something I would say too," said Krais, adding his comment casually. It wasn''t an incorrect statement. Naturally, Enkrid didn''t flinch. Was there really anyone who could outdo Ragna when it came to speaking? Even that bastard Rem, who pushed people into his own rhythm, didn''t have much skill in teaching. So there was no reason for Enkrid to be surprised. "Explain it." "If lightning strikes, how do you block it?" For Ragna, this was the best explanation. Of course, to others, it might have seemed like the worst possible explanation. But did that matter? Not really. As always, Enkrid was a great listener and could easily be a great student too. He knew how to listen well. In fact, one could say that he was the kind of listener who would press and extract answers if the other person couldn''t explain things well. "You can''t block it." Enkrid responded. "You can block it." Ragna added. "How?" "Well, speak clearly." Ragna wasn''t exactly used to explaining, but he did what he could. He wasn''t overly ambitious about it. Ragna wasn''t the best at finding paths, speaking well, being particular about food, or even having a good personality. He didn''t care much about his reputation and lived his life as he saw fit. There were days when he even found speaking a hassle. But when it came to wielding a sword, Ragna was top-notch. Truly the best of the best. "First, you sense the signs, then strike." That was the best explanation Ragna could give. It was all about instinct and talent. Enkrid was persistent. He asked question after question and listened carefully to the answers. Ragna spoke as best as he could, but it wasn''t a fully formed concept yet. Nothing concrete came to mind. Still, this wasn''t the end of it. "If we can delay death..." Today could still be used fully. If Ragna were at the forefront, it was possible to see him block a knight''s sword. But that wasn''t how Enkrid was going to proceed. He wouldn''t throw Ragna into danger just to fully use today. That was a line Enkrid wouldn''t cross. It was a line that had been formed in his heart from the very first repetition of today. For some, this line turned into a conviction; for others, it became something named honor. "Honor." Before the reaper who speaks of honor arrives, Enkrid knew he had to do all he could. In the questions and answers, he implemented his vision and strategy. This wasn''t the end. "Shinar." The fairy too could take a blow from the sword. She reacted. How could she do that? "Do you know how to block lightning?" "You just avoid it before it strikes." "What if you can''t avoid it?" "You could use a lightning rod." She spoke with a dry humor, but there was a philosophical undertone in her words. It was something accompanied by a deep realization. "These rods are easy to pull out, good for cutting, and also good for blocking or redirecting." "What about blocking the knight''s sword?" That was a sudden question, but no one found it strange. That was just how Enkrid was. He was obsessed with swords and fought for dreams that seemed impossible. And that''s what made him who he was now. Everyone accepted that. So it was nothing unusual to hear him spout such nonsense. Even Krais simply watched with an air of familiarity. Dunbakel looked like she was waiting for someone to ask her instead. "Before the opponent even steps, before they even grab their sword, I''ll draw mine." Saying this, Shinar seemed almost drawn into Enkrid''s magical aura. What was it about him? It had been the same before, but now he felt like a greater flame. To her eyes, it looked as if a fire spirit had possessed him. "No, not fire." It was desire, passion, and ecstasy all mixed together. The intense emotions pierced the sensitive heart of the fairy. While the Frog saw talent, the fairy felt emotions. It was the nature of their species. To survive on the continent, one had to dull this nature, ignore what didn''t matter. If the Frogs had to grow accustomed to the word "heart," the fairyes had to learn to ride the waves of emotions. In that regard, Shinar was a fairy who had adapted exceptionally well to the continent. Still... Enkrid didn''t raise his voice. He didn''t act hurriedly. He didn''t flail his arms or legs. He simply relaxed his body and spoke a few words. He approached and opened his mouth. Yet, that heat stirred Shinar. It touched the fairy''s blood. That was what made Shinar serious. With a face usually void of laughter¡ªand devoid of it now as well¡ªshe responded without any humor. "The knight''s sword is a disaster. How will you stop the disaster you call it?" Asking a reverse question was likely the answer that was needed right now. Could an earthquake be stopped by human power? What about a whirlwind? A flood? A typhoon? Heavy rain? Drought? These were natural disasters. A knight, however, was a human-made disaster, a man-made calamity. Among all the races on the continent¡ªhumans, fairies, giants, dwarves, beastkin, and humans¡ªthe one with the greatest population was mankind, and thus, the term "human-made disaster" or "knight" was coined. A more intuitive term would be to call them a disaster. Naturally, there were fairy knights too. Beastkin had a similar concept called "hero." There were even cases where people who weren''t knights but were similar in some way were referred to by different terms. The term wasn''t important. Shinar thought of the past, gazed at the present, and envisioned the future. "The way forward." Shinar Kiraheis had once given up something in the past, realizing her own limitations. She had lost the way forward. But it was precisely because she had given up that she was able to come this far. It was a contradictory situation. Had the fish she had missed grown bigger in her mind? Or had she realized that in order to stand beside the man before her, she needed that missed fish? "Maybe." How would it feel to see the man in front of her die from a knight''s sword? By chance, the fairy''s sharpness and clarity had precisely predicted what was about to happen. "It probably won''t feel pleasant." In that case, she would likely regret it. The fish she missed would come to mind again. "Useless thoughts." Shinar shook her head inwardly, though she appeared calm on the outside. Such pointless musings. Enkrid listened to Shinar''s question, lost in thought. Ragna had mentioned lightning. Perhaps that was why Shinar had spoken as well. The fairy had at least considered her words with some care. Listening to both of them, something like a conclusion began to form in Enkrid''s mind. "How would you block lightning?" That was the first thing to solve. "Won''t you ask me?" As he pondered, Dunbakel came up and asked. "What?" "The knight''s sword, that thing." "Go to sleep." Dunbakel was still lacking. There was no need to ask, just as Dunkabel could speak without being asked. "You just block it, right?" Enkrid nodded. "Very helpful." His tone was devoid of emotion. "Really?" "Really." He gave a casual nod and sent her back to her bed. Watching this, Krais couldn''t help but admire. "I think the captain will be the best employee in the salon once he enters." Afterward, until evening, they rested, ate, pondered, practiced sword movements in the air, checked their gear, and exchanged words of hardship. It was all mental preparation. Today, there was no talk of magic or any nonsense. It was the strange, forceful attitude and gaze of Enkrid that had shaken Shinar''s heart. Although she controlled her emotions well, she could feel her heart racing. And then the knight appeared. "Just once. Block it just once. That is the least I can do to protect my honor." Why did he always say unnecessary things? Enkrid gripped his sword and took a deep breath. How would he block the lightning? He would have to bring his sword to meet it first; that was the beginning. The flowing sword, Enkrid''s first sword form, the Snake Blade. Could lightning not be blocked like this? "...It''s as though you were waiting for this moment. Strange." The knight spoke. Enkrid didn''t respond. His concentration flared, and a sense of ominousness shattered the chains of hesitation. From then on, his focus narrowed to a single point, his gaze fixed on his opponent. There were no preliminary movements, only waiting to witness the beginning of the sword''s strike. "Indeed." Shinar murmured from behind. "Are you a prophet?" Krais was stunned. "Did he really tell you to hold a sword?" Would Ragna be any different? Would Esther not be surprised? Dunbakel was frozen, staring at the opponent. "What is that?" To the beastkin, it was the instinctual reaction to something monstrous. The sword was coming. First, it would be about meeting it head-on. The method to block lightning was as follows. Swoosh. Enkrid saw an illusion. He saw his sword bending in front of him. The sword wavered, and it seemed to pierce his blade, meeting the edge of his own sword. It was so strange that he wondered if he had truly seen it correctly. Then his heart split. The ferryman saw not only the world of the senses but also the reality beyond. The present could not escape his gaze either. He was witnessing the cursed one die. That was his only amusement and joy. However, the target of this curse was truly unusual. "Is he smiling?" He smiles as he dies. He smiles despite the pain. Even as the pain rushes through his body, he smiles. He smiles even though he''s trapped in a dark cave. Enkrid found it an enjoyable novelty, but to the ferryman, it was neither familiar nor normal. The ferryman continued to watch. In the repeating days, Enkrid died and died again. Dying while smiling, dying while in agony, dying while thinking, dying while contemplating. What enjoyment could be found in such repetition? None. The ferryman knew that. He knew it very well. He understood better than anyone why this repetition was a curse. "That''s one crazy bastard." The ferryman muttered alone. "Despair... can''t even become despair?" He asked again to himself. "Even anguish, ignorance, and despair cannot taint his will?" The ferryman repeated it to himself. And so, he observed Enkrid as he died. He watched. He kept watch as he died and died again. "Still enjoying it?" When he occasionally asked him face to face, "Hmm? What did you say?" Enkrid didn''t even listen properly. He was fully immersed in the situation at hand. He saw nothing, heard nothing, and focused entirely on one thing. And he enjoyed it. The ferryman recalled an old proverb from the continent. It was a memory from before he even became the ferryman. Since he had been deprived of the gift of forgetfulness, it was easy for him to recall past memories. "To know is not as good as to like, and to like is not as good as to enjoy." To know meant to grasp. To grasp meant to believe one''s understanding as truth. And because of that, it led to stagnation rather than progress. To stop and be satisfied with the present. To like something was the driving force behind effort. Because you like it, you work for it. Therefore, it is not stagnation but progress. However, the motivation for effort lies in the desire for a reward. You work because you think of the next step. To like is a driving force. Effort is the strength of the heart that makes you act. To enjoy, however, is to be swept away. To forget oneself, to forget the situation, and to be lost in the moment. Like a child playing for the first time, forgetting time. If only one could still do that as they grew older. If only one could, then they would immerse themselves without even realizing it, forgetting about themselves and focusing completely. But is such a person even possible? No. He had never seen one. Usually, they become worn out. They fray. Their heart disappears. Their effort fades. They get tired. They grow bored. They become soaked in fatigue. They collapse. They are consumed by despair. That''s how it is for everyone. But in the ferryman''s eyes, he saw someone who did not do this. Certainly, he had never seen anyone this crazy before. He repeated today, again and again. Repetition did not become a shackle or a prison for him. The bars could not cage the man called Enkrid. Yet, the ferryman''s eyes did not blur. He continued to watch. Today''s shackles were strong. Heavy. Unbreakable. So, what should be done? Enkrid gave the answer. Shackles? Why not just run while wearing them? It seemed that he didn''t even realize the shackles were there. "Hah." The ferryman finally laughed. -------------------------------------------------------------------Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters Your support is apreciated! For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 322 -How do you block lightning? Chapter 322 - 322 -How do you block lightning? Today repeated itself. Whether the ferryman watched or not, Enkrid remained consistent. It was always the same, unchanged. Whether it was when he first grabbed a sword and set out as a mercenary, or when he had swung his sword at a tree after being beaten, nothing had changed. Well, there was one difference. His vision had changed. What he focused on had changed. The way he thought had improved. His body had changed. The sword he held had changed. His dream had come closer. Still, Enkrid was Enkrid. He continued to think relentlessly. "How do I block it?" It was a question without an answer. Of course, there was no problem. It was always the same. It was rare for Enkrid to come up with an answer. Everything around him suggested giving up. It urged him to settle for today. The way to give up also came to mind. Was it the ferryman''s trick, or was this how things always were? The method to get through today was never just one. "What if I escape with everyone?" What if, upon waking up in the morning, he dragged his aching body and fled crazily? There were several carriages at the Green Pearl Fortress. What if he picked one and just ran off? Would the knights come to the border guard? They only show up in the evening, but if he ran away in the morning, could they catch him? Could they catch him? He didn''t know. In fact, he didn''t need to know. Enkrid wouldn''t do that anyway. There were plenty of ways to escape, and they were easy. Where would he go with that body? Even if Garrett caught him, it wouldn''t matter. "I should go back and rest." Or... "I have something to do right now." He could just say that. Who would dare say anything to the hero who led the battlefield to victory, the greatest achiever? Inside the fortress, there was already a subtle atmosphere of excitement. When Aspen withdrew, there would immediately be a party. They would feast on meat and drink. Could he look forward to such a tomorrow? "Despair." The ferryman''s words, which he had been muttering, stirred in his mind. "You cannot overcome it." The ferryman repeated the same words. It was just a passing thought. But it didn''t change anything. Enkrid continued to swing his sword in his mind. He sought a solution. "What if I move back and let it slip?" How could the sword shake and bend like that? How could he make his blade meet that one? Enkrid thought of today''s repeating curse as a privilege. The pain of death would be the same no matter how many times he experienced it. But he endured it for the thrill that came after the pain. So he faced the knight''s sword again and again. It was a day of intense focus. Because of that, Enkrid could see more. "For my honor." It was when the knight came and said, "Just block it once, for my honor." For a moment, everything in the scene seemed to break apart. This was partly due to the ominous shackles that had tightened around him when he first started today. The sense of evasion was triggered to the extreme. That feeling pushed his focus to the highest point. "The blade?" As he tried to move back and let it slip, the blade accelerated. The speed changed. Before the blade accelerated, Enkrid saw something. It shivered. It clearly appeared like that. At the same time, he tilted his sword against the knight''s blade. It was a desperate effort, feeling as if his whole body''s muscles were being torn apart. He was so focused on the blade that he didn''t see the knight''s face, but there was a hint of surprise on the knight''s face instead of the usual boredom. Of course, it disappeared quickly. Cling. The moment the blades met, the knight''s rugged sword split the dwarf forged gladius. "Weapon advantages?" None. Thud. His heart was pierced. Enkrid died. And today repeated again. This time, a slightly different strategy was added. As he blocked with the gladiolus, he activated "Momentary Will," even if his left arm muscles were torn apart. Half of it was a gamble. "Will" was, in the end, a force that came through the body of the person using it, a mystery. It wasn''t something to do with a body that hadn''t properly recovered. He felt the muscles of his left arm tearing, but Enkrid pushed the spark in the direction he wanted. It was thanks to that. The knight''s sword trembled and bent, piercing his heart, but it didn''t completely split it. Just a little, but he bought himself some time. For a moment, death was postponed. "Cough!" Enkrid staggered back and spat out blood. At the same time, his body collapsed. He tried to reach the ground with his left hand, but his strength failed, causing him to fall forward. Just as he was about to fall... Thud. Someone caught him as he was about to hit the ground. Looking down, he saw feet. Shinar had supported Enkrid''s body with her thigh. Enkrid didn''t repeat the same mistake. He used his right hand to reach the ground. He didn''t have the strength to rise. Blood kept flowing from his mouth, the shock to his heart unbearable. "What is this?" Shinar asked. At that moment, something flew straight toward the knight''s head. It was Ragna. His sword sliced through the tent''s roof with great force. Screech! The sound of the tent tearing echoed as the blade in his hand was unleashed with terrifying speed. The blade, faster than an arrow, plunged from above to below. When asked, hadn''t he mentioned lightning? It wasn''t without reason. His blade had become lightning. After infusing it with the "Slash Will," he demonstrated the swordsmanship of the Northern Yohan family. It was the Yohan family''s sword technique: Thunderstrike. Crash! That was the sound coming from Ragna''s blade. Then, the knight thrust his sword upward. What about the Thunderstrike? This knight was no ordinary knight. He was no stranger to manipulating "Will." There were things the knight could do that couldn''t be achieved with just the fragments of Will. He caught Ragna''s blade with the palm of his left hand and thrust his sword forward. Enkrid took it all in with his eyes. He didn''t relax his focus for a second, determined not to miss anything. It didn''t matter that his body was dying. ''Ah.'' Even Enkrid could vaguely see it. For a moment, it seemed as though the knight''s sword multiplied into dozens. "Cough." Enkrid not only spat blood but also foamed at the mouth. Seeing this, Shinar, standing next to him, spoke. "Fairies who lose their mates never forget their vengeance." Wait, when did we become mates? What kind of relationship is this that we''re talking about revenge? It sounded reassuring. To joke in such a moment, this fairy would do anything. Ragna was stabbed and rolled on the ground. It was a fatal wound. His eyes had gone dark. His heart was punctured, but it was only natural. "Damn." Krais blocked Enkrid''s path again. This time, Dunbakel was with him. Growl. Was Esther any different? Ah, are these guys not planning to run away? This time, it was actually Ragna who had died. Maybe it was because he had tried a big technique in his excitement? Still, there was a change in the knight''s body as well. Through the gap between Krais and Dunbakel, Enkrid saw the knight inspecting his palm. Blood from the shortsword dripped onto the floor. Blood also flowed from the knight''s left hand, dropping onto the floor. The blood was a deep crimson. "Was I cut?" The knight muttered to himself. It couldn''t be helped. Even though it contained Will, the opponent was still only an incomplete fragment. The knight was, after all, a knight. But could he cut through the palm infused with Will? Could this even be called cutting? "Did I get cut?" The knight muttered again. It was the sound of shock. Whether by misfortune or luck, Enkrid had to close his eyes right there. The time he spent sacrificing his left arm had come to an end. "Ugh." He tried to hold it in, but Enkrid let out a rather uncomfortable scream as he collapsed. It was his limit. He closed his eyes, dying, waking, and starting today once more. The shaking blade, the bending blade. Above all, the knight''s appearance when facing Ragna was vividly etched in his memory. He changed his stance and footwork. He changed the blade he wielded based on the opponent''s skills. And Enkrid managed to see it. "Good." "What''s good?" "It''s good!" "What do you mean by that?" Is it normal to shout about something being good like a madman first thing in the morning? Krais asked repeatedly, but Enkrid was deep in his own world. It was an immersion like no other before. "No, did you hit your head? You really seem to have injured yourself this time." Krais muttered beside him. Shinar, too, seemed to be thinking something similar. He was already a strange person, but now he was getting even stranger. Well, that was part of his charm. Enkrid went through a few more iterations of today. Afterward, he began to sort out what he had realized. In the most recent "today," he had seen something quite extraordinary. By chance, Ragna and Shinar attacked together, and the knight''s sword, which faced them, cried out. Wooooo! The sword cried out, trembling and vibrating. It was called a Blade Echo. The blade was crying, and from the knight''s two eyes, a visible white light poured out. It was the materialization of Will. Whoooo¡ªthoom! The knight''s shortsword literally drew white light lines to the left and right. The trajectory of that light sliced through Ragna''s sword in half and cut through Shinar''s sword as well. Enkrid, who had been the first to attack, also temporarily gained a reprieve. He could see clearly. "With an old shortsword?" At this level, it wasn''t just skill¡ªit was divine technique. Both the Fairy''s and Ragna''s sword were cut. One was a famous sword, and the other seemed like something that should never be cut, but both were split in two. Not even a single spark flew. ''Like cutting through a rotten branch.'' Is it possible only with the power of ''Will''? What is ''Will''? What is willpower? Enkrid pondered but could not find an answer. His thoughts shifted to a more progressive and sound direction. The knight had always killed Ragna, cut off his arm, or severed his leg, and muttered similar words several times. "It''s a shame." "Shouldn''t have rushed in." The knight coveted Ragna''s talent. Enkrid reflected on how Ragna faced the knight. He dug up the repeated ''today'' in his mind. He recalled Shinar''s rebellion. He remembered the death of Krais. He recalled Dunbakel''s struggle. He even revisited his own death and reflected on the knight''s sword. Swordsmanship, swords, and struggles. Everything tangled in his mind like a storm. "That place is a swamp; anyone who falls in cannot come out." The ferryman continued to try to drag Enkrid into some kind of abyss, but it was, of course, useless. "Aren''t you in a hurry?" Sometimes Enkrid would ask first. On those days, the ferryman would shut his mouth. It always made Enkrid seem sulky. It was a frivolous thought. Could it not be something difficult to fathom? Thus, the fifty-sixth ''today'' passed. ''How do you block lightning?'' He repeated and pondered, then asked Ragna and Shinar again. He didn''t let any day pass by without doing everything he could. Among those things, he had died multiple times after seeing the knight''s sword curving. He died seeing the sword tremble. Sparks were severed, and the gladius was cut. He couldn''t see Blade Echo again. That was something luck and chance had to assist. To others, it would have seemed as though the goddess of fortune was stalking them, but Enkrid knew very well that he wasn''t that lucky. So, he couldn''t expect the same fortune. Unless it was pure chance, Ragna, Shinar, and he would have to cooperate. ''But I don''t like that either.'' His heart didn''t move. That would have meant the death of a lazy or joking fairy. It was something he couldn''t accept. Being allowed to live while watching someone else die was something he could not tolerate. But being pushed himself? ''It''s better to bite the sword and charge in.'' His heart and mind told him so. Thus, he swung his sword alone, agonizing and pondering. Endless pondering and consideration, and in that time, even advancing a fraction of a step, Enkrid''s pondering returned to the beginning. How do you block lightning? "Start by facing it." It was something Ragna had said. Now, Enkrid understood it. You have to see it to block it. "Then, just react to the speed." It was something Shinar had said. React, then strike. Block. "So, you just have to will it.''" It was Ragna''s final word. The one word "will" encapsulated everything. By the way. "Phew." The knight''s sword. The knight''s strike. Wasn''t it exhilarating? "Again." The words escaped his mouth. A smile followed. Enkrid felt an unfamiliar exhilaration fill him in the repeated ''today.'' The wall had come as the god of death, but the swinging sword became his own milestone. That milestone felt like light descending through a dark tunnel. What seemed like pure darkness and despair to the boatman was, for Enkrid, light and exhilaration. Another ''today'' began. The seventy-second, his body still a wreck, but as always, Enkrid moved his body. He had seen Ragna strike with his sword, half-dead. He had seen Shinar''s struggle over ten times. How? He didn''t know. Tomorrow? It wouldn''t come. He didn''t care about that. That was why the boatman couldn''t understand Enkrid. Among the repeated days, there were some where his confidence rose without reason. Of course, he died. He had lived through twelve more ''todays'' after that. The sword that couldn''t be blocked, the knight''s sword, was as such. "You." On the ninetieth ''today,'' the knight drew his sword and frowned. Then he spoke to Enkrid. "What a shame." Enkrid didn''t feel too happy about those words, but honestly, it would have been a lie if he said he wasn''t proud. Of course, right now, he didn''t feel anything. He was in a state of focus. It was always like that. When facing the knight, he focused and immersed himself. The slightest distraction would have his heart split without gaining anything. So, even though he felt like his mental strength was wearing thin, he couldn''t let go of a single moment of concentration. However, the wall that had appeared as the god of death had acknowledged him, and that was something Enkrid would never forget. The knight spoke of honor and of once. Enkrid exhaled and prepared. It seemed like it could be blocked, but it wasn''t. Then something must have been wrong. Could he reach the knight''s level right here? No, that was impossible. Even with a fragment of ''Will,'' it couldn''t happen. Then how? Hmm. At the moment Blade Echo, the light, the knight''s sword pierced through his heart without mercy. Thud. It was faster than before. ''Ah.'' That was truly like lightning. At the same time, lightning struck Enkrid''s head. The blow of lightning on his skull illuminated the path from today into tomorrow. -------------------------------------------------------------------Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 323 - The Realization Chapter 323 - 323 - The Realization The realization hit like a lightning bolt, but in the end, it was the body that had to execute it. As he jumped up to greet a new day, Krais, surprised, asked him again, "What''s going on? Were you sleep-deprived?" When Enkrid stared blankly into space without responding, Krais continued to murmur, "It''s probably because your body''s worn out. You need to rest properly." "Is that so?" Enkrid nonchalantly responded, then reflected on what he had just realized. Could it be done? It seemed possible. That feeling, that sixth sense, sent a tingling sensation through his whole body. "Why does it feel like your head is getting worse by the day?" Krais mumbled from the side. Enkrid ignored him. He had to invest another ten days and two more days beyond that. In the repeated days, he had to embed the swordsmanship he had learned into his body. "...What is this?" Ragna, who had helped him through the process, asked in rare surprise. "What?" Enkrid responded. "When did you come up with this?" Ragna asked. "It just came to me suddenly." "Is this talent, then?" Ragna murmured to himself, though it didn''t seem like he was really curious. Enkrid continued refining his swordsmanship, consulting with Ragna, and engaging in light sparring with Sinar. The fairy''s movements were distinctive, especially the ability to read the opponent''s intentions¡ªit was beyond conventional understanding. When Enkrid asked about it, Sinar answered, "It''s a fairy''s talent." That skill was definitely worth learning. In fact, Enkrid had already realized he had been using part of that ability. The rest was just training. That was the thing Enkrid excelled at. He kept honing his swordsmanship and, just as importantly, persistently sought to learn and mimic the fairy''s skills. It didn''t feel wrong to call it stealing, since Sinar had freely shared it. "By twisting it a bit, you can read emotions, almost like telepathy. And then, you can project it into battle." Above all, Sinar was one of the better explainers¡ªfar better than Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, or Audin. She was almost like an angel compared to them. Even Audin, who did some explaining, preferred teaching through action rather than words. This approach wasn''t always ideal for the learner. Based on Sinar''s explanation, Enkrid kept repeating the practice of imitating the fairy''s skill. The eerie shackles of foreboding helped once again. The sense of evasion was about confronting one''s instincts directly. Where did those instincts come from? They came from the things happening right in front of you. The warnings given by the sum of what touched your senses in an instant. That''s what sixth sense was about. The sense of evasion was an evasion technique that used the sixth sense. But what about the fairy''s ability? Enkrid couldn''t imitate the species-specific talent directly. Instead, he used a different method. It started with his eyes. After learning the Isolation Technique from Audin, he developed a keen eye for assessing his opponent''s abilities. He then added concentration on top of that. He viewed the opponent as a dot, focusing his attention. The body trained with the Isolation Technique was always prepared to move. He kept his attention fixed on that one point. Then, he honed his sensory techniques and sharpened his focus. He saw with his eyes and felt with his senses. This became the foundation for mimicking the fairy''s talent. "You''re doing it now." When he used his new ability in front of the fairy, it caused surprise. Although the expression remained unchanged, his pupils expanded very slightly. To the untrained eye, it would have been unnoticeable, but to Shinar, it was visible only with intense focus. Enkrid himself was fascinated. The more deeply he focused, the more clearly he could see¡ªthis was a method he had learned after practicing the previous technique of spreading his focus. Now, he was learning how to dive deeper into that focus. "I''m just copying it." "If trying to copy it were enough, it wouldn''t be called a species'' secret technique." "Is that so?" "When you meet the fairy clan, you might want to show them this skill." "Meeting them?" "You should at least show your face before we have kids." The fairy society was based on a clan system, somewhat like a community-based upbringing. It was said that the village and homeland served as the parents and extended family. "Isn''t it frowned upon for humans and fairies to mix?" "It''s fine. As long as there''s love, it''ll work out." Enkrid, about to respond with a playful comment, was caught off guard and laughed despite himself. "You laugh a lot," Sinar remarked. It seemed like a compliment about how pleasant his smile was. Enkrid let it pass, focusing again. Now, it was time to concentrate. The fairy''s secret technique allowed you to perceive the opponent''s breathing, movements, and even the smallest changes, without missing anything. A knight was still human. Even he wasn''t a god, so there were tiny gaps, minuscule openings. Enkrid had already made up his mind. ''It''s impossible to fully recover my body.'' In that case, he had to work with what was lacking. What was lacking? He decided to fill that gap with sheer strength. That meant using the Heart of the Beast. The Heart of the Beast would provide the necessary force to push his injured body beyond its limits. The potential damage to his body from the backlash? He couldn''t afford to care about that. If he thought about that, he wouldn''t survive the day. After all the preparations were more or less done, Enkrid suddenly realized. There was no need to prolong this day any longer. In fact, there was no reason to stretch it out. Was this arrogance? Or was it hubris? Perhaps a mere illusion? He couldn''t say. But he couldn''t know unless he moved forward. So, he did. Enkrid passed through the repeating days and greeted another morning. Today was the day. Today was the day that should have been yesterday. As Enkrid washed his face with cold water, Krais asked him, "What''s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?" "Just moderately unwell." "Moderately unwell? What does that mean?" "It means I''m in pain, but I can still move." "Oh, I see." Krais tilted his head, staring at his commanding officer, who seemed somewhat out of sorts. Had he taken medicine? No, that couldn''t be it. "I''m going to tomorrow," Enkrid muttered to himself, with a firm resolve. "Ah, really? Is there no priest around? Is your head hurting? Did you fall from a cliff and hit your head?" Krais spoke loudly, his confusion evident. Isn''t this guy acting strange? "If you fall from a cliff and hit your head, you die," Shinar pointed out, but Krais didn''t change his gaze. Enkrid, unsure of how to respond, paused, moved briefly, and then lay back down again. This was seriously strange. Later, Krais continued to experience odd behavior from Enkrid. The man who had said he could move didn''t get out of bed. He ordered things with his words, but his fingers didn''t move at all. "What''s going on here?" He had said he could move, but why was he being fed by the fairy commander? Dunbakel had tried to feed him, but Shinar stepped in due to the lack of delicacy. And Krais had reluctantly answered, feeling frustrated. "So, it looks like you''re resting desperately. Are you preparing to die soon? We still have to survive and win, why act like this? It makes people uneasy." Krais''s growing sense of foreboding seemed to have triggered something in his mind. Who rests this seriously unless something''s wrong? Enkrid, however, calmly shut him down with a natural-sounding remark. "I''m training in the art of resting." He had the gift of speaking exactly what was needed at the right moment. Enkrid''s eloquence was impeccable. "You hit your head and took drugs. It''s obvious you should rest" Krais concluded in his own way. Before sunset, Enkrid, according to Krais''s suggestion, had rested with great determination. It was the process of bringing his body into its best possible condition. "Is the sun setting?" Enkrid asked. "Huh?" "Go outside and check." "Yes, I will." After Krais went out to check the time, Enkrid finally got up just after the sunset. Then, he started heating up his body. He tested the flexibility of his joints, flexed his muscles, and then relaxed them. He adjusted the position of his sword belt along with his armor. With physical preparation came mental alignment as well. He steadied the image of one blade in his mind. Others watched him, curious about his behavior. He clearly looked like an unusual person. He was already far from normal, but today he seemed even more peculiar. "Captain, are you really sick?" Krais asked seriously. Enkrid answered with genuine sincerity. "No, I''m about to be." Even if he succeeded, it wouldn''t end without consequences. Suddenly, before Krais could say anything more, the tent flap was ripped open. A man with brown hair and an ordinary appearance entered. "Sorry about this." It was the same line he always used. "Just block it once.That''s the least I can do to keep my honor intact." He said something similar again. He never sought the other person''s understanding. There was no need for that, as his words were meant solely for himself. The moment Enkrid had been waiting for came next. It was his turn to step forward. The enemy''s awareness would soon focus on him. It was time to show what he had been preparing for. *** "Sir Jamal, please." "Are you aware this is a blow to my honor?" Jamal asked, unsure of how to respond. "Do you know why this has to be done? No, you must know." "Right, so you think it''s something that must be done?" Sir Jamal asked, his words sharp as bones. They were edged, almost like thorns. But Abnaier simply clenched his teeth. He couldn''t avoid being hurt by the harshness of the words. "Please." "Your ''please'' no longer matters in this context." "I understand." Sir Jamal didn''t furrow his brow, nor did he curse. There was no need for either. It was something that had to be done, after all. But that didn''t mean it was something he was comfortable with. "Just once. I''ll swing the sword only once, and then I''ll be done. I''m sure you understand that this is the best I can do, right?" "Yes, I understand." Abnaier lowered his head. A knight''s identity was tightly bound to their honor. They were the ones who protected their honor through vows and oaths. Why? It wasn''t just because it was morally required; the practical reasons were much stronger. ''Will'' is the power of the mind, and to maintain it, what should be done? How does one cultivate ''Will''? There is a knight who swore to only ever see the world with one eye, a vow that led her to have an eye unlike any other knight¡ªLupera, the one-eyed female knight. Will is something that cannot be seen. The moment one doubts themselves, their power weakens. To express the invisible with strength, one needs a way to strengthen their will. Constraints, vows, oaths. That''s why these things became the core of a knight''s being. An oath strengthens through vows. And these knights also cared deeply about their honor. To a knight, abandoning honor is the same as disappearing. Has there ever been a knight who kept their vows but forgot their honor? Honor is, in the end, the foundation of the ''Will'' that knights have cultivated for themselves. One of the foundations. Knights decided for themselves to keep honor. Knights fight knights. And Sir Jamal was about to break that rule. Of course, it wasn''t possible to follow that rule during a war. In chaotic situations, there are times when knights intentionally infiltrate through common soldiers to strike. But that was a special case. Knights follow a higher belief, a belief and honor beyond simply fighting knights. There is loyalty and chivalry. Yet, even knowing that his opponent was not a knight and that he wasn''t prepared for this, Jamal had to strike. "An assassin knight, I suppose," he thought. This was why Sir Jamal hesitated to take this task. He intended to end it with one swift strike. Of course, despite what he said, he wouldn''t strike carelessly. He would judge the level of his opponent, striking only as hard as necessary to ensure the opponent couldn''t block. Even though it was something he didn''t want to do, this was still connected to his oath. ''At least one favor will be removed.'' He had known this was something he wouldn''t be pleased with. His only consolation was that this task was for the sake of Aspen. Standing before the enemy''s wooden barricade, Sir Jamal began to look for a gap. No matter how many sentries are posted, there are always gaps that cannot be covered. Avoiding the eyes of the regular soldiers was an easy task for Jamal. All he had to do was spread his ''Will'' and identify the position of the enemy. After that, infiltration was simple. Assimilation. It was a technique to make one''s presence blend into the surroundings, based on ''Will.'' If one makes a violent move, the presence would be disrupted, and it wouldn''t work among other knights, but in this situation, it was invaluable. Since he couldn''t use his engraved weapon for such a dishonorable task, Jamal picked up a short sword from an abandoned tent he passed by. The weapon was poorly maintained and grimy, but that didn''t matter. He examined the area around him, searching for his target. ''Just once. Once only.'' He would swing his sword sincerely. His opponent wouldn''t be able to stop it. Jamal knew that better than anyone. It was just a way to calm his own mind, bound by restrictions and vows. If he didn''t do this, his mind would be uncomfortable, and that discomfort would interfere with the growth of his ''Will.'' ''There''s no wrong choice.'' He steadied his mind. He sharpened his will. This was how Sir Jamal prepared. Now, it was time to act. Not all knights are the same. When Jamal was a squire, he had to give up many things to get what he needed. Among those things was a vow. To be blunt, it was more of a contract. It was about giving the other party what they desired. This situation was the same. With a swift movement, he tore through the tent. His eyes met the one he had been watching, and his gaze stopped on a familiar face. A face he won''t easily forget, despite the tangled, matted hair and beard. The light shone from the face of the man, who was completely different from Jamal''s own average appearance. "Sorry about this," Jamal said, his voice low. The target, Enkrid, didn''t show any surprise or speak. Instead, he moved his feet. It wasn''t exactly stealthy, but it wasn''t a clear declaration of an attack either. It was simply... disturbing. There was the hint of intent to strike. Jamal didn''t continue his thoughts. As a knight, he was bound to his vow. Despite this task being more of a contract, he had to do what he needed to be done. He had said he would do it just once. He had given his target a chance to back away. He had sworn to himself that he would turn back if he could stop just one. That was the knight''s vow. After that, Jamal focused on his target, the man with the shining face, and aimed for his heart. He would only aim for the heart. Leaving the face untouched was for the sake of their comrades or acquaintances. His mind focused, his will rising. As his will rose, his body moved. From the knight''s hand, the unpolished short sword was drawn. Tiring, clink! The sound of the sword being unsheathed wasn''t smooth, but that didn''t matter. Jamal thought so. -------------------------------------------------------------------Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 324 - Attacking is the Best Defense Chapter 324 - 324 - Attacking is the Best Defense Attack is the best form of defense, so Enkrid focused all his attention on the opponent''s entire body. Rather than simply observing with his eyes, he read the intention behind every movement. For a moment, his head and eyes felt as though they were on fire. He gathered an immense amount of focus, feeling his blood vessels throb as his pulse rang out across his body. A single point of focus surged within him, more intensely than ever before. The opponent moved. Small motions appeared in quick succession. Enkrid interpreted these actions like reading between the lines of a sentence, understanding what seemed meaningless at first glance. How would the knight''s sword move? It was still unclear. The process was difficult to understand. But hadn''t he witnessed such things countless times, even in death? Hadn''t he seen it, immobilized, watching as Ragna and the others fell? And so, it became clear. A brief opening, the gap that formed between the unsheathing of the sword and its swing, was the key¡ªthe separation. If this day had not repeated itself, if there had been no repeated experience, then he wouldn''t have seen it. No matter how finely honed his sensory skills were, no matter how intensely he focused, without that repetition, the gap wouldn''t have been visible. Enkrid aimed for that gap. He had heightened his senses with experience and intense concentration, feeling the throb in his brain as he prepared to act. The knight was about to draw his sword. Enkrid felt the flow of time slow. Yet, he remained calm, continuing to execute his plan. He followed through as he had envisioned it, step by step. His hearth of the beast surged forward, the core of his strength. Boom! The blood in his body surged wildly. Though his body was not in perfect condition, it was the best he could manage. Enkrid gripped his gladius with a calm hand, angling his body slightly. At that moment, the knight''s sword was fully drawn. With a sound like a faint tiddick, the blade was ready. Enkrid paused, gathering his breath. In the slowed passage of time, his thoughts moved faster than ever before. They were fleeting ideas that flashed through his mind. The first sword he ever forged, the Snake Blade. The second, Thunder Fang. It was a technique infused with the will of a single moment. And now, the third. "No preparation necessary." Enkrid focused on the knight''s sword. He had seen it countless times. He had experienced it in death. And so, he recognized the knight''s movements, deciphering their principles. The transfer of force, the shifting of the center of gravity, the continuation of the action. He also kept Ragna''s sword in mind. It was a lightning-fast strike. He didn''t know its name, but he had memorized its form. Mimicking the fairy''s art, he read the knight''s intent as well. Enkrid read it again and again. His repeated experiences built upon one another, and the gap, the separation, became clear in his mind. ''Just before drawing and striking.'' It couldn''t be faster or slower. It had to be just right. All eyes were on him. Ragna''s pupils widened silently. It seemed as though the movements of the captain and the man who had suddenly arrived were overlapping. Shinar''s gaze mirrored that thought. "What''s happening?" Before anyone could fully process the situation, it unfolded. Dunbakel and Krais were completely unaware of what was happening, while Esther was still rising and bristling her fur. In the strange silence, the man entered and drew his sword, while Enkrid exuded an uncanny aura. Whether others noticed or not, Enkrid did what needed to be done. ''I can''t stop it.'' That was Enkrid''s conclusion. So, what should he do? If he couldn''t block it, should he strike first? He hadn''t attempted it, but the possibility was there. He clearly remembered the image of Ragna''s hand bleeding while trying to block the knight''s sword. At that moment, even while dying, his mind was struck by a lightning bolt. Sword, knight, power, defense, failure. All of these merged into one answer. ''If I can''t block it,'' I''ll strike first. Enkrid presented his third sword. A heavy sword, based on the principles of the greatsword style. He infused his will into it. It was a will that he had become familiar with from countless defeats. A sense of pressure. Though he could not achieve perfect intimidation, he had honed it enough to incorporate it into his swordsmanship. Ragna was astonished by the technique. Of course, because today was not over yet, he would soon be surprised once again. He also blended in the Valen-style mercenary techniques. Normally, an advance begins with a forward step, but Enkrid stretched his foot to the side. The knight''s eyes subtly flickered down to his foot. ''What?'' It wasn''t important, but it was enough to raise a question. The knight''s sword didn''t slow, but the knight''s thoughts were now in a state of confusion. Enkrid seized that opportunity. Thud. He planted his left foot to the side, and with all his strength, he pressed his right foot into the ground. Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship¡ªside-stepping. The more perceptive the opponent, the more his steps became a distraction. It was a small opening, a way to increase the chance of finding an opportunity. "Speed isn''t enough." Enkrid was well aware of this. Instead of speed, he turned to momentum. His ploy had worked. The knight didn''t falter, but the expected strike didn''t come either. Enkrid had successfully stolen the timing and stepped forward. Shing! He unsheathed his sword, raising it vertically. Holding it upright, he unleashed Will, exerting pressure through sheer force of presence. The knight instinctively moved his weapon. Years of honed reflexes compelled him¡ªit was something that had to be blocked. The third swordsmanship, the Pressing Sword. Like a mountain bearing down on the earth or a finger crushing an ant, it applied oppressive force, eliminating the opponent''s options. The knight had no choice but to defend. Though it lacked the speed of the lightning thrust driven by sparks, the momentum rooted in Will created overwhelming pressure. While the knight, Jamal, hadn''t lowered his guard, this scenario had caught him unprepared. Who could have anticipated it? After seeing a man man ripping through the tent, imagine stealing his timing, and launching a crushing blow with a greatsword? The draw was slow at first but gained momentum afterward. The blade carved a trajectory that forced the opponent to block. Yet, the knight didn''t fall easily. "Not a chance." Reflexively, Jamal''s sword trembled, parrying the descending blade. A low hum filled the air¡ªso brief it was nearly imperceptible. Enkrid couldn''t hear it. He had poured everything into his strike, every ounce of focus and strength. There was no room for retreat. Bang! A deafening impact resounded. Crunch! The sound of bones twisting followed. Enkrid felt a fleeting sensation of weightlessness. His old, battered shortsword¡ªsomething he could easily snap with his bare hands¡ªhad somehow generated absurd recoil. As the sense of floating faded, pain flared across his back. The blow had sent him flying, crashing into a brazier. Enkrid rolled to the side, and: "Ah!" A startled cry escaped Krais as the toppled brazier ignited flames. Though the explanation is lengthy, the entire exchange occurred in the blink of an eye. A man tore through the tent, exchanged a few words, and immediately launched an attack. Enkrid''s head lolled to the side as consciousness momentarily slipped away. Then, right after Enkrid collapsed: Whoosh! Ragna reacted. The cry of alarm from Krais coincided with the second explosion. Boom! The knight had clashed with Ragna, parrying his lightning-fast strike. The impact sent Ragna flying backward. Unlike Enkrid, Ragna didn''t tumble. He landed deftly, stabbing his blade into the ground to steady himself. Shhhk! The blade gouged a long line into the earth, emitting a sharp scraping sound. "...Hah." Ragna inhaled sharply. That single exchange told him everything¡ªthis opponent was by no means beneath him. Meanwhile, Shinar avoided the fight, focusing instead on extinguishing the flames on Enkrid''s back using a blanket. After a few vigorous smacks, the fire was out. A sharp cracking sound came from Ragna''s sword¡ªit was on the verge of breaking. Ragna discarded the damaged blade and drew another. This one had belonged to Squire Bill. Though not as finely crafted as the knight Jamal''s weapon, its length and weight were more familiar to Ragna. Shing! He raised the blade and steadied himself, dropping into a combat stance. Ragna was ready. "Stop." Enkrid, still lying on the ground, spoke up. The knight turned his gaze toward him. Ragna paused mid-step, ready to charge. Shinar quietly retreated, her hand resting on her dagger. It was obvious to anyone observing. "He''s a monster." A single battered shortsword had accomplished all this. Such feats were only possible with a power beyond mere physical strength¡ªproof he was a knight. "You don''t belong here," Shinar said, breaking the silence. The knight remained silent, his eyes fixed on the one who had struck him¡ªa man who now lay sprawled on the ground. Enkrid''s back bore the marks of fresh burns, his armor offering no protection against the heat. Thankfully, the injuries weren''t severe. Shinar''s swift action had prevented worse. Still, Enkrid''s shoulders were both dislocated. And that wasn''t the end of it¡ªhis palms were shredded, blood streaming from his hands. The Pressing Sword had landed, but the knight''s counterattack had been brutal. "If I hadn''t braced myself for the final blow..." The damage would have been far worse. Jamal, the knight, had unleashed his specialty¡ªBlade Echo. His weapon vibrated at high speed, amplifying its explosive power. Despite the pain and injury, Enkrid coughed lightly, waiting in silence. He had anticipated this to some extent. Having aspired to become a knight, he understood their values. He knew about their sense of honor. The knight had understood Enkrid''s actions. "Didn''t you say one strike was enough?" Enkrid''s words carried weight. The knight continued to stare at him silently before finally speaking. "What was it called?" "The Pressing Sword." "It''s impressive." Ping. The knight lowered his sword. Ragna remained poised, his blade still aimed at the knight. Enkrid, relying on the strength in his legs, rose to his feet. His dislocated shoulders left his arms limp, so he swung his arm loosely, using his waist for leverage, and placed a hand on Ragna''s shoulder. The movement was painful and almost acrobatic, but not impossible. "Don''t engage today," Enkrid said. Ragna obediently stepped back. His exceptional talent, the kind that earned him the title of genius, told him everything he needed to know¡ªthis opponent was a knight. And realistically, any attempt to fight now would end in certain death. "What''s your name?" Enkrid asked. "Jamal," the knight replied without hesitation. "Are you from the Royal Guard''s Order?" "Yes." There was no hiding it. He could betray his word and cut everyone down, but that wasn''t an option. Knights were bound by their honor, which required them to stand tall and reveal their affiliation when asked, as long as the opponent had honored the knightly code. "An honor," Enkrid said sincerely. Jamal''s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of curiosity passing through them. What kind of man was this? And what exactly was happening here? Despite himself, Jamal couldn''t help but laugh. "An honor?" Without meaning to, he repeated the words, his voice tinged with amusement. "It''s not every day you get to withstand a knight''s blade," Enkrid replied. "You''re the one who swung first." "I thought waiting would cost me." Was it keen intuition? Good judgment? Or just sheer luck? It felt like the kind of luck where you accidentally step back and crush a mouse underfoot. Perhaps Lady Luck herself had smiled upon him. Jamal laughed again, any lingering tension now dissipated. Even his killing intent had vanished, leaving behind nothing more than the image of an ordinary man who didn''t seem knightly at all. "I trusted you to uphold honor," Enkrid said. "You''ll go far," Jamal replied. As a knight, Jamal could recognize talent. Not just current skill but also potential. And while Ragna, with his striking red eyes and golden hair, immediately drew attention, sometimes there were people whose unique presence couldn''t be quantified. The man before him was one of them. "We''ll meet again," Jamal said, turning away. Having sworn an oath in the name of his honor, he now had to uphold it. Even Abnaier, the strategist, would have to respect the agreement. After all, hadn''t they all consented to one strike only? "An honor indeed," Enkrid said as he stood upright, his legs and calves throbbing in pain. It felt like every step forward came at a heavy cost, leaving his body worse for wear. "Attack as the best defense¡ªwell played," Jamal said, concluding his words before walking away. "...You''re just letting him leave?" Dunbakel asked, her expression uneasy. "What, you want to fight him?" Krais interjected, shuddering at the thought. "Unless you have a death wish, letting him go is the only option. Actually, we should probably escort him out." The idea of the knight''s overwhelming strength was enough to make Krais tremble. It wasn''t just an impression¡ªhe knew it instinctively. "Fine, Krais. Since a commotion wouldn''t help us right now, show him the way out," Enkrid said. Krais''s eyes widened. "What?" "Do you even realize he''s the enemy?" Krais hissed, lowering his voice in case the knight overheard. Not that it would change anything. Yes, the Royal Guard''s Order was the enemy. That much was clear. But today, honor had been invoked. "We have to uphold our side''s honor too," Enkrid said. They had to ensure Jamal could leave without issue. Krais wasn''t a fool. If the knight ran into sentries, causing an uproar, things could escalate far beyond their control. Would they send Dunbakel? Or Ragna? Or Shinar? No, brute force wasn''t an option anymore. The best solution was to have someone sharp and perceptive guide him out. Strength no longer mattered; he was a knight, after all. Krais knew this, even if he hated it. With a sullen look, Big Eyes began walking toward the exit. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, voicing his displeasure in a way that felt safe. -------------------------------------------------------------------Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 325 - Aftermath Chapter 325 - 325 - Aftermath Only after Krais had left did Enkrid collapse to the ground, his strength utterly drained. With a heavy thud, he landed on his backside, the weight of the impact reverberating up through his body. ''This feels harder than being surrounded by a thousand soldiers.'' The strain on his body was immense. Fighting multiple opponents earlier had been taxing, but this encounter had taken a different toll. And yet, all he''d done was swing his sword once. That single moment had left him utterly spent. Dizziness clouded his vision, his mouth dry, and his entire body felt limp. Even the pain from his dislocated shoulder seemed distant compared to the overwhelming fatigue. When measured against the earlier events of the day, the difference was absurd. ''No wonder the boatman keeps singing about despair.'' The boatman had often prattled on, sometimes as though composing poetry about hopelessness and the walls of adversity. It seemed silly at the time, but now it made sense. Even so, Enkrid had endured it. More than that¡ªhe had seized control of the situation and flipped the narrative. By taking the initiative, he''d turned the concept of "receiving" into a calculated move, making his preemptive strike the defining moment. Ultimately, he had faced the knight''s blade and survived. His dislocated shoulder and trembling body were proof that he had not only endured but prevailed. ''Luck.'' Luck had played a role, but it wasn''t everything. Strategy and effort had mattered more. As he leaned back to lie down, a hand stopped him. "Be careful of the brazier," Shinar said. Her hand gently supported the back of his head, preventing him from lying back onto the still-hot ground. His scorched hair broke apart like charcoal, scattering black flakes onto the floor. "A strange turn of events," she remarked, her gaze lingering on the spot where the knight had disappeared. "Indeed, a strange day," Enkrid replied, his eyes following hers. "Formidable," Ragna muttered to himself. Coming from Ragna, that word carried weight. The knight''s power was inhuman, otherworldly¡ªenough for someone like Ragna to call it overwhelming. Even so, Ragna had taken the knight''s blade and seen a new path forward. The encounter had opened a door, revealing a clearer direction. Now, his task was simple: maintain his current determination. Fortunately, there was no need to force himself. "Next time," Enkrid murmured, already looking ahead. To face a knight''s blade again, to prepare for the next opportunity¡ªthat was his resolve. Ragna couldn''t help but feel a competitive spark. The thought of being left behind was unbearable. And so, he laughed. "Why are you laughing after getting hit like that?" Enkrid asked, an amused grin on his face. "Why are you laughing, Leader?" Ragna shot back. Despite his burns and exhaustion, Enkrid was smiling, seemingly unaffected by the pain. "If you feel like laughing, then laugh!" Enkrid said with a hearty chuckle. "Hahaha!" Dunbakel joined in, her voice cutting through the air. No one responded to her comment. *** Knight Jamal left the camp under Krais''s guidance. No one dared to stop him. "Enkrid''s orders. Step aside. Do not interfere. Clear the way!" Krais barked as he led the knight through the camp. Within the camp, Enkrid''s name carried the weight of an unassailable sword. Even Battalion Commander Garrett couldn''t oppose him, as his authority came from the soldiers'' respect rather than rank alone. Still, a few soldiers glared menacingly at the knight as he passed. His calm demeanor was likely grating on them. There were always hotheaded individuals in any group. "Clear the way!" Krais growled, his glare silencing any objections. For his part, Jamal paid no mind to the tension around him. Why would he? If anyone dared to attack, he''d cut them down without hesitation. It wasn''t honorable to strike first, but he had no qualms about responding to provocation with deadly precision. Fortunately, no one dared to challenge him, so Jamal turned to Krais with a curious question. "Is that sort of insanity something for normal?" There was no need to specify whom he meant. Krais understood immediately. Jamal couldn''t shake the feeling that Enkrid had recognized him and deliberately initiated the confrontation. From Jamal''s question, it seemed he didn''t truly know who Enkrid was, though he''d certainly recognized the man''s skill. That much was clear, judging by the fact that he''d immediately struck with a sword imbued with Will. The downward strike, carrying a palpable aura of dominance, had to be met head-on. It had been a long time since Jamal had been forced to swing his sword under such duress. The experience was oddly refreshing, though he imagined Abnaier would be shocked if he ever found out. Still, after all his reflections, the question that escaped Jamal''s lips was simple: "Is he normally this crazy?" ''If it had been even slightly off...'' Enkrid would have died. Jamal''s strike had been one that risked his own life, breaking through the smallest of openings. The sword Enkrid had used to counter him had carved a narrow path through a field of blades. Had his reaction been the slightest bit slower or his aim just a fraction off, death would have been inevitable. ''And yet...'' Was there even the slightest hesitation in Enkrid''s blade? Jamal couldn''t see any. Despite gambling his life, Enkrid''s sword had been resolute, with no hint of regret. That brief moment had given his sword its name¡ªoppressive. It forced Jamal to react. Seeing that, how could Jamal consider Enkrid normal? Even knights, though human, felt fear and instinctual hesitation. But Enkrid seemed like a man walking an entirely different path, far removed from such instincts. A single exchange had revealed everything Jamal needed to see. Krais carefully chose his words in response to Jamal''s question. "Your insight is remarkable. Yes, he''s insane." Inwardly, Krais marveled at the knight. His intuition was extraordinary. To discern the madness of their captain in a single glance was no small feat. "I see," Jamal said simply, before departing. There was nothing more to ask. Though the situation was grim, he had delivered his message and was now ready to return to his duties. Would this incident become the spark that led Naurilia to commit to a full-scale war? Jamal''s use of his sword had made waves, and those ripples would not go unnoticed. Battalion Commander Garrett burst into the wrecked tent, late as always. Only after ensuring his own safety did he arrive, his survival instincts rivaling Krais''s own. "What in the world happened here?" he asked, his face a mixture of shock and concern. Enkrid explained everything, and Garrett made a deliberate choice to keep the matter quiet. There was no benefit in spreading the word that a knight had come and gone. Should they tell the soldiers¡ªwho had just begun to celebrate their survival¡ªthat a knight might return to cut them down at any moment? Even if they claimed the knight wouldn''t return, the psychological toll would be immense. While those present seemed to have put their worries aside, Garrett had his reasons for keeping the information under wraps. "We''ll need to report this to the central command," he finally said. Krais, who had just returned from escorting the knight out, narrowed his eyes at the statement. "Do we really need to escalate this? Couldn''t we just let it slide?" "That''s not for us to decide," Garrett replied curtly. Krais frowned, the stench of politics filling the air. This incident would undoubtedly trigger further developments. ''Political leverage.'' Aspen had been the first to break the agreement. While it wasn''t a full-fledged non-aggression pact, there had been an understanding to avoid crossing boundaries for the time being. But Aspen had ignored that and crossed the border¡ªand lost. Now they''d even sent a knight. There was no way this could be swept under the rug. Naurilia would undoubtedly extract significant political advantages from this situation. They might agree to cover up the knight''s involvement in exchange for a temporary reprieve from war, but the negotiations would come at a cost. Krais saw it all as inevitable. Though it wasn''t something he needed to concern himself with, he couldn''t deny that it might offer personal benefits. ''From the perspective of the border guard...'' The rewards could be immense. If he played his cards right, he too could profit from the situation. His thoughts naturally turned to how he could turn this into an opportunity to earn a fortune. "Well then, get yourself treated first," Garrett said, clapping his hands lightly to draw attention. He stepped outside to give instructions, and soon a group of soldiers arrived to clean up the devastated tent. Enkrid''s dislocated shoulder was reset by two medics. Despite the sharp, audible crack of bone snapping back into place, Enkrid remained unfazed. Dunbakel, however, winced visibly, disturbed by the sound. "Doesn''t that hurt?" one of the medics asked, unable to suppress the question. They had heard of rare conditions where people were born unable to feel pain and wondered if Enkrid might have such an affliction. "It hurts," Enkrid replied plainly. "Then why don''t you even groan?" "Groaning doesn''t make it hurt any less." The logic was sound, but it defied the natural human response. Pain usually elicited an involuntary reaction. "You truly are extraordinary, Commander," the medic said, admiration in their voice. But why did they insist on calling him Commander? Enkrid didn''t have the energy to correct them. Though he hadn''t groaned or screamed, the strain of the day caught up with him, and he spent the next two days battling a fever. While Enkrid lay feverish, word came that Aspen had withdrawn its forces. He caught fragments of the news in his sleep, his body thoroughly exhausted from the ordeal. Despite his weakened state, he found solace in the experience. The fever brought him a dream of the ferryman once again. "Don''t get cocky," said the ferryman. Enkrid felt a bit wronged. He hadn''t said a word. He was merely sitting on the boat, watching the endless black river stretch before him. For a brief moment, he found even the inky void of the water oddly compelling, wondering if one''s perspective could change such a bleak sight into something worth appreciating. "Arrogance," the ferryman repeated. There wasn''t much more to say. Neither had the desire for small talk. "When the wall rises before you, it will block your path," the ferryman said for the third time. Enkrid nodded. It had always been so and always would be. The ferryman called it a curse, but to Enkrid, it was anything but. To him, it was an opportunity¡ªone that allowed him to bridge the gap between the talented and the ordinary, an opportunity that had brought him to where he was now, even earning him the chance to face a knight''s blade. For reasons unknown, Enkrid spoke, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic sincerity. "Thank you." The ferryman, unlike most, wasn''t startled by the abrupt expression of gratitude. That was the end of it. When Enkrid awoke, the dream dissolved into reality, and the first thing he saw was Dunbakel dozing off near his bed. What''s she doing now? He felt something cool on his forehead¡ªa damp cloth, its temperature just right. It seemed she had been tending to him the whole time. "Hey, go lie down and sleep," he said. "Oh, I just dozed off for a moment," Dunbakel replied, wiping a bit of drool from her mouth. The beast-woman blinked a few times, stretched, and yawned, scratching her cheek absentmindedly. Then, with an oddly bashful tone that didn''t suit her, she scratched her neck and muttered: "It felt like taking care of a sick little sibling." "I''m probably older than you," Enkrid shot back. "Well, I''ll grow stronger. Strong enough to pierce through any scoundrel that comes my way. So don''t go dying on me." For a moment, Dunbakel had glimpsed death when Enkrid confronted the knight. Her survival instincts had flared, warning her of certain doom if she challenged that opponent. Yet Enkrid had done it anyway, hurling himself at someone whose very presence screamed death. That moment had forced her to reflect on herself. I haven''t changed. The realization stung. She had stayed here to escape the aimless life of a bandit''s blade, seeking something different. Yet she hadn''t been able to act when it mattered most. I don''t want to die. Caught between two paths, she had failed to walk either. Then what should I do? I''ll become ridiculously strong. That was her conclusion. No more sinking into despair¡ªshe would move forward. That was what she had learned from Enkrid, her mad leader. "Don''t you go dying, either," Enkrid replied instinctively. He recalled how, in his moments of helplessness, Dunbakel had charged at the knight with a twisted expression, time and time again. The way she fought, as if resigned to death, was clear even to an observer. Yet she had fought regardless. What drove her? "Don''t overdo it..." "I''ll get strong, you''ll see. So, if you ever need a woman''s warmth, just say the word. I''ll lie down next to you," Dunbakel said, cutting him off and running her mouth as usual. "Esther''s enough for me," Enkrid retorted, glancing down at the leopard curled in his arms. Esther''s lake-like blue eyes locked onto Dunbakel, who returned the gaze with her golden ones. "No monopolizing," Dunbakel said, her tone playful but firm. What now? Esther snorted, the sound almost like a dismissive laugh, as if daring her to try and take her place. Dunbakel backed off, ending the exchange there. Later, when Enkrid dozed off again, he woke to commotion outside the tent. Aspen''s retreat had sealed the victory, and celebrations were in full swing. The camp was alive with cheers¡ªparty preparations were underway. -------------------------------------------------------------------Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 326 - It Was an Honor Chapter 326 - 326 - It Was an Honor Enkrid had barely survived receiving the knight''s sword, leaving him in a near-dead state. Yet, after two days of fever, his monstrous recovery ability kicked in, and he improved somewhat. Of course, he wasn''t back to full strength. "I can''t even grip properly." Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that his shoulder had dislocated when he parried the knight''s strike. Had he resisted longer, it might have strained every muscle in his arm beyond repair. Though his body remained far from ideal, he couldn''t simply skip the victory celebration. In truth, it wasn''t so much a choice as a necessity¡ªthose around him wouldn''t let him rest quietly. "Commander!" One by one, soldiers Enkrid knew began to visit his tent. "Care for a bite of eel?" offered a cook. "You were incredible," remarked a reconnaissance officer. Even soldiers who usually teased him found their way in, some looking sheepish but showing up nonetheless. "It was an honor to fight alongside you," they all said in unison. Enkrid gazed at them in silence. The initial excitement they had brought into the tent quickly dissipated as he said nothing. The room grew still, and the cold winter wind seeped in through the entrance, raising goosebumps. Did we go overboard? Yeah... we probably did. The soldiers began to exchange uneasy glances, fidgeting. "Uh, Commander?" Helma finally broke the silence. Enkrid looked at her without a trace of humor in his eyes. He didn''t need time to gather his thoughts¡ªthese were the thoughts he always carried. But he wanted to take a moment to look at their faces, to ensure his words were more than empty phrases drifting into the air. He had learned this from Krais: when you speak, speak with sincerity. Look at your audience, acknowledge them, and mean every word. Enkrid did just that. Though his cold demeanor might have felt like a chilling wind to them, sincerity mattered more than warmth. "It was an honor to fight alongside everyone," Enkrid finally said. It wasn''t just the knight''s sword that made him speak of honor. Fighting alongside these soldiers had brought him something greater¡ªsomething beyond honor. Why wouldn''t it? These were men and women who had taken up arms to protect their families, friends, and lives. Sure, some might have joined for a handful of coins, but even those soldiers ended up fighting for the comrades beside them. Brotherhood on the battlefield wasn''t a cliche?¡ªit was real. These soldiers were the same as him, risking their lives to scout, fight, and secure victory. Without them, he wouldn''t have been able to achieve what he had. How could it not be an honor? And so, without hesitation, he spoke with all the respect he felt. "It was an honor." The tent fell silent again, but only for a moment. One of the soldiers slapped his own head with a loud thwack. "Damn it, I''m such an idiot," he muttered, his voice dripping with regret. This particular soldier had been one of Enkrid''s critics. Helma burst out laughing at the sight. The soldier turned to Helma with a determined expression. "Go on without me, Captain. You have my blessing!" "What nonsense are you spouting, idiot?" Helma retorted, grabbing the man in a headlock and pulling him under her arm. The soldier gasped for breath but didn''t ask to be let go. Wait, is it okay to call me ''Captain'' when I''m not their commanding officer? Enkrid wondered. A middle-aged man holding a bottle of wine chimed in, "It''s fine. A captain''s a captain!" As it turned out, this man was the actual commander of their unit. Yet, even he didn''t hesitate to refer to Enkrid as "Captain." And it didn''t stop there. Nurath appeared next, whispering to Krais, "Is the Captain okay?" Nurath, Garret''s personal guard and aide, technically outranked Enkrid, who should only be called a company commander. Yet she, too, called him "Captain" without hesitation. Listening to everyone, Enkrid began piecing together the situation. "Hey, Captain! Tell us some stories. We''re dying to know what you''ve been up to," Garret himself said. By now, Enkrid understood the source of their admiration. From the first day of battle, when he charged alone into enemy lines, swinging his sword, the tide of the fight had shifted. Though he had disappeared and faced numerous ordeals, what had stuck in the soldiers'' minds most vividly was clear. It was that unforgettable scene of him standing alone against overwhelming odds. It was the sight of one person''s back. A single blade swung by one man. It was the force created by Enkrid. "Guardian''s Blade!" That was how someone who witnessed his combat had coined the peculiar nickname, which quickly spread among the ranks. Thanks to the medic who fixed his dislocated shoulder, another strange moniker arose. "They''re also calling you the Blade of Endurance," Krais mentioned, his sharp ears having picked up the new name. A lofty title for something as simple as enduring pain remarkably well. While these new nicknames circulated, Madman Commander was still the most common label attached to Enkrid. But nicknames came and went, destined to fade in time. The victory celebration lasted two days. During that time, Enkrid allowed himself to rest, feeling the importance of recovery. In other words, he ate, drank, and relaxed. "Eel!" "Trout!" From seafood of all kinds to roasted suckling pig, fine wine, and even expensive whiskey, the feast overflowed. "To the Guardian''s Blade!" "Let''s eat and drink until we drop!" Garret proved to be a far stronger drinker than Enkrid had anticipated. Although Enkrid prided himself on his endurance, Garret drank several bottles of strong spirits and still sang with a clear, vibrant voice. It wasn''t the first time, apparently, as a few soldiers chimed in, chanting in rhythm with his song: "Hurrah!" The world calls us forth! "Hurrah!" We sell our blades for gold! "Hurrah!" Yes, we sell our blades for gold! "Hurrah!" We are mercenaries! "Hurrah!" We sell our blades for gold! "Hurrah!" And stake our lives on loyalty! Enkrid had heard this mercenary tune before during his travels, but never performed so crisply. Garret''s voice was a gift¡ªlike a well-honed blade, precise yet smooth. It resonated powerfully when necessary, then softened to wrap the listeners in its embrace. As the soldiers roared, Garret concluded the song and approached Enkrid, seated quietly among them. "We''ve already written a song for you," Garret said, grinning. Enkrid tilted his head, puzzled. A song for him? "I''ll sing it for you later," Garret laughed, patting his belly. His demeanor, paired with his charming looks, made it clear why Marcus had placed him in charge. His character was impeccable, and there was no concern about betrayal, as Krais had once feared. Reflecting on that now, Enkrid realized how needless those worries had been. "Sure, I''ll hear it then," Enkrid replied, now a few drinks in and immersed in the joy of victory and camaraderie. He had parried the knight''s sword, spoken of honor, and now celebrated with comrades he could call friends. It was, undeniably, enjoyable. Some soldiers muttered among themselves, remarking that even Enkrid seemed more human tonight. Of course, I''m human, he thought. Not some monster. "Maybe they don''t know," Krais, somewhat drunk, said loudly. "But the Captain''s gonna wake up tomorrow morning and train as if none of this happened. I''d bet anything on it¡ªhe''s insane!" He punctuated his words by slapping his thighs for emphasis, an exaggerated gesture that amused the soldiers. "Really?" "Bet on it!" Krais replied, casually collecting coins from the curious soldiers. Enkrid ignored the conversation after the first few lines, knowing full well that Krais was just stirring things up. As he sipped his drink, he caught Ragna''s gaze across the room. With a slight nod, Enkrid raised his glass in acknowledgment. Thank you. The gratitude wasn''t just for Ragna but for everyone. Without their help, he wouldn''t have forged the crushing blade he now wielded. What if Ragna hadn''t been there? Enkrid supposed he would have found a way forward on his own. But there was no denying that Ragna''s presence had expedited the process. He knew now that he needed someone like Ragna. If Ragna ever decided to leave, Enkrid would likely question his decision sincerely. That was why he spoke so casually about Jaxen''s return¡ªit simply felt natural. Is it selfish of me? To keep people around him. To keep them close. Is it the right thing to do? Do I rely on them as a barrier to hide my own inadequacies? This was an extension of thoughts that had haunted him in childhood, though they seemed pointless now. Inadequate? Hardly. Enkrid clenched his fist, then relaxed it. The pain was subsiding moment by moment, thanks to the regenerative abilities rooted in his Isolation Technique. His body had changed. The blade he wielded had changed. Though his mindset wasn''t drastically different from the past, the changes were undeniable. No, he corrected himself. He''s gained things. It was friendship. Comrades. Sometimes a mentor, and at other times, members of the same unit fighting alongside him. He would ask them if the need arose, especially at critical junctures. No, he would tell them¡ªif they wished to leave, they could. If the path ahead promised death, as it did now? I will use this day. It was a resolve to utilize even curses as a tool, a shift from his previous passivity to an active approach. That didn''t mean he would stop trying his utmost to escape death when possible. But if he couldn''t influence even that day''s events, then he would let them go. That was the proper way. Enkrid didn''t dwell on this. There was no inner turmoil, no hesitation. He simply decided. "Let''s drink and feast till we drop!" From one corner of the room, Helma shouted, her top discarded save for a chest wrap. Her scars and well-defined abs were clearly visible, seemingly unaffected by the cold. "Be my woman!" One of the soldiers made a drunken attempt at flirting, only to be promptly knocked down with a blow to the head and stomach. He rolled to the side and emptied the contents of his stomach. Yeah, sure, she''s all yours, Enkrid thought, chuckling softly. For today, at least, he set aside unnecessary thoughts. He focused on resting. "As much as your body needs rest, so does your mind, brother," Audin had once said. For this single day, Enkrid chose to let go of his ponderings. He thought of nothing and simply existed in the present, relishing the fleeting moments of a day that would never return. Enkrid laughed, ate, and drank freely. "You''ll hear people calling me Chef, Chef soon enough," one of the soldiers muttered as he approached, clearly tipsy. "And why are you telling me this?" Enkrid responded. "Come promote my cooking!" This guy has some business sense, Enkrid thought. Though not as sharp as Krais, it wasn''t bad. "Fine, I''ll help." "An honor!" the soldier exclaimed. Two other soldiers who overheard suddenly chimed in. "Me too!" "It''s an honor!" What''s this? Imitation? Drunk and silly, they''d lost all sense. Enkrid laughed and gave each of them a light knock on the head. "Ow!" They laughed as they took the hits. Poorly copying others, even in jest, was bound to invite such responses. The next morning, after just two hours of sleep, Enkrid resumed training. Though he didn''t push himself excessively, his movements to warm up and build heat looked surreal to the soldiers waking up groggy from hangovers. How does someone eat, drink, and party like that, only to wake up and train at dawn? It didn''t seem logical, but Enkrid''s body was now more comfortable in motion than at rest. Naturally, Krais had pocketed a tidy sum from his bets. After three days of rest, Enkrid prepared to leave. Though he still struggled to walk properly, Garret offered him a carriage. Just before departure, Garret approached Enkrid. "Commander Enkrid," he called. "Something you wish to say?" Enkrid replied. He expected yet another request to recount his battles and experiences¡ªa tiresome but manageable task. The middle-aged man''s eager gaze, however, was somewhat unnerving. Garret had mentioned composing a song for him, though Enkrid hadn''t yet heard it. "How about becoming the commander of Green Pearl Battalion?" Garret suggested. Leaning casually against the carriage, he yawned, speaking as if it were no big deal. Enkrid had turned down similar offers before¡ªsome even better. For instance, he had refused the position of commander for the Border Guard, despite its prestige. "No, I''m not interested," he replied without hesitation. Garret chuckled knowingly. "Figured as much." "Then why ask?" "I''m retiring," Garret said. "Then why even bother?" "Because the next guy''s going to have a tough time." When Enkrid silently questioned the meaning behind his words, Garret elaborated. "Being in this position means constant pressure from the central command. Marcus is holding them back for now, but who knows how long that''ll last? And with the way things are going, doesn''t it remind you of a pack of dogs?" Dogs? "Are you saying a rebellion is brewing?" Krais interjected from behind. Though the conversation initially seemed like private musings, even Enkrid could grasp bits and pieces of it. The repulsion of Aspen''s external threat was a victory, but it might also spark new challenges. Still, it wasn''t something to worry about immediately. For now, Enkrid cared little. The knight''s blade. He was too busy digesting the new strength he had acquired. And so, half-asleep, he rode the carriage back to the Border Guard. Unsurprisingly, a few familiar faces greeted him upon arrival. "You''re back?" "Wanderer Teresa welcomes her commander!" "Brother, was your journey peaceful?" Enkrid smiled faintly. He was home again. -------------------------------------------------------------------Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 327 - Return of the Hero Chapter 327 - 327 - Return of the Hero A roar of cheers erupted behind Rem, Teresa, and Audin. It was only natural. The news from the Green Pearl outpost had reached the Border Guard as swiftly as the wind. The return of the hero who had defeated the Black Blade, the cultists, and even Aspen. If there weren''t any cheers, that would have been the real anomaly. Enkrid noticed petals falling above his head. Not many, just a few scattered, dried flower petals. Looking up, he saw those scattering them¡ªseveral children and a few women. Among them, one child and one woman''s faces stood out as familiar. The child''s bright eyes were locked onto him. The one who dreamed of being an herbalist, Enkrid recalled. It was winter, so the child must have sought out flowers that bloomed even in this harsh season. Then, they would have plucked, dried, and carefully prepared them just for this moment. How much effort must have gone into this? White and pink dried petals gently fell onto Enkrid''s head. Though sparse, the heartfelt sincerity behind them was unmistakable. Enkrid smiled, his gratitude clear in his expression. The aspiring herbalist child stared at his smiling face. Seeing their hero smile, they felt an unparalleled happiness. Even if their fingers had blistered and cracked while gathering winter petals, the experience would remain a joyful memory. Enkrid walked past the child, heading inward. As he moved, Rem fell into step on his right. "Had fun out there?" Rem asked. "More or less." While word of the events had reached them, it was unlikely they knew every detail. "Brother, you look like your body''s been through hell," Audin commented from behind. Through hell? Enkrid thought, suppressing a laugh. He had been closer to half-dead¡ªbolts in his back, bleeding profusely, and barely clinging on. Even after some rest and recovery at the Green Pearl outpost, he had still been far from fully healed. And then a knight had come along and landed a decisive blow for good measure. "Just a bit banged up," Enkrid replied, mixing in a half-joke. "My lord, my father¡ªwhy have you given him such a fragile body?" Audin''s prayer-like lament was clearly directed at Enkrid''s physique. Objectively speaking, Enkrid''s body was exceptionally well-built, resembling that of a beastkin. His naturally muscular frame and defined abs were evidence enough. But in Audin''s eyes, it was lacking¡ªthough this was unsurprising coming from someone whose body seemed a fusion of beastkin and giants. "There''s still room for improvement," Audin muttered as Enkrid left him behind. Soon, Ragna joined Enkrid''s left. His right arm was still tightly bandaged, but his thigh injury had healed enough for him to walk without issue. While Ragna, too, bore injuries, he seemed mostly recovered aside from his arm. Behind Rem, Dunbakel followed, with Teresa limping slightly alongside Audin. Together, they formed a small procession, drawing even louder cheers. "Immortal Rem!" The cry came not just from civilians but also from soldiers. The battle against the Black Blade and the cultists was still vivid in their minds, making the nickname "Immortal Rem" feel natural. Cheers for Audin and Teresa also blended into the noise. Their shared nickname, The Giant Siblings, was amusing but went unacknowledged. Dunbakel, on the other hand, grumbled about not having her own nickname. As they continued, a woman''s voice rang out among the cheers. "Take me!" "What am I supposed to take?!" Rem shot back. "Not you!" "Even if you offered, I wouldn''t!" The playful banter amidst the cheers revealed the boldness of the woman shouting. Enkrid recognized her¡ªa merchant he''d seen in the market, raising two children on her own. Her grit and resilience were admirable, worthy of respect. The cheers grew louder, and Enkrid''s name echoed from all sides. Half of this celebratory reception was orchestrated by the lord of the fortress, but the other half came from the citizens'' genuine enthusiasm. In truth, even the lord''s participation stemmed from heartfelt sincerity. Watching Enkrid return to the Border Guard, a thought crossed their minds. What if Aspen had won instead? The horrifying aftermath of such a loss was unthinkable. What would the king have done to the fortress lord, beaten bloody and disgraced from the start? Or what measures would have been taken? It would''ve been a miracle if they hadn''t lost their head over the defeat. "Whooaaa!" Even the lord himself roared like a beast in celebration. "So handsome!" "The Unyielding Blade!" "The Guardian''s Sword!" Enkrid noted that no matter the nicknames people bestowed upon him, their voices were always faster than their thoughts. The news of their return had traveled faster than the carriage. Of course, this was partly due to the advance unit that had been sent ahead to Border Guard, spreading word of the events. While Enkrid and his group arrived in their battered state, the rest of the unit, largely unscathed, had already returned, making it inevitable that tales would spread quickly. As they walked through the cheers, Enkrid ruffled the hair of the child who dreamed of becoming an herbalist, nodded lightly to a middle-aged woman selling spiced jerky, and even quipped back at the innkeeper Vanessa, who yelled, "Marry me!" with a curt, "Are you crazy?" Throughout the carriage ride, Enkrid had been too preoccupied with reflecting on the lessons learned and the scars earned from the recent "days" to anticipate such a reception. That only made the welcome feel even more heartfelt. When he first dreamed of becoming a knight, it would have been a lie to say he had never envisioned such moments. Here was a child he had protected. Here was the child''s mother. There was someone who had thanked him for saving their son. A craftsman had gifted him boots in gratitude. All these people, living their lives within the walls of the city, sustained by the protection of his sword. If he claimed not to feel satisfaction from that, it would be a lie. Yet, the world remained unforgiving. The Demon Realm would endlessly spawn monsters, and those monsters would sow more chaos. Wars sparked by competing interests among the various races would continue to demand lives. To be a knight who ends wars. To stand at the world''s end as the knight of the apocalypse. Enkrid contemplated these dreams of his as he stepped into the barracks. Winter was in its mid-point; there was still time before spring would arrive. Though others might see the passing days as brief, Enkrid''s overlapping "three todays" from the battlefield made this return feel like a long journey indeed. "Have you finally gotten rid of that stray cat?" As Enkrid rested in the barracks, Rem approached with this abrupt remark. Before Enkrid could answer, Rem nodded to himself. "Well done. Good job." Rem was referring to Jaxen, but one could tell that if Enkrid truly confirmed he''d abandoned him, Rem might even celebrate. Not that he seemed convinced by any answer, making it clear the question was more out of idle curiosity. "Do I have the power to throw him away or keep him?" "Then if you haven''t, where''s that prickly stray cat gone off to?" The leopard, Esther, was nowhere to be seen. Likely off somewhere busy, having disappeared almost immediately after arriving. "Maybe dead?" Enkrid tossed the question casually, curious to see Rem''s reaction. Why was death not considered an option? After all, Enkrid himself had already "died" countless times in his battles with Aspen. Rem snorted dismissively. "That punk''s not the type to die easily." Though indirectly phrased, it was clear he respected Jaxen''s capabilities. "Hmm." That same logic applied to himself, didn''t it? Was it possible that others believed Enkrid wouldn''t die so easily either? As if reading his thoughts, Rem continued. "Captain, you''ve got a thing going with Lady Luck, don''t you? That''s why I figured you''d survive." Though baseless, his words had a certain truth to them from another''s perspective. After all, how had he survived everything so far? If asked to explain, even Enkrid would struggle to provide a proper answer. "Just lucky," he might have said in the past. But such a flippant response wouldn''t suffice now. Rem quickly lost interest in discussing Jaxen and instead poked at Enkrid''s side, urging him to share what had happened. So, Enkrid recounted the events. Audin interjected occasionally with his own commentary. "A dislocation? That''s due to insufficient muscles, brother." "Strengthen your back muscles to the point where bolts can''t pierce them, brother." Muscles that could deflect arrows? What on earth was he talking about? Unless someone had the hardened skin of a giant, wasn''t that impossible? But it wasn''t just Rem and Audin who were listening. Everyone had their ears turned toward the story. Even Ragna was paying close attention. Among them, the most focused was Krais. It was natural for Krais. He had wanted to ask so many things back at the Green Pearl base but hadn''t found the chance. That blasted Garrett had monopolized the captain''s attention. Even on the way back in the carriage, when Krais intended to ask, Enkrid had kept his eyes closed, appearing deep in thought, making it impossible to disturb him. So now was the moment. "How did he get out of that situation?" Krais had inspected the battlefield Enkrid had escaped from, scoured it, and analyzed it thoroughly. The retreating Aspen commander had laid a trap that seemed inescapable, turning the terrain itself into a net. It was a hunting ground where no one could escape. Not unless they were a knight. But Enkrid wasn''t a knight. Though he had once crossed swords with a knight, who had walked away with a satisfied expression, that encounter still left Krais uneasy. What if that knight, half-crazed, decided to return? Krais''s thoughts trailed off into doubt. The unease clawed at his heart, constricting it. How many knights does Aspen have to send one here? Are there even three in total? And yet, one of them supposedly came to cut down the captain? It was an unbelievable tale. That''s why Krais needed to ask¡ªhow did he escape? He wasn''t a knight. Nor had he outwitted his opponent''s strategy. He had fallen into their preparation, trapped in their snare. Was it even conceivable to escape on luck alone? "Unless Lady Luck herself grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him out." It was absurd. Having been pragmatic and cold-headed since childhood, Krais faced reality squarely: luck wasn''t enough. His expression grew serious as he studied Enkrid. How hard could it be to explain? Since there was no need for secrecy, Enkrid replied honestly: "Instinct." A silence followed. Winter winds whistled past the barracks outside. Rem was the first to react, bursting into laughter. "Pfft, hahaha! I knew it!" The others soon followed. "...Instinct?" Krais tilted his head in disbelief. Audin, meanwhile, began to pray. "Father above, have You taken him under Your wing?" Dunbakel twitched her nose and asked cautiously, "And how do you train for that kind of instinct?" Of course, no one had an answer. Theresa simply stared at Enkrid. He had never lied to her since they first met, so she believed him now, too. It was astonishing. Could a man escape such a battlefield purely on instinct? Even with her injured body, Theresa''s battle hunger flared. She wanted to clash swords with him, to face him with her shield raised. Her aura became palpable. "Sister," Audin interjected gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. His touch carried a clear warning: back down, or suffer the consequences. Theresa, knowing her current state wouldn''t allow for the fight she craved and unwilling to provoke Audin, suppressed her desires. She wasn''t a beast, merely a half-giant. "Yes, I understand. This wandering Theresa knows when to hold back," she muttered, referring to herself objectively. Meanwhile, Ragna, true to form, was already dozing off in a corner. Though he had seemed interested earlier, he had reverted to his usual indifferent self. Despite the cheers and even his name being mentioned, Ragna remained unchanged, as if the world couldn''t faze him. Krais, on the other hand, was deep in thought. Finally, he broke his silence. "Explain in more detail." This couldn''t simply end with a single word¡ªinstinct. Enkrid willingly elaborated, and Krais absorbed his explanation. "Danger-sensing intuition? The ability to perceive the flow of a battlefield?" he murmured. "Is that even possible?" Enkrid gave a faint nod. Yes, it''s possible. But it hadn''t come easily. To hone that sense, he had needed to die¡ªor come close to it¡ªcountless times. He wasn''t bitter, though. What he had gained was worth the price. During his semi-conscious journey back, he had spent much of his time reflecting on what he had learned and achieved. "Impressive," Krais said, though there was no personal stake in it. His eyes glimmered with fascination, a rare sight from him. It was curious. There was no gold at stake, yet he seemed genuinely interested. In the days following Enkrid''s return, time seemed to fly by. There had been talk of hosting a banquet, but the aftermath of the battle left no room for such festivities. The dead soldiers'' bodies and the carcasses of the beasts had to be dealt with first. The hides of wolf-like beasts, when skinned carefully, could fetch a high price in Krona. Luckily, a tanning guild was already established within the Border Guard. Even so, it was a labor-intensive process. Compensation had to be distributed to the families of fallen soldiers, and the bodies needed proper burials or cremations. For a while, fires burned constantly on the outskirts of the Border Guard''s grounds. Graham, the commander, genuinely wanted to hold a celebration, but there was no time. Letters poured in relentlessly, and unexpected visitors arrived as well. Two particularly notable visitors sought Enkrid. The issue? "He can''t come right now," the aide reported. Graham broke into a cold sweat. "Why?" "His subordinates won''t let him. They''ve blocked anyone from disturbing him." Damn it. Graham resolved to stall for as long as he could. If those madmen started acting up, there would be no end to the chaos. Better to deal with it himself than let the situation escalate. Being a lord wasn''t an easy job. Sigh. For a brief moment, Graham found himself longing for his days as a heavy-armored battalion leader. He let out a deep sigh. -------------------------------------------------------------------Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 328 - The Centerpole Chapter 328 - 328 - The Centerpole For three days straight, Enkrid engaged in cycles of reflection and review. He had no choice. His body was pushed to such extremes that it was a wonder he hadn''t completely broken down. As a result, his physical training was limited to only the simplest movements¡ªsome exercises to maintain flexibility and swinging his sword in the air to keep his instincts sharp. The rest of his time was spent in contemplation and analysis. Oddly enough, he didn''t find it dull. "Pushing your body right now is like pouring water into a cracked vessel, brother," Audin said, his words implying that any effort would simply leak away without much to show for it. In the past, Enkrid wouldn''t have cared. He would have kept pushing forward, cracked vessel or not. But now, he knew better. To move forward, he had to rest. "To truly progress, one must rest properly, brother. Once, there was a goat named Nu," Audin began, slipping into one of his sermons. "Nu had strong, sturdy legs and thought their purpose was to move endlessly forward. So, Nu walked without rest, thinking it was the reason for their gift. But the Lord, seeing this, said: ''Without direction, your walking will lead you nowhere.''" Audin''s sermon, though unsolicited, wasn''t unpleasant. Beside him, Theresa knelt, listening attentively. The two made an oddly fitting pair, often called the "giant siblings" due to their similar builds. Looking at them now, even their demeanor seemed to align. After Audin''s sermon concluded, Theresa began recounting recent events. Her tone was soft and measured, contrasting their awkward first meeting. Enkrid had a knack for drawing people out and fostering ease in conversation, a skill he used now to navigate their talk effortlessly. "Resting because of an injury, huh? Same as me," Theresa said. "Yes, that''s true." "And after killing a bishop, won''t they come for you with vengeance in their eyes?" "I wouldn''t know." "How will you respond?" "I''ll do what I can," she replied, though she seemed surprisingly uninformed about the intricacies of the church''s movements. It wasn''t a fruitful avenue for information. Still, Krais seemed to gather some insights from her words, as though connecting the dots. "I''ve been learning songs lately," Theresa suddenly said. Her voice, naturally husky and rough, was like the grain of weathered wood. Yet Enkrid, with his heightened senses, discerned a unique charm in it. Rough, yes, but captivating. Like a piece of coarse wood that, when crafted, could become a stunning piece of furniture. Though Enkrid himself wasn''t skilled in singing, he had picked up numerous songs during his travels. He wondered if Garrett, with his surprisingly clear and pure voice, would harmonize well with Theresa''s rougher tone. "What were you doing while the captain was out there risking his neck?" "Fighting," Dunbakel replied curtly. "And where, exactly, were you fighting? Or are you being vague on purpose? Oh, I get it¡ªyou like being hit, don''t you?" "I don''t." "Sure, sure. Let''s go. Let''s spar¡ªor rather, let''s fight!" Rem taunted, prodding Dunbakel relentlessly, clearly eager for a bout. Meanwhile, Ragna dozed in a corner, still recovering. Amidst all this, talk of a banquet came and went, but Enkrid focused on rest outside of basic training. His rest included contemplation, review, and conversation with his comrades. He also made sure to eat well. "If eel is ever delivered, make sure to try it," he suggested. Rem, noticing Ragna nod in agreement, raised an eyebrow. "Even that picky palate approves? I''ve had eel before, though." "The seasoning is different." The atmosphere in the barracks was peculiar, with Ragna and Rem often exchanging cold, indifferent glances. The tension between them was nothing new, and Enkrid had long since learned to ignore it. "Here''s ointment," Shinar said, dropping by to deliver another jar. "Did you raid the treasury of the fairies or something?" "How did you guess?" Enkrid, now accustomed to fairy humor, responded smoothly. "Instinct." "I heard you survived thanks to that instinct. Impressive," Shinar remarked lightly before disappearing again. The ointment came in a small, well-worn clay jar with a faint herbal scent, clearly handmade. Despite the old container, the contents inside were fresh. As time passed, Enkrid continued to immerse himself in self-reflection, consolidating what he had learned and gained. Since he couldn''t move his body vigorously, he worked his mind relentlessly. The insights he uncovered were significant. Could this instinct be applied even in direct combat? It seemed likely. On a broader scale, it functioned as a sense for detecting the turning points of a battlefield. If focused on a direct opponent, it could be used in other ways as well. He had already proven this against the knight from the Order of the Crown. With the boldness of the Beast''s Heart, the sharpness of his sensory techniques, and his concentration, the possibilities were vast. What is lacking? Reflection is the process of understanding. It is the strength to develop eyes that confront one''s present state. Having done this thousands of times, Enkrid quickly realized what he lacked. To be precise, he understood what he currently needed and sought, allowing the answer to come easily. What he needed now was mental agility. How should one respond to situations, moments, and phenomena? Think rapidly about various possibilities, choose the best option, and execute it. It wasn''t just a matter of instinct; it required becoming accustomed to the act of thinking itself. Not intuition. It was about streamlining the thought process. The three characters in "instinct" inherently carried intuition born of experience. In the end, it came down to mental agility. Relying solely on instinct would lead to being deceived by a cunning blade. How much advantage had he gained thus far by wielding mercenary swords in the style of Valen? Enkrid never considered himself special. He was always aware that he could fall victim to the same fate at any moment. It was only natural. After leaving the village as a so-called "genius" in his youth, he had been beaten and battered countless times. This is why repetition and training became second nature to him. Once sparked, a thought burned ceaselessly. As Enkrid delved deep within himself, events occurred outside, but they were of no concern to him. No, he couldn''t even hear them. "Who are you looking for?" He ignored the faint sounds of voices from outside. Enkrid sank deeper and deeper within himself. The knight. The image of that man''s blade surfaced repeatedly. All he could do was read the trajectory of the sword. It was only after witnessing countless near-death experiences that he could finally respond, unable even to grasp the knight''s breathing. What''s different? He understood the difference. But what was the fundamental reason? As he immersed himself and explored, certain realizations surfaced. By pushing beyond today''s repetition, Enkrid gained a new perspective. What was the swiftness required to save the child? What was needed to overcome the wall named strategy? The knight''s sword was called despair. But it was despair that wasn''t truly despair. A broadened perspective and his experience facing the knight awakened something within Enkrid. To overcome the knight''s sword, he shifted his viewpoint. Rather than blocking, he struck first. It was a way to surpass the "once" condition imposed by the opponent. Ah. A small realization flickered like a flame, extinguished, then reignited. Upon recognizing it, Enkrid urged himself toward change. What had he gained from leaping forward to save the child? The Will of the Moment. He needed the speed to seize the fleeting moment when others'' attention turned away. Thus, "Will" was instilled. It was the same when trapped within the framework of strategy. Were the chains of foreboding, the Sense of Evasion, and the intent to attack layered atop one''s senses truly different? No, they were the same. He let them permeate his sensory techniques, merging them together. He kneaded them into one. This is how he attained the seemingly impossible "sense." And did "Will" not play any role in that? It did. He felt it. The power of his will¡ª"Will"¡ªwas layered upon his intent, enabling it. And what of the oppressive blade he forged to withstand the knight''s sword? At this moment, Enkrid hesitated. Should he take a great step forward? It felt possible. But was it the right path? That, he didn''t know. He thought he had merely closed his eyes while sitting, but perhaps he had fallen asleep. A ferryman appeared before him. "Do as you''ve always done." The ferryman''s face blurred and faded. Was this advice or interference? Even in such a moment, Enkrid''s intuition activated. It sounded like advice. Enkrid marked his path and walked it. Step by step, steadily, he decided to continue as he always had. That seemed to be the answer. When he organized his thoughts and opened his eyes¡ª "Hey, how about fixing that habit of dozing off all the time?" Rem''s voice reached him. Once again, without realizing it, he had immersed himself in the world of the sword. "How long has it been?" "Two days." It was Krais who replied. But the problem seemed to be something else. "It''d be best to see the lord quickly." "Why?" "Someone''s been waiting since yesterday." Enkrid briefly assessed the situation. He was inside the barracks, and Audin was nowhere to be seen. With his heightened hearing, honed through sensory techniques, he detected Audin conversing with someone in the distance. "I dealt with them yesterday," Rem added, his tone somewhat disgruntled. From that, Enkrid grasped the general flow of events. As Enkrid once again lost himself in the world of the sword, drooling unconsciously, it seemed that his comrades had stepped in to prevent anyone from interrupting him. But if even Lord Graham had allowed it, surely it must have been something significant to summon him now. Only someone extraordinary would have a reason to call him out like this. "Who''s here?" Enkrid asked as he rose. "Count Molsan," Krais replied. "In person?" "Yes." Hearing this, Enkrid started moving. A king of the frontier, an ambitious monster cloaked as a noble. If he had come all this way, he likely had an agenda. "He said he''s here to see you specifically. Be cautious," Krais warned. A noble had waited for two days. It was possible to delay further if necessary, but it would be a foolish move. Though Enkrid was consumed by his obsession with the sword, he wasn''t an idiot. He knew which path would be smoother. Though a little hungry, his mind was clear, and his body felt fine. "Wait," Enkrid said as he strode forward, Krais following behind him. Assuming Krais would speak up if he had anything to say, Enkrid headed straight for the barracks'' front. There, he saw a woman with long black hair, wearing a thin fur coat, standing with Audin. It was Esther. "Got tired of being a leopard?" That fur had been so soft and warm before. At his comment, Esther turned her head. "I didn''t become a beast because I wanted to," she replied curtly, as usual. In front of Audin stood a man with a rugged appearance and a woman wearing scale armor. The woman had her eyes half-closed, yet a strange light seemed to emanate from them. The man looked as solid as a rock, and the woman stood with a straight posture. Behind the woman, several soldiers stood in formation. "You should hear them out before they leave," Krais said from behind. The scale-armored woman, noticing Enkrid, spoke, her gaze scanning his face and figure. "Are you the one called Enkrid?" "Yes, that''s me. And you are?" "My sister, behold. Waiting does bear fruit," Audin interjected. "Two days," grumbled the rugged man, moving his stony jaw. As he clenched his teeth, his jaw muscles tightened visibly, strong enough to crush stone, it seemed. What is his main weapon¡ªhis teeth? The barracks guards looked uneasy, but Audin, calm as always, added with his faint smile, "Well, he''s here now. Isn''t that enough, brother?" "Is the Count''s name taken so lightly in this land? This could escalate if you''re not careful, you big oaf," the woman warned. At this, Enkrid stepped forward to stand in front of Audin. Audin was slow to anger, but he also wasn''t one to ignore provocation. Knowing this, Enkrid took the lead. Though Audin wouldn''t immediately start throwing punches, it was better to defuse the situation. Wasn''t his appearance here enough to smooth things over? "I apologize for the delay. Shall we proceed?" "This matter should be addressed first," the woman with the strange eyes said, standing upright. She held a round helmet at her side and wore a thick fur cloak. Her eyes were unusual, with pupils that glowed white. "She''s from a clan that infuses spells into their eyes," Esther remarked from behind. Such clans existed? Enkrid stared at the woman for a moment. So what? Having spells in one''s eyes didn''t seem that critical, though it likely explained Esther''s presence. Perhaps she was concerned about dealing with a spellcaster. Enkrid guessed correctly. Esther was here to make sure any clumsy attempt at spellwork would come at a price. Where did they think they could chant some pretentious spell? Enkrid scratched his chin with his right index finger. The thought that this was all done to avoid disturbing him amused him. Or maybe not so surprising anymore. He could now predict their actions well enough. That was true. The woman with the enchanted eyes spoke again. "We come from Baisar. Someone who has business with you is waiting." How many nobles were there in the Kingdom of Naurilia? Certainly more than a handful. Among them, Enkrid was, to put it plainly, a country bumpkin. Though he had been to the capital, staying there had been costly, and there wasn''t much for him to do. This was why he roamed the frontier. It wasn''t by chance that he ended up by the coast, learning from a reclusive sword instructor. Even so, Enkrid knew of Centerpole¡ªthe Thumb Family¡ªand the five great houses that shaped the kingdom. It was Marcus''s family. The Marquisate of Baisar, also known as Centerpole or the Thumb Family. This house wielded immense influence even in the capital. If Marcus had returned, he wouldn''t have done so in this manner. It must be someone else. Enkrid pieced together the situation with a few words. Mental agility proved useful even in moments like this. He streamlined his thoughts and decided on a course of action. "Let''s all go together," he said. Since their intentions were obvious, it didn''t matter if he took this approach. In fact, he thought it would be better for him. At his words, the stone-jawed man and the spell-eyed woman exchanged glances. Both seemed unwilling to wait any longer. Even now, they had been more than patient. Without the title of war hero or rumors of his potential knighthood, they wouldn''t have waited at all. Soon, both nodded in agreement. -------------------------------------------------------------------Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 329 - Enkrid’s Rising Fame Chapter 329 - 329 - Enkrid''s Rising Fame A hero emerged from the Border Guard, defeating both Aspen and the cultists. He might even become a knight! The qualities of knighthood were being debated. Just this much made Enkrid the hottest name in the northern region of Naurilia. "I have to see him for myself." Naturally, every noble in the vicinity turned their attention to him. A legendary hero born in the borderlands¡ªit was a tale people loved. The public adored him. If a noble could claim him, it would be a great way to bolster their prestige. Would the benefits stop at mere reputation? Was it just because they believed he could become a knight? Few truly believed that possessing the qualities of a knight would guarantee one becoming a knight. In reality, only a select few genuinely acknowledged Enkrid. Most reacted differently: "A knight? How ridiculous." But it didn''t really matter whether he became a knight. Even without the title, there were countless ways to utilize him. His combat prowess alone was undeniable. While not a knight, his strength surpassed that of most squire-knights, proving himself far above ordinary mercenaries. There were even talks of naming a fortress wall after him for saving a frontier village from a crisis. Some compared him to the platinum mercenaries¡ªrenowned warriors of the highest caliber. Even without the knightly title, his skills made him more than suitable as a bodyguard. And the rumors didn''t stop at his strength. "Isn''t he also incredibly handsome?" His looks were another devastating weapon. How could the rumors be only about his skills? It was no surprise that a few frivolous noblewomen were already captivated by the idea of him. They said one look at him was enough to sweep them off their feet, earning him the nickname "The Enchanting Commander." "I must meet him personally." How could curiosity not follow? Moreover, Enkrid wasn''t a lord or even a high-ranking official¡ªjust a mere company commander. It made him all the more enticing for nobles to bring into their fold. At least on the surface, it appeared so. Rumors of him spread swiftly for various reasons. Before long, his name reached even the capital. From casual mentions in a salon to reaching the queen''s ears¡ªit didn''t take long. Under a starry sky, in the queen''s outdoor private chamber: "What do you think, Lua?" At the queen''s question, Frog Lagarne puffed up her cheeks. Gurururuk. It was an expression of boundless joy and delight. What could have pleased the Frog so? "Have you fallen for him too?" The queen knew that Lua had already met and worked alongside Enkrid. At her question, Lagarne spoke: "I was captivated from the very first meeting." Though Lagarne belonged to the kingdom, she was not human. No one forced her to adhere to human etiquette. This was why Lagarne could speak casually with the queen. Moreover, this was a private moment. The two were conversing over an expensive elven wine, with only a few attendants nearby, silently attending to their duties. "Was it because of his looks?" The queen sipped from her glass and asked. From Lagarne, who rarely commented on human aesthetics, came an unusual reply: "Not his looks, but what he holds within." "I see." The queen nodded. "And his potential as a knight?" "He has none." Despite the blunt response, the queen''s expression remained unchanged. Lagarne made no effort to read the queen''s thoughts. She was the ruler of a kingdom, not someone who would reveal her inner feelings easily. Besides, deciphering others'' intentions and leveraging them politically was not Lagarne''s specialty. Most of all, she was simply wrapped in pure joy at the moment. "Will he truly advance?" He lacked the qualities of a knight¡ªthat much Lagarne knew. Yet, he pressed forward. He changed, evolved. He dismissed others'' views and opinions. "Does he believe he can become a knight?" Her rational mind said no. But before she realized it, Lagarne found herself rooting for him. Part of this sentiment came from the news that he had beaten a high-ranking cultist to death. Whenever the cult was mentioned, her disdain would swell her cheeks threefold compared to now. That was akin to how humans would grind their molars in frustration. "Is that so," the queen remarked. *** Their conversation was brief, but the news quickly made its way to Marcus as well. "Wow, this is something else," Marcus exclaimed, his admiration for Enkrid pure and untainted. He even felt a tinge of guilt for not being able to assist. Given the Black Blade''s movements and the rumors of a cult invading the Border Guard, Marcus had half a mind to whisk Enkrid and a few other talented individuals away. But against all odds, Enkrid had prevailed¡ªwith minimal casualties, no less. A letter from Graham, penned personally, expressed only two sentiments: frustration with his role as lord and immense praise for Enkrid. "If not for Enki, everything would have been destroyed." Marcus rubbed his chin, deep in thought. With the state of affairs, it seemed Enkrid was becoming the eye of a storm. Why wouldn''t he? Though Enkrid didn''t officially represent the city, he was already being hailed as a hero. "If I could secure Enki''s loyalty..." Such an outcome would undoubtedly bolster Marcus''s influence over the Border Guard. Anyone who ignored this potential would be a fool. But how to ensure that? The more tools at his disposal, the better. For starters: "Deal with that bastard Molsan." Among the nearby nobles, Count Molsan stood out as the most dangerous¡ªnot just because of Marcus''s personal bias. He was a self-proclaimed "King of the Outlands," an ambitious figure whose presence always came with whispers of imminent civil war. But Molsan wasn''t the only issue. Determined, Marcus resolved to leverage his family''s strength. One of the family''s most beautiful daughters was currently positioned nearby. If she could form a connection with Enkrid, that would be ideal¡ªbut Marcus wasn''t counting on it. For now, countering Molsan would suffice. "If only I had a stash of gold coins," Marcus muttered wistfully. If the Border Guard were strong enough to manage their own affairs, many of these issues would resolve themselves. His mind, famed for its cunning despite his reputation as a "warmonger," spun rapidly. How could he ensure that none of these scheming nobles¡ªor anyone else¡ªdared to lay a finger on Enkrid? "Achievements." While Enkrid''s accomplishments were already impressive, future feats would carry even more weight. Each would serve as another brick in the fortress that protected him. For that, Marcus needed the central authorities'' support. The conscription of mercenaries presented a perfect opportunity. "If I personally commission a task and the royal palace acknowledges its success..." This would send a clear message: Enkrid had royal backing, so any underhanded attempts to exploit him would be discouraged. Even better, if the Border Guard grew more self-reliant in the process, all the better. "Not just a lord, but a true liege," Marcus envisioned as the ultimate outcome. Having laid out his plans, Marcus rose to his feet. "I''ll seek an audience with the head of the family." He was determined to provide all the necessary support from behind the scenes. "Enki, run wild to your heart''s content." With a sense of exhilaration, Marcus strode forward. After all, this was shaping up to be the most entertaining task he had undertaken in a while. Even Aesia, the quasi-knight, heard the news and was astonished. "A curious fellow, to be sure..." A knight''s qualities? Was he truly that extraordinary? While Aesia had found Enkrid''s ability to resist intimidation impressive, the notion that he could become a knight seemed a bit far-fetched. Still, she couldn''t help but feel a peculiar sense of anticipation. "Will he ever stand alongside me here?" The idea of seeing Enkrid within the knightly ranks wasn''t unwelcome. Though their encounters had been few, Aesia recalled him fondly. *** Unlike Luagarne and Marcus, the leader of the Black Blade felt like his stomach was about to rupture. "Enkrid." The name of the man he needed to eliminate was spreading like wildfire. How could he possibly remain calm? The leader began mobilizing his remaining subordinates. He also enlisted a nobleman, one of his former pawns, whose business ventures had been ruined. Letters were dispatched¡ªto Count Molsan and several others. And it didn''t stop there. Anticipating that Enkrid would eventually be summoned to the capital, the leader resolved to take every measure possible before that happened. *** Golden hair, radiant skin, and a mustache graced a muscular frame draped in fine fur. "It''s been a while," said Count Molsan with a nonchalant smile. He appeared as if visiting an old friend, exuding calm confidence. Enkrid mused that if thick-skinned individuals were ranked continent-wide, this man might top the list. "Ah, but there''s Rem," he corrected himself. Perhaps Molsan would be second. But wait, Ragna, Jaxen, Audin, and even Krais could give him a run for his money. Krang, too, would certainly rank among the continent''s most brazen if caught in the mood. Not once did Enkrid consider himself in that list, believing such thoughts to be perfectly reasonable. His subordinates might have felt otherwise and been tempted to brandish weapons over such an omission. Regardless, Molsan''s boldness was undeniable. After all, he had previously sent an assassin¡ªthe one so-called Elite- ending Blade¡ªto ambush Enkrid, only to have the plot fail miserably. He had also withheld support during a recent battle. Yet now, here he stood, claiming with a straight face: "I should thank you. Thanks to you, I avoided a great deal of trouble." Molsan smiled as he spoke, his neatly groomed mustache a testament to some extraordinary skill. Enkrid, meanwhile, considered how long it had been since his own hair and beard had been trimmed. "Thank me, you say?" Enkrid replied. "Has wielding a sword dulled your wits?" Molsan half-dismissed the man beside him, a representative of the Baisar Marquessate. Not that he had much reason to treat the marquess''s envoy with respect¡ªthe person present was merely a member of a branch family, not the marquess himself. Still, outright disregard was unusual and highlighted Molsan''s arrogance. "Even if his Excellency didn''t come, a representative from the marquess''s house did. Isn''t that enough?" Enkrid was acutely aware of the increased attention his name had garnered. Even while holed up in his barracks, he had heard no end of it¡ªespecially from Krais, who relayed every word and added his own commentary. "Well, it''s hard to greet you properly," interrupted the representative from the Baisar Marquessate. "I waited two days, only for you to steal the spotlight, Count." Molsan responded coolly, "Is there a problem?" The marquess''s representative, a woman named Kin Baisar, shook her head. "Of course not." Though laced with subtle barbs, the exchanges thus far were laced with mutual caution. "So," Enkrid interjected, indifferent to their rivalry. "You sought me out?" Both Kin Baisar and Molsan turned their gazes to him. Kin had come here with two objectives: one, to ensure that Molsan did not strong-arm Enkrid And two, aimed to bring Enkrid into their fold if possible. The first was at the request of the returned prodigal, Marcus Baisar. The second was a resolution passed during the family council. Yet, based on Marcus''s attitude, shouldn''t this Enkrid fellow be favorably inclined toward them? From what she could see, however, he appeared utterly indifferent. Not discourteous, but also not particularly concerned. "Ah, so it''s not just about swordplay, is it?" The count spoke again. Enkrid felt a flicker of impulse to shrug but suppressed it. There was no need to overtly express his feelings to someone like this. Would a simple shrug unsettle such a brazen man? Hardly. It was an instinct and a certainty he held. "The local nobility covet me," Enkrid began. "They dream of seizing Border Guard, believing it would grant control over this rapidly developing region and make it the largest city around. Is that not the vision they''re entertaining?" "Sharp, isn''t he?" Kin mused silently. He had accurately gauged the surrounding dynamics. Hadn''t they said he''d locked himself away for two days, deep in some realization? Of course, this insight came from Krais, who had undoubtedly briefed him in advance. Even without time to analyze, hearing such things made understanding simple. Enkrid continued. "I''m not interested." "Not interested?" "Yes." "Are you pledging loyalty to the palace, then?" "Does it appear so?" "I sincerely hope not." The small reception room seemed to shift. The count''s eyes gleamed as he adjusted his seated posture, uncrossing his legs and sitting upright. To Kin, it appeared as though the count''s demeanor had transformed. Enkrid, on the other hand, didn''t care much. It felt the same. The air had shifted, and the aura had intensified. The count rested his hands atop his thighs and adopted a straight-backed posture. "There are threats to the kingdom, and they must be crushed. If they are not, who bears the blame?" The count''s voice wasn''t loud, but it carried weight, as though piercing the skin and seeping into the room. The atmosphere shifted in an instant. "Those killed by beasts, those felled by monsters, and those left behind." The count''s voice persisted. "Can you truly claim to feel nothing upon witnessing them?" For a moment, the imagery of the dying and the surviving seemed to blur and overlap behind the count. There was the child dreaming of becoming an herbalist, the woman crafting spiced jerky, the mother who sent her child to the army, and the soldier wielding a spear to protect his family. That soldier collapsed, bleeding from his eyes, ears, and nose. "So, I must ask: if I were to win you over, what price would it take?" The count''s words were compelling. Kin found herself speechless, unable to interject even as she observed. If he desired, he would give anything. Moreover, if Enkrid sought to walk a righteous path, this felt like the right road to take. And the count seemed to radiate conviction, body and soul, asserting this to be the way. It wasn''t entirely wrong, Kin thought. She knew the count''s territory was wealthier than any neighboring lands. He was a man who stood by his words. Listening to him, simply speaking, had a way of moving those around him. "If your goal isn''t to save people, can the path you''re walking truly be considered correct?" The count''s voice filled the reception room, saturating the space. Being in that room felt as though one had to agree. Kin felt the tension mount, cold sweat trickling down her back. The count, normally composed, now radiated an unmistakable charisma. It seemed as though there was no choice but to provide the answer he sought. To affirm his correctness, to pledge adherence to his word. That appeared to be the only option. And then, Enkrid spoke. "Well, you fucki... Ah, forgive me. My mind wandered for a moment." Did he just mutter something profane? Kin thought she heard such a remark. Though he hadn''t said it outright, it sounded as if he had. Enkrid found the count''s manner distasteful, vexing. His insincerity grated on him. This was the speech of someone concealing their true motives. Wasn''t this the epitome of hypocrisy? Perhaps someone like Rem would have brandished an axe and created a scene, but Enkrid was not such a person. Instead, he responded with courteous words, though laced with a deliberate undertone. He hoped it would create even a small ripple in the count''s composure, a minor disruption that might slightly soothe his own mood. Sometimes, one needed to indulge in such moments of self-satisfaction. Moments like these, where one''s inner balance had to be maintained. After all, chivalry wasn''t merely a trivial term but a commitment to protect what needed safeguarding. This included Enkrid''s own convictions, which also required preservation. Now was one such moment. However, outright conflict was out of the question. Thus, Enkrid''s approach was to cloak his sentiments in formal language. As soon as Enkrid spoke, the illusion woven by the count''s charisma unraveled. Meanwhile, the smile on Count Molsan''s face deepened. Kin held her breath for a moment, stunned by the shift. -------------------------------------------------------------------Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 330 - This Guy’s a Lunatic Chapter 330 - 330 - This Guy¡¯s a Lunatic This guy''s a lunatic. Kin, for a fleeting moment, caught a glimpse of the madness hidden beneath Enkrid''s exterior. Setting aside his appearance and skills, his character was deeply flawed. In that brief moment, she grasped Enkrid''s essence. Kin, accustomed to managing the Baisar family''s external affairs, had honed a keen eye for reading people. And now, that insight shone brightly. What a madman! What would happen if the count invoked the crime of insulting a noble on the spot? Or worse, decided to march his forces out of sheer offense after returning home? Even at the central court, the count was considered a troublesome figure. Rumor had it that he had several people of near-knightly skill under his command. The exact extent of his forces remained unknown. It was even perplexing why such a man had been biding his time quietly until now. Kin couldn''t even swallow her saliva as she fixed her gaze on the count''s lips. Meanwhile, Enkrid remained utterly composed. Well, look at him talk. People killed by monsters? Victims of beasts? Those left behind? And yet, this man, who supposedly worried about such things, sent no reinforcements and turned a blind eye? No, wasn''t this the same person who had ignored even his own family? Was Edin Molsan truly his son? Some child picked up off the street, perhaps? If not, why did his name remain unspoken? Edin Molsan had even told him to be careful about his father at the Green Pearl outpost. That was exceptionally strange. He used sparring with me as an excuse to stay here, but now he''s bailed without a word. At some point, Edin had stopped sparring and started withdrawing little by little. Now, he had outright abandoned any pretense and fled. Krais had shared his observations: "He''s probably terrified. At least, he gives off that impression. But honestly, the scarier part is a man who''d cast out his own son." Enkrid trusted his own instincts more in moments like this. His instincts told him that sitting before him was a chimera with wings, one that had swallowed dozens of snakes whole. This appearance was a facade. Though the mask gleamed, Enkrid could see its true nature, and it was repulsive. "Not buying it, are you?" The count''s demeanor shifted quickly. He didn''t lash out in anger. Instead, he responded like a merchant accustomed to bargaining in the streets, and the atmosphere softened for a moment. "No, I''m not buying it." "They say you fought gallantly, saving a child in the process. If not for your intervention, allied losses would''ve been far greater. Later, you even risked your life to charge through the battlefield. Is that not true?" While not entirely incorrect, there were plenty of points that could be clarified. But Enkrid saw no need to elaborate. What was there to discuss at length? "Yes, that''s what they say." "You speak as though it happened to someone else." "I''m still recovering from battle fatigue and haven''t had the time to reflect." Of course, that was a lie. He''d left two nobles waiting¡ªone of whom was a family head¡ªfor two days while lost in his own thoughts. And now, he was feigning battle fatigue? "Did you see my guards?" "I did." "What do you think would happen if you faced them?" Enkrid paused for a moment. Honestly, just seeing them made him want to engage. However, not now. It wasn''t the right time. If he fought them now, he might accidentally kill them. Unless they were significantly weaker than him or outright superior in skill, he couldn''t guarantee their safety. His ability to restrain his power wasn''t reliable at the moment. "I don''t know." "Playing it safe, aren''t you?" "Would it amuse you if I claimed I''d win?" "That would be entertaining." Behind the count stood his guards. It was obvious they were listening to the exchange. The count''s words were intentionally provocative, meant for their ears. The guards didn''t bother concealing their energy. Their gaze on Enkrid seemed to say, Try it, and we''ll crush you in an instant. Enkrid ignored them completely. Under normal circumstances, he might have taken them on just for the thrill of it. Avoidance wasn''t his style. But now he was avoiding them? Anyone who knew Enkrid might have wondered if he had a fever. "Then I''ll just have to be a boring person." "Very well. Once I leave, things might get bothersome for you. Will you be alright?" "I''ll manage." The count''s lips curled further into a smile as he observed Enkrid silently. "Unnecessary worries, I suppose. Hahaha!" The count laughed heartily and rose from his seat. His guards, sensing their master''s movement, subdued their aura. They stepped aside to allow him to pass. To Enkrid, they seemed no different from loyal hounds. Did they get their snacks on time? Were they taken on walks regularly? Who knew. "My offer stands. If you decide it''s not too late, you''ll always be welcome." The count spoke as he turned. "Understood." "And do take care of my son and daughter, will you? It seems they''re eager to leave my embrace." The count was meticulous. If he truly intended to bring Edin Molsan back, there was little doubt he could. He even spoke openly of the daughter disguised as a man whom Edin had brought along. Of course, Enkrid already knew. Anyone observant enough would have noticed. Every single member of his unit would be aware. "Safe travels. I won''t be far." He''d kept them waiting for two days, only to now claim he wasn''t going far. At the count''s request, the castle lord, Graham, stepped out to see him off. "Your Excellency." The Count made a sarcastic remark. "How about a public execution for that insolent fool, huh?" Graham, drenched in cold sweat, quickly replied, "If you execute Commander Enkrid, I''ll be stoned to death by the townsfolk." It was a comment about how the city viewed him as a hero. The Count chuckled again at this, his laughter booming. "It''s just a joke," he said. But was it truly just a joke? Enkrid watched the Count leave, his gaze fixed on the closing door. A few soldiers, stationed at the entrance, stood as if they saw nothing and heard nothing. Involving themselves in this would be a sure way to lose their lives. "Are you out of your mind?" Only then did Kin speak up, having been watching the exchange in silence. "I''m often told so," Enkrid answered nonchalantly. "Seriously, though..." Kin, though quick-witted, seemed almost stunned. Perhaps it was the shock that made her struggle to keep up. Enkrid, his attention caught by the refreshments left on the table, picked up a cookie and started munching on it. He had been starving for two days. As he chewed, he spoke, "Did they decide to give Border Guard to the Count''s territory?" "That''s impossible," Kin replied firmly. She had been placed here as a countermeasure, to keep Enkrid and the Lord in check. She was, in a sense, an extension of Marquis Baisar''s warnings. "If the Count has to be removed, no matter how it''s said, he won''t care about whether it''s polite or harsh," Kin continued. She understood this all too well. The Count was like a loaded crossbow¡ªdangerous and unpredictable. If he got upset, the tip of that bolt could very well head toward the palace. However, it was not easy to eliminate him, as his power was formidable, and the central authority itself was fragmented. The entire country could fall apart before anyone could react. Kin refocused her thoughts on Enkrid. He was a madman, but she couldn''t deny that there was a gap between knowledge and action. Just knowing something didn''t mean you could execute it. This man was far from normal, and Kin''s evaluation of him hadn''t changed. "He''s got guts," she muttered. Enkrid, however, pressed on with his request, "Will you stay to help with the troublesome matters?" Kin shook her head. "The Count''s left, so I can''t stay here. Staying would only cause more problems." If rumors spread that Marquis Baisar had an eye on this place, it could jeopardize the position in the central power. Marcus hadn''t simply been playing tough; his political standing had to be considered. He couldn''t risk being labeled a traitor, even if the means by which Enkrid defeated him were clever. It was said that the mastermind behind it was as clever as Krais¡ªhighly strategic. "Well then," Kin said, standing up. "Should I leave now?" She found herself bewildered at the thought that Enkrid was so nonchalant about her departure. Had he really not noticed how much effort she''d put into being here for two days? More importantly, with her looks, wasn''t she used to attracting attention wherever she went? In the capital, her name alone, "Kin Baisar," was enough to make people recognize her. Countless young men had cried and struggled after she left the city, and yet Enkrid barely acknowledged her. "A little issue to resolve?" Enkrid remarked, casually. Kin frowned, but ignored him and prepared to leave. Her guards, having stood by all this time, whispered as she rose. "He''s a strange one." The comment was from a trusted guard who had been with her for a long time, like a sister. "He''s insane," Kin muttered. As she left the room, the guards and those in attendance gave Enkrid wary glances, having witnessed the scene. There were nobles, merchants who''d bought titles with gold, and even some hereditary aristocrats. A few noble ladies had come to gawk at Enkrid''s face, though they didn''t have any real power behind them. Some might have been here to curry favor with him. But it was clear that these were nothing more than opportunists, gathered here to latch onto whatever luck Enkrid might bring. "Political vultures." Kin decided not to worry about it anymore. After all, Count Molsan had been manipulated by words, and she wasn''t the type to worry about people like that. She glanced back a few times as she walked away. Then, an unpleasant thought crossed her mind, and she muttered a curse. "Damn." Her guard looked at her, but Kin didn''t care. "What''s wrong?" the guard asked. "He didn''t even ask for my name," Kin grumbled, feeling annoyed. She had been treated as though her beauty and status meant nothing. But strangely enough, she didn''t mind it all that much. "It''s the first time this has happened," she mused to herself. A man who was entirely different from the others. And with that, Kin resolved to meet him again, someday. Her guard still had concerns, but Kin''s obsessive tendencies would lead her back to Enkrid eventually. Many were eager to approach Enkrid, whether they were nobles or merchants. "I can''t handle this alone," Graham said, raising his hands in surrender. Enkrid, already aware of the situation, started listening to the people. "If you come to my lands, you''ll have the chance to meet my daughter..." At first, he had been talked to about buying someone''s daughter, an utterly foolish suggestion. Enkrid brought Esther along. "Is it alright to stay in human form?" "That''s fine." Esther''s appearance was captivating enough to turn heads, even if she simply walked by. If Kin had seen her, she would have nodded in agreement. The reason Enkrid wasn''t showing any interest in her own appearance was becoming clearer now. "Uh, um." The nobleman, who had been eager to speak, soon found his words caught in his throat. Instead, he hesitated. "Uh, what is the lady''s name?" A nobleman tried his luck with Esther, and Enkrid quickly intervened before things escalated. He was about to act immediately when Esther asked if she could kill him first. Afterward, Enkrid accompanied Shinar, knowing full well that creating a pile of noble corpses wasn''t a sustainable path. Shinar was unlikely to kill on the spot, but she too had her flaws. "She''s my fiance?e." A strange rumor began to spread, the talk of a mad commander being engaged to both a fairy and a witch. Enkrid allowed the rumors to continue. At the very least, this way, he wouldn''t have to worry about no daughter or anything like that. "Why didn''t you take me?" "I still have time." Dunbakel and Teresa, who had been lingering, made some idle chatter. Both were beautiful in their own right, but if he took Teresa along, some of the nobility might misunderstand, thinking he had brought her as an excuse to get close. Dunbakel, on the other hand, could be quicker than Esther if it came down to it. It was better that the strange rumors spread. When the merchant came and mentioned gold coins, it was obvious that Enkrid was already thinking of leaving the conversation. "If you join my merchant guild, you could come into wealth you never imagined." "How much?" "...Huh?" "So, how much?" Krais was unbothered. "Don''t even speak unless you''re talking about a hundred gold coins or more. And no one-time offers, please. I work on contracts, monthly terms, with shares." He wasn''t in the business of selling shares to just anyone. "Ridiculous!" "The exit''s over there." "You little¡ª!" "Any complaints?" The merchant grumbled, but when the standing soldiers moved, the merchant quickly silenced himself. Even without the Madmen''s unit present, the standing army was still intimidating. These were the men who survived battles with Aspen, and a slip of the tongue could very well be deadly. The merchant walked away, quietly cursing under his breath but retreating with a measured pace. Others tried to assert their authority, but Enkrid preferred to avoid unnecessary conflicts. "Join my ranks, and I''ll elevate your honor. I could recommend you to a knight order." But Enkrid wasn''t interested in using force; he was patient and strategic. "Sharp as a blade, but it has no eyes." He had to handle the noble with a sharp gesture, cutting through the pretentiousness. The noble''s attempt to rise and shout was quickly silenced. "No mosquitoes here." What mosquito would dare appear in the middle of winter? The nobleman didn''t dare to continue. Such was the danger of angering someone like Enkrid, whose very gaze could make one feel as though their life could be snuffed out in an instant. "Is this really okay?" The lord voiced his concern. "That man has a tremendous force, and if this turns into a territorial dispute¡ª" "Oh, We''ll just have to fight him, won''t we?" Krais continued, his tone almost light-hearted. The Border Guards were the strongest military force in the region, but they were lacking in gold. And that was why, right now, the Cronada region was crucial. The city''s expansion had to continue, and if they could just subdue Cronada, they would come out on top and claim war reparations as well. Enkrid had kept pushing forward, meeting challenge after challenge. With Shinar and Esther by his side, they could overcome anything. After about two weeks, Enkrid felt that his body had fully healed. His senses were sharper again. "Ah." He took a deep breath, feeling a sense of satisfaction. What would have happened if he had fought the Count''s guards earlier? He wasn''t sure, but it was likely he would have either killed them or severely injured them. In the past two weeks, he''d spent his time refining his skills, honing his body, and learning self-control. Now, he felt ready to wield his sword with full mastery. Today, however, no one from the nobility or merchants came to bother him. Enkrid returned to the barracks. He hadn''t been back for a while, busy with various duties. The familiar atmosphere of the barracks greeted him¡ªan air of silence mixed with tension. The feeling was palpable; something could easily trigger an eruption. There was a dangerous undertone in the air, but Enkrid was used to it. It reminded him of when he first arrived at the troublemaker unit''s barracks. -------------------------------------------------------------------Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 331 - Where The Madness Began Chapter 331 - 331 - Where The Madness Began How did the madness begin? It was just before Enkrid was assigned to the troublemaker squad. The squad leader who had forcefully ordered everyone to follow him had died. Next, the nobleman''s son who was assigned as the new squad leader got beaten up by Jaxen for being overly cocky. Then, the one who had been throwing fits was mentally trained under the name of a "re-education" by Rem, and left soon after. One after another, squad leaders were replaced. It was natural that the ones in charge of the unit, including the lieutenant, had their say. "If you want to stay in the military, you need to stick to the rules," said the lieutenant as he approached, and Rem nodded in agreement. "That''s right! It''s all because of that damn lynx brat!" "The biggest problem is the mouth of the one who blames others," Jaxen responded. Ragna, watching the exchange, spoke indifferently. "I can move to another unit." Ragna''s response caused both Rem and Jaxen to turn their heads in surprise. It seemed as if he was saying that he had nothing to do with it, like it was none of his concern. His languid tone only made it more irritating. "This guy?" Rem''s voice raised in anger. The most recent squad leader had tried to correct Ragna''s lack of seriousness ¡ª or more precisely, mistook his stillness for weakness ¡ª and ended up with his skull cracked, leaving. Yet, what was this attitude? Rem bristled, and Jaxen shot a sharp glance. It had already been twenty days since the squad leader''s departure. The lieutenant was having a headache. The higher-ups in the battalion were telling him to manage things himself, but were these soldiers really the kind that could be managed easily? Should he just admit that he couldn''t handle them? That would be acknowledging that he didn''t have the ability and was an idiot. What would the battalion commander say? "Can''t you control one soldier?" Blaming others was exactly the kind of thing the battalion commander would say, considering his personality. "Maybe I should just send them all to die." Even if they were sent into a dangerous battlefield, the most they would come back with were a few scrapes. Was that a good thing? Why was such a capable person in this kind of unit? Looking at their actions, the answer seemed clear. Rem had been sent to the first heavy infantry unit, only to crack the commanding officer''s skull and end up back here. Now, every time the first heavy unit saw Rem, their teeth ground together in frustration. Yet, Rem seemed to enjoy hearing that grinding, almost like he was listening to a symphony. "There''s nothing I can do." The lazy man immediately followed up. "If your head''s all messed up, take some medicine." The next one to speak was the best-looking man in the unit. "Do you want to die?" Jaxen, was getting along well with other soldiers, why was it that inside the unit things were always a mess? What a headache. "Stop it." The lieutenant spoke up, praying that the new squad leader, who would arrive later that afternoon, would keep things from getting worse. What else could he do? He had no other choice but to bring in someone in a hurry. They weren''t a noble, and didn''t have any particular special talents; they were just average at fighting. He only hoped they wouldn''t cause trouble. Even after the lieutenant left, the air remained tense. Rem had ended up here by coincidence. Looking at his goals, he had entered temporarily after killing a nobleman''s son to lay low for a while. He planned to leave in about six months. But for some reason, he ended up in a unit full of these troublesome people. "All of them seem to live for their own egos." They didn''t know how to bow down and yield. Of course, Rem was the same. The current battalion commander had gathered all these troublesome people, likely because he didn''t care if they lived or died in battle, but Rem couldn''t know that backstory. "I should just kill them all and move to another unit." Rem muttered aloud. It was a remark meant to provoke, more than a mumbled thought. "Do you want to die?" Ragna shot back. "If you want to go by be a part of God unit, I can pray for you." But that prayer was not one spoken idly. "Fools." Jaxen chimed in. Until now, they had all exchanged insults without crossing the line, but that was because they knew that if a fight broke out, they needed to do it properly. That said, they weren''t the type to hold back either. It wasn''t anything serious, but it was clear that such a situation had been inevitable. Hadn''t they all been subtly aware of each other from the start? Rem glanced at Jaxen''s position and let his arm drop. He instinctively knew that giving his back to Jaxen was dangerous. Ragna, without warning, stood up. The noise he made as he got up revealed his position, but was it truly a weakness? Rem knew the lazy bastard could draw his sword in that position. Audin, hands clasped in front, got into his praying form. The heavy atmosphere only grew thicker around them. If anyone faint-hearted stepped inside, they would likely collapse from the pressure. They had been given a temporary shelter, staying in a tent that felt like it might burst from the tension. At that moment, the tent flap flapped open. Someone stood at the entrance, someone none of them recognized. A man with black hair and blue eyes, the kind of face that stood out even at a glance. After entering, he looked around at them. If he had any sense, he would turn around and leave; if he were weak-hearted, he might faint right there. "Yeah. Is this, uh... Yes, this is the squad barracks. It would be best if we came later." The person behind the new squad leader, Krais, spoke up. He was quick-witted. The atmosphere was more tense than ever. Krais tugged at the back of the new squad leader''s jacket, urging him to avoid getting involved in any trouble. But the man didn''t move. No, he took a step forward and spoke. "I''m Squad Leader Enkrid. Don''t fight." Rem was just waiting for an opening. His arm hung loosely, but it was ready to swing an axe at any moment. Audin, too, was prepared to counter any attack that came his way. Ragna positioned himself to strike all three of them in one move, while Jaxen had already pulled out a hidden dagger from his sleeve, ready for a quick strike. The air was thick with the sense that stepping in would mean death, but through that tension, an unfamiliar face stepped forward. "Enough." It was a reckless move. Enkrid pushed his way between them. He was lucky. Rem had flinched, ready to pull his axe, but stopped short, his hand twitching. If he had flinched any more, he would have split whatever was in front of him vertically with his axe. Audin shuddered, and Ragna had already gripped his sword. Jaxen looked as though he was doing nothing, but in reality, the dagger handles were already pressed against his palms. "...Did a slightly mad person come?" Ragna muttered. "Are you insane?" Even someone who lacked all sense would know better than to step in here, right? No. He knew exactly what he was doing. Rem could see it in his eyes. So he was throwing his life away? No, that wasn''t it. Rem sensed his resolve, but Enkrid didn''t fully understand the situation. Still, to step in here? What kind of person had the nerve? Later, when Rem would swing his axe and shut his eyes, he would wonder how someone could act so recklessly, but for now, this was his first impression. "As long as we don''t fight, that''s fine. I''m Enkrid." The new squad leader didn''t ask for a handshake. He just introduced himself. He didn''t ask for anyone else''s names either. He made it clear that each person should just do their job in their place. Even Rem thought he was a really, really crazy guy. "Looks like an interesting person came." Rem muttered, intrigued despite himself. By then, everyone thought that Enkrid wouldn''t last a week. Enkrid thought back to his first days in the troublemaker squad. Why had he stepped in back then? Ah, he thought he had to do his duty as a squad leader. At the very least, it was his duty to prevent fighting among his troops. The tense atmosphere reminded him of his early days. The pressure had weighed on his shoulders then too. It felt like his heart would tear apart. Even though he closed his eyes in the face of the incoming blades, he could endure the constant pressure and suffering. So, he had stepped between them. ''I was such an idiot back then.'' Rem stood with his arms hanging loosely, the axe still hanging at his waist. ''Ready'' was the word. Ragna stood to his left, both hands gripping his sword hilt gently. On the opposite side, Audin stood like a statue, his fists clenched in front of his abdomen, smiling. Everyone was ''ready.'' If anyone entered with hesitation, they would die. They would definitely die. The pressure was like a sharp stab to the heart. Even though they didn''t consciously realize it, the oppressive effect was undeniable. It wasn''t something he could see before, but now he could. So did it make a difference? No. Whether they were being pressured or not, it didn''t matter. Enkrid was desperate to show what he had learned, what he had been waiting to demonstrate. His sword, his swordsmanship, everything he had studied and mastered, he was ready to display. He didn''t care whether they fought or not. Enkrid drew his sword. A silver blade in place of his usual gladius. The sword slid smoothly out of its scabbard with a soft ringing sound. He held it with both hands. It was the sword Ragna had given him. The one he had taken after killing a certain knight. The sword was sharp, and the craftsmanship impeccable. After all, it had been the personal weapon of a knight from Aspen''s King''s Order. The grip was wrapped in beast hide, making it fit perfectly in his hand. After focusing, Enkrid confidently walked into the space between them. Teresa and Dunbakel frowned as they watched. ''Through that gap?'' Esther had stepped out for a moment, and Krais had gone to the market. So no one would be in danger of being hit by an unseen sword. Before, Enkrid wouldn''t have understood what he was walking into, but now, he understood the pressure of the three around him. He was fully aware of it, but he still walked straight through. He positioned himself facing Ragna, with Audin to his right and Rem to his left. Then, in that stance. "It''s not bad." Enkrid spoke, and then... He pivoted on his left foot and swung his sword. It started with a "momentary will." His waist turned, and the sword, which had been gripped by only his right hand, became a point that flew through the air. It was smoother and more fluid than before. Ping! The sharp sound marked the end of the brief clash. The blade suddenly aimed for Rem''s temple. "Damn!" Rem''s axe moved. His axe, too, became a beam of light. Light against light. Clang! Steel met steel, and the harmony began. Yes, this was just the beginning. The tense air exploded. Enkrid had shown Rem the moment, and then he threw his body to the right. He seemed to give them some distance, only to stop abruptly. A Valen-style mercenary sword, a step to mislead. He feigned an approach and then stopped, cutting vertically from above. It was his Pressing Sword. A sword based on ''Will,'' ''pressure,'' that forced the opponent down. As the sword pressed down, Audin let out a shout. "Father!" The shout was as typical of Audin as ever. The air trembled. The pressing sword was pushed back. But that wasn''t the end. Everyone reacted, and Ragna, who had been centered, was the one to act. Enkrid turned his focus from Audin and lunged at Ragna. He had used the pressing sword to buy time and pulled back. "Are you just going to watch?" He taunted as he played with his sword. It was a nameless swordsmanship move. A path to ensnare Ragna within his intent. A sword that forced specific movements from his opponent. He intentionally aimed at Ragna''s right shoulder. By not hiding his intent, he forced Ragna to dodge. If Ragna dodged, Enkrid would start with a sideways slash, but Ragna parried the strike, not letting Enkrid begin his maneuver. Enkrid sensed a dissonance in Ragna''s movement. He wasn''t fighting properly, or rather, his sword was limiting its own power. Even so, Enkrid could easily block it. Thud! "Did you read me?" "Too obvious." No, it wasn''t obvious. It was just that Ragna had changed. Now, his sword could carve the path, cutting through the opponent''s intentions from the start. "Damn." Enkrid laughed as he blocked Ragna''s incoming sword. It was a snake-like sword technique. He deflected the strike and immediately struck again, this time stabbing sideways. Again, it was ''a momentary Will.'' It was aimed at Rem. He pulled Rem back into the fray as he blocked and retreated. Then, he made a move toward Audin, who had been watching. It was a step that Audin had taught him. A snake-step. A strategy that was now interpreted and re-learned with his own personal style when trapped in the present moment. Without lifting his feet off the ground, his body slid forward like it was gliding. It was fast. He struck with his sword. Once again, the pressing sword met Audin''s response. "Lord!" Crash! Another strike shattered. Audin''s voice rang out. "You''re kidding me!" Rem shouted. It was a reasonable thing to say. Why not? Enkrid was trying to fight all three of them. He was challenging a fight with three people at once. "Are you insane?" Ragna tilted his head, confused. "You might need a prayer for your head, brother." Audin quickly understood Enkrid''s intent. He wanted to fight all of us! He said it with his whole body. Enkrid laughed. Ah, this is really fun. Why not? Everything he had learned, everything he had figured out, was becoming clear. One by one, it was all visible. He saw it, said it, and did it. How about it, my sword? He was having the time of his life, and whether there were three or four opponents, it didn''t matter. "This is enough." Teresa, who had been watching from the corner, finally stood up. "Yeah, I''m about to lose my mind. I''ve been so excited I could almost faint." Dunbakel''s face contorted, and her fur grew, turning her into a white lioness. Everything had become chaotic. The barracks inside shattered. Bang! In the end, part of the wall was broken, and the door was destroyed. By the time Krais returned, he saw a crowd gathered around the broken barracks. "What''s going on here?" "They''re trying to kill each other," Graham said in disbelief. Even the lord didn''t dare intervene, only watching. The atmosphere was that intense. "Crazy people." Krais was just as confused. To cause such chaos right after healing? This was why everyone kept calling them madmen. But there was no stopping them. It was who they were. The fight ended by the evening. By the time the sun was setting, the squad was covered in steam from their injuries. They all emerged from various places, bleeding. The half-destroyed barracks had turned into a ruin. It was almost a wonder how the ceiling had been split. "Did you come? I think I''ll sleep somewhere else tonight." Enkrid said, and Krais could only laugh at the absurdity of it all. -------------------------------------------------------------------Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 332 - The Curse Unravels (1) Chapter 332 - 332 - The Curse Unravels (1) Chapter 332 - The Curse Unravels (1) Esther thought. She had once believed that she would suffer, bound by this curse, for decades¡ªperhaps even over a hundred years if luck was bad. Worse still, if her luck was really terrible, she might have lived her entire life in a world tainted by curses. Just thinking about it was horrific. Such a curse, however, meant that she was willing to do anything to break it. That was why she had once slept in Enkrid''s arms. Now, there was no need for such a thing, so it had become rare for her to sleep there. The curse''s tangled threads had started to unravel properly. Her luck had been good. While facing Galah, who held the river in his grip, she managed to regain some of her old skills, and even swallowed a few of his special objects. Some of those objects were certainly beneficial to her own magical world. It would have been better if she could have found his personal laboratory and looted it, but when would she have time for that? Besides, the man was famous for having multiple disciples. So, the remaining treasures in his lab would likely belong to his disciples. They would fight, steal from each other, and the last one standing would claim it all. Such is the greed of wizards. The thought of the good relationship between his disciples was laughable. If they weren''t drunk on the desire to transcend human limits and search for the truth, they probably wouldn''t even become wizards in the first place. "Idiots." She had been caught up in such power struggles before, but not now. The thought of Galah''s disciples, who would eagerly engage in a fight, warmed her heart. By any measure, Esther wasn''t a person with a particularly pleasant personality. She knew that well. Among wizards, she might be considered somewhat decent, but... "No, even here, surrounded by all these weirdos, I''m still one of the more normal ones." The same could be said among the madmen of the company. Her thoughts spiraled, returning to the original subject. She turned her perspective back to the curse. Esther again found herself thinking about the curse she had borne. The curse hadn''t only left bad things behind. There was something else to it. It was something unexpected. She had even gained the strength of a Lake Panther. Of course, since it was called a curse, it naturally wasn''t all positive. There were side effects too. Bigger problems than she expected. "The form of my body is changing." A physical existence, the body, exists in the form it is perceived. Especially for a wizard, who deals with the world of spells, it is necessary to recognize one''s body accurately to maintain physical form. If not, the body might be consumed by one''s magical world and become a demonic entity. "Should I push myself further?" If she pushed herself, she could maintain her human form, but making a mistake could result in irreversible consequences. Esther chose her path. She gave up on maintaining a purely human form. Living half as a panther would suffice. She could resolve this problem later in another way. But the more pressing issue was something else. "Stagnation." Her magical world had stagnated. Despite solving the curse, she still found herself in a state of stagnation, constantly thinking and pondering, but nothing was progressing. It had stopped. There was no development. This unsettled her deeply. What should she do? It was the same as before. She had to wait for inspiration, train her spells, and continuously refine the form of her world. There were people who broke their limits through constant repetition, after all. Thinking of Enkrid, Esther had an inexplicable sense of certainty that her own problem would somehow be resolved. The frustration began to dissipate. She felt better. It was strange, but she found that just thinking of that person made her feel that way. With her thoughts somewhat settled, she made her way back to the barracks. Dressed in a black robe, Esther walked through the military camp. She was a beauty whose presence captivated everyone''s attention. Normally, everyone would be staring at her, but today, there seemed to be fewer eyes on her. "Hm?" It wasn''t that she felt disappointed. It was just... odd. Esther quickened her pace. Soon, she saw Enkrid. To be precise, she saw Enkrid fighting, smashing through the barracks. It was purely coincidental. But that coincidence was likely the result of the usual chain of events. Enkrid, using his signature pressing sword for the third time, was pushing Teresa and Dunbakel back while applying pressure to Rem. "Do you think this will work?!" Rem shouted as he swung his axe over his head. Boom! There was no real sound, but Esther heard something similar to it. The spell Muller''s Scythe created a compressed wind that released a vacuum blade. It was a spell superior in cutting power and speed. What were wind and vacuum-based spells? It was, in fact, an art dealing with pressure. So, what is the ultimate form of wind, pressure, and vacuum spells? It was to influence atmospheric pressure. Through that, abnormal pressure could be exhibited. Some of Enkrid''s swordsmanship had left an impression on Esther''s mind, sparking her thoughts. The wizard fell into a deep trance, sinking into her own world. If she succumbed to meditation at this point, she would likely be left standing there with a blank, vacant expression, but there was no other choice. It was an opportunity to weave something new into her magical world, a chance she could not miss. "What is this?" Krais asked, a touch of irritation in his voice, and Enkrid, bracing his trembling legs, responded. "A spar." What else was there to say? Krais didn''t press the matter any further. It was already done. Arguing wouldn''t change anything. The damaged barracks wouldn''t repair themselves, and Enkrid wasn''t the type to feel remorse. Whatever it was that brought him satisfaction, the corners of his mouth were gently turned up. It was a look of relief. The subtle smile he wore made the atmosphere feel pleasant. Naturally, there was no desire to say anything more. "Is this a rebellion? Are you trying to kill me and take my position as lord?" Lord Graham, perhaps worn out from his struggles, was starting to spout nonsense. "Do you really need to say it like that?" Enkrid responded, casting a glance to one side. There, standing still, was a woman whose presence stole every gaze around her. It was Esther. She had approached, but suddenly froze, like a wax figure, only breathing quietly. The soldiers watching her formed a circle around her. None dared to touch her. Esther was also part of the madman company. She was a wizard who could transform into a leopard, wearing nothing but a black robe, warning anyone who dared look at her body that she would gouge out their eyes. In other words, she was a very dangerous person. Enkrid approached the witch. He could see that her eyes were glazed over. What was this about? It was a mystery. It wasn''t common for someone to be inspired by his swordsmanship and seek change in their magical world, and Enkrid was no wizard. There was nothing to be done about it. Esther was sensitive about anyone touching her body. The only person who could do so was Enkrid. He carefully lifted her, starting from her legs. As he picked her up, her body went limp. She seemed as though she had fallen into some kind of trance. Was this what it felt like when a sword engulfed you, and you lost your mind? "It''s like when the captain drools," Krais muttered, casting a glance at her. Enkrid didn''t bother to guess her condition. It was wizardry. No one knew what was going on. He needed to lay her down on a bed. Her eyes were turning, and she seemed unable to keep her wits about her. But when Enkrid turned, all he saw were the broken barracks. "Empty another barracks," Lord Graham commanded. "If you''re after the lordship, try doing it with words, not with a blade." Had he always been this fond of making jokes? Enkrid chuckled softly. After letting out everything he had learned, it felt refreshing. No, it wasn''t just refreshing; it had shown him a path forward. "You''ve changed." Audin''s compliment echoed in his mind. "You''re useful," muttered Ragna. Dunbakel had fainted, and Teresa, in her reckless state, had her arm twisted by Audin. It wasn''t broken, but she would need to rest for a day. Enkrid laid Esther down quickly and stepped out. Next, he sought out Rem. "You''re crazy¡ªdid you roast someone''s heart out on the battlefield?" Rem asked, speaking of Enkrid''s sudden rise in strength. "Do people really get stronger by cannibalism in the West?" "Some crazy ones believe so." Rem, wrapped in heated leather, spoke as though the sweat had cooled. They had just moved to a nearby barracks. Apart from the people inside, Rem was the only one outside. It was strange. He wasn''t heading to wash, nor did he have anything to say, yet here he was lingering? Rem? Instead of narrowing his eyes, Enkrid spoke up. "Rem." "What''s up?" "It''s nothing." Before the spar, before this situation, the atmosphere had shifted because of Rem. Enkrid had sensed it. Audin had subtly hinted at it as well. Although he hadn''t been able to look into it often due to his busy schedule with others seeking him out, Enkrid had noticed a subtle change in Rem''s demeanor. It wasn''t dangerous, but there was an unmistakable sharpness to him. If he asked what it was, would he get an answer? Maybe. But would knowing make any difference? Would Enkrid be able to do anything about it? "Why do you start saying something and then stop?" "Doesn''t it bother you to leave things unsaid?" Rem grumbled. The sharpness that had once seemed dangerously intense had faded, at least for now. Enkrid decided to skip the process of asking and answering. "Tomorrow morning." "What?" "We''ll have the proper spar." One-on-one. When he spoke with his eyes, a smile appeared at the corner of Rem''s lips. "Seriously, are you not planning to get that head of yours treated? What do you think will happen if you challenge me on your own?" "Just don''t cry after losing." Enkrid used his tongue skillfully. Rem chuckled in response. "Alright, sounds good. I''ll make sure you cry." After exchanging some fighting spirit, Enkrid turned and walked away, while Rem quietly gazed at the sky. The stars glimmered in the night sky. The warmth from the heated leather and stones wrapped around his body. As Enkrid''s footsteps faded, Rem felt his mind settle. A quiet laugh escaped him. What does Enkrid think he knows? He wondered. But what could he possibly know? Rem thought of the lazy, directionless fool. ''What mess did he just get himself into?'' He asked himself inwardly. Of course, he wasn''t going to ask directly. He had changed. Rem had seen this transformation firsthand. That was the beginning of this situation. The strange tension that filled the air was no accident. It wasn''t Ragna who had provoked him, but Rem had noticed. He would wield a sword unlike anything before. The change was subtle, but unmistakable. Of course, they wouldn''t know for sure until they fought. The length of the fight would show the truth. If there wasn''t a clear difference in skill, that was obvious. The real issue was that Rem had reacted to that change. He had become sensitive. ''What if I use the Sling?'' Naturally, he began to think of ways to counter Ragna. His momentum rose, provoking Ragna, who wouldn''t try to avoid it. "Do you want to get buried?" Ragna, too, hadn''t held back on provoking him. Would Rem retreat? "I''ll break your skull." That was how it began. Rem continued to stare at the night sky, deep in thought. ''Is this the price I pay for giving up?'' The thought lingered in his mind. He even reached back into the past. When he left, he remembered the fortune teller''s curse that had followed him. "You''re giving up that power, that right? You will pay the price." "Fine, I''ll handle it." Rem had said that and turned away. The fortune teller had clutched her chest and vomited blood in fury. She had been so angry. Well, the past was the past, and the present was the present. Ragna was Ragna, and he was himself. ''Stray cat brat.'' Would things have been less annoying if there had been a little more like Jaxen? The people he hated were still annoying, but wishing for their death was a different matter, especially with Enkrid as a central figure. This time, it was Ragna''s change that acted as the catalyst, stirring up Rem''s competitive spirit, but he decided to shake it off. ''If it goes wrong, I''ll just go back and get it.'' There was something he had left behind in his hometown. What would anyone do about what he had given up? If he could retrieve it, he would look down on Ragna. The next morning after moving the barracks, Enkrid began his early morning training. Audin had suggested proper training after a few days of observing. Even now, he was drenched in sweat every morning, with his limbs shaking, yet what did "proper training" even mean? Dunbakel, who had joined the morning training, was plagued by doubts just from listening. ''Should I quit?'' Teresa, though she didn''t show it on the outside, had her pupils shaking. Audin''s training methods were far from normal, but Enkrid remained calm. "I''m not expecting anything." His calmness made both Teresa and Dunbakel realize once again how solid his resolve was. And that became a source of motivation for them. A person who refuses to give up, no matter what, stood beside them. The half-giant and beastkin also felt the fire stoked within them. ''I won''t fall behind.'' Dunbakel reaffirmed her determination. ''Wandering Teresa doesn''t know how to quit.'' Teresa felt the same. After finishing the morning training, Enkrid was about to spar with Rem. "Captain." A messenger hurried over and called for Enkrid. "What''s going on?" "You need to come right away." After dealing with Count Molsan, Enkrid had to personally address a situation that had arisen from his actions. It was a hassle, but it had to be done. However, losing training time for this was another matter. "It''s a noble." He couldn''t just tell them to leave. Even if it was a lesser noble with no inheritance rights, they were still noble. Enkrid felt the annoyance again. He needed to find a solution to this issue. There had been a process to find a solution. Enkrid called on that process. "Krais?" Surely, he wasn''t slacking off now? He wouldn''t welcome those who disturbed his training by seeking him out. Enkrid''s intentions were clear. Just then, the wide-eyed Krais, still rubbing his eyes, responded with a lazy yawn. "We should start using tactics now, right?" He said. Enkrid nodded. -------------------------------------------------------------------Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi! https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 333 - The Curse Unravels (2) Chapter 333 - 333 - The Curse Unravels (2) "Can we really just leave him there?" The lieutenant of Lord Graham asked, glancing at his superior. He wasn''t sure if this was the right thing to do. They had just left Enkrid with some noble¡ªor was it a merchant?¡ªand walked away. While it felt appropriate since they had found the man, wasn''t this something the lord himself could handle? The thoughts swirling in his head couldn''t all be voiced, so he kept his question brief. Lord Graham responded, sword in hand. "And if we don''t leave him there? I''m still the lord. If they don''t like it, they can come and cut me down." The lieutenant thought his lord had been treating his life far too lightly lately, but he couldn''t say much. Even he could see that if Enkrid put his mind to it, becoming a lord would be no great challenge. More than anything, Lord Graham seemed ready to lay down his life at any moment. "Understood." The lieutenant nodded. There was nothing more to say. Instead, he watched his lord, noticing a rare intensity in his expression. Graham, half-closing his eyes, held his sword and slowly brought it downward. A crushing sword? Was the swordsmanship Enkrid displayed? No, it wasn''t. For the first time in ages, Graham''s heart was racing. His chest throbbed with an uncontrollable yearning and desire that spiraled upward like a vortex. The emotions fueled his movements. Ah. As he swung his sword repeatedly, a small realization struck his mind. Graham recalled the training he had done yesterday, the day before, and for the past week. He hadn''t been neglecting his drills. But had he truly given it his all? Had he done his best? No. He hadn''t. He had grown complacent, content with maintaining the status quo. Was he using the busyness of being a lord as an excuse? Had he convinced himself there was no higher ground to reach? The fiery determination he had when he first picked up a sword¡ªhad it faded completely? Could he speak of these things in front of that guy? That guy was none other than Enkrid. The man who had dreamed of becoming a knight. The man now walking that path. When he first joined the unit, Enkrid had been a laughingstock. A man rumored to do unspeakable things just to survive. Someone who barely reached the level of a lowly soldier. But Graham had seen Enkrid''s transformation. It was only natural that he, too, would feel inspired. Through the realization brought by the sword, Graham began reflecting on his entire life. Being a lord doesn''t mean I must abandon the sword. Graham knew he wasn''t particularly bright. That was why he had delegated most of the administrative work to his lieutenant. He had even assigned some tasks to the sharp-witted, big-eyed Krais from the so-called Madmen Unit. He had reduced his interactions with others to the bare minimum. Now, he was at a point where he felt like he would lose his mind if he didn''t swing his sword. The lieutenant couldn''t stop him. He himself wasn''t immune to the same feeling. "Would you care for a spar?" The lieutenant, a veteran elite soldier from the heavy infantry unit, asked. He wasn''t just Graham''s lieutenant; he was also his bodyguard. Naturally, he, too, had witnessed Enkrid''s transformation, seen his actions on the battlefield, and felt their impact. It would be a lie to say he wasn''t affected. "Let''s go at it. I''ll show you the difference between us." Graham nodded. It wasn''t just the two of them. The ripple had spread across the entire unit. Even the fairy company commander, Shinar, wasn''t an exception. She repeated the same movements over and over, wielding her practice staff. She was honing her precision and finesse. What had stirred her was the sight of Enkrid''s back when he stood against the knight. I''ll Block it. The vivid blade of emotion contained in those two words¡ªShinar had seen it. Sensitivity allowed one to feel emotions, and sometimes, that became a way to read the opponent''s intent. While she couldn''t read everything, strong emotions¡ªlike a gust of wind¡ªwere surprisingly easy to perceive. The stronger the will, the clearer it became. That was why Shinar could sense Enkrid''s feelings when he faced the knight. Even if I die, even if I shatter, even if my heart is torn apart... I will block it. What kind of person could think like that? A person who could focus on one thing so completely that everything else was forgotten. And what fragment of emotion had surfaced in that singular determination? It wasn''t fear¡ªit was ecstasy. Not because fear didn''t exist. Not because he was immune to pain or suffering. But because he wrapped it all in the thrill of it. He enjoyed the moment, forgetting the agony. He postponed the coming pain to live entirely in the present. He seemed like someone who lived only for now. He''s insane. Shinar thought, her conclusion firm. Even with his madness, with his mind seemingly broken... She couldn''t help but feel a thrilling rush whenever she thought of him. Fairies were supposed to suppress their emotions, to be immune to things like exhilaration. But now, Shinar had forgotten all about that restraint. The tips of her fingers danced with her staff. Starting with delicate precision, she moved beyond forms and structures, letting go of conventions. The energy she had long held dormant surged wildly within her. She let it. She did not try to control it. At this moment, she simply wanted to wield her staff. Enkrid''s back had stirred something profound within her. "Why wouldn''t I be able to do it?" Enkrid''s actions had naturally inspired the soldiers of the unit, especially those who fancied themselves skilled with a blade. Some soldiers had even followed him from Greenpearl all the way here after witnessing his prowess on the battlefield. Upon arriving at Border Guard, they openly declared their skill and insisted on joining the Madmen Unit. It was enough to draw attention. Naturally, one of the original Border Guard soldiers took notice and confronted him. "You think you''re good in a fight? You sure do talk a lot." The soldier from Greenperl, unwilling to back down from the provocation, turned to the one speaking. His name was Janssen. "I''m good enough," Janssen replied. He had fought on the front lines in the last battle and had been training relentlessly after watching Enkrid. He had undergone intense drills unlike anything he''d done before, and his newfound confidence was evident. "Bell, go easy on him," another soldier muttered, glancing at Janssen. The comment scratched at Janssen''s pride, and the soldier named Bell stepped forward with a nod. His stance was clear: he was ready to fight. "You''re going to get hurt," Janssen warned. "Let''s find out," Bell replied. Bell, a member of the Madmen Unit who had undergone rigorous training, occasionally even receiving specialized drills, did not hold back. By midday, the Greenperl soldier was seeing stars. Janssen found himself sprawled on the ground, having blocked Bell''s punch with his forehead only to be struck on the temple by a counterpunch. The difference in skill was undeniable, but even more apparent was the difference in mindset. "Does it hurt?" Bell asked, wiping his brow. "There are plenty like me here." Janssen raised his head and introduced himself. "Janssen." "Welcome aboard," Bell said. Janssen joined Bell''s squad immediately. This wasn''t unique to Janssen. Those who had witnessed Enkrid''s fights all threw themselves into training with renewed fervor. Sweat poured from them like rain as they pushed their bodies to the limit, even without the usual Madmen Unit drills. It seemed like a camp full of maniacs, each soldier training as if possessed. Of course, there were those who refrained, opting to rest instead. Some shirked entirely. Participation was entirely voluntary, so no one forced anyone to train. Yet even those who avoided it couldn''t ignore an instinctive thought: What happens on the battlefield if I''m the only one slacking off? The difference would undoubtedly show. The ripple of inspiration continued to spread. Rem was no exception. He, too, began swinging his axe. Though it was the tail end of winter, it was rare to see Rem without his thermal leather gear. "Are you unwell?" Krais asked as he passed by, his concern evident. "If you don''t want your head decorated with an axe, get lost," Rem growled. Krais quickly backed off. Even Dunbakel, driven as though being chased, threw herself into her training. While Rem no longer went out of his way to torment her, he still sparred with her, trained alongside her, and offered advice when necessary. "Are all beastkin as dense as you?" he asked once. "That''s speciesist," she retorted. "So what? You want to die?" Sometimes, it seemed like Rem was venting his frustrations, but it was all for the better. Dunbakel absorbed everything, even as she endured the blows. Audin, too, noticed the changes. Ragna had changed. His commander had changed. What did this make Audin feel? A lot. It made him reflect, if only briefly. At least it was Ragna, he thought. If it had been Rem... If Rem had changed, the barbarian would have challenged him to endless duels, using his superior skills to revel in the situation. Ragna, however, had not done that. He remained lazy, though not quite like before. He trained more, sparred regularly with the commander, but refrained from provoking anyone unnecessarily. Now, Ragna seemed oddly distant, gazing vacantly into space and rarely stepping out of the barracks. Even so, it was unsettling. He''s moving ahead of me, Audin thought. Is it time to break the restraints? If Rem had been the one to change, this might have been a serious matter for contemplation. But it wasn''t. Not yet. Though Audin sought answers, he didn''t expect them to come from those who had imposed the restraints on him. And so¡ª "Retrace the paths you''ve walked. Within them lies the answer to what blocks your way." He recited sacred scripture and prayed. That was what Audin did. In the remaining time, he meticulously honed his body, one step at a time. Steady accumulation¡ªlayer upon layer¡ªwas the source of Audin''s strength. He reflected on the journey from the beginning to now. He carefully reviewed the changes in his body. That''s what he did. As Enkrid advanced, so did the people around him. The ripple effect spread, stirring up the entire barracks. It was quiet, yet intense. Intense, yet subtle. The change within the barracks was undeniable. While similar sparks had ignited some before, this time it was different¡ªit even influenced the entire city, including its lord. "Could you possibly find a better offer than this?" Enkrid had already forgotten the man''s name. He thought about looking to Graham for support, but Graham was nowhere to be found. When Count Molsan came or dealt with important guests, Graham made it a point to show up. Now, faced with someone less significant, he had simply dumped the task on Enkrid. Is this how you treat a war hero? Even if calling himself a hero felt ridiculous, wasn''t it just as ridiculous to make him deal with this nonsense? Is this what a lord should do? A sudden desire to spar with Graham surged within him. He figured he could learn a thing or two, like how to fall gracefully, take a hit well, or even how to pass out without too much pain. "She''s my daughter, the fairest in our territory!" the noble merchant croaked. The man resembled a toad. His daughter, who was far more human-like, gave a shy smile and averted her gaze. Should I kill them both? Of course not. What about beating him up? Enkrid could almost hear Krais''s nagging voice in his mind, asking if he was "turning into Rem or something." It didn''t help that Shinar was preoccupied elsewhere, nor that Esther had shut herself away, meditating. Maybe I should''ve brought Rem. At least he''d cause a scene big enough to end this quickly. But no. He had sparred with Rem that morning, and even that routine being disrupted irked him. Still, this wasn''t a place to vent. As the conversation droned on, Enkrid retreated into his thoughts, imagining sparring scenarios. In his mind, he was already busy fending off Rem''s blazing axe strikes. I heard he used a sling once. How should I counter that? He had no idea. I''ll figure it out as I go. He was itching to experience and learn through combat again. Patience or not, Enkrid saw no purpose in this meeting. Enough time had been wasted¡ªhe had even finished a whole cup of tea, though he had gulped it down. "Well, what do you say?" the merchant pressed. Enkrid simply stood up, delivering his answer with a bright, curt dismissal. "That''ll be all." "Hey! Don''t you know who I am? I''m a noble and the head of trade in this region!" the merchant blustered. Enkrid didn''t even bother acknowledging the man with a glance. He was too eager to spar with Rem''s axe, his sword ready to clash. As for trade? That was the lord''s problem, not his. Leaving the merchant to stew in his indignation, Enkrid walked out without a second thought. The noble merchant was stunned¡ªand not just stunned. He was furious. Enkrid had left countless such encounters in his wake, many of them carrying grudges. "You scoundrel," the merchant growled, his jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles visibly bulged. Beside him, his daughter''s eyes welled with tears. She felt humiliated; the man hadn''t even spared her a proper look. All of this unfolded as Krais watched from the doorway, his expression unreadable. "Let''s go!" the merchant snapped, his voice sharp with anger. Krais knew this would escalate. How could it not? The pattern was all too familiar. But instead of anger, Krais felt something else: glee. The source of his amusement? Money. This was about gold coins, and that always brought him joy. "Just wait!" the merchant shouted, storming off in a huff. Krais wasn''t worried in the slightest. A woman standing nearby turned and asked him, "So, are we supposed to act as a shield for the local merchants?" Her question caught Krais off guard, his wide eyes blinking. "What? I''m not sure what you mean." "Playing dumb, are we?" Her tone implied that some choice words were being left unsaid. Krais averted his gaze but couldn''t deny it. She was right. If the city''s trade and commerce were up for grabs, if the power vacuum was so obvious, then it was only a matter of assigning that power to the right person. And someone suitable had just arrived in the city. Word from the Gilpin Guild was faster than even the city guards. "It''s an honor to formally meet you. I apologize for the delay, Guildmaster Leona Rockfreed," Krais said, bowing. "Well, that''s a quick turnaround for an apology," Leona replied with a wry smile. Both of them were seasoned players, carrying hidden agendas. Negotiations would undoubtedly take time, but Krais had no intention of wasting too much of it on this matter. -------------------------------------------------------------------Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi! https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 334 - What Was Inside His Head? Chapter 334 - 334 - What Was Inside His Head? Chapter 334 - What Was Inside His Head? Upon waking each morning, Enkrid practiced the Isolation technique with Audin. Afterward, he would train his control over muscle movements, slowly swinging his sword with precise, deliberate effort. This was followed by intense sparring sessions with Rem. In between these activities, he made sure to eat meals, often snacking on herb pies. His extraordinary level of physical activity required extraordinary sustenance. Eating, resting, and bodily functions took up minimal time; the rest was devoted entirely to relentless training. Once fully recovered, the first thing he did was destroy his barracks. After that, Enkrid focused on observing and refining himself, continually honing his methods with a scholar''s scrutiny. Whatever Krais had done behind the scenes seemed to work¡ªno one came to bother him anymore. He was grateful enough to declare he wouldn''t even take the Guild''s tribute payments. But when Krais insisted he meet just one person, Enkrid reluctantly stepped outside the barracks. To his surprise, he encountered a familiar face. "Did you get even better-looking?" The casual remark came with a smile. Enkrid recognized the speaker immediately¡ªLeona Rockfreed. Leona was the leader of a trade guild and someone he''d once spent an entire night talking to, eating herb pies, sipping pumpkin soup, and wandering through the market together. Though the suggestion of becoming friends had seemed fresh and unexpected, it had planted the seeds of genuine camaraderie. Enkrid greeted her with a steady gaze. "How could I forget someone like you?" Leona had always been striking. Now, dressed in sleek leather pants, a thick white shirt, and a fur-lined vest, she exuded the confident air of a seasoned merchant. Even her shirt was made of a fabric unfamiliar to Enkrid, which led him to idly consider its potential as gambeson lining. His battle-focused mind found a way to think of combat even now. Krais, standing off to the side, muttered, "What part of him looks better?" Enkrid hadn''t shaved, his sweaty hair hung in unkempt strands, and his clothes clung to him like rags. He didn''t even smell good. For Krais, charisma was all about atmosphere¡ªa blend of scent, demeanor, and attitude, not just good looks. By that standard, Enkrid was far from charming. At best, he looked like someone obsessed with swordplay. "You should clean up," Krais said, wrinkling his nose. "Waste of time," Enkrid replied without turning, his mind replaying a vivid memory. A night spent in Leona''s company. No signals, no physical intimacy, just hours of conversation. Yet from that rest, he had gained something invaluable¡ªa newfound grasp of fluid motion, a clearer understanding of linking footwork and sword swings, and a sense of speed. It wasn''t what he learned that mattered, but how he learned it. The process itself had left an indelible mark. Now, seeing Leona again, he welcomed her presence. "You really have changed," Leona remarked, her eyes meeting his. She wasn''t just being polite; as a merchant and a leader, her instincts were sharp. She could see it¡ªhis presence had shifted. While her initial comment about his looks had been half a joke, the other half had been genuine. Something about him had grown more defined, more commanding. "Have I gained more wrinkles?" Enkrid quipped with a faint smile. "Trying to tease me, are you?" she shot back with a grin. Their exchange was easy and natural. Somewhere nearby, Krais signaled to the soldiers, who quickly set up a table and chairs. "You can''t just stand around chatting all day; you''re busy, after all," Krais said, mimicking a sword swing as if to emphasize how training consumed Enkrid''s life. Leona chuckled. She knew this side of him well¡ªduring her previous time in Border Guard, she had even watched some of his grueling sparring sessions. Enkrid glanced at Krais. The big-eyed man always had an ulterior motive. Still, Enkrid sat down, recognizing that Krais''s insistence carried purpose. Leona, too, sat without hesitation, her eyes never leaving Enkrid. Behind her stood Mathis, her familiar bodyguard, and another man¡ªone Enkrid didn''t know. The stranger was striking, with golden hair and piercing blue eyes, a figure who radiated charm and carried himself with effortless poise. Even Krais had to admit, this man knew how to command an atmosphere. Standing behind Leona, he offered a soft smile and an air of quiet confidence. "What brings you here?" "Would you believe me if I said I came to visit a friend?" "Not a chance." "Well, you''re right. It''s about guild matters. But, seeing a friend along the way is a nice bonus, isn''t it?" Leona smiled as she spoke, and Enkrid returned her smile. It wasn''t a bad meeting, though the tea left much to be desired. The tea served was notoriously awful¡ªa brew specifically reserved for unwanted visitors, meant to signal them to drink quickly and leave. And they served this here? "On purpose?" Enkrid thought. Of course, it was deliberate. Krais'' intent was written all over it. Even the way he avoided eye contact with feigned innocence had an oddly endearing audacity. Enkrid chose to focus on Leona instead. They exchanged a few casual words about trade. "It''s fascinating to see how famous you''ve become. I knew this would happen. I should''ve roped you into the guild back then," Leona teased. "Does a guild need swordsmen that often?" "Of course. We''re not a stationary guild, after all." Her explanation carried an interesting tidbit. She elaborated that guilds generally fell into two categories: stationary and itinerant. While many guilds combined aspects of both, the Rockfreed Guild leaned heavily toward being itinerant, which brought its own set of challenges. Since its founding, they''d primarily been a nomadic guild, largely because they had no connections to rely on for a fixed base. It wasn''t so much a lack of resources as it was a lack of mutually beneficial relationships. Even if connections existed, potential allies likely attempted to swallow the guild whole or betrayed them outright. This harsh reality shaped the Rocfried Guild''s current status. Operating without a home base meant they had less influence in any specific region, which posed significant limitations. Local partnerships were often necessary to secure profits, and the guild had to rely on routes like the Rockfreed Trade Road, partnerships with groups like the Glacier Rangers, the Black Leather Guild, and the Shepherds of the Wasteland. Few guilds dared to deal with such entities, making Rockfreed''s position unique. But could this itinerant model persist? No, not indefinitely. Stability required a home base, particularly in uncertain times like these. So, where should they establish themselves? "A place undergoing rapid change." An area ripe with opportunities. Given the kingdom''s unstable political climate and rising prominence of certain cities, somewhere like the Border Guard was an ideal candidate. Enkrid quickly pieced this together, though he refrained from saying it aloud. Leona, too, avoided discussing it directly. If Krais had summoned them to gain leverage in negotiations, it would have been a mistake. This was a meeting between friends. "Are you married?" Leona asked suddenly. "No, I''m not." "And that fairy of yours?" Leona leaned in with a mischievous whisper. "She often jokes about being my fiance?e." "Ugh, how boring." "What about you?" "I''m married to the guild, you could say." "Is that so?" "No, it''s a lie. I do have a fiance?, but I''m not sure about him yet. It''s more of a political match, and if other plans work out, I might call it off." "Noted. So, you''re not here to seduce me, then?" "Of course not! I don''t go back once I''m rejected. You missed your chance, and now you''ll just have to live with the regret." "Fine, I''ll regret it occasionally." "Regret should be constant and deeply painful." "I''m too busy." "Swinging your sword all the time?" "Exactly." Their banter was light and playful, leaving both of them chuckling. For a brief moment, Enkrid felt like a carefree child again. Leona had a way of putting people at ease, whether it was a talent honed as a merchant or genuine empathy didn''t matter. What mattered was that the moment was pleasant. Their conversation was interrupted when Krais chimed in abruptly. "A political marriage? That''s ridiculous!" Here? Now? "Exactly," Leona agreed. "I said I didn''t want it, didn''t I?" "Exactly my point. Isn''t that right, Commander?" "...About what?" Krais nudged Enkrid''s foot and then, as if his throat were parched, took a sip of the horrid tea he had vowed never to drink again. Enkrid understood the situation well enough. "A relationship built on mutual need," he thought. Such was the nature of the connection between Krais and Leona. The bad tea wasn''t a coincidence; it was a message. This was a business meeting, plain and simple. Rocfried needed a base of operations. The Border Guard needed a shield against external troubles. Their needs aligned perfectly. Enkrid smirked inwardly. He could now see exactly why Krais had dragged him into this. "Trying to use charm and friendship, huh?" It was clear as day. The scheme was all too obvious. "Your friend is right here, and you''re going to pull this kind of thing?" Typical Krais, always using underhanded tactics when it suited him. And there was only one reason he''d act like this. "How much were you promised?" Enkrid asked flatly. There was no doubt the lord of this land had made some sort of deal with him. Enkrid''s sharp insight hit the mark. Yet Krais remained unfazed. When money was involved, Krais transformed into a stellar actor, a shrewd tactician, and an exceptionally smooth talker. "Excuse me? What are you implying?" "You invited someone under the guise of friendship." If you were going to leverage someone''s friendship, you''d better be prepared to account for the consequences. Enkrid wasn''t just any guest here; he was also Leona''s friend. "I think you''re mistaken..." Krais began, but Leona interjected. "Oh, don''t worry about it. Business should be clean and straightforward." Her words subtly reinforced her stance: she wouldn''t fall for cheap tricks, nor would she stoop to using them herself. "I''ll be leaving now," Enkrid announced, rising from his seat. There was nothing more for him to do here. "See you next time," Leona said with a cheerful smile, raising her hand in a casual goodbye. Enkrid took her hand, brushed his lips lightly across the back of it, and turned to leave. His actions were the epitome of decorum¡ªsomething he had picked up over the years, even as a mercenary. Once, he had made a fair living escorting noblewomen to parties, and the etiquette had stuck with him. "Salons really are his element," Krais muttered under his breath as he watched. Before Enkrid could take another step, someone else approached. "You, there." It was Mathis. Despite his attempt to maintain composure, his astonishment was evident. The rumors he''d heard about Enkrid had been difficult to believe. But seeing him in person... Mathis had met Enkrid before, but the man standing before him now exuded a confidence and presence that was unmistakable. This wasn''t mere bravado; it was the aura of a true master. "Would you spar with me?" Mathis asked. Enkrid, still armed from his earlier training, nodded. His three swords¡ªhis gladius, a silver-edged longsword, and the fiery blade called Spark¡ªrested at his waist. "Anytime," he replied simply. Leona made no move to stop them. She understood Mathis well enough to know that something had stirred him deeply. Ting. Their blades met in a cautious exchange, each warrior gauging the other''s strength. Three times their swords clashed lightly, a mutual understanding to warm up. Then, Mathis struck in earnest. His attack was swift, calculated¡ªa move worthy of a recognized master in the city. "City-level expert? What nonsense. A blade cuts all the same," Rem had once scoffed. But even he would have acknowledged Mathis''s skill. Yet, the moment their swords met, Mathis realized Enkrid''s movements weren''t any slower than his own. He pressed down harder, attempting to overpower his opponent''s blade with his technique. But Enkrid''s response was quicker. With a seamless motion, Enkrid deflected Mathis''s blade and slipped inside his guard. It was a masterful maneuver¡ªpart parry, part counterattack¡ªexecuted with such fluidity it resembled the strike of a snake. For a brief moment, Mathis thought the blade might actually bend as it darted toward him. He stopped, staring at the silver edge hovering just shy of his throat. No effort wasted. No room for doubt. "Impressive," Mathis admitted, though the admission carried a heavy dose of resignation. Compared to the last time he''d seen Enkrid, this felt like facing an entirely different person. The gap in skill was undeniable, and Mathis knew that even at his best, the outcome wouldn''t have changed. "Enough," Enkrid said curtly, sheathing his blade. He turned away without another word, confident that Mathis would rise again on his own. Mathis wasn''t a knight but a warrior of the merchant band. He would fulfill his duties without needing further encouragement. Behind him, Krais began discussing terms with the merchants. "Now that everything''s sorted, here''s what Border Guard can offer, and here''s what we need from you." The whole charade had been Krais''s idea from the start. By involving Enkrid, he had forced both parties to lay their cards on the table. It was cunning, but also fair in its own way. Neither Leona nor the merchants could afford to lose face by breaking trust in front of a mutual friend. "His scheming really is second to none," Enkrid thought as he walked away. Within a month, the Rockfreed Merchant Company had established a foothold in Border Guard. Despite resistance from local traders, they navigated the challenges with remarkable efficiency, negotiating compromises where necessary and asserting dominance where they could. During that time, Enkrid trained relentlessly. Day after day, he practiced as if stuck in an endless cycle. Unlike most, he could endure the monotony of repetition without complaint. But this time, there was a difference¡ªhe could feel himself improving. It wasn''t just training for the sake of it. The progress was real. "Enjoying yourself?" Rem asked during one of their sparring sessions. "Of course," Enkrid replied with a grin. If he didn''t enjoy it, how could he keep going like this? Rem couldn''t help but agree. Their commander was truly mad. Just moments ago, Enkrid had narrowly avoided a fatal blow from Rem''s axe. And yet, here he was, laughing it off as though it was all part of the fun. The boatman, who had been watching from the sidelines, finally spoke up. "What on earth is inside that head of yours?" It was a rhetorical question, of course. After all, what else could occupy the mind of a man who spent an entire month doing nothing but swinging his sword? -------------------------------------------------------------------Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 335 - Training Chapter 335 - 335 - Training Chapter 335 - Training Whether they were noble lords, merchant guild members, or city officials, visitors kept coming. However, Enkrid no longer paid them any mind. It wasn''t a problem¡ªKrais was handling it well in the middle. When told to use his wits, Krais truly delivered. "Am I to come all this way only to be denied an audience with a mere city soldier?" Even when an aged noble showed up, Krais responded like a mechanical doll: "Yes, you cannot meet him." Occasionally, some would resort to displays of force. "Do you wish to fight?" In such cases, they faced Mehlun the Frog, who served as Krais'' bodyguard. Few were bold enough to challenge Mehlun''s intimidation. What seemed extraordinary around here, for Enkrid and his circle was, in fact, the norm. Still, Krais didn''t forcibly eject anyone or rely solely on brute strength. "He''s preparing for a critical battle." He gave appropriate excuses and invoked the royal court as leverage. "This is a matter being directly handled by the central palace." That alone silenced most noble upstarts, while merchants didn''t concern him at all. "If you have complaints, take them to the Rockfreed Merchant Guild. They''re the ones under an exclusive contract with the lord." He simply deflected. Leona Rockfreed proved to be highly capable. She handled mid-level merchant guilds with ease, managing and resolving disputes as needed. "Does the name ''Rockfreed'' carry so little weight?" Just invoking her guild''s name resolved half the issues. Even when larger guilds under noble sponsorship arrived, it made no difference. What they sought was access to trade routes and profit through Enkrid. Leona promised them exactly that. "The trade routes will expand. Our guild alone cannot monopolize it all." Naturally, merchants who once tried to approach Enkrid shifted their focus to Leona. She screened and selected the best among them. Assessing and recognizing the value of goods was her specialty. Watching her work, Krais couldn''t help but feel satisfied. "To think a single appearance from the Commander could simplify this mess so much." Without Enkrid, Krais imagined he''d still be negotiating endless minor details with Leona. It was clear¡ªEnkrid''s presence alone was invaluable. Indeed, he was a figure worthy of being a salon''s crown jewel and ace. Even with Krais diligently managing these affairs, Enkrid wasn''t idle. In fact, he was busier than ever, pursuing exactly what he wanted. "Come at me!" Obsessed with sparring, Enkrid had no room for leisure. "Don''t kill yourself," Rem quipped as they trained together, his wit sharpening alongside their duels. The sparring sessions were intense. From an outsider''s perspective, it seemed like they were recklessly risking their lives, but to both Enkrid and Rem, it was mutually beneficial. Naturally, Dunbakel and Teresa joined in, with Audin occasionally assisting. Only Ragna refrained. Ragna would sometimes swing his sword into the air or fall into a meditative trance, resembling slumber. Everyone but Ragna couldn''t help but be astonished at Enkrid. ''When did he become this capable?'' Dunbakel sensed the widening gap in skill. Teresa recognized an insurmountable wall she couldn''t overcome, even if she used every ounce of her mixed giant''s strength and tricks. Yet neither gave up. How could they? The man before them had clawed his way up from the bottom. To show resignation in front of such a figure was unthinkable¡ªboth mentally and physically. "Give up? Tired? Oh, is our beast-woman feeling weak? Fine. Then just die, I suppose. Tired people should die," Rem would taunt Dunbakel at even a hint of surrender. "As the scriptures say, sometimes we need a different shock to forget our original pain," Audin would add, ready to administer that "shock" directly if Teresa showed hesitation. Of course, neither said such things aloud. ''I won''t yield either,'' Teresa resolved. Dunbakel shared the sentiment. Both women had become accustomed to moving forward and upward. Their resolve had transformed since before. Both had heard stories of what kind of man Enkrid was and how far he had come. From the soldiers, including Rem, they learned that Enkrid''s beginnings were humble¡ªastonishingly so. "At one point, he was under me. Heck, I was better-looking back then, too," Vengeance claimed with a laugh. Other soldiers told similar tales. Enkrid had once been a low-ranking mercenary of little note. Now, he was a completely different person. A hero of the city, a hero of the battlefield, and someone who inspired the children of Border Guard to train with wooden swords. As the scriptures said: "Though the beginning may be humble, the end shall be glorious." Teresa had a fleeting thought. As for Dunbakel, "I won''t fall behind." She gritted her teeth and struggled with all her might. Without even realizing it herself, her determination began to resemble Enkrid''s desperate efforts. Of course, how the beastkin and the half-blood giant viewed her was none of Enkrid''s concern. Aside from training and sparring, Enkrid spent his time wisely, often visiting the forge. No, he had to. He wasn''t in a rush, but he couldn''t afford to let time slip away idly. Hadn''t he seen the knight''s sword? Blocking it even once by striking first was an invaluable experience. Just that brief exchange of blades with the knight had broadened Enkrid''s world and made the starlight on the path ahead shine brighter. The nightmare that had once visited him as the Reaper had transformed into distant starlight. The remnants of that light illuminated his path. It was only natural that his resolve soared higher than ever. What some might see as harsh and grueling training was, for Enkrid, a source of unmatched joy and exhilaration. "What''s this now?" The self-proclaimed best blacksmith in Border Guard examined the sword gifted by the enemy squire several times over. The silver blade, the polished finish, the grip wrapped in monster hide, and the rounded pommel. "This is no ordinary craftsmanship." When Enkrid showed him the gladius and Ember as well, the blacksmith''s eyes practically sparkled. "Even the technique used in forging is different. These aren''t human weapons." The blacksmith''s keen eye recognized the value of both Spark and the gladius. "Planning to wield all three at once?" They had known each other for quite some time. The blacksmith, who spoke informally, cared more about his craft than any rank, even that of a company commander. In the Border Guard, there wasn''t a blacksmiths'' guild like in other regions, as most of them were effectively part of the military. This particular blacksmith had chosen challenge over stability, pursuing his craft with unmatched determination. Enkrid respected the smith, thinking of him as someone chasing a dream similar to his own. "Dream? Bah, it''s just a job. No need to get poetic about it," the smith might scoff if asked. But deep down, Enkrid was certain the man had immense pride in his work. Seeing the blacksmith reignited Enkrid''s own dreams. Perhaps his surging motivation these days was to blame. The blacksmith, still fixated on the three swords, finally asked, "What do you want done?" "They''ve seen some rough use. I''d like them touched up. Also, I need fifty lightweight, well-balanced throwing knives, some reinforced metal plates for these greaves, and my gauntlets are completely worn out, so all my armor needs to be replaced." For a mercenary, good equipment was as vital as a second life. Even now, as a squire capable of wielding fragments of Will, that truth remained unchanged. ''What if, when I faced that knight, the sword in my hand had been a cheap blade?'' The thought annoyed him. A fine weapon that fit perfectly in hand was a joy for any swordsman and a testament to their skill. That knight had shown arrogance by not bringing his trusted sword. While that arrogance had allowed Enkrid to prevail, it wasn''t a trait he wished to emulate. Instead, he would learn from the knight''s failure and ensure he was always prepared. Thus, he poured his krona into equipment and weapons. "What about payment?" "The castle will cover it." "Fair enough." The blacksmith sharpened and polished the three swords, meticulously checking for any flaws. There were none. Though Enkrid had learned to maintain his weapons as a mercenary, a master''s touch was different. But he couldn''t neglect his training just to master blacksmithing as well. "Oh, by the way, do you have any spears, maces, or axes? I''d like to check those out, too." Enkrid placed additional orders, not just a few but a variety of weapons. The blacksmith finally looked directly at him, as if to ask where he planned to use them all. "Yes, they''re for me," Enkrid confirmed. Given the reputation he had earned on the battlefield, no blacksmith could remain ignorant of him. Even if his requests seemed eccentric, the smith complied without question. After briefly losing himself in admiration of the three swords, the blacksmith thought, Could I ever craft a better blade than these? Someday, I''ll take on that challenge, and he''ll be the first to see it. Then we''ll talk payment. "I''ll send some of the weapons along with the armor later." "Thanks." Enkrid resumed his intense training. "Tighten your muscles and apply force. That way, you''ll forge muscles as strong as steel," Audin instructed during the early morning drills. Enkrid didn''t tilt his head but asked nonetheless, "You''re saying a body that won''t get injured by a blade is possible?" "Precisely, brother. You understand perfectly." It didn''t sound plausible, but Enkrid refrained from saying so outright. "It is possible," Audin added, preempting further questions. "How?" "You likely already know the answer. Asking questions isn''t bad, but sometimes discovering it for yourself is the better path, don''t you think?" Audin''s response carried an unspoken challenge, and Enkrid nodded in agreement. What followed made all his previous training seem easy by comparison. Audin reached for a hammer wrapped in thick cloth. "What are you going to do with that?" Dunbakel''s uneasy voice broke the tension. "Training." "Sister. If you wish, please stand in line." Dunbakel did not stand in line. She thought this wasn''t it. Even if she were to do it someday, now was not the time. She wanted to absorb everything about Enkrid, but she believed it would be best to put it off for now. However, Enkrid silently followed Audin''s teachings. And the result was this. Thunk! It was simple. He focused and struck. That was all. Audin struck Enkrid''s side with a cloth-wrapped hammer. It wasn''t a hard blow, but for an ordinary person, the strike would have shattered ribs and sent shockwaves through the internal organs. "Ho-ho, that''s good!" Audin struck with just the right amount of force. From watching, he could gauge the durability of Enkrid''s body. And Enkrid was struck. "Isn''t that just torture?" Krais, who had been passing by, said this. Despite how busy he was, he couldn''t tear his eyes away from the scene. "This training turns flesh into strength and blood into power. If you wish, please stand in line, brother." "If you do that to me, it''s murder. Audin." Krais spoke seriously, then quickly ran off. He vanished, his steps quickly disappearing. "Go ahead, then." Enkrid inhaled deeply as he watched Krais disappear into the distance. Inhale. "Focus the power at your core, at the center of your body. If you wobble for even a moment, it will lead to weakness somewhere." Audin''s words reached his ears, and once again, the cloth-wrapped hammer struck his side. Whack. The shockwave surged through his body. A thrilling sensation surged through his brain. "Is he enjoying this?" Enkrid thought to himself as he felt the pain. Is Audin enjoying striking him? His lips seemed to curve upward more than usual. Though usually bearing a faint smile, today it seemed he was smiling a little more. On the surface, that smile appeared truly benevolent. But one should never be deceived by appearances. "The devil comes with the face of an angel." Unconsciously, Enkrid repeated a phrase from the scriptures that he had heard many times. "I look forward to the day the cloth will come off, brother." The strike with the cloth-wrapped hammer had already crossed the line, but Audin continued. Enkrid smiled faintly. "Same here." In truth, if this had been meaningless, it would have been pointless, but it wasn''t. ''Will.'' Willpower moved. Something derived from the will of rejection settled into his body and produced something like a refusal. Was he rejecting the shock? No. It was different. It was endurance. Among the techniques used by knights, there were a few standardized martial arts. Intimidation was one of them. This was why many intermediate knights made intimidation their specialty. They saw intimidation as a fundamental step. Naturally, there were other techniques as well. One of the most widely known standardized techniques was "Endure." Also known as the "strength to endure," it was originally a technique used by holy knights but had now spread throughout the knightly orders. When considering its utility: "It''s an instinctual response that happens when you''re struck." It was like encasing the body in iron armor to ignore such a response. If one used this skill proficiently and applied it all over their body, they would develop the foundational skills of a knight. Then, they would have a body that wouldn''t even be cut by a blade. "Ah." This was why the brown-haired knight was shocked when Ragnar''s sword cut him. Enkrid also understood. "Will." Simply building muscle wouldn''t create a body that could endure a blade. But what if one surrounded their body with something like iron armor, a strong will? This thought sparked another realization. Had this crude training spurred him on? Perhaps. Enkrid felt a kind of aggression in his sparring with Rem, something more intense than before. "If you keep going easy on me like before, that won''t do." "You''ve really improved. Truly." Rem, holding two axes, had a cut across his cheek after sixteen exchanges with Enkrid. Thus, he said: "Ah, did that hurt? I should''ve gone easy on you." "Well, let''s see. Let''s die today." "I''ll burn you and scatter your ashes in the river." His words were a bold provocation. What would he burn and scatter? His ashes. It was a death threat, cleverly worded. Ragnar''s change caused Rem to feel a little urgency. He sensed that things needed to change. As a result, the training time increased. He began swinging axes in the air. His body moved with renewed energy. This kind of provocation didn''t feel bad. Rem''s momentum shifted. Even so, Enkrid continued his conversation: "You''re using a sling, right?" The suggestion to use a new weapon reached Rem, who, absorbed in his thoughts, grabbed his weapon without noticing anything else around him. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 336 - The Land of Gray Ghouls Chapter 336 - 336 - The Land of Gray Ghouls Rem threw the axe in his left hand. As his left arm formed a circle, the axe in his hand sped toward him faster than an arrow. In Enkrid''s eyes, it appeared as a streak of light, elongated vertically. His sense of evasion reacted, and his body moved instinctively. He raised his sword, creating a shield with the blade, blocking the trajectory of the spinning axe. From the side, it was as if Rem''s arm moved simultaneously with the action. Clang! With a cheerful sound, the axe was deflected to the side. The grip felt heavy. The force carried by the incoming axe was not insignificant. It was like blocking a thrown axe. Rem''s left hand brushed his waist, and a stone rose into the air. It seemed like a pointless action. Wasn''t he just throwing a stone upward? However, the act of tossing the stone created a gap, and Enkrid didn''t miss it. He closed the distance and activated "Momentary Will," launching his "Sparking Stab." It was a sword technique he had named "Sparking Stab." Using the muscles in his thighs and his entire body''s elasticity, he leaped like a lightning strike. He had practiced this since the days when he roamed the battlefield, refining it further after observing knights'' swords and undergoing extensive training, now performing it with unparalleled precision. The light-like thrust was something even Rem couldn''t ignore. Clang! Instead of throwing another axe, Rem twisted the remaining one in his hand. He blocked the Sparking Stab with the axe''s face, causing the blade to gouge in, with the sparking blade piercing halfway through the axe. At the same moment, the tip of the blade began to twist as it continued through. As the sparking blade pierced the axe''s edge, Rem twisted his wrist, releasing the pressure. If he hadn''t done that, a mark would have been left on the side of Rem''s head. Rem was also skilled with a sword. He was particularly proficient with handling weapons, making him the best among his comrades in that regard. Enkrid could admit that. Enkrid pulled the sparking blade toward him. Thrust! The blade, having pierced the metal, was pulled free. With the sudden acceleration, the power of the longsword was naturally applied. Enkrid was about to strike again, but in the meantime, Rem pulled out a sling from his side, spun it over his head, and in one smooth motion, the stone he had thrown earlier was caught by the leather sling pouch. A high-pitched whistle pierced the air. It was as if Rem was performing a preordained act, each motion flowing seamlessly. Rem had predicted this and moved accordingly. It was a battle of anticipation, prediction, calculation, and quick thinking, an application of swordsmanship. ''I''ve been hit.'' Enkrid, having also trained in basic sword techniques, realized that his calculations were slightly off. Thwack! The noise echoed as the stone flew through the air. It was faster than the daggers thrown by Jaxen. It was many times faster than the axe that had come at him. The feeling of evasion rang in Enkrid''s senses. He felt a burning heat in his eyes and head. His focus surged like never before. With full force, he activated his sense of evasion, relying on his instincts to dodge the stone. He pivoted his body on his left foot and launched himself sideways. The stone brushed against his hair and flew off behind him. Behind him, a loud pop echoed. It sounded like a rock falling from the sky. Enkrid didn''t have a chance to catch his breath. He had avoided the stone, but now he had to deal with the gap left by his posture being disrupted by the incoming axe. "Ha." Enkrid quickly inhaled, swallowing hard, and swung his silver longsword vertically from below to above. He used the reverse vertical cut of the longsword technique. In response, Rem''s axe was thrown off course mid-flight. ''Madman.'' It was a trick. A feint that even his sense of evasion couldn''t fully decipher, meaning Rem had been sincere until the moment of attack. Then the second stone came flying, and Enkrid dodged it once more, only narrowly avoiding the axe blade that nearly slashed his neck. If it had connected, his neck would have been severed, and he would have died. Why did he survive? By instinct, he had jerked his head back, and at the last moment, Rem had pulled back his strength. "You could''ve died there." Rem took a few breaths before speaking. "Then I''d enjoy it properly." Enkrid, who had fallen to the ground and then gotten up, replied. "Dying in a duel?" Was that what he considered enjoyment? Rem asked, looking at Enkrid with astonishment in his eyes. Without changing his expression, Enkrid answered. "Yeah. It''s fun." "Crazy bastard." Rem couldn''t help but reveal his inner thoughts, but the duel continued. Especially for Enkrid, he was learning new things. Above all, he had learned a lot from Rem in how to handle various weapons. "What''s the best training method for dealing with axes, spears, maces, and flails?" "I don''t know." Enkrid didn''t answer. Rem didn''t expect him to, either. These were words that came after a grueling duel that felt like dipping halfway into the river of death over the course of the past two weeks. "Try using it yourself." And that''s exactly what Enkrid did. For the rest of the fortnight, he had practiced with various weapons¡ªmaces, axes, spears, and tridents. Rem was just as skilled with all those weapons as he was with the axe. Enkrid''s experience level quickly surpassed what one might call an ordinary level. Soon enough, he realized a few tricks and started executing them. As long as there were tricks to follow, mastering the basics wasn''t too difficult. "Is this really how slow you are?" Rem expressed his dissatisfaction loudly. From then on, it was nothing but a continuous cycle of sparring, training, and refining. Enkrid had to admit, this time was truly valuable. He felt that it was worth it. And soon enough, the moment to put that valuable time to use arrived. The discussions had already been concluded. "Alright, we''re dealing with a Gray Ghoul. It''s dangerous." Krais, who had been busy running around, came up with a question. To be precise, it was about linking up with the central command to get credit for a task, but Enkrid wasn''t concerned with such procedural matters. What mattered more was that, while the training could never simulate it, a real combat situation had finally come. But that didn''t mean they would leave immediately. The current task had to be finished first. The sparring wasn''t over yet, so today was the day Enkrid would spar with Audin. "Wait. I''ll finish up." It was a day in early spring, just after winter had ended. Krais couldn''t stop his superior. And, truth be told, there was no need for him to. Dealing with the ghouls wasn''t an urgent matter. He settled near a brazier, waiting for Enkrid and his party. Though it was spring, the wind was still chilly. The warmth from the brazier heated his body. He felt drowsy. Krais thought to himself that this task would be the first step toward the further development of the Border Guard. There were plenty of reasons for that. Gradually, his eyes began to close. Though he was drowsy, his thoughts were still crisp, and the words in his head formed clearly. *** The ferryman gazed out into the distance, watching the man connected to him. He could see death. He had seen it many times. Though not a wall, it was a desperate struggle, a resolve to die alone. He knew that it was merely someone who had become obsessed with training, no longer caring about their own life. Was he blindly trusting the repetition of today''s events? No, that wasn''t it. It was obvious just by looking. The person was simply crazy. But had he died? No, he had survived, even at the moments when he should''ve died. Was it skill, or was it luck? The ferryman judged it to be skill. The combination of the opponent''s skill and his own had twisted what should''ve been a certain death. ''What kind of idiot is this?'' Today, the ferryman''s tone was light. He observed his opponent. He wouldn''t offer any praise anymore. After all, those who heard compliments only used them as fuel to push themselves further. So now, he would just watch... "Crazy bastard." He muttered again, and his personality seemed to flit about. He couldn''t help but leave his words in Enkrid''s unconscious mind. It was a compliment. As Enkrid briefly entered the dreamlike world, he blinked and tilted his head. The ferryman had lived a long life, and most who had done so gained an intuitive sense from their experiences. He could read what was being communicated just through a look. He received the message. Enkrid''s eyes seemed to ask if he wasn''t busy. "I''m busy!" The ferryman shouted. The dreamlike world faded away. In truth, there was nothing to be busy with. Watching was his life and purpose. Enkrid awoke, recalling the last moments. Audin''s fist had bent in the air, striking his head. The flow, the process, the trajectory¡ªhe could recall every detail sharply. ''I stepped.'' He had tried to dodge, but Audin moved his feet with him. Despite his large frame, his feet were unnaturally quick. Normally, a blow of that force would wipe away any memory of the moment, but perhaps due to his beast-like heart, or his effort to absorb the opponent''s afterimage, technique, and momentum, Enkrid''s memories remained intact. ''I twisted just before impact.'' He had absorbed the shock with his body. He had learned that technique from Audin, and now it was second nature to him. "I got the idea from the Commander''s Snake Sword." Audin had countered with a new technique of his own. Enkrid couldn''t help but think¡ªAudin was a genius. To make something new from watching his own sword. Rem, Jaxen, and Ragna all did something similar. They were all geniuses. But that didn''t mean Enkrid felt inferior. When he finished his sparring and entered the barracks, he saw Krais by the brazier, waiting with the table set. He was sitting in a chair, nodding off intermittently. He seemed to be lacking sleep. Esther was also sitting in a corner. She gazed at Enkrid indifferently. "Did you come?" That was her way of greeting. "Yeah." She switched between the forms of a leopard and a human, and today she was in human form. She wore a black robe, and underneath it, a soft reddish shirt that was a change from the usual. When asked to cover more of her body, she complied. The outfit suited her quite well. "Oh, you''re here?" Krais, who had been dozing off, opened his eyes at the sound of her voice. He had taken an unexpected nap because he had rushed out to deal with the gray ghoul but was now awake. He had only slept for a short while, but it felt refreshing. "Ugh, I''ve been overworking lately. If only there were some good drugs around... Is Jaxen not coming back?" Jaxen was the one who supplied Krais with various medicines. Some of the herbs and restorative remedies were things Krais had procured himself, but Jaxen was more knowledgeable about medicinal herbs and tonics. "He''ll come when it''s time." Enkrid honestly believed that. Krais, however, didn''t actively seek him out. "Shall we begin the briefing?" Krais asked, wiping his eyes. Every task had its proper order, and cause and effect were important. There was a difference between knowing what you were doing and not knowing. Krais thought like this. However, Rem and his subordinates didn''t share the same view. Ragna had been sleeping more and more lately. As for Rem, he didn''t seem to care about the briefing. He was off to make a sling or sharpen the weapons that Enkrid had brought. Maintaining the weapon that one wielded was a fundamental discipline for any warrior. Rem had once been careless about such things, but that was in the past. Now, things were different. A knight had appeared, and Rem couldn''t just stand by and watch. His upbringing hadn''t included knights, but instead, the term "hero" was used for those who were brave. There was a reason for calling someone that. Did beasts also have their own heroes, the best among them? Rem didn''t particularly care about that. But when a knight appeared, what should be done? If one didn''t want to be caught off guard, what was needed? Enkrid''s actions were the answer. Training and practice. That''s what Rem did as well. He worked harder in unseen places. And so, fatigue had built up. The past few months had been a relentless push, with no time to catch his breath. ''This is the first time I''ve worked this hard in my life.'' Excluding the time he first picked up a weapon, it felt like he was working harder than ever. Enkrid''s skill had grown, and now it was no easy task to face him. Every moment felt like walking on thin ice. One mistake, and he would lose¡ªor worse, die. At least, the danger had diminished by teaching Enkrid how to use unfamiliar weapons, but if he was satisfied with that, he would truly be a fool. ''That crazy man.'' Rem concluded as usual and lay down. It was after everything had ended, and he had even visited the bath. The warm water had lulled him into sleep. Audin had left, saying it was time for prayer, and neither Dunbakel nor Teresa showed much interest. As for Esther, she was never interested in such things. Only Enkrid remained, but Krais had already expected that. The humans who had been listening attentively for some time, Krais thought. Enkrid, being the captain, was at least a listener, which was a relief. If he hadn''t been listening, that would''ve been a problem. "Do you know about the dangers surrounding Border Guard?" Krais began the briefing, his words lengthy, but Enkrid was a good listener. Krais knew how to summarize and get to the point. The key was this: There were three dangerous places in the area surrounding Border Guard, areas that could pose a threat like a cursed land. One of these places, the Gray Ghoul''s territory, was situated southwest of Border Guard, and it posed a risk by making trade routes with the western territories detour. "Yes, that''s it." Krais also knew the political reasons behind the delay in dealing with the issue but didn''t bother to explain them, thinking it wouldn''t be heard anyway. "Gray ghouls?" Enkrid only seemed interested in the monsters he would be facing. Krais had repeated the same message to everyone who had come seeking him out. "We''re preparing for a major battle in the spring of next year. There will be significant changes in the area, so it''s best to prepare." "What kind of changes?" It was one of Molsan''s nobles who had come, not the Baron Bentra, who they had clashed with in the last battle. Perhaps the conflict from that battle had soured their relationship, as the Baron didn''t extend any offers to Enkrid. That made Krais once again admire Molsan''s capacity. "How can he make someone like that come under his command after everything he''s done?" There were several problems that arose because Molsan had turned a blind eye to them, and there were even rumors of underhanded tactics, like sending people to threaten Border Guard. Though there was no concrete evidence, Krais was sure of it. If they looked hard enough, they could probably find proof, but even if they did, it wouldn''t matter if it was denied. "Border Guard will grow in scale," Krais continued. They would expand beyond the fortress, into the territory itself. That was the preparation, though he didn''t explicitly say it. Enkrid was the one meant for that purpose. Did Border Guard have the freedom to do as it pleased? They had even discussed rebellion when calling for the former Lord, Marcus. To expand, they would need the kingdom''s permission. That meant direct involvement from the royal palace. "Ha." If the surrounding nobles took Enkrid, it would be a disgrace to the royal family. Krais knew that with the things he had already said, he would have to prove his words through action. The first step was to deal with the Gray Ghouls. Krais mixed in subtle political calculations but knew Enkrid didn''t care for any of it. He had already made up his mind to fight, not to be concerned with politics. The Lord was the type to handle such matters on his own. "Let the lord handle his work," Krais thought as he resumed his duties. He was already doing what needed to be done. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 337 - Playing Tricks on the Ghouls Chapter 337 - 337 - Playing Tricks on the Ghouls Chapter 337 - Playing Tricks on the Ghouls "What about the departure?" Enkrid asked about the date. "There''s no rush." It would take at least half a month, Krais thought. The gray ghoul was a monster that had been lingering there for a long time. Even if it were left alone for another month or two, it wouldn''t cause any major problems. "Understood." "How many troops should we take?" Krais estimated at least two companies. It was a task that required such a scale. After a brief moment of thought, Enkrid responded. "One independent company." "...An independent company?" Currently, the only independent company in the Border Guard was the Madmen unit. Has this guy completely lost his mind? This wasn''t a joke; he was dead serious. The low risk meant they could prepare adequately. With Aspen no longer a threat, it was feasible. Previously, Aspen''s meddling had prevented them from mobilizing troops freely. The increased number of irregular combat-ready personnel, including Enkrid, played a part. But the clearer reason was that they now had the capacity. All of Krais''s bewilderment and emotions boiled down to a single word: "Eh?" Is this really something to be shocked about? Enkrid had faced gnoll and centaur colonies. If there was no need to hold defensive forces or protect a village, then¡ª Dealing with a monster colony was surprisingly simple. The answer was rooted in accumulated experience. "Take out the leader, and it''s over." A straightforward principle, and an accurate one. Even scholars, considered the most rational thinkers, deemed eliminating the leader the best solution for the gray ghoul''s territory. So, what was needed? At the very least, knight-level combat strength. Having knights would be even better. That was the ideal solution. However, since there wasn''t any severe damage right now, just inconvenience, the royal palace''s stance was to address it when resources allowed. Thus, knights wouldn''t be sent. While the palace might overlook the issue, Krais couldn''t. The situation had changed slightly. Rerouting the trade route caused losses¡ªmajor losses. Huge, staggering losses. For the Border Guard, it was an issue that had to be resolved. For the future, trade routes needed to be maintained and even improved. Krais had already brainstormed ways to do so. "Kronas are leaking." Everyone knew that prolonged transportation meant losing silver coins here and there. So, the matter would be resolved. This mission would elevate Enkrid''s reputation further, especially since the royal palace had issued an official request. This was, therefore, a mission that had to succeed¡ªhandled both successfully and stably. "Really?" "Really." "Why?" "Because that''s all it takes." "Did you hit your head during training or something?" "Why are you still using informal speech?" "I''m just so shocked. Truly shocked." Will this guy ever act normal? Enkrid smacked the disrespectful Krais on the head. "That hurts." "I could''ve split your skull open." He probably wasn''t lying. Krais endured the pain. Only the Madmen unit would be sent. "Ah, well, it''ll work out, right?" Enkrid himself was going, as the commander, himself, had decided. Krais could roughly understand the reasoning. Expanding the scale and leading a larger force would result in casualties. Injuries or deaths were inevitable. That much was obvious. But was that the only reason? Not entirely. There was a subtle fervor in Enkrid''s eyes¡ªa quiet intensity. He was itching for a fight. Krais felt oddly certain of this. Enkrid asked, "There was a request from the central government?" "It was close, but yes, they sent one." The palace''s justification had been convenient, but the request turned out to be real. A letter had come along with it. [Good fortune.] Just two words. It was from the former lord, Marcus. "Busy, I see." Enkrid didn''t bother sending a reply. That was the end of it. Everyone checked their equipment, prepared their supplies, and that was all the preparation Krais could help with amidst the commotion. It took only two days to prepare for deployment. If a full company had been sent, it would have taken at least ten days. But with fewer troops, things moved quickly. Krais questioned whether this was the right course of action, but strangely, he didn''t feel a sense of foreboding. Not even all the unit members were participating. "Do we really have to go?" As preparations were underway, Ragna asked, his eyes drooping with exhaustion. He was starting to resemble an old, worn-out dog. "If you''re tired no matter how much you sleep, just die already," Rem quipped, blessing him with sarcasm. "If you want to die, come at me anytime. You can even ambush me in my sleep¡ªnot that it would help," Ragna replied, politely rejecting the offer. "Do we really need someone like that?" Enkrid pondered briefly. As long as the strategy of a small, elite strike team held, it would suffice. For Ragna, the most important task during the mission was not to get lost. "Get some rest." Enkrid left Ragna be. What would happen if the gray ghoul''s threat escalated enough to warrant summoning knights? "Well, that''d be fun too," Enkrid thought. He always craved new challenges, and this mission was like rain falling on parched land. He wasn''t worried about danger or what might come after. Those concerns were left to Krais. Krais gathered intelligence, analyzed it, and assessed the value of the gray ghoul''s forest¡ªthe now-ruined woods. He concluded that the leader of the colony hidden within wasn''t as threatening as one might think. "A ghoul with enough intelligence to lead a colony," he thought. This was a creature that defied the saying, ''Ghouls don''t have brains.'' A thinking ghoul, hiding in the forest? Why? Was it because food was abundant? Or because its innate violence had been suppressed? "Ridiculous." The reason was clear¡ªit knew it could lose if it fought recklessly. So it held its position on advantageous ground, waiting. Krais judged this to be the true nature of the gray ghoul. "Well, if things go wrong, Enkrid will get us out of it," he thought, recalling how Enkrid had once escaped traps purely by instinct. Trusting him felt natural. Two days later, the departure day arrived, and Shinar joined them. "Not busy?" "I''m a fairy," Shinar replied. Her point was that she couldn''t overlook monsters desecrating the forest. Fairies loved the forest. Though plants didn''t display emotions, the vitality of the woods brimmed with life. This vitality nourished fairies in unique ways. With a healthy and lush forest, even fatal wounds could heal simply by spending time in it. "I won''t forgive them, in the name of the fairies," she declared. Her dry determination earned a nod from Enkrid. It didn''t seem entirely like she was stepping in just to protect the forest''s peace, but as a member of the elite team, she wasn''t lacking. "Let''s go." After traveling a day by carriage, they set up camp, laid stones for cooking, set a pot on the fire, and prepared sleeping arrangements. A squad escorting them handled camp maintenance, lit the fire, and stood watch through the night. On their way, they encountered three ghouls. "I''ll handle this," said a soldier from Greenpearl who had joined them. The squad engaged the ghouls in a coordinated attack. As spring arrived, ghoul numbers had increased to the point they appeared even near roads. This made trading routes more perilous, as rumors had suggested. "Hyah!" The soldiers let out battle cries as they fought. Without sustaining a single scratch, they left the three ghouls sprawled on the ground. The first two were decapitated. The third, more agile, had its legs severed before a stone was hurled at its head from a distance, crushing its skull. The third ghoul was faster and more cunning than the others, proving that not all monsters were equal. The squad''s tactics reflected this understanding. Two skilled soldiers distracted the agile ghoul with spears while the others attacked. The combination of short spears and shields proved effective. Enkrid evaluated their performance as solid. "With more training on the basics..." he thought. His version of "basics" began with sprinting beside the River of Death, which bordered the Greenpearl plains. Running there offered a view of the ominous river¡ªa sight that was anything but comforting. After resting for a night and traveling a few more days, they approached the gray ghoul''s territory. Everyone, including the squad members, had managed the journey well. "Well then, we''ll take our leave," the escort squad leader said. The squad leader saluted, and Enkrid nodded in acknowledgment before dismissing the troops. He then surveyed his surroundings. The forest loomed ahead, filled with an ominous energy that seeped into the clearing where they had set up camp. "We''ll move out at dawn," Enkrid declared. Fighting monsters at night was a fool''s errand. "Agreed," Rem replied. No matter how confident one was in their skills, taking unnecessary risks just for a single night''s rest wasn''t worth it. Enkrid wasn''t one to gamble recklessly. At sunrise, he, Rem, Audin, Dunbakel, Teresa, and Shinar entered the Gray Ghoul''s domain. A faint mist veiled the ground, obscuring their vision, while gray-hued trees narrowed their field of sight even further. Sour and musty smells mixed with the mist, filling the air with an oppressive dampness. "Just breathing here feels like it''ll make you sick," Rem muttered, his boots crunching against the gray leaves. He wasn''t wrong. Each breath carried a faint sense of poison, detectable to their finely tuned senses. Prolonged exposure would surely accumulate toxicity in one''s body. ''A ghoul that uses its brain, huh?'' Enkrid thought. There was a reason the creature had made this place its stronghold. If it hadn''t found it this way, it likely altered the environment itself. Of course, they had prepared for this beforehand. However, the air''s toxicity was heavier than expected. For weaker individuals, two days here would lead to respiratory illness. But Enkrid and his company were far from ordinary. Their robust health, honed through rigorous training, ensured they could endure weeks in such conditions without succumbing. "Grrrooaahhh!" The foul air heralded the arrival of ghouls. Enkrid''s instincts informed him there were six. They charged through the trees, their bodies tearing through the undergrowth with heavy footfalls. Standing at the front, Enkrid naturally took the lead. Ting. With a flick of his thumb, he loosened the clasp on his sword sheath. Grasping the hilt, he opened his senses further. The ghouls came into view¡ªflat nostrils, dark gray skin, muscular legs, and long arms ending in curved claws designed to rend flesh. Their black, pupil-less eyes left dark trails through the gray forest as they charged. Enkrid calculated their speed and trajectory. There was no need for elaborate techniques¡ªjust precision. His silver blade would suffice. Besides, their mission to confront the Gray Ghoul''s king meant conserving energy. His movements were calculated to maximize efficiency and minimize effort. The first came from above. Thunk! The ghoul leaped, crashing through branches as it descended. Enkrid moved. Pivoting on his left foot, he unsheathed his sword with his right hand. The first ghoul was split vertically, a clean strike from head to chest. As its black blood sprayed, Enkrid adjusted his stance. With a fluid motion, he redirected his blade to the left, slicing through the heads of two more ghouls. One had its skull cleaved diagonally, the other lost its crown entirely. By the time the remaining three ghouls closed in, Enkrid had switched to his gladius. A quick thrust dispatched two, while the final one fell to a precise strike to the head. The entire sequence occurred in a single breath. It was a masterclass in refined combat¡ªevery move deliberate, each strike calculated to control the ghouls'' actions. He forced them into predictable patterns, limiting their options and sealing their fates. ''Sparring with Rem has paid off,'' Enkrid thought. The technique he employed was one he had recently developed¡ªa style he called the "Capturing Blade." It restricted an opponent''s movement through precise footwork, body angles, and sword placement. "Are you just playing tricks with ghouls now?" Rem quipped, his tone half-teasing. Enkrid nodded, unfazed. "Let''s keep going." Though this new technique was still budding, he intended to hone it further through repeated practice. "Save some for me," Dunbakel grumbled. But in the six subsequent ghoul encounters, none of the others had a chance to raise their weapons¡ªEnkrid handled them all. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 338 - The Fourth Blade: Capturing Blade Chapter 338 - 338 - The Fourth Blade: Capturing Blade Chapter 338 - The Fourth Blade: Capturing Blade What is the spontaneity of thought behind the fourth blade? It is akin to the acceleration of thinking. By absorbing the scattered information around and selecting the most efficient and rational course of action, the mind discards unnecessary data, identifies what is crucial, and hones in on it. This required a sharpness of thought. As this process sped up, Enkrid''s ability to envision the flow of combat became unparalleled. In this regard, Enkrid found greater joy in mastering these skills than in learning other forms of swordsmanship. The Snake Blade, which bent and deflected with a soft touch, carried an essential truth¡ªno matter how gentle, a blade is still a blade. Then there was The Flowing Sword. Its essence lay in the art of countering, a swordsmanship with meaning only when the deflective motion was perfected. Mastering this brought immense satisfaction. Then, there was the Thunder Fang. How could the process of harnessing Will for a split-second burst of speed not be exhilarating? The journey of learning was always a source of joy. And the crushing blade? Its origins lay in enduring the strikes of a knight''s sword, prompted by Ragna''s question: How do you cleave lightning? The answer emerged through the pursuit of a solution: face lightning directly and evade it before it struck. In other words, act before the opponent swung their sword. This way, the blade extended would serve as a lightning rod. While it might not cut lightning itself, it could redirect it. Enkrid had proven this truth. After all, a knight''s sword was no less formidable than a force of nature. The snake, the lightning, the pressing¡ªthough the methods of acquiring each were distinct, the exhilaration they brought was similar. These were techniques honed for a singular purpose. In this sense, the precise and disciplined Capturing Blade style stood apart. It is a blade where techniques converge. The act of calculation and the stimulation of thought sparked an unprecedented focus. Where the previous techniques had been like dots painted on a canvas, the new blade was a seamless line connecting them. Amid the horde of ghouls charging toward him, Enkrid perceived the intent hidden between their movements. Infusing the Capturing Blade with utmost concentration allowed him to glimpse moments ahead, as though he could see the immediate future. To counter what he saw, he used the serpent blade. If he sought to dominate the opponent, he crushed them. And to break the enemy''s intentions entirely, he struck first. "Ah," Enkrid marveled internally. The Capturing Blade was one of precision and calculation, elevated by technique. Yet, even after creating it, he felt something was missing. Now, he knew what that was. "To recognize what''s lacking is the key to improvement," he recalled the advice of a certain mercenary. And so, Enkrid did just that. He recognized. He confronted. What was missing? The form was already in place; what it needed now was substance. The serpent blade possessed the substance of a deflective motion. The lightning thrust required full-body preparation to pierce a single point. The crushing blade carried the weight of intimidation. Likewise, the Capturing Blade needed its essence. This essence didn''t have to be another sword technique. It didn''t even have to be something entirely new. What mattered was that it had substance. "That''s it." The realization brought joy. And with joy came exhilaration that filled his being. What could bring greater satisfaction? Under a starless, pitch-black sky, he wielded his sword to glimpse starlight. Though countless days had passed without seeing that light, Enkrid felt no weariness. He simply swung his blade. Even while treading a pathless terrain with no end in sight, he kept moving. He walked. And walked some more. Forgetting fatigue, he advanced. And so, he wielded his blade. When cursed with the burden of today, how had he reacted? There was no need to argue with the despairing ferryman. He held no fear of living through today again. And so, he swung his blade once more. With this, how could it not feel exhilarating? Now, with the starlight visible, the path clear, and the day no longer repeating, the moment of realization came. He was overcome with profound joy. "Ah, so elated." "At least stop drooling, brother," Audin quipped. "Wandering Teresa offers her assistance." "There''s no room for you to butt in," Rem interjected. From Rem to others, comments were added one by one, while Shinar remained silent, entirely engrossed in watching. *** That man''s sword was evolving in real-time. The fairy''s keen senses absorbed every change with sharp precision. Sensing the transformation, Shinar heightened her focus further, though it would be imperceptible to any observer. It would appear as though she was merely watching. In truth, Shinar was utilizing the fairy''s innate sense to learn and adapt. Meanwhile, Enkrid discarded irrelevant information from the words floating around him. Listening to their chatter was unnecessary right now. The ghoul''s footsteps were what mattered. Enkrid categorized what he heard, choosing only what was relevant. The battle raged on, rhythm dictated by the clash of steel and growls of foes. Enkrid wielded his silver blade with purpose, driving forward a rhythm that captivated allies and decimated foes. Atop a branch, an unusual ghoul prepared to strike, its elongated claws poised to rend flesh. But before it could act, Enkrid''s blade cut a precise arc, splitting it cleanly. As his comrades joined the fray, the forest resounded with the chaos of battle. Amid the bloodshed, a grim joy united them all¡ªeach strike, each step, a testament to their shared purpose. "Oh," came a small exclamation from Rem. Dunbakel raised her head slightly, sensing something stirring in her instincts. Though Rem and Audin didn''t bother to look up, both Dunbakel and Teresa followed suit, glancing upward halfway. There was something there. Even Teresa felt a disquieting sensation. Yet Enkrid remained focused, swinging his two swords with precision. A series of rhythmic sounds emerged, compelling one to unconsciously follow the beat. "Above¡ª" Teresa''s shout burst out instinctively but abruptly halted. Swish! Something dropped from above. It was a ghoul, but smaller by half than usual. Its body was the same gray hue, but its right arm was unnaturally long. Its claws, far longer and sharper than an ordinary ghoul''s, resembled four dagger-like spikes. The creature vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving only an afterimage as it drove its claw-like spikes downward. From the branch above, it pounced. Enkrid, who had been maintaining a precise rhythm with his silver longsword, broke that rhythm for the first time. He swung half a beat faster, drawing a perfect vertical circle around his head. Slash! The blade bisected the strange ghoul diagonally as it rushed toward him. From its head to its torso and through its thighs, a silver line split its body. At the same time, Enkrid sidestepped fluidly, dodging in tandem with his swing. Even the sound of his feet hitting the ground as he leaped back fit flawlessly into the rhythm. "He already knew." Teresa closed her mouth. He had noticed before she did. Come to think of it, even Rem and Audin seemed aware, and it was as if they also knew that their leader had already realized it. So, she held her tongue. Enkrid, far from losing himself in exhilaration or drooling with abandon, calculated and recalculated. Yet he also realized that it wasn''t necessary to limit himself to calculations alone. "What if calculations fail?" Then he could rely on his instincts. And he had the means to back those instincts. Layering intent over his sense of evasion would suffice. More than twenty ghouls charged at him, and the ambush from above was a deadly dagger. Had he been an ordinary soldier, it would have meant certain death. The fact that ghouls used diversionary tactics might overwhelm regular folk, but neither Enkrid nor his companions were ordinary by any means. As they watched him fight, Dunbakel finally burst out. "I can''t hold back any longer!" The beastkin''s keen sense of smell picked up the scent of hidden ghouls within the forest. She charged to Enkrid''s left. "Aren''t you going to stop her?" Teresa asked, her tone calm but tinged with an inexplicable urgency. Enkrid answered by splitting the last ghoul''s head with a blade swung deliberately two beats slower. Thwack! Its skull cap flew into the air. "Stop what?" Enkrid''s voice followed. "Did you think I planned to handle everything on my own?" The assumption was wrong. While it might have seemed that Enkrid claimed all the ghouls as his prey, he had no such intent. He was merely lost in the exhilaration of battle. Now, that exhilaration was giving way to satisfaction. Dunbakel''s rampage? Whether anticipated or not, it didn''t matter to him. "More are coming," Shinar remarked. The sharp senses of the fairy pierced through the oppressive atmosphere of the forest, detecting enemies before Enkrid did. In terms of reconnaissance, her ability was unmatched, even among their skilled group. "Then," Teresa stepped forward, unable to ignore the blood rushing in her veins. Was it the giant blood coursing through her or the fire of her own identity as Teresa? It wasn''t a question she could answer now. She chose to disregard it. As a massive tree blocked her view, Teresa swung her sword without hesitation. Wham! The blade lodged halfway into the tree, its dense structure tougher than she anticipated. Compressed and sturdy, though not quite metallic, it demanded more strength. "Hup." With a forceful grunt, her muscles tensed, and the blade split the tree clean through. As it teetered forward, Teresa struck it with her shield, redirecting its fall toward the approaching horde of ghouls. Boom! The enormous tree crashed into the horde''s path, scattering them. "The Lord grants you an opportunity for repentance under His gaze," Teresa intoned, her words sounding more like a hymn than a taunt. "And we offer you a chance to reflect beneath His mercy," Audin added, clearly amused by her prayer. Teresa, smiling wide, revealed sharp fangs¡ªphysical proof of the hybrid blood she had honed through training. Her arms moved like windmills, her sword and shield becoming an unrelenting storm. Ghouls were smashed, broken, and cleaved apart with each swing. "Ha-ha-ha!" Teresa''s laughter rang out, echoing through the forest. "Wasn''t this supposed to be a stealth mission?" "If the gray ghoul hears that laughter and decides to face us, good. If it flees, even better," Enkrid replied to Rem''s bemused comment. He wasn''t wrong. A direct confrontation would save them the time of searching. If the enemy retreated, they wouldn''t have to fight in a location of its choosing. "Fair enough," Rem nodded. He wasn''t fond of overthinking, but that didn''t mean he lacked understanding. "Things rarely go exactly as our brother leader plans," Audin chuckled behind them, his tone as relaxed as ever. True enough. Dunbakel''s target was teeming with ghouls similar to the nimble, clawed assassin they had encountered earlier. Meanwhile, Teresa faced ghouls that were nearly twice the size of a standard one, their gray flesh tougher and more resilient. "Normally, it takes two or three spearmen to handle a single ghoul," Enkrid mused. But the creatures in this forest were even more challenging. Their earlier coordinated ambush alone could have decimated any ordinary unit. Enkrid and his group weren''t a knightly order, but their combat prowess rivaled one. "At least it''s not boring," Enkrid remarked. "Agreed," Rem nodded again. Finally stepping into the fray himself, Rem pulled out his sling, spinning it overhead. Whoosh! From the shadows, more ghouls emerged¡ªsome standard, others command-grade, and even a unique one with glowing yellow eyes. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Rem''s stones struck true, shattering ghoul skulls one by one. Though his sling broke after a few volleys, the damage had been done. Enkrid, however, was restless. A subtle unease gnawed at him. A trap? It was a gut feeling, but it felt right. Shinar approached, her expression mirroring his thoughts. "I don''t like this... fiance?." She never failed to use that title. Ignoring it, Enkrid nodded. "This way." Both her fairy intuition and his instincts pointed in the same direction¡ªtoward the heart of their enemy''s domain. As they moved, Enkrid noticed something unsettling. "They''re clearing a path," he muttered. The enemy''s intent was evident. The weaker ghouls¡ªstill formidable by ordinary standards¡ªseemed to guide them deliberately, creating an open path. It was subtle but clear to those paying attention. "Pathetic," Rem grumbled. "Really." "Our ghoul brothers seem eager for a reunion with their Maker," Audin quipped, issuing a quiet death sentence. Enkrid said nothing, continuing forward. Soon, they reached their destination¡ªa clearing. Surrounding them, over a hundred pairs of yellow eyes glinted in the shadows. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 339 - The March Through the Gray Forest Chapter 339 - 339 - The March Through the Gray Forest Chapter 339 - The March Through the Gray Forest The Gray Ghoul''s stronghold in this land was not due to geographical reasons but rather political ones. The Border Guard''s standing army had never actively sought out and eradicated monsters or magical beasts, allowing them to persist. "Why should I?" The previous lord of the Border Guard, who had left before Marcus, had dismissed hunting monsters like Gray Ghouls as unnecessary and wasteful of resources. As a result, the approach had been limited to occasional clean-up efforts, focused mainly on maintaining trade routes near the Pen-Hanil River and a few others. Even then, only small-scale measures were taken. Recently, roads near Green Pearl and the route to Martai had been cleared, but these efforts were far from thorough. "Is someone tossing monsters into the area or what?" This was one of Marcus''s complaints upon taking his position. The term "monster tossing" referred to luring monsters into neighboring territories. While such actions hadn''t occurred, Marcus''s frustration was understandable¡ªmonsters seemed to appear endlessly, as if from a bottomless pit. When a new frontier city was established near the Border Guard, a gnoll colony had even emerged. Even with cultist involvement, such occurrences required a substantial population of monsters in the region. This underscored that the Border Guard was not an ideal place to live. Consequently, defensive strategies had always been the norm, avoiding proactive operations to exterminate monsters. The reason for this defensive posture was clear: losing soldiers would leave them vulnearble to Aspen, and the local monster hordes were far from weak. The surrounding region alone had over three areas deemed too dangerous for merchants, earning the moniker "Lesser Demon Lands." For example, when a centaur colony established itself in the nearby "Grateful Forest," it had been swiftly eradicated to prevent the area from becoming a breeding ground for monsters and magical beasts. These were the points Krais had intended to explain to Enkrid. However, Enkrid wasn''t interested in the details. "Who cares about the history? We just slice them up and eliminate them." And he wasn''t wrong. The ugly ghoul was dead. To elaborate would take ages, but to summarize: "I was first," declared Enkrid. "My mace landed first," countered Rem. The competition between two superhuman warriors had decided the outcome. Rem, wielding two axes and a flanged mace, used all three weapons. The most striking moment was when he planted an axe at his feet, drew the mace slung over his back, and slammed it down. WHAM! A deafening boom accompanied the mace''s descent, its force obliterating not just the ghoul leader''s head but its upper torso as well. The overwhelming combination of strength and technique left no room for survival. For the ghouls, it was nothing short of annihilation. Rem smashed through everything in his path¡ªunique ghouls, common ones, or anything else that dared stand in his way. His onslaught was unrelenting. Audin wasn''t idle either. "Return to His presence," he intoned solemnly, wielding two clubs tipped with iron studs. Originally brown, the clubs soon turned black, soaked in ghoul blood. "Lord," Audin murmured, each step precise and calculated. Between one step and the next, his clubs crushed ghoul skulls with measured, deadly force. His strikes were efficient, powerful, and shockingly precise for someone of his stature. Together, Rem''s raw power and Audin''s calculated strikes carved a path to the ghoul leader. The ghoul leader''s traps had been futile¡ªsmashed, broken, and shattered. Even when the ghouls swarmed together in a desperate attempt to overwhelm their enemies, it hadn''t mattered. Sheer force had triumphed. Moreover, Enkrid''s group wasn''t alone in the fight. "I''ll fight too!" Dunbakel roared, unleashing her fury. "This reeks of foulness," Shinar muttered as she drew her gleaming daggers. "Stand back and watch. Wandering Teresa is on the move!" Teresa declared, swinging her shield and sword with a ferocity that left the ground drenched in ghoul blood. Enkrid himself didn''t need to act this time. Unbeknownst to him, his past exuberant displays¡ªwielding his sword with reckless joy, even during sparring sessions¡ªhad inspired those around him. Enkrid''s combat style, with its fervent energy and relentless momentum, ignited a desire in others to join in. Watching him fight was enough to make even the uninitiated consider picking up a sword. Why wouldn''t it? His joy in battle was infectious, his movements almost like a dance of unrestrained exhilaration. This influence had driven everyone to push themselves harder, inspired by the sheer audacity of Enkrid''s growth. Now, their combined strength surpassed even that of most junior knights. Rem and Audin, upon learning of knights'' existence, had realized there was no room for complacency. Shinar, too, had embraced this ethos. "Go deeper," she mused, delving further into swordsmanship. She understood now that mastery was an unending journey. Dunbakel and Teresa were no different, each unlocking hidden potential and reaching new heights in their combat abilities. As a result, areas once labeled "Lesser Demon Lands," thought to require knightly intervention, had been cleared in less than a day. Despite the Gray Forest''s vast expanse, the group had swiftly purged it of threats. Krais had estimated that clearing this region would take two companies at least ten days of grueling effort, but Enkrid''s group had done it in a single day. Though many monsters had fled, chasing them down one by one was impractical. "Is it over?" Rem asked, shaking blackened blood from his axe. Enkrid shook his head. "Since we''re here, we might as well finish everything." This wasn''t Krais''s original plan. "I suggest taking it step by step. There''s no rush," he had advised. There were two more regions of "Lesser Demon Lands" nearby, each posing significant threats. Krais''s strategy had been to address one at a time, interspersing the operations with resupply and rest. Enkrid decided to change the plan. Since they were already here, they might as well patrol and return. There was no reason to hesitate. All around them were the corpses of ghouls. Those that survived didn''t dare approach the group and were busy fleeing. "Let''s move," Enkrid said, taking the lead as the others followed behind. As they walked, Enkrid kept himself busy by moving around and talking to the others. "That sword technique earlier, what was that?" He first approached Rem. "What''re you talking about?" "When you swung the mace¡ªit looked different from your usual style." "Do you want to learn that, too?" Rem hit the mark. Indeed, Enkrid wanted to learn. He didn''t even bother to deny it, instead waiting silently for Rem to explain. There was no need to state the obvious. Rem stared straight into Enkrid''s blue eyes. Those were earnest eyes, brimming with determination. Was this excessive ambition or just plain madness? Rem figured it was the latter and answered, "The destructive force of a weapon depends on where you place its axis of rotation. This is especially true for blunt weapons like my mace. I''ve already told you¡ªeach weapon has its own way of being wielded." Enkrid was momentarily stunned. Was Rem possessed? "Are you possessed by some spirit or demon?" "What''re you on about?" "Since when were you this articulate?" "Damn it." There was a brief scuffle as Rem threw a punch and Enkrid skillfully deflected it, but their pace didn''t falter. Enkrid mulled over what he had learned before turning to Audin. "About that striking technique..." "It''s about controlling your strength," Audin began before Enkrid could even finish. "I''m more used to fighting with my fists, but holding a weapon doesn''t change the fundamentals. You combine heavy strikes with swift movements and apply force only at the moment of impact. It requires mastery of grip strength and precise control over your muscles, alternating tension and relaxation as needed." "Is this Valah-style martial arts?" "It''s just weapon techniques." The word "just" made it clear Audin was hiding something, but Enkrid didn''t press further. The name didn''t matter. "How do I practice it?" "Repetition. You''ll need to train when we get back." That was all Enkrid needed to hear. Next, he sought out Dunbakel to ask about how beastkin used their bodies. Unfortunately, her explanation wasn''t as clear as Rem''s. If anything, Rem''s earlier explanation made him seem like an academy instructor in comparison. Though it wasn''t actually that eloquent, the relative impact felt profound. "Why are you staring at me?" Rem asked, noticing Enkrid''s gaze. "Begone, demon," Dunbakel interjected, evidently inspired by Enkrid and Rem''s earlier banter. Beastkin had an innate tendency to act on impulse, unable to resist their desires. "Here''s my axe. Use your forehead to block it," Rem said, delivering the challenge with mock politeness. Enkrid scrutinized Rem again, as if trying to sense some otherworldly presence. "There are no demons here, my friend," Audin remarked. Rem didn''t actually swing his axe. "Once we return, let''s spar¡ªendlessly," Enkrid said, defusing the tension. Then, he turned back to Dunbakel. "Just leap and stab where it hurts," was her advice when he asked about wielding her curved scimitars. Enkrid wasn''t discouraged. He was an excellent listener. After a few more exchanges, he came to a conclusion: ''Swordsmanship that utilizes footwork and full-body strikes.'' This was a style that combined swift initial strikes with the heavy force of weighted attacks. The technique capitalized on the elasticity of muscular movement. "What''s it called?" Enkrid asked. "I don''t know. I learned it as a kid and refined it my own way," Dunbakel admitted. It seemed Rem had influenced her training significantly, as her swordsmanship had improved dramatically under his guidance. Enkrid observed the technique and deemed it worth learning. Though it wasn''t something he could master through words alone, he was determined to try. He moved on to Teresa. "Is there anything about your skills I can learn?" Teresa''s proficiency with her sword and shield had always intrigued him. The idea of acquiring a shield and mastering its use seemed appealing. "If you seek to learn, the path will reveal itself," Teresa said, quoting a scripture. It seemed her time with Audin had influenced her speech. "A shield is a tool for defense, but wielded correctly, it becomes an excellent blunt weapon." Theresa spoke well. Enkrid thought it was quite fortunate. As they spoke and answered questions while traveling, Enkrid looked at the map and saw that they were close to their destination. A swamp appeared before their eyes. "Bugs?" Dunbakel asked. Enkrid nodded. The pale green swamp was a treasure trove of herbs. It was land where various plants and aquatic plants thrived together, and amphibians and reptiles were abundant. "A good land." Shinar, who had been lamenting the forest, now had a gleam in her eyes. She dealt with poisons and medicines. For someone like her, how valuable was this swamp? This was why Krais was so passionate about the need to reclaim this land. *** "We must find the swamp. It cannot be taken by monsters. For everyone born here and considering it their homeland, this is a dream that must be protected!" It was a fervent speech. "Is it a wild herb habitat?" "Yes!" Krais did not pretend to be overly enthusiastic. "If we restore just that place, we can create trade routes and even produce specialty products. Of course, we''ll need to abduct a few capable alchemists." Although he said "abduct," he was planning to lure them in instead. Finding people was one of Krais'' specialties. Getting goods was the same. He wasn''t known as the merchant of all things for nothing. And now, that swamp lay before them. The problem was that the land was already claimed by someone else. *** "Bugs are everywhere." Rem muttered. The bugs were the owners of the swamp. There were all sorts of monsters, and one of them was an insect monster. Whee-ee-ee! The sound of the bug''s wings hit their ears. Shinar''s hand was placed on the blade. Dozens of flies, no larger than a finger, flew in close. They were bloodsucking flies. Shinar''s hand moved swiftly, slicing the space and the flies. The strikes were neither too fast nor too slow, smoothly flowing one after another. Her technique, more refined than before, showed a level of delicacy that impressed Enkrid. Whew-whew-whew! The sound of fairy blades rang out in succession. It had been seen when facing ghouls, but this time, it was even more pronounced. Her swordsmanship, likely of fairy origin, displayed extreme precision. ''I could cut through a leaf like that.'' Enkrid thought. And indeed, her swordsmanship was based on slicing through a leaf''s stalk with that kind of precision. The blade slashed, cut, bent, stabbed, and pushed with exactness, cleaving and shattering the bugs'' bodies. After a while, as the bugs fell in droves, Shinar turned around. "If you''re not confident, it''s better to stay behind. You can hide behind me, fiance?." Her expression remained impassive, but her otherworldly beauty was undeniable. "Did you take your medicine?" At that, Rem rubbed his ears. "The Lord watches over us, and even the smallest creatures are sent to Him." Audin answered with a prayer. Dunbakel raised her claws and, instead of her scimitar, poked the flies to death. Bloodsucking flies were a nuisance. Once bitten, they could suck blood ten times more than a leech. But that didn''t mean they were difficult to deal with. Even ordinary merchants could avoid or kill them if they had enough nerve. If they wore leather armor thick enough, they could handle it easily. Of course, if you could stab them with a sword or kill them with your claws, thick clothes wouldn''t be needed. Even the seemingly clumsy Teresa could wield her shield with short movements to crush the bugs. Enkrid also dealt with them in the same way, staying close to Shinar. It was all about delicacy. Seeing the bugs'' trajectory as a line, he sliced through their center to kill them. Striking with the surface of the blade was more efficient, so he did that while speaking to the fairy beside him. "That swordsmanship..." "Would you like me to teach you as an engagement gift?" "When is the engagement?" Receiving the joke as a joke, Shinar''s mouth twitched. It was very slight, but it seemed to lift just a little. Of course, she quickly returned to her usual expression. "You are truly greedy." No matter what, his desire to learn remained unchanged. After all, his earnest gaze said it all. It wasn''t hidden visions or rain secrets he wanted to know. Basic skills were enough. ''Not lacking.'' He knew how to move forward. Enkrid was a wandering seeker. He saw the direction his desires pointed to and wanted to walk that path. Why did he end up creating a new style of swordsmanship? Because he had learned, practiced, and seen it. Enkrid was still doing that now. "That''s the one." Shinar said, turning back and promising to teach him swordsmanship before throwing her gaze forward. In front of them, the king of the swamp appeared. A monster with six wings five times larger than a hornet and sharp teeth. It had a stinger similar to that of a wasp, a bloated belly, and a jaw that split sideways, typical of a monster. Thrrr-rrr-rrr! The sound of its wings filled the air. This terrifying bug led a swarm of similar creatures as it charged forward. They moved as one. That mass was a single entity. It was a much more troublesome opponent than ghouls. But... Puff-puff-puff! Each bug that charged was destroyed in an instant. The largest, and the leader of the swarm, was killed by a stone thrown by Rem. "Did I get the kill this time?" Still in competition with Audin, Rem looked back and asked. Audin smiled. Enkrid thought that the bear-like religious fanatic would let it go. ''He''ll say, "So be it."'' Wasn''t that his nature? "I didn''t see it." Enkrid stumbled as he fought. He didn''t fall. He simply used it as a step to continue forward. Swinging his sword horizontally, he killed two bugs with the flat side of the blade, so it didn''t turn into a mistake. "Argue if you want." "I''m not arguing, I didn''t see it. Brother." Audin was, after all, an uncontrollable madman. Enkrid didn''t care. They wouldn''t change just because he said something. "Let''s go." And Enkrid continued on, heading for the third low-tier Magic Realm. It was the last area to patrol. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 340 - Running and Laughing Chapter 340 - 340 - Running and Laughing Chapter 340 - Running and Laughing This time, the opponent wasn''t a low-level magical barrier, but a monster from the Pen-Hanil mountain range. Wasn''t it called one of the three great calamities of the Border Guard, including this monster? In reality, it was a serious issue for both the royal palace and the Border Guard itself, but they didn''t exactly call it a calamity. It was just a nickname given by the villagers and merchants around the area, who found it to be a real disaster. Including resting time, it would take about two days to reach the place. "Shall we run?" Enkrid asked, but it was a rhetorical question with an obvious answer. Why waste time? If it would take two days on foot, they could simply run and make it in half a day. "Let''s go." With Rem at the lead, everyone nodded, and Enkrid began running. Not at full speed, but at a reasonable pace. The whole group followed behind him. Shinar was once again impressed by this man''s drive. "To run all the way..." Normally, no one would consider such a way of travel. They had the stamina and ignorance to shorten the two-day journey into half a day, and that''s exactly what they did. Training soldiers with such ignorance wasn''t pointless. Quick marches were always a priority in any army. It was only natural that those in charge had to be better at it than anyone else. Who would follow someone who couldn''t prove their own skill? They kept running, and before long, they reached the foothills of the mountain range northeast of Border Guard, with the Green Pearl visible in the distance. The owner of the third low-level magical land were five trolls. These trolls made their base in the Pen-Hanil mountain range. In reality, it wasn''t a magical land but rather five of them wandering around the mountains, making it an issue. Although it was called a low-level magical land, these five monsters were acting as if the whole area was their territory. They would watch over merchant groups and attack when they saw any weakness, not to mention raiding villages near cities at night. Last year alone, three merchant groups had been wiped out. They were particularly adept at spotting when the guards were insufficient. If they were pursued in a well-prepared group, they would disappear like smoke. A monster pack that was like a natural-born hunter. According to those who had seen them, they carried large wooden clubs and hid their bodies in the underbrush. It was said they were monsters with both intelligence and hunting skills. Such creatures were the hardest to deal with. Finding them was already a challenge. Enkrid remembered Krais''s words about handling the troll brothers. "Use bait to draw them out." Of course, Krais had a plan in mind, but... ''Too troublesome,'' Enkrid thought. "Can you track them?" Thus, he opted for a simpler approach. He asked Dunbakel, giving her a look. "I can''t track by scent. There''s a foul smell mixed in." Beastkin were born hunters. Their sense of smell was more refined than that of fairies. But Dunbakel shook her head. The troll brothers had masked their scent by using various bodily fluids and sap to cover it. "If we keep tracking, we can classify the smells." "How long would that take?" "I''m not sure... maybe a month?" She wasn''t confident. It might even take longer than that. "I''ll track them." Rem stepped forward, scratching his ear and casually scanning the end of the mountain range. Enkrid didn''t know much about Rem''s past. He knew a little, but not the details. However, when Rem said he would do something, it meant he was capable of doing it properly. Enkrid himself had some experience tracking and had worked as a bounty hunter, but that didn''t mean he had superior skills compared to others. He had only done the basics. What helped him more was the tracking technique he learned from a hunter named Yenrid in Green Pearl, but even that wouldn''t guarantee he could find five trolls hiding and running around. These five monsters weren''t ordinary. Just as not all humans were the same, not all monsters were either. Ghouls weren''t all the same, and the same went for the z the insect monster. Even humanoid wolves were different. There were individual differences. Among them, these five trolls seemed especially adept at hiding and hunting. "I''ll chase them down, so you just kill them." It sounded easy and simple, but it wasn''t. "I''ll help too." Shinar also volunteered. Fairies were specialized in the environment they were born into. The forest and mountains were ''easy'' terrain for them. For example, if she had met that knight in the forest, she wouldn''t have been so easily defeated. Though she might not have been able to knock him out or overpower him with brute force, she was confident she wouldn''t be easily defeated. All battles are understood only when blades meet. Shinar also came to realize this truth as she watched Enkrid. He didn''t give up, even when the outcome was already clear. Looking back now, she found his determination appealing, which was probably why she had suggested sparring from the start. "It''s fine." Rem shook his head. The approach was different. That meant they needed time to synchronize. It would be a waste of time. Shinar nodded as well. It was enough for her to handle alone. Even though the trolls were formidable, they were facing a group of individuals who were beyond the exceptional. "How long?" Enkrid began to feel a rank odor coming from his body. Spring had arrived, but the mornings and nights were still cold. He wiped his face and hands, but hadn''t washed his body yet. It was uncomfortable. He wanted to finish this as quickly as possible and return. Enduring the discomfort of the smell was one thing, but not washing made one vulnerable to illness. Washing was important. Everyone likely felt the same way. Ah, but Dunbakel was different. Though she had keen senses of smell as a beastkin, she hated bathing. It was absurd to Enkrid that those two traits coexisted, but what could he do if she disliked it? He had to force her to bathe with sheer strength. The rest of the group agreed with Enkrid''s words. "Let''s make a fire and mess around while we''re at it. Let''s finish before dawn." Rem spoke as he headed toward the mountain range. It looked like he was walking slowly, but at some point, he disappeared into the depths. "Let''s make jerky." Enkrid said as he saw Rem disappear. One should make good use of rest time. "Sure." Audin and the others found spots to settle in, while Shinar dug a hole beneath a large tree and gathered dry twigs like leaves to build a fire. Thanks to collecting dry branches along the way, she didn''t have to go out of her way to find kindling. A well-prepared traveler was always more comfortable on the road. In that regard, everyone was a well-prepared traveler. Even after the squad that had greeted them left, no one suffered discomfort from camping. None of them had been strangers to wandering the continent. Each person had their role. Audin brought a long branch and stripped the bark off with his palm. It was always a fascinating skill to watch. Rather than washing it with water, he created cleaner skewers by stripping the bark off. Meanwhile, Dunbakel sniffed the air and went deeper into the woods at the edge of the mountain range, only to return with a few squirrels she had caught. From here, Enkrid took over. He pulled out a small pot from his bag, and while Dunbakel skinned the squirrels and drained the blood, Shinar started the fire. The fire was dug into the ground to prevent smoke. She was also a skilled fairy. "Fire is mysterious," she said. Enkrid, as he placed the squirrels into the pot and took out a clean cloth to crush them whole, raised an eyebrow at her comment. He mashed the brains and innards, sprinkling some salt and pepper, forming them into meatballs. Then, he poured a little water from his canteen into the pot and set it over the fire to boil. Once the water began boiling, he added the meatballs and tore some seasoned jerky into the pot as well. The jerky itself acted as seasoning. As the broth simmered, a savory aroma filled the air. It was a cooking method he had learned from Rem. The western tribes were known to use every part of the animal, from head to tail. "It''s good." Audin smiled more deeply than usual. No matter how inhumanely powerful one was, eating well was important. Enkrid thought to himself. Would a knight not get hungry? Willpower and determination were mysterious, but they didn''t solve hunger. As his muscles grew from training, his stomach grew hungrier. "Let''s eat." The well-cooked squirrel meatballs with jerky and the seasoned broth were excellent. One bite filled his mouth with rich flavor. There was no fishy taste, only savory goodness. The tender meatballs warmed his insides, and the soaked jerky provided a satisfying chew. It had turned into an impromptu stew. "It sticks to the tongue," Dunbakel said. Everyone agreed. Enkrid drank the broth and chewed the meatballs. The umami and meat flavors of the meatballs stood out, with the jerky revealing its true nature. It wasn''t bad at all. Though he wasn''t an expert in cooking, he had eaten so many delicious things over time that his cooking skills had naturally improved. Everyone had their fill. Afterward, they spent time keeping warm by the fire. Enkrid thought about the things he had learned from each of them as he repeatedly drew and sheathed his sword. He was pondering the technique Audin had recently taught him, about striking with a cut. ''The key is grip strength.'' Loosely grip the sword and then apply strength at the moment of striking. It wasn''t about speed but how well the power was transferred. Thinking about it again, it seemed like a technique that required fine division and was difficult to share with others. Not everything in the world could be described as rigid, heavy, deceptive, fast, or smooth. The swordsmanship of the past genius Leonecis Oniac had been systematized and had now branched off in various directions. Among those, some were refining their own unique approaches to swordsmanship. This technique seemed like something that had evolved in a similar manner. "Focus the striking power on one point." Is that all? How do you concentrate the force? What does it mean to strike with power? As he pondered, doubts arose. Enkrid did not ask for answers but instead indulged in the exploration and research on his own. It was difficult, but it seemed like he was grasping something, even if awkwardly. It was different from before. He had reached the level where he could create his own swordsmanship from his experiences. He had even realized the fragments of Will. Now, Enkrid was no longer in the position to discuss past talents. That said, he didn''t know all the principles. He had faced a knight''s sword, but he hadn''t understood everything contained within it. Did that present a problem? No, there was no issue. "There''s no need to know everything." He had realized part of it and could build upon that. He had walked the path without knowing anything before. Now, it was like walking on a well-paved road with signposts. Enkrid repeatedly swung his sword in the air, trying to grasp the technique. It wasn''t just about grip strength. It was about exploding the muscles in an instant. How should he achieve that? He had to relax and then tighten all the muscles in his body. How would that energy be transferred to the weapon in his hand? He had to convey that power through his hand, which was gently gripping the weapon but with tension in the muscles. Without the technique of isolation, he couldn''t have learned this. That was the conclusion. Thus, he could learn it. He already had the "body" created through the technique of isolation. "Impressive." Audin muttered as he watched. Enkrid raised his head and made eye contact. The soldier, who always greeted with a smile like a bear, now had a straight expression. He was genuinely surprised. The technique he had taught was one of the weapons techniques of the Order. The war order often mixed techniques from various factions, and Enkrid had restored and learned one of them. It was called "Moa? Tertiri?," a technique that had been improved from the past, and he had thought it would be quite difficult to grasp its principles. But watching Enkrid, he could tell that he had nearly figured it out. "Is it possible?" Enkrid asked. "It requires repetitive training," Audin replied. Knowing something and being able to immediately execute it were two different matters. Even so, just knowing it was impressive. Audin had thought there would be no more surprises, but this truly amazed him. Hadn''t he seen Enkrid learn the weapon techniques from Rem? His talent didn''t make sense. It was the extreme of absurdity. It was a peculiar oddity that didn''t match up. When it came to learning and mastering, he was awful, but at the most unreasonable moments, he surpassed stages. That process couldn''t be explained in words. It simply didn''t make sense. Was his talent exceptional? No, it couldn''t be described like that. It was unique and strange. It bordered on the mysterious. But this time, it was different. Enkrid struggled, dug in, and learned. He could see the process now. He didn''t stop thinking about what he had understood. It was a sustained force. Perhaps, from the moment Audin had shown him Moa? Tertiri?, he had kept it in his mind. He said he would learn everything, but the focus had been on his own version of the technique. What he had learned was impressive, and prioritizing his own technique was wise, sensible, and admirable. "Hehehe." Audin chuckled. "You''re still far from normal," Enkrid replied. As the sun began to set, it seemed like they would stay another night. Before Enkrid could finish speaking, a faint sound echoed from afar. It was a troll''s guttural growl. Shinar, who had been rummaging through the firewood, mumbled as she scattered the flames. "Be careful with the fire." Why was this fairy always like this? Enkrid stood up quietly, but someone else was faster, darting out like the wind. "I''ll go ahead. Brother." That voice was unusually cheerful and bright. Hmm? Before Enkrid could speak, Audin burst into laughter. "I don''t know what''s going on, but Audin is ecstatic." "What the hell, you crazy fool." Rem reacted from the opposite side. Before long, he was close enough that his voice could be heard. Behind him, the figures of trolls briefly appeared. Two of them carried clubs, while the other three held spears, gripping them backwards. Rem, seeming ready to retreat, was luring them in, preparing to throw his spear at the first chance. When Audin laughed and ran, Rem stopped, stunned, and that''s when the two trolls threw their spears. The spears, using the full tension of their bodies, cut through the air. At the same time, a sharp whistling sound could be heard. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 341 - The Heavy and Fast Sword Chapter 341 - 341 - The Heavy and Fast Sword Chapter 341 - The Heavy and Fast Sword Rem turned around and knocked a spear aside with his axe. Clang! The spearhead ricocheted through the air. Though trolls are powerful beasts, Rem was also a human of great strength. Audin, running towards them, swiftly intercepted the spear mid-flight. The heavy spear, which had been flying toward him, came to an abrupt stop as soon as it touched Audin''s hand. For something flying with such dynamic force, it was surprisingly easy to stop. It was an abnormal scene created by abnormal strength. It seemed as if some physical laws were being ignored. There''s a saying that strength beyond limits can appear like a spell. And that was exactly the case¡ªmuscle power trained to the extreme. In terms of raw power, it was said that Audin surpassed even Rem. The two troll brothers didn''t even have time to register what was happening. "Hahaha!" Audin laughed as he kicked off the ground, and with each step, the earth exploded beneath him in a blast of dirt, like a fountain. Boom! Boom! Boom! Not once, but three more bursts of dirt shot into the air. Audin''s body left a trail, his figure a blur. The massive body moved with an impossible speed, shortening the space as if he vanished from sight. If an ordinary person had been watching, it would have seemed as if he had disappeared. It was a charge created by perfectly controlled thigh muscles and a complete mastery of his own body. It could rival the charge of a knight. Enkrid thought as he watched. Audin closed the distance and used the spear like a blunt weapon to strike one of the trolls in the head. With movements faster than ever, the troll didn''t even have time to dodge. Then, combining the "Moa? Tertiri?" technique Enkrid had learned... Smack! Boom! The troll''s skull shattered, black blood spraying into the air. Pieces of skull and bone scattered in all directions. Blood spurted from the point where the spear hit and spread diagonally upward. The surroundings began to darken as the sun set, but it wasn''t an issue since no one here had trouble seeing in the dark. So... "Don''t miss." Enkrid spoke. Dunbakel and Teresa sprang forward. Audin continued to smile as he pounded the trolls. The regeneration abilities of trolls were well-known, but Audin ripped off their arms, and eyes popped out as they were crushed. Enkrid had no need to step in anymore. The five trolls didn''t even dare try to escape. If even one got away, they would hide, and from there, it would be a game of hide and seek, which would be troublesome even for Rem. Hunting down a monster that was deliberately hiding was a different matter. So there was no way they could afford to let one escape. Naturally, none of the trolls managed to escape. Audin didn''t hesitate and quickly dismantled and destroyed three of them. One of the trolls was split into nine pieces with an axe by Rem. "What''s with that guy?" After chopping up the troll, Rem looked at Audin, asking why he was so excited. "Haha, it''s a good night. The Lord is watching over us," Audin said with a smile. The last troll was for Dunbakel and Teresa. The two fought over it, tearing it apart and smashing it. And that was the end of it. The trolls'' regenerative abilities didn''t have a chance to kick in. Shinar had only watched, or rather, was busy putting out the fire. She then crouched down, glanced up, and asked, "Should we relight it?" Enkrid looked up at the sky, estimating the time. It was already evening, and it was time to discuss the night. If it were early morning, resting would have been the right choice, but was it really necessary? Not every situation requires following what''s expected. Enkrid wanted to wash up, and he saw this as another opportunity for training. Besides, there was no reason to endure the discomfort of camping. "Let''s head back." If they kept running tonight, they could reach Border Guard in two days. If they pushed even harder, they could get there by the next night. Would that be too much? This kind of training was also necessary. After the injuries and the rest they had taken before, they hadn''t been moving their bodies much. So it was the perfect opportunity. Overworking the body by running alone would be a good training experience. After considering this, he decided to leave the rest for when they arrived in the city. No one had any complaints. The rumors about the three low-level magic beasts, or more precisely, the two colonies and the five troublesome monsters they had dealt with, spread quickly. "I''ve got nothing to say." Krais was the first to comment when he heard the news. Who wouldn''t be surprised hearing about this? It wasn''t in a bad way. The moment Krais heard what Enkrid had done, his mind started spinning. If such feats were possible... That means, there were many capable individuals who could deal with monsters, burning, crushing, slashing, and killing them, and if they asked, they''d be willing to help. Ah, except for one person. Ah, wait, one person is on leave, so two people should be excluded, but still, the sheer power was incredible. Rem and Audin had never been more proactive, either. "Dunbakel and Teresa are no slouches either." Esther and Krais''s "Big Eyes" were also noteworthy, but they were considered special cases. "I need to meet with the lord," Krais said. Enkrid simply nodded in agreement. Krais''s eyes sparkled as if some thought had occurred to him. He must have seen some opportunity for profit. Enkrid, after washing up, rested, ate, and once again immersed himself in the technique of isolation. "Moa? Tertiri?" was a technique where the body had to follow through. It was all about muscle contraction and explosion. Once mastered, even what had just been done to him could be replicated. After Audin killed the trolls, he showed off the technique to Enkrid, grinning even wider than before, obviously pleased. "It''s possible once you become proficient at it." As he spoke, he approached holding a hammer in his left hand. His presence was intimidating, but paradoxically, it sparked a sense of anticipation, which was soon fulfilled. The giant-like figure loomed over him as they stood face to face. Though Enkrid was no small man, the difference in their heights was undeniable. "Watch this," said Audin, extending his fist. It stopped just a breath away from Enkrid''s abdomen. Enkrid''s instincts kicked in at that moment. There was no time to evade, so he quickly tensed his abs. Boom! The explosive sound rang out as if his stomach had detonated. Enkrid felt weightless, his feet lifting off the ground. He flew backward, stumbling a few steps before landing on his feet. He didn''t roll like a fool but kept his balance. The blows from the hammer hadn''t been in vain; his endurance had greatly improved. "What was that?" Enkrid asked. "That was ''Gather and Burst''." Enkrid''s eyes shifted to the floor. The dry dirt of the training ground bore clear traces of the attack. The ground was deeply indented, as if a small whirlwind had spun in place. "The rotation of the ankle," Enkrid thought, his mind analyzing. The technique combined the compression and explosive release of full-body muscle power. It was a devastating, yet fascinating technique. "Impressive," Enkrid said, genuinely impressed, before diving back into his focus. His body and mind were both fully occupied. He wasn''t just learning ''Gather and Burst''. Audin continued to hammer Enkrid''s body with the hammer, striking every muscle except his head. Afterward, Enkrid worked on mastering Dunbakel''s full-body elastic swordsmanship. Then, he got a shield from the forge, paired with Teresa, and learned how to handle various weapons from Rem. "Is learning all that miscellaneous stuff really helpful?" Rem asked. While depth of learning is often important, that wasn''t a concept that applied to someone like Enkrid. In other words, he already knew the answer. "Yes," came his short reply. Enkrid was finding his way through experience and intuition. Was this the path toward becoming a knight? He wasn''t sure. But one thing was clear. ''This is driving me crazy.'' He was consumed with enjoyment, with the thrill of learning and mastering new things. The speed at which it all became second nature was exceptional. "The Commander''s body is a bit clumsy, though. And he''s struggling with everything from Will to techniques?" Rem''s harsh words cut through the air. But it didn''t bother Enkrid. Compared to his previous growth, this progress was unbelievable. Ragna, watching from a distance with half-closed eyes, wasn''t lacking in motivation. He had seen the knight''s sword, which had given him clarity on the path he needed to take. Now, he was simply organizing and tidying up. Ragna had spent a long time wandering the continent. Half of that time had been spent lost, but many fateful encounters had come from that period. Those people showed him various techniques¡ªmercenaries and warriors from merchant groups. Ragna, being a genius, could quickly grasp and replicate their methods. He could follow them after just one look and, after repeating the movements once or twice, would reach their level. Within two days, he was surpassing them. "Devil''s work. The talent of a devil," a mercenary guard had once said. From that moment, Ragna knew he was different from ordinary people. This also led him to wonder. ''Should I keep going?'' None of the people around him could catch up. Was it worth it to continue on this path? The doubt and suspicion ate at him, and at some point, he stopped moving forward. Though motivation remained, he was content to focus on mastering what he had already learned. The turning point came when he fought the semi-knight Ayada, pushing past his limits. Why was he able to do this? Because, at some point, the doubts that had been eating away at him had disappeared. "When are we going to stop playing? Let''s have a duel," Enkrid said, holding his sword and giving a slight shake. Ragna nodded. He had sorted out his thoughts, and had also refined his skills learned over time. Like Enkrid, he was now starting to carve his own path. This marked the birth of the Ragna-style swordsmanship. Instead of being trapped in a rigid style, Ragna opened a new path. "It''s heavy and fast." The moment he spoke, Enkrid instantly recalled the knight''s sword. The sword vanished, seemingly folding space, and reappeared. It was different in both speed and weight. Enkrid raised his sword horizontally to block it, and a tremendous shock reverberated through his body. ''A slicing strike?'' It was similar in power to ''Gather and Burst'' but different in technique. Just by observing the move, Enkrid was already incorporating it into his own swordsmanship, adapting it to his body. It was the mark of a genius. "Crazy bastard," Rem chuckled as he raised his axe. "Alright, I can finally give your ass a proper beating," he said, referring to Enkrid, who had been pushed back by the strike. "Lazy bastard, what are you talking about?" Rem quipped in return. "I said I can beat you now without killing you. Is that so hard to understand? Do I need to show you more?" Ragna replied. "Fine. Let''s do it. Let''s see if you can back that up," Rem said, ready for the fight. Soon, Ragna and Rem clashed. Enkrid, having been knocked back, decided not to intervene. This fight was different from the last. Rem was being pushed back. Ragna had crossed a line. However, Rem wasn''t just being pushed back. Enkrid was absorbing every moment of their duel. There was an overwhelming amount to learn. Things that were invisible before now stood out clearly. Ragna was showing exactly what he had spoken about¡ªhis sword was heavy yet fast. It may have looked light, but when it clashed with Rem''s axe, Ragna''s sword felt incredibly weighty. Bang! The constant booming sounds drew the attention of nearby soldiers. Some were shocked, while others seemed unsurprised, as though it was to be expected. After all, who among the insane unit members could be considered ordinary? Enkrid, watching their fight, was so thrilled that his entire body tingled with excitement. He couldn''t contain himself any longer. "Are you just going to watch?" Enkrid inserted himself into the scene, having moved close without them noticing. He wanted to observe and learn from the fine details of Shinar''s sword technique during their duel. "You greedy fiance?e, if I give you this, what will you give me in return?" Anything except the engagement, of course. "A date, perhaps?" The fairy asked, and Enkrid, unable to resist, agreed without hesitation. "Sure." A date for swordsmanship¡ªthough it sounded like a joke, both Enkrid and Shinar were satisfied with the arrangement. **** "Did they already clear out the marshlands?" Count Molsan asked, and the servant who had been reporting bowed his head. "I''m sorry. We didn''t know how quickly they would move." It was the count himself who had released the monsters into the swamp. He had used creatures like the Bell bugs and blood-sucking flies to block people''s access while conducting a few magical experiments there. The swamp was also a good place to gather rare magical ingredients, such as herbs. After Enkrid left the city, the reports about him heading to the Gray Ghoul Forest were expected. Information was never a waste. Even if a Frog was causing trouble, there was no way no useful information could come from it. So, the count knew about it, but... "They''ve also killed the five trolls." "What the hell?" The count was simply dumbfounded. Were they not even sleeping? The terrain was so rough that it wasn''t even suitable for carts, so how had they been running through it? He couldn''t believe it. For a moment, he couldn''t speak. The uncomfortable feeling lingered for a brief time, but he quickly shook it off. ''This is absurd.'' It was too late to do anything now. He couldn''t even admit that he had released the monsters into the swamp. Besides, once he got what he wanted, everything else would be meaningless. "A guild member speaking the kingdom''s language has infiltrated the territory." "Deal with it." "There are a few troublesome mercenaries involved." This meant that the local security couldn''t handle the situation on its own. The count dismissed thoughts of the insane unit from his mind and, after a moment of clarity, found a solution. "Send Mats." "Understood." The servant bowed before leaving. The count sat quietly in his chair, lost in thought. Preparations were still lacking. He would need to wait. But how long should he wait? Perhaps a year or two at most. Is the desire to climb to the top a human instinct? Or was it the desire of someone born and raised as a power-hungry noble? He didn''t know. He would know when he got there. But for now, he didn''t want to know. The ignorance of the present would be satisfied with the joy of future experiences. Until then... ''Will I still be alive?'' The insane unit, Enkrid. What an unusual person. Truly an impressive individual. He had to make sure not to end up standing against him in the future. If he did, he wouldn''t be able to spare him. The count had no intention of killing Enkrid. After all, a person who had provided him with this much interest was rare. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 342 - Facing the Knight’s Blade Chapter 342 - 342 - Facing the Knight''s Blade Chapter 342 - Facing the Knight''s Blade "Son of a bitch." Rem gritted his teeth. Ragna stood before him, exuding a calm demeanor. He pulled back his jaw and tilted his nose slightly upwards. At the same time, he lowered his gaze slightly, as if reciting a poem, and spoke: "Keep advancing." It was a call to push forward. Enkrid thought that phrase was perfectly fitting. Rem was boiling with anger, almost wanting to return to his birthplace and retrieve what he had left behind. Although he didn''t use his sling, he had still lost. No, he couldn''t use the sling. There were two reasons for this. Rem instinctively realized that winning would be difficult, and the other reason was that it wouldn''t matter if they both died together. Since the first time they met, Ragna had been an obnoxious person, but not one who deserved to be beaten to death. There were plenty of people who lived by raping and killing passing women, then patting their bellies afterward. A fool who easily loses his way in the woods could be spared. "Do you really want to die?" Rem spoke, but his intention wasn''t to act on his words. He would fight to the death if needed, but he knew that would also mean his defeat. To win, he had to overpower his opponent with skill. Just like what Ragna had done. Just as the fool, who couldn''t even cut off his own limbs, had ended things, Rem would have to do the same. But not now. His opponent was wielding Will in his fight. The power of Will was present in every swing of the blade. Even when deflected, the sword returned faster than Rem could retreat. The tip of the sword lightly pressed against his shoulder, carrying a force that felt like it could pierce through. Even though the process that would typically add power was skipped, it still felt as though it had weight behind it. Why was that? Rem could sum it all up in one word: Will. So, had Ragna become a knight? Not exactly. But at this moment, he was slightly superior to Rem. And that drove Rem to the brink of madness. "Could you really do that? If it''s a matter of wanting to die together, go ahead and try." Ragna''s words carried that meaning. Rem understood it, too. If he made a move, Ragna would find it just as hard to walk away unharmed. He would take some damage. If Rem went all out, he could lose at least an arm or a leg. Yet, despite knowing this, Ragna did not change his composed attitude. ''Should I just kill him?'' Rem seriously considered it. "I understand. Rem." Enkrid interrupted. He had also finished his duel. No, it hadn''t even been a serious duel in the first place. Shinar had maintained her teaching stance, and Enkrid had accepted it, so their match had been more of a teaching session. It hadn''t been bad, but Rem and Ragna''s fight had stolen the spotlight. Naturally, after finishing his match, Enkrid had watched their battle, especially the final exchange of blows, which had shaken his thoughts. After six short slashes, the last was a downward strike that felt resolute. It was a longsword''s finishing strike. In that moment, Enkrid realized that Ragna''s sword felt different from before. As the blade plunged vertically, Rem crossed two axes in an attempt to block, twisting his power to deflect the blow. The two axes absorbed the force as if they were cotton balls. If Rem had a bit more strength left, the outcome of the fight would have been different. At least it wouldn''t have ended the way it did. But Rem couldn''t hold out. Ragna''s sword came down with consistent force. It resembled a pressing blade, but it was different. Though there was the intention to cut, it lasted longer than before. Whereas the previous cuts had been swift, this one was more like savoring a cup of tea, lingering long enough for Will to seep into the blade. The pressing sword applies pressure during the preparation process, but the real Will manifests only in the moment of impact. It could be seen as a trick. Because it couldn''t maintain such a high level of pressure for long, Ragna had used a slow and steady approach to press his opponent. But what about now? ''The persistence is different.'' Ragna had always used the cutting technique with Will. It activated the Will in a momentary burst. Now, however, it descended with a sustained force. His sword, imbued with Will, held steady. That was where the fight was decided. Rem had failed to summon his own Will. There was little difference in physical strength. In fact, in terms of physical completeness, Rem might have been superior. But Ragna had layered Will on top of that. ''Ah.'' Enkrid quickly grasped the situation. He saw it clearly as he parried the knight''s sword. Ragna''s new swordsmanship, light yet heavy, was essentially a technique built on Will. It was the result of talent, or rather, the flourishing of talent due to meeting the knight''s blade. Having fought against a knight and a squire before, Ragna had already been determined to break his limits. Ragna''s calm attitude contrasted sharply with Rem''s seething anger as they faced each other. Enkrid, who had been watching, spoke up. "You''ve never fought a knight, have you?" Rem was taken aback. "What?" "You''ll understand once you face one," Enkrid explained, offering his own insight into the experience. Ragna chimed in. "It seems you''ve never faced a knight. Now I see." Rem, for all his frustration, wasn''t about to go on a rampage. His rage was something more controlled¡ªhe was always a step away from unleashing his fury, but never quite losing it. Enkrid recognized this as part of Rem''s nature. He wasn''t one to attack recklessly, even when pushed to the edge. "If you experience a knight''s sword..." Enkrid began, but Rem cut him off. "Shut up, what nonsense are you spouting?" "It''s because you haven''t seen it. Once you do, you''ll understand." "Damn it, damn it, damn it." Enkrid wasn''t trying to mock him, but Rem was not in the mood to listen. As the conversation continued, the frustration was evident, but after hearing Enkrid''s words multiple times, Rem finally relented. "Fine, I''ll meet a knight someday." Audin, who had been quietly observing, muttered a prayer under his breath. "May the gods surround you with understanding. You have gained a great realization, my brother." Rem nodded in agreement. "Yes, I will come to understand." Ragna, observing Rem''s reaction, turned to Enkrid and said, "I''ll admit it. The commander is far superior in terms of cruelty." Enkrid, defending himself, explained it was a misunderstanding, but no one believed him. It wasn''t until nightfall that Rem seemed to return to his usual self. "If you mention knights one more time, I''ll split your tongue with an axe," he threatened. His words weren''t empty¡ªthere was a genuine resolve in them. Rem''s will was now infused in his voice, the same intensity that one would associate with a true battle-hardened warrior. Enkrid, recognizing the shift, said nothing more, though he couldn''t help but feel a bit of pride in how things were unfolding. "Alright, let''s stop," he said finally, but with some reluctance. While it was rare to see Rem so worked up, it didn''t last long. The next day, he sought out Ragna for a sparring session. "You, with your terrible sense of direction¡ªdo you think you can fight like that? Follow me to the training grounds." Ragna, with his usual calm demeanor, didn''t hesitate to accept. "Fine, but today I''ll take your useless head off." Enkrid, always happy to join in a good spar, tried to get in between them, but soon found himself more interested in his own training sessions with Shinar. Meanwhile, discussions were underway regarding the state of the trade routes. The recent improvements were largely due to Krais''s efforts. "How are things progressing with the roads?" Enkrid asked, knowing Krais had been quite involved. "The work is well underway, with the roads being paved to withstand any weather," Krais explained. "Who''s doing the heavy lifting?" Enkrid asked, in a tone that suggested he already knew the answer. "We hired skilled workers from the frontier villages," Krais replied, "They''ve been paid well for their efforts." While the work was continuing smoothly, the problems with labor shortages had not gone unnoticed. Krais had ensured that things were running on schedule, even if it meant bringing in people from other areas to handle the load. "There will be no more issues with manpower soon," Krais assured. "And as for training new recruits, that''s something I''d like you to oversee." Enkrid, ever the tactician, saw the wisdom in Krais''s approach. With the right leadership, the region would soon be self-sufficient. Meanwhile, the reputation of the Border Guard continued to grow, spreading far and wide. Those who had once lived in poverty or were fleeing dangerous circumstances now saw the Guard as a place of opportunity. They were no longer merely surviving¡ªthey were beginning to thrive. *** "We can''t just accept anyone off the streets," the officer had expressed concern, but Krais responded firmly. "If we don''t seize this opportunity, we''ll lose the chance to transform this city into a trading hub. Are you willing to throw that away?" Krais''s words hit home, and the officer had no response. The changes were happening. With Krais''s leadership and the growing strength of the Border Guard, they were on the path to something greater. If anyone could possibly fight with Rem through words, it would be Krais. Especially when it came to Krona, his verbal prowess increased severalfold. The officer lost his words. He seemed to have heard something about Korna midway, but he couldn''t argue with it. He couldn''t even raise his hand against Krais. Krais practically thrust his face forward as if daring him to strike. "If you''re not going to hit me, then let''s get to work." Cool-headed and practical, Krais had taken the seat of an officer. It was an obvious conclusion that the officer couldn''t hit him. Krais knew this and pushed him. Had it been anyone else, they would have been struck first. If the officer had been the type to throw a punch first, Krais wouldn''t have acted this way either. The officer, in the end, buried himself in the work and followed Krais''s unspoken orders. The Lord, having rediscovered the joy of wielding a sword, kept the dark aura beneath his eyes from fading. Instead, the officer began reciting his nightly prayers. Half of them were curses at Krais, and the other half at the Lord. Enkrid didn''t know all the details, but he had a general understanding. If Krais worked this hard, the rest would undoubtedly complain. Krais had a knack for draining every ounce of a person''s abilities. "The new recruits'' training will be handled by Audin." Enkrid offered his support to Krais. "Yes, brother. I''ll handle it. At the very least, I''ll make sure the lambs can run." There was no better candidate for basic physical training than Audin. Of course, the new recruits would shed tears, but it wasn''t a bad thing for them. Enduring hellish training increased their chances of survival in the battlefield. In exchange, the soldier''s pay was raised significantly. Additionally, workers were hired in large numbers, and more maids were brought in. Women skilled in sewing were gathered to form a tailoring guild. "Let''s burn through all the Krona." Krais completely used up the remaining Krona in the castle. "That''s the castle''s funds." The officer tried to argue, but it was futile. "So what? If we just keep that money lying around, will wheat fall from the sky? Will we get an apple for it? So what?" "I was just saying." The officer gave up trying to argue. The Lord had given his approval, and the officer''s prayers before bed became considerably longer. Krais, a veteran soldier, reorganized several units. All the equipment was newly provided. Standardizing the equipment was a measure to increase a sense of belonging. The shortfall in Krona was covered by Leona lending some. "There''s no interest. But don''t forget to expand my authority." Krais would eventually have to hand over the business and other matters to the Rockfried trading company. Leona knew this, but they both pretended that her giving gold was merely lending a hand in the process. This way, when Rockfried Trading Company received preferential treatment later, there wouldn''t be any complaints. Meanwhile, rumors spread that soldiers in the Border Guard would receive higher wages. As the rumors spread, people started flocking to join. When deserters started appearing from neighboring territories, lords sent petitions to the royal palace to clamp down on their territories. Someone from the royal palace came out and told them to cease, but the Lord, pretending to comply, obviously didn''t listen. "If this is how it''s going to be, why didn''t you help when we''re being harassed by others?" Krais sharply criticized them. He understood that the royal palace couldn''t mobilize military force immediately. So, he did as he pleased. After all, once he built up enough strength and justification, they wouldn''t be able to do much. He continued to improve the roads and set up watchtowers in the surrounding area. The watchtowers lined along the roads now looked like landmarks of the Border Guard. New recruits were sent to guard these towers. The first leader of the new unit, the "Watchtower Squad," showed some unease. "Are we supposed to guard this place?" They would have to keep watch day and night, with no guarantee that monsters or dangerous creatures wouldn''t appear. Krais gave a solution as though it were obvious. "You''ll get additional allowances." "Still..." "Would you prefer to go through the more intense training?" "I''ll guard the watchtower." Audin''s training was like an entry into hell for new recruits. The saying, "If you want to die, become a soldier," was often heard. Still, many came seeking to become soldiers. The Border Guard was changing day by day. At the heart of it all was Krais. He had been involved in so many projects. As a side effect, Shinar also became busier. Her unit was in the process of surveying the newly acquired swamp area. It was undoubtedly a busy time. Yet, she continued to visit Enkrid regularly, asking him if he was busy. "Well, you can come when I''m less busy." Enkrid responded, but for Shinar, it was a ridiculous question. "We have a date." "...Ah." It seemed like Shinar was more persistent than Enkrid, but Enkrid''s intuition told him that she wasn''t just coming for a date. There was something else. Otherwise, she would have suggested going out to the market already, but that wasn''t the case. "I''ll ask when the time comes." That was all she said. "Let''s enjoy ourselves today, fiance?." Shinar drew her sword. Enkrid, too, unsheathed his silver sword. It felt as if the sword had forgotten its previous owner and now fit perfectly in his hand. "You''ve surpassed me now." As they sparred, Shinar remarked that Enkrid''s skill had surpassed hers. Enkrid didn''t deny it. He felt the same way. As always, the duel was nearing its end. Shinar stepped back, tilting her head up and looking directly into Enkrid''s face. Her lips parted. "This won''t do." After that, she spoke. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 343 - Are You Enjoying This? Chapter 343 - 343 - Are You Enjoying This? Chapter 343 - Are You Enjoying This? ''Am I falling behind?'' Shinar felt a sense of urgency, a feeling brought on by Enkrid''s growth. Does the outcome matter? Not really. However, if this continues, she wouldn''t be able to provide much enjoyment to the man in front of her. ''Live by the sword.'' What is the best gift for someone striving to become a knight? What makes the author''s heart race the most? It certainly isn''t supreme beauty. That much was clear. She couldn''t sway the author''s heart with the charm of the opposite sex. So, what is it? ''The sword.'' It''s something that can be replaced with fighting, skill, and ability. Naturally, Shinar had a hidden move as well. However, she hadn''t intended to use it just yet. Fairies grow by absorbing the forest''s essence, and with proper training, they can cultivate the essence of trees within their bodies once they reach a certain level. Normally, it would take centuries to gradually accumulate. That''s the default for fairies. However, Shinar was not a typical fairy. She had talent. The ability to absorb and cultivate the essence itself. She could store it within her body and use it when necessary. It was her hidden move. Shinar decided to use this secret. She wanted to see the surprised look on Enkrid''s face as he reveled in the rush of energy. Why? That wasn''t important. ''Ah, this is fun.'' This was a new experience for Shinar. Her heart raced. Excitement surged. The moment she could sense the shift in the other''s emotions, it was clear to her what she was feeling. Joy. Fun. And that made the hairs on her skin stand on end. ''Are you having fun?'' She asked herself this in her mind. Enkrid''s whole body responded. Watching that was pure joy. Control your emotions. She had heard this ever since she first became aware of her surroundings. The fairy species could feel the emotions of others directly without filters, which often led to an emotional tendency to be easily swayed. It was a downside to being highly sensitive. Once she realized there was a problem, the solution was obvious. Fairies had dealt with it in their own way. They confronted the problem and solved it. As a result, fairies also went through a process called heart training. They learned how to manage and control their emotions. No matter what, they would maintain a calm demeanor. In a way, it resembled the heart of a beast. And thus, they controlled their hearts, their bodies, and their emotions. Shinar had gone through this process, which is why she could stand here now. For a Frog to leave its territory, it was a matter of not letting the heart flare. For a fairy, it was about controlling one''s body and mind. The sword clashed, and the sweat flowed. Enkrid''s face, dripping with sweat, appeared. His dark hair and blue eyes curved gently. His eyes, shaped like crescents, seemed to emit light. It was a little after noon. The sunlight of early spring bathed his hair, casting long shadows and creating a soft shade on his left cheek. Watching this, the scenery seemed to radiate some strange energy. Shinar, with her sensitive senses, saw, smelled, and felt all of it. Fairies were born with stunning looks. Symmetry in their eyes, eyebrows, and the nose that divided their faces made others fall into infatuation. The term "unearthly beauty" existed for a reason. Fairies were beings whose appearance surpassed that of humans. Though occasionally some may not conform to the ideal, most fairies looked as expected. Shinar had been born a fairy, and she had seen such beings countless times around her. ''If I just look at his face, I wouldn''t know.'' But the vibrant aura of the man around her commanded attention. It was something she had felt many times, but now Shinar''s attitude was different. It wasn''t a resolution or a determination. It was a natural flow. She would swing the sword, driven by emotion, not control. And that was exactly what she did. She acted on her emotions, not on restraint. Instinct or sixth sense. A strange sensation swept down the back of Enkrid''s neck. He felt a chill and the hairs on his skin stand up. It was as if the Grim Reaper had come closer, whispering in his ear. Everything he saw, heard, and felt blurred into the realm of his instincts. He felt a new perspective, as if his body was being viewed from above. Enkrid saw another blade aimed at his back. It was after he perceived it that he acted. He twisted his body, pivoting on his right foot while drawing his Gladius with his left hand. As he unsheathed the sword, he twisted his wrist to block with the edge. Thunk. It wasn''t heavy, but he felt a stab-like pressure. In an instant, the Shinar he had seen just a moment ago was gone. His hairs stood up again. As his mind raced, Enkrid knew what he had to do. No, he felt it. It was time to pull out an instinctual answer. He hurled the Gladius, aiming for the direction that gave off a chilling vibe. Wham. As the sword flew straight, sparks erupted from it. Ting-ting! Without a moment''s hesitation, the sparks traced a wide arc. The sparks were meant for stabbing, so he didn''t expect to be able to cut, but this attack would definitely deliver a surprising blow. Indeed, that was the case. Shinar wasn''t flustered, but she acknowledged that Enkrid''s strike was a stroke of creativity. She met his blade with hers, causing a sharp sound to ring out. Chiriri-ring! Sparks flew as the blades collided. Enkrid released the spark from his hand. Then, with both hands, he grasped his silver longsword. Huff. He briefly steadied his breath. Raising his senses to their peak, he focused all his attention into one point. For some reason, there was a sword in front of him and another behind him. Both were real, physical swords. Was it a trick of the Will? It didn''t seem like it. It didn''t feel like it either. Enkrid brought his sword down, aiming at Shinar. Shinar lifted her sword to meet the blow, but her entire body faded like a mirage. Then, from both sides, the blades struck. A high-speed movement? No. They were real, tangible strikes. A spell? Some form of magic? There was no time to think. As soon as Enkrid struck, he leaped forward and rolled. Lines appeared on the ground where he had stood. Shinar stopped wielding her sword. Instead, she stood still, silently catching her breath. She remained like that, her gaze fixed on Enkrid, who had not relaxed his posture. "What did you do?" After the roll, Enkrid knelt on one knee, holding his sword, which reflected the sunlight. He hadn''t relaxed his combat stance. Even just the posture and the sharpness of the blade made him seem threatening. But to the fairy''s eyes and judgment, that was far from the ordinary. "Are you proposing here?" What was that supposed to mean? Enkrid quickly realized he was still kneeling on one knee. "I''m saying I can still fight." "Is that so?" The fairy replied without a smile. By now, more people had gathered to watch. Guests who came just to see Enkrid clash swords, from Rem, Audin, and Ragna, to Dunbakel and Teresa, all of them were drawn in by the spectacle. What had caught the Madmen Unit''s attention? It was Shinar''s display of skill. Her techniques and artistry were extraordinary. Even Ragna, who had seen many things, thought that it was something out of the ordinary. Did all fairies fight like that? He''d once wandered around, joining with fairy swordsmen, but none were as impressive as Shinar. The most memorable of them had been a dual-wielding fairy who always aimed for the vital spots. But Shinar was far more dangerous than that one. Despite being in front of him, it seemed as if the blades were coming from behind him. How could that be possible? Was it because of her precision and finesse? No, that was merely a trait of fairy swordsmanship. But still, Enkrid had seen Shinar wield her sword in the air, and it was as if the strikes came from behind him. Rem narrowed his eyes. What had that fairy just done? Audin watched with a smile, amused. "Magic?" Dunbakel muttered to herself. "No," Teresa answered. Having faced many magicians, she could tell it wasn''t magic. Shinar, despite hearing their words, tilted her head slightly and gazed at Enkrid. A faint smile, almost unnoticed, crept onto her face. It was the first time Enkrid had seen such a smile from a fairy. With that small smile, she spoke. "Are you enjoying this?" The gentle question. The sunlight, the dust, the mild air. Feeling all that, Enkrid nodded. Of course, he was enjoying it. It was the first time he had encountered such a technique. He didn''t even understand it fully yet. The thought of unraveling the principle behind it thrilled him. The hairs on his body were still standing on end. Enkrid stood up. "More than anything." "Then fighting with me must be the most enjoyable thing for you." It was an unexpected remark, one that even Enkrid couldn''t respond to right away. Most enjoyable? As the conversation flowed, everyone took a moment to think. It was brief, but enough time passed. Then, from behind Shinar, there was a heavy thunk sound. Thunk. It was a sound that naturally drew everyone''s attention. It came from behind Enkrid. Audin had made a quick fist motion. "Commander, have you grasped the trick of close-range detonations? Once you get the hang of it, it can be quite fun. There''s no greater joy than learning and mastering something." Hmm? Enkrid''s thoughts briefly halted. What on earth was he talking about? Audin wasn''t finished. Next to him, Ragna swung his sword. Whoosh, whoosh. "A fast and heavy sword." It was a blade imbued with Will. That wasn''t a sword you could just learn by being taught. Enkrid understood that better than anyone. He could see now that even when he was just starting out, he wouldn''t have grasped it the way he could now. If he wanted to become a knight, he couldn''t just imitate¡ªit had to become his own. Having walked that path, he knew the truth of that better than anyone. "Isn''t there anything you can feel from just sparring, even if you can''t learn it?" Ragna spoke as though reading Enkrid''s thoughts. He stopped his sword and his eyes shone with determination. His will was evident. It was as firm and unyielding as the blade he held. Enkrid wondered for a moment whether it was the right time for such a show of spirit. As he stared thoughtfully, the third party stepped forward. "Boss, this is something I learned after seeing some crazy old man do it a while ago. It''d be good to learn it if you can." Rem was wrapping a cord around his axe. What are they doing? Are they emphasizing how enjoyable sparring with them is? "Wasn''t fighting the wandering Teresa fun then?" Teresa asked, with Dunbakel spinning her shoulders in a gesture of readiness, clearly ready to jump into the fray. It seemed like everyone was silently protesting, and Enkrid couldn''t help but chuckle under his breath. Why even say anything? Even though Shinar had brought about a shiver of excitement, would that make him lose interest in sparring with these people? It was said that a hundred people bring a hundred different colors. Enkrid was thrilled just by learning or experiencing anything. So there was no reason to be bothered by their reactions. Enkrid chuckled again. And that''s when it happened. "What? Do I have to stand in line to talk to Commander Enki?" Many had gathered to watch the sparring. Mercenaries who were skilled with swords, soldiers, and more. Among them, there was also Bell and Vengeance. Their voices reached Enkrid''s ears, and he turned his head towards the sound. It was a familiar voice. "Have you been well?" Well-groomed beard and hair¡ªevidence of a professional touch. His attire, different from the guards'', also caught the eye. With a short cane in hand, the man stepped forward from among the soldiers. It was Marcus Baisar, the former lord of the estate. The way he raised his cane made it look like he was visiting a neighbor''s house for a casual chat, but the guards behind him exuded an imposing aura. Everyone had dust on their shoulders. It was clear they had arrived straight from the road, without even stopping to clean up. Enkrid gave a military salute to Marcus in return. "Won''t you offer us a cup of tea? Is it your habit to leave your guests standing outside?" Marcus spoke with a grin, and Enkrid thought it would be more appropriate for the lord to be offering the tea. But then again, he couldn''t turn him away. Looking at Marcus''s appearance, it seemed like he had arrived here straight from the road, without even visiting the lord after coming into the city. "Are you really not going to offer me tea?" Marcus pressed again, his tone playful. Enkrid nodded. It was time to end the sparring. No one seemed disappointed. Enkrid himself needed time to reflect on what Shinar had just shown him. ''A sword strike that feels real but is physically impossible.'' How is that possible? What''s the principle behind it? He needed time to ponder and figure it out. "It''s over now." Rem casually declared, summarizing the situation with a single sentence. Shinar, turning away with an indifferent expression, remarked, "Once a troublemaker. Always a troublemaker." Whether she truly thought that or not, Enkrid couldn''t tell just by her face. But, she did step back without resistance. Marcus, with a smile on his face, made Enkrid think. That was an impeccable timing. "Shall we go?" There was no tea to be found in the barracks. Enkrid headed toward the mess hall. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 344 - Dividing Sides Chapter 344 - 344 - Dividing Sides Chapter 344 - Dividing Sides "Do people actually drink this?" Marcus muttered, holding up the teacup in front of him. The taste was awful. It was a stretch to say it even had a hint of herbal aroma. "If that''s how you feel, you could have come to my office," said Lord Graham, responding to Marcus''s complaint. "This place was closer on the way here, and I heard the sound of fighting, so I stopped by. Did that upset you?" "Not at all," Graham replied flatly. The fact that Marcus had gone to see Enkrid first? So what? Graham remained unbothered. Recently, he''d been engrossed in the simple joy of wielding a sword. Did being the lord mean he should naturally demand respect for himself first? He wasn''t a noble, nor did he care for such formalities. In fact, if he had the time, he''d rather cross swords with Enkrid himself. Could he suggest sparring, even though Enkrid seemed to have just finished a bout? Likely not today, not with Marcus sitting there as well. The dining room was occupied only by Lord Graham, Marcus, Enkrid, and Krais. The other unit members had no intention of intruding on what was obviously a tedious discussion. "Looks like you''re here to kill time. Entertain yourself and head back," was all Rem said before turning and leaving. While Marcus expressed his distaste for the tea, Enkrid remained alert to the two guards standing behind Marcus. One, in particular, caught his attention¡ªthe taller man on the left with long arms and a whip coiled at his waist. The whip had a sharp, spiked tip that promised damage far beyond mere pain. How would he respond if someone closed the distance? Curiosity stirred in Enkrid. A whip was a weapon suited for maintaining distance. The farther the opponent, the greater the advantage. It was a weapon designed to strike without being struck in return, and in skilled hands, it could be deadly. He wanted to face him. An opponent with such a unique weapon piqued his interest. "You didn''t even glance at Kin, did you?" Marcus suddenly said to Enkrid. The statement puzzled Enkrid. Kin? He had no idea who that was. "The beauty from my household who visited before. Don''t you remember?" "Oh," Enkrid muttered. How could he have forgotten? It hadn''t been that long. He just hadn''t thought much of it. "She was furious, claiming you didn''t even ask her name." Marcus took another sip of his tea, grimaced, and pushed the cup aside as though he had no intention of drinking any more. Enkrid acknowledged the remark with a small nod. Marcus was right¡ªhe hadn''t asked her name. She''d waited for two days, but he had sent her away as soon as she arrived. "Did she?" "You''re not even interested, are you?" "Should I be?" "You don''t have to be," Marcus said, chuckling lightly. Had he come here simply to idle away his time? Probably not. Sitting nearby, Krais subtly observed Marcus, trying to discern his intentions. His sharp mind churned, alternating between questions and answers as he pondered. Why had Marcus come here now of all times? To tell them to stop expanding the city? Unlikely. No, that would just be an excuse to step away. As the former lord, Marcus could easily claim he was here to negotiate and reason with them. It would be a valid reason and serve as a pretext for leaving the capital. After all, why had the capital summoned Marcus back from Border Guard previously? They''d accused him of building an army large enough to suggest rebellion and ordered him to return. Yet, even in Marcus''s absence, the city had grown larger. Its military strength had increased. It was becoming a behemoth. One could call it the formation of a threatening independent power. "See? It''s not my fault! That''s why I''m here to give them a stern warning!" He might have presented it elegantly, but the essence of his argument likely hadn''t changed. If he really came to issue a warning, though, it didn''t seem that way to Krais. So why had he left the capital and come here now? What did he want? What was he hoping to achieve? What was so significant about Border Guard? Krais''s gaze naturally shifted to the side. He saw Enkrid''s profile¡ªthe black-haired, blue-eyed, dangerously unpredictable commander of the Madmen Unit. From the palace''s perspective, he was an unforeseen blade emerging from nowhere. Like a red-hot meteor crashing down, his mere presence drew attention, whether favorable or hostile. Marcus, for his part, was more on the favorable side. But trusting someone entrenched in politics was the height of foolishness. Krais had learned this from books he''d read as a child, from experience, and from instinct. Likewise, Marcus probably wouldn''t place his full trust in Enkrid, either. "So, confirmation." What did that mean? While Enkrid, Marcus, and the lord exchanged trivial remarks, Krais delved deep into thought. It was a process of formulating hypotheses and matching them against current events¡ªa constant loop of reassessment. Some things were already known or confirmed through logical inference. Others, newly revealed in light of the present circumstances, were becoming clear. Then there were the unknowns¡ªmatters left shrouded in uncertainty for now. Krais methodically organized these elements in his mind, stacking them layer by layer until a conclusion began to take shape. Only after consolidating what he knew did Krais finally speak. This was something even the commander needed to be aware of to respond appropriately. Leaving it alone would result in being drawn into someone else''s plan. Granted, the commander wasn''t the type to let himself be pulled along. Still, letting visible risks fester was unacceptable. Why did he suddenly recall the sight of the commander''s back blocking his path? The reason was unclear. Regardless, certain things needed to be addressed. Failing to challenge issues at the right moment would result in disadvantage later. Krais knew this, and so he spoke. He moved his tongue with deliberate intent. "Did you come to confirm something?" At this abrupt question, Graham''s gaze turned toward him. The lord had been well-rested and free from burdens, having delegated most of his responsibilities to his adjutant¡ªand, by extension, to Krais, who handled much of the work. With Graham''s tacit approval, Krais had even recruited a few people for administrative tasks, aided significantly by the Rockfreed merchant company. At least when it came to numbers, no one could outmatch them. Well-rested as he was, Graham''s eyes were clear as they fixed on Krais. "What are you trying to say?" Graham''s tone was sharp, though he understood when to interject himself appropriately¡ªone of the reasons Marcus had placed him as lord. Marcus, meanwhile, remained silent, simply observing. "Why does the central authority tolerate someone falsely claiming kingship? Why are border defenses left so exposed?" Krais raised his voice slightly, drawing a frown from Graham. Those words were crossing a line. In some interpretations, they could be seen as hinting at rebellion. This was problematic, especially given the growing pressure from the capital over their expanding military. So far, they''d weathered it largely thanks to Marcus''s efforts in mitigating suspicions at court. But now, this? Placing his hands on the table and leaning forward slightly, Krais continued. "If an army were raised here, the capital wouldn''t send its forces to intervene. No, they couldn''t." Before Graham could respond, Marcus spoke first. "And why do you think that?" "Didn''t I just say?" "You''re referring to leaving someone who claims kingship unchecked and neglecting border defenses?" Despite rampant monsters and marauding beasts¡ªeven the threat of a low-tier demonic realm¡ªthe capital had done nothing. Surely, if a reckless commander and a half-crazed unit could deal with such threats, a proper knightly order could do so as well. After all, hadn''t Krais previously seen Squire Asia and the Frog Lagarne dispatched? If they were deployed, even low-tier demonic realms could be addressed. Yet, they hadn''t acted. No¡ªthey couldn''t act. Sending one squire was possible, but committing a section of the knightly order wasn''t. And the reason? "They lack the resources." That was Krais''s conclusion. "There''s something going on at the center¡ªsomething more dangerous and threatening than dealing with border kings or subduing monsters." Marcus''s gaze swept over Krais, reevaluating him. Was this guy always like this? To be fair, Marcus was impressed. Since arriving at Border Guard, he''d noticed the city had transformed. The most striking change was the outposts stationed with units spread across the surrounding area. Was this merely a measure against monsters and beasts? No, there were additional, more subtle effects. First, it earned the trust of merchants. Stabilizing the outposts could eventually allow even minor traders to pass safely. Expanding these outposts would only amplify this effect. And Marcus himself had seen it¡ªhow the flow of people toward the city created bottlenecks in nearby areas. Merchant confidence would revitalize the city''s economy, circulating wealth in the form of gold coins. As the flow of wealth increased, so would the city''s growth and prosperity. Thus, it wasn''t surprising. No wonder nearby lords are up in arms. The population was the lifeblood of any domain. And now, laborers meant to work the fields were abandoning their lands, flocking to the Border Guard. The city had more than enough capacity to accept them, thanks to Greenperl. The shortages of manpower, food, shelter, and space for cultivation were merely obstacles waiting to be resolved with coin. "Trade brings gold." Rumors draw people. It was an exceptional strategy. And the outposts served another purpose. "An excuse." The capital would inevitably scrutinize the growing military presence. When that happened, they''d need a plausible explanation. The beasts and monsters justified the numbers. And besides, the outposts created safe trade routes, didn''t they? They weren''t amassing forces to wage war. Instead, the outposts dispersed them, providing evidence to refute suspicions. Would the mastermind behind all this stop here? No¡ªKrais wouldn''t. He''d expand the trade routes further, connecting the outposts to neighboring domains. "You can''t connect them all. It''s impossible." "Instead, creating a few more frontier cities should do the trick." A vision unfolded of trade lands spreading outward like a spider''s web, centered on the Border Guard. Behind it lay the vast farmland of Greenpearl, an expansive and fertile region unmatched by the holdings of Count Molsan, the so-called king of the borderlands. With ample manpower to defend it, this land possessed both strength and potential. Had someone already envisioned this far-reaching plan? "Of course." If not, why else would they have set such a scheme in motion? And the mastermind behind it? Judging by the conversation, it seemed to be this wide-eyed man sitting right in front of him. Marcus, observing the results, couldn''t help but acknowledge the brilliance. Not that he would have conceived it himself. He rested his elbows on the table, laced his fingers, and propped his chin on them. "You mentioned something happening at the center. What do you think it is?" "I wouldn''t know," Krais shrugged as he leaned back, feigning nonchalance. Feigning ignorance despite having a guess? This guy''s really something, Marcus thought with a wry smile. "Watch your tone when addressing your lord," barked one of Marcus''s bodyguards, stepping in as Krais smirked and shrugged again, not even sparing the guard a glance. Instead, Krais said with a hint of irony, "Seems like the roles are reversed here." Enkrid, standing nearby, thought it over. Normally, it would be a subordinate stepping in to defend their superior, not the other way around. But this was hardly his concern. Enkrid''s next words were sharp and direct. "Stand down, or you''ll lose your head." The bodyguard''s veins bulged as he gripped the hilt of his sword, brimming with intent to strike. He wasn''t just any soldier¡ªhe carried the demeanor of someone who had fought in dangerous situations before. Enkrid knew the type well: men who underestimated him despite rumors of his abilities. He''d encountered countless such skeptics, even from skilled knights and mercenaries. "If you draw that sword, you''ll regret it. Even running your mouth will earn you a blow," Enkrid warned again. Marcus, intrigued, did nothing to stop the bodyguard, who decided to act. Releasing the clasp on his scabbard, the guard aimed to strike¡ªnot with the blade''s edge, but with its flat, intending to humiliate rather than kill. "Let it go," Graham muttered anxiously, though his voice went unheard. The guard began to draw his sword, intending to slap Krais across the face. But in that instant, Enkrid moved. The chair screeched as it was pushed back before flipping over. By the time it fell, Enkrid had vanished from the guard''s sight. Momentary Will. In a blink, Enkrid was right in front of him. "What¡ª!" the guard gasped, startled. Enkrid pressed down lightly on the guard''s weapon hand, diverting the blow, and drove his opposite elbow into the man''s midsection. Thud. The strike landed between the stomach and heart, knocking the wind out of him. "Guh!" The guard crumpled to the ground, gasping for air. It was a critical blow, one Enkrid had learned from Audin, targeting the respiratory system. The other guard, more cautious, didn''t intervene. Standing behind Marcus, he simply observed, evidently weighing his chances and recognizing the skill disparity. Straightening himself, Enkrid adjusted his posture and turned his attention back to the conversation. Krais had posed a question about confirmation, but Marcus hadn''t answered. What was confirmation? Krais had refrained from voicing his final thought, judging it too dangerous. But Enkrid had no such reservations. "Is it a civil war?" He asked directly. What kind of confirmation was this about? Picking sides. Who''s an ally, and who''s an enemy? And the only reason to draw such lines was war. If it were against an external enemy, this wouldn''t even be necessary. No¡ªit could only mean civil war. "Sharp as ever," Marcus remarked. Enkrid glanced at the fallen guard, wary of another attempt, but the man had wisely taken a step back, clutching his stomach while retreating. His expression was fierce, but his actions betrayed an understanding of the gap in their abilities. "A man worthy of standing against Kin," Marcus added, an enigmatic comment that left Enkrid wondering what relevance it had to the discussion at hand. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 345 - What Kind of Person Should a King Be? Chapter 345 - 345 - What Kind of Person Should a King Be? Chapter 345 - What Kind of Person Should a King Be? "What kind of person should a king be?" Marcus''s sudden question caught Enkrid off guard. Without much thought, Enkrid responded as he usually would¡ªstraightforward and reflecting the principles he lived by: doing whatever it took to claim what he desired. "Whoever wants to be one," he replied. Marcus didn''t comment on the answer but instead shifted the topic. "That''s what I thought a few months ago, too." "And now?" If not someone who desires it, then who else should take the role? "May I answer that?" The voice came from outside the dining hall. Marcus wasn''t alone. Enkrid''s gaze shifted toward the door. "I seem to have unintentionally drawn some attention, Marcus Baisar," the man outside declared loudly. "It was intentional on my part. I rather enjoy such attention, so don''t trouble yourself," Marcus replied, turning slightly to face the direction of the voice. The figure outside stepped into view, catching everyone''s attention. The lord of the estate didn''t recognize him. Krais thought the man looked vaguely familiar, while Enkrid knew exactly who he was. The man had golden hair and carried himself with a casual, almost relaxed air. He stood outside the doorway, where the guards looked to each other, silently asking if they should let him in. There weren''t any onlookers around. This wasn''t a duel or spectacle worth gathering for¡ªit was just a quiet meeting, with some tea shared among a small group. Krais had already dismissed unnecessary personnel, keeping the guards posted for security. The man gave the guards a faint, almost mischievous smile, as if asking politely to be let in. The guards hesitated. Should they allow him through or turn him away? "Let him in," Enkrid said. The estate''s lord didn''t object, and Marcus gave no indication of disapproval either. It seemed the man wasn''t entirely unfamiliar to them. The golden-haired man''s boots clattered softly against the stone floor as he entered, his attire simple¡ªa plain brown shirt and loose-fitting pants, far from the garb of a noble. Stopping in front of Enkrid, the man spoke. "It''s been a while." "Are you here as a noble?" Enkrid asked, standing up and raising his voice slightly. When they had last met, the man had been a soldier. His question implied curiosity about what had changed since then. "No need for formalities. I''m just a wanderer now," the man replied casually. "Still using the same name?" "Krang," the man said, brushing a hand through his golden hair as he formally introduced himself, extending his hand for a handshake. A handshake¡ªa gesture rooted in showing mutual trust, proving neither party held a weapon. Enkrid clasped the offered hand, shook it lightly, and released it. Only then did Krais remember who the man was. Krais rarely forgot a face, but it had been years since they had crossed paths, and their interaction back then had been brief. If anything, it was a testament to Krais''s sharp memory that he even recalled. "The field hospital back then?" Krais asked instinctively. [[T/L] - For anyone not recalling this guy is the blond dude that''s been with enkrid in the infirmary at the start of the novel. Look for the 6th Chapter of the manhwa, the blonde guy with blue eyes.I don''t think it''s been outright mentioned but hinted at that he''s more than he appeared to be.] "That''s right. You''ve got quite the memory, soldier," Krang replied, throwing a casual nod toward the estate''s lord in acknowledgment. "Who is this?" Graham asked hesitantly, rising awkwardly to his feet. Marcus responded in Krang''s stead. "A wanderer, a drifter, and if I may add one more... hmm." Pausing, Marcus took a sip of tea, only to grimace at the taste. Clearing his throat, he finished his thought. "A bastard." Marcus didn''t seem inclined to stand, so Graham awkwardly sank back into his seat. The others followed suit, with Krang naturally taking an empty chair. The lord of the estate didn''t catch on, but the mention of bastard made Krais''s expression shift briefly, as though something had clicked. Krang, noticing the subtle reactions, gave everyone a cheerful smile¡ªthe same sly yet disarming grin he had worn before. Though Enkrid noticed a faint scar on Krang''s cheek that hadn''t been there before, the man''s expression remained as amicable as ever. "This winter has been particularly cold. How are you holding up?" Krang asked with a casual tone. Caught off guard by the abrupt question, Enkrid replied. "When you''re rolling through battles, you forget about things like the cold." "I''ve heard you had quite a fiery time." "And it sounds like you had your fair share of warmth as well." "I''ve always dreamed of spending winters wrapped in heated furs, rolling around lazily, and enjoying flower-viewing festivals come spring." Krang spoke with a smile, his tone lighthearted, but Enkrid couldn''t help but marvel at him. A bastard, huh? Whose bastard, though? Someone willing to use a Baisar family member for diversion¡ªa bastard of a noble house capable of moving such powerful families into position. "Royalty," Krais stated, arriving at the conclusion aloud. It seemed Krang had no intention of hiding it. Their conversation had been calculated to offer enough hints for anyone to piece it together. The mention of winter''s chill referred to the battlefields Enkrid had endured, while Krang hinted at equally intense skirmishes fought behind the scenes, if not directly on the battlefield. Krang simply smiled in response to Krais''s observation. Graham, however, began to question his presence in such a conversation. "Graham, do you have any fine tea prepared in your study? Let''s enjoy a proper cup," Marcus offered, pulling Graham out of his uneasy thoughts. "Yes, of course. It should suit your taste perfectly," Graham replied. He had procured an expensive blend, partly out of gratitude toward Marcus for granting him his current position as lord. With Marcus''s gesture, only the guard carrying a whip remained behind, while the rest rose to leave. "What is this about, Lord Marcus?" Graham whispered to Marcus as they exited. "What does it seem like to you?" "It seems like something best left alone, even if I know." "Then leave it alone." Graham was a man who understood his limits, a quality Marcus valued greatly. A man like Graham wouldn''t waver or break even with someone like Enkrid under his command. "Just serve the tea." "Understood. Let''s go." Without further comment, Graham moved forward. After Marcus, the guard, and Graham departed, Krais remained in place. Even if he left the room, he doubted his commander would make any rash decisions or choose a side recklessly. Yet there was always the chance. The slightest possibility. With such uneasy thoughts stirring in his mind, Krais resolved to stay, at least to observe. The moment Krais recognized Krang as a royal bastard, countless possibilities flashed through his mind. Alongside them, he considered how to respond to each scenario. What if the man demanded Krais swear allegiance? What if he proposed joining a knightly order or pledging loyalty to the royal family? Or what if he offered an absurd fortune in gold? Would that be such a bad thing? If the fortune were substantial enough to establish five grand salons in the capital, wouldn''t it be worth selling one''s loyalty for a time? No, that''s absurd. Krais''s mind worked as quickly as Enkrid''s blade or Rem''s mastery of multiple weapons¡ªswift and simultaneous. And so, even as questions arose, he reached his conclusions almost instantly. You must never trust a politician''s words. Krang sat here with Marcus''s backing, having maneuvered one of the five great families that supported Naurilia into position for distraction. Krais understood how such a royal bastard might have infiltrated this space. His plain attire and mannerisms spoke volumes. He''s hiding his identity. And why would he need to do so? Because he''s being hunted. If his life were truly under threat, then Enkrid''s blade, his hands, and all he had built would naturally become desirable assets. So, how should one view this man? If this were to lead to civil war, would this bastard lay claim to the throne as a rival king? A frontier king against a bastard king, both vying for the throne. Which side should I choose? The one offering the greatest advantage, of course. But for now, waiting was prudent. No matter how tempting the offer, even if a mountain of gold was presented, it would be wise to reject it with gritted teeth. Unless... I take the advance and keep my mouth shut? Krais quickly dismissed the thought, knowing his commander would never stoop to such tactics. Masking his thoughts with an unchanged expression, Krais finished sorting through his calculations. He was ready to counter any proposition. "Are you aware that our kingdom has ''lost'' its language?" Krang asked suddenly. What an unexpected question. No, it wasn''t even a question. It was more of a cryptic statement. Krang wasn''t delivering riddles, though. His words flowed smoothly, captivating the room. Krais found the man''s voice oddly pleasant¡ªclear and compelling, with a certain magnetic charm. Such charisma wasn''t unfamiliar to Krais. Natural talent. People who could captivate others so effortlessly, with a voice, a gesture, a presence. Krang lightly tapped the table as he continued. "Why is it that the languages across the continent are all the same?" Krais, who had spent his life thinking and calculating to survive, realized this was something he had never considered. It wasn''t common knowledge, but it wasn''t entirely obscure either¡ªsomething he might have understood if he had given it any thought. "The same language?" Enkrid murmured to himself. "Yes, the same. This is frustrating. Shall we take a walk? The sky is clear today. It feels like a waste to stay cooped up indoors while under threat of assassination." Enkrid stood silently. Assassins. By now, the word had grown familiar to him. He had faced malice and killers many times before. The first time he had encountered an assassin, it had been because of Krang. If Krang was still being pursued, then it was clear someone wanted him dead. But wasn''t the current ruler a queen? Who, then, had fathered her child? That, however, was a trivial question for another time. "Have you ever wondered why the entire continent speaks similar languages?" "No." "Exactly, most don''t. But have you heard of the expedition to recover the royal language?" "As a fleeting glimpse." There had been sightings in the market of people carrying dictionaries tied together with phrases rather than scriptures. Krais had seen them too. According to Gilpin, such people weren''t ones to cause trouble. "They just stick to themselves," he''d said. Krang rose from his seat and walked outside. As he had said, the weather was splendid. "The outside could be more dangerous," the escort warned. "But it''s suffocating in here," Krang replied, pulling out a canteen from his waist to take a sip. Even that small gesture revealed something important. Krang didn''t eat or drink without care. Only provisions he prepared himself made it past his lips. Enkrid matched Krang''s pace, walking alongside him. "Don''t get too close," the escort cautioned. "Stay quiet," Krang interjected, silencing the escort. "Are you coming along?" Krang asked Krais. Krais glanced briefly at his commander. "Follow," Enkrid ordered. "Yes." Krais''s response showed whose command he ultimately followed. With Enkrid''s permission, Krais joined them. "Don''t fret too much, soldier. I didn''t come here to stir up trouble," Krang said, his faint smile softening the tension. If he wasn''t here to challenge their commander, then why had he come? "For leisure," Krang said with the same unshakable smile. Enkrid stayed silent, but Krais nodded outwardly while his inner doubts grew. The royal bastard, a potential claimant in a civil war¡ªsuch a man did not come for simple leisure. Yet Krang''s actions were consistent with his claim. He strolled along the training grounds adjacent to the barracks, making casual remarks, not a single word of solicitation to their cause. "It''s because of the Empire," Krang said. "The Empire buried the royal language. Wiped it out." "The unification of language is heralded as a great achievement," Krais interjected with a natural question. Indeed, that much was true. But even so, the royal language should have been preserved with due respect. "What is language, soldier?" Krang asked. "Language is... words, speech... hmm." For a moment, Krais''s sharp mind delved into the question. His unique thought process was what set him apart, akin to the revered minds of sages. "Culture. Part of culture has disappeared," he concluded. "Correct, soldier," Krang said with a faint smile. Krais noted how fittingly charming that smile was. Were Krang not royalty, he might have thrived as a salon entertainer. The royal language had been suppressed by the Empire''s tyranny, all for the sake of control. Why would the Empire do such a thing? To unify the continent? No. It was to exploit the kingdoms as they waged war amongst themselves. Through control, the Empire could manipulate kingdoms to its advantage. A politically astute move. "A bothersome affair," Krang said with a grin, his words carrying an unsettling undertone. To Krais, this was clear. ''He''s already planning his future as king.'' Krang had already marked the Empire as his enemy. He spoke with the certainty of someone who believed their succession to the throne was inevitable. And if he failed? What did it matter? The fate of the royal house after his death was irrelevant to him. "Count Molsan is quite formidable," Enkrid pointed out, addressing a potential obstacle. "Well, something will work out," Krang replied nonchalantly. No plan? Was this a joke? Krais, bewildered, voiced his skepticism. "Something, sir?" Krang stopped walking. Standing still, he extended his open palm behind him. Enkrid, Krais, and the escort halted. Krang stepped forward, creating a short distance from the group before turning. "The kingdom is fraught with internal strife. Claimants to the throne abound, while the continent swarms with beasts and monstrosities. Nobles'' voices rise above the queen''s, yet there''s no hand to subdue them. The knights struggle merely to mend the gaps in the maelstrom, and those who''ve abandoned loyalty for greed are scattered everywhere." His voice carried just enough weight, resonating through the greenery beside the barracks. It drew their attention like a spotlight in a dark theater, consuming the surrounding silence. Krang had achieved this with a mere few steps, subtle gestures, and chosen words. Once he had their focus, Krang spoke again. "My task is to ensure that doesn''t happen." ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 346 – A Roaring Laugh Chapter 346 - 346 ¨C A Roaring Laugh Chapter 346 ¨C A Roaring Laugh The queen of Naurilia has no children. This, of course, means there is no heir. So, who should be the next king? Why hasn''t the queen borne any children? This vacuum has naturally caused contenders for the throne to emerge from all corners. The queen''s weak central authority is perhaps the most significant factor. This has led to figures like Count Molsan proclaiming themselves kings of remote regions. Within the capital, there are those vying to become the queen''s consort. Some foreign envoys have even offered to send their princes to stake a claim. In other words, many covet the throne. Krang was one of them. Krais hadn''t met all the contenders for the throne, but comparing Krang to Count Molsan alone was enough. Krang was easily the most dangerous pretender to the throne at present. And from that, Krais came to a conclusion. "His measure is different." Enkrid felt similarly. Even when compared to Count Molsan. While merely intuition, it was evident that Count Molsan''s ambitions stopped at the throne. His goal was the crown, nothing more. But Krang was different. The royal bastard wasn''t merely looking at the throne. He was looking beyond it. "He''s confronting the problems of this kingdom head-on." While Count Molsan might have plans for the kingdom after seizing power, the difference lay in priorities. What comes first: the throne, or what must be done? Why does one strive? What is the ultimate goal? Under the gentle sunlight, vines twisted around the wall of the barracks to the right. Green moss and the vibrant life within the vines thrived in the cracks. It was spring, and the days were gradually warming. But it wasn''t yet warm enough to sweat from walking. Amid this tranquil sunlight, the man who had captivated everyone''s attention let out a small chuckle. "That''s why I really didn''t want to do it." His final remark carried a tinge of humor. "Is that so?" "Don''t you agree? Have you never not wanted to do something? Never felt tired of the path you''re walking? Never questioned whether you had to take this road?" Enkrid turned Krang''s words over in his mind. No, he hadn''t. He had never grown weary or questioned it. Not once. Wielding his sword brought him joy. The path it paved was exciting. Every moment of becoming a knight was euphoric. Even as Krang''s words neared jest, his unique atmosphere remained intact. His eyes locked onto Enkrid''s. In that moment, Enkrid felt as though everything around them disappeared, leaving only the two of them. "Could you truly say you''ve never suffered?" That was the question Krang''s gaze seemed to pose. Enkrid felt compelled to agree. There was no force, no pressure, but the atmosphere demanded it. This was Krang''s peculiar presence. Within it, Enkrid became a sword, firm and unyielding. Drawing upon his inner resolve, he spoke without hesitation. "Not at all." Enkrid''s reply wiped the smile from Krang''s face. The man''s blue eyes studied Enkrid intently, his expression neutral. It was the kind of moment one might savor, like holding a sip of tea and appreciating its flavor before swallowing. And then, Krang burst out laughing. "Pahahahaha!" He laughed uproariously, throwing his head back as his laughter rang out freely. Krang''s escort had never seen his lord laugh like this. Laughing so hard he tipped his head back, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. It was strange, unfamiliar, and incomprehensible. Given his life until now, it seemed miraculous he could laugh so freely. Worrying about poison to the point of preparing his own meals was a minor concern. Krang lived under constant threat of assassination. Identifying the culprits behind such attempts was an unending struggle. He had to dodge danger again and again while also building his power. He had to turn luck into his ally. "Why should I support you?" A noble had once posed this question, and the escort had silently agreed. What was there to trust? "Did trust and faith guide your actions?" With a few words and his natural charm, Krang turned the situation around. He charmed others, changed the circumstances, but always maintained his boundaries. Some lines could not be crossed. He adhered to his principles. That was the life he chose. Harsh. Incredibly harsh. But that harshness made him shine. To shine is to capture attention, captivate, and stand out wherever you go. Is that why a stone that scatters vivid colors is valued more than food, drink, or clothing? That noble who questioned him became one of Krang''s most steadfast supporters. "How can you achieve your desires by only walking the righteous path?" A man called a sage had once asked. Krang had answered, "Occasionally, you may step into the mud, and the dirt on your boots might soil the floor. But can I allow those who live with me to see that and scowl in disgust? Of course not." The sage, instead of countering, fell into deep thought at Krang''s words. "You''re right," the sage eventually said. "And so are you," Krang replied. The two became close confidants. The escort had witnessed it all. He knew the years they''d endured. That''s why Krang''s laughter felt so foreign. To see his master laugh so earnestly, from the heart, was astonishing. "Ah, so it''s true. You really haven''t," Krang said, wiping the tears from his eyes with his finger. He had laughed so hard, tears had fallen. "Indeed. I haven''t," Enkrid replied calmly. Enkrid neither asked why Krang laughed nor showed any confusion. He simply answered. The dialogue between the lord and the black-haired man continued without the radiance of a unique atmosphere. Only a few trivial words were exchanged. "Why did you charge into enemy lines alone back then?" "I didn''t charge. I intended to strike and retreat but got bogged down." It was the story of being trapped in a trap set by the strategist Abnaier. "Wouldn''t it have been easier if you''d led your troops?" The question wasn''t to criticize but to reflect on past events to avoid repeating similar mistakes in the future. Watching from the side, Krais thought Krang''s approach was wise. There was always something to learn, even from the battlefield. Krang listened, not to nitpick, but with a sincere attitude of understanding¡ªsimilar to how Enkrid absorbed the words of others. "If I had brought my troops, the losses would have been catastrophic." Enkrid had survived because it was just him¡ªdying and fighting his way out. If he''d led a unit, they would have all perished, or at least been half-destroyed. In hindsight, his decision had been the correct one. "But you didn''t know that at the time." Krang pressed further. "I thought attacking the enemy''s front alone would draw enough attention to allow our forces greater freedom of movement." "A battle for the elite few, then." To an observer, this might have been a serious discussion of strategies and tactics, but to the two, it was a lighthearted exchange. Naturally, the topic shifted quickly. "What''s that scar?" Enkrid asked. "It''s from trusting the wrong person." Krang bore a long scar beneath his chin, one that must have come from a near-fatal encounter. Enkrid said nothing more¡ªhis response a simple internal acknowledgment. "So that''s how it is," he thought, considering the man''s poor judgment. A king is someone who commands people. Without discernment, betrayal is inevitable. Sometimes, words aren''t needed to convey meaning. Enkrid''s demeanor spoke volumes. The sight made the veins on Krang''s guard''s forehead bulge in irritation. It wasn''t poor judgment. If only they knew the circumstances, they wouldn''t dismiss it so lightly. "I''ve learned much from it," Krang said with a quiet chuckle, a reaction the guard found unfamiliar. Until now, Krang''s smiles had always been faint at best. The pleasant walk and conversation, enjoying the mild spring weather, soon came to an end. "See you again, friend," Krang said. Krais felt oddly deflated. Krang hadn''t once suggested taking his side or fighting for his vision. All the preparations Krais had made for a retort seemed pointless. Wasn''t this the part where someone like him would say, Why don''t you join me in creating such a nation? Stand with me, and I''ll grant you gold to swim in and a parade of beautiful women to entertain you! But then again, a man like that wouldn''t have come this far. As Krais mulled over his thoughts, Enkrid spoke up. "Are we friends?" "Why wouldn''t we be?" Krang replied. "Fine, let''s say we are." The guard felt his neck stiffen at the exchange. He couldn''t intervene, though, as Krang had ordered him to stand down. More importantly, the guard trusted his lord''s actions carried meaning and purpose, even if they weren''t always pleasing to watch. Still, it looked as though his lord was practically pleading for friendship by handing over coins¡ªan image that made the guard clench his jaw unconsciously. "If this goes on, I might end up using my whip on your head," the guard muttered. "Well, dodge it if you can," Krang said with a laugh. Even Enkrid smirked at that. Having befriended Leona, the head of the Rockfreed Merchant Guild, it wasn''t bad to see someone who might one day ascend to the throne as a friend. That wasn''t the real reason, though. Enkrid simply liked Krang as a person. "Until next time." "Indeed." Enkrid and Krais departed. Krang quietly watched them go. The guard finally broke the silence. "You are aware of the risks in coming here, aren''t you?" "I am." Krang rested a hand on his hip and tilted his head toward the sky. It was such a fine day, he thought. The sunlight was warm, the air mild. Perfect for lying in the grass and taking a nap. The guard, observing him, couldn''t help but ask the fundamental question. Krang always emphasized addressing doubts before they festered into misunderstandings. Left unchecked, misunderstandings led to conflict¡ªsituations that could often be avoided with simple dialogue. So the guard asked, "Then why did you come here?" "I was curious." It was clear he was referring to the man who had just left. The guard voiced the natural follow-up question. "Curious about his skill?" Should they have sparred? The guard pondered. Krang shielded his eyes from the sun as he gazed upward. He spoke his thoughts aloud. "I was curious if things haven''t changed." A faint chuckle escaped his lips, and his escort tilted his head in mild confusion but didn''t press further. Not everything required an answer. Understanding every detail of his master''s mind wasn''t necessary; what mattered was that Krang had sought something, confirmed it, and found satisfaction in the result. "Ah, I see." "Good." Krang held Enkrid in high regard, perhaps more than anyone else did¡ªeven more than Enkrid himself. If someone can remain unchanging like that... Unwavering resolve captivates those around it. It commands attention, inspires others, and exerts influence. In Krang''s philosophy, having influence over others was no small feat. He could have pursued politics. A man who could have established a powerful house instead chose the sword, aiming to become a knight. A knight stood at the pinnacle of martial prowess. If a man like Enkrid achieved that status, what would happen? Not my concern. Krang had confirmed all he needed to know. Enkrid had not changed. He was still striving to be a knight, while Krang was steering toward leading a kingdom. "Do you think a continent without war is possible?" "If you desire it, my lord." "Easier said than done." Krang chuckled, giving his escort a firm pat on the shoulder. For a moment, the master seemed lighter than usual, though perhaps it was a trick of the eye. Krang began walking. "Let''s go. If we want to survive, there''s still a lot of struggling left to do." "Understood." The escort followed his master, sunlight casting long shadows behind them. "The throne shouldn''t go to someone who wants it. It should go to someone who doesn''t." As they returned, Enkrid spoke, prompting Krais to correct him. "More accurately, it should go to someone who knows what they''re doing. A man ignorant of his own duties can''t even beg properly, let alone rule." Krais blended his response with a continental proverb. Even becoming a beggar requires knowing what to do. Enkrid''s comment was a reply to a question Marcus had posed earlier. A ruler''s worth wasn''t in desire but in understanding the weight of their responsibilities and the path they must walk. "In that sense, it makes him an impressive person," Marcus noted. "Or just someone not as stupid as he could be?" Enkrid''s question carried a deeper implication, which Krais understood. He gave the most suitable answer. "No, I don''t think that''s the case." Krais reflected on why Krang had come here. The reason had to be simple. He came to see this man. Why would Krang seek out Enkrid? Because of his growing fame? Because he was making waves? Unlikely. But whatever the reason, Krang had made sacrifices¡ªtime, information, and security. "Do you think it''s dangerous?" Enkrid asked abruptly. Enkrid, perceptive as always, had grasped the potential risks surrounding Krang. He wasn''t wrong to do so. Krais respected his commander''s sharp mind. "Yes. I wonder if he''ll make it out alive. Didn''t he say he was heading to the royal palace?" Indeed, Krang had mentioned returning to the royal palace, a treacherous journey fraught with hazards. Yet despite the dangers, he had come here. The trade hub of Border Guard, which Krais had established, had seen explosive growth. With the involvement of the Rocfreed Merchant Guild, commerce was booming, and the city was bustling like never before. But a bustling city was also the perfect hiding place for those with ill intent. You can''t stop every spy. Krais had tightened the security around key facilities but left less critical areas unchecked. Expanding the intelligence guild for internal surveillance was a future goal, but not yet a priority. If Krang was still facing threats to his life? That seemed inevitable. Even now, Enkrid was analyzing the situation, explaining his reasoning. "His escort adjusted their stance, always keeping ready for action." "He wouldn''t touch food or water unless it was pre-prepared. He''s seen hardship." "And no hidden guards... That suggests he doesn''t have many people around him." For Krang, no place could be as dangerous as Border Guard. The moment he left, assassins could easily target him¡ªperhaps even ramming his carriage. Krais listened to Enkrid''s reasoning and nodded. His commander''s deduction made sense. "If you want to do it, just do it, right?" Who was the commander of the Madmen Unit? A man with jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes: Enkrid. "I know. But I still need to understand why." "In any case, I agree that he''s too valuable to lose." When they returned to camp, Marcus was already there, and Enkrid preempted any serious remarks Marcus might make. "We''ll escort him to the royal palace. Talk to Krais about the fee." Marcus let out a surprised grunt, his jaw dropping slightly. Enkrid''s quick thinking had completely caught him off guard. "Huh? Are we going somewhere?" From behind, Rem asked, already itching for action. Looks like I''ll have to take him along, Enkrid thought, nodding to himself. Keeping Rem close was better than letting him stir up trouble elsewhere. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 347 - Couldn’t Be Better Chapter 347 - 347 - Couldn''t Be Better Chapter 347 - Couldn''t Be Better Though Enkrid had decided to act as Krang''s escort, it wasn''t something that needed immediate action. "We''ll stay here for about ten days, a week at the earliest, before moving on," Marcus stated. "Wouldn''t lingering longer here increase the risk?" Krais interjected, seeking clarification. Marcus shook his head. "Doesn''t this feel like a bit too much risk just to meet one person?" Krais quickly grasped Marcus''s implication, as did Enkrid. Krang had come to see him, yes, but that wasn''t the sole reason for the visit. The journey to the Border Guard city was a gamble in itself, meaning there had to be other practical objectives. It made sense. Count Molsan was a significant figure whose influence extended even into the noble circles of the capital. Avoiding such a man''s notice, along with evading the queen who still held the throne at the center of the kingdom, was no small feat. Whether the queen lacked interest in securing an heir or had hidden motives remained unclear. And yet, in this situation, someone aimed to usurp the throne. Would it be simple? Or impossible? Krang started from a disadvantaged position. He had no solid base, advantageous standing, or favorable circumstances¡ªonly the royal blood of an illegitimate prince. "Well, there''s also his unique charisma," Krais thought to himself. Krais had only ever encountered one other person who naturally commanded such presence. The first? Enkrid. "The captain is peculiar, after all." In Krais''s eyes, Krang stood out for a different reason. He wasn''t just someone who inspired loyalty and admiration but also a figure who propelled himself forward by rallying those around him to his cause. Krang resembled a massive ship, carrying and guiding its passengers to their destination. Enkrid, however, was more like a lone flag. Standing firmly on its own, it waved boldly, leading the charge or serving as a beacon, a goal, or even a shield. "And his abilities are exceptional too," Krais admitted. Still, this "ship" named Krang was waging a losing battle. For Krang to have endured this long and achieved what he had proved one thing: both he and his allies possessed extraordinary capabilities. "So, are we leaving now, or what?" Rem, full of energy now that the cold had subsided, asked impatiently, having failed to grasp the ongoing conversation. Picking his nose, he waited for an answer. "Not yet," Enkrid said, raising a hand as though calming a restless animal. "Wait." His tone resembled someone speaking to a dog. "..." Rem responded by silently grabbing his axe. It wasn''t surprising that he started swinging it around shortly after¡ªit was half-intended teasing. And so, the days were spent sparring, training, and honing their skills. It''s easier to dig a deep well if you only focus on one spot. "Focus on one thing and perfect it." This was the first piece of advice given to anyone picking up a weapon, whether it was a sword or an axe. Graceful, heavy, deceptive, swift, fluid¡ªwhich path will you choose? Ask ten skilled fighters, and ten will give the same advice: If you dig multiple wells, none will yield water. Eventually, you''ll die of thirst. Of course, there''s the added advice that you should at least dig where there''s likely to be water¡ªchoosing a path that suits you. But that''s a more detailed and nuanced topic. The core conclusion is this: "Stick to one thing." Ask a hundred people, and the answer remains the same. But Enkrid didn''t follow this advice. He dug into multiple wells at once. The Heart of the Beast, Sense of Evasion, Isolation Technique, and Will¡ªhe delved into them all. He learned a variety of swordsmanship styles. If asked, a hundred out of a hundred would say this was the wrong approach. Yet no one among the Madmen Unit criticized him for it. Because while ten or even a hundred voices may seem to reveal a universal truth, gather a thousand or ten thousand people, and a few will offer different perspectives: "Why does it have to be that way?" "Does it matter? Just follow where your instincts lead." Those who question the norm often hear: "Do all geniuses think like you?" People like this were often seen as crazy or envied. And understandably so. They defied conventional paths yet outpaced everyone else. They didn''t run at the same speed as others. For ordinary people watching such extraordinary figures, frustration and despair were inevitable. Talent is the ultimate inequality. The world is not fair. The goddess of fortune doesn''t favor everyone equally. This is a truth universally acknowledged. Enkrid had heard similar remarks countless times. "Focus on one thing." Why not devote himself to the Valah-style mercenary sword or specialize in speed? "Focus on the first strike. Commit to it entirely. You''ll improve, at least more than you have now." Many who admired Enkrid''s determination offered such advice. But Enkrid didn''t listen. He didn''t stick to one thing. To be precise, he couldn''t. Because if he did, he wouldn''t have survived. After the cursed blessing became part of him, he naturally adapted to various skills and disciplines. During that time, did he never think about digging just one well? He did. But he dismissed it. Not everyone''s advice is correct. Enkrid followed his instincts. Above all, it was the enjoyment that guided him. "This is fun." And so was that. Thanks to today''s repetition, what could have been torment turned into exhilaration. By embracing it with joy, the question of whether to dig one well or many became irrelevant. On top of the skills taught by the Madmen unit, he built his swordsmanship. Every step of the process was enjoyable and thrilling. Each day felt new. Every morning was like a gift. Growth, change, and progress¡ªall of it immersed him in sheer delight. This wasn''t something anyone could do¡ªit required being Enkrid. Could the joy of crawling forward, even on hands and knees, resonate with others? No. Not everyone could feel that way. It was only possible because he was Enkrid. Because he sincerely appreciated not being able to settle, every day and every moment felt fresh and joyful. His endless passion, his blessings that were also curses, and the Madmen unit, which started as coincidence but became a bond¡ª All of these combined allowed Enkrid to draw water from every well. "If I had to divide talent with swords, weapons, or martial arts, I''d categorize it into two types." These were the words of an instructor from the great city, a man firm in his principles and standards. "One is this." As he spoke, he tapped his forehead with his index finger. "The talent to use a sword with your mind. Observing, analyzing, strategizing. The second is the talent of the body. Does your body follow through on what you envision? If it doesn''t, no matter how resolute your mind is, it means your body doesn''t align with your thoughts. For example, flinching when a sword flies toward you? That shows your body isn''t obeying your will." So, focus on one. If you''re going to use a sword, strike first. This was the same man who advised prioritizing fast strikes in the mercenary style. But no one in the Madmen unit spoke like that. They were talents who shattered common sense from outside the norm. Even Shinar was considered rare among the Fairyfolk. Moreover, even to their eyes, the skills Enkrid had amassed were interconnected. There was no need to obsess over digging just one well. "That was good, just now." Like what Rem had felt moments earlier. The Isolation Technique combined with Audin''s martial arts flowed into Enkrid''s sword. The Sword Capture technique, built on the foundation of an unnamed sword style, was infused with Ragna''s greatsword techniques. Moments ago, Enkrid had struck down with the silver longsword in his right hand while resting his left hand on Ember, taking a half-step forward with his left foot. Ember was a fast, straight-thrusting sword. Its overwhelming momentum forced Rem to swing his axe. Deflect and redirect. In an instant, his thoughts processed, and he decided. But Ember didn''t thrust. Nor did the descending sword carry weight. In that moment of bewilderment, Enkrid used the two core techniques as bait to close the distance. From there, he initiated close combat. It was a method incorporating Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship. Moreover, both sword techniques carried the convincing intensity of being "real." It was a lesson he had learned from the oppressive sword stance. "You''re crazy!" Rem shouted excitedly, caught up in the moment. Enkrid''s hand twisted Rem''s arm backward. In a situation where his arm felt like it might break, Rem leapt into the air, pushing off the ground, and spun his body. It was an acrobatic move. Twisting his body in the same direction as his arm, he struck Enkrid''s forearm with the edge of his hand, breaking free. As Enkrid retreated, his movements seemed calculated. He caught the longsword he had lightly tossed upward moments before. Gripping it firmly, he slashed downward. It was the oppressive sword technique combined with the greatsword''s downward slash. The ingenious move was so exhilarating it thrilled Rem. Landing on the ground and immediately pushing off with immense leg strength, Rem blurred into motion, leaving afterimages. It seemed as if his body had split in two: one stationary and one retreating. Enkrid''s sword cleaved through the stationary Rem. The retreating Rem bent his back, then leaned forward, launching two axes from both hands. "Insane." Enkrid marveled inwardly. Rem''s move was completely improvised. Fwoosh! With a thunderous sound, the axes spun like flying discs. Enkrid angled his sword diagonally. In doing so, he perfectly intercepted the axes. Clang! The impact reverberated as the axes struck the sword, causing his entire body to tremble. The sheer force embedded within the axes was overwhelming. The axes ricocheted into the air, tracing strange trajectories before plunging into the ground. With weight concentrated on their blades, they landed upright without their handles touching the earth. Enkrid stood with knees slightly bent, holding his longsword diagonally with both hands. "Let''s stop here," Rem said, seeing Enkrid block the axes. Any further, and someone would have broken bones or worse. After everything, Rem remarked, "That was good, just now." Catching his breath, Enkrid replied, "That axe throw¡ªit was improvised, wasn''t it?" "You already knew, so why ask?" For Enkrid, the technique of throwing his sword was a result of days of contemplation. But Rem? Not so much. He observed his opponent and devised an improvised move on the spot. And yet, the execution was flawless. "What would''ve come next?" "Sling, charge, hand-to-hand combat." Rem was describing what followed after throwing his axes. But such moves were lethal techniques, not meant for mere sparring. The sequence involved hurling stones with a sling, charging forward, and engaging in close-quarters combat with fists and kicks. Rem''s proficiency in hand-to-hand combat was formidable. What made him truly fearsome was his relentless charge. As his opponent dodged or blocked the incoming stones, their stance and breathing would falter¡ªa vulnerability Rem would mercilessly exploit. "Not bad," Enkrid nodded. In his mind, he could visualize Rem''s movements clearly. "Pretty good," Rem nodded back, genuinely impressed by Enkrid''s growth. Of course, Enkrid didn''t master everything in one go. His learning process was peculiar. At times, it seemed painfully slow, yet when he finally grasped something, it was as if a switch flipped overnight. He displayed no hesitation, no resistance to change, and no prejudice. He genuinely admired and absorbed his opponents'' techniques, reflecting on them with sincerity. Such an attitude was rare, and Rem appreciated it. "Having fun?" Rem asked. "Do you even need to ask?" Enkrid replied. Apart from sparring with Rem, Enkrid occasionally crossed swords with Ragna. He also maintained his training sessions with Audin. And then there was Dunbakel. "Take me with you!" Despite knowing little about the mission, Dunbakel had declared her intent to join. She wanted to accompany them on a guard assignment. Enkrid nodded without hesitation. It was certain that assassins or other threats would emerge during this mission. Would it be dangerous? Would it be a thorny path? Would it be fraught with peril? Most likely. And yet, knowing all this, Enkrid couldn''t help but feel a spark of anticipation. "Why do you look so excited?" Big Eyes noticed the expression on his face and asked. Each time, Enkrid answered honestly. "Who do you think will come after us?" In Big Eyes'' mind, three or four assassination groups he knew flashed by. Having started life in the underworld, he had his share of knowledge. And now, as the head of the Gilpin Guild, which operated much like an information guild, he knew even more. "Troublesome folks?" When Big Eyes said this, Enkrid''s smile brightened, as warm as spring sunlight. Big Eyes frowned. "What''s so funny about that?" "Why wouldn''t it be?" Thwack, thwack. Rem tapped Big Eyes on the head, grinning. "Trying to understand this guy''s mind will only make you crazy." Enkrid found the comment slightly irritating. The craziest person here calling him crazy? It felt like the pot calling the kettle black. No, perhaps it was more like a dog covered in mud scolding another dog for being dusty. "Fine. Let''s settle this. Rem, I accept your challenge." "...What challenge? Where in my words was there a challenge?" "In all of it." "Pretty sure it was just banter." Big Eyes thought the two of them were cut from the same cloth. In any case, time passed, and five days flew by. "Things wrapped up sooner than expected." A formal request had come in from Marcus. The task was to guard members of a royal family''s trading caravan. Publicly, it was a guard job for a family convoy. Privately, it involved protecting a royal illegitimate child. The escort mission would start from the border guard post and end at the royal capital. With plans set to depart in two days, the group spent the following day selecting who would go and who would stay. "...Damn it. Who let this stray cat sneak in?" Rem grumbled as he entered the tent. He had just returned from gathering equipment and provisions, including some spiced jerky. Enkrid had even picked up a flask of brandy¡ªjust in case a moment called for a drink. But as soon as they stepped in, they saw someone seated inside. "Sneaking in? More like you''re too dull to notice," the figure retorted. As always, the man had blended so seamlessly into the surroundings that he might as well have been a part of the furnishings. "You''re back?" Enkrid asked, standing just inside the entrance. Jaxen, the returnee, nodded from his seat. "Yes, I''m back. But I''ll need to leave again soon." "Where to?" "To the capital." "...By capital, do you mean Naurelia, where the royal palace is?" Enkrid''s question made Jaxen blink once before replying. "What other capital would I mean?" Coincidence? Or perhaps just good fortune. "We''re headed there too." Jaxen blinked again. They''re going where? "Deadweight. Are you seriously bringing him along?" Rem interjected. Jaxen ignored him entirely. "You''re going to the capital?" "Yeah." "When?" "Tomorrow." Jaxen found the situation remarkable. He had been looking for an excuse to get to the capital¡ªand, more specifically, the palace¡ªas quickly as possible. The timing couldn''t have been better. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 348 - Who Are You Worried About? Chapter 348 - 348 - Who Are You Worried About? Chapter 348 - Who Are You Worried About? "I can''t go." Before deciding who would leave and who would stay, Krais was the first to opt out. Enkrid hadn''t intended to bring him along anyway. "There''s too much work to do here. Don''t go around getting yourself beaten up just because I''m not there." The sheer confidence with which he spoke made Enkrid instinctively nod in agreement. "Right, I shouldn''t be getting beat up." Having made that promise, Krais stepped back a little, wary. "Why are you looking at me like that? Are you going to hit me?" "Why would I?" Enkrid had only responded out of concern. "In any case, I can''t go. There''s the outpost to maintain, and while I trust Leona, merchants are the sort to empty out a storeroom if you''re not careful." That was reason enough for Krais not to go. He was busy building trade routes and dealing with those who still clung to outdated, arrogant notions of nobility. Despite appearing overwhelmed, Krais managed everything just fine. He made time to rest, meet people, and, oddly enough, had even started dating. About ten days ago, Nurat, a tall black woman who was the bodyguard and deputy to Greenpearl''s garrison commander, Garrett, had come to the city. Krais had called for Garrett''s men via messenger raven, saying there was urgent business, but that ''business'' seemed to involve dining, strolling through the market, and occasionally disappearing from the barracks altogether. It wasn''t Enkrid''s place to pry. "Garrett is considering retirement, so I need to help select his replacement." Krais had taken it upon himself to influence the entire city''s development. His enthusiasm was evident, and Enkrid had his suspicions. "Krona''s gotten to him," Enkrid thought. It was true. Krais intended to make the city flourish, generating so much wealth that even if he took a portion, no one would notice or care. Preparing for a potential civil war, he ensured the coin flowed steadily. That was Krais''s vision. He even began developing the swamps, extracting medicinal herbs and poisons from the murky terrain. Naturally, this caught Shinar''s attention. "You must be in agony, prowling off on a long journey without me." The fairy commander spoke with a tone that might have been sincere or mocking¡ªit was hard to tell. "Is that so?" Her doll-like face, unchanging expression, and impeccable beauty made her true feelings difficult to read. "I''m joking." "Yes, I know." "I didn''t expect you to." So, was she serious before? Or joking all along? It didn''t matter; distinguishing between the two was pointless. Fairy humor was always hard to adapt to, and Enkrid shook his head inwardly. While Shinar wasn''t going, Audin and Teresa also stayed behind. "I still have far too many soldiers to train, Brother," Audin said with his usual gentle smile, though that wasn''t the whole truth. Enkrid instinctively sensed Audin had his reasons for avoiding the capital, particularly the royal palace. Still, it wasn''t his place to question it. He respected the choices of his unit members and didn''t press for explanations. "I''ll stay and help," Teresa added. She had stuck close to Audin lately. Their towering statures earned them the nickname "Giant Siblings," though no one dared to call them that to their faces. "Alright." With that, the matter was settled. The group that would accompany Enkrid was an odd mix. There was Rem, the fierce barbarian warrior; Jaxen, the sly mercenary with his own hidden agenda; a lazy swordsman with a reputation for wandering off and creating legends wherever he went; and even a whimsical mage, currently in human form, for reasons no one dared to ask. To top it off, Dunbakel, the beast-woman, joined the party, eagerly hoping for frequent battles. "The more fights, the better!" she said, unconcerned about their mission or their charge''s safety. Finally, there was a wild horse with heterochromatic eyes, bearing the blood of some ancient beast. "Are you serious about this?" asked one of the royal guards assigned to their protection. His grim expression betrayed his unease as he looked over the group. They were supposed to escort a royal family member¡ªa perilous task requiring precision and discipline. Even Marcus, who had initially agreed to accompany them, had left the previous night, citing urgent matters. ''What a traitor,'' the guard thought, though Krang brushed it off. "He''s a busy man," Krang said, almost in defense of Marcus. The guard, however, couldn''t shake the weight of responsibility. Without Marcus''s forces, they would have to rely on their own preparations¡ªno matter how fragile or haphazard they seemed. For example, consider something like the Language Restoration Guild. That place is one of the seeds the lord had planted. But such a thing was not possible. ''What on earth.'' The Language Restoration Guild hadn''t managed to consolidate any power within the Border Guard. At least in terms of military strength, it was woefully lacking. Wasn''t there talk of a crazed Frog who had taken down anyone attempting to use force? ''What kind of¡ª'' It sounded ridiculous. Could some idle Frog really do such a thing? Just as there are strange humans in this world, there might be Frogs like that too. But for one of them to just so happen to linger here and conveniently take on all the trouble? ''Were they bound by a pact?'' It was a reasonable suspicion. Even in such a restrained situation, it was fortunate that Enkrid''s Madmen Unit had been deployed as escorts. That much was certain. ''But it''s unsettling.'' The instincts honed through years of life-or-death escort work were speaking up. These guys were not normal. Relying solely on them would be a disaster. Each one of them stirred unease. Why would it take half a year to reach the capital? Why did they seem indifferent to the escort mission? And why did they smirk while speculating about potential attackers? "Alright, everyone knows how to ride a horse, right?" At that moment, Enkrid addressed everyone. "No carriages?" "Carriages draw attention! It''s already risky moving while avoiding eyes, and you want a carriage?" The whip-wielding escort burst out angrily, but Rem nonchalantly picked at his ear. "What''s wrong with that guy? Why''s he shouting first thing in the morning?" This bastard... "Enough." Just as the escort was about to truly lose his temper, Krang intervened. His eyes sparkled more brightly than ever before. Even he found these people remarkably peculiar. Krais had vaguely picked up on it, and Enkrid''s intuition had confirmed it, but Krang possessed exceptional insight. In other words, he was remarkably perceptive when it came to people. Not in the sense of having some magical ability to see through every person''s soul. ''Interesting talents.'' He knew it instinctively. None of them were ordinary. The rumors about them seemed to underestimate their abilities. ''Madmen.'' Whoever came up with that name deserved an award. Because it was hard to find another word that captured them so perfectly. Even for someone who had dabbled in poetry and writing since childhood. ''An uncontrollable force.'' It was obvious at a glance. These were not people who moved at the orders of others. But then, why were they gathered here? To protect themselves? Not a chance. "Stop talking nonsense about carriages. Stay focused. The mission is to escort the person you see in front of you to the capital." As Enkrid chastised Rem, the latter glanced at the two standing awkwardly nearby and asked, "Those two?" "I''m the escort." The whip escort found it particularly difficult to control his emotions today. At first, he had managed to suppress his frustration. But the unfamiliarity of his lord''s demeanor, combined with the events that had unfolded¡ªfar beyond the bounds of common sense¡ªunsettled him deeply. Moreover, none of it sat well with him. All of this compounded to leave him uncharacteristically agitated. As he answered, he took deep breaths to calm his nerves. ''This isn''t good.'' If things went awry, he might have to escort the lord alone. There was no room for agitation. He took a few deep, steadying breaths. He wasn''t ordinary himself, after all. And then it happened. "An escort?" "Not a guide?" "Who?" The gray-haired punk. The golden-haired slacker. And the lunatic beastkin''s trio. ''Oh, these bastards are unbelievable.'' "Stop teasing." Enkrid intervened, and everyone, including Rem, naturally heeded his words. Seeing this, Krang''s eyes sparkled even brighter. ''They can be controlled?'' This swirling storm of unpredictable individuals? How? Through competence? Through skill? No, it wasn''t that. ''Influence.'' Just as Krang himself had been influenced, these individuals had also been swayed by Enkrid. They listened to his words. They respected his intentions. Enkrid was the key that controlled them. ''Ah.'' Krang''s remarkable insight kicked in. He discerned the process by observing the result. ''If they were half-hearted, Enkrid would just seem like another lunatic.'' To most people, Enkrid''s demeanor would be incomprehensible. Standing by his side would be even harder. He was a difficult man to associate with. Yet ignoring him wasn''t easy either. Whatever he did, he made an impression, his way of life seemingly admonishing those around him. Various people must have crossed paths with Enkrid over time. Some would have criticized him. Some would have tried to ignore him. And some might have admired his tenacity. But none of them could stay by his side. Such was the man Enkrid. So, who were those who remained? ''Undoubtedly madmen.'' Or individuals possessing extraordinary talent in some area. People who wouldn''t crumble under Enkrid''s gaze. "Interesting." Krang concluded aloud. "See? He says it''s interesting. This guy has an eye for people. What''s your name again?" Rem approached Krang, slinging an arm over his shoulder¡ªa gesture entirely inappropriate for someone destined to be king. With any other noble, such behavior might warrant losing an arm. But of course, Rem couldn''t care less. And neither could Krang. Before the escort could have a fit, Krang waved it off and replied, "Krang." "Good. I''ll protect you. Let''s go." Lately, the weather had been bright and clear, but today, the sky was overcast. Dull gray clouds blocked the morning sunlight. "But why are you coming along?" From behind, Enkrid asked the one with the crossed eyes. "Hehe." There was no one who could communicate properly with the horse. The escort was wondering why this guy was having a conversation with a horse again. "Ah, bored, huh? Have you checked out the surroundings? Alright, let''s go together." Enkrid seemed to be talking to the horse. He stroked the mane of the strange-eyed horse, a wild one with no saddle or horseshoes. ''That guy''s not normal either.'' The fact that this person seemed normal was only relative. The escort decided to stay sharp. The one with the crossed eyes followed, but he wasn''t carrying anyone on his back. "Muun." Graham bid farewell as he handed over the horse. "Have you decided on the route?" Naturally, Krais also came out to the front of the city. "If you''re unsure, should I lead the way?" Ragna butted in. "You madman, are you going to wander the continent for half a year?" Rem scolded him, and Ragna turned his head. "Barbarians who can''t even fight should keep their mouths shut." "...Did you lose?" Jaxen responded to that remark. Rem''s cheek twitched. A smile that didn''t look like a smile lingered on his face. Enkrid casually slipped between them. He was an accomplished horseman. The horse with a saddle moved smoothly under his direction. "We''ll follow the road." "What?" The escort was the most surprised by this statement. Krais was a bit taken aback as well. It wasn''t that they doubted their abilities. But wasn''t this like courting danger? "Oh? Did you think of that beforehand? Or were you going to tell us?" Krais nodded, saying, "Yeah. I thought we should do it this way." "Is it intuition?" "Half of it." "What about the other half?" "I thought it through." Enkrid ran a hand through his short hair. It was the same haircut Krais had given him recently. Krang pondered their words. He wasn''t an idiot. ''They''ve already figured it out. It''s been discovered.'' He had faced threats to his life from many directions. Krang was quick to recognize the situation. His experience made him sharp. From the beginning, those who were after him had already positioned themselves. Whether they took the main road or wandered through mountain paths, the result would be the same. It was better to stick to the road and pick up speed. Choosing horseback riding and abandoning the carriage was the fastest way. Krang''s experience wandering the continent was no less valuable than anyone else''s. Soon, a line of thought formed in his mind. The fastest route from Border Guard to the capital. "I know a few shortcuts." Krang spoke. Enkrid nodded. He was someone whose words could be understood. Nothing wrong with that. Rumble! At that moment, thunder rumbled in the distance, and lightning struck. Blue bolts of lightning streaked down from the Pen-Hanil mountain range. If a mountain ranger were in that spot, they''d be facing a deadly danger. Of course, given the weather, they would''ve descended from the mountains already. Then, raindrops began to patter down lightly. "Then..." Thud thud thud. Leading the way, Enkrid set off, followed by everyone riding on horseback. Everyone was proficient enough to ride a horse. Esther even transformed into a leopard and raced ahead. As they began to fade into the distance, Graham muttered. "Will they be alright?" "Who are you worried about?" Krais responded. At this point, they were talking about the strongest force in the area. An assassination attempt? If they were the kind of people who could be killed by that, wouldn''t they have already crossed the river of death hand in hand by now? ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 349 - Diligent Even in This Weather Chapter 349 - 349 - Diligent Even in This Weather Chapter 349 - How Diligent in This Weather "Diligent, even in this weather." Rumble! As soon as Enkrid muttered, lightning struck. "Is something coming?" Krang asked. Enkrid nodded. The weather was going wild. Suddenly, a storm rushed in. The rain had been falling since they set off, but who would have expected the weather to turn so erratic? It was as if the weather was acting like a crazy, directionless fool, almost on the same level as Ragna. Just yesterday, it had been a clear, spring day, and now there was this sudden storm. "Seven in front, ten on the left, eight on the right, and six behind," Jaxen reported. The rain showed no signs of slowing down. It felt like the ground was being dug up. Even though they were wearing oil-soaked robes, the wind bent the rain, and it hit their faces, making their cheeks sting. The wind was fierce. The gusts were so strong that it was difficult to keep their eyes open. The rain pouring over their clothes felt like arrows being shot to remove any hint of touch. Attacking in this weather? This wasn''t even a matter of diligence. The enemy seemed to be very dedicated to their job. If not, they must have been forced to come. "Are they holding their family hostage? Is that why?" Enkrid raised his voice, facing forward. As he spoke, he took a step forward, but the slippery muddy path halfway swallowed his boots. Every time he lifted his foot, it was a nuisance. Attacking after lying in ambush on a day like this? Wouldn''t they catch a cold? It was a genuinely curious thought. The road was nothing special; it was just a large stone-paved road, at best. It was said to be a road laid by one of Krang''s ancestors, a wise king known for their foresight. That was why the road was named "Royal Blessing." It was a road that extended from the outskirts to the royal family, and if you just followed it, you''d reach the royal palace. Cities lined the road, which was the core of the capital, Naurilia. At this moment, a new question arose. What was it about Ragna that even on such a road, he kept getting lost? Just then, the genius who would lose his way at any moment, Ragna, suddenly turned around. The ones trailing behind were getting closer with each step. The ones blocking the front were no different. Narrowing his eyes to maximize his vision, Krang saw what he needed to. A few were wearing armor, wielding short swords, while others stood with their hands hanging loosely by their sides. The one at the front shouted loudly. No, his voice rang out through the rain. "Mercenaries? Or regular soldiers? There''s no need to risk your life on this. We''re only after one person." It was nonsense. The others, excluding the one speaking, had shifted their posture. It was a tactic that seemed familiar to Enkrid¡ªthe kind of move used by mercenaries in the Valen style. The enemy was using a similar trick. Enkrid tried to read the movements of those closing in from all sides, but soon gave up. The rain had to fall heavily enough to hear anything. The rain mixed with the gusts of wind made it impossible to distinguish any sounds with his ears. "Who?" Enkrid asked, knowing full well, but still inquiring. As he did, he placed his right hand to his ear and let his left hand hang down. "That is..." The enemy trailed off, employing a rhetorical trick to keep everyone waiting for the next words. Then, the one at the front made a deliberate move to draw their attention. Crash! The rain above began to form a specific shape. ''Ah.'' Enkrid couldn''t help but admire. Did they bring a magician? This wasn''t a pathetic opponent. Enkrid admired them, but that was enough. He didn''t avoid the magic nor did he strike with his sword. There was no need to. Sorry, but they weren''t the only ones with a magician. Hmph. From behind, Esther, now no longer in her leopard form, stood up and waved her hand. The rain that had formed into a round sphere began to scatter, bouncing off in every direction. It was a magnificent sight. Boom! The sound of the gathered rain bursting echoed through everyone''s ears. In an instant, the rain that had been pouring down above their heads disappeared. Instead, a gust of wind, stronger than before, rushed through, pushing outward from the area where the magic collided. Enkrid pressed his foot into the muddy ground. Whoosh! The strong wind tried to push him back, but he braced his core and bent slightly, enduring the gusts. Naturally, everyone managed to withstand it on their own. Even the assassins dropped low, trying to shield themselves from the storm. "Magician!" One of the enemies shouted. They, too, had cloaks soaked in oil. However, because of the fierce wind, many of them lost their cloaks. Among them, the one who had shouted loudly could now be seen with his face partially exposed through his hood. He was a man who looked to be in his fifties. His gaze turned to one side. He was so shocked that he didn''t even attempt to pull his hood back on. Where his gaze landed, Esther stood proudly, facing the falling rain. Her robe repelled the raindrops, and the wind grew weaker as it approached her. It was a mysterious sight. Through the refracted raindrops, Esther raised a finger. She extended her index and thumb, keeping the others curled, then aimed at the magician and whispered. "Dumeler''s Arrow." The words were lost in the sound of the rain, unheard by anyone. The spell, formed by gathering the wind, took shape and flew away. "Ee!" The enemy mage let out a sound. Thud! His head exploded. "Die." Esther''s voice was clearly heard after the enemy was killed. Enkrid thought to himself that, at times like this, it should be "He''s dead" instead of "Die." "...What?" That wasn''t the leader of the assassins speaking, but rather the whip guards murmuring. Were they surprised? So was I. Enkrid muttered inwardly. He knew Esther was a mage, but he hadn''t expected her to overwhelm the enemy like this. "Why are you so good at fighting?" Rem asked Esther in a casual tone. "I''ve always been good at fighting." Surprisingly, Esther didn''t have a bad relationship with Rem. She answered without hesitation. "Nice." Rem just nodded in response. "Kill them all!" The assassin leader regained his senses and shouted. Only then did enemies rush from all directions. Had they forgotten about the failure of magic so quickly? No, these were well-trained individuals. What did it mean for them to be well-trained? It meant that they did what was required at the right moment. And that''s exactly what they did. They formed a siege line, shooting poisoned daggers and crossbow bolts, rather than recklessly charging forward. "A-" Enkrid had experience escaping from places where shamans and mages joined the fray, encircled by soldiers and terrain. Compared to that, this couldn''t even be called a siege. Besides, now there was Rem, Jaxen, Ragna, Dunbakel, and Esther with them. The mage had already had his head blown off from the start. ''We''ll break through this easily.'' Enkrid thought to himself as he swung his sword. Five crossbow bolts aimed at Krang ricocheted off his silver longsword. The whip guard also pulled out his shield and blocked one side. The daggers thudded and stuck into the shield. The long shield did its job well. In the meantime, Rem dove into the midst of the assassins like an enraged beast. As he charged in, the assassins scattered in all directions. As they spread out, the limbs of the enemies flew through the air. This happened because the enemies were slower in retreating than Rem was in reaching them. Rem reached the spot faster than they could escape. After his charge, Rem''s axe caught Enkrid''s attention. It was a weapon that had been modified at a blacksmith''s shop. "Make the handle this long," Rem had said. His axe had a longer handle than most. While his previous hand axe had been about half the length of his forearm, this one was at least half again longer. The axe cut and split the enemy''s limbs, head, and body with silent arcs. Its range was far greater than it appeared. "He dodged?" Rem turned his body, saying that. A man, who had narrowly avoided the deliberate swing of the axe, was visible. In weather like this, even Gambison and steel armor are difficult to wear. The enemy was no exception. He wore thin leather armor, studded with spikes, and held two short swords in his hands. He tossed aside his half-dismantled cloak and shouted. "Crazy bastard!" He looked more like a mercenary confident in his abilities than an assassin. "Do you know who I am?" He shouted. Rem answered with his weapon. It wasn''t just the axe that he was armed with. He also had two throwing axes hanging from his waist and a modular spear on his back. In addition, he carried several short daggers tucked into various places on his body. One of those cleaved through the rain and wind. At that moment, Rem''s left hand flashed, and a throwing axe, now a vertical disc, flew straight into the enemy''s head. The mercenary''s legs jerked back as his hands crossed in front of his chest. He tried to block, but the axe had already embedded itself in his skull. The two swords clashed weakly, then fell downward. His arms slackened, and his body lost its strength. He collapsed backward, landing on his back. The axe remained lodged in his head like a stump, proving its existence. The pouring rain quickly washed the blood away. Enkrid watched and realized. This wasn''t just brute force; it was far beyond that. ''They don''t know.'' That was the immediate conclusion he came to. These assassins had targeted Krang''s life, but they had no idea who had joined the group to protect him. They had acted hastily, decided quickly, and increased their speed to charge. The enemy was too busy blocking the way to consider anything else. It was an obvious trap. That''s why Krais had said it was better for them to use the main road and move quickly. Enkrid hadn''t expected them to be so perfectly caught. "Ugh!" "Ugh!" The screams came from behind. Ragna was rampaging. Every time the thick, long sword in his hand moved, blood spurted from the enemy''s neck. Was it the flashy swordsmanship of a broadsword? No. He was using precise posture and thrusts to kill one enemy at a time. Rem charged ahead, while Ragna held the rear. The most excited of them all, however, was now charging forward to wreak havoc. "Here, here! Over here!" Dunbakel swung her scimitar and charged forward. Kicking the ground, she powered through with her leg muscles, becoming a line of destruction. Three of the assassins targeted her with slingshots. They spun their strings and launchers above their heads, throwing homemade bullets¡ªsmooth stones they had carved¡ªat her. Seeing this, Dunbakel''s eyes went wide. "Where did this cursed thing come from?!" All the frustration she had endured until now erupted in a furious outburst. Dunbakel drew her scythe and twisted her wrist. With the broad surface of the scythe, she intercepted the bullet. There should have been a sound of impact as the bullet and blade met, but none came. Was the sound drowned out by the storm? No. Dunbakel absorbed the force of the bullet with the surface of her scythe and sent it flying away. Ting ting ting! A miraculous maneuver, with her adjusting the angle perfectly. It was a display of both delicacy and boldness, a performance that seemed to combine skill with audacity. Dunbakel too. Was she a genius as well? Had she been? Well, if she wasn''t, Rem would have no reason to keep her around and teach her. She casually batted away the bullets as if flicking them off and then leapt into the fray. If Rem had looked like an enraged beast, Dunbakel truly was a beast. She was a beastkin, after all. Despite her fur being soaked in the rain, she didn''t seem to mind the weight at all, and Dunbakel moved with incredible speed. She swung her scythe widely, forcing enemies back or slicing through the body parts of those who had let their guard down, using her claws to strike at their skulls. If someone got caught by those claws, even a leather helmet would split open without doing its job. "Where are these monsters coming from?!" One of the assassins shouted. Enkrid was swatting away crossbow bolts and daggers aimed at Krang, kicking up those that fell to the ground with his foot before grabbing and hurling them. By chance, one of the daggers struck the forehead of the one who had shouted. "Oh, sorry. Were you talking?" There was no more talk from the dead man. The one who had taken a dagger to the forehead lay sprawled on the ground, his limbs twitching. The pouring rain showed no sign of letting up. Whooshhhh! Crash! The thunder was the same. Off in the distance, another flash of light illuminated the sky, followed by the sound of thunder. Enkrid spoke indifferently. "Were you always this popular?" He was asking Krang. "Lately, yes," Kran answered. "You must envy the continent''s top bard." "It''s just a fleeting popularity." Enkrid''s joke was smoothly replied to by Krang. Krang, who had taken up poetry and composition as hobbies since childhood, was also good at jokes. The whip-bearing guards might have wanted to ask if it was really the time for jokes, but they kept quiet. It made sense. The battle had been over almost as soon as it began. Esther, who had killed the wizard, stood indifferently beside Enkrid. Rem, throwing an axe at the retreating enemy, had wiped out the group that was blocking their way. The one suspected to be the leader had his skull split open during the first charge. Was Ragna really any different? The six who had been covering the rear had thought they could kill Ragna with a single blow. It was just the way Ragna made himself look vulnerable, but anyone who could see through that would have recognized his skill at first sight. After dispatching them one by one with practiced thrusts, they realized the difference in skill¡ªbut by then, it was already too late. Jaxen, from time to time, would sidestep or stab through the hearts of those seeking openings, returning to his original position. The rest were killed by Dunbakel. "Hey, where do you think you''re going?" She even shouted in a heart-wrenching voice at a fleeing enemy. "Of course they''ll run." "Oh." Upon hearing this, Enkrid remarked, and Dunbakel let out a sigh of disappointment. That crazy woman. The guards had figured out Dunbakel''s identity as well. But despite her madness, her fighting skill made it clear: she was no slouch. She had clearly not been slacking off all this time. The beastkin who had been rolling around under Rem''s command was now different from the one who had fought Enkrid the first time. But above all, what amazed the guards was the man right in front of them. Enkrid. The man who casually cracked jokes while effortlessly deflecting flying daggers, crossbow bolts, and bullets with his sword. It was almost like a magic trick. He made it seem so effortless. A truly astonishing skill. Enkrid realized that his sense and technique had become much more refined and developed since before. Was it because of the experience of being trapped by the enemy? The blade of instinct was now sharper than ever. Thus, blocking even unseen attacks was easy. "You really fight well." Krang marveled. The ground was littered with the bodies of the slain. Whether they would become ghouls in the future or the drowned corpses of monsters born only in strong currents or heavy rains was something for another time. "Then, let''s head out again." Enkrid quietly led the group. The job was done; it was time to move. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 350 - The Knight Who Chooses the King Chapter 350 - 350 - The Knight Who Chooses the King Chapter 350 - The Knight Who Chooses the King The storm raged for another day and, just when it seemed unbearable, it stopped. It had truly been a tiresome rain. "Let''s take a break before we go." A little while after the rain ceased, Enkrid spoke. Water was dripping from his body, and on the distant horizon, sunlight peeked faintly through the clouds. But that too would soon lean toward the west. They were about to move from the dim skies into the full darkness of night. "Let''s do that." Ragna nodded. The issue wasn''t the crazy unit. Krang had held out well, but it was the horses that were the problem. They still had ten more days of riding ahead, but if the horses were already exhausted, what would they do? Most importantly, if they didn''t deal with their wet clothes, they''d easily catch a cold. Anyone who started coughing would become a problem. It was just as troublesome if the horses fell ill. The storm had prevented them from resting properly; all they had done was walk. "Are we going to waste the time we bought here?" A guard muttered, almost to himself. They had killed everyone who came to kill them, buying some time. Wasn''t it time to break free of the enemy''s expectations and move on? Enkrid nodded at the words. Yes, that''s what they were going to do. The whip-bearing guard didn''t say anything more. What could he say here? His only job was to focus on protecting his lord. There was no point arguing here since no one would listen. He''ll figure it out on his own. A kind of respectful trust had formed. "Rem, let''s start a fire." "You always make me do the annoying things. What do you think?" "Is that so? Should I send Ragna instead?" If he were to go find some dry wood, they might not meet again until next year at this time. "Forget it." Rem waved his hand. "Dunbakel, come with me." Enkrid attached one of the workers to help. "...Okay." Dunbakel reluctantly joined, her displeasure clear. Rem saw this and said: "Do you want to die?" "I want to live. No one wants to die." The conversation between Rem and Dunbakel gradually faded away. It was just a silly joke. The two moved off the path and toward the forest. In the meantime, Enkrid, Krang, and Ragna dug into the earth. The monstrous horse who had been following along, wet from the rain, helped with the digging. "Good skills," Kran commented, watching him work. The horse kicked the ground with his feet, digging a hole. Enkrid placed flat stones on the ground. Even though the rain had poured heavily, the goods wrapped in oiled cloth and leather were likely dry, but there were no cooking tools among them. Instead, there were salt and seasoned jerky. Enkrid took the salt and jerky. The flat stones would serve as a good surface for grilling the jerky. Ragna and Dunbakel returned with some branches that, despite the storm, hadn''t gotten soaked. Enkrid split the partly wet branches by hand, using them as kindling, and retrieved flint from his supplies to start the fire. With a sharp sound, the flint struck, and soon a flame erupted. Blowing on the fire, it grew larger. He added a few more branches. Had it not been for the rain, they could have made a bigger fire, but this was the best they could manage now. "Let''s dry our clothes." Aside from Esther, the only woman was Dunbakel, but she could cover herself in fur if she transformed. So, she could easily take her clothes off, regardless of who was watching. It was silly for a beastkin to be embarrassed about being naked in the first place. "It''s not about you. It''s about covering yourself so others don''t see." Enkrid instructed Dunbakel to be more considerate. "Am I too attractive, causing a problem?" "Pfft." At that remark, the panther gave a scoff. Dunbakel didn''t take it seriously. Enkrid found it curious. What was striking was how Esther got along with everyone in the unit. It would be fair to say she had good relationships with them. Why? Was there any particular reason? There was. It was because of the way people treated Esther. They didn''t reject her as a mage. The world''s prejudice against witches was irrelevant to them. Especially for Rem, who dealt with shamanism, she felt like a kindred spirit to him. They did different things and had different skills, but there was a shared bond. That was why Rem was kind to her. Ragna didn''t care whether Esther was a mage or a shaman. Audin, if it had been the past, would have called her a heretic, but not anymore. He had learned from Enkrid and opened up his mind. He even called Esther "sister" and treated her with respect. Teresa was no exception. She had met many mages in the social circles. Compared to them, Esther was a witch overflowing with social charm. Dunbakel was the same, though. She didn''t cause him any trouble and was quite beautiful. Sometimes, it bothered her when Dunbakel tried to monopolize the leader''s atention. Aside from that, Dunbakel liked Esther''s long hair. Wasn''t it incredibly soft to the touch? Even Esther didn''t stop Dunbakel from touching her hair. Her eyes weren''t filled with fear, nor were they filled with curiosity. Everyone simply recognized and respected her as a person. How could she dislike that? Do I see these people in a good light? It was a rare moment for Esther, but she took it as a good sign. Mages are beings who exist to explore. For Esther, even this moment was worth investigating. How would this relationship affect her magic? It was worth researching. "Esther, dry your fur." Esther quietly sat by the campfire at Enkrid''s words. Everyone dried their clothes. They wore only their undergarments, which were made of thin cloth, but they kept them on while drying. The journey would take about a month, but on the first day, right at the start, they had been ambushed by about thirty assassins. It wasn''t exactly a great beginning. "Won''t you have a drink?" Rem asked for some alcohol. Enkrid had already taken out some alcohol and was sipping it. Rem was asking if they weren''t going to share it. Everyone seemed to have no worries. "Is there more alcohol?" Enkrid, possibly tipsy , asked. The guard shook his head. What was alcohol? It was hard to believe anyone was thinking about drinking casually in a place like this. Jaxen handed Enkrid a small bottle. Enkrid took a sip and nodded. "It''s apple wine." "I met a master brewer from where we were." "Impressive." Enkrid admired it. "Aren''t you going to share?" Rem approached Jaxen, holding out his hand confidently. Jaxen, still sitting, unsheathed a dagger and swung it. Rem pulled his hand back to avoid it. "What are you doing?" "Didn''t you offer your wrist for me to cut?" "Boss, can I kill a stray cat or something?" Enkrid took another sip of the apple wine and watched the two fight. Then, he capped the bottle and tossed it. Rem caught it. Jaxen didn''t make a fuss about what the boss was offering. The fight ended just like that. Once the tension was broken, they turned away from each other. Rem didn''t grumble any further. "Hey, let''s drink together." Instead, he spoke to Dunbakel. Dunbakel was grilling some seasoned jerky on a stone instead of drinking alcohol. "Mm, this is good." The seasoning kept the jerky tender. Dunbakel thought it was the best food she had eaten during their camping. Enkrid shared the same thought as he ate. Krang took a piece, nodding deeply. If he became king, he might reward the person who made this jerky. Ragna, seeing the storm, was reminded of old memories. Back then, there had been a storm too. The rain was so heavy that he couldn''t see a step ahead. The falling rain hit hard, as if it could bruise him. There had been days like that. Thinking back to a moment in the past, Ragna turned his gaze toward the place where he was born and raised. He looked toward the north, using the stars in the sky to guide his direction. "What are you doing?" Enkrid approached and asked. Ragna''s demeanor seemed off. Ragna answered quietly. "I''m looking north." He was looking toward the land of his family and his people. The land where people like him lived, to the north. Was this longing, regret, or even hatred? Looking north, he almost felt the presence of his people across the distance. "That''s to the south." Enkrid said. Ragna quietly turned his head. His memories ended there. After moving through the storm, he was hungry. It was time to fill his stomach. "You really shouldn''t go off alone like that." Ragna didn''t respond to Rem''s remark. As night deepened, it was time for everyone to sleep. "Jaxen, you stand guard first." The watch order was roughly decided. Jaxen would go first, followed by the whip-bearing guard, Rem, Enkrid, and finally Ragna. In case the enemy tried something with magic, it would be fine. Esther''s eyes were gleaming over there... Growl, the panther had already fallen asleep next to Enkrid. Enkrid hugged the panther. If something troublesome happened, it would handle it. Krang watched this and spoke. "A mage who turns into a panther." The whip-bearing guard still glanced nervously at Esther. At first, he had been startled by her transformation, and then by her appearance. But it didn''t seem like his resolve wavered. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 351 - The Assassin Sets Traps Chapter 351 - 351 - The Assassin Sets Traps Chapter 351 - The Assassin Sets Traps Grrr! Along with the ogre dogs, several drowned corpses were visible. Were the drowned corpses fresh, newly made ones? Considering the heavy rain a few days ago, it was entirely possible. For monsters, whether they had been born an hour ago or a week ago, it made little difference. Sometimes, older ones become dangerous, but just being newly born didn''t make them wobbling, clumsy creatures. So, whether they were freshly born or not didn''t matter. What mattered was the numbers. "There are many." That was the comment from the whip-wielding guard. Yes, the numbers were indeed many. The quantity was one issue, but the variety was a bigger problem. Among the monsters in front of them, there were creatures with a significantly greater threat level. Normally, monster beasts are less dangerous than the common monsters, but exceptions exist everywhere. A simple example would be the bear monster. A bear is a dangerous creature even when not a beast. When a bear becomes a monster beast, it becomes far more threatening and dangerous. The two most obvious examples raised their heads among the monsters. One of them had a head larger than the other. Grrrrrrrrr. The bear monster, with drooling jaws and bloodshot eyes, immediately stood out. Seeing that, Rem spoke. "There''s a religious zealot friend." "Indeed," Ragna responded. Had Audin heard that, he would have likely asked with a gentle smile if he should stand next to his god, as usual. However, the bear was different from Audin. It did not smile. Grrrrrhhhhh! Instead, it beat its chest and roared. The roar vibrated throughout its entire body. It was a cry that would freeze the body of its prey instantly. It seemed like a signal of sorts. "They''re coming." Dunbakel spoke. The monsters, like a wave, rushed toward them. They started charging. The ogre dogs stomped the ground, dirtied their bellies with mud. The drowned corpses flailed their arms and rushed forward. The ghouls extended their claws, striking the ground forcefully as if showing off. The numbers had surpassed one hundred. Each time the beast swarm surged forward or the bear monster moved, the ground shook with loud thuds. If the people here were ordinary civilians, they would not just be in trouble¡ªthey would be fighting for their lives. It was a scene that would naturally induce terror. However, the humans gathered here were far from ordinary or average. If they were prey, their bodies would freeze at the bear monster''s roar, but only the freest of individuals had gathered here. None of them would freeze at the sight of such a monster. Hooong, thud! A beam of light shot into the head of one of the charging bear monsters. It was a thrown axe. The beast, roaring loudly, emitted a deflating sound from its mouth. Its head jerked back, only to snap forward again. The strong neck muscles prevented its head from being torn off. However, the result didn''t change. The bear, with an axe embedded in its head, began to lose its momentum and tumbled forward. Several ogre dogs near it were crushed under the bear monster''s body. The scream of the ogre dog rang out. That was the end of it. With its head shattered, the monster that survived and moved on was likely a Hydra. The Hydra had multiple heads, after all. Of course, even Enkrid had never seen a Hydra in person. For a bear monster with a split head to die was only natural. "Oh, that was mine!" Dunbakel grumbled. Grrr! The ghoul''s signature scream echoed loudly. Ragna and Jaxen nonchalantly sliced the ghouls'' head and limbs off, as if pulling weeds. A series of concise movements. They minimized their steps and slashed through any monster that came too close. Enkrid also stepped forward. Wasn''t it said that it took three trained spear soldiers to handle one ghoul? A well-trained soldier could take down a ghoul alone. For such monsters, even a thousand could come, and Enkrid would still survive. "Just hit and retreat, repeat it over and over." If you''re alone, that''s the way to do it. What about while escorting Krang? It''s fine to fight while carrying him and running. But now, I''m not alone. I''m with the squad members. There''s no need to retreat. Instead, we pushed forward. We struck, killed, and cut down monsters in the blink of an eye. The monsters'' black blood soaked into the rain-drenched ground. "Monster tossing, huh?" After the brief chaos settled, Jaxen spoke. It meant someone had driven the monsters here and thrown them at them. "Monster tossing," "pushing," "throwing up," and various other names are used for this famous technique. "This isn''t the end." Jaxen wiped his sword with a cloth and threw the cloth on the ground. That was his judgment. It wasn''t simply ignoring or luring the monsters away; sending them in such an organized manner was no ordinary skill. They weren''t to be underestimated. "Let them come, as much as they want." Dunbakel said confidently. Monsters were no threat to her. She stomped her foot, smashing the ogre dog''s head as it came at her, drooling. The ogre dog''s head exploded, and more than five others were crushed beneath it. The creature let out a screech, but it didn''t matter. "That''s just the beginning," Jaxen continued. His tone was firm. It was speculation and prediction¡ªthings he was used to. Of course, this wasn''t from a defensive standpoint, but an attacking one. ''Are they gathered?'' It wasn''t just a couple of guilds moving. It was on too large a scale. Naurilia must also have its own assassination guilds. Had they all come together, forming a united guild? It was a simple guess, but it felt certain. Such a scale, and the audacity to target the royal family of a nation. A single guild wouldn''t handle this. ''Why did they gather?'' Through a few guesses and predictions, he drew an answer. The client wanted hunting dogs, and the ones selected for that role had chosen survival by working together instead of feeding off each other alone. Jaxen''s guess was almost perfect. It had played out exactly that way. In Aspen, the assassination guild known as the Monster Swamp controlled most of that world, but Naurilia was different. They competed and coexisted. Their numbers weren''t small. The domestic situation was complicated, and wars had raged here and there for years, giving rise to guilds formed by a few nobles who saw this as an opportunity. Some operated as mercenaries, using their skills to take on contracts from ordinary people. In this ecosystem, twelve guilds had managed to survive over a long time. Currently, those who had each formed their own guilds were now united as the Twelve Dagger Alliance. *** "We hired dozens of mercenaries and sent our own men, but all failed." "They were up against that madmen unit, weren''t they?" Assassin guilds were naturally sensitive to information. They had realized what happened immediately after it occurred. They were now staying in a mansion that had been remodeled in a city close to the capital. Of course, security and precautions were thorough. "Are we just going to let it slide?" "Everyone knows what failure means." There was always one guild leader who held the most influence among the Twelve Dagger guilds. Before the alliance formed, the woman who led the largest faction spoke to everyone. "We must do everything we can." Giving up meant death. The client was from the royal palace. Failing or giving up would only lead to the same result. To survive, there were only two options. Escape, abandoning everything built so far. "Or succeed." She and the other guild leaders naturally dreamed of the rewards that would follow afterward. Abandon everything and run? That was out of the question. If that was the plan, they might as well force the job through and make it succeed. The nation''s ruler would change. Naturally, there would be rewards to follow. They had come too far to just give up, so they set aside their pride and gathered together. With everyone''s minds united, the woman who became the focal point spoke. "We''re facing those who''ve made names for themselves on the battlefield. Winning in combat is impossible. Let''s fight our fight, on our stage, using our methods." "Right." Her husband-to-be responded first. "Of course." Even the other guild leaders, who were jealous of her, nodded. And so, they did. They moved according to their own ways. The opponent couldn''t possibly know every assassination technique they had, and one of them would eventually be caught. Once that happened, it was over. Some of them had experience hunting bounties, but there was no way anyone could fully grasp all the traps set by the assassins. They were all veterans of the battlefield, after all. Their judgment was sound. "Please, save me!" A voice was heard while traveling along the road. A young man, clearly still a child, was sprawled on the ground. It looked as if he had been caught in a trap. The young man, bleeding profusely, spotted Enkrid''s group and desperately opened his mouth. "Please, save me! My father is a landowner with many tenants! I will repay you! I promise!" Tears streamed down his face as he spoke. "How did you end up in this trap?" Before Enkrid could speak, Jaxen asked the question. His tone was different from usual, similar to how he spoke when imitating Krais. His voice was soft, pretending kindness and concern. The young man responded between sobs, "I was on my way to sell wheat, but when I woke up..." He seemed as confused as anyone would be in such a situation. "Should we help him?" The whip-wielding escort asked, feeling a strange sense of unease. Enkrid observed the situation. The man genuinely seemed to be caught in something he couldn''t control. "Please, please, help me!" The man cried, tears and snot pouring from his face, his words distorted by his desperation. Jaxen was already scanning the area, his eyes narrowing as he spoke. "It''s a trap. Looks like there are traps buried around him." He could sense poison in the air and saw the sunken spots in the ground where the traps were hidden. "Will he die if we leave him?" "If we leave him, yes. These traps were set to kill him." Ignoring it might work, but it would still be a trap aimed at them. "If we ignore it, they''ll blame us for his death," Enkrid said, piecing the situation together. Jaxen continued explaining briefly. The trap was one they couldn''t avoid, forcing a choice. "To save him, we need to cross these traps, but if we do nothing, we''ll be drawn into a complicated mess when we reach the next city." The man, still crying, shouted, "The one who killed my father is there!" Jaxen frowned. It was a familiar trick¡ªusing hostages, threats, poison, and more to manipulate them. They were trying to entangle them in a mess, make them act recklessly and then stab them from behind. "Cunning," Jaxen muttered under his breath. Enkrid made a decision. "Dunbakel." "Yeah?" "Get him." Dunbakel, fast and agile as seen in the previous battle, could easily dodge traps and lift the man to safety. "Got it." Dunbakel didn''t ask questions¡ªif Enkrid gave the command, she followed through. She moved swiftly, using her speed and strength to bypass the traps and reach the man. The earth beneath her feet collapsed as she leapt into action. With a swift jump, she reached the child and, without hesitation, broke the trap''s hold. The metal that had been constricting his ankle shattered with a loud crack. The child, sobbing uncontrollably, was cradled in her arms as she made her way back, jumping over traps effortlessly, displaying the impressive strength of her beastly legs. With one final leap, they were free, and the child''s cries echoed in the air. Enkrid quickly tended to the child''s injuries, applying powder to stop the bleeding and wrapping bandages around his wounds. "Thank you, thank you so much," the child whispered, still overwhelmed with emotion. He was just an ordinary civilian, no relation to the assassins, no part of the game they were caught up in. It was clear to Enkrid from the start. Jaxen reached the same conclusion, knowing that if they left him, they''d be seen as murderers in the city, but saving him also meant navigating a double trap. Thanks to Dunbakel''s strength and Jaxen''s experience, they were able to escape the traps and get the man to safety. But the danger didn''t end there. "Please, help us!" A group of merchants appeared, bleeding and running from something. Enkrid frowned. Were they truly merchants? They were hiding something, showing signs of hostility¡ªclassic tactics of assassins. But something didn''t sit right. As they approached, Enkrid''s heightened senses picked up on something odd. None of the merchants were injured in a way that seemed accidental. Their movements were too coordinated, too precise. There were even ghouls behind them, confirming the threat. Despite the suspicion, Enkrid''s instincts warned him to stay cautious, unsure of the real intention behind this encounter. Their movements were too well-practiced. There was no panic, no hesitation. It was a trap, and Enkrid was quick to react. "They''re enemies," he said, and Jaxen nodded in agreement. To confirm his suspicion, Enkrid threw a dagger with pinpoint accuracy at one of the merchants, aiming for their throat. The merchant, his belly round with a visible bulge, narrowly avoided it, showing surprising agility for someone pretending to be a civilian. "Cold-blooded," the merchant muttered, clearly a trained assassin in disguise. Enkrid smiled lightly, responding with a teasing comment. "Are you pregnant?" The merchant''s expression twitched, and his anger flared. Despite years of training to maintain composure, the unexpected insult was too much. That small slip in his composure was all Enkrid needed. In an instant, he launched another silent knife, this time hitting its mark in the merchant''s neck. The assassin collapsed, clutching his throat as blood poured from the wound. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 352 - Peaceful Feeling Chapter 352 - 352 - Peaceful Feeling Chapter 352 - Peaceful Feeling Krang found the experience to be something new. ''Is this what it feels like to be under the protection of a knight?'' He felt a sense of peace that he had never experienced before while wandering the continent. Despite the countless assassination attempts he had faced up until now, this feeling of calm still lingered. The merchants disguised as attackers were quickly thwarted before they could even begin, but that wasn''t the end of it. Later, they entered the city of Midpool. "Thank you, thank you!" The son of the landowner was overjoyed, tears flowing as he spoke. Despite the pain from his injured ankle, which had been caught in a trap, he acted as if he might kiss the ground in gratitude. Of course, he didn''t actually bury his face in the filthy dirt, but his joy was evident. Having come so close to death and followed them in a state of tension, his reaction was understandable. "If he had been an assassin, none of this would have happened," one of Krang''s guards remarked as they watched. "I agree," Krang whispered, nodding. If they had harmed or ignored the landowner''s son, the assassination guild would have framed them for murder. So, the landowner''s son was not related to the assassins. However, no one let their guard down. That was the essence of what Krang''s guard had said. Throughout the journey, the landowner''s son had been at the center of the group. Even if he had ulterior motives, he was in a position where they couldn''t just ignore him. At the same time, Krang kept his distance from him, while Enkrid treated his wounds and even searched through his belongings. Though Enkrid''s touch was meticulous, the son, overwhelmed by pain, didn''t fully notice it. After all, with his ankle nearly severed, it was unlikely he could concentrate on anything else. Anyone would find it hard to maintain composure when suffering such injuries. Even if someone with strong willpower could endure, it was unnatural for someone who had never experienced such pain to stay calm. Krang''s group watched him closely and finally entered Midpool. The city''s walls, constructed from various colors of stone, were a notable feature of Midpool. Cities in Naurilia generally took inspiration from the capital''s walls, as they prided themselves on such things. The capital''s walls boasted impressive grandeur, especially with the monsters and beasts roaming the continent. A few thieves couldn''t simply roam freely. Thus, there were no small villages or towns, as humans had to build large cities to survive. Humanity had developed in this way. In the process, construction techniques had advanced significantly, and traces of these advancements were clearly visible in Midpool. Even now, workers were stacking stones to raise new sections of the walls. "Thank you so much!" As a city built on the surrounding farmlands, the lord was typically the landowner. The lord of this area, known as the Marquis of Oqtovo, was one of the wealthiest landowners in the kingdom. A brief exchange took place as the landowner attempted to show gratitude and extend an invitation. Then Enkrid spoke up. "What if these people are trying to trap your son and create a farce?" With those words, the landowner stepped back. A person of his status would hardly be nai?ve. By the way Enkrid phrased it, the landowner seemed to have understood that they were not people to receive favors from. He may have unconsciously agreed with Enkrid''s words. "I will repay this debt in the future," the landowner said, leaving. He would pursue those responsible for targeting his son, even if he needed to enlist the Marquis'' help. Enkrid had no concern for that. The group then made their way to an inn, where they were served food laced with poison. "Poison," Jaxen immediately recognized it, and once again, an assassination attempt was thwarted. Shortly after, someone in the alley behind a different restaurant threw a poisoned dagger. Enkrid caught it with gloved hands and threw it back at an even faster speed. "Snap!" A final gasp of breath came from the alley as the assassin''s plan was foiled. "Why does he throw a dagger he can''t even avoid?" Rem muttered, visibly annoyed by the constant attacks. Whenever the area cleared, they''d make another attempt. Rem had inserted his modular spear into place, resting it on his shoulder as he leaned casually. While it looked laid-back, it was far from it in practice. An assassination attempt using poisoned darts had been made at Rem, but he simply twisted his waist and deflected them with the end of his spear. The rats in hiding kept attacking, throwing and hiding again. Rem found it bothersome to chase after them. It was understandable. The assassins kept pestering them, throwing poisoned daggers whenever they thought they could get away with it. This time, bolts and darts were mixed in with the daggers. The assassins didn''t just target Krang, but they aimed at everyone, though it was futile. There was no point to it. The ones attacking were mostly just beggar groups, not skilled assassins. The absence of small villages meant people had to cluster in large cities to survive, a problem common to all major cities. And some of these beggar groups kept attacking. Of course, it was futile. Thud, thack, thwack. Ragna stepped forward and sent the vagabond flying with his fists and kicks. "A monster!" One of the vagabonds shouted as he fled, but none of the group chased after him. "They were probably hired by Krona, offering a few coins. The poison was likely administered in a similar fashion." Jaxen mentioned that it was the innkeeper''s maid who had poisoned them, but Enkrid didn''t press her for answers. Jaxen had advised that there was no need for such an interrogation. "This is a common trick. They pretend it''s a harmless drug and claim it''s something else before they sprinkle it." Krang listened carefully to Jaxen''s words. It was a method he had never heard of before. He had once nearly died from a potent poison, and at that time, he had no idea when or how he had been poisoned. There was no one he suspected. Could this be the reason? It seemed likely. "If they claim to be the fiance? or family member of one of our party members and say they''re secretly following us, everyone nods in agreement. Since we''re not fooled, they deceive others¡ªthose who wouldn''t be suspecting them. They likely told them that they were concerned about travel fatigue and asked for some good medicine, but that it had to be done secretly. If we knew they were after us, they couldn''t reveal it. This is how it was done." It was a silly trick, but it worked well. What if the maid or the innkeeper secretly stole the powder? Would the assassination guild care about something like that? Rather than using a poison that would take effect immediately, they would likely use a poison that caused convulsions a day later. It was fortunate, though, that the innkeeper and the maid had a conscience. They didn''t steal the powder; they used it all in the food they served. The maid who had served the food had been glancing at their group subtly, and this was the reason why. Of course, the faces of Enkrid and the others would have drawn attention as well. Inside the inn, they didn''t wear hoods to hide their faces, as doing so would have drawn more attention. Instead, they boldly revealed their faces. Naturally, this attracted gazes from around them. They also acted as though they didn''t care about being followed, which ruffled the pride of a few would-be assassins. The result of this was: "Above." Jaxen''s warning came just as they were heading to a different restaurant after leaving the inn, where they had struggled to eat. An assassin dropped from above. By the time the thrown dagger landed, they were ready for an ambush. Rem, Enkrid, and Ragna moved at the same time. The three weapons split the air above them. The fairy assassin who had dropped from above was torn into six pieces. Blood rained down, splattering onto the floor. Intestines, flesh, severed arms, and legs fell to the cobblestones of the alley. If this had happened in the middle of a main street, the guards would have rushed to the scene immediately. "Ugh." The dying assassin''s last words. His pale skin, which reflected the moonlight, was now stuck in the filthy ground. Several more attempts to ambush followed, but... "Before they could even start, they all fell." It was as the guards had said. Krang saw it the same way. It wasn''t just that; there was something more. "Wait a moment." When Jaxen stepped away for a moment, the attacks significantly reduced. During this time, Enkrid had found a restaurant. "They say the roasted chicken here is the best." "Huh?" Krang tilted his head. Was this the time to be looking for good food? "Don''t like chicken?" Enkrid asked again. That wasn''t the issue. It had been a long time since he had tasted proper food. He had been so plagued by poisoned meals that he had eaten not for flavor but purely to survive. Krang thought about this as they entered the restaurant. "Be careful." The guards said, though they didn''t stop their master. To them, it seemed like it was safe enough to eat anything. And so they did. Krang loosened his belt and ate with abandon. The restaurant only served roasted chicken, but their cooking method was exceptional. They impaled a whole chicken on a long skewer and roasted it over a wood fire. The chicken was rotated slowly in front of the flames for at least half a day, a cooking process that took a long time. "This recipe has been passed down since my grandfather''s time. I take great pride in it," the chef, who was also the restaurant owner, said with pride. And it was well-deserved. The roasted chicken melted in the mouth. A thin layer of seasoning with salt, pepper, and other spices was applied, and it blended perfectly with the crispy skin, making it better than the meals of most lords. When Krang pierced the meat with his fork and cut it, the tender, juicy flesh came off easily. He ate it continually. "Have you been starving for days? You''re eating well," the owner remarked, offering him a juice made from a fruit he had developed. It was also exquisite. The sweet and sour taste complemented the oily aftertaste of the chicken. In cities with dense populations, cooking tends to develop the most. A city is, by nature, a hub for surrounding logistics, so there''s an abundance of ingredients. Cities like Midfoll, where agriculture is advanced, are also ideal for raising livestock. This city''s walls are constantly being expanded, and the land area continues to grow for this very reason. Although there are facilities outside the walls with soldiers posted to guard them, livestock can''t be raised there. Not every soldier can be a fighter who fights beasts and monsters like a shepherd on the frontier. Naturally, cattle, horses, chickens, and sheep are raised inside the walls. In areas near the vagabonds, some even live with a few animals. Livestock is especially useful for maintaining body heat in the winter. For these reasons, chickens are a common and smoothly supplied food in the city. They are raised in large numbers. If the upper management of the city is competent in operating the city, raising livestock with the remaining grains is only natural. That''s why restaurants like this exist. "We should capture that chef." Rem left the highest praise, and the chef, who had been bringing out dishes like roasted potatoes, froze in surprise. "What? This restaurant is funded by the lord. Don''t try anything foolish." In this city, the highest authority was the lord. Enkrid calmed him down, assuring that it was just a joke. By this time, Jaxen had returned and was already tearing into a chicken leg. "Hey, you damn stray cat, are you going to creep around like that?" "You''re just slow." The two of them were always bickering. Outside, a wild horse, despite being a horse, was tearing into a chicken. "That''s not a beast, is it?" The freckled boy, a waiter at the restaurant, asked, looking terrified. "It won''t bite," Enkrid reassured him, though the boy kept his distance from the wild horse with its mismatched eyes. The horse, munching on the bones and gnawing on the chicken, made a sickening crunching sound. Who would want to go near that? "Let''s have a drink," Rem suggested. "Drink and take it with us," Enkrid agreed. They scattered to different tables, looking like a group with not even a speck of discipline, but appearances were deceiving. None of them were letting their guard down. Krang, watching and listening to everything, felt at peace. Their calm demeanor made it so. And so, he tore into the chicken and had a drink made from cherries. The wine had a unique flavor. If he hadn''t been with them, he might have suspected it had poison in it. There was no poison. "How many bottles can I buy?" Enkrid asked the owner after they had eaten their fill. With their stomachs full, they returned to the inn. "Get some good rest," they exchanged brief goodbyes before washing up. After brushing their teeth with a thin brush, cleaning away bits of meat stuck between their teeth, they rinsed their mouths with cheap salty water. The bed, made of cotton rather than straw, made Krang feel the wealth of the city. To be able to sleep on a bed that wasn''t rough or hard, how could that not feel precious? "It''s unbelievable," the guard commented, and Krang agreed. They had spent the night, but curiously, no assassins appeared. ''It was because of that red-haired guy''s disappearance,'' Krang''s insight made the situation clear. Since the man named Jaxen had disappeared, the attacks ceased. What had he done? It piqued Krang''s curiosity, but he didn''t ask. It was obvious, and he knew it wasn''t something worth inquiring about. The group left the city, and the assassins'' attempts to strike continued, but it was no longer a surprise. "This is off-limits!" A man claiming to be a former champion from the arena confronted them. "I''ll handle it," Dunbakel, the beastkin, stepped forward and shattered the man''s face with a knee strike. She struck the opponent''s spear with her scimitar and rushed forward, using her left foot to kick the ground and her right knee to lift him into the air. It was excellent martial arts. The champion''s face collapsed as he fell to the ground. "Where''s that arena? Do you just gather chicks to fight there?" The beastkin scoffed and gave the group a cold glare. The mob scattered and fled. The stormy weather had been a lie, and now the sky was clear. The group rode their horses, moving at a steady pace. They understood the importance of managing their horses'' stamina for long journeys. Then suddenly, an arrow flew toward them. The arrow was aimed precisely at Krang, but naturally, Enkrid intercepted it. With a quick snap, the arrow shivered in his grasp, and Krang, standing in front of him, wasn''t particularly shaken. He had stopped it, so it was fine. Enkrid gripped the arrow and gazed into the distance. "This feels real." It was the end of a poorly executed ruse. Their last resort was long-range sniping. Despite their mediocre skills, the archer appeared to be a skilled marksman. Though Krang hadn''t seen it, Enkrid had caught sight of the archer riding away, bow in hand. Could they catch him if they pursued on horseback? Probably not. So, the only option left was to continue knocking down the arrows that came their way. The assassin had disappeared, but a mounted archer had appeared in his place. The new threat was more complicated, but still not a true danger. That was Krang''s conclusion. No matter how many arrows flew his way, he wouldn''t die¡ªespecially with Enkrid guarding him. This was why he felt at peace. So the archer, riding in the distance, wasn''t a threat. And then¡ª Hee-heeing. The wild horse, whinnying, approached Enkrid. "Are we going to catch him?" Enkrid asked, and it seemed like the archer wouldn''t be long for this world. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 353 - Who is the Craziest One? Chapter 353 - 353 - Who is the Craziest One? Chapter 353 - Who is the Most Insane? "Make all the ministers your allies." Krang recalled the queen''s words. It had been a meeting in a secret place, not the audience room. What was the first question again? Krang thought back to that moment, when Enkrid was speaking to the wild horse with different-colored eyes. "Shall we go?" Ah, that crazy person. Where was he planning to go? The wild horse seemed to understand, nodding its head in response. In that instant, Krang remembered the conversation he had with the queen, word for word. "Why should I give up the throne?" The queen had asked, and Krang had answered. He wasn''t sure if his answer had been a good one. He had simply stated what was on his mind. "It''s best that the one who swears to protect the kingdom is the one who sits on the throne." That had been the end of his brief response. "Someone who will ask the same question as me still remains." The queen hadn''t commented on his answer, just stating it calmly. Out of respect for the queen''s will, Krang bowed his head. The conversation that followed had been more practical. "Nobles have factions. Can you cover them all?" "A mind reader, even a magician, wouldn''t be able to know that." Predicting the weather is difficult. To do so, one must read the flow of water and the changes in nature. Even a magician who can accomplish such difficult tasks cannot read the ever-changing thoughts of humans in real-time. "I can try to predict how much rain will fall next month. But I can''t tell the mind of a farmer who will plow the land in front of me." It was a famous saying among mages from the continent. Whether the actual words had been spoken or not, the meaning of the proverb was clear. The person who swore allegiance to you yesterday could be swayed by a few gold coins tomorrow. Humans are like that. Especially politicians, whose hearts change with every passing moment, from morning to lunch, from dinner to the next dawn. ''It''s impossible to predict.'' How could anyone know exactly how human hearts will change? But it is possible to guide someone according to your will. Through threats, intimidation, promises of rewards, and by reading the desires and needs of others. A magician may not be able to do this, but a politician or strategist who uses their intellect can. It''s a skill based on insight, not magic. ''Check the factions. Make all the ministers your allies.'' Krang understood the queen''s will. Could he make the ministers who filled the audience room his own? It was difficult. Any ordinary person would say it was impossible. How many factions did the current Naurilia royal court have? Even the queen didn''t know. There were those who had become puppets of large trading companies. Some nobles, with dreams of founding a kingdom, gathered with their territories in mind. Others had pledged their loyalty under a great noble. And some had remained loyal to the royal family. But none of them were Krang''s allies. Therefore, it was hard and even harder. But. ''The process will be long and difficult.'' It would be. Still, there was a way. Krang nodded, remembering the queen''s words. "As you command." "I hope the goddess of luck stays by your side." The queen of Naurilia believed in the god of Libra, who governed the sun and moon. A god of balance and fair judgment. But the queen mentioned the goddess of luck. This must have been her way of saying that Krang''s path would not be easy. "Good fortune. May the fairness of Libra dwell within you." Krang concluded the conversation by mentioning the god the queen believed in. The queen had no children, so there could be no heirs. Krang was the child of the late king. Why had the late king kept his child hidden? It certainly wasn''t to prepare for a succession. But things had twisted and turned, and the royal court had become a messy marketplace. No, it was more like an arena. Some inflated their power to threaten others, while some hid daggers behind their backs. Krang had stepped into that arena. ''Make the ministers your allies.'' The words from the queen kept coming to mind since that meeting. To do so, Krang had to make dozens of decisions and face dozens of dilemmas each day. There was a way. It was just a long and tiring process. Because of that, Krang always felt like his head was splitting in two. Laughing heartily at Enkrid had eased the pain a little, but still, there was a persistent dull ache in his head. Krang had grown accustomed to it. That was the path he was walking. It was better to call it a thorny path. He knew it well, but still, he had no intention of turning back or giving up. Hadn''t the man in front of him shown him that? ''What do you want to be?'' A knight. Krang had asked and had received an answer. It wasn''t laughable. It was much more pleasant to hear than someone from a remote mansion dreaming of the throne. Most of all, it was a sincere answer. The words of the queen and Enkrid mixed together in Krang''s mind. It could have been complicated, but it was calm. The headache could have worsened, but it didn''t. For the first time in a long while, Krang felt peace amidst the threat of assassins. That was entirely due to their abilities. Was it because of that? Did it give him some peace of mind? "Let''s ride." Enkrid spoke as he conversed with the wild horse and mounted it. With a leap, Enkrid got onto the horse, and the wild horse didn''t lower its body for him. Enkrid kicked the ground with his feet, making his body lift. His body floated sideways. As he leaned forward, he stretched his feet backward. It was as though he had leapt in a strange posture. Enkrid''s body seemed to freeze just above the wild horse''s back, and soon, he was seated atop it. He had lifted his body with exact force, perfectly controlling it, and stopped at the peak to land on the horse. It was an astonishing skill. Thus, the weight of a human, along with their gear, settled on the wild horse with a mismatched eye. A clacking sound was heard, but the wild horse didn''t even flinch. It was as firm as if it had become part of a statue. Both the horse enduring it and the human''s actions atop it were remarkable. ''Not even holding the reins?'' With an almost stationary jump, he landed on the horse without a saddle. "What are you doing?" From behind, Rem asked Enkrid, while Ragna quietly watched, Dunbakel showed curiosity, and Jaxen observed with a strange look. "I''m just going." Without looking back, Enkrid''s body disappeared. Thud! Krang''s mouth hung open in shock. What was that? What kind of horse is that, breaking the ground as it moves? The wild horse kicked the ground and dashed forward at a speed incomparable to any ordinary horse. Boom, boom¡ªthe sound of the earth breaking echoed, and it quickly left a streak behind. Enkrid, now one with the horse, lowered his body even closer. At that moment, Kran felt as though half of his worries had been resolved. Though it wasn''t just about the surprise. It felt as though his mind had cleared up. He had settled on an answer, yet still, he wondered if there was a better one. A headache had plagued him for some time. "Ha." Kran chuckled softly. Enkrid wasn''t thinking about anything. He wasn''t heading off to catch the archer in the distance. He was simply running because the horse was running. "Crazy bastard." Krang muttered. "Now you get it?" The gray-haired barbarian agreed beside him. "Isn''t that your leader?" "Yeah. But crazy is crazy. Be careful, they''re all a bit strange here." Rem, twirling his finger beside his ear, immediately judged all his subordinates to be on Enkrid''s level. Hearing this, Ragna turned around. He had been looking in the direction Enkrid had dashed, but Rem''s words couldn''t be dismissed so easily. "That guy likes to split people''s heads with an axe. He doesn''t care about friend or foe, so be careful." "Don''t be fooled. He''s harboring a lazy demon inside him." "Who''s saying that?" Jaxen interjected, and Rem continued. "That guy''s got dozens of sneaky wildcats inside him, so be more cautious. I''d recommend not getting too close. Don''t forget, that bastard might pull some tricks on you too." "Wow, you''re saying that?" Dunbakel clicked her tongue. "That''s a poor beast-woman who injured her head. She''s like that because of an accident when she was young, so cut her some slack." Rem added. "Who''s got a head injury?!" Ah, these guys are all insane. Krang thought to himself but didn''t say it out loud. "Isn''t it time to fight?" With just one comment, he managed to shift their attention. Krang''s tone had changed, filled with vitality, much like when he had first met Enkrid. Before, he had spoken with a certain weight, but now, this was the real Krang''s voice. "Anyway, be careful." Rem glanced at Krang and added a few last words. Kran turned his head. The place where Enkrid and the wild horse had raced was now in view. A reckless dash, throwing all concerns aside. The fog that clouded his mind seemed to have lifted. ''Instead of worrying, just act.'' Even as he headed toward the royal palace, the dozens of unresolved problems scattered in his mind disappeared. The headache vanished as well. He felt refreshed, like waking up after a good night''s sleep and stepping into the warm sunlight. The sun was shining brightly, illuminating the surroundings. "That''s quite a run." Krang said in admiration. The man-horse pair now looked like a dot in the distance. "Yeah, they said it was a wild horse, but it sure seems to carry a person well and run smoothly." Krang wondered why Rem kept sticking by his side. He honestly wished he would distance himself a little. In his view, Rem seemed to be the craziest one. *** Enkrid didn''t really understand what the wild-eyed horse was saying. To communicate with such a beast, a druid would be needed. Esther knew this. The panthr''s half-lidded eyes scanned Enkrid''s back. She understood that what Enkrid was doing had nothing to do with magic or any spells. Instead, Enkrid seemed to read the wild horse''s cues instinctively. The intelligence of the wild-eyed horse was far beyond that of a typical beast, which made this possible. The wild-eyed horse clearly expressed its intentions, both through sound and its actions. "Hiing." With that sound and accompanying gestures, Enkrid understood and mounted the horse. He had just signaled Rem to keep an eye on Krang. If left alone, Krang might just end up dying while others merely watched. With a sharp motion, Enkrid''s weight shifted onto the wild-eyed horse''s back, and an intense, burning force filled the air. The power that coursed through the horse''s mane, fur, and muscles felt like an invisible energy. ''Will?'' At least, it felt similar to the Will he had experienced before¡ªrejection, sudden acceleration, and the overwhelming pressure of the sword. "What are you?" Enkrid whispered as he lowered his gaze from the saddle. ''I''m going to run.'' There were no actions, no sounds, but the intent was clear. Enkrid lowered his body and the wild-eyed horse immediately began to sprint. Boom! Have you ever seen a horse tear through the ground as it runs? ''I''m riding it.'' It was too fast. The surrounding scenery blurred into lines as they zoomed past. Enkrid activated his Will, using it to maintain a sustained burst of speed. Adapting to this was not difficult. "Madman!" Before long, they were right behind one of the archers, who shouted in surprise. Though the archer''s horse was close to a good steed, it was nothing compared to the wild-eyed horse. In an instant, the wild-eyed horse was on the archer''s tail and began to slow the chase by bending its knees and adjusting its speed. Then, it nudged the archer''s horse with its body. Thud! From the archer''s perspective, it must have felt as if he was about to topple off when the wild-eyed horse collided with him. The charge had been both fast and decisive. Despite the impact, Enkrid felt almost no shock thanks to the wild-eyed horse absorbing the force. ''Mad wild-eyed horse.'' With that thought, Enkrid tossed a cheap dagger. The dagger flew through the air and pierced the neck of one of the archer. "Let''s go." Enkrid spoke calmly, as if nothing had happened. "Hiing!" The wild-eyed horse responded with a sound, almost as if acknowledging the command. Why was it suddenly running with him? Enkrid couldn''t say for sure. But it seemed the wild-eyed horse wasn''t fond of the fleeing enemies. It was as if the horse was saying, "You can''t escape." Although it was a trivial reason, it mattered to a beast whose entire life was driven by the need to run. "Let''s go." Enkrid caught four more archers, and after that, no more attempts were made. As they returned to the group, the wild-eyed horse raced far faster than the other steeds and stopped gracefully, like feathers floating to the ground. It was a horse born to run. "Good job. What are you feeding that horse?" Krang asked as they approached. Enkrid noticed a slight change in Krang''s tone. He seemed more at ease, as if something had lifted from his mind. Until now, Krang had seemed like someone chewing on a stone, but now he seemed more relaxed. ''This looks better.'' It was a fleeting thought. As Enkrid dismounted and they resumed their journey, Krang spoke again. "What will you do if you become a knight?" "I''ll try to end the wars." That made Krang''s pupils contract. "Just a knight?" Could a mere knight achieve such a thing? It was a statement that only someone with vast vision could make. "Why? Can''t I?" "No." Krang shook his head, perhaps realizing the contradiction in his words. He had the same dream as Enkrid, but to end it, more savage and significant acts were required. It was a contradictory feeling. But at least now, the doubts had been resolved. Seeing Enkrid riding the wild-eyed horse made other concerns feel trivial. "Later, we should duel with swords." "Anytime." Krang had stopped worrying about the assassination threat. He was already on friendly terms with everyone, quickly getting along with all of them. Or rather, he had become someone who could exchange a few words with anyone. "You''re bad at directions, huh?" "No, I just value going the right way over going fast." Krang had a conversation with Ragna. "You really are a gloomy one." "If a barbarian forces me, I''ll shank a carrot his way." He chatted with Jaxen as they ate boiled carrots for dinner. "I heard you like splitting people''s heads with axes?" "Who said that? It''s not a hobby, it''s a specialty." He laughed with Rem. "You seem a bit mad." "Actually, do you know who''s the craziest? It''s the boss." And Rem even shared some secrets. "Are you a beast-woman? Not a were-tiger?" "My beast form is a white lion. Wouldn''t you be tempted to bite if I mentioned that in front of you?" "Enki would get mad." "...You''ve gotten softer. Were you always like this?" He teased Dunbakel as well. After all their banter, they were near the capital of Naurilia. They had been riding for over two weeks, steadily making their way there. "Why won''t you let me ride?" Rem continued trying to get the wild-eyed horse to carry him, but it was no use. Enkrid didn''t want to ride again either. It seemed that when it was time to ride, other steeds were preferable. And so, they arrived at the capital. The massive walls of the city stretched far and wide. Naurilia''s heart, where the king''s chamber lay, the royal palace was in the city. The capital by the name of Nauril. Looking at the capital, Krang straightened up, stretching his shoulders. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting its light on the walls. Though the walls were a dark gray, they brightened as they absorbed the sunlight. The walls, which absorbed the sunlight, gently illuminated the surroundings at night. It was a power from an ancient spell. Watching this sight, Krang stood straight, and then spoke. "I get it." "What?" Enkrid, who had been admiring the walls beside him, asked. Krang answered without hesitation. "The craziest one is you." What kind of nonsense was that? Had he been too close to Rem? Enkrid worried about Krang''s state. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 354 - Kryanaht Angius Naurilius Chapter 354 - 354 - Kryanaht Angius Naurilius Chapter 354 - Kryanaht Angius Naurilius "Stop." As they reached the city walls, the guards blocked their way with pikes. Enkrid instinctively assessed the guards'' positions, stances, and the direction of their feet. There were two in front, and others standing behind. The two in the front were nothing special. They were not even worth discussing in terms of skill. ''New recruits.'' Enkrid and his madmen unit referred to untrained soldiers as "new recruits" based on the standards of the Border Guard''s regular troops. His gaze met that of a more senior soldier standing behind the two. The senior soldier glared at him, as if saying, "Where do you think you''re looking?" ''Amateur.'' If it came to a fight, they couldn''t even block a strike. There were over twenty guards at the gate. Excluding the ones checking carts or wagons from one side, only four had come to stand in front. The two blocking the path, the senior behind them, and the last one¡ªa middle-aged man standing at the very back¡ªwearing a feathered cap, not a helmet. He wore a thin, long sword at his waist, and his posture was distinct. Could he be Bell? Enkrid was weighing his skills when¡ª "You''ve been staring too obviously," Rem warned the guards. Before Enkrid could respond, the man with the feathered cap spoke. "Look at you, you caught on, huh?" He tilted his head, his voice implying more than just words. The man''s intuition was keen, and his skill was likely the same. Without hesitation, Enkrid nodded in acknowledgment. "...You''re actually admitting it?" The man muttered, then raised his voice. "How many are there?" It was a question directed at his subordinates. The leading soldier eyed Enkrid''s group. "Seven and a beast? What''s up with that weird-eyed horse, hey, and is that a panther?" The guards glanced over the group in disbelief, confused by the unusual gathering. Most notably, Esther, a beast, was a potential issue. If she caused any trouble, it would certainly be a hassle. The guard subtly lowered his pike, clearly wary of the panther. Or perhaps, was he just scared? Enkrid had no intention to explain. Esther was a panther, but among the Border Guard, no one would make an issue of it. Why? Because they thought she was a mage''s companion. People knew that mages were mysterious and unusual beings, and those who saw Esther merely as a leopard were perfectly fine with it. To them, Esther was just an animal Enkrid kept. No one in the Border Guard questioned Enkrid''s choice of companions. But this was the capital. Getting inside was the problem. Was it time to turn back? His mission was to escort Krang into the capital. Entry wasn''t his responsibility. "It''s fine." As Enkrid pondered, Krang patted him on the shoulder. "If you keep overthinking, you''ll make a problem out of something simple. A sage once told me that, and I forgot it until now." "Hmm?" Enkrid looked at Krang, surprised by the sudden remark. Krang''s eyes twinkled. "You''re going to be a knight, right?" Seeing the seriousness in Krang''s tone, Enkrid nodded. "Of course." "I''ll ask again. Why are you standing by my side?" Krang whispered again, and meanwhile, the guards'' voices were becoming more hostile. "You can''t have a beast without a leash. And do you all even have entry permits?" "You''re making it obvious you''re here to cause trouble. Are you mercenaries?" The man with the feathered cap also chimed in, adding his own sarcastic comments. "I don''t know" To Krang, Enkrid seemed like a straightforward person who moved forward without wandering. Such a person wouldn''t usually make excuses or discuss values, but the fact that Enkrid had done so meant that something was bothering him. This was Krang''s conclusion. "Why make excuses?" Enkrid was genuinely impressed. This guy was sharp enough to pick up on such things¡ªKrang had the perceptiveness to read between the lines. Bringing up the word "excuse" felt like Krang had seen right through him. Enkrid hadn''t forgotten that he was part of the Border Guard. If he were the type of fool who acted without thinking, he wouldn''t have survived this long. He understood his position and the consequences of his actions. What would happen if Count Molsan caused a scene right now? A knight defends, but a king rules. Enkrid had no burning loyalty to protect Naurilia. He wasn''t tied to this land by birthright; he was just born here. But that didn''t mean he didn''t care for some things about the country. Enkrid cared for the small town he was born in. He couldn''t ignore the people who raised him when he would have starved without them. "If only there were no more war..." The fruit seller, peeling away a rotten part of an apple and splitting it, muttered. "Wouldn''t it be better if everyone just paid attention to what''s going on around them?" The elderly servant, roasting potatoes over the fire, sighed. "War''s good for the young ones, I suppose. But not for the rest of us." An old woman, who once barely survived by selling her body, lamented her life. "If there had been no war, I''d have just quietly gotten married, had kids, and made stew." The stew the old woman had made warmed Enkrid''s stomach like never before. "You''re a genius." There was also the mercenary who once called a young orphan a genius, urging them to survive. A mercenary who lost his legs but loved the children he cared for, knowing how to feed a starving child rather than filling his own stomach. Enkrid''s childhood was filled with hardships, but he didn''t truly hate it. He didn''t truly dislike it. They were all people living in this country. The royalty, the nobility, and their politics¡ªEnkrid didn''t understand them. But... "I think he''ll do well." If Krang became king, wouldn''t something change? It was an instinctive feeling, a prediction. Enkrid wasn''t a prophet who could see the future, so he could call it a gamble if he wanted. "Choose me. Enkrid. Become my knight and stand by my side." Krang spoke, and his words carried a weight that seemed almost like willpower. It felt like a pressure that came from the intangible force of his intent, directed only at Enkrid. Enkrid didn''t nod. He wasn''t the one to make the choice first. "The answer isn''t necessary." Krang said, then looked up. He felt calm in the face of the assassin''s threat. It was a realization that came with that calm. ''If your sword is at your waist, mine is in my mouth.'' It was in his head, and it flowed in his blood. It was time to wield that blade. "Matthew." Krang called his guard''s name, and the guard stepped forward. The sentry glared. "What are you?" Matthew, following Krang''s instructions, opened his mouth. "The name of the one and only, supreme, and most exalted Queen of this land is hereby declared: the rightful heir to the royal lineage has arrived." The words were complex. The guard blinked in confusion, but his superior, still sharp, quickly reacted. "What did you just say?" The subordinate''s hand shot out to grasp the shoulder of the guard who seemed ready to resort to force, pulling him back. "I said exactly that." The voice of Matthew, the guard, was loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. Though the area in front of the gates was bustling, Matthew''s words clearly reached the ears of everyone present. "What did he just say?" "The royal heir?" "Could he be the secret child of the queen?" Anyone with a hint of intelligence understood the situation was quite tense internally in Naurilia. The issue of succession was always a delicate matter. Though the queen wasn''t old, she had no children. Her husband, too, couldn''t bear any, which was common knowledge. "Unbelievable." Matthew''s voice rang out for all to hear, directed especially at the guard in front of him. "My master is none other than the royal heir of Naurilia, and his name is Kryanaht Angius Naurilius." Royal names were long, often drawing from ancestral names to form their own. But in comparison, Krang''s name was short. That was because he had lived hidden as a second son. It was only when he grew up that he learned his real name. And so... "Call me Krang." With near ventriloquism, Krang spoke. When Enkrid turned his eyes to him, Krang continued. "That is my true name." He had been called that since childhood. Therefore, it was only natural to claim it as his own. Krang''s words didn''t seem like a lie. ''I was wrong.'' Enkrid had assumed it was a false name, but now it appeared that Krang had used the first letters of Kryanaht Angius Naurilius''s name. Nevertheless, Krang was saying that it was indeed his original name, and thus the first name used. "Bow your heads before royal blood!" Matthew shouted. "...This is the first I''ve heard of a prince, and surely proof must be provided." From behind the senior guard, the person in charge stepped forward. He was the captain of the south gate guards. To Krang''s response, he stepped forward. "What proof do you require to prove myself?" "Claiming royal blood is a serious offense," the captain warned. "Then arrest me and take me away." Krang spoke casually while pulling a pendant from within his chest. It was incomplete, a half-piece. It was a pendant he had worn around his neck. The royal seal was clearly etched into the pendant. It was so ornate that it could not have been easily replicated by anyone. Despite being only half the size of a palm, the pendant bore the royal insignia with the symbol of the three swords and the round head of the flame-maned sun. It was the symbol of the royal family. It was the half of it, with the sun''s head on display. "The other half is with my sister." With that, the only person who could verify Krang''s identity as royal was the queen herself. However, should they let him in now? The captain of the guard was in a difficult spot. But then, just as things seemed to stall, a voice intervened. "I vouch for him." A voice came from behind the captain. When had they arrived? "I, Marcus Baisar, vouch for him in the name of the Baisar family. He is indeed the rightful heir of this kingdom, the royal blood." The guard captain understood that the decision had been taken out of his hands. "Let him in." It was impossible to undo the decision now that it had been backed by the powerful Baisar family. From here on out, it was the kingdom''s political game, where the art of killing in the name of politics would take precedence. The captain handled weapons, not words. But still, he could not just let them go. ''Let''s keep the group under watch.'' Of course, the captain couldn''t carry out his plan. "They are all my people. Will you detain them?" Krang, the blond man who had just revealed himself as royal, approached with a smile. ''This is troublesome.'' If he just let them go, the noble families might come after him later, pestering him endlessly. If things went poorly, he could be accused of harboring traitors and be executed. But stopping them now could lead to even worse consequences, as his own life would be at risk if Krang was truly royal. Even the most foolish man would not dare impersonate royalty in the capital, especially in front of the captain of the guard. This was probably the truth. So, he had no choice but to accept the situation. As Krang continued to smile, he spoke words that pierced through the heart of the captain. What noble or officer would speak such words? This was the first time he had heard such commands. "Say that I insisted. Say I pushed my way in. Blame everything on me." Marcus nodded in agreement. The captain, now forty years old, felt his heart race. ''What kind of man is this?'' Before he could say anything, Marcus approached and gently reassured him. "I will ensure no harm comes your way." The captain nodded, but his eyes never left Krang. Krang seemed to be an exceptionally unique individual. Enkrid and his group could only watch. "Wow, the backing of royalty is impressive," Rem marveled. As he said, no one stopped the group. Though a wild beast with differently colored eyes might have been an issue, no one tried to stop the panther from entering the capital. The group had no time to take in the sights of the capital. Thanks to the guards'' message, the royal guards arrived at the palace. They were the royal elite known as the Royal Guard. Each of them wore full plate armor, carrying long spears, short swords at their hips, and kite shields slung across their backs. Their golden-tinged helmets made them even more intimidating, as their lowered visors only left their eyes and mouth visible, enhancing their imposing presence. The uniformity of their attire and their stern expressions conveyed their authority. The Royal Guard surrounded the group. "We will escort you to the palace." One of the guards, standing in the front, spoke. His helmet was a dull grey, unlike the others'' golden hue. It was obvious that he hadn''t had his helmet gilded, and simply looking at him would make one feel small, but there were no ordinary men here. "Can you see them sweating? It must be hot in those suits," Rem commented. Jaxen, as usual, remained silent but inwardly approved of the situation. Dunbakel, with her eyes darting nervously, whispered. "Are we really going to follow them?" She sensed the danger of entering the palace. "Do you want to turn back? You can go ahead." Enkrid showed indifference. Dunbakel quickly shook her head. "If the leader goes, so do I." "Do as you wish." Enkrid, however, felt his curiosity piqued. What was Krang doing now? What was his game? Though this wasn''t a battlefield where blades spoke louder than words, seeing Krang''s back made him seem like a general ready to take on hundreds or thousands. Watching him sparked a strange feeling inside Enkrid¡ªa desire, something he hadn''t expected. "Do you want to improve your skills?" Rem''s casual question came to mind. When he had nodded, what had Rem said? Enkrid turned his gaze to Krang, trying to remember the words he had once heard. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 355 - Reprimand and Tease Chapter 355 - 355 - Reprimand and Tease Chapter 355 - Reprimand and Tease "Do not stop fighting." Rem judged that Enkrid grew stronger through real battles. It was clear to anyone that Enkrid''s talent had limitations. Even Rem could see it. It seemed natural that he would stop growing at some point. How many times have we seen people rise through the ranks and then stop? The limit of talent quietly comes, stays, and slowly eats away at the person. Then, is there a way to break the limit? Yes, there is. In Rem''s view, the best way is to risk one''s life. A limit is nothing more than complacency. One of the best ways to avoid complacency is to put your life on the line, no matter what you''re doing. It''s not just about swinging a sword. Even writing poetry or singing, if you put your life into it, you grow. This was Rem''s philosophy. "Put your life on the line, and fight on the battlefield." That was the best advice Rem could give to a man trying to keep moving forward. Enkrid reflected on their conversation. This wasn''t a battlefield. Still, Enkrid could see someone putting their life on the line and struggling. It seemed like Krang was doing that. He appeared to be putting his life on the line, rolling in the fight. That gave Enkrid some kind of realization. Above all, it made him want to watch him even more. "Why don''t you just look around the palace?" Marcus said. "Wouldn''t it seem too much like I''m a highwayman if I make a request here?" He joked, but Enkrid ignored him completely. He was too busy watching Krang. Esther narrowed her eyes and observed the interior of the palace. As a mage, her instincts sensed the magical tools and spell objects scattered around the palace. Something felt off. Of course, a palace of a nation would have plenty of spell objects and artifacts. That was to be expected. But it wasn''t just about the artifacts. A mage wouldn''t be surprised by things within their prediction range. ''Then?'' There was something sinister. Something on the opposite side of order. Magic itself doesn''t always follow order, but there was an ominous presence. "Grhrng." Esther muttered softly. The shape was a bit unusual, catching her interest. More than that, the palace, on the surface, was full of danger. But from the perspective of a mage who had reached a certain level, it felt strangely insecure. She couldn''t explain why, but there seemed to be a lack of defenses in some areas. It looked as though someone had intentionally left gaps. "Have you come to find your death?" A guard in an ash-gray helmet spoke. They were heading toward the palace. They didn''t pass through the center of the capital but headed to one of its corners. His words seemed like a threat, matching the narrowing path ahead. The number of people around them kept dwindling. Matthew reacted to the words. "Do you know who is standing in front of you?" "One who believes in their bloodline and acts recklessly.Do not anger me." Clear enough, Enkrid thought inwardly, realizing that this man was no easy opponent. Instead of openly sizing him up like before, he was now carefully observing the royal guards. There were twenty soldiers in total. Some of them appeared to be well-trained elites. They looked capable of thrusting their spears at anything surprising. However, some were terrible. They couldn''t even march in sync. Military formation is the basic discipline of an army. If they couldn''t even do that, they couldn''t be called elites. Was this the standard of the royal guards guarding the royal family? Even so, the man in the ash-gray helmet walked before them, maintaining a perfect balance. Enkrid admired his posture highly. Regardless of skill, it was an attitude that took responsibility for everyone. ''It would be nice if they challenged us.'' Looking at his posture, Enkrid could tell that would never happen. Some people''s movements are so telling. This man didn''t seemed to be the type to prefer direct confrontation. He spoke plainly and, even if given the chance, would wait for his opponent to turn around before striking. His steps, posture, speech, and attitude all hinted at this. He wouldn''t fight without a justified cause. ''The opposite of Jaxen.'' Enkrid thought as his eyes met Jaxen''s. "You seem to be thinking something unpleasant," Jaxen said. "No, not at all." Enkrid denied it. He was good at this. It wasn''t really a lie. It wasn''t harming his beliefs. It was simply a courtesy, choosing to hold back words for the sake of the other person. "No, really." "I can see it in your eyes," Jaxen responded. Enkrid tilted his head slightly, denying Jaxen''s words, then turned to Rem and Ragna, who said something. "Do you think they''ll feed us?" Dunbakel added another comment on top of that. Enkrid quickly responded to her words. "They''ll probably take care of it." "Are we not going to fight now?" "No, I don''t think so." Surely, their conversation would be heard by those surrounding them. And of course, it was heard¡ªquite clearly. "Arrogant." One of the Royal Guards, who was below average in skill, spoke up. He couldn''t even follow proper military posture. He was pretending not to, but that only showed how poor his mental fortitude was. They were strangers, unfamiliar faces. When encountering people like that, he should be walking properly to uphold his unit''s honor. But he wasn''t doing that, proving he was incompetent. The fool spoke as though he was picking a fight, and Enkrid worried about how the others might react. He wondered if they might snap. But before anyone else could, someone else spoke up. "Are you trying to make a fool of me with just those words?" Krang raised his voice from the front. "That wasn''t my intention." The man in the dark gray helmet responded. "Then shut up." Before the sentence could even finish, Krang spoke up sharply. It was direct. "And anyone talking behind our backs, calling us arrogant or whatever, better keep their tongues in check before they lose them." The Royal Guards flinched. Was it fear? No, it was anger. They made no attempt to hide it. This man was clearly not someone to be underestimated. Krang had mentioned he was royalty, but it seemed no one was treating him like it. "The Royal Guards tasked with protecting the palace have loose tongues and even looser hands. It''s disgraceful." Krang chastised them as he continued. "You have no right to speak about our posture yet." The captain replied. Krang scoffed. "Don''t speak as if you''re royalty. You''re just a soldier." "Then shouldn''t you prove that you''re royalty?" "That''s none of your concern! If you''ve been given an order, then just follow it!" Krang suddenly shouted, reprimanding the captain. The words were true, and the captain couldn''t reply. The captain mulled over the words a few times, then fell silent. Enkrid had to glance back. "Be." Rem stuck out his tongue and teased the Royal Guard from earlier. Ah, that was unexpectedly bold. And it wasn''t just Rem acting this way. Jaxen clicked his tongue and shook his head. Ragna, as always, spoke with a hint of wisdom. "To know where you''re going, you must read the stars. To lie down, you must know where to rest." He gave some advice to the Royal Guard. Enkrid was dumbfounded, speechless at this turn of events. Where did the person muttering about looking north while facing south go? Of course, the advice wasn''t wrong. You must know where to lie down before you stretch your legs. It was an expression about understanding one''s circumstances. But hearing it from Ragna made it lose some weight. The Royal Guard ground his teeth. His face was flushed red. If left unchecked, he might turn into a ripe tomato. ''If he turns into a fruit or vegetable, is he still a human or should I call him a "fruit-man"?'' Enkrid muttered to himself, his thoughts drifting. Of course, he said this in a tone that only the Royal Guard could hear. "Whoops." Then, Enkrid tried to cover it up with a light-hearted remark. The sound of the Royal Guard''s grinding teeth grew louder, and his face turned even redder. Matthew, walking as if on a cliff''s edge, couldn''t hide his astonishment at the absurdity coming from behind. These madmen... what are they doing? Krang suppressed a laugh, and Marcus felt much the same. He hadn''t expected this even when surrounded by Royal Guards in the capital. They say a leaking water bottle will leak everywhere, and this madness didn''t stop at the border guards. "You." The leader glanced back for a moment, as though about to say something, but then closed his mouth. The group reached the outskirts of the city and climbed into the carriage. More precisely, it was Krang, Matthew, and Marcus who climbed in. Marcus''s guards tried to follow, but he sent them back. "I''m with the hero who shook both the Royal and Border Guards. Do you think there''s any danger? Especially in the middle of the palace?" His words carried weight, but Enkrid didn''t care much about it. The rest of the group got back on their horses. If they walked, they would arrive by dusk. For that reason, the carriage and the cavalry moved at a moderate pace. The road leading to the palace ran along the outskirts of the city. Along the way, there were checkpoints set up, with soldiers stationed in them. There were gates and obstacles designed to block the road to the palace, just in case. But for now, everything was wide open. On horseback, Enkrid could see the city walls absorbing the light on the left and the cityscape on the right. It wasn''t a market area, but a district full of mansions. "The capital is huge. Been here before?" Rem asked, and Enkrid nodded. When Enkrid had been to the capital before, his situation had been closer to that of a beggar. A lot had happened since then. People had looked down on him, and some even tried to kill him. It would take half a day to explain everything, and it would fill a book if he wrote it. So he summarized briefly. "The last time I was here, I was too busy getting beaten to enjoy the sights." "That sounds like something the captain would say." Rem chuckled, nodding in understanding. Ragna quietly looked around. It was his first time in the capital too. In a big city, it''s easy to get lost with just a small mistake. The alleys twisted like a maze. ''It must be quite a task to get from the palace to the gates.'' In reality, it was an easy path, just following the road. But to Ragna, the alleyways looked like a maze, and he was already deep in thought about how to navigate them. Jaxen followed quietly. He had been to the capital before and had even visited the palace. ''Abnaier.'' The name of the Aspen strategist popped into his mind. He couldn''t find any lies in what that man had said. So, his task must be somewhere inside the palace. Jaxen''s eyes landed on the tall spires at the end of the road. The three tall spires symbolized the three swords of the palace. Three knights who protected the previous king and wrote the founding myths of the country. When the next king ascended the throne, a national crisis struck, but a divine beast called the Sun Serpent appeared and saved the country. Dunbakel began to feel hungry. Enkrid secretly hoped he might meet a knight inside the palace. He also wondered what he might ask if that were the case. "We''ve arrived," the Royal Guard commander said. Just as he said, they reached the entrance of the palace, where the guards at the inner castle gates were visible. They were all soldiers in identical uniforms. The entire unit guarding the inner castle was referred to as the Royal Guard. There were four guards at the gate, all of whom saluted their commander. They then surveyed the group with their eyes and exchanged greetings with the Royal Guards who had accompanied them thus far. Enkrid felt an odd sense of unease from this. ''They''ve split into factions.'' It seemed that some of the guards were friendly with certain members of the group, while others maintained a distance. It appeared that internal divisions were affecting the Royal Guard as well. "We''ll see about you," one of the guards muttered, grinding his teeth before they parted ways. "This friend teased them," Enkrid said, pointing at Rem. "Ah, I''m so wronged here. Come on, tell me, was it just me?" Rem responded to the Royal Guard, slicing through the thin thread of the guard''s composure. Despite this, the guard endured, possibly due to his deep-rooted patience, earning him a respectful response. "Enough." The commander grabbed his subordinate''s shoulder, warning him. "Take it easy." The commander said, but Enkrid continued to point at Rem as though he were the sole problem. "I swear, I''m the wronged one here." The commander, not waiting for a response, turned and led them to another person who would greet them. "You are called by the Queen to the audience chamber," the new figure announced. This person was unfamiliar to Enkrid, but he introduced himself. "I am Baron Bentra." Enkrid recognized the name. Bentra was a noble under Count Molsan. The man had sent troops to erase the Border Guard''s insignia. With neatly combed blonde hair and broad shoulders, Bentra was clearly a well-trained individual. "Marcus Baisar." "Long time no see." Marcus was also a titled noble, officially a baron. His title had been granted under the Baisar family, one of the noble houses that operated with royal permission. Although Marcus was familiar with Bentra, he was far from the only one. Enkrid noticed that Bentra didn''t even acknowledge the others in the group, only leading them to the chamber. As they walked, Krang whispered a warning. "Don''t mock the Queen." Krang, the royal bastard, seemed to consider himself above others in terms of authority. Mocking the Queen would be a capital offense, yet Krang didn''t seem to care. "You may enter," Bentra said, turning to Enkrid, before the others were told to wait outside. Enkrid understood that this was more for the display of royal favor. The Queen herself wished to meet the hero who had saved the Border Guard. "I fear I may violate etiquette," Enkrid said hesitantly. "Don''t worry, I''ll personally guide you," Bentra replied with a lack of emotion that unsettled Enkrid. The man''s demeanor was impassive, which made Enkrid uneasy despite the lack of direct malice. However, he had no real grounds to refuse. But then, Enkrid couldn''t help but notice a faint, unpleasant odor, one that was slightly more than just a bad smell. Dunbakel, too, was holding her nose in response to the scent. For those unaccustomed to the sharpness of trained senses, it might have only been mildly off-putting, but to those with heightened senses, especially beastkin, the odor was more than unpleasant¡ªit was sharp enough to be uncomfortable. Enkrid momentarily scrunched his nose but said, "Thank you for your consideration." Soon, they arrived at the audience chamber. Rem waved a hand from behind, signaling Enkrid to hurry inside. The rest of the group stood still, waiting. Enkrid entered the chamber. The doors with intricate carvings opened on either side. The guards inside inspected him thoroughly before allowing him in. He had already removed his weapon. As the door closed with a grinding sound, Enkrid noted that only six nobles were present in the chamber. These were the nobles hastily summoned for the occasion, all familiar faces to some degree. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Come Back Tomorrow for 3 more Chapters For more Chapters, check out my ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/samowek# Chapter 356 - Andrew’s Outburst Chapter 356 - 356 - Andrew''s Outburst Chapter 356 - Andrew''s Outburst The six nobles said nothing to acknowledge Krang or Enkrid''s presence. They acted as if they were invisible. "Stay quiet. Do not speak unless asked. Do not lift your head or meet Her Majesty''s gaze. When addressed, answer with sincerity. If summoned, step forward, kneel on one knee, and respond." These instructions were given by Baron Bentra, who approached Enkrid. Despite the faint stench surrounding the baron, Enkrid masked his reaction and nodded in understanding. For most, the odor would go unnoticed unless they were beastkin or trained in sensory arts. Still, it lingered, faint but unpleasant. Bentra''s solitary initiative, while the others remained silent, painted him as someone relegated to unsavory tasks. Enkrid, curious, asked, "Are you being ostracized?" Was the baron being singled out for harsh duties by the other nobles? If so, perhaps Bentra could take a page from Jaxen''s playbook and dangle some rewards as leverage. The baron''s composure was remarkable, unfazed even by the probing question. It seemed Count Molsan had chosen well; Bentra was clearly a man of inner strength. His muscular arms, visible beneath his loose sleeves, betrayed years of swordsmanship. His hands, callused and scarred, told stories of countless battles, much like Enkrid''s own. "Mind your tongue," Bentra warned, his voice firm but without malice. Enkrid shrugged indifferently. This exchange, unusual as it was, caught the attention of two nobles who turned to glance at them. Still, no one spoke to either of them. As time passed, muted conversations began among the nobles. They whispered, hands covering their mouths as they leaned into one another. They likely thought they were out of earshot, but Enkrid, honing his sensory arts, picked up fragments of their discussion. "Lowly scum." "Rumor has it he''s as skilled as a knight apprentice." "Did the royal bastard bring him here as a token of gratitude? For escorting him safely?" "That face of his might serve well under a noblewoman''s skirt, but hardly anywhere else." If Rem had heard such words, he might have cleaved a few skulls with his axe on the spot. His disdain for these sorts of pompous nobles was no secret. Enkrid, however, remained unbothered. This wasn''t his first brush with such contempt, and it likely wouldn''t be his last. Words were wind, easily ignored. Glancing to his side, he noticed Krang standing still, his stance disciplined, though his expression betrayed a casual air¡ªas if he were lounging with arms crossed and a leg propped up. Moments later, the queen arrived. "Her Majesty, the Queen!" Of course, she did not enter alone. Her entourage and royal guards accompanied her, positioning themselves by the entrance and at the far side of the audience chamber. Enkrid''s mind briefly fixated on the royal guards'' gilded weapons¡ªthe golden-tipped spears and helmets. An aesthetic choice? No, probably a display of royal prestige. The queen''s appearance dispelled his fleeting thoughts. She wasn''t the stern and commanding figure he had anticipated but exuded warmth and an air of approachable charm. Her demeanor reminded Enkrid of an older barmaid from his childhood, one who had been kind to him. The stark contrast between their statuses¡ªthe barmaid serving ales and the queen ruling a nation¡ªdidn''t diminish the peculiar familiarity he felt. "Lower your head," Bentra admonished quietly. Should he? "Let him be," the queen interjected, stopping Bentra. The queen studied Enkrid''s face for a moment before offering a genuine compliment. "A pleasing visage." It wasn''t a seductive remark, merely an appreciation of his appearance. Enkrid, however, found himself at a loss for words. What could he say in response? Surely not, "Your Majesty, you are quite generous yourself." The queen, indeed, had a fuller figure and bore a tiara signifying her royal authority. Beside her stood a familiar figure¡ªor rather, a familiar frog. Croak. The frog puffed its cheeks briefly. That was likely its way of smiling. Enkrid returned the silent greeting with a glance. Luagarne, the frog who had guided him during the Nameless Sword Ceremony and trained him in its arts, stood nearby. "Aren''t you aware of proper etiquette?" a noble scoffed. Their words revealed much about the state of the queen''s authority. If even a minor noble dared to criticize someone under her direct permission, her influence was clearly undermined. The queen seemed indifferent to the insult, her focus shifting to Krang. "I assume we''re here to verify the royal lineage? State your name." The question was directed at Crang, and Enkrid found himself momentarily sidelined. Krang stepped forward confidently, unaffected by the gaze of the disdainful noble who had shifted their hostility from Enkrid to him. The noble lacked resolve; their venomous glare faltered as Krang approached the queen. Crang''s steps were measured, neither hurried nor sluggish, exuding poise. Despite his tattered travel attire and unkempt hair, he carried himself with the dignity and presence of a monarch. "Kryanaht Angius Naurilius, present." His voice reverberated through the chamber, resonating off the walls and stirring a palpable tension in the room. "Come closer," the queen instructed. An elderly woman in an ornate robe emerged from behind the queen, taking a pendant from Crang and comparing it to another in her hand. "Indeed." Afterward, a brief spell was cast to confirm Crang''s bloodline. Enkrid simply watched. "It is true. You are of my bloodline. By the Queen''s decree, I acknowledge you. If there are objections, let the ministers speak now." The nobles remained silent, though their eyes spoke volumes: "As if we didn''t already know he was royal blood." "The late king''s indulgences brought this upon us." They already knew everything. Sending assassins after Krang was proof enough. No one questioned his legitimacy, especially with the royal pendant and a mage''s verification. It felt like watching a scripted play. The Queen, citing pressing duties, soon excused herself. The ministers dispersed just as quickly. Somehow, the last to leave the audience chamber were Krang and Enkrid. The nobles ignored them entirely, not sparing a glance as they exited. Those who previously questioned Krang''s conduct had nothing more to say. As they left, Enkrid finally spoke, his tone pondering: "Odd atmosphere, don''t you think?" The nobles seemed entirely uninterested. A new heir was declared, and royal authority displayed, yet there was no sign of curiosity or engagement from them. "The nobles who support me aren''t here. Only those who''d prefer I were dead remain." Understanding the implication, Enkrid asked, "Because they expect you to die soon?" "Pragmatic, aren''t they?" Krang chuckled dryly. Was it really appropriate to laugh at such a grim reality? His previous composure had faded, replaced by mischief. Enkrid''s concern was evident as he advised, "Don''t get too close to Rem." "I''ve said it before¡ªyou''re the craziest of us all." "I mean it. Don''t engage with Rem more than necessary." It was clear¡ªKrang had already been influenced. Outside the chamber, a familiar voice called out: "Enki!" It was the Frog, Luagarne. "Have you been well?" The Frog greeted him with a vertical chopping motion of her hand. Enkrid instinctively raised his hand to block, recognizing the feint. The downward chop was a distraction; the real move was in her feet, sliding smoothly across the thick carpet toward him. It was a calculated ploy to close the gap. The Capturing Blade activated reflexively. Her movements were fluid, her slippery hands darting and twisting to jab and strike, yet Enkrid deflected each one with precision. Her skin''s slickness made it easier to redirect the attacks. But there was no killing intent¡ªthis was a playful contest of skill. The two royal guards watching exchanged glances, their interest piqued. What they witnessed was a high-level exchange, even if it was just a game. "You''ve improved. I''d lose if we fought seriously now," Lagarne admitted, withdrawing her hand. Her cheeks puffed out in a playful gesture as she spoke. It was true. If he had improved this much, it was no wonder he had crushed the skulls of those cultist invaders. The memory pleased her, and her cheeks puffed twice more. "Is this proper conduct in the presence of a prince?" Enkrid asked. "Humans don''t impose manners on Frogs," she replied nonchalantly. "I agree," Krang added. Then he turned to Enkrid. "You two know each other?" "She''s the Frog who came to Border Guard before." Before Enkrid could elaborate, Lagarne interjected, puffing her cheeks again. "Is that all? Don''t downplay it¡ªwe trained in swordsmanship together, fought side by side, and even explored ancient ruins! Remember, we almost got trapped there?" "This sounds like a long story," Krang remarked with perfect timing. "It is," Lagarne admitted before asking, "By the way, where is everyone else?" Enkrid nodded, scanning the area. None of his companions were in sight. Could a knight have dragged them all away? But then again, they wouldn''t have gone quietly. His party wasn''t known for meek compliance, and they wouldn''t have trusted strangers to guide them to a rest area. As Enkrid pondered, the royal guards watching them seemed perplexed. Why did this man speak so casually to a prince but defer to a Frog? And why did no one reprimand him for it? Suddenly, a voice called out, breaking his thoughts. "I knew you''d come here someday, Commander." Enkrid turned toward the speaker, recognizing the voice. "Hmm?" It was unexpected. He hadn''t anticipated meeting another familiar face here. If anyone were to appear, he thought it might be someone with old grudges. "You." "Addressing a noble like that? How rude." The man grinned, his tone teasing. "And yet you''re standing before a prince," Krang interjected. "Your Highness, I trust you''ve been well?" "Thanks to you." That exchange was swift, almost too seamless. "Let''s move somewhere else. I''ve invited everyone to my estate," the familiar figure offered. "Andrew," Enkrid said, recognizing him at last. "Andrew Gardner, a nobleman," the man introduced himself with a smile. "Well, I am a prince." "Your Highness, have you always been so fond of jokes?" Andrew blinked as he spoke. To Enkrid, it appeared that Krang and Andrew were familiar with each other¡ªand that assumption was correct. Andrew had dreams of reviving his family. Instead of aligning with established factions, he had staked everything on another¡ªKrang. After parting ways with Enkrid, Andrew had also gone through his own trials, which were adventures in their own right, leading him to where he stood now. Andrew Gardner was now a baronet, proud and accomplished, with a residence in the capital. "Impressive," Enkrid remarked in his usual even tone. "Your face doesn''t exactly scream surprise," Andrew replied. "I really am surprised." "Then shall we head to Baronet Gardner''s residence?" Luagarne, who had been listening, asked the question before Enkrid could respond, and Andrew answered first. "Please do. It would surely be better than staying at an inn." There was no reason to refuse. "Then I''ll see you later. I''ve got plenty of things to take care of myself," Lua said, waving her stubby fingers in a swirling motion¡ªa human-style farewell. Enkrid returned the gesture. "What about you, Krang?" "I''ll stay at the palace. A party to celebrate my return is in a few days. I''ve got preparations to make." A party? That wasn''t quite to Enkrid''s taste. Without waiting for a response, Krang turned and left. As Enkrid watched Andrew, he realized how much his friend had grown. The faint trace of a beard had darkened, and there was now a scar under his right eye that hadn''t been there before. Apparently, Andrew no longer needed a nanny, as he was alone. Like Enkrid, he had left his weapons behind upon entering the palace, leaving both of them unarmed. "And Mac?" "At the estate." Maybe the former nanny had traded that role for that of a butler. "Alright, let''s go." Andrew succinctly summarized his journey thus far. "I risked my life to complete a commission and reclaim my noble status, but ever since then, the political backlash has been relentless. Even now, it feels like I''m on another adventure." There wasn''t much need to delve into the details of those adventures. Whatever he had been through, Andrew had clearly done well for himself. While his home wasn''t a sprawling mansion with gardens, it was a proper residence in the capital¡ªa three-story building. The first floor housed the reception room and dining area, while the second floor and above were packed with over ten rooms. The house was spacious and grand. Upon arrival, Enkrid saw that the rest of his group was already there, including Rem. "Well, look at this. Andrew really made it big," Rem said, chewing on a snack in the middle of the reception room. The capital was a hub of commerce, and naturally, its food culture was highly developed¡ªespecially when it came to desserts. Rem nodded approvingly as he munched. "Rem hasn''t changed a bit," Andrew commented from behind. Esther was dozing on a woolen cushion. The rest of the party had gathered casually in the reception room. Ragna stood by the window, watching a group of men practicing with wooden staves in the courtyard. "Retainers?" Enkrid asked. "Private soldiers aren''t allowed in the capital." "Then?" "Those are students learning swordsmanship from me." "From you?" Hearing this, Rem also turned his head to ask, "What are you teaching them?" Even Ragna glanced over, curious. Jaxen said nothing but quietly observed Andrew. "If you see how much I''ve improved, you''ll be amazed," Andrew replied confidently. Enkrid nodded. He had no doubt Andrew had improved¡ªhe''d always had talent. "Then I''m sure you have." Enkrid''s voice, however, lacked enthusiasm, which made Andrew smirk. It was a smile that didn''t quite reach his eyes, one corner of his lips curling upward. Though Enkrid had achieved remarkable feats, Andrew wasn''t one to be outdone; he''d faced his share of obstacles and triumphed. "A sparring match?" Andrew proposed. Enkrid nodded once more. Of all the remarkable encounters and events¡ªbeing greeted, invited, and meeting the queen¡ªnone pleased him as much as these simple words. "Are you sure it''s alright to cry in front of your students after getting beaten?" Enkrid teased, concerned for his former comrade. "Shut up and bring it on!" Andrew barked, determination in his voice. ------------------------------------------------------------------- The sale on my Ko-fi is still on until 10.01.2025! ko-fi.com/samowek Don''t miss out on the 33% sale on Chapters! Buy any number of Chapters and get an extra 33% of the number of Chapters you got! Thank you all for your support Chapter 357 - Learning Through Teaching Chapter 357 - 357 - Learning Through Teaching Chapter 357 - Learning Through Teaching Thud! Enkrid blocked Andrew''s first strike¡ªa straightforward downward slash. Their blades met, and Enkrid''s gaze locked with Andrew''s through the clash of steel. Andrew''s mouth was tightly closed, and his eyes were wide with intensity. "Has he improved?" It was too soon to tell. After all, Enkrid''s memory of Andrew''s previous skills was faint. Rather than counterattacking, Enkrid deflected the blade and stepped back. Andrew immediately thrust his sword forward, but Enkrid deftly parried it, shifting his footing. He moved his left foot forward subtly, a detail Andrew failed to notice as his diagonally slashing sword was intercepted by Spark in Enkrid''s left hand, sliding harmlessly away. Enkrid had been training to redirect attacks using timing and instinct. The fluid motion resembled the fairy-style swordsmanship of Shinar, a technique reliant on precision. Though not yet fully mastered, the skill gap between him and Andrew made it an easy feat. As their swords connected with a metallic clang, Andrew''s force was redirected, his sword veering off course. "Ugh!" Andrew quickly inhaled and braced himself, halting his disrupted strike. By then, Enkrid had already planted his left toe firmly into the ground, pushing forward as if gripping the earth. Crunch. Pivoting on his left foot, Enkrid closed the gap between them. He didn''t even need to summon his Will. With a smooth shift of his weight, he stepped forward with his right foot, aligning his body from ankle to waist in a fluid motion. His open palm shot forward, a combination of a Valah-style strike and Audin''s explosive finishing technique. He didn''t go all out¡ªdoing so would have ruptured Andrew''s organs. There was no crushing grip, no full-body tension. Only a measured, cutting motion. Enkrid''s palm struck Andrew''s abdomen. Bang! The impact sounded like a leather drum bursting. "Urgh!" Andrew was thrown backward, his feet lifting off the ground. "Was that too much?" It might have been. Andrew stumbled back, retching slightly before struggling to catch his breath. Still, he didn''t drop his sword. "He''s improved, at least." As Enkrid silently observed, Mac, Andrew''s former nanny and now his steward, rushed over in alarm. "Andrew, sir!" Mac, pale-faced, moved to support Andrew, his demeanor now that of a loyal retainer serving his master. Andrew waved him off, signaling he was fine, though he continued to cough. "Were you trying to kill him?" Rem interjected. "I didn''t do anything excessive," Enkrid replied. "You call that nothing? Look at him choking!" "Looks more like he swallowed wrong." "...And you''re using that as an excuse?" Ragna chimed in, adding fuel to the banter. Why do these two seem so in sync during moments like this? Andrew, after a few deep breaths, managed to calm himself and dismissed Mac. "I''m fine," he croaked, his voice slightly hoarse but steady. The blow wasn''t lethal¡ªit was comparable to a tap from Audin''s cloth-wrapped hammer, albeit still a formidable strike. "It''d be a shame to stop here, don''t you think?" Andrew said, his eyes gleaming with determination as he waited for Enkrid''s response. Enkrid, sensing that Andrew still had more to show, felt a spark of anticipation. "Alright, let''s continue." "Yes, let''s," Andrew agreed enthusiastically. Andrew, too, had survived countless close calls to reach this point. Adjusting his stance slightly, Andrew stepped forward again. Several exchanges followed, but the outcome was predictable¡ªEnkrid emerged victorious. Andrew tried to close the gap with a shoulder tackle at one point, but Enkrid skillfully countered it, maintaining his upper hand throughout. "Have you learned wrestling or martial arts as well?" "You remember Audin, don''t you?" "The soldier who looks like a bear?" "Yes." "So, Audin taught you." Andrew knew well that Enkrid often learned things from his own subordinates. Despite having his carefully honed technique dismantled, Andrew felt a sense of relief. Truthfully, there hadn''t been anyone lately who could dominate him like this. Since surpassing Mac, he hadn''t had a proper sparring partner. Even as a baronet, once he aligned with Krang''s faction, he became something of an island, isolated and adrift. While others formed cliques and factions, Andrew stood alone. The desire to cross swords with a knight or a skilled opponent had been burning inside him. Recently, he had felt his skills stagnate. In such a situation, Enkrid''s arrival was a godsend, more than welcome¡ªit filled him with elation. "Stay for a few more days," Andrew suggested naturally. The five Gardener family trainees watching from the sidelines perked up. Just observing the sparring match was a learning experience. Even if they couldn''t fully grasp it, having someone as skilled as Enkrid associated with their lord felt like an opportunity to glean something valuable. Enkrid glanced over the five, their eyes shining with anticipation. From his perspective, these trainees weren''t ready for advanced techniques; they should spend their days swinging practice swords. It wasn''t the time to learn skills but to build foundations. But could he ignore such eager gazes? The memory of his own past came flooding back. Specifically, the days he spent in the capital long ago. "You want to learn the sword? That''ll be ten gold coins." The swordsmanship instructor had mocked him openly. A man who claimed to be just shy of reaching platinum rank as a mercenary and boasted that, had he stayed in the trade, he would''ve surely achieved it. While his skills weren''t entirely hollow, his arrogance was as impressive as his talent. "Alright, I''ll teach you one move, but bring that barmaid to Ben''s place tonight." He had been living proof that skill and character didn''t necessarily go hand in hand. Enkrid had refused, and the instructor beat him to the brink of death. No, the man had intended to kill him, but by some stroke of luck, Enkrid survived. A group of passing guards intervened just in time. The memory of that alley, of narrowly escaping death, lingered. Seeing the eagerness in these trainees, Enkrid couldn''t bring himself to turn them away. Andrew''s eyes burned with passion, and the five trainees seemed just as fervent. Enkrid couldn''t ignore them. "Alright, I''ll stay." "What? We''re staying? Then make something good to eat. You''re a noble, aren''t you?" Dunbakel quipped immediately. The others didn''t seem particularly interested in whether he stayed or left. And so, it was decided¡ªEnkrid would remain for a few days longer. Respecting their determination, Enkrid got to work right away, intent on rewarding their enthusiasm and effort. "Thousand downward strikes." "...What?" One of the trainees, a freckled girl with a ponytail standing at the front, asked in disbelief. "A thousand and one, then." Andrew, having experienced Enkrid''s methods firsthand, knew better than to argue. "...Do as he says. Begin." At Andrew''s command, the trainees reluctantly picked up their swords and started swinging awkwardly. As soon as they began, Enkrid''s voice cut through the air. It was a mix of discipline, instruction, and a touch of torment¡ªor so it felt to the recipients. "Swing with the intent to cut down your opponent with all your might. Is that right? Your stance is sloppy. Are your thighs properly engaged?" Smack. With the flat of his gladius, he struck one trainee''s thigh, drawing a yelp. "You scream over that?" Enkrid understood the bitterness of wanting to learn but having no opportunity. He had resolved to stay and offer them something meaningful, starting with the basics. The harsher the training, the easier the next steps would be. He knew this from experience. Lack of resolve? That was something he could fix¡ªwith hands, feet, and Rem. "Rem?" "I''ll help," Dunbakel said. Dunbakel, with a sly look, grabbed one of the trainees. "Hey, is now the time to roll your eyes? Should I pluck them out for you?" She mimicked something she''d learned from Rem, extending her long claws and pretending to gouge the air before the trainee''s face, turning him pale. "Uh, Commander?" Andrew, baffled, couldn''t understand why things had escalated like this. The notion that this was all out of goodwill seemed far-fetched. Yet, he couldn''t tell them to stop now. After a glance at the trainees, he gave up. If they could endure this, they would improve. He, too, had grown stronger after being beaten by that barbarian Rem. And so, Enkrid settled temporarily at Andrew''s residence. In the mornings, Enkrid practiced the Isolation Technique, followed by drills and sparring. "Ragna, it''s your turn." "Understood." A wide training area had been set up behind the mansion, replacing a garden. It was impressive, and Enkrid was satisfied. The mansion''s chef provided meals regularly, and the food wasn''t bad. Esther had fallen in love with a woolen cushion and refused to leave it, lounging on it even in her panther form. Strange Eyes also seemed to take a liking to the place. He acted as the alpha among the horses and seemed to be making nightly rounds with the mares. He was, after all, a stallion. Enkrid continued his routine¡ªeating, drinking, resting, and relentlessly training. Meanwhile, some of the trainees began to entertain thoughts of escape. "This kind of opportunity doesn''t come often," Andrew would calmly persuade them, even as his own face turned pale from exhaustion after enduring his share of grueling training under Enkrid''s watch. From dawn, Enkrid had been rigorously pushing Andrew''s body to its limits. The conviction in Andrew''s trembling voice as he reassured the others made his sincerity all the more convincing. The training Andrew underwent was far from easy. It had all started with a single remark from Enkrid. "You look a bit scrawny. You''ve put on some fat." Though absurd, Andrew had no retort. After all, when they bathed together, it was impossible not to notice that Enkrid''s physique was akin to a lethal weapon¡ªespecially his so-called third leg, which was equally formidable. "Unfair, isn''t it?" Andrew muttered in disbelief. "What is?" "...Nothing." And so, the relentless training sessions continued. Two days later, Rem posed a question. "Is it right to spend all your time training, even here in the capital?" Rem knew well that Enkrid was the type to dedicate himself solely to such endeavors, but even so, he had his reasons for bringing it up. "Why?" "Are you not going to explore the capital?" "I was planning to go out later to get some armor," Ragna added. Training and sparring were enjoyable enough for Enkrid, but he respected the opinions of others. "Ragna, make sure to take an attendant with you and stay within five steps at all times." "That''s unnecessary." "I''m saying this because if you wander off, who knows when I''ll find you again?" "The capital may be complicated, but I''ve already memorized the routes," Ragna replied, shaking his head. "Sure, you have." "Is he insane?" "Did he hit his head?" Jaxen, Rem, and Dunbakel all chimed in. "When I say take someone, take someone," Enkrid said firmly, leaving Ragna no choice but to agree reluctantly. "I''ll go out and have some fun too. What are we even doing here?" "Suit yourself." Enkrid planned to stay a few more days before departing. Jaxen had already left on the first day, citing business. Dunbakel, after some contemplation, also decided to leave. "I''ll go look for a new sword," she said. Her scimitar was in terrible condition, beyond what a whetstone could fix. The capital was bound to have high-quality steel and weapons. While crafting a new one might not be feasible, surely she could find something that suited her hand. As for Enkrid, he doubted he''d find a weapon superior to the one he already wielded. Moreover, today wasn''t the only opportunity, and he believed that his time was better spent on the trainees¡ªthose burning with the same passion and yearning he once had. "You live here, so you don''t need to go out, right?" Enkrid effectively handed down what felt like a death sentence to the remaining trainees. "Aren''t you going to tour the capital?" one of them dared to ask. "I''m not." Enkrid''s response was unequivocal. Progress. Advancement¡ªit was what drove him. While teaching these trainees, Enkrid never neglected his own training. In fact, teaching had become an avenue for his growth. The basics. He never underestimated their importance. It was a lesson he had heard countless times when he first came to the capital. "The basics. If you can''t even master the basics, what can you hope to achieve?" A solid foundation was the key to advancement. Enkrid lived by this principle. Guiding the five trainees allowed him to reinforce his own fundamentals. It was an unexpected boon, enabling him to reflect and improve beyond mere theory. Lately, he had learned much¡ªAudin''s Moa? Tertiri?, Ragna''s swift yet heavy swordsmanship, Rem''s mastery of any weapon, Dunbakel''s full-body elasticity techniques, and Teresa''s shield techniques. He hadn''t had time to fully absorb it all. But did he really need to master everything at once? His thoughts spiraled, leading him deeper into contemplation. Ping! The faint sound of something cutting through the air. The Sense of Evasion activated instinctively. Enkrid didn''t even need to turn his head. An arrow. Relying on the sound to track its trajectory, he twisted his body slightly. Thwack. The arrow was caught in his hand. He glanced toward the wall. A lunatic stood boldly atop it in broad daylight. "And who the hell are you?" Enkrid asked. ------------------------------------------------------------------- The sale on my Ko-fi is still on until 10.01.2025! 30 Chapters per 5$ ko-fi.com/samowek Don''t miss out on the 33% sale on Chapters! Buy any number of Chapters and get an extra 33% of the number of Chapters you got! Thank you all for your support Chapter 358 - Stop! Chapter 358 - 358 - Stop! Chapter 358 - Stop for a Moment Catching a flying arrow mid-air could only be described as an extraordinary feat. Even when anticipated, such an act bordered on miraculous. But here, the arrow had come out of nowhere, striking toward the back of Enkrid''s head. Yet, not only did he sense it, he didn''t merely evade; he caught it. It was the result of a harmony between refined instincts and an unwavering point of focus. "...Wow." "What... what was that!" Two of the trainees gasped, their mouths hanging open. The other three were too stunned to speak. For them, just witnessing such a feat was overwhelming. One was amazed by Enkrid''s impossible catch, while the other trembled at the idea of an unexpected arrow being shot at all. Enkrid''s gaze shifted to the outer wall. There stood a figure on the narrow ledge of the wall, not bothering to conceal his presence. Only his face was masked. Despite the precarious footing, the man seemed at ease, perfectly balanced¡ªa testament to his agility and coordination. His attire was simple: a loose-fitting shirt and cropped trousers ending near the ankles. The outfit was utilitarian, more suited for day than for stealth. Even so, he wore a mask. Enkrid tilted his head slightly, puzzled. Despite attacking first, the figure didn''t follow up. It seemed as though he was waiting for something. "Well..." The masked man began to speak, but Enkrid acted first. With a snap, the arrow in his hand flew back toward the attacker like a dart. The move was from the Valah mercenary style, aptly named ''Strike While They Speak.'' The arrow hissed through the air. The figure leapt sideways, narrowly avoiding it, and shifted horizontally along the ledge with nimble grace. ''Light-footed.'' Even as he noted this, Enkrid''s hand moved again, throwing a second weapon¡ªa whistling dagger. The unique knife screamed through the air with a sharp, high-pitched sound, slicing through space with deadly precision. Forced to react, the figure toppled backward over the wall to evade the incoming blade. Enkrid''s right foot slammed into the ground. His body coiled like a spring, absorbing energy into his crouch before launching upward. The series of motions¡ªground contact, tension, and release¡ªhappened in a single fluid burst. Boom! The impact left a small crater in the training yard floor as Enkrid propelled himself forward with terrifying speed. To the trainees watching, his movements blurred, leaving only faint afterimages in their wide eyes. "That lunatic!" A voice rang out from the other side of the wall, but Enkrid ignored it. He reached the top of the wall in a single leap, grabbing the ledge with just the tips of his fingers and pulling himself up effortlessly. Wearing light armor and carrying three swords, Enkrid''s ascent seemed impossibly smooth. To the trainees below, it was nothing short of sorcery¡ªa defiance of natural laws. "Magic?" one of them muttered, still in disbelief. By the time they processed what they saw, Enkrid had already hoisted himself onto the wall. On the other side, two men with short swords were waiting, their blades drawn. As soon as Enkrid''s hands appeared over the edge, they lunged, aiming for his wrists. But Enkrid released his grip with one hand, letting himself hang briefly. Whoosh! The swords cut through empty air, missing their mark entirely. Enkrid seized the moment. Gripping the ledge firmly with his remaining hand, he pulled his entire body upward in a powerful burst. Thump! His body arced high into the air, silhouetted against the sunlight. From below, the two assailants were momentarily disoriented, their pupils wavering at the sudden shift in perspective. To them, Enkrid appeared as a dark, ominous shadow descending from the sky. "Wait!" one of them shouted. But it didn''t matter. Why should he spare those who had attacked him first? In midair, Enkrid twisted his body, drawing the gladius from his right side and a dagger, Spark, with his left. From the attackers'' perspective, the light reflected in Enkrid''s eyes seemed to blaze, casting a ghostly glow in the shadow of his figure. The gladius swept right; the dagger thrust left. Clang! Thud! The first attacker barely managed to block the gladius, but the second wasn''t as fortunate. The dagger pierced his left shoulder cleanly. He was lucky it wasn''t worse. Enkrid had refined the technique during his recent teachings, melding his observations into his strikes. Still, it wasn''t enough. His right hand channeled Unyielding Will into the descending strike, while his left sought precision with the dagger¡ªa balance between overwhelming force and surgical accuracy. Every skirmish, every opponent, was a lesson. And with each step forward, the path ahead grew clearer. When Enkrid landed with a heavy thud, one knee to the ground, he looked up, a smile creeping onto his face. Was there a limit to learning? Every moment, everything encountered could teach something new. Krang had taught him the weight of raw presence. Andrew''s refined techniques blended swordsmanship with grappling. Even the various methods of his comrades¡ªRagna''s speed and strength, Dunbakel''s adaptive blade work, and Teresa''s masterful shield handling¡ªoffered insights. There was no end to what could be absorbed. For that alone, he felt his journey to the capital and Crang''s escort had already paid off. Such was Enkrid''s nature. But from the perspective of his foes? To see a man leap over a wall, strike one target, stab another, and then land grinning amidst the chaos¡ªit was nothing short of madness. "That bastard''s insane!" One of the assailants screamed. Enkrid, however, was uninterested in their chatter. Who were these men? It wasn''t merely intuition¡ªhe was certain. ''Are they any different from the ones before?'' There wasn''t much difference. And that was enough. He would cut them down all the same. These were assassins, like the countless others he''d encountered on his way here. Skilled, but ultimately no match. Enkrid pressed forward, his intensity leaving no room for hesitation. "Stop!" The desperate cry came from his opponent, but it was predictably futile. These people were already marked as enemies. Whung. Enkrid closed the distance. His speed made it almost impossible to track his movements¡ªthe moment his foot touched the ground, he was already upon them. Simultaneously, a sharp streak of light arced through the air above their heads. There were three attackers in total. The only one unharmed was the first who had fired an arrow from the wall. That same unharmed man shouted, "Stop!" but before the words had even finished echoing, a blade descended toward his head. To the attackers, it seemed as though the space between them suddenly disappeared, and Enkrid''s sword materialized midair. "Damn it!" There wasn''t even time to curse properly. The man drew his swords at lightning speed, lifting them to intercept the strike. In his hands were two curved blades¡ªa signature weapon that identified him as a key figure in an assassination syndicate. ''Block and deflect.'' The moment he made up his mind, his curved swords rose to meet the incoming light. "I''ve got it!" But then, strangely, the moment of contact seemed to stretch endlessly. It was as though time itself bent, giving him ample time to reflect, though not to question. His focus was sharper than ever, devoted solely to the act of blocking. ''Fast.'' Realization dawned on him. The angles, the grip, the force¡ªeverything about the strike revealed flawless execution. ''So, that''s how it''s done.'' His body instinctively recalled techniques for swinging a weapon and applying force. Yet something was wrong. Why hasn''t the impact hit yet? The streak of light seemed to descend ever so slowly, unwavering and impossibly precise. Finally, his curved swords clashed with the blade of light. And that was as far as his thoughts carried him. Bang! Crunch! Crack! Enkrid infused his strike with the Will of Momentum, amplifying its force. What does speed truly stem from? "Explosive strength comes from muscle control," Rem had once explained. "Muscles, brother," Audin had added. Controlled and well-utilized muscles, from the thighs, core, shoulders, arms, to the grip, contracted explosively. Twisting the waist and ankle added centrifugal force, driving the blade downward. The result was a strike akin to lightning¡ªa reimagining of Ragna''s signature Thunder Strike. It was an attack only a knight-level opponent could hope to block. This was the Thunder Fang, not of a thrust. Predictably, the thunderous blow overpowered the enemy''s dual blades. The initial explosion came from the clash of steel. The following crunching sounds were the attacker''s bones fracturing, his hands and arms shattering under the strain. Lastly, the crack came as the blunt edge of his own blade struck his collarbone, shattering it. In a single blow, Enkrid had demolished his opponent. "Huuh..." Enkrid exhaled deeply, steam rising visibly from his lips as the heat of his exertion radiated from his body. The remaining two attackers hesitated, their courage evaporating. One of them, holding a poison capsule labeled Ten Breaths, froze, unable to act. Enkrid, standing against the shadowed wall, addressed them coldly. "Stop? Wait? Do you have something to say?" The attacker who had been fending off Enkrid''s gladius, now nursing two broken fingers, gritted his teeth as he straightened himself. "We came to warn you." "Warn me?" Was this a warning? It felt more like they had come to be beaten senseless. Enkrid gestured for them to continue. The man with a punctured shoulder spoke next. "This isn''t a place for you. Turn back. That''s all we came to say." "You''re the ones who attacked me first." "It was a warning level attack," the man muttered. "Ridiculous. After all this, you''d be lucky if I don''t take your heads right here." Even as he finished speaking, the injured attacker tossed a smoke bomb to the ground. Pffft! Thick smoke enveloped the area. Watching the scene, Enkrid sighed. Do they really think this would work on me? Withdrawing the fire from his weapon, he swung his gladius in a wide arc. The blade''s flat side whipped up a powerful gust that scattered the smoke like a gale. Whung! At a certain level, pure physical strength was no different from magic. The dissipating smoke revealed... nothing. The attackers had fled. They caught me off guard. Enkrid admitted to himself that he hadn''t expected them to retreat. "What''s going on?" Andrew arrived belatedly, armed and followed by five trainees and Mack. Despite his shift to household duties, Andrew''s disciplined appearance suggested he hadn''t neglected training. He surveyed the scene, noting the corpse and remnants of the encounter. "Who''s this?" he asked. "A fool who attacked and took a fatal blow," Enkrid replied. The man''s arms and ribs were broken, and his clavicle shattered. The blunt edge of his weapon had crushed his heart, sealing his fate. "In broad daylight? Over the estate walls? Not even under the cover of night?" Andrew muttered, a mix of anger and disbelief in his tone as he examined the body and the lingering smoke. Meanwhile, Enkrid pieced together the situation. The attackers were part of an assassination group. Why strike now? Jaxen is away. Everyone else is scattered. This was likely the best timing imaginable. But what did that imply? "They''re watching," Enkrid concluded. Beside him, Andrew ground his teeth in frustration. "Damn them!" Andrew''s pride was clearly wounded, and anger boiled beneath the surface. Meanwhile, Enkrid casually wiped the blood off his sword before sheathing it. He ran a hand through his hair, his mind elsewhere. The events earlier hadn''t been entirely bad. He had gained insights, after all. For someone like Ragna or Rem, breaking and surpassing barriers multiple times a day was the norm. For Enkrid, however, achieving such breakthroughs required a rare convergence of luck and repetition. Then a sudden thought struck him. ''Can''t I somehow make my own luck?'' To do that, he needed clarity on the current situation. "Where are the knights or knightly orders?" It was a pointed question that got straight to the core of the issue. Andrew''s lips twitched slightly before he hesitated to respond. "What defines a kingdom''s strength?" Enkrid pressed. "Knights," Andrew answered after a pause, almost reluctantly. If a nation lacked knights or the means to train them, it was only natural for a power like Aspen to exploit the weakness. The matter wasn''t about skirmishes. If Naurilia''s military might had faltered even slightly, Aspen would have already mobilized its full strength to breach the border. The only reason they hadn''t crossed the Border Guard was because of the knights and their unyielding presence. If Aspen had calculated a loss in an all-out conflict, they would avoid such risks. Understanding the present and predicting the future¡ªthat was what mattered now. ''This is Big Eyes'' forte,'' Enkrid thought wryly. But since Krais wasn''t here, the responsibility fell to him. When tools are absent, one must improvise. "Do you know the current state of the kingdom?" Andrew pondered for a moment, then countered with his own question. "Do you?" Enkrid''s answer came swiftly. "No idea." His blunt honesty was disarming. Andrew, observing him, felt a flicker of admiration. Perhaps this was why Crang held the Madmen Commander in such high regard. How many people could admit ignorance without hesitation? Straightforward. Resolute. Imposing. And then there was his skill. ''A monster, really.'' Andrew glanced at the lifeless body sprawled on the ground. The man''s faint smile in death was unnerving. Enkrid''s attack had been so decisive that, in his final moments, the assassin likely experienced a strange revelation. Andrew didn''t dwell on it further. "There are no knights left in the capital right now. Let''s continue this inside." It wasn''t a conversation the trainees should overhear. "Mac," Andrew called as they turned to head indoors. "Yes, I''ll handle the cleanup," Mac replied, his expression grim. Enkrid thought it was only natural. Anyone in Mac''s position¡ªsupporting a leader who gambled everything on what seemed like a losing battle¡ªwould be frustrated. Even without details, Enkrid could feel the weight of the situation. ''This is shaping up to be an uphill fight.'' Anyone with half a brain could see it. From Crang''s perspective, it was a continuous risk. Perhaps it would have been wiser to gather strength externally before returning with reinforcements. "What happened here?" Rem returned before sunset, his tone as casual as ever. "No good finds," Dunbakel remarked, accompanying him. Shortly after, Ragna arrived. "Why does he keep insisting he knows shortcuts when it''s his first time in the capital?" complained the attendant trailing behind Ragna, sweating profusely despite the mild weather. Sending someone along had proven to be a wise decision. Finally, Jaxen made his entrance. "Where do you keep wandering off to?" Rem asked, casting a glance at him. They were gathered in the lounge on the first floor, a space often used as an informal meeting room. Ironically, Rem had done his share of wandering earlier but seemed to have forgotten all about it. Typical Rem. Jaxen ignored the comment entirely. He neither looked at nor acknowledged Rem''s words, which was not unusual. However, this time his indifference felt different¡ªhe seemed preoccupied, detached. His gaze eventually landed on Enkrid, who greeted him with a curt, "You''re here." Jaxen nodded in response. To Enkrid, Jaxen''s demeanor suggested he was wrestling with some internal struggle. It was subtle, almost imperceptible¡ªsomething only intuition could pick up on. "Something on your mind?" Enkrid asked. "No." The response came instantly, which in itself was odd. Normally, Jaxen would deflect or counter with a probing remark. ''Why would there be?'' Or. ''Shouldn''t I be asking you that question instead?'' But this time, he dismissed the inquiry altogether. Why? Enkrid was curious but knew better than to push. Jaxen wasn''t one to easily share his thoughts. For now, there were more pressing matters. "Andrew, continue," Enkrid said, shifting focus. Understanding the bigger picture took precedence. ------------------------------------------------------------------- The sale on my Ko-fi is still on until 10.01.2025! 30 Chapters per 5$ ko-fi.com/samowek Don''t miss out on the 33% sale on Chapters! Buy any number of Chapters and get an extra 33% of the number of Chapters you got! Thank you all for your support Chapter 359 - Jaxen Benshino Chapter 359 - 359 - Jaxen Benshino Chapter 359 - Jaxen Benshino "The biggest issue in the capital right now is the factions, and those who were fighting amongst themselves are now preparing for war," Andrew said, sharing what he knew, while Enkrid combined that with the information he had received from Rem. "There''s nothing useful," Rem had said after surveying the capital''s market. "It''s all just scrap being sold." There were many people, and the goods were plentiful, but when it came to selling them... "No, this belongs to a certain noble, you see," was the common excuse. It was as if the goods were treated as military supplies. Weapons and food weren''t flowing smoothly. What did that imply? ''It means they''ve stationed their troops around here.'' If something goes wrong, they would pull their forces in. The problem was, this wasn''t being done with the Queen''s consent. "The Royal Guard is now divided into factions too. That''s how ridiculous things have gotten," Andrew continued. "Ridiculous?" Enkrid asked, his usual response whenever Andrew spoke¡ªhe wanted to show he was listening, even if it was to something trivial. Andrew didn''t stop, continuing with his story. "Yeah, ridiculous. They''re assassinating each other, and this inquisitor keeps rounding people up, calling them heretics. Recently, animal-like cries have been heard at night, and people have been disappearing every few days." "This is the capital," Enkrid remarked. "Yes, it is. I know. It''s a big city, so disappearances are fairly common. But this is way too frequent. And there''s no one leading the investigation into the assassinations or incidents. The only ones trying to act are the gate captains, but even they are powerless." Enkrid folded his arms, taking note of the flushed look on Andrew''s face. This was not something easily said. Turning to him, Enkrid asked, "And in the middle of all this, one of the royal bloodlines has arrived?" "That just adds fuel to the fire. The factions, who had been watching carefully, are now drawing swords. They claim they came to end the factional fighting," Andrew replied. End the fighting? That raised obvious doubts. "How?" Enkrid asked, curious about the method. Andrew shrugged and raised his hands. "I don''t know how." This was something for Krang to handle. But what was Enkrid supposed to do now? When he first arrived in the capital, what had he hoped for most? ''Would I leave without meeting even a single knight?'' It was an opportunity to fight, to train, to open his eyes to new possibilities. As he listened to Andrew, Enkrid realized that those factions might send their best out soon. They would come out to fight, putting their lives on the line. That was what he was hoping for. Much like when he trained his students, he believed that once he entered the royal palace, new opportunities would come. Sometimes, if the answer wasn''t clear after thinking too much, the best course of action was simply to follow what felt right in the moment. Enkrid decided to go with that impulse. He would stand by the side of a friend and take a swing with his sword. It was a sudden decision, but he had been warned about it. Was this a rash choice? "What are you thinking so hard about?" Rem asked, sensing Enkrid''s inner turmoil. Enkrid smiled lightly, knowing Rem wouldn''t mind whatever decision he made. "I was thinking of cutting off the Queen''s head and becoming a faction noble myself," he casually remarked. "What?" Rem blinked in disbelief. "You''re saying you want to fight? Alright, alright." It seemed Rem could only hear the words about fighting. "...What did you just say?" Andrew asked, taken aback. "Just a joke," Enkrid said, calming him down. Just as he was finishing his thoughts and organizing what he would do next, Enkrid felt a chill run down his spine. Instinctively, he turned around. In the corner of the lounge, leaning against a pillar and half-hidden in the shadows, was Jaxen. "Hey, want to go for a walk?" Enkrid asked. Looking at Jaxen''s eyes, Enkrid knew that something would happen if he left him alone. He had seen that kind of look before¡ªjust before he had nearly drawn his sword in a confrontation with Rem. It was the same expression. Was Jaxen ambushed too? No, it was something else. Enkrid instinctively knew. ''He''s supposed to be in the royal palace,'' he realized. That must be it. "Sure," Jaxen replied, heading out the door. It seemed as though he was restraining himself from some impulse. "Did he take something?" Rem muttered to himself. "I''ll be back soon," Enkrid said, following Jaxen outside. They walked through the shadows, the wind tousling their hair as they moved side by side. "There''s something I must do," Jaxen spoke first. "Hmm, okay," Enkrid nodded. Whatever Jaxen was dealing with, Enkrid knew he would take care of it himself. "To do that, I''ll need to do something else first, but it''s a bit troublesome," Jaxen continued. "Troublesome?" It didn''t seem like a word that fit Jaxen. Enkrid paused, sensing that Jaxen had something to say. He had the feeling there was more, but what could he really do to help? "It''s about killing someone," Jaxen said. Right, that made sense. Given Jaxen''s mood, it certainly seemed that way. So, what was the right thing to say? After a moment of thought, Enkrid spoke. "Hang in there." It was a typical response. Jaxen wouldn''t be asking for help, and he would handle most things on his own. Enkrid nodded and gave Jaxenn''s shoulder a few gentle taps. After a couple of pats, Enkrid turned around, feeling that Jaxen''s eyes had calmed somewhat since before. He intended to head back inside. But Jaxen stopped. He gazed at his superior''s back, watching him as he moved under the starlight and moonlight. ''I knew something was off, but...'' Jaxen wondered about the encouragement. ''Do you trust me?'' Was it trust? Belief? Was that why Enkrid said it? Jaxen''s eyes glinted with uncertainty again. Enkrid walked, deep in thought. If Rem and Ragna made a move, it would make a public spectacle. But Jaxen wasn''t like that. He wasn''t called a scheming stray cat for nothing. Jaxen would do what he had to¡ªquietly, in secret. Enkrid considered this as he turned toward Jaxen''s back. "Enemy and vengeance," Jaxen said. His voice reached Enkrid''s ears at the right volume. "What?" Enkrid turned back around. Jaxen was the type who would listen to any story, and today was no different. Enkrid fully turned to face him, as if asking if he really had something to say. Jaxen simply stared, and Enkrid naturally turned toward two stones resting by the wall. He sat down, pulling out some dried jerky and his canteen. Was this preparedness, or just coincidence? The canteen smelled of alcohol, not sweet apple wine but the strong aroma of brandy. Jaxen took the canteen, took a swig, and swallowed. The hot liquid surged through his throat and into his stomach. It was a strong drink. But Jaxen wouldn''t get drunk. Since he was a child, he''d chewed on poisonous herbs to build resistance. A body that could withstand poison wouldn''t succumb to alcohol. The memories of chewing on poison, swallowing it, and enduring it suddenly flooded his mind. What had been the driving force behind enduring it all? Death. That was the beginning. The death of his family, his parents, and everyone he knew. He had seen death and made it his weapon. That was how he had lived. Enkrid took the canteen, took a sip, and then asked, "Who''s the enemy?" "There was a faction called the Black Lily," Jaxen began, his voice calm and detached, as though there was no sorrow in his words. His father had been cruel, his mother merciless. "If necessary, stab your friend in the back." Those had been his father''s words, and they became his final command. Jaxen had lived by that command ever since. If necessary, he would stab anyone in the back. "That''s harsh," someone had said. Then, he met his mentor. He went through many things, and over time, his position had changed. His life had been one of surviving by chewing on poisonous herbs and carving scars into his body with knives. Jaxen''s path had been soaked in blood. In fact, he had made his path by cutting through it. He walked, and walked again. Jaxen had been the son of a noble family. Saxon Bensino, that was his name. The Bensino family was quite a powerful noble house. They had succeeded in trade and business, but his father had always desired more success. Was that a mistake? He didn''t know. Jaxen decided it wasn''t important to dwell on right or wrong. He simply set a clear, singular goal. He would take revenge. He would kill everyone involved. "Hey, you''ll die young if you keep this up." His mentor had warned him like that. Jaxen didn''t listen. He kept his eyes set on his one path. "When will you become a real person?" "Isn''t that something someone running an assassination guild should say?" In response to that, he remembered his mentor laughing lightly. "Yeah, better to get angry. That''s more pleasing to the eyes." It was just small talk. His goal had been clear. He gathered information and investigated. His family had fallen. Had it been due to misfortune? That was nonsense. Someone had schemed it. Jaxen decided to hold those responsible for the scheme. That''s when he found the name. Black Lily. It was the name of a faction. What did they do when they gathered? They were in it for personal gain. Some of them, working under a cruel lord, had turned into a band of thieves. Others had become nobles in some country, and still others had vanished like smoke. The first person Jaxen had found was someone who had lost everything, whose life had crumbled, and who had been cast into the gutter. "Why did you do it?" He was curious. A family was ruined, and several merchant guilds were consumed. Many had died because of the Black Lily. There must be a reason for it. "The reason is simple." The fallen powerholder chuckled. "How much do you think you can tear apart the Bensino family? Damn it. Everyone lives by screwing others over." The man who had given up everything no longer cared for his own life. Wasn''t it actually more considerate to give death? Could sending someone to hell be seen as something to be thankful for? Killing with a simple slash to the throat would be a blessing. But that wasn''t the path. Jaxen hadn''t done it himself. Instead, he severed tendons and threw the person into a beggar''s den. Four days later, the man was torn apart alive and died. That year, a drought made people kill for a handful of wheat. At a time when even a single blade of grass was precious, survival in a beggar''s den was impossible. The dying man''s final words echoed in his ears. "Everyone screws others over to survive." The man had once been the friend of his cruel father. Or, rather, he had been. "Just keep moving forward. There''s no need to look back." The merciless words of his mother also stayed with him. For a purpose, was it permissible to do anything? If that was the case, then he would do it. Years were spent searching for the masterminds of the Black Lily, and during that time, his teacher passed away. He would never understand the teacher''s last words, so he buried them. He never recalled them. "Stab a friend in the back if necessary." "Just keep moving forward." Instead, he repeated his father and mother''s words in his mind. Their words tangled together. "Everyone screws others over to survive." The dead man''s words mixed in. He had killed the four main masterminds of the Black Lily. It was only when he was searching for the fifth that he learned one of them had targeted the Bensino family. Should he call it the real enemy? He didn''t know their name or identity. After several clues and deductions, he finally met Abnaier. He was told to go to the Naurilia royal palace, and Jaxen had made his way there. When Enkrid was ambushed, and Rem, Dunbakel, and Ragna complained about selling worthless goods on the market, Jaxen entered a mansion in a residential area. The old mansion, covered in cobwebs, showed little sign of human habitation. He saw the one who had lured him here. It was a man with white hair, wearing a monocle. His body was thin, and he carried a cane-sword, his eyes narrow and hard to read. It was obvious. They were of the same kind, in the same industry. "You must be from Geor''s Dagger." The man guessed his origin. Of course, it was easy to deduce¡ªhe had deliberately leaked information to get here. Geor''s Dagger was the continent''s most powerful assassination guild. Yet, the man didn''t seem afraid. Was it confidence in his skill? Or did he believe he had found Jaxen''s weakness? "I know what you''re looking for," the white-haired man said. "What is it?" Jaxen asked, his brown eyes absorbing the darkness like they were pulling in the night. "You are the heir to the Bensino family, aren''t you?" Ah, yes, he had figured that out. "I will give you all the information you seek. Everything, anything." Jaxen waited for the next words. "However, you must stab him." Who was "him"? There was no need to explain. The man with black hair and blue eyes¡ªthe leader of Jaxen''s former squad. "Enkrid, stab him." It was an offer to kill the leader, Enkrid. The reward? Information he had sought for years. Enkrid sat silently, gazing at the moon. The sound of the water jug in his hand sloshed quietly. Jaxen spoke of vengeance and enemies, mentioning that one of them was in the royal palace and that he would have to enter and find them. He omitted the part about meeting a fellow assassin from the same industry. "Alright, let''s find them." Enkrid said. There was no hint of a smile. It wasn''t a joke. His words were sincere, filled with determination. He would help if Jaxen asked for it. If Jaxen didn''t refuse, he would do his best. He knew Jaxen. He was that kind of person. However, could they really find someone who had eluded them for so long with just effort? Jaxen had an easier path ahead of him. The words of his father, mother, and the first enemy he killed intersected in his mind. "If necessary, stab a friend in the back." "Just keep moving forward. There''s no need to look back." "Everyone screws others over to survive." This was the path Jaxen had walked. A road carved with blood, blades, and poison. It would be the same path now. He would walk it again, as he had before. ------------------------------------------------------------------- The sale on my Ko-fi is still on until 10.01.2025! 30 Chapters per 5$ ko-fi.com/samowek Don''t miss out on the 33% sale on Chapters! Buy any number of Chapters and get an extra 33% of the number of Chapters you got! Thank you all for your support Chapter 360 - Thrust Chapter 360 - 360 - Thrust 360. Thrust The art of a silent thrust. It was Jaxen''s specialty. No sound, no intent, no presence. A blade advancing without noise fulfilled the very role it was forged for. Born to stab, slash, and carve flesh¡ªit existed solely for that purpose. The silent blade advanced toward Enkrid''s back. If it continued unimpeded, the mission would be complete. "Are you sparring with me?" Jaxen found himself staring into Enkrid''s eyes, which had turned to face him. His silent thrust had halted, the blade frozen mid-motion as his right hand remained extended forward. ''He sensed it and reacted?'' That meant his silent thrust had been disrupted. Clink. Enkrid had already drawn his silver longsword, striking Jaxen''s blade lightly in what seemed more courtesy than attack. Jaxen quickly pulled his blade back in front of him, the sword vibrating faintly in his grip from the deflection. "I call it Silver," Enkrid said, straightening his sword. The blade caught the moonlight, its reflection shimmering faintly. Watching this, Jaxen realized something he hadn''t before. The thrust hadn''t been disrupted; it had failed to exist. ''Did I... not intend it?'' He hadn''t committed fully. His intent hadn''t been concealed completely. Why? "Jaxen." His name cut through his thoughts. Enkrid''s eyes reflected the moonlight, a glowing blue hue emanating from them. The aura emanating from his sword rose steadily as his shoulders shifted subtly, telegraphing his next move. Jaxen reacted instantly. Judging from the stance, he anticipated the attack and stepped back. Whoosh. The space Jaxen had occupied a moment ago was sliced through by Enkrid''s blade, Silver, carving a short, precise arc through the air. The strike wasn''t a wild swing relying on centrifugal force but a deliberate cut emphasizing the sharpness of the blade. "If you''re careless, you might lose something important," Enkrid warned, his tone carrying the weight of his intent. His piercing blue eyes shone brightly in the darkness as he gripped the blade with both hands. His presence was palpable¡ªa force to be reckoned with. Jaxen assessed the attack calmly, reading the flow of the confrontation in an instant before responding. "Relying on the weapon''s strengths, are you?" Under normal circumstances, Jaxen wouldn''t have spoken; he would''ve acted. Yet he chose to speak now, even though he realized how uncharacteristic it was. He didn''t dwell on why. So he followed his instincts. Was this for the mission? For vengeance? Was this act of thrusting at someone''s back what he wanted? ''It doesn''t matter.'' Jaxen inwardly mimicked Enkrid''s casual tone, letting the words guide him unconsciously. Enkrid exhaled deeply, his breath seemingly visible in the moonlight, exuding an intense energy. "I mean it¡ªhold back, and you''ll get hurt, Jaxen." Enkrid was no longer the same man. He had changed. The figure standing before Jaxen bore no resemblance to the beaten, silent man he''d first met. The one mocked and bruised despite his rank was gone. Now, he loomed larger than life. Jaxen threw the blade in his hand to the ground, its tip sinking into the soil with a muffled thud. Then, he pulled out another weapon¡ªa stiletto. "That one?" Enkrid recognized it. It was the very blade Leona Rockfreed had once given to Enkrid, only to give it to Jaxen in the end. A gesture devoid of any ulterior motives. Jaxen''s indifferent gaze swept over the blade''s surface. Did Enkrid know its worth when he gave it to him? The thought passed without much weight as Jaxen pointed the gifted weapon''s tip back at its giver. "Don''t let your guard down. That''s all I ask." "An ask?" It was the first time Jaxen had ever spoken such a word. Enkrid''s lips twitched into a faint, crooked smile, his amusement escaping in a quiet chuckle. "Half a life, then." The words carried a subtle promise of danger, an assurance that this duel would be different from anything they''d faced before. Enkrid''s blazing eyes locked onto Jaxen''s, filled with determination that burned like fire. As their gazes met, Jaxen let his arm fall slightly. In that moment, a soundless dagger flew toward Enkrid''s forehead, aiming for the space between his brows. The Sense of Evasion kicked in instinctively. Even without sight or sound, Enkrid avoided the attack, tilting his head just enough to let the razor-sharp blade graze past. Then, he sensed another blade¡ªaimed precisely at the path he had just dodged into. ''A delayed throw.'' It was one of the dagger techniques Jaxen himself had taught¡ªa delayed release meant to catch even the most intuitive opponents off-guard. Still, he hadn''t expected things to escalate like this so suddenly. After all, no one can predict everything. Though it was unexpected, Enkrid''s body reacted instinctively. He raised his blade, using its flat side as a shield. Clang! Sparks flew as steel collided with steel under the moonlight. As the two blades clashed, Enkrid discreetly pressed his left foot to the ground, an action designed to divert his opponent''s focus to the sword. Then, in one fluid motion, he kicked forward with his lead foot. Whack. Dust and soil flew up, with a stray weed caught in the mix, obscuring the view. Jaxen reflexively lowered his gaze, reversing his grip on his stiletto and dodging to the side. Ping. The silver longsword pierced through the space where he''d just been, barely a breath after the dust cloud dispersed, but Jaxen had predicted and evaded it. Jaxen''s forte lay in direct combat. Whenever he faced an opponent head-on, he relished calculating their every move and keeping them within the bounds of his strategy. This time was no different¡ªthough something else had entered the mix. To Enkrid''s eyes, Jaxen now resembled a predator, one with claws hidden beneath its velvet paws. Conversely, Jaxen saw Enkrid as a polished, unyielding boulder. No openings. None visible, at least. That alone showed how much he''d grown. "Interesting," Jaxen muttered. Enkrid, catching the remark, replied, "Damn right." "...Wow, where''d you get beat up like that?" Andrew had assigned them separate rooms, but there was only one staircase leading up to them. At the base of those stairs, Rem was tossing and catching his axe, clearly entertaining himself. When he saw Jaxen''s slightly swollen left cheekbone, a wide grin spread across his face. "Did you actually face someone head-on instead of ambushing them? Not like you. What happened? Got dumped by a girl? That why you''ve lost your edge?" It was clear from his random remarks that he was in high spirits. Normally, Jaxen would have ignored him outright, and in the earlier tension, he wouldn''t have even pretended to listen. But now, the atmosphere was different. Loosened from the earlier tension, he retorted, his words slipping out. "Dumped? Do I look like you?" Six words. That was all it took to make Rem feel utterly defeated. If appearances were anything to go by, Jaxen''s face was nothing short of striking¡ªeasily good enough to be the face of any salon. "Wildness is what makes a man, you idiot." Rem shot back, though inwardly he thought, So he''s loosened up a lot since coming back. "I don''t have the energy to play referee today. If you''re going to fight, do it outside. Don''t break anything in here." Enkrid approached from behind Jaxen, speaking up. Andrew, ever the miser, had barely provided any candles for the mansion. Lamps were a rare sight. Judging by the meals and the general state of things, it was clear this place wasn''t particularly well-off. Even the practice wooden swords used here told the same story. As a result, the mansion grew dim once night fell, its shadows thick and unwelcoming. Enkrid seemed to emerge from one of those shadows, though Rem had already sensed his presence long before. "You sparring with the boss?" From the staircase, Rem glanced back. As they passed by a wall-mounted candlestick, Enkrid''s condition came into full view. While Jaxen''s left cheek was swollen, Enkrid''s left eye was puffy, and he was limping. There was even a small puncture wound on his forearm, faint traces of blood visible through the cloth wrapped around it¡ªa clear mark of a dagger''s bite. Yikes. Even to Rem''s eyes, Enkrid''s body was now beyond tough¡ªit was solid as steel. His skill? That was no longer something to underestimate either. And yet, his body was in such a state? Both of them¡ªJaxen and Enkrid¡ªhad clearly fought with full intent. "Did you hit him from behind?" The question felt rhetorical, and Jaxen decided the exchange was no longer worth entertaining. "Move aside, before I knock that empty head of yours off your shoulders." "Try me, idiot. You think I''ll go easy just because you got smacked around?" "Rem, step out," Enkrid interjected. Rem clicked his tongue and pushed himself up using only his heels. The creaking wooden stairs groaned under the movement. With a small leap, Rem landed softly on the ground. For someone wielding an axe and built like a tank, the silence of his landing was almost unnatural. Like a cat dropping to the floor. "Just teasing, just teasing. Still, if a squadmate comes back beaten up, I''m duty-bound to settle the score. That''s Rem''s code of honor. So, was it just sparring?" By now, Jaxen had climbed halfway up the stairs, moving with such quiet precision that even Rem felt outmatched. Rem glanced upward, catching sight of Jaxen''s heels disappearing beyond the top. Turning back, he remarked, "You''re pretty beat up." "It''s nothing." Though pain radiated from his left hip, Enkrid didn''t consider it severe. The limp was more about aiding recovery than an inability to walk. Some of the injuries, after all, were deliberately inflicted. In other words, they were within expectations. "So, what''s the story?" Rem''s question wasn''t about the sparring itself. No, it carried a weight beyond the obvious. Conscious of Jaxen''s condition, Rem''s question implicitly asked why Enkrid had gone through such an intense sparring session. It was because Jaxen was behaving differently than usual. Inwardly, Enkrid let out an "ah" in realization. Unlike his outward demeanor, Rem was sharp, quick to grasp the situation, and well-aware of what needed to be done. "You killed a noble''s son and were chased down for it, huh?" The words Rem had once casually spoken echoed in Enkrid''s mind. Killing a noble''s son and fleeing¡ªRem had done it because he could. If it had been necessary to kill discreetly, he would have done so. However, the fact that he had killed openly and ensured everyone knew it was his doing meant there had been a significant reason behind it. The memories of Rem''s actions over time flashed through Enkrid''s mind. Suddenly, it all clicked¡ªwhy Rem had killed the noble''s son so brazenly without immediately disappearing. He had drawn all eyes, especially those of the nobility, onto himself. He had to. "You made it look like you were the sole culprit," Enkrid murmured. Rem blinked. What on earth was this guy mumbling about now? "What nonsense are you spouting this time?" Rem asked, tapping his own forehead with a finger. Ignoring him, Enkrid continued his train of thought. As he did, Krais''s past words came to mind. Krais, who had a habit of observing the personalities and attitudes of unit members, had once remarked, "The Commander may be lazy when it comes to using his brain, but Rem? He''s different." "Different?" Enkrid had asked. "Rem knows everything but pretends not to. He only reveals himself when he deems it absolutely necessary." If Rem had stealthily killed the noble''s son and left unnoticed, what would have happened to the commoners who had suffered at the noble''s hands? Rem had exposed himself to draw the wrath solely onto him. The message was clear: Come after me, and me alone. He had likely left deliberate traces as he fled, forcing his pursuers to stay on his trail. When he deemed the time was right, he had vanished entirely, escaping to the outskirts. This guy was seriously devious. Rem, who had been silently watching Enkrid, finally spoke again. "Hey, your eyes are looking weird. Seriously. Something''s off." Enkrid shook his head, dismissing the comment as nothing, and continued his reflections. Now that he thought about it, until he had joined the unit and assumed the role of mediator, Rem had caused only minor trouble. The more serious acts of mischief¡ªthe ones bordering on delinquency¡ªhad begun after his arrival. Because he could afford to. By behaving that way, Rem had shaped how others perceived him. He ensured that people thought twice before crossing him and gave himself the freedom to act as he pleased without interference. A sly stray cat? Who was the real cunning one here? "Look, I''m serious. Your eyes are off," Rem insisted. "Let''s hang out a bit longer," Enkrid replied, steering the conversation away. With his sharp instincts and quick mind, Rem surely already knew what he was thinking. Still squinting suspiciously, Rem relented and played along. "This is about that stray cat bastard, isn''t it?" "Well, among other things." Jaxen''s room was right at the top of the stairs, and their conversation was hardly a secret. Undoubtedly, he could hear everything. "That damned cat, always dragging in trouble," Rem grumbled, as usual. But he didn''t say he''d leave or abandon the matter. Enkrid climbed the creaking stairs, replaying the earlier fight in his mind. More specifically, the moment the sparring match had ended. "Stab me." That was what he had said to Jaxen after their sparring session. But Jaxen had hesitated, unwilling to comply. "I''m fine now," Jaxen had replied, shaking his head. Looking at him, Enkrid had spoken again. "Just once¡ªit''s fine." The man before him had taught him techniques to heighten his senses, and Enkrid had thought it would only be fair to let him return the favor by allowing a single strike. He genuinely meant it. When Jaxen had first drawn his blade behind him, Enkrid had felt the intent to kill. Mixed in was hesitation, anxiety, and a deep-seated turmoil that lingered at the edge of the blade. Enkrid had sensed all of it in that single motion. After answering those emotions with their sparring, Enkrid had reached a conclusion. Whoever was behind all of this had a penchant for elaborate schemes. "I was tasked with stabbing you," Jaxen had admitted at one point during the session. Enkrid had grown increasingly curious about this veiled adversary. Warnings, contracts, deceptions¡ªall the signs pointed to the same person. As the wooden stairs groaned beneath his feet, Enkrid ascended to the room where he was staying, resolved. Ultimately, he would give this shadowy schemer the answer they so desperately sought. An answer that would meet their expectations¡ªand crush them entirely. ------------------------------------------------------------------- The sale on my Ko-fi is still on until 10.01.2025! 30 Chapters per 5$ ko-fi.com/samowek Don''t miss out on the 33% sale on Chapters! Buy any number of Chapters and get an extra 33% of the number of Chapters you got! Thank you all for your support Chapter 361 - Where Are the Knights? Chapter 361 - 361 - Where Are the Knights? Chapter 361 - Where Are the Knights? "Do you think they''ll resort to poison or other tricks?" At dawn the next day, Enkrid posed the question. Jaxen, hearing it, shook his head. Now, he was back to his usual self¡ªdetached, indifferent, with a calm expression and demeanor. However, a faint trace of killing intent lingered in his tone. "They won''t repeat the same tactic." His voice was cold, like an ice shard retrieved from a glacier. There was a hint of scorn, directed at those who had schemed in his absence. The icy smirk that briefly appeared vanished just as quickly, replaced by his typical impassive, aloof expression¡ªa look so indifferent that even being pricked by a needle wouldn''t cause him to flinch. "You''re saying you''ll make sure they can''t," Enkrid said. Jaxen nodded nonchalantly, and that was enough. As expected, the day passed without incident. The individuals who had issued the warning didn''t reappear. Would they really return in just a day? No, even if two or three days passed, they likely wouldn''t. Those who came when he was alone would avoid approaching when the group was gathered. Enkrid spent another day training. He practiced without any deep thoughts, driving Andrew and the five trainees hard. "Spare me," one trainee muttered unconsciously. "Sure," Enkrid replied sincerely, "today''s one swing of your blade will save your life tomorrow." His genuine response earned applause from Dunbakel. "That''s a solid quote." "It''s not a quote¡ªit''s a declaration that he''s ignoring your whining, you dumb beast-woman," Rem retorted, criticizing Dunbakel. Their exchange barely registered with Enkrid. His voice had been deliberately low, ensuring the trainees wouldn''t hear. Rem, understanding why Enkrid said such things, had also kept his tone hushed. They''re already pleading for mercy? "Guess I can push them harder," Enkrid thought. He wanted them to pour every ounce of energy into their swords. His intent wasn''t just to meet their expectations but to keep them alive, no matter what. As far as Enkrid was concerned, Gardner''s forces amounted to just seven individuals: Andrew, Mac, and the five trainees. Andrew was the only one remotely useful. And that''s the best he can do in this situation? If anything serious happened, they''d die. Enkrid had no desire to stand idly by and watch Andrew, someone he knew, perish. That said, it wasn''t his job to follow them around and act as a shield. The best solution was to teach them to protect themselves. That was the entire purpose of this rigorous training¡ªto forge them into individuals who wouldn''t collapse at the first sign of a threat. It was better to act as an unyielding wall than to waste energy explaining or shouting at them. When words fell on deaf ears, people kept talking and negotiating. But with someone unresponsive, no such attempts were made. They would instead focus solely on the task at hand. That was what Enkrid wanted: to see them obsessively concentrate and struggle with the work before them. He had risen from the bottom himself and understood the mindset they needed to cultivate. "Ugh..." A trainee groaned in despair, and Enkrid felt satisfied. Ragna, observing the scene, nodded. As always, Enkrid gave his utmost effort. He was the same commander Ragna knew¡ªreliable and steadfast. It was satisfying. Watching it reignited Ragna''s motivation. The sword... Ragna soon immersed himself in his world of training. Meanwhile, Jaxen remained silent. Over the past two days, the only words he had spoken were those dismissing the notion that the enemy would repeat their tactics. No one spoke to Jaxen, either. Even Andrew found him intimidating. To Mac, he was clearly off-limits as a conversation partner. The five trainees were too preoccupied trying to survive. Neither Rem nor Ragna bothered to engage with him, each busy with their respective tasks. Rem occasionally stepped in to take Enkrid''s place when he was away. "If any of you manage to land a hit on me, you''ll get a break," Rem declared, introducing the trainees to a new form of torment. He thoroughly enjoyed it. Ragna, on the other hand, trained in solitude, occasionally murmuring, "Light, swift, heavy..." It was clear he was delving deep into swordsmanship theory. Amid this dynamic, Jaxen had ample space for silent contemplation. At first, it was his own task. Is this a game of cat and mouse? Based on the evidence so far, he had identified a target for his vengeance. However, identifying the target did not equate to finding them. It wouldn''t be easy. He needed more information, to uncover and dig deeper. After practical considerations, a more fundamental question surfaced. Is this the right path? The road he had chosen wasn''t one of "help" or altruism. What was the right path, the true answer? Why was he dedicating his entire life to revenge? If vengeance was the goal, was this method acceptable? "Strike," Enkrid''s words echoed in his mind. Jaxen''s gaze shifted to Enkrid, whose forearm was wrapped in layers of bandages. With the days growing warmer, sleeves had shortened, leaving the injury exposed. The wound, neglected more than treated, had neither festered nor worsened. It was healing¡ªevidence of Jaxen''s own stiletto blade. "Why do you hesitate? Start by finding that reason. Think about the why," his mentor had said. Jaxen followed those words. Hesitation stemmed from within¡ªan uncertainty of the heart. A confused mind led to being dragged along. To know the why meant to resist being swayed. Finding the reason didn''t mean he needed to present a definitive answer. There were many paths to take, and Jaxen had chosen one of them. Instead of controlling his emotions, he let them run freely. Rather than wondering, Is this okay? he acted. Simply acted. He moved forward, taking steps toward the result. This was Enkrid''s mindset, and Jaxen had learned from watching him. He found himself once more appreciating the man''s resilience. He doesn''t give up just because he lacks talent. When pondering failed, he tried. When his mind failed, he used his body. He used both relentlessly, throwing himself into action¡ªa sheer struggle. "You''ll never make it with skills like that." Criticism and mockery didn''t sway him. He simply pressed forward. Jaxen''s inner turmoil unraveled into simplicity, like a tangled thread straightened into a clean line. For now, he decided to follow his instincts, letting his heart guide him. Meanwhile, Rem, claiming boredom, continued to torment the five trainees. Dunbakel, holding a pair of scimitars Enkrid had given her, practiced tirelessly until she grew accustomed to them. At one point, she even transformed into her beast form and challenged Ragna to a sparring match, only to be soundly beaten. Ragna alternated between sword practice and lying in the grass near the training grounds or the barracks. Unless someone challenged him to spar, he seemed relaxed. Jaxen, on the other hand, often left the estate, sometimes accompanied by Enkrid, but frequently alone. When they went out together, it was usually to attend a party. Enkrid often brought Andrew along as his escort. Occasionally, he encountered familiar faces. The capital was teeming with people, all vying for their place, so such encounters weren''t unexpected. "You," someone said. "It''s been a while," Enkrid replied. The speaker was an instructor who had taught swordsmanship during Enkrid''s previous time in the capital. The man wasn''t exactly virtuous. So, now he''s a proper noble''s bodyguard? Enkrid observed the man''s attire, weapons, and companions, forming his judgment. "You''re really that Enkrid?" the former instructor scoffed. Once considered a skilled swordsman, his current attitude suggested otherwise. Enkrid nodded calmly. "Unbelievable," the man muttered before whispering to his comrades. From what Enkrid overheard, they were calling him a fraud. He ignored it. Andrew, standing nearby, frowned. "Should we let this slide?" Andrew asked, ready to intervene. "Let it go," Enkrid replied. He saw no reason to pick a fight with them. The instructor grinned at Enkrid, his expression oily, like the stench of raw fish. "Oh, sure. See you around," the man said, laughing with his companions as they left. He wasn''t even the leader of the group. There was no one particularly noteworthy among them. It was just a passing encounter. *** It wasn''t until after several comings and goings at various parties that Enkrid finally encountered Krang. Krang explained how difficult it had been to leave the palace. "Everyone seems ready to draw their swords at any moment," he said. The dynamics within the royal palace were a mystery to Enkrid. He merely named the most influential figure he could think of. But it was the wrong guess. Hearing this, Krang smiled and replied, "The one holding the blade to your throat isn''t some border noble but someone from within the palace." Without waiting for Enkrid to ask who, Krang readily continued, "It''s that fellow called Viscount Mernes." Apparently, this man had united factions within the palace to form a significant power bloc. From what Krang revealed, Mernes was a rival of Baron Bentra and a figure with ambitions separate from Count Molsan''s. "A troublesome friend, indeed. He''s one of the Five Fingers," Krang said, placing his palm on the bench and leaning back to gaze at the sky. His casual demeanor stood in stark contrast to the gravity of his words. The "Five Fingers" referred to the five families supporting the royal palace. The Thumb family was the Marquisate of Baisar.The Index family, the Rachon family, had served the military for generations.The Middle Finger referred to Count Molsan, ruler of the border territories.The Ring Finger handled the kingdom''s finances, currently managed by someone known as the Marquis of Okto.The Little Finger was a family tasked with guarding the palace, though their name remained unknown. Notably, none of these families actively supported the queen. They were too preoccupied with their interests. Krang didn''t bother explaining all of this; it wasn''t necessary. He glanced at Enkrid, noting that such details didn''t seem to be what the man was curious about. So why had Enkrid sought him out? Initially, attention had been drawn to Andrew, who entered as an uninvited guest at the party. But the gossip quickly shifted to his escorts. "The hero born of the Border Guard." "Just a man wrapped in an exaggerated reputation." Rumors claimed those who knew Enkrid''s past often spoke disparagingly of him, suggesting he was a mediocre warrior, propped up by his subordinates, and intoxicated by his hollow fame. "Is it that they won''t believe it unless they see it for themselves?" Was it arrogance? Conceit? Or a need to protect their hard-earned reputations? "None of that." To Krang, they were all fools. If they doubted his reputation, they could test him under the guise of goodwill. If they didn''t like that, observing quietly would have been the better option. Yet some ignorant nobles wasted no time disparaging Enkrid. "Do they lack intelligence?" How had such halfwits become palace officials? Among those who busied themselves with belittling Enkrid was the palace''s chief security officer¡ªoverseer of all guards and commander of the royal security forces. "Should I be glad about this?" Should Krang rejoice that a suspected enemy was a fool, or lament that the palace he might one day rule was filled with incompetents? Should he blame the queen for leading such a nation, or pity her for dealing with such a situation? Of course, Enkrid''s sudden rise to attention wasn''t solely due to his abilities. "I''d love to see that face once." "They say he''s quite handsome?" "It would be a feast for the eyes." Such were the curiosities of noblewomen. Rumors had it that the two men escorting Andrew had stolen the show from outside the party hall to within. Naturally, those two were Enkrid and Jaxen. No wonder jealous nobles were busy spreading near-slanderous gossip about Enkrid. Jealousy had always been one of the strongest motivators. Some nobles even wanted him dead, with the chief security officer among them. If Enkrid so much as drew his sword in the city, the security forces would likely be dispatched immediately. Krang, deep in thought, eventually spoke. "Viscount Mernes is both the son-in-law of Marquis Baisar and a scion of the Rachon family." Mernes was backed by the most powerful allies in the palace, had stationed private troops in the capital, and even brought a portion of the Royal Guard under his command. Since Krang''s arrival in the capital, Mernes had swiftly consolidated power, uniting surrounding factions under his banner. In terms of threat level, he was far more dangerous than Count Molsan. "They say he''s stationed a battalion-level force outside the capital. So, what is it you want to know?" Krang broke off mid-thought to ask. Enkrid''s visit clearly had a purpose. Though there were many questions he could ask, Enkrid had one that stood above the rest¡ªa question that could unravel much. So he asked about those who should have been there, whose absence felt inexplicable. "Where are all the knights?" If even one knight had been in the royal palace¡ªif they were truly by the queen''s side¡ªcould someone like Mernes, or whatever his name was, act so brazenly? Assassins had delivered warnings in broad daylight. Bestial howls echoed through the night. Tales of terror spread through the capital daily. If the knights existed, if the knightly order were active, none of this could have happened, nor should it have. It was a question that cut to the heart of everything. ------------------------------------------------------------------- The sale on my Ko-fi is still on until 10.01.2025! 30 Chapters per 5$ ko-fi.com/samowek Don''t miss out on the 33% sale on Chapters! Buy any number of Chapters and get an extra 33% of the number of Chapters you got! Thank you all for your support Chapter 362 - Krang’s Scheme Chapter 362 - 362 - Krang''s Scheme Chapter 362 - Krang''s Scheme Five steps away from Krang, a whip-wielding bodyguard remained alert, scanning the surroundings. Beside him stood another warrior¡ªa bald man with a muscular build. He stood behind Krang, facing away like a statue, exuding an aura of strength. Enkrid noted their well-trained physiques and couldn''t help but think of Andrew, who was likely grimacing inside the party venue. Andrew had complained that his presence at such gatherings went entirely unnoticed. While even a ghoul might elicit disdain or grimaces, Andrew was treated with outright indifference. A mere baron of low rank and poor connections was hardly worth anyone''s time. Even the butler at the entrance dismissed him outright. "Baron Andrew Gardner? Have you come to the right place?" the butler had asked, not even bothering with polite speech. Andrew had sighed internally but responded with measured calm. "Why? Am I not allowed here?" "Your invitation?" "It must have been misplaced in the rush of preparations." "...Very well, you may enter," the butler said reluctantly, visibly displeased. Andrew entered the venue, but Enkrid, attending as his bodyguard, wasn''t allowed inside. Not that Enkrid cared much about the party itself¡ªhe had other priorities. He''d initially accompanied Andrew hoping for some unexpected confrontation, like another cryptic warning from a would-be assassin, but that hope proved fruitless. Instead, Enkrid eventually found himself face-to-face with Krang, who responded to his question with a single word: "Knights." Krang fell silent for a moment, his gaze steady and unperturbed, before continuing. "Why is it that Count Molsan dares to act like a king on the frontier without being punished? That was the first question I asked myself." Krang had since found his answer and now shared it with Enkrid. "You''re aware of the southern nation, Lihin-Stetten, correct?" His tone was conversational, almost as if recommending a popular tavern. The backdrop¡ªa cold evening, an old bench, and the faint glow of insects resembling fireflies¡ªclashed with the gravity of his words. "For seven years, we''ve been at war with Lihin-Stetten, yet we''ve never been easily overwhelmed. Why do you think that is?" "Because the southern lords are skilled at defense?" "Then why was the frontier breached so easily during the recent monster uprisings?" "Then what''s the reason?" "Two knights. Sir Cypress and another knight are holding the line," Krang explained. The southern nation''s military strength is objectively superior to Naurilia''s, yet these two knights had achieved near-miraculous feats, holding the invaders at bay. Without them, the frontlines would have already fallen. "I''ve seen it with my own eyes," Krang continued. "Those two knights have worked wonders. If they were to abandon their posts, the south would collapse tomorrow." As Krang nudged a stone embedded in the ground with his foot, Enkrid began to understand. "The knights are tied down," he said. "Not just the knights," Krang confirmed. The kingdom had poured its resources into defending the frontlines. Two knights stood at the southern border, and with them, portions of the knightly order. Without their presence, the war with Lihin-Stetten would have been a disaster. "And the third knight?" Enkrid asked. "There''s a colony of monsters threatening the eastern regions," Krang revealed, his tone unchanging as he divulged a secret of the highest order. "That knight is dealing with them." This was news to Enkrid. He hadn''t heard even a whisper of it before. "It''s not just the monsters," Krang added. "The mercenary king of the east is also waiting for his chance. Part of the knightly order has been dispatched there to handle the threats." Even during Naurilia''s last conflict with Aspen, one knight had barely managed to join the battlefield. Back then, the kingdom''s strategy wasn''t to win decisively but to deal a quick blow and retreat. Why? "Because they couldn''t afford to be absent for long," Enkrid realized. A knight''s absence from their primary post could spell disaster elsewhere. The knights weren''t just symbols of martial prowess; they were critical to maintaining the kingdom''s fragile stability. Everything seemed plausible. It all made sense¡ªthe absence of knights, and how only some of the knights stayed behind at the palace. And all of this was an excellent opportunity for those harboring ambitions and dreaming of rebellion. ''Even the Royal Guard has become part of the factions.'' The palace guards and their captain were the same. Everyone had to choose a side. Reality and facts intertwined, telling one cohesive story. Why did everything fall into place so perfectly? Why had the stage been set so well for those dreaming of rebellion? Why was the stage set for them to act? Enkrid''s instincts were sharpened by his exceptional situational awareness. Even without a battle, his focus heightened, and his senses sharpened. In his spinning mind, he reached one conclusion. What did Krang gain from all of this? Why did he come to the palace and stir up trouble? Since his arrival, the noble factions had been acting as if they had fire on their feet. They immediately started moving toward the side that demanded the successor give up the throne. He had gained quite a bit of power, too. Everyone knew that Marcus from Center Pole had sided with him. Haste brought action. That''s how the noble factions acted. If one looked closely, the noble factions were also sending signals about which side they were on. In a situation where choosing sides was necessary, not choosing would mean being left out. It was clear that they had to make their stance known. "Right?" There was no need to ask further. Enkrid asked, and Krang smiled broadly, replying. That smile looked so innocent. It didn''t seem like the smile of someone who had such an intricate plan. To some, it might even be a terrifying smile. "I was just about to tell you." He had no intention of hiding his plans. In fact, he seemed to have wanted Enkrid to notice. Krang stood up, brushing off his knees. As he stood, he kicked a stone, which flew off and rolled into a shadowed area. "We''re gathering unnecessary things to clear them out. That''s why. We need a civil war." If you''ve gathered trash, you either burn it or bury it. A civil war would serve that purpose. That''s what was being set up. Of course, the premise was that the noble factions needed to be quietly expelled from the palace. Krang hadn''t come to prevent a civil war; he''d come to accelerate it. No, he intended to achieve his own goals perfectly through this process. That meant setting the stage and subtly dividing the sides. He was planning to distinguish between what could and couldn''t be used. The foundation for all this would naturally be force. ''He purposely left the army from the palace to filter out those who would betray or defect.'' That was the conclusion. Enkrid stood up, too. It was time to go. He noticed Andrew leaving the mansion, looking thoroughly exhausted. Seeing this, Enkrid asked about one of the two reasons he had come here. "Do you know who leads the Black Blades?" The leader of the bandits, who had settled in the palace, was a member of the Black Lily. This was as much as Jaxen had found out. However, it seemed that the leader was very good at hiding himself, making him difficult to track. Meanwhile, there had been an assassination contract, possibly linked to an assassination alliance. "...It might be a coincidence, but our goals align. Right now, the biggest problem for me is that person. I''ll send you the necessary information, so think about it. I''m also trying to find him." Enkrid nodded. The purpose of chasing after Crang and meeting him had been achieved. His curiosity had been satisfied, and he had secured a promise of help. At that moment, Enkrid had made his choice. "Oh, Enki. Are you thinking of becoming my knight?" Krang suddenly asked as he turned to leave. "What?" "You don''t seem like the type to be satisfied being someone''s knight. Well, that''s just my opinion." That innocent smile from earlier was back as Krang turned to walk away. He did so with an attitude that implied the answer didn''t matter. Enkrid didn''t think much of it. He was focused on the weight of becoming a knight. Becoming someone''s knight hadn''t even crossed his mind. It wasn''t important right now. What was important was that Krang was in the process of distinguishing between allies and enemies. That''s why he had set the stage. He had communicated his intentions to all the nobles through action. Of course, only a few nobles would realize his hidden intentions. But even if they noticed, they wouldn''t be able to ignore them. Krang had spoken to all the nobles. With no knights and no knightly order, they could run wild within the palace. The effect was clear. Everyone raised private soldiers, dreaming of overthrowing the royal family or scheming. Count Molsan even dared to claim the title of a distant king. Within the palace, more and more ambitious individuals were emerging without hesitation. ''Will they survive all of this?'' For a moment, Enkrid was concerned. In a situation like this, the most dangerous person was Krang. Suddenly, the emergence of someone with a claim to the throne was like a thorn in everyone''s side. To view the future as if becoming king was a given, in such circumstances, showed the difference in character. Enkrid briefly dismissed the worry that had crossed his mind. Anyone with a mind sharp enough to devise such a plan would have considered their own survival as well. After all, the whole situation was based on the premise of force. He couldn''t help but wonder about the strength Krang had concealed. He felt a sudden curiosity to see it. Though, it seemed unlikely Krang would reveal it right away. "Can''t the party invites stop coming? I''m really getting tired of this," Andrew grumbled, having approached unnoticed. "Wouldn''t training be better?" Enkrid asked. Andrew immediately fell silent. When given the choice between a party and training, what else could he say? "I''ll go with training," Andrew muttered, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Alright, let''s do that." The party chase was finally over. With Jaxen in tow, Enkrid had already gauged the situation, and no one else seemed to be pressing forward. Until Krang''s spark of conflict exploded, the tension would remain quiet. In the meantime, he would focus on capturing the leader of the Black Blade, observing the chaos Krang was sowing, and possibly adding his own contribution. That would be the plan. Soon, they might find themselves fighting an unexpected opponent. Would those power-hungry factions really act without considering the consequences? Words alone, without the weight of force, lost their power in the current royal palace. The situation had turned into one where strength was law. Wasn''t the city guard said to be quite intimidating? "Let''s go. Time for training." With determination, Andrew bit down on his teeth and spoke, and Enkrid followed suit. They returned to the manor, and by the next morning, Enkrid was expecting a guest. "Word has spread, and you really are here in the capital," the woman said. Kin Baisar, the most beautiful woman in the capital, according to rumors. Enkrid was currently wielding a halberd, sweat dripping as he swung the weapon. Learning to handle different types of weapons was as important as facing an actual opponent, as Rem had taught him. Indeed, it was proving to be useful. He swung the halberd, gripping the shaft with one hand, and sweat poured down his face. And now, he greeted the guest. "Your manner of greeting hasn''t changed, I see." "It doesn''t seem like you''re alone," Enkrid said. He briefly lowered the halberd and turned his body, the sweat-soaked training clothes clinging to his skin. The sight of his muscles was apparent, and Kin thought about gently touching them as she spoke. "Yes, someone came to see you. Wouldn''t you want to clean up and greet them properly?" There was an undeniable air outside the manor. It was clear that someone formidable was present. Though they didn''t exude dangerous energy, their presence was undeniable. The fact that they could make their presence felt like this suggested something: at the very least, they were a knight. "Is it necessary to dress up just to meet an old man?" A voice interrupted as a nobleman entered the manor. His white hair marked him as an elderly man, but his steps carried a quiet strength. His stride was powerful. Upon entering, the mood shifted, and even Andrew stepped forward. "To what do we owe the honor?" he asked, looking perplexed. Among the nobility of the kingdom, Baisar was closest to the queen. And in terms of military might, aside from the knight orders, Count Molsan was the strongest. But if you asked the citizens and other nobles who embodied the essence of nobility, the answer would be different. A man who commanded respect both in his domain, through kindness and clear leadership, and outside, by staying neutral and avoiding factionalism, he garnered admiration from all. He was one of the five great houses, the man with the largest landholdings in the kingdom, and the queen''s mentor. The Marquis of Okto. He was the fourth finger of the kingdom''s power. At first glance, he seemed like a grandfather who was deeply immersed in chess. The Marquis spoke as he entered. "I came as a guest, but if I''ve come at the wrong time, do let me know. I don''t wish to cause any inconvenience." Andrew shook his head. "Not at all. Though it may be humble, if you wish, you are welcome to stay." From the fact that even Andrew was showing respect, it was clear the Marquis had a reputation for good conduct. Enkrid had the same impression. He was unlike other nobles. A man who had achieved much based on his own merit. Among the nobles Enkrid had met, he was the one who gave off the clearest, purest feeling. But that didn''t mean he was weak. The guards behind him exuded a certain presence. Enkrid noted that even the stone table at the training ground couldn''t escape their gaze. "Continue with what you were doing. Since I''ve come unexpectedly, I''ll wait," the Marquis said. "Marquis," Kin said, nodding. She gestured for him to sit in front. Enkrid nodded. It wasn''t a formal obligation to wait, but respecting his wish seemed the right thing to do. It wasn''t a battle of wills. However, the pressure from the guards behind the Marquis intensified slightly. Enkrid found that fascinating. The two guards behind him looked like they could attack at any moment. "Who''s here?" Naturally, there was a response from behind Enkrid. Rem spoke, stepping forward, while Ragna glanced over from where he sat. Jaxen had already taken a position against the wall near the entrance, and Dunbakel and Esther had moved to stand next to Enkrid. All of them were formidable in their own right. ------------------------------------------------------------------- The sale on my Ko-fi is still on until 10.01.2025! 30 Chapters per 5$ ko-fi.com/samowek Don''t miss out on the 33% sale on Chapters! Buy any number of Chapters and get an extra 33% of the number of Chapters you got! Thank you all for your support Chapter 363 - Forced Chapter 363 - 363 - Forced Chapter 363 - Forced "Do what you were doing." The Marquis said as he took a seat, and his two guards stood motionless behind him. The men''s intimidating presence only lasted briefly. Neither smiled nor showed any signs of dissatisfaction. They seemed as if they were simply doing what they were supposed to do¡ªindifferent. Ragna thought that the posture of the guards was rather good. It wasn''t stiff, nor was there any arrogance. They seemed to know when to use strength, and that was what caught his eye. While Ragna observed their stance, Rem read the energy surrounding them. The intensity was due to the danger of the place, not because of any discomfort or hostility. That''s how it seemed. Therefore, Rem figured there was no need to fight with the guards. Next, he turned his attention to the Marquis, who seemed like an old man with nothing to do. ''Is he just idle?'' Rem didn''t voice the thought aloud. He wasn''t the one to take action here, as the Marquis had come to see Enkrid. Rem couldn''t help but feel a bit smug, realizing that he didn''t need to step forward. ''Is this right?'' Was it awkward? No. It felt so natural that it only struck him as strange when he thought about it. Since Enkrid''s guest, should he not show respect? Rem realized he had unconsciously been following Enkrid, and it didn''t feel bad. Before he knew it, he had been naturally following without any resistance. Esther sensed a magical energy from the visitor but concluded there was no mage present. ''An artifact.'' Her curiosity about the magic began to stir, but she quickly suppressed it. If she acted on her own whims, it would cause trouble for Enkrid. Hmm. Just beside her, Enkrid slammed the halberd into the ground with force. He didn''t respond to the Marquis''s comment, instead continuing his training, just as he had been instructed. "If you''re trying to balance your body, should you really lack the power to strike down?" Rem took a step back and gave advice. The axe on his waist jangled as it lightly tapped his thigh. One of the guards glanced at him, but neither of them spoke, so the situation didn''t escalate to confrontation. Rem focused entirely on Enkrid. "Well?" "Foot." It was a suggestion to move his weight further forward with his left foot. It would cause him to lean forward, wouldn''t it? ''Where''s the heart of the beast?'' While Rem hadn''t heard it directly from Enkrid, he knew what would follow if he asked. Enkrid quickly grasped a small insight from the brief exchange. ''If I exceed my own strength limits, I could use that strength for an attack.'' Limit-exceeding strength¡ªtremendous power. To think that only he could wield such power would be arrogance. He had to consider that others could also possess it. What Rem was teaching was a technique called "Giant Cutting." Though the name was about cutting giants, it referred to how to counter a weapon wielded with giant-level strength. It was Rem''s original technique and training method. It had only been recently developed. Turning unique experiences into techniques. Hadn''t Enkrid shown that before? The technique "Captured Blade" was enjoyable to watch just by seeing it in action. Rem had done the same thing. He laid the foundation on his experience, then concretized it based on what he had learned. He then systematically refined and structured the steps and sequences to make the result instinctual in the body. He could experiment through Enkrid, and in doing so, Rem learned and improved further. Enkrid also understood what Rem was doing. In that moment, Enkrid realized that even his eccentric friend was a genius, but that didn''t change anything. It was just a thought. For now, he was focused on learning and improving, and that''s what mattered. Whether his friend was a genius or not, there was no time to worry about it. So, he just continued to learn, practice, and repeat the process with genuine passion. Rem simply enjoyed watching it all unfold. "Stronger." Rem instructed, and Enkrid responded by adjusting his movement accordingly. To withstand an attack from a giant, one must first understand what they are capable of. Strength beyond limits is called monstrous strength. What can a person with such strength do? The Marquis was simply amazed by the person who so seriously trained himself. Jaxen, on the other hand, silently observed the Marquis. No intent, no pressure, no aura. He just watched quietly. Jaxen thought the leader of the Black Blades was most likely one of the nobles. ''But probably not at the level of the Okto Marquis,'' he thought. If he had that level of influence, wouldn''t the leader of the Black Blades have made a move by now? Aside from Count Molsan, he was practically the most powerful figure both inside and outside the royal palace. The internal court struggles had already been investigated, so he was well aware of them. ''It''s not him.'' He could tell the Marquis was someone who carried the dignity of a noble born and raised as a noble. The Marquis could never have been the leader of the Black Blades. The head of the Black Blades had entered the royal palace as the leader of a band of thieves, and he couldn''t have completely discarded his past ways. While observing the Marquis, one of the guards glanced at Jaxen. Despite the lack of any noticeable presence, they had noticed him. That guard must have some means to do so. He was from a different faction, no doubt. After all, someone of such skill would need to avoid assassination threats. Those holding positions in the capital were all in danger of assassination, after all. ''Could it be Will?'' Jaxen hadn''t mastered the art of sense techniques, nor did he carry the same scent as others of that type, so if his gaze had been detected, it could only be Will. There were ways to hide himself more, but for now, it was useless. Jaxen averted his eyes. Even though no confrontation had yet occurred, a strange tension filled the air as the Marquis spoke. "Won''t you offer me a cup of tea? Gardner, the baron." "Huh? Oh, of course, I will," Andrew replied, sweating as he quickly prepared tea and snacks. There were only a few servants in the mansion. One young maid, trembling with fear, recognized the Okto Marquis and stepped forward with shaking hands. For the young maid, the noble sitting before her was different from Andrew. Andrew, too, could harm her if he wished, but he was someone she saw every day. She was familiar with him and knew he wasn''t the kind to do such a thing. But the man sitting there now was a high-ranking noble. Literally, with a gesture or a word, he could throw her life and her family into ruin. Being of higher rank than Andrew meant her master couldn''t protect her. The maid didn''t fully understand these concepts, but instinctively, she trembled with fear. In the end, the maid dropped the tea. The liquid spilled, sliding off the cup and spilling onto the table, then onto the Marquis''s lap. The Marquis calmly rose from his seat and moved to the chair beside him. The maid couldn''t even speak and trembled, her face pale as she knelt. "I-I''m sorry!" Enkrid had just finished training. "Your hands are not steady," the Marquis remarked. Unable to do anything, Mac quickly came with a handkerchief, but the guards were faster. One of them immediately took out a clean handkerchief from his coat and wiped the moisture from the Marquis''s knee. Enkrid''s gaze landed on the Marquis. The Marquis, not at all concerned about being watched, spoke. "Gardner, the baron." "Yes?" "You should pay more attention to maid training." "...Yes." Mac quickly cleared the table. The maid, still trembling, was sent inside by Andrew. She walked carefully inside, looking as though she might collapse, but somehow managed to stay upright. Andrew then poured tea for the Marquis, who nodded in approval. He neither showed any kindness nor reprimanded her harshly. The Marquis took a sip of his tea, while Kin Baisar silently took a seat beside him. "May I have a cup as well?" Kin asked. "Is it alright if I ask for another?" the Marquis added, and there was no way to refuse. "Of course," Andrew nodded. Meanwhile, Enkrid walked over and sat across from them at the table. The small commotion had ended. Enkrid didn''t act overly polite, nor was he impolite. He simply sat down in a neutral manner. The Marquis observed him and took another sip from his tea. The steam rose from the tea, brushing against the Marquis''s lips. "What do you think would have happened if I had comforted the maid just now?" the Marquis asked, still holding the cup. There was a smile on his face, but his eyes weren''t laughing. Enkrid found it difficult to read the Marquis''s nature. He had encountered various types of people, but someone like this was not easy to understand. If Krang was like a solitary shining sun, the Marquis was like a river. A river whose course and changes were uncertain. "Either they would feel relieved or anxious," Enkrid said, wiping his sweat with his sleeve, placing his hands on the table. "Oh? And why would they feel anxious?" "Because while you appear to comfort them, they might fear you will harm them behind their back." "Are you saying that maid only sees the dark side of the world?" "Perhaps if she later told someone about this, someone might say, ''She spilled the tea but was comforted instead? Be careful, he might be after something.'' Something like that." Enkrid mimicked what a maid''s acquaintance might say. Of course, it was a poor imitation, but the meaning came across clearly. While pretending to comfort her, an old noble might be secretly eyeing the maid''s body. So, rather than comforting her, it would be better to act a little displeased. After the event passed, the maid would likely feel relieved, thinking she had paid for her mistake. The Marquis did not express anger, only criticizing her unsteady hands. That was all. "You are quite thoughtful," Enkrid remarked. "I often hear that I''m not very noble," the Marquis replied. "...Is that so?" Kin Baisar almost spit her tea in surprise but only tightened her grip on the teacup. What is it that someone who is called the noblest of nobles says? The comment about being "not noble" here was almost a play on words. Can someone who reacts so sharply to a maid''s mistake truly be called a noble? "Why have you come here?" "Why do you ask?" To ask a question like that, and to reply with a counter-question to the Marquis himself... Kin Baisar''s heart started pounding. Her gaze naturally shifted towards Enkrid. "I wanted to know what kind of person you are. Can you answer me?" What would he say in response? Kin already knew how Enkrid came to be here. He could roughly guess why he came. His answer was likely already decided. He could say he came to help someone''s kingdom, or that he was sent on an assignment. Kin would nod if Enkrid said he was here because it looked interesting and he simply wanted to lend a hand. ''Maybe he''ll answer like that.'' If anyone could, it was Enkrid. But would the Marquis be pleased with that kind of answer? Probably not. The Marquis was neither expectant nor amused. His demeanor was simply indifferent, and the pressure was palpable. Enkrid finally spoke. "I''ve come to create a world where children don''t have to fight wars." The unexpected response made everyone, including Kin, fall silent. Enkrid spoke in a calm, almost poetic tone, as though reciting a verse. It was a quiet, composed declaration of his will¡ªa statement born from deep conviction. "I''ve come to reduce the monsters, to lessen the threats. To protect those who value their people. To punish those who oppress others with their strength. I''ve come to protect the weak and safeguard the dreams of those who have them." Empty words. Grandiose words. Words that could come from anyone''s mouth. No, there was meaning in them. These were words of faith, words filled with sincerity. They came not from the mouth, but from the heart. In that moment, everyone in the room¡ªKin, the Marquis, the guards, Rem, Dunbakel, Andrew¡ªfelt as if they were swept up in the storm that was Enkrid. Words alone carry no weight. Anyone can speak them. But no, words do carry weight. When those words are imbued with will and conviction, they matter. As everyone remained silent, the Marquis set down his teacup and spoke. "Did you say being a knight is your dream?" His dream hadn''t likely spread that far, so the Marquis'' keen hearing must have picked it up. Enkrid nodded. "Yes." "I will support you." "Yes." The Marquis stood up. Why had he come here, then? Was it to confirm that his dream was indeed to be a knight? Kin was confused. But the beautiful woman, who had swayed the hearts of men for years, remained calm and composed. The Marquis stood up, concluding their conversation more quickly than expected. He turned to leave. As he took a few steps, however, he stopped, not even halfway through the room. "Oh, but the man who dreams of protecting the weak¡ªdoes he simply watch as people die in the capital? Is everything just for show until you get an assignment? Every night, something happens. Will you only move when you are hired?" The Marquis'' tone and body language were awkward. It seemed as though he was speaking off the cuff, but it was calculated, intentional. He was letting Enkrid know that he saw through the act. You won''t truly use that so-called knightly resolve unless there''s something to gain, will you? Enkrid felt like the Marquis'' words were clearly cutting through him. It was forced. The capital''s security was the responsibility of the constabulary. Enkrid belonged to the Border Guard''s standing forces. If he took matters into his own hands here, he would be reprimanded, not praised. Should he give in to this provocation? Enkrid looked into the Marquis'' eyes. They showed a subtle smile. ''Ah.'' It was a challenge. He could feel it, clearly. Could he take it on? He didn''t have to, but¡ª Did he truly believe in his own ideals? What about his dream to become a knight? Honestly, was he trying to avoid taking action just because he didn''t think he could solve the issue? In an instant, the Marquis'' words rang in his ears. He hadn''t said them aloud, but Enkrid heard them. The aristocrat''s refined demeanor may have hidden the true meaning, but Enkrid heard it loud and clear. He had to take the challenge. This was how he would prove his sincerity. If his words were to be believed, his actions had to follow. No one would follow him if his words were hollow. No one would stand behind him. "I''ll look into it tonight and resolve it." "Please do." Their eyes met. The Marquis smiled, his eyes softening, and Enkrid returned the smile. ------------------------------------------------------------------- The sale on my Ko-fi is still on until 10.01.2025! 30 Chapters per 5$ ko-fi.com/samowek Don''t miss out on the 33% sale on Chapters! Buy any number of Chapters and get an extra 33% of the number of Chapters you got! Thank you all for your support Chapter 364 - The Marquis’ Gift Chapter 364 - 364 - The Marquis'' Gift Chapter 364 - The Marquis'' Gift The man had more white hair than black, and his beard was short. His body was moderately toned, but it was clear that he was past his prime. There was a slight accumulation of fat here and there, indicating he wasn''t someone who intentionally kept himself in perfect shape. Dignity emanated from him, even without any effort. It was as if he were embodying the very essence of what it meant to be nobility. Through Enkrid''s eyes and senses, the man seemed to give off just that impression. So when he thought about the words the Marquis had spoken, it made him reflect. ''The Marquis himself...'' Enkrid calmly acknowledged that he had fallen into the provocation. But nothing would change because of that, so it didn''t matter. More importantly, it was something he had been willing to handle from the beginning. Now, it seemed almost fortunate that the Marquis had given him exactly the right words. Still, there was no immediate need to act. As the sweat gradually cooled, a sharp breeze brushed against him. Enkrid set down the axe spear he had been holding. One by one, he put away his other weapons into the armory, ensuring no dew would form on them. For now, nothing else mattered. He was hungry. He had trained and dealt with the Marquis. It was time for lunch. "Shall we eat?" As he closed the armory door, Enkrid spoke. Kin looked up at the sound. She wondered if the invitation was meant for her. But no one else suggested it. No one seemed inclined to offer her any help. ''Do these people not have eyes?'' A sense of self-doubt about her appearance crept in. She had no desire to stay longer in this place. "I''ll be leaving," Kin said, walking out. There were five guards waiting outside, all standing at attention, appearing quite capable. Enkrid glanced at them. "They''re dragging a whole bunch with them." Indeed, lately, rumors had spread about the state of disorder in the capital, so it was to be expected that they would have such a large entourage. The guards the Marquis brought with him had been particularly few in comparison. After Kin left, Enkrid stepped inside the mansion and spoke. "Did you not care?" Andrew was right beside him. He had seen Andrew glance at Kin a few times as Kin left, so he asked. "I''m busy saving the family. It''s not the time for distractions," Andrew replied. Enkrid nodded in agreement. There was no right or wrong in that choice. Life was about making choices, and that was just how it was. Enkrid respected Andrew''s decision. "You''re truly unique, Captain." Andrew said, and Enkrid had heard this phrase often enough that he let it pass by without much thought. It was a better expression than "You should go see the temple for treatment." "Oh, I was just about to say, I''m hungry." Dunbakel approached from behind as she spoke. Enkrid, without hesitation, told her that there would be no meal unless she washed up first. Of course, he had cleaned himself as well. After a short while, everyone gathered at the table, and soon enough, the dishes were laid out. The maid who had made a mistake with the Marquis had regained her composure and was busily serving food and drinks. The table was soon filled with hearty dishes. Today''s menu included carrots, broccoli, potatoes, beef stew, all cooked with wine¡ªone of Naurilia''s traditional dishes. Monsters and beasts had caused humans to gather in fortresses, which naturally led to the development of food culture. The techniques for constructing castles had advanced significantly due to similar reasons. Anyway, inside the fortress, the culinary culture had developed in diverse ways, which made sense since they were in Naurilia''s capital, Nauril. Even the chef hired by Andrew was considered top-tier in provincial cities. Slurp. Enkrid tasted the stew broth first. The rich umami embraced his tongue and slid down his throat. The taste reminded him of the hunger he had momentarily forgotten after cleaning up. He picked up his fork and added some of the neatly cut beef, carrots, and potatoes to his plate, avoiding the bay leaves and pushing them aside before stabbing the meat and bringing it to his mouth. With one bite, the tender beef easily shredded in his mouth, providing a soft and fluffy texture. It was delicate and fluffy, breaking apart and blending with the savory flavor, harmonizing with the richness of the beef, and flowing down his throat like a waterfall. The carrots were tender, and the broccoli seemed to have transformed with the seasoning. It was a satisfying meal. His hands became faster as he ate. The others were similar in that respect. Esther, too, had taken her place at the table, having transformed back into human form. "Every time I see it, it''s amazing," Andrew said, looking at Esther. The five trainees and Mac ate separately, so aside from Andrew, everyone at the table was Enkrid''s group. Esther checked where Andrew''s gaze was directed and asked. "Is this your first time seeing a mage?" Esther asked the question in a manner unlike her usual self, as she had shown kindness by providing good food. It was hard to view it as goodwill, but it truly was. "This is the first time I''ve seen such a beautiful mage." Esther showed no particular reaction to the remark. Andrew hadn''t said it with much intent either. He merely found it natural that Enkrid''s gaze wasn''t swayed by Kin Baisar. Meanwhile, Esther cut into a piece of broccoli with a knife and popped it into her mouth. Her beauty was almost fraudulent. Her long, flowing hair, blue eyes, and mysterious aura enveloped her, making her seem like an untouchable being. Yet everyone treated her casually. When Rem asked a question, Esther nodded. "Does it taste better when you eat as a panther or as a human?" Dunbakel chimed in, "Why don''t you transform and find out yourself?" Esther replied with an expressionless face, "Why don''t you try?" It wasn''t anger¡ªit was just her usual demeanor. Andrew, having observed this for a few days, had begun to adapt to it. ''That panther is actually a witch.'' But even more astonishing than that was Enkrid. Compared to his time as a subordinate, Enkrid had transformed into an entirely different person. ''Is he really going to become a knight?'' The thought crossed Andrew''s mind naturally. While he got lost in idle thoughts, he decided to focus on his meal. Looking at how the others ate, it seemed they wouldn''t leave him a piece of meat if he didn''t hurry. Even with ample food prepared, it was like this. They consumed three times what an ordinary person would. It felt as if they had entirely forgotten about the marquis''s task. Andrew found that surprising too. Nobody asked what was going on or questioned it. Following and trusting were two different things. Watching Enkrid, Andrew came to understand, albeit subconsciously, what a subordinate should give their leader. That realization was an unexpected blessing. After everyone had eaten their fill and Andrew had sorted his thoughts, Dunbakel spoke, her face smeared with sauce. "What do you think it is? And no, it''s not a beastkin." Despite her skipping context, everyone understood her. What could be prowling the capital streets at night and abducting people? Whether they killed it or captured it, they first needed to identify the culprit. Rem agreed as well. The first step was to deduce the prey''s nature. ''A beast running wild at night?'' Even with the capital''s poor law enforcement, the idea of a magical creature rampaging in the city didn''t make sense. Which meant it was something that hid during the day and only acted at night¡ªperhaps every few days. Even with that, its identity remained unclear. Ragna nodded lightly, indicating that he shared the same thoughts. What struck Enkrid as remarkable was that nobody questioned why they had to deal with it. Even Dunbakel, who immediately asked about its nature, didn''t seem to have any complaints. It was curious how everyone followed without objections or complaints. In truth, they were simply bored. Bullying trainees and sightseeing in the capital could only entertain them for so long. Rem, for one, was sharpening her axe blade, signaling her readiness to fight. The tension in the capital''s air was stimulating. It bore a similarity to the atmosphere of a battlefield. Enkrid chewed the food in his mouth, swallowed, and finally spoke. "A thunder-wielding mage, a cave, alchemical test subjects." The words came out as a list. Enkrid''s memory was exceptional. He had been gathering information about incidents in the capital. Andrew had also compiled details for him. The cries of a beast, taking victims every few days. An existence unnoticeable during the day. When Enkrid pieced all the information together, something began to take shape in his mind. Then he spoke again. "And the Black Blade." Jaxen was present. It was in this very place that the pieces Enkrid described seemed to converge. The Black Blade had overturned a facility producing illicit potions, where Enkrid and the group found clear evidence of human experimentation. An alchemist named Raban¡ªsuch was the name of the lunatic behind it. They had also seen the remains of humans, half-turned into ghouls, sprawled in the aftermath. Enkrid organized and recalled the details, piecing them together once more. What kind of creature rampages at night and hides during the day? What was it connected to? And how did this align with the current situation? The Black Blade''s leader was in the capital. He had lost the blade known as Lykanos, and those he considered enemies had approached his domain. No, they hadn''t just approached¡ªthey had acted. "Does Jaxen not know he''s being hunted?" Of course, he knew. If he hadn''t, he wouldn''t have been able to keep his identity hidden or orchestrate such schemes. "Is that right?" Jaxen furrowed his brow as he asked. Enkrid nodded and continued, explaining for those who followed him without question. The evidence pointed to a magical creature, but the fact that it hid during the day suggested intelligence. Otherwise, someone would need to capture it and release it periodically¡ªa virtually impossible scenario. The capital''s guards weren''t entirely incompetent. There was no way someone could orchestrate such a thing without being caught. Enkrid recalled the guard captain he had seen upon entering the capital. The feathered hat had left an impression. Whatever his skills, the man didn''t seem like someone easily trifled with. If they had failed to catch the culprit, it was because their adversary''s strength and movements were that elusive. Enkrid placed his elbow on the table and raised his index finger, speaking again. "It''s a conclusion¡ªhuman undergoing monsterification." What kind of thought process leads to such a solution? Even Esther could only understand it after hearing the explanation. When Enkrid contemplates swordsmanship, he scrutinizes every detail from beginning to end. His remarkable memory serves to reinforce this meticulous approach. Adding to this is his creative and flexible way of thinking. Creativity and adaptability aren''t traits one simply inherits; they must be honed through relentless practice and repetition. To Enkrid, swordsmanship and martial arts have always been akin to a cliff where the path ends abruptly. To climb that cliff, he must constantly deliberate and devise ways forward; otherwise, there is no progress. Thus, his capacity for expansive thinking emerged. With everything deemed possible, he evaluates the potential for anything to happen. When this analytical ability is combined with information, answers begin to form. "It only appeared when the moon was up." Here, Jaxen chimed in. Jaxen paid attention to every peculiar event occurring in the capital. It was a matter of survival¡ªone never knew where a clue might arise. Still, this development had caught even Jaxen off guard. To be honest, he had almost forgotten. The world was full of deranged alchemists conducting inhumane experiments. But when piecing the evidence together, it made too much sense to ignore. If the creature in question is indeed a human undergoing monsterification, what kind of monster might it be? A being that emerges only on moonlit nights, unable to suppress its instincts in the dark. "A Lykanos," Jaxen thought. If Jaxen had deduced this, he knew his commander likely had as well. Yet, there was no need to state the obvious. He remained silent. "Now, there''s only one thing we need," Enkrid added. Rem, who had been listening quietly, nodded. "The authority to act." "Exactly. Investigating the crime scenes in broad daylight will make the local authorities ecstatic. They''ll probably love telling us to back off." "And smashing them isn''t an option," Rem replied. Enkrid nodded in agreement. Rem wasn''t a fool. While his antics often appeared reckless, they were sometimes carefully calculated. Still mischief, though, Enkrid thought to himself before speaking again. If the marquis hadn''t been bluffing, surely some sort of support would come their way. When it came to resolving this matter, where would the authority lie? Who could grant it? Having the permission of a noble would make things significantly easier, especially one capable of shielding them from the police captain''s interference. Enkrid had foreseen this and formulated his response accordingly. If Marcus or Krais had been present, they would likely have burst out clapping. "You should go into politics!" Marcus would have exclaimed in advance. "Use that wit to steal hearts! Women''s hearts are fickle, and accounting for every possibility is a rare talent!" Krais might have added. Their perspectives often diverged greatly, yet they weren''t here, so there was no one around to express admiration. Rem wanted to swing his axe at something. Ragna felt much the same. Dunbakel was no different. Even Esther, who had no intention of casting a spell, found her interest piqued. A human fused with a monster? That sounded like a chimera, something Esther had no inclination to experiment with. Such notions disgusted her and had no place in her magical worldview. For magicians, intuition is paramount. If something feels repulsive, it clashes with their very essence. Pursuing such avenues can corrode their mastery of magic, eventually leading to its loss. Esther had made a similar mistake once, and thus she distanced herself from the matter. "I''m resting. This cushion suits me well." "Suit yourself," Enkrid replied. Esther''s absence wouldn''t make much difference. Enkrid raised his second finger. "Second conclusion: with no moon tonight, all we need to do is sleep well." Andrew, who had been observing silently, found his jaw hanging open at some point. Eventually, he snapped his mouth shut and asked, "Why are you so smart?" "Wasn''t there plenty of time to think?" The implication was clear: anyone could deduce this with enough time. "That makes it sound like the police chief and guards in the capital are all morons," Andrew muttered in disbelief. No one refuted him. It was essentially true. Enkrid, however, wasn''t just clever¡ªhe was exceptional. Yet his comrades took it in stride, showing little reaction. "Why isn''t anyone surprised?" Andrew murmured, but he too soon fell silent. This was just who Enkrid was, and this was the nature of their unit. That night, they all slept soundly. As always, Enkrid woke at dawn to practice his Isolation technique, soon joined by Andrew. It seemed like the start of a perfectly ordinary day. As they trained in the morning, a voice echoed from outside. "So it really was you?" A visitor had arrived¡ªor rather, a gift from the marquis'' organization. It was a practical step toward giving them the authority they needed. A knight-trainee named Aishia had been sent, and of course, she recognized Enkrid immediately. ------------------------------------------------------------------- The sale on my Ko-fi is still on until 10.01.2025! 30 Chapters per 5$ ko-fi.com/samowek Don''t miss out on the 33% sale on Chapters! Buy any number of Chapters and get an extra 33% of the number of Chapters you got! Thank you all for your support Chapter 365 – Only the Dot is Visible Chapter 365 - 365 ¨C Only the Dot is Visible Chapter 365 ¨C Only Dots Are Visible One of the reasons Enkrid had come to the capital was straightforward: "I''ll get a chance to face the Order of Knights, won''t I?" The threat of monsters and beasts didn''t just push the development of culinary and construction techniques. It also brought those with exceptional combat skills into the safety of walled cities. This was a necessity, both for survival and defense. Among those who gathered, the pinnacle of martial strength was the knights, and the capital''s Order of Knights stood as a symbol of military might. When categorizing combat abilities at city, national, or continental levels, where did the benchmark begin? Where did the term "Squire-level" originate? All of these standards were born from the existence of knightly orders. And this one was no exception. The Marquis had investigated Enkrid. He had grasped a general understanding of his preferences. What held more value for Enkrid than money, women, status, or power? By digging into his past, understanding his journey, and discerning his purpose, one could get a sense of who he was. The Marquis had done precisely that. "They say I''m supposed to be a gift. What''s that supposed to mean?" Asia said as she stepped into the estate, and Enkrid thought he caught a glimpse of the Marquis smiling faintly behind her. Aishia stood in one corner of the training yard, lightly armed and equipped with a sword. ''A cunning serpent.'' Andrew had once described the Marquis as a man who had swallowed dozens of snakes and possessed the innards of a hydra. The description fit him perfectly¡ªan inscrutable man. Was he on the queen''s side, Krang''s side, Count Molsan''s, or perhaps that of Viscount Mernes? Or was he building a faction of his own? No one could say for sure. As the Marquis of Okto, he merely existed in the capital. Given his substantial influence, even the queen couldn''t dismiss him lightly. As one of the great nobles alongside the Marquis of Baisar, he shared in dividing the kingdom''s power. In the current kingdom, there was no Grand Duke or anyone above the rank of Duke, making the Marquis of Octo a central figure of authority. Would such a Marquis side with Krang? The emergence of a Grand Duke, unprecedented till now, would affect his own power. It was said that the Marquis of Baisar didn''t welcome Krang either. Marcus himself had stated it outright. Yet despite Enkrid''s obvious alignment with Krang, the Marquis had personally sought him out, conversed with him, and entrusted him with tasks. An inscrutable man, indeed. For now, though, none of that mattered. "This isn''t something you need to worry about." Enkrid was pleased. Standing before him was one of the opponents he had longed to meet and, if possible, spar with. "Speak casually." Aishia nodded and responded, her demeanor as direct as ever. Her short, bright orange hair caught the light as she brushed it back with her hand, her gaze fixed firmly on Enkrid. It was astonishing and bewildering. To her, the mere fact that this man stood before her was an anomaly. She vividly recalled the time at the Border Guard when Marcus had asked her to test Enkrid''s abilities. The image of Enkrid fainting under the pressure of her aura was still fresh in her mind. ''Luagarne did say he was different.'' But Aishia trusted her instincts more than others'' words. It was only natural for someone walking the knight''s path to rely on their own experiences and conviction over hearsay. Back then, she had judged Enkrid''s potential as barely reaching the level of a Squire if he was lucky. And even that was a generous assessment. From her perspective, he had no room for further growth. Yet now, this same Enkrid stood before her, commanding respect with his reputation and meeting her gaze unflinchingly. ''How did he do it?'' What had he done to achieve such feats? A spark of curiosity, akin to the thrill of competition, ignited within her. She wanted to measure his strength for herself. Though she was here for work, she realized immediately upon seeing him: She wasn''t just anyone in the Order of Knights, nor had she become a Squire by accident. Becoming a Squire required a combination of talent and an insatiable hunger for improvement, honed through wielding weapons, mastering martial arts, and immersing oneself in combat. Locking eyes with Aishia, Enkrid paused what he had been doing and faced her. "Do that thing again." She casually adjusted her speech, as he had requested, and her straightforwardness left a favorable impression. "What thing?" she asked. "Your aura." "You''ll faint again." "Just do it." This time, there was no trace of support from his subordinates, no collective intimidation as there had been before. Andrew Gardner didn''t even register in Enkrid''s mind. The only concern was the subordinates he had seen under Andrew''s command before, but even they were nowhere in sight. Aisia unleashed her Will. She shifted her stance, turning sideways and placing her hand on the hilt of her sword in a gesture of readiness. Will was a technique based on mental force, used to break the opponent''s resolve. "Kneel. Or die." Enkrid felt the killing intent laced within her Will. An imaginary blade flew toward him. He knew it wasn''t real. The Enkrid of the past, who would close his eyes at the sight of a blade or buckle under pressure, was long gone. His Unyielding Will rose, pushing back against Aisia''s oppressive force. Taking a step forward, Enkrid advanced toward Aisia. Her pupils widened. She had heard the rumors, but seeing it for herself made her understand. This man was the real deal. Luagarne''s assessment had been accurate. Her own judgment, honed by experience, had failed her. Unlike before, when she would overcome pressure by brute force, Enkrid had deflected her Will with his own. "A duel?" Enkrid asked plainly. "Very well!" Aisia''s reply was exuberant. Shing! The slender, straight rapier at her hip was unsheathed in a smooth motion. Holding her blade upright in front of her face, she spoke. "Surely you didn''t think Will was my only specialty?" "If losing isn''t your hobby, you''d better take this seriously." Enkrid''s response was a subtle provocation. Aisia''s smile widened. Her expression seemed to say, I''ll fix that attitude of yours. Enkrid found her reaction deeply satisfying. As Aisia raised her blade, Enkrid adjusted the grip on his sword belt, ensuring his movements would be fluid. He shifted his left foot and let his arms hang naturally¡ªa stance of readiness just before battle. A duel right upon arrival. Matters of discussion and business? None of that mattered now. Aisia had started seriously from the beginning. There was no need for clumsy exchanges to test the waters. Both of them were Knights-In-Training, possessing significant martial prowess. The fact that Enkrid had resisted her Will was proof enough. "I don''t know how many Wills you use, but get ready. This will be fun," Aisia said, pointing her rapier forward in a smooth, deliberate motion. Enkrid instinctively measured the distance. Five steps. The pointed rapier gave the illusion of being right at his nose. Enkrid shifted sideways, repositioning to face the sun at his back. Aisia, however, didn''t step forward. Using her left foot as a pivot, she smoothly redirected her blade, keeping the tip fixed on Enkrid. The rapier''s point still hovered before his eyes. Initially, Enkrid focused on Aisia, but soon his gaze shifted to her entire figure, then narrowed to her shoulders. Pinpoint Focus naturally activated. This was a genuine Knight-In-Training. Even though Enkrid had faced knights before, he didn''t underestimate her. With the Heart of the Beast, he embraced boldness. With Pinpoint Focus, he locked onto his opponent. He heightened his Sense of Evasion, preparing for anything. Despite his readiness to launch an attack at any moment, his field of vision began to shrink. From seeing her full body, his focus narrowed to her shoulder and hand. Then to the rapier and the fingers gripping it. Eventually, all he could see was the blade itself. His sight contracted further until only the rapier''s tip remained. Finally, even the blade disappeared, leaving only a single point. A point so large it seemed to block his entire view. He knew in his mind that she was merely aiming her sword. And yet¡ª "I can''t gauge the distance." The five steps between them had vanished. All that remained was the single point at the rapier''s tip. There was no oppressive force, no pressure. Naturally, his Unyielding Will didn''t activate. All he saw was the rapier''s point. Enkrid couldn''t even attempt to find an opening. How could he, when his focus was wholly consumed by a single point? The more he concentrated, the larger the point became. "What are they doing?" Watching from the sidelines, Andrew felt baffled. First, Enkrid had stepped forward with confidence, then called for a duel. Now, after unsheathing their swords, both of them were frozen. Wasn''t this supposed to be a battle? Andrew had expected a high-level duel but was growing increasingly impatient. "Should I say something?" "Leave them be." Just as Andrew considered speaking, Rem appeared behind him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. Andrew froze as Rem''s grip locked his shoulder and neck. "If you interrupt, that blade might come flying at you." Rem''s words carried weight as he gently pulled Andrew back. Obediently, Andrew allowed himself to be led away. Rem wasn''t the only one present. Ragna, Jaxen, and Dunbakel had also appeared, their gazes fixed on the center of the training ground. Sweat began to bead on Enkrid''s forehead. Aisia, too, was far from composed. The energy radiating from Enkrid was fierce and untamed, like a volcano ready to erupt at the slightest provocation. If it erupted, maintaining her current advantage would be impossible. The art of swordsmanship in Rionesis was divided into five styles: upright, deceptive, heavy, flowing, and swift. These styles were established in a cycle of strengths and weaknesses, each countering another in a carefully balanced relationship. An upright sword was weak against a deceptive sword. A deceptive sword faltered against a heavy sword. A heavy sword was disrupted by a flowing sword. A flowing sword struggled against a swift sword. And finally, a swift sword was caught by the upright sword. While these general rules applied, victory was never guaranteed. The degree of training and individual mastery always played a significant role. A lesser-skilled swordsman could still deliver a fatal blow if underestimated. After all, the saying goes, "A sword has no eyes. A blind strike can kill anyone, for death is fair to all." The concept of will¡ªWill¡ªwas humanity''s answer to overcoming these limitations. The refinement of willpower became the hallmark of knights, transcending ordinary skill. Aishia wielded the deceptive sword. Her technique relied on exploiting her opponent''s focus, countering with precision strikes. Rem, Jaxen, and Ragna analyzed her moves immediately, each devising a potential counter-strategy. These three, being geniuses, found it natural to discern such techniques at a glance. However, they also knew that Aishia could adapt, so the outcome of a direct confrontation was never certain. Dunbakel, observing from the side, had a simpler strategy in mind: "Strike before she draws." Enkrid, on the other hand, didn''t fully grasp the intricacies of Aishia''s style at first glance. But years of training and countless battles had forged his own path¡ªa unique mastery that belonged solely to him. It didn''t matter if he saw points, lines, or shadows. If he couldn''t break through, he would shatter the obstacle entirely. The moment he realized time wasn''t on his side, Enkrid acted. Shiiik! The sound of Enkrid drawing his sword was sharp and otherworldly, almost too swift to comprehend. The blade left its sheath with minimal friction¡ªa testament to relentless training. This was Will of momentum. The blade sparked like a fleeting ember, slicing through the focal point. Clang! Metal collided with metal. Aishia, feeling the strike meet her rapier''s tip, responded with explosive speed. Whoosh! Her blade retaliated, faster than it had been struck away, aiming for Enkrid''s neck. For a brief instant, it seemed blood would spray forth, but Enkrid evaded just in time, tilting his head back. Aishia halted there. Any further would have crossed into lethal combat territory. For a first sparring session, the intensity was extreme. In fact, it was enough to make most knights reprimand them for recklessness: "Were you trying to kill each other?" But Enkrid''s reaction was far from ordinary. "Again?" His eyes gleamed with excitement, and a faint, satisfied smile spread across his face. He looked thrilled, as though he''d just escaped death and found it exhilarating. Aishia, baffled, stared at him. Wasn''t this man moments away from being struck down? And yet, there wasn''t a shred of anger or resentment in his expression. "Rest if you''re tired," Enkrid added nonchalantly. Behind them, others reacted to his remark. "Here we go again." "Caught the bug." "Hm." Rem, Ragna, and Jaxen muttered in turn. Dunbakel said nothing. She reflected on what she had witnessed, realizing she wouldn''t have been able to block Eishia''s strike. The speed wasn''t the issue; Enkrid''s strikes were faster. It was the timing that made Eishia''s technique terrifying. "It breaks your rhythm." Dunbakel understood because she had instinctively immersed herself in the fight while watching. Eishia''s strikes slipped through the natural pauses in breathing, making them nearly impossible to avoid. If it had been me, my neck would have been severed. Of course, Dunbakel wouldn''t have engaged the way Enkrid did. She would''ve immediately retreated and tried to reset the distance. But even then, victory seemed uncertain. Dunbakel exhaled sharply, frustrated by the thought. "You''re kind of a strange person," Aishia finally remarked to Enkrid. "And you''re smiling," he replied with a smirk. He was right. Aishia, rarely one to indulge in pleasure or excitement, found herself grinning. She hadn''t felt this thrill in years. "Don''t you have breakfast? I came here on an empty stomach," Aishia said, shifting the topic. "Andrew?" Enkrid called to their host. Andrew nodded. Meals were always prepared promptly in this household. For this group, food was a priority, no matter the chaos surrounding them. ------------------------------------------------------------------- The sale on my Ko-fi is still on until 10.01.2025! 30 Chapters per 5$ ko-fi.com/samowek Don''t miss out on the 33% sale on Chapters! Buy any number of Chapters and get an extra 33% of the number of Chapters you got! Thank you all for your support Chapter 366 - Not All Squires Are the Same Chapter 366 - 366 - Not All Squires Are the Same Chapter 366 - Not All Squires Are the Same The Crimson Cloak Knights boast three renowned knights, each with a unit named after them, a testament to their unparalleled prestige. However, a knight order cannot thrive with just three knights. The true backbone of the order is its squires¡ªover twenty of them, to be precise. Of these, fewer than five remained stationed in the capital. Additionally, while there were over fifty apprentices, fewer than ten were left in the city. [[TL]The knight ranking system appears to be squire-knight-> junior-knight/knight in training/apprentice-knight -> Knight] At least, that''s how Aishia described it. "Still, there are others with skills on par with squires. The Royal Guard captain came from the knight order, and there''s the famed twin bodyguards serving the marquis." "Twins, you say?" Enkrid interrupted, curious. "You met Marquis Okto, didn''t you? Yeah, fraternal twins. They don''t look alike. I was just as surprised when I heard they were twins." Aishia''s demeanor was refreshingly unpretentious, at least in Andrew''s eyes. Her orange hair, slightly split at the ends, seemed to amplify her lively spirit. Unpretentious and vibrant¡ªa village maiden with no worries, Andrew mused. In terms of beauty, Esther, the magician, or Kin Baisar might surpass her. But Aishia had a charm that could easily captivate many men. That kind of lively charm... it''s irresistible, he thought. She exuded an approachable warmth, breaking any perceived distance with her natural friendliness. The word "unreserved" came to mind immediately. She joined them at the dining table with ease, eating and drinking as if she''d been there for years. "Pass the bread, please." The surprising part? Even Rem and the others treated her without any reservations. This, despite her being a squire of the prestigious Crimson Cloak Knights. Andrew, meanwhile, was struggling to adapt but eventually let go of all seriousness. What''s the point? Whenever Enkrid was involved, things rarely made logical sense. It was no different from the first time he''d gone on a mission with him. Back then, nothing about it seemed believable either. He acted like he knew the enemy''s position inside the brush. Then, he set their tents ablaze in the middle of the fight. It wasn''t until later I realized¡ªthis guy operates on a completely different level. Now, while the scale and stakes had grown larger, the dynamic remained the same. Andrew resigned himself to this reality. "Here." Aishia casually sliced a round loaf of bread and tossed it over. Rem caught it mid-air, spread marmalade on it, and took a bite. Ragna, on the other hand, was cutting salted ham and trimming away the crust to eat only the soft interior of the bread. "Picky eater." Rem quipped upon noticing. "If you''re itching for a fight after seeing her in action, hold it. We''re eating. Savage." Ragna retorted without missing a beat. "It''s not ''her.'' It''s Aishia." Aishia interjected, raising her hand. "Ah, right. Aishia ." Ragna corrected himself naturally. Aishia even thanked Andrew, the mansion''s host, for his hospitality. Of course, "hospitality" wasn''t exactly the right word¡ªshe had simply barged in, sparred, and joined them for a meal. Andrew responded with a polite, "You''re too kind," ensuring she didn''t feel awkward. "He''s more my type," Aishia said, pointing at Jaxen. "Most women say that, but don''t let it fool you. He''s seen more women than you can count." Rem chimed in with a smirk. "They''re all just friends." For once, Jaxen responded smoothly, his tone soft. Aishia looked at him and thought, Yeah, he probably does attract a lot of women. She wasn''t smitten or anything; it was merely an observation. Then her gaze shifted to Enkrid, who was munching on bread across the table. He was fascinating¡ªa rare sort of human being. "I don''t have many female friends, either," Enkrid remarked, sensing her gaze. "I didn''t ask." "Ah. Spar after this?" Aishia reflexively nodded. "Let''s finish eating first." While digesting, she thought about the task at hand. She wasn''t here just to socialize. "We still have the Moonlight Beast to deal with." "Oh, it already has a name?" "Well, it only appears under moonlight." Not everyone in the capital was an idiot. They had managed to identify the creature''s appearance, location, and timing. Listening to the explanation, Enkrid asked, "Then why hasn''t it been dealt with yet?" After all, there were still five squires, not to mention the apprentices and guards. This was the capital of an entire nation. Surely, there were enough capable people to handle such an issue? Of course, there were plenty of capable individuals in the capital. And yet, the Moonlight Beast had eluded them. This failure stemmed from several reasons. The first was underestimating the foe. The second was the unwillingness of those outside the knight order to reveal their full strength. "Everyone''s too busy guarding their own skin. Can''t blame them, though," Aishia said candidly before adding, "One squire already fell to it. Severely injured. Whether they''ll survive... well, we''ll see." The fact that a squire¡ªone of the elite preparing to become knights¡ªhad been taken down spoke volumes about the Moonlight Beast''s danger. "What about a cleric?" Even if someone was injured, why was treatment insufficient? A squire is a symbol of talent, chosen among thousands for their potential. Knights were the embodiment of martial prowess, and the knight order represented the pinnacle of preparation to join their ranks. Naturally, squires received excellent treatment. Not just good¡ªexceptional. Assigned personal chefs, granted access to clerics'' prayers, and blessed by holy powers capable of healing even grave injuries. Even if the injury couldn''t be fully healed, the squires would at least be stabilized. "Well, the clerics in the capital are all away. And the royal court''s exclusive cleric can''t use divine power right now for... reasons." Enkrid thought of the temples he''d noticed while walking through the capital. They were there¡ªseveral of them, in fact. Naurilia didn''t persecute religion, so the capital boasted multiple temples, though it wasn''t a holy city like Legion. Even so, not a single cleric capable of wielding divine power remained? "Not exactly. It''s just that the clerics who can use divine power are gone. One of them fell victim to the beast early on." When the Moonlight Beast first appeared, the response was slow. It targeted a cleric attuned to divine power, and the attack left her barely clinging to life. She was still alive, but just barely, struggling to survive each day. As for the other clerics capable of using divine power, most had been sent to the borders. "Divine power is rare, after all." For now, a royal healer was doing what they could, using alchemical potions and other remedies. "They won''t die," Aishia said flatly, her tone carrying an edge that made her resolve clear. "We''ll get it," Rem added, lending weight to her determination as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And why wouldn''t he? For Rem, this type of hunt was routine. "Thanks. Rem, right?" Enkrid found himself quietly surprised at Aishia''s demeanor. Had she always been so personable? They hadn''t had much time to talk before, but her current openness was unexpected. "Today''s cloudy again," Jaxen noted in his usual detached tone. And he was right. Tonight, the moon wouldn''t be visible again. Of course, the Moonlight Beast didn''t always appear, even when the moon was out. Why was that? It was a question worth pondering¡ªone that could lead to theories if enough thought was given. "Anyway, it killed the squire and escaped. A squire pursued it but couldn''t keep up. The beast is incredibly fast. Trying to chase it head-on won''t work," Aishia explained. "Why hasn''t the knight order stepped in?" Having mostly finished his meal, Enkrid began clearing his plate when a maid approached to serve tea. Aishia bit into a halved apricot and winced. "Too sour?" Enkrid asked. "Yeah. Anyway, why hasn''t the order acted?" "The palace situation, obviously," she replied, shaking her head. "We serve the queen," she continued. The knights didn''t leave the palace''s safety entirely to the Royal Guard. The throne had to be protected. "And you?" "With the marquis''s authority, a few squires could easily be reassigned. That man''s been nurturing so many schemes he''s practically got the entrails of a hydra," Aishia said with a dry chuckle. Andrew gave a knowing glance at Enkrid, as if to say, See? Everyone calls him that. Enkrid nodded slightly. It had been obvious from the start that the marquis was not someone who revealed his hand easily. But what did it matter? The important thing was that the Moonlight Beast was connected to the Black Blade, and finding its leader was a priority. "It''s Jaxen''s nemesis," Enkrid thought. Capturing¡ªor killing¡ªthe Moonlight Beast was necessary for several reasons. First, it was a step toward locating the Black Blade''s leader. Second, it would protect those who were suffering. Third, it was part of the marquis''s request. Whether the marquis was a hydra or the reproductive organ of some other cunning creature, it didn''t change the task at hand. "Does that mean you''ll be free by tomorrow?" Enkrid asked. They would need the moon to rise to be on standby. Unless the clouds parted suddenly during the night, there wasn''t much Aishia could do. "Yeah." "So?" "Let''s spar more." Aishia''s eyes were burning with passion as she spoke. Enkrid also wanted to face her sword again. "I want to face you all, too." Aishia''s fire flared even more. If Shinar saw it, he might want to douse the flames right away. Rem and Ragna responded to the heat. "Sounds good." "Anytime." Neither of them was the type to avoid a challenge. "Please leave me out of it." Jaxen shook his head. "I''ll join, too." At that moment, Dunbakel joined in with a voice lower than usual. "Alright!" Aishia cheered enthusiastically and ran outside. A sparring session was about to begin. Everyone moved. Andrew joined as well. The five trainees, who had been rolling around on one side, quickly became spectators when the sparring began. Even Mac took time out to watch. It was a sparring match between two squire knights. Missing it would be a loss. Of course, watching wouldn''t make them improve right away. But if they watched, they could experience the results of their imaginations. That made a huge difference. It was considered lucky for them. Enkrid was serious about everything. Aishia, excited like never before, sparred, ate, drank, and even claimed a room in the mansion. The weather became cloudy, and eventually, rain poured down. For a while, it seemed the moonlight would be hard to see. In the meantime, Enkrid learned more and more. "Hey, do all junior knights fight the same? Do all knights fight the same? Were mercenaries all the same? How about the soldier rankings in Naurilia? Just because someone is a low-ranking soldier doesn''t mean they''re all the same." No, they''re different. Even among low and mid-tier soldiers, differences in skill were evident. The gap became even more pronounced as they moved up to higher ranks. "When it comes to squire knights, there''s a significant difference. And I''m somewhere in the middle." Her talent had been recognized, but in terms of skill, she was average. "Among squire knights, some are weak and can barely land a few strikes, but there are those who can compete with knights." Aishia''s eyes sparkled as she spoke. It was like she was saying she wouldn''t stop but would keep moving forward. "I see. I didn''t know that." It was too far and too high to see clearly. Only after climbing could one see the differences. For instance, Andrew thought Aishia, Enkrid, Rem, and Ragna were all the same type of monster. However, during the sparring, Aishia had never won against Rem or Ragna. When Rem and Ragna faced off, Rem had never won against Ragna. As for Enkrid... "Is it right to insist on using a longsword to break the illusionary blade?" Aishia had consistently defeated him. Enkrid judged that defeating her in sparring would be difficult. ''Illusionary Blade.'' He knew what kind of technique she had. Through contemplation and repetition, he figured out how it worked. She planted illusions and obstructed the opponent''s sight. She muddied the distance. And added speed to it. No, it wasn''t just speed. There had been times when he tried to attack, aiming at that speed, but had been countered by her deceptive swordplay. Hidden inside the illusionary blade was a sword that could pop out unpredictably. That in itself was a form of deception. It was the image of her mastering the illusionary blade and using it as a weapon. Enkrid smiled when he saw it. The more difficult it was, the more motivated he became. That was the core of who Enkrid was. The rain poured for four days. Deliberation, reflection. Sparring, training. By the time the fourth day passed, the sky cleared up. They had rolled around in the mud, sparred, washed up, and chatted. While discussing how to catch a moonlight beast, Aishia had become close with everyone. "Wow, a wizard? That''s amazing." She hadn''t even had any problems with Esther. "Is this your work? What''s with your eyes? Can you understand what I''m saying?" She had even exchanged greetings with the cross-eyed horse. She wasn''t just friendly; it seemed like this was her specialty. Enkrid occasionally overheard her stories. "I''m from a commoner background. It''s a typical story. I grabbed a sword by chance when I was young. Realized my talent." "I have one more wish, besides becoming a knight." "It''s not something I should talk about. You''re kind of strange. You have a way of making people let their guard down." On the fourth day, just before sunset, it was late afternoon. "The full moon will rise." Jaxen said. The sky before the sunset. In the middle of the training grounds, Enkrid looked up. The sky was clear, without a cloud in sight. Jaxen''s words were correct. It wasn''t even dark yet, but the faint shape of the moon was visible. It was the round shape of the full moon. ------------------------------------------------------------------- The sale on my Ko-fi is still on until 10.01.2025! ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 367 - The Hard Stone is Also Sharp Chapter 367 - 367 - The Hard Stone is Also Sharp 367. The Hard Stone is Also Sharp The moonlight illuminated the city brightly. Even with the possibility of the Moonlight Beast appearing soon, Enkrid didn''t rush. Instead, he walked at a steady, unhurried pace, the sound of his steps echoing softly. As he strolled, occasionally glancing around, a few townsfolk lighting the tall lamps recognized him and called out. "Where are you off to?" A resident, glancing briefly at Enkrid''s companions behind him, asked with curiosity. "Just a night stroll." A calm reply. "That''s dangerous, you know." A familiar exchange ensued. Watching this, Aishia''s eyes darted back and forth between them in bewilderment. Jaxen leaned over slightly and whispered nonchalantly. "He''s a fruit seller. Lately, he''s been troubled because his daughter is getting married. Says the boy she''s into is a womanizer, charming but trouble." "...How do you even know that?" "Just comes up when you chat." Being that uninhibited was something Aishia considered her specialty, yet she found herself thinking, "Still, I doubt I could pull it off like that." As they walked forward, Enkrid spoke up. "Jaxen." "If there''s any commotion, I''ll pinpoint it immediately." At this, Aishia stole a glance at Jaxen. He was precisely her type¡ªa man with a serene demeanor, neatly shaped lips, and an appearance that could easily break many hearts. But what intrigued her more was what he could do. "That man''s senses are extraordinary." For three days, they''d done little else but eat, sleep, spar, and fight. For Aishia, it had been an intense, thrilling experience. Luagarne had mentioned it before: the people around Enkrid were all monsters. Seen through the eyes of a Frog, it was bound to be accurate. Though she''d known it, experiencing it firsthand made her truly grasp the reality. They were all monsters. If she had to summarize Jaxen''s fighting style in one word, it would be calculation. Though he had initially declared he wouldn''t participate, Jaxen eventually picked up his sword a few times. While it wasn''t the life-or-death dueling she had engaged in with Enkrid, it was enough to provide insights. The way he fought¡ªobserving, calculating, and predicting¡ªrevealed an approach where everything unfolded within his mind as he anticipated the next move. What allowed him to achieve this was his acute senses. His sight and hearing were exceptional, a level honed through the rigorous training every squire underwent. Becoming a knight wasn''t an easy path, and Aishia herself, as a member of a knightly order, had gone through similar training. Yet, even among junior knights, Jaxen''s sensory acuity stood out. "If you want to act a step ahead, you must first understand how your opponent''s step will move." A teaching from her master surfaced in her mind. That''s precisely what Jaxen did. He predicted her sword and moved first. Aishia''s specialty, swordpoint targeting, couldn''t even be fully executed against him. Before she could initiate her technique, his blade would inevitably interrupt¡ª either striking at an angle to disrupt her stance or landing precisely to deflect her sword''s trajectory. "His skills are unique." Still, Aishia believed she could win in a proper duel. While his ability to predict and read the flow of battle was outstanding, the aura emanating from his longsword wasn''t particularly overpowering. Not being exceptional didn''t diminish its lethality, of course. "He''s beatable." That was Aishia''s assessment. If Jaxen was a calculated fighter, then Ragna was pure instinct. The problem was that this instinct-driven monster''s natural inclinations often turned out to be correct and led him down the right path. "This guy..." Ragna''s sword reminded her painfully of the one that had once defeated her and forced her to reflect on her past. In other words, he was a monster forged entirely of raw talent. A calculating monster, a creature of pure instinct¡ªboth were formidable in their own ways. Against Ragna, Aishia had never managed to secure a single victory. "What is it?" she had once asked, frustrated. "A fast and heavy sword." His straightforward reply still annoyed her. A fast and heavy sword, as if it were that simple. But simplicity belonged to the realm of talent. For Aishia, such simplicity was unattainable. Yet, she didn''t wallow in envy. If she had, she would never have reached her current level. "Does the bread in another''s hands always seem bigger? There are plenty of people with skills far superior to yours." Her master''s teachings resurfaced again. The fact that this sparring session had left her with so many realizations spoke volumes. "What I have is exceptional, too." While others'' strengths might appear more desirable, the key was to overcome them with her own. Resentment of talent and despair over limitations had no place in Aishia''s journey. She had too much of her own to lean on. "When the heart falters, the will crumbles; when the will crumbles, the sword shatters." She repeated this mantra to keep jealousy as nothing more than fuel for growth¡ªher secret to steady improvement. And then there was Rem. Looking at him, she found herself wondering: "Is he a madman or a mad genius?" Both, it seemed. If Jaxen was a calculated monster and Ragna a bundle of instinctual talent, Rem was something entirely different. "What do you think? Hard to block, isn''t it?" He lived for fun. His fighting style had no set pattern. Most of his techniques were improvised on the spot. Even when he used familiar techniques, they bore the same chaotic, unpredictable energy¡ª erratic and aggressive. While Ragna''s instincts led him down the optimal path, Rem''s whimsical nature veered toward pure enjoyment. It was, of course, another form of talent. But in Rem''s case, his experience was also layered onto his natural gifts. Rem was the kind of savage who made nonsensical movements seem plausible, all for the sake of fun. That was Rem. "How''s this?" The most remarkable among his techniques was the way he countered a thrust aimed directly at her sword tip. What could you even call it? Axe Edge Guard? Axe Blade Shield? He had deflected the tip of a blade by guarding it with the flat edge of his sword as though it were an axe blade. With that, he nullified and killed the momentum entirely¡ªa bold and unconventional maneuver. As he used this technique to close the distance, the thought arose: "Terrifying, wasn''t it?" There''s nothing scarier than a lunatic. While a brute might be formidable, a madman who seemed willing to accept a blade piercing his own flesh just for amusement was something else entirely. But was Rem the most astonishing one? No. Enkrid remained. "Intriguing, utterly fascinating." There was something indescribably unique about Enkrid. "He''s like a stone meticulously compressed and molded over time." His foundation was not just solid¡ªit was unyielding. Yet this didn''t detract from his flexibility. His swordsmanship seemed like the result of repeating fundamental motions tens of thousands of times, ingraining them so deeply they became flawless. It was like crafting a clay pot through endless iterations, perfecting it until it became unbreakable. That''s what made it so impressive. Most fighters take their natural talents and develop unique techniques from a strong foundation. They refine their skills and expand upon what they''re naturally good at. "A process driven by talent." But Enkrid was different. If he didn''t fully understand one step, he couldn''t progress. His path wasn''t one smoothed by innate gifts. Instead, it was as if he had painstakingly carved his way forward, breaking down each barrier through relentless effort. He seemed like someone who had encountered countless limits, crashed into them over and over, and yet, ultimately shattered and transcended them. But limits eat away at people. They sap willpower, sow seeds of surrender, and offer despair in exchange. "And he overcame all that?" No, surely that was a misconception. So how did he reach his current level? It was a question that defied comprehension. But one thing was certain. "An unyielding desire to improve no matter the cost¡ªthat must be his foundation." Even at a glance, his tenacity was palpable, a quiet madness that pushed him forward even in the face of death. Even during sparring matches, he never ceased to train his body. When Enkrid had Dunbakel throw a stone into his side to toughen his endurance, Aishia could only shake her head in disbelief. Not even the knights'' training included such extreme measures. It was more akin to watching a monk split boulders with bare hands as a meditative act. Every aspect of his training exuded that quiet, unsettling madness. And the others in the group? They, too, had skills and talents far beyond ordinary. Were they exceptional? That wasn''t clear. But one thing piqued her curiosity: "Where in the world did they gather such people?" If Aishia knew that this group had been thrown together by a former Border Guard commander who was left to fend for himself, she wouldn''t have been able to hide her astonishment. Regardless, there was no doubt about one thing¡ªthey were extraordinary in their own ways. As she organized her thoughts, they reached a crossroads with alleys branching in all directions. "Let''s split up here," Enkrid said beside her. The dimly lit area bordered the slums and was also home to some of the crime guilds. "Here?" Aishia asked. "Here," Enkrid confirmed. "Why?" "I''ll explain as we go." "Aishia, you''re with me. Ragna, go with Dunbakel. Jaxen and Rem..... split up." She didn''t need much time to understand. Leaving those two together would only cause problems. Even after spending a few days with them, she was sure of it. Ragna could get lost even while walking around a mansion. "If anyone loses track, they''re an idiot, a fool, a moron!" Ragna hummed bizarre lyrics to an equally strange tune as he wandered into one of the alleys. "Well, then." Enkrid moved first, stepping into the darkness of the alley. He grabbed the edge of a wall and climbed effortlessly, even as some rooftops were nothing more than crude thatches of wood and straw, while others were coated in sturdy plaster. In the fortified city, residential areas were typically crammed together unless it was a high-end district. The roofs of the houses were so close that, with a good sense of balance, it was possible to move across them freely. Some buildings were taller than others, making a fall potentially bone-breaking, but Enkrid didn''t climb to those heights. He simply settled on a sturdy rooftop. "Why here?" Aishia asked again, her curiosity piqued. This wasn''t her duty as a knight, nor was it part of any oath she had sworn, but a task was still a task. Success was preferable to failure¡ªlives were at stake, and ensuring the safety of the citizens was paramount. To that end, she needed answers to respond effectively. "Understanding their habits makes it easier to figure them out," Enkrid explained, elaborating further. Aishia found herself nodding along without even realizing it. "They only appear on moonlit nights, which suggests it''s like a madness beyond their control." It made sense. Like madness, it was unmanageable, and its uncontrollable nature left traces behind. "If they could control themselves completely, they wouldn''t be causing such a commotion." That made sense as well. If Aishia herself had to secretly kill someone, what would she do? She''d pick a target, study their movements, and strike in an isolated location. Even without resorting to assassination techniques, that would be the easiest way. The victims so far, excluding one priest, were all commoners¡ªone in the slums, three in residential areas. Enkrid had shared this information with her, his findings based on thorough investigation. "The rain that fell for days likely intensified their madness, and if moonlight influences them, the full moon would stir powerful desires within them." It wasn''t a flawless conclusion, but it was plausible. "If I were afflicted by such madness and aware of it, I''d try to fulfill my desires as far from my own dwelling as possible." This implied Enkrid had already narrowed down the suspect''s location. The area farthest from the slum residences? Eysia''s gaze instinctively turned toward the city center, beyond the moonlight. The inner city wall marked where the royal palace stood. Nearby lived nobles who couldn''t stay within the palace grounds. "Uncontrollable desires would cause commotion, so they''d need to divert suspicion." Enkrid''s explanation concluded, and Aishia accepted it with chills running down her spine. "When did you figure all this out?" "I''ve been wandering around the city these past few days, piecing things together from what I''ve heard." Why was this stone, trodden upon and toughened, also so sharp? Aishia''s eyes were filled with both wonder and astonishment as Enkrid nonchalantly shifted his gaze. He''d simply gathered information during trips to the market¡ªtidbits from merchants, guards, woodsmen, and even bards. Aishia hadn''t noticed because she hadn''t been paying attention. Had she truly been involved in this case, she might have learned as much, but she hadn''t bothered to consider how many commoners and victims there were. A squire''s death had prompted a junior knight''s involvement, but the royal palace was too preoccupied with internal conflicts to treat the Moonlight Beast as more than a secondary issue. Enkrid had assumed no one would conduct a proper investigation and had taken it upon himself to uncover the truth. From the first victim to the growing number of casualties, he pieced together the details, relying on rumors that had spread like wildfire. A fruit vendor, a blacksmith, a gambler''s guard, a lumberjack, a poet, a librarian, a tavern maid, a noble''s escort¡ªtheir words were woven into a tapestry of deductions. A monk''s testimony proved decisive. "The creature was wearing clothes¡ªa coat that looked quite expensive. It ignored me completely and went straight for the priest, even with the moonlight at its back." This pointed to a creature driven by bloodlust yet capable of rational decisions. Predicting its movements became easier. Unlike beasts or monsters that acted on instinct, humans had reason. If the suspect was thinking and moving intentionally, those thoughts could be discerned. Neutralize the holy threat first, then stir chaos far from their own territory. It was unlikely that a human-turned-monster would have stolen and donned a fine coat. It was more plausible they had been wearing it beforehand. Based on how the rumors suddenly ceased, it was likely they had stripped completely before transforming. Jaxen suspected a lycanthrope. Enkrid had come to a similar conclusion. And then¡ª A mournful sound echoed, resembling the cry of a night bird. It came from the direction Ragna had taken earlier. "Let''s go," Enkrid said, finally moving. Aishia followed close behind. ------------------------------------------------------------------- The sale on my Ko-fi is still on until 10.01.2025! ko-fi.com/samowek Don''t miss out on the 33% sale on Chapters! Thank you all for your support Chapter 368 - A Battle to the End Chapter 368 - 368 - A Battle to the End 368. A Battle to the End The Southern Gate Guard Captain adjusted his feathered hat, a signature of his station. Tilting its brim a few times, he glanced at the luminous full moon illuminating the surroundings. "What is my duty?" To protect the capital. This realization wasn''t new; he had always known it. Recent events had only reignited his resolve. A noble turned royal by birth, a prodigal son known as a bastard. The Queen''s kin had shown his sense of duty and responsibility. Then the Captain reasoned he, too, must fulfill his obligations. The conclusion was simple: the Moonlight Beast could no longer be tolerated. Thus, he prepared thoroughly upon hearing that even a squire had fallen victim. "Let''s move this way." He directed his men. "But Captain, are you sure it''ll show up?" A scruffy subordinate, unshaven and disheveled, questioned him. "Of course." Even in the capital, some had taken an interest in the Moonlight Beast¡ªhimself included. He scouted the area, gathered intel, and predicted where the creature might appear. "A full moon." A place far from the noble residential quarters. "Here." If he was wrong, they would simply begin the search again. Resources were scarce, so he brought only three trusted soldiers. Four of them together should be enough to handle a werewolf. He didn''t know why it hid during the day and emerged only at night. "Some strange magic, no doubt." A mad sorcerer''s work, perhaps. The Captain scanned the moonlit surroundings. Would it show itself? His anticipation was met. Thwack! A grotesque sound filled the air, and the metallic tang of blood followed. Deep in the alleyway. The Captain dashed forward. "Captain?" "Follow me!" He barked orders, charging toward the source. Sure enough, a blood-soaked creature loomed within the alley. Pointed, upright ears and a body covered not in fur but steel-like feathers. Its size was double that of an average human. Its forearms were as thick as thighs. The alleyway barely contained it. Three grown men could walk side by side in such a space, but now the beast occupied every inch. The Captain swallowed hard, knowing fear would lead to defeat. He steadied himself and spoke. "Not a werewolf, but an owlman?" With that, he drew his sword. The blade gleamed in the moonlight as he gripped it with both hands and locked eyes on the foe. The creature¡ªan owl-like monster, an Owlbear¡ªstood in profile. Its round, bloodshot eyes were starkly visible, even under the faint glow. The Captain tilted his head back to meet its gaze, a chilling detail seared into his mind. The creature''s glance carried an unsettling mix of delight, malice, and predatory focus. Lowering his gaze, the Captain noted the bloody ground. There lay a mangled corpse, viscera scattered across the scene. Shredded flesh, broken bones, and dark crimson painted the setting. Each talon of the beast was like a cruelly honed blade. The Owlbear trembled, as if savoring its feast. The Captain instinctively understood the beast''s pleasure. It reveled in this slaughter. "Enjoying yourself, are you!" To protect the city. To protect its people. To end the terror that painted moonlit nights in dread¡ªthis was his duty. With a sudden push, he lunged forward, slashing his blade in a downward arc. The goal wasn''t to sever a limb or bisect the body in one strike. A calculated slice to gouge flesh, a technique he had perfected. The Owlbear deflected the blade with a casual flick of its talons, angling them precisely to meet the edge. Clang! The collision sent sparks flying. The Captain retreated swiftly, realizing the strength behind the beast''s parry. Though not a knight, his skill matched that of any seasoned squire. It was this prowess that earned him his rank. But this? A squire had barely managed to survive against it. "Even if I wasn''t attacking with full force..." The impact left his hands trembling. Worse, the beast''s movements bore an uncanny intelligence¡ªa deliberate defense rather than blind instinct. This wasn''t a fight he could win alone. Sweat poured down his face, but the Captain refused to panic. Instead, he shouted to his men. "Surround it!" The Owlbear''s eyes fixed on him¡ªa maddened mix of joy and bloodlust. The grotesque sight of its human-like eyes, set in a monstrous visage, only heightened the horror. As the Captain backed away, the Owlbear followed, its movements eerily silent despite its massive frame. Stepping into the open, it halted at the edge of the alleyway, its predatory gaze sweeping over the soldiers who held their spears ready. Moonlight illuminated the area, casting the alley''s depths in stark shadow. One of the soldiers gulped audibly, nerves on edge. The Captain, drenched in cold sweat, tightened his grip. The Owlbear emerged, its calculated steps betraying the cunning of a born predator. Its chest swelled as it inhaled deeply. "Attack!" The Captain''s voice broke through his fear as he gave the command. A desperate act of resolve despite the overwhelming odds. But before his men could strike¡ª Oooooooohhhh! The Owlbear''s screech ripped through the air, drowning the Captain''s words. The cry resonated through the night, an otherworldly wail that shook the very air. The Captain froze. His body seized up as if gripped by an unseen force. His heart pounded erratically, and his muscles locked in place. He couldn''t move. A prey encountering its natural predator cannot escape the grip of fear. This is why monsters are called the predators of humankind. Among them, the more powerful ones can freeze a human''s body with just a roar. The captain of the guard had a vision of the Owlbear''s claws tearing his throat and ripping into his chest. At that moment, his body stiffened in terror, and the soldiers were no different. "I''m going to die." The fear of death overtook his entire being. It was a roar known to invoke the kind of terror typically associated with high-tier monsters. Like a mouse freezing before a cat. The monster, having subdued its surroundings with a single cry, raised its claws. It intended to decapitate them one by one and drink their brains. After all, nothing could be more exquisite than that. "Kuheh." A chuckle escaped. Here lay a form of ecstasy unattainable in human life. At first, it resented its transformed body. Now, it did not. Pleasure, sheer and boundless, overtook it. What need was there to deny such joy? As long as it didn''t encounter another squire-like opponent, all would be well. And who in the royal capital could pose a threat now? What could they send after it? Two squires at best? The city guard? The fallen soldiers at its feet revealed the truth of this reality. The capital had become its dining hall. There was an abundance of food, each morsel ready to be savored. How could this not bring delight? Pleasure surged, and euphoria consumed its body. The feathers quivered in anticipation of the joy to come. Its entire musculature contracted and relaxed in rhythm. The time to revel in pleasure had come. "Kuhehehehe." Drool dripped from its mouth. It was ravenous, eager to devour. Just as it was about to stop thinking and thrust its claws into the next target¡ª Tap, tap, tap. The sound of footsteps reached its ears. From behind and to the left, approximately twenty paces in human terms. Since taking the body of an Owlbear, its sense of hearing had sharpened above all else. Measuring distance through sound was effortless. The Owlbear determined the source of the sound was approaching. Its instincts as a monster moved faster than human reason. Swish! It extended its claws, now twice as long, and crossed its arms defensively in front of it. Deep within the alley, in the shadows, the Owlbear''s vision detected the oncoming object with precision. Its nocturnal eyesight turned darkness into daylight clarity. A mass, leaving behind a faint white trail, shot out from the darkness. The mass suddenly accelerated. Whatever flew towards it moved three times faster than the running sound suggested. Whang! The Owlbear saw a line cutting through the space before it. The line originated from the mass''s arm, aimed to cleave through its body. Two distinct strikes. Instinctively, it raised its arms to block. Holding them horizontally as if forming a shield, it braced for impact. The flying lines struck its forearms. Thunk. A dull sound echoed. The Owlbear felt the shock. Its feathers, tough as steel, weren''t cut, but the force reverberated through its body. The wielder of the strikes retreated even faster than they attacked. The Owlbear, upon blocking, immediately lunged with its right foot towards where the opponent had been. But its foe evaded with a fluid motion. Its claws raked through the air where the target had just stood, leaving nothing but empty space. Repositioning its outstretched foot, the monster turned its gaze to the adversary and tilted its head in curiosity. "...What''s this? Was there another one besides me? Plenty of meals to go around." Its form was that of a beast¡ªhalf-human, half-creature in appearance. Yet it spoke as naturally as any human. Speaking, the Owlbear concluded through scent and sound that the opponent wasn''t alone. Even so, it couldn''t afford to focus elsewhere. The aura emanating from the opponent before it demanded undivided attention. The being that had launched the dual strikes glared back at it. Golden eyes, shining unnaturally bright, maintained their glow even in the moonlight. "Hey, I''m a beastkin." The words were directed at it. "What difference does that make? I was human once and became an Owlbear." It was angry, annoyed at the interruption of its pleasure and euphoria, but saw no reason to fight a fellow predator. There was plenty of food, and the city was vast. No need to quarrel over the source of its joy. Before its claws, age or gender made no difference among humans. The golden-eyed beastkin clenched their teeth, their voice almost a shout. "You son of a bitch! There are no owls among beastkin!" Dunbakel dashed forward in her white lion form. Bang! Pushing off the ground, her body stretched out in a long stride. In her hands were two scimitars, shorter by a palm than the typical blades but familiar and well-practiced. The blades moved in erratic patterns, aiming for the Owlbear''s forearms. This was the "Falling Stab," a technique she had developed after observing Enkrid''s methods and adapting them into her own. Slash to stab, stab to slash. Chaotic, ever-shifting. But the Owlbear''s superhuman senses perceived it all. And its monstrous body responded to every speed and trajectory. Clang! Clang! Clang! Its steel-like claws deflected the strikes, countering as it sought openings. Even as a human, it had trained rigorously. It knew more than enough techniques. Spotting a gap in the beastkin''s movements, it extended its claws toward her abdomen. Dunbakel pivoted on her left foot, spinning her body. As she turned, the scimitars in her hands slashed out. Ping! A strike twice as fast as before sliced horizontally through the air. The Owlbear, after extending its leg, refrained from further attack. "Troublesome." She was more skilled than the previous squire. But was this truly a problem? It decided not. Even if things go wrong, I''ll run if I have to... "What''s this? A baby owl?" The thought couldn''t even reach its conclusion. From behind. There was a figure to one side, swinging a long-hafted axe in fluid arcs. ''That face looks familiar.'' Where had he seen it before? He searched his memory. No use. Yet the aura emanating from the figure was anything but ordinary. ''Should I run?'' Instinct screamed a warning. His reasoning reached the same verdict. "Answer my questions, and you''ll leave here in one piece." The voice came from directly behind him. Startled enough to panic, he swung his elbow reflexively. His steel-like feathers, a deadly weapon, could pulverize an ordinary human if they landed a solid blow. But his target dodged. The figure retreated immediately after speaking, almost as if they''d predicted his reaction. They moved away faster than he could strike. Through the subtle movements in the air, the Owlbear knew. "Who''s the leader of the Black Blade?" The figure asked. The Owlbear responded by compressing air in its gut and releasing it in a thunderous roar. Oooooohhh! Bring fear. His bellow echoed through the air. The power of the beast reverberated, shaking the atmosphere. At least one of them would wet themselves and collapse in terror. Like that soldier earlier. The man in the feathered hat barely held his ground, but the others were not so fortunate¡ªseveral soldiers fell to their knees, some even soiling themselves. Yet, despite the Owlbear''s expectations, none seemed truly overwhelmed. Why were they all so composed? The man with the axe even managed a mocking grin. "Stop making such a racket, you damn monster, there are people sleeping." Then, another figure stepped forward. This one walked deliberately, wielding a long whip. "What''s this? You out for a nighttime stroll too?" The man with the axe asked. The one with the whip was someone the Owlbear recognized. ''Shouldn''t he be elsewhere right now?'' His name was Matthew, the bodyguard of Kryanaht Angius Naurilius. The man who caused chaos in the royal palace, claiming the title of Grand Duke for himself. It was thanks to him that the Owlbear could freely enjoy its meals during such a time of turmoil. The more chaotic the palace, the fewer eyes turned toward him. A few nighttime disappearances wouldn''t raise an uproar. At worst, the city guards would step in. The Moonlight Beast targeted commoners, especially the impoverished. He avoided nobles, ensuring no unnecessary backlash. As long as he didn''t encroach on anyone''s territory, no one would intervene. So, all of this¡ªeverything happening now¡ªwas completely unexpected. It was incomprehensible to him. There were those who acted not for gain but to protect citizens'' safety. People who upheld responsibility and duty, risking their lives to chase him. And some, with natural insight and observation, deciphered the patterns behind his actions. The Owlbear couldn''t fully grasp this. He had simply become a being intoxicated by slaughter, like an addict chasing another hit. Even so, he considered himself rational. He believed his actions were based on reason and logic. All lies. His reasoning had devolved into a tool for pursuing pleasure. It was a side effect he didn''t even realize. "What the hell are you people?" The captain of the South Gate guard managed to stand and speak. He had barely overcome his fear. Though his jaw trembled, he clenched his teeth and endured. That steadiness brought him some relief. Even the atmosphere around him contributed to his sense of stability. The tides were shifting. The Owlbear couldn''t finish off the soldier he''d downed. Nor could he freely tear apart the white lion beastkin who had charged at him. The beast sensed a threat. Something felt off about the situation. But even so, dying here wasn''t an option. ''Never.'' After savoring such ecstasy, he couldn''t abandon it. He had to survive and continue living like this. Devouring countless humans, chewing and swallowing their brains, blood, and entrails. Oooo. With a brief roar, he reaffirmed his resolve and determination. Even if the path was misguided, his willpower was absolute. The Owlbear had wounded the squire. The blend of his beastly strength and the intellect retained from his human nature made it possible. "Fools!" The Owlbear roared, his meaning unmistakable in the tone. The listeners responded. "Why can it talk so well?" The man with the axe remarked. "Were you sent on orders from the Marquis? So, he decided to handle it personally," Matthew said, paying more attention to those around him than to the beast. "Shut up, you damn monster bird," the beastkin growled. The man standing behind him didn''t even reach for his sword. He simply watched, his expression indifferent. Even so, fear crept in. Moving closer to him meant death. The primal instincts of the beast warned him. And those instincts were right¡ªRagna was contemplating whether to strike or not. And then¡ª "Who is the leader of the Black Blade? Speak now. I''ll send you off cleanly, sparing you from that barbarian''s axe or the savage swordsman''s blade." Behind him, another voice spoke calmly and confidently. Who was this guy? Why did he keep talking about sending him somewhere? "Just cooperate." The figure said. Standing in the moonlight, he was visible but faint, blurred. Only then did the Owlbear realize¡ªthe man''s surroundings seemed unnaturally quiet, his presence faint. Lose sight of him for a second, and he''d likely slip behind and drive a blade into his back. A deeply unsettling opponent. "Speak." "I don''t know anything like that." The Owlbear, overwhelmed, responded before realizing it. "I see." The figure muttered before stepping back. That alone significantly lessened the pressure. Of course, it didn''t mean the danger was gone. As he heightened his wariness, searching for an escape, another voice rang out. "Captain of the guard?" This one was unmistakably familiar. ------------------------------------------------------------------- The sale on my Ko-fi is still on until 10.01.2025! ko-fi.com/samowek Don''t miss out on the 33% sale on Chapters! Thank you all for your support Chapter 369 - Without the People, There Is No King Chapter 369 - 369 - Without the People, There Is No King Chapter 369 - Without the People, There Is No King How many more of them were coming? The chaos was overwhelming. Owlbear''s gaze shifted to the one who had just spoken. "Enkrid?" The monster saw yet another familiar face and, almost involuntarily, called out his name. Enkrid quickly scanned the surroundings. His gaze lingered on those present and the man wearing the feathered hat before locking eyes with the Owlbear. Their eyes met, and in that moment, Enkrid organized several facts in his mind: The opponent recognized him. The opponent was likely a noble. There was a connection to the Black Blade. The opponent was mid-transformation into a monster. The opponent knew how to use that transformation. The brown eyes resembled someone familiar. A name surfaced in his mind¡ªsomeone with a trained physique, a foul stench, and an overemphasis on propriety. The thought brought clarity: a figure he had rarely seen recently but was once affiliated with Count Molsan. So, was Count Molsan allied with the Black Blade? While more questions arose, Enkrid felt he had identified the opponent and said: "Baron Bentra?" The Owlbear¡ªBentra¡ªfinally understood why these faces were so familiar. He had brushed past them once while entering the royal palace. And as the realization struck, he pushed off the ground to flee. He had to run. He knew exactly what these people¡ªthe so-called Madmen Unit¡ªwere capable of. But the attempt at escape was futile. Whoosh! The moment he leaped, a spinning disc soared over his head. The sound alone sent a primal warning through his body: If you jump, you''ll die! It was a brutally fast throwing axe, one that even his monstrous form couldn''t withstand. He ducked instead, crouching to avoid the blow, abandoning his escape and freezing in place. "Good. I''ll carve you up," said the golden-haired swordsman as he approached. This was the one radiating that ominous aura from the start. No sooner had the words left his mouth than he closed the distance. With a swift, vertical strike, the sword descended like a thunderbolt. Bentra, now fully transformed into the Owlbear, puffed up his feathers and crossed his arms to block the strike. Clang! Crack! Squish! The blade seemed stopped at first but then bit halfway into his arms. "Graaaaah!" A horrible scream, part-human and part-monster, echoed in agony. "That''s for my comrade!" In that brief moment, another attack came. A thin blade aimed straight for his heart, wielded by Aishia, a knight trainee accompanying Enkrid. She had been standing inconspicuously behind him before darting forward to deliver a piercing strike. Damn it! Bantra clenched his chest muscles and leaped backward to avoid a fatal blow. Thwip! The slender blade pierced through the feathers, muscle, and flesh, leaving behind a crimson trail as it exited. The blood that followed was thick and dark, almost black. These opponents weren''t ordinary soldiers¡ªthey were knight trainees, at the very least. Or perhaps, that wasn''t the real issue. In this place stood at least five others who matched or exceeded Aisha''s skill. It wouldn''t have mattered if he turned into an Owlbear or an Owlbear elder. The moment he encountered them, the fight was over. Their job was to find him, not to fight him. The outcome was inevitable from the moment they crossed paths. What surprised him, however, was Krang sending his guards and the southern captain stepping forward. At least, it meant some cared about the city''s safety and order. Roar! Bentra let out a few more desperate cries. "Damn it!" he cursed, enduring the onslaught. "Spare me!" he begged, pleading for his life. Watching all this unfold, the southern garrison captain quietly cursed his own failure to recognize the monster''s true nature earlier. They''re all monsters themselves. These "madmen" were toying with an actual monster as though it were nothing. At last, Bentra''s resistance ended. After taking several wounds, including a pierced thigh and a cracked skull, his neck was half-severed by a well-aimed axe blow. Splurt! Under Rem''s precise strike, Bentra collapsed, bleeding profusely. His body fell forward, face-first into the ground. As the blood drained from his monstrous form, the transformation unraveled. The feathers receded, and his trembling body returned to a human shape. Even so, the grievous wounds remained. The transformation back to human did not change the fatal outcome. "Ugh." As Bentra collapsed, vomiting blood, Enkrid crouched down in front of him. "Why are you here?" He asked. There was no intention of answering, of course. However, as the regret surged while he was dying, Bentra spoke with resentment. "It''s unfair." The arrow of resentment was not directed at Enkrid. It was aimed at the one who had caused him to become this way. Indulging in desire and pleasure was a side effect; it was not what he truly wanted. Though he had lost his human identity by becoming a monster, before his death, he had found a part of his humanity again. For that reason, he felt it was unfair. "How did you become a monster?" Enkrid asked. "Drugs... drugs." Bentra whispered as he died. The light in his eyes slowly faded. He was about to die. Enkrid could ask no more. Bentra gathered his remaining strength. He couldn''t die without saying this. *** "I am not the last." Count Molsan nodded after receiving the report. "He was discovered and killed earlier than expected." The subordinate stood in the middle of the study, speaking, while the Count, leaning back in his chair, responded indifferently. "It doesn''t matter. He was a disposable piece anyway." Was this another of Enkrid''s doing? Those guys sure were troublesome. But the Count''s words were sincere. "Are the preparations ready?" "Less than two weeks left." "Alright." It was the night of the full moon. The Count, drinking wine with the night as his companion, set down his glass and spoke. "Let''s meet in two weeks, Your Majesty." Whether the one sitting on the throne would be him or the queen would be known by then. *** In front of the corpse of the now-Baron Bentra, the Feather Hat Guard Captain showed his respect to Enkrid. "Please forgive my previous rudeness." "It wasn''t rudeness." Guarding the door was something that had to be done, after all. "I thank you for your assistance." He said. Enkrid dismissed it casually. He thought it was something anyone would have done. What bothered him more was what Baron Bentra had said before crossing the river. "By the way, is it okay for you to leave your post?" Enkrid asked Matthew. He didn''t know what was happening inside the palace, but he knew it wasn''t a typical dangerous situation. But Krang''s guard had come here? "If there is no king, then I am no one. If there are no citizens, there is no king." Matthew replied. Enkrid understood. This was likely a message from Krang. If someone could become king while ignoring the death of people at the hands of the Moonlight Beast, then it meant nothing to him. That thought was something he deeply agreed with. It made him want to help. Someone like KArang. "Anyway, it seems like it was cleaned up." Enkrid said, and Rem suggested they spar since things were slow. Ragna wiped the blood and oil from his sword. On the side, Dunbakel nodded as she picked up her scythe. "Nice, this." She seemed pleased as she held the item that had been in the assassin''s hand. "Was there another one with a scent like this?" Enkrid asked. Dunbakel shook her head. "I didn''t see anyone with a similar scent." But if there was someone else, why weren''t they causing a commotion? Wasn''t the Moonlight Beast the only one? No, the opponent had been intoxicated by the blood of monsters. He had succumbed to his instincts and sought pleasure through carnage. Even without the Gatekeeper''s words, this was a deduction gathered from questioning. Enkrid thought that Bentra might have been spouting nonsense as he died, but at that moment, Bentra had been sincere. He wasn''t dull enough to miss that. So, where was this other person? It wasn''t in the capital. Then what else was there? What was it? A brief contemplation followed. "Count Molsan made a Chimera." By uttering that sentence, Enkrid concluded. "Hey, we need to report that to the palace immediately." Enkrid said and left. This was an urgent matter, no matter the time of night. "Wait." Before leaving, Matthew approached. In the end, he hadn''t even seen the man use his whip. It had been Rem, Ragna, Dunbakel, and Aishia who had caught Aulbear. "Do you have something to say?" Matthew hesitated for a moment, selecting his words carefully, then seemingly decided, biting down on his teeth before speaking. "Help my lord." "Alright." "If danger comes, just once..." "Yeah." "...Hm?" "I''ll help." What did they think? Why was he staying here instead of going home? He was here to wield his sword by Krang''s side after witnessing what he had done. He would become a king for Naurilia. More than that, by sending the whip guards here, he had proven his actions matched his words. He said he would protect the nation, the people, the citizens. He said he would be that king. And at the same time, he said he would be a friend. For someone like him, even if he wouldn''t become his knight immediately, he was worth wielding a sword for. Enkrid had already thought this through, so his answer came quickly. It was a response so fast it startled Matthew. "He''s not someone who would stop by my side. So, I won''t expect help." Those were Krang''s own words. He said he would handle this on his own. It was a gamble, but he said it couldn''t be won otherwise. "Alright." Matthew turned away. The next morning, news reached Andrew''s mansion. It wasn''t about the events of the night. The story of Baron Bentra''s death was already buried. Everyone kept it quiet. The story of capturing the Moonlight Beast had faded into the background. What reached them was news of the Grand Duke title ceremony. It was the signal Krang had sent up. Perhaps because of that, Aishia no longer showed her face. It felt empty after spending days together and then suddenly not seeing her. "Hey, isn''t that junior-knight coming?" Rem asked. "They say the title ceremony is happening. She must be busy." Enkrid replied, dripping with sweat. He, too, was disappointed. "I wish we could have had a hundred, no, two hundred more matches." Then, he would have been able to break through that swordpoint. But in reality, it would have taken much more time to truly overpower Asia. It was all regrettable. She was the kind of opponent he wanted to face dozens, even hundreds of more times. "Well, since it''s a shame, I guess I''ll have to beat the captain instead." Rem said, scratching an itch with a grin. Enkrid felt the same way. The internal affairs of the palace changed day by day. Everything was going according to Krang''s plan. And Krang further fueled the fire. "Are you just going to watch? A Grand Duke!" "Am I digging my own grave?" It was something that would provoke all the nobles. Within the palace, where the Marquisate was the highest rank, the queen had declared that she would bestow the title of Grand Duke upon Krang. "Where is Baron Bentra?" Viscount Mernes asked. He was the one who had united all the factions within the palace. The factions, once scattered, had come together partly because of the existence of Krang on the opposing side. Having subdued Marcus Baisar and several other nobles, he immediately backed the queen and aimed to receive the Grand Duke title. Everything he did was a threat to the nobility. From the institutional reforms to strengthen the monarchy, it was clear that they couldn''t just sit by and watch. He had to be dealt with. He was threatening the entire nobility. It seemed the queen had lent her strength behind the scenes, but usually, the loudest ones were the first to be taken down. "Is he being arrogant just because he has the queen''s backing?" Viscount Mernes thought that Crang''s actions were ultimately the queen''s will. "Why, Your Majesty?" This would surely lead to a catastrophe. It was inevitable. The factions had gathered and united. If they didn''t direct their combined strength outward, it would lead to a headache. The queen had essentially dug her own grave. The title ceremony was in one week. Viscount Mernes had moved the assassination guild. He had used the strength that supported him. The remaining forces of the Black Blade bandits entered the palace. Among the Royal Guards, he had some on his side. He also informed some of the knights who had switched sides about the impending war. "This is loyalty." The tide had already turned. Civil war would only devour the nation. If that''s the case, the solution was to quell everything before it even began. If the queen planned to use her suddenly appearing brother as a shield... "That brother will die." Then the queen would no longer engage in such acts. She would become a puppet on the throne. Afterward, the true king would rise. "That''s where my work ends." The Viscount muttered quietly. Everything would be over by the day before the title ceremony. ------------------------------------------------------------------- The last day of the sale is tomorrow guys! ko-fi.com/samowek Don''t miss out on the 33% sale on Chapters! Thank you all for your support Chapter 370 - Color Contrast Chapter 370 - 370 - Color Contrast Chapter 370 - Color Contrast The water ripples. The only source of light in the pitch-black darkness illuminates the surroundings. Following the trace of the light, a figure holding a lamp on the boat appears. Enkrid''s body is carried in a long boat that crosses the river. Has the boat become bigger and longer, or is that just an illusion? It''s been a long time since this dream. The ferryman stands on the opposite side, holding the oars. "It''s been a while," Enkrid says. His eyes, nose, mouth, and even skin are visible. The cracked dark-gray skin shows no hint of humanity. Reading his expression is still difficult, but compared to their first meeting, there''s more to see now. At least his eyes, nose, and mouth are visible. And now, he can even speak. The ferryman opens his mouth. The line briefly opens and closes in a way that makes reading his lips impossible. "This wall will be interesting," he says. His heavy, low voice feels like a blunt hammer. Once words are spoken, they reach their target instantly. No weapon is faster than that. Before Enkrid could defend, it felt as though his heart was struck by the ferryman''s words, like a hammer. The shock spreads throughout his body. His body trembles. He feels the vibration. It triggers a primal fear within him. That''s what the ferryman does. And Enkrid responds, "I''ll look forward to it." He enjoyed everything. In this place, there is no Heart of the Beast, no Sense of Evasion, no Isolation Tehnique, no disciplined body. Only his true nature remains. Enkrid responded with his own will, beliefs, and resolve. In truth, he enjoyed it. He truly enjoyed the situation. These words came from his heart. His heart trembled, the shock flowed through his body¡ªeverything would become a stepping stone for the future. The expectation to overcome fear. Could there be a day when it doesn''t serve as a stepping stone? Maybe, but no. It''s a contradiction. Opposing words. But for Enkrid, they fit perfectly. "Even the flowers blooming in the field have something to teach." There''s something to learn from the stars in the night sky. There''s something to learn from the dandelion seeds scattered by the wind. Ponder. Worry. Suffer. Think and think again. Don''t forget that everything could become your sword. The teacher, the instructor, the mercenaries, Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, Audin, Esther, Dunbakel, Teresa, Krais, and recently, even Aishia. The countless others, those who died by his sword. The first enemy from repeating today. The swordsman of the Hurrier family. Magic, spells, curses, and traps in strategies. Everything was a lesson. "Is it madness, or resolve?" the ferryman asked. His figure gradually fades. This place is a dream, an inner world. He will soon wake up. "Or is it the struggle of an ignorant person?" The ferryman looks at Enkrid. His eye color changes rapidly. It turns blue, then red, black like pitch, then purple, and even resembles the color of dark bark. Only then did Enkrid realize he was finally meeting the ferryman''s eyes. "Now you''re looking me in the eyes," the ferryman says. He hears a hint of admiration in the voice. With that, Enkrid wakes up. "It''s been a while." It''s been a long time since the ferryman appeared in his dream. It feels like it''s been ages since he last saw him. Lately, he hadn''t been repeating today. Is that why he let his guard down? Not repeating today? That wasn''t it. Not when he caught the Moonlight Beast, not when he fought Aishia. As thoughts turn to Aishia, the fight with her comes to mind. It''s a pity, so much of a pity. It would''ve been fun to fight a little more. There was so much more to learn. But she left. From Aishia, Rem, Ragna, and Jaxen, a certain formality was visible, something rarely seen in others. "Did she build her foundation in the knight order?" he wondered. Soft yet upright. Though it''s called a ''fencing sword,'' it''s completely different from the mercenary sword style of Valen. "A fencing sword deceives and confuses the opponent." It''s a technique that uses the opponent''s focus against them, leaving out the deception part. It wouldn''t work on most warriors or swordsmen. Probably, below the Knight level, Aisia''s "sword-point thrust" could be ignored, and one could thrust their sword out instead. Ignorance often seems bold. Of course, if they were at that level, even the sword-point thrust wouldn''t be necessary. Though their time together was short, there was so much to learn. It was the same mindset as in the dream. Even the dandelion seeds flying through the air have something to teach. "Everything that happens around me is my teacher." If there''s a lesson, he will ponder, learn, and absorb it. Though he didn''t realize it, Enkrid''s desire for improvement always burned within him. It was the desire to go further. The urge to improve his skill, level, and technique. It naturally led to a more proactive attitude, and not stopping there¡ªhe also began reflecting on himself. Now he knew that this was actually the faster path. Rest is important, and there are times when it''s more necessary to step back and take a look from a distance. Now he understands that. There were things he didn''t know when meeting and learning from countless instructors. Now, as each one becomes clearer, he starts to realize and reflect on them. Enkrid understood that the time spent was not wasted. He rose with his thoughts and began his repetitive daily routine. After stepping out, he bounced lightly in place to warm up his body. Only then did he perform a unique isolation technique, loosening each joint and stretching his muscles. Next, he had Andrew stand in front of a pile of garden stones, grabbing one in each hand and pulling them up. The process also strengthened his thighs, core, and even the thigh muscles when sitting and standing. By now, he had long forgotten the dream of being a ferryman and had let go of his ambitions. At that moment, there was nothing but pure zeal. "Isn''t this getting boring?" Andrew, who had come out late, clicked his tongue. "What?" Enkrid asked as he took a breath and rested for a moment. "Everything you''re doing. I mean, all of it." Training his body in the morning, then enduring the hits from Dunbakel''s rocks or Rem''s punches, followed by practicing swordsmanship and various weapons. Afterward, more sparring and different training, and in his spare time, teaching both himself and his students. He was performing this overwhelming schedule every day without batting an eye. Andrew was amazed, wondering if this was even possible for a human. Andrew''s question carried this feeling. He had even recently returned after fighting something referred to as a moonlight beast, which he wasn''t sure whether it was a human or a monster. He spoke of it like a casual evening stroll. Andrew couldn''t believe that Enkrid was human. His life was even more brutal than before. Back when he was under Enkrid''s command, the training was tough, but compared to now, Enkrid''s abilities had improved vastly, yet the training volume hadn''t decreased. If anything, it had increased, becoming more intense and extreme. "Actually..." Enkrid spoke up. "Actually?" Andrew asked, prompting him when Enkrid paused. "It''s so fun, I could die." Andrew''s lips parted, then closed, then parted again. He found it hard to say anything. Yet, he felt that if he didn''t say something out of sheer admiration, his chest would feel like it was suffocating. So, he turned his head to the side and murmured quietly to himself. "...Crazy bastard." He whispered, but Enkrid, of course, heard it. Soon, Jaxen, who had appeared, gave him a piece of advice. "It''s all audible." "What?" Startled by not sensing his presence, Andrew turned around and asked. "The boss has sharp ears." Jaxen kindly explained again. Andrew''s suspicious gaze turned toward Enkrid. "I didn''t hear you call me a crazy bastard." "Ah." Andrew sighed. "Let''s start training." That day, the isolation technique began, specially tailored for Andrew. The human body adapts. So, when the intensity remains the same every day, it naturally becomes weaker. Thus, it had to be made more grueling, more intense. Enkrid gave Andrew that gift. "Why do we..." All five students had to endure the increased intensity of the training. They looked at each other, and a sense of resentment seemed to cloud their eyes. "You all seem to have plenty of time," Rem said with a laugh. Where did those eyes come from? Resentment? What is this? Wooooah? "Good. Good." Rem chuckled, and the faces of the five students turned pale. Ragna came out to the training grounds late in the morning. He looked like a completely different person compared to before. It seemed like another normal day. Except that tomorrow was Krang''s title conferment ceremony. But things were different. Enkrid felt the change in the air on his skin. "It''s quiet." Rem sensed something wild in the air, just like Dunbakel did. "Get ready." Enkrid spoke. Rem nodded without saying anything, and everyone started moving. Enkrid too gathered his gear. "Six Whistle daggers." If the timing was right, they could be quite useful. He also prepared three swords, a bandage-style armor wrapped around his body, and over that, a leather armor. The armor was made from tough cloth on the inside. It restricted movement, but it wasn''t too much of an obstacle. It was Andrew''s gift. "Prepare your weapons." It was right after the morning training. Enkrid''s words caused Andrew and the five students to gather. "What''s going on?" Mac asked. Did he feel the strange atmosphere too? Was he just asking because he was nervous from seeing Enkrid and the others? "The mood is off." Dunbakel answered. Ragna, who had been picking up his sword, also grabbed a short sword at his waist. And then, Enkrid tightened his boot laces. Starting with his sword belt, he meticulously checked all his equipment while casting a glance around the mansion and listening intently. "There''s no one, right?" Rem wasn''t wrong when he said the area felt eerily quiet. At Enkrid''s words, Jaxen nodded. Instead of his long sword, Jaxen had a shorter sword, about the length of his forearm, strapped to his waist. The moment Jaxen sensed the unnatural atmosphere, he surveyed the surroundings. There was no one around the mansion. Not even a single dog in sight on the usually busy road. Beyond the well-cleaned stone path, a few people could be seen lurking inside the house. Had someone cleared the area? No, the locals simply weren''t coming near the mansion. The area had already been surrounded by soldiers. Armed guards, with spears and swords, were visible, numbering over twenty. Enkrid ignored them. With such a small number, they wouldn''t do anything significant. So what were they planning? After all, his backing was from Krais. Marcus. Were they really going to act against him? ''What are they up to?'' He couldn''t help but feel a twinge of curiosity. After waiting a moment, Esther suddenly raised her head. Her eyes met Enkrid''s. Esther, who had been lying still, snapped to attention, reacting to something in the air. ''A spell?'' More precisely, it was a magical disturbance. Someone had been playing magical tricks here. Nothing immediate would happen, but if left unchecked, whatever was planned could proceed. There''s a saying among mages: the one who prepares wins. It''s about being prepared and understanding your opponent. ''Do they know me?'' From a magical perspective, they likely did. After all, hadn''t she killed Galaph, the one holding the magical currents. One of his apprentices might have recognized her presence. ''Who could it be?'' Rather than curiosity, it was pride that filled her. There was a reason she was called the "Witch of Battle." Esther never shied away from a fight. Rumors about her being weakened by a curse had spread, hadn''t they? If the person who came here knew that, they would regret it deeply. Esther took a step forward, shifting from her leopard form into her human shape. Her fur vanished, revealing smooth white skin, and the remaining fur transformed into a long coat. She adjusted the coat, glancing around. "If you look, you''ll lose your eyes." Just as Enkrid grabbed Andrew by the chin and turned his face away, Esther muttered her words. "Well done." With a short compliment, she continued her steps. "I''ll be back soon." Enkrid didn''t ask where she was going. She would handle it herself. If there was something magical afoot, she would take care of it. Though not overly concerned, he couldn''t help but offer a word of encouragement. "Don''t come back beaten." "Who are you worrying about?" With a smug and arrogant tone, Esther pulled her long black hair back and tied it tightly, then effortlessly leaped over the wall. Soon, her coat was fitted with long leather pants and a white shirt beneath. As she freed herself from the curse''s effects, creating protective spells on her clothing wasn''t difficult. She hadn''t spent all her time lying on cushions. Esther had prepared herself in various ways. Not all mages are prophets, but those who wield magic properly develop an instinct to foresee danger. Esther was no exception. She hadn''t foreseen this moment, but she had prepared for it. She was about to show that preparation in action. After Esther left, Enkrid turned his head slightly and moved his ears a few times before speaking. "Andrew, stay inside the mansion and defend it." "What?" "There are too many of them." Andrew didn''t question it and simply followed the instructions. "Everyone inside!" A few servants¡ªthe remaining maids, butlers, Mack, and the five trainees¡ªentered the mansion first, while Andrew stayed behind in the training area. When Enkrid glanced at Andrew, he answered back. "Shouldn''t I lend a hand?" It seemed like a lot of them. Though it was a nuisance to fight and defend, Andrew wasn''t someone who would be easily overwhelmed. The five trainees and Mack would likely hold their ground. Enkrid hadn''t planned on letting anyone into the mansion in the first place. Thundering footsteps echoed. The ground vibrated, and Enkrid could feel the approaching presence in his bones. A cloud of dust rose as a cavalry unit galloped across the stone path. At the entrance to the mansion, the soldiers formed a tight blockade. At the front, a man in ornate armor raised his voice. "I am Polman Vertes. Is Enkrid here?" "...The constable?" Upon hearing the name, Andrew murmured. "That''s me." Enkrid raised his hand. His gloves, reinforced with thick leather and iron plates, gave the impression of someone fully armed. It was evident to the constable too. The soldiers surrounding the mansion numbered around twenty, but now, more than thirty cavalry had arrived, accompanied by infantry, bringing the total to over one hundred. It seemed like the entire guard had gathered. Among them was the gate captain from the time they captured the Moonlight Beast, his face pale as he looked at Enkrid. "You are hereby arrested for the murder of Baron Bentra." The constable declared from his horse. "How ridiculous." Enkrid silently expressed his thoughts. "Ridiculous." Rem echoed aloud. At the concise response, the constable''s face turned bright red. The gate captain looked pale in stark contrast. ------------------------------------------------------------------- The last day of the sale is tomorrow guys! ko-fi.com/samowek Don''t miss out on the 33% sale on Chapters! Thank you all for your support Chapter 371 - Persuading the Constable Chapter 371 - 371 - Persuading the Constable Chapter 371 - Persuading the Constable "What did you say?!" Polman Vertes, though unintentionally, was stared at by Enkrid, who had memorized his name. Polman''s face turned red with fury. A constable¡ªmeaning a bureaucrat. Naturally, he''s a noble. But what''s going on here in this palace? Are they pulling nobles out of some bottomless pocket? ''Aren''t there too many of them?'' It seems everyone is either a baron, viscount, or something similar¡ªnobles with blue blood. Haven''t they handed out titles too recklessly? This fleeting thought quickly disappeared and faded from his mind. Whether there are too many or too few nobles, it was none of Enkrid''s business. Though, he did think that maybe they could stand to reduce the number a bit. "Hey." Rem spoke, picking his ear and addressing Polman, who was still angry. "Listen closely now." "This guy¡ªwho does he think he is, stepping out like that?!" The commander of the guards, likely the one in charge of the other gate, shouted angrily. Tap! The gatekeeper of the South Gate smacked his forehead in exasperation. It seemed he didn''t understand why his superior was causing a scene. Enkrid understood the military, and he understood soldiers. How many of them had actually come here under their own will? The quick-witted, sharp-eared soldiers seemed uncomfortable. They knew what these people had done for them. These were the people who had dealt with the Moonlight Beast and ensured the safety of their families, citizens, comrades, and friends. They had done what they were supposed to do in their stead. Their eyes were uneasy, their expressions similarly conflicted. Especially around the South Gate captain, there were many soldiers with similar discomfort. Ignoring the man who had spoken, Rem continued. "That Moonlight Beast killed and threatened the citizens. But what happened? YOU couldn''t deal with it, so WE had to come join in. We caught it, only to find out it was some guy named Bentra or something. And now, ''murder''?" "YOU IDIOT!!" One of the guards, completely enraged, raised a spear taller than himself. It seemed like he was about to charge right at them. Rem lowered his hand, which had been scratching his ear, and looked at him. If the man made a move, Rem was ready to cut him down right then. "Wait, hold on, just a second." The South Gate captain stepped forward in a hurry. If this kept going, things would spiral into a massive disaster. He had seen Enkrid and his companions fight before. Polman was blinded by jealousy, thinking it was his chance to act, but the captain had stopped him in time. If this escalated and wasn''t resolved, it would be impossible to maintain his current position. But things hadn''t changed. He had been dragged here anyway. He couldn''t die for disobedience, could he? Even knowing it was dangerous, he had come here like a fool licking ghoul''s blood. But he couldn''t just stand by. If he let it go, all his subordinates would be killed. His comrades would be hacked to pieces by axes and swords, their heads rolling around on the ground. He couldn''t just watch that happen. "There''s been a misunderstanding." Upon seeing the South Gate captain step in, Polman squinted his eyes. "Step aside, who do you think you''re talking to!" Where did authority and dignity come from? Anyone who had seen Krang would know the answer. It came from the person themselves. Their stride, their words, everything about them was different. The weight behind their words came from the trust and loyalty they had earned through their actions. But what about this man in front of them? The tone he used seemed like a mosquito buzzing in the air. There was jealousy clouding his judgment, making him seem petty. His voice was low, trying to mimic dignity, but it came out whiny, like a child throwing a tantrum. Maybe it was the sheer arrogance that had brought him here. ''Have I seen too many great people?'' Krang, the Marquis of Okto, Luagarne, Aishia, and more. They knew that protecting their lord was the priority, but they also understood that carrying out their lord''s will came first. Their actions showed their ideals, duties, beliefs, and loyalty. They were individuals who seemed to choose their actions, not as tools of others, but as people in their own right. Compared to them, the one whining before them seemed pitiful. Enkrid, too, had ears. Hadn''t he heard that Polman was gnashing his teeth out of jealousy because his lady was infatuated with him? "Unless you came here to speak, we should probably get things started." Ragna stepped forward, speaking calmly. Tap. The South Gate captain smacked his forehead once more. This was getting ridiculous. The constable had reached his breaking point. He had tolerated everything up to this point. These damn commoners had no respect for noble authority. And it wasn''t even because he thought the lady he had his eye on had fallen for Enkrid. He was a constable, a noble, and here was this soldier. From the rumors, it seemed that Enkrid had stolen the glory of his comrade. Rumors about Enkrid being a hero had spread quickly, but they were also becoming exaggerated. Even worse, the constable, having blocked his ears to everything, only listened to what he wanted to hear. The hero of Border Guard? He ignored that. Bentra becoming a monster? That had nothing to do with him. He had his own chance now. Besides, hadn''t Marenus the Baron subtly pushed him to deal with this? Now here they were, and now he was giving the orders. "Bind him!" At the constable''s command, two commanders and several cavalrymen dismounted and began advancing. Their posture was menacing. Even if the rumors weren''t entirely true, the accomplishments were enormous. Even if only some of it were true, Enkrid was not someone they could handle. And yet, they were still making a move against him. This meant the rumors about Enkrid had spread widely. Enkrid observed the advancing group without any particular reaction. Should he quietly follow them? No. Even with gentle words, he knew it was better not to comply. Enkrid instinctively knew. ''The situation has already escalated.'' If that weren''t the case, would Krang and Marcus be coming after him? "Capture Baron Andrew as well. He''s guilty of the same charge. If he resists, kill him." "Hmph." At those words, Andrew snorted. He seemed to think, "Go ahead, if you can." Polman Vertes, the constable, scanned Enkrid and his group''s weapons. It seemed like he was praying for them to make a move. Enkrid decided to grant that wish. No grand battle was necessary. Ignoring the advancing group entirely, Enkrid spoke. "Dunbakel, capture and bring them here." Neither Ragna nor Rem needed to act. A beastkin surged forward. A white shadow stretched out like a growing line. Her short white hair looked like an extended ribbon. One of the guards, in reflex, extended his spear. He was a skilled spear wielder, his technique honed as his specialty. Among ordinary soldiers, he was an exceptional warrior. But Dunbakel was a beastkin acknowledged by Aishia herself. As she ran, she deflected the spear''s tip with her claws, twisting the trajectory. Then, grabbing the shaft, she threw it aside. "Ugh!" The guard holding the spear rolled sideways as the tip slipped from his grasp. A few soldiers stepped forward to block her, but Dunbakel didn''t even draw her scimitar. She simply kicked the shin of one, knocking him over, and threw a punch to the jaw of another. Their helmets didn''t protect their chins. Especially from a punch coming from below, aimed upwards, they were completely vulnerable. The sound of cracking echoed as the guards fell. Dunbakel didn''t stop there. This was just part of the process. She advanced further, and the constable, seeing this, reached for the sword at his waist. It was a broad sword with a wide blade. As he tried to draw it, Dunbakel closed the distance and seized his wrist. The horse he was riding on reared up in surprise, whinnying loudly. "Ahhh!" With her grip on his wrist, Dunbakel dragged the constable from his horse, his foot caught in the stirrup as he was pulled off. The ankle twisted awkwardly as he fell. "Ahhhh!" The constable screamed in pain, his cry ending in front of Enkrid. Dunbakel had swiftly knocked down five soldiers, dragged the constable by the wrist, and brought him forward. The second-in-command to the constable, the city''s chief constable, hesitated to move. ''What the hell is going on?'' Honestly, he didn''t even have the courage to stop this. He had barely drawn his sword, hearing the ting as it left the sheath, but it was more of an expression of hesitation than confidence. "Can I stop this?" The chief constable whispered. His squire, standing beside him with wide eyes, could barely speak. "She''s higher ranked than me." The squire didn''t need to say more. He could tell immediately that he wasn''t a match for Dunbakel. Just watching her movements, it was clear¡ªshe was at least at the level of an advanced squire. The difference in skill was obvious from the way she moved and struck, making full use of the beastkin''s enhanced agility. But what made it even more dangerous was the fact that there were those commanding her, and others calmly watching from the sidelines. The soldiers were clearly intimidated, unable to speak. The highest-ranking commander present had been taken down. The constable, who could no longer stand, lay sprawled on the ground, his ankle twisted, sweat pouring from his face. "How dare you!" Even with his will broken, the constable still tried to resist. He had no authority or dignity, but he still had some pride. After all, it must have taken pride to get to that position. Enkrid looked at the constable and asked, "It is true that Baron Bentra was involved in the murder, with Squire Aishia as well?" "Squire Aisia? Do you think bringing a junior-knight into this will let you get away with it? These are traitors! What are you all doing!" Blinded by jealousy, the constable completely lost track of the situation. He shrieked in fury. The squire, watching this, stepped forward. "Shouldn''t someone speak properly?" The chief constable, standing nearby, didn''t seem to want to open his mouth, but he had come here to say exactly this. "That''s right. Junior-Knight Aisia has not denied any of the charges." The squire raised his voice. "Then has she been captured as well?" Enkrid''s gaze shifted to him, his blue eyes locking onto the squire. "She is a member of the knight order." The squire wanted to swallow his words. The tension in their locked gazes made it harder to speak. Still, he answered calmly. Enkrid considered the squire''s words. Did this mean that a knight couldn''t be held responsible for such matters? It sounded as though Aisia hadn''t been caught. Then, what else was going on? At the very least, something must have occurred within the royal palace. Enkrid pieced things together through his suspicions. "What are you doing? You should arrest these traitors immediately!" The constable, still full of defiance, shouted in frustration. His tears made his words sound less imposing, weakening his authority. Despite his pain, he still spoke confidently. He might have had nothing but his tongue left, like a ghoul with no other power. Enkrid decided on the quickest way to deal with this annoyance, even though it was a bit loud. Thud! With a swift kick to the chin, he knocked the constable unconscious. It was a kick delivered without the intention to break his neck, and though the sound of it breaking echoed, the constable was lucky not to die. His neck was twisted sideways, and he drooled as he collapsed, his face pressed into the ground. A quick glance showed he had merely fainted. "What? If you''re going to kill him, just say so." Rem chuckled from behind. "Did you forget my nickname?" The noble hunter. He certainly had strange tastes. Leaving the unconscious man behind, Enkrid spoke up. "Who''s the next person in charge? If you''re thinking of ordering a full charge, you''d better reconsider. I''m not interested in turning Andrew''s estate into a graveyard." Enkrid was showing some courtesy. The captain of the south gate guards was present. This man had fought for the capital''s security. That alone earned him some respect. He was on the right path, and Enkrid had made his judgment based on what he had seen and heard. "It would be nice if you could explain what happened at the royal palace." He continued, knowing that something significant must have happened. After all, such an event wouldn''t have occurred without reason. Was this a personal deviation from the constable? If it had been, he would have stormed in without needing any pretext. The only reason he had arrived here now was that permission had been granted. Krang had mentioned that Baron Mernes was the main problem. The unsettling atmosphere seemed to pierce through Enkrid''s skin. He stopped speaking, and his gaze shifted to one side. Clop! Clop! The sound of hooves approaching rapidly was unmistakable. It was coming closer to the estate. "Save me!" A cry echoed, and Enkrid left those in front of him behind, kicking the ground and propelling himself over the estate wall. Rem followed closely behind, his skill at scaling walls evident as he sprang upward with ease. Seeing this, a few members of the constabulary made to move, but... "Stay back." Ragna stopped them. His sheer presence made them hesitate. Everyone froze in place. On the wall, Enkrid saw someone running along a path lined with blue stones. It was Marcus. The cry for help had come from him. And someone was chasing him, running after him with unusual attire¡ªa cloak layered with several pieces of leather, and spears floating above both his shoulders. ------------------------------------------------------------------- The last day of the sale is tomorrow guys! ko-fi.com/samowek Don''t miss out on the 33% sale on Chapters! Thank you all for your support Chapter 372 - Squire Ropord Chapter 372 - 372 - Squire Ropord Chapter 372 - Squire Ropord Krang reflected on his mistake. It had been a plan with many flaws from the start. Thus, the mistake wasn''t so important. What mattered now was knowing what was immediately needed and confirming what actions to take. He did just that. What was needed right now was time, and he needed to do something that would buy it. "Marcus Baisar." "Yes, sir." "Can you escape and request help?" "...It seems that I must." Krang was trapped in the assigned reception room. The small private reception room was one of the outer rooms of the royal palace, referred to as the outer annex. This was a place where guests stayed when visiting the palace, but it wasn''t equipped with defensive facilities. Since he wasn''t a grand duke, the only space he had was the reception room connected to the bedroom. That''s how he found himself stuck here. As soon as Krang finished speaking, his whip guard, Matthew, threw a stool at the window. The glass shattered with a loud crash. Matthew used the handle of his whip to break the remaining shards and clear them away. The window was large enough for a person to fit through. "My guards should be outside," Marcus said, approaching the window. It was on the third floor¡ªhigh, but with a large tree in front, it wasn''t dangerous to drop, as he could catch the branches on the way down. Krang sat with his arms crossed. His mind wasn''t cluttered; if anything, it had become simpler and clearer. Viscount Mernes had started a rebellion. It was a reckless act, but still, he acknowledged it as a clever move. ''A suitable move indeed.'' Kraag admitted that Viscount Mernes, whom he had half considered an idiot, was actually sharp and intuitive. ''He''s using every possible means now?'' It was a calculated move, a knife pressed against the neck. The one thing Krang had been doing since arriving at the royal palace, including the grand duke appointment ceremony, was all for a single purpose. A simple and clear goal. It was to collect the garbage and dispose of it. That was also the solution to the problem the queen had given him. "Make all the ministers your allies," Krang muttered, raising one knee and hugging it, speaking in a voice low enough only for him to hear. If he reversed those words, it meant he had to eliminate those who weren''t his allies. If it wasn''t possible to convince each one individually. ''Just remove them all.'' By doing so, the opposition gathered under Mernes had attacked him. ''I thought they''d keep fighting amongst themselves, so they wouldn''t pay attention to me for a while.'' Even now, thinking about the reasons wasn''t useful. From the start, it had been a battle that required a gamble, and Kraang had made his bet. Now, the result of that gamble was unfolding. "I''m going." Marcus leapt out of the window. Krang immediately stood up, leaning out of the window and watching Marcus leave. Marcus grabbed a nearby branch, slowing his fall, and rolled upon landing, executing a flawless roll to dissipate the shock. He was a trained soldier. As he landed, the guards stationed outside the annex rushed at him. They wore golden helmets and carried golden spears¡ªroyal guards. The very same guards who were supposed to protect the queen were here. "Kill him!" "Traitor!" Who was the traitor? Spear points flew toward Marcus. He rolled again, the leaves and grass sticking to his face and back. He got up, turning his back on the tree, his shirt torn at the elbow. Marcus took a breath and scanned the surroundings. His guards were nowhere in sight, but they should be in the annex lobby on the first floor. They would come soon. Thinking this, Marcus drew a short dagger from his belt. "Come on, come on, you bastards." He said as he glared left and right, showing that he would kill whoever came first. "Form a circle!" Then, the leader of the royal guard, wearing a dark gray helmet, stepped forward. No one rushed in. Instead, the royal guards spread out, positioning their spears in a perfect circle. A flawless encirclement. ''Damn it.'' Attacking with spears simultaneously in perfect synchronization was the royal guards'' specialty. To block ten spears with a single dagger, one would need to be at least a junior knight. Marcus was sweating cold as he realized this. "Is that the right path?" Krang''s voice came from outside the window. Though isolated and surrounded, his presence and authority remained unshaken. Krang''s authority and dignity came from his character, personality, and actions. He placed one foot on the windowsill and leaned out, not hiding his body. While it was certain that an arrow could fly toward him and kill him, hiding and raising his voice from cover wouldn''t be of help. One of the royal guards waiting nearby saw this and subtly adjusted his spear, preparing to throw it. It was close enough to hit him. The dark gray-helmeted leader raised his hand. A signal to wait. The soldiers squinted, but ultimately lowered their spears. The leader of the royal guards raised his head and spoke directly to Krang. "What is the right path, then?" He asked, standing still with his spear, his subordinates gathering around him. There were fewer than ten of them. The palace was in chaos, with screams and fighting happening everywhere. "Right and wrong are not decided by others." Krang spoke slowly and clearly. What did the royal guards consider right? Protecting the royal family. The dark gray-helmeted leader was troubled. What is the right path? Krang, his hair fluttering in the wind, entered his sight. Even knowing that death would end everything, he risked his life to buy a little more time. For what? To save Marcus Baisar, the man labeled a traitor by Viscount Mernes. Does that action have meaning? Will things change just by buying some time? He didn''t know. It wasn''t an action driven by calculation. It was something he did because he believed it was right. At least, that''s what it looked like. To his eyes, that''s all it appeared to be. He saw Krang, met him, and spoke with him. That conversation surely had an impact. He never expected to make this kind of choice at this moment, but he had chosen his side. "...Reverse the formation. Turn your spears." "Are you mad?" The soldier who had been holding his spear backwards shouted, but the owner of the gray helm remained silent. He had chosen to stand here to protect the queen. He believed this place, rather than becoming a knight, was a more honorable position. But now, what was this? Was it a position where he was desperate to protect the lives of a few noble fools? Was he supposed to raise his spear for them? He didn''t want that. Frankly, he wanted to say he didn''t care and smash those fools'' faces in. Soon, the Royal Guard split into two groups. They had already been divided by factions. A spear flew toward the owner of the gray helm. The man furrowed his brows. He twisted his body, reducing the range of the incoming spear. He dodged it and parried it with his own spear, then thrust his left foot forward and slammed his spear down like a club. Whoosh! Thud! "Argh!" The scream of a subordinate who had tried to block with his arm echoed. When the blow broke his arm, he stepped back, and another man took his place. "Are you insane?" Another soldier asked. "I think so." He answered nonchalantly, and his subordinates cleared the way so that Marcus could pass. "Thank you." Marcus said and swiftly moved on. The gray helm owner, instead of replying, guarded his back. Marcus didn''t look back as he left, mounting his horse and galloping away. But the danger wasn''t over yet. He had to fend off his pursuers again and again. Two of his guards followed, but one was killed, and the other stayed behind to buy time. At the end, even a berserker from the West joined the chase. Of course, Marcus didn''t have time to figure out who his opponent was. "Where do you think you''re going so hastily?" He was riding fast, but the man was running without a horse. He was fast. It seemed like he would be caught soon. The spear he threw struck Marcus''s forearm deeply. Without time to recover, Marcus urged his horse forward. Blood splattered as he rode faster. "Run, you are my lifeline." Marcus urged his horse on as he headed for Andrew''s estate. That was his last refuge. Now, even his own family, the Baisars, could not be counted as allies. Krang, left alone in the room after everyone had left, shouted. "Do you know who my friend is? He''s none other than the lone shining star of Border Guard, the enemy of Aspen, a madman armed with demonic power¡ªEnkrid!" No one answered. Matthew asked again. "...Will it work?" "Right? It''s not working yet, right?" Even though the calculation had failed, Krang smiled. He responded to Matthew''s words with a bright smile. "Open the passage." At least he had secured a secret passage to escape. It was a hole sloping downwards. It was the queen''s consideration as well. ''Maybe I can hold out for half a day.'' Then he could clear the trash that had gathered. In other words, his opponents were moving faster than expected, half a day earlier than he had predicted. ''To be dealing with this nonsense in broad daylight.'' Krang instinctively knew. For him to survive and for this plan to succeed, a variable was necessary. The enemy had prepared that variable, but Krang had prepared one as well. Now, it was time to bring it to an end. *** "That one." Rem reacted. Marcus, on horseback, with his injuries, and the appearance of the one chasing him. The moment he saw it, Enkrid spoke. "Destroy him." Rem had already planned to kill him. The one chasing Marcus was the immortal berserker. The one who had fled before had now come back to show his face here. Rem leapt off the wall. Then, the man chasing Marcus changed direction. He slammed his foot on the ground and immediately began to retreat, jumping back. The spear flying through the air followed and turned, chasing him without hesitation. It was a complete retreat. Rem swiftly pursued him. The two ran faster than the horses, sprinting across the blue stone. "AAAH!" A woman, minding her own business by the road, screamed in terror. A man, perhaps a lover or a husband, gathered a woman into his arms and pressed her against the wall of a building that looked like a shop. In the brief moment, the two of them disappeared from sight. As Krang''s form vanished between the buildings, it was impossible to follow with the eye. Enkrid saw Marcus as he approached. Perched on his horse, blood poured from one of his arms, and he breathed heavily, his face more frantic than ever before. "Help me." Enkrid decided it was time to act. Just as he was about to jump down from the wall, someone shouted from behind. "If you escape now, things will only get worse!" It was Squire Ropord. Enkrid spoke without turning. "I''m heading to the royal palace." Squire Ropord knew well whose hands the palace was currently in. If Enkrid was going there, it meant he was willing to risk his life. For what? Ropord furrowed his brow. The thoughts came crashing in¡ªwhy was he here? What was he fighting for? Whose orders was he following? Did he have any will of his own? The words of his mentor echoed in his mind. "It''s not about right or wrong. It''s about where your heart lies." Ropord had been recognized for his swordsmanship, becoming a squire, but he had always been criticized for his character. "So, what do you think?" Even when choosing lunch, he would defer to the opinion of his companions. He had always been the type to be pulled this way and that. It was what brought him here. Not by his own will, but by following the will of others, justifying it as simply obeying orders. ''Is that enough? Is that all it takes to be satisfied?'' He didn''t know. ''Why am I here?'' Unwittingly, Squire Ropord spoke his thoughts aloud, shifting his resolve with the words that should have come from the one he was supposed to capture. A strange, uncomfortable feeling moved his lips. "Soon, Viscount Mernes'' army will advance." He raised his voice without thinking, and Enkrid blinked in surprise, glancing behind him. "Why are you telling me this?" "The one leading the coalition of all factions is someone just as skilled as a knight." "What are you talking about?" The chief of security, desperate, grabbed Ropord''s arm. Ropord calmly pulled it away and continued. "Please, help." Enkrid scratched his head. He was asking for help, but wasn''t this the kind of thing the person who was supposed to capture him would say? Still, it was hard to ignore the sincerity in Ropord''s voice. Ropord bowed his head. The guard captain, wearing a feathered hat, stepped forward. "If this continues, the citizens of the capital will be severely harmed." Would the army marching toward the capital just camp quietly? And these factions, cobbled together? Among them would surely be mercenaries paid in gold, and many blinded by the thirst for blood. The nobles too would no longer care who they worked with; those infamous figures would surely be involved. To protect the citizens. To defend the capital. The two men bowed their heads. "Ragna, can you stop them?" Ragna didn''t ask ''why''¡ªhe just looked into Enkrid''s eyes. "I''ll go and stop them. Dunbakel, come with me." With Ragna and Dunbakel, they could hold back the elite forces coming in from the front. "What''s your name?" Enkrid asked Ropord. "Ropord." "Go and rally the remaining forces to block the incoming enemy. Hold the gates, and those challenging you to a duel, my men will handle them." After rescuing Krang, being surrounded by enemy forces would be the end. Enkrid recognized the situation both instinctively and rationally. The sense developed from previous experiences, escaping over and over again from battles with enemies, was now guiding his actions. He knew what needed to be done. Block the external forces and manage the interior. If Krang wasn''t clueless, what was needed was time. Enkrid now realized where he stood. "Let''s go." Ragna, having heard the command, said simply. It wasn''t a request¡ªit was an order. Ragna and Dunbakel turned without a sound. Meanwhile, Marcus panted heavily, his skin turning pale. Jaxen came up beside Enkrid. They climbed over the wall, and the remaining soldiers stood uncertain, turning their heads left and right. Should they follow Ragna? Or should they stop the retreating Enkrid? They saw the fallen officer and the sweat-drenched captain beside him. "Didn''t you take up arms to defend the capital? At least, I did. Those who want to stay, stay." Squire Ropord spoke. Everyone has moments of growth and realization. This was Ropord''s moment. It was sparked by Enkrid''s simple words about heading to the royal palace. "Let''s go." He followed Ragna, and the guard captain followed after. The soldiers who had already made up their minds joined in. The remaining officers cursed under their breath before saying, "Let''s go, to fulfill our duty." And so, Andrew too set out. On his own, he knew he couldn''t do much at the royal palace, so he chose to stay at the gates and protect the walls. He left five trainees behind. "We''ve trained to survive." One freckled female trainee said. The five trainees followed Andrew, but as they moved, Andrew shook his head. "You''re servants now. Stay here." Saying this, he joined the others, following behind them. Ragna led the way, stumbling forward, with Dunbakel following close behind. "This looks more fun, doesn''t it?" Ragna nonchalantly nodded. Squire Ropord, walking beside them, silently shook his head. Fun? This wasn''t the time for that. He walked a little, then spoke. The direction was wrong. "We should be heading to the west gate." Ropord spoke. "Hmm, this way?" "No, that''s north." Ropord spoke to the man leading the way and took the lead himself. It seemed his sense of direction was lacking. ------------------------------------------------------------------- This is the last day of the sale guys! ko-fi.com/samowek Don''t miss out on the 33% sale on Chapters! Thank you all for your support! Chapter 373 - Bad Fate in Order Chapter 373 - 373 - Bad Fate in Order Chapter 373 - Bad Fate in Order When Ropord and his group arrived at the west, they found that the Merres Baron''s coalition army had already blocked the castle gate. ''There are a lot.'' Even a quick glance made it clear that the enemy''s numbers were substantial. There were even siege weapons visible. In front of their troops, ten men stood, all looking formidable. Their armament varied, but their presence was unmatched. One of them was even a familiar face to Ropord. "Deserter." He was the one who had caused trouble in the knights'' order and then fled. The man turned to look at the castle wall, then spotted Ropord and grinned maliciously. "Idiot." Ropord felt a surge of discomfort as he saw the man mouthing the insult. That man had once been a senior to Ropord and far more skilled. Although not quite at the level of a junior knight, he was ruthless and would stop at nothing in a life-or-death battle¡ªone of the most dangerous opponents. And he was with nine others who seemed equally impressive. Behind them stood someone with a higher rank, it seemed. He wore a helmet with a single, sharp horn. The same horned motif appeared on his shoulder pauldrons. Regardless of skill, his taste was as eccentric as his appearance. The ten men at the front looked intimidating, but what about the army behind them? How could they be stopped? It was a moment of overwhelming defeat. "There''s a lot of interesting ones here." A beastwoman''s voice was heard. Then, a voice from a directionless swordsman also spoke. "At least one of them seems decent. The rest... not so much." Ropord was stunned. There was not a hint of concern or urgency in their voices. "Open the gates. We are the Viscount Mernes''s army, we''ve come to capture traitors!" The enemy commander shouted. A face unfamiliar to Ropord, with neat features, and a helmet worn to the left side of his head. A sword hung at his waist, and in his hand, he held a shield, which reflected the sunlight and blinded Ropord''s eyes. The soldiers atop the castle wall trembled in fear. If they faltered here, they would lose the battle before it even started. ''Willpower.'' He reminded himself. The castle walls existed. His resolve existed. They had to protect it. Ropord took a deep breath and stepped forward. "We can''t open it! The Queen has not given such an order!" He shouted, trying not to sound like a scared dog. "Open it, then?" The deserter squirmed and grinned as if to challenge them. "...Move aside." Ropord bit his teeth and muttered to himself. Now was the time to stop the attackers. Only ten of them, but their mere presence seemed to shake the soldiers on the wall. But Ragna was not a commander in charge of everything. He preferred using a sword over words. And so, he decided to act. Dunbakel was of the same mind. With a swift motion, she slapped the blades of her sickles against her waist, making the decision clear. Words were difficult for both of them, so it was time to start doing something else. *** Immediately after Ragna left, Enkrid noticed a figure with one eye. The horse seemed to be looking inward amidst the commotion. Without hesitation, Enkrid spoke. "Take me." Weird-eyes was a friend. A simple request was enough. Enkrid was already mapping out the fastest way to the royal palace in his mind. The quickest path to the palace. It required horseback riding. The fastest route would be to gallop along the same path he had once traveled by carriage. With this thought in mind, Enkrid spoke to the Weird-eyes. The horse blinked once, then turned his body slightly. It seemed to indicate permission, and as he moved, a sharp whistle sounded through the air. Enkrid tilted his head back. The bolt shot past his face, missing by mere inches. Over the wall, familiar faces appeared. Though it was not yet sunset, a group of masked figures appeared. There were more than thirty of them. The color and atmosphere of their attire reminded Enkrid of several encounters. "Are you guys not tired of this?" Enkrid asked, wondering why they had gone this far. Was it because of a contract? No, a mere contract wouldn''t make someone risk their life like this. He could tell from just looking. Mages and various assassins had already been dealt with, but this formidable force seemed to have put everything they had into this. It was clear they were putting their lives on the line, just as much as he was. "Are you tired of it? Or is this just an obligation?" The one at the far left of the masked group spoke, his arms hanging far longer than the others. Despite his odd posture, his arms weren''t limp; they were just casually hanging by his side. Among the group, one figure stood without a mask. He stood at the very center of the group, in the middle of the wall. The rest were crouching or hunched over. The person standing in the center was a man with white hair and a monocle, dressed properly in a shirt and jacket. He held a cane sword and tapped it against the ground of the wall before speaking. "You were told to stab, but you didn''t listen. Do you think the request was cheap?" His gaze shifted to Enkrid''s back, directed at Jaxen. ''So it was the one who mentioned the request to Jaxen.'' Enkrid didn''t bother looking back. Not rejecting the offer on the spot meant accepting it. But he had broken it. He hadn''t followed through. They had ordered him to kill, yet Enkrid was standing there perfectly unharmed. "No, he kept his word. Therefore, you must tell him everything you know." Enkrid stepped forward in place of Jaxen, his tone firm. Jaxen lightly bit his lip and shifted his gaze sideways, clearly wanting to withdraw from the conversation. It seemed like he didn''t want to hear any more. "What''s this nonsense? He''s still alive!" The white-haired cane swordsman was a key figure in the assassination alliance. It was as if all the members of the alliance had gathered there. The leader of the alliance remained hidden, observing from a distance, breathing calmly as he took in the situation. Using deadly strikes disguised as regular assassins was her specialty. "I stabbed him." Jaxen answered with an air of certainty, without hesitation. "What?" "I stabbed him. Right here, in the spot. If you don''t believe me, I could stab him again right now." Enkrid pointed to his left arm. There was no wound now, only a faint scar left behind, but it was barely visible unless someone got close. It had been protected, so there was no way to see it. So what exactly was he talking about? The female leader of the alliance pondered, a sudden suspicion creeping into her mind. The white-haired assassin, who seemed to think similarly to the leader, asked. "...You stabbed him?" "You told me to stab him," Jaxen replied without taking a breath. A brief silence hung in the air. He had stabbed because he was told to, so the request had been fulfilled. The fact that the target hadn''t died was beyond his control. But he did get stabbed, and that was the truth, wasn''t it? Enkrid repeatedly pointed to his left arm with a look that conveyed his words more than his tone. The annoyance was so palpable that the white-haired assassin''s cheek trembled. Some of the alliance leaders who understood what Enkrid meant were dumbfounded, while others seethed with anger. This brat was mocking them, belittling them. Jaxen sighed quietly behind them, making sure no one heard. So he''s really doing this. "You told me to stab him, so I did." "No, that''s not what it meant." It was from the earlier conversation during their sparring match. No one was foolish enough to misunderstand that. Jaxen smiled lightly, responding. "Yeah, you told me to stab him." He simply repeated the same words, disregarding anyone else''s interpretation. It was clear he was angry. Was it because they tried to pull a trick on him? He was indeed a strange person. But instead of directly confronting it, he returned the irritation in a soft and indirect manner. "I hurt. It was painful." As Enkrid spoke, his opponent reacted. "This bastard is really insane." The white-haired assassin clicked his tongue. Jaxen felt a bit embarrassed. There were things that could be argued and things that couldn''t be. This was ignoring the coded meaning and context. Of course, Enkrid wasn''t really trying to argue. It was purely to provoke and rile up his opponent, showing how annoyed he was. That''s when the tension broke. Some assassins, who had been listening, couldn''t help but mutter in confusion, wondering what nonsense this was. Enkrid''s hand moved faster than his eyes. As the word "insane" left his opponent''s mouth, Enkrid''s hand shot forward. At the same time, the sound of a whistle and the word "really?" overlapped. Enkrid extended both of his hands and threw two whistle daggers. The daggers hit the foreheads of two assassins with precision. Thunk! The two assassins fell backward, the thud of their bodies hitting the ground barely audible before Enkrid and Jaxen moved. "You go ahead," Jaxen said, nodding. Enkrid gave a small nod in response. The two of them split and moved in different directions. As Jaxen moved away, he flipped his hooded robe and adjusted his belt, throwing his body into the shadows near the wall. Enkrid gave him a quick glance and, taking a deep breath, shouted. "Everyone, come at me!" With that shout, Enkrid stomped his left foot on the ground. Boom! The shockwave from his powerful stomp cracked the ground beneath him. The force was enough to astonish the assassins. With that roar and the shockwave, all the assassins on the wall turned their attention to Enkrid. The provocation had worked, drawing their focus. What was this guy doing? The assassins, however, were not easily intimidated. Rather than backing down, one of the more hot-headed assassins pulled out a bottle containing a deadly poison, "Ten Breaths." The poison was a modified concoction that would release green smoke when broken, and one breath of it would be fatal. The assassin threw the bottle back with a snap of his hand. But just as he did, he felt a searing heat in his throat. The pain was followed by an overwhelming heat that spread throughout his body, and his vision blurred. The world turned black, and the sound of rushing water filled his ears. He had died. Jaxen, concealed in the shadows, had acted swiftly. His earlier use of the magical artifact had been key. The same artifact he had obtained when raiding the Black Knife Bandits'' village. The robe blocked the flow of life energy, and the belt muffled sound. After silencing his presence, Jaxen had taken advantage of the assassin''s moment of distraction, stabbing him in the neck with a longsword. When the tip of the sword pierced through the assassin''s neck, blood poured from the wound, and four other assassins quickly reacted, backing away. At the same time, poisoned darts flew through the air. One dart struck where Jaxen had just been standing, but Jaxen was already gone, hiding against the wall. "Find him!" The white-haired assassin shouted. The moment he vanished, he couldn''t track him. Jaxen, unseen, launched three more silent throwing blades, hitting two assassins in the throats, while one deflected the attack with his long arms. The assassin''s eyes gleamed with an unnatural light. It was a form of magic¡ªhis special magical eyes. "There!" he shouted, pointing directly at Jaxen, who had darted beneath the wall. However, Jaxen continued to stay hidden, using the wall to shield himself from their sight. He didn''t mind being spotted. He leapt up to strike from above with his longsword, swinging it wide in a circular motion. To the assassins above, it must have felt like a guillotine was coming down on them. The sword swished through the air, slicing through the arm of the assassin holding a crossbow. Thwack! Though Jaxen hadn''t put much force into the swing, the blow severed the assassin''s wrist with a single strike. The assassin, having been in the midst of aiming his crossbow at Enkrid, let out a scream. "Over there!" Another assassin shouted. Then, a third assassin jumped down from the wall, throwing a dagger. The sound of the whistle echoed. Jaxen stopped running, swiftly evading the dagger. It embedded itself into the stone wall where he had just been. Jaxen grabbed the dagger as he ran, throwing it back at the assassins. One of them dodged it, while another blocked it with a shield. It was unusual to see an assassin with a shield, but being prepared for any situation was an essential skill for any assassin. ''These daggers won''t work so easily,'' Jaxen thought, as he climbed up the unguarded wall where the assassins had left a gap. He moved with the same agility as Esther when climbing the walls. Once on top, he surveyed the area and called out. "If you don''t want to die, don''t chase me." Then, he dropped down to the other side and began running again. "If you let your guard down, you''ll pay the price." "That''s why we came together." The leaders of the assassin alliance exchanged words as they watched. One of the assassins, with his arms dangling, had been looking for Enkrid but found that he had already disappeared. He was a swift one. Or perhaps it had been part of the plan all along. It wasn''t by accident. As Enkrid drew their attention, Jaxen hid, and when Jaxen drew their attention, Enkrid did his part. The results were the product of teamwork. They had trained together every day, honing their skills. This kind of coordination was second nature to them. "First, that one." The white-haired assassin said, pointing to the direction Jaxen had gone. Their original mission was to deal with the assassin from Geor''s Dagger. Enkrid''s journey to the palace wouldn''t change things. There, the real monsters waited. ------------------------------------------------------------------- This is the last day of the sale guys! ko-fi.com/samowek Don''t miss out on the 33% sale on Chapters! Thank you all for your support! Chapter 374 - Woof Woof Chapter 374 - 374 - Woof Woof Chapter 374 - Woof While Jaxen was causing a ruckus, Enkrid pushed Marcus aside as though tossing him. "The Duke is at the palace." Marcus, rolling to the side, spoke. He was quick to understand the situation. Finding a spot to hide while crouched, he took cover. There was no strength to call upon immediately, so all he could do was hide well. He had once served as a battalion commander, but in reality, he had no subordinates following his orders. "Goddamn Baisar." His family didn''t side with either of the opposing factions. Marcus disliked this. But he couldn''t afford to be idle either. Sending Enkrid to the palace meant he could do what needed to be done. That is, after surviving. If he had known this would happen, he would have stayed on his horse. Enkrid gave a slight nod and mounted the one-eyed horse. The same intense energy that had been felt earlier emanated through its skin. It was a strong will. ''I''m fast.'' Pure speed for the sake of running. However, Enkrid did not want to carelessly use his power or will. Yet, he ran. ''It''s because of my request.'' The one-eyed horse fully accepted Enkrid''s request. The beast, halfway through its transformation, stomped its feet and moved. Its movements were incomparable to ordinary cavalry. The one-eyed horse lightly struck the ground and lowered its body. With its knees slightly bent, it pushed off the ground and passed through the mansion''s main gate. It was swift and discreet, like a shadow vanishing in a blink. Meanwhile, Jaxen had killed several assassins, drawing plenty of attention. There were no guards at the main gate, though the walls were being watched. Was it some kind of assassin''s habit? Enkrid thought as he spoke. "That way." He gripped the mane and lowered his body. The one-eyed horse moved in response to his whisper. It headed toward the outer road to the palace. The capital was in chaos. Citizens who had a sense of the situation quickly retreated into their homes and locked their doors. A few shops hastily shut their doors, and some of the guards walked around with a murderous glint in their eyes, holding spears. Enkrid ignored all of them. The one-eyed horse lightly struck the ground as it arrived at the outer road leading to the palace. This was not a typical path for people to travel. It was a direct route created on the outskirts, with the palace walls to the left. "Let''s go." The one-eyed horse responded with a snort and swiftly kicked the ground. Immediately, the objects around them blurred and disappeared behind them. Could this be the effect of triggering Will consecutively? The speed was extraordinary. Soon, an obstacle appeared ahead, and before Enkrid could fully process it, it was almost upon them. His focus sharpened, and he recognized the object ahead. It was a wooden spike barricade. The spikes were sharp and embedded in the ground, slanting at an angle. If anyone¡ªhorse, cart, or person¡ªran into it without caution, they would be pierced, creating a few nice air holes in their bodies. It was a formidable obstacle that even a seasoned warhorse would struggle to pass. Of course, the creation of a direct path to the palace would require a means to block it. "Block... Ahhh...?" A soldier, standing in front of the barricade, tried to speak, but couldn''t finish his sentence. It was as if a black mass was flying toward him. The speed was unbelievable. In the blink of an eye, it reached right in front of him. He tried to shout to stop it. But before he could even finish, the black mass passed over his head. Thud. With the sound of the ground being struck, a gust of wind brushed past his ear. Something heavy soared above him. At the same speed it had been running, it passed overhead. The one-eyed horse kicked the ground and leapt over the barricade. It didn''t even seem that high to the horse. Enkrid didn''t have to say a word. The one-eyed horse knew what to do. "...Wow." Several soldiers, startled, turned their heads. A fine cavalry could jump over considerable distances, but this¡ªthis could be called flying. They had set up barricades and soldiers to block the path to the palace, but the horse cleared them all in an instant. "Fire!" the commander shouted, too late. The command was pointless. The horse that had jumped over the obstacles was already speeding far ahead. Faster than any horse they had seen. This was the second time Enkrid had ridden the one-eyed horse. But it seemed even faster this time than before. The palace, once distant, quickly loomed ahead. It leapt over the pointed stakes and the barricades, closing the distance in no time. The one-eyed horse, upon reaching the palace gates, stomped the ground with its front feet and turned its body, coming to a stop. With a scrape of its hind feet, a cloud of dust rose from the ground. Running at such a terrifying speed was impressive, but controlling its body to come to a perfect stop was a work of art. Enkrid straightened himself and spoke. "Thank you." Without wasting time admiring the one-eyed horse, he jumped down immediately. Enkrid dashed toward the palace. There were no guards in front of the inner keep. Instead, there was the sound of metal clashing and the smell of blood in the air. Enkrid followed the noise and scent. "That idiot!" Someone who recognized him was there. A group of people had gathered. Was it a coincidence? Or the help of the goddess of luck? Maybe, it was because he had hoped for such a moment. Who could say? It was someone he knew¡ªa former instructor known for spreading nonsense. "Hey, bring that maid here." I still remember the words he used back then. After that, I was beaten half to death. "Say that you lost, say you''re sorry, say you were wrong." He forced me, but Enkrid quietly responded. "What? Did you say ''woof woof''?" There are many memories from back then, some helpful, but others unpleasant. Right now, it was the latter. The former barking instructor was now a soldier under the Viscount of Mernes. He wore a gambison bearing the family crest. He chuckled and opened his mouth. "Hey, be honest. You got to where you are by selling your body, right?" It had been a long time since I heard such nonsense. The barking instructor knew the past Enkrid. A man with no talent, yet swinging a sword like his life depended on it. A man who swung his sword until his hands bled. He was a fool. How could such a man be a hero of Border Guard? It was nonsense. Perhaps someone was watching his back. It was the same back then. There were always those who quietly supported him. "Do you know where Krang is?" "What?" "You don''t know, huh?" "What the hell are you saying, you idiot?" "You''re probably still too busy barking, right? Woof woof?" Bringing up the old ties made his face turn red. "I''ll kill you." He said with malice, drawing his sword and getting into position. There were things he said back then that were useful. "If you get cocky thinking you''re strong, you''ll die. Even when hunting a rabbit, you should give it your all. If not, you''ll be the one going down." I agreed. That''s why Enkrid showed some of his best. Between the columns that looked like a corridor, there were thirteen of them, the instructor and his group. They were likely causing trouble under the false name of the Marquess of Mernes. Behind them, I could see a half-dressed maid, trembling with fear, her arm scratched and shaking with cold. Enkrid stepped forward, tensing his muscles. He bent his knees, then straightened them as he grasped his blade, looking ahead. He kicked the ground, aiming at the visible enemy. Thud! His foot slammed into the stone floor. In an instant, the speed propelled him forward. In the face of such speed, the spark became a point, putting an end to the past relationship. Ping, thud. With the sound of the strike, a corpse was created. Blood followed where the spark had been pulled out swiftly. Enkrid''s thrust caught him off guard. The difference in skill was clear. The man holding the sword collapsed downward. His knee hit the ground with a thud before he fell forward. There was the sound of his head making a solid connection with the ground. The others froze, too shocked to move. Enkrid silently drew his sword from his left hip. It slid out smoothly, a gladius. He held the gladius in his right hand and the spark in his left. Enkrid, with a sword in each hand, became a wolf among the sheep. Two of the sheep reached out with hands full of wool, but the wolf easily cut them down with a strike. The broad, thick cuts and the thin, narrow thrusts left the twelve sheep slaughtered before their time. Having killed them all, Enkrid swung his weapons through the air, shaking the blood off. "Ugh." The maid, though saved, was even more terrified. The group that had looked demonic to her moments ago was now just meat. It was fortunate she didn''t faint. She seemed too stunned to answer any questions. But Enkrid had no time to comfort her. "Stay hidden." He only spoke the words and continued moving. He sheathed his sword and thought for a moment, clenching and relaxing his hand. ''It''s getting easier.'' Having fought countless times with Aishia before, Enkrid had become more accustomed to using Will. He used it constantly, sometimes passing out from overexertion, but by morning, he would be fine. Aishia had been amazed by this, but Enkrid still felt discomfort. Yet, the more he used it, the more natural it felt. His body was changing with the use of Will. Was it development? Anyway, it was far more comfortable and better than before. A fleeting thought. Just a passing fragment of a thought. Enkrid had a feeling someone would try to block his way next. ''It seems like all the bad connections are showing up.'' First, the jealous constable. Then, the assassins. Now, the barking instructor. Enkrid moved instinctively, his feet in motion. Not long after, he discovered another group fighting. It was thanks to following the sounds. It was the royal palace''s inner garden. Even the guards on the inner walls were gone, and now there was fighting here. The group of Royal Guards had split into two factions. "Who are you!" One of the Royal Guards shouted, and Enkrid responded. "Just a passerby. Continue with what you were doing." "...What kind of crazy bastard are you?" "By the way, if anyone knows where Krang is, I''d appreciate it if you could tell me." Enkrid''s gaze shifted to one of the men. The one wearing the dark gray helmet. This man seemed to have gone through quite a bit himself, his body worn out. "He''s in a private room inside the palace. You''re late." The man said. "You crazy bastard!" One of the Royal Guards brandished a golden spear and charged at Enkrid. Enkrid pulled his right foot back and then kicked upward, snapping his foot like a whip. It was a Valah-style back kick. Using the rotation of his waist, his foot whipped through the air and struck the hand gripping the spear. The Royal Guard, who had been focused on his sword, took the blow directly to his fingers. Crack! The sound of bones breaking rang out. His boots, reinforced with tough leather, were weapons in themselves. "Ah!" The soldier screamed and dropped the spear. The pain from the break must have been intense. As Enkrid looked at his face, he recognized him. It was the Royal Guard soldier who had mocked him earlier and grinding his teeth. I run into you again, huh? Enkrid grabbed the man''s head and struck it with the flat of his sword. Thud! A satisfying sound mixed with a crackling scream. The man collapsed sideways, hitting the ground with a thud. Blood slowly seeped from the golden helmet. His skull seemed to have been cracked slightly. Enkrid turned his gaze away and asked. "Need help?" Even though he had just knocked one out, he remained calm. The subtle pressure and presence in the air overwhelmed the surroundings. It was the kind of aura that only those with real skill could show. The kind of pressure one might expect from a knight of the Red Cloak Order. Everyone around them fell silent. "Didn''t I say you can''t waste time?" The man in the dark gray helmet spoke. It almost sounded like he was telling Enkrid to stop wasting time and go to Krang. "Fine." Enkrid replied and dashed forward. He wasn''t sure where the private room was, but he instinctively chose a direction. If he got lost, he could just ask anyone along the way. "This is treason!" A voice came from behind him. "If what you believe to be right is treason, then I guess I''m a traitor." Enkrid heard the voice of the man in the dark gray helmet respond. Enkrid proceeded further into the palace and soon found the right direction toward the private room. The long hallway guided him. Light streamed through the windows along the walls. He wondered if the Queen might be in danger. As he took a few more steps, it happened. "Stop right there." Someone blocked his path. A woman with orange hair, wearing leather armor instead of plate armor and a cloak. Enkrid''s feet stopped. She was more likely to talk than attack. "Aishia?" "That''s far enough. I can''t allow you to go any further." Without a trace of a smile, Aishia stood firm in front of Enkrid. ------------------------------------------------------------------- This is the last day of the sale guys! ko-fi.com/samowek Don''t miss out on the 33% sale on Chapters! Thank you all for your support! Chapter 375 - Aishia Chapter 375 - 375 - Aishia Chapter 375 - Aishia Why is Aishia here? As soon as Enkrid faced her, several facts came to mind. They were things that popped up without him even having to think hard. ''The constable.'' What was his reason for coming to him? Jealousy was part of it, but he likely saw it as an opportunity. He thought that Enkrid must have done something wrong. The crime in question would be the murder of Baron Bentra, but that incident could have been witnessed by Aishia, a knight. If she had intervened, it might not have happened. But it did. ''Aishia didn''t stop it.'' The reason Aishia was here was because of the involvement of the Marquis. So, whose side is the Marquis of Okto on? No, has the knight order turned against him? Could that be possible? A knight order without knights, and how many junior knights did Aisjia say were left in the capital? A series of complicated thoughts followed one another, like a tangled thread children had been playing with, getting hopelessly knotted. Enkrid boldly cut through it. He couldn''t behave like Krais. There was no need to. The one who could answer was standing right in front of him, so he could just ask. "Why?" Enkrid spoke, his question short but sharp. Aisia raised her sword. The slender blade stood at the boundary between light and darkness. She answered. "They said this is as far as you go. Leave." There was no emotion in her eyes. It felt like a sword was standing in front of him. The sounds of clashing metal and shouting from outside grew distant. It felt as though two actors had met on the stage of a corridor. Enkrid unsheathed his Silver sword. Ssshh. The sound of the sword being drawn from its scabbard, wrapped in a metal tip, was eerily clear. The silver longsword revealed itself, showing off its body. Enkrid grasped the sword hilt with both hands and took a deep breath. To his left, and to Aishia''s right, sunlight filtered through the windows. The light passing through the window created a long line, dividing the space between Enkrid and Aishia. "Step back." Aishia spoke again. It sounded like a request. "Why?" He thought as he asked. Naturally, there was no answer. He didn''t know enough to figure it out. Aishia didn''t seem like the type to give an answer freely. Without a smile, she just stared. Aishia showed neither malice nor intent to fight. She simply stood there like an inanimate object. On one side of the corridor were rare southern ceramics, things you might see only in the southern regions. Aishia''s presence seemed no different from those objects. She looked like a still life. Enkrid adjusted his grip on the sword again. Seeing this, Aishia spoke. "Drinking punishment." "Just a hobby." Enkrid replied, almost out of habit. Even at his words, Aishia''s expression didn''t break. If anything, the atmosphere shifted. It was a pressure. At the same time, her presence seemed to change. In Enkrid''s eyes, it seemed as though a wall had appeared in front of him, centered around Aishia. The pressure didn''t just mean an intent to strike. It was as though she was showing her resolve to not retreat. A wall as solid as steel. It was a wall that seemed impossible to get over or break. However, Enkrid was the type to enjoy either jumping over or digging through such walls. Ting. Enkrid swung his sword sideways, measuring the distance to the wall. The tip of Silver struck the right wall. He retracted the sword, then gripped it with both hands and raised it above his head. The width was short, but the height was more than sufficient. If they fought this way, the paintings, southern ceramics, and expensive flower vases on the wall would shatter. But that wasn''t something to be concerned about now. Enkrid took another breath. His opponent was reading his breath. Neither Enkrid nor Aishia made a move to strike first. They read each other''s breaths and measured the timing. This was something they had done countless times before. They had sparred more than twenty times already. The line of light between them grew longer. On the right wall, in the center, three swords crossed each other, hanging. Above them was a shield in the shape of the sun, an ornate decoration featuring a sword. Of the three swords, the one in the center was most vertically aligned with the floor, its tip closest to the ground. As the light stretched, the light that had passed through the window reached the tip of the central sword. Although the blade wasn''t raised, the well-polished edge reflected the light. In that brief instant, when the light glinted, Enkrid struck the ground. Boom! He didn''t have the luxury of holding back, nor could he. With all his might, he charged forward explosively, bringing his sword down. The moment Enkrid closed the distance, Aishia responded. Her sword shot forward, faster than any arrow, a thrust aimed directly at him. Enkrid continued with his downward strike. The blades of Aishia and Enkrid''s Silver met. Clang! The clash was followed by a screeching sound! Enkrid tried to break the wall with his force, while Aisia twisted her wrist to deflect Silver''s path. Her mastery of evasion redirected Enkrid''s strength. Knowing he couldn''t simply take it, Enkrid pulled back his foot, conserving some energy. Instead, he let his sword flow with the momentum. He was ready to add more power and strike again at any moment. As a result, a long line was drawn beneath the left window. Even with the lightning-like strike, Aishia deflected it. Aishia raised her thrusting sword immediately. Then, slowly, she brought it down as she aimed at Enkrid. Aimed sword. Her specialty, her signature move. But it wasn''t quite what Enkrid had expected. Rem had already said it, hadn''t he? "That''s not everything." He knew it instinctively. No, countless experiences and talent allowed him to see the missing pieces of what the opponent possessed. Enkrid couldn''t see those areas. So, would that be a problem? ''Not at all.'' The tip of the sword pointed at him. In that instant, only the tip of the sword and himself existed in the world. This was Aishia''s style of pointing a sword. A deceptive sword, a trickster''s blade. Enkrid already knew the answer to overcoming that sword. He had seen Ragna, Rem, and Jaxen demonstrate their answers many times in front of him. Rem fought while hiding the tip of the sword with an axe. Ragna ignored the sword''s tip. He eliminated anything that stood in his way with the will to cut through it. Jaxen struck the sword first before starting to point it at him. All three methods were correct, but none of them applied to Enkrid himself. It was something he felt from the moment he began to embrace part of Will. ''It has to be something I solve myself.'' To move forward, he needed to walk properly. He had to step on the path. If he placed his foot in the air, he couldn''t walk. Moving forward by stepping in place didn''t work either. To move properly, he had to make the process his own. That was the true path, stepping on the earth, treading through dirt and sand. If Rem, Ragna, and Jaxen had their own ways, then Enkrid had to find his. He didn''t think it would happen all at once. He wasn''t a genius. He knew that now. "You''re a genius." The words his mercenary teacher had said when he was young no longer resonated with him. What remained was the sword. What remained was the dream. What had mended his broken dream? The sword. Even when Aishia had left earlier, Enkrid had wished for another hundred duels with her. Why had Aishia blocked his path? He didn''t know. Was it because she couldn''t afford to delay her mission to save Krang? He understood that. But Enkrid didn''t feel any impatience. If his heart had wavered with each such event, he might not have been able to hold onto the sword all this time. So, he decided to focus on what he had to do now. No, he had completely immersed himself in the present. If she blocked his way, he would break through. If she tried to obstruct him, he would destroy it. In the fleeting moment, Enkrid thought, organized his thoughts, and, after coming to a conclusion, drew his sword of method. There was something he wanted to try if he fought Aishia again. His own method. Enkrid closed his eyes. If seeing was the problem, what if he didn''t look? "...You''re really insane." From Aishia''s now emotionless voice, something resembling emotion slipped through. He couldn''t help but be surprised at this. He had endured her saying she enjoyed punishing, but this? This was hard to endure. ''You''re closing your eyes?'' To fight with his eyes closed? Was this something a normal person would do? Even when he fought with his eyes open, Aishia always won. Whether he gambled his life or not, the result of their duels was always the same. But now, he was closing his eyes because the tip of the sword blocked his view? "You''re underestimating me? Or have you trained for this?" Aishia spat the words out in quick succession. In her tone, Enkrid felt that she wasn''t here because she wanted to be. If she truly wanted to be here, she would have attacked with her sword, not with words. Their duels had always been like that. It didn''t matter, though. Enkrid enjoyed the moment. He smiled, excited to face Aishia herself. Without opening his eyes, he focused his ears, making his hearing replace his sight. "Skillfully honing your senses allows you to see without seeing." These were Jaxen''s words, spoken countless times. Indeed, his subordinates exhibited such abilities. Without even seeing, they could sense the movements of people standing behind them. Audin had spoken about sensing airwaves. "It''s just knowing with your senses." Rem had spoken about pure intuition. Ragna had asked, ''Do you really need to know what action the enemy takes behind you?'' Swing the sword and strike, that''s all that was needed. That was Ragna''s way. Jaxen''s wasn''t any different. "The airwaves are felt by touch, and sounds are heard by the ears." Being able to distinguish and grasp subtle sounds was the foundation of sensory techniques. They were all similar, but their approaches and the ways they understood it were different. Enkrid had now honed the blade of intuition, the sixth sense of evasion. Using that, he moved, even with his eyes closed. To put it simply, he attacked first, even while smiling with his eyes shut. "You crazy bastard." Aishia spat out, though there was also some respect hidden in her words. Enkrid relied on his memory for the first strike. He remembered where Aishia had positioned herself and heard her voice. With that, he activated his momentary Will. Bang! The ground cracked beneath him. Stone dust flew up from under the carpet. Enkrid swung his sword with full force. He didn''t hold back just because the opponent was someone he knew. Aishia couldn''t allow Enkrid to pass. The reason was simple. ''If you get past me, you''ll die.'' Even if she let him go, Enkrid wouldn''t survive. So, she had to stop him here. Whether he came here willingly, under threat, or out of necessity didn''t matter. ''That''s for later.'' She calmed herself and faced him with all her strength. With her eyes closed, she sliced through the moment and closed the distance. Enkrid''s sword came down without hesitation. Aishia met it at the same speed. She didn''t ease her pressure. Her strikes were faster than before, even though they seemed identical. She held her thin sword horizontally, slashing upwards. She twisted her ankle, dispersing the force. She redirected the power of his sword with her thin rapier, just as she had before. She didn''t need to block it¡ªshe would twist it in the moment of contact. That was how Aishia fought. Her rapier moved like a fluttering piece of cloth. Tiri-li-li-rin. The sound of the strike was far too soft for the force it contained. Enkrid''s sword was deflected sideways. Aishia loosened her grip momentarily, then tightened it again. In that instant, the muscles in her forearm tightened, adding strength to her strike. She gathered her remaining power and thrust forward. Hoo. It wasn''t the sword but the air that hit first. The momentum and pressure made Enkrid''s body hairs stand on end. He couldn''t recover his downward sword in time. Instead, he had already drawn his silver sword with his left hand, while his right hand pulled the sword from his waist. He blocked the blow with the sword held in reverse. The gladius intercepted Aishia''s rapier. Bang! With perfect timing and coordination, the thrust of the rapier was conveyed through the gladius. Enkrid''s feet slid backward as if he had been launched. ''His strength is superior.'' Aishia knew that too. Enkrid''s immense strength was terrifying. One failed strike could be devastating. But failure wouldn''t happen. She wouldn''t meet him with dull blades. And with him coming at her with his eyes closed, his precision was lacking. Enkrid retreated and opened his eyes. Aishia pointed her sword at him again. She could keep fighting like this all day. Endurance in constant combat was part of the knight training. And of course, she had completed that training. As for Enkrid... "One more time." He smiled. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Sale is over boys! Thank you for all your support! For more Chapters check out my ko-fi ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 376 - There is None Chapter 376 - 376 - There is None Chapter 376 - There is None "That crazy bastard." Watching Enkrid smile, Asia almost lost her composure but quickly regained it. If she wasn''t planning to kill him, she had to stop him here. Her younger sibling was being held hostage. The unexpected person behind her. Complicated thoughts stacked up in layers before fading away. With that smile in front of her, she had nothing to say. "There must be a reason you need to break through. I have my reasons for stopping you." These words came out of her without thinking. Why? Why was she saying this to Enkrid? She didn''t know. The atmosphere was just urging her. And that made her harden her face even more. Hiding her expression, she started the conversation with her sword. Her specialty wasn''t just pointing the tip of her sword. In terms of technique, she would never fall behind. The gap between her and Enkrid couldn''t be closed in a short time. She acknowledged that Enkrid had superior strength, but the gap in technique would be hard to fill. He was good at both strength and tactics. But no matter how good he was at tactics, if he lost in the finer techniques, it was useless. Enkrid closed his eyes again. "You''ll die like this." She wasn''t trying to kill him, but it would still be dangerous if she let her guard down. "Try if you can." Enkrid wouldn''t back down. For a moment, Asia felt frustrated by that. "Not now, but if we wait for the next time, we won''t have to fight with risks." Even as she said this, Asia knew the answer. She knew exactly how Enkrid would respond. Although they hadn''t seen each other for a few days, she understood him clearly. "If it''s not today, then tomorrow; if not tomorrow, then the next time." Enkrid said this with his eyes closed, pointing his sword. "If you had thought about next time, you wouldn''t be standing in front of me right now." Asia gritted her teeth. The two continued to fight. In the end, Asia made two holes in Enkrid''s arm. She also left a deep wound on his thigh, deep enough for a finger to slide in. In the meantime, Enkrid lost Silver and, like sparks, left a long cut on Asia''s cheek. "If I really wanted to kill you, it would''ve been easier." Asia took a breath as she spoke. By now, the sun was tilted toward one side. The blade of rebellion that had started in broad daylight had surely pierced through the entire palace by now. And sure enough... "It''s done." A voice came from behind Asia, from a shadow where the light didn''t reach. "Get rid of that." The voice spoke again. Enkrid, still on the ground, turned his gaze behind Asia. There was no light. He couldn''t properly see the opponent. Only a silhouette stood, dark and intense. Even in the dark, he could feel the color of that person strongly. Who was this? Just by the aura and Asia''s attitude, it was clear¡ªthis person was above her. It was the darkness created by not lighting the candle. From beyond that, a man stepped forward. As the silhouette gained color, he walked closer. Looking at him, it seemed like an unstoppable boulder was rolling toward them. ''Not a knight.'' Enkrid instinctively knew. Hadn''t he faced something like this before? Though it was only one swing, he had experienced what it was to face a knight. This man was not a knight. With dark hair, he wore a longsword at his waist and held a bloodstained dagger in his hand. Asia turned her body. Despite knowing she had enough strength left to strike Enkrid, she turned around without hesitation. She raised her sword toward the back and spoke. "Senior, let''s stop here." Enkrid could see the man''s front now, towering over Asia and showing the weight of his presence. The man with the dagger tilted his head. His dark brown hair moved with his gesture. "Asia?" "It''s enough for now. What will you do when the master returns?" Enkrid felt no persuasion in Asia''s words. She herself couldn''t believe what she was saying. "If you can''t do it, then I''ll do it." The man spoke as he walked forward confidently, and Asia once again displayed her overwhelming presence. A wall. The wall that had blocked Enkrid now turned in the opposite direction. "You should stop now." Enkrid muttered. It was hard to gauge the opponent''s strength. Was it a lack of insight? He wasn''t sure. It felt like seeing Ragna or Rem. "Do you think all knights are the same?" Asia''s words suddenly came to him. Could it be that she said that because of this man? He wondered. The man ignored Asia''s pressure. His pace didn''t change. "Asia." Enkrid called her name again from where he sat. Asia didn''t respond. Instead, she raised her sword and pointed it. The swordpoint stance. And Enkrid once again saw the answer to her sword. Following Ragna, Rem, and Jaxen, this was the fourth. As soon as Asia pointed her sword, the opponent took a large step forward and struck her sword''s surface with his dagger. The swordpoint stance became useless. In that instant, Enkrid understood what the opponent had done. It was the fourth time he saw the answer, and the realization naturally dawned on him. ''Just because you point the sword doesn''t mean the real intent goes anywhere.'' The sword stayed where it was. As long as you could overpower it, you could break the swordpoint stance. If Asia swung her sword or blocked, the technique would be broken anyway. So, by stepping in and swinging his dagger, the opponent would either deflect the attack or block it. But to prevent Asia from using her deflecting techniques and to cut off her chance to counter, it required more than one condition to be met. But how was that even possible now? He saw the answer, though the whole process was unclear. ''Normally, you''d deflect and strike again.'' The momentum faltered. To display such a technique with just one dagger meant an entirely different level of skill. Not all knights were the same. That sentence resonated deeply within him. Enkrid used his sword like a cane and stood up. He could probably strike a few more times. If he just waited and watched, he was sure Asia would die, but it wouldn''t be as simple as it seemed. Once he stood up, Enkrid didn''t care whether his sword hit or missed. It was only because he could that he did it. "Don''t act like an idiot." The man holding the dagger spoke again. His gaze never shifted towards Enkrid. It was solely focused on Aishia. Aishia retrieved the rebounding sword and thrust it in three directions. It was a thrust resembling a trident. She had said she learned the technique from watching fishermen in a coastal village. The man swung the dagger up and down. It was as if stirring a ladle in a stew, the dagger moving in such a way. That''s how it appeared to Enkrid. Clink, clink, clink! Three clashes echoed. "Are you really going to do this?" The man spoke once more. Aishia did not answer, only raising her sword. She changed her stance. Her expertise was not limited to simply pointing her sword at the enemy. Enkrid was well aware of this. She focused on her toes, shifting her center of gravity. While she never neglected to train her strength, there were many who possessed greater physical power than her. Had she not devised ways to overcome that, she might never have become a senior knight. "Do you really want to die?" The man''s tone remained flat, devoid of highs or lows. It was closer to listing facts. Aishia''s sword struck several more times. It curved, stabbed, and soared. It was a technique that pierced through the arm when Enkrid couldn''t block it. It was delicate and sharp. Just the speed of it rivaled his own "moment" of Will. It should have been called a decisive strike. Yet despite all the blades, the man simply tapped his dagger against them, blocking each one. Eventually, the tip of her blade grazed his cheek, but naturally, it wasn''t a fatal wound. A tiny spray of blood appeared. The man dropped his dagger, the small blade falling to the ground. In the meantime, his hand grasped the hilt of a longsword at his waist. Enkrid''s eyes caught the pommel shape. It was a wolf-shaped pommel. He unsheathed the sword. There was no blinding speed nor heavy force. It was drawn, and it moved. But the sword the man wielded rose at a strange angle and intercepted the path of Aishia''s thrust, cutting through it. The sword struck midway. With a loud thud, Aishia''s sword was deflected. How is that possible? Enkrid had no answer. He couldn''t understand it at all. There was nothing to learn just from observing. Aishia pulled her sword in front of her chest. The flow was broken. With the momentum lost, the sword would be ineffective. The rhythm faltered, her steps were off, and her breath was constricted. It was a shallow breath, one that hindered her movements. Aishia held her breath, ignoring the flow entirely, and instead stabbed. She cut downward from above. The vertical slash wasn''t as intense as a lightning strike, but it was as fast as a beam of light. It resembled Enkrid''s rare, unorthodox moves. With a swift downward strike, the man blocked with his blade and pushed back. Cling, cling, cling. Sparks flew as their blades clashed in a brief deadlock. Enkrid seized that moment to launch himself forward. It was too much to make an explosive charge like before. But one decisive strike was still within his reach. He harnessed a burst of acceleration. Rejecting the oppressive aura of his opponent. He summoned his monstrous power, maintaining perfect focus. His left hand released the flaring sword. The blade stretched out like a sunbeam. The sun, the sunlight, can be felt as soon as it touches you. There''s no way to avoid it. It was a thrust that resembled that, the highest completion of technique, timing, breath, stance, and the strength in his grip. Everything was perfectly aligned. Yet the opponent''s sword slipped through the gap. How to avoid sunlight? You take shelter in the shade. The flow was broken. The sword that had intercepted his thrust struck at the heart of his intended motion, deflecting the flare. There was no overwhelming force, but with the change in direction, all the power from his legs, body, breath, and strike dissipated. Enkrid realized that his strike had failed. That was the result. The man''s right hand held the sword, and before Enkrid knew it, it had pierced Aishia''s heart. "Ack." Aishia spat blood. She had swung her rapier even as her strength drained away. The man didn''t even bother to block it. He caught the falling blade with his shoulder, deflecting it easily. His left hand stretched out, and by the time he reached it, a shortsword appeared in his grasp, stabbing into Enkrid''s chest. The bandaged armor held up momentarily, but the blade did not pierce his heart, instead grazing his side, tearing through his innards. The man''s gaze swept through Enkrid''s insides. But there was no change in his expression. It was like he was looking at a stone on the roadside. Was it because of the skill difference? No, it wasn''t that. It was a gaze as if directed at something irrelevant to him. "I had no way to subdue you without killing you." He spoke only to Aishia. "Senior." Aishia, choking on blood, opened her mouth once more with her final strength. "My younger sibling." "Don''t worry." The light in Aisia''s eyes faded. Enkrid didn''t lose his composure despite the burning sensation in his insides. The repetition of today was a curse, and there was no blessing of adapting to the pain. The pain felt the same whether he repeated it at the beginning of the day or now. And yet, he couldn''t take his eyes off Aisia. He understood why she had stood in front of him, blocking his way. He knew what she couldn''t compromise on. ''Not turning away from the heart.'' After all, what was her reason for standing here? To kill him? No, she hadn''t done that. She could have killed him at any time. The squad members all agreed. "If it comes down to a fight where we kill or be killed, the outcome is inevitable. But the truth that it''s hard to win right now won''t change." Rem had said that. "We will lose if we fight. At least, that''s the likely outcome." Ragna had said that as well. As Enkrid continued his thoughts, the man stood before him. His boots came into view. When he raised his gaze, the man finally spoke. "It''s because of you that she died." His tone was emotionless, like stating a fact. Then the man''s sword struck at Enkrid''s neck. The pain started from the back of his neck and shot up to his brain. A burning sensation, the feeling of his flesh being torn, darkness engulfed everything. As the world faded, the flow of water could be seen. "Shall I show you the easy way?" The boatman asked. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Sale is over boys! Thank you for all your support! For more Chapters check out my ko-fi ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 377 - Meeting the End of the Sword Chapter 377 - 377 - Meeting the End of the Sword Chapter 377 - Meeting the End of the Sword The swaying sword''s violet lamp flickered above the rippling river. As the ferry rocked, his body swayed along with it. Enkrid remained silent, sitting at the far end of the boat. The ferryman spoke again. "There is an easy way." Enkrid did not respond. The ferryman spoke once more. "Flee." His lips moved only slightly, and his voice echoed, lingering over the boat. "Run and don''t face your death. Then, I''ll take care of it." Instead of answering, Enkrid lowered his gaze, as if his mind was filled with countless thoughts. The ferryman''s mouth opened again. His flickering and echoing voice once again floated over the boat. "If you don''t want to escape, use your tongue. Convince your opponent and prepare for what comes after. If it''s the two of you, you can handle it." If Enkrid and Aishia joined forces, they could deal with whoever appeared next. Knowing the future meant knowing today''s repetition. Though not every day would be exactly the same, the larger framework would remain unchanged. After fighting Enkrid, Aishia''s stamina was depleted, and she was injured. Enkrid was in the same condition. If they could join forces while maintaining their strength and without injuries, they could definitely handle the situation. They might even turn the tide and win. It was a fight for their lives, and if the two were on the same side, it would definitely be an advantage. Of course, it wasn''t a fight they would always win. "Do you want to know exactly what the wall is?" The ferryman''s words were devoid of emotion as usual. He only spoke facts, free of sentiment. Enkrid did not answer, continuing to listen to the ferryman''s words. Was he reflecting on his own thoughts? The ferryman tapped his foot against the bottom of the boat. The boat swayed violently with the motion, and Enkrid, who had been sitting, reached out to steady himself. He lifted his head, his gaze vacant, lost in thought, his mouth slightly open. These were the things the ferryman saw. Enkrid''s eyes seemed to regain focus, then he asked a question. "Huh?" "What did you just say?" The ferryman, though showing signs of irritation, held back and repeated the question. Enkrid blinked twice before replying. "Oh, I didn''t hear." It was the truth. He hadn''t heard, focused on something else. As always, Enkrid answered sincerely. "...Go." The ferryman''s mouth moved quicker than expected. Enkrid had completely ignored his words. It wasn''t that he heard with one ear and let it slip out the other. He didn''t reject the words, he simply disregarded them entirely. Even the ferryman could have been displeased by this. "Huh?" Enkrid''s blank stare, despite him actually asking the question again, appeared distasteful. Purity can sometimes be a weapon that causes frustration in the heart of the other. "I said go." The ferryman didn''t bother getting angry or asking why. It was enough to let him go. There was a reason for sending him. ''I''ll watch.'' He would see what Enkrid was thinking, what actions he intended to take. That would reveal itself in time. "Oh, okay." Enkrid nodded without feeling embarrassed. Soon, Enkrid''s figure blurred and disappeared from the boat. The ferryman was left alone, silently gazing into the darkness. He would likely repeat the same today. And again, he would face such moments. On the boat, in the darkness, he would meet himself. It was a given. The ferryman saw the repetition of today in advance. What was destined to happen would happen. What was predetermined would unfold as such. Although Enkrid had startled him a few times, that was the extent of it. There would be no walls to overcome in a single day. Today''s repetition was a cycle of pain and suffering. It was a structure that couldn''t be avoided. That was the core of the curse. However, for the madman, even pain became a form of ecstasy. ''Madman.'' The ferryman''s gaze blurred. It wasn''t the black river he was staring at, but the image of Enkrid, who had been cursed to live out a repetitive life. The curse revealed his figure. The ferryman watched. He would repeat the same day. He woke at dawn, trained his body. He used kicking the constable as a form of persuasion. He sent Ragna and Dunbakel, to deal with the advancing group. He made a fellow feel ashamed by saying he was the one who had been hurt, the one who had been stabbed, when facing a group of assassins. He headed for the palace and immediately cut down the ill-fated person who blocked his path. He killed them without hesitation. "Wasn''t it a maid who was raped? I didn''t even ask and just killed him." "What?" Ignoring the other''s astonishment, he had no interest in the past that stood before him. Even if there was a grudge for nearly killing the curse''s master, it didn''t show. It wasn''t that there wasn''t a grudge. But, ''Right now, he''s focused on something else.'' Enkrid looked at the maid, not the stunned man. He silently asked with his eyes if it was true. The maid, trembling, nodded. Then, there was a process of slashing and killing. And so, once again, he faced the wall. A female knight with orange hair stood before him. "That''s enough." She blocked his way. Enkrid raised his sword. There was no question. It was inevitable, so there was no reason to ask. No, his thought process didn''t work that way. The ferryman briefly glimpsed a part of Enkrid''s mind. It was filled with a sense of expectation. ''That bastard.'' Enkrid was here to face the wall, to clash swords with that female knight. It was the same repetition of today. Though the details weren''t exactly the same, it was a similar day. There were, of course, other differences. The one before this, before reaching this point. The change that had occurred during his morning training. "Rem, how did you do it?" It was around the time the morning sun was directly overhead. Despite the constable''s chatter in between, Enkrid had spoken with the man named Rem. "This bastard, I came all this way and you''re talking nonsense." "Wait a moment." Enkrid said that, then asked again. The constable, who had been stunned, stood there. "The end of the sword. You blocked it with an axe blade, didn''t you?" "The axe blade end, you mean?" Rem, who blinked, gave a short, concise explanation. "You just need to block it properly." He couldn''t offer much more of an explanation, and Enkrid didn''t seem interested in hearing any further, so he turned his body away. That was the difference in today''s repetition. "Inoooom!" The constable, ignored, became furious. That was all. After that, Enkrid stood before the wall, wielding his sword and attempting something, only to meet a similar result. He was defeated, stabbed, and collapsed to the ground. Another difference from the previous today was something that the boatman already knew. Enkrid did not. His gaze swept across Aishia''s back. The one Aishia had called a senior did not appear. Instead... "I''ll check the back." Aishia left, and that was the end of it. A little time passed, and the darkness came again. Today ended once more. The boatman gazed at the opposite side of the boat. Fragments, like grains of sand, gathered. The scattered particles began to form a human shape, slowly changing. It was Enkrid. The boatman felt a surge of curiosity. He had no need to suppress it, so he opened his mouth. "I''ll ask one thing." "Huh?" Enkrid, still with a blank look, stood there. "You couldn''t even hear me speaking in front because you were thinking about something, right?" Enkrid opened his mouth without hesitation. There was nothing to hide, nothing to conceal. But why was this being asked, he wondered. "I was thinking about how to block the tip of a sword." Seeing the zeal and intensity in Enkrid''s eyes, the boatman was certain. Enkrid had focused entirely on one thing. He had only seen the opponent with a sword in front of him. No matter what the wall was, no matter what else, he had only seen and recognized the sword, pouring all his attention into it. The boatman spoke words that he didn''t need to say but could still say under his authority. "Do you consider that a wall?" He had intended to say no. He was going to tell him to look at the real wall. "I don''t know." That was the reply. Is there anything else you want to say? If not, just let me think for a bit. The boatman felt emotions. It was absurd. It was confusing. With no intention or ulterior motive behind it, the pure response he had received caused all the words he had planned to mock the other to vanish in an instant. They mixed into the darkness, crushed, and flowed away. "Go ahead." The boatman read his thoughts and answered. Fine, do as you wish. What you''re seeing now isn''t a wall, though. Enkrid disappeared again, blurring, scattering, and vanishing. ''Foolish.'' But even so, the boatman had expected this. And even if Enkrid crossed this wall, it would leave a deep scar on him. He chuckled. If he saw Enkrid suffer now, it would be the most enjoyable thing. If Enkrid overcame this wall, that very fact would become like a curse to him, the boatman knew. ''One thing is clear.'' It''s better to imitate Rem''s method. Not just Rem''s method, but to try everyone''s approach at least once. Imitation is one of the quickest ways to understand the object of mimicry. ''My method comes next.'' If there''s a path, walk it. Enkrid did that. What is the wall, and how far does it go? If he had asked the boatman, he might have received an answer. Today''s boatman gave off that impression. But it didn''t matter. He didn''t need to know. So, he didn''t ask. Instead, he pondered. "What are you thinking about from the morning?" It was the third today. During the morning training, Enkrid stood still, lost in thought, and after a while, Rem arrived and asked. Enkrid asked the key question even earlier than yesterday. "How did you block the tip of the axe?" Despite the sudden question, Rem wasn''t surprised. Enkrid had been like this for a while now. So, the answer came quickly. "Aisia''s sword was pointed at me. I point my axe at the opponent''s sword tip." Even still, the explanation was like a chaotic stage with barking dogs. It was a mess. It was difficult and confusing. But if he had intended to give up, he would have never picked up a sword in the first place. Moreover, Rem himself was aware that his explanation was hard to follow. "Try pointing with a burning torch." Rem pulled out a long-handled axe and spoke. Though he held it lightly, the weapon had a surprisingly good balance, and it was heavier than expected. Anyway, just by holding it, the weight was different. Enkrid drew his flame-tipped sword. Ping, he drew the sword and pointed it. The thin, sharp blade was aimed ahead. Doing this, it seemed like the first step of imitation was to follow the sword tip pointing. ''Pressure and killing intent mixed in.'' In a way, it was the complete opposite of Saxen''s deadly stabbing. A sword that deceives by applying pressure to the opponent. Enkrid couldn''t immediately imitate it. Instead, he was still pointing his sword. Thung. Rem struck the sword''s tip with the axe''s blade. To be precise, he struck the sharp part of the blade. "Got it?" Enkrid didn''t respond but fell into thought. He replayed what Rem had just done in his mind. A physical explanation was much easier to understand than words. He meditated on it alone. Enkrid understood. Rem had struck the point of the sword with the sharpest edge of his axe''s blade. The edge and the point met perfectly. It was a feat beyond mere skill¡ªit was almost miraculous. Soon, this action contained a question. Could he meet the sword tips at the same speed and power as before? "Ah." A gasp escaped. "Try it. You''ll understand once you do." Rem took a step back, and Enkrid slowly grabbed his two swords, Flame and Gladius. It''s easy to make the blades meet. But what about the points? What about the edges and the points? If the speed is slow, it''s possible. If you reduce the speed, it''s difficult, but still doable. He unconsciously tensed his muscles. This brought unnecessary force into the action, making it awkward. How could he make this movement natural? What skill would be needed for this? "That''s right. If you can do that, you''ll be fine." Rem spoke as he tucked his long-handled axe into his belt. It was as if he was saying that he had said everything he needed to say. Enkrid didn''t even nod. He quickly immersed himself in his own world. Rem thought he was a fascinating person, but when he looked at Andrew, he raised a finger and brought it to his lips. There was no sound of "shh," but Andrew, who was about to speak, closed his mouth. Rem gestured for Andrew to step back three steps, and Andrew spoke. "What is it?" "I''ll personally oversee today''s training." "...It''s fine. I can do it alone." "No, it''s not fine. I''ll carry out the Commander''s wishes." "But Commander Enkrid isn''t dead." "The continental language is still clumsy." What did that mean? He had never heard the western dialect. Andrew''s unspoken words were dismissed by his expression. Enkrid, hearing the surrounding sounds, slipped into his thoughts. He sank into himself, contemplating. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Sale is over boys! Thank you for all your support! For more Chapters check out my ko-fi ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 378 - Over and Over Chapter 378 - 378 - Over and Over Chapter 378 - Over and Over ''How did he manage those delicate movements?'' In his memory, Shinar swung his sword. Light as a butterfly, her toes barely touched the ground. The leaf-shaped sword she wielded was also light, matching her style. Even though the sword had a puffed middle, it still gave the impression of fluttering. Watching the blade move like a dance, it seemed there was no force involved at all. But when faced with it, the reality was different. It was a blow full of strength. He knew this well from having fought against it. How did she manage that? To execute something so detailed, force is required. But to achieve that kind of movement, you must take the force out. Though he understood the way the action was performed, he couldn''t help but wonder if the body could move in such a way. ''Is this a path I don''t know?'' No, he already knew. He had learned countless techniques, honed his body, and ingrained them. "Is there just one way to apply force? Without precision, the isolation technique means nothing." Audin had spoken of the different types of muscles. There were large muscles, but also smaller muscles that helped control fine movements. Through rigorous training, Shinar had gained that precision. Enkrid needed that too. "If you sharpen your senses, you''ll be able to feel it." Jaxen had said this many times. Based on that, Enkrid squinted his eyes and began swinging his weapons with both hands. He drew imaginary lines in the air and aimed his sword precisely at them. It didn''t succeed at first. That didn''t matter. Enkrid repeated the motion. It was similar to training by drawing circles on trees and hitting them accurately, but the precision and detail in his "Sword''s Tip Meeting" training were on a completely different level from simply hitting large drawn circles. To put it in terms of Naurilia''s military ranking system, this was the difference between a low-ranking soldier and a top-tier soldier. Moreover, his opponent''s sword was continuously moving. ''Aishia doesn''t stay still.'' She would take small steps, shift her body, and change the direction of her sword. The answer was clear. It required precision on the level of plucking a feather from a moving bird. To achieve that, Enkrid needed training that made the tips of his swords meet. He was so immersed that he swam in the ocean of focus. Then, he heard a voice. "The barbarian has no business here! Go suck goat''s milk!" The third training session of the day wasn''t much different from usual, but the meeting with the constable marked a shift in the atmosphere. Enkrid turned his gaze to see Rem grinning and grabbing a wooden axe handle. "Goat''s milk?" Ah, it''s too late to stop this now. Enkrid thought as he stopped moving forward. The guard captain desperately stepped in front of the constable, trying to block him. Whether it was loyalty, a lack of thought, or perhaps a confident belief in his skills, one of the soldiers drew his sword and swung it. "You bastard!" He shouted as he aimed at Rem''s head. Just before the sword reached his hair, Rem moved. He stomped the ground and jumped to the side. The sword cut through the air, and Rem immediately twirled his axe to change direction and swung it. Thwack! The crisp sound rang out. Instead of a clean strike, it was a blow with the axe''s back. The opposite side of the axe, where the head hit his abdomen, made a deep indent before popping back out. It wasn''t a killing strike, but it wasn''t a light tap either. "Grrk!" The soldier who was hit flew through the air. ''That''s going to hurt.'' He knew from experience. This wasn''t a soft blow. If Audin''s hammer was bearable, this could easily break bones and tear organs. The soldier who was flung to the side rolled on the ground, vomiting. Tears and mucus mixed with blood in the vomit. After rolling once, the soldier gagged before his eyes rolled back in his head. He had been knocked unconscious by the blow to his abdomen. Rem let out a humph and muttered. "Pathetic." His voice was soft, but it was enough to silence the group. Though it was a mutter, everyone heard it clearly. The constable was so shocked that he stood with his mouth agape. Then he closed his mouth, ground his teeth, and spoke. "...Treason!" If left unchecked, Rem''s massacre would begin. Neither Ragna nor Jaxen would stop him if they fought. Enkrid moved as soon as the constable finished speaking. Once again, he stepped forward to try and persuade him. He stomped the ground, lowered his body, and moved forward. With a swift motion, he struck the guard''s neck with the edge of his hand. The guard, stunned, raised his eyes to look at Rem. At the mention of treason, the man inadvertently gripped his spear tighter. The veins on his hand stood out, but his body froze. Even if he hadn''t frozen, he wasn''t skilled enough to counter. Crack! The guard''s neck twisted with a sound and he collapsed to the ground. Before his body even touched the floor, Enkrid spun around and added centrifugal force to deliver a palm strike to the helmet of another nearby soldier. The sound of the palm hitting the helmet echoed. "Ugh!" The soldier''s knees gave way like the legs of a limp octopus, and he collapsed. His brain had been rattled, so it would be hard for him to regain his senses anytime soon. These two were blocking Enkrid''s and the constable''s path. After taking them down, Enkrid grabbed the constable''s ankle, who was still on his horse. The shocked constable stared at him. Their eyes met, and Enkrid smiled as he yanked the constable''s leg. Crack! "Argh!" The constable''s leg, caught in the stirrup, snapped. Enkrid had demonstrated the same move Dunbakel had done earlier. Enkrid knocked the constable''s head against the stirrup with his elbow, knocking him unconscious. Thwack. Crunch. The sound of his neck cracking echoed, but it wasn''t fatal. All of this happened in the span of just one or two breaths. Heeeying! Only then did the horse react, lifting its front hooves, and Enkrid, having finished his work, stepped back to avoid the hooves. The squires, who had been watching from behind the constable, stood frozen, eyes wide, holding onto half-drawn swords. The captain, who had been next to the squires, stopped with his hand on his sword, unsure of what to do. "Why not just kill him?" Rem muttered again from the side. Enkrid, unconcerned, stared at the constable hanging unconscious from the horse before frowning slightly. "What was the constable''s name?" He hadn''t cared enough to remember it. "Polman Vertes," the captain said, glancing at him. "If you''re not going to do anything more, you should leave." Enkrid nodded, and the squires opened their mouths, but hesitated to speak. What could he possibly say in this situation? Everyone fell silent. The soldiers had no more words. The captain decided he didn''t need to break his own leg over this. An even heavier silence descended than when Rem had knocked the soldier away. "I think you''re worse than me. I''ll pass you the title of noble hunter." "Keep it yourself." Rem threw back a flippant remark, and Enkrid responded with his usual coolness. Clop! Clop! Clop! The sound of hooves pounding the ground at full speed rang out, followed by a shout. "Save me!" The voice came from deep within, filled with sincerity. It was a voice Enkrid recognized, one he had expected. This was the third time it had happened. It was Marcus. Enkrid cut through the soldiers who had surrounded him, clearing a path, and climbed over the wall. The soldiers didn''t dare to stop him. They stepped back. Rem followed, hopping up onto the wall, with Dunbakel also leaping up beside them. "Rem." Enkrid spoke while keeping his eyes on Marcus, who was being chased. A figure in unusual attire appeared among the pursuers. "The Immortal Madman, huh? We missed him before, and now he''s been hanging around here. I''ll go take care of him." "Go." Enkrid immediately responded, and Rem dashed off without looking back. He jumped off the wall with a loud thud, showcasing his inhuman ability to hover. Leaping sideways, he landed on the roof of another building. Then, as he ran, he drew a throwing axe and shouted. "Hey, you bastard! Try running again this time!" There was no option to wait and ambush. The opponent immediately turned around. Rem welcomed it. It was too easy to catch those who charged. He wanted to chase and catch those who ran away. It was a hunter''s instinct. "You madman." Hearing himself called a madman by the Immortal Madman, Rem shut his mouth and kept running. His body soon hit the ground, having leapt over the roofs and walls. He shot forward terrifyingly fast, and the Immortal Madman ran just as quickly. Both of them disappeared from sight in no time. Enkrid turned his body on the wall, raising one hand as he spoke. "I''m heading to the royal palace. Who''s going to stop the Viscount of Mernes from entering?" He summarized what his companion, Squire Lopford, had said earlier. In the grand scheme of things, things were happening as they were meant to. Ropord''s change of heart had been similar. Now, what was the man sitting on the wall trying to say? What was he doing here? "Ragna, Dunbakel." Enkrid noticed the change in Squire Ropord''s expression and called out to the two of them. "Understood." "Alright." They answered, just as a group of assassins appeared in response to Marcus''s warning that something had gone wrong at the royal palace. "Stab..." The assassins stood on the wall, one of them, a monocled old man, about to speak. Without hesitation, Enkrid dashed forward. There was no time for talking. He moved quickly, outmatching his opponents in both timing and skill. He jumped onto the wall, drawing his sword and slashing downward. As he swung his sword, a brief thought crossed his mind. Has my sword become more precise than before? He didn''t know. He couldn''t yet feel any physical changes. To the assassins'' eyes, something flew toward them, and something else dropped suddenly. The assassin didn''t even have time to dodge, and his head was split open by Enkrid''s blade. The severed head exploded sideways, and blood and brains spilled down where the blade passed. After killing one assassin, Enkrid jumped backward. Thwip! Daggers and darts flew toward his position, and as if anticipating them, Enkrid dodged. "I''ll say it first: I got stabbed. So, He''s completed the request. It hurt, it stung, and... that''s what you asked him to do, right? You can see the scar here." He raised his left arm, though his armor concealed any visible scar. "You mad bastard." Another assassin mumbled. "No originality in your insults." Enkrid casually retorted. It was something he was naturally good at¡ªturning his opponent''s anger against them. "You!" The assassin was quick to react with anger. Assassins were specialists at stealth and surprise attacks. If things went wrong, they''d strike and kill, not waste time with insults. So, this kind of provocation worked well. No matter their skill, it was inevitable that all the assassins'' attention was now on Enkrid. A single strike and a few words had achieved this. Before long, Jaxen disappeared from view. He knew exactly what he had to do without needing to be told. The monocled, white-haired assassin in the center ground his teeth and yelled. "The information leaked! Everyone, counter!" Enkrid reacted swiftly. It was so fast that it seemed impossible for him not to have anticipated it. And then, what was the meaning of the words he had spoken? Stabbed? Where? After a brief moment of thought, Jaxen understood what had been said. It was about the request. They had told him to kill, and now Enkrid was claiming he had been stabbed. Why did he complain about the lack of originality in the insult? It was all nonsense. From the beginning, Jaxen had come to fight. After all, he was one of the leaders of the assassin alliance. He knew how to fight. Of course, all of this happened because Enkrid had repeated this day, but he didn''t know that. The movements were already familiar. Enkrid realized once again how much training the assassin group had put in. No matter the situation, they always started fighting in the same way. Those who threw did so, those who retreated did so, and those who used poison did the same. Meanwhile, Saxen had changed his actions slightly each time during these repeated days. At first, he had wielded a longsword, but now, he was running along the walls with two stilettos in hand, blood staining their sharp blades. Already, four assassins had been killed by his strikes. Enkrid found it fascinating. The reactions were the same, yet Jaxen''s actions kept changing. "To match my movements?" It was just a hunch, but Enkrid felt like he was right. "Attack from that side!" This time, the shout came from another direction, not the white-haired man. It was aimed at Jaxen. Clearly, Jaxen was a threat. Watching this, Enkrid stepped back and called out to the one-eyed man. "Give me a lift." As he spoke, he sprinted toward the mansion''s exit. The wierd-eyed horse followed closely behind, and Marcus was at the entrance, riding a horse. Marcus quickly stepped aside, signaling that he would be joining Enkrid. This was the third iteration of the day. Enkrid judged that it was better to have him close by rather than hiding him away. Most people would have made similar decisions during the first iteration, but not everything could be perfect. Even though he repeated his best judgment every time, he knew not everything could be perfect. He acknowledged this reality. "Where should we hide?" "I can handle myself. My lord is stuck at the royal palace. The knights have taken action." "Got it." "What?" The sound of hooves grew louder. Soon, Marcus''s voice became inaudible as the sound of the hooves overtook it. Marcus swiftly veered off to the side. He appeared to have decided to hide on his own. While taking a short break, he tore his shirt to tightly bind his wounded arm. It wasn''t a severe injury, but it needed attention. Enkrid continued on, heading toward the outer roads leading to the royal palace, leaping over obstacles. "Wow." He saw the stunned faces of soldiers as he sped past. As the wierd-eyed horse halted, Enkrid jumped to the side, moving as though he was flying. The wierd-eyed horse seemed surprised. "Can you really do that?" Enkrid quickly gave a casual response, heading straight into the royal palace. Along the way, an ill omen awaited. "You..." Thwack! Before the words were even finished, Enkrid charged forward, using his Will to strike, cutting off the man''s head. The severed head collided with the white wall of the royal garden, making a sickening thud as blood splattered across the wall. Before the shocked instructors could react, Enkrid sprinted through them. Still like a lone wolf, he cut down the pathetic fools, stabbing and slicing them to death. After speaking briefly to the maid, he rushed inside, heading straight for the orange-haired figure. "That''s it, let''s get started." As he ran, Enkrid spoke. Before Aishia could say anything, he leveled his sword at her. It was a direct strike. The beginning and end of the fight were no different from before. He wasn''t yet at a level to surpass Aisia. The only difference was that the one he had seen on the first day didn''t appear again. Instead, Aishia turned her back after defeating Enkrid. "I''ll check something." With that, she vanished into the shadows. What followed was a repeat of what had come before. Enkrid continued doing the same things over and over. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for all your support! For more Chapters check out ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 379 - A Long, Endless Training Chapter 379 - 379 - A Long, Endless Training Chapter 379 - A Long, Endless Training "Ahhh, so much." "Andrew, yeah, go ahead and try." After nineteen repetitions of today, Enkrid had instructed Andrew to thrust his sword at him. Now, help was needed. Enkrid proceeded to do just that. They began training by crossing their blades, clashing the tips together. "...What a foolish training." After hearing Andrew''s admiration for the thirty-sixth time, Enkrid finally made contact with Andrew''s sword tip. It wasn''t still; it was done at a moderate pace, as it should be. Naturally, it wasn''t easy. It was hard. The satisfaction that surged through his entire body when he succeeded was electrifying. Of course, the thrill or joy didn''t last long. To truly master it, he would need to repeat it countless times. Still, the enjoyment couldn''t be denied. Ding! A clear, unfamiliar sound echoed. "But is this really fun?" Andrew asked. While their swords met, Enkrid''s focus was intense, and energy flowed from his body. It was fun, exciting, and thrilling, as if a child with a toy playing all day. It felt like wielding joy itself as a weapon. That was Andrew''s observation. "Yeah, ahhh, very much." Enkrid emphasized his answer. ''Why?'' Andrew didn''t understand, but to Enkrid, it was natural, just as it always had been. "Is this really fun?" "Yeah, so much." "This?" "Huh?" Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud. The sound of sword tips meeting again and again. After hearing Andrew''s admiration more than forty times, Enkrid nodded, drenched in sweat. "Now it''s done." Then he called for Rem. "Rem, try swinging the axe." It was a change of opponent. Rem snorted and laughed before swiftly swinging the axe again. No margin for error was allowed. There could be no openings, no chance to let down their guard. Otherwise, Enkrid wouldn''t be able to perfectly dodge Rem''s axe. It wasn''t about grazing it halfway but completely evading it. That was the beginning. After the sword tip training came the axe evasion training with Rem. It wasn''t just about dodging¡ªit was about meeting the edge of the axe and the sword. "Are you fearless, or are you just thoughtless? Get over here and kneel!" As usual, the officer arrived when Enkrid was deep into his training. Seeing Enkrid immersed in his work, the officer reacted similarly every time, and Enkrid replied without thinking. "Ah, you''re here?" Now, it felt like a familiar routine. After countless training sessions, it was time for practical combat training. With the closeness that had developed from repeating today''s cycle, Enkrid raised his hand to greet the officer, who turned red, snorting in irritation. He thought Enkrid was mocking him. Of course, Enkrid was mocking him. "You bastard..." The officer started to say something but was silenced by a kick. Then Dunbakel showed the difference in strength to the guards. Squire Ropord along with Ragna and Dunbakel went to hold the wall, and Rem was sent to rescue Marcus while Jaxen met the assassins. "Thrust..." Before the words could end, Jaxen moved, responding with a leap to the side. Stealthily and quietly. Jaxen used magical artifacts to silence his presence, disappearing without a trace. Enkrid drew attention first, and then Jaxen took it again, confusing the assassins'' heads. As the assassins felt a greater threat from Jaxen, they began targeting him exclusively. Watching this repeatedly, it seemed like the assassins had intended to kill Jaxen from the start. Why? A sudden question rose. A few thoughts flashed through Enkrid''s mind. All the ideas passed quickly. Though suspicion arose from his instincts, it wasn''t something to examine right now. He rode on wierd-eyes, met Aishia, and repeated today once again. Avoiding Rem''s strike completely happened much sooner than expected. That''s if it wasn''t the real swing. It was just ninety-six times. Now, the concept of basics had truly settled in, so it was possible. The training with various weapons helped too. The more experience one gains, the more they learn about the weapons they originally handled. Of course, Rem snorted every time he saw this. "That stuff just happens on its own, but your body''s quite amazing." According to him, once the level rises, the body automatically learns, but he didn''t have that kind of ability. Was it like building a stone tower, one rock at a time? It was an apt metaphor. Without thoroughly mastering the basics, the body wouldn''t internalize them. For those who fill the lack of talent with effort, what''s most needed? Time. They were given that time through the curse. "More amazing than that is how it seems like a person changes overnight." Even Rem found this person surprising. Clearly lacking talent, reaching their limit, and standing on the edge, yet they walk in midair. Watching them walk like that, a path seems to appear beneath their feet. Enkrid, who had caught his axe, had advanced further. His skill development was extraordinary. No genius would change overnight. There would be signs, hints along the way. "Or was that sign already visible?" Rem scratched his head, thinking. Enkrid had already had a prepared body, skills, and training time. So was it that Enkrid had talent that exploded after building it up over time? "That doesn''t make sense." Having seen so many nonsensical things, he tried to let it go, but it was still amazing every time. But there was no point in questioning it. "Jaxen." After he had mostly caught Rem''s axe, Enkrid called for Jaxen. Only Jaxen showed the level of precision similar to the sword of Shinar. Rem and Ragna weren''t lacking in such elements. They both wield fine, precise swords. Once the level rises, anyone can learn. But everyone has their strengths. Jaxen''s precision was like that of the fairies, one of his key strengths. "Try shaking it." They repeated the training of meeting the sword tips while shaking them. At times, they fought Aishia. "You don''t have a lover waiting for you, do you? Then go later." She would always say that and turn away. "I have something to check." She would always say that before leaving. And then it was dark. Once again, today repeats. "Damn, what did you do?" Seeing Rem surprised in the new today. And Jaxen, whose eyes shone as he watched it, was called in for more training. Repeating today so often, with so many overlapping events, they counted the number of occurrences like an anchor. The occasional sculler laughed. Was it the laughter of someone full of expectation? That''s how it sounded and appeared to Enkrid. He heard it clearly. The laughter floated along the black river. The lamp''s light flickered with the sound of laughter. It didn''t matter if someone mocked him. It didn''t matter who it was, be it a sculler or anyone else. Since childhood, Enkrid had wielded his sword, ran, rolled, fought, and gotten back up amidst countless mockeries. Mockery was familiar. Such mental attacks never meant anything to Enkrid. Waking up, he repeated today once more. Training, honing. *** As the tips of their swords nearly collided, this was when Enkrid successfully blocked Aishia''s thrust with a blade guard, though not without effort. "...How?" Aishia was taken aback, her surprise clear. "I just did it," Enkrid replied, but this wasn''t a moment that could be explained away with mere luck. The thrill of the moment, a rush that ran through his entire body, brought a smile to his face. Seeing that, Aishia pulled her sword back and said, "Your face is a weapon too." She stepped back, readying her sword once again. "Try again." And so he did. They clashed blades once more. "Trying to be like Rem? How clumsy." Aishia said this suddenly, then began shaking her sword. What was this? This was a technique Enkrid hadn''t seen in their previous sparring. Her blade trembled, and soon, multiple points appeared before him, blocking his vision. To block them the way Rem would, he''d have to knock each one away individually. With enough repetition and training, he''d surely get the hang of it. But that wasn''t the path he had chosen. His resolve from the beginning had been different. ''The process is something I must build myself.'' By imitating Rem''s methods, he had gained all that he could from them. "Do you think they appeared so weak just because they broke my techniques?" Aishia''s voice carried no bitterness. Although Enkrid was surprised by her skill in blocking his strike, he realized she was merely copying what Rem had shown. She had likely hidden her own talent until now. If she hadn''t, how could she have honed both her swordsmanship and her physical techniques so well? Regardless, she was a member of the knights, having risen above the rank of a knight-squire. Such challenges were not new to her; they were familiar. "If you thought you were stuck because of that, you''d better rethink it," she said, lowering her blade, causing the multiple points to vanish. Instead, she began making rhythmic jumps, tapping her feet on the ground. Her orange hair swayed in time with the movement. Clearly, her weapons weren''t limited to just her sword. "Let''s go again." She said, ready to continue. "Of course," Enkrid nodded. Their brief exchange ended as silvery sparks and fiery streaks filled the air, blades flashing as they clashed. Aishia''s rapier, glowing blue, thrust and slashed, sometimes bending as it struck from unexpected angles. Blocking or countering this with no injuries was still a challenge, but now he could continue fighting for as long as the day lasted. There was, however, a clear limit to this time. The fight would end not when midnight came, but when the sun dipped below the horizon. Then, the cycle would repeat again. Having experienced this many times, Enkrid understood this well. Thus, he knew he had to make the most of every given moment. "Whew, you''ve gotten so much better all of a sudden," Aishia remarked, catching her breath. Enkrid laughed and answered, "It''s fun." "You crazy bastard," she chuckled, amused by his response. Aishia, too, had fought recklessly and risked her life, feeling exhilaration in the process. "See you again," she said as the sun began to set, signaling the end of the day. Once more, the cycle was broken. Having been blocked once again, it was a day that couldn''t be surpassed. As Enkrid opened his eyes once more, he decided to try imitating Jaxen''s methods. "Next," he murmured to himself, as though it were second nature. "What''s next?" Andrew asked as he stretched and loosened his body with the technique of Isolation. "There''s something," Enkrid replied vaguely, then began copying Jaxen''s style. The key to breaking through Jaxen''s swordpoint stance, Enkrid realized, was to strike before it even began. But to do that, what was needed? "It''s all about prediction. You need to sense your opponent''s reaction just before the strike." "How?" "Feel the tremor in their eyelashes, the tension in the muscles hidden beneath their clothes." Easy enough to say, but in practice? "Why do you look for those things?" "Forget it." "You looked almost savage just now, didn''t you?" "What are you talking about? You little stray cat, that''s not something I want to hear." Rem interjected, adding, "It was like a look you''d get when mixing rotten fish and eggs." Jaxen ignored them, speaking directly to Enkrid as a throwing axe whizzed through the air. With a whoosh, the axe came at him, and Enkrid twisted his sword into position to deflect it. The force and timing were perfect, sending the axe flying in a vertical arc with a resounding clang. A quick exchange of blows, with skills woven into each strike. Jaxen continued, "A moment ago, you let out a breath faster than usual. I knew something was coming." Had he used that breath to predict Enkrid''s move? It seemed that Jaxen''s keen instincts, honed through countless experiences, had allowed him to sense that moment. Enkrid watched the sparring without comment, noting Jaxen''s quickness. Just as he had said, Enkrid realized that beyond just evading, he needed to adjust his instincts, including his ability to predict his opponent''s attacks. This was a new level of training for him. "Damn, this is really fun," Enkrid muttered to himself, his excitement growing. Jaxen, seeing his enthusiasm, shook his head. To him, Enkrid''s joy in endless repetition and intense combat was incomprehensible. But to Enkrid, this was all part of the process¡ªthe repetition of today was just another way to sharpen his skills and grow. Each swing of the sword, each fight, was his way of measuring progress and enjoyment. After copying Jaxen''s technique and even trying out Ragna''s method, he began to fight in a completely different manner. This time, his sword grazed Aishia''s neck. It wasn''t a direct strike, but a swift horizontal cut made after blocking her attack with his silver sword and drawing his Gladius. The sound of it ripping through the air was followed by a soft tearing of flesh as a few drops of blood appeared. Enkrid knew the opportunity was there. If he pressed forward, Aishia would be struck, but he also knew he would have been wounded as well. The choice was clear, but his instincts held him back. ''It landed.'' But he hadn''t killed her. He could have, but the moment passed. With a clash of swords, they swapped places. Aishia now stood where Enkrid had been, and he stood in her place. Blood dripped from his arm. "If you see an opening, you take it," Aishia said, as if it were common knowledge. Enkrid didn''t reply. She put her sword away. "Let''s end it here. I''ll check on one more thing, then I''ll send you off. I''m sure your reason for being here is meaningless anyway." Enkrid remained silent, watching her leave. She walked past him, unguarded and without a sword, as the day ended. Sitting there, he let time pass by. The day had come to its inevitable end¡ªjust like all the days before it. As he opened his eyes, the purple glow of the lamp appeared. The boatman spoke. "That''s the wall." His tone was unexpectedly kind. "Didn''t I tell you it would be fun?" Enkrid didn''t find it fun at all. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for all your support! For more Chapters check out ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 380 - I Don’t Want To Chapter 380 - 380 - I Don''t Want To Chapter 380 - I Don''t Want To The boatman continued. "You have to kill her with your own hands for it to end." This meant that the wall wouldn''t be over unless Aishia was killed. "Really?" Enkrid unconsciously asked back. "I gave you the clue from the start." At the captain''s words, Enkrid briefly closed his eyes and fell into thought. ''What happened to Eishia beyond the hallway?'' She must have died. Probably. It''s a guess, but a feeling close to certainty. If that''s the case, then Aishia''s death itself might have triggered the repetition of today? Enkrid recalled the death of Aishia from the first "today." "That''s right." The boatman answered as if reading his mind. Enkrid instinctively felt that there was not a single lie in the boatman''s words. From the start, the boatman had never misled him with lies. He had said everything correctly. It was just that Enkrid hadn''t listened to it straightforwardly. "Kill her. Then you will pass." With those words, his vision became blurry. Through the fading sight, the captain''s voice echoed once more. "Enjoy this too." It was a voice filled with anticipation. Enkrid opened his eyes. It was a new today. "Should I kill her?" That''s what the boatman had said the wall was about¡ªovercoming it by killing her. It was dawn before the break of day. Enkrid moved as usual. He went outside to move his body. The technique of isolation. While doing so, his thoughts wandered. When the body moves, the mind often works better. "Should I kill her?" The same question lingered in his mind. Enkrid couldn''t focus. Even though he realized it himself, he couldn''t do anything about it. "Why?" He asked himself the reason. The answer seemed close, yet elusive. The time spent pondering grew long. Andrew came and said something, but Enkrid responded briefly and continued his monotonous movements. He started today with distractions clouding his mind. "You bastard!" He met the constable, and once again repeated what he had done countless times in previous "todays." "Kill her and you''ll pass." The answer was clear. The solution was simple. He had killed many with his own hands before. In an era of chaos, murder could hardly be called a crime. Aishia stood in his way. She was a junior knight. She must have known that facing someone could lead to death. She was likely prepared for that. So, he should just kill her. "Kill her. Then you will pass." The voice echoed in his head again. As he faced Eishia, the same opportunity didn''t come again. Too many distractions clouded his mind. He couldn''t overpower her with skill alone. "You''re losing steam. If you don''t want to fight, go back." Someone with junior knight status would likely use fragments of Will. It was part of their willpower. Those with complicated minds often wielded chaotic swords. Aishia pointed that out. "I don''t want that." She immediately responded to the jab and drew her sword again. She used technique to defend and reflexively swung her sword. And so, one today passed. Today, Enkrid couldn''t kill Aishia, but Aishia also couldn''t kill Enkrid. It felt like a meaningless day. The guilt that came from wasting time. Those things filled his chest. For once, it wasn''t a day of struggles and flailing, but one where he surrendered to familiarity. Then someone seemed to hit him on the back of the head. No, they actually did hit him. Bang! "...What is this? I think an explanation is necessary." Enkrid asked while still in the position from the hit, his neck bent forward. "Looks like a curse was planted in your head. Such curses are my palm''s specialty and divinity." Rem spoke as he held his palm upward. Sunlight shone on his hand. "Blessed be the divinity that rests in my palm." He was acting like a madman doing something crazy. "...Why does he even keep on living?" Jaxen spoke rarely. "Come at me if you want to die." Ragna personally let Rem know that he would gladly kill him. "Shut up if you don''t know anything." Rem retorted. Enkrid had a thought upon seeing this. Would it be easier if they just told him to kill Rem instead of Aishia? Of course, Rem wouldn''t just let himself be killed. In fact, if they asked him to kill Rem, he wouldn''t even consider it... A bolt of lightning struck his mind. The shock of the blow rattled his skull and brain. "A curse?" That was the one word he muttered. "Stop with your useless thoughts." Rem made a gesture, poking at his own head with his index finger. "Is there any need to complicate things?" "Ah." A sigh escaped him. Why had he felt guilty about wasting the day? Why couldn''t he spend today to the fullest? It was like his arms and legs were shackled. Those shackles had begun with the boatman''s words. "Kill her, and you''ll pass." He hadn''t liked that statement. His heart wouldn''t move. He knew he had to kill her, but he didn''t want to. He didn''t want to do it, so his heart wouldn''t move. This wall wasn''t something to be overcome by killing Eishia. He decided that. With that thought, Enkrid opened his mouth with sincerity and resolve. "I don''t want to." It was just four words. They didn''t even need to be said. But there was truth in those words. If words can have strength, it was because they came from someone who had shown action. Enkrid''s day, everything he had experienced, had now lent power to his words. So there was a resonance. It resonated. The words, spoken with a unified heart, spread beyond his chest to the hearts of those around him. Rem scratched his head with the finger that had been tapping his head and said. "Then just keep going." What could anyone say to stop him after he said it with that much conviction? There is no perfect person in the world. Even a leader must have moments like that. "Yeah. I don''t want to." Enkrid said, smiling widely. "I understand." "I don''t want to." He smiled brightly and made eye contact. "Ah, fine. I get it." "No." "No?, I said I understand?" "No." "I get it, I was wrong. I''ll let it go." Rem gave Enkrid a tap on the back of his head. Enkrid looked at it and said. "No." "Damn!" And then he laughed. It wasn''t directed at him. It didn''t matter. Whether today repeats or not, who cares about Rem''s misunderstanding? He''s someone who''ll forget it soon enough. Again, today repeats. He endured, just as before. This time, there was a chance to kill Aishia, but he let her go. The boatman appeared in the dream again. He spoke. "You must be talking to me." Enkrid nodded. "Then you''ll be trapped in today. Is that what you want? To give up your dream just to save one person, just because fate brought you together?" The boatman spoke of dreams. His words were sharp, like a blade. A strike aimed at the heart. But Enkrid''s heart was shielded by the Frog''s heart armor, so the blade was stopped. "You should just subdue them completely and leave." "What?" Enkrid''s dream was that of a knight. A knight with outdated ideals. What he had learned about knights were through poems and songs. That was his standard. His virtue. His belief. The vow to protect the weak and his companions. Hadn''t he told the Marquis as well? "I''ve come to reduce the number of monsters and beasts. I''ve come to protect those who cherish their people. I''ve come to punish those who oppress others with force. I''ve come to protect the weak and preserve the dreams of those with hope." Aishia had her reasons. He had faintly sensed it through the countless repetitions of today. "I''ll subdue her without killing." "Do you think that''s possible?" What couldn''t be done? Enkrid spoke with his eyes, and the boatman didn''t say anything further. Again, he closed his eyes and opened them. It was the same today, but his mindset had changed. It would be more accurate to say he had a new goal. He wasn''t going to kill Aishia; he was going to subdue her. That''s what he decided. Killing was something he didn''t want to do. That crazy bastard. The boatman''s echo could be heard again, but this time, he ignored it. Thus, he faced another day that began as a constable and ended with Aishia. And so, two hundred forty repetitions of today passed. "What?" Aishia reacted to the words just spoken. "Why are you blocking my way? That''s what I''m asking." From the start, there was a sense of wrongness. Was Aishia here because she wanted to be? ''Half and half.'' If she truly turned against him, he could just watch as she killed him. But she didn''t. She blocked his way again. She said she didn''t need to kill him, yet she risked her own life to do so. Before dying, she even spoke of her younger sibling. He remembered that. More than anything, he felt it as they exchanged swords. What he saw, heard, and judged while repeating today. Enkrid mixed everything together in his mind. The process of unraveling the tangled thoughts and organizing them continued silently. As Krais always said, in the realms of intuition and instinct, Enkrid had an innate gift. "Was your younger sibling taken hostage?" Aisha''s hand twitched. He knew this well after facing a knight like her, someone he had fought before. She wasn''t someone who could be shaken by a few words or provocations. Yet her response was unusual. Her younger sibling must hold significant meaning for her. Before he could finish speaking, a murderous intent similar to what Aisha had previously shown flowed from her body. It was denser and stronger than before. Her pressure was palpable, and it gave off a heavy feeling. Naturally, Enkrid''s Will, rejecting that pressure, was triggered. He stood tall, shaking off the pressure, and stared at her. Aisha''s aura waned a bit, though her intensity remained. No longer was it the intent to kill but the fighting spirit to clash. "Yeah, I guess you weren''t the kind of guy who would get mixed up with those kinds of people. How did you figure it out?" "Instinct." "...I see, at least your head works well." Aishia remembered how, while staying at Andrew''s mansion, she had spoken of her younger sibling herself. That was the basis for his deduction. Of course, because today had repeated, he had learned this relatively easily. Aishia couldn''t have known this. "Half of it is that." Aishia continued, and Enkrid, too, didn''t think her being here was solely because of a hostage. She likely had other choices. But what was her reason for blocking his way? "What''s the other half?" Aishia hesitated, taking a few moments to think. Then, she exhaled and spoke. "If you don''t want to die, leave. That''s all I have to say." It was said with a restrained, stiff tone, pushing aside any lively energy. "Why? If I don''t leave, will I just die?" It was another guess, and once again, he was right. "Did you learn telepathy or something? That''d be troublesome." "That''s not it." It was simply because he knew, through repeating today, that behind Aisha stood someone who could sever her connection. Her skill? It was likely at the level of Rem or Ragna. If not, despite being exhausted, Aishia wouldn''t have been able to be captured so easily. That was probably the reason she kept dying. His task now was to reach that point. Enkrid tightened his grip on his sword. Aishia''s gaze faltered for a moment as she noticed this. "Just leave. Half of it is a plea." Half again? Enkrid thought and stared directly at her, asking. "the other half?" "It''s a threat." Enkrid nodded. "I respect your judgment, Aishia, the junior-knight." He meant it. It was always sincere, a genuine sentiment. Because he respected her decision, he respected it fully. But Enkrid decided to push beyond that. "Even if I let you go, you''ll still die." Aishia''s pressure intensified, but Enkrid didn''t listen. Instead, he took a deep breath, adjusted his sword belt, and changed his stance, committing every detail of his surroundings to memory. He had repeated today over three hundred times. Most of the time, he could remember the location of everything just by glancing at it. The ornamental sword hanging nearby, the position of the window, the vase¡ªhe remembered everything. "You can''t stop me." Enkrid, fully poised, declared. Even if it wasn''t today, on another iteration of today, he would overcome this. Aishia''s memory only contained the image of Enkrid, whose sword tip he couldn''t surpass. "Prove it." A smile appeared on her face before she even realized it. The confidence he exuded, the unwavering stance, was captivating. Becoming a junior-knight meant living with that kind of determination. More than anything, Enkrid ignited a fervor in everyone around him. Naturally, it had an impact on Aishia as well. She didn''t want him to die, so she wouldn''t send him off. And she wouldn''t kill him. She extended her sword, aiming it directly at him. The sword tip. If she couldn''t surpass it, the battle couldn''t even begin. Aisha unconsciously felt a sense of anticipation. Perhaps, for the first time, she thought, ''Maybe he''ll surpass my skills?'' His aura was so full of confidence, could it be that she felt that certainty? During their sparring, she had seen glimpses of it, but why was she feeling it so strongly now? She didn''t know. It was simply her intuition as a junior-knight. She focused more than ever, gathering her Will, and abandoned the pressure of retreat, focusing solely on her sword''s tip. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for all your support! For more Chapters check out ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 381 - Too Excited to Think Straight Chapter 381 - 381 - Too Excited to Think Straight Chapter 381 - Too Excited to Think Straight Enkrid stared at the tip of the sword that Aishia extended toward him. It was the same as before. Aishia''s body seemed to fade away, leaving only the blade, with the tip blocking his vision. The distance between them disappeared. Aishia was no longer visible. Soon, the tip of the sword began to tremble. Is it starting already? Why? Is it because of what I said? It sounded as though she was challenging him to prove himself. The deepened breath, the wall he had to surpass without killing, the words of the boatman, the trembling tip of the sword. The trembling point split. It appeared as several. He imagined cutting through each one. The one cutting them was always different. He became Rem, then Ragna, then Jaxen. As he faced the sword''s tip, he could clearly feel the traits of those he had mimicked. It was only natural, as he had learned and practiced their methods. Rem''s way was to blend in and play. Jaxen would clear the board before it even started, only engaging when the stage was set. Ragna''s method was to overwhelm the will his opponent showed with his own. Enkrid repeated each one. He had repeated it over three hundred times today. They all seemed different, yet the same. What allowed Rem and Ragna to do it? It''s the sense. They could do it because they had a delicate and precise sense. It might have been something like Jaxen''s five senses, or something that only manifested when Ragna held a sword, but the conclusion was the same. Enkrid had nurtured that precise sense. It all came back to the beginning. "What the hell?" Aishia spoke. Her voice echoed in his ears. The points disappeared from Enkrid''s sight, and everything blurred as if it was fading. Naturally, that was because he had closed his eyes. Darkness enveloped him. Soon, he felt everything through sound, touch, and instinct as he swung his sword. With a diagonal strike, he pivoted on his left foot and transferred the power of his body''s rotation into the swing of his waist. The blade felt as though it dropped abruptly in the air. "Think you can do that?!" Aishia shouted, pulling her sword and taking a defensive stance. It was a simple diagonal slash, but it couldn''t block the tip. For those who couldn''t see, the tip of the sword had no meaning. In an instant, Enkrid''s sword accelerated as if it was stretching. Boom! To deflect the attack, one had to pinpoint the exact strike, but the change in speed made that difficult. Enkrid had introduced that change, but Aishia swiftly twisted her wrist and flicked the sword away. If she couldn''t block even that, the name of a junior-knight and the Red Cloak Knights would have been wasted. Enkrid drew the deflected sword back with force and brought it down again. Whoosh! Aishia stepped back. When Enkrid opened his eyes, Aishia once again aimed the tip of her sword and took her stance. "Don''t want to admit it''s broken?" Enkrid asked, still in the position where he had swung his sword downward. "Try again." Aishia said. He didn''t need to close his eyes. Enkrid purposely blurred his focus. If only a blurry image remained, it would disrupt his concentration. The sword''s tip was a technique that used the opponent''s focus against them. That was all that was needed. A lack of vision could easily be compensated by other senses. Boom! Enkrid twisted his wrist from the downward position and swung upward. The sword shot up like lightning. Aishia couldn''t ignore it and had to block it. She raised her sword horizontally and, as she leaped back, she absorbed the raw strength of Enkrid''s reckless might. The blades collided and separated. Sparks flew between them with a crack. Even though she deflected it, the force still impacted her body. Aishia knew very well she couldn''t defeat him with strength alone. Enkrid''s half-closed eyes regained their focus. "One more time?" He asked. "... What are you?" Aishia couldn''t understand what was happening. The first time could have been written off as a fluke, but twice? Truth be told, she had thought it was nothing but luck. Enkrid had shattered the sword''s tip focus. But how was this possible? During their previous training, he struggled just to handle the basics of it. His technique wasn''t perfect, and he had little experience against this kind of swordplay. Yet, this was different. It felt as though he had trained to aim specifically at her sword hundreds of times. It felt like an attack precisely tailored to hit. That thought created a crack in Aishia''s mind. My concentration is slipping. The moment she realized it, Aishia steadied her mind. She regulated her breath. If the mind is disrupted, the momentum falters. That''s why Aishia ignored it. No, she expanded her mind to understand the situation better. "Alright. So this is the so-called ridiculous talent that Luagarne mentioned?" "Just lucky." A typical excuse. It sounded like a provocation, and one corner of Aishia''s lips curled up. "You hear people say you''re annoying, don''t you?" "Sometimes?" "Yeah. You''re annoying." "Thanks for the compliment." He couldn''t be beaten with words. Among the knights, it was rare to find one who could talk like this. Aishia wielded her sword as her words, replacing the use of her tongue. Because she had more than just the sword''s tip to rely on. Even though the technique was broken, proficiency doesn''t improve instantly. That was a truth. But before even ten repetitions had passed, Aishia''s common sense had been shaken, and cracks had appeared. The completeness of Enkrid''s technique was evident. What had once been a rough swordsmanship had become more delicate. For example, the openings when he swept and immediately followed up had lessened. Previously, he would over-extend his wrist, giving his opponent time to react, but now that wasn''t the case. From the angle at which his wrist bent to the force used to push the sword away, everything was precise. It was clear he had improved his finesse. "That''s impossible." Was it a talent that made you shake your head in disbelief? At this point, it was a level of skill surpassing even the senior members of the Order. Aishia had to quickly move her feet to avoid the sword that bent like a snake as it followed her thrust. Her reactions had become faster, and her timing felt better. It wasn''t just about breaking the tip of the sword. How? Had she spent months swinging a sword under a good teacher''s guidance? A series of surprises continued, but Aishia steeled herself once again. "What is Will?" It''s heart, belief, and resolve. How could someone who''s broken inside possibly win in reality? Based on her master''s teachings, she gathered herself and focused. That was what Aishia did. These words also applied to Enkrid''s current situation. By declaring that he didn''t want to kill Aishia, he had gathered his own will. Aishia was managing that in real time. Indeed, the mindset of a knight was different. "Ha!" With the shout, she cleared her mind of distractions. Using her right foot as the axis, she rotated and thrust her sword with all her might. The third technique of Will, following pressure and switching grips. A high-speed thrust. This technique was similar to Enkrid''s momentary Will. It was one of the basics of the knight''s training. Speed was always the truth. Thud! Enkrid received the thrust with the blade of his gladius. He used his momentary Will in the same way. This too. When they had sparred before, even when he used Will, he would do it in distinct steps. The segments were clear. When using his momentary Will, prior preparation was necessary. It was very apparent. But now, it was different. "You blocked that?" "If you think it''s luck, then keep trying." Both of them laughed at the same time. Enkrid spoke as he slashed with his sword, while Aisia pretended to block horizontally before dodging with a swift motion. As the sword lost its path during the downward strike, it was followed by another high-speed thrust. Enkrid twisted his body. The tip of his sword narrowly grazed her cheek. Her skin tore open, and droplets of blood splattered. They continued to spar, with Enkrid surpassing Aishia''s point but failing to fully dominate her. To be precise, it ended in a draw. Had they been trying to kill each other, one of them would have died, but neither had that intention. So, they ended the fight, exhausted and wounded. Enkrid had been stabbed in his left upper arm and could no longer raise his arm. Aishia had a large gash on her calf, which impaired her mobility. After stepping back a few paces and pausing, Aishia asked, "What are you, really?" She asked again, her disbelief showing clearly. "No, seriously, why are you smiling?" Enkrid, smiling broadly, stood there in front of her. Aishia found it completely absurd. There''s a limit to enjoying a fight. The fact that he was smiling in this situation meant something was wrong with him. Soon, the sun began to set. The light from outside faded as the evening glow crept in. Aishia furrowed her brow. Even now, Enkrid was still smiling. Has he lost his mind from the fight? It was possible. Looking at Aishia, Enkrid spoke. "I''m so excited, I feel like I''m going to die." "What?" What was he saying? It seemed as though his eyes were filled with the fading sunlight. His gaze held the kind of passion and enthusiasm that formed a light. Then, he spoke again. "I''m so glad there''s more to climb. I''m going crazy with joy." It was pure joy, with no impurities. Enkrid had added precision to his instincts for evasion and attack. Despite the techniques he''d mastered, he still couldn''t completely overpower Aishia. That was why. There was still room to improve, to train, and a road ahead of him. He could see it and touch it with his fingertips. That made him genuinely happy. "You crazy bastard." Aishia, too, collected herself and labeled him. It was a familiar phrase. "That''s not a wall." The ferryman appeared in his dream. He seemed to be more idle than usual. He couldn''t even respond. After all, it was a dream. It was more like a fleeting afterimage. However, it was a vivid afterimage that stayed in his memory. No matter what, it seemed like he had to follow the ferryman''s words. "Kill her." Someone gave an order, and it felt like he had no choice but to follow it. Enkrid cheerfully ignored it. "It''s such a good morning." Speaking to himself before dawn, Enkrid left. Rem, who had just woken up, squinted and tilted his head at Enkrid''s back. "Why the hell are you so crazy first thing in the morning?" The strange atmosphere from the night before still hung in the air. What could possibly be so great? There was meaning behind Rem''s words, but Enkrid paid no mind. He then continued to train his body using the Isolation technique. His thoughts naturally aligned and reached their conclusion. It was about the wall. A wall is a condition. If the condition is to kill the thrusting pervert, then that''s the wall. Sometimes, the condition was just to survive. Sometimes, the condition was simply to parry a knight''s sword. In all of today, was there only one path? No. So, this time, it was the same. No matter what the ferryman said, Enkrid did what he always did. He did what he wanted to do. A while later, Esther transformed into her human form and said she was going out. Enkrid, seeing this, said, "Bring back a melon." Melons were a rare fruit from the southern regions. They were hard to find in this part of the continent. "Your condition seems to be getting worse every day." Esther spoke indifferently, moving without much thought. She had concluded that understanding this man was impossible. "Why are you so excited? Do you feel like flying?" It wasn''t like they hadn''t seen each other for just a day or two. Rem could clearly see that Enkrid was more excited than usual. Jaxen had also noticed and gave him a strange look. Dunbakel seemed to be lost in thought, and Ragna, well, he was never one to care about such things. It was natural for Enkrid to be excited. That was to be expected. There had been some heavy burdens on his heart, but they had vanished. It was like taking off a weighted vest and suddenly feeling light. He could also see the path ahead, and it was thrilling to walk it. "Oh, just thinking about knocking someone out is making my heart race." Enkrid said. Naturally, Rem couldn''t understand him, but didn''t bother questioning it. Soon, the constable appeared, and as Enkrid knocked him out with a blow, Rem asked, "Were you planning on knocking this guy out?" Did he know the constable was coming? That was the meaning behind Rem''s question. Enkrid laughed. "No." The person he planned to knock out was the orange-haired female knight. ------------------------------------------------------------------- To get more Chapters and support my work head over to my ko-fi! Ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you! Chapter 382 - The Path Ahead Chapter 382 - 382 - The Path Ahead Chapter 382 - The Path Ahead Now that he had a goal, it was simply a matter of striving and striving again until he achieved it. That was what Enkrid did. The path was already visible; his hand could almost touch it. All he needed was to elevate everything he had to the next level. Walking the path laid out before him was both his talent and his specialty. What was required now was precision, detail, and delicacy. "I''ve already learned it." Then all that remained was repetition. For Enkrid, nothing came easier. What he needed was time¡ªa repetition of today. That, too, he pursued relentlessly. Enkrid devoted himself to the present day, and the next, without fail. "Do you think you can manage that?" The Ferryman''s voice interjected, urging him to learn despair, to embrace defeat. It told him he should tremble in anguish, that it was the natural order. Such thoughts wormed their way into his mind. "What if I''m wrong?" What if this was the wrong path? It didn''t matter. If he climbed this wall only to face another, he would climb that as well. For now, he would walk the path carved by his will. Walls may be conditions, but it was he who set the terms. He had decided not to kill but to subdue. If something stood in the way of even that, he would overcome it too. This was his resolve, but also a straightforward mindset. The Ferryman, sensing this determination within Enkrid''s mental world, would have clicked its tongue in disbelief had it possessed one. But lacking a physical tongue, it merely muttered under its breath. "That crazy bastard again." The Ferryman realized that the conditions of the wall had shifted. The change stemmed from the will of the one cursed, absurd as it seemed. But it wasn''t impossible or unprecedented¡ªjust exceedingly rare. Typically, when people recognized the conditions of the wall, they sought the easiest path. Not Enkrid. "The hard road." He chose the harsher, more demanding path. Holding his ground against and overpowering the knight with the orange hair was already a formidable challenge. Yet Enkrid aimed to achieve it in a short time. He instinctively knew that merely holding his ground wouldn''t suffice to make it through today. "Madness, but madness with bite." The Ferryman mumbled again. No reply came. As always, it drifted alone on the river. Enkrid didn''t believe overcoming the wall he faced was impossible. He had fought Aishia countless times, so her habits had become second nature to him. Sure, it would be easier if it were a life-or-death battle, but he had chosen this path precisely because he didn''t want that. They say chasing two hares will leave you with none, but what if you could catch both? "Must I only catch one?" He had the repetition of today. If so, he would set the conditions to pursue both. "I won''t kill Aishia, and I''ll surpass this wall." He would subdue her swiftly and move forward, finding his place¡ªone that would lead him to Krang. Enkrid decided to make that his standard. And what of what came after? That wasn''t his concern. If the wall before him now turned out to be just another obstacle, he would overcome that too. It wasn''t as though he hadn''t faced consecutive walls before. Yet a strange feeling lingered. The man appeared only under certain conditions. He didn''t seem like a wall directly in Enkrid''s way. Even the fact that Aishia confronted him first reinforced that impression. If it were Enkrid''s wall, it would have stood before him. "Rem." Thus began another new day¡ªa day he had resolved to push forward. The moment he woke, Enkrid called for Rem. "...The sun hasn''t even risen yet." Rem responded groggily, eyes still closed. "Come out, you barbarian bastard. I''ll empty the filth from your skull." The tone was so calm it could hardly be called a taunt, but Rem still reacted. The barbarian''s eyes opened. Gray pupils pierced Enkrid, cutting through the pale blue light of dawn. "Fine. It''s a good day to carve a tombstone today." This was a signal of sorts¡ªEnkrid''s invitation to a duel with a half-stake of their lives. Rem accepted it. "What should we inscribe on it?" He asked while grabbing his axe. "The trailblazer who split open a barbarian''s skull." "You really want to die today, huh?" Rem sounded half-serious. "Underestimate me, and you''ll be the one who dies." Enkrid warned. Rem didn''t know the results of Enkrid''s accumulated efforts. He would likely lower his guard. The same applied to Aishia. Thus, "If you can''t stop me, Aishia won''t either." As Enkrid stepped outside and assumed his stance, gauging the distance, Andrew emerged, rubbing his eyes. He froze in shock. Clang! The sound rang out, cutting through the dawn mist. Enkrid, wielding his longsword with the precision of his Will, clashed against Rem''s axe in mid-swing. The two froze like a painting, weapons locked, breath mingling in the cold air to form what looked like blue smoke. Their auras were more menacing than usual, brimming with intensity. "Dammit, did you have a nice dream?" Rem asked, still pressing against Enkrid''s sword. "I dreamt the same as always." Dreaming of death wasn''t pleasant, but there had been no wasted days. Each one held value. Seeing this newfound zeal, Rem finally responded in kind. "Fine. Let''s die together." Enkrid had already been doing so¡ªdying halfway and learning. He had fought Aishia repeatedly. He had walked forward, step by step, building upon dozens of such days. The sparring session with Rem ended at a reasonable point. Enkrid had extracted all he could. "Sometimes you''re so strange it''s unsettling." At last, Rem spoke, his gaze tinged with something resembling wonder. It wasn''t astonishment, but something close. This sentiment was shared by Ragna and Jaxen. Even Dunbakel had opened her eyes in recognition. Before her departure, Esther had reacted similarly. Enkrid wiped sweat from his brow, brushing back his hair. He was ready. The repetition of countless identical days had brought him to Aishia''s side. He could now reach her even with his eyes closed. Indeed, with his eyes closed, he confronted yet another shouting drill instructor, knocking them down. "Dammit! Why are you fighting with your eyes shut?!" Ignoring their dying cries, Enkrid created an opening in their neck and told the maid to hide. Then, with steady strides, he advanced toward Aishia, nearly running. "What''s behind you?" Enkrid faced her directly and asked. "What?" "I''m asking, who''s behind you?" At Enkrid''s question, Aishia furrowed her brows. "Do you even know what you''re saying?" "I''m asking because I don''t know." "...Then why are you so confident?" "It''s a habit." "Are you insane?" "I get called that often." "Either way, I can''t let you go. It would be a pointless death." "It won''t be." "Prove it." The conversation felt strangely familiar. Aishia raised her sword and aimed it at him. Enkrid, with his eyes closed, deflected it. Clang! "What the hell?" "We don''t need to do it again, but you''ll still doubt me, won''t you? Try again." Aishia frowned but did as he said. She leveled her sword again. Clang! Once more, he parried it effortlessly, swinging his sword as if his eyes were open. When she realized her stance was being ignored entirely, she demanded: "What are you trying to pull here?" "Just attack already." There was no need for more words. Aishia''s strengths were evident. Her specialty? Subtlety. At first glance, it was hard to discern her skills. She concealed herself well¡ªapt for someone specializing in the Phantom Blade. She excelled in deceptive thrusts, quick swordplay, and swift footwork, occasionally using fine-tuned pressure to disrupt her opponent''s movements. But her weakness? Lack of physical strength. Hence, the method to counter her was simple: Push her relentlessly with a straight sword, then overpower her with a heavy one. Clang!Clang! Enkrid wielded his gladius in one hand, delivering sharp and concise strikes. Aishia blocked repeatedly. He steadily backed her into a corner, exploiting her weaknesses in every exchange. "Hey!" Aishia let out a sharp cry, pivoting her feet and leaping to the side. With a swift kick against the ground, she vaulted off the wall and slashed at him. Quick movements, a light frame¡ªthis was her edge. But this maneuver wasn''t entirely unexpected. Enkrid had pressed her enough times to provoke this response. As she dashed across the wall, moving parallel to the ground, her actions became clear: She was shifting the dimensions of the battlefield, breaking free from the straight sword''s range and evading the heavy sword''s pressure zone. Her nimble body and extraordinary balance let her run along the wall with ease. But what if I go beyond her expectations? Having fought her multiple times, Enkrid knew the limits of Aishia''s predictive range. This knowledge, gained through repeated encounters, gave him the edge. Time to surpass it. As she dashed across the wall, Enkrid extended his gladius into her trajectory and released it. Ping! The sword clattered to the ground as he surged forward, slipping under her tilted body as she darted along the wall. His movements were low and swift. Rip! The carpet beneath him shredded as he lunged. Aishia, unable to pull back her sword in time, reached for the dagger concealed in her chest. With her left hand, she brandished a blade the length of her palm and thrust it at him. Her speed was formidable, but Enkrid had anticipated this move. He bet everything on this exchange. If successful, he''d subdue her instantly. If not, he''d repeat the encounter¡ªthis was their seventh bout. Time seemed to slow as her dagger''s trajectory became clear to him. Moving as if wading through thick mud, Enkrid crossed his hands and extended them. Using the Valah martial art of disarming, he clamped Aishia''s wrist between his crossed arms, redirecting her strike. He deliberately guided the blade toward his own torso. The leather outer layer of his armor absorbed the initial impact, but the bandaged under-armor stopped the blade entirely. Taking advantage of her misstep, he twisted her wrist downward and outward. Crack! "Urgh!" Aishia groaned as her wrist was wrenched painfully. With his left hand gripping her wrist, Enkrid used his right hand to strike her throat with a quick thrust of his thumb and index finger. By the time her dagger reached his abdomen, his counterattack was already in motion. Thwack! The sound of the strike echoed. "Gah!" Aishia let out a second groan, this time from the shock of the impact. Enkrid stepped forward, hooking her heel with his foot while grabbing her hair. With one swift motion, he slammed her head against a nearby shield decoration. Crash! Blood spurted from her nose and face, leaving her a battered mess. And it wasn''t over yet. He threw her to the ground and, with his weight behind it, drove his elbow into her torso. Thud! Crack! A few ribs gave way under the force. Her internal organs likely suffered damage as well. Huff. Only then did Enkrid exhale, rolling to the side as he rose. Aishia had already passed out, her face unrecognizable. Still, with healing magic, she''d recover fully. There was no time to go easy on her. Enkrid took a brief moment to steady his breathing. If he''d let his guard down for even a second, she would''ve escaped his grasp. His response wasn''t excessive¡ªit was measured. After leaving Aishia in a crumpled heap, Enkrid picked up his fallen sword and marched forward, heading deeper inside. He soon heard a commotion and broke into a run, his heart pounding alongside his rapid footsteps. The thrill of the Heart of the Beast surged through him, filling him with boldness and calm. But the anticipation of what lay ahead kept his pulse racing. Following the noise, he reached a half-destroyed door, where several figures were trying to enter. One of them turned to face him. "Do you know where you are?" The man''s sharp gaze locked onto Enkrid. His skill level? Uncertain. But the emblem on his armor was unmistakable¡ªa sword and sunburst, the kingdom''s symbol. This was the mark of the Red Cloak Order. Still, Enkrid didn''t stop running. Instead, he tightened his grip on his sword. "Is he insane?" The knight raised his sword, thrusting it forward. ------------------------------------------------------------------- To get more Chapters and support my work head over to my ko-fi! Ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you! Chapter 383 - Subduing Through Dominance Chapter 383 - 383 - Subduing Through Dominance Chapter 383 - Subduing Through Dominance Enkrid wasn''t aware of it, but the Red Cloak Knights differentiated their ranks with distinct emblems. For example, knights bore the royal crest: three crossed swords and the Sun Beast, a mythical creature with a round head and flaming mane. Junior knights removed one sword from the emblem. Squires, on the other hand, displayed only a single sword, which evolved in design based on their tests and missions. The opponent Enkrid faced bore the emblem of a sword alongside the Sun Beast¡ªa mark of squires recognized for their skill and only a few tests away from becoming junior knights. The squire''s sword was swift and precise, striking like an eagle snatching prey. Enkrid, however, didn''t bother analyzing the squire''s techniques or habits. Instead, he twisted his blade the moment their swords met. Ting! The squire''s expression shifted drastically. The force behind Enkrid''s blade felt overwhelming, like that of a giant. It was no surprise; Enkrid''s sword carried the might of the Heart of the Beast. Clang! Crack! As the blades clashed, the squire''s sword was flung upward, while Enkrid''s continued its deliberate trajectory¡ªa straight thrust forward. Its target: the armor over the squire''s chest. Thunk. Crack. Squelch. Three distinct sounds merged into one as the tip of Enkrid''s blade pierced the armor and stabbed the heart. Without hesitation, Enkrid withdrew his sword faster than he had struck, stepping back exactly one pace. Despite the blood gushing from his chest, the squire swung his sword horizontally, slicing through the air where Enkrid had stood moments before. Bloodshot eyes glared at Enkrid as the squire collapsed to his side, coughing up a mouthful of blood. "Ghhhk..." His grip on his sword slackened as his body slumped to the ground. His gaze flickered a few times¡ªdeath had arrived. Why...? Time seemed to slow for the dying squire. His mind raced, a phenomenon common before death. He refused to accept reality. Why did I lose? Who was this man? The squire had sparred with many junior knights and even held his ground. Losing so utterly in a single exchange felt impossible. Regret began to bubble up. Was this the wrong choice? He realized now that he should never have been involved in this. Yet, what would have changed if he had stayed silent? The promise he had received for participating was an upgraded emblem¡ªa second sword added to his crest. It wasn''t about skill; his promotion to junior knight was assured. But now, it all seemed futile. Hadn''t he merely followed the path most likely to lead to victory? I was wrong. As death approached, regret mingled with clarity. This was my failure. He thought back to when he had first dreamt of knighthood, when he had been recognized for his talent. Had he ever wielded his sword for power, wealth, or fame? No. "I wish to uphold chivalry." His former mentors, seniors, and comrades had laughed at his youthful idealism. "What a romantic fool you are." "If you ever become a knight, we''ll call you the Knight of Romance." "What a ridiculous name." "Hahaha! Well, good luck with that." The squire had once aspired to the ideals of knighthood, learned through poetry and song. But somewhere along the way, he had abandoned those dreams for something else: power, wealth, recognition. The pursuit of honor had twisted when he began to see it as admiration from others. He had dreamt of changing his emblem, of earning an additional sword. But what had he truly sought? As a flower wilts or a blade shatters, the squire''s life ended. He lay motionless on the ground. Before him stood a man whose breathing hadn''t even quickened, his sword dripping blood onto the ruined floor. The corridor was a mess¡ªsplintered furniture, a cracked door, bloodstains, bodies, and broken blades scattered everywhere. The man stood amidst the carnage: dark-haired, blue-eyed. Some of those present recognized him. "The bodyguard from that escort party..." One of them muttered, then fell silent as Enkrid''s gaze turned toward him. Did he hear that? The man''s lips had barely moved, but Enkrid paid no attention to his murmurs or thoughts. "Who''s inside?" Enkrid asked. It was a simple question, yet to the remaining soldiers, it felt like an unrelenting pressure. After witnessing him kill the squire with ease, his very presence radiated authority. Eight men stood blocking the door. The commander swallowed hard. Could they take him down if all eight attacked at once? Not a chance, he thought as cold sweat beaded on his brow. Enkrid took a step forward, his foot brushing against the broken remains of a wooden shield. The subtle movement caused one soldier to instinctively step aside. The rest clenched their teeth, trying to hold their ground. Enkrid raised his sword as he advanced. Block me, and I''ll cut you down. The sheer weight of his intent manifested, turning into Will. One of the soldiers broke into a cold sweat and scrambled aside. That was all it took¡ªthere was no one left blocking the way. "Are you staying to fight?" Enkrid asked. "No." The commander''s voice was strained but resolute. Fighting was suicide. The fact that Enkrid wasn''t immediately slaughtering them was a blessing. The soldiers followed their commander''s lead, retreating silently. Some were mercenaries and soldiers under Viscount Mernes. They knew the consequences of leaving¡ªthey might face execution for abandoning their post. Viscount Mernes was strict about rewards and punishments, never tolerating failure. Still, they left. The presence before them was overwhelming. They could not win. Enkrid didn''t glance back as he inspected the door blocking his path. "Who''s in there?" Enkrid asked, tapping the partially shattered door with the tip of his sword. From inside, a sharp snap rang out, followed by the wet sound of something striking the ground. "You?" The voice from within was familiar¡ªMatthew, the whip-wielding bodyguard. ''What was his name again?'' The memory was hazy, one of the side effects of endlessly repeating days. No matter how sharp his memory was, even he couldn''t escape the erosion of time. "Rat?" Enkrid ventured. "...Who''s that?" It sounded close enough. "Melon?" "...Are you doing this on purpose?" Even in a dire situation, he couldn''t resist. Matthew, fuming silently, questioned in his heart why his lord trusted someone like this. "It''s Matthew." "Ah, right. Matthew." "What about the ones outside?" "They''re gone." "...Where to?" "Wherever they were meant to go." Enkrid felt no obligation to protect other nobles or anyone else. He had no interest in doing so either. Killing them wasn''t even on his mind. Marcus had asked for help, and Crang had requested protection. That much, Enkrid could understand. So, he simply did what he was asked. "Inside?" "Come in." Finally, the dresser blocking the door screeched as it was dragged aside. Inside was chaos. Seven bodies lay scattered. Matthew, half his face wrapped in bandages, stood nearby. Beside him was another female warrior, gripping a long trident with sharp, watchful eyes. She wore chainmail that covered her upper body but left her left shoulder exposed¡ªwhere the armor was shattered and torn. The way she carried herself bore the marks of someone who had survived dire straits. Though her movements suggested discomfort, she held her composure. "Where?" "Over there." Turning his gaze, Enkrid spotted Krang poking his head out of a hole in the wall. "You said we must get you to safety even at the cost of our lives," Matthew snapped, his tone heavy with anger. "Where would I go, leaving you behind? If this is where it ends for me, so be it." Krang was calm, exuding a presence that spoke volumes even in this moment. Seeing Enkrid, Krang waved. "You''re late." "Tripped over a rock on the way." Enkrid shrugged. He left out the details¡ªthat the "rock" was orange, female, and part of the Red Cloak Knights. Krang began climbing out of the hole. It seemed to lead to some sort of emergency passage, though Enkrid couldn''t help but wonder why it was a hole and not stairs. The faint sound of a ladder being climbed echoed as Krang ascended. "It''s not safe," Matthew protested. But Krang ignored him, emerging fully. The woman with the trident kept watch outside. Enkrid briefly wondered who she was. Matthew likely wasn''t the only guard Krang had prepared¡ªKrang wasn''t the type to leave himself defenseless. ''He wouldn''t go down so easily.'' Even so, asking for help implied the situation was grave. It meant Krang believed Enkrid''s presence was essential. "I didn''t think you''d ask for help," Enkrid admitted. "You''re a friend. Call it repaying a debt." Krang spoke as he dusted himself off. Though Krang had prepared for contingencies, time had forced his plans to unravel. If Enkrid hadn''t arrived, he would''ve died in a siege. Yet even after brushing so close to death, Krang smiled, unshaken. "You dreamed of becoming a king. So why¡ª" Matthew''s voice was bitter, his words heavy with frustration. To him, Krang''s decisions were incomprehensible. "Because I dreamed of becoming a king," Krang replied. His words carried a new gravity, silencing the room. The air shifted as Krang continued. "If I flee to save my life, what kind of king would I be? How could I sit on the throne after failing to protect even one person I care about? Should I sit there, stuffing my face with grapes peeled by servants? Shut up, Matthew. If I die here, then my fate ends here. I''ve done my best, prepared as much as I could, and made it this far. I won''t leave just to lose more." Enkrid felt a chill run down his spine. It was just words¡ª But they weren''t just words. Words gained power when backed by action, and Krang had shown he would act. Sacrificing his life for his beliefs was only natural. "I made a promise to the Queen. To keep that, this is what I must do." Krang smiled at Matthew, softening his words. "So stop nagging, will you?" His last words were as light as those of a friend teasing another. Finally, Enkrid understood why Krang had summoned him. Was it the danger? The crisis? No. ''It''s to refuse to run.'' It was to defy his fear and stay true to his dream. Enkrid saw himself in Krang. Though they were nothing alike, and their circumstances differed greatly, he recognized the desperation. It was the struggle to take even one step forward. Krang lived that way. Enkrid felt a stirring in his heart¡ªa desire to help. This was Krang''s talent: inspiring others to act. "Someone''s coming," the woman with the trident said, moving to barricade the door again. "How many?" Matthew asked. "One." The grinding sound of Matthew clenching his teeth filled the room. "This is the worst-case scenario, isn''t it?" Krang asked lightly. Matthew had mentioned it earlier: a lone enemy was far more dangerous than a horde. "Time to test our luck," Krang said. Enkrid, smirking, spoke without hesitation. "I''ll be your luck." Krang turned to look at him, but Enkrid didn''t wait for a reply. "Leave it," he said to Matthew, who had been trying to block the door with furniture. Barricades worked well against large groups, but against a skilled individual, they were meaningless. Pushing the door open, Enkrid stepped outside. A man stood there. For Enkrid, they had crossed paths before. But for the man, this was their first meeting. The man''s left eyebrow twitched as he saw Enkrid. "Did you kill Aishia?" "Put her to sleep." Enkrid replied. His lullabies consisted of punches and kicks. The man hesitated briefly before lunging forward, sword drawn. Shing! The blade flashed as it descended, timing the attack perfectly. Enkrid managed to react, drawing his gladius to deflect the blow. Clang! The force rattled his wrist, nearly breaking it. The man''s feints and precision were relentless, blending steps, questions, and strikes into a seamless assault. And in that moment, Enkrid realized something. ''He''s above Aishia.'' Perhaps even on par with Rem. Before he could recover, the man drew a second sword, thrusting it forward. Snap! A whip of twisted beast leather lashed between them, intercepting the strike. It was Matthew''s handiwork. ------------------------------------------------------------------- To get more Chapters and support my work head over to my ko-fi! Ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you! Chapter 384 -You’re Alive Chapter 384 - 384 -You''re Alive Chapter 384 -You''re Alive "It''s half a day. My plan from the start was to only hold out for half a day." Just before the fight, Krang spoke. This was the first time Matthew had heard this. As soon as Matthew heard those words, he looked outside. It wasn''t sunset yet. The twilight hadn''t even begun. ''Do I have to last until evening?'' He expected it wouldn''t be easy. But. Whoosh. With a slight twist of his wrist, the whip tip moved forward, as if dancing through the air. The opponent didn''t even look at it and struck the leather near the whip''s end with his elbow. The impact was light, but the force transferred through the whip dissipated, causing it to lose its shape and become slack. He had precisely cut off the part where the power was being transferred. Matthew felt as though the power had been completely drained from him, but he clenched his teeth and gathered his strength. He swung his arm wide, shooting the weight at the end of the whip forward like throwing a projectile. Whoosh. The whip cut through the air. Meanwhile, Enkrid swung his sword. A lightning-fast strike, from above to below, vertically plunging down. Matthew could feel the force within it. ''If I block, an opening will appear.'' No matter how skilled he was, someone who''s knight wouldn''t be able to stop that. The opponent struck just above the recut portion of Enkrid''s sword and pushed it aside. It wasn''t a contest of strength, but a deft use of technique to deflect the force sideways. Enkrid''s body shifted for an instant, and in that brief moment, his balance faltered. But he immediately spun around and, with sparks flying from the friction, thrust forward. It was an unconventional move, a technique developed when he had defeated Aishia. It was the thrust with Will, a move of the momentum. Whoosh. The opponent evaded it as if dodging a stone thrown by a child, twisting his body to avoid it. His evasive movement was so nonchalant, it almost seemed natural. Enkrid, after sheathing his blade, held Silver with both hands and swung, thrust, slashed, and moved, changing distance multiple times. Matthew, too, kept swinging his whip, feeling the force wane with every strike. Meanwhile, their ally, armed with a trident, occasionally thrust her spear. Despite her injuries, she was still formidable. But the opponent didn''t even properly dodge the trident. He flicked it away carelessly, as though swatting at a bothersome fly, or struck it with his sword, altering its course before it could touch him. Matthew''s own whip was equally ineffective. At least Enkrid was holding on. Because of that, Matthew felt despair. ''Can we really last until evening?'' It was impossible. Enkrid could fall any moment now. The sword grazed his cheek. A cut, with a splash of blood that scattered into the air. Enkrid, indifferent to the wound, rolled sideways and swung his sword horizontally. Whoosh. It was a strike so powerful it seemed like it could split the air, but the opponent simply took a step back, unbothered. Enkrid''s sword passed where the man had been, without even a sound on the ground. The opponent avoided it without breaking a sweat. Watching this, Matthew felt a crushing sense of helplessness. It was a wall. A different existence. Their talent was on a whole different level. Even their very birth was different. Forcing himself to endure against such an opponent. ''This is impossible.'' Despair and agony filled his chest. The hand holding the whip began to lose its strength. He couldn''t stop the collapse of his spirit. Swinging the whip felt like striking a cliff. Even if he hit it for a hundred years, the cliff wouldn''t fall. It was an obvious truth. How could he destroy this cliff with just a whip? In the meantime, their ally with the trident suffered a fatal wound. Despite Enkrid''s relentless strikes and overwhelming presence, it still happened. The opponent threw a dagger from behind, and in the gap between breaths, the dagger flew straight for his ally''s neck, cutting through it. The mere act of throwing a dagger was enough to send chills down Matthew''s spine. Blood spurted and gushed out. His ally wrapped his hands around his neck, and Krang, watching, approached to bind it with cloth. His words, though faint, reached Matthew. "Hold on." There was no time to look back. But the thought that had been swirling in his head since earlier wouldn''t leave. ''Does this even mean anything?'' If he could save Krang, it would have meaning. If he could endure for that, he would. But that seemed impossible. They couldn''t hold out much longer, and Krang would die. Should he let him run away? No, then he would become someone who had given up, as Krang, his lord, had said. At that moment, black paint seemed to stain his heart. "Ha!" Bang! With a shout, a tremendous noise rang out. It was so loud it almost deafened him. The sound of the shout and the explosion that followed both assaulted his eardrums. The intensity of the shout matched the force of the collision that followed. Matthew, bleeding from his side, saw the figure locked in combat. The figure had a dark head of hair, a large back. Unlike himself, the opponent didn''t seem to lose any momentum. "I got him." The person spoke. "You were caught." The opponent responded. Matthew finally saw the enemy''s face properly. "Let''s keep going." Then Enkrid spoke. There was something childlike in his voice. In no time at all, their positions had shifted. Enkrid had been relentlessly pressing, and that was the result. Because of this, Matthew could see Enkrid''s face, and upon seeing it, his chest tightened, and goosebumps shot up from his feet to the top of his head. Matthew knew. They couldn''t last until evening. It was a distant dream for Enkrid to win against this new opponent. Proof of that was the blood dripping from Enkrid''s side, the scratch on his cheek, and the damaged arm guard that was hanging off. And yet. ''Smile.'' Enkrid smiled. Even as his rhythm faltered with every sword exchange, he smiled. In that instant, the despair, the black paint on his heart, began to fade. Somewhere, sunlight pierced through, cutting across the blackness. Strength returned to Matthew''s arm. He swung the whip. More exchanges took place. In the meantime, Matthew dodged three daggers. Three times, luck was on his side, or he would have been struck. He acknowledged it. It was only because Enkrid had intervened that the daggers lost their power. If it were just him, blocking them would have been impossible. The fourth dagger, however, struck his thigh. ''Of course, they would aim for the neck in one swift motion.'' Even while facing an opponent far weaker than himself, the enemy sealed off his mobility first. ''No, that''s probably thanks to Enkrid.'' Because of Enkrid, the daggers didn''t strike his neck but ended up in his leg. Matthew stepped back. Now, he would only be a hindrance. Krang, who had been behind him, hooked his arm under Matthew''s and helped him retreat. "You can''t go any closer." "I know that much. We''ll lose, right?" "We''re holding on." "But why is he smiling?" "I... don''t know." Even Krang''s eyes were shining. Matthew was barely holding on, thanks to what Enkrid had shown him. Still, it was far too early for the sun to set. "When do we get reinforcements?" Matthew asked. His duty was to protect Krang. But beyond that, other desires had started to form in his mind. "We can''t let him die here." Enkrid had to survive. For that, Matthew was ready to throw himself into danger if necessary. Why? He didn''t know. It was just a feeling of exhilaration that filled his whole body. He was certain that he was not the one who would die here. "If that guy had any sense, he''d be here a bit sooner." Krang said this and pulled over a chair for Matthew to sit. Then he checked Matthew''s thigh injury. Kraang wasn''t just an ordinary human. To tend to injuries in a situation like this, he was far from average. Naturally, his gaze shifted. To his comrade, who had sustained a fatal wound to the neck. "She won''t die." Krang said. If they just held on for a little longer, things would turn out that way. Both of them turned their bodies and looked at the battle ahead. It was a fight that was difficult to intervene in. On one side, a figure wielded a sword with no emotion, cutting off the flow, like a doll. On the other, there was the wild force of a beast. Explosive, relentless, and not holding back any power. *** The flow of battle was being cut off. No matter what he did, the rhythm didn''t continue. It wasn''t just above Aishia''s level; it was definitely on par with Rem''s. No, was it even worse? He didn''t know. It wasn''t the time to think about such things. He slashed vertically, horizontally, stabbed, and twisted, mixing in Valen-style mercenary sword techniques. It was a feint. He pretended to be winded, pulling the opponent in, and when they closed the distance, he aimed for them. It was a flash of Will, the peak of skills honed through Aishia''s teachings. The thrust was like lightning. It reached its target almost instantly. The first thrust today, combining what he learned from the soldiers and everything about speed up until now. Yet, it was blocked. By something as simple as that. PingDing ding. A single short sword was nonchalantly swung to the side, deflecting the end of the blade, which seemed to glide across the sword. It was a type of blade that looked like a magnificent work of art. Enkrid released the blade into the air, gripping the silver sword as he leaped forward, using his body as an arrow. The opponent was closing the distance, just as fast as Enkrid was advancing. The space was narrowing. They had entered close-quarters combat. But soon, the opponent retreated, jumping back as if they had disappeared. The rhythm was completely broken. He ignored it. Enkrid stretched his foot out, kicking the midsection of the falling blade. With a thunk, he caught the sword in midair and snatched the silver sword before it could fall. His opponent, who had been watching this, suddenly closed the gap and thrust a sword toward him. This man was skilled at exploiting openings. He cut off the rhythm and only fought when the timing suited him. Still, Enkrid held his ground. Normally, people would tire of this kind of fight. They would call it unreasonable, complain, and suffer. Enkrid didn''t do that. ''This is the first time.'' It was new. It was different. All of it was a thrill and fun to him. "I''ll kill you, then I''ll kill Aishia." The man said, as if discussing a casual dinner of mashed potatoes and roasted duck. His tone was flat. He was simply stating facts. If he killed Enkrid, today would repeat, but if Aishia died... Would today still repeat? "I won''t let anyone else die." No. Krang''s words were full of resolve. Would the worries about today be enough to send him spiraling away from this moment? ''I don''t know.'' He didn''t want to know anything. Right now, he only wanted to focus on swinging his sword. That was enough for him in this moment. "Hooah!" It was a shout mixed with joy and exhilaration. Enjoying the moment, focusing only on the sword, his body, his opponent, the strikes, and the defense, his mind was full of joy that was overflowing. Enkrid felt all the experiences from the repeated days coalesce into one. Before thinking, his body moved. It felt as though the gods themselves were guiding his limbs. On top of that, he began to see his opponent''s movements before they happened. The opponent would raise their sword over their right shoulder, preparing to thrust. Enkrid could already see them gripping their sword with both hands and lifting it. Seeing this, Enkrid took a half-step forward, occupying the space and pushing forward. Enkrid twisted his body and swung his sword. This time, instead of aiming for the head, he targeted the opponent''s forearm. It seemed like a regular strike, but for the first time, he had stolen the rhythm. It was a half-beat faster. If compared to earlier, the speed and trajectory seemed normal, but still, the sword made contact. Pah! The strike sliced through the opponent''s forearm guard. Blood splattered. The opponent immediately pushed out with their left arm to block, then retreated. "...Hmm." The opponent was surprised, but not panicked. A small injury, but no big deal. They resumed fighting. Enkrid didn''t have the time to relish his small victory. His opponent was the epitome of monotony, as dry as unseasoned chicken breast. The opponent wielded indifference as a weapon. There was no thrill, no pride. So what? He just swung his sword. Enkrid did just that. If it worked once, it could work again. But right now, it wasn''t working. The half-beat faster strike had only succeeded once. In a fight, rhythm was always relative. Now, sliding into his opponent''s rhythm was possible only because his body moved first. What if it doesn''t work? That didn''t matter. Enkrid feigned running forward, stepping not on the ground, but on a wall. He mimicked Aishia''s light movements. The opponent, waiting for it, swung their sword diagonally, charging forward with a speed twice as fast as before. Enkrid anticipated it, but it was still difficult to block in time. The blade threatened to cut his head. Enkrid quickly pulled back his sword to block. He couldn''t afford to miss. Thunk! He blocked it, but his right wrist twisted painfully. He tried to twist his body to release the block, but it failed. The force from the blade sent him flying backward. With a crash, Enkrid landed on his back and rolled up to his feet. "Ugh." He coughed up blood. The blow had damaged his internal organs, as it had been a strike with Will. Enkrid didn''t know, but it was a technique that transmitted shock to the defender''s body with Will. His legs trembled, and his vision blurred. His body, pushed beyond its limits, wasn''t responding. Enkrid blinked several times. And someone suddenly blocked his path. "If you want to kill him, you''ll have to go through me first. I''m willing to trade my life for that." It was Krang. Enkrid attempted to rise, but he realized his ribs had been broken. "Lord!" Matthew shouted. Enkrid managed to get up and spoke. "Who decided that?" The opponent had come here to kill Krang. "Let''s finish this, shall we?" Enkrid braced himself for death. He was prepared for the repeat of today. Was this another wall? If it was, then he would just climb over it. But it wasn''t a wall. At least, something had shifted. It was definitely not the same as before. The opponent, indifferent, raised their sword. They would repeat the same attacking motions again, cutting and slashing. At that very moment, a sharp instinct kicked in. It came from behind. Something was flying through the air. Crash! A loud noise echoed. A mass crashed through the window, breaking the frame as it entered. The person quickly closed the gap and rushed toward Enkrid. Then, they struck the stunned knight who was about to sever Enkrid''s rhythm. Enkrid barely made out what the person was holding. It was a sword, longer and thicker than a regular one. As the orange light from the sunset streamed through the window, Enkrid could see the figure who had broken through. He recognized them immediately. "You''re alive." ------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you all for reading! To get more Chapters and support my work head over to my ko-fi! Ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you! Chapter 385 - Esther and Rem Chapter 385 - 385 - Esther and Rem Chapter 385 - Esther and Rem "Step aside. If you do, I''ll give you everything." Esther stared at the figure in front of her, which appeared to be an illusion. She wondered what kind of trick this might be. If they attacked, she would show them that their level was far beneath hers. The opponent''s response was unexpected. They didn''t attack. Instead, they cast a spell from the magic circle they had drawn, and as a result, the figure of a person far away was projected. It was an illusion. ''Is this a significant trick?'' She thought to herself. If this was a spell to summon an illusion, it must involve some resources. The spell spanned long distances in space. There was a difference between showing an illusion and showing the real thing. Some magicians were said to use mirrors for such tricks, but it wasn''t common. It wasn''t Esther''s specialty, and she had never seen it done in person. Despite her thoughts, Esther stood calmly without even blinking. A breeze blew. They had just left the capital and were now near a nearby forest. The two magicians who had created the illusion stood respectfully with their hands clasped, waiting beside her. At that moment, the illusion appeared. It was someone she had seen before, next to Count Molsan and Enkrid. "The most important thing for a magician is a world where their will is aligned with the world around them. What I offer is clear. What do you think?" The opponent''s confidence was overflowing. It seemed there was no reason not to accept this offer. It wasn''t a request to help him, betray someone, or do something for Enkrid. What he wanted was simple. Step back and just watch. There was no need to measure the weight of either side. The opponent was a high-level magician. The artifacts and research materials he offered were valuable. On the other hand, his request was trivial. The man knew well what was important to a magician. The two magicians beside her believed Esther would naturally nod in agreement. Count Molsan probably thought the same. Esther had stayed by Enkrid''s side to break a curse, but now she no longer needed him. She had opened a new path by utilizing part of the curse. Things had changed. Therefore, this offer was indeed attractive. It would allow her to expand her world and acquire more resources. There was no reason to refuse. It was annoying that Count Molsan seemed to know this, but it didn''t matter. Even if he had played tricks, she had the power to ignore it. During her struggle with the curse, the experiences had remained within her world. Esther silently stared at the figure''s eyes, which were watching her intently. The illusion was colorless. She stared into the monochrome illusion''s eyes. As she watched, a smile spread across her face. She burst into laughter, "Ha ha ha." At her laughter, the two magicians standing beside her shifted their gaze toward her. She could feel their unease. They were ready to take action if things went wrong. As Esther raised her arm, her coat parted, revealing the clothes beneath. The two magicians'' eyes gleamed with desire. Watching the illusion and the magicians move like puppets made Esther reflect on who she truly was. She was a witch who controlled the fire of the black world. A witch who fought and pioneered her world. A witch born to pursue the truth through fire. Therefore, she would not be swayed by others'' wills. This was never for Enkrid. "This is it." Count Molsan spoke first. A fire-like glint appeared in Esther''s eyes. "I''ll burn it just the same." Esther spoke, and for the first time since the curse, she summoned fire within her world. It was just before dusk as they had already left the capital. "Such a pity." Before the illusion disappeared, Count Molsan spoke in a voice that seemed indifferent, as though he didn''t truly care. "Do you think that person is still alive?" He referred to someone as "that person." Esther sneered at him. "If he were going to die from something like this, he would have died a long time ago." Could such a great man die from the lack of one magician? ''Is that what you think?'' But was it really right to call it "nothing"? Esther paused for a moment, but her body moved instinctively. Flames roared. The two magicians cast spells in opposition, but their resistance was futile. It was meaningless. Their ranks, their possessions, and their paths were all different from hers. *** Rem ran, thinking, ''He''s hiding something.'' Should he just stand by and wait? That could be fun, but flipping his opponent''s expectations seemed more enjoyable. He decided to do both. Running, he took out his sling. He placed a rounded stone on the leather sling, raising the connected string over his head and swinging it. Whirr¡ªwhirr¡ªwhirr. The sling spun lightly before the sound of air splitting filled the air. It was like carrying a disc above his head while running. The Infernal Madman didn''t look back, charging straight into a narrow alley. Rem didn''t chase but instead jumped off a protruding corner of a nearby shop, leaping upwards. His body rose, and he ran along the rooftops. The disc above his head followed in a shape similar to a spear. Once he had a clear view from the roof, he hurled the stone. It was already difficult to hit while standing still, let alone while running, but Rem was Rem. The stone, launched in a flash, couldn''t even be traced by its trajectory, striking the opponent''s thigh from behind. Bang! However, Rem didn''t hear the expected sound. Why was there no sound of a burst? Behind his opponent, a spear snapped in two. ''Cursed?'' That was a high-level curse. Where could he have learned such a thing? It must have been something obtained by killing his own kind. "You''re really dead now." Rem muttered to himself, as he made up his mind. Though his opponent couldn''t hear it, his words were a vow. He fired a few more stone bullets, and the four spears that had been following his opponent from behind shattered, one by one. Pieces of broken wood scattered through the air. The Infernal Madman kept running, weaving through the alleyways until he entered an open space, a place that the locals called a square. It wasn''t that large, about half the size of the central square in the capital. In the center of the capital of Naurilia, there was a fountain, but the square here had a completely different atmosphere, more akin to an open ground. Still, it was large enough for about twenty men to tangle in a fight. Wham! This time, the bullet hit the ground, sending stone dust flying as pieces of rock scattered. Without his spear, the Infernal Madman tumbled to the ground, barely avoiding the hit. Nonetheless, the next stone bullet hit him in the back of the thigh. Had it not been for the layered, special leather armor, his leg would have had a hole in it or even worse, but instead, he just groaned and limped back to his feet. Rem discarded the sling with its broken leather strap and looked down at the gathering crowd below. From the roof, he looked down at them, and naturally, they looked up at him. "Ah, the Western Reunion, huh?" Rem said with admiration. As he examined them, he noticed they were all from the western region. He didn''t recognize any faces, but from the atmosphere, Rem could tell. They were all people on the run. The Immortal Madman held his thigh for a while, then stood up. It seemed like he was in considerable pain. "This bastard, you''re not leaving alive," he muttered. The Immortal Madman saw Rem as a threat. If he left him alive, Rem would keep attacking until he killed him, so he had decided to intervene in this matter. His goal was simple: kill Rem. To achieve this, he had gathered a group of people who were all being hunted in the west. Among them were those he had trained, and others who had come just for the reward, like mercenaries. The commonality between them was that all twenty were candidates to become heroes in the western region. "Is that him?" "Did we gather all of us just to catch one guy?" "Looks familiar." "That''s Rem, the so-called Immortal. He''s famous around the Border Guard." "Famous? That''s a joke. He''s the one hiding out in some backwater. Immortal? What kind of nonsense is that?" They spoke amongst themselves. Despite the noise, it wasn''t hard to understand. There were some who remained silent, eyes glinting with anticipation. Those were the ones who were ready. Ready to fire the wind guns strapped to their waists. "All these runaways have big mouths," Rem muttered as he squatted down, bending his legs. He looked around at the assembled group. A bunch of trash had gathered. Watching them, Rem took a sling from his chest, loaded a bullet into it, then tucked it back and pulled another one out, placing it between his legs. Using his legs in place of his hands, he loaded another bullet into it. As he moved, the sound of round stone bullets clinking together came from the pouches tied to his sides. Now holding two slings, he stood and spun them. Whooosh! Two round discs appeared from Rem''s hands, their shapes unfolding diagonally like wings. Rem kicked off from the roof and jumped into the air, the discs making him look as if he were floating like wings. But of course, that wasn''t the case. It was an illusion. With a flick of his hands, the bullets shot off at a speed so fast they were almost invisible to the eye. Thwack! Thwack! Half of the group of western runaways raised shields. Some had thick leather shields, while others had smaller ones strapped to their wrists. Those with the smaller shields were confident in their skills. Their technique of dispersing attacks was exceptional, so they carried tiny shields, barely big enough to cover their faces. The heads of the two who carried the smaller shields exploded like pumpkins. Bang! Bang! The sound was crisp. Blood and brain matter mixed in the air. The ground, which had turned a dark gray, became a canvas of blood as it splattered. The bullets were faster than expected, far faster and more powerful than the ones that had struck the Immortal Madman just moments ago. Two of the western runaways died before they could even resist. Thud! Thud! The two fell to the ground. Rem, still on the roof, spun the slings again. Whoosh! Whoosh! "Stop him!" The Immortal Madman shouted. "Crazy bastard," Rem thought. From the start of the battle, Rem had already visualized the outcome. He started with the slings and would finish with an axe. And the Immortal Madman would definitely die here. It was a given. Time had passed since Rem had faced the Immortal Madman. In that time, he had lost to Ragna, that madman. The impact that defeat had on him was something even Enkrid didn''t fully understand. That defeat had motivated Rem to train harder, swinging his axe and honing his skills. He even secretly learned some of Enkrid''s Isolation techniques, applying them to his training. Now wasn''t the time to care about whether the stew was cold or hot. It didn''t matter whether it was made by goblins or humans. He needed to eat now. "Damned Ragna." Even thinking of that bastard made his anger surge. Fueled by rage, he unleashed his strength, throwing two more stone bullets at the advancing enemies. The ones with large shields moved closer. Bang! Bang! The thick leather and inner rubber shields withstood the bullets, but they didn''t penetrate. "You crazy bastard." One of them, holding a shield, muttered, pale-faced. The stone bullets were far more dangerous than he had imagined. But was that enough to break their spirit? No. Once the spirit breaks, magic and martial arts both fail. It didn''t matter whether the enemy was determined or not. Rem ignored the approaching enemies and let go of the slings, sliding his hands to his waist. He gripped his axe. One of the enemies who had seen the axe immediately dashed forward. His speed was considerable. In the blink of an eye, he was right in front of Rem. He was using the thunderstrike technique. Rem anticipated this and drew his axe at just the right moment. It wasn''t as fast as a lightning strike, but it was perfectly timed. It looked like the enemy had run right into the blow. The attacker, moving with speed, became the first victim of Rem''s axe. Thunk. The flat side of the axe split his head into two. Of course, with his head cleaved in two, there was no chance of survival. But the body, unaware it was dead, continued toward Rem. Its hand grabbed Rem''s thigh. The attacker was known for breaking and twisting joints, and he was doing just that. But he died clutching Rem''s thigh. Rem began swinging his axe with the man still hanging from it. Swing, snap, crack, thud! These enemies were nothing compared to Enkrid. The only one even remotely threatening was the Immortal Madman. He threw a spear, mimicking a downward strike, then gripped a new spear and charged. It was threatening, but¡ª ''Far weaker than that damned Ragna.'' Having danced to that bastard''s swordplay, this was laughable. Rem''s axe split the heads of five of his enemies in an instant, and as he severed the limbs of the sixth and seventh, the situation flipped. These were men who never intended to risk their lives. That''s why they had become runaways in the first place. "Monster bastard!" One of them screamed. The Immortal Madman also realized it now. The moment he thought about running, he hurled all the spears he had prepared and grabbed the arm of his former disciple, tossing him. The spell he used combined with the strength of a bear. "Master!!!" The disciple''s scream was full of sorrow. Rem swung his axe toward the human projectile. Whoosh! Thunk! With the strength of a giant behind his swing, Rem''s axe cut through flesh, muscle, and bone. The impact was felt throughout his entire body. But when it was over, a sense of relief washed over him. The body split in two, falling to the ground. The blood that poured out drenched Rem''s entire body. His gray eyes, now stained red with blood, glinted. He saw the back of a fleeing figure. If someone were to ask Rem what he had learned most from his encounters with the Immortal Madman, he would confidently say one thing: It was stamina. That''s also why he had secretly learned some of Enkrid''s Isolation techniques. "If I let him go again, my mother will turn into a ghoul." Rem muttered his habit, instilled by Enkrid, and landed with a thud. The Immortal Madman quickly fled, and Rem gave chase without hesitation. Though a few remained alive, they could only blink in confusion. They were lucky to be alive. Their eyes focused on Rem and the Immortal Madman. It had been a chase before, but this time, one side had laid a trap, and the other had walked into it willingly. This time, however, it was different. There was no trap, and the pursuers were determined. There was no reason to remain here. Within half a day, they would be caught and killed. They could see the future of the Immortal Madman and began to move. Staying would only mean death. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you all for reading! To get more Chapters and support my work head over to my ko-fi! Ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you! Chapter 386 - Fighting While Being Lazy Chapter 386 - 386 - Fighting While Being Lazy Chapter 386 - Fighting While Being Lazy "Geogr''s dagger was just a fool, relying on the power of the artifact to go wild." The long-armed assassin spoke as he twirled the dagger in his hand. One of his eyes gleamed. A mysterious eye, a magical prosthetic. It wasn''t surprising that the artifact didn''t work on that weird-looking eye. Therefore, he remained calm. Jaxen also saw the hole in his cloak. It was the trace of the dagger''s slash. His arm had stretched abnormally, rummaging through the cloak. Despite that, there was no sign of agitation. He was indifferent, both inside and out. However, the enemy didn''t think so. "You look flustered. You should have stabbed him when I told you to." An old man with a monocle spoke in a reprimanding tone. "No reason to stay under that fool''s orders. You should change your mind now." A woman spoke, her voice distorted as she spoke among the assassins. She was speaking from hiding, careful and adept at lying. Even if she did change her mind, there was nothing to gain from it. This was all a ploy to expose weaknesses. "What? Stab? Were you not embarrassed to say that?" The old monocled man, apparently irked by the provocation, brought up the topic. "Now, what will you do now that you''ve lost the artifact?" The voice came from behind. Jaxen turned his head. Even though it was broad daylight, the place where the voice came from seemed to darken. A figure half-hidden in the shadows between the alleyways, someone adept at hiding. It was obvious what technique was being used. ''Shadow Walking.'' A technique that moves selectively in the shadows, basic training learned with Geogr''s dagger. Jaxen had learned it but never used it. It was a technique that could backfire against a focused or perceptive opponent. ''This trick wouldn''t work on the commander either.'' Even Enkrid would avoid it. Jaxen silently tossed aside his cloak and loosened his belt. "Are you giving up?" The distorted voice from within the assassins asked. "Heh, what now? Will you reconsider? It''s not too late. Youth''s privilege is the chance to choose again." The old monocled man spoke. "Hmph." The long-armed figure, resembling a monkey, snorted in response. The figure hiding in the shadows subtly moved back and disappeared from sight. Contrary to the words, a sinister atmosphere pricked at his skin. It was a combat stance. Jaxen, lowering his gaze, spoke. "Who''s the madman behind this? Was it Viscount Mernes?" It would take someone of noble rank to unite multiple assassination guilds under the guise of an alliance. A single contract would put the existence of the guilds at risk, so a noble with power must be involved. If you applied it to the current situation, it would be someone who had stood out within the palace factions or had consolidated power. Otherwise, these assassins would have been acting individually. Adding in the choices of the enemies, it became clear. The intent of the person who ordered this was revealed. Jaxen understood their thoughts. ''Someone who finds my very existence bothersome and troublesome.'' That''s why they were targeting him so persistently. Enkrid had stopped him from going to the palace, Marcus was not pursued to be killed, and even those heading to block the gates were left alone, but this assassination alliance had been chasing him relentlessly. Above all, their priority was to eliminate him. Why? Because he was a nuisance. The ones who sold the information about the Black Lily were two people. One group was likely to be random people who discovered it by chance. The other group was directly involved. This time, it was the latter. Otherwise, they wouldn''t have been so determined to eliminate him. If this had happened before the matter had escalated, it might have been unclear, but with things going this way, it was easy to infer. Realizing this, Jaxen felt an unexpected sense of joy. Was it Enkrid''s influence? He expressed his emotions. He smiled. The old monocled assassin frowned when he saw that. "Are you going to claim you stabbed again? Or will you come up with some other excuse?" It seemed that the old man was extremely frustrated after being outwitted by Enkrid with words. Indeed. Just before parting, Jaxen had seen how his commander, suddenly spirited, had taunted them. "You said he should stab me, and now you''re changing your story?" "That wasn''t a stab..." "Where did you sell your trust? You boasted about making a name for yourself in the capital''s assassination guilds, but it''s absurd!" "No, that was a stab..." "Shut up! How dare you speak when you didn''t even keep your promises! My arm''s scar proves everything!" "That wasn''t..." "Ha, how lamentable." "You crazy bastard. Just listen!" "What will you do after you said ''Ay, ay''?" No matter what the enemy said, he would keep taunting them, and in the end, he threw a dagger in a mock manner, making a decoration of the assassin''s head. The fight began immediately. From then on, the assassin had no chance to defend himself. Was it frustrating? It might have been. No matter how much Jaxen tried to keep his composure, he still had a knack for provoking his opponents. Even Jaxen himself sometimes felt his temper flare, so it was no surprise that they were similarly irritated. "I did stab him though." Jaxen said. "Damn it, kill him!" With the old man''s cry, assassins rushed in from all directions. Jaxen already knew the enemy numbered twenty-eight. He counted them. It was a habit. Then he vanished. "Ugh!" The long-armed monkey-like assassin, who had been scanning the surroundings with his magical prosthetic eye, shouted in surprise. Thud! A sickening crunch echoed. Jaxen had appeared in an alleyway, hidden in the deep shadows. One of the alliance''s executives, who had been hiding there, coughed up blood and collapsed to the ground, kneeling. "How...?" Wasn''t he invisible to the magical eye? Now that the artifact was gone, how was he caught? Thinking of Enkrid, Jaxen couldn''t help but open his mouth. "Hard work. Training." The answer suited the question "how" perfectly. From then on, Jaxen repeatedly vanished and reappeared. The second person to die was the female assassin with the distorted voice. She quickly hid within her group, but soon Jaxen, disguised as one of her subordinates, appeared next to her and stabbed a stiletto into her stomach. Stab, stab, stab. With three swift thrusts, her insides were torn open. Her lungs and heart were pierced, and no high priest could save her now. "Crack." It wasn''t a scream or a moan¡ªit was a sound that was both her final scream and her dying words. Jaxen kept moving. The artifact? He used it because he had it. He hadn''t relied on artifacts in the first place. So, the artifact was irrelevant. Today, his body felt light. He knew what he had to do and could clearly see where he had to go. ''Mernes.'' He had suspected from the start that the Black Lily''s member would be a noble. Even if Viscount Mernes wasn''t the one behind it, he must have been involved in some way. So, after killing these assassins, Jaxen''s next destination was already clear. The palace, where Viscount Mernes was. That was what he did. Until no one else dared to approach, he killed them one by one and moved toward the palace. It was when the sun had already passed overhead, casting long shadows. Jaxen, turning his gaze toward the setting sun, saw something strange. A person was running across the rooftops, smashing them apart. It was someone he knew. That being said, he acted like he didn''t know them. *** The fight began with Dunbakel. At least, she was more enthusiastic than Ragna, so this was the right way to start. She moved backward and then exited through the open gates. Ropord was already positioning some of his troops outside the castle. ''If the gates are taken, it''s over.'' The numerical advantage was clear. In that case, holding the line in front would be necessary. With archers and arrows unprepared, and the defenses lacking, the remaining forces had to compensate with their own strength and bodies. Of course, this all hinged on the assumption that the ten enemies in front could hold out. ''As long as they can hold on.'' I didn''t expect to kill them all. Ropord''s eyes saw Dunbakel moving forward. She scanned the ten soldiers in front of her and then smiled. Her smile seemed innocent, almost like a country girl who had just arrived in the city. But she wasn''t a country girl, nor was her smile innocent. She was simply executing what she''d learned from Enkrid. The Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship, with a smiling face. Enkrid had used it on her several times, and now she adapted it in her own way. That was the amazing thing about talent. She had no hesitation in internalizing and using the technique. Rem had beaten her to improve her overall physical abilities, and the actual technique training was done by Dunbakel herself. That effort paid off. "What''s this?" One of the mercenaries muttered, just as the beast-person kicked off the ground and leapt. Her quick steps, like those of a leopard, pierced through the ranks of soldiers. In an instant, she closed in, and the soldiers in front stood frozen, unable to move. The curve of her blade struck, and the first soldier''s head split open. Thwack! Thunk! With a clean strike, the head shattered, and another soldier beside him lunged with a spear. But the movement was too slow¡ªDunbakel tilted her head just in time, evading the thrust, and with a swift turn of her body, grabbed the spear from the soldier''s hands. "...Ah." The soldier, now disarmed, could only let out a dumbfounded sound. He wasn''t dead. Dunbakel dropped the spear to the ground and dashed forward. "Block her!" Only then did the enemy commander shout in response. Two of the soldiers who had been in the front moved. These two were quick, even by the standards of the group. Still, they were barely able to follow Dunbakel as she sprinted forward. "Move out of the way!" As she shifted into her beast form, the soldiers quickly cleared a path. Though they weren''t entirely disorganized, they were far from elite. The Mernes family army was essentially a hodgepodge of various troops. It was an army with only the most basic command structure. Dunbakel tore through them, stepping on shoulders and heads, swinging her sickle. With that charge, she reached her target, swinging the sickle mercilessly, but not to cut¡ªshe turned the handle and struck with the flat of the blade. Boom! Crack! The siege weapons they had prepared, three mangonels, were in her sights. One of the frames cracked loudly. Dunbakel knew the advantage lay in the walls. Years of wandering as a mercenary had made her seasoned in such battles. The best way to deal with this threat was to eliminate the most dangerous one first. Thus, after lulling them with her innocent smile, she launched her charge. It was simple but effective. "Did you turn?" Just then, a soldier who had been among the ten earlier appeared beside her. A man wielding a short spear. He was fast on both his feet and with his hands. Dunbakel deflected the spear with her sickle, then stamped her left foot into the ground with a powerful stomp, twisting her body around and preparing to strike. The soldier, who had planned to close the distance, suddenly pulled back. Another soldier behind him followed her every move, trying to catch up. "Let''s finish this." Dunbakel said, and then she leapt to the other side. It was a sudden and unexpected movement, a total reversal. This, of course, was something she learned from Enkrid. The Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship, acting in the opposite direction. It was a feint that completely broke the enemy''s expectations. The advantage she gained from this? To make achieving her goal easier. She wasn''t fighting these two¡ªshe needed to destroy the mangonels first. The two pursuing mercenaries suddenly tripped over their feet. What was that? The quick-witted beast-person used every trick in the book. Compared to Enkrid or Rem, deceiving these two was child''s play, and Dunbakel reveled in it. She was even a bit excited. It had been a long time since she''d fought someone weaker than herself. As Dunbakel wreaked havoc, the enemy soon launched their counterattack. "Kill them all!" The man in the horned helmet shouted. His name was Yon, an elite warrior from the East. And before him, a blonde man approached, walking leisurely. Even as the enemy forces advanced, he seemed unconcerned. Arrows flew overhead, but they didn''t faze him. Ragna, with his thick sword resting on his shoulder, spoke. "Come at me all at once. This is getting annoying." "You." Yon, the horned warrior, didn''t get excited or rush in. Instead, he drew his glaive. The blade shimmered a bluish hue, crafted from Valerisan steel. Ragna eyed it, wondering if he should take it and melt it down. "Together." Yon said. Some people frowned at the remark, but no one spoke up. The man clearly looked formidable. "Time is on our side. We''ll take our time and break you." Yon said. And as he spoke, one of his mercenaries swung a chain overhead, hurling it forward. The weighted ball at the end of the chain hurtled towards Ragna''s head. Thwack! Ragna, having already lowered his sword, knocked the chain away. The heavy iron ball at the end had more than enough force to crush a man''s skull. "Crush them!" Battle, conflict, blood, bloodshed. Yon loved that kind of thing. And he was rushing forward, eager to witness it. As he did, he thrust his glaive down with incredible speed. Whoosh! The glaive was deflected. And just beside him, a soldier from his side thrust a spear. The spear, twisting and turning with unpredictable motions, came at Ragna. Ragna''s sword knocked away the glaive and struck the spear. Thwack! The spear bounced off, but that wasn''t the end. The next attack came immediately. Another spear, this time coming straight at Ragna with force. Ragna, with his heavy sword, deflected it once more. Clang! After the clash, Yon seemed to have a better understanding of his opponent''s abilities. He was a monster. And Ragna? He was simply following orders to defend, but he had little enthusiasm for it, so he fought casually. Why the lack of enthusiasm? He didn''t even think about it. It was routine. If he decided to kill, everyone would die. But that would require a more adventurous approach, and he might end up with a small wound. Was that necessary? No. A genius who had lost their purpose would still act lazily in the middle of a fight. It was likely that his recent surge of energy had worn him down, and now he was simply uninterested. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you all for reading! To get more Chapters and support my work head over to my ko-fi! Ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you! Chapter 387 - Everyone Has Their Own Hell Chapter 387 - 387 - Everyone Has Their Own Hell To get more Chapters and support my work please head over to my ko-fi! Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 387 - Everyone Has Their Own Hell ''For what purpose?'' Andrew stood in front of the castle gate with five trainees. In front of them, he saw a man wielding a sword and a tall figure holding a mace, trailing behind. ''For the kingdom?'' It felt strange, to say the least. Andrew thought about why he was here and what made him risk his life. He hadn''t come here solely to fight. ''Why?'' Was it for the kingdom? No. While he could say that on the surface, deep down, his loyalty wasn''t purely to that. More importantly, there was something he had observed while guarding the country of Naurilia. ''Is this kingdom worth dedicating my life to?'' He wasn''t sure for the future, but at least not right now. He had sided with Krang because there was no other choice. Yet, here he was. "Stop! Don''t back down!" The shout of Squire Ropord echoed. He had become the commander of the gate. The man, the captain of the guards or whatever he was, was nervously watching from the side, quickly grabbing his bow to shoot. From what Andrew could hear, it seemed he hadn''t risen through merit but rather through political maneuvering. The ones who knew how to fight were the guard captains, but even they weren''t in a position to act from the top of the gate. In other words, there was no one else to stop the people advancing toward the castle gate. Andrew glanced at both the front and back before continuing his march. His thoughts from earlier continued to echo in his mind. There were things that couldn''t be avoided if the conclusion wasn''t reached. One thing about why he was here was clear. ''The family.'' Was it enough to just seek noble status? Was it enough to just have a family? Did he need only the ''Gardner'' name? The name didn''t matter. That wasn''t important at all. Andrew tightened his grip on his sword and adjusted his stance. A straight sword represented his resolve. His dream. His heart. Who had he learned this from? ''The captain.'' Andrew had learned by watching Enkrid''s life, his daily routine, his training, and the time he spent. It wasn''t just about learning technique. It wasn''t just about rolling his body through practice. From Enkrid, Andrew had learned how to dream. ''What kind of family will I create?'' "What kind of person will I be?" He spoke aloud as he completed his thought. He would raise a proper family under a rightful royal house. He didn''t seek power; he sought the right path. And that was why he was here. Unknowingly, Andrew smiled. He didn''t realize it, but his smile resembled Enkrid''s in some way. It was the smile of one chasing a dream. In Andrew''s eyes, he saw the five trainees controlling their breathing from the side. "Whoo, whoo." The largest of them exhaled the loudest. It wasn''t that they lacked combat experience, but the approaching enemy exuded a clear murderous intent, something they hadn''t encountered before. A few soldiers stood in the way of the advancing swordsman. There was no time to stop them. Like Andrew, they had likely chosen to stand here of their own will. The soldiers spoke as they charged. The swordsman''s arm moved. The blade reflected the light as it slashed and thrust. Whoosh, flick, swish. The sword was so sharp that the soldier was sliced cleanly with every strike. "Ahhh!" A soldier screamed as his fingers were severed and he fell to the side. To the soldiers defending the castle gate, this was an opponent they couldn''t stop. "Whoo." Andrew took a deep breath and stepped forward. "Lord Andrew?" "Don''t die like a dog. Fall back." There were two opponents. One was the swordsman in front, and the other was the man wielding a heavy-looking mace in the back. Andrew''s eyes scanned the face of his opponent. As he approached, he spoke. He had learned from Enkrid that his training wasn''t just about dreaming; it was about making an impact. "Hey, you with the bird eyes. Come here." The words came out effortlessly. The man, who had been about to leap forward, turned his head to look at Andrew. He only turned his head, so his movements looked stiff, like a puppet. The nickname "bird-eyed" fit perfectly. His eyes were small and round, as if a needle had punctured them. Mocking his appearance wasn''t a challenge here. This was a battlefield. If necessary, one could insult not just their appearance but even their parents. ''As I learned.'' Andrew gathered his resolve. In any situation, one must do their best. That''s how Enkrid had lived. Whether provoking or fighting, he had done it in that way. And that''s what he had taught Andrew. Andrew followed that path. "Hey, can you see as well as a bird?" The insults continued. Andrew''s attire was that of a noble. He wore armor engraved with the Gardner family crest, holding a shield and sword, even wearing a visor helmet. His words didn''t fit his appearance. The swordsman, a member of the Mernes family, had never been insulted like this before. His sword was the pride of his family, and being treated with respect was a given. He raised his sword. "I won''t make it quick." Anger spurred him to speak. "Hey, can you even see?" The unexpected words struck back. The swordsman from the Mernes family, filled with rage, stepped forward and swung his sword with full force. As he stepped, his sword came down with a mighty strike. Andrew raised his shield to block. The clash made a loud noise as the blade dug into the shield, but Andrew sidestepped and disrupted the strike, then stabbed his sword into the opening. The swordsman staggered back, shouting. "Brick!" At the swordsman''s cry, the mace-wielding man approached with heavy steps. He looked like someone who might have stolen the blood of a giant. "Is your mother a giant?" Andrew''s words cut straight for the weak spot, his tongue as sharp as his sword. "Bastard." The man with the mace gritted his teeth, veins bulging. "Or is it your father?" This time, it wasn''t Andrew who spoke. One of the trainees, a freckled woman, added her words. As she spoke, she showed what she had learned, causing the man with the mace to turn his gaze to the side. "We''ll take care of this." The five trainees spoke in unison. Andrew nodded. He, along with the five trainees, had survived the hellish trials of Rem and conquered the demonic challenges of Enkrid to make it here. No matter who came, they would be a better match than the two of them. "Die, blind bastard!" Andrew finally threw out the provocation. "Fucking bastard." The opponent, already enraged, drove his sword into the shoulder guard. The combination of leather and metal that covered the shoulder fell apart, and blood spurted out. "I''ll cut your tongue off first." Despite this, the opponent was still furious. Ignoring the wound, he showed his anger. Andrew nodded in response. "Where are you looking when you speak? Look me in the eye when you speak to me. Ah, were you looking at my eyes? Sorry, I didn''t know since your eyeballs aren''t visible." It was only after drawing a dragon and piercing the eyes that the picture was complete. Andrew did this. With words, he attacked the eyes of his opponent, stripping away their reason. The opponent, losing his rationality, charged again. Squire Ropord watched the battlefield and thought. ''Something''s wrong.'' The enemy''s numbers were overwhelming. They were threatening. Moreover, the ten people in front were something else entirely. Each one exuded a murderous aura. Among them, three seemed to be above him in rank. Even so, he still had a moment to breathe. ''Is this really all they have?'' There didn''t seem to be any reinforcements. While their mangonels and weapons were menacing, they had been destroyed earlier... ''But they''ve broken them...'' Ropord continued to think. He had seen Enkrid and was now considering walking the same path. Why was he on this path? To accumulate wealth and rise in status? He had just ignored, no, gone against the orders from above. Even if this ended well, he''d be at least reprimanded, or worse, imprisoned if things went wrong. Still, he was here. ''I''m a knight.'' Squire Ropord wanted to fulfill his duty. He had hidden words deep in his heart. ''For the glory of the royal family and the kingdom.'' He had grown up watching his seniors and wanted to protect his honor. Then what was Ropord''s hell? ''The royal family disappearing.'' His thoughts intertwined with his actions, purpose, and heart, and connected with the current situation to give him an answer. Suddenly, a cold sweat ran down his back. What did the enemy want? What did the one who started this conflict desire? His mind was racing like never before. His ear, which had previously bent toward his opponent''s words, now focused inward, listening to his own thoughts. The enemy''s strength became clear. Of course, it would have been tough without Ragna and Dunbakel. They were a significant threat. But he also thought, ''It''s just a challenge.'' ''If we hold out at the city gates, we can survive.'' It would be difficult, but it was possible. So what was the conclusion? The person who sent him to Enkrid was not the constable. The moment his face appeared in his mind, the thought hit him. What if he was on the opposite side? "The palace is in danger!" Ropord shouted as he struck the wall with his fist. Below, Yon, wearing his horned helmet, heard the shout. The warrior from the eastern regions, Yon, loved combat. To be precise, he enjoyed using all kinds of tricks to topple and kill his opponents. If Meelun from Border Guard had his joy in defeating weaker enemies, Yon relished the struggle and death of stronger opponents. He would even take hostages to induce the enemy''s mistakes. He would do anything to create an opening. It was a malicious desire. "Do you know anyone in the palace?" Yon asked with a serious face. Though he appeared as if he only fought righteous battles, his heart was the opposite. He touched the wide scar on his cheek. It ran from his cheekbone to his chin. "This scar was from the day my wife died." It was a lie. But who would know the difference? If he could twist the enemy''s mind, he would do anything. "It wasn''t even half a day. Just enough time for a candle to burn down." Yon said, showing the distance between his thumb and index finger. It was less than a finger''s length. "Well, not quite an instant, but it was a brief delay. I''ll ask again. Do you know anyone in the palace? If you do, I''ll send you there. Go." Yon had recognized something. The man in front of him was at least a junior knight. He didn''t know where he came from. Since the main force of the knights wouldn''t normally come to the city gates, he clearly wasn''t from the knights. Yon gestured, and one of his mercenaries beside him lowered his large shield, making a heavy thud. They had fought together for years. Inside that shield was a net made from monster scales and tendons. As soon as the man before him turned around, the net would be thrown. ''Come on, turn around.'' Yon acted like an honorable warrior. But Ragna didn''t hear a word from his opponent. "What''s at the palace?" Instead, Ragna asked Squire Ropord on the wall, who could not explain in detail and simply repeated the same words. "We have to return to protect the palace!" Danger? Threat? Everyone has their own hell. Ragna had found the reason he lacked motivation. It didn''t matter to him whether the people here lived or died. That''s why. It was like walking with no destination. Without a destination, there was no need to look back at the path he had walked or find the direction he needed to go. ''No attachment.'' Thus, no motivation. There was no reason for him to be here. He felt like he was wearing a mismatched suit. He felt like he was forcing himself to eat food he didn''t want to taste. He had just realized that now. The threat to the palace, which soon turned into the danger to Enkrid, made him think of it. Ragna found the place he needed. If Enkrid were to die because of this? ''Back to the past?'' It would be a life with no motivation. He didn''t want to go back. He had learned how to move forward and saw the way ahead. Therefore, he didn''t want the tool he needed to die. In other words, the commander must not die yet. But he wouldn''t disobey his command. Enkrid''s order was to protect the gates. So, he would protect and move on. ''A shortcut.'' Ragna thought of the fast way forward. As he stood there, in a daze, one of Yon''s mercenaries, who was positioned behind him, pulled back his shortbow. He was a man who enjoyed close combat with his shortbow, sometimes using poisoned arrows. He pulled the string back. Thwack! An arrow pierced Ragna''s back. Or rather, it didn''t. It passed through his afterimage. Ragna bent his body forward. The arrow passed through where his chest had been and embedded itself in the ground. Ragna momentarily drew the sword he had kept sheathed. Sling. As the sound of friction echoed, Yon realized something was off and swung his glaive. It was useless. Earlier, Ragna had shown none of his ability due to his lack of motivation. Now, it was different. ''To the palace.'' A traveler with a destination walked with purpose. Ragna''s sword moved with the same intent. *** ''What is this?'' The ferryman could only watch, not intervene. In other words, he could see repetitive events. In a way, it was like seeing a part of the future. For this reason, he did not find enjoyment in watching. Knowing what would happen robbed him of the opportunity to experience joy. That''s why these unpredictable moments were a welcome change. At first, he was bewildered. But slowly, an emotion he had long forgotten began to awaken. The joy of seeing the unknown. "Heh." The ferryman, on the boat drifting on the river of the spiritual world, savored the euphoria he had once felt. It was unpredictable. The future was unclear. Had this always been such a delightful thing? Today was different. The repetitive today he had seen was changing in an unexpected direction. The ferryman, being just a watcher, did not overthink it. He simply enjoyed the moment. In the spiritual world, he mentally smiled and laughed aloud, wanting to feel the great waves of joy. It was the kind of pleasure he had longed for. --------------------------- To get more Chapters and support my work please head over to my ko-fi! Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 388 - The Sky is Not Fair Chapter 388 - 388 - The Sky is Not Fair To get more Chapters and support my work please head over to my ko-fi! Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 388 - The Sky is Not Fair Chwarr-ruk! The net falls over his head. Ragna lightly swung his sword vertically. It wasn''t particularly fast or slow, but suddenly the blade narrowed and seemed to transform into a line, which swiftly cut through the net. "What the!" The comrade who threw the net shouts. Yon realized something was wrong, but there was no time to speak. He stretched his left hand forward, gripping the glaive near its blade, and quickly thrust, swung, and slashed. Thud, clang! The sword that cut through the net had already dropped from above, so Yon had to block it. Even though he laid the glaive blade flat to deflect, the sword relentlessly followed and tried to cut through the spear. Yon pulled the glaive back, blocked again, and pushed the blade upward with force. After three quick motions, his arms went numb. ''My hands are numb?'' Yon, too, was an exceptional warrior. He knew how to wield Will. Will, meaning willpower, couldn''t be instinctively used, but he could control it through technique. What a squire could do, he could do as well. He could. But after just one clash, he felt the difference in strength. He could never win. It felt hopeless. It was like being trapped in a coffin with his limbs bound and squeezed. ''That monster bastard?'' When they first fought, it was like playing around. But after putting the sword back into its scabbard and drawing it again, the man became someone else. The man quickly jumped backward with the same speed he approached, swinging his sword horizontally. It was fast but heavy. It was too late to dodge. The mercenary who threw the spear raised a round shield. That alone deserved praise, as he at least attempted to block. Crack! Thud! Ragna''s sword struck both the shield and the man. The man, having jumped backward to swing his sword, now curved his trajectory sideways. Yon''s gaze belatedly followed him. He saw the comrade who had thrown the net have his neck severed, blood spurting out in a spray. The opponent didn''t stop. After dodging a spear aimed at his back, he casually swung his sword again, as if his muscles had no fatigue. "Gurk!" One of the spear users, who had been showing off, was struck in the throat by a long line. Blood erupted, and a gaping hole appeared in his throat. Yon, at last, pushed his numb arms aside. He saw a sword falling from above his head. He also saw the opponent''s face. It wasn''t one of panic or exertion, just an indifferent, almost bored expression as if doing something routine. "Ugh!" Yon''s Will activated. He transferred his willpower through the glaive''s blade. The technique was called ''knock away.'' It was a technique that could make an opponent''s weapon fly from their hands with a powerful deflection, infused with Will. Against this, Ragna showed his Will of Cleaving. The will of ''Venda,'' meaning ''knock away,'' passed through the will of ''cut'' and carried it away. Ragna''s body brushed past Yon. Yon stopped dead in his tracks. Soon, a diagonal line appeared on Yon''s head, with blood slowly dripping from between the cuts. Crack. His skull was split along the line, from above his right eyebrow to below his left cheekbone. Fortunately, his mouth was untouched. Yon, dying, opened his mouth. "Uddd..." It was just the sound of his teeth meeting, meaningless words. Even if it had some meaning, the man before him wouldn''t have heard it. Ragna, having swiftly killed six, turned around. His pace was quick, though he didn''t seem rushed. As he entered the gates of the city, he saw Andrew and five trainees finishing off enemies, panting. One of the enemies wielding a mace was lying, two swords embedded in his belly, with his ankle twisted backward. Beside him, another enemy had a sword stuck in his heart while still holding his own. Ragna glanced at them and passed by. Far away, Dunbakel was still fighting, but those opponents wouldn''t die easily. Taking care of oneself was the greatest skill, wasn''t it? Of course, Ragna wasn''t moving out of any calculation or strategy. He was simply looking for the drive. He was heading toward where he should be. Without hesitation, he walked straight into the gates and climbed the city walls. Soon, the battlefield that began where Ragna had been was calming, as the enemy soldiers stopped moving after seeing the figures of their own men halt. As the strange standoff took place, Ragna stood atop the city walls. "Is there danger at the palace?" Squire Ropord, trying to calm himself, had his mouth agape once again after watching Ragna''s battle, as if he had just sealed it shut. "Yes, well." Ropord''s thoughts had slightly changed during that time. Of course, it was natural. He had always been someone easily swayed by others'' opinions. Despite his talents, it was a matter of his personality. Therefore, his words came out like this. "It might not be, or it might be wrong..." To Ragna, those words sounded like ''It might be true,'' or ''It might be.'' "I''m going ahead." That was enough. "Where are you going?" For a brief moment, Ropord realized just how terrible Ragna was at finding his way. He was so bad at it that if left alone in the city, no one could guess where he would go. "To the palace." "On your own...?" "I know a shortcut." Ragna understood Ropord''s words. Could Enkrid be in danger? Maybe. Perhaps there''s no danger at all. It could be the opposite. So, he would just go and see for himself. The threatening enemies outside the gates were now mere ghouls, missing limbs. So, it was fine to leave. Dunbakel and Andrew would handle things well on their own. That was why he was going alone. Even if some unexpected danger came, those two could block it. "...What?" Ropord didn''t know what was right. But he understood that he couldn''t stop the man in front of him from leaving. It was a clear and definite expression of will. "I''m leaving." Ragna said, then turned away. Had Andrew been here, he would have slapped his forehead and shook his head. Wasn''t this man absolutely the worst at finding his way? But Andrew was below the gates, taking deep breaths, reflecting on Ragna''s shocking fight. It was a shocking battle. So, there was no one to stop him. Ragna turned around and focused his gaze on the palace. The city was large, as it was home to many people, so the palace was only faintly visible. Even on horseback, it would take a while to get there. Of course, it wasn''t a journey that would take half a day, but it wasn''t exactly close either. Moreover, the roads weren''t smooth or easy to navigate. The road leading to the palace was built along the outer walls of the city, so it wasn''t a simple straight line. If you didn''t know the way, it would be hard to move forward. To Ragna, it was almost like a maze. Yet, he could still see the palace. So, he truly knew a shortcut. No matter how you looked at it, Ragna was someone who wouldn''t fail to run straight at something faintly visible. He jumped onto a roof and ran across the city''s top, keeping the palace in sight. He saw Jaxen running in a similar direction. He briefly spotted a barbarian, drenched in fatigue, returning from his mission. Lastly, he saw a panther running across the rooftops far away. It was just a glance. Ragna ignored everything and kept running. He had a tendency to get lost easily, so he was used to walking and running. And he used all his skills to run fast. Bang! Thud! Crack! The ceiling shattered beneath him as he crashed through it. He didn''t care about the circumstances, running without a second thought. "Ugh!" "Was that a lightning strike?" "Ah! What''s going on?" Ignoring whatever was in his way, whether it broke or not, Ragna kept running. Some citizens who were below were startled and shouted. Part of the eaves and roof collapsed and fell below. Ragna kept running. The path he took was indeed the shortcut. He passed through the city, ignoring a few soldiers who had fallen, possibly needing to protect the palace. "Hey!" Someone shouted at Ragna as he ran past, but he ignored it. He had no time for distractions, his goal was clear. Ragna wasn''t a hunter, nor did he possess the skill to track by scent or trace blood. But the instinct of one wielding a sword was sharper than anyone else''s, clearer than the sharpest blade. The presence of a dangerous force, murderous intent, and overwhelming strength was felt in the air. Ragna moved according to his instincts. It was almost automatic to head straight for the source of the commotion. The place where the noise came from, where things were intense¡ªthe location was too obvious. Ragna ran towards it, turning his back to the sinking sunlight. The glow of the setting sun bathed his back as he leaped upwards. Through a broken window and half-destroyed frame, Ragna saw Enkrid, and the figure blocking his way. Ragna propelled himself over the roof and trees, leaping with precision. The window had already been carefully shattered, the glass pieces cleared. Ragna threw himself through the broken window. Thunk. His sword caught on the frame. It was long and thick. Ignoring it, he yanked it free. Bang! The frame shattered as wooden pieces scattered around. Ragna drew his sword and moved forward. He gathered his strength and drove his sword downwards in a vertical strike. It was a tremendous blow, an unpredictable attack. Despite that, his opponent forced a gap through the strike and thrust his own sword. It was a blade that disrupted the flow. Ragna pulled his sword back downward. He adhered to the weight and speed of his sword. He increased the speed. If the man in front of him thrust, Ragna knew he would be impaled, but his opponent would be split in two vertically. Whoosh. Ragna''s descending sword sliced through the air and halted. His opponent had pulled back his thrust and retreated. "Who...?" The retreating man held his sword at an angle, gripping it with both hands. Ragna said nothing in reply. There was no need for words. The leader had nearly died. Killing or striking until just before death came first. Everyone had their own hell, and Ragna''s was a life wandering, lost. A kind of boredom built up in his heart, one that no one could touch. In that wandering, there was a person who had been a signpost for him. And there was someone who tried to kill that person. Words were unnecessary. He stepped forward, raising his sword. The greatsword''s specialty was its heavy strikes, requiring precise preparation beforehand. On the other hand, quick swords didn''t rely on preparation, but rather on striking faster than the opponent could react. That''s why thrusting was a symbol of a swift sword. But Ragna blended both features. How was that possible? He minimized his preliminary movements, and the rest came naturally. "It''s just a matter of doing it." He had told Enkrid the same when teaching him. There was nothing else to say. Once one sets their mind to it, it becomes possible. It was a talent. The words "Just do it" had come from that. His sword skimmed the wall. Fshk! Stones shattered, and fragments flew. Before the stone shards hit the ground, the blade that had skimmed the wall was already inches away from his opponent''s face. The opponent judged he couldn''t block it. Would he dare to interrupt the flow here? Impossible. Though he had remained a squire all his life, the man was a remarkable talent among the the order. His skill was genuine, and that was why he had come this far. He could do three moves by seeing one, and he had exceeded ten by seeing three. Still, he had always been second among the squires. The squire had struck multiple times with his sword. He increased the number of swings to disrupt the momentum of Ragna''s powerful blow. As the rhythm broke, his momentum faltered. Eventually, the opponent parried Ragna''s strike and pushed him back. Thud! A metallic clang rang between them. Greatsword. The heavy sword should be able to continue attacking by building momentum. He couldn''t do that, so he was pushed back. It was a sign that he was in the weaker position. Ragna was surprised by the sudden aggression, but the situation hadn''t changed. My talent is superior. His thoughts shifted quickly. Only after exchanging ten blows did he realize the truth. "...What are you doing?" The man spoke. Ragna still didn''t respond. Instead, he analyzed his opponent''s sword. It was quite a good technique. With the eyes of a genius filled with new enthusiasm, his swordsmanship was being torn apart. "Unbelievable." The squire denied it. Surely, no knight would be able to do this. "Just because you can''t understand it doesn''t mean you should dismiss it. Otherwise, there will be no next time." Why had the words of the knight who had taught him come back to him at this moment? He swung his sword through the sunset light, showcasing his ultimate technique. He used Will. It was a mysterious power based on his will. It was more than just interrupting the flow; it shattered the limits of his arms, legs, and reaction speed in an instant. All his techniques became faster and stronger, accelerating as the power built up. He stabbed, slashed, and twisted his sword, attacking from outside his opponent''s line of sight. Ragna parried the thrusting sword, deflected the slashing one, and with a rapid increase in speed, he countered the blow, breaking the flow entirely. His sword didn''t stop there. He wielded his large sword like a thin branch, striking and withdrawing with ease. To increase his speed, Ragna had to extend his legs, but his sword passed through that position. He was supposed to lift his sword from below to push his opponent back, but the opponent''s sword thrust forward first. The force wasn''t great, but once again, the flow was disrupted. Ragna pushed the opponent back after breaking the momentum. "So this is how it''s done." Ragna spoke. "You." Why had the man, who had lived believing in his talent, come this far? Was it just for power? No. Blood vessels popped in his eyes. There had been someone above him in the knight order. He could accept that if it were a knight. But they were both squires. He had always won when they fought at first. A hundred fights, a hundred victories. That should have been the case even after a thousand battles, but it wasn''t. The man had slowly, step by step, climbed up. Eventually, after ten battles, he started losing once in a while, and it became harder to win even five times out of ten. "Why!" He shouted in frustration. Why had this man been placed before him? The heavens were unfair. The goddess of luck was biased. He had reached the limits of his talent, but why did the other man... Ragna''s sword and the squire''s sword clashed. One sword cleaved through the neck, while the other stabbed empty air. That was all. ------------------------- To get more Chapters and support my work please head over to my ko-fi! Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 389 - Who Was Before the Queen? Chapter 389 - 389 - Who Was Before the Queen? To get more Chapters and support my work please head over to my ko-fi! Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 389 - Who Was Before the Queen? The day that always ended before sunset had changed. The proof of the change was Ragna turning his body. As Ragna lowered his sword and took a deep breath, the knight, who had looked like a grim reaper, collapsed in a heap behind him. Blood poured out from the severed edge. More fresh blood flowed into the already crimson-stained carpet. "How?" Enkrid''s mouth opened. Though not to the level of a full shock, he was certainly surprised. He was genuinely curious. That''s why he asked. Was he asking how Ragna got here? Krang, who had been watching, also thought the same. It was a timely intervention. In truth, it was the result of the twisted, repeated day, but Krang couldn''t have known that. While Ragna silently wiped the blood off his sword, Enkrid clearly asked why he was surprised. "How did you find the way?" How could he not be surprised? Ragna came here alone. It wasn''t as if someone had secretly followed him, so he must have come from the castle gates. If the goddess of luck hadn''t held his hand and guided him personally, what happened wouldn''t have been possible. Ragna puffed out his chest as he answered Enkrid''s question. It felt as though he had come all this way just for this moment. "I know a shortcut." "Luck?" Enkrid asked a veiled question. Was he asking if it was just luck that brought him here? Ragna also gave a veiled response. "Skill." It meant that the talent for finding shortcuts was innate. Krang blinked in confusion. What the hell are these guys talking about? It was an incomprehensible conversation. Wasn''t it a conversation between crazy people? Well, it wasn''t like he could say anything about it. The important thing was that he was alive. It wasn''t even quite nightfall yet. Krang realized that the thing he had prepared wasn''t going to arrive, and the matter was already over. "I almost pissed myself." Krang sat down with a thud. It wasn''t something someone who wanted to become the king of a country should be saying, but it didn''t lessen Krang''s dignity by saying it. He was that kind of person. Why should his dignity be diminished for being happy to have survived as a human? If someone had asked, he would have answered like this. After a brief exchange with Ragna, Enkrid awkwardly reset his twisted right wrist with his left hand. Yet his gaze still remained fixed on Ragna. His eyes were different from when he had thrown a joke earlier. Let''s say the pathfinding part was one thing. What about the next step? Ragna shoved aside a man who Enkrid himself couldn''t deal with and adjusted his head. He had watched the entire fight. Anyone who had seen Ragna''s fight and his sword could have figured it out. Though he wasn''t yet a knight, Ragna would become one. It was that kind of talent. Some of that talent had leaked out and shown itself. Matthew also widened his eyes, breathing heavily. That was the level of shock. Enkrid''s mouth opened. "Thank you." Though the words were of gratitude, his tone conveyed something other than mere thankfulness. Krang''s ears perked up, and his head turned. Normally, Enkrid wouldn''t easily show emotion, but now, it seemed almost too much to bear. Krang looked at Enkrid and shouted. "Call the healer! Bring a healer!" Both of his guards were badly injured. Taking care of them was urgent. Whether it was his strong sense of duty or loyalty, at once, both the servant and the maid appeared. "Yes, yes, my lord." Somehow, they hadn''t died or been injured too badly. Actually, this was normal. If the intentions of the dead knight had been properly carried out, these people would have taken care of the deceased Krais. Of course, they had no reason to kill the servants and maid unless they were a mad serial killer. The man who died had been a member of the order, and Krais knew that, which was why he called for people. "Call the healer." Krang said while sitting down, his gaze never leaving Enkrid. "You almost died." Ragna spoke up. It was, of course, that Enkrid almost died. Perhaps feeling the emotion behind the gratitude, was Ragna admonishing the person who he saved? Was it right to put that emotion in a simple thank you? It seemed there was an undertone of that too. Krang had the ability to read the hidden meanings behind people''s words. It could be called insight. Still, Enkrid''s gaze didn''t change. Enkrid dreamed of being a knight. Even if he tried to block it with all his might, he couldn''t. Not alone, but with the help of Krang''s guard Matthew and other spearmen, it was still like this. He lost. It was defeat. A normal person might have tasted despair and hopelessness. Even if they didn''t feel it, seeing Ragna would make them think otherwise. If you didn''t feel jealous, you weren''t human. Could you truly be human without being consumed by jealousy? That''s how Krang thought. And looking at Enkrid, he thought: ''That''s not a human.'' "If I heal, let''s have a match." Enkrid lifted his right wrist as he spoke. The emotion visible in his blazing eyes wasn''t jealousy. It was pure exhilaration, joy, and a sense of competition. Seeing that, Ragna scolded him. "If you almost died and lived, you should know how to show some restraint." It wasn''t something Ragna should have said, but this time, Enkrid definitely went too far. Enkrid nodded, aware of it. "Krang?" He called out to him. Krang thought for a moment and was about to move. His mind was already full of plans for the future. In Krang''s eyes, he saw his own "preparations." The travels across the continent weren''t just for escaping. It was part of the outcome. "It''s late." A short-haired man spoke as he approached. Ragna immediately realized this was no ordinary opponent upon seeing the man walking swiftly down the hall. "Sir Ingis." Krang called him. Enkrid recognized his affiliation. With a chestplate covering his torso, two swords at his side, and the emblem of the Sun''s Sword, it was clear which faction he belonged to. "I am Ingis of the Order." His voice sounded youthful. His face also appeared youthful. He was probably no older than twenty. The real Ingis was just twenty-eight. The youthful appearance was a complex of his. Also, he was the most talented genius in the red cloak order. During his time wandering and fleeing, Krang had encountered a junior knight who was stationed in the southern border region near the Magic Territory. "Sir Cyphrus." Seeing the junior-knight with a unit name, he had talked with him. Later, Krang had witnessed the southern battles. On that occasion, Krang had almost lost his head four times. Thanks to that, Krang had seen the dangers they possessed. "I won''t rise to the throne using the knight''s power." Krang had seen the future. He had envisioned the future of the palace. That''s why he knew the palace couldn''t bring out unconventional forces like knights. Would they need to cut off flesh to gain the throne? "You keep your honor. I''ll take care of my work." He wouldn''t do it. He would make a foolish and ignorant choice. Krang had done that. Perhaps it was because of that. He had made one promise, and now he was able to see Ingis here. If he could hold out for half a day, Ingis would appear and be ready to provide a solution. "I''ve come with eight squires." Ingis said. And it was true. The others were clearing up in front of the castle gates, while Ingis had rushed over here. His gaze turned to the junior knight that Ragna had slain. "Sir Filten." There was a trace of regret in his voice. But he didn''t blame Ragna or anyone else. He simply looked at the dead knight for a moment with a sad expression. Everything was his own choice. He knew well that Filten had harbored envy toward him. But that didn''t mean he wanted this outcome. He had become a traitor and taken sides against them. Whether right or wrong, it was the path he had chosen. Therefore, it was only right that he should bear the consequences. There was a feeling of gratitude inside him. If Filten had been alive, he would have had to kill him with his own hands. Ingis soon raised his head and spoke. "We must go to the Queen, Your Majesty." Master Cyphers'' orders had been twofold. Ingis was to ensure Krang''s safety but, if any dangerous threats arose in the palace, he was to neutralize them. "I was already planning on going." Krang agreed. Was the blade he had prepared the only one for the southern knight? If he changed his mind, it would be over, but had he really staked everything on a single decision? Of course, it wasn''t just about that. But nothing had arrived. That meant the problem had occurred elsewhere. The group moved toward one destination. Their target was the Queen''s grand hall. "Is this the tax collector?" *** Upon arriving at the palace, Jaxen reached his final destination. This was the place he had been looking for. Jaxen had been tracking the person behind the assassination guild''s contract. At first, he had believed it to be Viscount Mernes. After all, it was someone who had profited using the Black Blade, a notorious band of thieves. After finding several pieces of evidence and continuing his investigation, he discovered that there was another person involved. By eliminating the entire assassination guild, he had learned a lot. From that, he could discern who the leader of the Black Blade was and who the client was. He hadn''t discovered it all alone. The external pressure had helped lead to these findings. Specifically, it was thanks to Krang''s actions. What Krang had done was to physically separate the nobles'' factions. So... "I couldn''t have done it without the Captain''s help." The Black Blade had been torn apart, and its secrets were revealed. Had Krang not exerted pressure, the assassination guild wouldn''t have united, nor would they have put out a contract. In fact, they might not have intervened at all. "Failed, then?" The question returned as a question. A large man, his back against the wide window, stood there. His imposing presence filled the room. Jaxen nodded in response to his question. "Not even close." "Why?" "Difference in skill." "How kind." "I do have a question of my own, though. Would you answer it honestly?" "Of course." He was a man who started as a merchant and climbed to the position of tax collector, a bureaucrat in charge of collecting royal taxes. To get there, he might have sold his soul to a devil. "Was it the Black Lily?" The large tax collector grinned, a twisted expression that couldn''t be called a smile. "Shit, I should have killed them all and burned them when I had the chance." At the mention of the burning mansion, Jaxen recalled the scene. He had come to the right place. Jaxen drew his sword. "The heir of the Benshino family has returned." The tax collector, who had never once removed his hand from beneath the sturdy, expensive ebony table, finally did so. In his hand were two crossbows. Modified crossbows. With the triggers already set, bolts were loaded and ready to fire at a moment''s notice. "Do you think you could dodge this in a small room?" "I will come forth in the name of one who lost their family, a child who has lost their parents." "Stop talking and come at me." The Black Blade''s actions were crude and disorganized, but Jaxen didn''t blame his opponent. He only hoped for one thing. "Please, don''t beg for mercy." He was serious. "Shut up!" The tax collector shot the first bolt with his left hand. With a snap, the bolt flew through the air, its tip coated with poison designed to kill with the slightest touch. Jaxen, hiding in the shadows, didn''t try to surprise his opponent but wanted to show himself clearly. With a swing of his sword, he deflected the bolt. This was nothing particularly difficult. With a snap, the bolt snapped in half and ricocheted off the wall and floor. Meanwhile, the second bolt was fired. A timed attack. Jaxen drew his sword and struck the second bolt as well. With a snap, the second bolt shattered, grazing his face. He didn''t want to dodge, so he didn''t. A shallow wound appeared on his cheek. A sharp pain surged. It was poison. "It''s done!" The tax collector shouted. His voice was surprisingly light for his large size. This didn''t sit well with Jaxen. He didn''t expect his target to be some great hero, but this was something else entirely. He was just a filthy human. "Do you think your family deserved to burn? Do you believe they had a reason for it?" Jaxen recalled his teacher''s words. The words were true. It was always the great ones who had a great reason for their actions. A demon''s altar, the resurrection of an evil god. At least something like that. Or perhaps a grand noble who controlled the country? It should have been that way. No, there was a reason. Humans could kill for even the smallest of desires. A mistake, perhaps. But it could be fixed. Hadn''t Enkrid shown him what to do when one walked the wrong path? ''Just turn back.'' Start again. And if that doesn''t work? Try again. If the mistakes continue? It''s fine. Keep going. Start again. Do it until it works. Enkrid had taken up his sword and chased his dream of becoming a knight. Was that dream foolish? Ridiculous? Worthy of mockery? Not at all. Through repetition, persistence, and never giving up, Enkrid had built his own path and walked it. That was how it worked. That''s all there was to it. Jaxen wouldn''t be disappointed by his opponent''s filth. "Ten breaths?" He revealed the poison''s nature. "...Was it really Geogr''s Dagger?" The tax collector said, his voice now mixed with tension and confusion, as he grabbed something from under the table and tossed it down. Bang! Smoke billowed up. It was a smoke grenade. Saxen felt a tremor in his ears, and his vision was obscured by the smoke. Still, there was no problem. He''d seen through things like this hundreds of times before. By instinct, sensation, the tremor of air, Jaxen pinpointed his opponent''s location. The man was trying to flee through the window. Saxen quickly approached, grabbed him by the neck, and tossed him back. The man swung his hand, holding a hook-shaped weapon. Jaxen, grabbing him with his left hand and tossing him, drew a stiletto with his right. He blocked and deflected the opponent''s attack, then walked over to the man he had thrown. He didn''t scream or groan. He whispered something in the smoke. Of course, it wasn''t anything that concerned Jaxen. "Spare me, and I''ll give you treasures beyond your wildest dreams! I know the secret vault of the Black Blade!" "I know the secret vault of the greatest assassination guild on the continent." The Black Blade''s vault? Hardly. The implication of his words made the tax collector sweat. Jaxen opened the door. The bodies of those who had tried to stop him greeted him. They were his work. The ones who had obstructed him on his way here. There were bodyguards and assassins alike. The Black Blade''s leader must have prepared them for him. Not everyone was dead, though. There were still servants or maids who hadn''t attacked and didn''t need to be harmed. Jaxen waited for the smoke to dissipate, then turned his head. He saw the tax collector, still holding a curved dagger, hidden under his thigh. Jaxen took his longsword and easily pressed it into the tax collector''s thigh, disabling his intent. Thrust. The sword tip embedded in his thigh. "Ah!" The scream echoed as the sword was pulled out and stabbed into his other arms and legs, cutting tendons and disarming him. Jaxen tossed the weapons aside and tied the wounds with a large cloth. "Crazy bastard!" The tax collector yelled in a voice filled with rage. "I''ve heard that one before. It''s not endearing." Jaxen casually spoke, taking out a sharpening stone and a stiletto. Alongside them, he took out a jagged blade and some needles and tongs¡ªtools of torture. "What do you want? The Black Lily? Want me to tell you who the others are? Or what else? What do you want, you bastard!" Jaxen blinked a few times and then answered. "Nothing." "...What?" "Don''t beg for mercy. Your tongue is the last to go." Jaxen didn''t think his revenge was beautiful, nor did he think it was justified. "So what? Not my problem." Enkrid''s words came to him. Just because it was necessary didn''t mean he wanted to stab his friend in the back. He didn''t just look ahead. He also looked around. People always said everyone backstabbed each other. But there were some who didn''t. He didn''t care. He just did what he wanted. "If anyone asks, tell them Jaxen of the Benshino family sent you to hell. I''ll send the rest of our friends later. One of them is already on their way." "AAAAH!" The tax collector''s scream echoed through ------------------------------ To get more Chapters and support my work please head over to my ko-fi! Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 390 - The Count and Krang Chapter 390 - 390 - The Count and Krang Chapter 390 - The Count and Krang Enkrid smelled blood and a faint stench of decay inside the grand hall. The traces of battle were evident as well. It was obvious from just a quick glance around. The queen sat on the throne, her mouth tightly shut. Luagarne, standing nearby, had her ankle severed. Despite that, she managed to maintain her balance, revealing a look of determination, with visible scratches on her body. ''The signs of a fierce battle.'' This meant there had been a fight intense enough for Luagarne to lose her ankle. Still, they had won. The Marquis of Okto, who stood right in front of the eight low steps leading up to the throne, was wearing a robe, with blood splattered across it. His complexion was darker than usual, and he made no attempt to hide the grave expression on his face. What about the surroundings? The bodies had been removed, but bloodstains and damaged walls were still visible. There were also sword marks on the white-painted pillars supporting the hall. The smell of decay indicated something. It was the scent of monsters. Among the bodies, a few were monstrous, with fur. They were werewolves. ''It wasn''t just Baron Bentra involved.'' Although the exact orchestrator of this act was unclear, the intention was obvious. This was a conclusion drawn through instinct, reason, and thought. ''They were trying to kill Krang, seize the capital, and secure the queen.'' Or perhaps they had even planned to kill the queen herself? That remained uncertain. Regardless, their plan had failed. Krang had survived. And the queen, at least on the surface, appeared unharmed. Enkrid''s gaze shifted to behind the throne. He saw a man standing behind the wizard. The man had a square jaw, with graying hair near his ears, and neatly combed brown hair. From his closed lips, one could tell he was the type to speak only once a day, if at all. He wore a sword with a sun-shaped pommel at his waist, and stood directly behind the queen. It seemed to be the most suitable position for both guarding and striking. "I didn''t expect there to be a guardian knight," muttered Count Molsan, the most out-of-place person in the room. He swept his hair back, gave Krang and Enkrid''s group a quick glance, then shifted his gaze to the queen. But from Enkrid''s perspective, it was clear the count''s gaze only lingered on him for a moment. It had been a long time, but the words were aimed at him, not Krang. Krang didn''t even seem to exist to him, as if he had been completely ignored. "Something you didn''t need to know," the queen responded, her voice low and dark, replacing the usual warm and gentle tone. Just as the wizard nearby coughed, the queen raised an eyebrow. "Are you admitting your intentions were impure?" The queen''s anger was evident. "I admit it," said the count. His response was brief, but he smiled. It was the same confident, unshaken demeanor as always, like an unbreakable rock. He seemed to exude an air of arrogance, the kind that comes from someone who acts according to their own will. Amid the smell of blood and decay, his perfume seemed to linger. It was the presence of someone who fully believed in themselves. "I have one question," the count said, showing his palms as if to dismiss any answers. The queen had no time to respond. "Is it right for a few nobles to cause all this? Look at the state we''re in. The knights are divided, and a guardian knight had to step in to protect the queen. Don''t you know that when a guardian knight steps in, it''s said to be a sign that the kingdom will fall? Is this the end? Look outside. If someone had started a fire, the palace would have been burning." It felt as though he was suggesting that they could have done that, but chose not to. To Enkrid, it seemed like the count''s body was growing larger with every word. "That''s sophistry!" shouted a nobleman, one Enkrid had never seen before. His voice was loud, but it still seemed weaker than the count''s. The perspective seemed to distort, the sense of distance becoming warped. "Do not dismiss the reality that has occurred as sophistry," the count said, his voice low but filled with a presence that silenced the noble. The noble knew that anything he said here would gain him nothing. It was a feeling born from years of survival in the political arena. "Hmph." The noble snorted in frustration, but the count ignored him with an indifferent expression, effectively defeating him without lifting a finger. No swords or hands were used, but it was still a victory. "What is it that you want to say?" Another noble, the Marquis of Baisar, stepped forward. He resembled Marcus, with white hair and an even tone that didn''t match the chaos around them. The Marquis of Baisar, the head of the Centerpole Thumb Family. His hair, now white, was neatly combed back with flower-seed oil, and his clothes were spotless, not a drop of blood staining them. His presence hinted that his journey and his purpose here were different from everyone else''s. "I want to ask why this has happened," the count responded. "Why?" the marquis asked again. "What do you think would have happened if the king had gained power?" the count''s eyes and mouth curved into a smile. "How dare you insult the royal family!" The noble from earlier could no longer hold his temper. "Stop interfering. Or is this something your master ordered you to do?" the count shot back. The noble trembled, his hand reaching for a short sword at his side, ready to draw. The count ignored him, while the Marquis of Okto gestured at the noble, signaling him to remain silent. The noble then closed his mouth. "If you could call Sir Cyprus here with a single word, what would you do?" the count continued, never losing his smile. "What do you think would happen if the south was abandoned?" he asked, as though waiting for this moment. "Does it matter?" the count asked nonchalantly. "The sword that defends the palace. If that''s not important, then what is?" Marquis Okto interjected. The count answered calmly. "The throne, the king, power, and the resulting authority." His meaning was clear. It was more important to establish the throne and gain power first. "Who gives orders to the knights?" the count raised his right fist, almost like making a speech. "Is it the knight they call Master? Or the king? Or is it the throne? Or perhaps¡ª" His voice became sharp as a knife, cutting through the room. The queen clenched her teeth, her jaw muscles tightening. "Is it the game of honor they love so much?" What came first? The throne. The king. Power. Authority. The pursuit of power came first. Without the strength to achieve one''s goals, what good was the throne? "Give up the throne, Queen. It''s the only way to save this country," the count said, crossing a line that should not have been crossed. Despite that, his words didn''t feel out of place. There was a force behind them that made it seem as though he was speaking the truth. The Marquis of Baisar, with a calm expression that didn''t fit the occasion, threw a question back at him. "What would change if you became king?" "It would change," the count replied. "How?" the marquis asked again, his voice steady. "I will gather power and strengthen the throne. As for those who try to push through? The lost territories? In just a few years, I will drive them all out, and I can just reclaim the land when the time comes." This was a resolve to walk a different path than before. He was talking about solidifying his foundation first and then using the power he built to start again. "What will you use?" "I am a mage. And in my domain, there is power equal to that of a knight order." This was a clear threat. Even Enkrid, watching from the sidelines, could feel it. "Do you have power? I do." It was a challenge. The two marquises were left speechless. The queen was no different. "Your Majesty, how long do you think your guardian knight will protect you? That''s a ridiculous claim. If you''re confident, then try. I will show you the strength of someone born and raised in that land you call the border, Molsan''s land." This was nothing less than arrogance. Despite this failure, the Count didn''t apologize or plot behind the scenes. He stood straight and spoke clearly. A direct confrontation. He was confident he could take it by force. "Bring the knights. I will make them kneel, kill them all, and then I will personally declare this kingdom mine." Killing all the knights? Impossible. But it seemed possible with the Count''s words. His words weighed on the room. They felt as if they were being pulled down to their knees. Of course, Enkrid wasn''t going to bow. Neither were the Marquises of Okto and Baisar. However, a few of the nobles seemed shaken. It felt as if the fight was over, as if the Count''s victory was inevitable. "It''s magic." As Enkrid watched, a whisper came from beside him. Esther had quietly moved in next to him. "Trying something sneaky, huh?" She spoke, and instead of responding, Enkrid just kept his gaze forward. It was magic. The Count was using some kind of trick. Should he cut him down? The man was already displeasing to him. Perhaps sensing that thought, Ragna spoke from behind. "Will you do it?" Could he? Enkrid hesitated for a moment, but before he could decide, Krang raised his hand, grinning. His cheerful demeanor didn''t fit with the Marquis of Baisar''s calmness, but it wasn''t just unfitting¡ªit almost seemed insane. His words and the title he used were even more provoking. "I have a question. Sir." For the first time, Krang seemed genuinely entertained. His title, mocking in tone, was meant to goad. The Count couldn''t ignore him. His words made it impossible. The Count turned and looked directly at the queen. "Are you really going to trust such an immature child? Someone with no power, nothing at all?" Krang wasn''t a child. He had a fair amount of facial hair, but the Count spoke as if he were a mere child. Krang ignored how he was addressed. He didn''t care. His dismissive attitude was followed by his words. "If you defeat the knights and leave them out, you''ll expand in southern Lihinstetten, and then what about the cursed lands? As expected, you won''t be able to stop it." Krang had positioned himself in the Count''s game. He went with the flow. It didn''t matter. He was still smiling faintly. "So what?" The Count asked again, finally facing Krang. "If that happens, many will die. Losing land isn''t the end. As you lose territory and get pushed back, the people near the borders will die in droves. Is that the end of it? People die, land is lost, and the merchants will decrease their traffic. When merchants stop coming, what do you think will happen? The gold coins will dry up. That will weaken the country''s economy for a while. Or maybe you think the Count''s private funds will solve all of this, considering how much gold you have? But even with all your power, do you think you can stop Lihinstetten or the cursed lands in the south?" The Count glared at the man standing on his own game board. His gaze was filled with contempt. He stood his ground and faced Krang''s words head-on. "Sacrifice is inevitable. If it''s necessary, I will do it." "Really?" "Then how can we move forward without sacrifice?" Krang spread his arms wide. "Do both." "Both?" "Don''t make light of what''s going to happen next." "You''re just bluffing, pretending to be able to do the impossible." "That''s not true. My weapon lies elsewhere." "Show me then." "I''m good at making requests." "A request?" "For example, if I asked someone to cut off your head right now, there would be someone willing to do it." "Go ahead." Krang, still smiling, stared at the Count, as if he were an old friend. "Do you want to die?" "You can''t kill me." He was so sure. As Enkrid listened to the conversation, he prepared himself to step in at any moment. "May I make a request, Enki?" Krang spoke, his gaze turning to Enkrid, filled with mischief and intensity. It might have seemed like an offhand comment, but it felt like the right time. No one else had stepped forward yet, caught in the pressure from the Count and Krang. Even Ragna, who had been bold before, hesitated. But Enkrid stepped forward. "Of course." He spoke as if it was natural, joining in and standing with Krang. The atmosphere twisted strangely. Krang had set the stage, and now Enkrid was the sword that stepped in. "Always the greedy one." The Count remarked, watching Enkrid. "I''m not your friend, Count. I''m his." Krang responded. "Now, turn around. Look at the situation. Even a seven-year-old knows where to stand to win." The Count glared at Krang. It seemed that whoever got Enkrid on their side would be the winner. Enkrid took a step forward, standing by Krang''s side and lifting his wrist in triumph. "Victory." It was a clear declaration. "Just as I thought." Krang nodded, smiling. The Count laughed, a harsh, bitter laugh. "Good, good! Very good. So, Queen, the choice is yours?" "No words for a traitor." At last, the queen responded. The Count glared at Krang, saying: "You said you wouldn''t call for the knights, and you would solidify your power. Then you''d better block my first arrow. Without that famous knight order of yours." "Worried about me? Thanks. I''ll defeat your forces even without the knights." Krang mocked the Count, who wasn''t fazed. Instead, his body began to creak, and white smoke began to leak from him. "It wasn''t the real body after all." Esther spoke to Enkrid, though everyone could hear. "Oh, you already sent part of your forces to Border Guard. When that city''s glorious flames rise, I''ll reconsider." As the smoke dissipated, the Count''s body shriveled away. "We''ll meet again." With those final words, the Count''s body crumbled. Enkrid looked at the fallen figure. It wasn''t a face he recognized. But Krang knew it well. "Mernes, the Viscount." He had vanished earlier but ended his life here as the Count''s messenger. Krang sighed, shaking his head. The two marquises were watching him closely now¡ªno, they were watching both him and Enkrid. "Well, Queen, I''ve kept my promise." Krang spoke, his tone light as ever. "I''ve cleared out all the noble factions here and left only my own people." And with that, he turned to discuss his promise with the queen, without any time for leisure to settle the situation. ------------------------------ To get more Chapters and support my work please head over to my ko-fi! Ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 391 - There wasn’t a single thing about that man Enkrid liked Chapter 391 - 391 - There wasn¡¯t a single thing about that man Enkrid liked Chapter 391 - There wasn''t a single thing about that man Enkrid liked "Make all the nobles your allies." That was the condition the Queen gave to Krang. After fulfilling this condition, they could discuss the throne. The Queen said this, and Krang followed through. "Your Majesty." Krang looked at the Queen. She looked back at him. Enkrid didn''t know, but the Queen had no desire for the throne. She didn''t seek power. What she wanted was a quiet, peaceful life. Her dream was to enjoy flowers in spring, seek shade from trees in summer to cool off, and chat. In autumn, she would gather fallen leaves, and in winter, she would sip warm tea while watching the snow fall outside. It would be even better if she had good people by her side during all those moments. So, her only wish was not to marry just to secure the throne, but to spend time with truly good people. For an ordinary commoner, this might have been an extravagant dream, but she was the Queen of Naurilia. So, it was a humble dream. The Queen, as a person, didn''t suit the throne. She desired something other than power. Yet, she remained. She didn''t shy away from her responsibilities. She did what she could. Once, she had wanted to divide power among the noble families, including Baisar, and leave. "If you do that now, Naurilia will be divided into at least three pieces. Oh, and those three will likely be annexed or destroyed by other countries. Ah, the ones who survive might become city-states, but what was your point in doing all this?" That was the words of Marquis Baisar. He was the Queen''s mentor. His words were correct. A Queen was like the last bastion of great powers. She couldn''t leave. But neither did she want to hand the throne over to someone like Count Molsan. ''Late King.'' There were nights when she missed her father. A gift from the late King arrived. "Kridianat Langdeus Nauril, my name, I was told." It felt like seeing the late King. There were many similarities between them. Krang had visited the Queen before everything began. Krang had to see the Queen. He needed to know if Naurilia was a place worth protecting. If not, he shouldn''t have started. "The late King was full of love." That was the Queen''s first words when she met Krang. It was sincere. The late King had many women. Even with a queen and concubines, he often went out. It was surprising that he only had one illegitimate child. They conversed. Krang left and came back to see the Queen again, and now they had come to this point. "Have you asked the question?" The Queen said there was someone left to ask the same question. No matter what her dream was, the Queen loved the kingdom she was born and raised in. That was why she didn''t turn away from her responsibilities. The three people she had to ask were: First, of course, Krang. Second, Marquis Baisar. She was thinking of elevating the Marquis to Duke and slowly passing on the throne, but her mentor had rejected it. She had later considered including the Marquis of Okto, but Marquis Baisar had opposed that as well. "No matter what, it will fail." Marquis Baisar understood that in order to maintain the country, there needed to be a unifying figure that everyone recognized. The Queen had to ask Count Molsan last. If he truly cared for the country, shouldn''t she pass the throne to someone like the revolting dog of a man? Doing things she disliked had somehow become her specialty. But she never got to ask. ''How ridiculous.'' Just before answering, the Queen thought inwardly. She felt it was truly ridiculous. She had meant to ask, but the only person left to answer was one¡ª The two great nobles who had once been called the great nobles were now on Krang''s side. The only remaining person who could have been asked, Count Molsan, had become a traitor. He was someone who could have been called a hero. And yet. ''That method cannot be called right.'' What he wanted was the throne, not the country. She could see that in his eyes. So, there was only one choice left. "Did you intend this?" The Queen asked. Krang gave a wry smile. "I only thought that those who love and would protect the kingdom would remain." In the end, Krang had set the stage. He had embraced the Marquis of Okto and also settled matters with Marquis Baisar. No matter what happened, if he survived, then those behind him would follow. Marquis Baisar knelt on one knee. His old knee hit the ground with a thud. "May I say a word, Your Majesty?" The Queen nodded. With his head lowered, the Marquis spoke. "May Your Majesty''s dream come true." He had spent more time with the late King than anyone. He could even be called another father to her. The Queen didn''t respond. She only looked at Krang with eyes that showed no emotion. Krang had proven himself. Beyond the cleverness of his methods, the fact that all the remaining nobles in the capital were on his side was obvious to anyone. "Prevent external pressure and punish the traitor. If you do that, I will personally crown you." The Queen declared. Enkrid knew that Krang had done all sorts of things to achieve this. Without that, this conclusion would never have been reached. Most importantly, he realized that the Queen had already concluded the matter. ''He began this with the promise of the throne.'' "Protect them." Krang said and turned. "I will. You do what you must." The Queen rose and shouted. Krang gave a salute and turned. The two Marquises of Okto and Baisar followed. Enkrid also left with his group. Just before leaving, Enkrid glanced back. He saw the Queen stretching out her hand to the side. It was directed at the court magician. A gesture filled with concern. The magician waved his hand. Was it a mistake to think their relationship was anything ordinary? It wasn''t something Enkrid needed to understand. "Where did you go?" He asked Esther. "A guy tried to persuade me to join his side." No need to ask who. It was Count Molsan. He had probably said it himself. A magician. Enkrid thought that if Esther left, there was nothing to be done. But she stayed. Should he ask her why? He doubted he would get a proper answer. Was it just because? Or maybe she felt like it? Still, he wanted to ask. "Why didn''t you leave?" Esther turned her head at the question. She had just burned two half-wit magicians who were chanting spells, turning them into ashes. "I don''t usually listen to others." She said. Enkrid thought that she seemed to listen to his requests better than most people. Krang was walking with the two Marquises, having a conversation. Talks about promises and conditions were exchanged. They also discussed predicting Count Molsan''s actions and strengthening the capital''s defenses with the armies of the two Marquises. Ingis was also involved. "Your Majesty, I have my forces with me." He said. Without hesitation, Krang replied. "I will send you some steeds. Rest for a moment and then return." The smile on Krang''s face remained unchanged. The count''s words were not intimidating at all. Even though the visitor was clearly a formidable force, Krang still told them to turn back. Ingis, lost in thought, was about to speak when Krang interrupted. "Protect the southern threat. That is your duty." Ingis agreed with the sentiment. Though they had bought three days, there was no point in lingering here. They needed to return. Stopping Count Molsan? Ingis didn''t think that was his responsibility. But from Krang''s perspective, excluding someone like him from their forces must have been a tough decision. It had to be. That much was certain. Yet, there was no hesitation. Was this what they meant by caliber? The master had said something similar once. "He''s a vessel too precious to break here. Go and help." It was those words that had brought him this far. Enkrid, standing behind, listened to Krang with a tinge of regret. But there was no helping it. "What if I suggested a duel before leaving?" That would never work. Enkrid wasn''t Rem; he knew better. Having raced here from the southern battlefield without even wiping the blood from his armor, he understood weariness and toil. Suggesting such a thing was unthinkable. Others might have been baffled by Enkrid''s restraint, but he understood when to step forward and when to step back. Hadn''t he just stayed silent moments ago until Krang spoke? "Enki, I hear Border Guard is under threat. You can return immediately if you wish." Krang''s voice brought Enkrid back to the present. He nodded in response. "I don''t think I need to." Audin was there, along with Krais. If the situation were truly dire, they would have sent word by now. Blocking all scouts wouldn''t entirely cut off communication¡ªnot with Krais. He was the kind of man who would have dozens of backup plans. And with both Audin and Teresa present, even a half-knight like the one who had stalled him wouldn''t be able to cause much trouble. Knights of such skill, capable of standing against someone like Ragna to a draw, were rare. Audin was likely the most capable of handling such a foe. "Worry about those who need it," Enkrid thought to himself. Besides, with Krais scheming in Audin''s shadow, they were in good hands. Enkrid''s answer seemed to draw the attention of the two marquises, who both turned to him. "Is there a problem?" Enkrid asked nonchalantly, genuinely curious. Marquis Okto blinked, while Marquis Baisar''s lips twitched as he maintained his expressionless demeanor. It was because of his casual tone. Krang chuckled at the sight. "Let it go. I said he''s a friend, didn''t I?" "Your Highness, it undermines your dignity." "Others may take notice." Both marquises had already pledged their loyalty to Krang. Their words were fair, but they were dealing with Krang, after all. "If a few words¡ªno, the words of a friend I personally befriended¡ªare enough to undermine my dignity, then I have nothing left to offer as a person." A king must maintain decorum. A king must keep everyone beneath them. A king must stand alone. But does that truly define a king? It was a question Krang seemed to ask the world with every word and action, revealing his character in the process. He was different. The weight of his words conveyed that. The heavy atmosphere soon dissipated. "What if scolding Enki for offending me led him to join the enemy?" Krang said, his tone playful. The marquises'' faces twisted awkwardly. They were well aware of Enkrid''s capabilities¡ªand those of the infamous Madmen Unit under his command. Without them, a battle against Count Molsan could become unpredictable. Sure, they could summon the knights if necessary. Perhaps Lord Cypress would come, no matter the stakes. Krang knew this too. Yet, he chose not to. This wasn''t about the present moment. Stopping a civil war was just a checkpoint. To secure the throne, Krang had to think beyond immediate victories. First, the damage caused by failing to contain Lihin-Stetten in the south or the Demon Realm would be irreparable. Second, and more importantly¡ª "If I can''t keep my own word, who will follow me?" He had won the argument with the count. When words failed to determine the victor, Enkrid had raised Krang''s hand. It was almost laughable, yet one thing was clear. When words couldn''t end a conflict, action had to. So, the knights would stay out of this. Krang had to handle it alone. "Will you help?" Enkrid nodded at the question, delivered with a playful tone. The marquises glanced between Krang and Enkrid, feeling the undeniable difference in their caliber. The night sky had darkened, and moonlight streamed through the windows of the great hall. The commotion had subsided, and there was no longer any noise. A group of Royal Guards approached but stopped short. At the front was a man in a dark gray helmet. "Your Highness." He knelt on one knee. Krang nodded. "Well done." "...I will accept my punishment later and beg for forgiveness." "You did your duty. That''s not because you''re on my side; it''s because you did what you had to do." Krang dismissed him with those words. He wasn''t the only one. Most of those stepping forward were warm toward Krang. Enkrid saw this as Krang''s power¡ªdrawing people in, earning their recognition after spending time with him. As they walked, Enkrid noticed a woman with orange hair limping toward them. Her broken nose had altered her features oddly, and she clutched her side in pain. She stopped in front of him, her gaze fixed solely on him, ignoring Krang entirely. "Enkrid." Her focus was unwavering. Enkrid saw that she had survived¡ªand with that, he understood the day had passed. Wasn''t this what the boatman had promised? He had to admit it. He had saved someone he wanted to save. That alone was enough to fill Enkrid with satisfaction, a warm feeling in his chest as he watched Aishia breathing, broken nose and all. "Did you sleep well?" His words carried everything he wanted to say. Aishia smirked, then clutched her side. It wouldn''t heal in a day or two. "Do you know her?" Krang asked casually. It was time for Enkrid to explain her circumstances¡ªhow she had opposed them but had her reasons. "She''s a junior-knight. Fights well, just a bit worse than me." Aesia''s eyes narrowed at the comment, while Krang seemed satisfied with the explanation. "You should recover." "Huh?" "There''s a civil war coming." Krang''s smile as he spoke betrayed no tension, as if discussing a mundane routine like having a meal. But his words were true. The civil war was beginning. Count Molsan had chosen war to settle things. What had he prepared? Enkrid found himself looking forward to it. Whatever came next, he would slash, pierce, and cut his way forward to stand face-to-face with the count. A threat to the Border Guard? Scheming against Esther? There wasn''t a single thing about that man Enkrid liked. ------------------------------ To get more Chapters and support my work please head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 392 - Knowing What I Possess Chapter 392 - 392 - Knowing What I Possess Chapter 392 - Knowing What I Possess "I am a sinner." Aishia had to admit her guilt. Even if Enkrid defended her and refused to speak of it, her actions would not simply disappear. The fact that her younger sibling had been taken hostage didn''t absolve her of her crimes. It was all excuses and rationalizations. At least, that was how Aishia saw it¡ªmaking her, in her own eyes, a sinner. When she confessed, Krang''s response was unexpected. "Then why not use merit to cover your mistakes? Like I said, we''re desperate enough to even borrow a cat''s paw." His tone made it seem inconsequential. Was it just the urgency of the situation? His demeanor, however, was overly calm¡ªalmost unnervingly so. It felt as though Krang wasn''t merely using anyone at random. There was a hint of trust directed at her, something AisHia couldn''t quite grasp. She had been on the side that betrayed them just half a day ago¡ªhow could he trust her? Even the two marquises observing them didn''t seem to faze him. AisHia couldn''t help but ask. "Why do you trust me?" She couldn''t understand Krang''s attitude. Was it because she was part of the Crimson Cloak Knights? Or because he truly lacked manpower? Or perhaps because she was one of the few remaining capable forces in the palace? Was it because she was a squire? AisHia looked at Krang, and he, in turn, gave her a bright smile. "I trust this friend''s eyes. That''s enough for me." Krang gestured toward someone as he spoke, and that was all he said. The person he pointed to¡ª"this friend"¡ªwas none other than Enkrid. "There''s a mountain of things to take care of. See you around." With that, Krang left, and as he disappeared from sight, Enkrid turned to AisHia. "Want me to reset your nose for you?" He seemed utterly unconcerned about her earlier betrayal. "It''s already been set." AisHia answered firmly, meeting Enkrid''s gaze. And a thought struck her. Does he know me so well? They had spent some time together, but not enough to truly know one another. She didn''t think he understood her reasons for standing where she was now. She didn''t want to explain that she had reluctantly stood in his way to protect her younger sibling. "See you later." She struggled to find the right words. Her sibling''s safety was her immediate priority, so she had to move on. Fortunately, her sibling was unharmed. Even so, AisHia''s face was still a mess. Her nose was swollen, her face was covered in purplish bruises, and every step she took sent pain shooting through her ribs, making her clutch her side. Despite her state, she explained everything to her sibling. "I owe him a debt of gratitude." That was the conclusion she reached after rescuing her sibling and arriving here. No matter what motives lay beneath the surface, her opponent had shielded her and placed trust in her. While not everything had ended well, things had turned out as well as they could for Aishia. "And getting your face smashed in was part of that gratitude?" her sibling asked. Although they had been kidnapped, panicked, and despaired, they now appeared outwardly composed. It was their way of trying not to worry Aishia, for which she felt endlessly grateful. "Yes." "If he hits you twice, are you going to marry him?" "I''ll think about it." It was a meaningless joke. Despite the danger and hardship they had faced because of her, her sibling bore no resentment. They had grown up well. For her sibling''s sake, Aishia would have gladly laid down her sword. She had no regrets about her choices. If the same situation arose, she would choose her sibling again. She had a sudden urge to ask Enkrid. What would you do if I chose to betray you again? The answer seemed obvious, even without asking. Though she barely knew him and had only received from him unilaterally, she felt as though she already knew what he would say. "Then I''ll make sure that situation never arises again." It was the correct answer, and Enkrid likely moved through life with that very mindset. After rescuing her sibling, she returned home, washed up, and tended to her injuries. "Be grateful for the leniency you''ve been shown. There won''t be another chance to fight on the right side and prove yourself." A message from the Marquis of Okto''s envoy reached her. She didn''t need to be told. She had already decided as much. She had learned who was behind the one who had taken her sibling hostage. The one at the forefront was Viscount Mernes, but someone else had put him in that position. Her teeth ground together. The injuries would likely heal in less than two weeks. If she rested completely during that time, she''d recover sufficiently. Then she would plead to be sent to the battlefield. There, she would prove who she was and make her enemy pay for daring to threaten her sibling. With that resolve, Aishia gently stroked her sibling''s head. *** "I''ll definitely avenge you, Lykanos." Lykanos had been a comrade and brother to him, someone who had shared the same dream when the Black Blade Bandit group began. Though they were not bound by blood, they had been family. It was just before dawn, and the air was deep blue. The man stepped out of the castle and made his way toward the northern gate. Getting out of the castle was the hard part; from here, it would be easy. No one would suspect him. After all, the tax collector¡ªthe nominal leader of the Black Blade¡ªwas already dead. "A tool well used to the end." The man walked briskly, his mind consumed by thoughts of vengeance. He had a plan. "The secret vault." It was a trove of wealth accumulated over ten years. The man had once been the tax collector''s steward, but he was also the true head of the Black Blade Bandits. Once, he had wielded his sword for the oppressed alongside Lykanos, resisting persecution and scorn. While Lykanos had proven himself through force, he had led the Black Blade through ideals and intellect. But all men are corrupted by power and wealth. That corruption had brought him here. It had also led to Lykanos''s death. And now, all he had left was wealth¡ªthough he had yet to fully realize it. "I will." He repeated his vow for vengeance, knowing deep down it was impossible. It was merely a comforting thought, a justification for his flight. In truth, he felt no grief over Lykanos''s death¡ªonly fear for his own safety. His resolve was as hollow as his ideals had become. "Once I escape here..." He would likely forget his vow of vengeance altogether. With the wealth in the secret vault, he could flee to another country and start anew. Perhaps he could even become a nobleman himself, or at least a merchant lord. He painted countless futures in his mind as he walked. Shaking his head violently, he muttered to himself. "No, I will avenge him." Even as he lied to himself, dawn began to break, bathing the surroundings in soft warmth. Wrapped in a tattered cloak with a hood pulled low, he continued forward, blending in as a hunter. "They''ll never catch me, those fools." Confident in his escape, the man pressed on. When Jaxen had been pursuing him, it felt as though his breath was caught in his throat, as if a blade were pressing against his neck. But what about now? "I survived." Of course, he hadn''t simply planned to run away. Until the very end, he had caused havoc. He had ordered the remaining members of the Black Blade Bandits to set the royal palace ablaze. By now, the flames should have started to rise. With that thought, he turned to look back. Everything was quiet. Though some diligent souls might just now be waking, many had stayed up all night in the aftermath of last night''s chaos. No fights or brawls had erupted in the capital, but the area in front of the castle gate had been a frenzy, and the commotion in the royal palace had left unease in everyone''s hearts. Yet, the climactic blaze he had anticipated was nowhere to be seen. "Why?" The question lingered only briefly. Regardless of the mystery, his feet kept moving. He slipped through an alleyway, walking briskly, until he reached the northern gate. "Hold it right there." A soldier leaning lazily against a side gate, helmet askew, called out to him. Her voice was soft and thin¡ªalmost feminine. "What is it?" He responded curtly. The soldier removed her crooked helmet, and long golden hair cascaded down. She was a female soldier. "Why do you keep glancing back as you walk?" Was this really something to pick a fight over? But in a situation like this, where was the northern gate''s commander? Was a lone soldier all that stood guard here? The leader of the Black Blade Bandits felt a sense of foreboding. The air was strange. His heart pounded with unease. Then, as he glanced beyond the female soldier, he saw a few guards casually sitting, dozing off. "Asleep?" He quickly realized why this was odd. After last night''s chaos, how could the guards be napping? "Sorry, but there won''t be any fires." The female soldier spoke. "...Who are you?" "The Dagger of Gheogr." She crossed her arms as she replied, her posture brimming with confidence. That confidence only deepened his sense of dread. Cold sweat trickled down his back. "It''s too late." She added, glancing behind him as she spoke. Startled, he turned his head. Standing there was a man with striking, rare features¡ªeyes of reddish-brown that betrayed no emotion. "Nice to meet you," the man said. The bandit leader felt as if he''d been caught in the maw of a ghoul. And at that moment, he knew he was trapped. He cursed his carelessness for not carrying even a single escape scroll. But if he had, he wouldn''t have made it this far. To avoid the detection spells in the palace, he couldn''t afford to bring such items. All he had was a single blade. He already knew the man wouldn''t listen to reason. He''d seen how the tax collector he had sent met his end. His hands trembled with fear. "You''ve had your fun, haven''t you? Now it''s my turn." Jaxen had felt something off when he killed the tax collector. How could someone who had hidden their identity so thoroughly be caught so easily? Right then, Enkrid had issued an order for internal cleanup. Civil war was imminent. And to prepare for a fight, the first step was to secure one''s surroundings. If you get struck from behind before you even start, the battle is lost. Even Krang and the two great marquises had agreed. When Marcus joined midway, it accelerated their efforts. Jaxen did his part¡ªrooting out the remnants. And during this time, a member of the Dagger of Gheogr guild joined him. Though he''d told her she didn''t need to, she refused to stay out of it. "Master," she said. She was Jaxen''s lover and a member of the Dagger of Gheogr. The title rolled off her tongue naturally, as it should. Jaxen was the master of the Dagger of Gheogr, the continent''s most elite assassination guild. "Will you return after finishing this job?" She continued, her tone suggesting their work here was done. "We''ll talk later," Jaxen replied. For now, the task at hand came first. *** Count Molsan was no braggart, nor was he one to lie. He had sent troops to the border guard. Among them were over fifty lycanthropes. These were creatures that transformed from humans into wolves. Leading the pack was a man who, even as a human, had killed and devoured his victims. Back then, he had been at the level of a junior knight. Now, he had the strength of a beast. "Let''s sink our teeth into some tender flesh," he cackled as he led the charge. "No one can stop us," he thought confidently. He was certain of victory. No, he was envisioning more. He saw his lycanthrope unit becoming the name of terror that would dominate the region. This man, once a scumbag as a human, had now become a literal beast, lifting his snout to the sky and howling. "Awooo!" Fifty lycanthropes howled in unison behind him. "Awoooooo!" The monstrous sound was terrifying to humans. It was a primal fear, etched into instinct. But the soldiers stationed at the border gate stood unfazed. Experience dulls fear. The border guard''s standing army had fought countless battles¡ªagainst Aspen, beasts, cultists, territorial armies, and more. Their trials had been relentless, leaving no room for rest. But through those experiences, the survivors had grown resilient, and the city had found its rhythm. Once, even rumors of a battle would have halted trade caravans, strained resources, and sown panic. "Do they not trust us, or are they hoping we''ll die?" Now, the Rockfreed Trading Company was the lifeblood of logistics in the border guard. When the enemy''s approach was detected, the company''s merchants had immediately secured supply lines for food and materials. They had allies ready to help. Even though Count Molsan had pressured surrounding nobles and cities, warning them that they''d be next if they aided the border guard, support had come. Enkrid had secured allies from the city of Martaia and another he had liberated from gnoll Colony. The Rockfreed Company''s reputation also played a role. Thus, the city was no longer in the dire straits of the past. Much had changed. Standing atop the wall, Krais watched the fifty lycanthropes approach and felt the urge to pee. "So scary," he muttered. Even so, he knew what needed to be done. Losing the first fight would cut off what little support remained. That wouldn''t do. "The one who dominates the initial clash wins," he thought. Their opponent was a high-ranking noble responsible for the region¡ªCount Molsan, the border''s king. "If it goes badly, we''ll take hostages," Krais muttered to himself. Just in case, they had been keeping an eye on two of Count Molsan''s children. You never knew when they might come in handy. Still, he didn''t expect hostage-taking to work on Count Molsan. "Not a chance," he thought. But he couldn''t just leave the children be. Even so, Krais had thirty-six escape plans prepared. Before those, he had 170 strategies to win and hold out. His first move was the most effective and rational. "Will it be okay?" asked Vengeance, the commander of the archers standing beside him, as he watched the massive figure standing out among the troops. "What do you think is the first thing to consider in strategy, tactics, or warfare?" Krais replied, turning to him. Vengeance thought for a moment before answering. "Morale, maybe?" Morale was important. But even more crucial was this: "Knowing what you have," Krais said. It sounded vague, but the meaning was simple. The first step in battle was to understand and utilize one''s resources fully. Krais knew Audin. He didn''t know everything about him, but he knew that fifty lycanthropes wouldn''t make Audin flinch. And alongside Audin stood Theresa, one of the "Bear Siblings." That''s why he had ordered no arrows to be fired. It had to be that way. The first fight needed to crush their opponent''s pride. Only then would Count Molsan abandon this front. Krais had done his calculations, and now Audin was stepping forward, raising a fist toward the lycanthrope leading the charge, saliva dripping from its jaws. ------------------------------ To get more Chapters and support my work please head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 393 - With Fists Instead of Clubs Chapter 393 - 393 - With Fists Instead of Clubs Chapter 393 - With Fists Instead of Clubs The name of the man who became a Lykanos was Ronald. Even when he was human, Ronald was a deviant who found pleasure in killing and dismembering others. "It''s fun, isn''t it?" He never denied the enjoyment he derived from his actions. Thus, his fate was inevitable. Ronald was pursued by bounty hunters and cornered to the brink of death. That was when he met Count Molsan and received the power of the beast. Ronald considered it a stroke of luck. The power of the beast surged through his body, coursing into his arms and legs. His pounding heart pumped blood throughout his being. Energy overflowed. It surged so much that he had to do something¡ªanything. He wanted to rip apart limbs and feast on entrails immediately. He craved blood. He wanted to crush bones with his teeth. His desires roared and bubbled, becoming visible in his eyes. "Khuhuhuhuuuuu!" His laughter mingled with a chilling howl. Unable to hold it in, he let out a monstrous scream. He saw the line of soldiers standing firm in front of him, pretending not to be afraid. Ahead of them stood a massive figure with an outstretched arm. The figure looked tough, but it didn''t matter. Ronald was confident his sharp fangs could tear through anything. He would devour them indiscriminately. And once inside the city, he would choose young girls hiding in terror to kill and savor their flesh. "Kihehe!" Swallowing his anticipation, he extended his claws and charged forward. Whoosh. A gust of wind struck his face before he could react. Despite his newfound strength, which had doubled his speed, Audin was far faster. Crash! It was as if two speeding carriages had collided head-on. A thunderous boom erupted amidst the howls of the Lykanos pack. Ronald''s shattered head scattered into pieces. Audin froze in place, his left hand extended like a blade, while his right fist stayed outstretched from the strike. Blood dripped from the spiked leather gauntlet on his right hand. Audin had always used a club to avoid relying on his fists. But the situation had changed. "If we don''t stop them, it''s over." Hadn''t Krais said so? Everyone in the city of Border Guard behind him would die if they failed. He had no reason to show mercy. The enemy was a depraved group of humans who had chosen the life of beasts. The scripture said: If a human abandons their humanity, their place is solely beside the Lord. Seek forgiveness beside the Lord. Face judgment beside the Lord. Such were the words written in the holy text. "My left hand is a sword, and my right hand is a rock." Audin murmured, continuing as he moved and recited. "The Father told me to spare no mercy in these hands." The Lykanos pack, drunk with bloodlust, charged recklessly, their human reason long lost. Even though their leader had been blown apart, they failed to comprehend, trapped in their demonic frenzy. Audin marched forward to meet them. Each step he took was like a battering ram, crushing anything in its path. He advanced with relentless determination. "Once, they were human." He prayed, slashing at a charging Lykanos with his left hand. His hand, sharp as a blade, cut diagonally, slicing the head of a one-eyed Lykanos along its trajectory. Blood spurted like a fountain. Though it died, its momentum carried it forward, crashing into Audin. Audin pivoted slightly on his left foot, letting the corpse slide past him and collapse to the ground. Boom! Before the fallen Lykanos could even stop skidding, another explosion rang out. Audin''s right hand struck the chest of the Lykanos behind it. A mixture of organs, bones, flesh, and blood sprayed outward in a radial pattern. A gaping hole, impossible to believe made by a human fist, was left in the creature''s torso. "Now, these beasts have ascended. Announce their sins and judge them." Before finishing his prayer, Audin had already swung his left hand three times and his right hand four times. Three Lykanos lost parts of their bodies, while four more were shattered. His prayer concluded. To Audin''s left, a husky voice joined in. "Forgiveness and judgment are the Lord''s work." It was Theresa, holding her shield horizontally as she continued the prayer. She pulled her left hand back and thrust it forward. With a whoosh, her shield cleaved the air, flying faster than an arrow. The large shield, which could cover half her body, sped forward with unbelievable velocity. The shield''s edge sliced a Lykanos in half at the waist. Sharpened edges met Theresa''s strength, making the shield akin to a legendary blade. With a tug, the shield snapped back into her hand. Another Lykanos charged her, but even as she retrieved the shield, Theresa struck its head with her sword''s flat side. Clang! The hybrid giant''s strength smashed into the Lykanos''s skull, shattering it. Severed tongue, broken teeth, and shattered bone fragments sprayed out, staining the air crimson. A few, including the newly appointed commander of the heavy infantry, witnessed this. Even knowing their power, they were astonished. Are they human? It was the first time they had seen Audin fight with such determination. Can human hands even do that? The gauntlets on both of Audin''s hands cracked and broke under the strain, but he paid no mind, swinging his fists relentlessly. He resembled a pulverizer, reducing the Lykanos pack to mangled flesh. Beside him, Theresa moved with shield and sword in hand. Fifty Lykanos would have overwhelmed most cities. Yet this threat was torn apart, shattered, and broken before two individuals. One of the standing army''s commanders shook his head in disbelief and roared: "Charge, everyone!" Now was the time to press the advantage. This was the order from above, emphasized repeatedly by the wide-eyed envoy until it rang in their ears. "Whatever you see, don''t be startled. Keep moving forward. Maintain the formation and push forward as is." "What if the enemy retreats?" "Keep the formation intact. That''s the priority. Chasing them comes later!" Krais, the madman, talked too much. Yet, the commander followed his orders without question. Everything had received the approval of Lord Graham, after all. Most importantly, this was all about protecting the city where they were born and raised. Among the soldiers at the front, most were locals of Border Guard¡ªa place that was both home and livelihood. Krais had intentionally sent out only those people. The troops advanced without significant disruption to their formation, a testament to their rigorous training. Naturally, even the commander leading Count Molsan''s army could see this. What kind of battle starts with fists instead of arrows and ends with an orderly advance? "What is this?" It was a type of warfare entirely outside his understanding. While not an extraordinary strategist, the man sent by the Count was competent enough. He made the best choice under the circumstances. "Retreat! Fall back!" Their prepared tactics had failed, and they needed time to reorganize. He ordered the army to withdraw immediately. This was precisely what Krais had hoped for. That was it. Pursuing further to inflict critical damage? Out of the question. After all, only a fraction of the forces prepared by Count Molsan was likely here. The goal was simply to buy time. Watching the enemy retreat, Krais thought to himself: ''I need to know what''s going on here.'' Could the Count have already taken the palace? Unlikely. If he had, there would be no need to target Border Guard. This was more like a sudden raid. ''If I were in his shoes, I''d demand loyalty first.'' Doing so while laying siege would make the demand even more persuasive. But the Count hadn''t done that. ''Which means this is retribution.'' Retribution against whom? There was no need to overthink it. Who in this city could be tied to the Count? Lord Graham? All Graham had done was grit his teeth and vow to defend the city. Krais had his own instincts and suspicions. ''Could it be our commander?'' It was a small doubt but one he strongly believed in. Nothing in this world is absolute, so he couldn''t be certain, but the probability seemed high. ''This could get messy.'' It was clear as day¡ªcivil war, possibly full-blown war. And what had the Count deployed? Fifty Lykanos. Humans transforming into wolves. If you didn''t feel like wetting yourself at the sight, you weren''t human. In Krais''s eyes, people like Enkrid and a few others weren''t exactly human. They were monsters. Seeing those creatures likely wouldn''t faze them. Instead, they might eagerly charge into the fray¡ªor lazily kill whoever dared approach. The Count had revealed dangerous assets, but why? Because it wasn''t his trump card. In other words: ''This isn''t the end of it.'' Krais recognized those who transformed into beasts¡ªthey were similar to the ones encountered when they fought the Black Blade Bandits. The soldiers were practically a declaration that Count Molsan himself was behind this. ''And his domain''s troops are highly trained.'' Marching alongside Lykanos without breaking ranks would unnerve most soldiers, yet these troops fell back in perfect order, as if prepared for moments like this. Uncertain of what might be lurking behind them, Krais postponed any pursuit. No, they shouldn''t pursue. His mind knew it, and his heart agreed. Fortunately, the enemy retreated without incident. "Giant Siblings!" Someone shouted the nickname for Audin and Theresa. Audin silently wiped the blood from his hands and removed his battered gauntlets. Despite the carnage they''d caused, his fists bore only a few scratches. More than forty-nine Lykanos corpses lay before the siblings. The remaining dozen had bypassed them, only to be stopped by the newly-formed spear-shield unit. The unit didn''t falter. They maintained distance with their spears and shielded themselves. It was a well-coordinated tactic, a compact formation inspired by the renowned small-scale battle strategies of the Eastern Continent''s Mercenary King¡ªan idea brought in by a recently recruited mercenary commander. Like a hedgehog, the unit methodically pierced and felled the werewolves one by one. Though not at the level of Audin and Theresa, many of the soldiers could take down a single Lykanos on their own. Victory was inevitable. Krais anticipated that Border Guard''s capabilities would soon be widely known. ''Aspen or elsewhere, they''ll analyze our strength.'' With so many eyes and ears watching, it wouldn''t take long for the word to spread about the formidable power of Border Guard. Would that help in this situation? ''Of course, it would.'' Having strength is always better than lacking it¡ªthat much was obvious. With a sigh of relief, Krais began preparing for the next step. ''The Count''s goal is the palace.'' Though he might want to take Border Guard, they''d proven it wouldn''t be easy. His next move would undoubtedly target the palace. Predicting that was as easy as taking candy from a child. Preparations for that would have to begin here as well. Krais relayed all of this to Graham, who nodded. "I''ll send a message to the palace with the swiftest bird available." After a battle that ended almost as quickly as it began, Krais sensed a brutal civil war looming on the horizon. He didn''t know everything about Count Molsan, but if it were him: ''I wouldn''t act unless I was confident of victory.'' The Count had stepped in because he believed he could win. Testing Border Guard''s defenses was little more than a game to him. "Where is the commander, and what kind of trouble is he causing now?" Krais muttered to himself, curious about what mischief his leader might be up to. "What is this?" *** Enkrid had fallen asleep and woken up to an unfamiliar sight¡ªa set of tools laid out before him. A table. Chairs. The small rowboat seemed at least twice as large as before. "I thought we''d have a little chat. You and I." There were two chairs, and the ferryman seated opposite him spoke, pulling back his hood. Beneath it was a gray, cracked complexion like a barren wasteland, and glowing violet eyes. There was no lamp. Instead, the ferryman''s eyes radiated light like lanterns. ------------------------------ To get more Chapters and support my work please head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 394 - Dark Morning Chapter 394 - 394 - Dark Morning Chapter 394 - Dark Morning There was no longer anything to do at the palace, and Krang would soon be busy. It was time for Enkrid to return. Just before they parted, Matthew, dragging his thigh, tried to follow Krang but was harshly scolded and dropped off for treatment. "Wouldn''t it be better to get treatment at the palace?" Enkrid was asked by the Marquis of Okto as he was leaving. The Marquis was someone who knew how to take care of people carefully and attentively. And he had a keen eye. If not, he wouldn''t have sided with Krang. "It''s fine." Enkrid declined. His right wrist would heal quickly enough. If he ate properly and rested, it would get better. There was no need to do that in the palace. Fixing a creaky joint was something he could do himself, and both Rem and Ragna could manage basic first aid. Most importantly, Esther was there. "If I lay my hands on it, it''ll be better in no time." She had said this confidently, hadn''t she? This was after the death of Count Molsan''s body double, or whatever it was, when Enkrid''s body was inspected. "He would have died long ago if he were the type to die from this." She had said that, and it seemed she was satisfied with herself. Enkrid didn''t know what Esther meant, but he didn''t press her for an explanation. It didn''t seem like she was going to answer anyway, and Enkrid had accumulated enough fatigue. He wasn''t about to collapse, but after surviving several near-death encounters at the hands of the junior knight who had been beating him, and watching Count Molsan and Krang argue, there were countless things to recount. To summarize, he had been beaten, killed, and chased. His legs weren''t shaking, but he did want to eat, wash, and rest. There was a horrible stench from his body¡ªblood and sweat mixed together. As he stepped outside, he saw Rem chasing some fool. Right in front of the palace, next to the squint-eyed man. Rem was covered in blood from head to toe, looking like he''d taken a bath in it. When Enkrid glanced over Rem''s body, Rem spoke. "Well, I was chasing after someone who was running away after a fight." There was a hint of dissatisfaction in his tone. Upon closer inspection, Enkrid noticed that Rem''s balance was off slightly. His ankle was injured. He wasn''t limping, but he had hurt himself. "That bastard had a hidden trick at the end." Rem answered without being asked. Even as he said this, he didn''t smile. It seemed like he wasn''t relieved. There seemed to be some sort of connection with the one he was chasing. He also looked like someone from the west. "Is it because your skills are lacking that you''re getting beaten?" Ragna asked seriously from behind. It was full of concern. In other words, a mockery. That was when Rem finally smiled. Of course, it wasn''t the kind of smile that showed joy or happiness. "You might really die like that." "Huh? Can''t hear you over the sound of someone who just got beaten." "Should I chop your ear off with an axe?" "Can''t hear you over the sound of someone who hurt their ankle." "Oh, now I really need to use this on you." Rem said as he began to pull something out of his coat. Enkrid stepped between them. "Enough." It was just another everyday occurrence. However, Enkrid couldn''t help but think that both of them had become more verbal. When did they start talking so well? At first, it seemed like both of them would go straight to their hands rather than words. He remembered Ragna, who had bitten into an apple and got lost. He also remembered Rem, who had approached sharpening his axe instead of speaking. "You two really talk a lot more now." As he said this, Rem shot back. "...Who''s talking like that?" Ragna blinked a few times and said, "What are you saying?" Turning to them, Enkrid said that Ragna had really taken the shortcut, and Rem, hearing that, was truly surprised. It was a shift in thinking. He had cut across the palace without following any path, so it was indeed a shortcut. "Bastard, you''ve really improved." Rem was impressed, and Ragna raised his chin slightly. "Finding shortcuts is my specialty. It''s even better than swordsmanship." "Are you crazy?" And once again, they started fighting. Enkrid intervened, and they soon arrived at Andrew''s house, where Dunbakel, Andrew, and the trainees were gathered. No one had died. "What''s going on, suddenly running like that?" Dunbakel spoke to Ragna, so he had to hear about the shortcut again. Was finding a path more rewarding than killing a semi-knight? That''s how Enkrid saw it. Dunbakel seemed more surprised by the fact that the shortcut had been found. Dunbakel probably wasn''t concerned with what was happening inside the palace. She nodded with tired eyes. Around that time, Jaxen came back and, after a silent greeting, acted as usual. "What about the task?" "It went well." At least Enkrid got an answer when he asked. "Are you curious about the shortcut to the palace?" Ragna spoke, but Jaxen ignored him. Enkrid, with the help of the servants, washed and set his wrist right, applying a splint. After finishing, Esther approached in her human form and took hold of his wrist. He could feel quite a bit of heat from her touch. "Endure it." She said, and Enkrid did as she said. As he endured the heat, the fatigue enveloped him. Nothing was as important as resting properly. Eating well and resting well was the way to recovery. That was the royal path to restoring his body. Enkrid shared a room with Rem. And without a word, he fell asleep. He knew he would fall into such a deep sleep that he wouldn''t even dream. So it was a bit surprising when dreams came immediately. A boatman, black river waters, and a ferry all appeared at once. "Sit." The boatman said. The ferry was much larger than before. Was this how things changed? The table and chairs looked like they were carved from raw wood. They were connected to the floor of the ferry, almost as if they grew out of it. It was a bit surprising. Could something like this even happen? But that was all. It was a small wonder¡ªwas this possible? The boat still rocked, the boatman was still there, and the black river was the same as before. Though the size of the ferry had changed, it didn''t seem like an enormous difference. What was more noticeable was the attitude of the boatman. Although there was no tea, the table meant something. It could be a place for conversation. The boatman sat first across from him. Enkrid took a few steps on the wider ferry and sat in a chair. It was hard. Even after two thoughts, it could not be said to be a comfortable seat. "They say giants have great strength, frogs have regenerative powers, beastkin have superb physical control, dwarves have dexterity and stamina, and dragonkin have excellent battle instincts and ride-born beasts." Most people would find this hard to understand, but Enkrid understood most of it. He had once struggled and worked hard, thinking that talent and effort mattered, and that theory was important. There had been a time when he delved into such things. Of course, it was of no great use. So it was a familiar story. The giant''s immense strength. The Frog''s regeneration. The beast''s athletic ability. The dwarf''s endurance. The dragon''s command over the elements. "What then, does humanity possess?" Sagog asked at the end of the story. Enkrid knew the answer. "They possess potential and possibility." "Correct." Purple light emanated from Sagog''s black eyes. The subtle glow replaced the lamp and illuminated the table and surrounding area. No, the lamp had somehow appeared on the table. "Humans can go anywhere." Was that the point he wanted to make? Sagog continued. "Because of that, they don''t know their place." Their eyes met. Sagog again recognized Enkrid''s growth. He was the same person who couldn''t even listen properly before, but now he met Sagog''s gaze. They could have a conversation. "This, therefore, is my gift, my advice, and words born of whim." When Enkrid remained silent, Sagog kept speaking. He raised his right hand, palm open, blocking Enkrid''s view. With just that, it felt as though a large wall had appeared in front of him. In reality, it was only a palm, rough like gray gravel, but the sensation was different. Then Sagog''s voice overlapped, with dozens of words driving into Enkrid''s mind one by one. "It''s impossible." "You cannot escape." "Where will you go once you leave this place?" "If you believe you can go forward as you always have, that is arrogance." "That is the arrogance of potential and possibility." "Humans are arrogant. Give up. This is my consideration. Greater pain will come." "The wall will grow higher." "Here, you should stop." With Sagog''s words, Enkrid saw an illusion. In that illusion, he was writhing in pain. He had lost his way, wandering alone, unable to find direction. Endlessly repeating agony within it. Today was without end. There were no people, and no small changes, in this today. That today repeated infinitely. Not despairing within it was beyond human capacity. The moment he saw it, goosebumps ran through his body. Fear surged up. The terror filling his chest overtook a person. Other illusions appeared. Within them, Enkrid saw himself losing everyone again. Everyone around him died. He couldn''t stop it. His hands couldn''t reach. Something beyond human strength was killing everyone around him. Yet, he could do nothing. With limbs lost, he could only watch. The next illusion came. A massive fireball fell from above. The fireball burned everything. The body, the will, the land, the air. Still, it didn''t burn everything in one go. Within the flames, Enkrid suffocated to death. Just looking at it, one could understand. Such pain couldn''t be endured just by trying. Everything was something the sword couldn''t handle. "Stop here. No matter the today, you will live contentedly." Was it a suggestion? Or, as he said, advice, whim, and a gift? Enkrid didn''t know. But even if it was a gift, it wouldn''t make any difference. If it was something he didn''t want, Enkrid was the kind of person who could reject even a gift. "If you lose your way, keep searching until you find it." Only then did he speak. It was the first word to begin a sentence. "If I lose my arms and legs, I''ll grip the sword with my teeth." "If I cannot avoid it, I''ll split apart." Calamities couldn''t be avoided. If so, he would become the calamity himself. Enkrid said he would move forward, even if it meant doing that. The unknown threat wasn''t as important as now. He wouldn''t kneel or hesitate in fear. Just as he had done until now, he would do so again. Sagog didn''t speak further. He just watched. Suddenly, the chair disappeared. Enkrid fell with a thud. In reality, he would have reflexively tensed his thigh muscles to withstand it, but that didn''t happen here. The table and chair were gone, and Sagog had somehow put on a hood, no longer showing his face. He held a lamp in one hand and spoke. "How dare you sit at the same table as me, that''s too much." "Didn''t you ask me to sit?" Enkrid felt a bit wronged by this. "Go." Sagog said, and Enkrid opened his eyes once more. It was reality. He wished he could forget the dream, but that didn''t happen. The illusions remained ingrained in his mind. It was a today he couldn''t control. So, now. Repeating a today that was safe and secure was the best way to protect himself. "...Did you have a good dream?" Sometimes, Rem asked about dreams in the mornings, and at times like this, Enkrid felt as though Rem had some natural instinct about it. Like the instinct of a barbarian. "Yeah." He answered and got up from his seat. Lowering his head and catching his breath, Rem spoke again. "You were sweating cold. You mumbled too." "What did I say?" "If you didn''t want to hold the sword, you wouldn''t have." It was his inner thoughts. It seemed he had spoken them unconsciously. A safe, protected life? "If I didn''t want that, I wouldn''t have taken the sword." Enkrid muttered. A bead of sweat fell from his forehead onto his thigh. It was a message for Sagog and a vow to himself. "No, the Commander would have held the sword no matter what." Rem said. That was true. Enkrid got up. It was dawn. Just before the sun rose. "In our land, this time is called Utkiora." A word from the West. "What does it mean?" "It means the chick that has cracked its egg is about to fly." "What?" "It''s also called the dim morning." The early morning, the dark dawn, the moment before the sun rises. "Once the dim morning passes, it''s only natural that the sun rises." Rem murmured as if reciting poetry. Enkrid liked that word. Dim morning. The darkness before the sun rises. Wasn''t it the perfect time for training? It was time to move his body. Crang would do his own work. Enkrid was also going to do his. That meant training and practice. As usual, while practicing, he heard the news that Count Molsan had declared himself king. *** ''A month later, the Nauril Plains.'' It was morning. The person who brought the news was Aishia. There were still bruises on her nose. When Rem saw that, he yawned and said. "Where were you getting beaten up like that? Who did it? Tell me. I''ll get back at them. I''ll split that bastard''s face in half." Of course, it was a joke. Words he didn''t mean, half teasing. "It was him." Aisha pointed at Enkrid with her finger. Enkrid hadn''t told her about the time she blocked his path. "The Commander?" Could Enkrid''s skill be enough to beat her? No, it wasn''t. Rem''s gaze turned to Enkrid. "Take the axe. I''ll give you the chance for revenge for the lady." Enkrid spoke. "Who''s the lady?" Aishia cut in, but Rem knew how to go along with it. "Fine then. Breaking that idiot''s wrist or smashing his face isn''t hard. Is your rib healed?" It hadn''t healed yet. Enkrid thought about it, but once again, Rem''s sharp tongue had greatly improved. It was remarkable progress. And in the short sparring, Rem had been surprised by him again. "Again?" It was a frequent occurrence. Sudden growth, a sword changing in just one day, was it talent? No, it was as if he had spent a different day from everyone else. A sword that was chipped and shaped one piece at a time. A sword like a tower built piece by piece. "Aren''t you living a different day from everyone else?" Sometimes, Enkrid was amazed by Rem''s instincts. From the dream he had this morning to now. "Correct." Enkrid replied with nothing more. He knew Rem wouldn''t believe it anyway. ------------------------------ To get more Chapters and support my work please head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 395 - One Battle Chapter 395 - 395 - One Battle Chapter 395 - One Battle "Isn''t this going too far?" The boatman spoke. "It''s just a whim." The boatman replied. "It was madness. What was so pretty about it? Did it bring entertainment? It was just a momentary thing." Again, the boatman spoke. "Wasn''t that the ''thing'' to come?" The boatman asked again. "Humans are animals of potential and possibility." "That''s why they are arrogant." "That would apply to him too." "We don''t know, do we? Just as it brought entertainment, the things to come could also change." "If you get trapped there, that''s where it ends." It was a question-and-answer session with no one to participate in but oneself. *** Krang held the first strategic meeting at the royal palace''s training grounds. A small podium was set up, and Royal Guards surrounded it. Among them, the noble faction gathered first. When people gather, words are bound to be exchanged. One of those with keen ears, who had heard various rumors, started. "I heard fifty lycanthropes appeared near Border Guard. Count Molsan is said to be a magician. Who knows what else might appear in his domain?" "Heh." "It''s dangerous. They barely stopped them, barely." "Not only lycanthropes, but there are also rumors that the monster uprising that shook the capital before was his doing." "Is that all? They say it was also the count''s maneuver behind the incident in the palace led by Viscount Mernes." Krang didn''t control the information. In fact, he spread it even more. So everyone knew the full details of the incidents. "They even said we need to fight without calling any knights back from outside." "Does that make sense? One of the knights from the Red Cloak Order should be here by now." "...Is it going to be a hopeless fight?" One of the young nobles who had inherited a title crossed the line with his words. His anxiety made him speak without thinking. Even though Krang''s side remained, they weren''t all of one mind. When fear takes over, trust is bound to waver. This was the situation they were in. A mixture of lesser nobles, merchants from the capital, guild masters, and others had gathered. "How insolent." "Do you not trust your own lord?" Two of the nobles who had been watching attentively reprimanded the one who spoke first, and he opened his mouth again. "I don''t think blaming and complaining will solve anything. You need to assess the situation, read the winds, and make decisions accordingly. If you blindly trust, you might as well go to the temple and pray." "What are you trying to say, Baron Zeph?" The man, referred to as Baron Zeph, answered immediately. "We must face the situation head-on and do what must be done." "Is this betrayal?" The noble who spoke was ready to take any action right then and there. Since they were in a training ground for the meeting, everyone had weapons on them. Some among the non-noble group frowned. Is this really alright? With the civil war likely to drag on, is it wise to side with these kinds of people? "Do you want to spill blood, Baron Rudin?" Their use of titles was stiff and formal. Although not enemies, they had clashed before over a mine between their lands. The tension between them was palpable. Despite their petty quarrel, the sense of unease spread further among them. Nobles who were closer to Count Molsan''s territory felt the trend more strongly. If a monster horde attacks the colony, what will happen to their domains? Even losing just one city would be a disaster. Even if it''s a civil war, should they stake everything they have? And if they lose? No, even if they win, will there be anything left? If there''s a territorial war afterward, which side will the king support? The stronger side? Or the one who proves helpful at the time? This feeling was shared not only by the nobles but also by guild masters and artisans. Everyone present had political considerations in mind. Nevertheless, they were people with courage and will. After all, these were the ones who had turned their backs on Count Molsan. Of course, some among them could never side with the count. For example, some had lost entire businesses to him because he monopolized trade routes in the name of his ventures. Others had lost half of their territories due to outrageous protection fees after monsters were warded off by Molsan''s forces. Whenever Molsan''s name was mentioned, their teeth clenched in anger. "Humans turning into monsters? No, he must have embraced the monster horde from the start. How can such a man be called the same as us?" Monsters are enemies of humanity. One of the artisans'' guild masters made this fundamental point. The gathered group numbered over twenty. The Marquis of Baisar, who could be considered a high noble, and the Marquis of Okto had yet to arrive. Technically, both were still by Krang''s side. In the small building behind the training grounds, it smelled faintly of sweat, a barracks-like atmosphere. "Not everyone shares the same heart." "But we can''t call them enemies." The two marquises alternately spoke. There were people who had joined Krang''s side, but they were not all-in. Others, with their own thoughts and agendas, had gathered as well. Still, they were needed. It was hard to even gauge how much power Count Molsan was hiding. So, even if ghouls were on Krang''s side, they had to turn a blind eye for now. In fact, that''s what Count Molsan had been doing. "A magician, you say?" The Marquis of Baisar''s brow furrowed. Count Molsan had aligned himself with beings whose nature was uncertain¡ªwhether human or monster was unknown. How this could be, no one knew, nor did it matter at the moment. Now was the time to fight and win. "You need to think long-term." The Marquis of Okto added. His power came from the land. Otherwise, he wouldn''t have earned the name ''Okto'' as a title. As the war dragged on, the one who would suffer the most would be the Marquis of Okto. Would the farms hold up after all the battles? Yet, he still insisted that the war should not end quickly. To win, they needed to wear down Molsan''s forces. He likely calculated that by stalling, the knights would eventually intervene. "You refused the knights'' involvement? That was a mistake." No, he even said it outright. The point was, they couldn''t afford to be picky about the means to win. It was sound advice. After hearing all these words, Krang only gave a faint smile. The weather was fine, and the sunlight was warm. Summer was approaching. The sound of insects was especially loud in this season. "The weather is nice," Krang said. When Marcus, who had arrived late, saw the two marquises'' expressions stiffen, he asked. "Did you have an argument?" Marcus was a loyal man. If the marquises joined only after seeing the conditions or could not tolerate the situation, Marcus had placed everything on Krang. "You''ve lost your dignity, Marcus." "When did you start paying attention to my dignity?" Marcus, responding to the Count''s words, stood beside his lord. "You''ll finish it with just one, right?" It was a casual question. "Of course. I have a small liver, so doing it twice is beyond me." Krang answered. "Oh, so it''s because your liver is small that it''ll be just one? Such a tease for those with small livers." Marcus made a jest. "What do you mean by finishing it with just one?" It was the Marquis of Baisar''s question. He was an old politician who was never flustered. However, this statement couldn''t be ignored. It meant staking everything on one battle. "If we delay with a civil war, what will remain in this land?" Krang asked with a smile. "If the civil war ends without victory, we''ll lose everything we hold," he said, stating the obvious. "If we win, that''s all that matters." "Do you think winning will be easy with this bunch?" "Are you underestimating the Count''s strength?" "Neither. I''ll do everything I can, and beyond that, I''ll pray for the favor of the Goddess of Luck." "Then we must ensure that doesn''t happen." Krang shook his head inwardly. It wasn''t that he didn''t understand the two before him. He viewed the fight as one where losing meant losing everything. Krang , however, looked further. Winning isn''t enough to end it. Count Molsan probably wanted to end everything with one battle as well. It was only natural for them to think so. If they wanted the throne, and to have that throne remain called the king''s chair, they would have to do it that way. After the battle, they couldn''t afford to become a beast devoured by wolves. The southern region of Lihinstetten, the eastern land of Aspen. The enemies were still numerous. The threat of the magic marsh was terrifying. So, they had to end it all with the power they had now, with just one decisive strike. On a larger scale. "The threat from the magic marsh increases every year, and we''re losing territory. I can''t just watch that happen." Krang cut straight to the point, discussing the future. The two Marquis understood immediately. After the civil war. Krang was already planning ahead. Both Marquis fell silent. "My heart is too narrow to understand your grand ambition," Marcus jokingly commented. It was an old saying. Although it sounded almost mocking, it implied that if it was hard to understand Krang''s intention, they should trust him and follow. Both of the Marquis, though understanding, did not let it pass. "That tongue will land you in trouble someday." "You''ve said that many times, but it never changes." The two Marquis criticized Marcus in a refined tone, and Marcus followed behind his lord with a smile. Krang stepped out. It was time to meet the gathered nobles, guild masters, and merchants. He needed their power. There was no surplus of justification or troops. Above all, to fight properly, they had to be united. It would be even better if they all shared the same goal, but if that was difficult, they could be tied together through a common point. If all else failed? Set conditions. It was a new thought. Is this an unfavorable battle? Krang quickly rejected the self-deprecating thought. When had he ever only fought favorable battles? Disadvantage did not necessarily mean defeat. There had been a man beside him who turned the impossible into the possible. Even half of what Enkrid had shown would be good enough. Half of that luck he often spoke of would be enough. The first step was here. On the stage, Krang stood, basking in the sunlight, and looked at everyone. The murmuring crowd fell silent as he gazed at them. "Did you sleep well?" That was his first line. A few words were exchanged. The nobles expressed their astonishment, thoughts, and concerns. After hearing it all, Krang quietly raised his hand and made a short gesture, which made their mouths close. "I believe I will win, don''t you?" He was claiming victory? From where? "Baron Zephiel, I hear your mounted infantry are exceptionally swift, unmatched in the forests?" Zephiel commanded a ranger force trained in the forest, having raised them by feeding and training them in the wild. He himself would wake from sleep to go hunting without hesitation. "...Yes." "And Baron Rudin, I hear you are a splendid spearmaster." "I am lacking in skill." "For someone who once dreamed of joining a knight order, was I mistaken?" "It was a childhood dream." His skill was said to be beyond squire level. Krang smiled faintly. "I believe one battle is all we need. Just one." His words spread across the vast training field, and yet, they lingered in the air. It felt as if his words were carved into their minds. All they saw was his relaxed arms and slight smile. He didn''t appear as a military king, nor as a great strategist. But somehow, he seemed trustworthy. If he was deceiving them, he would surely be a legendary con artist. But Krang was no con artist. He was the future king and the head of this group. "How will you fight?" "We''ll meet in the Nauril Plains, as planned." His calm demeanor, like a friend coming to visit at the city''s edge, exuded confidence. That calmness and composure instilled belief. They naturally believed he would win. There were those who had trusted and followed him from the start. "I have fifty well-trained spearmen under my command. They''re few, but please make use of them!" One noble spoke up. "Though my skills are modest, I will lead from the front." "I have stockpiled grain. I''ll send wheat and beans." Others joined in, offering their support. If they couldn''t ease the anxiety, they would cover it with trust. "Trust me. We will win." Krang said it simply. Without a grand speech, he managed to unite everyone with a common purpose. Just one battle. That was enough. "What if Count Molsan has a change of heart?" The Marquis of Okto muttered. He was a genius in domestic affairs, but war was not his specialty. Krang, now off the stage, answered the question. "Count Molsan is an ambitious man, and his intellect is formidable. He will do just that." *** A month passed swiftly. "Will no knights come?" Count Molsan, while fixing his armor, responded to his adjutant''s question. "It''s unfortunate." "Yes." "I feel the same." It was a force built in anticipation of the intervention of knights. But to fight without them? Arrogance. That pretentious bastard. Clang. Strapping on armor plated with steel, Molsan grasped the magic sword that symbolized his title. Having finished his preparations, the Count declared. "I will end the royal family in the Nauril Plains." The sound of a horn echoed through the plains. It was a signal: come and fight. ------------------------------ To get more Chapters and support my work please head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 396 - Next Chapter 396 - 396 - Next Chapter 396 - Next Edin Molsan felt a headache from the smell of burning oil from the lantern. If he stayed here any longer, he wondered if he would die without ever experiencing the refreshing air, rather than from torture or beatings. "Damn it," he cursed silently, and then his thoughts turned to his younger sibling. When he raised his head, he saw someone sitting cross-legged right in front of him. With large eyes and the kind of handsome looks that any man would turn to look at, it was Krais, someone Edin knew well from the Madmen Unit. He never imagined this guy would have planted a spy by his side and his brother''s side. There was no point in resenting it now, as it wouldn''t change anything, so Edin asked the practical and realistic question. "My younger sibling?" "Perfectly fine. They don''t eat much, but it seems to be the secret to maintaining their figure." Krais''s smooth way of speaking was annoying. "If you had run away right before the civil war started, none of this would have happened," Krais remarked. Edin almost said he wished he had done that, but he stopped himself. You need to understand to avoid it. His father, the King of the Borderlands, had planned the civil war, and he executed it. He knew that, but he couldn''t speak freely. No matter what anyone said, he was Edin''s father. Treason would certainly lead to a joint beheading. Would he stand on the opposite side of his father? That was unthinkable. Edin knew the power his father had. He was no man to fight a battle without a chance of winning. Edin Molsan just wanted to hide with his brother somewhere peaceful. Whether it was in the East or the North didn''t matter. That''s why he endured while getting beaten by that Enkrid guy. His brother was supposed to seduce Enkrid and convince their father. Looking back now, it seemed like their father didn''t care about Edin at all. "Not that he''d let me escape either," Edin thought. "Kill me." Edin said. These people were his father''s enemies, so they wouldn''t leave him alive. The value of a hostage? Nonsense. His father? Dean Molsan, his father, was no longer human in Edin''s eyes. His coldness was like the eternal permafrost, a chill that never melted. It wasn''t visible on the surface, but if you observed closely, there was something inhuman about his coldness. "When did he start being like this?" He didn''t know. It was outside of his awareness. His father had changed at some point. "What are you going to kill?" Krais tilted his head, then smacked his thigh with a loud clap. "Let''s do it this way." Krais knew how to handle people. He was quick to pick up on things and had a good grasp of the situation. Edin Molsan knew that as a hostage, he had no value anymore. Count Molsan didn''t care about his son in front of him. Of course, he didn''t care about his daughter disguised as a man either. It was none of his business, but one thing was certain. "Edin Molsan is trying to escape." He knew what he wanted. Torture wasn''t necessary. "Tell me everything you know and head to Martai. I''ll arrange a new identity and a home for you. You were probably planning to sell the jewels and trinkets you brought to establish a base, but do you think you can easily dispose of such things? You''d be lucky not to get stabbed by a thief in the middle of the night." Krais had once hidden people and made deals with Krona. He had the skills, and for a while, he had considered taking this path. He didn''t pursue it, though, because the chances of getting stabbed and locked up were too high. But at the time, he had no real talent in this area. The work could be done through the Gilpin Guild, so it wasn''t too difficult. "...You''re going to spare me?" Edin''s eyes were filled with doubt. "Right, I wouldn''t believe it either," Krais said, throwing out words that would make his opponent nod if they heard them. "On my commander''s honor." The commander was Enkrid. The weight of Enkrid''s name at Border Guard was incomparable to anything else. Even if people didn''t know the name of the lord, they knew Enkrid''s name as well as any child in the street. "What if this is a lie?" "Do you have a choice but to trust me?" Edin had no choice. He could either trust him and speak or just die. "Damn it. I really got myself caught." Edin Molsan said what he knew. It wasn''t that important to him. He didn''t even know the details. "There are five weapons in the Count''s territory." "Not dogs, but weapons?" The unit he attached seemed wrong. "They are five warriors who wield different weapons." The explanation wasn''t long. The Count''s forces were divided into four groups, and each had a general. The remaining structure was similar to the kingdom''s. The five weapons, the generals and the warriors who guarded Count Molsan, were the ones who proved themselves with brute strength. They were monsters by name. The mute warrior who wielded a hammer, Maltan. The giant who made his body a weapon, Benukt. Zalban, who handled two spears with near-magic skill. The leaf-blade fairy, Banat. The fallen noble warrior, Rievart. "They could all have been knights in any order. They are all devoted to the Count." Just thinking about them made Edin''s mouth go dry. They were all inhuman beings. Count Molsan was persistent and insidious. No one knew the power he had hidden. "Did he ally with a cult or something?" That was the question Krais also wondered about. Whether the Count had allied with Aspen or another group. "No need. He has the territory forces." Edin answered, and Krais''s previously relaxed expression hardened. No need for a long explanation. "He''s built a monstrous army." While Border Guard was holding off Aspen. While the kingdom was holding off the Demonic Realm and the South. Count Molsan had been calm. Though called the king of the borderlands, he hadn''t caused any major problems. That was the power he had amassed. Was that all? That crafty bastard? He must have hidden more. The suspicion turned into certainty. Suddenly, Krais stood up with a crash, knocking over the chair. Edin closed his eyes as he watched. The dice had been thrown, and Edin knew how many days he had left. Outside, Krais''s voice could be heard, shouting as he ran. "Audin! Captain Shinar! Captain Graham! We need to organize reinforcements immediately!" *** "It was a mistake to knock out the constable like that." The voice came from some guild master standing next to Enkrid. Honestly, it was annoying, but he left him be. The guy had come closer with something like goodwill. He was the one who had supplied various weapons and equipment and had even followed him on the way to the Naurilia plains. He said he used to wield a sword back in his youth. So, his interest was in joining the king''s army. "A mistake?" Andrew, who was following behind, reacted, sensing something wrong. "I know you have skills, but you know, don''t you? Reputation is just as important." The guild master explained, and Andrew scoffed. The guild master, seeing this, furrowed his brow before quickly relaxing. The other man was the head of the newly rising noble family, Gardner. The five trainees behind him were said to have impressive skills as well. Enkrid didn''t care much about what the guild master had to say. The reason? It was quickly clear without much thought. It was because there was no one spreading rumors about what Enkrid had done to those who had witnessed it firsthand. Aishia, who roughly knew the situation, wasn''t someone who would blabber. Would Rem speak up? Talking was Rem''s specialty, but there was no one here to talk to. Ragna and Jaxen were out of the question. Would Esther step forward? "He''s the one who saved your king." Would she say that? Fat chance. Of course, there were those who had seen Enkrid. They were the ones who had faced him when he saved Krais. They had witnessed his swordsmanship as he instantly sliced through Squire Ropord, but those people fled immediately. There was no chance for them to speak up. Krang hadn''t said much, nor had Matthew. The guard holding the trident was the same. However, whenever someone said something foolish, Matthew and the trident-wielding guards would get angry. Of course, some rumors had spread. The rumors that Enkrid, the hero of the Border Guard, was real. The previous stories about him being a braggart or a nobody were starting to fade. But not all nobles had acknowledged it. So what? As mentioned repeatedly, Enkrid didn''t care in the slightest. Among those who gathered around him, there wasn''t anyone who paid attention to such things. Unless someone came to mock him, of course. But otherwise, why bother? Enkrid was far more interested in other matters. There were many things to think about and tasks to do. As Enkrid made his way through the Nauril Plains, he reflected on the past. "I am Ingis of the Red Cloak Order. We will meet again, I think." It was when Ingis, a knight from the order, had approached Enkrid before leaving. "I hope next time we can spar." Despite not having done anything particularly special, Ingis''s attention had been drawn to Enkrid. "Why do you want to fight me?" Enkrid asked, intrigued. Normally, Enkrid was the one who would initiate such a challenge, so it was unusual for someone to ask him instead. "I have a good instinct, and you are an interesting person." Ingis, with a serious look, ran his hand through his hair. Enkrid found him to be a very unique individual. "Well, I must be going now." Ingis mentioned that there were troubling matters down south, repeating the sentiment a couple of times as he left. "You''re turning into quite the man who could make someone fall for you every day." Afterward, Luagarne came to visit. She unsheathed her sword a few times, then spoke. "My current skills can''t match yours." Her ankle was still not fully recovered. Even though Frogs could heal quickly, an ankle wouldn''t fully heal overnight. But still, the skill gap was undeniable. "I still have things to teach, it seems." For five days, Luagarne had helped Enkrid improve his fencing techniques. Enkrid diligently learned the techniques. "Did I do it this way back then?" As Enkrid practiced swordplay while marching, he recalled his past movements. It was just part of his routine, and everyone else simply paid it no mind. In reality, Enkrid didn''t have any soldiers under his command, so the people who observed him were predictable. Ragna, Jaxen, Dunbakel, Rem, and Andrew. Except for Andrew, the others originally belonged to the Border Guard''s standing army, so it was natural that they didn''t have soldiers under their command. The journey to the Nauril Plains was smooth. There were no ambushes or raids. The scouts were constantly moving, reporting enemy movements. Until then, Enkrid had only reflected on what he had practiced over the past month. One month, which, under normal circumstances, could be considered a short period, was different this time. "You''ve grown a lot." Ragna''s gaze shifted. "Come on, bring it on. I''ll go half-serious with you." Rem, too, was stirred by the challenge. "This is ridiculous." Aishia, who had recovered and returned, shook her head. How could someone''s skills improve so much in just a few days? "It''s hard to recognize the old version of you." Jaxen also commented on the change. It was high praise. Enkrid nodded. For one month, Enkrid had said almost nothing. He had only focused on his sword and advanced. Was it because of the stimulation from his mentor? That wasn''t all of it. Inside Enkrid, the half-formed swordsmanship continued to emerge. Enkrid repeatedly asked himself questions. "What if I had fought until the end?" What would have happened? Through these recurring questions, he found his answer. No, he already knew the answer. The experience of repeatedly facing today''s challenges brought insight. Now, having walked the path, a new vision opened before him. Maximum three times, that was enough. With that, the barriers could be overcome. Thus, he realized that he was not a wall. It was a refreshing experience. Though a month had passed, it felt too short considering the numerous repetitions. It was a time of different concentration and intensity. Enkrid showed a change every single day. It was a moment of digesting the experience accumulated over those repeated days, but to others, it seemed like something extraordinary. "Now, you won''t be dying that easily." Rem concluded. Finally, they reached the Nauril Plains. Beyond the lush green fields where new sprouts were growing with the arrival of summer, the enemy forces appeared in full view. A massive army lined up, their numbers staggering. "There are so many of them." Rem spoke first. Ragna nodded, and Jaxen just raised his head slightly with his arms crossed. Dunbakel scanned from left to right and said, "There are at least three times as many." As she had said, the numbers were vastly different. In fact, the commanders from Krais''s army had thought they could attract cultists or pull some tricks. It was a misjudgment. The reality was that the army''s numbers were different. The finely trained provincial army numbered close to ten thousand. Even their formation alone had a different aura. The troops stationed to defend against civil war barely numbered three thousand. They were outnumbered, out-trained, and outclassed. It was a losing fight. In front of them stood five deadly figures. Two adjutants stood by their sides, each exuding a formidable presence. The weather was sunny, yet it felt like dark clouds were gathering overhead. The black clouds hung only above their forces. And then... "I''m just here to say hello." The man who had come this far while constantly reflecting on his sword spoke. He wanted to test his sword, and on some level, he instinctively sought to shift the momentum of the current atmosphere. It was the kind of intuition that could pierce through the strategies and tactics of the battle against Aspen. "Big-eyed one." Enkrid now comfortably called the one who had become accustomed to helping him the "wierd-eyed one" and mounted up. With the blaring sound of a horn, Boom, boom, boom! The drumbeats echoed, and a single horseman charged forward. "Anyone, step up." He called out. The scene was one of stunned silence as one of the five deadly figures'' adjutants stepped forward. "I''ll bring back his head." Since the opponent had requested a duel, it would be given. The adjutant extended his spear and rode forth. The opponent dismounted. Why would a foolish man dismount? The steed screamed. "Hah!" With the command, the speed increased, and the ground began to tremble. The heavy horse and its rider charged. The enemy''s dismounted opponent would likely be skewered or torn apart. "Aaargh!" One of the kingdom''s soldiers pointed ahead, opening their mouth in disbelief. "Shouldn''t we avoid that?" That was the question. But most of them stood frozen, watching. Though not everything happened in an instant, there was nothing they could do. Given the situation, all they could do was watch. Those who could see and understand the situation knew the dismounted enemy would be pierced by the spear. Those who didn''t know Enkrid could only think the same. Only a few had the luxury of knowing who it was. Boom, boom, boom! The horse closed the distance rapidly. Its heavy weight visible from afar. Dust rose from the earth. The grass was crushed underfoot, flying backward. It was a violent charge compared to the smooth gallop their own troops had made. Whoosh! The spear cleaved the air. The adjutant wielding the spear and the rider sped past the opponent. Thud! Blood splattered into the air like paint on a canvas. The rider passed by, but the rider''s upper body was left behind. The spear-wielding warrior''s torso was lifted into the air, as though some invisible force had yanked it, before it crashed to the ground. Blood and innards stained the grass and earth. The first casualty. Enkrid muttered under his breath, even though they couldn''t hear his words. "Next." ------------------------------ To get more Chapters and support my work please head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 397 - The Mark of Dawn Chapter 397 - 397 - The Mark of Dawn Chapter 397 - The Mark of Dawn Enkrid tightened his grip on Silver. At the same time, he thought. The cavalry charging in, the flying spearhead. The heart of the beast gave him courage, and a single point of focus made the opponent''s movements appear as if they were severed. His heightened sensitivity to hearing and vision naturally calculated the arrival of the spear. And he struck. Yet, something still gnawed at his mind. ''It''s not enough.'' Something was lacking. The movement ended in an instant, and he quickly realized what needed correction. What if he had stepped forward a little more just now? If he had taken just half a step more, it would have been perfect. That would have made the transfer of force easier. The difference in stride would change the way force was transferred. Enkrid swung the sword, tightened his grip, and adjusted his position, moving exactly as he had thought. He widened his stance. He corrected his posture. He swung the sword into the air. Whoosh. There was no need to swing it quickly. He only needed to feel the transfer of power at an appropriate speed. The blade cut through the air, stopping exactly where he aimed. Conclusion: this was correct. The difference in stride made the transfer of force much smoother. Enkrid understood it with his mind and engraved it into his body. "Isn''t anyone coming?" He lifted his head. Thousands of people had gathered. An army was watching. Of course, Enkrid wasn''t looking at the army. He was simply checking to see if his next opponent would appear. Why aren''t they coming? He gazed with confusion. This was the first battle and duel. Though he couldn''t see those lined up behind, the ones at the front saw everything. Naturally, the enemy on the opposite side also saw it. It would be normal not to rush in. "One strike?" Zalban''s brow furrowed. He had two subordinates. The one who had just gone out was relatively less skilled, but still had the talent to not be easily overpowered by a squire of the knight order. "Was he too careless? What a fool." Another subordinate spoke and took a step forward. "Wait." Zalban raised his hand. The subordinate pulled the reins and stopped. Zalban judged that the opponent''s skills were not ordinary. However, his subordinate had also been too careless. He wasn''t someone who could be taken down by a single blow. After a brief contemplation, he decided: "I''ll go. Binyu, follow and back me up." Jalban wasn''t alone; he took a subordinate with him. It was key to make it seem like he was leading, while his subordinate trailed a few steps behind to provide support. His subordinate''s specialty was throwing spears. One well-timed assist would be enough. Even if someone from the enemy ranks came to assist, it wouldn''t change the outcome. There weren''t many who could throw spears with such deadly accuracy. "Let''s go." Hee-ing. Jalban spurred his horse forward, with his subordinate following closely behind. The guild master who was with Enkrid''s group was so shocked that he stood there with his mouth agape. Then, when two figures emerged from the enemy''s ranks, he finally spoke. "Shouldn''t someone from our side step forward?" He said, directed at Rem or Ragna. "Ha, not even close," Rem responded with a yawn. After seeing Enkrid skills develop in the month before, there was no cause for concern. Ragna, meanwhile, had grabbed an apple from somewhere and was biting into it enthusiastically. She seemed to be eating it with such vigor that he might even eat the seeds. Jaxen said nothing. He stood with his arms crossed, eyes closed. The guild master couldn''t tell what he was thinking. ''These people...'' Were they not sending anyone from the main army? He turned his gaze to the main force. It was silent. No, there was a subtle commotion, but it didn''t seem like they were about to charge. In fact, they too were simply watching. After Ingis left, Marcus had taken command of the kingdom''s forces. His palms were sweating. If they lost this duel and skirmish, they would lose in the full-scale battle as well. If they lost momentum here, there was no way to recover. The enemy''s strength was simply superior. ''This is hell.'' That was his first thought upon hearing the enemy''s main force numbers. After seeing their training levels, even Marcus''s determination was wavering when Enkrid suddenly stepped forward. It was an unexpected turn, an unanticipated event. Marcus hadn''t seen Enkrid fight in a long time, so it came as a surprise. ''So that''s what he was like?'' The enemy consisted of five deadly weapons cultivated by a count. Even their subordinates weren''t ordinary fighters. Yet, one blow had severed the waist of one of them. It wasn''t luck or a mere opening; Enkrid had stood directly in front of him, overpowering him with superior strength and speed. Marcus recognized that immediately. After a moment of thought, he pondered his situation. He was hanging by a thread, on the edge of a precipice. It was like choosing solid ground in a swamp. Either option was equally precarious. A single wrong move and everything could collapse. That was the level of caution he now felt. "Should I send reinforcements?" Rather than deciding alone, he turned to the knight Aishia beside him and asked. "Just watch." Aishia responded with a gruff tone and thought to herself. ''I should be the one stepping up.'' She had given no signal or indication, and Enkrid had gone out alone to fight. ''If I told them to cancel and come back to fight me, it would sound ridiculous.'' For a moment, she imagined walking out in front of the enemy to call for a reset, but of course, it was absurd. More than that, if Enkrid hadn''t stepped forward, they might have lost without even starting. By using reconnaissance, they already had a good understanding of the enemy''s strength. But what they missed was the level of training and the quality of their equipment. The Count''s army was solid as a rock. The difference in power was staggering. It was no surprise that her body froze for a moment after seeing that. The more experience one had, the more natural it was to react that way. So, what about Enkrid? Did he not realize this? No, he knew exactly what he was doing. He stepped forward without hesitation, taking responsibility for initiating the fight. Aishia silently acknowledged her defeat. Not just in skill, but in heart as well. ''What a guy.'' She thought to herself, watching him. Far off, Enkrid could be seen stepping out to fight. He was the one who had proudly claimed his dream of being a knight, the one who had nearly shattered his own face in the process. And the one who had saved her life. "Ah, go ahead. Kill them all." Aishia muttered, her heart unknowingly voicing its thoughts. In the center of the battlefield, as both armies watched, a battle cry rang out. "Ki-yah!" One of the five deadly weapons. Zalban, who wielded two spears, charged forward. Aishia saw it too. Dust swirled before Enkrid''s eyes. Drops of blood splattered onto the grass, forming small round stains. It was about ten steps away. The man who had arrived on horseback suddenly leapt off. The moment his feet hit the ground, the dust from his landing became visible like grains of sand. The grass swayed in the wind. The rustling sound could be heard, like the grass greeting each other. *** The weight of the sword in his hand was felt. The sensation and weight of his armor and clothes brushing against his body were also present. ''It''s the right weight.'' He had named the sword Silver, and today, its weight seemed particularly satisfying. Looking at the blade, he noticed a small nick. It might be a good idea to sharpen it with a whetstone. "Confident in your skills to have come this far? What''s your name?" The approaching opponent asked. Enkrid did not answer. He simply enjoyed the sensations of everything around him as he relied on his instincts. The wind brushed against his cheek. The sunlight pressed down on his helmet. Ah, this is a little disappointing. Enkrid took off his helmet. Now, the sunlight and the breeze felt even closer than before. The vast plain offered no hills or cover to hide behind. In other words, it was a perfect place for the wind to play. The Naurilia plains were once called the land of winds in ancient times. The wind raced across the vast land that offered no resistance, an unstoppable dash. Whooooosh! Suddenly, a strong gust of wind blew. Zalban instinctively tightened his grip on his spear. Enkrid relaxed his body, allowing the wind to flow over him, wrapping him up before dispersing. Zalban frowned. Wasn''t the opponent''s body slightly lifted off the ground just now? Or was it just an illusion? He wanted to rub his eyes. But on the contrary, he couldn''t take his eyes off for a moment. If his focus wavered even a little, the opponent''s blade would pierce his stomach. The man who went first would not have lasted even a few exchanges, despite not being careless. Up close, Zalban was certain of it. ''It''s real.'' The opponent''s skill was superior to his own. Zalban tightened his grip on the spear. Veins popped up on the back of his hand. He steeled himself and began to visualize the battle in his mind. ''I''ll block with my left hand.'' While thinking, Zalban''s gaze shifted to Enkrid''s waist. There were two more swords. A belt for holding throwing knives was clearly visible on his chest. Three swords. He hadn''t just brought them for no reason. Then, the other weapons must also be put to use. As he carefully observed, Zalban noticed a hidden knife around the opponent''s ankle. The man was standing with his arm hanging loosely, as if blown by the wind. ''Again.'' Zalban rewound the fight in his mind from the beginning. What if he blocks with his left hand and then strikes with his spear faster than anyone else with his right? ''No, again.'' Sweat started to bead on Zalban''s forehead. That was a sign of mental fatigue. He once again visualized the battle. ''I''ll strike with my left hand, forcing a defense from him.'' Then, he would twist the handle of the spear in his right hand. That''s the plan. Use every trick prepared. That''s the right approach. His eyes felt stinging. It felt as though he were trapped in a prison where even blinking was forbidden. Yet, Zalban endured the pressure skillfully. He, too, was a warrior who had crossed the river of death countless times. This level of pressure was nothing new. ''I''ll kill him.'' If he moved, his subordinates would throw javelins like his own limbs. ''I can''t stop that.'' A javelin would fly from outside his vision during the fight. The person throwing it had excellent skill. The officer was as capable as any squire in a fight. Based on his skill in throwing javelins, he could be considered a junior knight. A drop of sweat fell to the ground. The opponent blinked once. Zalban flinched, his shoulder twitching. Is he? Despite being so focused, is he letting his guard down? Blinking his eyes like that? For a moment, Zalban almost leapt forward. ''Feigning an attack?'' Is it a feint? It must be. The moment he judged this, Zalban pushed his feet forward. He began to close the ten-pace gap, cautiously advancing. Enkrid observed the approaching opponent, but also saw beyond him. Everything was neatly visible, and the sensations of his body remained the same. Suddenly, his vision opened up, and the surroundings came into view. First, there was someone sneaking around behind, preparing to interfere if necessary. The spear stuck in his back was an obvious warning. Naturally, he noticed the approaching opponent. He seemed slow in his approach, and that was frustrating. At the same time, a thought crossed his mind. ''If I lose here, the consequences will be severe.'' He could already predict the result. The opponent''s forces were superior. In numbers and training, they outclassed him. The Count had prepared thoroughly. Still, Enkrid felt it would be fine. Wars on the continent were determined by a few elite individuals. A knight''s strength could change the course of a battlefield. The first knights, back in ancient times, had changed the meaning of the title by passing it down through generations. Knights altered the shape of battle. Enkrid was here because he wanted to change something. ''I will change it.'' Why did he want to become a knight? ''To protect and preserve.'' To fight for what he believed was right and protect the people behind him. From the moment he grasped his sword, that was the life he desired. The lyrics of a bard had etched themselves into his heart, becoming his guiding light. Thus, he walked and walked until now. In the faded and torn dream, the first light of dawn left traces. Ignoring his opponent''s steps, Enkrid boldly moved forward. His steps were heavy, but there was no rush to them. The sword in his hand swayed with his arm, and the blade followed his movement. The distance between the two closed to within five steps. Zalban dug his feet into the ground. "Kiiit!" He thrust his spear forward with his left hand. Enkrid held Silver and blocked diagonally in front of his chest, twisting his wrist. Striking softly didn''t make the blade turn into cotton. As the blade met the spear''s tip, the force was redirected. The sword flowed around the spear''s strength, continuing its motion. Zalban''s eyes were visible. Brown, bloodshot eyes. Had he been dry today? Why was his gaze so intense? Distractions crept in. The opponent raised his right hand and thrust. But it didn''t reach him. Still, it was a feint to thrust forward. Bang! With a loud noise, the spear''s tip was shot forward. It was a weapon with a special mechanism. Enkrid didn''t push the sword away but pulled it back instead. Thud! It happened so fast, but in reality, it was a very brief moment. Zalban thrust with his left hand, shot the spear from his right hand, and two metallic sounds rang out. Right after that, there was a sound of flesh being pierced. Thwack! Enkrid blocked twice and struck once, all with the sword in his right hand. His third strike grazed the opponent''s chest. Zalban was wearing several layers of leather, and beneath them, thick padded armor, but Enkrid''s sword sliced through all of them, leaving a mark on his muscle and flesh. Exactly where the heart was. The veins in Zalban''s bloodshot eyes thickened. "Cough!" He coughed up blood, stumbling back a few steps before falling to his knees. "Hah!" The person behind finally threw a javelin. The javelin aimed for Enkrid''s face. The rush of air hit his face first. Enkrid brought his sword down. Thud! The javelin was caught by the sword''s trajectory and deflected off to the side, rolling on the ground. The officer, preparing to throw a second javelin, froze. It was obvious that the outcome would be no different, so his body instinctively stiffened. In the end, Enkrid swung his sword in his right hand for the fourth time, finishing the fight. Zalban watched as the ground came closer. The world turned red. He thought to himself: ''There was a skill gap from the start.'' The opponent''s level was different. Even with his two attacks, one of which had been a spear thrown unexpectedly, it had been easily blocked. How had this happened? The answer was simple. Enkrid struck faster and more accurately than him. His accumulated experience was far superior. That was Zalban''s conclusion. Enkrid wiped the blade in the air. By then, the man who had thrown the javelin was neither coming to fight nor fleeing. He could only roll his eyes. "Not going to fight?" Enkrid asked calmly and indifferently, neither urging nor rebuking, just inquiring as if asking about his intention. A strange atmosphere filled the air, and the javelin-throwing man''s hand tightened around his spear as he reconsidered. "You crazy bastard!" One of the enemy soldiers, more impatient than the others, suddenly charged forward. He yanked on the reins and jumped out. Thud, thud, thud! The one who seemed ready to charge stopped about twenty steps away and drew a short bow, pulling the string back. His skill was impressive. A mounted archer was not a common sight. As he narrowed the distance, the arrow would fly as fast as light. Enkrid, seeing the opponent charge and shoot the arrow, flicked his left hand. Of course, it was imbued with Will. He drew his sword ------------------------------ To get more Chapters and support my work please head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 398 - Strikes and Thrusts Chapter 398 - 398 - Strikes and Thrusts Chapter 398 - Strikes and Thrusts The adjutant wielding the spear finally faltered and retreated. The opponent didn''t give chase, as if signaling they would only fight those who dared to come at them. Silently, the opponent flicked the blood from their sword and returned to their original position. The horse that had brought them there neighed once, standing nearby. It was a steed of remarkable size and presence, its gaze anything but ordinary. The adjutant, taking it all in, retreated hesitantly to where he had started. Watching the retreat, Rievart raised his sword, standing beside his horse. "You should have fought to the death instead." Crack! The adjutant''s skull split in two as Rievart swung his sword. A gush of blood trailed the blade as it was pulled free. "Foolish Zalban." A cold, clear voice mocked the fallen man. It was Banat, a fairy warrior. Her short-cropped golden hair gave her a masculine air, while her tone betrayed no trace of emotion, colder than mere indifference. It was her signature¡ªcutting remarks delivered with an icy lack of sentiment. "He was the weakest among us. I''ll handle it." Banat stepped forward, but Rievart shook his head. "I''ll go." Sending someone as weak as that to bolster morale? If that''s their plan, then I''ll be the one to crush it. Rievart, second only to Count Molsan in rank, had no need for anyone''s approval. Banat nodded with her usual unreadable expression. It was impossible to gauge her thoughts from her face. Maltan, as always, remained silent, while Benukt gave a disinterested shrug. "Let him have his fight," Benukt said. Benukt carried the blood of giants and didn''t bother suppressing his bloodthirsty urges. "When you kill that man, we''ll charge all at once." That''s how it would go. Rievart nudged his steed into a trot, heading for the spot where two corpses now lay. Glancing briefly at Zalban''s body, he dismounted and adjusted his gear. He secured his sword belt, strapped on a short sword, and carried a machete with a thick, single-edged blade at his back¡ªa magical weapon, no less. His left arm bore a kite shield, plain and unadorned. This shield, fixed to his gauntlet rather than gripped, was smaller but heavier than most. Only someone with considerable strength would opt to wield it. Rievart''s every movement caused a clattering of metal; his plate armor over a gambeson was the source. Once fully prepared, he advanced. The opponent simply watched him approach, unmoving. Rievart found the opponent''s calm gaze irritating. "Your name?" he asked. "Enkrid," came the reply. "Rievart," he introduced himself. It was Enkrid''s first time hearing the name. Though the Five Fiends of the Count were infamous within their territory, they rarely ventured outside, leaving them unknown to most. Enkrid, on the other hand, was far more widely recognized. "Looks like I''ve already won." Rievart frowned. "We haven''t even started." "I meant my name is more well-known." What the hell is with this guy? Of course, Enkrid wasn''t truly mad. It was a calculated provocation, designed to shake his opponent''s psyche. Everything about Rievart¡ªhis measured walk, meticulous preparation, even initiating conversation¡ªpointed to a formidable foe. "Madmen Unit, indeed," Rievart muttered. "Jealous?" Enkrid replied. Rievart was momentarily at a loss for words. Jealous? Who wouldn''t crave fame and recognition, even if they weren''t driven by ambition? And Rievart was an ambitious man, one who immediately recognized he''d been baited. "You bastard." "I''m tough to chew through." Is that his way of saying he''s hard to kill? Rievart, known for his wit, understood the jab instantly, which only fueled his irritation. "Fine. I''ll kill you." Rievart advanced with a diagonal slash. Enkrid observed that while the strike wasn''t particularly fast or complex, it left openings. Exploiting one, he made his move. With a flash of Will, he thrust out a Spark. The fiery point of light shot toward Rievart''s sword arm, but Rievart intercepted it, raising his shield. Clang! The Spark failed to penetrate. The shield''s material and the skill of its bearer were anything but ordinary. As Enkrid pulled back the Spark, Rievart countered with a straightforward thrust. It wasn''t a sudden acceleration or a technique to disrupt the opponent''s rhythm¡ªit was calm and precise. Enkrid bent backward, narrowly avoiding the blade as it passed over his neck. Anticipating a downward slash next, Enkrid readied his Silver, but Rievart withdrew his sword and reset his stance behind his shield. Even if charging in would have given him an advantage, Rievart refrained. Why? Rising from his evasive posture, Enkrid studied the visor of Rievart''s helmet, catching a glimpse of his eyes. ''Is he testing me?'' No. Rievart was serious. The path of a knight is never uniform. Each one forges their own way, and Rievart''s was unyieldingly cautious. Encased in heavy plate and armed with a shield, he only attacked when the opportunity was perfect. He avoided risk altogether. Even if there were a stone bridge over solid ground, Rievart would circle around rather than cross it. His mastery lay in blending defense and calculated offense, a style reinforced by sharp wits and a silver tongue. After his initial taunt, Enkrid had grown silent. Rievart''s defenses were formidable¡ªSpark couldn''t pierce them, Silver couldn''t cut through, and the Whistle Dagger he''d thrown was deflected by Rievart''s helm. It wasn''t just the armor. It was how Rievart wielded it, turning his defenses into a seamless extension of himself. That was something remarkable. Rievart kept talking, persistent as ever. "Your dream is to become a knight, isn''t it?" Enkrid retrieved Spark and gripped Silver with both hands. This was The Pressing Sword, a technique designed to suppress with sheer force. As he swung down with pressure, Rievart raised his shield to meet the blow. Thunk! It wasn''t the sound of an overwhelming clash but a dull, muted impact. Silver''s blade struck Rievart''s shield. Enkrid pressed with strength, applying The Pressing Sword to drive his opponent down. Rievart adjusted the angle of his shield, deflecting the blow to the side. He blocked and retreated, resisting the crushing pressure. His stance and technique were as solid as his armor. "Are you satisfied with the path you''ve walked so far?" Rievart''s words cut through the moment, but Enkrid moved without response, preparing his next attack. If the pressing failed, then came The Capturing Sword, a technique meant for tactical duels. However, no matter how intricate his moves, Rievart''s armor and shield endured. A faint glow emanated from both, clearly enchanted magical equipment. "Would cutting it apart work?" If seizing control didn''t shift the tide, then raw power would. What if he infused his strike with the intent to cut through anything? Though Enkrid couldn''t fully channel such will, he could mimic its essence with the raw strength of his Heart of the Beast. Acting on instinct, Enkrid executed a strike layered with Ragna''s techniques. Combining it with the rotation of a greatsword style, he planted his feet firmly on the ground, twisted his torso, and poured his strength into the swing. But just as the attack was about to unleash, Rievart charged with surprising speed, despite his heavy armor, attempting a shoulder tackle. If Enkrid continued his swing, he''d barely graze Rievart''s arm near the recasso. He stepped back, his stance briefly unsettled, but Rievart didn''t pursue. Instead, he reset his posture, gripping his shield firmly. His knees bent, lowering his center of gravity, and his piercing gaze never left his opponent. His sword remained poised to thrust or slash at any moment. A formidable foe. "What will you do if the path you''ve chosen turns out to be wrong?" Rievart''s voice broke through the tension again. Enkrid analyzed him carefully. His skill was comparable to Enkrid''s, but he focused entirely on defense. The current situation spoke volumes. Enkrid understood the strategy. "The road to knighthood is treacherous," Rievart continued. "It''s a path of thorns, a leap off a cliff with brambles in your arms. A single misstep, and you''ll never reach your ideal. Every jump must be perfect." Even as he spoke, his breathing remained steady. Rievart was playing the long game, nullifying attacks with his armor and shield while maintaining composure. His words sought to destabilize his opponent mentally. A tactic befitting someone nicknamed "The Weapon." Yet, it was undeniably threatening. Rievart''s shield and armor seemed like an unyielding steel wall. That was his intent. And his ceaseless words aimed to unnerve, probing for weaknesses to exploit. His attacks came with both words and sword. "Each wrong step diminishes your talent and saps your strength. Talent alone cannot make a knight. So, how far do you think your so-called talent and luck will take you?" He talked. A lot. This verbosity came from a practiced hand at verbal dueling. He wielded his tongue like a weapon. "A knight? That''s a fading dream. Like a painted grape¡ªvisible but untouchable. Wishing upon a star doesn''t make it yours. Fairy tales don''t come true in reality." Rievart''s words struck like swords and spears. Enkrid, instead of responding, repeated his earlier attack. With Spark, he thrust forward, accelerating in an instant. But the shield still held. He tried The Pressing Sword, but Rievart endured like a mountain. The Capturing Sword also failed. Rievart disrupted its flow with his shield, refusing to engage in the tactical duel Enkrid sought. As he blocked, he continued to speak. "Walk barefoot on a path of thorns, and you''ll lose your feet. Why take such a road when you could choose another? Why?" Rievart''s persistence knew no bounds, speaking even when met with silence. Enkrid finally replied. "You''re annoyingly loud." His opponent grinned. "Am I loud, or do my words sting? If you hear the truth, then you''ve already acknowledged it deep down." "You''re like a wannabe sage," Enkrid retorted, stepping back and resetting his stance. He placed his left foot forward, the right foot back, raising Silver''s tip skyward. A fundamental posture. "What will you do if your chosen path is wrong? I''ve said it before¡ªif you lose your talent, you''ll lose your way." The feigned concern was almost convincing. "I''ll just try again," Enkrid said simply. Rievart blinked. Wasn''t the impossibility of retrying the entire point? The exchange repeated a few more times¡ªthorns, lost talent, and the futility of chasing knighthood. "I''ll just try again." A battle between offense and defense had extended beyond swords to their words. With the blade, Enkrid attacked while Rievart defended. In speech, Rievart attacked while Enkrid remained unshaken, calmly repeating his resolute answers. "I''ll just keep trying." "And try again." "Getting lost is part of the journey." "Shortcuts aren''t necessary." "Starting over is always an option." There was something harder than Rievart''s shield or armor¡ªEnkrid''s unyielding will. This wasn''t about repeating today''s fight. Even when there was nothing, Enkrid moved forward¡ªthrough each day, each battle. Had he always been sure that his path was right? No. Yet he swung his sword until his palms bled, walking forward nonetheless. Every morning felt like a new start, with lingering traces of past dreams. If he''d had three more such mornings, he might have surpassed even junior knights. Through countless repetitions, he reached this new stage. And so, as Enkrid swung Silver from its raised position, mixing The Capturing Sword with The Pressing Sword, his attacks gained finesse. Using his left hand for quick thrusts, he split his focus to coordinate simultaneous movements. The strike was powerful enough to burden his right arm''s muscles. Clang! Before the echo faded, Spark darted forward. Thud! Though Spark struck Rievart''s shoulder guard, it failed to pierce. Silver, too, was deflected by the shield. But that was fine. Enkrid repeated the process. A long-game strategy implied confidence in endurance. Enkrid was no different. He invited his opponent into the breathless realm, a World Without Breath, and continued. Strike, thrust, strike, thrust. Rievart blocked, endured, blocked, endured. The battle of attrition became a test of will. Silence fell. In the midst of the battlefield, only the clang of steel and the muted thuds of impact remained. Even the horns and drums had stopped, replaced by the sound of clashing blades. ------------------------------ To get more Chapters and support my work please head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 399 - Also for My Shining Hero Chapter 399 - 399 - Also for My Shining Hero Chapter 399 - For My Shining Hero One of the squad leaders under the Kingdom Army''s Capital Defense Unit, Rearban, knew Enkrid. They had spent several months together during the time Enkrid was in the capital. Naturally, he recognized his face. It wasn''t a face easily forgotten. When Rearban, standing at the forefront, saw Enkrid, memories of their conversations surfaced. "So you want to become a knight?" He had scoffed. "You''d be better off finding another path." He had offered sincere advice. There was no response. Enkrid, that guy, simply wielded his sword. He was always there. Whether it rained or snowed. "Teach me swordsmanship." He had begged for instruction, never ceasing in his efforts. And somehow, it seemed dignified. The number of people mocking him increased. So did those who ostracized him. Once, a novice mercenary who had just picked up a sword joined their group. The mercenary crew often gathered at a particular tavern, and Enkrid was there too. Initially hesitant, the novice swordsman quickly improved. He was a talented one. Soon, he surpassed Enkrid''s skills and humiliated him during a sparring match. "I don''t understand how you''re still at this level after all that practice. Shouldn''t you just give up?" Rearban vividly remembered the mocking laughter on that guy''s face. What was his name again? He couldn''t recall the name, but Enkrid''s expression toward the guy was unforgettable. Enkrid neither grew angry nor despaired. He remained unbothered, calm, and composed. But was that truly how he felt inside? Had he not rotted and decayed, over and over again? Rearban had watched him. Not with any particular intent, but simply because Enkrid piqued his interest. The next day, he swung his sword again. The number of people belittling him grew. "Why do you keep hanging around that guy?" Someone once said to Rearban. It wasn''t as if he was defending Enkrid. "That''s none of your business, is it?" It just so happened that the jerks gathering around annoyed him. Even after that, Enkrid remained unchanged. Even when he was beaten to the brink of death. Even when he was overtaken by others. He kept swinging his sword. For what? "A knight?" Did that even make sense? A third-rate, at best a borderline second-rate swordsman, dreaming of knighthood? Knighthood was reserved for the rare few among the most gifted, those hailed as geniuses. "Get a grip." Half out of pity, Rearban had said to him, but naturally, he hadn''t listened. Back then, Enkrid was somewhat infamous. Childish sense of justice. Recklessness. Unchangeably mediocre talent. Those were the things that defined the name Enkrid. Rearban now gazed at the enemy soldiers lined up in the distance. The first thought that struck him upon seeing them was Run. We''re no match. Overwhelming numbers. A well-trained army. The Count''s forces, now to be called rebels. Soon, they''d be his opponents in battle. Years of mercenary experience and his time in the Capital Defense Unit made the reality clear. Fighting here meant death. A meaningless death. Why am I standing here? Out of a childish sense of justice? Or clinging to a few measly coins? Neither, really. Even when he quit mercenary work, it wasn''t for any grand reason. He had found a wife and had a child. There had been a woman who spoke of love under the moon and among flowers. And there was a child who called him father. "Why do you push yourself so hard? Your palms are torn." He had once asked Enkrid. Why go to such extremes? Why train to the point of risking his life? Why refuse to back down, even while being beaten? Inwardly, Rearban knew the answer. Protection. Protect those standing behind you. Do not turn away from honor. Uphold your convictions. These were the words Enkrid had often voiced. Even without words, he had shouted them with his actions. Rearban had seen a few corpses while helping clean up after the incident at the royal palace. One of them was a bastard who used to beat and torment Enkrid relentlessly. That guy, once a so-called instructor, now lay scattered in pieces across the floor. Should I say, "Serves him right"? The one who killed him¡ªEnkrid. A name synonymous with mediocrity. Rearban squinted as though blinded by light. The sunlight wasn''t harsh, yet he felt dazzled. Some people in this world shine so brightly, you cannot bear to look at them directly. Call them heroes or shining stars¡ªit didn''t matter. They stood tall, proving their worth. Enkrid. He silently repeated the name. He could see Enkrid fighting in the distance. His movements were clear, bright, but they didn''t blind him. From Rearban''s vantage, he couldn''t tell how the battle was going. But he knew one thing. It was fierce. Intensely fierce. As if Enkrid had thrown his very life into the fight. Blood splattered. Sparks danced across the air. The enemy Enkrid was fighting dropped their sword, pulling out a secondary weapon¡ªa machete¡ªfrom their waist. Enkrid countered with his own sword, swinging with force. Clang! The sound exploded. The impact rippled outward like concentric waves. Goosebumps covered Rearban''s entire body. His hairs stood on end. He forgot his despair over the enemy and could only watch Enkrid''s back. He was alone. Standing in front of a terrifying enemy army, cutting down foes, and continuing to fight those who emerged. A flash of light burst between the two clashing fighters. Enkrid''s body was flung backward, rolling on the ground. His opponent staggered back a few steps but stood firm. Rearban saw Enkrid rolling. He knew this wasn''t someone who''d stop just because he fell. Thud. Rearban struck the ground with the butt of his spear. Thud. And he repeated the motion. "For Naurilia." He murmured. Words that wouldn''t be heard. Words that wouldn''t reach anyone. They were only for himself. For his nation, his people, his wife, his child¡ªfor all of it, he stood here. It was about protecting the person behind him. As Rearban moved, the surrounding soldiers began striking their spears against the ground, one by one. Thud, thud, thud, thud. The staggered rhythm naturally aligned. It wasn''t an order from their commander; they were simply moved by the battle unfolding before their eyes. "For my radiant hero as well," Rearban murmured to himself, striking the ground with his spear. And Enkrid, who had fallen, rose again. Though it seemed as though words were exchanged between the two, they weren''t audible. Thud, thud, thud. Only the sound of spears pounding the ground resonated. *** Without taking a single breath, Enkrid launched relentless strikes, pushing himself harder and harder. Rievart was the first to change tactics. Abandoning his sword, he swung a machete instead. Enkrid neither slowed nor paused to catch his breath. He simply swung Silver forward. The stance wasn''t perfect, but the strike was infused with the explosive power of his monstrous heart. It was a blow that surpassed the limits of human strength. The two weapons clashed. As blade met blade, an intangible pressure emanated from the machete, slashing Enkrid''s chest and abdomen. The attack was too sudden and close to deflect. Grinding his teeth, Enkrid took the hit with his body and delivered his strike. That''s how it came to this. Enkrid was thrown backward while Rievart staggered a few steps back. Though Enkrid sensed his body being hurled through the air, he quickly regained his balance. Even after steadying himself and standing upright, the world continued to spin. The ground seemed to whirl, and his opponent''s figure appeared distorted, as though elongated. Something hot surged within him, and he spat it out. "Urgh." A mouthful of blood spilled onto the ground, relieving the dizziness. "What was that?" Enkrid asked. "A magic sword," Rievart replied. Enkrid didn''t think it was dishonorable. As he rose to his feet, the pounding sound of thud, thud, thud reverberated through the air. It felt strangely akin to the rhythm of his own heartbeat. Oddly, it sounded like a song of encouragement. "My insides ache a bit." His head still felt hazy, but so what? Not an issue at all. Enkrid asked and answered himself inwardly, raising his sword once more. It was time to end this. Rievart looked at his dented shoulder and breastplates. "Is it a difference in talent?" He dismissed the thought and focused on Enkrid. The opponent''s figure seemed larger than before. Perhaps it was a matter of willpower, but it felt more like discipline. Though he could have pressed forward, there was no need. A day''s reprieve wouldn''t hurt. It was also in line with what the count truly desired. For these reasons, Rievart conceded defeat purely and without reservations. He acknowledged that if the fight continued, he would be the one to falter. "You''ve won." The words were unexpected. Enkrid merely looked at him. "The goddess of fortune is as capricious as ever," Rievart said with a voice heavy with regret¡ªmore a lamentation directed at the world than at himself. "But it doesn''t matter. Nothing changes anyway." "Not going to continue?" Enkrid cut him off. "That''s it for today. I''ve lost my interest." The rhythmic pounding of spears against the ground persisted. To Rievart, it sounded like an order to protect the man named Enkrid. Moreover, others had drawn closer during the fight. Rem, Ragna, Aishia, and Dunbakel on one side. On the other, Maltan, Benukt, and Banat. All the key figures of both armies were gathered. "No, there''s one more," Rievart thought. Someone skilled in assassination far beyond the norm. With senses surpassing human limitations, Rievart pinpointed the individual''s location. In the shadows beneath a horse¡ªusing the animal''s body to subtly conceal himself. When their gazes met, the figure stepped forward, seemingly indifferent to being exposed. It was, of course, Jaxen. "Burning everything here would be wasteful. Remember, battle isn''t limited to swordplay," Rievart remarked before turning away. He gestured toward his steed, and the black horse that had accompanied him for years approached. Retrieving his fallen sword, Rievart secured his gear onto the horse and mounted it. "Boring, aren''t you?" Enkrid taunted. Rievart didn''t respond. "Next time won''t be," he said, his composure unshaken despite admitting defeat. Their eyes met briefly. Rievart cursed the goddess of fortune. Enkrid, meanwhile, wondered if this was truly the extent of his opponent''s power. His instincts told him it wasn''t. "The battle is tomorrow. At dawn, it will begin. This is my respect for your victory," Rievart declared, riding off. Enkrid watched him go. Was it right to attack him now? No. He wouldn''t do what he despised. It wasn''t the right course of action, nor would it have meaning. His senses and reason both told him so. If the enemy began an all-out assault now, his side would be at a disadvantage. Letting them withdraw was a blessing they should be grateful for. Thud, thud, thud. The sound of spears striking the ground resonated, the soldiers'' morale high. But that was all. Even if their spirits were lifted, their numbers wouldn''t increase. If an uncoordinated melee broke out, the smaller side would be at a disadvantage. What must be done to improve their chances, even slightly? Enkrid knew instinctively: buy time, regroup, and prepare for battle. That''s why he had stepped forward in the first place. Fighting Rievart now would be meaningless. Enkrid turned around as well. Rievart was already retreating, and the distance between them quickly widened. "Why''d you come out to meet me?" Enkrid asked those waiting midway back to the main force. "To chop your enemies to bits if you died," Rem replied, hefting his axe. "Your breathless tactic was impressive," Ragna added, tossing an apple core. "Not a single one of them is easy," Dunbakel muttered, glancing at Enkrid''s back. Finally, Aishia stared at Enkrid intently before speaking. "Impressive bastard." Though the exact meaning was unclear, Enkrid understood well enough. It was recognition of his strength. What had he shown them? This was the proof of his earlier claim: that he could face even elite semi knights three times in a single day and emerge victorious. It engraved the name Enkrid into the minds of all who watched. Without morale, this unit had nothing left. And it was Enkrid who had lifted that morale. Thud, thud, thud, thud! The sound of spears striking the ground matched the beat of his heart as Enkrid returned to the main force. No one spoke to him, but everyone''s gaze was upon him. *** "How was he?" "He''s strong. Stronger than me," Rievart replied. "And?" "He must die." "Then see to it." Rievart had returned to the count, who asked with a tone of boredom. The full-scale battle was postponed until the next morning. That was acceptable. In fact, it was what the count had hoped for. Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 400 - Eating Meat Chapter 400 - 400 - Eating Meat Chapter 400 - Eating Meat Having gained the support of Krang, Marcus was now the chief commander of the main force. He understood the value of the time that Enkrid had earned. Even just one day¡ªthere was much that could be done. "Tell the commanders of each unit to come in!" It was a time for tactics and strategy. Did he have a talent for that? If not, that wasn''t a problem. So what could he do? Simple. He just needed to gather those who had that skill. "Have the scouts continuously observe enemy movements, and let the rest of the units rest! Let them eat and rest, but tell them not to unarm and always keep their weapons by their side!" Marcus shouted without stopping. Crang, watching this, couldn''t help but think of Enkrid, whom he had seen earlier. A chill ran down his spine. There was someone who stood on the battlefield and showed his back. Krang called such a person a knight. The knight that bards speak of. Not a symbol of strength, but a symbol of honor and belief. Those who wield swords for what they believe in. Guardians of the oath. Enkrid was not part of the means he had prepared. Still, Krang trusted him. He wanted him to help. That intent worked. Things were done as desired. Still, Krang couldn''t be sure if he could embrace Enkrid as a person. "Can I embrace him?" A greedy feeling stirred. He wanted him close. A feeling that rose in an instant. But Krang quickly discarded that desire. There was a better way, so it would be fine to do that. "I don''t need to embrace him." How about remaining as friends? It wasn''t a bad idea. So, he was a friend. Just then, that hero returned. "Enki." Krang greeted him first. Marcus also looked at him. What he had done so far was only cutting down a few enemy soldiers and having what seemed like a draw with an enemy commander, but the strength he displayed left an impression on everyone. Moreover, his fighting spirit had lifted the morale of the troops. Inside the command tent where the battle plans were being drawn up. As Krang raised his hand, Enkrid nodded in acknowledgment. Even though they were friends, he couldn''t just call out his name freely in such a place. Enkrid, being perceptive, knew how to act according to the situation. Of course, even if he called Krang''s name now, no one would say anything. He had the tact, but in truth, he hadn''t fully realized what he had accomplished. Krang thought this was another one of Enkrid''s characteristics. He wondered why Enkrid hadn''t called his name, but then thought nothing more of it. Soon, those who could be called commanders entered the tent. Among them, one spoke. "Please place me at the forefront!" Baron Rudin was a man who had dreamed of joining the knight order. His blood was boiling. He had seen someone fight alone against an army of thousands. If one''s blood didn''t boil, then they weren''t human. Flames rose in his eyes. "Hold back." Marcus said as he saw that. Regardless of strategy and tactics, Marcus knew what needed to be done. He intended to tilt the balance with a single battle. Then, he would have to use all the means he had prepared. "That might be all the tricks the Count has hidden, but the fact remains that we must fight. We will fight together and hold out." Marcus devised the overall strategy, and a few who were knowledgeable about tactics filled in the gaps. The key point was Enkrid''s mad unit, but no one could tell them how to move. Great strategists were those who could make each soldier move tirelessly. They made soldiers understand what their job was and get it done. However, there were those who didn''t need such orders. They went beyond the normal bounds of behavior and found their own places. Enkrid was one of them. So Marcus said nothing. Orders were unnecessary. Even while designating positions, Enkrid simply moved past it. Enkrid and his forces were considered a squad in terms of numbers, but no one would think they were just a squad. They had all seen and now knew. His skills were real, and the title of hero of Border Guard was no empty phrase. At the end of the strategic meeting, the final step in determining the course of the fight was underway. "The mad unit will move on their own, right?" Marcus needed confirmation of his thoughts. He wanted to hear an answer. Would they become a sword to cut down the enemy for their lord? Was his judgment correct? Would they move beyond the ordinary bounds and find their place in the fight? "Yes, they will." The answer was brief, but Marcus felt relieved. Enkrid nodded and returned to his assigned tent. It was quite a large tent. Right in front of it, Rem, known as a barbarian, had lit a small fire and was making something. "It seems like we''ll have a tough time starting tomorrow." The warrior, often called a barbarian, spoke instinctively. It was true. It would probably be rough and dangerous. "Are you so excited you''re going to die?" "How did you know?" "It''s written all over your face." Enkrid sat down on a flat stone chair that Rem had placed at a suitable height. Good craftsmanship. Where did he find all these things to make? "Where''s my chair?" Ragna asked as he came out of the tent. Rem indirectly told him to get lost. "Did you leave it somewhere?" "Are you taking out your frustration on me after spraining your ankle and getting beaten up?" He was still making fun of Rem for getting hurt when he caught the so-called ''Immortal Maniac'' a while ago. Ragna was persistent. Rem ignored him, and Ragna eventually found a similar rock somewhere and brought it over to sit next to him. Jaxen was more clever. He skillfully carved a piece of wood to make a chair-like shape. If he was going to go this far, wouldn''t it have been better to get a simple chair from the quartermaster instead? Dunbakel just sat on the ground. It seemed more comfortable. Esther transformed into a panther and curled up in Enkrid''s arms. Enkrid, wiping his body with a damp cloth, watched Rem''s actions. He had managed to bring some fresh meat, probably after hunting on the way here, possibly even threatening the quartermaster for it. It was raw meat, something rare for a common soldier. He made small cuts in it with a small knife and sprinkled salt in between before wrapping it up in a clean cloth. Watching it closely, Rem finally spoke up. "If you do it like this, the remaining blood drains, and the meat becomes softer." "Sounds delicious." Enkrid replied, and Rem glanced around. He noticed that Aishia had come and claimed a spot. She had obtained a chair from the quartermaster, which was simple in structure. It unfolded to spread the legs, tightening the cloth placed on it. It was easy to break but didn''t take much effort to make. "What is that? What are you making?" Aishia''s tone was still friendly, as if she had many friends around her. Yet, it seemed like she had been dealt a heavy blow. What was the name of the squire who cut the atmosphere short? Enkrid tried to remember but gave up. No thought came to mind. "I won''t give it to arrogant ones." Rem said. Though his words were harsh, he would share it. He wasn''t as stingy as he seemed. Ragna thought for a moment, then furrowed his brows. "If you give it, I''ll forget about that incident." He was saying he''d stop teasing about the injured leg. From the look on Ragna''s face, it seemed like Enkrid had tormented him countless times when he wasn''t around. They were madmen. It was ridiculous that getting injured in a fight became something to mock, and that being mocked in turn caused anger. "I''ll let it go." Rem replied. Ragna was particular about his tastes. He understood the importance of the meals Rem prepared. So, he backed down a little. Enkrid simply observed without speaking. As Rem sprinkled salt on the sliced meat, Jaxen silently threw a small pouch. Clearly, it was a sign that he wanted to eat. Rem caught it with a snap, pursed his lips, and said, "Brat." It sounded like praise. Of course, Jaxen completely ignored him. Jaxen had given him spices. As Rem sprinkled them over the meat, the fragrance filled the air. Had he mixed herbs into it? "If you put poison in it, you''ll die." Rem muttered, though he smiled, indicating it was a joke. Jaxen ignored it and sat next to Enkrid. Dunbakel quietly helped with the preparations next to Rem. "Don''t use your nails, did you wash your hands?" "I''ll use a knife." Dunbakel was unusually calm. After making the cuts in the meat, she added salt and spices. The cloth became soaked in red, so she removed it and used another clean cloth to gently pat the meat dry. They surrounded the campfire with rocks to hold something, then placed an iron pan on top, which they must have found somewhere. Rem poured flaxseed oil into the pan. "This is precious." He remarked, and Enkrid nodded. In this place, Rem was the law. At least for now. Once the pan was properly heated, the oil spread out and the aroma hit their noses. Rem placed the meat in the pan. Sizzle! With smoke rising, the savory smell spread. The combination of oil and meat scent quickly filled their noses, striking their brains and making their mouths water. "Hmm." Enkrid gave a small sigh of appreciation, and Rem gazed at the meat with great focus. His hands moved lightly and swiftly. He flipped the meat. The surface turned dark brown, and the hardened side became visible. Sizzle. With white smoke, he cooked the other side. Eventually, he used a skewer to cook the sides of the meat as well. When he thought it was done, he placed the pieces on a clean wooden board. Dunbakel''s hand reached toward it. "If you eat now, you''ll die. Wait." Rem spoke without even looking. "Ah, why?" "Because it''ll taste better if you wait." For Rem, it was an unusually valid reason, gently persuasive. Dunbakel agreed. After roasting several pieces of meat, she sliced the first one. The inside was still red, while the outside was brown. "I purposely picked fatty cuts. This is for you." "Where did you get it?" "I think I met some nomads around here. They had fresh meat." She sliced the meat as she spoke. "Eat." Rem said, folding his arms. Enkrid, using a burst of speed, focused even more. Of course, he applied an additional level of concentration. He pierced the meat with the skewer and pulled it out. Enkrid took a bite. Chew. The juice bursts. The savory aroma of the meat cuts through the air, reaching the mind and head. If the fragrance had triggered the salivary glands, this was a piercing sensation in the taste buds. Every hair on his body responded. This was it. This was what cooking and meat were all about. The tender meat slid between his teeth, then went down his throat. ''What is this?'' Was it a dream? When did it go down? Enkrid moved the skewer again. "There''s plenty," Re?m said. They ate to their heart''s content. Each of them was a big eater. It was only natural since they needed to eat as much as they moved their bodies. They ate and ate until it was time to pat their bellies, signaling they were full. Even Jaxen silently chewed and swallowed the meat. It was an unexpected feast. "Ha, well, since we''ve eaten well, let''s rest properly until tomorrow morning." Re?m patted his belly and said. "I''ll say it." Enkrid responded. "Ah, that was good. Enkrid, I watched the fight during the day." Asia spoke before leaving. There was no real business for the night. Everyone spent their time as they saw fit. Ragna had no particular thoughts. Re?m was expectant. *** Jaxen, using the excuse of a walk, briefly went outside. While walking in the night air, a shadow suddenly rose up from one side. It was his lover and the guild''s contact. "Do you have to go this far?" She asked, her question direct. For her, it was something she couldn''t understand. "This is the last time." Jaxen answered. It was a question about why he was going to war under Enkrid''s command, and Jaxen''s answer was that this would be his last gift. The lover stared at him quietly. For some reason, she couldn''t figure it out, nor could she make assumptions. But she felt that Jaxen might not return. "Do you remember your father''s words?" Suddenly, the words of Jaxen''s teacher, and his deceased father, came to mind. "Find where you belong." It had been both an order and a final wish. Jaxen hadn''t kept that in mind, but his lover did. In any case, that was something for later. While Jaxen went on his night walk, Dunbakel, unlike her usual self, couldn''t sleep and came out. She sat on the stone chair where Re?m had been and stared up at the sky. It was a moonlit night. It seemed like a good night for a raid, but the enemy was quiet. Dunbakel trembled. It wasn''t because she was cold. Her life had been filled with struggle and survival. She fought to stay alive. To be more precise, it was a story of surviving through any means, even running away. Her instincts spoke to her. She felt the danger of standing on the edge of a cliff, as if her body were leaning forward, unsteady. But she didn''t want to leave. What should she do then? "Struggle." Hadn''t she already seen and learned how? Just like Enkrid had done. The moonlight waned. Clouds appeared and covered the moon. Darkness settled in. Crackling. The flames of the torches set around her flickered. Whoooosh. The wind blew and brushed her body. "Struggling forward is the only choice." Dunbakel made up her mind and gathered her thoughts. Still, her body trembled, refusing to stop. Esther had transformed into a leopard and curled up in Enkrid''s arms. She woke up during the time everyone was asleep. There was a stirring of magic. In other words, she felt the flow of some unfamiliar spell. It was a form she had never seen before. She couldn''t say what it was just yet. Looking up, she saw Enkrid, peacefully asleep. His calm breathing. He slept soundly, without a care in the world. Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 401 - Gaining the Upper Hand Chapter 401 - 401 - Gaining the Upper Hand Chapter 401 - Gaining the Upper Hand The armies began to move at dawn. It was a formation similar to yesterday''s. The wide, open plain served as the stage, and the wind blowing through became an observer. Instead of those who had led the charge earlier, archers, infantry, and some cavalry formed the front lines. Though they hadn''t agreed upon it, the commanders at the forefront of both sides had decided to take the break of dawn as the signal to move. Enkrid watched this as he walked. It was a light step, almost like a casual stroll. It wasn''t really a walk in the park. He had meticulously prepared his weapons¡ªthree swords and a whistle dagger. There was something different, though. The position of his swords had shifted slightly. Silver was at his left hip, and Fire was at his right. Each was placed to match the characteristics of his hands, while his gladius was hung behind his back, with the belt looped to make it fit comfortably. After the previous battle, the sword tip had been slightly shortened, so it was more practical to carry it this way. It was a sword that had been cut off by about two finger lengths. ''I wonder if the dwarf who made this would be upset about it?'' They took great pride in their weapons, didn''t they? Just as fairies take pride in the trees, flowers, and plants they grow, calling themselves the children of trees and flowers, dwarves were the children of iron and fire. Giants prove themselves through blood and carnage, being the children of hot blood. Beastkin began their hunt for survival, making them the children of the mountains and fields. Dragons stand alone, and thus are without parents. Frogs risk everything for their dreams, making them the children of dreams. Humans, however, have no symbolic parentage, and thus can become anything. It was just a passing thought. As Enkrid walked alongside the unit, he checked his gear. He reviewed the position of his swords, the condition of the sword belt, and made sure the sword on his back didn''t hinder his movement by adjusting his route. ''Block, dodge, strike.'' Deceive, strike, and beat down. It was a mental review of the fight from yesterday, a virtual battle. Though his limbs flailed about as he walked, no one cast an eye of complaint or ill-will at him. "Are we fighting together again today?" A soldier, who had been hesitant, finally asked. The group of about fifty soldiers had stopped in the middle of forming ranks. Their commander at the front asked. Fifty pairs of eyes turned to him. Enkrid nodded. He would fight the same men they had fought yesterday. It was more of a gut feeling, but he was certain of it. Although they had been defeated, the fire in those eyes had not diminished one bit. They would come again. Having finished the mental review, Enkrid walked between the two units, considering his movement. Behind him followed Rem, Jaxen, Ragna, and Dunbakel. "It''s cloudy, Boss," Rem remarked. After finishing his review, Enkrid looked up at the sky. It didn''t seem like it would rain just yet, but the sky was indeed cloudy. Dark clouds were approaching from the horizon, and their movement was fast enough to notice. But still, there was no scent of rain. Dunbakel wrinkled her nose and spoke. "It''ll start tomorrow." Ragna didn''t seem to have any particular thoughts on the matter, and Jaxen, as always, wore a blank expression, unreadable. Rem grinned, clearly excited. "We''re gonna shit ourselves." Enkrid nodded at Rem''s words, agreeing with him. It made sense. It would indeed be a brutal and difficult battlefield. He had already spoken with Rem earlier in the morning. "You know?" "What?" "If they had attacked right away yesterday, we would''ve been in a worse position." There was no need to explain it in detail. Enkrid could understand it intuitively. The enemy had formed their ranks, while their own side looked like they had formed ranks, but their discipline had yet to fully unite. Yet, the enemy had pulled back. Why? Was it because their helmets were like mere helmet covers? No, it wasn''t that. It was simple, really. There was no need for deep thought. They had something prepared. ''Even if they had to sacrifice a day, it wouldn''t matter.'' Enkrid had shared a similar thought with Marcus earlier. Of course, Marcus understood the situation as well. "I know. But it''s an opportunity for us too. We needed the time." The enemy had fewer numbers, and their training was lacking. On the other hand, the enemy had a unified command structure, while their side''s command was still shaky. Fortunately, thanks to Enkrid''s efforts, the shaky parts were now functioning smoothly. The mere presence of someone like him gave their side comfort and strength. The heat and desire stretched in the right direction. Marcus used all that to his advantage. Everything Krang had advised was put into action. As a result, the crows hadn''t stopped flying all night. In other words, the enemy had used the extra day to prepare, but their side also needed that time. "So, that''s why we cooked the meat." Rem said, and Enkrid''s thoughts quickly vanished. What did his words mean? It meant he had shown off his cooking skills, likely in anticipation. Even when killing the Immortal Madman, Rem had been filled with frustration. Wouldn''t anyone be? They weren''t fighting properly; they were chasing down someone fleeing. Rem wanted a real fight. A blood-soaked battle. Desire and passion surged within him. He wanted to burn all of it and keep moving. It was a campfire stacked with logs. It had burned so fiercely that the flames were nearly spreading everywhere. ''I''ll fight and burn it all.'' To fight with everything, to burn one''s soul¡ªthat''s what a warrior should know. Enkrid watched Rem with that look. ''What''s going on with him today?'' It seemed that today his passion was a bit too much. Of course, that was to be expected, but even Ragna felt the intensity, and Jaxen was the same. Neither of them said much. Dunbakel seemed to be lost in thought, and Esther was perched with one eye peering above. The two armies were on the edge of the archers'' range. The commanders of both sides shouted in unison. "Fire!" The arrows came first. The start of the battle, the signal. Boom, boom, boom, boom! The sound of drums and trumpets filled the plain, and above the noise, the arrows filled the sky. Their side had five hundred longbowmen, while the enemy had more than a thousand. The arrows launched from both sides met in the air. They had taken straight and strong trees like oaks and pines, processed them into shafts, and attached metal tips and feathers with glue. Thus, sharp-tipped, short wooden pieces that took lives. Thud! A soldier, unlucky enough to be hit by an arrow through the gap in his helmet, fell. There weren''t many like that, though. The infantry at the front raised their shields diagonally to brace themselves. "Hold them!" The enemy moved first. As expected, Marcus had prepared for a counterattack, so this was the natural result. A group of cavalry broke away from the right flank of the count''s formation. "Charge!" The cavalry was armed with lances. They attempted a charge. If a cavalry charge breached the formation, it could lead to a defeat. For the kingdom''s army, the only way to have any chance of victory was to block every attack from the enemy. "Run, move! Go there! Charge!" The cry of their commander rang out. He had spotted where the cavalry was heading and gave orders for infantry to form a line in that area. It was the same commander who had spoken to Enkrid earlier. His mouth opened again. "Pikes! Forward!" Whoosh, whoosh! The pikes were raised high, and with muscle strength in their arms, the soldiers thrust their spears into the ground, forming a wall. The pike wall was the best strategy to catch cavalry. By the time the enemy cavalry tried to turn around, it was too late. Thud, thud, thud, thud! The thunderous sound of hooves pounded as the leading cavalry charged straight into the pike wall. The spears pierced through the riders. Blood splattered everywhere, and the sound of bones breaking echoed. Most riders had died, but some of the riders had fallen sideways. The speed of the charging riders became their own weapon, killing them instantly. "Urrgh!" "Ahhh!" The screams made it clear that this place was a hellish battlefield. Among the fallen riders, some barely survived, only for the allied soldiers to draw their long swords and stab and slash at them. Thud! Snap! "Die!" "Bastard!" Meanwhile, some riders had broken through the gaps in the spear wall. The heavy cavalry was a weapon in itself. Being crushed by the weight of the riders and dying was a common occurrence. In fact, even a single broken limb made it nearly impossible to survive. Several riders fell on soldiers, making gaps in the spear wall. The soldiers on standby quickly filled these gaps with their spears. "Charge! Charge!" The enemy cavalry pushed forward with sheer numbers. Yet, the infantry who had formed the spear wall held their ground. Though the soldiers at the center of the battle may not have realized it, from a commander''s perspective, it was a great victory. The beginning had gone well. Marcus clenched his fists. And then, the enemy forces moved again. A portion of the enemy cavalry emerged from their ranks. "They really prepared everything." It was a cavalry archery unit. There weren''t many of them¡ªjust about fifty. But it wouldn''t be easy to match their mobility. "Just shooting arrows while retreating..." They were all capable of such a feat. Despite their leader being killed by Enkrid''s sword on the first day, these men were formidable fighters. Their unit itself was threatening. They rode out, aiming at the kingdom''s commander. A well-trained unit, their capabilities were evident to anyone watching. It could be said they were the first blade prepared by the count. Enkrid''s gaze also fell upon them. In the vast plain, the movements of the cavalry were easy to spot. "If left unchecked, their damage could be significant." He understood this in his mind, but it wasn''t the time to act yet. "Marcus isn''t an idiot." After observing the strategy meeting yesterday, Enkrid saw that Marcus''s commanders were no slouches either. No sooner had Enkrid thought this, than his own cavalry also emerged. Though only a dozen or so, the leader at the front had bright orange hair. The red cape fluttered in the wind. It was Aishia and her squires. Though they had claimed they wouldn''t use knightly power, these were already seasoned warriors from the royal palace. "For Naurilia!" Aisia shouted. She and her squires charged forward, quickly closing the distance to pursue the cavalry archers. The enemy fired arrows as they fled. Aishia raised her sword, deflecting the most dangerous ones. Twisting her wrist, she moved her sword without even needing to rely on a shield. Then, she chased them down, catching up to their rear. With a swift slash, her sword severed one man''s head. Before the head even hit the ground, Aishia''s blade stabbed the back of another. She darted to the side, stabbing and slashing relentlessly. It was a fearsome display of power. "Come at me till the end!" As the number of enemy archers dwindled, a few enemy cavalry charged toward the squire squadron. But that wasn''t the end of it. The enemy infantry began advancing, and among them, a few stood out with exceptional skill, heading toward Aishia and her squadron. As the infantry began to rampage, more skilled individuals became noticeable, prompting Rem to take action. "I''ll go ahead!" As Rem kicked the ground, his body seemed to elongate, propelling him forward with great speed. It was a movement that required skill. Of course, Enkrid knew how to do it as well. Using the strength that could be called "superhuman," he didn''t jump upward but instead transferred the power forward by stepping hard on the ground. It wasn''t an easy feat to perform. Even Enkrid had spent countless days perfecting it. Rem sprinted toward one of the infantrymen who had broken away. The man saw Rem and changed direction, charging at him head-on. The enemy wielded two hammers. Rem pulled out his axe and swung it, while the opponent swung his hammers. Bang! With a tremendous noise, the infantrymen parted to create space between them. In that moment, Enkrid noticed a shadow appear behind Rem. A soldier who had been hiding among the retreating infantrymen jumped out, attempting to stab. The movement was shockingly fast and precise. The thrust was sharp and difficult to predict. Though it was an unexpected moment, Rem spun and dodged. The blade grazed his back, but he evaded it, then swung his axe, forcing the opponent to retreat. He didn''t need help. If it was dangerous, he could escape; if not, he''d win. The one standing there was Rem. "Let''s reduce their numbers." Enkrid shifted his gaze from Rem and spoke. "That barbarian, always going straight for the vital points." Ragna spoke as he stepped forward. He aimed for the flank of the enemy infantry. Step, step. The madmen squad had already moved to the side of the army formation, and they weren''t drawing much attention. Everyone else was being consumed by the madness of collective combat. Enkrid watched Ragna''s back. After all, it was said that knights were disasters to commoners. But what about Ragna, who had become so close to a knight? He hadn''t been injured, nor was he exhausted. He had filled his stomach well yesterday. Ragna infiltrated the side of the enemy infantry. It almost seemed as if he was blending in with the crowd. He walked, then engaged. In battles like this, there was no need to find a path. You simply slashed anything that looked like the enemy. The soldiers Ragna touched collapsed to the ground like bundles of straw. With a quick flick, his sword severed the enemy soldier''s neck. No screams, no surprise. They didn''t even realize when they died. Ragna calmly swung his sword, and the enemy numbers began to dwindle. With each swing, soldiers fell in a short time, and the enemy began to notice Ragna. But nothing changed. Knowing who he was actually worked against them. It was like a reaper among the common soldiers. Meanwhile, Enkrid noticed a few more enemies who were moving with purpose. "Jaxen?" "Leave them." He was ready to handle them himself. The enemy wasn''t foolish. Their lieutenants had infiltrated among the regular soldiers, preparing for an assault. It was a smart tactic. The fewer, more elite forces hidden among the regular soldiers could wear down the larger army. Whether the formation was in their favor or not, these special forces could turn the tide of the battle. The key was to stop them before they could do that. Jaxen chased down the individuals moving with purpose, while Enkrid walked into the enemy ranks again. "What''s this guy doing?" Behind him, an enemy soldier, still not engaged in the battle, shouted as he tried to break formation. Enkrid ignored him and kept walking. A huge shadow appeared ahead of him. It was someone with the sun behind them, casting a large silhouette. The man was enormous¡ªbigger than Audin, even. "My name is Benukt. I am a giant." His voice sounded as if it echoed from a cave. It was obvious he was a giant. From the moment he approached, the sight of him filled Enkrid''s vision. The man extended both fists, preparing to strike. His posture reminded Enkrid of Audin. Enkrid drew his sword high. The silver blade gleamed, not in the sunlight, but in the shadows. Both men adjusted their stances, trying to read each other''s breath, looking for the optimal moment to strike. In that tense moment, Enkrid asked, "What happened to your leader?" "Did he step aside for you?" Benukt, ready to unleash his giant strength, launched himself forward. Boom! He slammed the ground with his feet, turning his body into a living projectile. He flew toward Enkrid, intending to strike him with his shoulder. It was the moment of impact. Boom! A loud sound rang out as the two collided. Dust flew up, and soon, their figures became visible. Neither one of them had stepped back. They had collided with a shockwave, but both had endured, each carrying their own wounds. Enkrid knew in that instant. Benukt, the giant, wasn''t as impressive as he looked. It wasn''t arrogance, nor was it a lack of confidence. It was a cold evaluation. Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 402 - Heaven Gifted Talent Chapter 402 - 402 - Heaven Gifted Talent Chapter 402 - Heaven-Given Talent "Send the Chimera unit." At the command of Count Molsan, Rievart raised a flag. The messenger, seeing the small flag in his hand, ran and shouted. "Deploy! Deploy!" Following the messenger''s shout, the second blade prepared by the Count began to rush forward. The Count had sent a pack of werewolves to Border Guard. They were true werewolves, having transformed from humans into monsters. Naturally, the ones sent to Border Guard were not all that was deployed. The main force was here. The cavalry was being overwhelmed, and the mounted archers, had been caught by the knight order led by Aishia. The infantry was also losing in the formation fight. It was due to an unexpected additional force rampaging through the Count''s infantry. More specifically, it was a result of one ignorant swordsman getting lost. Rievart saw this too, but remained calm. Although the infantry was of poor quality compared to the available forces, it was a situation where they were clearly losing. In fact, they were losing. Despite this, the Count remained indifferent, merely watching the battle unfold. The actual movements of the commanders under the Count''s command were leading to increasing losses. In other words, people were dying. And in the midst of this, the Chimera unit surged forward. It seemed like a proper decision. When you''re losing, isn''t it basic tactics to deploy additional forces? The group heading forward was mostly clad in torn, worn-out clothes that hardly seemed suitable for the battlefield. When seen up close, their eyes were glazed, devoid of any rational thought, and they were driven only by simple orders to advance. At some point, they began to run and transformed. Feathers sprouted from their bodies, thick fur like a mane grew, and their size increased. Their claws sharpened, and the hazy eyes were now filled with murderous intent. They were becoming true monsters born solely for slaughter. There were three types of monsters among them: owlbears, werewolves, and bearwolves. The transformed creatures rushed forward, howling as they went. Hooo! Awoooo! Grrr! Their howls were the kind that could induce a primal fear in anyone who heard them. With those howls, they aimed for the right flank of the kingdom''s army. The pack, numbering over a hundred, was enough to spread despair and frustration among those on the opposite side. Then came a cry from one side, directed at the beastly pack. It was unmistakably a human cry, but with a different kind of tone, almost like a chant. Orororororo! It was a rolling cry, spreading through their diaphragms. "Chase the wolves!" "Beast, beast, you''ve lost your way!" Orororororo! The cry mixed with the chant rang out, and from one side of the plains, soldiers appeared, running faster than most cavalry charges. Their speed was comparable to a mounted charge. They were not at all behind the monstrous pack. They were a group draped in brown leather cloaks, each holding a long staff or spear. Such a group could not exist in more than one place. They were the shepherds of the wilderness. These people lived in the northernmost part of the continent, managing both wild mountain goats known as the "thick-horned mountain goats" and the fierce herbivorous creatures called "dry sheep" in the plains, which they called the wilderness. Their numbers were fewer than twenty, but they were a group comparable to a knight order. They charged and ran toward the monster pack. Against more than two hundred beasts, fewer than twenty of them rushed forward. At first glance, it looked like a suicidal charge, but the result was different. "I hope you die and make the land fertile." At the front was a man named Fel. He wielded a sword that held the soul of a demon, one that killed idols. If you were struck, you would die. It was like a poisoned blade. A sword that cut and killed not just the body but the soul. The sword was said to be dangerous to use repeatedly, as it could awaken the demon trapped within. But against these monsters, using it without hesitation seemed like the right choice. It was the very sword and shepherd that had made Enkrid relive the same day. Fel thrust the sword into the owlbear''s eye. There was no need to pierce through the brain. He simply stabbed and immediately pulled it out. A wound of such a size was enough. Of course, gouging out an eyeball was hardly a "moderate" wound. But it was enough for the shepherd. "Uuuuuu!" The beast let out a howl, but instead of dying, it resisted. Was it Will? No. It was the magical nature of the monster. The sword trembled. It gave off a small vibration, signaling its displeasure with the strike. It meant that the demon''s soul wasn''t yet satisfied with the kill, and so the sword would let Fel use it more freely. Even without offering the soul to the demon, he could still use its powers. However, unlike when cutting actual souls, it required more strikes, stabs, and blows. In any case, if one strike wasn''t enough, then strike again. Fel quickly pulled the sword out, rushing in to stab the other eye. The owlbear, with its claws raised like feet, swiped at him. Fel ducked as he withdrew the sword, his eyes gleaming. He was processing all the information pouring in from every direction and moved with instinct. Fel began to rampage more. Then, two companions joined him. Both were older shepherds. One wore a hat made from a wolf''s head, and the other from a bear''s head. "Crazy Fel, slow down a bit." "The young ones these days." One wielded a long spear, the other a long staff. The shepherds had always preferred long weapons like spears and staves. Fel, however, stuck with his sword. "Can''t you leave me to do things my way?" Fel spoke as he kicked the dying owlbear aside. "Do you really think I want to hear any nagging right now?" "You should take that up with your father if you think I have no manners." The old men continued bickering. Fel, despite his thoughts, said aloud: "Yes, I''m sorry." "You''re only saying that now." "The young ones these days." The old man with the bear''s head seemed to always have that phrase on his lips. So, it was best to ignore it. Fel thought that perhaps chatting with the owlbear would have been more pleasant. Though, a chat would only be enjoyable for him. The dead beast would never laugh, and no monster would be allowed that luxury. The two older shepherds followed behind Fel, assisting him. Soon, two more joined them, making the group five. This was the basic formation of the shepherds. The five became one, attacking as a single unit. The diamond-shaped spearheads, the staffs wrapped with metal, and Fel''s sword mercilessly took down the monster subjects, one after another. In the end, the Chimera army of the Count had failed to achieve its goal. But how did the shepherds of the wilderness end up here? It was the work of Krang. He had wandered across the continent and, by chance, met the shepherds. Asking for their help, the shepherds came to repay the favor. No, to be honest, it had been several years since they arrived. They hadn''t been waiting specifically for today. They had their own reasons for coming. Krang knew all of this and used it to his advantage. Isn''t it basic politics to use what the other party desires to create your own strategy? That''s exactly what Krang had done, and that''s how the shepherds, fewer than twenty in number, found themselves here. To the soldiers, their number felt like two of Enkrid''s crazy units. The older commanders, however, thought it felt more like a knight order splitting into three parts to devastate the enemy. Aisia''s group and the Squire unit. The shepherds of the wilderness. And Enkrid''s madmen. Ironically, the most impressive of them all were the madmen. The destructive power of the Red Cloak Knights was unmatched. Even though there were no knights, it was an absurd situation. *** For Krang, Count Molsan was, in a way, like a festering wound. It hurt if left untreated, but poking it would only make things worse. Such a wound had to be cut out in one go. And that was why Krang made an outlandish claim. "We need a civil war." What he meant by civil war was that all the diseases brought by Count Molsan should be gathered and burned out. Thus, the battle that was taking place now was closer to being driven by Krang''s intentions rather than the Count''s. But did Count Molsan not understand Krang''s intentions? Whether or not Molsan was a natural politician, he was an ambitious schemer. He understood the situation. And he agreed to it. So here they were now. Marcus''s mind was sharper than ever before. Based on the information from the scouts, he moved his troops. He had to destroy every tactic the enemy had prepared, without leaving any gaps. So far, things had been going that way. In his mind, Marcus asked the Count a question. "You didn''t expect this, did you?" He had brought in an entirely different military force¡ªreplacing the knights. The enemy would be taken aback by this. He had heard that the wild shepherds were promised some land in exchange for their help. The leader of these shepherds would receive the title of a nominal noble and their land would become an autonomous territory. Besides their northern lands, they had claimed territories all over, across kingdoms and empires. But they didn''t govern those lands directly. They kept tenants, and only collected a share of the crops. The Marquis of Okto had worked tirelessly for this, and without his skill, none of it would have been possible. So it was unexpected. *** "Try to stop us, you monsters." The swords that used to tend sheep on the northern continent were now cutting through a pack of chimeras sent by the enemy. For some reason, Count Molsan sent more troops into the fray. The Count''s next move was unexpected. "What?" Marcus frowned. What was this supposed to be? "Are you trying to overpower with numbers?" They weren''t regular soldiers. The troops were splitting apart and flooding through a path to the rear. It looked like a tidal wave, so overwhelming in numbers, yet they were rushing forward with no formation whatsoever. "Reservists?" These were farmers who became soldiers during wartime. Even though they had received basic training, some of them transitioned to professional soldiers, and others simply followed the mandatory training requirements. These weren''t them. There was no formation. They were charging ahead haphazardly. Common civilians¡ªspecifically those in the Count''s territory¡ªwere given spears and sent out. Behind them, a group of archers stood ready, their arrows aimed at the back of the soldiers. The "poison controller" was the one forcing the soldiers to fight, even by threatening them with death if they ran. The Count had created a "poison squad." If they retreated, they''d die from arrows. If they advanced, they''d fall by the enemy''s sword. The Count promised them land and status if they survived, but Marcus had no way of knowing this for sure. Marcus frantically tried to figure out the Count''s intent. "Is he trying to exhaust us?" Even if he understood, there was no way to avoid it. The Count wasn''t an idiot. He had been a prominent figure in his time. In his youth, he had even been called the protector of his lands. As his meat shields reached the enemy lines, they were chopped and cut down. Of course, it was the expected outcome. Following that, the troops the Count had raised arrived as well. The battle raged on. What the Count was trying to achieve was unclear, but one thing was certain. Blood would flow across this land as surely as the rain would pour. Ragna was in the thick of the fight, stabbing and slashing at the enemy. "Take this!" "Kill him!" Blood splattered. Bones cracked. Heads exploded, their contents staining the ground. Severed limbs fell beside the lifeless bodies of soldiers with eyes still open. Ragna did not hesitate with his sword. In fact, he paid little attention to the dying. Instead, he focused on honing his skills. This place became his training ground. Everything was allowed. He wielded his sword, stabbing, slashing, and swinging, thinking as he fought, replaying the battle in his mind, and making realizations. He did it all at once. From this, he formed several new techniques. He naturally combined what he already had and reorganized it. He discarded what was unnecessary and kept what was useful. "Breaking the momentum is through grappling." He had learned this from a knight he had fought earlier, but after reflecting on it, he realized it was a technique not worth keeping. It might be useful against weaker opponents, but it had no effect on those of similar or greater skill. It could momentarily surprise an opponent, but it was unlikely to produce any lasting results. So it was unnecessary. Ragna casually discarded what he had learned and forgot it. Thus, he had a few small revelations. "Stronger and faster." In general, it was about increasing power and speed. From there, he added force to the basics of stabbing and slashing. The focus was on physical enhancement. This wasn''t just training, it was a technique of enhancement using his Will. There was no need to question whether it was the right path. He simply walked it. He didn''t need to ask anyone for directions or check the stars. That was his talent. Being a genius, the kind of talent that could only be described as a gift from the heavens. Ragna kept repeating his practice, creating the techniques he needed to master. And in the midst of this, enemies who didn''t know how to fight drew closer. These were the so-called reservists sent by the Count. "Annoying." Why? He didn''t need to know. Without a second thought, Ragna moved. He kicked off the ground and searched for the soldiers he could fight, those who were at least professional enough to be worthy of his blade. Before long, he found a group ready to engage. As soon as he approached, the formation around them parted as if inviting him in. Ragna walked into the center of their formation, and immediately, soldiers holding thick square shields began to form a circle around him. They were trained in the way of hunting beasts. The signs were clear. "Now!" The moment he stepped in, nets flew above him. Along with them, crossbow bolts and arrows rained down, all targeting him. Ragna raised his sword and sliced through the nets. It wasn''t difficult. It wasn''t hard to avoid the arrows either, weaving through them like water and cutting down the shields in front of him. He was ready to slice through the shields and the soldiers holding them. But then... Clang! For the first time, his sword was stopped. It wasn''t a knight''s or even a junior knight''s shield, just a simple shield¡ªbut it wasn''t ordinary. These soldiers weren''t ordinary either. They were heavily armored infantry with shields five times heavier than normal, made of thick steel. Even the Will of his sword couldn''t slice through something so thick. The situation had been as expected. His sword cut through the shield, but it didn''t split it. The soldiers behind the shield caught their breath, watching Ragna intently. Ragna looked at his sword and then raised his gaze. Behind the shield, their eyes met. Eyes of trained soldiers, capable of withstanding fear. Ragna thought this would be the perfect time to test his newly honed technique. "Faster." Stronger. Slicing better. Stabbing better. These were the core principles of the technique Ragna had just created. It was time to practice breaking through their thick shields. -------------------------------------- Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 403 - Everything Felt Wrong Chapter 403 - 403 - Everything Felt Wrong Chapter 403 - Everything Felt Wrong For those who dealt with magic, an omen was not simply three words. It was a prediction derived from sensation. Esther felt something was happening in this land. And it was related to the world of magic. A sense that it could also affect her directly followed, and she concluded that she couldn''t let it go unchecked. In other words, immediate confirmation was needed. That was the reason. Esther opened her mouth. "Guard me." At those words, Andrew, who had been about to enter the battlefield, turned his head. "Did you say that to me?" "Shall I call Enkrid, who''s ahead?" Esther, with kind and lengthy explanations, made the other person understand the facts and closed her eyes. She was in a hurry. Andrew hesitated before halting his steps. Where was his position now? Since he was with Enkrid, he had been accepted as part of their unit. As a baron of the Gardener family, his position was ambiguous when it came to commanding the troops. Even if he considered those under his command, there were only five of them. Andrew looked at the battlefield. It wasn''t overwhelming, but the situation seemed to be flowing according to their intentions. Andrew stopped his steps. He thought it was right to listen to Esther, the mage, at this moment. "Form up." With that, Andrew and the five trainees formed a circle around Esther. Esther sat in the middle. She didn''t care about the dirt beneath her. This wasn''t the time for such things. Her robe dragged on the ground as it touched the earth. Soon, Esther entered the world of magic and began searching for the plot prepared by the opposing mage. No, she didn''t need to search. The enemy revealed and showed, rather than hiding or concealing, all to raise his own prestige. The great majesty became pressure, weighing down on Esther''s shoulders. But she was no ordinary mage. A witch who dealt with the fire of the black world. A witch who fought, struggled, and pioneered worlds. A seeker who burned the truth with flames to understand it. She chanted a spell to prove herself and lifted her head. Esther saw the work prepared by the enemy, the mage Count Molsan. Not all mages were mad, but there was a saying that great mages always nurtured madness. Esther agreed with that statement. The one who was causing trouble right now also proved it. ''They mixed curses and spells.'' Between the flows of mana, the presence of spirits also mingled. The power of invocation covered the area, showing the enemy''s will. It was darkness. *** Count Molsan, sitting in a black chair that appeared even darker in this space, wore a cloak made of soot and held a black staff identical to the chair, glaring at her. "Are you trying to stop me?" The will of the Count turned into words, mixed with mockery. He dared her to try. Esther didn''t respond to the mockery. Instead, she observed, continuing to scrutinize. ''A magic circle.'' The entire battlefield was turned into a magic circle. A magic circle required material to draw. "You''re brilliantly mad." When she realized this, Esther spoke. The Count raised his chin with one hand, holding his staff with the other, and spoke. "Do you think knowing will change anything?" The Count had used the horrors of war, blood, and corpses as materials for his magic circle, drawing a spell based on curses. What would the result be? Esther partially opened her eyes and guessed what would happen when the spell was complete. She too was one of the greatest geniuses in her world. That''s why she could make such a guess. The pure black darkness would engulf the entire battlefield. The world covered in that darkness would lose its light, consumed by a will as dark as night. This was the repulsive work of a madman attempting to connect his own magical world to reality. What disgusted her the most was this: what did a mage''s magic world mean? It was their flaws and secret space, a place that should never be shown or revealed to anyone. It was a taboo. Count Molsan ignored that taboo. ''He''s trying to connect and send spirits.'' By hiding the light and vomiting forth darkness with the magic circle, he was essentially ripping his magic world out and manifesting it here. Esther''s eyes also caught sight of the black mass behind the chair the Count was sitting on. Spirits. There were countless spirits filling the Count''s magic world. What would happen if those beings were released into the battlefield? Spirits could erode the human mind. Some would become puppets, others would swing their swords indiscriminately, unable to distinguish allies from enemies. Others would lose their will and die right there. Most would exhibit madness. This was the reality that was about to happen. It would unfold just as the Count intended. Victory in the war? That wasn''t necessary. Only blood, corpses, and death were needed. With those, he would dominate the battlefield with his spirits. If Krais knew about this, he would likely rage. "Are you going to try and stop me?" The Count asked. Esther could burn the enemies with her magic right now. But she couldn''t stop the ones fighting. No solution came to mind. The best she could do was take those she wanted to protect out of harm''s way. Should she do that? It was a sudden thought, but she figured Enkrid wouldn''t want that. So, what should she do? ''I''ll ask him.'' She would pass everything on to Enkrid. She would ask him. For those who knew magic, it would be quite a surprising choice. Esther converted part of her will into liquid form and sent it flying towards Enkrid, who was at the front of the battlefield. It was a feat possible because they had lived side by side for over a year. To send her will in such a form required such a relationship. Fortunately, Esther''s will reached Enkrid. "I''ll ask." Esther spoke, and the Count blinked in confusion. What was she going to ask, he wondered. *** A giant who wielded its body as a weapon. That was Benukt''s epithet. Enkrid pulled the sword out of the fallen giant''s head, with the giant''s blood following the blade as he removed it. He pressed his foot down on the giant''s shoulder, and as the sword came out with a "schuck," blood trailed behind it. The giant''s fighting spirit was impressive and terrifying. ''Compared to Audin, though...'' It was weak. Benukt had struck Enkrid''s side once and grabbed his ankle, twisting it. But Enkrid withstood the strike with core strength and slipped the attack off his side. When his ankle was grabbed, he turned his body in the opposite direction, neutralizing the giant''s move and making it ineffective. Then, he repeatedly struck, stabbing and slashing. The difference in skill was evident, so there was no need to rush. Using the capturing blade, Enkrid cornered Benukt into a corner. After killing Benukt. Enkrid looked around. He saw soldiers running toward him in terror. These were not the ones who would retreat in fear, having seen the giant''s death. They were at least dozens of soldiers. ''Why?'' It was a puzzling sight. Their eyes were filled with fear, their legs shaking. Enkrid hadn''t used any form of intimidation. Yet, their eyes were full of terror. It looked like they were being pushed forward. That was the answer. They were the sacrifices the Count had sent, sent to die. To protect those behind him, it meant becoming a demon to the advancing soldiers. Enkrid understood that. Even so, "I don''t like it." It bothered him intensely, almost to the point of cruelty. Enkrid struck the trembling spear tip with the back of his hand, knocking it aside, then grabbed the spear shaft and yanked it away. The boy, who looked to be no older than twenty, stumbled forward as the spear was taken from him. In his panic, he couldn''t even brace himself on the ground and fell, his chin hitting first. "Ahh!" A scream echoed. Enkrid swiftly sliced through the next opponent''s spear with his sword and kicked the chin of the one behind him. Thud. Though it was a light kick, the chin was knocked up, and the opponent''s eyes spun as he collapsed. After knocking down a dozen or so, the enemies no longer dared to attack. Eyes full of wariness, eyes full of fear, both mixed together, and the pupils turned, showing a complex inner turmoil. Enkrid didn''t like any of it. The blood of the dying. Their flesh and bones. The flowing death staining the land. It was an unpleasant feeling, originating from instinct and completed through intuition. ''Why?'' This was a battlefield, and he was now familiar with it. He knew well that in order to protect his back, he had to become a demon to those standing before him. As he scanned his surroundings in caution, something like blue smoke approached from behind him, touching his back. It was the substance of Esther''s will. She conveyed to Enkrid what she had seen, heard, and understood. It was a strange experience, as if Esther''s voice was whispering in his ear. The message she passed along, that the Count''s actions were the source of his discomfort, was the root of his irritation. Although he didn''t fully understand what the magic circle was or what exactly the Count was planning, he found it perfectly natural to obstruct whatever the man desired¡ªthere was nothing about him that appealed to Enkrid. The fact that the battlefield had been turned into a tool for the Count''s schemes made it all the more distasteful. Turning his attention back to the enemy, Enkrid pushed forward, and the enemy soldiers parted to clear his path. They wouldn''t dare to charge, as even a dire struggle from behind, no matter how forceful, wouldn''t change the outcome. The giant had just been slain. The one who had killed a beastly creature, a monstrous fiend in the eyes of ordinary soldiers, had come. Though outwardly seeming like an ordinary swordsman, his display of power made him anything but. And so, the path was cleared. On the other side, Rievart stepped forward. "Benukt is no match for you, huh?" "Wasn''t that obvious?" "I suppose so." "You should have stepped in earlier." Enkrid reproached Rievart, as if scolding a young student. He was genuinely upset. The way Rievart was acting didn''t match the current situation, so naturally, it was a provocation. Rievart, even in moments like this, was irritated by the fact that he was a mocked. His specialty had always been turning his opponent''s thoughts upside down through words. "Your tongue..." "Shut up. I won''t listen to excuses." Enkrid cut off Rievart''s words. "You really are a bastard." Rievart spoke without a trace of a smile, and Enkrid raised his sword. It was clear that only by crossing this point could they move forward. At that moment, Esther, who had been observing Enkrid''s situation through his will, read his intent. There was no thought of retreat. It was a will like an endlessly burning flame. He would block. He would stop them, no matter what. She understood that will and spoke. "Don''t lose." If they lost and retreated now, they would never be able to stop the Count. Enkrid lifted his sword. Holding Silver with both hands, he looked at his opponent, preparing to divide them in two vertically by the blade. Reflections on past battles had occupied his mind all day long, immediately after the fight had ended. Even while chewing meat, sleeping, waking from sleep, and even in the middle of fighting, he had thought about them. There was no boredom. On the contrary, it was enjoyable. This was an opponent that had to be overcome. Therefore, it was fun. It was an opportunity to move forward by facing them. More importantly, he instinctively knew. ''I can win.'' How many times had he felt sure of victory before? Even against such an exceptionally skilled opponent. He hadn''t fought thinking of today as a repetition, though. Enkrid believed there would be no repetitions. "I''m envious." Rievart, with an unreadable expression, lifted his sword and shield. He raised his shield to cover his mouth, revealing only his eyes. The preparations for battle were complete. It was expected to be a fight similar to the previous one. Those who had watched their previous duel thought the same. But it was not so. Wham! Suddenly, Enkrid sheathed his sword and charged forward. Rievart, holding his shield, adopted a defensive stance in response to the unexpected movement, pulling the shield closer to his body and hiding his sword-hand. Enkrid extended both hands forward. Without warning, he pulled out a whistle dagger that emitted a sharp sound. Screech! Two beams of light shot straight toward Rievart''s eyes. Thud! Rievart hurriedly lifted his shield to block his vision. ''Blocking my sight?'' Blocking his sight didn''t mean he couldn''t read the opponent''s movements. A knight''s senses were honed to be highly sensitive. Rievart''s body spun around. Enkrid quickly circled around him and threw his sword. It was a technique called the "tandem sword." The gladius spun like a disk, heading straight toward Rievart''s back. Can he block with the shield? Too late. Rievart, trusting the sturdy armor he wore, only turned his back slightly to display an acrobatic technique. The technique of redirecting the sword''s trajectory using his torso was the key. It was a technique similar to one Enkrid had learned from Audin. Thud! The second attack was also deflected. From there, Enkrid jumped up and delivered a vertical slash with his sword. Bang! Even though the shield blocked it, Rievart felt the force travel down his arm, reaching his forearm. It was as if his body was sinking down. Something was off¡ªEnkrid seemed stronger than before. Enkrid had seized the opportunity created by the dagger throw, restricted Rievart''s movement with the gladius, and then struck again with the medium sword in a spinning motion. Of course, he didn''t stop there. This was the world of the breathless. Having once gained the upper hand, he immediately pulled Rievart into the most favorable battlefield for himself. And it worked. Normally, Rievart could endure a fight all day, but after exchanging dozens of sword strikes and focusing on defense, his breathing had become erratic. His opponent had far superior stamina. Enkrid had to have done something extraordinary to gain such strength. Spark slipped through the gap in Rievart''s armor and stabbed deep into his belly. A thrust aimed at the gap in his armor pierced through part of his internal organs. Rievart immediately swung his shield and struck Enkrid. Having overexerted himself in the previous thrust, Enkrid couldn''t dodge it. Thud. The shield hit Enkrid, and he staggered back a few steps. "Cough!" And Rievart coughed up blood. The battle was decided. Enkrid looked into his eyes. Dark, dead eyes¡ªeyes like those of a dead fish. "Huh, I''m really envious." Rievart spoke those cryptic words again. Enkrid didn''t care about that, focusing instead on raising his sword. "Do you think this is how one becomes a knight?" Rievart asked. -------------------------------------- Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 404 - Resolve Becomes the Will and Shines Chapter 404 - 404 - Resolve Becomes the Will and Shines Chapter 404 - Resolve Becomes the Will and Shines "People often say that to become a knight, one needs overwhelming talent. What does that really mean?" Rearvart slammed his shield on the ground as he struggled to rise. His brow furrowed as he fought against the pain. Red blood trickled from the tip of the embers he let fall, dropping onto the floor. Enkrid didn''t immediately charge. Why not? His intuition seemed to tell him that the opponent wasn''t finished yet. Wouldn''t a person who suffered such a piercing wound be able to stand? His intuition, along with the interest sparked by the words of his opponent, made Enkrid pause for a moment. Rearvart continued speaking. "A squire learns their skills based on willpower. But what about knights?" There was something about his tone¡ªcalm, but there was a palpable sense of agony. Blood continued to pour from Rearvart''s side. Despite groaning in pain, he managed to straighten his back. He continued. "They are different, much different. They are faster and stronger. For example, like your sword strike earlier, they can release an overwhelming force in an instant." Enkrid considered rubbing his eyes. The blood pouring from Rearvart''s body seemed to grow darker. That wasn''t all. The pain he had been grimacing from moments ago seemed to fade as his expression relaxed. It no longer looked like he was in pain, but rather, he seemed almost fine. Though Enkrid was suspicious, it was an inexplicable process. "Ah, do you know? Malten was more skilled than me, and Betukt was stronger, while Banat''s agility was beyond what a human could match." Rearvart mentioned the names of his companions. Of course, Enkrid didn''t recognize them, but instead of answering, he swung his sword. The sound of the strike echoed as his blade cut through the air. The embers vanished as he gripped Silver with both hands. Crash! Rearvart met the strike with equal force, the sound of metal clashing echoing, sparks flying wildly. ''What''s this?'' Enkrid felt the shock travel up his arms. After the exchange, as he took a step back, he saw Rearvart swinging his sword again, almost as if recreating the previous strike in the air. He was holding his sword with one hand. Rearvart had blocked Enkrid''s dual-handed attack with just one hand. It was clear he was getting accustomed to his new weapon, repeating the movements as if practicing. A diagonal strike, a downward slash, a horizontal swing, a thrust. The moves were basic and simple, but the force behind them was vastly different from before. Woosh. The downward swing of the sword created a gust of wind that brushed against Enkrid''s cheek. "This is what I mean," Rearvart said. As he spoke, blood from his side mixed with the dark color of his sword, forming a deep, red hue. The blood quickly stopped flowing. His beard grew sharper, spiking out like thorns, and the fine hairs on his face lengthened, slowly covering his features. Still, his eyes remained unchanged. However, the coldness that had once been there was replaced with a burning heat¡ªan inferno of carnage and desire. It wasn''t pure passion. It was a twisted, distorted, ugly emotion. "Mastering all abilities to the level of a knight is enough." Rearvart spoke again. His words were not wrong. Once one matched a knight''s physical abilities, reaction speed, strength, and agility, they could eventually compete with knights. That would be the path to becoming one. Rearvart''s entire body was now covered in fur. Just moments ago, he had been human, but now, he was no longer human. He cursed the world that had driven him to this point. That was why he had to tell his story. He wanted to explain why he had been forced to go this far, why he had done this. He needed to tell his story. There were moments when a person desperately needed to share their tale. For Rearvart, now was that time. Standing before him was someone who had surpassed him with pure talent. He didn''t know Enkrid, so he believed his opponent had reached this point solely through talent. If that wasn''t the case, it wouldn''t make sense. Thus, these words were spoken. His arms and hands were now covered in fur. He let his sword hand hang loosely and spoke. His mouth structure had changed slightly, but it wasn''t difficult for him to speak. At first, it had been a struggle to get used to it, but not anymore. "Sometimes, some people have to risk their lives to become knights. But if death is inevitable, should I still walk that path?" He was at the edge of a cliff, about to leap off. Should he leap, knowing it would lead to death? "For others, a single step may be life-threatening, but for me, it was a step I had to risk my life for." There was only resentment in Rearvart''s words. "If I was lucky enough to get through it once, was that the end? No, it wasn''t. I had to face that cliff again and again. I had to face new ones. So, I gave up." It could have been a deception. Enkrid had reached this point without any talent. It was clear that Rearvart''s talent was greater than his. The opponent had lamented his lack of talent, cursed the world, and spoken of his despair. Sometimes, he must have cursed the goddess of fortune. Sometimes, he must have cursed fate itself. And now, this was his present state. Despite that, Enkrid did not perceive his words as deception. ''Rem has his own path.'' Ragna has his path. Jaxen has his path. Audin has his path. Dunbakel, Teresa, Esther, Andrew. Everyone walks their own path. Each person has their own journey. Even if the opponent sang a song of despair based on their talent, there was no need to accompany that song. Thus, Enkrid didn''t see it as deception. He didn''t resent it. And he didn''t show any emotion toward his opponent. Rearvart felt discomfort. Normally, such words would provoke a reaction of some sort. It usually split into two types of responses. Hadn''t it always been that way? After getting used to this power, he had sought out and killed everyone who had defeated him. "It''s cheating." Someone had once said that, and that fulfilled Rearvart''s twisted desire. Yes, cheating! Talent was cheating, and this was the right way to handle it. "Why should someone like you... make such a foolish choice?" Someone else had rebuked him, calling his power false. No, power was the truth. Now, speak. Even if a knight comes, do you believe you can surpass me? Rearvart realized the limits of his talent and changed his body. He had now seized the knight''s might. "All chimeras were test subjects for me." Rearvart spoke. Enkrid didn''t repeat what Esther had said to him. The count''s true target wasn''t him, after all. But such trivial matters wouldn''t change anything. Even if spoken, it would be pointless. Enkrid readied his sword. Rearvart''s gaze met his, his blue eyes gleaming through his dark hair. Still the same steady gaze. Eyes that looked ahead, unwavering. Rievart wanted to gouge out that eye. He hated that eye so much. In the end, the more he looked at it, the more uncomfortable it became. It seemed to reproach him, as though it was telling him that his path was wrong. It felt even worse than those who had said it outright; it felt like a painful whip. So, he would kill him. He would kill him. "My lord granted me strength like that." Enkrid shifted his sword into a diagonal grip. Since Rievart''s transformation, the pressure he emitted had changed. The weight on his shoulders was different. If the pressure from the Aspen knight felt like strings wrapping around his body, what Rievart now showed felt like a heavy chunk of metal pressing down on his shoulders. "And that''s how I became a knight." With that declaration, the pressure doubled. Enkrid did not retreat. The opponent was speaking of being a knight, while he remained at the level of a junior knight. But did it change anything? Still, he would win. Still, he would not lose. His resolve became his will, shining brightly. Whoosh. It was as if the space itself folded. Rievart''s sword had become thin like thread and dropped. Enkrid raised his sword just in time. It was a hair-raising moment. If he had missed, his body would have been sliced in two. When their swords met, a loud noise rang out. Boom! Enkrid felt his body sink into the ground. His knees wobbled. No, it was just a feeling. It was only the pressure from the sword that made it seem like that. Enkrid used his strength to pull his foot from the ground and raised his sword, perpendicular to the earth. Rievart''s sword, as though waiting for the moment, struck the blade Enkrid was holding. Clang! Thud. A crack appeared in the middle of the silver blade. The opponent''s sword still looked like thread. That thread was fast and faint, and the moment it struck, the shock doubled and rushed through his whole body. But it could still be stopped. He could still respond. Clang! Clang! Clang! He swung Silver toward the oncoming sword. He resisted. He blocked and blocked again. If it hadn''t been Enkrid here, he would have given up long ago. What Rievart had said was true. He had surpassed human limits through the chimera''s body. Thus, he believed he had gained the strength of a knight. Enkrid repeatedly blocked Rievart''s sword. It was close, but he endured. Seeing the crack in Silver, Enkrid drew out Gladiolus. The thick, sturdy blade, made by a dwarf, didn''t break easily even after repeated blocks. The thread bent, aiming for his shoulder. He swung his sword diagonally to intercept. If he tried to block and endure, he would be pushed back. He had learned that when fighting the Aspen knight. Enkrid did what he had learned. All their exchanges were similar. After more than thirty clashes, after many narrow defenses... Rievart took a step back. There was no way not to question it. "You blocked a knight''s sword?" A junior knight? Impossible. The level of the sword was different. The speed and power of the attacks were different. How could he endure? At Rievart''s words, Enkrid pressed his cut earlobe with his hand. It was a wound caused by the tip of the sword grazing him while he was dodging and blocking. Blood flowed down his neck. His armor was torn and damaged in various places. Blood flowed through his hair where he wasn''t wearing a helmet. His scalp had been slightly torn. It had been a brutal attack. The sword moved with such freedom, it almost felt like thread. But still, it could be blocked. It was easier to block than Ragna''s brutal strike. It was easier to block than Rem''s ax swings. It was easier to block than Jaxen''s silent sword. It was easier to endure than Audin''s reckless punches. Because of all those experiences, he could do it. At least, that''s how it felt right now. "Are you really a knight?" Enkrid asked in return. If he were truly a knight, he would know this wasn''t enough. Enkrid asked, then realized, and spoke again. "You''ve never faced a true knight, have you?" That was the truth. Rievart was afraid of defeat and death, and he was afraid of confirming the difference in talent. That''s why, deep down, he wanted to face a knight. He needed to surpass his own limits now. He believed he could overcome them. Enkrid noticed that. The displeasure in Rievart''s eyes grew into anger. Just a junior knight? Enkrid smiled, showing his dimples. "To me, you''re even worse than Ragna." Who was that? Rievart didn''t ask. He could see through his opponent''s intentions. He was making a jab, referring to when Enkrid had mentioned his companion''s name earlier. "Even Rem, if he tried his best, would defeat you. A knight?" Enkrid raised his voice at the end. That stirred Rievart''s emotions. What if, after all this, he still couldn''t become a knight? What had he become, abandoning his humanity? He had killed his family, massacred his house, and walked this path. He had thrown his fiance?e and several family members as experiments. He had sacrificed everyone who had followed him. And still, he couldn''t become a knight? "Maybe if you got hit by Audin a few times, you''d come to your senses. How about turning to the gods while you''re at it?" He spoke with panting breaths, his sword arm trembling. That was what finally snapped the thread of reason Rievart had been clinging to. "I''ll kill you, and then I''ll find and kill every one of those people you mentioned." With those words, Rievart rushed forward, faster and stronger than before. When he spoke of "those people," his sword was already flying toward Enkrid''s skull. Enkrid barely managed to block it. Clang! The sound of metal rang through the battlefield. By now, more eyes were watching. Both sides had stopped fighting, observing the outcome of the battle. This fight wouldn''t determine the outcome of the war. Still, it was a fight that could not be ignored. It was a moment to prove whose path was right, whose life was worth living. They had painted their lives with swords, and since they had reached the present, it was only natural to let their swords do the talking. Their swords met once again. Enkrid''s body was full of wounds. A hard hit sent his shoulderpad flying. He had a scratch on his cheek. Drops of blood scattered. His thigh was also sliced. Still, Enkrid thought the same. Esther had told him not to lose. If he lost here, he would be pushed back, and he would have to start over from the morning. So, if he died, would it be just a repeat of today? If he lived thinking like that, he would already be trapped in a suitable "today." ''I will win.'' He would not lose. His resolve was still shining brightly. Once again, his resolve became his will, radiating light. It was the manifestation of a new will. Refusal, moment, suppression, and now, the fourth will. -------------------------------------- Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 405 - A Gaze That Sees One Step Ahead Chapter 405 - 405 - A Gaze That Sees One Step Ahead Chapter 405 - A Gaze That Sees One Step Ahead Thanks to the sword of a mad shepherd, Enkrid learned the Will of Rejection. Then, through the exploration of speed, he obtained the Will of Momentum. From intimidation, he derived the Will of Supression. Enkrid had awakened and moved forward with his own Will. As he did so, he naturally reflected on the path he had walked and drew the path he would take. The Crushing Sword was a great sword, while the Sword of the Moment was a quick sword. The Will of Rejection was the way to steady one''s mind, and though it didn''t yet embody the Will, there was a swordsmanship close to a counterattack technique called the Snake Blade, which was soft but wouldn''t turn the blade into a cotton ball when struck. And now. He had once seen and faced the sword used by a man who cuts off one''s flow. It wasn''t that he fought without thought in the joy of combat. He had seen it all. He had even experienced it firsthand by taking it on his body. Through review, he realized something. What was the secret of the sword that cut off one''s flow? It was the eyes. The man''s Will was in his eyes. By seeing, grasping, and judging, he would sever the flow. Thus, one could not sever the flow of a superior opponent. It was close to a half-finished technique. Enkrid had also seen the Iron Wall technique used by a man named Riebarth before he changed. It was absolute defense through shield and armor. It was a technique that aimed to overwhelm the opponent through prolonged engagement. What was the core of that? Was it physical strength that created the Iron Wall? The power to endure by training the center of the body? Or the strength of the legs? The most important thing was one. ''Resilience.'' It was the Will that persists. It was the longest technique Enkrid had seen that manifested the Will over time. The Iron Wall defense was a technique that endured by placing the Will that we call strength in the center of the body. Eyes and persistence. He grasped, reflected, and realized. Now, he would mix in the sense of attack. It was the sharpness that opened the door to intuition. What he truly wanted was to make the Capturing Sword, the orthodox form, incorporate Will into it. The reason this was possible was clear. It was something he had already experienced. He had done it. It was when he faced the Centaur leader wielding a glaive. His senses were on full alert, and based on countless experiences, he predicted the opponent''s actions. With his developed five senses, he could avoid and strike by glimpsing the future. It was the moment when accumulated experience led to realization. When resolve became the will and shone to influence reality. It was the moment when the intangible Will manifested in reality. Enkrid''s eyes watched his opponent''s entire body. The movement of muscles, the change in fingers, the direction of feet, differences in breathing, and even the effect of drifting dust. His senses went wild. For an ordinary human, it would have felt like their head was about to explode from the flood of information. Enkrid only took in what was necessary. This was a skill enabled by the death experiences accumulated through today''s repetition. Thanks to the experience he had built up, his sense of what was needed became sharper than ever. The sword flying toward him was thin like thread, but he barely blocked it, meaning he could still react. Though it was certainly a threatening and dangerous moment, Enkrid named the technique based on his Will. He named it, properly recognizing and using it. A Gaze That Sees One Step Ahead. It was a technique based on Will. Enkrid saw his opponent''s next move. As he had said, he had similar experiences before, but this time, it was much clearer and more vivid. Based on the countless experiences he had built up, the sword he wielded drew a line toward the future, toward tomorrow. If it were Ragna, he would have reached it in an instant, but Enkrid walked in his own way and reached it, so there was no need to envy the talents of others. This was the crucial difference between Enkrid and the opponent right in front of him. He never knew despair or frustration, so he forgot envy and just moved forward. Huh. For the first time, he dodged the sword that had turned into thread. Riebarth''s sword passed through part of Enkrid''s head. The severed hair scattered into the air. In a brief moment, Enkrid made the minimal movement needed to strike. In reality, this was the result of reading and rereading his opponent''s moves multiple times. Based on the captured sword, he pushed with sparks, used the Crushing Sword, endured, and delivered a blow. The tip of the gladius, now shorter and rougher, pierced his opponent''s chest. Even if Riebarth had turned into a monster, his heart would not have become two. Thud! The sensation of the blade sinking into muscle was transmitted through the handle. Enkrid fell backward immediately after thrusting, and Riebarth''s left fist passed through the space Enkrid had occupied. If it had landed properly, it was a punch that would have surely broken something. Enkrid managed to avoid it as he fell back, and while his posture became unstable, he kicked the sword he had thrust with his soles. Thwack! Whoosh! The tip of the blade came out behind his opponent''s back. "Guh!" Riebarth spat out blood. Crimson blood poured over Enkrid''s face. Enkrid rolled backward with the falling blood and hid a whistle dagger in his left hand while gripping the silver handle with his right. Crimson blood dripped from his chin. Enkrid, without flinching, raised his sword from the position where one knee was on the ground. His eyes burned with pain, and his head throbbed. His senses, once unleashed, now combined with intuition, predicting his opponent''s moves. The pain in his head was to be expected. He couldn''t use it against a real knight. But right now, his opponent wasn''t a knight. Having fought, Enkrid knew that all too well. "Damn gods." Rievart muttered as he looked at the sword stuck in his chest. Blood began to flow from his eyes. His gaze never met Enkrid''s. He stared at his past life. He was called a genius. They said he was a hero who would lift his family. But what had he gained by pushing forward? What did he see at the end of the road? Only an endless cliff. Only the darkness ahead. A wall that wouldn''t allow him to touch what was within his reach. "Damn gods." He cursed the world. He cursed endlessly. Rievart pulled the iron from his chest with his own hands. Blood poured from the wound where the sword had been. It was a fatal wound. There was no way to survive. Or perhaps, he might have survived. Rievart knew the secret of the Count. So, if he went to the Count, perhaps this life could be restored. After all, wasn''t he no longer human, but a chimera? Therefore, it wasn''t wrong for him to struggle to survive here. But what would he be able to do if he lived? There was no way back now. "Is this all there is to being a knight?" He had sacrificed everything for that. Now, it was over. His eyes turned to the one who had dragged him into this reality. Once again, resentment, despair, and frustration filled his world, and Rievart cursed his opponent. "You too will end up the same." A man who struggled to become a knight. "You won''t survive this battlefield either." It was a curse filled with the wish that Enkrid would die. Of course, Enkrid didn''t hear it at all. That''s why he didn''t respond. Rievart crumpled like a doll. He fell forward, collapsing onto the ground. Crimson blood poured from his body and seeped into the earth. Enkrid gazed at it nonchalantly, thinking. Blood, earth, death. He still didn''t like it. Though the battle was still ongoing, the area around Enkrid was calm. The cheers of victory and the disappointment of defeat were absent. The aftermath of the battle between Enkrid and Rievart had been too overwhelming. The old commander of the kingdom''s army, who had been watching their fight from a distance, clenched his fist and spoke. "Have you ever witnessed a fight between knights? What I just saw was worse than that." The commander muttered, and his adjutant subtly nodded in agreement. A shiver ran through the commander''s body. As he kept his eyes on the battlefield, Enkrid''s voice rang out. "This war ends here." It sounded like he was ordering the end of the fighting. "Stop the fighting. I''ll put an end to this damned war." He spoke again. If they didn''t like it, they could stop him. Was it impossible to stop now that the fighting had already begun? If words didn''t work, force would do the talking. And if there was anyone encouraging more fighting, just slap them on the nose. Ragna, Rem, Jaxen, and Audin were already at the point where they could stop a fight with the skill of seasoned knights. "What''s this, you want us to stop now?" Rem asked as he approached, his voice cutting through the tension. It wasn''t just Rem. "So, what do we do now?" Ragna was there too. "It wasn''t bad," Jaxen chimed in. All three had carved through their opponents. They had come this far while sensing Rievart''s transformation. Ragna had just cut through the shield formations blocking his path, refining his skills along the way. Rem had cleaved through the skull of a man wielding two hammers and torn a fairy in half. Jaxen had killed all five of the adjutants who had hidden in various spots. Their opponents had never stood a chance. The three could have joined the fight with Enkrid, but they hadn''t. They had seen the sword transform before their eyes. Anyone who wasn''t amazed by that would be lying. That''s why they hadn''t intervened. They could tell things were about to change, and Enkrid''s will to win was clear. Rem, Ragna, and Jaxen admired him in secret. Now, they knew they couldn''t play around with him. Despite Enkrid stepping in and commanding the battle to stop, the fighting didn''t cease immediately. But slowly, the conflict around him started to fade. "Tell them to stop." Enkrid sighed deeply. It wasn''t that he wasn''t tired. But he didn''t want to repeat today. He needed to move forward. Rem couldn''t help but like this leader. He was absurd, yes, but his declaration to end the war, his arrogance, appealed to him deeply. It wasn''t a boastful statement. It was a statement of resolve, of determination. That''s why Rem liked him. "Anyone still fighting will die by my axe! Everyone, stop!" Enkrid had shown something fierce, but Rem was thrashing around like a madman too. He didn''t care if they were allies or enemies; he would crush anyone. Rem''s madness was clear. His eyes gleamed, and his bloodstained axe caught everyone''s attention. It was only natural that everyone stopped. "I''ll take anyone else who wants to fight." Ragna? also stepped forward. Jaxen, ever the strategist, cast a sharp glance behind him. He was looking only at the commanders. His eyes were full of intent, as if to say, "If you want more death, I''ll choose and kill." "Everyone, stop!" One of the commanders shouted. The commanders were in awe of Enkrid. "Fall back! Fall back!" "Enough pointless killings." They all shouted, and Marcus sounded the signal from behind. It wasn''t a retreat; it was a temporary halt to the fighting. Boom! Boom! Even under Count''s command, not all were fools. They were aware of the Chimera Unit''s presence and respected the Count''s larger intentions. ''Is this right?'' It no longer felt like a fight to win, but one to die in. Those who felt this way moved to stop the fighting. "Stop, everyone, and fall back!" Even the minstrel would have been shocked by what unfolded before him. The fighting stopped. Enkrid turned and walked toward the horizon, the battlefield now at a standstill. The sky was dim. Clouds covered the sun, making the midday light seem less bright. Even so, Enkrid''s figure was seared into everyone''s memory. Behind him followed Rem, Ragna?, and Jaxen. Lastly, the beast-woman Dunbakel, who had appeared from nowhere, joined them. As they moved forward, Count Molsan, veins bulging in his forehead, came to greet them. Five of his guards, armed with swords, spears, and axes, were visible. Looking at them, Enkrid couldn''t tell whether Rievart was an idiot or if the Count was the real problem. There was a distinct odor of danger from the five. "That leopard-woman, she''s quite the expert." The Count said, smiling, though his face was split between anger and a mock smile, as though something wasn''t going the way he wanted. "My skills are even more daring. Want me to show you?" Enkrid shot back, and the Count''s smile faded, replaced by a strange, unsettling grin, showing darkened teeth. "Do you think Rievart is all there is?" The Count gestured, his movements unnerving. It was clear that Esther had done something to him. At the Count''s gesture, the five armed guards stepped forward. Crunch. Each one grew, their muscles twisting, their bodies changing as fur sprouted. They couldn''t even be called werewolves. It seemed like parts of monsters had been grafted onto their human bodies, with fur and muscle blending together. It looked that way too. "Disgusting." Rem said, his axe resting on his shoulder. Had Rievart been the finished product? These five were more like flawed versions, their faces swelling, bubbles of air forming beneath their skin. Still, five were more than enough. Enkrid considered the odds. He could likely take on one, but after that, he wasn''t sure if he could keep going. He had already pushed his body to the limit fighting Rievart. But there was no thought of retreat. "I''ll end this war." It was a declaration, a statement of will. That was the force he projected. Enkrid took a step forward. The five guards fixed their crimson eyes on him, preparing to strike. "Are you going to do this alone?" Rem called from the left. "They''re mine," said Ragna? from the right. "Just watch," Jaxen added, stepping a few paces away. Dunbakel clenched her teeth and stood beside Rem. It was a tense balance. The Count looked at them and said, "Time is on my side." Was it a trick to make them anxious? The situation had turned into a tense standoff, with the air thick with tension. If a dry leaf fell, it might ignite into a fire. Crunch, crunch. In that tense moment, bold and steady footsteps approached from behind Enkrid. Without turning his head, he felt no need to. "Brothers and sisters, please step back for a moment." It was reinforcements. A man, as large as a bear, stood behind Enkrid. "Who''s been bothering my fiance?e?" -------------------------------------- Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 406 - The Allies Dance Chapter 406 - 406 - The Allies Dance Chapter 406 - The Allies Dance Krais decided that reinforcements should be sent, but he didn''t believe they had to be a large-scale force. ''Is it a lack of supplies?'' It probably wasn''t. The kingdom''s army wouldn''t have rushed in without sufficient preparation. So, could a change in the number of soldiers alone turn the tide? He didn''t know. The predictions were difficult. Count Molsan''s forces couldn''t be read. Of course. Count Molsan had prepared something that mixed magic and witchcraft, and was currently painting a bloody picture across the battlefield. Nevertheless, Krais predicted that his opponent would bring out something unexpected. Once again, his mind imagined the worst-case scenario, and it proved to be the right choice. Thus, it was only natural that the fastest and most powerful forces would be sent as reinforcements. Those with exceptional combat strength could overturn the battlefield''s balance. Audin, Shinar, and Teresa. Krais had provided two strong, fast horses for each of them. That was why Audin and Shinar were here. Enkrid stepped back. It was because Audin had gently grabbed his shoulder and pulled him. There was no need for resistance. "Now, enjoy the show. I watched earlier, so I''m returning the favor." After seeing Audin step forward, Rem spoke up. He then slammed the weapons he held together, making a loud clash. In his right hand, he held the long-handled axe he usually used, and in his left, he held a shorter-handled hammer he must have picked up from somewhere. Enkrid knew that Rem didn''t care about the type of weapon. So, it was safe to assume that Rem was in perfect form. "Do I just cut them down?" Ragna''s voice was heard, dragging his sword''s blade along the ground. His blade had lost its edge; it looked more like a saw than a sword. Still, it was menacing in Ragna''s hands. Even if it were just a practice sword, it would still be threatening. Especially today. There was a clear will in his stance, a will to slice through anything that tried to stop him. Audin, who had pulled Enkrid back, smiled slightly and said, "Father, there are those here who need a scolding." In a direct translation, it meant he would kill and send them away. Audin''s fists were the perfect tools for sending those who stood before him to the afterlife. He wore leather gauntlets on both hands, meticulously sewn as if someone had spent hours on them. The finishing was flawless, and they looked sturdy. The material appeared to be beast skin. Enkrid had seen it correctly. More precisely, it was made from centaur hide. Though the tanning and processing had taken time, the material was incredibly tough and durable. Krais had ordered them made and sent them off with care. Driven by curiosity, Enkrid asked, "Leather gauntlets? Who made them?" "We have an excellent seamstress in the unit. I don''t know their name, but their stitching is exceptional. They once served as a squad leader, but now they are the supply officer. Brother." A person suddenly came to mind. "Red nose? Loves alcohol?" "How did you know?" Though the tension between the five monsters and this group remained palpable, Enkrid spoke, and Audin responded. It felt as if they were reassuring each other that it was fine. Of course, Audin''s gaze never left the largest of the five monsters. "I owe them a debt," Audin said, his voice casual. Since they worked as the supply officer at Border Guard, they must have gained recognition for their tailoring. Krais was involved in the supply work, so it was no surprise that only the best materials were used. It was proof that the person''s stitching skills were excellent. "My fiance?e, who bothered you? Point them out." Audin''s side spoke, and Shinar''s typical fairy-like teasing surfaced. Though his appearance was cold and his voice flat, the words held a light, carefree tone. "The one who bothered me is already gone." Enkrid spoke, pointing his finger at the sky. "Sent to the Lord. Well done." It was rare for someone to praise a killing, but perhaps this priest-like figure had a different perspective on death. It seemed only Audin could talk like that. Shinar, still without a smile, drew her sword. "And there''s a halfwit who dared to soil the fairy bloodline." That was true. One of the five was indeed a fairy. Rem was secretly surprised. It was someone he had just met earlier. She had been hacked into pieces, running away in a panic. But he never imagined she would survive. Even more, he couldn''t have imagined she would still be standing so perfectly fine. He had clearly seen her insides spilling out when he cut her with his axe. Yet, here she was, standing unharmed. There were signs of blood slowly seeping from her stitched-up wounds, but it was still shocking that she was alive and moving. He had been certain she was dead. Shinar, holding the leaf-blade sword, stepped forward. In this way, Enkrid was now blocked by Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Shinar. Only Jaxen remained in the same position... No, he had already vanished. He had hidden his body. That was when Enkrid realized. Jaxen appeared beside the Count. Three spear-like swords shot toward the Count''s head. It was an unexpected strike. The tip of the sword went straight toward the Count''s head, but Jaxen didn''t achieve his intended result. Thung! It sounded as if he had struck a block of iron. Jaxen''s sword bounced off. Jaxen was shocked. The force was so immense that it seemed impossible to believe it was just human skin. Yet, if he stayed still, it was like inviting death, so Jaxen leapt back immediately after the thrust. The spot where he had been standing was soon swept by a black claw. He instinctively thought that getting scratched by it wouldn''t end well. The black claw was something ominous, likely enchanted. Jaxen understood that the defense he had encountered wasn''t some magic spell. He had sensed the spell and targeted it with precision. What he was facing was simply the toughness of the skin. "Did you implant monsters into your body?" Jaxen asked, transmitting the information to everyone. The Count''s skin was as tough as a monster''s. "Like a mayfly." The Count waved his hand, and the black claw continued to taunt Jaxen. Jaxen disappeared from that spot and reappeared five steps away, but the claw relentlessly followed him. At the same time, despite the lack of blood relation, creatures that could be considered siblings of Rievart charged at him. The leader was the fairy that Rem had almost killed earlier. "Uuugh!" She scratched her head before starting to run. She didn''t charge directly but rather made a wide arc, running with terrifying speed. In Enkrid''s eyes, she appeared faster than Rievart. And indeed, she was. Had Rievart rushed forward, relying only on his physical abilities, he could have recreated the fairy''s movements. But he hadn''t done so. His human desires and the honor of a knight were his final restraints. He truly wanted to become a knight. Therefore, he didn''t fight like a beast. What if he only relied on his physical abilities and charged in? The answer was right here. In the blink of an eye, the enemy disappeared from his sight. It was right after he thought he had missed them. His right cheek stung. Something flew through the air, cutting the wind. It was a powerful strike. Enkrid noticed, but there was no need to react himself. There had been a fairy muttering something earlier. The words spoken before the opponent moved also reached Enkrid''s ears. "Such a disgrace to the tribe of the forest." It was no joke; it was the real thing. The leaf-blade sword blocked another leaf-blade sword. Thud! The two swords clashed, and green light splattered. The shock made the opponent retreat, and Shinar was pushed back two steps. They stood facing each other, maintaining a brief distance. The swords were of a similar shape. However, one was a typical leaf-blade sword, and the other had veins bulging from the back of the hand, wrapping around the blade like twisted blood vessels. "You can''t even call us kin anymore." Shinar reprimanded the opponent, but the fairy didn''t completely lose her composure and responded. "Shut up, bitch." It wasn''t a pleasant thing to hear. Shinar smiled faintly at those words. It was a smile that felt bitter, even though she was watching. "Such foul words in front of my fiance?." Shinar raised her leaf-blade sword with that remark. Although she scolded the opponent, after just one exchange of blows, the difference was clear. The power, speed, and physical strength were all superior. However, it still didn''t make her feel like the opponent was a knight. They were simply a monster trying to force themselves into being one. Shinar had seen fairy knights before. They were naturally beings deserving of respect and admiration. But simply mutilating your body to become a knight was unthinkable. Therefore, she would have to cut them down. She would free the foolish and ignorant fairy''s soul. "I will speak to the forest and the flowers." Shinar said as she raised her sword. It was a strange sight. Despite both swords being leaf-blades, it almost felt like the blade itself carried the scent of leaves. "The time is spring, the season of vigor." Shinar murmured as she continued. Her secret technique, enabled by the energy of the forest, could manifest itself. Just like when she gave Enkrid joy during their previous sparring. Using her ability to create multiple clones, she confused her opponent. By harnessing the energy, she could also deal physical blows. Of course, it wasn''t just that. It was a bit of a trick. She summoned spirits born from the energy she gathered from the forest and listened for their response. Shinar gathered that energy into her body. It was a fairy technique that had become forgotten, as no one could use it anymore. By absorbing the energy into her body, she stepped into a similar world as her opponent. A mutated fairy''s sword came flying toward her. Its leaf-blade shape, resembling leaves, was closing in fast. Having absorbed the energy, Shinar sent her sword flying with equal speed to match her opponent''s. Wham! She didn''t just parry it. With the downward swing, she twisted her blade from below, sending the strike flying upward. Her sword glowed faintly green. Leaf-blade swords transformed with a technique known as ''seasons.'' The sword in Shinar''s hand was now spring. Spring blades exuded vitality more than any other season. The shape didn''t change, but the power contained within the sword did. Afterward, Shinar''s movements resembled a dance. If you took away the steps of striking, slashing, stabbing, and breaking, it was simply a dance. By shattering and striking, she began catching up to the fairy chimera that had hoped to match the knight''s pace. Watching Shinar start the battle, Audin spoke up. "It''s getting late, so as punishment, I''ll take care of both of them." As soon as he finished speaking, the rest of the guards moved. Like the mutated fairy, they started running, and were faster than Rievart. However, there was no problem for Audin and the two beside him. Hearing Audin''s words, Ragna extended his sword. ''Faster, stronger.'' He focused on what he could do for that. It was Will. An intangible power flowed into his arm. By adding his will to his intent to cut, he mixed it into his limbs, consciously sensing and guiding how the Will would move. This was the answer Ragna had found. He did just that. In just two breaths, the energy would scatter, but that was enough. In that moment, Ragna manifested the knight''s sword. It was exactly the sword shown by the Aspen knight. It was simply fast, and sharp. Ragna did the same. With his left foot taking half a step forward, he shortened his movement as much as possible, adding rotational force from his ankle to his waist to load the strength of the broadsword stance. It was a preparatory move. Compared to the opponent charging in, Ragna''s movements¡ªdrawing his sword and changing stance¡ªwere significantly slower. To anyone watching from the outside, it would seem like his heart or some internal organ would be ripped out and he''d be knocked out. That was, of course, if they had the vision to see it. Ragna''s sword suddenly became faster. It drew a line far faster than the opponent''s charge. Before they could even recognize the speed and strength, the false structure created by the opponent collapsed with no resistance. Whoosh, crack! It all happened in an instant. The opponent charged in and then shattered into two pieces, falling to the left and right. Rem, who was just about to strike with an axe and hammer, saw that. ''That crazy bastard.'' Was he getting even more insane? Having fought off an opponent, it was clear how monstrous this opponent was. Rem didn''t hesitate. He took out the things he had acquired while grabbing the indomitable berserker. In the West, Rem''s hometown, the word "Will" didn''t exist. There wasn''t even such a concept. However, there was a way to hone the heart and move forward. That was what they called magic. For his tribe, magic was one of the natural weapons that they must possess to become a hero. Even the downed weapon was derived from that. "Watch carefully, you bastard." Rem spoke as he faced Ragna, using his index and thumb to break a totem in his hand. The totem was a small figure, about the size of two fingers. The effect was simple. It enabled the caster to infuse the power of lightning into their body. Next, Rem pulled out another charm, crumpled it, and put it in his mouth. The effect of this charm was the Bear''s Arm. It was a magic that altered the power in the arms and legs, the strength in the limbs. It wasn''t originally Rem''s magic, nor was it something he had created, but a trick that allowed him to use magic for a brief period. That trick made Rem''s body move faster and added strength to his muscles. His opponent, armed with a thick sword in both hands, came charging at him. No matter what, he would simply dodge and keep attacking. His axe moved in an unprecedented direction. It shot up from below, then fell down like a lightning strike. Bang! The opponent blocked, but was pushed back. The shock that ran through their body numbed them, naturally pushing them backward. It was hard to show this kind of power, even with magic. It was only possible because it was Rem. He had a natural talent for using magic more than his body. Using that, he was more adept at applying it to his own form. The result? With his hammer, Rem struck his opponent''s side and quickly withdrew, while his axe distracted the opponent, eventually splitting the chimera''s head in two. Thud! The thick, tough skull split down the middle. Due to the monster''s blood, bone, and flesh, the contents inside, including its eyes, dropped out in a cascade. Rem dropped his arms, thinking to himself. This would definitely have some aftereffects. But it was inevitable, since he had borrowed someone else''s magic. His gaze then turned to the last two standing. On the surface, it seemed like Audin was barely holding on, but naturally, no one interfered. Since he had said he would handle both of them, he should take responsibility. Rem thought of Audin as a fanatic, but he also thought of him as someone who kept his word. -------------------------------------- Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 407 - Watch closely. He’s my friend. Chapter 407 - 407 - Watch closely. He¡¯s my friend. Chapter 407 - Watch closely. He''s my friend. Audin thought that, in his current state, he couldn''t handle the opponent''s speed. It was clear just from watching the way they rushed at him. While others might not notice, those like Enkrid knew that Audin''s insight and ability to think during combat were exceptional. On the surface, it seemed like Audin would solve everything with brute force, but that wasn''t the case. ''Too fast,'' he thought. He could have caught them by raising the divine aura and enduring the pain, but there was no need for that. Audin calculated and moved. In some ways, his fighting style was the closest to a formal swordsmanship approach. Two opponents charged. One wielded a trident, the other a lance. Both kept their distance, repeatedly stabbing and withdrawing in a bothersome manner. The spearheads were faster than a bee''s sting, aiming to pierce and tear Audin''s skin. Audin minimized his movements, compensating for his lack of speed. He used the back of his hand to deflect the spears, strengthening his defense. The cloak draped over his body flapped wildly, moving in time with his movements. With such a ragged cloak, it was difficult to expect much in terms of protection. Every time the spear grazed him, the cloak tore into pieces. Audin endured and held on, then suddenly bent at the waist and dashed forward. For a brief moment, his body appeared to stretch, moving faster than before. By focusing all his energy on his charge, he could briefly match his opponents'' speed. "Ha!" one of the trident-wielders shouted. Lowering his posture, the spearhead barely grazed his back. Because the thrust was powered by immense force, even though it only grazed him, his cloak split in half and his skin was scraped. However, there was no blood. Audin''s skin was as tough as iron, unlike that of an ordinary person. Audin charged forward and grabbed the opponent''s knee. Even if the opponent was faster, their strength would be no match for his. And the essence of martial arts was always in close combat. When Audin grabbed the knee and lifted the opponent, the trident-wielder''s feet left the ground. "What the!" the trident-wielder exclaimed. The trapped leg didn''t budge, as though it were stuck between massive boulders. They tried to break free, but it was futile. With their body lifted off the ground, they were understandably stunned. The spear-wielder with the lance took advantage and thrust their spear at Audin. Audin sensed the air movement and, feeling the trajectory of the spear, slightly shifted his body. Thwack! The spearhead slid along Audin''s body, grazing it. This was a technique known as Body Gliding. Audin had taught Enkrid this technique. It was natural for him to perform it even more skillfully. Audin''s body moved with the grace of a soft clump of cotton, far from what his size suggested. Though the spearhead brushed against him, it merely grazed his body. By the time this happened, the opponent whose knee Audin had grabbed was still lifted in the air. The lifted opponent reached out with both hands as their nails grew, aiming to dig into Audin''s forearm. Audin ignored them and slammed the opponent down onto the ground. Crash! Thud! The takedown wasn''t the end, though. With a swift motion, Audin rolled forward, hooking his legs behind the opponent''s head. He then bent their torso in half and used his right foot to step on their shoulder while pulling their spine out. Crunch! The sound of breaking bone echoed as blood splattered into the air. The opponent''s claws grazed Audin''s shoulder, but it was of no consequence. Everything had happened in an instant. After dealing with one of the enemies, the lance-wielder hesitated. Despite losing some of their composure, they were bewildered by what had just occurred. "A monster?" the lance-wielder muttered. Hearing the words from the monster''s mouth, Audin smiled slightly. "The lord awaits, Brother Demon." The fight continued, no different from before. Even with two opponents, they couldn''t handle the monster who glided past their spears, closing the distance. Even Audin''s skin, as tough as iron, was scarred and bloodied. Their strength was not to be underestimated. Still, the distance between them closed. Audin''s grip on his opponent''s arm caused it to be ripped out, and their waist snapped. In the end, he performed the incredible feat of pulling out part of the opponent''s cervical spine with just his fingers. Enkrid almost clapped in amazement. Was the opponent''s brute strength overwhelming? Yes. But still, this was the result. To an outside observer, the enemies might have seemed like chimera-like knights, but... "They''re still not knights," Audin thought. Until then, Count Molsan, seated in a chair that was strangely dark and thick, remained motionless. Jaxen had approached Enkrid from behind. He let out a faint sigh. "Troublesome mage." From Jaxen''s assessment, it was clear that the enemy was no easy foe. Enkrid glanced at Count Molsan. The count''s gaze, filled with venomous fury, spoke volumes¡ªfar more than words could express. "I should''ve killed you earlier," the count muttered, genuinely regretful. He never imagined that someone would stop him in his tracks like this. No knight had even stepped forward, and yet things had escalated to this point. How infuriating! But that didn''t mean he had failed. Moreover, there was a clear reason why he had spared them. He planned to turn them into one of his underlings, even if not as a human. "If I can''t keep you as a human, I''ll just make you something else." "Until I can sleep with my two legs stretched out, I won''t be able to rest." "I''ll make sure you''ll rest with your legs folded in a coffin." Enkrid skillfully matched the count''s taunts. It was a juvenile joke, saying that while he himself wouldn''t die, the count would see his own legs bent as he died. Naturally, that remark further stirred the count''s fury. The count''s words became more venomous, "Keep talking. I''ll tear you apart and burn you alive. Before you die, I''ll make sure you witness your body burning and tearing apart!" The count''s voice layered with a strange echo, as if two voices were speaking at once. It sent a chilling shiver through Enkrid''s head. Ironically, Enkrid felt his awareness expand as he heard the count''s curse. It was a sensation he''d first experienced when trapped in Abnaier''s grasp. Not through strategy or tactics, but an instinctual view of the battlefield. The realm of intuition and instinct had expanded, guiding him toward his objective. It wasn''t the realm of logic, but one of primal instinct. With Esther''s words in mind, a natural realization followed. ''Killing him is the only way this ends.'' He instinctively knew that the war would not end until the count died. Just as he reflected on this intuition, Rem spoke up. "Aren''t you going to deal with that?" Enkrid stared at his barbarian subordinate. Behind him, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxen also caught his attention. Although they all seemed slightly weary, none of them showed any sign of it outwardly. Audin, possibly with a dislocated finger, was placing his bones back into place with a grin. "Brother, let me add a prayer for you as you go," he said, suggesting they fight together. Enkrid looked around at the group, then turned his attention back to Count Molsan. It was as if he had spoken his purpose with his eyes. "Together?" At the brief question, the four naturally nodded. Rem took a step forward, followed by Ragna, while Jaxen quietly stood beside them. Audin moved last, as if to embrace them all. "I thought he was a damn bastard. From the beginning." Rem muttered. "I agree. He deserves to die." Jaxen replied. "There''s no need to find a shortcut." Ragna said, staring at the count who was in clear view. "My lord, my father, I shall send another weak soul upwards." Audin prayed. Enkrid walked ahead of the group. Shinar did not join them. To be honest, she did not think she could be of help at this point. Though she had transformed into a fairy, the opponent''s sword had split her thigh, making it difficult for her to move properly. No matter how much she had absorbed the spring''s energy, this was not an easy foe. She took a bandage from her pouch and tightly wrapped it around her thigh. Even if she couldn''t be of help, at least she wouldn''t be a hindrance. Dunbakel and Teresa did not dare to intervene. Enkrid had even told them to move to the rear. Though it almost sounded like an excuse to be away, they obeyed the order faithfully. As Dunbakel and Teresa moved to the rear, Enkrid and the others steadily advanced forward. In truth, Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxen were all far from being in perfect condition. Jaxen was the most unscathed, but his specialty was not a direct charge. In terms of swordsmanship, Enkrid had now surpassed him. Yet, the five of them pressed on. They did what had to be done. Enkrid had lived this way through every day. Thus, they walked forward to mark the end of the civil war. Krang and Marcus, who joined late, observed this. "After months of worrying, struggling, and preparing everything, it seems like a friend I just made will place the crown on my head." Krang laughed, looking carefree. Marcus was intrigued by Krang''s lightheartedness in such a situation. "How can you be laughing?" Even though Enkrid had demonstrated overwhelming power, Count Molsan remained unmoved. He stood still, exuding a dark, ominous aura. In the battlefield, it seemed like death itself had taken a seat on the throne. The throne might as well have been called death. Aishia also led her knights towards Enkrid and his unit. Squire Ropord, who was under her command, hurriedly spoke upon spotting Enkrid and his group. "I will assist you!" He had come to deeply respect Enkrid, more than any knight. Who else could fight like this, march forward like that? Ropord was ready to rush out immediately, but his superior with orange hair stopped him. "Don''t be foolish." "Pardon?" "Don''t you think you will only be a hindrance? Watch closely, see how he fights." Aishia was also dissatisfied. ''Not even asking me to come along?'' She was a semi-knight. She fought well. Although she had lost to Enkrid before, the ones standing next to her had fought in intense battles. There was no way they could be unscathed. Wasn''t it only right to bring her, who was still relatively unharmed? "This is frustrating." A desire to join them suddenly surged within her. She was part of the Red Cloak Order, the most formidable group within Naurilia, yet... Right now, she wanted to be by Enkrid''s side. No matter the cost. She had said those words to Ropord, but it was essentially the same as speaking to herself. The shepherd of the wilderness had suddenly stopped and quietly withdrew, but Fel, unable to resist his curiosity, approached under the guise of escorting Krang. ''Hmm?'' It was a familiar face. ''That night under the moon.'' Wasn''t this the madman who kept asking to be struck again, even after he had killed the idol? He surely wasn''t ordinary. ''Was he this strong back then?'' He observed his back. He had been involved in everything happening on the battlefield, had stopped fighting, and had advanced like this. ''Was it duty?'' Was he fighting to protect? While he was lost in thought, Krang brightened and said, "Watch closely. He''s my friend." Friend. So, he wasn''t bound by royal duty after all. Yet, he stepped forward. For what? He had heard the declaration to end the war. So, he had stepped forward solely for that purpose. Such actions didn''t resonate with a shepherd who moved for practical gains. "Fel, to lead a group, you cannot view the world solely in terms of profit and loss." His father''s teachings flashed in Fel''s mind. He had learned something small. Sometimes, sacrifices must be made for ideals. At the same time, he decided. He would temporarily part from his flock. It wasn''t just because of the constant nagging from the elders. ''There''s much to learn.'' Fel fell into thought, while Krang smiled, telling everyone not to interfere. Marcus, however, was impatient. He knew. He knew that no one could stop Enkrid now. Yet, he still wanted to employ a dirty trick. Even if it meant being cursed for life, he wanted to shoot an arrow at the Count''s head right now. It would, of course, be futile. But still, that feeling of wanting to do it was unavoidable. His gaze fell on Krang, who was smiling, and he asked, "Is it really that surprising that you''re laughing?" "Commander Marcus. If not now, when will I laugh? If Enki dies, we''ll all die anyway." "...I still have the last resort." "You won''t use it." "Why not?" "The crown that would make me kill my friend is not one I would wear." Krang was still the same. He was who he was. Marcus found it frustrating, but this was also why he served him. It was then that Marcus finally felt at ease. If everything was to be staked on Enkrid, so be it. "Then." Marcus, though helpless, laughed. *** The Count did not look at those approaching. His gaze was fixed on the rear of the battlefield. A separate unit he had sent, following the witch''s trail, was now approaching the rear. ''Damn bitch.'' The Count muttered curses at Esther under his breath. -------------------------------------- Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 408 - Ten Thousand Ghosts Chapter 408 - 408 - Ten Thousand Ghosts Chapter 408 - Ten Thousand Ghosts Count Molsan was not a genius in strategy or tactics, but his thinking was broad. He moved outside the opponent''s expectations. When the battle began, some of his troops broke formation. They appeared to be fleeing during the fight. The kingdom''s commander decided it was unnecessary to chase them. It was common to see deserters when the tide of battle turned, and they were already outnumbered. It was actually a good thing if they ran away. In other words, they had become a small force that no one cared about. They grouped in twos or threes, then scattered, and followed the command ringing in their heads to regroup once more. "Find the source of mana." It was no surprise that their destination was in front of Andrew. Seeing a group of soldiers, now turned ambushers, Andrew calmly spoke. "Do you see them? I think it''s time to get up." Despite Andrew''s words, Esther remained motionless. Instead, blood flowed down from her lips. It was proof that Esther was still fighting. Andrew sighed deeply. The situation was eerily similar to that of the dog. The fighting on the battlefield ceased, and suddenly, wild-eyed men jumped out. "Where the hell did these guys come from?" It was an unexpected ambush. "Of all places, here?" It wasn''t a supply line, nor was it where Krang was. Why here? From a tactical standpoint, there was no meaningful reason to be here. It was obviously because of Esther. Andrew had figured that much out. They were a group of over fifty infantry. Every one of them looked formidable. It would have been better if there were fifty ghouls instead. "Master, look at their eyes." A freckled apprentice took a step back, speaking out. Andrew had noticed it too. Blood was dripping from the eyes of most of them, as though their capillaries had burst. It was hard to even find the whites of their eyes in the few that seemed less affected. Their eyes were bright red, and their pupils were black. It was only a change in their pupils, but they no longer looked human. Just their appearance alone was intimidating. Andrew gritted his teeth. "Should we retreat?" They had formed a defensive line with five apprentices and Esther, but fighting here would be a suicide mission. What about running away while carrying Esther? The men with bloodshot eyes were all wielding swords and showing off their bulging thigh muscles. What had they done to get thighs that thick? "It seems like running would be out of the question." Even if he ran alone, it would be a close call, so carrying someone with him didn''t make sense. It was broad daylight, but it felt like the sky was gradually darkening. He should be feeling the heat of battle, but instead, there was a strange chill. No, earlier it had been hot, but now it felt suddenly cold. They were approaching without any formation. In old legends, there was a story about angels who fought while shedding blood tears. It was said that they fought on the command of the gods, shedding blood tears because they didn''t want to kill. Of course, these men were the opposite of those legends. They had taken drugs to maximize their physical abilities. "A, a, a wizard, tear, tear, kill, kill." One of them, the only one not shedding blood tears, stuttered as he spoke. His speech was frustrating to listen to, but his intent was clear. They were targeting the mage. Why had the main forces just sent these guys? Did their commander even know about the situation here? Andrew felt frustrated. "Master." One of the apprentices called to him. There was still a reasonable option left. If they ran, they could survive. There was no duty to protect Esther. "How can I live with myself, unable to protect the person behind me?" He remembered something the commander had once said. Andrew reflected on the time he had spent with Enkrid since the first time they had met, facing danger together. What had he learned from him? "If I run away and can''t protect a single woman, how can I preserve my honor? If I survive like that, I will cast away the name Gardener from today onwards." Rather than run, he''d rather die here. "Get, get, get out." "Shut up, you." Andrew cut off the stammering man''s words. "Let''s die together, then." The freckled apprentice said, and they positioned themselves. Andrew stood in the center and swung his sword vertically once. It was a downward strike. A declaration of will. The enemy''s detachment rushed at them with blood tears, dripping from their eyes and mouths. "GUAAAAH!" It was unclear whether it was a battle cry or a scream. They were just as difficult to deal with as their appearance. They swung their lowered swords quickly and forcefully, extending their legs and claws. Were they even human? It felt like a joke; was their mother really a ghoul? Half-human, half-ghoul? It seemed absurd, but there they were, right in front of him. "You bastard, bring it on!" Andrew shouted. He had already been stabbed in the thigh, and his leg wasn''t functioning properly, but what did that matter? It was a moment of holding on. Bang! Andrew thought a stone was being thrown at him. Blood poured from the torn scalp, blurring his vision, and the world turned red. He saw something charging from one side. Upon closer inspection, it wasn''t a chariot, but a person. In their left hand, they wielded a flat cudgel, smashing the enemy, and in their right hand, a broad sword crushed foes. "Red potato." Andrew thought that to himself, seeing the crushed enemies. He was at his limit, almost dying, but help had arrived. It was the half-giant warrior Teresa. Beside her was Dunbakel. Holding sickles in both hands, Dunbakel fought like a mad shaman. She swung her sickles, cutting, thrusting, and slashing through enemies. With a deadly fury, she reached Andrew''s side, massacring the detachment. "Hey, you okay?" "You''re starting to look good to me." Wiping the blood from his eyes, Andrew spoke. "I''ve always been pretty." "The one over there is looking prettier." Andrew winked at Dunbakel''s shoulder. Teresa''s shield and sword were like a grinding machine, smashing through enemies without mercy. Her immense size distorted the sense of distance as she crushed and broke enemies in seconds. It was far from the "pretty" he had said, but Andrew meant it with sincerity. They were the ones who had saved him. He could say far more than that. Andrew collapsed to the ground. Before Enkrid moved toward the Count, he had sent Dunbakel and Teresa to protect Esther. The fact that Esther had sent something that seemed to be her body meant she couldn''t come herself. It was evidence of a dangerous situation. It wasn''t a hunch; it was a rational judgment. That was why Dunbakel and Teresa had come here. Of course, during this time, Dunbakel had felt fear and shame at the sight of the Count. Teresa, on the other hand, was irritated because she felt inadequate. The two felt a sense of relief as they looked at Andrew. "Cough!" Just before Teresa and Dunbakel wiped out the surprise attack from the enemy soldiers, Andrew noticed Esther coughing. She briefly opened her eyes. "Witch?" Andrew called to her, but Esther didn''t respond and closed her eyes again. Something was definitely wrong. Esther had rejected the Count''s magic that pushed her away and opened her eyes once more in the alternate world. She could see a black soot-like substance spreading from around the Count. ''It happened.'' To put it simply, it wasn''t that she was caught off guard, but rather that it couldn''t be helped. The opponent was a prepared magician, and Esther had yet to fully recover all of her magic. Had her spell world been intact, she would not have fallen for it. ''So?'' Esther looked at the man who never gave up, and she had learned something from him. Moreover, Esther was well aware of her own proud sense of self-worth. Her nearly arrogant self-esteem would not allow her to retreat like this. That was why. ''Do you think I''ll retreat?'' That so-called Count or whatever magic-wielding bastard had laid the groundwork, and she wouldn''t let it stand unless she overturned the situation. If facing it head-on was difficult, she would use another method. ''The alternative.'' Of course, there were several things she needed to prepare for. First, she had to half-kill or outright kill the source of that soot, the one controlling the magic. ''Enkrid will do it.'' A magician''s prediction is essentially an educated guess. It''s a conclusion drawn after weighing the surrounding circumstances. But what Esther said in her mind wasn''t a prediction. It wasn''t a wind either. It was faith. It was the trust shown by a person throughout their life. Enkrid was someone who would do what he set his mind to. Esther trusted that and began preparing her alternative plan. The Count did not erupt in anger. To throw a tantrum over everything not going according to plan would be no different than a seven-year-old child. ''Is this something I cannot handle?'' I can handle it. ''Has my plan gone terribly wrong?'' It''s not that bad. The cold-headed thoughts quickly calmed his irritation. It was frustrating that the prepared magic circle had been distorted, but it was still enough. He couldn''t swallow the entire kingdom in one go, but he could end this battlefield. ''But wasn''t I always aiming for a stable kingdom?'' This was something that had started out of greed for power. As he tried to recall his past self, another voice within him asked. ''Is that really important?'' The Count answered. ''No.'' Whether it''s a sword or a staff, the throne is still the throne. Expand your followers. Take over the world. After whispering those thoughts, the Count began reciting the spell based on the prepared magic circle. In fact, this was the same spell that another version of himself had been reciting since the beginning of the battle. It seemed that the magician who had interrupted his spell world was unharmed, but that was a problem for later. For now, it was more important to reap the souls of those advancing toward him. The Count raised his hand, holding his staff. Pointing the staff forward, a black soot-like substance began to spread from the tip of the staff. Even though the sky was still bright, it grew darker as the black substance spread. From behind the Count, dark clouds began to gather, resembling the chair he was sitting in. The heavy clouds, devoid of thunder, looked ominous. The dark sky covered the sunlight. Everything seemed to be painted black. "What... what''s going on?" One of the kingdom''s soldiers looked up in shock at the strange sight. The black sky gradually expanded, touching the ground. Some of the soot slowly crawled toward the soldier''s arm. It seemed like the cloud had gotten so thick that this had happened. That''s what made sense. But without sunlight, how could such a shadow be cast? The soldier''s rational mind said one thing, but his instincts disagreed. As the soot touched his arm, the soldier tried to shake it off, but it kept spreading, soon holding him by his limbs. "Ugh." Soon, the soldier felt something else invading his body. It wasn''t physical. Give me your body. It was the presence of a spirit invading his mind. The soldier''s eyes glazed over, leaving only the whites. He began drooling uncontrollably. The Count laughed as he saw the result. "Try handling the specters of ten thousand!" His voice echoed across the battlefield. His confidence was overwhelming, and the combined voices shook the minds of ordinary humans without mercy. The soot itself was a specter that drained the life force of humans. The strongest of them reached the five approaching the Count. Enkrid heard a murmur near him. Give me your body. Before he could even respond, his Will instinctively rejected it. The soot could not taint his resolve. The specter was thrown back by his Will. ...Give me your body. Thunk. ... The specter ignored Enkrid. Rem also faced the specter, but he knew how to deal with these kinds of things. That said, he didn''t want to touch something so unpleasant. It was like not wanting to touch rotten eggs on a hot summer day. And yet, it was only natural for humans to want to pinch their nose at such a foul smell. So Rem swung his axe. Whoosh. Following the vertical path of the axe blade, the specter''s will scattered. With the power he had gained from the undying madman, cutting through the specters was nothing extraordinary. Even without the magic, it was still something he could do with a trick or two. Ragna ignored it. The specter stuck to Ragna but he could hear no reaction. Give me your body, can''t you hear me? Give me your body. Ragna remained unmoved, and the specter gave up. It wouldn''t do any good to respond if no one listened. No specter could pierce Ragna''s will, as solid as a rock. Jaxen, trailing a little behind the group, sensed the specter approaching and avoided it. The soot seemed to spread seamlessly, but if you looked closely and felt it, there were plenty of places to avoid. It wasn''t that hard. Even if he couldn''t avoid it, it didn''t matter. If things went wrong, he could always use a straw doll artifact. Jaxen had a few things prepared just in case. Audin welcomed the specter. Only he showed compassion and generosity. "Come forth, for the Lord awaits." What a pitiful soul, he thought. He would embrace it. How could it not find peace after death? Tears almost welled up in his eyes. In fact, a small dew gathered at the corner of his eyes. Within Audin was hidden divinity. It was only sealed by a golden bond. The specter eagerly dove into him and met the divine mass sealed by the bond. There was no time for it to scream. It was erased and went to the Lord''s side. This was the most terrifying death for a specter. It''s no wonder that divinity is the arch-nemesis of undead and beasts. Divine power inflicted excruciating pain upon them. Of course, Audin knew this well. ''Endure the pain, for the path to the Lord is not without its trials.'' He did it knowingly. Truly, with a heart full of compassion for the specter. The Count frowned as he saw the momentum of the five approaching him showing no signs of slowing down. Not only that, but he also saw others resisting his ''sooty specters.'' There were some near Crang and a few others. "Presumptuous fools?" The Count muttered as he waved his staff. If he couldn''t break their resolve, he would tear their bodies apart. "Let''s see if you can block this too." He commanded, and from the floor beneath his chair, those who had become the very soot he had spread began to rise. Specter soldiers. He had summoned ten thousand of them from his spell world into reality. A black wave suddenly rose in front of Enkrid and the Madmen unit. Enkrid didn''t hesitate, even as he saw the endless wave. Who was the best suited for this kind of battle? "Rem." The mad axe master. "...I''m not thrilled about it." Rem saw the approaching wave of specters and realized they had to break through. Although he didn''t like it, he understood what needed to be done. "We need to form a battle formation." It was a request to line up for a specific purpose. It seemed out of place for the Madmen unit, but it was necessary. -------------------------------------- Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 409 - Siege on the Black Wave Chapter 409 - 409 - Siege on the Black Wave Chapter 409 - Siege on the Black Wave It is said that one knight can replace a thousand soldiers. But what if the enemy numbered ten thousand? The Count thought of his opponents as knights and resolved to kill them. Thus, the army of ten thousand became spirits. "Die." Become fertilizer. Become nourishment. Become prey. Become part of me. The effect of the Count''s magic circle was one: to bring his spell world into reality. As a result, the spirits gained a physical form, becoming spectral soldiers. They were waves moving forward, based on bodies made of black soot. The spirits, now black waves, stood back up when they fell, pushed back, and surged forward. Groooooo... They were horrendous, occasionally letting out terrifying shrieks. They moved randomly, without any formation, just rushing forward in a disorganized mass. Because of this, they were not fast. It was like a chaotic mass rolling in, rather than an orderly military advance. Enkrid thought that they resembled a swarm of ants. But these "ants" were each the size of a human, and if one got caught in them, they would die. Would it just be him dying? The soldier scratching at his own arm from behind would also die. "Mother! Mother! Where are you going?!" The soldier suddenly screamed into the air, seeing things that weren''t there, and he too would die. "Majenda, I too shall join you." A soldier, overwhelmed by sudden despair, pretended to strangle himself, and he too would die. It was a mess. Whether the Count had cast magic or some kind of curse, whatever the case, his strange spell was effective. But not all soldiers had lost their minds. Some remained normal. "Hey, where do you think you''re going, idiot? Majenda is my sister. She hasn''t done anything with you, and she''s doing fine." A normal soldier slapped the hand of another soldier trying to strangle himself. "What? What are you talking about?" The soldier looked around in confusion, his voice full of bewilderment. He was probably wondering why everyone else was acting so strange when he was still fine. Enkrid didn''t know the exact nature of the Count''s spell, but he understood the general situation. Though it covered the entire battlefield, it seemed that areas outside the soot''s reach wouldn''t be affected. The longer one stayed here, the more influence they would experience. With this kind of range and scale, would the spell disappear if the caster were killed? It was a gut feeling. The solution wasn''t to break through and kill the caster directly, but that was the only other solution that came to mind. And so, they had to move forward. When he saw the army of spirits, he instructed them to form a unit. "I refuse." Rem was the first to respond. As he spoke, he stumbled slightly, almost losing his balance. Ragna''s condition wasn''t normal either. Using Will recklessly took a toll on both mind and body. "Brother, has something inauspicious gotten to your head? Should I remove it?" "It or my head?" Audin, noticing Rem''s state, expressed concern. It seemed Rem had fallen for some sort of trick by the mage ahead, and Audin was kindly offering his help. Audin''s own body had sustained significant injuries too. He had suffered after failing to ambush the Count earlier, resulting in a small wound in his abdomen. He hastily applied ointment and wrapped it with a specially made bandage, but it wasn''t a wound that could handle prolonged battle. The injury wasn''t looking good. Moreover, a cold feeling rose from his stomach. Rem, too, was suffering. The price for using someone else''s magic was evident, as he felt nauseous. But Enkrid had it the worst. Although there was no damage from Will, his body had been pushed to its limits. It was inevitable. Rievart had taken on monster muscle to become a knight. To handle that, Enkrid had squeezed every bit of power from himself. He thought himself lucky, as he had been able to implement the technique based on Will, which was named for its ability to see a step ahead. If he hadn''t managed it, he would probably have been stuck repeating the same routine every day. While thinking this, the black waves continued to creep forward. It was as if the black, oily seawater was a rising tide, coming closer. It was an unpleasant sight, and the very sight of it made one want to flee. Some of the spirit soldiers that had become part of the wave rolled on the ground but still tried to crawl forward, even scratching the ground with their fingers. They were out for blood. Their intent to kill was palpable. Amidst this, Enkrid saw twisted shapes of spirits, limbs tangled together, creating a nauseating scene. Though they had all declined, the situation left no room for refusal. "Let''s take the shortcut." So, Enkrid didn''t say more, and Rem, with a calm demeanor, continued. "The captain leads, I follow, and the lazy ones holds up the rear." His tone was matter-of-fact. Although Rem''s explanation wasn''t very detailed, Enkrid understood. The days of learning from him had not been in vain. "Three-pronged formation?" Enkrid asked again, and Rem nodded. It was the name of a tactical formation they had once used. It was a combination of centaurs and war beasts'' tactics. The first wave would draw attention, the second would strike, and the third would break through. The waves got stronger. What Rem planned to do now was to repeat the three-pronged formation, constantly changing positions. "Let''s go." Enkrid didn''t hesitate. There was no time to explain or practice here. Besides, hadn''t the wave of spirits nearly reached them? GROOOO! It was the kind of sound a ghoul would make from deep within a well. ''Combat is the best training.'' Enkrid recalled Rem''s words from before and swung his sword down. His left foot grounded as he executed a cleaving strike with his greatsword. Whoosh. The blade sliced through the air and fell. "Ease up!" Rem shouted from behind, but the strike had already been made. Thud! The first spirit''s head was cleaved in two as it rushed forward. It had arms and legs, but no eyes, nose, or mouth. It was a monstrous black mass. As Enkrid''s sword cut through the spirit''s head, black mist poured out from within. It was dead. He could sense it. Then, the spirit behind it rushed forward again. They wouldn''t stop, no matter if the one in front died. "Left!" Rem shouted. Enkrid saw a spirit before him wielding something like a sword. It wasn''t an angle where he could dodge by moving sideways. Yet, Enkrid moved anyway. With enough confidence to do so, he moved aside without hesitation. Then, a light-like mass dropped from his right side. Bang! Crunch! Rem''s hammer smashed the spirit''s skull with a sickening sound. Immediately after, Rem drew his axe, keeping it level with the ground, and made a consistent, horizontal slash. Thud! Rrrr. Rather than a sharp strike, it was a pushing motion that cleaved the spirit with each contact. One could tell just by glancing that Rem wasn''t a beginner at this. His balance, arm strength, core, and even his footwork all contributed to the powerful, continuous strikes. After two slashes, Rem also pulled back to the right. The space Rem vacated was immediately filled by another wave of spirits. GROOOO! Amidst the bloodlust-filled shrieks, a jagged blade fell. It was, of course, Ragna''s sword. Whoosh. The vertical sword split the air, severing three spirits tangled together. One of them reached out, trying to grab Ragna''s clothes, but failed. Ragna, with a swift movement, retreated. "Again!" Before Rem could shout, Enkrid had already taken the necessary position and understood what was happening. He had fought with these people countless times. Hundreds of times, at least. So, he filled in the gaps, blocking the front. "Ease up," they had said. That meant to absorb, not to strike. It was more important to retreat than to attack. Having grasped the essence of the tactic, Enkrid followed through. He gripped his sword lightly, using its shape to slash through the spirit''s head and push them back. One of the undead leapt upwards, but from somewhere, a long bat flew through the air. Whoosh, thud! The bat struck the undead, sending it flying backward. It seemed someone had thrown a spear. In fact, it was a spear that had been picked up from the ground and thrown. "Move with the lord, brother." It was Audin''s skill. From behind to the left, Jaxen''s hands moved continuously. Gripping a longsword, he stabbed and slashed through the encircling undead one by one. The roles were clear. Enkrid and Rem were holding the front, while Ragna in the center was cutting them down. Audin was the foundation that supported all of this. Jaxen moved to fill any gaps when they appeared. With Audin and Jaxen blocking the rear, the three of them only needed to charge forward. The undead surrounded Enkrid and his group, attacking them. The world turned black. The sky disappeared, and only darkness filled the air, but their sharp senses clearly detected the positions of their comrades. Enkrid relied on his senses like this. The others did the same. There was no chance of betraying each other''s backs at this point. Unless it was intentional. The undead''s claws dropped. Their long claws curled as they stuck out their tongues, which were sharp like a spear. This was a peculiar form of undead. It was cut down by Rem''s axe. The axe, flying diagonally, slashed through its skull. Watching the severed head, Enkrid drew his gladius and struck another undead''s hand. Thud! It felt like striking heavy mud, not iron. The hand caught by the gladius sank deeply. No further attack was needed. Turning sideways, Ragna''s sword moved. Enkrid forgot to think. He just moved forward. The five moved as one, cutting through the waves of undead. The most exhausted were Rem and Audin. One was playing the supporting role, and the other maintained balance in the middle. The five had fought each other furiously in the past, though they had often clashed. The outcome of those clashes was training and fighting, which helped them learn each other''s habits. Without understanding the rhythm of each other, they would lose. So, they had all worked hard to understand one another. The five moved naturally as if they had been fighting together for decades, like a knight order that had been training together for years. KranG and Marcus saw it, as did Fel and Aishia, who were filled with a sense of foreboding. The black undead, the soot, and the sky covered in dark clouds made anyone feel a sense of dread. Especially when they saw the waves of undead crashing over Enkrid and his group. It seemed like Enkrid and his mad unit were doomed. On the surface, it seemed that way. "It''s a spell. It won''t last long!" Aishia shouted coldly, though it was a reminder to herself. She was a semi-knight of the order. Though she didn''t wield spells, she had enough experience dealing with mages. She forced herself to focus, continuing to think. How long could such a large-scale spell be sustained? Not long, probably. And she was right. If the spell lasted even as long as a candle burns, the army would take a devastating blow, and those soldiers possessed by the undead would most likely no longer be human. But Aishia couldn''t foresee just how far that would go. "We need to break through and retreat." She said it out loud. Krang had been watching the spot where Enkrid had disappeared. Was he really dead? "Damn it, Your Majesty!" Marcus shouted. The battlefield was spinning out of control. The Count must have been bewitched. Could even a mage do something like this? Should they have called for the knight order? Fel gripped his idol-slayer tightly. "Shall we enter the fray?" He thought, watching the waves of undead. It seemed possible. No. For now, holding out was the best answer. The undead still surrounded Enkrid and his group. Pell had cut down a couple, and any undead charging at him would have been dealt with by his idol-slayer''s immunity. It was a matter of cutting them down one by one. Aishia had her squires gather together and then stepped forward herself. She slashed left, spun around, and thrust right. Two slashes killed two undead. Without even a moment to see the fog-breathing undead, Aishia flipped backward in the air. It wasn''t a trick one could perform in full plate armor, but since she wore partial armor, Aishia managed a near-acrobatic flip. After landing, she struck an undead soldier who was leaping at her. Thud! It felt like hitting a rock. The undead''s body was stiff and unyielding. She used that momentum to bring her sword down again, vertically, and another undead was cleaved. Aishia felt a sense of dizziness. "How long can I keep this up?" If it''s a battle against time, would holding out be the answer? If Krang''s surroundings could hold out... They weren''t ordinary soldiers. "Save me!" "Ahhh!" An undead soldier, with a physical form, lunged at a normal soldier. When it came to pure skill, the undead soldier wasn''t too impressive, but the real problem was the numbers. They didn''t stop. They kept coming. The undead soldier knew no fear. It was a crisis that bred opportunities. Heroes arose across the battlefield. Those who displayed their abilities in the face of danger. The experienced commander, though old, was one of them. A young, brave soldier was another. They gathered their comrades and held the line. But how long could they hold out? How long before they could survive? A curtain of despair descended. The dark clouds overhead seemed to speak of their tomorrow. They would either die trapped by the undead or be torn apart and stabbed to death by the undead soldiers. Enkrid, lost in the darkness, forgot himself and his situation, swinging his sword relentlessly. "It''s hard." The words came out naturally, how exhausting it was. But it wasn''t enough to break him. He found a rhythm. He wasn''t just using brute force but conserving energy, twisting and deflecting blows. If something was lacking, Rem filled it in. If that wasn''t enough, Ragna covered it. Though there were moments when they had to retreat two or three steps, in the end, they moved forward. Two steps back, then three forward. Three steps back, then four forward. The most important part was the balance maintained by Rem in the middle. Enkrid didn''t dodge the falling undead''s claws; he deflected them with his sword, and then cut them down. While undead weren''t typically harmed by regular metal, their physical form had its weaknesses. With a normal sword, they could still be killed. Enkrid continued to stab and slash, enduring through the darkness. All around him, there was only blackness. Black soot, waves of undead soldiers, darkness, and the murderous hands reaching out in all directions. The world was filled with such things. And yet. "Hahahah." A sigh of pleasure escaped him. He was satisfied just to be able to swing his sword again and again. "Are you crazy?" Amidst it all, Rem''s voice could be heard. He must have seen his face. "You''re laughing in a situation like this?" Even as he fought on, Enkrid didn''t stop advancing, and the darkness around them slowly cleared. He swung his sword once in the air and stopped. There were no more undead. No, they were there. The countless undead soldiers, their bodies sprawled in a fog-like pool of blood, lay behind them. Enkrid then realized he had pierced the heart of the undead wave and looked up. There, seated on a black chair, was the Count. The Count glared at Enkrid with wide eyes. The battle was silent and calm on that side. Enkrid merely caught his breath and stared back. But the look from the other side was full of confusion. When something incomprehensible happens, humans generally respond in a similar way. "How?" The Count was no different. It was because something had happened that he couldn''t understand. -------------------------------------- Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 410 - Time to Sit Back and Relax Chapter 410 - 410 - Time to Sit Back and Relax Chapter 410 - Time to Sit Back and Relax Deon Molsan¡ªthat was the name of the count. From a young age, Deon had shown extraordinary talent. "You have a gift for sensing magical energy." "Your swordsmanship is remarkable for your age." "You''re sharp enough to work as an administrator in the capital." With exceptional talent, a supporting family, and excellent mentors, Deon grew up lacking nothing. His world revolved around magic, his father, and his mother, with very few things going against his will. For a young man gifted beyond measure, the world was an easy place to live in. His twenties passed. His thirties came and went. He killed two uncles who coveted the position of head of the family. Deon didn''t use magic to accomplish this; he did it with a sword. It wasn''t a particularly difficult feat, but his father was astonished. "You are truly exceptional, even for my son." It was then that Deon realized how effortless it was to take a life. By his mid-thirties, he inherited the position of family head. From that point, his father began looking at him with eyes laced with fear. Why? It had started when Deon began involving himself in the family''s major affairs. His father often made poor decisions about matters that required only a bit of thought. Deon corrected those mistakes behind the scenes and offered direct advice upfront. Sometimes, he even let a trace of contempt slip. The admiration in his father''s gaze slowly turned into something else. Then came the day Deon openly opposed one of his father''s decisions. Deon knew he was right, but his father erupted. "It''s for the dignity of the nobility!" It was a flimsy excuse. A pathetic pretense. Should he have pretended to believe it? Deon didn''t. "Disgraceful." That emotionless remark broke his father. His father abandoned the family. His mother? She had never been one to show affection in the first place. Thus, Deon became the head of the family. A few years later, his parents fell into ruin due to the scheming of a neighboring territory. His mother turned to gambling; his father to drinking. Even matters that noble families would usually overlook were exploited by their neighbor. That noble drove Deon''s father to the edge of a cliff, where he ended his own life. His mother followed shortly after. "Was I too indifferent?" Still, did being parents automatically mean they deserved love? Not necessarily. Even so, wasn''t revenge necessary? Deon decided it was. It only took him six months. "Forgive me." The neighboring lord knelt, begging for his life. Deon beheaded him. The revenge wasn''t satisfying, but it was done. That was when the previously unremarkable Molsan Countship began to grow. Three years later, Deon noticed something: people were flocking to him. His actions had greatly expanded the military power and influence of the countship. That was when the question arose. "Why should I confine myself here?" The moment he asked, he knew the answer: there was no reason to. A bird must leave its shell to fly. Deon decided to widen his world. To step beyond his shell into a broader one. "The throne." The desire for power awoke in him. The world had always been easy for him, and he believed this would be no different. Indeed, everything came easily¡ªuntil the moment he emerged from the army of ten thousand wraiths and someone stood in his way. "You''re good." When Deon asked "How?" Enkrid answered indifferently. His arm was trembling, but it could still move. That was enough. "Heh." Deon let out a sigh. Behind Enkrid, Deon saw the others. A barbarian soldier stood with a battle axe resting on one shoulder, watching impassively. A swordsman, holding a broken blade, casually brushed blood from his hair with a disinterested expression. A towering soldier beside them was fixing his twisted forearm with a gentle smile, as if the pain didn''t bother him. His smiling face remained calm as he realigned the bone. Lastly, there was the assassin who had targeted him before the summoning of the wraiths. The man gripped a short stiletto in his right hand, as if silently asking if Deon was ready to die. Deon raised a hand to his chin, scanning the group once more. These weren''t the kind of opponents he had expected. If everything failed, he had assumed he would die surrounded by knights¡ªhis death taking Naurilia down with him. This was an entirely unforeseen situation. His initial shock faded quickly, replaced by an empty sense of resignation. A bitter laugh threatened to escape. Deon chuckled. "Shouldn''t the most capable person rise to the highest place?" Why were they blocking his path? "That''s why I''m here," Enkrid replied. Deon had an urge to grab Enkrid''s tongue and stretch it out. The man always spoke so concisely it was infuriating. What would happen if he forcibly lengthened it? "Fine. Talking won''t change anything." Deon extended his hand. At his gesture, black soot coalesced in the air, forming the shape of a bird that flew toward Enkrid. It happened in an instant, though a long explanation could follow. Had Esther been present, she would have identified it as the necromantic spell "Shaarlnerr''s Life-Draining Raven." But no one here knew its name. Instead, they reacted. As the raven streaked toward Enkrid, a dagger flew to meet it. Boom! The bird exploded in midair, scattering into fragments. The thrown dagger shattered into three pieces, scattering left and right. Deon frowned. "An artifact?" No. Who would inscribe such a spell on a dagger? That would be sheer insanity. It was a scroll, wrapped around the dagger and thrown. A peculiar technique. The thrower, naturally, was Jaxen. He held several similar daggers in his hand. "The throne belongs to me," Deon declared, unwavering even in the face of this adversity. Even if they broke through the wraiths, it wasn''t his nature to surrender. As he continued to summon Shaarlnerr''s ravens, Deon cast another spell. This time, a dark red mass formed in the air, taking the shape of a living sword. The entities flew of their own accord, targeting Enkrid. Standing in their way was a figure resembling a bear. "Oh, wretched soul unable to even reach your master," he murmured, moving his hands and feet with astonishing agility that belied his size. Swift hand movements and nimble footwork accompanied the swing of his crimson-black blade, which burst in midair with resounding explosions. ''These things...'' The Count reversed some of his wraiths. A portion of the spectral soldiers targeting his forces collapsed to the ground and vanished, dissipating into the air like fading mist. "Rise, Wraith General!" The Count chanted, using a spell that fused the reverted wraiths into a single form. Before him emerged a massive figure wielding a black greatsword¡ªbigger even than Audin. Ragna stepped forward to face the giant. Dragging his feet, Ragna moved without haste, his head tilted upward. Gripping a half-broken sword, he silently swung the blade. Before the enormous enemy could even react, Ragna''s sword slashed its throat, cleaved through its chest, and severed its waist in two. Enkrid was momentarily stunned by Ragna''s skill. ''What... what did I just witness?'' Ragna had swung his sword three times in a single breath, each strike extending in a different direction, yet flowing as though it were one seamless motion. It meant he eliminated the actions of retrieval and recovery by calculating the trajectory of each swing beforehand, minimizing his movements. The strikes consisted of an upper horizontal slash, followed by a downward vertical cut, and finally a middle-level horizontal slice. Each contained the Will of Severance. It was as if he painted with his sword, but his strokes were so swift and bold that defending against them would have been inconceivable. Enkrid doubted even he could have stopped that. After the flurry of strikes, Ragna retreated two steps and collapsed into a seated position. Though it was clearly a fall, Ragna exhaled and remarked nonchalantly, "Well, guess I''ve got some time to watch now." The Count almost gaped in astonishment. ''What is this man?'' The Wraith General, a being capable of crushing most junior knights effortlessly, had perished from a single exchange. From the Count''s perspective, it looked like Ragna had only swung his sword once. A vague sense of dread crept into the Count''s chest. Though unnerved, he suppressed it with force of will. He still had resources left to deploy. The Count bit down on his tongue with his molars. Crunch. The taste of metallic blood filled his mouth as the severed tongue bled profusely. The Count opened his mouth, crimson streaks spilling down his chin. He pulled his left hand to his chest, and the blood flowing from his mouth coalesced into a mass on his palm. "Come forth, blood protector," he commanded, waving his staff with his right hand. The blob of blood in his left palm began to grow, swelling until it reached human size, sprouting arms and legs. To fill the form, the Count reversed more wraith soldiers from the battlefield. The area grew emptier as the wraith soldiers dissipated. This shift allowed many soldiers who had been on the brink of death to catch their breath, while others possessed by wraiths returned to normal. The Count was so focused on summoning his creation that he abandoned any concern for maintaining the battlefield balance. Before long, a towering Blood Golem with nothing but two hollow eye sockets stood before him. "Ah, seems you''ve also been meddling with strange sorcery. Judging by these tricks, I''d wager you''re in league with that lunatic who defies death," commented the barbarian warrior. As the Count turned to look at him, the barbarian reached into his pack. The Count observed from behind the golem, quickly piecing together what the barbarian was up to as he pulled something out and began to spin it over his head. A sling, loaded with orb-like ammunition. The motion created a sound that rapidly gained intensity. Whir, whir, whir... whooOOooosh! Rem had loaded the sling with the last of the talismans he had taken from the death-defying lunatic¡ªa spherical charm. While not originally intended for this use, it was perfect for the situation. WHEEEEEEEEEEEEE! The sound grew, sending chills down the spines of everyone present, ally and enemy alike. The Blood Golem turned its hollow gaze toward the source. It brought its hands together, preparing to unleash a torrent of blood. But as the golem moved, Rem''s arm flung the sling. Whoooosh... thunk! The eerie whine of the sling abruptly stopped, replaced by the detonation of the talisman. BOOM! The explosion erupted from the Blood Golem''s head. Normally, a physical impact would have been insufficient to harm such a construct. But this was no ordinary projectile; it was a culmination of over a decade''s worth of accumulated sorcery. The explosion eradicated the Golem''s life force, taking it down with a single strike. The Count clutched his chest, slamming his staff against the ground. A wave of loss and emptiness washed over him, momentarily halting his heartbeat. He knew the Golem was gone. It was a summoning woven from his own blood and heart¡ªa creation that shouldn''t have fallen so easily. "You... damn you all!" he bellowed in fury. Meanwhile, Rem, having spent the last of his resources, felt his strength drain from his body. ''Am I going to die here?'' He doubted it, but the thought crossed his mind as he staggered backward and fell heavily to the ground. His collapse landed him next to Ragna. Looking over at Ragna, Rem quipped, "Looks like it''s time to sit back and watch." Ragna nodded, their eyes meeting in mutual understanding. There was no energy left to argue or ridicule each other¡ªthis was no time for hostility. For the first time, the two seemed to be on the same wavelength. Audin, still struggling against the crimson-black blades, endured the agony of his restraints as he infused his body with divinity. ''Forgive me, Father,'' Audin prayed silently as he summoned his holy power, not to radiate light but to fortify his body. ''My left hand is a sacred blade; my right hand is steel.'' The moment his left hand, imbued with divinity, touched one of the crimson blades, Clang! The blade shattered. He then struck with his right hand. Crash! The warped, broken blade flew aside and embedded itself in the ground, its animating force vanishing in an instant. One by one, Audin destroyed the blades, though the pain of his restraints coursed through him. His limbs trembled, and his body stiffened like a log as he stood motionless. "Tch," Rem clicked his tongue as he watched. ''Why isn''t that guy collapsing?'' "Hm," Ragna frowned slightly. The sight of the priest still standing was irritating. He should have fallen as well. -------------------------------------- Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 411 - I Will Hunt You Down Chapter 411 - 411 - I Will Hunt You Down Chapter 411 - I Will Hunt You Down Jaxen, who had been relentlessly throwing daggers, hurled a Whistle Dagger at the count''s brow. The dagger flew soundlessly, only to explode with a bang right in front of the count''s face. A black veil shimmered before the count with the loud blast¡ªit was the protective barrier, still intact. It was evident that a dagger imbued with a scroll wouldn''t penetrate it. "Don''t expect mercy!" Dean Molsan, who had always taken the world lightly, now felt the weight of true danger as he was pushed to the edge of a cliff. Sweat streamed down his back. He had never encountered such opponents. It was his first time, and the unfamiliarity stripped him of his composure. The count had already resorted to magic beyond what an ordinary mage could conjure. Now, he was tapping into his very lifespan. He reversed the summon further, his eyes rolling back as they turned pitch-black. The void-like gaze fixed on Jaxen, who felt an icy chill surge from the wound in his abdomen. "Hmm?" Jaxen nearly collapsed as strength left his legs but managed to hold himself upright. After all, there were two bastards nearby who seemed to be waiting for him to fall. "Die, die, die, die, die!" The count, gripping his staff, chanted incessantly, his focus unwavering on Jaxen. Jaxen met his gaze, staring back into the blackness of those eyes, which, despite their lack of discernible pupils or sclera, exuded a relentless tenacity. The more the count chanted, the colder Jaxen''s abdomen grew. Standing became increasingly unbearable. Jaxen dropped to one knee, his palm slamming to the ground as he closed his eyes. He had to resist the frost. Concentrating, he faintly heard Rem murmuring beside him. "That''s right, just like that." ''Mad barbarian,'' Jaxen thought, focusing harder. The enemy''s attack was a form of magic¡ªsomething had been planted in his wound. All he needed to do was identify and extract it. Jaxen began to observe his own body. Endurance to withstand pain. Composure to analyze his condition. Sensitivity to detect the source. And finally, an unyielding spirit. ''There''s no giving up.'' Jaxen had learned this from watching Enkrid. It was the first time he''d encountered such a spell, but there had to be a solution. Drawing from knowledge, experience, and inference, he would piece together a conclusion. Jaxen endured on one knee, trusting that his commander would shatter every obstacle in their path. Enkrid took three steps forward, advancing toward the count. He was now within the range of his sword. This was thanks to his subordinates, who had endured the count''s relentless spellcasting and schemes, allowing Enkrid to close the distance. Now, having reached this proximity, Enkrid placed his hand on the grip of his sword and declared, "You''re already within my domain." The three seated individuals and the one standing all turned their eyes to Enkrid. Even the count''s gaze fell on him. A domain? He was referring to his sword''s range. The count smirked, confident in his protective magic. Enkrid regulated his breathing. Breaking through ten thousand summoned wraiths had been taxing. Fatigue had built to the point where his muscles trembled uncontrollably. Yet, he remained unbothered. This wasn''t the first time. Wielding a sword often brought such challenges. Especially in the days when he had nothing, when he had to swing his sword until his muscles tore. It was the only way he could even reach for his dream. When one cannot see what lies ahead, what must one do to press forward? Repeat, and repeat again. That experience was what allowed him to endure. His gaze fixed on the black veil shimmering in front of the count. Enkrid had already seen Jaxen strike at the barrier once and could roughly estimate its strength. ''A thrown dagger might not pierce it.'' But it could be cut. Not with ordinary slashes, of course. A successful cut required absolute conviction. Thus¡ª "Ragna, let me borrow this for a moment." Ragna had no time to respond. Enkrid attempted once more to mimic a technique he had tried countless times before, always unsuccessfully. Raising his sword as though to pierce the heavens, he gripped the hilt with both hands, relaxing his shoulders. It was the high stance of the Northern-style swordsmanship, a variation of the inherited family art from the Yohan family, which Ragna had adapted to his liking. Though Enkrid didn''t know the details, he had prepared to swing the sword. Ragna looked at him with a slight hint of surprise. ''Not bad.'' The stance, the momentum, the will¡ªit was difficult to find fault with anything. It was the best posture Enkrid had ever shown, and the fact that it mirrored his own technique made Ragna feel even more approving. He wasn''t the only one surprised. Rem had been astonished since the beginning of the battle against the wraith soldiers. ''He hasn''t faltered once.'' Enkrid had matched Ragna''s pace effortlessly. It was becoming hard to recall their former leader. ''This is getting interesting.'' Rem tightened his grip on his axe, ready to throw it if things went awry. Audin prayed silently, unable to clasp his hands. The pain felt like his skull was splitting, but he endured, reciting his prayers. "As the lamb sheds its wool, the shepherd becomes its guide." The shepherd corrects and punishes what is wrong. Forbidden arts were no trivial matter. A lack of discipline could drive one mad from pain, and countless had succumbed to such fate. But Audin focused on his duty, another lesson learned from Enkrid. Jaxen slowly drove Carmen''s stiletto into his abdomen, avoiding his vital organs as he aimed for the source of the cold. Stab! The act quelled the frost. Though the blade pierced his body, it wasn''t a fatal wound. Avoiding his organs and with proper treatment, he would recover. Still, he reflected. ''I was careless.'' He had failed to fully utilize his assassination skills, and memories of his mentor''s teachings resurfaced. "Do you want to give it your all? First, find a place you belong." Why had the mentor said that? He had already committed to inheriting the assassin''s blade. Didn''t he already have a place to stay? Enjoying battle to the fullest would only lead to indulgence in the act of killing. That was his mentor''s warning. Jaxen had felt such intoxication before. How does one avoid it? These thoughts crowded his mind but were dismissed as he refocused on the present. Before him stood his commander, no longer in need of his assistance. The sight of Enkrid''s back filled his vision. He was poised to strike, his sword raised. "Haah, damn fools," the count muttered, steadying his breath. He had been pushed back repeatedly, but watching his enemies crumble one by one helped him recover some semblance of composure. His eyes turned to Enkrid. The count also knew how to wield a sword himself. The Count, observing Enkrid preparing his stance, realized he could not afford to yield the first strike. The flickering black veil around Enkrid rendered most attacks futile. The Count, after weighing his options, initiated the assault. He lunged forward, thrusting his blade with precision. His sword point, sharp and narrow as a pinpoint, hurtled toward Enkrid. It was an impeccable thrust¡ªdirect, swift, and powerful. Enkrid calmly countered, striking down on the Count''s blade. Clang! The Count quickly recovered his weapon, attempting a follow-up slash. Meanwhile, Enkrid borrowed from Ragna''s severing technique, his movements echoing what he had recently witnessed. Pushing off the ground, Enkrid advanced. His shoulders rotated fluidly, his waist pivoting as his blade''s trajectory shifted. The sword that had just parried the thrust now glided like a fish swimming upstream, redirecting toward the Count with devastating precision. The Heart of the Beast surged, enhancing his strength, as his Will focused the blow. "Sever." It was the Will of Severance. Enkrid''s sword cut horizontally, slicing through the Count''s protective barrier and grazing the ridge of his nose. Crash! The barrier shattered. The Will¡ªa manifestation of one''s resolve¡ªcarved through the shield and split the skull beneath. Fragments of the Count''s silver helm scattered as his skull was cleaved. Enkrid exhaled the breath he had held, halting mid-swing. His glowing blue eyes stood out starkly in the darkness conjured by the Count. They seemed otherworldly, as if Enkrid alone occupied a different plane. "Huuh." Enkrid lowered his broken sword, feeling the ache in his arms. He turned away. Behind him, the Count had lost the top of his head. To an onlooker, it might have seemed like a straightforward exchange of sword strikes. Enkrid had deflected a thrust, then smoothly transitioned into a horizontal slash without resetting his stance. The Count hadn''t even had time to defend himself. The move was partially borrowed from Ragna and imbued with the Will of Severance. That was why Enkrid had called it borrowed. "Gghhk..." The Count coughed up blood. He had been a cunning force who upended Naurilia, yet death, impartial and universal, visited all. Even a stray arrow could end a life; how could someone survive a cleaved head? Blood poured from the severed wound, pooling thick and red even in the shadows. Then, something inexplicable occurred. "This cannot end here." The Count spoke, his voice echoing eerily, layered as if two voices overlapped. With blood trickling down his face, his severed head seemed... intact enough to speak? Audin finally began to suspect the Count''s true nature. ''What is this?'' The air felt oppressive, a sinister presence reminiscent of the deepest reaches of a demonic abyss. "A demon?" Audin muttered to himself as black smoke began emanating from the Count''s body. "Not a hundred thousand, but even ten thousand... To fell such a number deserves recognition. For that, you''ve earned my deepest curse... Hmm? A witch?" Before the smoke could fully take shape, a thunderclap resounded through the darkened sky. Rumble! The black smoke wavered, its formation halting. Enkrid stood, gripping his broken sword, silently observing. Drip. Raindrops began to fall. "...I''ve been blocked by that mage!?." The Count and the entity within him spoke simultaneously, their voices overlapping. Enkrid now understood why the Count''s voice had occasionally seemed doubled. He had harbored a demon within. But that revelation changed nothing. Enkrid discarded his shattered blade and unsheathed his gladius. Using the gladius to draw attention, he prepared for a decisive strike. "Spark." He mapped out his next move in an instant. While everyone else stood frozen in shock, Enkrid alone readied himself to continue the fight. The demon''s gaze fixed on him again. "This insolent creature..." Its tone was devoid of emotion, but that hardly mattered. Enkrid intended to end the battle, no matter what. His entire unit was either injured or drained, leaving him as their sole remaining line of defense. Anyone else might have questioned whether this opponent was an insurmountable wall, but Enkrid did not. He simply did his utmost, moment by moment. Because that was how he had always lived. From somewhere beyond this world of perceptions, a wondering ferryman chuckled. "Indeed." Truly, this man was utterly mad. The Count had extraordinary talent, but his ambition surpassed human limitations. That was how he came to claim a demon''s heart. The demon ignored the relentless swordsman and instead addressed the witch''s interference. "If you even manage block my final curse, won''t that be disappointing?" Its tone was light, but the weight of its name¡ªdemon¡ªwas undeniable. A fiend of the highest danger level, seen only in the demonic abyss. A being of intelligence, exceptional in tormenting and killing humans. "A demon," Enkrid murmured. The demon''s eyes turned toward him. "You... Yes, impressive, human. But it seems I cannot fight you now." Though the demon didn''t know Enkrid''s full history, it understood his recent feats. One by one, everything had converged around this man. Even the witch who had intervened was, after all, part of his group. "Harm them, and I''ll hunt you down wherever you flee," a voice rang out, transcending space. The demon grimaced slightly, irked by the witch''s audacious threat. "What an impudent witch." Eyes formed within the black mist, surveying the surroundings with a murky glare. The moment Enkrid recognized the entity, a peculiar thought struck him. This was no human. But could he not cut it down? Truly? Though the demon claimed it would not fight, Enkrid felt tempted to test that claim. Just as he gathered his remaining strength to charge, the demon''s gaze bore down on him. For the first time, its tone shifted. "We shall meet again." The hazy form within the mist began to fade, becoming imperceptible. "I am the master of a hundred thousand wraiths." With those words, the demon vanished. Rain, now heavier, erased its lingering presence. The witch had called upon her magic, turning the downpour into a natural phenomenon that cleansed the area of any unnatural traces. The rain was warm, infused with her magic. The Count''s last moments revealed its lingering attachment to this world. "All was within my grasp..." Those were Dehan Molsen''s final resentful words. "Life is rarely so accommodating," came a reply. The Count''s death brought an end to his grudges, though they were ultimately meaningless. The demon, its trace remnants fading, licked its lips in disappointment. It had lost its chance to leave a significant mark on the human world. Before fully dissipating, it fixed its gaze on the man who had defeated it. The black-haired, blue-eyed warrior. "Enkrid." It had heard the name spoken by others. The demon etched it into memory, thinking that if they met again, it would ensure he begged for death. -------------------------------------- Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 412 - The End of the Civil War Chapter 412 - 412 - The End of the Civil War Chapter 412 - The End of the Civil War Enkrid lifted his head toward the falling rain. The raindrops, striking with a rhythmic thud, washed away the blood that clung to his body. It felt like the rain was wrapping his weary form in a strange embrace. It was a sensation he sometimes experienced when holding Esther close as they slept¡ªa similar warmth. "Did Esther do something?" It seemed likely. The Count''s reaction and the demon''s words hinted at it. The rain didn''t stop but continued steadily, growing heavier with time. Pools of water formed on the ground, washing away the blood and creating faint streams. He had cut through ten thousand wraiths to reach the Count and slay him. It sounded simple when said aloud, but it was anything but easy. It was an extraordinary feat¡ªa monumental achievement. Standing amidst the rain, Enkrid caught his breath and picked up the broken half of Silver. He looked at the Count''s lifeless body and moved his aching frame, groaning under the strain. Audin was also beginning to move, finally freed from the paralysis imposed by the restrictions. "Good work, brother," Audin said. "You too," Enkrid replied. Their exchange was simple and to the point. Audin walked over to the Count''s body, knelt on one knee, clasped his hands, and began to pray. It was a priest''s duty to offer prayers for the dead. Even if a person''s life was steeped in sin, they deserved a chance to reflect by the Lord''s side. "May you remain with the Lord and receive His teachings." The god Audin worshipped was one who relished punishing sinners. His teachings often resembled physical blows rather than gentle guidance. Repentance, in this belief, was aided by the Lord''s fists and feet¡ªa harsh interpretation of mercy. "May you find peace there." But would the Count truly find peace? Enkrid pondered as he listened. Ragna stirred, swayed briefly, and rose. He refrained from groaning, but his battered body revealed his condition¡ªfar from normal. Even someone as resilient as Ragna had been pushed beyond his limits. His sword was ruined, and most of his protective gear was torn or shattered. Fortunately, no one dared to mock him for it. Jaxen, too, bore a gaping wound in his abdomen, yet his expression remained composed. Slowly, he pressed a hand to the ground and pushed himself up. "It''s over," Jaxen said, his tone tinged with an unusual blend of relief and wistfulness. It was rare to glimpse emotion in his words. Had he wanted to deal the finishing blow himself? Perhaps. The rain continued to fall. Enkrid turned his gaze to Rem, who was struggling to rise. Rem met his eyes. Why aren''t you getting up? Enkrid asked silently. After a moment of deliberation, Rem finally spoke. "Commander." "What?" "Would you grant me the honor of carrying me?" It was a roundabout way of saying he couldn''t walk. "You can''t walk after that?" Unable to restrain himself, Ragna chimed in. "Delicate constitution?" Jaxen added his own jab. "Perhaps a lack of training," Audin remarked with apparent concern. Rem remained unfazed. "I''m giving you the chance because you''ll owe me for this." No words could penetrate Rem''s unyielding composure. Though Enkrid didn''t fully grasp the situation, he acknowledged that Rem had pushed himself the hardest. It was true. Even before the battle formation, Rem had used a spell that involved forcibly borrowing another''s incantation¡ªa practice deemed among the most perilous in sorcery. What he had done was akin to stealing another''s prayer and repurposing it. Rem had forcibly modified a totem crafted for the Mad Immortal''s personal use, pushing it to its limits. The backlash was inevitable. Moreover, he had taken the role of mediator within the formation¡ªa task more grueling than Audin''s foundational work. It was natural for his body to rebel. He could force himself to rise and walk, but Rem saw no need. I''ve done enough. Can''t I be carried for once? he thought, finding the idea amusing. There was also a practical desire to recover quickly. Watching Enkrid''s final strike as he slew the Count had left an impression. The sooner I recover, the sooner we can spar again. Having been influenced by Enkrid, Rem also yearned to cross swords with him¡ªnot in his current state, but at full strength. And so, he was determined to be carried. Though his tone was calm, Rem''s eyes burned with fervor. His resolve to be carried radiated so intensely it seemed to evaporate the falling rain. "Do I look fine to you?" Enkrid asked, his tone flat. "More so than me." Rem''s response was unwavering. What a lunatic. Yet Enkrid relented. Rem had earned it. Thankfully, he didn''t have to do the carrying himself. "I''ll carry him." Dunbakel and Teresa arrived, both catching their breath after running to catch up. Dunbakel stepped forward. "Go ahead," Enkrid said. Rem didn''t protest. He didn''t care who carried him. Dunbakel hoisted Rem onto her back, and Enkrid began tidying the area. The rain continued to pour. The group started walking back toward their camp. The path through the wraiths they had fought so hard to carve out now seemed shorter than they had remembered. The enemy was silent, the allies quieter still. They walked the road they had opened with their own hands, indifferent to the gazes of others. Krang approached them. Drenched but far from looking like a miserable drowned rat, Krang neither smiled nor basked in triumph. His expression betrayed no emotion, though his quivering pupils hinted at the storm within. Just before the Count''s death, the soldiers were fighting not only the wraith soldiers but also the spirits vying to take over their bodies. They fought and endured, over and over again. When will this end? Their stamina was spent. Maybe dying would be easier. Their willpower was at its limit. As physical and mental strength waned, the wraith soldiers, unrelenting and fearless, pressed on without end. The soldiers did not care whether they were from the kingdom army or the count''s army¡ªthey all charged forward. In front of the relentless wave of spirits that knew no friend or foe, the two divided armies mixed together and fought. Even the most valiant among them could only endure for so long. In the meantime, the soldiers saw horrific nightmares and hallucinations. "Die, die, die, die, die." It wasn''t a nightmare or an illusion. It was the image of Count Molsan battling. Esther''s spell affected them, intertwining with the count''s spell and creating strange phenomena. Most of the soldiers here saw Enkrid''s fight. Marcus also saw it. "Win." He sent his support. AisHia saw it too, clenching her fist. "I should have been there!" But there was no way to pull back now. Even though a shepherd who had somehow arrived was playing a significant role, she knew that if she withdrew, the prince would be in danger. Unlike AisHia, Dunbakel and Teresa immediately sprang into action. Whether as meat shields or to strike from behind, they knew they had to be there. Andrew could not move. With Esther still unable to stand, he decided his job was to hold this position. Thus, he could only watch. The soldiers didn''t even have the strength to cry out that they were alive. "Guh." Most of the soldiers collapsed, exhaling their last breaths. Those who had managed to hold on fell to the ground. They didn''t have the strength to cheer for victory. The rain soaked their bodies. At least the rain was a blessing. It felt like the spirits'' energy on their bodies was being washed away. And it was. Esther had done that. When Esther opened her eyes in the real world, she understood what had happened. The count had tried to bring the world of spells to this land, but was that even possible? No. It was the result of demonic power intervening, but ultimately, it was a foolish act. Even if he had succeeded, the idiot mage would have lost his own body and repeated his foolish deeds while possessed. Perhaps he would have turned all the kingdom''s people into test subjects like he did with the chimeras. He might have done worse. Such was the whisper of the demon. Because Esther could not directly unravel the spell made using demonic power, she used most of her magic to make it rain. In the process, the soldiers saw the count''s image in their minds. Esther saw it too. The madman who had tried to slay both the count and the demon. Esther felt the need to warn them of how dangerous demons were. Krang, watching Enkrid''s battle, whispered to himself. His hands were not sweating. He simply waited. There was nothing he could do here. So did he feel powerless? No. He had his own stage. This stage was a moment for his friend to step forward. So all he could do was trust, again and again. "I believe." His belief was not betrayed. His trust was rewarded. As the rain poured, the spirits dissipated. Krang took his first step among the revived soldiers. He walked out without a word. "Master?" Marcus called him, but Krang didn''t stop. Only when he stood face to face with Enkrid did he pause for a moment, then spoke in a soft voice. "Let us praise the hero who saved us." His voice was low and soft. Marcus, following him, agreed with that sentiment. And it wasn''t just him. Aishia also limped behind, nodding instinctively at those words. Looking at Enkrid, Krang inhaled deeply, bracing himself. His voice was too soft before. "Let us shout! For the hero who saved us!" The voice spread. It was one of Krang''s specialties¡ªa shout that burst out with all his strength. "Ugh!" One soldier, crying, raised his head. The rain soaked his face. "Uwaaaa!" "We''re alive!" "For the hero!" "For the Madmen''s Unit!" Their cries mixed together and became a garbled sound. The cry seemed about to spread widely with the rain. That much heat was behind it. At the center of that heat, an old commander didn''t like the disorganized cries. Hadn''t he seen it? The count turned into a demon, and the hero who slew him. With all his heart, the commander shouted. "Everyone, follow me!" Many soldiers followed him. After all, hadn''t he shown the leadership to endure the onslaught of spirits? He, too, was undoubtedly a hero to them. "Demon Slayer!" The Slayer of Demons. Let his glory spread far and wide! The soldiers around him joined in the cry. "Demon Slayer!" Their chant quickly spread. "Demon Slayer!" "The Slayer of Demons!" The rain continued to fall. It had started as a reaction to Esther''s magic, but now, it was rain that was meant to fall. That is, the dark clouds had gathered, and there would be no bright sunlight. Even so, everyone saw something shining. If someone who had killed a demon, banished spirits, and ended a war didn''t shine, what would? "Demon Slayer!" If the actual demon who wasn''t dead heard this, it might grind its teeth in frustration at the title. Enkrid listened to the chant blankly and then said. "I didn''t kill the demon." "Technically, ''noble slayer'' would be more accurate," Rem said based on the truth. "Demon''s minion slayer would be more fitting," Audin added. From a religious perspective, the enemy''s identity was clear. At least, it was to Audin. "Does it matter?" Ragna calmly dismissed the nonsense with his opinion. Jaxen remained silent, as usual. Dunbakel, considering the potential for revenge if she threw Rem off her back, hesitated for a moment but decided against it. Teresa secretly agreed with Audin''s words. It was then that Krang gave a soft smile. Including Enkrid, all those present could be called heroes. And by now, they had all learned just how insane these people were as they made their way to and from the capital. ''They''re all insane.'' Krang smiled as he thought. Enkrid nodded calmly. He hadn''t read Krang''s thoughts, but he considered himself the most normal among them. "Thank you. You''re the craziest one." That was when Krang''s words nearly stunned Enkrid. After the count died and the demon emerged, Enkrid had been ready to charge, but this time he couldn''t help but be surprised. Who did he say was the craziest? "You''re a hero of the nation now." Krang continued speaking and bowed his head. It was the courtesy shown by a prince who would one day become king. The soldiers around them watched. Enkrid was at the peak of exhaustion. There was no mental energy left for him to properly appreciate the treatment. "It''s fine." Thus, he put his hand on the prince''s shoulder and lifted him. He had done his part. He felt pride from the praise, and Krang''s attitude wasn''t bad either. But one thing had to be addressed. "Why did you say I''m the craziest?" What about Rem? Krang laughed at his friend''s words. "Hahaha, let''s go. Eat, drink, and rest. We can destroy the royal palace''s finances if we want!" Among the cries of "Demon Slayer," the sounds of survival and victory echoed. The enemy soldiers, once part of the count''s army, quietly discarded their weapons. The civil war was over. -------------------------------------- Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 413 - The Grand Coronation Chapter 413 - 413 - The Grand Coronation Chapter 413 - The Grand Coronation Perhaps because of the last curse the Count had called, Enkrid noticed a dull smell lingering on his body. "Please prepare hot water and a bath, no attendants necessary." Upon returning to the palace, Enkrid washed, ate, and went to sleep. Even with Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxen, it made no difference. After a deep sleep, it was later when the healer approached, intending to treat everyone''s bodies, but all of them refused. "I know my body best," Rem said as if he was bitten. "It is the punishment given to me," Audin said, not different from the others. Ragna waved his hand, declining, and Jaxen pretended to be uninjured. The healer murmured that it was the first time he had encountered patients so uncooperative and was about to leave. As he turned to leave, the healer bowed his head toward Enkrid. "Thank you." It was an unexpected statement. However, the healer''s demeanor was serious. Enkrid had yet to clearly comprehend the task he had undertaken. The schedule had been too exhausting. There was plenty to do after the battle. Preparing for war was a bigger task than the war itself, but even more so was the aftermath. A general who fights well can win a battle, and one who prepares well can win a war. And the general who handles the aftermath properly is the one who wins the war. This said that handling the situation after battle was critical. The same applied now. Handling the remaining Count''s troops was an issue, as was retrieving the lost equipment, and the camp needed to be dismantled. Once all that was done, marching awaited. Shouldn''t they return to the royal palace? Even with the joy of victory, it was impressive to have completed this in three days. While Enkrid might not have been familiar with battlefield command, it was Marcus'' skills in these areas that stood out. He had handled all of this excellently. It was also thanks to Krang, who didn''t indulge in useless victory speeches. "It''s time for everyone to rest. Do you think it''s important to listen to a speech from someone who only watched from behind? Instead of giving that nonsense, it would be better to wrap another bandage around a wounded soldier''s arm." In fact, Krang openly cared for the wounded, without hiding his face, and those who recognized him as the prince and future king were rare. Not many soldiers even knew his face. Though he had the skill to boost morale with speeches, Krang felt that wasn''t the priority now. He proved his words through actions. After handling the battlefield, only then did Enkrid and the others return. As the healer expressed his gratitude, Enkrid, lost in thought, asked, "Do you know me?" "My son went to the battlefield," the healer said, limping. "If it weren''t for my leg, I would''ve gone too." The healer turned, his gratitude for Enkrid not for saving his son, for he had died. No words could bring back the dead, and the healer''s heart ached with grief. However, there was a small consolation. Had the battle ended in defeat, the death of his son would have been in vain. That was the only small comfort. Everyone was caught up in the joy of victory¡ªthe victory in the civil war, survival from an impossible battle, and the joy of those who had lived. Rumors spread about the grand coronation. Craftsmen gathered, planning to build a structure to commemorate it in the city center. Soon, a festival would begin, and once everything was settled, there would be rewards and daily feasts. Yet, some had lost their families and loved ones. "May they rest in peace." The healer thought of his son and left. Enkrid watched him leave, the words that the son had died on the battlefield echoing in his ears. Esther, too, was exhausted, not even leaving Enkrid''s arms in her panther form. Enkrid woke from a deep sleep and, as usual, stretched his body using the Isolation technique. Even if they were to give out rewards, the situation around them had to be more or less settled first. That would take at least ten days. Enkrid continued his usual routine. He went to feed Wierd-Eyes, mixing meat and vegetables instead of the usual grain, and met with Andrew and the remaining trainees. There were now four trainees. "One of them?" "His leg was severed. Even with divine power, a lost leg can''t grow back." One of the trainees had lost a leg. The battle had been fierce. As Enkrid fought through the waves of ghostly soldiers, the others weren''t idle. Enkrid nodded. These were individuals who chose to fight, and it was right to respect that decision. "He said he wishes he were a Frog," Andrew added calmly. Neither Enkrid nor Andrew were shaken by such things. Their lives had not been easy. "Never again," Andrew said, staring into the distance. After a moment, he continued, as if making a vow to himself rather than to Enkrid. "I won''t watch my people get hurt." Enkrid nodded. The trainee who had lost his leg had been offered a chance to become a butler candidate. He didn''t look particularly gloomy. "I think I''ll be fine once I get used to the prosthesis. It''s better than dying," he said, showing his tough spirit. Enkrid patted his shoulder and turned away. "Thanks to you, I lived." "You lived because you fought well," the trainee replied, and Enkrid responded in kind. It was sincere. He believed the trainee had saved his own life with his hands. The trainee had mentioned his fiance?e. Enkrid had briefly seen her. She seemed strong. "If you lose a leg, what? I''ll feed you!" she said boldly. She was a strong woman. Krang was far too busy to be seen. Marcus was also nowhere to be found. A few days later, Aishia visited, but she wasn''t in a condition to train seriously. When she hinted at this, Enkrid cautiously asked, "Don''t you have anything to do other than fight?" Aishia looked surprised. "Is there nothing else? I''ve filled the place with my people, so no one will complain. There are some foolish nobles, but they''ll handle themselves. We''re preparing for the coronation. It needs to be done grandly," she said, expressing her frustration. Enkrid thought of Krang. He was a broad and great person, but people change. Hadn''t he seen people change before? He had seen mercenaries who had once risked their lives for their friends stab their comrades for a gold coin. He had seen a father throw his adopted son to monsters to survive. That man had been a good person at first. It was just that the situation had changed him. Wasn''t it said that after twenty days surrounded by monsters, anyone could change? Enkrid had once challenged that man to a duel. He lost, but he killed him. That was one of his past experiences. So, Krang, too, could change. The grand coronation. It was time. They had won, and the victory herald had been sent. With the victory in the civil war, Krang was the rightful heir to the throne. Enkrid felt like returning to the Border Guard. The sky was dimming, and it looked like rain was coming again. "How is your body?" Aishia asked. "Not bad. I don''t think I can risk my life in a fight, but a light spar should be fine." A proper fight was impossible, but a light spar should be doable. Rest was better, but right now, he felt like moving his body more. Aishia nodded and took out a wooden sword. "You said it was a light sparring match?" Enkrid glanced at it and replied, "It''s a wooden sword, isn''t it?" "Light sparring," Aishia repeated, tilting her head. Enkrid, instead of the broken silver sword, took out a longsword he had picked up, which had been sharpened for two days. "Where''s the light in that?" Aishia aimed her sword at him, and Rem, Ragna, Audin, Jaxen, and Fel all watched. Pell, after the fight, immediately introduced himself and inserted himself into the group. "I''m Fel, the shepherd of the wastelands." He had light brown hair and a slightly taller stature than Krais, with a body that was quite well-trained, his posture sharp. "I saw your performance on the battlefield." Everyone looked at him with a ''So what?'' expression, but Fel''s face was unfazed. Shepherds were generally bold, but Fel, among the wasteland shepherds, was one who insisted on using a sword. "Let me observe," he said confidently. Enkrid recognized him and was a bit surprised, but nodded nonchalantly. Honestly, Enkrid was somewhat intrigued. ''That shepherd from before.'' His posture had changed, and the atmosphere around him had shifted. It was proof that his skills had grown. As Fel watched, the light sparring ended. Having already seen the battle, Fel thought, ''Impressive.'' To be honest, Fel wondered if anyone had greater talent than him. That night, they had sparred, and although he had been pushed back, he believed he had caught up. But now, the opponent''s sword had become even harder and sharper. It was far beyond what it had been then. The growth was undeniable. More than anything, seeing that sword made Fel''s blood boil. He was naturally combative, but this was different. He was almost itching to fight right then, with his hand hovering near his sword. "...When will your body be fully healed?" Fel asked. "You''re last, kid." "Heh, brother. You should respect the order. There''s no order when meeting the Lord, but here there is." "Go drink some more milk." "..." "You''ll need to pass by me first, then?" Rem, Audin, Ragna, Jaxen, and Dunbakel followed in that order. Teresa quietly observed every movement of Enkrid''s. Jaxen, silent for a while, threw a glance at them. "...Alright, let''s do it like that." Fel couldn''t insist any longer. The words from the others were not to be taken lightly. It was hard to gauge the skill of Dunbakel, the beastkin. Was he going to lose? He never even considered the possibility. The best food was always saved for last. He''d knock them all down and then face Enkrid. It wouldn''t be bad. Fel trusted in his own talent. He thought that in at most six months, he''d catch up to all of them. Everyone had their own illusions. After the sparring with Aishia, Enkrid still felt his body creaking here and there. Although he had recovered quickly, he wasn''t at full strength yet. Five days later, when he had fully recovered, he was called to the palace. "You must attend." It was none other than the Marquis of Okto who had come in person. "Are you not busy? Coming all the way here just for me?" The Marquis of Okto was surprised that the man before him didn''t recognize his own position. "Realize your position." Enkrid had now become someone even the Marquis could not casually speak down to. If one were to choose a hero who led the civil war to victory, who would it be? Anyone would name Enkrid. Not just a national hero, but a Demon Slayer. He was someone the king himself called a friend and showed greater skill than any semi-knight in the order. And what about his subordinates? ''They are all incredibly skilled.'' Normally, people of such skill should be in the knight order, right? But they were all simply connected to Enkrid. The politically sharp Marquis of Okto understood instinctively. If he lost Enkrid, he''d lose everyone. He knew some nobles had already tried to approach them covertly. Naturally, they had all failed. "You want me to take your gold and swing an axe for it? Don''t you know what my nickname is? Go look it up." The noble killer, Rem. He boldly proclaimed that he was a man capable of cutting off a noble''s head, sending chills down the spine of every noble. He was a madman. Jaxen was nowhere to be found. Audin smiled and deflected the matter with words about following the teachings of the gods. Ragna lightly ignored all summons. Only Rem and Audin had met with the Marquis. "But why am I not called?" Dunbakel expressed a small curiosity, but no one answered. Though the Marquis of Okto was not without greed. ''There''s no need to stir up bad impressions for no reason.'' The Marquis was wise. Enkrid honestly didn''t care. "A coronation ceremony will be held." The Marquis''s words made Enkrid nod. Would his friend have changed? The friend who once looked beyond the throne and crown, had he become intoxicated with them? Enkrid recalled the healer who had lost her son. Five days later, Enkrid stood on a podium not at the palace banquet hall, but in the heart of the capital. On the podium, a small tower had been built. Krang stood on the podium with a smile. There was much to be done. From the coronation, to the distribution of honors, to what had happened with the Marquis of Okto, to the chimera, to the chaos in the dark magic realm. None of it could be ignored, but the first thing Krang chose was this. He built the tower and engraved the names of the fallen soldiers. Just learning each name was a task in itself. Some people at this event would not be pleased. Nonetheless, he did it. "Would you mind saying a few words first?" A voice amplified through a spell object in front of the memorial. Krang called Enkrid. Enkrid stepped onto the podium. Standing before the amplification object, Enkrid paused as he chose his words but then gave up. The healer had lost her son. Was the son''s action meaningless? No one knows the future, after all. But he hoped it had been meaningful to him. "A person." Enkrid uttered a word, paused to catch his breath, then continued. "Friends, family, lovers, those who died protecting their backs, I honor them." Some in the capital shed tears, others smiled. Krang then stepped forward. "I honor those who died for me." He began reading the names on the memorial. "Bin, Locktine, Laksan..." The memorial lasted long. At the end of it all, Krang declared in a calm voice that he was the new king of Naurilia. "With clear will and purpose, I declare that I, Kryanaht Angius Naurilius, am the new king of Naurilia." The queen said nothing but silently placed the crown on his head. Applause echoed. There were no cheers. What should this be called? A coronation of remembrance. Krang, honoring the fallen, took the crown. From the very beginning of the event, rain had been falling steadily. Krang stood drenched in the rain. It was the same in the battlefield, but the rain came often. The pouring rain embraced the shoulders of those who had lost family, lovers, and friends. -------------------------------------- Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 421 - Something Ominous is Coming Chapter 421 - 421 - Something Ominous is Coming Chapter 421 - Something Ominous is Coming "Something ominous is coming." The violet lamp, a boat floating on a dark river, and the ferryman¡ªthis dreamscape was as familiar to Enkrid as the back of his hand. He sat at the edge of the boat, pondering whether it was appropriate to cross his legs. The ferryman''s gaze turned toward him before he could decide. "I can say no more." The ferryman''s response was as capricious as ever. Enkrid regarded him with the exasperated look reserved for someone whose personality seemed to change each time they met, shifting tone and words as whims dictated. Still, dealing with erratic individuals was not something that troubled Enkrid. His extensive experience traversing the continent in pursuit of swordsmanship had hardened him to such peculiarities. Warriors, mercenaries, nobles'' guards, caravan swordsmen, fencing instructors¡ªhe had encountered countless eccentric and idiosyncratic people in his journey. And among them, none were as unique as the soldiers under his current command. When it came to handling erratic personalities, the ferryman''s quirks might even pale in comparison to someone like Rem. Enkrid knew not to react too much. "I see." He acknowledged the ferryman''s words, taking a moment before asking, "How do you know this ominous feeling is approaching?" The ferryman remained silent, his eyes fixed on Enkrid. True to his word, he said nothing more. Suddenly, the world turned dark. When Enkrid opened his eyes, it was morning. The summer sun had risen early, illuminating the world even as he began his practice of the Isolation Technique. Enkrid returned to his usual training routine, his mind briefly reflecting on Jaxen, who had been distant and contemplative since their sparring match. After showing unexpected friendliness to the soldiers, Jaxen had reverted to his stoic self, now away on some errand. Enkrid regretted not getting another chance to spar with him. "Good morning, brother," Audin greeted as he approached. Following him were Teresa, Dunbakel, Ropord, and Fel. "Starting the day hard, I see," Fel remarked dryly. It was clear this was not for show¡ªEnkrid''s rigorous training was purely for himself. "When will you step up?" Enkrid asked, undeterred. "Not yet," Fel replied, knowing full well he''d lose. Still, watching Enkrid train stirred something in Fel¡ªa primal, almost instinctual desire to compete. Though reluctant to challenge him outright, Fel couldn''t deny the man had a way of igniting one''s fighting spirit. Shrugging off the thought, Enkrid turned to Audin, pushing his body to the limits alongside him. Starting with striking techniques, they shifted into positions that stretched their muscles to the breaking point. "Muscles that lack flexibility are just useless lumps of flesh," Audin instructed, guiding the session. Nearby, Teresa helped Ropord with his training, while Dunbakel, drenched in sweat, tried to keep up with Enkrid''s drills. After the strange dream, the morning passed as usual. Their routine was soon to be interrupted by the myriad tasks waiting for Enkrid. It had been two weeks since returning to Border Guard. Days were beginning to feel familiar, even the quirks of being addressed as "General" by the battalion commander. Though the workload was heavy, Krais had taken on much of it with vigor, leaving Enkrid relatively free. "Standardizing the soldiers'' equipment might be a good start," Krais suggested. "We can then divide them into different units for specialized training." Training, security, diplomacy, and even finance¡ªKrais handled it all. "Rockfreed''s guild wants to open branches in nearby cities. Should I approve it? Leona might sulk if we don''t." "Go ahead," Enkrid replied, barely needing to intervene. "Your meals¡ªare you eating properly?" Enkrid asked as he toweled off sweat, his training weapon¡ªa steel sword weighing five times the norm¡ªstill in hand. "Pardon?" Krais looked up. "You seem busy." "Moderately so." "Should I raise your pay?" "It''s already at its limit. Any more, and I''d earn more than the lord of Border Guard." At least he wasn''t the type to neglect his own pockets, Enkrid thought, nodding in approval. Krais wasn''t merely delegating tasks¡ªhe was pulling resources from everywhere, bringing in capable individuals like Gilpin and leveraging Rockfreed''s expertise to handle the numbers. Enkrid was content to let him manage. Truth be told, even he couldn''t handle the logistics at this level. Instead, Enkrid focused on specific details, such as soldiers'' armaments. "Divide them into spearmen, swordsmen, and shield-bearers. Train them in the basics of all weaponry, but standardize their equipment as follows..." For swordsmen, the kit included a longsword, a dagger, a compact wrist-mounted crossbow, padded leather armor reinforced with oiled flax, leather gauntlets and greaves, three throwing knives, a hand axe, a kite shield, a cloth-lined leather helm, and a short cudgel. The hand crossbow was a weapon Enkrid had developed, inspired by something he had once seen used by bandits. Spearmen and archers were similar in terms of secondary weapons. "Isn''t it pure torture to strap on even a single extra pack when you''re already fully armed?" Krais thought this as he glanced at his commander, who promptly answered. "If someone can''t handle this, send them home." There had been a time when the Border Guard''s standing army was so short on numbers that anyone willing was immediately accepted and sent to the battlefield with little preparation. That was no longer the case. "Rather than a large army, we need a small force of elites." Krais agreed with that sentiment. The ideas they discussed now were all meant to improve the combat effectiveness of their soldiers. Although an office had been set up, Enkrid rarely used it, preferring to discuss matters in a training yard. Decisions made there would determine the future of the troops. Infantry, spearmen, archers, shield-bearers, cavalry, mounted archers¡ª Enkrid laid out the big picture, and Krais contributed his insights. "Since we''re at it, why not gather some of the better soldiers and restructure the unit? You know we can''t remain as just the Independent Unit forever, right?" A nod. Enkrid passed on the decision they had reached to Rem. "Rem, pick out some promising men and form a new unit." It would become an assault force, suited for breaking through and tearing apart enemy lines when war broke out. "Hmm? Are you serious about that?" Enkrid hesitated for a moment. The goal was to build a unit, not to break the soldiers in half. "I said form a unit, not torment them." "I''ll give it my best shot." Rem stood up as he spoke. "Don''t try too hard." Enkrid, feeling a bit of pity for the soldiers, added that comment. He gave Ragna the same task. "It''s too much trouble." "Cavalry or infantry, either works." "Still too much trouble." After returning from the palace, Ragna had thrown himself into training for a few days but soon reverted to his usual lazy self, dozing off and loafing around the barracks. Ropord often dragged him out to the training grounds, but Ragna quickly returned to his idleness afterward. Despite Ragna''s threats and occasional beatings, Ropord was fearless, repeatedly asking for sparring sessions. "If you keep annoying me, I might just chop off an arm." "I''ll train hard to avoid that!" Ropord was unrelenting, showing a spirit that, at least outwardly, seemed exceptional. While Ragna was the type to follow through on his threats, Enkrid was fairly certain he wouldn''t go as far as to actually cut off a limb¡ªprobably. Even so, Enkrid felt compelled to give a warning. "Don''t cut anything off." "We''ll see." The uneasy response left Enkrid conflicted, but assigning Ropord to Ragna did bring some peace of mind. Ropord, having trained in a knightly order, was more adept at organizing and educating soldiers. Dunbakel was assigned to Rem. Enkrid figured if Rem spent his energy pestering her, he''d be less likely to torment the recruits. Audin was on board with his new role. "Of course, brother." Enkrid, wary of Audin''s enthusiasm, assigned Teresa to keep an eye on him. He was confident this would suffice for creating elite troops. There wasn''t a need for overwhelming numbers. Enkrid wasn''t one to shy away from responsibility. He carried out his duties without skimping on training or personal discipline. Thanks to Krais''s efficiency, he didn''t have to sacrifice additional training time. "Let''s take a look at the training. Do it as you always do." Luagarne had officially joined under Enkrid''s command, following approval from the palace. Since then, she had stuck to him like a duckling following its mother. During her time with the Gilpin Guild, she had crossed paths with a local Frog, Maelrun, while pummeling troublemakers in the city. Their interaction was indifferent, as if neither cared for the other''s existence. When asked about it, she explained: "He''s a Frog." "So what?" "They''re living their desires, and their desires don''t concern me." It was a typical Frog perspective, focused solely on their interests. That Luagarne was so well-versed in various matters was unusual; her curiosity leaned toward academic pursuits. "What do you think is the essence of a formal sword style?" Luagarne was incredibly helpful, especially when it came to teaching concepts. Being a skilled sparring partner didn''t necessarily make one a good teacher. Looking at Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxen made that clear enough. They were all terrible at instructing others despite their talents. In contrast, Luagarne excelled as an educator. "Precision?" "Hints and feints." Her point was simple: the goal was to control the opponent''s movements with subtle cues, not necessarily by swinging the sword. "Swinging a sword is merely the confirmation of intent." "And what about Rem countering instantly during sparring?" "That axe of his is monstrous." Luagarne''s perceptive eyes evaluated talent, and to her, Rem was a monster. "What about Ragna?" "That bastard''s a sword-wielding monster." "And Audin?" "His body is monstrous." "Jaxen?" "A scheming monster?" Her vocabulary wasn''t particularly sophisticated, but Enkrid found himself agreeing with her assessments. "And me?" "You''re an incomprehensible monster." "Am I, now?" Shinar occasionally stepped in as a sparring partner, showing techniques so chilling that it was hard to believe she wasn''t holding back. It felt as if she was deliberately moderating her skills. "What, did you expect to beat me easily, fiance??" "I think it''s time you came up with a different title for me." "General fiance??" "Let''s not change it." *** Krais, observing Enkrid''s actions, deduced his intentions. "Preparing for war?" "Probably." "Against Aspen?" "Likely." Though Enkrid gave vague answers, Krais seemed to grasp the situation fully. He was impossible to read, with a mind that seemed to understand everything. Even in the midst of these days, the Ferryman visited Enkrid in his dreams. "Dread approaches." Hearing the same phrase for the fifteenth night, Enkrid wondered if the Ferryman wanted him to say he was tired of it. After all, Enkrid often called the Ferryman a wretched and tiresome figure. But he didn''t truly feel that way. "Any idea how close it is?" "I cannot tell." He was merely curious. If the Ferryman mentioned it, it had to be significant. Yet even the Ferryman couldn''t pinpoint the nature of the looming threat. Repetitive events allowed glimpses into fixed futures, but the unknown was beyond even divine comprehension. The Ferryman mused. "Even the cycles of today change." And this man standing before him was the proof. That was the price. "Dread draws near." The Ferryman offered his counsel. "Yes, I look forward to it." Watching the cursed man respond so nonchalantly, the Ferryman felt a slight, fleeting annoyance but didn''t withdraw his advice. "The dread is close." "Is that so?" Enkrid remained as composed as ever. "Take it seriously, fool, who walks the mortal path toward inevitable ruin." "Yes, I''m serious." Despite the words, Enkrid''s demeanor brimmed with anticipation, which deeply unsettled the Ferryman. -------------------------------------- Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 415 - The Nobles Ask and Enkrid Answers Chapter 415 - 415 - The Nobles Ask and Enkrid Answers Chapter 415 - The Nobles Ask and Enkrid Answers How many nobles are there in the capital? Not all of them are in good standing. This was a fact that could be realized with just a little thought. "How about this? If you come to my territory, I can give you a manor and personally bestow upon you the title of guardian of the land..." It all started with Baron Somerset. Enkrid tried to politely dismiss him as much as he could. "I''m not interested." This was a situation he had never encountered before. Had he ever received such attention from the nobles in his life? Enkrid pushed the offer away by stating his intentions clearly. "Well, um..." Baron Somerset was at a loss for words. His tone was so firm that he didn''t even realize that this was still kindness. Deep down, however, he felt resentful. He knew Enkrid was an impressive individual, but how could one live solely by the sword in this world? Everyone needed some sort of background. Wasn''t it only natural that to make a name for oneself in the capital, this would be the case? It was only natural for Baron Somerset, given what he knew. "Well then, I''ll take my leave." Enkrid bowed lightly and turned to leave. His young attendant saw his master''s hand shaking. Even so, the national hero who turned away like that appeared dignified. "Impressive." Whether noble or not, he just said his piece and walked away. How many little ones wouldn''t look up to him for that? Admiration wasn''t only limited to children. Among the palace maids, a group had started a discussion about whether Enkrid or Saxon had the better face. Meanwhile, Audin, Rem, Dunbakel, and Teresa''s names were also mentioned in passing. Enkrid had already made a name for himself among the noblewomen. But now, it wasn''t just that. Among the nobles in the capital, there was no one who didn''t know Enkrid and the Madmen Unit. Some of them had even brought their daughters to meet him. Enkrid met with them all, thinking of Krais. "My daughter." She was rather pretty. Seeing her shyly bow her head made her appear innocent as well. Enkrid, looking at the lady''s exposed arm, thought she wouldn''t even be able to wield a rapier properly with that arm and politely declined. "I''m busy." "What''s so busy?" "I have to train." There were various polite exchanges, but at its core, that was the conversation. Some had even brought their daughters, saying they should become their heirs. "I have no children." He looked to be about seventy and was a thin old man. He mentioned how he had never spent his wealth recklessly and that supporting the king''s side in this war was the greatest gamble of his life. After handling that, Jaxon approached and said, "He has six children, but none of them were to his liking, so he kicked them out." A true miser, this nobleman ate black bread instead of white at home. He was the one who had come offering everything he had, even bringing the deed with him. All that was needed was to stamp it with a seal, and the deal would be done. Enkrid had no seal. He was a commoner, after all. Several other nobles came after that. At least they weren''t the lower-tier ones, but the ones with a bit more stature. Among them were a few special ones. "I''ll say this upfront, I''m not from Aspen, and this is just a commission. So, there''s no need to cut me or hurt me. My job is only to deliver their words and hear their response." The man looked as if he were sweating bullets under the shaded tree. He seemed to be a judge working in the capital. A lesser noble, but he made extra income through various commissions. He was acting like he had been coerced into delivering the message. Enkrid nodded. "They promised the Duke of Aspen''s protection." Was the civil war in Naurilia just their problem? No. It was something that concerned all neighboring countries. It made sense that Aspen was the first to say something like this. And what about Enkrid? Was he someone loyal to his country? Or was he someone with his own desires? "They said it might even be possible to arrange a marriage with the princess." Enkrid started to worry about the judge''s dehydration. The sweat was flowing freely. "Reject it." "Oh, yes. Understood." He didn''t even seem to consider trying to persuade him a second time. At this point, he was growing weary of all the offers of gold and women. It was around this time that he started to get annoyed. "How about we cut off a few arms? They won''t come back then." Rem offered his advice. Enkrid found the suggestion tempting, considering how bothered he was. "Better just ignore them." Ragna also stepped in. It was a bit softer, but the issue was that the nobles didn''t come alone¡ª they brought attendants or maids. Did nobles suffer? No, it was their attendants who did. It was hard to ignore when he saw the little ones trembling and seeking him out. "Heh, if you calm your mind with prayer, that''s the way to handle it. You can help them get cloesr to the lord too, Commander." At first, prayer meant literal prayer, but the kind of "prayer" the second part referred to could involve fists and feet. Enkrid thought it wasn''t any different from Rem''s way. Dunbakel and Teresa didn''t care about these things. Jaxon secretly thought it might be easier to just kill them, but he didn''t voice it. He knew when to exercise caution. Esther simply watched with half-lidded eyes. "You should be careful. You''ve been marked by the devil." When he said that, Enkrid''s response truly unsettled Esther. "He''s strong, right?" He was asking about the devil''s power. "Would it be hard to defeat?" He seemed to be looking forward to a fight with the devil. "Madman." Esther muttered under her breath, then turned into a panther again. It wasn''t something she intended to say out loud, but if she didn''t voice it, it would build up inside. In the world of spellcasting, she couldn''t afford to keep such frustration inside. Enkrid didn''t reproach him for saying something strange out of nowhere. Anyway, Enkrid decided to handle it without listening to anyone''s advice and would simply dismiss them. Even so, it was a bother. He briefly entertained the idea of sending them all to Boder Guard. "Long time no see, national hero and demon slayer, of Boder Guard..." "That''s enough for now." They were old acquaintances. Enkrid thought that if he forgot this lady''s name, her beautiful face would turn into a furious ghoul. "Lady Baisar." "...You haven''t forgotten my name, have you?" "Of course not." Enkrid was good with words. He managed to get by without saying her name out loud. The capital''s most beautiful woman, Kin Baisar, couldn''t press him on it any longer. She hadn''t come alone, and the man before her had spoken without leaving any openings. It wasn''t something she could demand he say her name on the spot. It would be neither polite nor dignified for a noble to act that way. "I think you may have forgotten it, though." However, there was doubt. It was a reasonable doubt. Enkrid had forgotten her name while repeating the day. But why had she come all the way to the training hall? Behind her, five attendants and an old man were approaching. "Recently, many annoying people have come to visit, haven''t they?" It was Marquis Baisar. Kin bowed her head and stepped aside. "There is no need to make room for me. I don''t intend to waste anyone''s time." Marquis Baisar was originally an efficient person. He disliked wasting time. That was the difference between him and the others who had come. Instead of sending servants and maids, he sent members of his family and entered the training hall. In the presence of Rem and others, the marquis spoke. "I think you''re getting quite old, Kin. Planning to marry?" Enkrid was no fool. His sharpness had been acknowledged by Krais. Kin, without showing any signs of embarrassment, lowered her head, and the marquis seemed to believe that his suggestion was unassailable. "My title of marquis will be passed to Marcus." If you consider this statement, you could understand the meaning behind what was being said. Kin Baisar was a symbol. A symbol connecting him and the Baisar family. What was the advantage of that? Once the public commendation ceremony started, the Baisar family would receive the title of duke. There was no one else who had contributed as much to the battlefield as Marcus Baisar, and he had the influence to make the Baisar family duke-level. If they were to become the head of the Centerpole family, the title of duke would be assured. You will have the backing of the kingdom''s only ducal family. Do what you wish. There would be no force or coercion. This was the hidden meaning behind the marquis'' proposal. Marquis Baisar was no fool either. He had no intention of using force or oppression toward Enkrid. He simply wanted to deepen their connection, and if that were the case, he would give him the kingdom''s most beautiful woman and everything else needed. That was his proposal. It would have been fine to put forward another woman, but he chose Kin. It was a gesture of respect for Kin Baisar. Even if it were Krais, it would have been an audacious proposal that made one wonder, "Could this be?" Enkrid stared at the marquis for a moment before turning his gaze to Kin Baisar. If a noble''s daughter, a woman like Kin, were to be spoken of, she would typically be arranged for a political marriage. It was a society that encouraged that. So, was that an enjoyable thing? Was it fun? Enkrid did not know Kin Baisar well. However, he saw her as a person, not just a woman. He didn''t know her deeply, but they had exchanged brief conversations and glances before. The Kin Baisar he saw back then didn''t appear to desire a life as the mistress of a mansion. Although this might be a rude comment, Enkrid went ahead with it. When had he ever been someone to mind his manners or hold back words? "What is your dream?" He asked her. Kin Baisar stared at him with a blank expression. She was a symbol. Merely the target of a political marriage. That was all. She didn''t need to have any affection for him, and she was perfectly fine with it. But what was this talk about a dream? It was an inappropriate question for the situation. "Don''t you have a dream? Something you want to do?" Kin Baisar was taken aback. She thought to herself that this person was truly unpredictable. The marquis remained silent. He was not someone who usually expressed his emotions. Was it okay to answer? "It seems like you do." She had been born into a noble family but hadn''t spent her life confined to the house. She had things she wanted to do. But these weren''t things she would say in front of the head of the family. In their family, the marquis'' word was law. If he said to marry for a political alliance, that was what would happen. "I wish to work with the hero of the kingdom." Kin gave a textbook answer. No one spoke. Even the marquis simply watched. "What do you want to do?" Enkrid asked again, his tone firm, and Kin began to sweat. It felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. "Say it." The marquis stared at Enkrid and spoke. Kin hesitated for a moment, then carefully opened her mouth. "I''ve always been interested in handling jewels, so I''ve been dabbling in it." "That''s quite the hobby, but I hear you''ve found a sizable business for it?" The marquis commented. He already knew. Kin Baisar had an excellent eye for jewels. She was also a trendsetter in the capital''s fashion and style. It was thanks to her innate talent and the cultivation she received from the Baisar family. She certainly had a sense that could be called genius. "Is that what you really want to do?" The marquis asked. Kin didn''t know how to respond. When she remained silent, Enkrid spoke up instead. "Why ask again? Are you getting stubborn with age?. Do not bother me anymore." Most of the attendants were stunned. Wasn''t that crossing the line? But they had no intention of challenging him. Enkrid might be fierce, but looking at those standing behind him, it was obvious they would never dare to confront him. Rem grinned, licking the edge of his axe blade. "Disgusting." Ragna scolded him. "Don''t mind it." The two soon began bickering. "Am I stubborn because I''m old?" The marquis blinked in surprise, not a trace of humor in his expression. The tension could have been felt, but compared to Count Molsan, who was possessed by a demon, this was almost cute. "I don''t need to prove myself, just a sword is enough for me." Enkrid replied. That ended the conversation. Unlike other nobles, there was no reason to engage with him any further. Enkrid genuinely felt that way. Whether it was Marquis Baisar or Somerset, it was all the same to him. "Then." Just bothersome people who interrupted his training. As he bowed in respect and turned away, the marquis stared at Enkrid for a moment before turning his head. He looked sulky, as if upset. "Are you sure it''s fine to treat a marquis like that? Maybe we could just cut him off?" Rem made a gesture around his neck with his hand and gave his advice, but Enkrid ignored it. "Wasting time." He was serious. He had learned and discovered so much, and his body was now itching to put it all into practice. It wasn''t surprising because, from the moment Enkrid first picked up a sword, he had no talent at all. Yet, he had awakened his Will in an instant, applied it, and even imitated Ragna''s sword. As he felt the changes in his body, now every time he swung his sword, it was ten times more enjoyable than before. Of course, to Fel and others who didn''t know, he probably seemed like a madman obsessed with training. Fel, seeing Kin Baisar''s appearance, couldn''t help but think that Enkrid must really be a person with two eggs and a stick made of stone. "Is he a eunuch?" He asked the beast warrior, Dunbakel. "I think so too. He never falls for me either." Fel thought as he looked at the smelly Dunbakel. ''I wouldn''t fall for you either.'' The beast-woman next to them sure hated to wash. -------------------------------------- Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 416 - Farewell Chapter 416 - 416 - Farewell Chapter 416 - Farewell "If you have something you want to do, then go ahead." The Marquis looked at Kin for a moment, then turned and left without another word. Kin stood still for a while, lost in thought. The wind blew, sending dust into the air. Kin didn''t even notice as the dust brushed across her face. ''Is this really happening?'' She trembled all over from surprise. The lord was not someone who would take back his words once spoken. As she reflected, the words and actions of the one who had created this situation stirred her emotions. ''Should I thank him?'' Honestly, she wasn''t indifferent to Enkrid. But that didn''t mean she wanted to become his wife. Was it a dream? Kin found herself more interested in the finished product than in crafting or processing jewels. If she were born into a prestigious family like the Baisar Marquisate, her role would be to appreciate the finished product, not to meddle with its creation or sale. Thus, this was a difficult task to ask permission for. It had to remain more of a hobby. But how could human desires work like that? She loved this work. She cherished the opportunity to showcase her own abilities and act on her own will, not just as a man''s accessory. However, there were sacrifices to be made for that. She could borrow the family''s reputation, but she could no longer live as if she were the direct heir of the Baisar Marquisate. Kin wasn''t naive enough to be unaware of that. ''Is this really how I should live?'' At that moment, a truly free-spirited person caught her attention. His name was Enkrid. The thought of thanking him felt right. After all, it was because of his words that this situation had come to pass. With that conclusion in mind, she began to walk toward Enkrid, who was wielding a sword at the training grounds. She had taken only a few steps when she heard a voice. "Let it be." The barbarian, who was leaning against the wall, spoke. "I have something to say..." "Right now, it would be impossible to get his atention even if you were naked dancing by the side... Oh, you''re a noble, right? Anyway, no matter what you say, he won''t listen." The unpleasant metaphor didn''t faze Kin as she ignored it and looked at Enkrid. The man, with his back to the Marquis, was swinging his sword. His pupils were unfocused, and his mouth was half open. He seemed intoxicated, as if on some kind of drug. He had already sunk deeply into his swordsmanship. What a relentless fanatic. ''Maybe that''s why he''s called a madman.'' Kin turned away. Later, she shared this story with a few acquaintances. The Marquis of Baisar, though pretending to be upset, couldn''t help but admire the man''s spirited nature and shared this anecdote here and there. As a result, no one in the capital could bother Enkrid and his companions. After all, he was the one who had turned down even the Baisar Marquisate''s influence, which was above that of the Duke. *** Immediately after the Marquis and Kin left, Enkrid turned his back to them and swung his sword again. He couldn''t delay this fun any longer. Whether anyone was watching or waiting didn''t matter; he couldn''t put it off any longer. ''Ah, this is fun.'' Did he learn anything from sparring with Rem, Ragna, or Audin? No, it was just a broken fight. But still, this was fun. Every movement he repeated, whether swinging his sword or thinking about it, was a joy. He repeated basic moves hundreds of times a day: vertical cuts, horizontal cuts, downward cuts, thrusts. Enkrid began to repeat these motions again. He wasn''t expecting any new epiphanies or changes. He just enjoyed it, and so he continued. After spending a few days swinging his sword and engaging in simple duels, news came that a military honor ceremony was to be held. "Let''s go." Enkrid set out with Rem, Ragna, Audin, Dunbakel, and Theresa. Shinar had business to attend to and left earlier, not even joining them. "I''ll pass on this one," Jaxen said. He wasn''t the type to attend such events. Esther shook her head in her leopard form. So the remaining few left together. In the meeting room, many nobles had gathered. "The hero of the nation has arrived," a servant announced, and Krang, seated on the throne, nodded. The two nobles standing closest were the Marquis of Okto and Marcus Baisar. Behind them stood the Marquis of Baisar. Without dwelling on the king''s greatness or the noble bloodline, Krang spoke. "I apologize for the delay of the event." Some nobles sighed when they saw how short the proceedings were. They muttered about the king''s dignity, but when in front of Krang, they remained silent. The king who ended the civil war. The king who won without calling upon the knight orders. The king whom the nobles had chosen to follow. This was the king''s first event. Could anyone openly defy the actions he had taken? Even a fool would know better than to oppose him in such a situation. Some nobles and commanders received appropriate rewards¡ªlands or titles like the Earl. Among them was Andrew. He received lands, gold coins, and a change in rank. He had become the Marquis of Gardener. He was also given a position within the capital. The ceremony proceeded smoothly. "By royal decree, Marcus Baisar is hereby awarded the rank of Count..." The scribe, who also served as a monk, read the king''s message. "Due to his contributions, he will be granted a title above the Count." As the words ended, the atmosphere, which had been lively, suddenly grew cold. It was as if someone had thrown ice water over them. "What did you just say?" the Marquis of Baisar asked, his lips trembling. Marcus Baisar was supposed to inherit the family name. Because of this event, he was expected to receive a Duke''s title. But now, he was being offered the rank of Count, effectively cutting off his succession as the head of the family. Enkrid understood that this was all part of Marcus Baisar''s plan. A small uproar broke out, and the Marquis of Baisar looked embarrassed. The head of the Baisar family ultimately sided with Krang, but it hadn''t been like that from the start. After much consideration, they had chosen to side with the king, much like placing their bets on a gamble. To Marcus, however, this had been no gamble. The Marquis of Baisar glared at Marcus for a moment, then shook his head and fell silent. Enkrid observed this, thinking that the old man seemed like a child throwing a tantrum. "Due to his great contributions, the Duke''s title is awarded." The Marquis of Okto replaced the Marquis of Baisar as Duke. He kneeled and bowed. As rewards continued to be distributed, there were still a few who hadn''t been called up yet. Enkrid and the Madmen Unit were among them. "I''d like to handle this personally," the king said, rising from his throne. He stepped forward and, without glancing at anyone else, spoke. "Do you need a title?" It was as if he was asking a neighbor if they needed firewood. Enkrid thought ''not really,'' so he gently shook his head and replied. "No, thank you." His attitude, as if he had left all formalities behind, was enough to make some nobles furrow their brows. "I knew you would say that. The treasuries are open, so if you want anything, feel free to take what you can." "Thank you." "Afterward, you can return to where you were." That was the most awaited phrase for Enkrid. However, some still looked at him with suspicion. ''Is that all? Just opening the treasure vault?'' "Is this right?" "What happens to the hunting dogs once the hunt is over?" "They should be cooked and eaten, of course." There was one fool mumbling nonsense in the background, but neither Krang nor Enkrid paid him any mind. "We''re busy. I trust you''re busy as well. Just because the civil war is over doesn''t mean it''s all ''happily ever after.'' You know that, right?" In fairy tales, civil wars never turn into blood-drenched battlefields, so the statement was naturally true. "So, let''s get to work." The workaholic king spoke, and the heroic ceremony was wrapped up in an unexpectedly modest manner. A lunch banquet was held. It was a gathering without alcohol. Even the king didn''t attend. "I''m worried about the king''s dignity." A few nobles still fretted over the king''s behavior, but Enkrid had no time for such concerns. Hadn''t they seen it at the memorial ceremony already? Krang recited the names of the soldiers inscribed on the memorial stone. Enkrid looked at the eyes of the people who had once turned toward him. There was a monk silently praying. A mother wept as she gazed at the new king. There were fathers and children too. Among the nobles, those of proper standing knelt to swear their allegiance after the coronation. Without the grandeur of a halo or a grand celebration, the coronation held in the heart of the capital firmly imprinted the new king in everyone''s mind. ''That''s enough.'' Enkrid moved with a light heart. The rest, Krang could handle on his own. It was time for him to return to Border Guard. But first, he had to stop by the palace treasury. How many swords could there be to replace Silver, he wondered. "This way." Even Rem and Ragna showed subtle interest in the royal palace treasury. However, it was nothing like what they had imagined. The doors were wide open, and carts were constantly passing by. "Oh, still busy." Marcus was personally guiding them. The Commander of the Kingdom''s Army, now a Count, the regent of the Molsan County, and responsible for the capital defense forces. "Aren''t you busy?" "You said you''d stop by and leave right after? Then let''s do it now. There''s no time to go around greeting." If they were busy, wasn''t it fine to just not visit? With that thought, they entered to see the royal treasures. This was nothing like they imagined. The treasure vault was spacious but largely empty. Gold coins weren''t piled like mountains, nor were magical swords hanging in rows. "Just passing through!" A cart loaded with several boxes brushed past Enkrid. The worker pulling the cart was sweating profusely and didn''t even glance at Enkrid. Enkrid assessed the situation and quickly understood what was going on. Perhaps Rem had also noticed, as before Enkrid could say anything, he asked. "Are we recovering the losses the the civil war caused from here?" Marcus nodded, seemingly thinking his barbarian friend wasn''t so dim after all. "What about the magic swords?" Ragna, assuming they were enchanted or had some magical properties, expected to see something extraordinary. Even if they weren''t enchanted, a sword that could at least remain sharp would suffice. "Well, there are none." "Why?" Ragna''s voice shortened. Marcus didn''t take offense. What good would it do to argue with a madman? "We sold them all." Ragna didn''t press further. There was no point. ''If there are no enchanted swords...'' Perhaps he could imbue Will into a sword? A genius always thinks differently. Enkrid looked around. Nothing he found here was better than the long swords he had gathered while moving between training fields. Not even a blade with a mix of Valerian steel was visible. "I''m fine." Rem shook her head. The real royal treasures were already with the knights and their orders. The rest were in a secret vault deep within the palace, but those couldn''t be given to just anyone. "National treasures, huh." Krang wanted to suggest taking something, but none of the treasures here seemed useful to him. The "sleeping sunstaff" was supposedly a national treasure, but it wasn''t something Enkrid wanted or could even use. "Poverty isn''t a crime," Audin had said, originally uninterested in treasures. Dunbakel, preferring her own sword, didn''t choose anything but grabbed a shin guard made from beast hide. It was the most useful item available. Teresa quietly shook her head, following Audin''s lead. "I haven''t done anything," Teresa said, feeling she hadn''t done anything noteworthy on the battlefield. Excessive greed was to be avoided. "Tell Krang I''ll see him later." Enkrid said as he got ready to leave. "Well, sure. You can call the king''s name. Whether it''s the king''s dignity or the nation''s hero, Demon Slayer, it might be better to stay friends." Marcus spoke freely, without concern for formalities. He thought Enkrid wasn''t the type to be foolish enough to get tangled up in such things. Enkrid gathered his things and started moving, not expecting a grand farewell. There was no time to prepare for such things. Just look at how the treasure vault was running. ''I''ll be glad if the country doesn''t collapse.'' Even if he didn''t receive anything at the heroic ceremony, it didn''t matter. He hadn''t come here expecting anything. After making sure even Krais was taken care of, Enkrid was about to leave the capital''s outskirts when the Royal Guard blocked his path. The leader, wearing a gray helmet, stepped forward. ''A duel?'' Enkrid thought. He understood well how someone might feel if a skilled person left; perhaps this was one such case. He was ready to accept it. However, the Royal Guard commander, upon removing his helmet, knelt before him. "Thanks to you, I''ve opened my eyes, and now I walk the righteous path once more." He spoke and paid his respects. All of the Royal Guard followed suit, kneeling as well. "For the national hero!" This wasn''t the usual modest farewell. Among them was also Leorban, someone who had known Enkrid from the past. His achievements on the battlefield had been recognized, and he had been reassigned to this post. "Long time no see," Enkrid said as he passed by. Leorban had been one of the few who had supported him back then. Even after all this time, there were people one couldn''t forget. Leorban bowed deeply. "I''m ashamed." Leorban recalled his past self, and Enkrid patted his shoulder as he passed. ''Also, for my shining hero.'' Leorban, no longer just a Royal Guard but a swordsman, silently swore that if Enkrid called him, he would come running. After fulfilling all his duties, he would do so if Enkrid asked. Enkrid thought the farewells were over, but they weren''t. As the capital''s gates came into view, a large crowd of citizens had gathered ahead. It seemed there were more people than at the memorial coronation ceremony. "For the national hero!" The capital''s citizens watched as he left. It was as if they had made a promise to show up. Among them were a healer who had lost a son, Andrew, and his trainees. As soon as the heroic ceremony ended, they came out to see him off. "Were you expecting this?" Andrew came over to speak. "I had nothing left to do here." "Guess we''ll meet again?" "Come visit." "Yes." After a brief exchange with Andrew, Aishia and the Southern Gate Captain approached. "Are you leaving like this?" The Captain spoke, and Aisha extended her hand. Enkrid shook it. "See you again." A simple farewell. The Captain bowed, grateful for the favor. Aisha said nothing more but shook his hand. Hearing the cheers from the kingdom''s people, Rem scolded him. "Wave your hand, at least." As instructed, Enkrid waved. "Demon Slayer!" "For the national hero!" "Madmen Unit!" "Take me with you!" Why was it always people wanting him to take them somewhere? Enkrid thought as he waved, and the cheers grew louder. "Guess I''m a noble killer," Rem muttered, and Enkrid chuckled as he finally left the capital. Now, it was really time to return... "Let''s go partway." It was just when Naurilia, the capital, began to fade into the distance. A few people blocked his way in the middle of the main road. At the front was... "Aren''t you the king?" "Does the king only work?" It was Krang. He hadn''t expected such a noisy farewell after all. -------------------------------------- Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 417 - What do You Mean by General Chapter 417 - 417 - What do You Mean by General Chapter 417 - What do You Mean by General "Even when busy, duties must be fulfilled." Enkrid couldn''t help but question if seeing him off was really such a necessity, but with the other speaking so firmly, it wasn''t as if he could tell them to just go back. Above all... ''It''s good to see them.'' Naturally, Krang wasn''t alone. No matter how regularly one dealt with monsters and beasts around the kingdom, danger always lurked. Matthew, Squire Ropord, and the trident-wielding guard he had met before were present. In addition, five warriors from the Royal Guard had been dispatched. They nodded respectfully upon seeing Enkrid¡ªa courtesy toward the hero who had saved the nation. Enkrid reciprocated with a slight nod of acknowledgment. Though their number was small for an escort, this likely wasn''t the entirety of their forces. It was standard practice to have a unit stationed nearby in case of emergency. ''That''s something Marcus would surely do.'' As Enkrid pondered this, Matthew approached. "Are you leaving now?" From their first meeting to this moment, Matthew''s perception of Enkrid had transformed significantly. Initially, he had seen him as an insufferably arrogant man. Now, if asked who had truly saved this nation, he would unhesitatingly name the man standing before him. ''Apologies to my lord, but...'' It wasn''t Krang who had secured victory in the civil war but Enkrid, the Demon Slayer. Even Krang would likely nod in agreement. "Oh? Were you hoping I''d stay longer?" Enkrid gripped his sword''s hilt. Matthew, tempted to ask if staying here wouldn''t allow him to contribute more to his lord''s cause, hesitated as Enkrid suddenly struck a combat-ready pose and said: "Come at me. No need to miss me." ''This lunatic...'' Enkrid genuinely thought Matthew was lamenting his departure. Meanwhile, Fel, standing behind them, shook his head and mused: ''Sword-obsessed madman. Sparring addict. Nothing about him is ordinary.'' Yet, perhaps that made it worthwhile to follow him. After all, ordinary was the antithesis of extraordinary. Fel had no desire for his path to become an ordinary one, which was why he was here. "I''m still not fully healed," Matthew said. The injuries he had sustained earlier were closer to severe than mild. The fact that Enkrid and his companions were still standing at all was remarkable. After fighting through wraiths, anyone else would have been bedridden for a month. ''But they''re already sparring after a few days?'' It was abnormal. Matthew was the normal one. "I wish to follow you, my lord. I''ve come to humbly request your permission to do so," Squire Ropord said, his tone formal and respectful. Enkrid recognized him as a member of the Red Cloak Knights. "Aren''t you part of the knight order?" "Sir Aishia arranged for an extended assignment. Leaving the order wouldn''t have been an issue either." Ropord''s face was resolute. He gazed at the man who had reshaped his worldview. After long deliberation, he had reached a decision. ''I will learn the sword¡ªor rather, life itself¡ªbeside this man.'' Though once indecisive, Ropord had grown overly bold as he overcame his hesitations. It mattered little to Enkrid. "Take him. He''s looking at you in a strange way," Krang interjected. "Why not," Enkrid replied with a nod. Overcome with emotion, Ropord bowed deeply. Left unchecked, he might have sworn an oath of loyalty on the spot. That would be problematic enough, but pledging loyalty to someone other than a knight order member¡ªespecially before Krang¡ªwas laughable. A squire of the knight order swearing fealty to a provincial unit commander? That bordered on treason. Of course, Krang likely wouldn''t care even if he witnessed it. "I heard Shinar left already?" Krang asked. Though they shared a connection, she had been too busy to meet him. "She said he had somewhere to stop by," Enkrid replied, recounting what Shinar had told him¡ªthat she needed to deliver news of the fairy she had killed. Enkrid had seen her leave, bandaging her thigh wound with ointment barely a day after the battle. Krang hadn''t changed despite becoming king, nor had Enkrid. The two traveled together for three days. With their luggage loaded onto a carriage, there wasn''t much to do. For three days, Krang watched Enkrid spar. To the untrained eye, it looked like they were trying to kill each other, though it was supposedly practice. Watching from the sidelines, Matthew flinched repeatedly at the sight of perilous techniques and near misses. When not sparring, Enkrid practiced sword swings during breaks or performed mock hand-to-hand drills while seated in the carriage. Asked what he was doing, he called it "improvised sparring." Krang nodded with a faint smile. ''Consistently insane.'' Midway, they were ambushed by bandits¡ªa stroke of bad luck. Unless the bandits had spat on a statue of the Goddess of Fortune, their timing was inexplicable. "Hand over everything you have, and we''ll let you live," one bandit said. Despite seeing armed men like Rem and the hulking Audin, the bandits still dared to confront them. Perhaps they trusted too much in the crossbows aimed from behind. Crime, already rampant before the civil war, had worsened further. Krang merely observed without a sigh; he had witnessed such things countless times during his travels. "Hey, you''ve got to prove yourself useful if you''re coming along. Did you think just tagging along would cut it?" Rem goaded Fel, motioning toward the bandits. Hearing this, Enkrid wondered since when recruitment criteria for border guards included this sort of test. The bandits numbered over thirty¡ªa notorious group known as the White Bandana Gang. "We are the White Ban¡ª" Fel, ever the shepherd, dealt with the intruders as a shepherd should. Before the words finished, he struck the leading bandit on the head with his sheathed sword. A precise, swift blow to the crown of the head, accompanied by nimble footwork. Thwack! "Urgh!" Among the thirty were five with crossbows and some skilled at throwing daggers, but the gap in skill was insurmountable. Even Squire Ropord alone could have handled them, albeit with some effort. Fel, however, surpassed Ropord''s level¡ªa fact clear from the moment he had first faced Enkrid under moonlight. ''No, even more now.'' With his sharpened perception, Enkrid could gauge Fel''s abilities better than before. His enhanced vision broadened his understanding and refined his judgment. "It has improved." Not just to a moderate degree, but significantly so. If Luagarne were here, she would surely have had something to say about it. Fel wielded his weapon without hesitation. Even when using the sheathed sword, few who were struck by him got back up. At minimum, they suffered broken bones. "If Luagarne saw this, she''d find it intriguing." Before leaving, Enkrid had sought Luagarne to see her one last time, but he was informed that Luagarne had already departed with the Queen. It was likely due to the Frogs'' covenant. Still, he couldn''t help but feel a little disappointed at not having the chance to bid farewell. "Is that sufficient?" Fel, whose youthful face contrasted with the sharpness of his skill, asked. Enkrid nodded. "Pass." "...I wasn''t trying to get evaluated by you, but thanks, I guess." Despite grumbling, Fel''s expression betrayed his subtle satisfaction. Who wouldn''t be pleased? Among the shepherds, he was often chided for being the only one who trained with a sword. Yet here, not only were people paying attention to him, but even skilled individuals acknowledged his abilities. "First, we should deal with those lot. Got any bright ideas?" Krang gestured toward the fleeing and incapacitated bandits, his expression showing his frustration with the region''s security issues. Though he spoke vaguely, Enkrid understood him perfectly and responded. "Do you think asking me will magically provide an answer?" Naurilia''s security problems stemmed from Count Molsan but also many other factors. It explained the constant emergence of new threats, from the Black Blade bandits to groups like this. Some bandit gangs were even spies sent by foreign nations, operating under the guise of brigands. The bandits, however, were not the only issue. Cultists, magical beasts, and monsters compounded the chaos. Despite the overwhelming troubles, Krang laughed. This was the moment he had sought, the role he had desired. What choice did he have but to smile? Thus concluded three days of farewells. The king''s presence wasn''t because the guest of honor was a national hero. Krang had come because Enkrid was his friend. "See you again." "Yeah." With a simple farewell, they parted ways. Enkrid noticed again how few escorts accompanied the group, though he was aware it wasn''t just them. On the first day, Jaxen had already informed him about a contingent of soldiers following behind in secret¡ªroyal guards providing covert protection. As they continued along the main road, traces of troop encampments became visible. These were marks left by units commanded by Krais. It didn''t stop there. As they approached Border Guard, a sizable outpost appeared, strategically positioned by the roadside. Complete with a watchtower capable of firing arrows in all directions, reinforced stone walls, and a steel-gated entrance, it was a defensive structure as much as it was a fortification. The building was no makeshift hut; it was constructed from bricks, showcasing the craftsmanship of a skilled builder. "What is this?" "Haha, Big Eyes has been quite busy since you left," Audin remarked. Krais? As Enkrid approached the outpost, an archer on the tower whistled a brief signal, prompting a group of soldiers to emerge. "Madman Unit Commander?" It was Bell, a soldier whose life Enkrid had saved on the first day of this campaign, now promoted to squad leader. "Are you returning?" "Yes." Bell nodded, observing the group trailing behind Enkrid. "Independent Combat Unit, returning!" At his shout, the archers atop the tower relaxed their bows, sheathed their shortswords, and saluted Enkrid in a formal military gesture. "Alright." Enkrid encountered three more similar outposts along the way. "The intervals..." They were evenly spaced. The advantage? Effective control over bandits and monsters in the area. Was that all? No. Gorder Guard was a city that had endured every kind of attack imaginable. The outposts even had beacon towers equipped for signaling, designed to emit smoke that would rise despite the rain, ensuring reliable communication. The beacons signified that these outposts functioned as the kingdom''s first line of reconnaissance. Instead of patrolling large areas, the soldiers adopted a static defense system, preventing bandits, magical beasts, and monsters from even entering their zones. Given time, even magical beasts would avoid these territories, recognizing them as dangerous grounds. "And the reason soldiers accepted this setup?" The first reason was improved supplies and relatively safer conditions. Second, large-scale hunts ensured that their risks were minimized. Normally, starting such construction would have been a logistical nightmare. "But Gorder Guard has been raking in gold like mad." It was an ideal time for such an endeavor, with bandits and monsters nearly wiped out after relentless attacks on the city. Krais had capitalized on the opportunity. Higher wages were merely a bonus; timing was the true masterstroke of the operation. "There was a solution after all." Enkrid recalled Krang''s earlier question about handling bandits and monsters. While large-scale hunts would still be necessary... "Most of the Count''s soldiers have already transitioned into royal forces." Training them through battles with monsters and bandits would not only discipline them but also serve as redemption for their past rebellion. It would garner praise for the king, achieving dual objectives¡ªmaintaining order and strengthening loyalty. As they passed the final outpost, a beacon was lit, sending a plume of smoke high into the air to signal Enkrid''s return. "Big Eyes really outdid himself," even Rem muttered, impressed. He recalled the time Krais had asked him about tribal signaling methods. Rem had mentioned a technique involving heated stones, and Krais had adapted it into these beacon towers. Was it a unique idea? Perhaps not. But without action, ideas meant nothing. Krais had orchestrated and executed all of this masterfully. "You''re here?" At the gates of Border Guard, Krais waved, accompanied by others. "You''re late, fiance?." It was the Fairy Unit Commander, who darted into battle like the wind only to vanish from the field just as quickly. "You''re late." Even the Frog Luagarne was there. Though she was supposed to have left with the Queen, she stood among the welcoming party. Finally, the city lord approached and knelt before Enkrid. "Greetings, General." Enkrid blinked in surprise. "General?" Rem also questioned it, while Ragna and Audin turned their curious gazes toward Enkrid. Only Jaxen remained expressionless, lost in his thoughts. "Haven''t you heard?" The city lord, who had previously spoken informally, now addressed him with utmost respect. Enkrid nodded, beginning to understand. It was Krang''s doing. Despite awarding medals, Krang couldn''t simply let a hero of the realm¡ªhis only friend¡ªleave with nothing substantial. Instead, he sent orders ahead. "From Count Molsan''s territory to Gorder Guard and the surrounding areas, encompassing five cities and their lands, these domains are now royal holdings. A general has been appointed to govern them: Enkrid." As everyone stood stunned, Krais alone grasped the full implications. Rather than granting a noble title, Krang had placed vast, resource-rich lands directly under Enkrid''s authority. Knowing Enkrid would resist such a responsibility, Krang had simply thrust it upon him. -------------------------------------- Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 418 - The Famous Iron and Gold Chapter 418 - 418 - The Famous Iron and Gold Chapter 418 - The Famous Iron and Gold Krais walked up to Enkrid and knelt on one knee. From this position, he raised one arm and bowed his head in a gesture of profound solemnity. His demeanor was nothing short of dignified and reverent. It was as if he were pledging his loyalty as a knight. His words confirmed this impression. "I pledge my allegiance with all my heart." Enkrid stared at Krais. He knew a fair bit about the man before him. Was this gesture because of something he had done? Ending the civil war? Had Krais been moved by that and now sought to swear his loyalty anew? Not a chance. Krang had given him the rank of general, substituting it for a noble title, along with control over all the surrounding territories. "Even though Border Guard isn''t exactly small." Managing and ruling the entire region would allow Krais to fill his coffers endlessly. Krais, still kneeling, stared at the dirt beneath him. In his eyes, the dirt particles looked like grains of gold. This wasn''t a dirt floor; it was a floor of pure gold. "A grand territory. How many opportunities to mint krona lie hidden here?" There was no need to raise taxes. If he connected all the trade routes in the cities under his jurisdiction and took commissions from the merchant guilds? There''d be no need for bribes, either. By establishing a large-scale trading network and investing in prominent guilds like the Rockfreed guild or other emerging ones, he could gain shares in their profits. If he could amass wealth on that scale, what then? The answer was clear. Krais had already mapped out the stages of his dream. The first step was a small salon. After that, he planned to build a street of salons. Ultimately¡ª "A city of indulgence." A place dedicated solely to enjoyment. A city where eating, drinking, and dressing were entirely handled by merchants, leaving nothing but pleasure for the inhabitants to enjoy. A city to be known as Krais''s Salon City. Krais''s ambition rivaled even Enkrid''s. To build an entire city for leisure was no small dream. And he didn''t think it was without merit. Even though constructing such a city would require an astronomical amount of money, the investment wouldn''t just be a sunk cost. He expected profits far exceeding the initial expenditure. After all, who in the world didn''t like to enjoy themselves? Especially if the city attracted wealthy elites like aristocrats and merchant lords, providing a place where they could indulge without the pretense of nobility or formal gatherings. If Krais''s Salon City could offer what was once only available at grand noble banquets, making it accessible anytime? "This will work." The key was capital¡ªkronas, gold coins. While his initial plan was to scrape together enough to open a small salon in the capital, he now aimed higher. If he could amass even more, he''d skip the initial step and directly construct a fortress and establish an entire city. "...Hey, Big Eyes." Lost in his grandiose dreams, Krais belatedly heard someone calling him. He lifted his head. Enkrid was staring at him, locking eyes with his enormous gaze. Within those wide eyes, Enkrid saw an inferno of ambition burning like the flames of hell. "...Yes, give it your all." There was no point in trying to dissuade him. Enkrid realized once more that among the madmen in this unit, he alone retained some semblance of sanity. "I''ve brought a gift from His Highness," Krais said, quickly regaining his composure and rising to his feet. "Two sets of Drake scale armor, one sword''s worth of Lewis steel and black gold, and lastly, an exceptional blade called Aker. Perhaps you''d like to have it appraised." The "His Highness" in question was Krang. Even when plundering the treasury, Krang had ensured that Enkrid received the best of everything. "Is this even allowed?" The thought briefly crossed Enkrid''s mind as he examined the high-value items. But for Krang, it was only natural. "Looking after my own is the most basic thing, and it''s not even excessive." Drake scale armor was renowned for its flexibility while being sturdier than conventional plate armor. Lewis steel was even rarer than Valerian steel. It was extraordinarily lightweight and as durable as Valeri steel, making it highly prized. Black gold, on the other hand, was so rare that its weight could fetch five times its equivalent in pure gold. Its nickname was "The Trial of the Gods." While it was five times heavier than regular steel, it combined all the best traits¡ªstrength, flexibility, and durability. Black gold was often called a divine gift, though its weight made it challenging to use. Without skilled forging, it was almost useless, so it was typically reserved for engraved weapons or specialized knight armaments. And lastly, there was Aker. "Wasn''t that a royal treasure?" Even Enkrid had heard of it. Indeed, Aker was the name of a legendary sword wielded by a knight of the previous generation. There was even a famous story about it slicing through a boulder gate made by giants with a mere flick of its blade. The tale had become so popular it was turned into a children''s fable. "I almost wondered if they emptied the royal treasury for this," Krais remarked. The gifts were that impressive. Enkrid nodded in agreement. The kingdom was still recovering from the financial strain of the civil war, and the treasury was being stretched thin. The items were exceptional, but since they were offered, there was no reason to refuse. Enkrid accepted them with a calm nod. "There''s much to discuss. A lot, indeed." Luagarne approached, her gaze burning just as intensely as Krais''s. Why wouldn''t it? She had a weakness for the unknown. "How is this even possible?" She couldn''t believe what she was seeing. No genius could achieve such progress. Even with her extraordinary ability to discern talent, Enkrid''s potential seemed mediocre. It had improved slightly, but not by much. Luagarne had never voiced it, but her Frogkin gift for assessing talent was considered extraordinary¡ªeven bordering on divine. This allowed her to glimpse not only what had been achieved but also what lay ahead. Enkrid always seemed to push just beyond his limits, as though perpetually a half-step ahead. He had surpassed the bounds of his talent and risen to the pinnacle of semi-knight-level skill. "How is this possible?" Luagarne felt an unprecedented surge of primal curiosity. The unknown was alive and moving before her. Enkrid was unfazed by her gaze. Just as he had ignored despair when Rievart spoke of it, he now dismissed her curiosity without a thought. Instead, he asked how she had arrived. "My pact was with the Queen. That''s over now." Normally, she would have sought another unknown to pursue, but the greatest mystery stood right before her¡ªan enigma she could neither believe nor comprehend. Her presence here felt inevitable, even fated. Luagarne believed it wholeheartedly. "Why? Should I form a pact?" Luagarne was willing to commit herself to the man before her for a lifetime, even if it meant binding herself with a spiritual vow. She''d accept his terms, even if they required devotion. "No need." Enkrid saw no necessity for that. His mind was already occupied with other thoughts. "Upset I arrived first?" At Commander Shinar''s question, Enkrid turned to her. "Did it go well?" Shinar offered a rare smile in response. Her smiles were so unusual that those familiar with her found it startling, though Enkrid remained indifferent. "Worried about me?" "I''m glad it went well." And that was the end of it. Shinar returned to her usual cold and detached demeanor, proving her otherworldly nature, while Luagarne silently followed behind Enkrid. As they walked in, Enkrid appeared lost in deep thought. Rem nudged his shoulder and asked, "What are you thinking about?" With a furrowed brow, Enkrid finally spoke. "If I pause during a diagonal slash and then accelerate into a thrust, what would happen?" The shift in speed from a brief stop would likely confuse the opponent''s eyes. The sudden change in rhythm from slow to fast would make it feel even faster, making it harder to block. "...Have you been thinking about that this whole time?" Rem asked. "What else?" Enkrid''s gaze silently asked if there was anything more pressing. "No wonder they call us the Madmen Unit." To Rem, the biggest madman was standing right before him. Enkrid, on the other hand, wondered why Rem was bringing this up now. It felt like spitting straight into his own face. "If you try that, your tendons will snap, or your muscles will tear," Rem said flatly. Using Will essentially meant pushing one''s body to its limits. Stopping mid-slash only to thrust at high speed wasn''t just overexertion¡ªit was tantamount to asking your body to die. "Take it easy, will you? Just nod if you understand. Take it easy, easy." Rem repeated the phrase like a mantra. Audin, who had been listening, chuckled and added, "A special training session might be in order, Brother General." No one adjusted titles faster than Audin. He casually threw in the term General without hesitation. "Special training?" Enkrid''s interest was piqued, which delighted Audin. It was rare for someone to willingly follow his training regimens. Audin''s mind wandered to the past, recalling his former trainees: "Please, spare me." "Is today the day I finally meet the Father Above?" "...Are you serious? You''re increasing the intensity again? Let''s fight instead!" Remembering those times, he looked at Enkrid now¡ªsomeone who showed not just interest but enthusiasm. Audin couldn''t deny feeling satisfaction. Enkrid was someone who moved forward with unwavering determination. During the recent civil war, when Audin heard of Enkrid''s feats, he''d been overwhelmed with awe. "Father Above, I must ask," Audin thought, is this man your vessel, sent to purge the land of its poverty and malice? Enkrid''s deeds had been that remarkable. When he advanced instead of retreating during the last wave of the Spectral Tide, Audin had nearly shed tears. Especially since the enemy at the time had been a servant enthralled by a demon. Surely, this had to be divine providence. Clearing his thoughts, Audin said, "Physical training has no end. You''ve done the striking technique to harden your body like steel, right? Now, we''ll focus on control." The striking technique involved pounding one''s body as if with a steel hammer. While Enkrid had been diligently practicing it, the results hadn''t been overwhelmingly apparent yet. Not that it bothered him. For Enkrid, striving daily and repeating endlessly, even without immediate results, was a way of life. "Control?" Enkrid echoed. He already felt adept at moving his body¡ªspinning mid-air while wielding a sword was no small feat. As a Semi-Knight, his skills weren''t trivial. Most martial arts masters would bow their heads before him. "If you can''t command every fiber of your muscles at will, how can you call your body your own?" Audin said. Fel, listening nearby, blinked a few times. "Is this kind of training even necessary?" As a natural genius, Fel found it odd. Such skills typically came naturally with practice, not through explicit training. However, Rem and Ragna had no doubts. Their commander''s eccentricities were numerous, after all. Even the trick Enkrid had mentioned earlier¡ªpausing mid-slash and then thrusting¡ªwas something Rem could already do. But not Enkrid. Audin, observing Enkrid''s body and movements, knew exactly what the man needed. With greater precision in his swordsmanship, Enkrid''s abilities could transcend trickery and reach the level of divine skill. What was essential now was ensuring his body could endure it¡ªso that executing movements envisioned in his mind would feel effortless. While natural for those hailed as geniuses, such things didn''t come easily to Enkrid. "Fine," Enkrid said. Of course, he didn''t care about any of that. All he cared about was having something new to train. That evening, back at Border Guard, Enkrid began his training. Two days later, a blacksmith arrived from the capital. The blacksmith wasn''t just anyone. Known as "Iron and Gold," he was second to none in his guild. "Not just anyone can handle Black Gold Steel," he said. Though sent at the king''s behest, the task of crafting a weapon for a hero who saved the kingdom had taken precedence over all else. Enkrid had allowed anyone to take whatever gift they wanted, keeping only a legendary sword for himself. The moment he gripped the famed blade, Aker, Enkrid knew: This is my sword. When he voiced his rare sentiment, Rem quipped, "That''s how it always feels when you grab something expensive and good." He wasn''t wrong. Whether it was a Silversteel blade or one forged from Valerian Steel, they always felt like they belonged to him. In any case, Aker was an enchanted weapon once wielded by a knight of legend. Its name was derived from that knight, making it all the more satisfying. "I''ll take the Lewian Steel Ingot," Rem said, eyeing the material greedily. Ragna claimed the Black Gold Steel without hesitation. "I''ll take this." "Go ahead," Enkrid said. He had no reason to object. "You''re not planning to sell it, are you?" Krais asked, watching the exchange. Everyone ignored him. Why would they sell it? This was a group that didn''t concern itself with coins. Krais felt a pang of regret. While selling Aker wasn''t an option, the Lewisian Steel Ingot or Black Gold Steel could easily fund the establishment of a high-end salon in the capital. "No, I could get even more if I sold it myself." Despite his frustration, he couldn''t complain. This was their rightful reward for their deeds. As for the blacksmith, he now had to deal with Rem and Ragna. "Lewisian Steel can be used to craft spear shafts reinforced with Ironwood. With a proper spearhead, it would make a peerless weapon." "Make it an axe," Rem said. "But axes have a heavier head than shaft, so if it''s too light¡ª" "Make it solid. About this long," Rem said, spreading his arms. "And make two of them." The blacksmith studied him. Looking into Rem''s eyes, he saw the playful face of a savage. He didn''t seem stubborn but looked like someone who would lash out if crossed. Deciding to set Rem aside, the blacksmith turned to Ragna. "Black Gold Steel is best used for daggers or as an alloy for blade tips. A single ingot could make twenty daggers or over thirty spear heads." "A greatsword," Ragna said. "About this big." He showed no interest in compromise. "I''ll wrap the handle with this Manticore hide," he added. The blacksmith met Ragna''s gaze and saw a man entirely unwilling to listen. "This guy''s not normal either," he thought. His apprentice, watching from the side, grew concerned. The blacksmith, notorious for his fiery temper, had always demanded respect for his advice. But now, he relented. "Fine." "Master?" the apprentice asked in shock. "Stoke the fire." The apprentice obeyed, pumping the borrowed forge''s bellows. The blacksmith quietly stared at the flames. While his ideas had been dismissed, this was still a challenge worth his full effort. Crafting a Black Gold greatsword and a solid Lewian Steel axe wasn''t easy¡ªit required everything he had. When else would he get such an opportunity? And so, he poured his heart and soul into his work. -------------------------------------- Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 419 - Following the Heart Chapter 419 - 419 - Following the Heart Chapter 419 - Following the Heart "Will you be at Border Guard?" At Krais'' question, Enkrid nodded. "I thought so and prepared accordingly. If you need anything else, just let me know. Loyalty!" Ever since seeing the general and the treasure, Krais'' eyes had gleamed like gold coins, and he constantly uttered the word loyalty. Enkrid didn''t blame Krais for this. No matter what people said, he was a man who got the job done. The lodging had changed. It had expanded, with more rooms added. A new training ground had been built in front of it. Though there had been a dedicated training field for the Madmen Unit before, this one was completely different, built from the ground up. Smooth stones were laid out evenly across the wide land. On one side, green leaves glistened with morning dew on neatly planted trees. Dawn was breaking. It was summer, the season of early sunrises. Trees, flowers, and the rising sun. Watching the leaves sway in the wind, Enkrid drew his sword. He repeated his usual training routine. There were no sparring sessions scheduled for today. "I''ll see you when my axe is complete," Rem grumbled, grinding his teeth. "My greatsword isn''t ready yet," Ragna said with a furrowed brow, declining as well. "Do you intend to stab and slash with that? General Brother?" Even Audin subtly refused, showing his disinterest. "I''m out." Dunbakel evaded the matter entirely. "I''ve just got a new shield fitted," said Teresa, turning him down too. "Even though my ankle has healed, I''d need three of them to match you right now." The hope named Luagarne dissipated as well. Shinar didn''t even make an appearance. "It''s not feasible yet." Even Fel shook his head when Enkrid considered calling him, adding that he couldn''t win yet. He didn''t seem interested in fighting at the moment. This was disappointing for Enkrid. After all, the only thing he''d done was test Aker, the newly acquired masterpiece sword. During the test, he had split Rem''s axe blade and halved Ragna''s temporary sword, but that was unavoidable. A new sword had to be tested, didn''t it? "Don''t you think it''s a bit unfair?" Rem sneered, but Enkrid replied calmly. "Properly equipping yourself is also part of your skill." "The king just handed it to you... Forget it," Rem muttered, giving up on retorting. It was better to use his magic one more time than to argue with Enkrid. "Come at me, you rogue barbarian of the West," Enkrid teased Rem a few more times, but Rem ignored him, knowing better. Enkrid soon cleared his mind of distractions and focused on his training. "Slash, thrust, cut." As he imagined an enemy, his sword stirred the wind, causing the leaves to sway. "There is something to learn from everything you see." Profound realizations weren''t always necessary. Through repetition, he minimized small errors and refined his movements. His thoughts naturally merged with the actions of his sword, incorporating everything he had learned thus far. Adding a momentary Will into the continuous motions of thrusting and cutting. "One breath, two actions." Ragna had managed three actions in a single breath. Enkrid had witnessed this when Ragna had cut down the wraith general before the count. Enkrid wasn''t there yet. What Ragna had done bordered on divine skill, surpassing mere talent. To him, Ragna appeared to wield the sword closest to that of a true knight. "Repeat, and repeat again." If a ferryman were nearby, he would have cursed Enkrid for being tediously relentless. Swift acceleration followed by a pressing blade. The Capturing Blade envisioned mind games with an imaginary opponent. The adversaries in his mind ranged from the young prodigies he had met in the past to mercenaries, Rievart, Rem, Ragna, and Audin. None of these battles were easy. Though Enkrid was already among the top semi-knights in terms of skill, the outcomes of battles were not always determined by practice. A blind strike could kill anyone, no matter how skilled. "Never debate the outcome before the fight begins." Three of his instructors had imparted the same lesson. Ironically, all three had initially refused to teach him but relented only after witnessing his desperation and persistence. As he swung his sword repeatedly, sweat scattered in all directions. To Enkrid, Ragna embodied what it meant to be closest to a true knight. The swordplay that had cut down his opponent in a single strike. The blade that had split through the wraith''s tide. In every aspect, Ragna clearly surpassed the level of a semi-knight. Thus, Enkrid had asked him: "Have you reached the rank of knight?" "I don''t know." "You don''t know?" "I''ve never been there, so I don''t know." Despite Ragna''s words, his confidence was evident¡ªa self-assurance only a genius could possess. His attitude conveyed his belief. He hadn''t been there yet, but he was certain he would reach it. Ragna''s demeanor and actions exuded an unshakable conviction. Enkrid was acutely aware of his own lack of talent, surrounded as he was by geniuses like Ragna. Rem, too, was a genius, as was Audin. Even Dunbakel and Teresa had grown immeasurably stronger, their talents undeniable. What about Fel? His ability to assess opponents'' skills with his eyes alone made him worthy of being called a genius. Even Squire Ropord, though Enkrid couldn''t fathom why he followed him, likely had talents surpassing his own. Rievart had become a poet lost in despair and hopelessness. He sang of despair and danced to hopelessness, lamenting his talent while treading a path of heresy. "Despair and lose hope!" The ferryman''s ghostly voice echoed. Enkrid ignored it all. Such trivial distractions couldn''t disturb his stance or shake his resolve. It was a time when sweat poured freely. From one side came the sound of soft, deliberate footsteps. Enkrid stopped mid-swing, turning his gaze toward the source. The figure approached from the direction of the breaking dawn. Against the backlight of the rising sun, a shadow drew closer. Soon, the sunlight brightened the surroundings, revealing reddish-brown hair swaying naturally with two swinging arms. Enkrid knew that at any moment, a silent dagger could fly from those hands, and that the man''s entire body concealed countless hidden blades and weapons. If Audin''s body was a steel cudgel, then the one approaching now was a living weapon¡ªa lethal entity capable of ending a life with a mere breath. Enkrid''s improved skills had sharpened his perceptions. Things once invisible to him were now clear¡ªlike the subtle "readiness" in Jaxen''s movements. Each step, each gesture, held concealed meaning. Adjusting his footing, Enkrid shifted his stance and tightened the sword belt around his waist. His hand rested naturally on his sword, Aker¡ªa renowned blade named after the knight from the founding myth, a royal treasure. "Should I break it?" "It''s been given to me, so there''s no helping it." If Jaxen were to make a move, Enkrid felt certain both Aker and himself would come out worse for wear. Assassins categorized their craft by a hierarchy: Overt killing intent was third-rate.Subtle, restrained intent was second-rate.Approaching with no trace of intent was first-rate.Approaching with ordinary presence? That was the mark of the exceptional. Jaxen carried himself as usual, but Enkrid''s heightened senses and intuition told a different story. "You''ve improved significantly," Jaxen remarked as he approached. "Still a long way to go," Enkrid replied, relaxing his stance further. To unleash speed in an instant, one had to remain loose. "To become a knight?" Enkrid nodded. Jaxen stopped walking. The sunlight cast a shadow over his face, the dark silhouette making his expression seem colder than ever. "I have a question." "Ask." "Why didn''t you join the Order?" *** "Are you finally coming back?" In the past, during the era of the old master of the Daggers of Geogr, there was an unwritten rule about infiltration missions. After completing such missions, anyone who might suspect the infiltrator''s identity was to be killed. In the present day, this was no longer a strict rule. But when the target was none other than Geogr''s master, the situation changed. The Dagger Master of Geogr was meant to remain shrouded in mystery, a hidden existence. "Should I take care of it?" His lover and the master''s daughter posed the question. Jaxen didn''t answer immediately, his lips slow to move. "If it must be done, I''ll do it myself." His lover nodded. That made sense. The bigger issue was not the overdue missions but the lack of discipline arising from the master''s prolonged absence. Plenty of opportunists were waiting to exploit the vacuum. Even a cursory consideration brought more than five names to mind. "No, perhaps ten." Despite this, Jaxen respected the master and followed his will. For reasons he couldn''t quite articulate, Jaxen had remained here. He could have left before the civil war began or even after, avoiding the return to the Boder Guard. There were countless opportunities to eliminate those who doubted his identity along the way. Why, then, had he not tried? Why hadn''t he acted, regardless of success or failure? The questions loomed, inscrutable and vast. "May I ask why?" This time, the query came not as a guild member to the master but as a lover to her partner. Jaxen hesitated before answering. "I think I''ll find out if I ask." "Find out what?" "Why he didn''t become a knight." To her, it was a random comment, but not to Jaxen. "Master." The words of the previous Dagger Master echoed in his mind throughout his journey back. "Having skill without owning heart is just a killing art, you fool." Was that really something to say to someone who came to learn the art of killing? "Does being good at killing make you happy? Is it fun for you?" He didn''t feel it often, but sometimes, it was indeed enjoyable. "Don''t smile like that. Seeing you smile makes me think I made the wrong choice." Jaxen never bothered to ask what that choice had been. From the beginning, the master had often spoken in riddles. "If you hold something precious, even the killing arts can become the sword that protects." Jaxen had once asked him in return, "Then what are you protecting, Master?" "My daughter and family. The fools who live for me. Fences to keep monsters like you from being unleashed upon the world." Half of it made sense; the other half, not at all. In truth, it didn''t matter. Jaxen''s sole priority was gaining the strength necessary for vengeance. Now that his vengeance was complete, should he find a new target? Should he continue hunting down those remaining, one by one? Was that the right path? Whether it was right or wrong seemed secondary¡ªit felt like something that simply had to be done. That was why he was still here. "Jaxen Benshino, heir of Benshino. Do you want to become a maniac killer? Is perfecting the art of killing your only goal? Is that your dream? Is that everything to you?" The master''s words echoed endlessly in his mind. *** Enkrid fell silent at Jaxen''s sudden question. "Why?" He had never considered it deeply. In hindsight, he could have stayed in the capital and joined the Order. Who would have refused him? Krang would have established a new Order for him if needed, and Aishia had subtly suggested he don the red cape. Even Okto, now a duke, had made it explicit. "Why not remain in the capital and join the Order? I believe it would be an excellent opportunity for you." The Marquis of Baisar had sought to strengthen their ties, while the Duke of Okto openly hoped he''d become a pillar of the land. Enkrid had dismissed all such offers. At the time, he''d only wanted to return home and practice swordsmanship in peace. "Just because." Knowing this wasn''t enough, Enkrid elaborated. "I acted as my heart led me." If he were to delve deeper, it was because the knightly ideal he sought didn''t exist at the capital. Enkrid had not found chivalry. He had seen the capital''s Order but found no chivalry, honor, or loyalty within it. Help the weak. Wield your sword for justice. Spare children from war. Defend those who guard your back. The virtues he sought were now overlooked there. There was no need to don a red cape to walk his chosen path. "My ideal of a Knight Order wasn''t there," he added simply, his words concise yet meaningful. "Dream big, Krush," Rem might have teased. But Jaxen only frowned at Enkrid''s reply. -------------------------------------- Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 420 - Not an End, but a Beginning Chapter 420 - 420 - Not an End, but a Beginning Chapter 420 - Not an End, but a Beginning "Follow your heart?" If someone asked Jaxen if he enjoyed killing, he wouldn''t have an answer. No matter how many times he pondered it, he couldn''t tell if he enjoyed it or not. There were people in the guild who would lose their minds if they didn''t spill blood at least once a week, but Jaxen wasn''t one of them. However, honing his skills was undeniably enjoyable. That much, he was sure of. "It''s not about stabbing your friend in the back but surviving, no matter what. Got it, kid?" The master''s tone was always lighthearted, but his words were often right. His father''s words carried the same meaning. Jaxen had simply interpreted them in his own way. Back then, it was necessary. He needed something to fuel the flames of vengeance burning within him. "Isn''t it about not clinging too much to the past rather than just keeping your eyes fixed forward?" Once again, the master was correct. His mother didn''t want him shackled to the family. Jaxen had turned even that memory into fuel for his fire. He knew it all too well. "What I''m teaching isn''t the art of murder." "Then what is it?" "Figure it out for yourself! Do I have to spoon-feed you everything?" It was a strange thing to say while teaching him how to detect poison in his meals. When Jaxen first met the master, the man had asked him: "Will you follow me? If you do, I''ll teach you how to live." Not just how to survive, but how to live. It wasn''t an art of killing, just one way to live. Jaxen''s latent killing intent remained intact. His energy hadn''t waned. Yet, he couldn''t stop his mouth from speaking on its own. "May I stay here?" The words escaped straight from his heart without passing through his head. "Defeat me, and I''ll allow it." Enkrid replied as he always did, with words that came naturally from a prepared stance. "Is there just one way to live...?" There couldn''t be a single reason to live. It was a new realization, an epiphany that struck as he spoke. Jaxen had never sought anything beyond revenge. But now, he was certain of one thing. He found more joy in competing with the man in front of him than in killing him. Mastering skills and climbing higher brought him joy. Watching his lover brought him joy. Couldn''t he do it all? He asked himself, and the answer was obvious. He didn''t even need to think twice. "Then I suppose I can stay." Jaxen spoke. The sunlight warmed his back. The summer rays added heat to his body, and a faint smile formed on Jaxen''s face, shaded by the trees. The simple suggestion to follow his heart brought a refreshing sense of liberation, breaking the chains that bound him inside. Jaxen had techniques he wouldn''t use on those he couldn''t kill or with someone watching. "Why did I follow that rule?" Who had made him adhere to it? It wasn''t the master. It was just an unspoken rule passed down in the guild of Dagger of Geogr. A useless regulation he had obeyed out of habit. Enkrid wasn''t fooled by the smile on Jaxen''s face. "Is this some hidden ploy?" He knew Jaxen''s skills had improved, especially after acquiring Aker. Enkrid frequently challenged his subordinates to spar, provoking them with sheer energy. Jaxen was no exception. Even now, Enkrid''s words about beating him were half a joke and half a provocation. Jaxen took the bait without hesitation. Frankly, Enkrid didn''t care if Jaxen stayed. He simply wanted someone to spar with, as he was restless without a partner. The tension rose. Jaxen''s presence seemed to swell as if he had grown larger, but Enkrid remained unfazed. "If I can''t trust myself, I''ll never win." Never overestimate the opponent''s strength¡ªan essential rule before a fight. Still, one mustn''t be careless and should give their all. Easier said than done. Only through experience could one truly grasp it. Enkrid placed his hand on the hilt, his posture firm. He scanned Jaxen''s entire body and sharpened his senses. As always, Enkrid gave it his all and almost found himself repeating the same day over again. The weight in his heart¡ª Or perhaps the chains that had bound him until now¡ª Jaxen cast them aside and walked with lighter steps. Thinking of Enkrid, whom he had just sparred with, made him feel even lighter. "He''s improved." The knights called their art Will. Why couldn''t an assassin use it too? "Keep on heading forwards, and you''ll become the continent''s deadliest killer." The master''s words weren''t baseless. Jaxen had talent, and the previous master had recognized it. Just now, he had landed several precise strikes on Enkrid''s body with techniques he hadn''t even shown against Count Molsan. His steps carried him out of the barracks. Two sentries saluted him as he passed, seemingly familiar with him. Without replying, he exited and strolled along a tree-lined wall, where a waiting voice called out. "Were you serious?" The voice belonged to his lover, speaking not as a lover but as a fellow guild member. Jaxen knew she had watched his sparring match with Enkrid. "You even used techniques you shouldn''t show to anyone but your enemies." Her voice came from nowhere, but Jaxen sensed five others hiding in the trees. Six in total. Three of them were veteran assassins who had taught him their skills. Poison, dagger throwing, stealth¡ªthey were masters of these arts. Jaxen hadn''t learned solely from the master. However, he had long surpassed them. They couldn''t stop him now. If they tried, it would be a futile death. His lover, the master''s daughter, wasn''t foolish enough to attempt such a thing. Jaxen was both highly skilled and quick-witted. There was a reason he had inherited the master''s position. "Why did you do it?" Her question came, less as a guild member and more as the older sister she had once been to him. "Just because." His response echoed Enkrid''s. "I followed my heart." Unintended, his answer was similar once again. "Was the master''s position so trivial to you?" Had she been disappointed? Perhaps. Even so, Jaxen didn''t regret his choice. There was no reason to. Life wasn''t a binary choice. "When did I say I''d give up the master''s position?" "...What?" Only Yenatrice spoke, bewildered by his words. Jaxen replied calmly. "I''m staying here. But that doesn''t mean I''m abandoning Dagger of Geor." "Do you think that makes sense?" The poison master couldn''t hold back and spoke up, his voice splitting to come from two directions. A cheap trick. "Why wouldn''t it?" Jaxen turned to the precise spot where the man was hiding. His gaze seemed to say he would respect the elder, but if they attacked, they would die. "Don''t worry. No one will die here today. I''ll convince them, one by one." Such words were dripping with arrogance. Even as the master of Geogr''s Dagger, how could one turn an entire guild into enemies and hope to survive? That was what most people would think. But Jaxen was calm. His demeanor said it was merely something that needed doing. That, in turn, made him appear even more unhinged. Yenatrice emerged from the shadows cast by the wall. Jaxen, already aware of her presence, didn''t even flinch. "You''re so reckless." "Am I?" Yenatrice stared at Jaxen for a moment. What was it about this man that she liked so much? Ah, yes. It was that he could commit to things like this without hesitation. *** "So, you''re saying the former master must be killed?" Geogr''s Dagger was the most notorious assassination guild on the continent. The master of the guild would traditionally pass down their skills to their successor and then meet their end by that successor''s hands. Jaxen had broken that tradition. "You mean to defy the rules?" "I do." During the succession conflict, three assassins vying for the position died. Five elders also perished, and counting their followers, the number of dead exceeded thirty. All of them were Jaxen''s doing¡ªhis work alone. "Damn it, you lunatic. You sacrificed a third of the guild''s power just to save me?" Yenatrice''s father, her teacher, and the guild''s master had scolded him so, then closed his eyes peacefully. A body worn out from years of overwork and steeped in accumulated poison had finally given out, yet he had died with a smile. *** "There are still those who won''t take your side." Jaxen stared into the eyes of his lover. Her orange gaze met his as he reached out his hand. She took it without hesitation. Much like her father, Yenatrice was quick to pick up on things, especially those involving Jaxen or herself. She had already considered the possibility that she might not return and had taken measures to gather allies who would support her cause. Now, she was merely confirming those preparations. All the elders who had followed were already on Jaxen''s side. "Speak, and I''ll convince them one by one." Of course, his idea of "convincing" mirrored Enkrid''s methods. Perhaps by smashing heads until they listened. Or kicking heads until they complied. Just as Enkrid persuaded the city''s constables in the capital. And if they still wouldn''t listen? "Then keep going until they do." That was how Enkrid would put it, and in that regard, Jaxen knew he shared a similar disposition. Aside from the time he saved his father-in-law, Jaxen had never done anything simply on a whim. Even then, he sometimes doubted whether saving his father had truly been his choice. Perhaps it wasn''t for his father''s sake at all. That was how Yenatrice saw Jaxen. And for that reason, she inwardly welcomed his decision. "Sometimes in life, you have to act on impulse." Before his death, the guild master had entrusted his daughter to Jaxen and Jaxen to his daughter, whom he cherished like a son. "Even if that bastard leaves the guild one day, look after him." Yenatrice recalled her father''s words. Jaxen returned to the barracks. On his way in, he saw Audin praying. "May blessings be upon you." Audin, hands clasped and eyes closed, looked up at the unexpected words. What did he just hear? The shock was enough to momentarily halt his prayer. Ragna, dozing in a rocking chair, quietly opened his eyes. As Jaxen walked past, he spoke. "Get some more sleep." Dunbakel squinted. Has he lost it? Her gaze made it clear what she thought, but Jaxen maintained his indifferent expression as he replied. "Go wash yourself." Normally, Dunbakel would''ve ignored such remarks, but she immediately moved to bathe. It felt like a final warning. If she didn''t comply, Jaxen might slit her throat in her sleep. Theresa witnessed this and began praying. "Lord, banish this evil spirit." Her husky voice echoed softly as she directed her prayer, not to her usual deity but to the god of war. Passing by, Jaxen noticed Rem sharpening a small hand axe with a whetstone. Their eyes met. "Still alive?" Jaxen asked. "Yeah, I''ll probably die later than you," Rem replied. It was as if they spoke in perfect unison. Like a pair of swans, the speed and tenor of their exchange were seamless. "Doppelga?nger?" muttered Krais, observing from the side. Doppelga?ngers were magical creatures that mimicked others'' appearances. Though Jaxen wasn''t his usual self, he didn''t scold Krais and simply continued to his room. Enkrid lay sprawled out, arms and legs stretched wide. "My judgment was off a few times." He should''ve thrust instead of swung. With Aker, a famed sword, he should''ve leveraged its unique properties. "I was inexperienced." Every fight offered lessons and takeaways, especially when the Madmen Unit introduced something new. Though embarrassed to admit it, that was one reason they weren''t formally part of the knightly order. "Unless you directly observe knights," Enkrid thought, "you wouldn''t understand." For now, he was certain that training here surpassed anything the knightly order could offer. The warm sun made him think he could drift off. It wasn''t laziness; he finally understood why Ragna always dozed off in the sunlight. Such days wouldn''t last long. In a few weeks¡ªor even days¡ªthe gentle warmth would turn into sweltering heat. Summer, the season of heat and fire, was fast approaching. Winning and losing didn''t matter. There was no time to hesitate or dwell on such concerns. Now that the civil war was over, would the kingdom become one of unbroken peace? Would there be fewer reasons to wield swords than before? Unlikely. The new king''s views were the opposite of his predecessor. The former queen had envisioned a stable nation. Krang, however, did not. Before parting with Enkrid, Krang had shared part of his ambitions. "The central continent is divided into three nations. This division makes us weaker than the western, eastern, or southern regions. Especially since we face periodic wars with Aspen." "Are you planning to negotiate a peace treaty?" Halting Aspen''s aggression would certainly allow Naurilia to consolidate its strength. That much was obvious. The sheer resources consumed by war were staggering. Not to mention the lives lost on the battlefield. Krang smiled gently at the question, his tone as light as if plucking a flower from a nearby garden. "No, I plan to subjugate Aspen." When it came to dreams and ambitions, Krang was no less daring than Enkrid. Using his distinctive charisma, Krang spoke with unwavering conviction, pouring his soul into his words as if addressing only Enkrid. Just as Enkrid staked his life on the sword, Krang burned with passion as he declared his intentions. "I will become the sole ruler of the central continent." At that moment, Krang had made it clear¡ªbeing the continent''s ruler was merely a step in his grander vision. Just as Enkrid viewed knighthood as the beginning, not the end. -------------------------------------- Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 421 - Something Ominous is Coming Chapter 421 - 421 - Something Ominous is Coming Chapter 421 - Something Ominous is Coming "Something ominous is coming." The violet lamp, a boat floating on a dark river, and the ferryman¡ªthis dreamscape was as familiar to Enkrid as the back of his hand. He sat at the edge of the boat, pondering whether it was appropriate to cross his legs. The ferryman''s gaze turned toward him before he could decide. "I can say no more." The ferryman''s response was as capricious as ever. Enkrid regarded him with the exasperated look reserved for someone whose personality seemed to change each time they met, shifting tone and words as whims dictated. Still, dealing with erratic individuals was not something that troubled Enkrid. His extensive experience traversing the continent in pursuit of swordsmanship had hardened him to such peculiarities. Warriors, mercenaries, nobles'' guards, caravan swordsmen, fencing instructors¡ªhe had encountered countless eccentric and idiosyncratic people in his journey. And among them, none were as unique as the soldiers under his current command. When it came to handling erratic personalities, the ferryman''s quirks might even pale in comparison to someone like Rem. Enkrid knew not to react too much. "I see." He acknowledged the ferryman''s words, taking a moment before asking, "How do you know this ominous feeling is approaching?" The ferryman remained silent, his eyes fixed on Enkrid. True to his word, he said nothing more. Suddenly, the world turned dark. When Enkrid opened his eyes, it was morning. The summer sun had risen early, illuminating the world even as he began his practice of the Isolation Technique. Enkrid returned to his usual training routine, his mind briefly reflecting on Jaxen, who had been distant and contemplative since their sparring match. After showing unexpected friendliness to the soldiers, Jaxen had reverted to his stoic self, now away on some errand. Enkrid regretted not getting another chance to spar with him. "Good morning, brother," Audin greeted as he approached. Following him were Teresa, Dunbakel, Ropord, and Fel. "Starting the day hard, I see," Fel remarked dryly. It was clear this was not for show¡ªEnkrid''s rigorous training was purely for himself. "When will you step up?" Enkrid asked, undeterred. "Not yet," Fel replied, knowing full well he''d lose. Still, watching Enkrid train stirred something in Fel¡ªa primal, almost instinctual desire to compete. Though reluctant to challenge him outright, Fel couldn''t deny the man had a way of igniting one''s fighting spirit. Shrugging off the thought, Enkrid turned to Audin, pushing his body to the limits alongside him. Starting with striking techniques, they shifted into positions that stretched their muscles to the breaking point. "Muscles that lack flexibility are just useless lumps of flesh," Audin instructed, guiding the session. Nearby, Teresa helped Ropord with his training, while Dunbakel, drenched in sweat, tried to keep up with Enkrid''s drills. After the strange dream, the morning passed as usual. Their routine was soon to be interrupted by the myriad tasks waiting for Enkrid. It had been two weeks since returning to Border Guard. Days were beginning to feel familiar, even the quirks of being addressed as "General" by the battalion commander. Though the workload was heavy, Krais had taken on much of it with vigor, leaving Enkrid relatively free. "Standardizing the soldiers'' equipment might be a good start," Krais suggested. "We can then divide them into different units for specialized training." Training, security, diplomacy, and even finance¡ªKrais handled it all. "Rockfreed''s guild wants to open branches in nearby cities. Should I approve it? Leona might sulk if we don''t." "Go ahead," Enkrid replied, barely needing to intervene. "Your meals¡ªare you eating properly?" Enkrid asked as he toweled off sweat, his training weapon¡ªa steel sword weighing five times the norm¡ªstill in hand. "Pardon?" Krais looked up. "You seem busy." "Moderately so." "Should I raise your pay?" "It''s already at its limit. Any more, and I''d earn more than the lord of Border Guard." At least he wasn''t the type to neglect his own pockets, Enkrid thought, nodding in approval. Krais wasn''t merely delegating tasks¡ªhe was pulling resources from everywhere, bringing in capable individuals like Gilpin and leveraging Rockfreed''s expertise to handle the numbers. Enkrid was content to let him manage. Truth be told, even he couldn''t handle the logistics at this level. Instead, Enkrid focused on specific details, such as soldiers'' armaments. "Divide them into spearmen, swordsmen, and shield-bearers. Train them in the basics of all weaponry, but standardize their equipment as follows..." For swordsmen, the kit included a longsword, a dagger, a compact wrist-mounted crossbow, padded leather armor reinforced with oiled flax, leather gauntlets and greaves, three throwing knives, a hand axe, a kite shield, a cloth-lined leather helm, and a short cudgel. The hand crossbow was a weapon Enkrid had developed, inspired by something he had once seen used by bandits. Spearmen and archers were similar in terms of secondary weapons. "Isn''t it pure torture to strap on even a single extra pack when you''re already fully armed?" Krais thought this as he glanced at his commander, who promptly answered. "If someone can''t handle this, send them home." There had been a time when the Border Guard''s standing army was so short on numbers that anyone willing was immediately accepted and sent to the battlefield with little preparation. That was no longer the case. "Rather than a large army, we need a small force of elites." Krais agreed with that sentiment. The ideas they discussed now were all meant to improve the combat effectiveness of their soldiers. Although an office had been set up, Enkrid rarely used it, preferring to discuss matters in a training yard. Decisions made there would determine the future of the troops. Infantry, spearmen, archers, shield-bearers, cavalry, mounted archers¡ª Enkrid laid out the big picture, and Krais contributed his insights. "Since we''re at it, why not gather some of the better soldiers and restructure the unit? You know we can''t remain as just the Independent Unit forever, right?" A nod. Enkrid passed on the decision they had reached to Rem. "Rem, pick out some promising men and form a new unit." It would become an assault force, suited for breaking through and tearing apart enemy lines when war broke out. "Hmm? Are you serious about that?" Enkrid hesitated for a moment. The goal was to build a unit, not to break the soldiers in half. "I said form a unit, not torment them." "I''ll give it my best shot." Rem stood up as he spoke. "Don''t try too hard." Enkrid, feeling a bit of pity for the soldiers, added that comment. He gave Ragna the same task. "It''s too much trouble." "Cavalry or infantry, either works." "Still too much trouble." After returning from the palace, Ragna had thrown himself into training for a few days but soon reverted to his usual lazy self, dozing off and loafing around the barracks. Ropord often dragged him out to the training grounds, but Ragna quickly returned to his idleness afterward. Despite Ragna''s threats and occasional beatings, Ropord was fearless, repeatedly asking for sparring sessions. "If you keep annoying me, I might just chop off an arm." "I''ll train hard to avoid that!" Ropord was unrelenting, showing a spirit that, at least outwardly, seemed exceptional. While Ragna was the type to follow through on his threats, Enkrid was fairly certain he wouldn''t go as far as to actually cut off a limb¡ªprobably. Even so, Enkrid felt compelled to give a warning. "Don''t cut anything off." "We''ll see." The uneasy response left Enkrid conflicted, but assigning Ropord to Ragna did bring some peace of mind. Ropord, having trained in a knightly order, was more adept at organizing and educating soldiers. Dunbakel was assigned to Rem. Enkrid figured if Rem spent his energy pestering her, he''d be less likely to torment the recruits. Audin was on board with his new role. "Of course, brother." Enkrid, wary of Audin''s enthusiasm, assigned Teresa to keep an eye on him. He was confident this would suffice for creating elite troops. There wasn''t a need for overwhelming numbers. Enkrid wasn''t one to shy away from responsibility. He carried out his duties without skimping on training or personal discipline. Thanks to Krais''s efficiency, he didn''t have to sacrifice additional training time. "Let''s take a look at the training. Do it as you always do." Luagarne had officially joined under Enkrid''s command, following approval from the palace. Since then, she had stuck to him like a duckling following its mother. During her time with the Gilpin Guild, she had crossed paths with a local Frog, Maelrun, while pummeling troublemakers in the city. Their interaction was indifferent, as if neither cared for the other''s existence. When asked about it, she explained: "He''s a Frog." "So what?" "They''re living their desires, and their desires don''t concern me." It was a typical Frog perspective, focused solely on their interests. That Luagarne was so well-versed in various matters was unusual; her curiosity leaned toward academic pursuits. "What do you think is the essence of a formal sword style?" Luagarne was incredibly helpful, especially when it came to teaching concepts. Being a skilled sparring partner didn''t necessarily make one a good teacher. Looking at Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxen made that clear enough. They were all terrible at instructing others despite their talents. In contrast, Luagarne excelled as an educator. "Precision?" "Hints and feints." Her point was simple: the goal was to control the opponent''s movements with subtle cues, not necessarily by swinging the sword. "Swinging a sword is merely the confirmation of intent." "And what about Rem countering instantly during sparring?" "That axe of his is monstrous." Luagarne''s perceptive eyes evaluated talent, and to her, Rem was a monster. "What about Ragna?" "That bastard''s a sword-wielding monster." "And Audin?" "His body is monstrous." "Jaxen?" "A scheming monster?" Her vocabulary wasn''t particularly sophisticated, but Enkrid found himself agreeing with her assessments. "And me?" "You''re an incomprehensible monster." "Am I, now?" Shinar occasionally stepped in as a sparring partner, showing techniques so chilling that it was hard to believe she wasn''t holding back. It felt as if she was deliberately moderating her skills. "What, did you expect to beat me easily, fiance??" "I think it''s time you came up with a different title for me." "General fiance??" "Let''s not change it." *** Krais, observing Enkrid''s actions, deduced his intentions. "Preparing for war?" "Probably." "Against Aspen?" "Likely." Though Enkrid gave vague answers, Krais seemed to grasp the situation fully. He was impossible to read, with a mind that seemed to understand everything. Even in the midst of these days, the Ferryman visited Enkrid in his dreams. "Dread approaches." Hearing the same phrase for the fifteenth night, Enkrid wondered if the Ferryman wanted him to say he was tired of it. After all, Enkrid often called the Ferryman a wretched and tiresome figure. But he didn''t truly feel that way. "Any idea how close it is?" "I cannot tell." He was merely curious. If the Ferryman mentioned it, it had to be significant. Yet even the Ferryman couldn''t pinpoint the nature of the looming threat. Repetitive events allowed glimpses into fixed futures, but the unknown was beyond even divine comprehension. The Ferryman mused. "Even the cycles of today change." And this man standing before him was the proof. That was the price. "Dread draws near." The Ferryman offered his counsel. "Yes, I look forward to it." Watching the cursed man respond so nonchalantly, the Ferryman felt a slight, fleeting annoyance but didn''t withdraw his advice. "The dread is close." "Is that so?" Enkrid remained as composed as ever. "Take it seriously, fool, who walks the mortal path toward inevitable ruin." "Yes, I''m serious." Despite the words, Enkrid''s demeanor brimmed with anticipation, which deeply unsettled the Ferryman. -------------------------------------- Please support my work and get more Chapters in advance by heading over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Chapter 422 - The Apostle of Curses Arrives Chapter 422 - 422 - The Apostle of Curses Arrives Chapter 422 - The Apostle of Curses Arrives The boatman felt an ominous presence but couldn''t discern its source. Although the source of foreboding wasn''t always a person, this time, it indeed was. In the hierarchy of the Holy Land of Demonic Teachings, those overseeing small parishes were bishops, while those managing several parishes were archbishops. Above them were the Apostles¡ªfigures of rare and immense power. And now, one such Apostle had personally stepped forth. His name was Reddit. "I shall turn him into nothing but fodder for the worms." Reddit steadied his mind as he envisioned Enkrid. When he stirred his Will, his innate authority surged to life. Yet, Reddit did not unleash it indiscriminately; he amassed its power solely to destroy his target. The Apostles of the Holy Land of Demonic Teachings were beings born with unique powers. Reddit, born in a village near the Demonic Abyss, exterminated not only the villagers but also their livestock before he turned ten. His natural ability was Cursing. With just a glance, he could burst someone''s heart or cause insects to fester within their skin. He hadn''t always been an Apostle. That change came when he was fifteen. Wandering the continent, known as the Incarnation of Demons, Reddit encountered someone immune to his abilities. "You''re quite amusing." This person remained unscathed when his heart should have burst, even as insects erupted from his arms and swarmed over his body. He didn''t so much as furrow his brow. Even when flies gnawed at his flesh, he smiled. "Do more." Nothing worked on him. "Follow me, and I''ll show you how your meager powers can become true authority." When the smiling man spoke, Reddit saw him enveloped in radiant light. He was salvation incarnate. "Who are you?" Reddit asked. The man replied with a serene smile. "I am the advocate for those betrayed by false gods, a penitent walking the thorny path for my master." Tears welled in Reddit''s eyes. He felt it then. His life thus far had been for this moment, for this man. "Follow the Father. I will open a new world for you." The one who had found him was an Apostle of the Holy Land of Demonic Teachings. Reddit accepted his teachings. Under rigorous training, his power was no longer just a curse but a recognized authority. Thus, he became the Apostle of Curses. "Father, I will return soon." The Wolf Bishop was dead, and their plans had been systematically thwarted. The culprit was clear¡ªEnkrid. His name was now infamous among the faith''s leadership. Such insolence could no longer be ignored. The Apostle who had taken him in¡ªthe man Reddit now called Father¡ªnodded in approval. Grinding his teeth, Reddit clasped his pus-oozing hands together in a semblance of prayer and bowed his head. The Father Apostle spoke. "Go and show them that none may hinder our work." Under the bright sunlight on the bustling road, they parted ways. By the time the civil war in Naurilia ended, the Apostle had already infiltrated the kingdom. Due to his innate authority, Reddit couldn''t ride a horse or keep people nearby for long. Anyone staying close to him for more than a week would inevitably encounter calamity. His controlled curses could burst hearts or infest skin with insects, but the unrestrained misfortune surrounding him led to lightning strikes or landslides. His curse was so potent that even a light scratch from a tree branch could fester and prove fatal. He was a walking curse caster. Despite no formal training, his innate ability surpassed any shaman, earning the title of Apostle. Through training, he refined his powers further. The fewer people around him, the stronger his curses of heart-bursting and insect-infestation became. However, accumulating this cursed power required careful control. If he stored it for too long, the misfortune would rebound on him. For this mission, Reddit pushed his limits, gathering an immense reserve of cursed energy. His body bore the cost. His skin turned soft and pus-ridden, his face a patchwork of scars resembling a ghoul''s visage. Even his internal organs struggled, barely functioning, while his brittle bones and atrophied muscles screamed with every step. Reddit concealed himself beneath a large cloak and hood as he reached the Border Guard. "Who are you, and where are you from?" "Just a traveler. Cough, cough." Even speaking a few words made his throat itch and lungs burn. "Perhaps I''ve overdone it this time." Reddit realized he had accumulated too much cursed energy. Still, it wouldn''t be long now. Soon, the pain would subside. For someone like him, releasing the curse onto a victim provided temporary relief. This was the only way he could survive. If not, he wouldn''t have slaughtered his village, wandered the continent, or earned the moniker of the Demon of Curses. Now, as an Apostle of Curses, he was content. "You seem unwell." "There''s a clinic inside; you should check it out." The gate guards at Border Guard took one look at him and waved him through without asking for a bribe. The trade city''s guards were focused solely on their duties. As Reddit passed through, one guard frowned at the pus dripping from his nose. "Be sure to get treated." Reddit nodded and entered. There was no need for an inn; he headed straight for the barracks. Enkrid was known for his obsessive training. "Enkrid!" A voice caught his attention. He turned to see a black-haired, blue-eyed man in front of a smithy, donning metal gauntlets. It was a sign the Demon God was watching over him. "The True God watches over me." Reddit recited the teachings, focusing all his power on a single wave of curse aimed at Enkrid. But a wave wasn''t enough. Reddit stepped forward, his cursed body protesting every movement. Pain would soon be forgotten. Reaching out his hand, he brushed against Enkrid. "An honor... sir," he murmured, pretending to be a citizen. Enkrid, unprepared, felt Reddit''s hand touch him. *** "To the Apostle of War, I ask this: Did you truly spare the heretic? Surely you understand that doing so is tantamount to declaring yourself one of them?" Audin had a dream. A fragment of the past unfolded, and the face of someone speaking to him began to distort. The twisted face soon turned into a grotesque creature, molded from mud. The creature shuffled forward awkwardly, dragging its clumsy stumps, unworthy of being called legs. Watching it, Audin could sense it had trudged a great distance. The creature crawled forward, almost slithering, until it reached a person, melted into them, and crushed them. Upon closer inspection, the crushed figure was none other than the General Brother. "By the Lord...?" Audin believed this to be a kind of prophetic dream. While he couldn''t determine the true identity of the mud creature, he felt certain some great danger was approaching. Awakening, Audin realized he''d briefly dozed off in broad daylight while seated upright. It must have been arranged by divine will, using the dream to deliver a revelation. Audin''s gaze settled on the mad barbarian. "Where has the General Brother gone?" "To the city, to meet with a blacksmith." Rem had just returned with his new axe and was swinging it to get a feel for it. It was a different weapon from what he''d used so far but shared enough similarities with his old weapon to make adapting relatively easy. Rem was in the midst of repeating this adjustment process. Audin sighed as he spoke to him. "If we are too late, it will be because the Lord was negligent." Audin, normally unthinkable in his behavior, cursed the heavens and began to move. Rem, puzzled, wondered what had come over him. *** Foreboding What exactly is foreboding? Enkrid awaited the moment the ferryman''s sense of unease would materialize¡ªnot with excitement, but with patience. Yet no news arrived. Even so, he was not anxious. Life continued as usual. "Let''s spar once I''ve gotten used to this." Rem entered with his new axe, which glowed faintly in the sunlight, forged from Lewisian steel. Anyone could see it wasn''t an ordinary weapon. "How long will you need to adjust?" "Give me a day. Why are you so eager to get thrashed?" It was their typical lighthearted banter. "Oh, by the way, the blacksmith said he has something to give." "Why didn''t you bring it back yourself?" "Said he wanted to hand it over personally." Rem thought back to the craftsman who''d tried to give his axe an odd name. Though he considered taking it by force, the axe he''d received was far too satisfactory to risk offending the smith. Enkrid nodded. A royal blacksmith wanting to personally deliver his creation¡ªhe could understand that sentiment. That difference in understanding was likely what set him apart from someone like Rem. "Sure, why not?" What was the harm in making a quick trip? Being a general hadn''t changed his daily routine. It was only other commanders'' attitudes that had shifted. Chiefly, Battalion Commander Graham maintained a courteous demeanor. So did leaders like Lieutenant Vengeance and Squad Leader Bell. Beyond that, there were the admiring stares of those who saw him as more than a leader. Of course, there were exceptions. His subordinates, for instance, and Shinar¡ªthey remained unchanged. Lost in thought, Enkrid noticed Audin seated off to the side, asleep in a posture so disciplined it was almost impressive. With that, he descended into the marketplace to find the forge. It was hot, befitting the season of the salamander. The salamander, a creature of flame, was sometimes called a fire spirit and sometimes a fire monster. Seasons of extreme heat were often named in its honor. Summer sunlight filtered through the trees, casting patterns on the ground. As he walked, Enkrid pondered new techniques, how to train, and the best ways to apply them. Once he retrieved what was waiting for him and sparred with Rem, today would be just as fulfilling as any other. After a brief walk, he arrived at the forge, where the blacksmith greeted him, dripping with sweat. "The metal from your previous sword was exceptional. While I couldn''t restore it as a blade due to the damaged core, I made this." The craftsman, clearly proud, presented a gauntlet forged from the melted remains of Enkrid''s old sword, Silver. The metallic gauntlet was reinforced with leather on the inside, layered further with fabric for cushioning. Pure metal wouldn''t absorb shock well, after all. The exterior was polished to smooth curves, making it excellent for deflecting or parrying weapons. "Your craftsmanship is exceptional." Enkrid didn''t hold back his praise, thinking it a fine gift. As he turned to leave with the gauntlet, someone called out to him. "Enkrid, sir!" It was a shoemaker he''d met once before. The man had discovered a mage hiding beneath his shop, a moment when Enkrid had unlocked the Gate of Intuition. It was a memory impossible to forget. "Ah, I was just so thrilled to see you..." The cobbler''s tone was unusually formal¡ªunderstandable, given how much had changed for Enkrid since that day. The shoemaker worried the now-elevated noble might reprimand him. "How''s your daughter?" "Are you interested in her?" "Not like that." As they exchanged simple pleasantries, another figure approached Enkrid. "I-it''s an honor." The stranger stammered as they extended a hand. Enkrid thought little of it. Plenty of people recognized him, from curious duelists to admirers offering greetings. It never crossed his mind that this could be the foreboding figure the ferryman had warned of. Why would it? The man''s shabby appearance aside, it was evident he posed no physical threat. From his stance to his aura, everything screamed vulnerability. Even a fifteen-year-old could have overpowered him. The stranger''s hand brushed against Enkrid''s arm. "How dare you touch him?" The shoemaker erupted, furious on Enkrid''s behalf. Enkrid waved it off. He had felt something in the moment of contact, but it was fleeting¡ªimpossible to identify. Only a vague sensation remained. "Wh-what is this?" The man''s voice trembled, his reaction one of profound shock. Enkrid blinked in surprise at the sudden shift in demeanor. "Must be a deeply troubled soul." He took the man''s hand in his own, refusing to judge someone based on appearances alone. It was only right. The Ferryman''s Oversight "A wretched curse?" Even the ferryman couldn''t see everything. He could observe the patterns of repeated days, but when foreboding loomed, its exact nature often escaped him. Who could have predicted that this pitiful creature would bring a curse? The ferryman felt a rare pang of embarrassment. He''d warned of looming danger for days, only for it to manifest as a curse. No curse in the world could truly harm this madman. The stronger curse always eats away the weaker one. The ferryman knew this well, for many reasons. "Idiots," he muttered, cursing those who had sent the pitiful man. Whoever they were, they deserved nothing but contempt. "Moronic fools." -------------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work! Chapter 423 - Rem’s Resolve Chapter 423 - 423 - Rem''s Resolve Chapter 423 - Rem''s Resolve "Why?" The question came from beneath the hood, accompanied by eyes trembling with frantic intensity. The patient was so shocked that even their breathing had turned ragged. Their hand, which Enkrid had grasped, trembled uncontrollably¡ªa clear sign of severe illness. "The clinic is that way." Seeing that the individual was an elderly person, Enkrid spoke courteously. To him, they simply seemed like someone whose pain had affected their mind. Though a nearby cobbler shot Enkrid a sharp glare, the Apostle of Curses didn''t even register it. They were too stunned by the unimaginable turn of events, so much so that they momentarily forgot to breathe. "Why?" The question slipped out of their mouth again. Enkrid, for his part, couldn''t fathom the meaning behind it. He thought he could feel some strange aura emanating from the stranger''s body, but it wasn''t particularly threatening. The Apostle of Curses felt as if the curse he''s thrown was like throwing a handful of salt into the sea¡ªthe curse dissipated into nothingness in the air. What is this? A dream? It makes no sense. "Are you all right?" Enkrid asked again, his tone kind. To him, this person clearly seemed mentally unwell. But Enkrid''s calm demeanor left Reddit gasping for air. Their curse, ineffective against Enkrid, triggered an internal reaction in their body¡ªa sudden convulsion of the affliction they bore. It was partly because their composure had shattered, leaving them in a state of panic. "Gah! Guh!" Foaming at the mouth, Reddit collapsed. "Healer!" Enkrid shouted. Before the call even finished echoing, a massive figure was already rushing toward them¡ªit was Audin. With each pounding step, Audin''s body seemed to grow larger. If he had been an enemy, the sheer speed and force of his approach would have been terrifying. "General." Upon seeing the fallen Reddit, Audin frowned¡ªa rare expression for him. "Ah, they''re dead." Stopping mid-shout for a healer, Enkrid checked and confirmed that the individual had stopped breathing. Thus died Reddit, a man who, as an Apostle of the Sacred Cult of the Demon Realm, had spent over two decades killing countless targets with his deadly curses¡ªthe cult''s greatest assassin. But only two individuals could even speculate about Reddit''s true identity in that moment. One of them, of course, was Audin. "Lord?" Even Audin was astonished. He internally questioned how such a dangerous curse user could fall so utterly. Especially since Enkrid, the supposed target, appeared completely unharmed. And a few paces away, watching from a distance, was the black panther, Esther. Esther had sensed an immense malevolence and had followed it to its source. She recognized Reddit immediately. "A born curse-wielder." Esther knew what he was, but she also knew his curse would not work on Enkrid. As a fire witch and a gifted mage, she could discern the nature of curses. She didn''t know exactly what bound Enkrid''s body, but it was powerful enough to disrupt even the curse upon her own body. It was only natural, then, that he remained unaffected. A curse crumbles before a greater curse. "Snort." With a huff, Esther turned and headed back to her quarters. Lately, she''d been working even harder to restore her magical realm, leaving her utterly exhausted. *** The ferryman clicked his tongue at the predictable outcome. "Tsk." There are situations in life that one cannot handle without preparation, and there are those that even preparation cannot overcome. The latter requires constant study and training to handle. For instance, avoiding a sudden arrow shot demands a state of perpetual readiness. *** "Not dying to stray arrows is just common sense, isn''t it?" So said Rem. Enkrid had also trained for such contingencies, practicing to dodge Jaxen''s daggers from mere paces away. While he trained inconsistently, his preparation had been thorough. But was this curse one of those cases? No, it was neither. The ferryman, knowing what Enkrid didn''t, understood that curses meant nothing when faced with something far greater. The curse of repetition that plagued the ferryman himself was a torment more severe than any other curse. Furthermore, a curse inherently exploits the weaknesses of the vulnerable. A voodoo doll''s curse may work on some but fail on others, depending on their mental fortitude. To put it differently: "It''s a matter of willpower." The ferryman had seen Enkrid''s resolve. It went beyond mere strength of will¡ªit exuded sheer madness. It wasn''t just strong will; it was a deranged determination. Against such a person, even potent curses were useless. This was precisely why curses often failed against knights. Knights wielded a mystical force derived from their will: Will. The ferryman, despite being startled by Reddit''s potent curse, realized: "Their opponent was too mismatched." It was a matter of compatibility. To someone like Enkrid, a curse was less threatening than a mosquito, less bothersome than a fly. He wouldn''t even register it as a danger; his instincts would dismiss it as unthreatening. "Did he kill that man with just his gaze?" A passing townsfolk made an incredulous remark. "Don''t be ridiculous. No one can kill with just a look." Another nearby scoffed, dismissing the notion as nonsense. No one would ever know that Reddit, the Apostle who had killed so many with curses, had met such a pitiful end. It was an utterly futile death. Had he instead cursed an entire city or targeted someone other than Enkrid, it might have been more effective. But it was too late now. Suspecting a possible plague, healers came to investigate the corpse, while townsfolk recoiled from the sight of his blistered skin. Unknowingly, Enkrid had become the ultimate nemesis of the cult. *** "Show me what you''ve got." Rem''s words prompted Enkrid to demonstrate something he had been honing tirelessly upon returning to the border garrison. Enkrid raised his sword, Aker, its tip piercing the sky diagonally. Rem steadied his breathing. "If I hold back, I''ll die." When had Enkrid grown so much? Rem licked his parched lips. The weather was suffocatingly hot, with no rain to break the oppressive humidity. Sweat poured in streams even without movement. Sticky and stifling, the heat was unbearable. Yet Rem momentarily forgot his discomfort. Enkrid''s overwhelming presence sent chills down his spine. The air was still, devoid of even a whisper of wind. Even the dust on the sparring grounds clung to the earth, lying flat. Nearby, the soldiers had naturally become spectators. No one dared to breathe loudly as they watched. The first to move was Enkrid. From his ready stance, his shoulders shifted, and the blade moved. "So fast." Watching, Ragna could see traces of his own swift, heavy swordsmanship in Enkrid''s strike. Commander Shinar noted the precise control in Enkrid''s swordplay. Audin saw the influence of his own close-combat techniques. Enkrid simply focused, swinging his sword with singular concentration. What is Will? It is the force of resolve. And what is resolve? It is the desire to accomplish something. "An explosion of the moment." Muscles contracted and burst forth, adding acceleration to power. The heavy pressure learned from wielding massive swords was layered into the strike. Rem felt as though he could see the fiery aura boiling over from Enkrid''s entire body. The strength behind that single strike was something he couldn''t possibly dismiss. Rem, too, ignited the Heart of the Beast, unleashing strength that could rival an actual giant. Harnessing that immense power, he swung his axes with all his might. If Enkrid stepped forward and brought his sword down, Rem countered by crossing his two axes in an upward arc. Typically, lighter weapons lack destructive power, but not in Rem''s hands. The axes were as light as the weapons he was accustomed to, allowing him to wield them with exceptional control. The weapons collided. CLANG! A thunderous sound echoed, and a shockwave rippled outward in concentric circles. It was the kind of reckless clash that would make anyone question if this was truly just a sparring session. The force sent dust, which had been quietly settled on the ground, flying in every direction. After trading just one strike, the two stood frozen, their weapons still pressed against each other. In this tense stalemate, Rem broke the silence. "What do you call that?" "Giant''s Strike," Enkrid replied. "The name''s too plain. You should call it ''A Giant''s Last Grunt.''" Enkrid wasn''t the type to engage in idle banter. He simply said what he wanted. Rem might have felt slighted. After all, even ordinary giants would need to exert every ounce of their strength to execute such a strike. "And yours?" Enkrid asked. "Feather Axe." It was a name Enkrid had never heard before, unsurprisingly. Rem had adapted techniques from the western lands and translated their name into this continent''s tongue. Rem marveled at the growth Enkrid had shown in his skills, while Enkrid was equally astonished by Rem''s mastery over the axes. Despite the immense power behind the Giant''s Strike, Rem had deflected it by expertly guiding the force with his axes¡ªredirecting the blow using pure wrist strength. It was an advanced skill so difficult to replicate that one wouldn''t even dare to imagine attempting it. Above all, it was a technique Rem had never shown before. "Did you develop this recently?" Enkrid asked. "No, just refined something I already had. There hasn''t been a weapon like this before, after all." Rem spun one of his axes in his hand as he spoke, referring to the light, durable weapons that responded perfectly to his will. Enkrid studied the axes that had withstood the clash against Aker, his sword. The fact that the axe blades weren''t damaged at all was remarkable in itself. It was clear that the craftsman Crang had commissioned had created weapons of exceptional quality. The craftsman had even named the weapons with pride after forging them. Yet, neither Rem nor the others who received such weapons ever used those names. "Do they respond if you call out their names or something?" Rem had easily dismissed the craftsman''s suggestion. His reasoning was simple: these weren''t heirloom weapons; there was no need for sentimentality. But there was no point in explaining that in detail. Ragna, on the other hand, casually called his sword "Black Blade." If the craftsman ever heard that, he''d probably want to bash Ragna''s head in with a hammer. It was such a quintessentially "Ragna" approach¡ªignoring everything but swordsmanship itself. Shortly after, Rem stepped back, and Ragna stepped forward. "Now it''s my Black Blade''s turn," Ragna declared. The ensuing fight was different from Rem''s brawl. This time, Enkrid wasn''t entirely on the defensive. Ragna smiled as he saw Enkrid fend off even the Will of Severance. "Impressive!" Excited, Ragna unleashed his full talent. "Let me borrow this for a moment!" Ragna imitated the swordsmanship Enkrid had demonstrated earlier, though he added his own interpretation. It was a display of insane talent. Enkrid countered with a technique he''d learned from Rem¡ªthe Giant Cleave¡ªusing the Heart of the Beast to endure and redirect the overwhelming blows. This exchange repeated three times. "Once more," Ragna urged. In truth, Enkrid had requested the last two repetitions. He''d felt stiffness in his movements during the parry and wanted to overcome it, recognizing that this practice would help him improve. "You''ve come a long way," Ragna remarked at the end of their sparring session. Rem nodded in agreement as he watched. But Enkrid, ever composed, replied, "There''s still a long way to go." Both Ragna and Rem accepted his words without complaint. They understood that his lofty ambitions left no room for satisfaction. That evening, Rem remained alone in the training grounds. "They''re catching up quickly," he muttered. The leader who had once faltered without the Heart of the Beast was gone. Should he retrieve what he had left behind in the West? No, he decided against it. He had made a promise to himself when he left. "I''ll never need that again," he had said. It was his own declaration, and he had no intention of going back on it. "Guess I''ll just do what I can for now." Even without resorting to the forbidden arts, there were ways to improve. Though slower and more roundabout, they weren''t without results. His axes, forged from Lewisian steel, were proof enough of that progress. As Rem mulled over his thoughts, he noticed a faint presence passing by. His gaze shifted upward. It was that sly alley cat, returning from somewhere. The training grounds were near the main thoroughfare, so it wasn''t surprising to see someone passing through. "Why don''t you just settle down and start a family, you rutting stray?" Rem''s tongue moved on instinct, sharp as ever. Somehow, it felt as natural as drinking water after wandering a desert for three days. After all, wasn''t Jaxen the kind of person who begged to be insulted? Jaxen, who had just returned from trying to convince a particularly stubborn guild member, was already irritable. Three near-death experiences should have been enough to change anyone''s mind, yet that fool remained defiant. Already on edge, Jaxen couldn''t resist responding to Rem''s jab. "And those words come from a savage who''s probably never even held a woman''s hand?" "I''m already married." "I''ll bet your manhood on the fact that''s a lie." The verbal sparring Enkrid had witnessed earlier now carried over to these two. "Fine, I''ll kill you. Let''s settle this," Rem said, rising to his feet. For Rem, it was partly a release of frustration. Memories of his past had left a bitter taste in his mouth, and taking it out on this sly alley cat seemed like the perfect remedy. Jaxen didn''t back down. The two fought fiercely, with Jaxen showing a rare display of all his skills. He even used Will, though his method differed significantly from that of knights. Rem soon realized he was losing. Jaxen, aware of his advantage, finally stepped back and said, "Go hang yourself." "What did you say, you bastard?" Rem cursed under his breath and made a decision. He would return to the West. What of his earlier resolve? It no longer mattered. Even if he could endure Ragna''s antics, the sly alley cat pushing his buttons was the final straw. It was decided. Rem would return to the West soon. -------------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work! Chapter 424 - Guests Chapter 424 - 424 - Guests Chapter 424 - Guests424. Guests As Rem reached his resolve, others experienced shifts in their own mindsets. It was inevitable. "Ha!" From morning to evening. Whether it rained, snowed, or the weather turned sticky and oppressive. Watching someone swing their sword like a madman made one reflect, whether they wanted to or not. If Rem solidified his resolve through a turning point, Ragna, on the other hand, revisited his innate talents. He adopted a contemplative stance, gazing into his inner self. "What do I possess?" First and foremost, he excelled at finding shortcuts¡ªa talent so remarkable it bordered on genius. This ability to navigate paths wasn''t a skill requiring others'' acknowledgment. "Not that I plan to become a guide or anything." In truth, Ragna had tried being a guide once, but every client who hired him recoiled in horror afterward. Though he fought exceptionally well, he was a mad guide who couldn''t even distinguish north from south. Some even accused him of intentionally seeking out places teeming with monsters and beasts. The guide guilds would tremble at the mere mention of Ragna''s name for a time. Having dismissed his guide talents, he moved on. "What''s next?" The sword. Swordsmanship. Innate talent doesn''t fade, and some things are self-evident, even without external validation. Just as he had a natural talent for guiding, he acknowledged some measure of talent in swordsmanship. "Then, what am I lacking?" Recognizing his strengths was straightforward. Though he was unmatched as a guide, the same could not be said for his swordsmanship. If he truly had no flaws and faced no obstacles, he would already be at a knight''s level. But he wasn''t. He had hit a wall, and his swordsmanship felt stifled, as if its flow had been severed. This meant there was something lacking. While others mistook him for slacking recently, Ragna had been deeply introspective. Reflecting on himself, he arrived at a single conclusion before taking action. "The basics." This referred to every fundamental movement¡ªswinging, slashing, and thrusting. Starting with basic physical training, Ragna retraced his steps along the path he had walked so far. Even with his atrocious sense of direction, Ragna could follow his own footprints backward, one step at a time. In this process, a voice from within asked, "Why do you want to become a knight?" Previously, such a question would have left him speechless, unable to proceed. But now? "Becoming a knight is the only way to see what comes next." Ragna now awaited what lay ahead, with a clear goal in sight: the knight from Aspen. His aim was to defeat him. Just as Rem underwent a transformation, so too did Ragna. Jaxen, however, had no internal conflicts to resolve. He had long made up his mind. Instead, his days were consumed by endless activity. He had to stay constantly on the move. Fail to persuade his guild members, and the next moment could see them poisoning Enkrid''s meal. Amid all this, Enkrid continued to wield his sword. Seeing its trajectory, a Frog marveled aloud, "Impeccable." It was as if the technique had been repeated thousands upon thousands of times over the years. To Luagarne''s eyes, when it came to the basics alone, no one rivaled Enkrid. "Isn''t that obvious?" Luagarne thought to herself. On further reflection, the statement seemed so self-evident. Geniuses, gifted as they are, grasp the principles behind a movement after only a few attempts, interpreting and refining them. "But can it be said that they truly master it?" While dazzling talent may reveal shortcuts, it isn''t always a blessing. Without effort, even a genius could become consumed by their own gifts. Luagarne had seen many unfortunate individuals like that. So what was needed? Perseverance. Talent without persistence was like the song of a mute bird. Where did such relentless determination come from? "What compels someone to repeat endlessly, to the point they forget notions like boredom or monotony?" "Hoo." Enkrid exhaled deeply from his diaphragm and brought his sword down. It was an identical motion to the one before. He wasn''t imagining a sparring opponent in his mind. It was merely the repetitive downward slash he performed daily, which to Luagarne seemed tediously monotonous. Yet heat emanated from Enkrid''s body. This fervor could not be born from boredom. It was a passion visible only to those intoxicated by joy. "A strange and wondrous man." What she hadn''t noticed before now came into focus. For Enkrid, the act of swinging his sword itself brought such pleasure that boredom never entered his mind. He simply enjoyed the act wholly. Truly, he was a madman. As Krang, now spreading his nickname "Mourning King," once remarked, "That bastard isn''t human." Luagarne found herself silently agreeing. Her eyes trailed Enkrid throughout the day. Observing and analyzing everything he did became her occupation. She also noticed how others changed under his influence. "Recognizing one''s shortcomings isn''t a talent." That required an opportunity, a stimulus. In that sense, the man named Enkrid served as a fair and impartial catalyst to everyone. That included Fel. Fel took pride in his talents. Like Luagarne, he observed and scrutinized everyone. Especially Enkrid. "What a lunatic." There was no such thing as downtime. Or rather, when Enkrid appeared to rest, it didn''t feel like true rest. Not showing the slightest boredom during endlessly repetitive training was impressive enough, but this guy seemed to stake his life on each exercise. "I give it my all." Many claimed as much. "But this lunatic is something else." He didn''t just say it¡ªhe lived it, day after day. Just as a burning soul illuminates its surroundings, so too did Enkrid''s unwavering commitment define his days. Fel, though diligent in his own training, found himself awestruck by the consistency of it. Swallowing hard, Fel made up his mind. "If that''s what it takes, so be it." He hadn''t come this far, enduring the old shepherds'' scoldings, for nothing. Quietly, Fel devoted himself to secret, intense training alongside his observations. Ropord, in a similar position, took a completely different approach. "Let''s duel!" Anyone familiar with the old Ropord would have found this unimaginable. Once a man who second-guessed himself and followed others'' opinions over his own, he now disregarded others'' gazes entirely and acted decisively. "Are you looking to die?" Ragna asked him seriously as Ropord confronted him. It was no joke. "Don''t kill him," Enkrid said, swinging his sword nearby. Ropord was like a fledgling who had just broken out of his shell to embrace a new world. "He can''t be serious." Ropord interpreted Ragna''s words as such. In the past, he would have misunderstood others'' intentions through wild assumptions. But not anymore. That''s why he wasn''t shaken by their banter. Resolve becomes willpower. "I wish to fight as if my life depends on it!" "Even if this happens?" Ragna asked indifferently. "Don''t kill him," Enkrid interjected again, shaking his head. Ropord stood firm, undeterred by their humor. The two truly enjoyed their jokes. It was only natural that Ropord, who recklessly charged in, ended up beaten to a pulp. Yet, he didn''t stop there. Even after groaning in pain for days, he would quickly recover and rise again. "Lady Teresa! Let''s have a match!" Ropord challenged anyone, regardless of their strength or status. "I won''t send you to the Lord just yet," Teresa replied, nodding. Recently, she''d had a small revelation. This came after observing various challengers who sought out Enkrid. Truly, all sorts of people showed up: mercenary rabble, skeptical noble guards, foreign warriors, and wandering swordsmen from the eastern lands. Thanks to Frog Maellune in the city, most were filtered out. Still, a few managed to reach the barracks. Even Maellune couldn''t be everywhere at once. Enkrid personally dealt with these challengers, and Teresa silently approved as she observed him. A lion exerted its full strength, even when hunting a rabbit. Enkrid never treated any opponent lightly. Drawing Aker, he activated Will of Swiftness. His piercing strike, radiant as a bolt of lightning, was awe-inspiring. Teresa imitated his approach. When Ropord charged, she struck him down with her shield. It was a blow powered by her half-giant strength. Thud! "Ugh!" Ropord''s neck twisted as he was sent flying, rolling three times on the ground before coming to a stop. He was unconscious. Had Teresa used just a bit more force, he might''ve been knocking on Heaven''s door. "Were you trying to kill him?" Enkrid asked, witnessing the scene. "I merely gave my all during the match," Teresa replied, exuding heat. Her eyes conveyed her eagerness to fight. Enkrid wasn''t one to decline such challenges. "Come at me," he said. The ensuing chaos would''ve been baffling to any outsider. The "lord" ruling this region, often called a general, fought recklessly as if his life depended on it. Meanwhile, the weakest-looking one among them, Ropord, challenged anything that moved. Some who came for a spar were so impressed by Enkrid and the others'' skills that they sought to join the unit. "I want to serve under the Demon Slayer." No one stopped them. But after some time, these individuals came to their senses. "I''ll start with the Border Guard reserves. No, wait! You want me under Lord Rem''s command? I''ve made a mistake! Perhaps I''ll try farming instead. Forget the reserves¡ªI''ll become a farmer!" They changed their minds instantly. No sane person could keep up with the madness here. It was no wonder this unit was called the Madmen Division. "Let''s spar!" Ropord''s voice rang out. Fel watched quietly, Teresa stood ready, and Rem pondered his journey to the west. Jaxen moved tirelessly between locations, while Ragna threw himself into fundamental training like never before. Audin, too, was caught up in contemplation about his Seal. "Lord, may I lift my Seal?" This thought plagued him lately. Audin believed that the Lord would eventually grant him another revelation. Dunbakel, on the other hand, had come to terms with her weakness. Her excessive desire to survive¡ªit was her greatest flaw. As a result, her first instinct was always to look over her shoulder, planning escape routes. "I had to be this way to survive," she reasoned. The beastkin''s survival instinct was sharper than most species''. For Dunbakel, it had only worsened after being cast out of her pack. Even after resigning herself to death, the desire to live always returned. Why was that? It was because she truly didn''t want to die. "I need to overcome this." Enkrid''s presence was unique. Simply observing him made Dunbakel recognize her own flaws. Thus unfolded another ordinary day at the training grounds. Fel noticed someone approaching from between three trees near the entrance. It wasn''t a familiar face. The man wasn''t dressed like a guard, either. He wore a vest made of coarse fabric. His arms were scarred and muscular, his jaw sharp, and his cheekbones prominent. His lean, sinewy build was impossible to ignore. Fel''s gaze scanned the man''s body in an instant. "Mind if I join?" The moment Fel saw the man''s lips move, he heard the words and realized the man had suddenly drawn closer. "Ah!" Startled, Fel instinctively drew his Idol Slayer and swung it upward. Why wouldn''t he? The man who had been walking leisurely from afar was suddenly right in front of him. Fel''s instincts commanded him to swing, and the man caught the blade with his palm. Shh! The palm was slightly cut, blood seeping out. "Good blade," the man remarked, licking the wound casually. The magic of Idol Slayer had no effect on him. "You''re not worth my time," the man muttered before stepping into the training grounds. By then, Enkrid stood at the center, flanked by Rem, Ragna, Audin, Teresa, and Dunbakel. Ropord, still oblivious, asked, "Who might you be?" It was clear this man wasn''t a common soldier. "Just a passerby," the man replied. Though the stranger had done nothing, Enkrid felt pressure and was reminded of someone¡ªa memory summoned from instinct. The memory was of someone from Aspen, who had slashed through a tent with his blade¡ªa knight whose single strike had been overwhelming to block. "They said the rumors were exaggerated," the man said, lowering his arms. He made no movements, activated no Will, and yet, no openings could be found. But was retreat the answer? Enkrid steadied himself, gripping his sword. For him, will was a blade sharpened on the whetstone of resolve. It wasn''t just Enkrid. Rem, Ragna, Audin, Dunbakel, and Teresa all prepared themselves. None of them showed any intention of backing down. The summer heat rippled through the air, the sweltering atmosphere now tempered by a chilling tension. Just as no one uttered a word, another figure approached from behind the stranger. "Stop messing around," the newcomer said. Though his words broke the silence, the tension remained. The first man had created this charged atmosphere intentionally, but now it had evolved. ''Interesting,'' the vest-wearing man thought, staring directly at Enkrid. The source of the tension was clear¡ªit was this man, the Demon Slayer. -------------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work! Chapter 425 - Where Am I Now Chapter 425 - 425 - Where Am I Now Chapter 425 - Where Am I Now Enkrid felt the fine hairs on his skin stand on end. It was as though his opponent''s blade could sever his neck at any moment. Could he stop it? Before the doubt even fully formed, his body acted. He shifted his footing and placed his hand on his sword belt, assuming the most natural stance for drawing his blade at any moment. Dozens of attack strategies flared in his mind, only to dissipate as quickly as they appeared. What if I use a Whistle Dagger to divert their attention? Or perhaps he could charge in and crush them with a heavy strike? What about attempting a giant''s blow? His instincts activated, focusing entirely on the moment. He wouldn''t even allow himself to blink. Then he saw his opponent''s eyes¡ªyellow and playful, as though mocking him. Even that playfulness felt deadly. Yes, it was possible to die here. But so what? The fire of his concentration ignited, his vision sharpening to see even an inch ahead. Every attack he could think of would likely be blocked. That much was certain. And yet¡ªso what? The goosebumps on his skin, the pounding of his heart, the sweat dripping down his temple, the inexplicable chill against the weather¡ªall of it, he chose to forget. Against the knight he''d faced before, the best strategy had been to strike first. Because otherwise, he couldn''t even block a single attack. At that time, it was the best he could do. But what about now? Despite being beaten and broken countless times, Enkrid kept moving, chasing a dream dulled by time. Not a single day passed without him swinging his sword until his hands bled. The sun rose anew each day, but Enkrid never wasted a single one. Will it work? A sudden surge of desire to act overwhelmed him. Why not try? He wanted to¡ªhis passion burned, erasing everything but his opponent from view. Is this arrogance? Overconfidence? Before becoming the so-called troublemaker unit commander, there had been days when he felt something akin to confidence. How could he not? He''d swung his sword like a madman, again and again. He''d refused to acknowledge that the fruits of effort weren''t evenly distributed to everyone. No, he knew but ignored it. The self-assurance he gained among the average crowd fueled his ambition to challenge himself further. Where do I stand now? He remembered seeking opponents, stepping forward on baseless belief that he had changed since before. And what was the result? *** The spring of his twenty-seventh year. That was when he realized how insignificant his talent truly was. A random quarrel taught him that. In just five moves, his sword flew from his hand, and a hole opened in his stomach. Clutching the wound with his palm, Enkrid had asked: "How old are you?" "Twelve." Twelve. He couldn''t believe it. This was a true genius. "Sorry, it was my first real fight," the kid had said. The memory remained vivid. He couldn''t forget that child prodigy''s face. *** Even so... A blade wielded without confidence could cut an opponent but never defeat them. "Instead of debating whether to strike or not, just swing," Rem had said. "If it doesn''t work, keep cutting until it does," Ragna had advised when discussing how to split an unyielding stone. "If your spirit falters, strengthen your body. If your body falters, train your spirit, brother," Audin had declared, emphasizing relentless practice. "Just stab them when they''re not looking," Jaxen had suggested when asked how to handle stronger foes. Even now, perhaps this urge to test himself came from misplaced confidence. So what if it does? He had clawed his way to this point, climbing over walls with sheer determination after building the tower of effort. Enkrid wanted to test himself, to quench his thirst, to face his opponent with his blade. How far have I come? Compared to the Aspen knight he faced before? Compared to the child genius who pierced his stomach? His resolve was forged of stubbornness and grit. And his opponent knew it. Though the man had relaxed, Enkrid''s defiance burned as brightly as ever. The man in the vest stared directly at him and laughed. It was amusing. Not just Enkrid''s obstinacy but how those around him naturally followed his flow. "I don''t know either," the man said. Then he moved. With a sharp thud, the man propelled himself forward, his body stretching like an arrow. It was acceleration beyond human limits. The moment Enkrid processed it, his sword moved as well. It wasn''t a giant''s strike, nor a crushing blow. It was a pure, instinctive reaction. Boom! A thunderous sound erupted as Enkrid felt himself pushed backward. He bent his knees, lowered his center of gravity, and held firm. Drdrdr. His boots scraped the dirt as he pulled his deflected sword back and thrust forward, minimizing his movements to exploit any openings. It was a response born of countless sparring matches with Rem¡ªa reflex honed to perfection. "Ha!" The man deflected the thrust with a shout. His weapon was a thick, curved dagger with a one-hand length blade, known as a jambiya. Even after colliding with Aker, it neither cracked nor broke. It was undoubtedly a fine weapon. Neither Rem, Ragna, nor Audin intervened. Thud! Tatatatang! Their weapons clashed repeatedly. Instead of retreating, Enkrid studied the dagger''s trajectory. Astonishingly, the blade seemed to vanish momentarily, but his trained Will and one-step-ahead vision enabled him to predict its path. It was akin to seeing the starting point and deducing the destination. This allowed him to keep up, though he couldn''t afford any flashy counterattacks. After evading and deflecting twelve strikes, Enkrid''s left hand darted to his waist before thrusting forward. He aimed a strike infused with Sparks. The blade, swift beyond compare, pierced the air like a single, focused point of speed. It truly embodied the essence of swiftness. Yet, in the next instant, the fiery blade was caught. A firm grip halted the sword as if it were wedged unmovingly between stones. In his other hand, the man held a jambiya¡ªa curved dagger that now rested against Enkrid''s neck. He had not only caught the fiery blade with one hand but also twisted his body deftly, slipping past the reach of the sword. With a fluid movement, he closed in and positioned the dagger against Enkrid''s throat. "This is the end, little one," the man said with a grin. At last, Enkrid''s surroundings came into focus. His narrow focus on the man before him dissipated, and familiar sights of the sparring grounds returned to his vision¡ªthe three trees nearby and the dusty terrain. At the same time, a faint soreness spread through his muscles. His body felt as if it had been pushed to its limits, like the strain from days of intense training. "Who are you? What order of knights do you serve?" Enkrid asked, his breathing steady but wary. "Knights? No, nothing like that," the man replied, shrugging with a playful innocence that starkly contrasted his scar-covered body and roughly trimmed beard. "Then perhaps you could introduce yourself first," came another voice. A man with brown skin, wearing a turban and wide-brimmed hat, approached with a calm demeanor that suggested the earlier commotion was hardly an issue. "Allow me to introduce him," the turbaned man continued, his tone smooth. "This is Anu, often called the King of the East." The introduction hung in the air, stunning even Enkrid into momentary silence. "Surprised, are you?" The so-called king chuckled heartily and began speaking again. Anu was no ordinary man. He was the Mercenary King of the East, the greatest explorer of the continent, the master of the griffons, and the man who had slain a lion with a single sword at the age of eighteen. "So, I hear you enjoy battle," Anu said, his voice brimming with mirth. "And that you''ve dedicated your life to killing demons. Join me. I''ll gift you the strength of a knight capable of slaying demons." These words, spoken by a man whose legendary reputation was already well-established, carried undeniable weight. It was no wonder that no one, including Rem, dared to intervene in the earlier duel. There was no malice in Anu''s actions¡ªonly a willingness to teach Enkrid a lesson. But his current offer held a different gravity altogether, one that even Ragna, lost in thought, could not ignore. "Quite confident, aren''t you?" Rem said, breaking the silence with a faint smirk. Audin chuckled quietly, though his eyes betrayed a hint of wariness. Although Anu hadn''t explicitly called himself a knight, his display of skill left no room for doubt. His commanding presence, reminiscent of Krang''s, further cemented his aura of authority. Even Lagarne, usually indifferent to human affairs, watched him intently. The prospect of someone capable of accomplishing the impossible naturally piqued curiosity. Under the blazing sun, the sparring grounds shimmered with heat. The dust stirred briefly before settling again, casting a haze over the gathered figures. Before Enkrid could respond, the turbaned man interjected. "Your Highness, making promises you can''t keep is unwise." "Hm?" Enkrid raised an eyebrow at the unexpected remark. "Do you doubt me?" Anu asked sharply. "How exactly do you plan to accomplish it?" the turbaned man retorted. "Well," Anu began with a grin. "I''ll try hard." "That''s not enough." "I''ll give it my best?" "Still insufficient." "Sometimes things work out if you keep at it!" Anu''s eyes burned with fervor, his sheer determination almost convincing anyone who heard him. But his subordinate remained unimpressed. "Empty promises are unacceptable," the man said firmly. "Bah, you''re giving up too easily!" "It''s not giving up; it''s about responsibility." Anu scoffed but said no more. Watching the exchange, Enkrid felt a familiar sense of absurdity. It was reminiscent of Rem¡ªa different flavor of madness, but madness nonetheless. The turbaned man spoke again, bowing slightly. "I must apologize for our abrupt visit. Our intentions are not hostile, I assure you." Everyone present could sense the truth in his words. Even Enkrid recognized that Anu had respected his stubbornness by accepting the duel earlier. "Welcome, then," Enkrid said simply. "Would it be alright if we stayed a few days?" Anu asked casually. "You seem like the type to stay even if we refused," Rem interjected dryly. Anu burst into laughter. "Sharp lad! I like you!" Indeed, no one could stop him if he decided to remain. Yet, Enkrid felt no particular reason to object. Anu''s charisma was undeniable. He quickly struck up conversations with Rem, Ragna, and Audin, though none of them were the type to let others close so easily. "Look at your build. You must be strong," Anu said, gesturing at Ragna. "A modest strength," Ragna replied. "Eastern brother." "I''ve got a friend, Gestharian, with some strength himself. You''d get along well. So, how did all you capable folks end up here?" His tone was oddly light, as if addressing children. "My apologies for the inconvenience," the turbaned man muttered, looking genuinely exasperated. Meanwhile, Enkrid reflected on the earlier duel. The strain on his body was minor compared to the invaluable insight he had gained. Techniques that Rem had tried to teach him countless times¡ªthose instinctual, defensive moves¡ªnow seemed more accessible. He realized Anu would accept further challenges without hesitation, offering him the perfect opportunity to refine those techniques in a life-or-death context. "Five duels a day," Enkrid muttered to himself. "Pardon?" the turbaned man asked, blinking. "Maybe even ten," Enkrid added, his resolve firm. The turbaned man stared at him, bewildered. For a moment, he thought Anu was the craziest person alive¡ªbut now he wasn''t so sure. And so, the decision was made: the Eastern Mercenary King Anu would remain among them. "Take care of me, young ones," Anu said with a grin. "How old are you, exactly?" Rem asked skeptically. "Over a hundred," Anu replied casually. Though difficult to believe, the claim was no lie. Anu had led mercenaries, explorers, and countless others in founding a kingdom in the East over fifty years ago. Even now, the man who slew lions with a single sword remained vigorous and unyielding¡ªa living legend. -------------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work! Chapter 426 - King of the East, Anu Chapter 426 - 426 - King of the East, Anu Chapter 426 - King of the East, Anu The ostensible reason King Anu of the East arrived in Border Guard was Martai, but naturally, there was another agenda at play. "Has Naurilia gone mad, or is it their newly enthroned king who''s lost it? I''ll need to figure that out. But first, let''s meet this so-called demon slayer." At eighteen, Anu made a name for himself by hunting lions across the eastern plains. By the time he was fifty, he had gathered his people and founded a nation on the eastern lands¡ªa true hero in every sense. Yet, this legendary man had one peculiar habit. Whenever he encountered someone impressive, he tried to bring them to the East. He was obsessed with acquiring talent. Not that it was always a misfortune for those he brought over. "Do you regret becoming my brother? Then you''re free to leave!" He was, after all, a man whose bold and jovial personality was unmatched across the continent. Those who followed him often became Easterners over time, swept up in his charisma and captivated by his ambition and dreams. His dreams were vast, lofty, and often seemed absurd¡ªbut he was making them a reality. So much so that every inch of the eastern frontier now bore Anu''s mark. Since the age of eighteen, he had devoted every moment of his life to pioneering the East. Anyone who truly understood his life and witnessed him in action couldn''t help but acknowledge his allure. "A bit stubborn and headstrong, but..." Anu''s brown-skinned lieutenant, Asaluhi, adjusted his turban and mused silently. Regardless of what others said, he deeply respected his king, whose boldness and lack of grudges defined him. Asaluhi believed his role was to fill the gaps in the king''s judgment. "Let''s go. Time to meet this so-called demon-slaying maniac." Although Enkrid''s story had been slightly twisted in its retelling, King Anu wasn''t one to harbor biases. "A maniac obsessed with killing demons, is he? Well, why not?" Martai was merely an excuse. The real reason was clear¡ªAnu was hungry for talent. The king had been preoccupied with a few recent developments in the East, but this visit conveniently coincided with a rare period of respite. Perfect timing. Arriving at Border Guard, it wasn''t difficult for him to find his way into the city under a plausible pretense. Finding this Enkrid fellow and entering the military training grounds was even simpler. "Will he accept any duel request? From anyone at all?" Asaluhi''s question made the soldier size them up, but he didn''t seem inclined to stop them. After all, anyone who had made it this far wasn''t someone a soldier could stop. The general himself had issued orders: let them through. Whether it was an assassin or a duelist, the soldiers had no business interfering if they couldn''t handle it themselves. Of course, the general had added a caveat¡ªif they were eager to fight, no one would stop them. But such enthusiastic soldiers were exceedingly rare. The soldier finally opened his mouth, prepared to let them pass. "That''s correct." Anu chuckled heartily and strode in first. The soldier didn''t stop him. As a veteran of some experience, he wasn''t about to pick a fight with someone who had likely already passed through the Frog Maellun, the city''s guard. The general had also warned them: unless they were confident in defeating Maellun, it was better not to provoke visitors of this caliber. "Well, he''s certainly bold." As he brushed past the soldier, the king muttered to himself, moving forward without restriction. The soldier observed the departing figure and couldn''t help but think the man seemed oddly excited. Anu entered the training grounds. "Interesting." He was already feeling a surge of exhilaration. When he met the so-called demon slayer, their presence stirred a sense of competitive spirit in him. It had been a long time since he''d felt such pure, clean fighting energy. Normally, Anu wouldn''t strike first, but the opponent''s aura moved him. "Why not? I''ll indulge myself." To be precise, he was drawn by the rawness of their determination, which compelled him to act. Thus began the Eastern Mercenary King''s stay with the unit. "Let''s see here." Surveying the group, Anu couldn''t help but let his greed for talent show. First, there was Rem. "Natural instincts, this one." The way he wielded his twin axes was far from ordinary. Anu referred to those he acknowledged as his "brothers," a tradition dating back to his early days in the East, when his group was known as the "Ochre Turban Brotherhood." The name had stuck ever since. Even among his brothers, such skill was rare. Though not entirely unprecedented, it was uncommon. The East was a harsh land, rivaling any magic-infested zone. The uncharted territories were inherently dangerous, teeming with colossal monsters and perilous beasts. And then there were the flying predators and cunning demon spawn. Despite these challenges, Rem stood out¡ªa talent even rare in the East. Yet, he wasn''t the only one. And what about Audin? "Let''s test your strength!" During a spar, they locked hands to measure their might. "Stronger than a Bloodhide Bear, huh?" Anu was genuinely impressed. More than that, Audin wasn''t just a brute relying on raw power. "I''ve seen strong men before..." When Anu tried to twist his wrist, Audin responded with subtle, skillful techniques. It wasn''t just his strength; his mastery made him exceptional¡ªa rare gem even among Anu''s brothers. Then there was Ragna. To call someone a genius is to acknowledge their extraordinary talent. Ragna was undoubtedly a genius. A being crafted by the heavens, he mimicked and mastered the essence of every skill Anu displayed. His fundamentals were solid. His swordsmanship with a black greatsword was swift and heavy, making him a formidable opponent for any but the most seasoned knights. All of this fueled Anu''s desire, though it didn''t shock him. Extraordinary instincts. A well-honed body. Fearsome talent. Rare? Certainly. But not unheard of. Yet, rarity didn''t make them any less desirable. There was even a talented beastkin and Teresa, a half-giant, among them. Even Ropord and Fel, the shepherd, caught his eye. Each one was a talent he coveted. "Fascinating." Anu felt a renewed sense of joy. And then, there was an anomaly. "A mage, too." Esther, in human form, had spared him a single glance before losing all interest. She barely acknowledged his presence. All of this might have been remarkable, but what truly fascinated Anu was the man leading them. "Defeat." What does it mean to lose? Most skilled warriors carried an unyielding pride, and these men were no exception. Rem, Ragna, Audin¡ªthey all fit this mold. But then there was this one. "Who is this guy?" A single man seemed to overturn all negativity in the group. "Would you care for a duel?" To lose is to deny one''s own ability. The first thing that struck harder than a competitive spirit was the bitter taste of defeat. It lingered longer, gnawed at one''s resolve, whispering like the devil in the corner of the mind. Such is the nature of negative emotions. Especially for those utterly shattered before Anu, the sensation was amplified. Anu acknowledged their stubbornness but didn''t reciprocate kindly. Every technique brought before him was crushed. Yet despite that¡ª "Busy, are we?" They charged at him again and again. Defeat eats away at the soul, more so for the skilled. But this one was different. Though Anu wasn''t fond of the term "semi knight," even by that standard, his opponent was remarkable¡ªlikely among the top ten, even when compared to his own siblings. And yet, this skilled individual fought without regard for losing. "Does he lack pride?" Or perhaps he held something greater than mere pride. Anu recalled his own past defeats. They hadn''t been pleasant, but he hadn''t had the time to wallow. There was always a path forward. It seemed his opponent felt the same. That familiar scent of resilience, Anu recognized it. "Let''s spar." The King of the East nodded. The opponent, unbothered by thoughts of defeat, raised his blade. Enkrid lost, and Anu won. A result as inevitable as the dawn. "Thank you." Such were the words of the defeated. The fiery resolve in those eyes told Anu it wasn''t indifference to losing but a focus on something far greater. A dream so grand that defeat became but a stepping stone. "I will pioneer the East," Anu declared. Enkrid gazed at him, clearly curious about the meaning of his words. "We''ll talk about it next time." Anu laughed heartily. The mere thought of bringing these people to the East thrilled him to no end. Within days, the reason for the Eastern King''s visit became clear to all without needing to ask. "Your skills are impressive. Would you care to join me on an expedition?" He was openly seeking talent, making no attempt to hide it. Rem blinked at the offer. He was chopping down a hefty tree to craft a sturdy log chair, getting accustomed to his newly forged axe. Each swing sent fresh wood chips and sawdust flying as the axe bit into the tree. Even with such a mundane task, Anu could tell. "This one wields an axe with remarkable finesse," he thought. At first, it seemed vaguely familiar, but the more he watched, the more he saw a unique and refined technique. "If I''m impressive, what does that make you?" Rem asked casually, his tone as loose as ever. Rank and title mattered little to him, be it king or knight. "Hardly a comparison." Anu shook his head. "And yet, your tone''s worse than our captain''s." "...Asalluhi, is this treason? An offense against the crown?" It was a jest, of course. Even if Anu had been genuinely offended, Rem wouldn''t have cared. "I have some things I need to deal with in the West," Rem resolved. The thought of confronting Anu without sorcery left him uneasy, which irritated him to no end. Sure, he wouldn''t lose in a real fight, and he''d learned a thing or two from their sparring, but something still felt off. "Yes, I''ll go to the West," Rem reaffirmed. The King wasn''t foolish; he knew how to exploit weaknesses. To Rem, he bantered like an equal, but with Ragna, he hit where it hurt most. "So, would you care to help me navigate the East?" "You need a guide?" "Indeed, I do." "Finding shortcuts and forging new paths is my specialty, but I''m occupied at the moment." Once annoyed, Ragna was even worse than Rem. If his mind was made up, there was no persuading him. His resolve was as unyielding as Audin''s iron fists. But the King remained tireless, extending similar offers to everyone he met. When he encountered Dunbakel, his boldness reached new heights. "Want to be my daughter?" "And why would I?" Dunbakel replied in a manner reminiscent of Rem. "Or would you prefer to be my wife? Apologies, but I have no need for a partner." "What nonsense is this? I don''t like old men." The King of the East wasn''t one to take offense. He simply laughed heartily. Everyone had a similar thought: What kind of man is this King of the East? No one wondered this more than Krais. "Your Majesty, King of the East! Is it true? Does gold really pile up like mountains in the East?" The King chuckled once again. "You? I have no need for you." His priorities were clear¡ªhe sought skilled fighters. His lieutenant, Asalluhi, seemed unfazed, clearly accustomed to such antics. Ragna watched the two combatants finish their sparring session. "A simple thrust can appear extraordinary if you adjust the tempo." What was technique, after all? At its core, it was nothing more than the means to pierce or cut the target before you. Ragna delved inward, reflecting deeply. His talent wasn''t just exceptional; it was unparalleled. It was hard to imagine anyone possessing greater natural ability. Though he could progress without external motivation, the presence of a catalyst in his path amplified his drive. He reconsidered everything he had learned, discarding the unnecessary and refining the rest. Lying on his cot, he gazed outside. The Madmen Unit''s training field was directly connected to the barracks, a design feature that allowed for such moments. Despite the dust, the proximity was convenient¡ªa sentiment Enkrid had voiced, and Krais had accounted for when designing the layout. Thanks to this, Ragna could observe the training field and lose himself in his thoughts about swordsmanship. From the outside, however, it seemed like he was simply lazing around. "That bastard''s slacking again. Knew it wouldn''t last," Rem remarked, carving a table after finishing his log chair. -------------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work! Chapter 427 - The King’s True Heart Chapter 427 - 427 - The King''s True Heart Chapter 427 - The King''s True Heart As far as Enkrid knew, Krais was not a person who clung to things that were impossible. "You''re not needed." At the Mercenary King''s words, Krais quickly abandoned his pursuit, just as he had been doing. "Yes, I see!" In reality, Krais never had any real intention of following him. If he had, his change of attitude wouldn''t have been so quick. "Isn''t there a gift, perhaps? You''ve come as a guest." Instead of giving up what the king liked, Krais focused solely on his goal: the king''s gold. Enkrid had heard rumors about a warehouse filled with gold in the eastern regions while traveling across the continent. There were also stories about a thief guild that united to try and steal it, only for none of them to survive. Enkrid dismissed the rumors. "Gold, huh." It must be a lot. That was the extent of his thoughts. He didn''t need that much gold, so there was no point in learning more. Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxen felt the same way. The Madmen''s unit was full of those with no attachment to Krona. But Krais was different. His eyes glowed with an unusual light. It was as if the ghost of a vengeful spirit, abandoned by a lover and trapped in a ruined house for a hundred years, had taken hold of him. As Krais spoke of gold, there was a burning heat in his eyes, a madness in his gaze. Still, Enkrid thought the situation was too bad, even if the person was Krais. "A gift? You want me to give you the gold from the east, don''t you?" "I would appreciate it." "No." "You are the King of the East. Isn''t your heart supposed to be as vast as the land?" "I am not such a generous person." "You are the King of the East! Do you mean this meeting has no significance for you?" "I can''t hear you." Enkrid thought the King of the East wasn''t particularly good at speaking, but he was incredibly skilled at drawing people into his pace. Krais didn''t get angry. He didn''t even grind his teeth. He simply continued with the same smile and tone as before. "Is that so? Then I''ll ask you again tomorrow." From a distance, it might seem like a friendly conversation. The king nodded and smiled. For a moment, Enkrid worried. If Krais ended up getting striked, it would be hard to meet him again in this lifetime. "Are you sure about this?" Enkrid asked Krais, who had just left the king''s presence. Krais, his back turned to the king, silently mouthed the words. "That bastard is such a petty man?" Krais wasn''t someone who would be easily sent away, and Enkrid himself still had much to learn. So he considered him a valuable teacher. "Do you know who you''re talking about?" When asked again, Krais frowned, nodded, and answered. "Yes." "Even so, do you still want the gold?" "Yes." Enkrid looked at Krais with eyes that questioned the reason behind his demand. Krais, tossing his thumb over his shoulder, explained. "He is the King of the East. Do you think someone like that would kill people recklessly? Especially when he''s come here with the intention of recruiting talented individuals? He''ll try to leave a good impression rather than a bad one, so he won''t act rashly. And besides, it''s gold from the East. You may not know this, but Lewis Mountain steel and Uber Mountain silver both come from the East. Should I just let that opportunity slip by?" The first part of his reasoning was to reassure Enkrid that there was no need to worry. Krais must have read the concern in Enkrid''s eyes, which was why he started with that. The fiery glow in Krais''s eyes clearly indicated one thing: gold. Would Krais succumb to the immediate threat just because of the gold? No, Krais wasn''t that foolish. A knight would never kill someone who made a reasonable request. Since the person in question was the King of the East, he wouldn''t act recklessly. Moreover, the king came without large-scale escorts, with just two people, which showed his unpretentious nature. He had even trained with Enkrid''s leader and offered some guidance. When considering all this, it became clear what kind of person the King of the East was. Krais understood this very well. "But, Captain." Just then, Krais, his golden eyes losing their intensity, called out to Enkrid. "What is it?" Enkrid, having finished a hundred downward cuts, wiped the sweat from his chin with the back of his hand. "You''re not going, are you?" The King of the East didn''t try to hide his intentions. Still, he didn''t seem unpleasant, which was a sign of his natural charm. He wanted to take everyone, including Enkrid, to the East. But Enkrid himself had never received such an offer. Rem, Ragna, Dunbakel, Audin, and Teresa had all been given that offer, but Enkrid hadn''t. Though the king had made similar remarks upon meeting him for the first time, he had never brought it up again afterward. Was it out of pride? Or did he not want to bring up a suggestion that had already been made? That wasn''t the case. The king was simply someone who repeated the same words diligently. However, he didn''t do that with Enkrid. Instead, he had only engaged in training and offered brief advice. What if the king had asked him to go along? Enkrid instinctively knew the answer. "I''m not going." It was a statement he made with certainty. Krais let out a sigh of relief, but a subtle unease lingered in his heart. "If the captain leaves, will the five walls of this border hold up?" Krais had been subtly recommending the expansion of the city walls in each city under Enkrid''s command, encouraging the expansion of urban areas. He had also spread rumors through traveling merchants. Of course, it was all part of a larger plan. By making the five cities feel like one, he aimed to solidify the recognition of a new ruler and lord, while encouraging the city lords and merchants to get involved in securing trade routes. "The scale of Krona''s movements has changed." All of this was only possible because of Enkrid, the central figure. Krais was one of the people who understood his commander''s desires the best. A knight, someone who sought to be a heroic figure. What he desired was knighthood. Honor and loyalty. A person who moved forward while upholding those ideals. "Would the East be attractive to him?" From Krais''s perspective, the King of the East overflowed with charm, so much so that it seemed to burst forth like a fountain. Though his attention remained solely on this unit, there were a few who had already taken an interest in him from afar. Some were former mercenaries who had been famous in the Border Guard. A few swordsmen who had once served nobles also showed interest. Krais had also seen the king''s urgent letter sent just the other day. What could the contents of the letter have been? It had been sealed for Enkrid''s eyes only, and Krais never bothered to ask about its contents. Had Krais known the situation, he would have realized that it was a letter containing many promises. Because of his tendency to imagine the worst, Krais couldn''t help but think about all of this as he left the training ground. Rem was twirling an axe he had carved on the table, making a strange trajectory in the air with his fingers. "Are you doing that for fun?" The King of the East approached and asked. His guards followed behind. "It''s the process of making the axe familiar in your hand." Whether spinning the axe or making a table, the reason was the same. Even though the hundred-year-old monster asked, Rem didn''t even turn his head as he answered. It didn''t matter if the other party was the king of the East or whoever; it wasn''t his concern. That''s just how Rem was. "You''re a person without greed." "What do you mean?" "You just seem like it." "I am quite greedy." Rem answered honestly. The king of the East shook his head and then spoke. "If that''s the case, why don''t you follow me?" If gold was needed, take the gold. If beautiful women were needed, go and claim them. If a formidable opponent was needed, seek a fitting challenger. However, Rem didn''t desire any of those things. At least, that''s what the king of the East thought. "Would you like to go hunting together?" The king made the proposal to Rem, and while it was hard to guess his intentions... "Well, why not." Rem nodded, not giving it much thought. He was already feeling restless. While Enkrid was wasting his time sparring with the mad old man in front of him, Rem had also been reflecting on a few techniques. It was based on a small realization. Through a few tools obtained after killing the immortal madman, Rem had used other people''s magic. "I thought my body would suffer from a curse or something like that." But nothing happened. Only a small part of the expected side effects appeared. It wasn''t just about the difference in vessels. "My body has changed?" Going to the West was one thing, but verifying what he had was another matter altogether. To confirm that, he had been carving chairs and tables with his axe. Now it was time to swing the axe in battle, facing monsters and beasts. Until now, he had controlled his fine senses, but now he felt the need to unleash what he had. "Alright, let''s go!" The king''s hearty shout caught the attention of Dunbakel, who was watching from the side. She saw the mad axe-wielding man in alignment with the king. ''Will that guy follow him?'' Seeing the king of the East with that man, she wondered if it was possible. That would mean someone who could pound her would be gone. ''And it would make it harder to improve my skills.'' Though Dunbakel didn''t welcome the torment from Rem, one thing was undeniable. The more he tormented her, the stronger she became. Her gaze turned to Enkrid, who seemed unbothered as usual. A hunt with a typical noble and a hunt with the king of the East could never be the same. Above all, Rem was his hunting partner. *** Neither of them had any intention of chasing down deer that swiftly ran around. "This is the Pen-Hanil mountain range, have you been there?" "Back when I was active on this continent, it was my playground." "Quite the place, huh." "Yeah, quite the place." They exchanged casual banter. Asaluhi thought the king really liked the man, Rem. On the other hand, Rem didn''t try to push the king away. The two of them joked like old friends. The three headed into the Pen-Hanil mountain range. At the entrance of the mountain range, Krais had deliberately set up a stronghold. It was three times larger than any other outpost, like a small city. It was a measure to block the monsters and beasts that came down from the mountains. To secure a safe route in this area, they had to deal with the things coming out of the Pen-Hanil mountain range on the spot. If left alone, monsters like gray ghouls, blood-sucking flies, and the troll brothers, which had been cleared by Enkrid and his squad, would show up again. However, there was a problem with setting up a stronghold. Looking at the general shape of the mountain range, Rem figured that preventing monsters from coming out like this would lead to problems later. The interior of the mountain range had plenty of places to hide and regroup. The monsters would grow cautious of the stronghold and, when they gathered, they would naturally form colonies. Later, monsters might rush out in the hundreds. "You see? Just setting up a stronghold won''t solve it. This could lead to a massive massacre." The king of the East realized that as well. He was certainly not just someone good at fighting. He could read the terrain and assess situations as well as Rem. "What do you see? Didn''t I tell you? This place used to be my playground." Half of that statement was bluster. Rem knew that. While it wasn''t as much as the East, the Pen-Hanil mountain range was also full of secrets. It was the first place treasure hunters would target. Such a place couldn''t truly be a playground. But... "Well, you''re not bad." It was an ability worth acknowledging. "Of course." The king, despite being a king, was surprisingly humble. Rem liked that. The two entered the mountain range shortly thereafter. Krais hadn''t left the stronghold without knowing about the issues it might cause. He judged that it would be better to deal with monsters using the mad squad and prioritize securing safe zones. Though monsters and beasts might always appear, there was no danger! This was what they would say. Alternatively, it could be said that while there wouldn''t be monsters and beasts, soldiers were always vigilant, ready for any unexpected situation! This would be perceived differently by those traveling through the area. Once they passed through the Pen-Hanil mountain range, they would be able to make the fastest shortcut compared to any trade route. For that reason, the king and Rem saw a group of monsters the moment they entered. A nest of more than thirty trolls. It was hidden behind tangled tree branches and leaves. A faint scent of weak magic lingered in the air. Some monsters were born with magic, sorcery, or powers. It seemed there was such a creature in the troll group. "Here." "This is it." They spoke and looked at each other. It was like a well-coordinated team. Kwargh. The trolls smelled the human scent and peeked their heads out. "How''s it going?" Rem asked as he suddenly lunged forward, swinging his axe. He brought the axe down vertically, cutting the troll''s head as easily as slicing tender meat. The troll''s head split lengthwise, but it still swung its left hand violently. Rem swiftly cut off its wrist with the other axe. Another troll leaned in right beside them. The giant, with its bulbous green skin, opened its mouth, revealing sharp teeth. At that sight, the king, Anu, spoke. "This will be a fun hunt." With thirty trolls, even a knight would find it difficult to ignore them. With a magic-using monster in the mix, it could be dangerous, but not for these two. The king drew his weapon. It wasn''t the usual jambiya but the long spear carried by his aide, Asaluhi. The king caught the spear thrown by his aide, unfurled the cloth wrapped around it, and took his stance. As the cloth flew off with the wind, Asaluhi reached out to catch it. The king wasn''t just playing around. He wanted to show the warrior from the West something. Something more powerful than what Enkrid had shown with his brute strength. The king of the East put a bit more heart into it. It was bad news for the trolls. -------------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work! Chapter 428 - Dream and Dream Chapter 428 - 428 - Dream and Dream Chapter 428 - Dream and Dream The power of a knight often shattered preconceived notions. Take, for instance, the Aspen knight Enkrid encountered not long ago. Enkrid, holding his sword, sank into thought. "What if I had seen that knight''s sword? What if I had anticipated the attack?" Would predicting it have made a difference? Just as moving one''s body was crucial, so too was the time spent in meditation. He delved into his thoughts, painting a vivid image. The Aspen knight reappeared in his mind, and the trajectory of the sword he swung was drawn with clarity. "It wasn''t extraordinary swordsmanship." It was simply a swing. Yet it was so fast and powerful that it was overwhelming¡ªso much so that the idea of blocking it felt impossible. So, was that what a knight''s strike was? A speed and force so immense that even if you saw it, you couldn''t stop it? Would witnessing a knight in a proper battle always be astonishing? Such thoughts, however, were fleeting. What is a knight? A term for those who break the limits of humanity. Though the king of the East was not a knight, he was a man with comparable might. He displayed his strength without reservation. Not that he revealed all he had, but even watching from nearby was enough to leave anyone in awe. A troll swung a stone axe wrapped tightly in tree vines. It was too slow. The moment the troll''s shoulder moved, the king had already thrust his spear. Thwack! The spearhead pierced the troll''s skull and then shattered it entirely. The sheer force behind the thrust made it so. The king''s spear burst one troll''s head and moved sideways. Thwack, thwack! Wherever the spear''s shaft or blade struck, the troll''s skulls cracked. To kill a troll, you had to burn its body completely or sever its neck. Cutting the neck, after all, meant severing the connection between body and head. Breaking the skull achieved a similar result. Anu''s spear proved this. Thrusting, slashing, striking, and sweeping. At first, his movements were almost casual, like warming up, but within a few breaths, his spear moved even faster. Even so, it precisely targeted the trolls'' heads. It was like a swift swallow snatching fish from the water. A swallow blessed with natural hunting talent. Not a single mistake. Not a single miss. This display was for Rem''s eyes. Anu killed roughly twenty trolls, each with a single blow. Though black blood dotted his clothes, there were few traces left considering the scale of the slaughter. Rem, who had split open three trolls'' heads himself, stood blankly, staring at him. King Anu, retrieving his spear, glanced at him and unconsciously tilted his head. "Isn''t this where he should be impressed?" Typically, yes. People who saw his spearwork usually began with shock and ended in admiration. But Rem''s eyes held a profoundly irreverent light. They seemed full of dissatisfaction. "Having fun doing it all alone, are you?" His tone matched his expression. The king blinked once. "It appears so, my lord." Asalluhi, who had been observing, approached and whispered. He took the spear, wiped the blade and shaft clean, and carefully rewrapped it in cloth. The aide roughly understood the king''s intent. By demonstrating his extraordinary skill, he likely hoped to earn admiration. Hadn''t he even drawn his secondary weapon for mere trolls? Rem, about to grumble further, stopped himself. If someone wanted to show off, wasn''t it best to just let them? "I still haven''t fully warmed up. I''ll stay here a bit longer. Let''s split up." With that, Rem turned and walked away, his stride showing no care for the fact that this was the Pen-Hanil mountain range. To Rem, this reaction was natural. What did it matter if his behavior left the king dumbfounded? If he could reclaim his magic left behind in the West, then what the Eastern king had shown was something he could also do. There was nothing to envy. Those akin to knights used Will, and though his method differed slightly, to Rem, it was all the same. "One question." The king called out to him as she walked away. "Ask away." "Why are you here? Why do you stay by that man''s side? What keeps you in this city?"Rem answered as if it required no thought. "It''s fun." After all, hadn''t he left the West in search of enjoyment? Currently, his joy was in watching Enkrid climb from the bottom, seeing where he would go. In hindsight, it wasn''t a profound reason. It was simply a matter of doing what brought her pleasure at the moment. If something more enjoyable came along, it was clear he would leave without hesitation. The king nodded at his reply. "I see." His tone was matter-of-fact. Rem headed further into the mountain range. When the king returned from his hunt with only his aide, the big-eyed fellow greeted him with a smirk. "Did you bury Rem somewhere? If so, gold coins might not suffice. At least gold bars would be necessary..." "He said he wanted to play more and went off alone." The king curtly cut him off and strode inside. There, his eyes fell on Audin. "You''re Audin, correct? Why are you here?" "My lord father instructed me to remain." "Your lord? Father?" The king saw no need for further questions. Asalluhi whispered discreetly so the others couldn''t hear. "A zealot, no?" The king shared the sentiment. No matter the question, the answer was always about following divine guidance or divine arrangement. He nodded and shifted his gaze. There was Ragna, fast asleep, and a half-giant passing by the tent entrance. "Why are you here?" the king asked. "I owe a life debt." Theresa''s voice, tinged with steel yet oddly pleasing, carried no trace of jest. A life debt was something no one else could repay on her behalf. "My desire is to explore the unknown. Look at him¡ªwhat a fascinating human. And, he''s handsome. Pleasant to look at. But that''s not the case with you." That was Luagarne''s answer. Though the king was proud of his looks, he merely quipped, knowing Lagarne''s unique sense of aesthetics. "Are your eyes damaged? Take another good look at my face, you near-sighted Frog." "Does the East lack mirrors?" Of course, Lagarne retorted without missing a beat. Next was Dunbakel. "If I leave now, I''ll probably spend the rest of my life running." Her comment about becoming his daughter was half in jest, half sincere. If she came to the East, he could offer her much, but she refused every suggestion. "You do realize I''m a beastkin too, don''t you?" "Who here wouldn''t know that, except perhaps that idiot?" Dunbakel gestured toward Squire Ropord. Having gone this far, the king questioned everyone he came across. "I came here to find myself. How could I dare leave now?" Ropord, with one swollen eye from being struck, spoke up. "I am merely a shepherd of the wilderness. I came here for a brief matter." Fel concealed his true intentions. The Eastern King caught a glimpse of an irrepressible fighting spirit in Fel''s eyes that could not be hidden. The shepherd''s gaze was fixed on none other than Enkrid. Not Ragna or Rem, but Enkrid. This was unusual, though not entirely incomprehensible. Enkrid possessed an innate quality that made one want to challenge him just by looking at him. The King understood this well. He also noticed the fairy, Shinar, coming to see him. When he asked her about it, she replied, "We are promised to be engaged." Then came Enkrid''s voice right after, "She''s joking." Once again, Enkrid remarked on how impenetrable fairy humor could be. The King didn''t press Shinar further; her answer already made it clear she wouldn''t follow him, even without explicitly stating why. The King stayed for several days, meeting Jaxen as well. "I have a rough idea of your origins, and your skill level could be deemed that of a master." How many could instantly discern what he had hidden? Yet Jaxen remained unshaken. Such extraordinary occurrences were routine when standing by Enkrid. After all, wasn''t he doing something unimaginable himself? His partner had once remarked, "I never thought you''d change like this." A comment that made Jaxen reflect on himself anew. "Have I changed?" He didn''t know, but one thing was certain. Jaxen had found his place, and he liked it here. When the King asked, "Why are you here?" Jaxen''s answer was succinct. "Because this is where I belong." The King asked no more. Each person he inquired of gave a different answer. They stayed for their own reasons, but those reasons all led back to one person. One morning, Ragna finally woke up and came outside. He had slept for more than three days straight. The King turned his gaze toward him. Ragna walked out with his usual gait, but the King could see he had broken through some kind of barrier. Still, that did not mean he had instantly become a knight. No one becomes a knight overnight. Knighthood requires not just talent bestowed by the heavens but unrelenting effort layered upon it. It was a shift in presence that only the King in this moment could perceive. "Or perhaps I wasn''t the only one to notice." Indeed, Rem had already recognized it. Despite having witnessed his skill, Rem hadn''t been astonished then, but now his clenched teeth and grim expression betrayed a mix of frustration and resentment. Audin, too, reacted similarly. Though he had previously endured Ragna''s presence with composure, now he was deep in thought, and before long, he clasped his hands in silent prayer, turning his back and bowing his head. The King''s gaze shifted to Enkrid. "Sharp eyes, indeed." Even he had noticed it. A peculiar thought struck the King. No matter how many times he was beaten down, Enkrid always got back up to fight again, like an unyielding skeletal warrior. The King also understood this: Ragna, having just acquired new strength, was practically bursting at the seams to use it. It was all so clear to the King, who then said, "If you follow me, you''ll have plenty of opportunities to use that power to your heart''s content." The King cut straight to the point, like a spear that pierced directly into the heart of the matter. It was an offer difficult for anyone to refuse, especially someone who had just surpassed a wall. The King folded his arms and looked at Ragna. An air of natural authority and dignity emanated from him¡ªa presence only someone who was both a nation''s ruler and a master of martial prowess could project. "There are few places where you can fully exercise your power. Come to a place where you can find freedom and fulfill your desires. This country cannot contain you." It was an invitation to seek a broader world beyond the confines of any knightly order. Nearby, Enkrid, who had been practicing his swordplay, was also observing the changed Ragna. Rem, Audin, Theresa, and Dunbakel were present too. Ropord and Fel, however, were absent due to their duties, adhering to Enkrid''s insistence that obligations, no matter the reason for staying, should not be neglected. In any case, all eyes except theirs were on Ragna. Squinting at the morning sunlight with a drowsy expression, Ragna muttered, "What a bother." Though he spoke politely, the content of his words was far from respectful. "...A bother?" The King, forgetting his regal composure, echoed the words. There had been many who resisted him, but this was the first to simply call it bothersome. "Just thinking about the journey to the East feels tedious." Ragna reiterated his stance. Even with his excellent sense of direction, the journey would take over half a year. On horseback, riding tirelessly without rest, it would normally take only two weeks. The King let out a short, incredulous laugh. His lieutenant, Asalluhi, watched his reaction anxiously, concerned the King might be angry. Fortunately, the King neither erupted in rage nor displayed any effort to suppress anger. "A bother, you say." He merely murmured the words. Ragna found explaining himself at length equally tedious. He had gained enlightenment, processed it, and moved beyond it, but his senses still felt unaligned. It would take days of intense training to fully harmonize them. Most of all, Ragna had no intention of following the Eastern King. Calling it bothersome wasn''t a lie, but¡ª "If I were to serve under someone, it would have to be the one who brought me here." Look at that madman watching him with fiery eyes from the side. If not for him, Jaxen wouldn''t have felt motivated in the first place. Even now, despite his apathy, seeing those eyes ignited his own resolve. After three nights of relentless sword practice to align his senses, he wanted nothing more than to clash his blade against Enkrid''s Aker sword. The King, observing Ragna, eventually turned his head away. "It''s about time we head back." His lieutenant suggested, and the King nodded, though he didn''t seem in a hurry to leave. Another day passed. Rain had fallen lightly through the night and morning, but now the sun emerged, breaking through the clouds. The sunlight was gentle, and the air crisp. It was an unusually pleasant summer day. In the afternoon following a rain, the air wasn''t humid or hot but cool and refreshing¡ªa clear, bright day. On such a day, the King spent the evening sparring with Enkrid. "One more round?" "Agreed." Endlessly, they dueled again. The King struck Enkrid''s solar plexus with his elbow, claiming victory. Though the strike was quite forceful, Enkrid''s body was sturdy, enduring it well. After the sparring ended, the King looked up at the sky. The sun had sunk low, painting the world in the hues of twilight. Orange clouds filled the sky, casting their light down to the earth. As the dying light of dusk settled, the King spoke. "What do you think lies in the East? Gold? Silver? Iron? Treasures? I don''t know. No one knows what''s there. That''s what makes my heart race." Standing at the edge of the training grounds in the fading sunlight, the King shared his dream. Enkrid listened intently. Goosebumps rose on Enkrid''s skin repeatedly as he listened. The King''s words conjured visions of unexplored lands and the thrill of venturing into the unknown. He spoke with the fervor of someone setting his soul alight. "To conquer new lands¡ªthat is my fight. That is my struggle. What do you think?" The King, enveloped in passion, posed the question. Anyone could be swept up in such fervor. It was the kind of speech that made one want to follow, respect, and believe in him. A speech delivered to an audience of one. The Eastern King poured out his fervor. Enkrid responded. "Do you know the song of the Knight of Days Gone By?" Just as the King had shared his dream, Enkrid now shared his own. It was a dream rooted in an old, weathered song¡ªa dream tattered and patched together but still tightly held. ------------------------------------ In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work! I''ll Chapter 429 - A Man who Dreams with his Sword can Surpass Any Limit Chapter 429 - 429 - A Man who Dreams with his Sword can Surpass Any Limit Chapter 429 - A Man who Dreams with his Sword can Surpass Any Limit The cloudy sky felt lower than ever, as if the clouds were grazing the small hill rising behind the training field and the lodgings. Amidst everyone tending to their tasks, the King and Enkrid discussed their dreams. Breathing in the crisp, refreshing air left behind by dried rain, they exchanged words. "I want to become a knight and wield a sword." The tone and demeanor were so calm and unembellished that the dream seemed like someone else''s story. Becoming a knight was just the beginning¡ªit was about the things Enkrid aimed to accomplish across the continent. The King listened to Enkrid''s dream and thought to himself: No despair. No frustration. He didn''t even acknowledge others'' ridicule. He would move forward, forging his path without doubt or hesitation. This man did not consider the possibility of failure. Memories of the King''s past flickered through his mind. "Establish a nation? Stop with such absurd nonsense! Do you think that''s even remotely possible?" Those were the words of his younger brother, who had been his most loyal follower. Anu couldn''t blame him. His brother was simply a realist. His words weren''t wrong, and there were many others who echoed similar sentiments. "It''s impossible. To invest in such a venture is foolish." "What are you planning to be, a bandit or a marauder? What is there in the East anyway?" "Why waste such strength? Focus on defending against the demon realm. I will grant you anything you desire." But Anu did not heed their words. He rejected them all. Not a single one of their arguments stirred his heart. "I will pursue what makes my heart race." And for him, that was establishing a nation in the East. In the end, Anu succeeded. He poured his life into laying the foundation of his nation. Everyone said it was impossible. Everyone dismissed it as meaningless. Everyone laughed at him. But Anu had no time to concern himself with such things. He had far too much to do. He simply moved forward. And as he walked and pushed onward. "That sounds interesting. Let''s do it together." More and more people began to stay by his side. "You seem to have gaps. Allow me to fill them." And so, he arrived at the present moment. It wasn''t over. This was just the beginning. Though he hadn''t intended to, the King''s voice carried weight, and his gaze burned with intensity. "The Eastern Kingdom? That''s merely a checkpoint! A nation is just the foundation. My goal is to conquer the entirety of the East." To explore the unknown, open new paths, and plant his flag on that land. As he spoke, the King bared his fangs¡ªa smile, but one that also revealed his fighting spirit. "Becoming a knight? Are you referring to the knights of old?" "Yes." "Do you plan to erase war from the continent? To destroy the demon realm if they are the enemy? To slay devils if they block your path? To topple empires if they stand in your way?" A dream even grander than conquering the East. This was madness. While the King respected others'' dreams, wasn''t this too much? Enkrid remained composed, sweat now cooled. A breeze tousled his black hair, now grown enough to tickle his neck. He possessed no exceptional lineage. He wasn''t royalty. He lacked extraordinary talent. He was simply a man driven forward by a single dream. "You really are an interesting one." Anu echoed the words many had once said to him in admiration. This was no ordinary dreamer. "If I ever challenge the continent to a fight, you''ll stand against me, won''t you? In that case, for the future, I should kill you here and now." It wasn''t a genuine threat to kill. The King had recalled something he had forgotten from Enkrid''s words. For the first time since arriving here, he glimpsed the man''s true will. That was why. The remark about killing was, in a way, a lesson. It wasn''t something he cared to explain with words, so he wrapped it in the guise of a threat. Of course, no one could truly fathom the King''s inner thoughts. After all, wasn''t he a capricious man who acted on whims? Rising from his seated position, the King extended his hand backward. His lieutenant hesitated for a moment. The man had followed Anu for over twenty years. Is he serious? That hesitation came from knowing him too well, but duty won out. The King meant to call for a weapon but then spoke. "The Bull." The lieutenant froze. The name of a weapon Anu only wielded against opponents who were either his equals or had to be defeated at all costs. "My liege?" Asaluhi unintentionally questioned him. "Bring it." The King''s tone was resolute. His lieutenant retrieved the weapon strapped to his back and removed its covering. The spear shaft was a deep brown, its material indiscernible, while its blade split into two prongs. The blade resembled horns¡ªgray and sharp like a bull''s. In darkness, they might not even be visible. The two horns formed the bull''s head, and the shaft was its body. The King''s presence changed as he gripped the spear. A weight emanated from him, compelling those nearby to bow their heads. Enkrid, seated beside him, felt an oppressive force that seemed to push him into the ground. But he soon activated Will of Rejection. The force of his will pushed back against the King''s pressure, affirming his resolve. He stood, pressing his palms against the ground for support. That act alone was astonishing enough to make Asaluhi widen his eyes in surprise. To stand before the King wielding the Bull, without a tremor¡ªsuch resolve was no small feat. Especially after being knocked down twice today by the King. Fatigue should have set in. His spirit should have wavered. But Enkrid did neither. Instead, he picked up Aker. The meaning behind the King''s words? That wasn''t his concern. His weakened legs after two rounds? That wasn''t his concern either. The King had heard his dream and now sought to crush it. To kill it. Enkrid did what he always did. He stood with his sword, resisting. He patched up his torn dream. He steadied his stance and met his opponent''s gaze. He kept walking, his focus solely on his dream. He gathered strength in his legs and regulated his breathing. And as always, he resolved to live in the moment, even if it meant death. The King''s spear moved. The horns pierced forward with such speed that even their faint afterimages blurred. Enkrid angled Aker defensively to block. Had luck not been on his side, he wouldn''t have succeeded. Ting. The spear, which had approached in the blink of an eye, scraped against Aker''s blade and halted. Then the two horns locked onto the sword''s blade and twisted sideways. The skill to stop an attack after such speed was impressive. More so, the horns now sought to snap the sword. Creak. The blade caught between the two horns groaned. Enkrid held firm, gripping his sword tightly with the iron grip honed every morning, aided by the strength of his determined heart. The blade did not break, nor did the weapon slip from his hands. The King smirked. "Then block this." With surprising ease, he retracted the spear and thrust again. To Enkrid''s eyes, the horns seemed to multiply into six. Three prongs split and extended, each strike appearing genuine¡ªand in truth, they were. Speed was relative. To Enkrid''s eyes, every strike in this flurry was real. It was an illusion created by the King''s rapid thrusts and withdrawals. There was no time to shout or gather strength. Enkrid loosened his grip for a brief moment before tightening all his muscles and slashing. A soldier skilled enough to recognize Enkrid''s current technique would immediately qualify to train under Ruagarne. A combination of Pressing Sword and Will of Swiftness, his strike met the horns of the Bull. Once again, the horns barely grazed his blade and withdrew. Ting. Enkrid pulled Aker close, taking a moment to steady his breath. For some reason, the sword felt heavier than before. No, more than ever, Aker''s weight transmitted vividly through his arms. He wondered if it was simply exhaustion. Instead of attacking, the King spoke. "A knight creates techniques by realizing Will, and when they surpass that, they fight with Will itself. That''s what you''re talking about, isn''t it?" Enkrid didn''t have the luxury to respond. The King continued. "If you''re fighting with Will, wouldn''t you need a weapon worthy of it? The answer is obvious. The Bull is such a weapon¡ªwhat people commonly call an engraved weapon. It contains my Will." As he spoke, the King thrust his spear once again. His breathing, if it even existed, was impossible to discern. Enkrid raised his sword to meet the attack. Ping! Once again, the blade and horn merely glanced off each other. Enkrid couldn''t decide if this was the moment to make a decisive move. Even with his Eye for a Step Ahead, the future was obscured as though cloaked in fog. He tried to predict the next move by observing the subtle shifts of shoulders and the tension in the opponent''s footing, but his adversary betrayed no such signs. It was like peering into the fog. The sword in his hands felt heavier than ever. Each clash with the spear made it seem as though someone was secretly adding weight to the blade. The fog and the weight¡ªit was all bothersome. So what? Ignoring it, Enkrid drew in a deep breath, holding the air tightly in his lungs. His cheeks puffed out. He would do everything he could. As he always had. Enkrid''s sword seemed to vanish from the air with a sharp shhkk. It was a thrust deploying all his strength¡ªactivated with lightning speed. He had poured every ounce of himself into the strike: breathlessness, singular focus, Heart of the Beast, and Sense of Evasion. "Where do you think you''re going?" The King extended his spear, redirecting the blade''s trajectory. Ping! Another sharp sound rang out. Enkrid yanked his blade back with force. If one attempt wasn''t enough, he''d try twice, thrice¡ªand if that failed, he''d try ten times more. If an endless wall blocked his way, stopping would mean he could never surpass it. Aker''s blade shattered the twilight, dancing wildly in the air. The King deflected each strike with the horns of The Bull. Drip. Drip. A few raindrops spilled from the dark clouds above. Ting ting ting ting! Aker and The Bull clashed countless times, parting and meeting again in an instant. After a brief but fierce exchange, Enkrid staggered back. Fine raindrops fell onto his sword, steaming as they evaporated with a hiss. "I see. You need to die." The King''s voice cut through the stillness. Enkrid, though staggering, did not loosen his grip on his sword. After a tense moment of mutual observation, the King spoke again. "Axe, I know you''re hiding back there, so don''t bother throwing anything." His words hung in the air, then continued. "You''re still awkward with your senses. If you take the wrong path now, you''ll regret it for the rest of your life." The King''s gaze bore into Enkrid as he raised The Bull, planting its shaft firmly into the ground. "And let me remind you¡ªI''m a beastkin, and I haven''t even transformed yet!" His final exclamation sent shivers down everyone''s spines. It was a roar of self-assured confidence, forged through long years of proven dominance. Despite the King''s erratic tone, his meaning was clear. "Why now?" Luagarne asked. She had been standing to one side, idly fingering the handle of her loop sword. The Frog, too, seemed prepared to jump into the fray if needed. The King knew this but pretended otherwise as he replied. "Whim. Asaluhi." "Yes." The King tossed The Bull, and Asaluhi caught the heated spear. He swung it lightly to cool the horn-like blade before wrapping it back in cloth. "Let''s go." With that, the King decided to leave, as abruptly as he had come. No one stopped him. As he passed the barely conscious Enkrid, he paused briefly, whispering something into his ear before giving his shoulder a firm pat. Then, he walked on. "We''ll meet again if the need arises," Asaluhi called back, looking over his shoulder. No one responded. From the treetops, where she had been watching tensely, Dunbakel locked eyes with Asaluhi. He offered her a gentle smile before retreating. Each of them had been ready to strike. On their way out, they passed Teresa, who stood holding her shield at the ready. "Take care," Asaluhi said as he followed the King. "Why did you do that? They don''t seem like people heading to the East." Asaluhi asked as he caught up with the King, quickening his pace to match. He had followed the King long enough to understand the reasoning behind most of his actions. Though initially puzzled, Asaluhi soon grasped the gesture. The King had given Enkrid a gift¡ªeven his parting whisper was part of it. "I received a gift first." "What do you mean?" Asaluhi pressed further. The King chuckled as he answered. "I took to swords and spears the moment I touched them. You know this, don''t you?" "Yes, I do." The King had once been known as the Mercenary King, famed for his natural talent and charisma. "Born the son of slaves, I freed my parents from servitude before I turned sixteen." After that, he gained renown for slaying a lion with nothing but a spear. "And yet¡ª" The King hesitated, swallowing his words. The brief rain had passed, leaving behind a clear, crisp sky and air that felt fresh and sharp against the skin. The cool wind brushed past his cheek. Could I dedicate my life to conquering the East? he had once wondered. The question lingered, an internal struggle fed by the passing years. Somewhere along the way, he had forgotten his youthful ambition. Was recruiting talent necessary? Did he need companions to forge ahead? Even after establishing a kingdom in the East, he felt an insatiable lack. It was the loss of his spirit. During those fleeting ten days, the King had watched Enkrid and remembered what he had lost. That forgotten spirit had been reignited. "A man with clumsy swordsmanship showed greater resolve than I ever had." Asaluhi tilted his head, puzzled, before asking abruptly. "Do you think he''ll become a knight?" "I don''t know." "The path isn''t easy." Asaluhi had sharp eyes. He couldn''t see knightly potential in Enkrid¡ªno talent to speak of. Hearing this, the King laughed before responding. "His talent is abysmal. I''ve never seen someone so unskilled." Compared to others, Enkrid had no exceptional gifts. From their duel, the King had confirmed that much. Yet, he believed Enkrid would become a knight. "Does swinging a sword endlessly make one a knight? Or is talent the deciding factor?" "Isn''t it both?" Effort and talent¡ªsurely those were the prerequisites. The King smiled knowingly, thinking of the man who had reminded him of what he''d once forgotten. "A man who dreams with his sword can surpass any limit." That was what the King believed. ------------------------------------ In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work! Chapter 430 - Squadmates, Fiancé, and a Mage Chapter 430 - 430 - Squadmates, Fiance?, and a Mage Chapter 430 - Squadmates, Fiance?, and Mage How long had it been since the sword in his hand felt so heavy? In the first year of wielding a blade, the sword always felt cumbersome. Swinging the weighty steel a few times left his arm muscles trembling, and the sharp ache between his thumb and forefinger lingered throughout the day. That was a time when even a wooden sword felt burdensome. Now, it was several times harder than back then. "Heavy." It felt as though dozens of iron weights had been tied to the blade. If he loosened his grip even slightly, the sword tip seemed ready to crash down and embed itself into the ground. His arm muscles trembled violently. It was unbelievable. Thanks to Audin''s training, Enkrid had rarely felt his strength lacking. But there was no time to dwell on such thoughts. All his focus was consumed by the weight of the sword. "So heavy." It felt like he might drop it any moment. Even raising the blade slightly felt as arduous as scaling a winter mountain with bare hands. The rain that had briefly soaked his body earlier evaporated in the heat of battle, replaced by a relentless cascade of sweat. Soon, Enkrid''s entire body was drenched again. Sweat poured down in streams, trickling off his chin and dripping continuously to the ground. "Incredibly heavy." At this rate, he would inevitably lose his grip. It was remarkable he had managed to fight while holding such a weight. He hadn''t caught his breath in what felt like an eternity. It was as if he had been running non-stop for hours, leaving him gasping for air. The sweat soaking him only increased, drenching his body like he had plunged into a bath with his clothes on. Yet, the hardest part was undoubtedly the lump of steel in his hands. The famed blade, Aker, which once felt like an extension of his hand, now seemed like a writhing snake trying to escape his grip. "Why is it so heavy?" He couldn''t understand. All he had done was deflect his opponent''s spear. As Enkrid struggled to endure, a whisper came from Anu, who had approached his side. Although the time he had been holding the sword felt long to Enkrid, it had only been a moment in reality. Just the time it took to exchange a few words. "Can you withstand it? The Bull loves to burden others." While Enkrid couldn''t grasp the full meaning of the words, he understood one thing. "If you let go, that''s your limit. If so, you won''t achieve what you desire, even if you die." The statement about death implied that he needed to embrace death to progress. Even without the king''s words, Enkrid already understood this. He couldn''t let go of what was in his hand now. There was only one clear truth. Although the thought of dropping the sword crossed his mind, Enkrid also knew he wouldn''t do so. "If I would let go just because it''s heavy. Then he wouldn''t have taken even the first step toward his seemingly impossible dream. "Did you aim to become a knight? Then see, experience, and accumulate much. All of it will aid your path." The king finished speaking. His words were ambiguous¡ªat least, to the current Enkrid¡ªbut Anu''s tone was nothing but kind. "Don''t forget what you''ve imbued into your sword, and the path will open." Those few words lingered in Enkrid''s mind, even as sweat poured down and his sword trembled. "Thanks." The king gave his shoulder a final pat before departing. Enkrid looked down to see the sword tip dipping slightly. Neither Will of Rejection, Heart of the Beast, nor his intensely honed body through techniques like Isolation or Sense of Evasion helped him now. The king''s Bull had made his weapon feel unbearably heavy, a mystical act born of Will. Recognizing this, Enkrid still managed to lift the sword tip once more. Just because everything he had learned seemed ineffective didn''t mean his will would break. If he was going to quit, he wouldn''t have started. The blade tip slowly rose. Finally, with great effort, Enkrid raised the sword properly and, in that moment, the weight vanished. The weights imposed by the king''s Bull disappeared entirely. It was only then that Enkrid realized his palm had been torn apart. Blood dripped from his hand, soaking the leather-wrapped hilt of Aker and staining it dark. The injury had occurred when the Bull had twisted Aker''s blade and tried to wrench it from his grasp¡ªa wound endured to protect a knight''s weapon. Acknowledging this, Enkrid wavered and collapsed. "Foolish." A voice came from someone catching his body. It was Esther''s. And with that, Enkrid lost consciousness. Enkrid dreamed. It had been a long time since he had a true dream, rather than one dominated by a boatman. "Thinking of living by the sword? Forget it. You''ll die young." "Even the most talented don''t last past fifty as mercenaries." These were words spoken before he had even properly articulated his dream. They were warnings to abandon his ambitions and discard the rickety boat meant to navigate the sea of dreams. But he didn''t. Despite the scorn and doubt, his small raft had transformed into a seaworthy caravel with sturdy oars. "To become a knight, what must I do?" Everything else blurred as an Aspen knight appeared before him. "Block it once, and I''ll spare you." Was that what had been said? Dream or not, the meaning mattered more than the words. Block it once. The knight of Aspen swung their blade¡ªa strike of pure speed and power. Unable to parry, Enkrid struck first. The knight retreated to protect their honor. Using that moment, Enkrid practiced his moves, refining thrusts, cuts, and parries. From the king of the east, Enkrid also witnessed a multitude of techniques. If the king had wished, he might have easily killed Enkrid. Yet, even in defiance, Enkrid had no intention of dying easily. Eventually. "You fool!" The boatman tore through the dream, entering it as if he were part of it all along. Ignoring him, Enkrid thought deeply and reached a faint realization¡ªa signpost pointing the way forward. "Different." The king of the east and the knight of Aspen had walked different paths, wielding different techniques. They were utterly distinct. With this final thought, Enkrid woke. Pain radiated faintly throughout his body, his grip throbbing dully. Raising his hand, he saw it was tightly wrapped in bandages. Through the dim light of a nearby lamp, he noticed someone sitting in the chair beside his bed. "Shinar?" "Now that you''ve called my name, we just need the ceremony," came the fairy''s teasing response. Enkrid didn''t laugh. It was hard to humor a fairy''s jest so easily. "What are you doing here?" "Observing." He didn''t need to ask what she was observing. With one leg crossed, her elbow rested on her knee as she propped her chin, watching him closely. "You collapse every time you fight." Shinar continued speaking. Enkrid shrugged, feigning indifference. "If you recover, I can show you something interesting." "What are you talking about?" Shinar, still seated, allowed a faint smile to emerge¡ªone she rarely showed to anyone. With that smile, her posture shifted. She uncrossed her legs, lowered her arms, and unsheathed her sword to thrust. The speed and angle defied comprehension. The blade pierced Enkrid''s heart from beyond his perception. A reflexive cough of blood threatened to rise. Every muscle in his body tensed, momentarily overriding the aches of his battered frame. Death loomed near. Was this the end? Would he close his eyes and perish like this? But it wasn''t. "How does it feel?" At Shinar''s words, the sword piercing his heart crumbled into grains of sand. Her posture hadn''t changed; she remained seated, arms loosely at her sides. It had all been an illusion¡ªor rather, a reality brought forth by the intensity of her aura. "What was that?" "Do you think I left your side for no reason?" Even through her teasing tone, Enkrid quickly grasped several truths. Having experienced the prowess of knights twice now, it was easier to understand this time. What Shinar had just shown was the raw might of a knight. From a corner, the panther approached and nestled into Enkrid''s embrace, as though protesting Shinar''s presence and demanding she leave. "I''ll wait for you to recover," Shinar said. Enkrid''s heart pounded furiously. The desire to rise, grasp his sword, and face her blade surged through him, ignoring the muscle pain echoing through his body. Thud. Esther tapped his chest lightly with her paw. It felt like a silent command to restrain himself. "I know," Enkrid replied, understanding her intent. He knew full well that his current state made sparring, even light training, impossible. For now, patience was the only option. He would dedicate himself to recovery, and once he was back on his feet, he would challenge Shinar and wield his sword again. "What do you think of your fiance?e?" Shinar had erased her smile and now asked plainly. Enkrid had no choice but to answer. "She''s the best." "Good to hear." With that, the fairy stood quietly. Her movements, as always, left barely a trace as she exited the tent. The creak of the tent''s hinges signaled her departure. "Not sleeping? Causing a ruckus the moment you wake up, huh?" "Seriously, what''s with all this noise? I was finally resting in the tent." "Pray for swift recovery; it helps," Audin quipped. Snore. That was Ragna, whose snores echoed loudly. Though Ragna rarely snored unless utterly exhausted, tonight, his snores served as an odd lullaby. "How long have I been out?" "Half a day," Krais replied. "Get some more rest. Ignoring your body''s warnings is unwise," Audin chimed in. Esther tapped his chest again. It was a clear message to rest. And she wasn''t wrong. Enkrid closed his eyes, resigning himself to recovery. Sleep soon overcame him as drowsiness settled in. From one side, Jaxen silently approached, placing a small jar of ointment next to his bed. "It''s medicine," Jaxen said before returning to his place. Enkrid noted, with some surprise, Jaxen''s rare return to the tent. Dunbakel, Teresa, Fel, and Ropord, though stationed at separate quarters, stood guard near the tent as if protecting it. Unaware of this, Enkrid fell into a deep sleep once more. Esther had been absent from the barracks often since arriving at Border Guard. Had Enkrid paid more attention, he might have noticed. However, he was wholly absorbed in wielding his sword¡ªa constant state for him. Esther roamed the Pen-Hanil River, its surrounding lakes, mountains, and forests. It was part of her effort to restore the damaged spell world from her battle with the Count. At the same time, she tended to the Bonehead creature she had acquired earlier. She even summoned a few spirits she had contracted in the past. "Do you see me as your prey, ghoul?" Occasionally, she encountered groups of ghouls. The outposts and security measures Krais had established scattered the monsters, forcing them into groups for survival. It was only natural. Small, solitary monsters could no longer survive, so those with instincts to endure banded together. Esther easily disposed of such ghoul packs. While she could enslave them with necromancy, doing so would be a pointless exercise¡ªone she instinctively avoided. "That would degrade me rather than elevate me," she mused before incinerating six ghouls with a single gesture. The ghouls, engulfed in flames, screamed before collapsing into burnt remains. "I''m working hard too," she muttered. She understood her reasons. Standing beside someone constantly striving forward demanded a commitment beyond mere determination. "Simply regaining my former strength would be an insult to the title of a battle witch." So she would push forward. She had the perfect opportunity to do so. Exploring hidden ruins and monsters within the Pen-Hanil mountain range, she honed her craft and rediscovered what she had learned in her youth among the six magic schools of the tower. Ragna might be a genius of swordsmanship, but Esther was a genius of magic. She knew her path, discerning what was necessary and what wasn''t. "That fool." Recalling Enkrid being defeated by the so-called King of the East, Esther smirked to herself. He would continue to grow, crossing paths with devils and wizards like the Count. His path was paved with such challenges. And she would be the one to clear away magical obstacles from his journey. This was how she sought to assert herself. How could a battle witch contribute nothing while standing beside him? "That''s unacceptable." This was a matter of pride. She also wondered whether Enkrid would achieve what he sought. What lay at the end of his path? Such questions never arose with the King of the East, yet they intrigued her now. As Esther refined her magic and sorted the useful elements from the six schools, she encountered a soldier on her way back to the unit. She didn''t know his name, but he caught her eye, rolling dice and unconsciously manipulating mana. He had a knack for magic. Initially, she intended to pass by, but she changed her mind and approached him. "You''re coming with me." Interest? No. It was for herself. "Teaching teaches you too," her master once said, and her own experience confirmed it. So she made her decision. The soldier, known as the Border Guard''s top gambler, blinked in confusion. "Sorry, what?" "If you don''t come, I''ll subject you to suffering worse than death." As usual, her approach was blunt. And knowing her reputation as Enkrid''s mage partner, the soldier wisely refrained from resisting. The matter of adjusting his assignment was left to Graham, the unit''s leader, who simply remarked, "Let her handle it. She knows what she''s doing." Thus, Esther''s peculiar tutelage began. ----------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work! Chapter 431 - Two Days Chapter 431 - 431 - Two Days Chapter 431 - Two Days Audin contemplated his inner self, confirming the restraints placed upon his body. In his mind, the image of golden chains tightly coiling around his entire being emerged. Over time, thin veils covering the chains had frayed and vanished, likely from his occasional use of divine power, but the chains themselves remained. The chains were his own doing, while the veils were restrictions imposed by others. Seeing the chains again after so long brought a flood of memories that he had deliberately avoided confronting. "Defending heresy¡ªis that what you believe an Inquisitor''s role to be?" A corrupt bishop had once raged at him. "Trusted because he claimed to follow the God of War? What a disgrace!" Another priest''s rebuke resurfaced. "What will you do now?" Even the one who had mentored and guided him asked this question. That person, the previous pope, was a man said to be blind but capable of glimpsing into people''s futures. He had resigned from his position just ten days after becoming pope. "This is no place for me, brothers and sisters," he had declared, casting aside his authority before whispering to Audin, "I felt like I wouldn''t live long if I stayed there." It was an absurd reason, yet he had claimed it was the result of foreseeing his future. Among the chaotic entanglement of memories, this was someone Audin respected as a father, the only family he had known. And it was his question that had left Audin unable to answer for a long time. This happened shortly after Audin became a sinner for failing to fulfill his duty as an Inquisitor. "Do you not know what to do?" "Yes, I have lost my way," Audin had confessed, kneeling. "The only destination for a shepherd who has lost their path is the darkness below." The previous pope, the man he saw as a father, had spoken in a stern tone. "To the underground prison cloaked in darkness, is it not?" Audin had responded. In the doctrine, the judgment of sin was overseen by the deity of balance, who governed the sun and moon. A sinner would face judgment before the God of War and, if condemned, be confined to an underground prison. Audin served the God of War, while the previous pope worshipped a two-faced god. One face symbolized the jailor of the divine prison, embodying darkness and love, while the other represented judgment through radiance and divine light. Though seemingly contradictory, scripture proclaimed these two aspects to be one. A deity had descended into the deepest prison of the underworld to offer pure love while leaving the light of radiance on the surface to illuminate the world. Thus, the single deity served both as the jailor of the underworld, offering compassion and forgiveness, and as the enforcer of justice, delivering punishment through light. "You are destined to wield the radiance," the previous pope had once said to Audin. Those words led Audin to become a punisher of heretics. The God of War had blessed him with an exceptional body, allowing Audin to swiftly transition from an apprentice priest to a combat priest. His time as a combat priest was extraordinary as well. "You''re the first to delve so deeply into Valah-style martial arts and achieve such mastery." His talent quickly brought him into the realm of divine power. With the light of radiance and divine brilliance descending upon him through his devotion to the God of War, his peers began to exclaim, "A miracle!" While training to become a paladin, Audin was appointed as an Inquisitor. "Pray and temper your body and spirit there," instructed a sly-eyed archbishop, pushing Audin to take on the role of heretic punisher. Audin complied, wielding the light of radiance to punish. One day, during his duties, he executed the hidden son of a guilty bishop. This marked the beginning of his doubts. In a small town under orders from a bishop, Audin encountered a man accused of heresy. The man immolated himself in a desperate bid to prove his innocence. Watching the man''s body consumed by flames, Audin instinctively felt that something was profoundly wrong. But what was the mistake? Was it his faith in the divine? The decayed state of the temple? The power-hungry archbishop? The pope who resigned after glimpsing the future? Or perhaps... "Is it the fault of the god who granted me, so unworthy, this strength?" No, it could not be. The flaw lay in his own inability to grasp the will of his god. His faith wavered. The foundation of his belief began to crumble. The dream of becoming a paladin who eradicated evil and sent demons to divine judgment was shattered. The tower built on his faith collapsed. "If punishing with radiance is unbearable, then hide yourself in the darkness," his mentor had advised. At the time, Audin simply sought to escape. He placed restrictions on himself, both to suppress his power and to avoid responsibility. Even that wasn''t enough; others who wielded divine power added further restraints to his body. "I''m sorry, brother," said a comrade who would have willingly sacrificed their life for Audin. "Why did you do it?" asked a sister who now looked at him with hatred, despite their shared laughter the day before. Without a word of defense, Audin accepted the restrictions, abandoned his position, and left the temple. On his way out, his mentor had spoken one last time: "When the day comes that your path becomes clear, you will step forward of your own accord." "Is that a prophecy?" "Prophecy? Hardly. Let me be honest¡ªI cannot predict the future. It''s a guess, an expectation. If I, as pope, have more enemies than allies, it''s inevitable that someone will try to kill me." Six months later, the mentor who spoke those words was stoned to death as a heretic. He had no divine power beyond simple healing abilities. Audin learned of the incident six months after it happened. The rage he felt then was indescribable. He wanted to storm the temple and destroy everyone inside. But he didn''t. To do so would have been to uproot and burn the last remnants of his foundation, leaving nothing behind. Instead, he wandered, eventually finding himself in the ranks of a chaotic squad. There, in his despair, he encountered someone who had not given up on anything. That man welcomed knights, survived wars, triumphed in civil strife, and faced demons without faltering. Even the king of the East sought him out personally. Audin began to question whether he could persevere without breaking his own restraints. He dreamt once more of becoming a shield and sword of divine brilliance, a fist that would eradicate evil in the name of his god. However, a problem remained. He had sworn an oath to bind himself and could not break it on a whim. No one in the temple would approve of him breaking the prohibition. The past intertwined, bringing him back to the questions he had once hurled into his inner void. Legion, a secluded monastery in the corner of the holy city. He had no parents from the moment he was born. "Why was I born?" Audin had often asked himself. His unnecessarily large body¡ªwhat was its purpose? Even when he attained sanctity, the question remained. Was it to slay the temple''s enemies, labeled heretics? No, it couldn''t be that. He sought to become a fist that eradicates evil. That was his goal, but there were times he couldn''t achieve it. He threw those moments behind him, leaving the past temporarily forgotten. Instead, he looked toward a new sun, setting his sights not on today but on the approaching tomorrow. "What did you say you wanted to achieve by becoming a knight?" Audin asked, and Enkrid answered. "A battlefield free of children, a knight who upholds chivalry, a world that reveres what is right¡ªthat is the world I wish to build." On that day, hearing Enkrid''s answer, Audin wept. He hid in a secluded corner behind the barracks, praying as tears streamed down his face, careful not to let anyone notice. Jaxen and a few others saw but said nothing. It wasn''t the first time Audin had cried while praying. During one of those moments, Teresa approached him, patiently waiting for his prayer to end before speaking. "I think my body and talent are insignificant. I tried learning songs to calm my heart, but it hasn''t been easy." "Why do you strive to go further?" "Because I wish to walk the path I believe is right. And I think that path lies beside him. More than anything, I want to protect this place." "Is that so?" "Yes, it is. I want to challenge him, prove myself, and support the path he walks." To set a purpose and act on it¡ªthat was the greatest light a person could possess. It may not be divine, but it is an enduring light. Reciting the words of the holy scriptures, Audin nodded. "I heard you''ve chosen some recruits. Let''s begin ''sincere training'' together." Audin''s words made Teresa briefly regret sharing her worries. The phrase "sincere training" alone gave her a sense of foreboding. Perhaps imprisonment in an underground dungeon would be preferable to such training. It was during the process of selecting devout recruits with strong physiques that an incident occurred. Audin realized that one of the prohibitions binding him had broken. "Never defy the temple''s words, for they are always correct." Then he would have to return to the temple and adjust that "correctness" slightly. If necessary, he would have to break the prohibitions. However, until he received permission, he wouldn''t arbitrarily break them. That was rooted in Audin''s belief. Even if he were to die, he wouldn''t release all the prohibitions. Only after telling the temple what he believed to be right would he consider breaking them. Even if it meant dying for it. Thanks to one person''s unwavering dream, another''s life had changed entirely. Ragna awoke from sleep and immediately noticed the change. The cold air. His breathing as he inhaled and exhaled. The fallen leaves resting on the ground. The dust swirling in the air. Everything felt several times clearer and more vivid than before. It seemed as though if he stretched out his hand, he could snatch the barbarian''s axe from far away. Even though the axe lay almost twenty paces away, it felt possible. Ragna extended his hand, clenching the air. Naturally, without extraordinary abilities or magic, the distant axe didn''t leap into his grasp. However, the moment he mimicked grabbing the air, Rem instinctively gripped the handle of his axe tightly. It happened almost simultaneously. Seeing the barbarian react, Ragna smirked. "Crazy bastard, can''t you just stay out of my sight?" It was as if Rem had read his mind, though it hadn''t been realized in action. This won''t work. Though he felt capable of anything, many things remained impossible. He had made a breakthrough, surpassed a wall, but there was so much to explore and understand. Ragna recalled the duel between the Eastern King and Enkrid. The King had stood firm, resisting the knight''s might. He had held back significantly, not as a mentor but as a sparring partner helping Enkrid unleash his full strength. Ragna had seen it all. He had observed the energy flowing from the King''s weapon into Enkrid''s blade. No, he had felt it. Could intent be gathered and realized in reality? Could he, for example, pull Rem''s axe toward him, disregarding physical distance? Yes, it''s possible. To do so, he would need to close the distance by moving his feet. He couldn''t accomplish it merely by reaching out. But through this, he naturally understood the principle of oppression. It wasn''t simply about glaring at someone with murderous intent or exuding energy. It was about manifesting will into reality. To tell the opponent through sheer willpower: This blade at my waist, the spear on my back, even this fork I hold can end your life. Even a hand alone could suffice. By envisioning an action and subtly conveying it to the opponent, their survival instincts would constrict their limbs, heart, and mind. That was oppression. Ragna experimented with a fork in the dining hall. Once on Rem. "This lunatic¡ªwhat''s his problem?" Rem snarled, glaring with a barbarian''s ferocity. "Brother, please restrain yourself," Audin said with a smile, though a vein bulged on his forehead. Dunbakel hissed and retreated. Teresa furrowed her brows, reciting a part of the scriptures while subtly pulling her tray to use as a shield. Ropord, sitting nearby, trembled visibly, cold sweat dripping onto his tray. "You might give someone a heart attack." The Shepherd of the Wastes muttered, subtly unsheathing a blade. Its black edge gleamed faintly¡ªa weapon known as Idol Slayer. Ragna saw what clung to the blade, something that gnawed at the soul and severed will itself. Though he sensed its presence, its exact nature eluded him. To truly understand, he would have to wield it. Lastly, there was Big Eyes. Unaware of everything, Krais commented on the chilly air. For those who react sharply, there are also those who don''t. Could this be a way to gauge skill or talent? It seemed possible. Ragna spent every waking moment, apart from eating and sleeping, honing his swordsmanship. The Eastern King''s parting words rang true. Now was the time to set himself on the right path. While he felt omnipotent, every accomplishment required a process. Could his blade split a mountain? Not in one strike. But he could slay a mage attempting to rend the mountain with magic. Distinguishing what was possible and what wasn''t, Ragna trained relentlessly. His body moved tirelessly until it was drenched in sweat, leaving him to sleep soundly at night. After days of repetition, Enkrid removed the bandages from his hand and asked: "When will you be ready?" It was a challenge to fight. Ragna paused for a moment to reflect, then said: "Two days." He felt certain. Though controlling his strength was still difficult, two days would be enough. His talent was extraordinary. For most, crossing a wall and stepping into a knight''s realm would take months of readjustment, but Ragna didn''t need even half a month. ----------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work! Chapter 432 - Like Black Lightning Chapter 432 - 432 - Like Black Lightning Chapter 432 - Like Black Lightning Enkrid didn''t waste his time while waiting for Ragna. Of course, he wasn''t the type to. Even now, he was sparring with Rem, creating friction between sword and axe. Clang! The silver axe, blocking Aker''s slanting slash, pushed the blade away. Enkrid tightened his grip, twisting his torso to divert the force. Noticing this, Rem feigned pulling his axe back before slamming it down vertically. Bang! The weapons clashed again, sparks scattering from the collision. Neither side gave an inch. Their exchange continued, skill countering skill, in an unyielding rhythm. It was an intense conversation of sword and axe, with no room for breath. And no human could live without breathing. Both fighters pushed their stamina to the brink, until their vision swirled. This scene had already repeated twelve times. Hours of fierce sparring had even Enkrid gasping for breath. Rem wasn''t much better off. "Hah. hah. Watch closely," Rem said, stepping back. He pursed his lips into an ''O,'' drawing in a sharp breath. His ragged panting and heaving shoulders quickly subsided. Instinctively, Enkrid traced the line of the axe swing that began from Rem''s shoulders. As expected, Rem swung the axe. No, it didn''t stop at just one swing. Enkrid barely managed to counter with Aker. Ching! The blades crossed, and Enkrid twisted away. Despite his exhaustion, Rem''s axe strikes continued relentlessly. Rem''s axe was already fierce, sharp, swift, and heavy. When the seemingly weightless weapon slashed without recoil, it often sent chills down one''s spine. But now, it was even more formidable. What''s worse, after panting like that, he suddenly unleashed this? Amid the rapid, recoil-free swings, another axe came flying unpredictably. The dual axes, held in each hand, shattered the rhythm, attacking endlessly. Enkrid parried and blocked with Aker and Gladius, feeling as if he were catching raindrops with bare hands. It wasn''t an attack you could block just because you anticipated it. And yet, Rem was holding back. If not, this onslaught could have easily cost Enkrid an arm. "Just when you think it''s over, squeeze out every last bit. I call it ''a handful of breath. ''" Rem''s explanation came between labored breaths. His complexion had turned a sickly purple from holding his breath and pouring every ounce of energy into the attack. Rem still taught through action more than words. And that suited both teacher and student. After steadying his breath, Rem continued, "If you''re not careful, your heart could burst, or your blood vessels might rupture. Hell, it feels like you''ve shaved off a bit of your lifespan." It was a far more dangerous technique than the Heart of the Beast. Originally a technique used with protective spells, Rem had modified it slightly. His recent insights into spellcasting made it possible. Moreover, it was a skill the lunatic commander before him could master and use even more effectively. "If you want to land even one hit, you''d better learn it before the duel." The spar with Ragna was in two days. Rem''s intention to help was clear. Enkrid didn''t refuse. Why would he? He spent the morning loosening up with the Isolation Technique and then dedicated himself to learning Rem''s Handful of Breath. Rem offered advice freely throughout. "I''m naturally ambidextrous, but you''re not." "What are you trying to say?" Even as he trained Enkrid, Rem was refining his own skills. It was obvious from the sweat dripping off him¡ªmore than usual. Because of this, Dunbakel was at her wit''s end, unable to keep up. She had even postponed forming the unit Enkrid had previously assigned her to. Enkrid didn''t push her. Forcing it wouldn''t work on someone like her. Krais likely didn''t think forming a unit was urgent either. "Unit organization is important, but it''s not like war will break out tomorrow. At least for the next year, things will stay quiet." The time required for a king to stabilize the nation. Moreover, after observing the Border Guard''s policies, Naurilia had begun setting up outposts in every city connected to the capital. The kingdom and Border Guard were developing along similar lines. Of course, Enkrid spent no time worrying about such matters, choosing instead to swing his sword one more time. Regardless, Rem was focused on his axes, training with more dedication than ever before. And somehow, he still found time to spar with Enkrid, even if his explanations were a bit lacking. "I''m not using both hands fully yet. It''s more like this." "Explain. Huff. Huff. a bit more," Enkrid said, planting his sword tip into the ground to catch his breath. Rem thought for a moment before asking, "Can you write with your left hand?" He couldn''t. He could summon Swift Will by plucking sparks with his left hand, but writing was beyond him. "If you''re going to use both hands, you need to use them properly. If you''re clumsy, it''s worse than not using them at all." He didn''t insist on wielding two weapons, but Rem was right. If you had something, you needed to use it properly. Otherwise, it was pointless. By now, only opponents who demanded such skill remained. Two days passed quickly, but this time Enkrid delayed. Luagarne had intervened. Of course, Enkrid agreed, or it wouldn''t have happened. "Postpone the duel. You''re wondering why, aren''t you? Fine. I know you won''t improve drastically in a few days. But you can solidify your mindset. You can''t waste what you learned from the Mercenary King, can you?" Luagarne rarely gave direct answers. Self-discovery came first. He helped but never outright solved the problem. That was Luagarne''s way. Enkrid delayed for a few more days. In the meantime, he practiced writing and eating with his left hand. "Once you''ve built flexible, sturdy muscles, using them is what gives them meaning, brother." Audin also assisted Enkrid. He even taught him a few more Valah-style martial techniques. There was one grappling technique and one striking technique. Not all techniques needed names. Ragna merely watched it in silence. In the meantime, Enkrid had grown adept enough to write letters with his left hand, despite his clumsy handwriting. After all, he had to send a reply to the king''s missive. When Krais saw this, his curiosity about the contents of the royal letter got the better of him. "What does it say?" It must have been something about offering this and that to keep the eastern king in check. After all, the letter had arrived after news of the mercenary king had spread. Krais, upon seeing the letter, had felt a hint of unease. But his expectations were way off. "It''s a lament about how sitting on the throne isn''t all it''s cracked up to be." "A lament?" Enkrid nodded. At such a time? Krais wondered whether it was the king who was strange or his commander. In any case, the reply was sent¡ªa message urging the king to take things seriously if he''d decided to go through with them. Enkrid put down the quill he''d been gripping with his left hand, clenched his fist, and then opened it again. ''It''s not enough. '' He couldn''t become as proficient with his left hand as with his right overnight. But he felt he understood the meaning behind Luagarne''s words. So he stood and stepped outside. It was noon, the sun directly overhead, on a day brighter than any other. The sky was clear, with not a single cloud in sight, and the air was filled with the scent of heat. The smell of heated stone, dry earth, and fresh grass mingled in the air. It wasn''t a bad day. Though Ragna had said two days, a week had passed since. Ragna had waited patiently. During that time, he had become confident in his ability to control his sword completely. He could swing with all his strength and still stop the blade in time to cut no more than a single strand of hair. He could halt it so precisely that it wouldn''t leave even a red mark on the skin. If they''d sparred two days ago, he might have ended up severing an arm in the process. But not anymore. "I''ve kept you waiting." In the center of the training grounds, Ragna practiced alone daily, swinging his sword. To an onlooker, it didn''t seem like he was refining an extraordinary technique. If anything, his movements seemed even rougher than before, as if they lacked discipline. Nearby, Rem sat with arms crossed in a chair he had crafted himself. Next to him, Audin lounged on a massive stone he''d somehow acquired and was using as a seat. Even Dunbakel, Teresa, Fel, and Ropord were spectating. Jaxen and Esther, however, were absent, both busy with other matters. Enkrid didn''t concern himself with anyone''s gaze. He lifted his sword and pointed it forward. The tip of the Aker blade seemed to form a dot, aimed at his opponent. A pressure built, emanating from his sheer will, and brushed against Ragna. But Ragna appeared unaffected. To Enkrid, Ragna didn''t seem particularly imposing. If anything, he looked weaker than before. "Miss, and you die." Ragna''s lips moved just as Enkrid registered his words. Beyond the realm of perception¡ªwhere the naked eye couldn''t follow, where only a faint sense of instinct could catch the edge¡ªRagna''s blade swept upward across Enkrid''s thigh. It was an unexpected angle, a strike too swift and well-timed for Aker to block. Enkrid barely managed to shift his weight back, relying solely on instinct, avoiding a critical wound by leaning away. The black blade skimmed the thin fabric of his trousers, leaving a shallow cut. Blood began to seep from the tear, staining his pants. With a single strike, it became clear. "A knight?" Enkrid murmured. "The beginning of one." Ragna''s tone was calm. But to Rem, that nonchalant attitude was infuriating, and he spoke up. "Spennadul brat." Spennadul was a word from the western tongue, roughly translating to someone who smokes from their rear. It implied pointless effort or meaningless actions¡ªoften used as a jab against idlers in the west. Naturally, no one else understood the term. Even if they had, no one cared enough to respond. Ragna remained unperturbed, lifting his black greatsword, Gumtoong, forged from dark metal. Despite its massive size, he wielded it as if it were lighter than a rapier. When he swung it, the blade seemed to bend like a whip, though it maintained its weight. While it lacked overt menace, anyone watching Ragna at that moment would instinctively step back. His sword appeared as though it couldn''t be stopped¡ªa divine punishment about to be delivered¡ªor a black lightning bolt poised to strike from the heavens. Though he had yet to swing, everyone could already sense the destructive power of the impending strike. Audin''s brow furrowed slightly. It wasn''t a blow one could counter, even with a restriction in place. Though the sword had not yet descended, Teresa envisioned her shield shattering into pieces. Dunbakel broke out in a cold sweat, vividly imagining her own death. She knew¡ªif she wanted to survive, she shouldn''t face that swing head-on. Fel, gripping Idol Slayer, found the veins on the back of his hand bulging. Ropord recalled the one time he''d seen a true knight of the order¡ªa memory seared into his mind. Luagarne stood off to the side, quietly observing Enkrid. Everyone tensed. Knights were such beings¡ªforces of nature that altered the air around them simply by existing. Catastrophes, walking calamities. And if one stood before you, sword drawn? If that sword was aimed at you? The Frog''s bulging eyes were fixed not on Ragna, who had reached the cusp of knighthood, but on Enkrid. More precisely, he couldn''t tear his gaze away. ''He''s smiling? '' Enkrid smiled¡ªa grin much like the one he''d shown when the ferryman told him he would die, that he''d hit a wall, and that his days would be stuck in an endless loop. No one else could have understood. But it was true. Enkrid smiled. And then¡ª Whoosh. The black lightning struck without the roar of thunder, a silent blade that seemed it would cleave Enkrid in two. Clang! Of course, such a thing didn''t happen. Drip. Enkrid raised his sword above his brow just in time, intercepting the blow. Yet he was pushed back, and the blade of his own sword grazed his forehead. Blood trickled down in droplets. The black lightning had been intercepted at the last possible moment with Aker and Gladius crossed in defense. It was a narrow escape, but a block nonetheless. The hurried motion of twisting Gladius had caused the edge to scrape his skin, resulting in the bleeding. The dripping blood wasn''t insignificant, painting Enkrid''s face red. Even so, he didn''t close his eyes. It wasn''t as though he''d reached some grand realization. Enkrid was a wanderer¡ªa man who had spent his life searching for answers, charting paths, and chasing milestones as he roamed. A madman who had stitched together shattered, tattered dreams to make it this far. And so, at this moment, he felt joy. --------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work! Chapter 433 - There Was Never a Need for Permission Chapter 433 - 433 - There Was Never a Need for Permission Chapter 433 - There Was Never a Need for Permission The mad wanderer, seeker of dreams and lunacy, encountered three knights. The first was a knight of Aspen. His every skill was swift and powerful. Even knowing his strikes, there was no way to block them. Perhaps now, Enkrid might deflect a casual blow without much effort, but back then, it felt impossible. This knight''s physical abilities were leagues apart from ordinary men. His swordsmanship reflected that difference. Next was the might of the mercenary king, Anu. He had not revealed everything he was capable of. What he displayed was merely a fragment. Moreover, Anu was a beastkin. He hadn''t even transformed, yet his demonstrated techniques were formidable. Even so, there was much to observe, feel, and learn, for the mercenary king fought as though teaching, unveiling his art bit by bit. He displayed mastery. From incomprehensible movements came spear strikes at unimaginable angles. The last encounter stood right before him now. A strike so devastating it forced the opponent''s blade backward. Ragna''s swordsmanship was a one-hit, one-kill style. His blade was designed to deliver certain death, embodying the essence of heavy swordsmanship. Not all knights are the same. What did the mercenary king mean by "experience"? Where did this difference originate? "From honing what one possesses." To believe the path you walk is the right one and to take one more step forward rather than looking back and hesitating. The king''s words lingered vividly in his mind. His teaching was clear. At that moment, Enkrid realized something with certainty. Heaven, talent¡ªnone of it guaranteed him what he sought. "A genius among geniuses." One in ten thousand. From those gathered, another rare one would be chosen¡ªa knight. "So what?" Would anything change because of that? No. Life was the same as always. He had never needed permission, not from the heavens, not from talent, nor from anyone else. But what if there was a way despite that? Enkrid felt he understood. A clue was in sight. That brought a smile to his face, and words escaped his lips before his brain could catch up. "Again." His arms trembled. If he didn''t brace his core, he felt he''d be pushed back. It was like standing against a storm, without even a cane for support. Or like scaling the icy peaks of a glacial mountain with nothing but rags for clothing. "No, not quite." He had a cane, and though meager, he had garments covering his body. Enkrid steadied his mind. What he had built up until now was his cane and his clothing. There is no tomorrow for someone who denies what they have built and doubts themselves. Thus, believing in himself was the first step. The mercenary king''s words carried that meaning too. To walk the path one believes to be right and to not turn away from what one has built. Enkrid laughed and looked at Ragna, asking with his eyes, "Are you really going to end this with just one swing of your sword?" Ragna assumed his stance as if the answer was obvious. His black blade pointed skyward, splitting the sunlight and standing perpendicular to the ground. He intended to repeat the same motion over and over again. An attack that couldn''t be stopped, even if known¡ªthe very impression Enkrid had when he first faced the knight of Aspen. Ragna''s strike, even with restraint, was devastating. The black lightning struck three times, and each time, Enkrid managed to block it¡ªor more accurately, endure it. His right arm nearly tore, and his left was on the verge of breaking. "That brute." Rem, who had been observing, almost voiced his thoughts but stopped himself. His throat itched, and scratching it, he muttered under his breath. "I can''t blame him." He understood that it was hard to go easy on someone like Enkrid. Even with trembling arms and a swaying body that looked ready to collapse, Enkrid gripped his sword again. His eyes were unyielding, burning with a spirit that refused to die. Could anyone face such a person lightly? If Ragna had exerted even a bit more strength, Enkrid''s arms would have been shattered. So it was hard to fault Ragna''s restraint. "Haha, the lazy brother seems to have grasped something profound," Audin remarked with genuine admiration. Witnessing knightly swordsmanship was a rare occasion. Even Audin couldn''t replicate such feats immediately, even if he lifted restrictions. Time and harsh training were required. That didn''t mean the heights were unattainable. Rem and Audin remained composed. But others were not. Enkrid was surrounded by talented individuals. Rem, Jaxen, and Audin stood out, but the rest were no less formidable. Theresa, half-giant, pondered deeply. She replayed what she had just witnessed in her mind. It was a bolt of black lightning¡ªa calamity in the form of metal, impossible to block. "Could a shield stop that?" Even if the shield were indestructible, could the arm holding it withstand the impact? Theresa clenched her teeth, a line forming across her jaw as she strained her masticatory muscles. Just as despair crept in, she saw Enkrid collapse, unconscious but unbroken. Seeing him replaced her despair with something else entirely. "I can do it too." It was a refusal to lose and a determination not to give up. Dunbakel and Ropord felt the same. Their thoughts churned with determination. Lagarne''s eyes sparkled with emotion, brimming with tears. "Why is that Frog crying?" Rem asked. "She seems overwhelmed," Audin replied. He was correct. Lagarne felt something swelling in her chest. It was an unshakable inspiration. "How could someone do that?" She had witnessed Enkrid''s growth and was aware of his lack of talent. The Frog''s abilities, coupled with Lagarne''s experiences, made her acutely aware of his limitations. Yet he kept moving forward. She saw something far greater than the absence of envy. Even without the heavens'' permission, even without talent, he advanced with sheer will. It shone brighter than a falling star and burned hotter than a raging fire. It was pure determination. "There was never a need for permission." Enkrid had conveyed that truth with his entire being and proved himself through his actions. Lagarne spoke. "He''ll become a knight." The sudden declaration was met with no objections. The mercenary king hadn''t entrusted Enkrid with something out of certainty. It was more of a gift, offered to someone who dared to dream through his blade. And now, the Frog, who sought the unknown while remaining grounded in reality, felt a certainty that required no explanation. That man would become a knight. While Lagarne was moved and the others lost in thought, it was Fel who was most shaken. "What was that?" Never before had Fel considered the possibility of being surpassed in talent. But now, for the first time, that confidence wavered. His confidence diminished as he witnessed what unfolded before his eyes. What he thought was a solid mountain seemed to scatter like a light pile of dirt blown by the wind. "Is my talent truly insignificant?" Fel was paralyzed, unable to move, overwhelmed by shock. *** If his arms were ruined, then training his lower body was the solution. "There''s no such thing as rest for you, is there? That''s a good mindset. The faster blood circulates through the body, the quicker it heals." If a properly trained physician had heard that, they would''ve called it madness. When the body reacts with inflammation, the first step is to rest, not overexert. But there was no such physician here, and Audin wasn''t entirely wrong. Enkrid''s body wasn''t weak enough to break down under such conditions. Over time, combined with his Isolation technique and regenerative instincts, his body had adapted to specialize in recovery. It took seven days for his arms to fully heal. Exactly a week later, Enkrid grasped his sword and called out to Ragna. "Stop slacking off and come out here. Today, I''m going to fix all of your bad habits." In the center of the training grounds, Ragna, who was more diligently swinging his sword than ever before, turned his head and calmly replied, "You could''ve just asked for a normal sparring session." Feeling slightly awkward, Enkrid scratched his cheek and said, "It''s a habit of mine." It was a habit he had developed from calling out Rem and the others. Habits like that don''t disappear overnight. After all, yelling "You mad savage, come out here so I can break your nose!" at Rem was essentially a request for sparring rather than an actual provocation. "This time, I''ll try this." Ragna, holding his sword parallel to the ground, announced his intent. Previously, he had brought his sword down vertically; this time, he intended to swing horizontally. If the previous attack felt like lightning striking, this one carried the impression of a collapsing wall. Though it wasn''t faster than before, there was no escape from its reach. It was like watching a massive boulder rolling toward you. It seemed to declare, This is what it means to strike as a knight. This time, two of Enkrid''s ribs cracked. Still, he didn''t die. A few days later, when the pain in his side subsided and he was back in one piece, Shinar returned. She glanced at Enkrid sweating in the training grounds and, for once, showed some emotion. It was subtle¡ªa slight lift of her left eyebrow¡ªbut Enkrid knew it was a sign of surprise. "Did you go far?" "Missed me, did you? My battered fiance?." "Is that phrasing something you picked up from Audin?" "I''m not exactly at an age to be learning from others." Enkrid nodded and gripped his sword. He hadn''t forgotten what Shinar had shown him when he was down. If it hadn''t been for Ragna, he might have spent his days endlessly wondering when she would return, unable to forget her even in his sleep. Shinar smiled, a rare expression she reserved only for Enkrid. He didn''t fall for the enchanting charm of her inhuman beauty. As soon as her smile faded, she closed the distance. Thud! Perhaps it was thanks to Ragna. Shinar''s attack was slower than a black lightning strike and easier to block than Ragna''s all-encompassing horizontal slash, which felt like a charging fortress wall. But her sword moved like a butterfly. Even when blocked, it would curve and drop from above. When that was barely deflected, it would suddenly return and aim for the stomach. Blocking and dodging were all he could manage. Even though he remained vigilant, an invisible blade targeted the back of his head. She struck downward with her sword while another blade simultaneously appeared from behind. How could a sword come from the front and back at the same time? It was a technique she had demonstrated before¡ªa secret skill of the fairy clan, harnessing the energy of the forest. "There''s no escape," Shinar declared. Enkrid laughed again. He had no intention of escaping. In an instant, he twisted his body to the side, blocking Shinar''s blade with the Acer in his right hand while striking down the invisible blade with the Gladius in his left. Flick! The incorporeal blade vanished weakly, though he couldn''t entirely block Shinar''s main attack. After a few more similar strikes, he accumulated a few scratches. As expected, he lost. This time, he narrowly avoided having a hole pierced through his thigh. "If she''d aimed slightly higher, you''d have become a whole new species¡ªneither man nor woman," Rem quipped. "I almost made a grave mistake," Shinar admitted with a rare hint of remorse after the spar. "It''s fine," Enkrid said, brushing it off. Thus, an unusual yet ordinary routine continued. One day, he sparred with Ragna. Another day, with Shinar. In his spare time, he learned various techniques from Rem. He also spent time with Audin or pestered Jaxen, who didn''t seem as busy as before. "The Invisible Thrust isn''t about making it unguardable; it''s about making it undetectable," he was told. Though it wasn''t strictly necessary to learn, knowing diverse techniques was always helpful. That was why he trained in everything. The fairy''s blade might have been invisible, but it was caught in the net of his senses. "Ultimately, is the goal to strike without being seen or felt?" It was an insight he gained from intuition before Shinar demonstrated her secret again. Such repetition was Enkrid''s specialty. While honing his left-hand writing, he also dodged the daggers Jaxen threw to sharpen his reflexes. It was a monotonous yet relentless cycle of training. For Enkrid, it wasn''t difficult. And so, time passed. The Ferryman appeared in Enkrid''s dreams. He had nothing particular to say but seemed to criticize whether such repetitive days were enjoyable. "If that''s all, you might as well settle for a comfortable life," the boatman seemed to imply. But before the boatman could speak further, Enkrid asked, "When will a new wall come?" Those burning eyes, seen countless times, reflected the depths of his soul. It wasn''t merely a question¡ªit was desperation. The boatman, who was the source of the ominous feeling, couldn''t tell him that the one who cast the curse had already met their end. Hadn''t he boldly told Enkrid to be cautious? Oblivious, Enkrid asked again, "Is it just around the corner?" It was a question driven less by hope and more by sheer defiance. The boatman couldn''t answer. "Or tomorrow, perhaps?" Enkrid pressed further. The boatman silently cursed him. This mad bastard. Unable to risk saying something that might diminish his stature, the boatman said nothing more and sealed the world they shared. In the end, Enkrid woke from his dream after meeting a suddenly silent boatman. --------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work! Chapter 434 - Training à la Luagarne Chapter 434 - 434 - Training a? la Luagarne Chapter 434 - Training a? la Luagarne It lasted an entire month. Lagarne meticulously observed Enkrid''s changes. She watched him without fail every single day. She was one of the most perceptive and sensitive Frogs on the entire continent. When it came to evaluating and teaching someone''s talents, she was arguably on par with a seasoned knight. Thus, observation alone was sufficient. Enkrid was already at his limit. This was the end. He was at the final stretch. It was akin to suddenly choking on a bite of soft, boiled potato. The conclusion was inevitable. "He''s stuck." Stagnation. "It''s a shame." This was the simultaneous emotion that surfaced. For an entire month, he lived as if scraping together every remaining second of his time, as though he''d received a terminal diagnosis. "You''ll die if you keep this up." The fairy sparring with him remarked bluntly. "Don''t push yourself too hard," advised the human knight, demonstrating his swordsmanship. Even the bear-human hybrid had to persuade Enkrid to rest for a day, using both hands and feet. Though whether beating him into resting during a sparring session was the proper way to go about it was another matter entirely. "This is one of the traditions of martial priesthood." Forcing someone into unconsciousness to make them rest? Audin''s words were true. Martial priests devoted to the god of war often wrecked their bodies with excessive training. When that happened, it was the duty of senior priests to care for them¡ªsometimes with fists and feet. Lagarne, being an open-minded Frog, nodded in understanding. Others, however, reacted differently. Dunbakel, observing from the side, widened her eyes. "He''s not running away after taking all that?" she muttered in disbelief. Fel, meanwhile, stiffened as if frozen, murmuring, "A shepherd could withstand this much." Yet no one took him seriously. "I''ll rest properly." Ropord made his resolve clear. He might have persistently challenged Ragna to spar countless times, but taking a quality nap after being hit by Audin''s fist was a different story. In a way, it could be seen as a wise decision. He hadn''t been chosen as part of the knights'' ranks without reason. Regardless, Luagarne observed Enkrid''s struggles. "Despite such desperate efforts. It was stagnation, not progress. And even that stagnation was precarious. He barely avoided regression. The reason he hadn''t regressed entirely? "It''s thanks to mastering various techniques." The rigorous training Enkrid subjected himself to each morning had forged his body into something unlike that of an ordinary man. Having already realized Will, his body had transformed to match its demands. Will represented sheer determination. Techniques driven by that resolve placed immense strain on the body. Yet enduring that strain hardened the body further. It wasn''t without reason that knights exhibited combat prowess of another level. Lagarne retrieved a squirming, high-quality caterpillar from a leather pouch, placed it on her hand, and snapped it up with her tongue in one gulp. She needed to eat to think clearly. Over the month of observing Enkrid, she devised various methods. "What would help?" Nothing was certain. She plunged herself into thought. Sitting on a chair Rem had crafted, she pulled one knee close to her chest. Occasionally, she''d puff out her cheeks, eat another caterpillar, or sniff the Frog-exclusive herb Epiphrimum, which had a pleasant scent. Frogs preferred summer over winter. While they didn''t have a pathological aversion to the cold, dry climates often left their skin parched and cracked. Severe cases could even lead to bleeding, which was far from pleasant. For humans, it would be akin to someone cutting their skin with a blade daily¡ªpainful and miserable. Cold and wind dried out Frogs'' skin, so naturally, they favored summer. Lagarne felt fortunate it was summer. She could forgo moisturizing her skin and focus entirely on observing and thinking. Why did that man struggle so desperately? "I understand." Lagarne listened to what Enkrid conveyed through his actions and demeanor. Even if the heavens denied him, he declared he would press on. It was a silent scream directed at the world. At least, that''s how Lagarne saw it. So what could she do for him now? Something for a man at a standstill. Thought alone wouldn''t suffice. What mattered was action. Lagarne rose from her seat. "You can''t keep going like this." Enkrid was in the midst of training, wielding a sword ten times heavier than an ordinary blade. Whoosh! Unable to fully control the weight, the blade trembled as it came to a halt. Sweat streaming down his forehead flung into the air in tandem with his movements. Between his damp, black hair, his piercing blue eyes glimmered. "You must already know." Lagarne spoke again. "Is there another way?" Enkrid replied calmly. He already knew. If Lagarne had recognized his stagnation, it was no surprise that Enkrid had foreseen it. He always knew this moment would come. Although he had squeezed out talent he didn''t possess and tasted the joy of unprecedented growth, he had anticipated that a limit would eventually present itself. It was a familiar feeling. He recalled the boatman''s words from the previous night. "Tsk, tsk. You should have stopped at enjoying today. Do you seek the thrill of advancing further? Then you''ll never find such a day. There might''ve been one, had you not looked to tomorrow¡ªa day where you repeat today endlessly and feel the same joy." The boatman had scolded Enkrid. Of course, before their parting, the boatman had revealed the nature of the ominous aura surrounding him. When Enkrid dreamt again, the message echoed. "There is no such thing as perfection in this world." The boatman had said this boldly, feigning confidence. Enkrid paid it no mind. Was his distaste for stagnation so strong that he wished for a wall to appear? It wasn''t so much dislike as it was a resolve to find a way forward. Since he expected it, he preferred action over idle contemplation. The knight''s path? He understood it now. "Observing other knights'' swordsmanship to learn even a fragment more." Simultaneously, honing his own techniques and moving forward. This was the path Enkrid had grasped. Was it the correct one? He didn''t care. Instead of wasting time on doubt, he received Ragna''s black thunder more times than he could count, evaded Shinar''s invisible blade, and worked tirelessly to comprehend Jaxen''s life-preserving thrust. He had tried everything, or so he thought. "Once, there was an exceptionally talented bard. To compose extraordinary and remarkable songs, he shut himself in his room, repeating the same tasks over and over. He believed that was the best approach." It was an old story about a foolish bard who never ventured out. The moral was simple: one must experience and witness the broader world to find true inspiration. Enkrid already knew the rest of the story. "It was his friend, a lifelong baker, who made him realize the error of his ways. With just a few words, that friend inspired the bard to write the famous song The Well-Bound Frog, a tune known across the continent even today. Yes, I know the story." The bard was a Frog, and upon understanding his mistake, he created a song that even children and adults still hum today: "Did you think the sky was round? Did you think the world was round? Was my world so narrow? Frog, oh frog, If you don''t leave the well, you''ll gain nothing." The lyrics repeated a simple yet profound message. "Are you willing to follow my lead?" Ruagarne, the continent''s greatest mentor, had never encountered a disciple like this one before. What was she to do? She decided to try everything possible. "Let''s do it." Enkrid nodded. He had no other choice. He had faced stagnation like this several times. While it didn''t make him restless, it was far from a situation he welcomed. Walking under the moonlight felt like being engulfed by a sudden overcast sky, obscuring his vision. It was as if a sturdy bridge he''d been crossing abruptly collapsed midway. In such moments, Enkrid always found a way forward¡ªeven if it meant closing his eyes or stringing ropes across the broken bridge to crawl over it. This time was no different. That summer was unusually long. The scorching heat felt as though it would barbecue a person whole. "This is insane, Instructor," one soldier muttered before the torturous march began. He was a nobleman''s son who had studied in the capital. While from a cadet branch, his family was among the vassals of the newly appointed Duke of Okto. Confident in his skills, he had joined the Border Guard, convinced he''d soon stand out among the so-called Madmen Unit after a bit of training and luck. But what was this madness? The instructors handed out a long sword, two daggers, a heavy wrist-mounted crossbow, armor padded with linen and leather, guards for the forearms and shins, at least three throwing knives, a hand axe, a small round shield, a helmet, a short baton, and¡ªon top of it all¡ªa backpack. They called this state of gear "fully armed." "This isn''t arming; this is torture," he thought. For him, it truly was. The instructor leading the reconnaissance unit simply nodded at his protest and responded with a single line: "Then leave." She was ruthless. The soldier couldn''t retort. Many had challenged this female instructor and ended up beaten to a pulp. Fighting back only made things worse. "Then the monster will come next," he thought bitterly. If Rem showed up, there was no hope. Though rare these days, he used to appear frequently to complain about the training intensity being too weak, dragging someone out to pummel them. It was pure, one-sided violence, targeting nobles especially. "That noble-slayer." The soldier knew Rem''s infamous nickname, well-known among noble circles. "Run!" Even fully armed with a sword belt and backpack, they were expected to run. Grinding his teeth, the soldier started moving. "This is reconnaissance training. If you can''t handle it, drop dead," the instructor barked. The exercise lasted three days: scaling mountains, digging smoke-free pits at designated points for meals, and then returning. "Even demon slayers wouldn''t endure this," he grumbled, staggering on. Resentful, he cursed his father for sending him here out of admiration for the so-called Demon Slayer. But eventually, his exhaustion left him too drained to think. Then, he noticed another soldier. "A steel helmet?" While everyone else wore leather helmets, this one had a full steel helm. His backpack looked larger and heavier, he carried three hand axes, two long swords, and even a gladius strapped horizontally across his lower back. And if that wasn''t enough, he had two spears slung over his shoulder. "A spearman?" It didn''t make sense. Their current training was for reconnaissance, a fact everyone painfully knew. But why was this man so overburdened? The soldier dismissed it as a hallucination until he caught a glimpse of the man''s face. "Demon Slayer!" he gasped. Though too exhausted to shout, his voice carried enough to catch attention. The man¡ªthe legendary Demon Slayer, holder of a general''s rank bestowed directly by the king¡ªturned his head slightly. "Dragging your feet will only make it harder," he said, offering a brief piece of advice before continuing ahead. The noble-born soldier fell silent. The Demon Slayer carried several times his own load and still marched unfazed. In that instant, the small rebellion brewing among the soldiers evaporated. Finn, the instructor and commanding officer of the training, approached Enkrid as he walked ahead. "It''s been a while," she said, giving a casual salute with her right hand at her waist. She, too, was fully armed. "Improved, have you?" Enkrid remarked, instantly assessing her with the same sharp gaze as ever. Finn clicked her tongue and shifted the conversation to Torres. "They''ve ramped up the frontier defense training at Martai. You should visit sometime." "Maybe if I have time," he replied. For now, his schedule was packed with exercises inspired by Ruagarne''s methods. Finn sighed. Even after so long, Enkrid was still an unparalleled training maniac. But then again, that''s what made him the Demon Slayer. Though she had once been his superior, she had later served under him and now commanded as part of his forces. Despite everything, Finn couldn''t help but feel proud. Enkrid had a unique way of making those around him feel fulfilled. "Breaking through narrow perspectives requires diversity. Try everything." Following Luagarne''s philosophy, Enkrid pushed himself to the limit, carrying heavier gear than any soldier and running alongside them. "Run." Splash! He dove from mountain ridges into lakes below. "How do you break past your limits? I have no idea. But I know clinging to a sword alone won''t get you there." Broadening one''s view allowed for greater understanding, and that was the essence of Luagarne''s teachings. -------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work! Chapter 435 - The Lake of Experience Chapter 435 - 435 - The Lake of Experience Chapter 435 - The Lake of Experience Enkrid had experienced pauses in his life numerous times, so he had long forgotten the feeling of impatience. He simply did what he had to. He ran, jumped, and climbed mountains. Luagarne used every tool available without hesitation. She would use anything¡ªhuman or otherwise. It was the same for her. Enkrid had fought against Dunbakel, Teresa, and Ropord just yesterday. He thought they wouldn''t accept fighting three against one, out of pride, but the three of them accepted without hesitation. Luagarne showed them a formation so their movements wouldn''t get tangled. That alone meant Enkrid couldn''t easily take the upper hand against the three of them. Their tactics were tricky. Dunbakel used her fast legs and nimble movements to circle around, looking for openings to strike, while Teresa relentlessly pushed forward with her shield. Her vision-blocking techniques had become more refined, and her overall skill had clearly improved, making her a much harder opponent. Beside them, Ropord swung his sword steadfastly. It wasn''t a longsword technique. It was a method based on calculated moves and counterattacks. For instance, sometimes Ropord would swing his sword not at Enkrid''s front, but at the empty air, forcing Enkrid to deflect it when there was no other place to dodge. That naturally created openings, and through those, Dunbakel''s scythe-like blows came at him. Enkrid realized Ropord''s talents. "They''re fighting together, yet calculating the moves?" Such a talent would shine when commanding a small group of soldiers. Ropord was actually awakening his own potential. It was the kind of sense that allowed him to read the flow of battle from above, like seeing it from a higher perspective. That ability applied not just to small-unit tactics but could be used in personal combat as well. It was the essence of swordsmanship. While Luagarne had spoken of hints and suppression, Ropord had faithfully swung his sword, forcing his opponent into submission. "Impressive." Enkrid recognized Ropord''s potential. Luagarne had recognized it long ago and had awakened it with just a few words of advice. Enkrid could have felt the stark difference in talent, but he didn''t care. Every day, he was too busy gasping for breath from his training to worry about such things. Dunbakel''s skills had also drastically improved. She showcased her killing techniques using both her twin scythes, claws, and even her toenails, utilizing her whole body for lethal strikes. It was a blade that came from her instincts. Her claws, extending with thought, were wild but hard to block. In any case, yesterday, he had barely held his ground against them. And today, a different conversation came up. "Have you ever fought against a mage?" Before Enkrid could even answer Luagarne''s question, a woman with long hair and a thin robe appeared behind the frog. It was, of course, Esther. "Do I need it to improve my sword skills?" he asked. Esther thought for a moment before answering. "Perhaps." Honestly, she had no idea, but she knew there would be something to gain from it. One of Enkrid''s greatest talents was his ability to learn from everything and everyone in the world. Esther didn''t refuse either. She blinked her large eyes a few times, combing her hair with one hand and raising the other as she said, "Then, let''s do it. The Dmueller''s Scythe." Along with her words, she extended her thumb, index, and middle fingers, making a gesture that seemed meaningless. At that exact moment, Enkrid drew Aker and swung it. Clang! The compressed blade of air flying toward him collided with Enkrid''s sword, shattering in mid-air. Enkrid felt a subtle recoil in his arms. It felt like the blow of a warrior with arms as thick as his own had struck his sword. It should have been shocking, but Enkrid didn''t hesitate. As soon as he blocked the attack, he spun and advanced. He kicked the ground, leaving afterimages in his wake. The speed was almost impossible to track for anyone but a knight. "Watch out for the snake." Esther''s voice pierced his ear, worming its way into his mind. No, it was a voice that vibrated through his entire head. It felt like he couldn''t ignore it. It was an odd feeling. He was charging ahead, eyes focused, but he could still hear her voice ringing in his ears. Enkrid, at the same time, saw the illusion of his sword becoming a snake, coiling around his arm, but the vision vanished in the blink of an eye. It was a result of his strong will to resist. Clang! Enkrid''s sword was blocked once again by Esther''s palm. It was a mage''s shield. How could he break it? He had experienced it before. Back when he had beheaded the Count. He needed to raise his sword vertically and strike down with a long-sword style. It was an attack with the full intent to cut through. Enkrid''s sword wasn''t as fast as lightning, but it was still a strike similar to one. "It will be blocked." Esther spoke, moving her hands ceaselessly, changing the shapes of her magical barrier. As she drew several shapes with her hands, layers of shields formed above her head, trapping Enkrid''s sword. "Loyta''s Tenacious Spiderweb." If any passing mage had seen it, they would have been horrified. Just moments before, Esther had implemented the spell first and then recited the incantation. This was a technique known as "post-casting," which even most mages would hesitate to try. To summarize, Enkrid was helplessly pushed back by Esther. The saying that a prepared mage is more frightening than a knight was not just a saying. She proved it. The magic the Count had used was vast and overwhelming. Enkrid had thought that when it came to magic, he would have the advantage. But that wasn''t the case. Of course, Enkrid didn''t know how incredible a mage Esther was. Especially in combat with others, Esther was a genius that no other mage could match. If she were at her peak, even the Galafran mage, who had grasped the river''s flow in the battlefield prepared by Aspen, would have been defeated in an instant. Esther had felt three distinct threats while fighting Enkrid. It was impressive that Enkrid had pushed a mage like her this far, but he didn''t recognize it. "One more time?" Enkrid simply continued as before. "Anytime." Esther nodded, willing to continue. Since Enkrid wanted it, she was happy to oblige. She didn''t step back, and by the end of the day, Enkrid''s left arm was broken, and his hair was burned and had to be trimmed short. "That looks good on you too." Luagarne, with her strong aesthetic sense, even admired Enkrid''s short hair. Through all of this, Enkrid hadn''t made any groundbreaking progress. But the change in his perspective had gained him much. "When fighting a mage, simply talking gives the initiative to the opponent," Esther advised on fighting mages. Enkrid absorbed everything she said. He was especially good at learning from others, repeating and digesting everything he was taught. He did so. Esther smiled. Enkrid, seeing this, spoke. "You shouldn''t laugh so casually at others." Thinking about it, she was as rare with her smiles as Shinar. "Why?" Esther asked in return. "If you look in the mirror, you''d understand. If someone looks too closely between that thin robe of yours, they''ll lose their eyes, don''t you know?" "No, I know. This, too, is a weapon. Those who lose themselves looking at my face forget for a moment that I''m a mage." Where does the beginning of tactics lie? Enkrid had a small realization. If you can use your appearance to disorient the opponent''s eyes? It was a principle that aligned with the teachings of the Valah-style mercenary swords. "Excellent." "My face is always excellent." Esther, no longer smiling, responded to Enkrid''s words. Though he had meant tactics, Enkrid didn''t press the matter. Anyone overhearing their conversation might find it quite cold, but in reality, they were having a surprisingly friendly exchange, or so Enkrid thought. Esther had come to accept that she had blended into this group. "What about that soldier?" At the end of their sparring, Enkrid asked. Esther had brought a soldier to train, sometimes calling him over for something, and he was curious. "He has talent." Esther replied briefly. That was all. Enkrid didn''t ask more. Esther wasn''t trying to raise a disciple. The primary reason was to establish her own understanding while teaching. The second reason was because it was clear that the soldier would inevitably learn flawed magic and end up causing trouble if left to his own devices. It was better to guide him toward something useful. Enkrid''s actions had shown her a more open mindset. Does a mage have to be narrow-minded? ''Not anymore. '' Esther acknowledged it. Her life had once been about solitary research and struggle, but having people around her to observe and learn from had proven invaluable. No, it had actually been a greater help to her. "Right, don''t kill him." Enkrid, aware of the rumors that Esther used soldiers as sacrifices, spoke up. "If he dies because of bad luck, there''s nothing you can do about it." Esther spoke with the understanding that the path of magic was perilous. Enkrid nodded, recognizing that Esther meant no malice. She wasn''t really intending to use him as a sacrifice. Of course, a few soldiers had been terrified when they saw the strange marks on the body of a friend dragged into Esther''s care. If their mentality was so fragile, they would break easily on the battlefield. Enkrid wanted to build strong soldiers. Such trivial rumors were nothing to them. So, sparring with a mage became part of Enkrid''s routine. "What will you do if the opponent uses suggestion or disruption?" Luagarne started sharing her experiences. She had spent over a hundred years studying combat and fighting, constantly seeking to uncover the unknown in the process. "Suggestion and disruption aren''t everything, but if you can, there is no better way than the mirror blade technique." "That breaks easily against a sturdy blade." "If you anticipate the opponent''s heavy, rigid sword, that''s ideal. Brother, it''d be even better if you can deflect and break it." Suggestion and disruption can also be done with the eyes. If the opponent is sensitive, you can use your will to achieve it. Somehow, Ragna''s opinion blended into Luagarne''s teachings, Audin also contributed, and even Jaxen left a note, despite his busy schedule. Rem, surprisingly, didn''t often step in. Enkrid absorbed experience from Luagarne. From others, he learned how to break through conventional thinking. And then, he physically executed what he had learned repeatedly. "If it had been before, it wouldn''t have been fun, but now it''s at least improving." Amidst all this, there were also compliments from Ragna that didn''t quite sound like praise. Before, the Enkrid who couldn''t even implement what he was taught was no more. His body had grown solid, as if he hadn''t forged it through isolation techniques for nothing. From the way he stood with his weight evenly distributed between his feet, his balance was clearly better. In short, he had become a semi knight who could endure the strike of black lightning. Although Luagarne hadn''t intentionally set everything up, the time, experience, and training she provided had been incredibly helpful to Enkrid. His skills hadn''t increased dramatically, but his vision had widened, and his thinking had changed. Naturally, this affected others as well. Especially Ropord, who, under Luagarne''s guidance, had overcome a certain mental barrier. Ropord was a natural-born talent. He couldn''t predict what was ahead, but he showed a remarkable ability to push the opponent into traps with his sword. There was an old saying in the continent. Is it best to predict one move ahead? Or is it best to control even that move within your own intentions? It referred to two approaches in the art of swordplay. Ropord followed the second approach, having the talent to do so. "Not bad." Enkrid said, during their sparring, and Ropord nodded contentedly. He had received recognition from the person he sought acknowledgment from. How could he not be happy? But Ropord showed satisfaction more than joy. Having a keen interest in human observation, Frogs loved beautiful and intriguing people, and being able to read their expressions was key. Luargarne saw satisfaction in Ropord''s face. A thorough and loyal satisfaction. She suddenly realized that the biggest difference between Enkrid and others was this. He never knew satisfaction at any moment. ''Once more. '' Wasn''t this the most common phrase Enkrid used during training? Even though he reveled in the moment and joy, he would never be satisfied. ''Would he stop once he becomes a knight? '' Not a chance. Luagarne knew the world of knights. Even within that world, there were disparities. Ragna was a perfect example of this. ''Being among knights still means you''re at the starting point. '' Of course, it was better than being a ruined knight. Extraordinary talent? Once you became a knight, talent wasn''t something to discuss. To rise above a knight meant it would be ridiculous to compare talents anymore. They were all people who were considered geniuses, but it was still too early to call them geniuses. From that point, what mattered was not talent but effort, direction, enlightenment, and the will to endure. The world of knights was vast. Luagarne knew this. Even the knights of Naurilia were a good example. ''What about that knight from the western country? '' What about the King of Mercenaries, Anu? They were all disasters of their own making. Ragna had risen to a similar level, and even the fairy seemed to have done so, but they still lacked something. A knight was not an end, but a beginning. Among semi knights, many couldn''t pass the wall to become full knights because they didn''t understand this. At least, that''s how Luargarne judged it. The strength of a knight wasn''t a mirage that one could reach by seeing it as the end. In this regard, she wasn''t worried about Enkrid. That man, wrapped up in greed and desire, didn''t seem like someone who would ever stop. ''If only his talent were a little better. '' She couldn''t help but think that. What if he had talent that was at least extraordinary, above average? He wouldn''t need to hear the word "genius." Just that level would have sufficed. ''Or, if only he had been given more time than others. '' For example, if one day for others was a week for him? It was a pointless fantasy. Worrying over something that would never happen was foolish. And thinking that because of Enkrid made it even more foolish. There was a man in front of her who, instead of wasting time thinking, swung his sword. Luagarne believed that this man would become a knight. She had no reason for the belief, just a certain certainty. -------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work! Chapter 436 - Can’t Stand That Chapter 436 - 436 - Can''t Stand That Chapter 436 - Can''t Stand That Rem watched Enkrid''s struggle but didn''t intervene. He also didn''t often engage in the fencing discussions between sessions. "Rest if it hurts." He didn''t step in enough to be spoken to by Enkrid like that. "Mind your own business." Even then, Rem only drew the line so subtly that it wasn''t overly noticeable. After seeing Lagarne step in, Rem rarely focused on his sparring with Enkrid anymore. Their interactions became sparse, only occasionally exchanging a few moves. "Want to fight? Come on out." It was during these rare occasions that he would still teach. His lessons were still more about action than words. From Rem''s perspective, Enkrid was still the same¡ªgrowing slowly to the point of being frustrating, but at least not regressing. He was making progress. Rem limited himself to watching from the sidelines. There were plenty of others who could engage with Enkrid. He didn''t need to intervene just to spar. He helped a little by guiding Enkrid in breath control, but once Enkrid found his rhythm, Rem withdrew. Lately, his only activities had been swinging his axe by himself or occasionally bothering Dunbakel. Or he would take walks near the Pen-Hanil Mountains, which felt more like a leisurely stroll unless his body was aching. On one of those walks, the blood of the beasts living in the Pen-Hanil Mountains soaked into the earth. "Since you''re going, take care of the gnoll pack." Krais approached Rem, who was walking casually, wearing a feathered hat that looked strangely fitting on him, unlike anyone else it would suit. "Got it." Rem nodded casually. Watching Rem leave, Krais turned to his subordinate and lover, Nurat, who had just approached. "Is something going on lately? Why''s he so quiet? It''s unsettling. I feel really uneasy." "Isn''t it good when he''s quiet?" Nurat, his dark-skinned lover, tilted her head. Wasn''t it worse when Rem was loud? "Hey, I''m bored. Let''s fight." Rem would often annoy the soldiers or commanders of his unit with such words. "Is this what you call swordplay? Come here, I''ll teach you everything from the start. It''s an honor, right? I, the immortal Rem, will show you. Now, shout ''immortal with one sword, Rem-sama with two! '' Ha ha ha!" He''d raise the intensity of training to absurd levels. "Is this cooking? The chicken isn''t even cooked enough, and soon it''ll lay eggs. Get out of my way, I''ll show you how to cook." He''d torment the soldiers'' taste buds by making Western-style stews that were poorly made. Enkrid said Rem usually made decent food, but it was all just mischief. Of course, Enkrid still ate it happily. "This is nutritious. It''s healthy food." Ragna, upon smelling it, immediately knocked the pot over. Audin, muttering ''is this another trial? '' said a prayer before taking a few bites and then went silent. Jaxen would leave the moment Rem started acting like that, as would Krais. Having seen it all, Nurat couldn''t help but think this: At least it''s better than before, right? The saying ''quiet is good'' didn''t come out of nowhere. She had asked that question with Rem''s past behavior in mind. Krais let out a short sigh and then spoke. "That''s true, but just watching, I can''t shake the feeling that the next disaster might be a big one." Recently, the gnoll pack had been growing in numbers, but Rem wouldn''t have any problem with them. They weren''t a threat. Despite Krais'' concerns, Rem simply did his job. With the axe handle on his forehead, balancing it as a trick, he thought to himself. Even when the gnolls of the Pen-Hanil Mountains grouped together to charge, the situation remained the same. "Kwaaa!" The leader of the gnoll colony, with a harsh, metallic sound, breathed fire from its mouth, as though it had swallowed a flintstone. Rem read the direction of the flames and avoided them. It wasn''t difficult. This creature was merely a monster with no eye for the strength of its opponent. "I miss the West." Among the monsters and beasts there, many used their intelligence as a weapon. This one was no different. It was a mere warm-up. With that thought, Rem took a position to the side of the gnoll leader and swung his axe. The blade fell, cutting through the gnoll''s neck. The steel axe, made of Rewis Mountain iron, sliced through its skin, muscles, and bone. Fwack! Black blood splattered everywhere, and the severed head rolled down the slope. Kwaaa! The remaining gnolls were easily taken down by a few more swings of Rem''s axe. It wasn''t hard. Rem swung his axe a few times in frustration before heading back to the barracks. Coincidentally, Enkrid, who had received a request letter, was in the process of selecting someone to go with him. "Let''s go together." The destination of the request was near the West. Rem had already decided to go, but he hadn''t fully settled his mind to leave yet. Now, he was sure. At this rate, he would continue to be outdone by Ragna. "I can''t stand that." *** Krang sat in the great hall, lost in thought as he observed the ministers speaking fondly of krona and how much they cared for her. "How often does this happen again?" He had heard it from Marcus, and he had seen it himself. The magic domain residing at the borther of the kingdom was a dangerous place in many ways, and there were often too few hands to deal with it. It was a place struggling with both a lack of talent and people, and it was dangerous on top of that. Who would actually want to go there? "In a way, it feels like a bottomless pit that just eats up the budget." It would be one thing if it were a simple pit, but this was a magical pit that would spew poison if you didn''t keep filling it with water. If it weren''t stopped, the encroaching monsters and beasts would cause them to lose some of the land. It was also why they hadn''t used the knight card in the civil war. "Then there''s the problem with the south, with Lihinstetten." So, it wasn''t just the magic field border region that lacked people¡ªother areas had similar problems. The situation in Naurilia was worse than Krang had expected. If things went wrong, they''d have to worry about being swallowed by the south or an invasion from the magic field, and Aspen had still not completely given up, making it a constant nuisance. "So?" He almost heard Enkrid''s voice in his head. "Right, so what?" He was already seated on the throne. Krang had work to do. The knight Oara, who guarded the border, had sent the usual request. There were too few hands, and they needed people who could fight. "If possible, send over five hundred troops; if that''s not possible, at least send three to four semi knights, preferably with a trained ranger unit," came the request. "It''s a difficult one. Considering the work going on in the capital, both would be impossible. It''s best to just send ten soldiers to Aesia." The Border Guard had been inspired by the security policy and had started roadwork, setting up posts along the way. It was a simple task but labor-intensive. While doing this, they had to clear out the surrounding monsters and beasts and keep an eye on the bandits that seemed to pop up out of nowhere. There was no room to rotate troops. Was this it? While the commoners recognized their efforts, there were always idiots starting to question if the royal family''s youngest son should be the one to hold that position. Of course, most of them were pawns of foreign dukes. The real nobles and officials were all on Krang''s side. He pushed aside the complicated thoughts and focused on the immediate tasks at hand. If he didn''t take big strides, he wouldn''t get far before dying. ''Who has the bigger dream, me or you? '' It was something he wanted to ask Enkrid. Krang gazed out the window made of colorful glass. The sky was overcast with dark clouds. "Perhaps there''s another way," said Duke Baisar. "What''s that?" Krais''s gaze shifted to the Duke. "The Border Guard has more than just mid-level knights, don''t they?" "Would they even go?" "Surely, if the king commands, they must go, no?" "But aren''t we talking about the demon slayer?" "Are you suggesting that he will defy the king''s orders?" The nobles eagerly joined in, offering their opinions. "Naurilia has a system of mercenary soldiers, Your Majesty," Marcus chimed in. "They take requests and offer payment," the Duke added. "The treasury is empty," he concluded. Before the Duke could finish, Krang spoke. The three of them spoke in a synchronized manner, almost like a play. "We secured the economy and have been bringing in Krona''s profit, but it''s still difficult to grow food or breed rare horses. It may look good on the surface, but there''s still a lot of work to do." The Duke spoke again. "Conveniently, there''s someone here with expertise in that area..." Marcus continued, and the Duke added a few more words. Krang thought that, in some ways, the two of them were quite alike. They fit together perfectly. Of course, Krais himself had made it work. One of the southern nobles, known for breeding fine horses, listened to the conversation and seemed ready to agree, but something felt off. ''So, we''re the ones who will pay the price? '' While nobles worked for the good of the country, it was also a long-standing law to respect private property. He had decided to share his expertise in breeding rare horses, while another noble would help with the land and irrigation. But it wasn''t something anyone had forced upon him. It just happened that way as the conversation progressed. "Well then, I suppose we should send the request, Count Baisar?" "Yes, I''ll send it." With that, the meeting ended. Krang thought that the request from the border region, being more about a lack of hands than danger, might actually be a good opportunity for Enkrid. ''Doesn''t he want to meet some knights? '' He knew that Enkrid had already met the king of mercenaries, but knights in a knight order were a different story. Krang was unaware that Enkrid had already been associating with Ragna and Shinar. -------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work! Chapter 437 - Those Lacking Intelligence Chapter 437 - 437 - Those Lacking Intelligence Chapter 437 - Those Lacking Intelligence The request was simple. In Naurilia, there was a soldier mercenary system, and this was a request based on that. [Go to the border region of the Demon Realm and help the knight order. ] It was even added that this request came directly from Knight Oara. The letter was written by Marcus, but Enkrid felt as if he could hear Krang'' voice. "Knight, don''t you want to meet them?" He did want to meet them. There were many rewards mentioned as part of the request as well. "What''s this? A horse, huh? Oh, a decent one? With this, it might be possible to establish proper sewer systems in Border Guard, just like in the capital." Thanks to monsters and magical beasts, the world had become accustomed to living in castles. Many conveniences had been developed, but most of those were only in the capital. Some of that technology would be passed on. The knights would show what they knew, share the technology, and in the end, they would give everything. ''Aker was given to me, but is this really okay? '' Enkrid placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, tucked into his sword belt. He didn''t understand politics, but for a moment, he worried that the surrounding nobles might oppose it, but he quickly dismissed the thought. The ones passing on the technology were nobles. ''They must have been persuaded well. '' Enkrid''s persuasion involved hands, feet, and blades, while Krang'' persuasion was through words and atmosphere. The concern was brief. These things were important, but right now, they didn''t catch his attention. The only thing that stayed clear in his mind was the name Knight Oara. ''Knight. '' Without realizing it, his hand tightened around the hilt. The strap binding his right arm during training began to snap, with a distinct crack. It seemed it would break with just a little more force. The knights of Aspen, the mercenary king, Ragna, and Shinar. Enkrid had fought them all, and through that, he understood what being a knight meant. Among them, the swords of Ragna and Shinar were still constantly being blocked by him. But that wasn''t the end. Enkrid had swum across the lake of experience guided by Luargarne. In doing so, his true nature had been revealed. Yet, despite all that experience, he still felt something lacking. There was still an unquenched thirst inside him. Perhaps this task would satisfy that thirst. Knight Oara. Out of pure curiosity, he wanted to meet them. Naturally, refusal never crossed his mind. However, not all of the unit could go. He had been told it wasn''t necessary for everyone to join. Beneath the letter, there was a note mentioning that Aspen''s forces needed to be suppressed as well. It wasn''t a serious matter that would require all the madmen of the unit to go. Krais folded the letter neatly and spoke first. "Please leave Audin behind. We need someone to be responsible for the overall training." Training the standing army at Border Guard was arduous and difficult. It was essential to have someone to lead the entire process without complaint. Though anyone, including Enkrid, could technically do it, Audin had been filling that role for now. Anyone who had been near Audin''s fists knew better than to desert¡ªrebellion wasn''t even an option. Of course, Audin believed it was all done with a heart full of compassion. The soldiers believed Audin''s compassion was found in his fists. "I don''t mind not going, Brother." The knights had requested support, but it wasn''t a serious matter, according to them. There was a mention of a monster ambush that needed to be stopped due to insufficient numbers. "There''s still a lot to teach. I must go." Luagarne, who had been listening, spoke up. Enkrid nodded in agreement. "I''ve got plenty to do." The beautiful blue-eyed woman with long hair, Esther, spoke. She was in her human form today. As she swept her hair back, several soldiers guarding the barracks in front of the training ground couldn''t take their eyes off her. Enkrid subtly shifted his body to block their gaze. If they stared longer, he was sure Esther would start saying something about pulling out their eyeballs. "I''m busy." Ragna complained lazily. He wasn''t exactly the one who should be speaking about being busy. It wasn''t that Enkrid couldn''t guess his inner thoughts. Since it wasn''t a dangerous task, Ragna probably didn''t want to take part. He also seemed to want to hone his own skills further. If he was frustrated and wanted to exert his energy, he could always deal with the recent issue near the Pen-Hanil Mountains or patrol around the five walled cities near the areas Krais had mentioned. He''d heard the monsters had been quite active lately. "Go ahead." Enkrid nodded again. He wasn''t sure how diligently he would move if he weren''t confident, but that was another matter. Ropord stayed behind, and Fel did too. Fel''s complexion had darkened severely in just a few days. He had lost confidence, so his strength had waned, but no one comforted him. After all, wasn''t it the proper way to overcome such things alone? Enkrid and his companions considered it normal. If someone got left behind? Well, they would think of them as someone the wild shepherds of the wastelands might raise, someone just a little lacking. Enkrid didn''t worry about such things. It was their own responsibility. Teresa stayed behind to help Audin. "I want to fight." Dunbakel said, hiding her true feelings. Honestly, among everyone here, there was no one worse than her. Teresa and the new guy, Ropord, were no different. Dunbakel had grown stronger from the torment she endured at Rem''s hands. ''Is this my limit? '' Lately, such thoughts had been creeping into her mind. Every time she thought of her limits, nightmares came. Sometimes, she''d transform in her sleep without even realizing it. She revisited the nightmares, recalling the day she was chased from the village where she had been born and raised. "You can''t live here." "Go out and die." "It''d be wise to throw yourself off the cliff right now." What had she done wrong? At the time, she felt a burning hatred and wanted to destroy every living being, but she didn''t want to make death her goal in life. Dunbakel felt the same way then as she did now, and even when she lost to Enkrid. She wanted to live. If she had fought back on the day she was expelled, maybe she would have stayed in the village. But Dunbakel didn''t. ''I want to run away. '' Her instincts led her to seek a way to escape dangerous situations. ''Should I find a place to settle down and just live a quiet life, serving as a guard and eating the scraps? '' Dunbakel didn''t really want to live like this. She didn''t even know what she truly wanted to do. So, whenever the thought of running away crossed her mind, she would look at Enkrid and gather her resolve. Would escaping and running away lead her to paradise? It was a saying from Kentaro, the once-respected storyteller, painter, and old saint who had passed away. He said that there was no paradise in the places you run to. In other words, when she said she wanted to fight now, it was just a way to hide the desire to escape. "Fine." Of course, Enkrid didn''t pay much attention to Dunbakel''s change of heart, as much as the consideration that a ghoul might have. Meanwhile, Rem returned, covered in black monster blood, and suggested they go together. Enkrid told him to go ahead with it. It wasn''t a serious matter. It would be closer to a light journey. Even if the borderlands were dangerous, it wasn''t as dangerous as the actual magic lands or labyrinths further south. The magic lands bordering Naurilia were dangerous, but it was considered to be less risky than the true magic lands. "The departure will be in three days." Enkrid flicked the rope that had been wrapped around his right arm, brushing it off. It was quite a sturdy rope, but he had cut it with sheer muscle strength. "That''s my secret technique, the rope escape technique." Audin commented, watching it. "You mean you just used muscle to snap it?" Recently quiet, Rem complimented the technique''s greatness. "Why''d you come back to life after being beaten to a pulp?" Ragna remarked to Rem, saying it was nice to see him return to his old self. It had been a while. Such a warm sight was rare now. Enkrid had also not seen such a scene in a long time. Rem laughed and scattered his joy around. "Heh, yeah. It''s about time to stop carrying a head on my neck and start carrying an axe blade. Let''s make heads out of axe blades, let''s replace heads with axe blades." Rem started singing some nonsensical melody. Audin smiled and said, "You two brothers sure love to cause trouble." Ragna, in a relaxed posture, let his sword dangle. Rem placed the axe on his shoulder and gave it a little jiggle. It looked like a fight might break out immediately. If left alone, they might even end up fighting for their lives. In the tense situation, a bolt of lightning struck between the two. Zzzzt. It wasn''t real lightning, but a sword''s afterimage. It zigzagged and made a sound like a bird''s cry as it left a white flash. The sword''s cut in the air caused both to instinctively shift their weight back. In that moment, Enkrid, who had delivered the sword strike, spoke. "It''s my white lightning." What crossed between them was Enkrid''s sword strike. Ragna''s lightning-like sword was a combination of techniques he had learned and developed. Naturally, it was a technique imbued with Will. If the giant''s strike was about infusing explosive power into a blow, This technique was about punctuating that strike and distributing the power in small bursts. It was a technique forged through immense effort and sweat. For Enkrid, it had been like that. And the technique proved effective. What used to require a full-body push to force it was now enough with just a single sword strike. It was a cut that firmly left an impression on everyone present, showing how far Enkrid had progressed. "Are you borrowing something again?" Ragna showed interest. "No, I''ve made my own version," Enkrid replied. Though it looked similar on the surface, the elements that composed it were different. Ragna''s dark lightning had originated from a swift and heavy sword. What about the white lightning from earlier? Ragna analyzed the sword''s characteristics before him. ''It focuses on speed, distributing the force. '' The sword moved quickly, like a flash of light, leaving afterimages and confusing the opponent about where the strike would land. It was all about breaking and bending the force with raw strength and landing blow after blow. Ragna''s genius talent allowed him to grasp the essence of the technique with just one look. It wasn''t a new form of Will. It was more of a variation on speed. A mix of that with the giant''s strike. "Yes, I see," Ragna said, agreeing, and Enkrid nodded while giving Rem a light tap on the shoulder. "We''re leaving in three days." Rem wiped his nose and nodded. "Got it." Though he might have had something to add, Rem didn''t say anything more. Three days later, the group set off. The borderlands of the magic region were to the northwest of Naurilia. As they walked, they eventually came to a road heading west, and Rem paused for a moment to turn his head in that direction. It felt as though some nostalgic scent tickled his nose. "Why?" Enkrid asked. "Just looking," Rem replied. "That''s the west." Enkrid spoke, though he didn''t really need to. "Do you think I can''t tell direction?" Rem snapped back, clearly irritated. He had probably been compared to Ragna. "No, I just said it," Enkrid responded, taking a casual step forward. On their journey, they came across a band of bandits a few times, but only one of them dared to make a move. Enkrid found it quite strange. There was a Frog among them, and the group was fully armed. If they still dared to attack, one would have to seriously question the intelligence of these bandits. Or maybe they had something they believed in. Fully armed Enkrid, with his terrifying presence, Rem, the Frog Luagarne, and beastkin Dunbakel, were all there. They had ridden horses up to this point, but they had sold all but one of the horses at the last village. Now, they were traveling on foot. The road was slightly off the main highway, with a mound to the left and a few trees to the right. It was good ground for walking or running, but not suitable for horseback riding. "Near the magic borderlands, monsters roam, so horses would just be food," they had heard on the way. The palace had offered to send a ranger squad to guide them, but they had declined. It was unnecessary; Ragna, after all, was not with them. Anyway, they had about five days left on foot before reaching the magic borderlands. That was when a band of bandits blocked their path. The murderous intent in the eyes of the bandits would have looked quite intimidating to any merchant or regular group. "Are they crazy?" Dunbakel muttered to herself, her body tensed, ready to spring into action at any moment. Enkrid observed the bandits closely, ignoring Dunbakel''s comment. The leader had a rough, scruffy beard, and the others had similar rough appearances. They looked like the type of people Rem might be related to. Their posture, gripping spears and swords, showed they weren''t inexperienced. Some of them had also taken positions to form a semi-circle, creating a perimeter around them. While not an extraordinary tactic, it would be difficult for ordinary people to escape from such a formation. There were a few with bows as well. So, they seemed to know what they were doing. Being a bandit wasn''t just about swinging swords; you had to survive against monsters and secure safe areas. As they ventured closer to the magic borderlands, rougher individuals were showing up in the towns. It wasn''t surprising that bandits like this would appear. One of the bandits seemed to have heard Dunbakel''s muttering and spoke up, showing he had keen ears. "We''re risking our lives out here. You think robbing merchants is easy?" Enkrid thought about how many more of these types of people there could be in this country. He couldn''t even begin to count. It wouldn''t even be possible to wipe them all out. But, of course, he wouldn''t let the ones who dared to challenge him get away. -------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work! Chapter 438 - Foolish and Stupid Actions Chapter 438 - 438 - Foolish and Stupid Actions Chapter 438 - Foolish and Stupid Actions The bandits had recently been making a fortune by robbing caravans that traveled this way. They didn''t even have a name for their group. At the center of it all was the swordsman Jack. He was a former mercenary who specialized in swinging a broad blade without recoil. Technically, he was a deserter, but there was no need to talk about his past while engaging in robbery. Jack stepped forward, brushing past the one who had spoken up. ''Just because he can swing a sword, he lost his nerve? Or does he trust the Frog? '' In situations like this, you just need to break the pride of the one who steps up first. After that, the rest will start groveling on their own. And so, Clink. Jack drew his sword and swung it downward without a word. A nearly perfect trajectory was drawn, something he had never experienced before in his life. As Jack swung his sword, he felt it. Sometimes, luck would bless you, and you''d experience moments like this, where a strike sharper than skill itself would come through. It was a gap in time. He targeted the man with black hair who stood at the forefront. He was clearly the leader of the group. If he killed the leader, the rest would be easy. Even though the Frog was a nuisance, Jack was confident. He was a capable fighter, close to reaching the level of a knight with just a bit more effort. ''Damn knight order bastards. '' The thought of them briefly crossed his mind. But why did time seem to slow down so much? Everything around him seemed to slow. In the meantime, something rushed past. It was faster than the raccoons he had seen in the mountains when he was a child. Back then, they only saw shadows, so they claimed the friend was a rabbit and he, a raccoon. That was the raccoon, after all. While Jack was lost in thought, he suddenly saw the world around him flip. Huh? Before he had time to feel dizzy, he saw his own body standing dumbfounded on the ground. He saw a person whose neck had been severed while still holding his sword. Strangely, it looked like he was wearing the same clothes as Jack. That was the end of his musings. Enkrid, having decapitated him with one strike, flicked the blood off his sword in a horizontal motion. The blood from the bandit Jack stained the ground as it dripped down. Jack had been a well-known mercenary recently. He had fought in the borderlands and deserted from the army. He knew the structure of the area well and was planning to leave after making a good haul. But less than a month into his life as a bandit, he met Enkrid. Jack was no ordinary man who would die with one strike. Yet that''s exactly what happened. "Run!" The remaining bandits scattered immediately. The one holding a bow didn''t even dare draw it. It was only natural. Jack had been the reason the bandits had held their ground until now. If it weren''t for him, they wouldn''t have been involved in such things. But now, the fear of having their leader decapitated in one strike made the rest scatter instinctively. Enkrid didn''t bother chasing them. "Let them be. They''ll die on their own." Rem said, wiping his nose. Why not? In a land filled with monsters, they were essentially praying to the sky for death. They had already encountered several monsters and beast packs along the way. It was unusual for bandits to attack, but it wasn''t strange for monsters or beasts to do so. At first glance, it didn''t seem like they were more than four. Some of them seemed to be trying something like an ambush, but none of them were foolish enough to be caught by the monsters who were known to outsmart others. After all, it wasn''t easy for a monster or beast to get past Dunbakel''s sense of smell. "That was dull." Dunbakel remarked. "Looks like it''s the season for these kinds of guys to be out." Luargarne added, noticing something. Curious, Enkrid asked, "Do you know something?" "The monsters come in waves sometimes. A lot of troublesome ones appear, and when that happens, there''s no time to sleep, and the pay is low. Some even run away when it gets too dangerous. But even so, they''re quite a large group." Jack''s group had been more than twenty strong, all deserters, perhaps? Hearing Luargarne''s words, Enkrid was reminded of something from the past. It was a memory of a colleague''s words. "Foolish and stupid actions." Enkrid had replied at the time, "I know." "You should run." His colleague had said so. A man-eating bear had attacked a village. It was a village that had just begun gathering people. It wasn''t a commission. It was something that happened while they were passing through. His colleague''s words had been right. Enkrid knew it well. "Is it foolish or stupid? With our skills, holding out here would be suicidal!" His colleague had been angry. Back then, Enkrid knew it was a foolish act, yet he still did it. The bear, now a monster, had eaten people, and Enkrid had seen a child crying over their eaten parent. The child, barely surviving, would likely not live much longer. Such children would become more numerous, it was easy to predict. Children who lost their mothers. Mothers who lost their children. People who lost their lovers. People who lost their friends. People who lost their comrades. Such things were common in the continent. The threat of monsters was like a knife constantly looming over you. People were dying, and it was obvious. But should they turn a blind eye to the danger just because it was approaching them? Knowing that those struggling to live were there? Enkrid snapped out of his thoughts and briefly looked at his own hand. The palms, scarred from years of gripping swords, were now cracked and full of calluses. With these hands, he had once raised a sword. What had he been trying to do? He had taken up the sword to protect those behind him. And that was why he was here now. So, it was only natural that he wouldn''t stop. "Let''s go." Enkrid spoke. The difference now was that, back then, he had only colleagues who had turned their backs on him, but now... "Let''s do it." The barbarian agreed casually. "We''ll go." The beastkin with golden eyes blinked, and even the Frog nodded. ''A splendid group, if I do say so. '' Enkrid thought briefly. Honestly, they could wipe out most monsters they met in an instant. They had done so up until now. The group immediately headed to the borderlands. They stayed in any villages they encountered, and if there were none, they camped out. They weren''t uncomfortable with camping. It was something they had gotten used to. And so, today, they were camping. There didn''t seem to be any small villages, given the proximity of a large city. Soon, they would be able to see the city that guarded the borderlands. Before sunset, they found a spot where two large rocks formed a barrier and began to prepare their campfire. Dunbakel caught a rabbit, and Rem made a stew with it. "Why don''t you cook like this in the barracks instead of messing around?" Dunbakel asked curiously. Rem grinned and replied. "This is field cooking, that''s proper cooking." "How about only doing field cooking from now on?" Enkrid thought to himself that Dunbakel was fearless. Though, it didn''t seem like she was doing it on purpose. "Been a while since I last beat you, huh?" Rem asked as he slurped the stew. A drop of broth spilled down the edge of the wooden bowl. "What?" "The sparring." "It hasn''t been long." It had been some time since. Rem had been quiet for some reason, probably because he was unafraid. But now, it seemed like he had returned to his old self. "Finish eating and come out. Even if a beastman loses a leg, it can regenerate, right?" "I can''t!" "Oh, was that a Frog thing?" Rem knew how to torment others. In moments like this, he was honestly quite talkative. It would have been nice if he had been like that when teaching. Thinking so, Enkrid was observing when Luagarne, who was sitting next to him, spoke. "The atmosphere seems worse than before." "What do you mean?" "Just a feeling." "Really?" "That''s it. Do you want to learn Frog''s steps?" The words didn''t really make sense in context, but Enkrid didn''t dwell on it. It was a process of learning. He was someone who could set aside minor awkwardness. Enkrid set down his finished bowl. He could do the dishes later at the stream he had prepared for. If Dunbakel didn''t faint, he''d just ask her to do it. As expected, Luagarne''s teaching was enjoyable. "You bend the knee of the leg stretched backward. From there, you''ll use the power to push forward. Before that, show the opponent your front legs to reduce distance without them realizing. It''s called the frog step." It was less about swordsmanship and more about a charging step. In a way, it resembled the techniques of the Valen mercenary swordsmanship. It was a trick with the front legs to deceive and then striking with the back. Aside from that, the Frog taught him several more steps. On the way, she explained how to jump off a cart, fight while riding a horse, fight against someone mounted under a horse, fight monsters you''ve never seen before, and eleven different ways to block arrows. The best way to block arrows was with a shield. However, practicing with a sword wasn''t bad either. She was truly an excellent teacher. "That''s good." Rem, who had been listening from the side, nodded in agreement. Enkrid was the type who would work hard to master what he was taught. Luagarne broke down every process for him to understand. He even learned how to jump off a rock with a sword in both hands and maintain balance. The whole day passed in a flash, focused on step training. Before long, the moon had risen, and it was nighttime. Dunbakel did the dishes. Though she was limping from getting hit by Rem, it was clear that she was faking it. "If you limp one more time, I''ll cut it off." At Rem''s words, Dunbakel quickly returned to her original stride. She was pretending. Her acting was quite impressive. Enkrid thought about that as he went to the stream to wash the sweat off. After coming back, tidying up, and resting, he fell asleep. While lying down, Enkrid continued his training in his dreams. Starting from basic steps like lunges, passing, gathering, to steps that closed the distance or confused the opponent''s steps. When he woke up, he tidied up, reheated the stew from yesterday, and the group set off again. Although summer was ending, it was getting hotter, and the air was growing humid as they moved on. Luagarne liked the weather, Dunbakel didn''t care, but it wasn''t great for her. The frog herself was used to such humid weather and didn''t mind, while Dunbakel had made it her habit not to wash, so it was fine for her. After a light rain, the air became even more damp. Enkrid felt that he had forgotten something. "I forgot." He hadn''t told Shinar. He was supposed to tell her that next time he was heading somewhere, but Krais would likely take care of it. He thought about it vaguely as they walked. "Smell, monsters." Dunbakel spoke, and Enkrid felt the killing intent in the air. This was a road leading to a city. It wasn''t a path made by people but a road with stones laid on it. Could monsters appear on such a path? No matter how hungry they were, this wasn''t a common occurrence. Besides, this was the gateway to the border city of the Demon Realm. "Grrrr!" Some hunting dogs had become monsters. They were much bigger than regular dogs. First thieves, now monsters. Although there had been monsters on the way, the appearance of these monsters here was a problem. This was an inner city area. That meant it was far from the demon border. If it were a few ghouls, it could make sense, but mutated hunting dogs shouldn''t be coming out in this area. "Is the situation bad?" Luagarne blinked her big eyes and puffed her cheeks. She had worked in the royal palace before and knew a bit about these matters. It seemed that the number of monsters coming from the border area wasn''t small. If that weren''t the case, these mutated hunting dogs wouldn''t be roaming around here. Just like the thieves earlier. Normally, thieves wouldn''t be active in this area. If they made a big move, the knights from the city would cut them down. No one would rob here unless they were looking for death. ''Is control breaking down? '' Luagarne began to make some deductions based on the situation. They were all leaning toward the negative side. Meanwhile, four mutated dogs recklessly charged. Dunbakel stepped forward and beheaded two of them with her sickle. One of the dogs attacked a horse carrying cargo. The dog circled around and leapt, biting the horse''s neck. The horse let out a loud cry as it was bitten. The blood poured out of the horse, soaking the dog''s fur, which turned dark red. It was an unexpected ambush. The dog wasn''t targeting Dunbakel, nor the others who were threatening it. It went for the horse. ''Clever. '' Had monsters like these ever been this smart? Even their size was unusual. Their attempt to lure the horse into an attack made it seem like they had learned some tactics. Luagarne killed the dog that killed the horse with a powerful kick. Crack! Thud! With a Frog''s strength, the dog''s stomach split open, and its innards spilled out. "This is strange." Luagarne muttered as she withdrew her foot. This area was under the control of the Red Cloak Order. Monsters and mutated creatures could appear, but it was happening too frequently and too much. "There are too many." "The smell is still there." Dunbakel added after Luagarne''s words. Rem turned his gaze around. He also felt the unease. Though they were near the border of the Demon Realm, this was beneath the city walls, so the path should have been relatively safe. Otherwise, they wouldn''t have made such a well-maintained road. Enkrid inspected the horse''s neck. It was done for. If it was bitten by the mutated dog, it was likely to transform into a monster unless it was lucky. "Sorry." He had grown fond of the horse during the journey, and he felt he hadn''t taken good care of it. The horse cried out, and Enkrid swiftly cut its neck. Its blood stained the stone floor, and as it poured out, Enkrid said, "Let''s continue." If they weren''t going back, their only choice was to keep moving forward. ------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work! Chapter 439 - The City Built with a Thousand Stones Chapter 439 - 439 - The City Built with a Thousand Stones Chapter 439 - The City Built with a Thousand Bricks The border city guarding the magical frontier was named "Thousand Stones." A city built by stacking stones to form a wall. It meant that Naurilia had built it with thousands of stones to prevent the invasion of the magical realm. Despite being a border area, it didn''t seem like what was happening right in front of them would be a common occurrence within the walls of the city. "Block them!" It was right in front of the city walls. Soldiers were facing a fierce battle. Above, harpies were flying, and below, the dark hunting dogs'' claws were rampaging. Enkrid saw the city gates of Thousand Stones were half-destroyed. Even though this gate wasn''t facing the magical frontier, it was still in chaos. Among the people holding their ground, Enkrid recognized a familiar face. It was Aishia. She was striking the skull of a hunting dog that had charged toward her with the edge of her sword. It looked like a light strike, but the force behind it was that of a mid-tier semi knight. Thwack, clang! The creature''s skull shattered and it rolled away. There were plenty of beastly creatures, but would that really be a problem? Aishia was also a mid-tier semi knight. Calmly, she continued to strike and stab the hunting dogs, occasionally glancing upwards. Above her, five harpies were circling around. It wasn''t dangerous. She was fighting with proper formation, and if they died that easily, they wouldn''t be considered mid-tier knights. However, it was almost laughable just watching. Enkrid, unable to simply stand by, stepped forward. It would only be a matter of time before the beasts were all dead, so why not speed things up a little? "Rem, Dunbakel." "Are we loosening up first?" Before Enkrid even called for them, Rem darted forward, with Dunbakel following close behind. Enkrid called for them and rushed ahead himself. He dropped his pack to the ground, keeping only his spear for the battle. With even pressure on the soles of his feet, he kicked off the ground and ran. It was a step he had been practicing, learned from Luagarne. It was about training the basics so that the center of gravity could shift at any time and in any direction. Enkrid felt the air hit his face and looked up. He saw a harpy above Aishia''s head, its wings slashing forward in place of its arms. His instincts warned him, even though he couldn''t see it. It was something he could feel. A gust of wind poured down like a blade. Aisia raised her shield to block it. Clang! Clang! The wind''s blade struck the shield, breaking apart with a sharp sound. A magic-using harpy? Enkrid thought as he continued running. The harpy gained altitude. The blade couldn''t reach, and even a crossbow could barely hit it at that height. Unless it was a master archer, targeting it would be difficult. There were five harpies in total. They used magic and knew how to take advantageous positions. They also knew how to gauge their opponent''s abilities. Otherwise, five harpies would have already been skewered on Aishia''s sword. Enkrid took in the information with his eyes and organized it as he inhaled. His senses, honed like blades, became sharp. A perfect line, drawn only on the battlefield, appeared in his mind. It was a skill he had gained from Abnaier, Aspen''s genius strategist. Enkrid acted on it immediately. As he ran, he drew the gladius that was strapped horizontally behind his back and threw it. The move was a quick throw, combined with a subtle shift to the left, opening his chest, then closing it and extending his arm. It was a technique inspired by the "throwing sword" style. Whoosh! The gladius spun through the air, looking almost like a disc. The harpy, which had been using wind magic to block crossbows, seemed to realize it couldn''t block the gladius. It changed the direction of its wings, altering the air resistance, and veered to the side. The gladius grazed the spot where the harpy had been, embedding itself in the brick of the back wall. Thud! The harpy''s head exploded with a sickening crack. The creature plummeted, its head impaled by an axe that had been thrown by Rem. "One more." Enkrid said. Rem silently complied and threw another axe. This time, Rem threw first. Enkrid, recalling the training he had undergone with Luagarne, took out a short spear. He hadn''t expected to use the spear he''d brought for training, but now seemed as good a time as any. "We trained with all kinds of weapons, didn''t we? Think of this as another step in that process." The training that started with Rem had been continued by Luagarne. By learning to handle every weapon, they could internalize the experience and build their senses for combat. Enkrid had diligently trained with throwing spears as well. His sharpened senses allowed him to throw with a different speed than before. Though geniuses might have found it lacking, Enkrid thought it was decent enough. And now, he could prove it. As a harpy dodged the flying axe, a spear, as long as his forearm, pierced its chest. Thud! The spear, breaking the breastbone and piercing through, sent the harpy tumbling backward into the wall, where it bounced off and crashed to the ground. "Enki?" Aishia recognized Enkrid. "Let''s wrap things up." Enkrid responded. Dunbakel, ignoring the harpies, charged at the hunting dog beasts below. She lowered her stance and drew two curved blades, swinging them out like whips, slicing through the beasts with deadly precision. Seeing this, Enkrid understood why Aishia hadn''t rushed in. If she had really charged, five harpies would have been no problem, but she had been holding the line to protect some merchants she had noticed in the back. If she left, the harpies would likely target them, so she had been waiting. As the two magic-using harpies fled, the remaining three flew off into the distance. The humid air and the sun, blocked by clouds, illuminated the spot where the harpies had been. Enkrid had expected to discuss things slowly after the battle, but Aishia was not interested in that. "You were the reinforcements?" "And you?" "I''m also here to support. It''s my original affiliation." That was true. She was from the Red Cloak Order. "Let''s go inside." Aishia casually wiped her sword with a cloth and sheathed it, as if this kind of thing was nothing to her. Several merchants, shaken and weak, collapsed as they tried to steady themselves. "You didn''t mention anything about magic-using harpies." One of the merchants asked. It was a tone that seemed more like a complaint, but it likely came from surprise. No merchant would dare speak like that to a knight of the order. The merchant seemed relieved that Aishia didn''t take offense. "I''ve never seen them either. But anyway, since I''m here, you can get back to work, right?" Enkrid realized again that Aishia was indeed a member of the order. Those who could become mid-tier semi knights in the order didn''t concern themselves with petty matters. Her answer, stiff and direct, made it seem like the merchant was overreacting. "Get a hold of yourselves. If you stay there, the harpies will think you''re lunch and come back for you." Enkrid said softly, and the merchants quickly stood up, some being supported by others. "Hey, don''t threaten them." Aishia said, turning and heading inside. "When did I?" Enkrid asked, and Rem laughed, patting his shoulder. "You called then a harpy lunch. That''s a threat, isn''t it?" Rem chuckled and followed Aishia inside. Enkrid thought the merchants didn''t have much wit, since he''d only made a half-joke. No mid-tier semi knight would lose to harpies even while protecting merchants. "You should practice more with throwing while running." Luagarne said, gathering the remaining packs and handing Enkrid the gladius. Enkrid nodded, heading inside. The gate was half-destroyed, but it didn''t seem like such a big deal. The people inside were calm. The soldiers around Aishia chatted casually, as if there was nothing to whisper about, and walked along. "The harpies really need to be wiped out." "The monsters should be killed too." This was Thousand Stones. The gateway to the borderlands of the Demon Territory, blocked by a thousand stones. It was so dangerous that most people didn''t even want to live there. Only those who hated monsters remained inside. Thousand Stones was a far rougher place than the former Border Guard, which had once been called a fortress city. Two soldiers, who looked neither like guards nor bandits, approached without helmets and passed by the merchants entering, glancing over at Enkrid. One had a long scar above his right eyebrow, and the other looked like a mix of a guard and a bandit. Clank, thud, clank, thud. The soldier with the spear in his right hand tapped the ground with it as he walked toward Enkrid. He ignored Frogs, Beastkin, and even Rem. "Are you the Demon Slayer, General Enkrid?" the soldier asked. Enkrid nodded slightly, feeling a faint pressure. The man moved the hand holding the spear to his opposite side. Enkrid didn''t respond. The man switched the spear to his left hand, slightly bent his right arm, placed it on his waist, and said, "It''s an honor!" It was a military salute. The man''s name was Millio, the one who had heard the rumors about Enkrid and had been eager to meet him. "Nice to meet you," Enkrid greeted. Millio''s hands trembled in excitement. "Could we have a duel sometime. "Are you out of your mind? Who do you think you are, asking for a duel?" Another soldier standing nearby shouted angrily. "The mood''s a bit off, huh? You''ll need some time to get used to it," Aishia said, leaning against the city walls. She looked extremely tired, and her eyes had dark circles beneath them. It seemed she had been lacking sleep for a few days. "Get used to it? You''re probably excited, aren''t you?" Rem said from beside her. It was true. Millio had asked for a duel, so it was simple to grant it. "And you two. Asking for a duel in a situation like this? Are you full of yourselves?" "No, ma''am!" "We will correct ourselves!" The two soldiers straightened up, responding to Aishia''s words. They must have received a solid reprimand before, as they quickly regained their composure. "Let''s go inside. We should meet Sir Oara first," Enkrid said. Sir Oara, the knight. The reason Enkrid had come here. As they entered, a few more soldiers had arrived, each of them with a fierce appearance. "Rem, you seem to have a lot of friends here," Enkrid remarked. Rem glanced around. There were no Westerners in sight. Upon realizing this, he smiled. It was the kind of smile he usually had when killing someone or driving an axe into a monster''s skull. Rem realized that his commanding officer was teasing him for fun. "Why are you so excited?" Rem said, and Enkrid quickly understood why. "Damn, you''re excited because we''re meeting a knight." "Correct." Enkrid said as they followed Aishia inside. The city was large, but there weren''t many people. Most carried weapons, and there were no young women selling flowers. There were some general stores and food shops, but they all looked deserted. One shop had people working with long horns. Other than that, there was almost nothing else. There was a bakery selling arrow-shaped bread, called Arrow Bread. Right next to it, the pub was quieter than expected¡ªalmost eerily silent. Normally, people would be eating and drinking in the daytime, but everyone avoided the pub. The pub''s owner, a burly man, stood outside, shouting angrily. "How am I supposed to live like this? Just because you''re a knight, you think you can act like this?" Knights were respected. Because they faced countless enemies alone. Knights were revered. Because their strength was unpredictable. Knights were worshipped. Because they showed their will for their beliefs. "Oara! Please!" The man shouted several similar lines, but no one answered. Aishia just shrugged it off. "The situation''s not great, so there''s a ban on alcohol." "Ban on alcohol?" Enkrid asked. But Aishia only replied with, "Talk to Sir Oara about it." They passed through the poorly maintained dirt road and noticed a few women in the alley. It seemed that business was good there. One man, likely a soldier, could be heard talking. "Give me a discount." "Stop talking nonsense. Do you want to save up kronas for gambling?" "No, I really want to..." The soldier seemed angry and raised his hand, as if to strike the woman. Enkrid slowed his pace instinctively. The woman was the weaker party. He couldn''t just stand by and watch. His logic was simple¡ªhe wouldn''t let it go, even if it meant using his fists to stop it. But the soldier didn''t touch her. "If you want to die, go ahead," the woman said firmly. The soldier hesitated, then lowered his hand. "Sorry. I''ve been in a bad mood since losing in cards this morning," he apologized. The woman snorted in disdain, then grabbed the soldier''s arm and pulled him into a small door. They seemed to know each other. "Interesting," Rem remarked. Enkrid agreed. What they had just witnessed was something unusual¡ªcertainly not an everyday occurrence. "I''ll take a look around the city," Rem said, clearly more interested in the city than meeting a knight. He walked away excitedly. At the center of the city was a house that, if you called it a mansion, would be embarrassing. It was a log cabin. Though it was called Thousand Stones, it wasn''t possible to build everything out of stone. How could they transport and layer all those stones? Most things were probably made from wood cut from nearby forests. It was such a house¡ªmade from logs. Creak, creak. Aishia opened the door without knocking, and a strange noise came from the rusty hinges. "Are you going to fix the door?" Enkrid asked. "You do it if you want. I''m better with a sword," Aishia replied. Inside, the voices of a tired, lifeless woman and a rough man could be heard. Dunbakel was waiting outside, and only Luagarne and Enkrid entered. The dimly lit room was illuminated by candles and lamps. At the center of the room was a round table with brown liquid-filled bottles, and three people sat around it. "Did you bring the merchants?" the woman with brown hair asked, her eyes blurry. The candlelight made her hair appear reddish, though it would probably look brown in daylight. The smell of alcohol was strong. "We''ve brought reinforcements, the Demon Slayer," Aicia said. The woman with the brown hair turned her blurred gaze toward Enkrid. "...You," she said, pausing for a moment before speaking again. "You''re handsome." The blurry-eyed knight''s focus snapped into clarity. ------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work! Chapter 440 - I think I killed him on the way here Chapter 440 - 440 - I think I killed him on the way here Chapter 440 - I think I killed him on the way here The brown-haired woman''s eyes sharpened. "I agree." From behind, Luagarne spoke. It felt like a pointless remark after all the trouble of bringing him here. Enkrid didn''t intervene immediately. He knew from experience. When situations like this arise, adding a few more words often worsens things. "Do you have a girlfriend? Maybe Aishia?" "He can have her as a mental spouse, and he already has a fiance?e and a pet cat at the main base." The brown-haired woman and Luagarne spoke incessantly, with Enkrid in between. "That''s harsh, ma''am. Keeping me on the side like this." Then, a man beside them opened his mouth. His voice was deep, whining in a way that didn''t suit him at all. If whining like that could be called a talent, then it would be a strange one. The woman laughed, "Ha ha ha," and slapped the man''s back. Enkrid found the interaction awkward. The man was shorter than Audin but still quite large, while the woman was less than half his size. Her hand slapping his back seemed tiny. But of course, that wasn''t everything. Enkrid''s gaze shifted to the woman''s palm. Without saying anything, he cast an observant look. The palm was calloused. It was the kind of callus that only comes from wielding a sword for years without letting go. Enkrid then examined the man. Large stature, a rough look, a whining tone, yet an incredibly well-trained body, muscles as defined as a sculpture. The last was a woman with short blonde hair and sharp eyes. Her eyes met Enkrid''s. The brown-haired woman, seeing where Enkrid''s gaze was directed, spoke. "Is he your type? You like dangerous ones? But he''s really handsome. Just looking at him would be enjoyable. Hey, people from Border Guard must be lucky!" She paid no attention to the man, continuing her own conversation. As she spoke, she tapped the table rhythmically with her glass, making a sound that wasn''t jarring but perfectly timed, like a beat. "I''m Enkrid from Border Guard." Enkrid introduced himself plainly. He had long given up on clearing up the misunderstanding caused by Luagarne''s words. He knew nothing he said here would be heard. And that wasn''t important. The brown-haired woman, if seen on the street, might have been mistaken for an ordinary person with an average appearance. Knight Oara, however, leaned back in her chair, raising the front legs and resting her right arm on the backrest as she responded. "I''m Oara of the Red Cloak Knights." As expected, she was a knight. Though her appearance was slightly different from what Enkrid had imagined, it was clear from her behavior that she was indeed a knight. "Quite a provocative one, huh." The short blonde, twirling a metal goblet in her hand, commented. In that instant, Enkrid quickly assessed the situation, imagining how he would react if that goblet came flying at him. It was a thought that came instinctively, not intentional. Having experienced similar situations a few times, Enkrid quickly grasped what was happening. Why was the goblet dangerous? It wasn''t just the goblet. The man who had been whining had also moved his right hand under the table. He was holding a weapon. But Enkrid didn''t look at that. His gaze remained fixed on Oara, the knight. Enkrid, adding intent to his instinct, deliberately exuded pressure. It had been happening since earlier. That''s why the two had reacted. However, Knight Oara dismissed it all. To be precise, she ignored it. "If you''re not possessed by some dead spirit that couldn''t fight, then drop it. I know you can strike, but these two are also capable." Oara said. "If you want to spar, I''m always welcome." Enkrid spoke calmly. "You''re just like Millio," the man responded, matching his gaze. The woman who had been twirling her goblet subtly eased her pressure. Knight Oara smiled faintly. "But you really are handsome." It was an unpredictable direction for the conversation, but Enkrid was used to people like this. Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, Audin, and so on. It felt familiar. "I hear that a lot. May I ask for a spar?" Enkrid requested. "Oh, you''re a persistent one. I''ve been reading about characters like you in novels lately." "I suppose I am persistent. I''d like to learn from a knight." "You''re stubborn, I like that." Knight Oara said in her own way, just like Enkrid did. Aishia, who had been observing quietly from the side, seemed to be seeing parallel lines that would never meet. "Let''s stop the small talk and get to business, Master." The knight, as the master of the entire order, was called ''Master'' by her semi knights. "Oh, business?" Enkrid finally sat down, listening to what resembled an explanation. Knight Oara, unpredictable as ever, immediately brought up the alcohol ban. "With so much to do, how can you be drinking? We don''t even have enough manpower to handle the aftermath." "Then why are you drinking?" The curious Frog, asked, unable to hide her curiosity. "I''m the head of this city and the lord of the castle." Oara replied with confidence. Luagarne, after thinking for a moment, seemed to accept that. After all, it wasn''t unusual for superiors to act a bit more freely. She knew humans well. Enkrid saw Oara as a free spirit, a knight who didn''t fit the usual mold. Still, he wasn''t surprised. After all, not everyone in the world was the same. Most importantly, ''Does it really matter? '' That was the thought that crossed his mind. What mattered was that she was a knight and that her skill was real. More importantly, she was doing something for the city. There were things about Knight Oara that couldn''t be learned just by observing her, but the way Aishia and the others acted made it clear. Even though she seemed tired, she respected and honored her opponents. Both as a knight and as a person. A respect that even Krang had never easily shown. The other two felt the same. They trusted her, more than just respecting her. She may have acted like a fool, slapping his back and calling him handsome, but her eyes and attitude remained unchanged. You could tell what kind of person someone was by how those around them treated them. Enkrid had learned that lesson as he wandered across the continent. Having internalized that lesson, he didn''t look down on others. He was solely focused on being a knight. He hadn''t forgotten why he came here either. "Isn''t the situation worse than expected?" Enkrid quickly grasped the situation. If he couldn''t do that, surviving this far would have been impossible. Since taking up the sword, he had repeatedly engaged in acts close to suicide, running toward his dreams. To survive, he had to use everything around him. Surviving was one thing, but he also had to find ways to make difficult and dangerous tasks work. The experiences from that time had also helped Enkrid. Those experiences gave him the keen awareness to assess situations. "It''s bad," Aishia nodded and summarized the situation. "The desertion problem is bad enough, but there are three colonies that appeared while we were dealing with the monster wave." It wasn''t a coincidence that they encountered the harpy casting a spell earlier, and it wasn''t surprising to spot the intelligent monster. The colonies were what raised the levels of monsters. Oara, meanwhile, was casually eating roasted broccoli. She acted as though none of this was important. As she chewed the broccoli, she spoke again. "This year, there are a lot of deserters." "There are more than just a lot. We''re running out of hands." Aishia responded, and Enkrid focused on the most critical issue in the situation. Deserters and colonies were problems to solve, but all of this depended on surviving the tide of monsters from the Magic Domain. That was the most dangerous and important part of the situation. Beyond the western gate lay the Magic Domain''s borders, and this city was one built to protect those borders. "How are we handling the monsters coming from beyond the western gate?" Enkrid asked. "I''ll handle it." Oara answered simply. Enkrid was genuinely interested in seeing her fight. A knight standing alone, ready to face the monster waves of the Magic Domain. Could Aspen''s knight, the eastern mercenary king, Ragna, or even Shinar do this? At least, that wasn''t how it seemed right now. Only the seemingly ordinary knight in front of him seemed capable of handling this. "Can I watch?" "If you do your part, I''ll let you watch from the front row. Just make sure you take care of yourself. If I kill you, half the women in the world might become my enemies." Oara ended with a joke. Enkrid, now accustomed to her manner, responded. "If it''s too dangerous, will you not protect me?" Oara laughed loudly at his unexpected answer. She burst out laughing, and the man next to her, seeing her laugh, puckered his lips and said, "You''re not bad." It seemed that there was a standard for measuring skill through humor in this place. If that''s the case, Enkrid might become the continent''s top knight. "Not bad." The short blonde junior knight nodded. "Let Aishia take care of the work. I''m getting drunk today." Oara said, and Aishia nodded. Oara slammed the chair back and finished her drink. The meeting ended there. As they went outside, Luagarne asked, "What do you think?" Her words were blunt, but it was clear she was asking about the impression of the knight. "I don''t know." "You don''t know?" "I''ll have to see." He was curious about her fight. Her sword was even more intriguing. What about her tactics? How good was she as a knight? Not all knights are the same. Everyone has their own path. He now understood that. So, ''I can''t guess without seeing it. '' He really wanted to see her sword, which gave no sense of intimidation outwardly. His thirst had not been quenched even after receiving four knight-level swords. Instead of impatience, passion bloomed. ''If this too is a talent. '' Luagarne, watching Enkrid, was deeply curious about what would happen if this man truly became a knight and used Will like a knight. It was something she couldn''t predict at all. It seemed like he was already reaching his limits, which made it even more exciting. To make the impossible possible, and to not even know what the end would look like. She felt a thrill that, for a human, would have sent chills down their spine. Her skin turned red instead of goosebumps. It was the trait of a Frog. She was filled with emotion on her own. She had resolved to do her best for that. Asia, despite her tired eyes, didn''t offer any excuses about Oara. She understood Enkrid. He wasn''t the type to disregard or belittle others because of their attitude. In fact, if someone showed curiosity and wanted to learn from him, that would be different. Sure enough, he showed such a side even now. Dunbakel, who had been listening from the side, asked. "Are we going into the Magic Domain?" She didn''t seem scared, but there was a subtle concern in her voice. She was trying to appear calm, hiding her fear. "If the opportunity comes," Enkrid said bluntly. If he hadn''t expected this, he wouldn''t have come this far. Dunbakel swallowed quietly, not making a sound. She felt the urge to run, even though nothing had happened yet. "Now, should we go over the request list? There''s more than one or two. If we resolve half, it might ease things up." "Tell me." Aishia did as Enkrid suggested. The requests could be divided into two major categories. One was the deserters. This year, it had been particularly bad. From Enkrid''s perspective, it was no surprise that there were so many deserters. Battles that could kill you at any moment had been frequent, and the supply lines weren''t stable, nor were the wages high. Compared to the Border Guard soldiers, the pay was less than half. Yet, this was considered a relatively higher pay than other regions'' soldiers. If things were like this, they should at least imprison the deserters to prevent them from running away. "Would the ones who are leaving fight properly?" Aishia quoted Oara''s perspective. Only those willing to fight would be left. Oara''s approach was to filter out the ones who could fight well and had strong resolve. If they weren''t fit, they would break down and wouldn''t be able to fight properly. The human mind isn''t strong enough to withstand the edge of death for long. Living constantly on the brink of death, with a new comrade sitting next to you every day, was exhausting. To survive that, proper rest was necessary. The Border Guard hadn''t rotated two battalions for nothing when they fought against Azpen. They had to avoid sustained battles. Combat fatigue doesn''t just affect the body¡ªit consumes the mind first. The second problem, the monster colonies, was something Asia was already grumbling about. "The worst ones among the deserters are two, and the worst is this guy, the swordsman named Jack. He attacked a supply caravan from the capital." Thousand Stones was a barren land. It was hard to find food through hunting or other means, so they had to rely entirely on supplies. But the deserter had attacked the caravan from the capital. Some deserters just ran away quietly, but this kind of madness was rare. They were the type to steal anything they could and run. It turned out that more than half of the conscripted soldiers were criminals, and the worst of them had quickly gathered a group and raided the caravan before fleeing. "It''d be good to deal with that guy first." Aishia spoke about the swordsman Jack, and Enkrid replied. "I think I killed him on the way here." ------------------------------ In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work! Chapter 441 - City In Name Only Chapter 441 - 441 - City In Name Only Chapter 441 - City In Name Only After hearing the full story, Aishia let out a smile, momentarily forgetting her fatigue. She had been quite irritated due to the shortage of supplies. The fact that a knight was personally going out to bring in a few merchants showed just how dire the situation was. What an inefficient way to handle things. Thousand Stones itself was a city like that. Even though she was a semi knight, there was no room for arrogance in a place like this. Aishia had also needed some time to adjust to life here. The feeling she had when seeing Knight Oara hammering a nail into the wood with the blade of her shortsword was hard to describe. It was like watching someone plowing a field with a holy sword. Yet, Knight Oara smiled. A bright smile. A smiling Oara. The sword-wielding Oara, smiling like sunlight. All the nicknames for Knight Oara were quite similar. She smiled often. Asia had seen Oara''s smile and had immediately written a letter asking the palace to send over some artisans. "You''re the best. Handsome, as expected." Aishia shook off her thoughts and gave a thumbs up. "Is that a compliment?" "It''s Oara''s style of compliment." It seemed like Aishia had gotten quite fond of joking around. Enkrid had also heard the other tasks that he needed to handle, apart from Jack the swordfighter. One of the deserters had allied with a heretic and created a new religion¡ªessentially becoming a cult leader. Aishia added that this cult had been established for about two years now, and its size seemed to be growing due to the involvement of the heretics. "I''d like to go and kill him right away, but if a wave happens while Knight Oara is away, we''re done for." For the same reason, Asia couldn''t afford to leave her post either. She mentioned that harpies or monsters often poked at the city, and if she left, there would immediately be dangerous ambushes. That''s why Enkrid''s arrival was very much appreciated. However, this wasn''t a simple battle; it was a pursuit to track down and drive out the enemy, so Asia didn''t have high hopes. The cult leader was incredibly quick at running away, and if he hadn''t been, Asia would have already killed him long ago with gritted teeth, even if it meant splitting her time. Honestly, if Enkrid hadn''t come, she had planned to take care of it herself at the right moment. They weren''t bishops of some cult or anything special; just pathetic guys pretending to be leaders or gods. Asia figured she could easily go and slit their throats herself. Enkrid asked a few more questions. The location and scale of the colony, the characteristics of the religious group, and so on. Asia answered as best as she could. "Did you see the tavern in the village? The owner there knows more than I do." "He was really angry because of the alcohol ban." "He''s a good guy. You should just go, order some food, and talk to him. Oh, be careful of something. I heard one of those cult guys is a swordfighter who uses magic." "What kind of magic?" If the person was using spells, they needed to be careful. The person might summon fire from their hands or entangle their body with webs. Enkrid had sparred with Esther and experienced various things. Although he hadn''t gained new insights from battling mages, at least he had gotten used to fighting them. That''s why he asked. "I heard that someone got a hole in their belly without even touching them." Asia made a slicing motion in the air with her hand. Some of the soldiers had been affected, and she added that the cult members would make holes in anyone who was caught. Enkrid listened to all this, but he knew that these were not the kind of people that would be easily found. There were three recently established colonies. It wasn''t by chance that it was on the border of the Magic Zone. If they didn''t deal with it for a while, crazy monsters would gather, build nests, and cause chaos. "Welcome to the border of the Magic Domain, Thousand Stones." Asia said once again, and Enkrid nodded calmly. The Magic Zone didn''t change things much. It just meant there were a few more monsters than usual, but it wasn''t different from Border Guard. Asia had been very busy, and it seemed like rest was more important for her now. With the dark shadows under her eyes, it felt like a demon might be born from her fatigue. She was confident in her physical strength as a knight, but recently, fatigue had piled up. "I''ve been awake for two nights. Because of the harpies." If they all attacked at once, she would have led the soldiers to fight them head-on, but instead, a few harpies would sneak in, observe from a distance, and only strike when they thought they could get away. Even a semi knight like her found it difficult to catch harpies that were using magic and running away. If they attacked in earnest, it wouldn''t have been impossible to catch them, but still, they kept poking at her from a distance. They wouldn''t even come near the towers or the walls of Thousand Bricks unless something big was happening. When the merchant group was brought in, the harpies attacked in excitement, and Asia had rushed to deal with them, which she considered lucky in a way. It was a good opportunity to kill a few of those pests. "Milio. Show them the way. To the inn and restaurant." "Understood." Asia headed off to rest and entrusted Milio, a soldier she had seen by the city gates, to guide them. Enkrid quietly surveyed the city for any signs of trouble, like curses or fights. He was looking for Rem. There didn''t seem to be any commotion. It was still just a moderately noisy, moderately smelly city. Most of the smell came from sweat. The stench of sweat, coming from the clothes soaked in it, mixed with the damp air, creating an almost magical harmony. It wasn''t uncommon to see people training their muscles or swinging weapons here and there. "Smash the monster''s head!" "Break it into two!" "Let''s die laughing!" "Hurrah!" Slogans could be heard. Six people were seen lifting logs or doing similar physical training. The most common sight was people repairing longbows or making arrows. They were all sweating profusely. The weather was that hot. Even standing still made sweat pour down. The smell of dampness was not quite rotten, but it filled the air with an unpleasant sensation. Dunbakel, who had frowned a few times because of the smell since the beginning, eventually covered her nose. "The smell is awful, don''t these people ever wash?" "You have no conscience, do you?" Enkrid reprimanded Dunbakel. "Why? I bathed ten days ago." Enkrid made up his mind that if there was a bathtub at their inn, he would dunk Dunbakel''s head into it. Ten days ago, that was when they were on their way here. Dunbakel reached a stream, dipped her fingers in the water, and wiped her face with a few drops. That was her idea of a wash. "You''d better hope the tub is sturdy," Enkrid said creating a sense of foreboding. Dunbakel took a step back, feeling uneasy. Of course, it wouldn''t change anything in the end. Luagarne?, being a Frog, was used to the humid air. No, she actually liked it. The smell was bearable. Frogs, after all, could grow back their limbs when they were severed, so their senses were a bit dull. They actually thrived in humid environments. Occasionally, as a hobby, Frogs liked to half-submerge themselves in lake water for relaxation. Though not actually frogs, they enjoyed things that frogs would. They would flick bugs with their tongues and consider mud baths by the swamp as some of the best leisure activities. Sometimes, when she remembered the little treats she had received in the palace, Luagarne? thought back on them with nostalgia. "Is there a mud-filled bath anywhere around here?" Of course, no such thing existed here. "Mud, you say?" Millio reacted to Luagarne''s words. The soldier with a deep, resonant voice still wanted to cross blades with Enkrid, but for now, he focused on his assigned duties. He was a soldier who fulfilled his obligations. "Beyond the western gate, if you skirt around the Gray Forest, there''s a swamp, but you shouldn''t go there. That swamp is always cloaked in poisonous mist." A completely unnecessary warning. Enkrid thought so, glancing away. The city came into view. He had seen it earlier, but its unique appearance caught his attention once more. Houses were sparsely distributed, and a dirt road ran through the city, connecting the two gates. Most buildings were constructed on raised platforms of neatly stacked bricks, likely because the ground was prone to flooding when it rained. To mitigate this, trenches had been dug everywhere to channel water. The drainage system seemed designed to guide water downhill, with the most striking feature being a large, open trench in the center, resembling a roofless cave. It was substantial enough to turn into a stream during heavy rain. Did a giant dig it? "It''s the handiwork of Knight Oara," Millio said, noticing where Enkrid''s gaze lingered. The soldier was perceptive in many ways. His speech was rough, but there was a kindness in his demeanor. According to him, a knight had wielded a shovel to create this. Should Enkrid be surprised? Not knowing what to make of it, he dismissed the thought. Thanks to the central drainage system, no homes appeared at risk of flooding even during heavy rain. Enkrid observed other features of the city: a general store, a grocer, a tavern, a few empty houses, a blacksmith, a shop displaying butchered meat, some stores seemingly out of business, solitary buildings, half-destroyed wooden scarecrows, and shops selling stacked firewood. "Merchants from outside trade goods for Krona, but here, most purchases are made through contributions," Millio explained, selecting his words carefully. The city''s unique economic system intrigued Enkrid. "Contributions?" Dunbakel asked, her voice nasal as she pinched her nose. Millio nodded and elaborated. "Yes, contributions. You accumulate them by slaying monsters or beasts. Alternatively, you can earn them by contributing to the city¡ªrepairing the gates, for example¡ªor, for something more substantial, assisting Knight Oara in battle. Didn''t you just kill a harpy earlier? A spellcasting harpy is a rare variant. That alone should cover your meals and lodging for ten days." As Enkrid pondered this unusual system, he noticed that almost everyone he saw carried weapons. Most bore bows, and each had stick-like symbols on their shoulders. "Ah, those aren''t unit insignias but rank indicators. It''s loosely based on Naurilia''s military ranking system. Once a month, a squire from the knights'' order comes to train us." One stick denoted a low rank, two a mid-rank, and three a high rank. If the sticks were crossed, it signified a commander. While the system resembled the one used by the royal palace, engraving the rank on the shoulder for easy identification seemed practical. ''This would be handy for the Border Guard as well.'' As Enkrid continued to observe the city, he felt a peculiar sense of ease. The stench was foul, yet the atmosphere was comforting. It felt like returning home, though this wasn''t his actual homeland. It was the kind of place that soothed the soul. The unpleasant, sticky weather remained, making him long for a bath. The oppressive humidity made him want to drag Dunbakel, who refused to bathe, by her hair and dunk her head into a tub. Enkrid spotted two soldiers in a small clearing, sparring with wooden sticks. ''A duel.'' No, it wasn''t a fight. They were testing each other''s skills. Both men wore only pants, their torsos bare, as they swung their long wooden sticks. It struck him at that moment¡ªthis wasn''t a city. ''It''s not a city but a barracks.'' Thousand Stones was a city in name only. This place was essentially a massive military camp. And the reason for this was clear¡ªto fend off the endless attacks of monsters and beasts. With no farmland and no commercial significance, who else but combatants would populate such a place? Everyone here was a fighter. ''The entire city has been turned into a barracks.'' And who could have orchestrated such a transformation? Knight Oara. This was her handiwork. "Here, you can stay and have your meals on the first floor. Everyone knows the Demon Slayer, so they''ll recognize you." The building was a spacious brick structure that appeared in better condition than where Sir Oara resided. The door was covered in graffiti carved with sharp objects like knives. Run away while you still can. For Sir Oara, forever. I''ll crush the monster''s head¡ªfor life. Oa! Let''s die with a smile! Such were the words inscribed. Enkrid pushed open the door. If this was a barracks, then its residents were essentially all warriors. Inside, he saw the two sparring soldiers from earlier. Both were now dressed differently. One wore a shabby linen outfit, carrying food, while the other¡ªa woman¡ªwas fully equipped. She carried a short bow slung diagonally across her back and wore light leather armor. She seemed ready for battle or an immediate mission. "Welcome," said the male soldier, while the woman glanced at Enkrid. "So, this is the Demon Slayer. Handsome, aren''t you?" Was this demeanor typical of the unit? Or had Knight Oara''s influence shaped such a culture? The woman spoke without concealment, drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the dining hall toward Enkrid. "...A man isn''t just about his looks," muttered the male soldier carrying food. Unable to hold back, Luagarne stepped in. "Not just his looks. Everything about him is excellent." It was nonsense. Enkrid ignored the remark and took a seat. The woman approached him. "I''m Rowena, a Decurion," she said. A Decurion¡ªa leader of ten. "I saw you in the alley earlier." Enkrid''s curiosity piqued. "Oh, that''s my side job," she replied. In this city, everyone seemed to serve as soldiers. "Let me know if you need anything." Her words carried a double meaning¡ªwhether she referred to daytime matters or something else was unclear. "Probably not," Enkrid said. "Then again, you never know." Dunbakel muttered a vulgar remark while making a crude hand gesture, but Enkrid turned to the innkeeper. "Can we bathe here?" "Huh? Yes, there''s a tub." The innkeeper replied, and Dunbakel tried to flee, only to be caught by Enkrid grabbing the nape of her neck. ------------------------------ In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work! Chapter 442 - What is a Knight? Chapter 442 - 442 - What is a Knight? Chapter 442 - What is a Knight? Enkrid filled his stomach with stale bread, thin soup, salted meat, and watery cookies made from mixed grains before acting on his resolve. "Puah! I''m dying here!" Dunbakel resisted, but there was no escaping it. Enkrid dunked her head into the bathtub. Water splashed everywhere as her head surfaced again. "I just bathed ten days ago!" Dunbakel protested. If splashing your face with water counted as bathing, then sure, she wasn''t wrong. "I could toss Rem in the same tub with you." "I''ll bathe alone." Resigned, Dunbakel washed herself while Enkrid requested water for another tub. "I''ll scrub your back," Luagarne offered kindly. "No, thanks." Enkrid declined. Soaking in the warm water, he felt the travel fatigue melt away. He had the nagging sense that he''d forgotten something, but it probably wasn''t important. Thinking about his tasks ahead brought Knight Oara to mind, and soon a wave of drowsiness followed. There was no need to fight it; he closed his eyes. Enkrid fell asleep with his head resting on the edge of the wooden tub. "You''ve come to an interesting place." Splash. A purple lamp appeared before his eyes, floating atop the river. A shadow under a black hood slowly took form, its features sharpening one by one¡ªeyes, nose, mouth. The figure had stone-like gray skin and vacant eyes devoid of emotion. It was the Ferryman. "Does misfortune approach?" Enkrid asked. The Ferryman showed no reaction outwardly. But if he had been human¡ªif he had¡ªhe would have clenched his fists and ground his teeth. Had he been capable of such a thing, he might even have struck Enkrid''s face in sheer frustration. Purple veins bulged in the hands gripping his oar. "Guess not." Enkrid tilted his head quizzically. The Ferryman struggled to hold onto his reason. This was the first time since taking the oar that his emotions had surged like this. Until now, he had only felt derision and disdain, taking twisted pleasure in his encounters. Now, though, he felt something different. Perhaps this, too, was a positive shift. After all, had he not lived so long that he had forgotten what it was to feel anger? The Ferryman calmed himself through reason. "It''s fine if you don''t know." Enkrid''s words carried no malice. To him, the Ferryman was a divine presence. He merely voiced his honest thoughts. He had hoped for an answer, but if there was none, so be it. His tone and demeanor made this obvious, allowing the Ferryman to respond calmly. "Get lost, you lunatic." He blessed Enkrid''s day, promising that in the most brutal of ways, he would come to regret it. Yet, none of the Ferryman''s intended taunts escaped his lips. Even if misfortune wasn''t on the horizon, nothing would have changed for Enkrid. From the next day, he adapted on his own. *** "Good morning." He greeted a soldier in the dining area, likely either Rowena''s boyfriend or just another patron. The soldier looked up. Dunbakel, freshly washed and now sporting white fur instead of gray, followed Enkrid and addressed the soldier. "Hello, beggar soldier." The nickname was. creative. Why am I a beggar soldier?" "I saw you asking for a discount in that alley." Dunbakel mimed shaking her hips mockingly. The soldier turned red, humiliated by the memory of his desperate plea and the accompanying gestures. "I''m a squad leader," he said. Enkrid acknowledged it casually and moved on, while Dunbakel ignored him entirely and trailed behind Enkrid. "Don''t they have roasted larvae?" A Frog''s question came from behind. The soldier shook his head. "No, we don''t serve that." "Fair enough. Work hard, soldier with a healthy. lower half." After the trio left, the soldier muttered under his breath. I''m a squad leader, you jerks." Still, with insufficient contributions, he had to haul food in the dining hall. Such was reality. He had overextended himself trying to gather enough krona, but there was no regret. The soldier bit his lip and said no more. Enkrid stepped outside and picked a random open space. The entire city was essentially one enormous military camp, dotted with wooden scarecrows for training. The houses were sparse, leaving plenty of open areas that could serve as makeshift training grounds. Yesterday''s rest and bath had left him refreshed, his fatigue gone. "Your body is strong. Excellent," Luagarne remarked. As always, under the rising sun, Enkrid repeated his training routine countless times. The Isolation technique was about pushing the body to its limits through relentless practice. Even if misfortune came, nothing would change. Since it hadn''t, there was even less reason to deviate from his routine. Training it was¡ªmoving his body, wielding his sword. Luagarne drew her sword, the sound of its unsheathing ringing out. Tiring or not, the Frog wielding her looped sword was no opponent to underestimate. Through a simple sparring match, they loosened up. As damp sunlight pierced the clouds, Enkrid incorporated his learned steps and used his blade to feint and unbalance Lua-Garne. A thrust aimed at her left shoulder came after a feint to the right. He used a step Luagarne had taught him, shifting his weight onto his left foot and thrusting with the sword in his left hand. It mimicked the movements of a nervous soldier, a "frog step," where arms and legs moved together awkwardly. Thanks to his practice with his left hand¡ªwriting, training, and more¡ªhis movements were sharper now. All these efforts culminated in precise execution. "Good!" Luagarne exclaimed, her excitement evident. While not inherently combative, sparring with Enkrid often brought out a certain thrill in her. After working up a good sweat, an unexpected visitor arrived. "Shouldn''t you look for someone when they''re missing?" A barbarian with gray hair approached the training ground. "Ah." Enkrid realized what he had forgotten in the bathtub¡ªRem. "Where''ve you been?" "Do you even care?" "Not really." Judging by the dirt, leaves, and faint charcoal scent on him, Rem had been wandering. His pouch, visibly weighed down, held bits of stone poking out. Rem had been scouring the city and found a usable whetstone. Without enough contributions to buy one, he''d taken matters into his own hands, locating a natural whetstone, hardening it by fire, and spending the night preparing it. "Let''s get some rest now," Rem said. Rest was essential, even in Thousand Stone or the heart of the Demon Realm. He did as he always had, unaffected by his surroundings. Enkrid resumed his training without much thought. As his blade cut through the air, a voice interrupted. "So you want to be a knight?" It was Knight Oara, sitting atop a tree stump at the edge of the clearing. She perched there, arms draped over her knees, a plum in hand. Chewing noisily, her lips stained purple, a drop of juice trickled down. In the sunlight, her brown hair appeared soft, with natural waves framing her face. A neat cloth was tied across her forehead. Her eyes were round and sharp, her gaze piercing. It seemed the alcohol had already worn off. Oara spat a seed she had been chewing, and it embedded itself in the ground, its color matching her hair. "Yes, I intend to," Enkrid replied. "Hm," Oara nodded slightly and said nothing further, merely observing. Enkrid continued his task as Oara stood still for a moment before shaking off the idleness. She strolled to a tree between the houses, snapped off a branch, and began stripping it of leaves with her hand. Soon, she drew a knife to trim it more finely. "Better brace yourself," muttered Lagarne, who had been quietly watching. Just as Oara turned with the polished branch in hand, a sudden motion followed. Thud! Dunbakel pushed off the ground, retreating over five paces in a single leap. Now transformed into a white lion, she bared her fangs, lowering her body almost to the ground. Her chin nearly grazed the earth as she held her head aloft, a display of intense wariness. Her presence was overwhelming. Unlike the typical oppressive aura of knights, which felt like a heavy stone weighing on one''s shoulders, Oara''s was more extreme¡ªlike iron shackles clamping down or a metal club swinging straight at you. It wasn''t merely a warning of "move, and I''ll strike"; it felt more like, "you''ll be hit before you can even react." "Ah, it''s been a while since I''ve done this with humans. My control''s a bit off," she muttered, stepping forward with the branch now lifted in her hand. She moved to stand opposite Enkrid. Enkrid raised Aker. Under normal circumstances, movement should have been difficult. Oara''s oppressive aura radiated within a precise range, spanning five paces in the direction she faced. The weight of it was fundamentally different from other forms of pressure¡ªa semi knight would surely falter under such conditions. Yet Enkrid not only maintained his stance but unleashed his aura as well. The moment he felt the invisible metal weight crash toward him, his Will of Refusal activated within, negating her force entirely. Oara, unintentionally intrigued, observed with growing interest. "Not a knight, but he shrugged off my aura?" It was like watching a seven-year-old wielding a shield made of solid black iron¡ªan impressive feat. The child shouldn''t even be able to lift it, yet Enkrid not only held it but managed to parry with it. A faint smile curved Oara''s lips. "A fine sword you''ve got there," she remarked. "It''s a royal treasure," Enkrid replied. "They call you the hero of the civil war. Could''ve given me one too, don''t you think?" "You''re acquainted with His Majesty?" "Not at all. Never met him." Oara had no involvement in royal affairs or civil disputes. Her sole purpose was to protect this place¡ªa promise she had made to herself. "Care for a spar?" she offered, her tone seductive, almost as if extending an intimate invitation. Enkrid accepted, stepping forward silently, without pretense or feints. His movement was pure and direct, a line connecting two points with unwavering intent. No probing attacks to gauge her strength¡ªnone were needed. His opponent was a knight. Therefore, he would deliver his best from the start. His Heart of the Beast roared to life. Every muscle fiber primed, his focus narrowed to a single point, making time itself seem to stretch. The sensation of sinking into a swamp enveloped his body as he fought against the immense pressure. And then, he swung his blade. Nearby, Dunbakel''s eyes widened. Her claws involuntarily dug into the ground, cracking a stone beneath her hand. The technique Enkrid unleashed was unfamiliar, even to her¡ªa strike unmatched by any she had witnessed or endured. Every ounce of his being poured into this single slash, muscles honed through the Isolation Technique surging to their peak. It was as if someone had grasped the threads of time and stretched them taut. In that suspended moment, Enkrid alone advanced, cutting down with unyielding force. The blade seemed to cleave through sunlight itself, descending toward the knight''s head. But then¡ªtap. A hollow sound echoed as Oara''s branch intercepted his sword mid-swing, resting lightly on his wrist. Enkrid froze in place, still holding his stance. Calmly, he shifted his left foot to the side, his blade tracing a new arc. Oara countered fluidly, her branch moving to strike his wrist again. She aimed to disarm him, confident that even a knight would falter under such force. But not all knights were perfect. Crack! The power behind the branch might have broken a regular person''s wrist, yet Enkrid endured. His muscles, toughened through relentless training, absorbed the impact. Drawing on Audin''s lessons, he timed his movements to diffuse the blow, redirecting the point of contact. With unwavering momentum, his blade resumed its course, slicing through the air like a white bolt of lightning. Recognizing failure, Oara discarded the branch and drew her short sword in a blur. Clang! Steel clashed, the blades halting in a perfect deadlock. Through her tilted short sword, Oara met Enkrid''s gaze¡ªher brown eyes locking onto the vivid blue of his. Neither yielded. Both channeled their force precisely into the point of contact, holding the other at bay. "You''re good," Oara admitted, genuine respect coloring her voice. At this level, he rivaled her two finest squire-knights¡ªor perhaps surpassed them in sheer determination. Experience could only be gained through combat, but some truths were evident without fighting. She had underestimated him¡ªnot his skill but his unrelenting nature. Enkrid wasn''t simply a polished knight; he was a survivor, forged from the ground up. "Fail to block, and it''ll hurt," she said, pushing his sword away with a burst of strength. "Then tell me," she continued, lowering her sword, "what is a knight?" Enkrid responded not with words but by resuming his stance. "A knight is one who manifests Will, an intangible force, into reality." A stark, unromantic definition¡ªyet irrefutably true. Knights, after all, could not be understood without Will. And with that, Oara prepared to demonstrate her definition of a knight. ------------------------------ In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work! Chapter 443 - You’re leaving now? Chapter 443 - 443 - You¡¯re leaving now? Chapter 443 - You''re leaving now? Enkrid had experienced facing blades from outside his perception before. Jaxen had repeatedly been the source of such encounters. This time was no different. It was beyond perception¡ªso fast that Oara''s words seemed delayed in reaching him. "Stomach." The single word struck his ears, but the blade preceding it had already grazed his stomach. His Heart of the Beast and Sense of Evasion activated simultaneously. Enkrid shifted his weight to his heels and pushed backward as if gliding on the floor, thinking he had evaded the strike. In that fleeting moment, he caught sight of Oara''s face. A faint smile adorned her lips, curving higher than before. "Knee." Enkrid realized the blade slashing at his stomach had been an illusion. It was akin to magic manipulated by sheer will. No, this wasn''t entirely unfamiliar. It resembled the energy-forged sword Shinar had once demonstrated. But this time, it relied solely on momentum and suggestion. As Oara spoke, the blade targeting his knee struck down vertically from above. Instead of dodging, Enkrid swung his sword in a diagonal arc. From below to above, his blade lashed out like a whip, carving through the spot Oara had just occupied. Oara avoided his swing effortlessly, twisting her body while keeping her sword''s trajectory unchanged. A clean vertical thrust. She hadn''t moved her right hand¡ªonly shifted her body to evade while maintaining the attack. Thunk. The blade tip lightly grazed his knee. No wound, just a mark on his garment. "That''s it for today!" Oara announced cheerfully. "Huff, huff." Enkrid exhaled heavily, releasing his held breath. Oara sheathed her sword with a crisp motion and approached. Her mischievous gaze lingered on him as she tapped his cheek lightly. "Feeling like you got tricked by a simple move?" Enkrid acknowledged that she had only used two techniques in the entire sparring session. One was the slash aimed at his stomach¡ªa feint. The other was the vertical thrust targeting his knee. It was the second move that decided the match. Though he had learned much, Enkrid understood the most crucial point. "The difference lies in experience." Oara was skilled. She hadn''t just ascended to the rank of knight recently. She had lived this life for years, showcasing her expertise. "How old are you?" he asked in a jesting tone, adopting the Thousand Brick questioning style. Oara''s smile froze slightly before her eyes glinted with mock annoyance. "You''re lucky you''re handsome. Haven''t you learned that asking a lady''s age can get your head ventilated?" Enkrid stayed silent as Oara chuckled and walked away. "Ah, I''m starving," she muttered, leaving with a casual wave. Luagarne approached, observing. "If your knee got hit, your mobility would''ve been compromised. Even if the spar had continued, you''d have lost." "I know," Enkrid replied. "Her moves may be simple, but they carry profound principles." Lagarne paused, giving Enkrid time to reflect before he answered. "If your opponent is faster and stronger, you can''t block them." Knights were such opponents. Looking further, the principle was clear: relying on simple techniques was a show of confidence in one''s ability to subdue the enemy. Elegance didn''t diminish lethality. A sharp blade didn''t turn into cotton fluff simply because it struck gently. Enkrid had already grasped this truth. Victory was about efficiency. "Exactly," Luagarne agreed with a nod. Though Enkrid wasn''t discouraged by his loss, he wasn''t satisfied either. After a quick wash and a meal, Enkrid sought out the tavern keeper. "No bugs here," Luagarne muttered in complaint. It was no surprise¡ªthis tavern didn''t seem to cater to frogs. Enkrid gestured toward the barkeep, who approached the bar where Enkrid sat. The tavern was quiet, thanks to the prohibition on alcohol. "Do you know the whereabouts of the cultists or zealots?" "Instead of that, could you ask Lady Oara to lift the prohibition? We''re all starving here!" Most needs were settled through contributions, but currency¡ªcrona¡ªstill held sway in certain areas. Merchants, alcohol, and brothels were among those exceptions. The barkeep grumbled about his struggles, and Enkrid ordered something unusual. "One plate of well-roasted larvae, please." "...Where am I supposed to get such¡ªah, never mind. I''ll figure it out." Clink. A pouch landed on the bar, slightly open, its silver coins glinting inside. The barkeep''s hands moved swiftly. "By tomorrow at lunch." The handful of silver coins sparkled atop the counter. Motivated, the barkeep shared what he knew. The information wasn''t particularly useful. Even though he vaguely mentioned the cult''s location, they wandered like nomads. What could they possibly be searching for in this desolate area? Enkrid mused. The answer was simple. They gathered followers¡ªdeserters, desperate souls from the demonic frontier, and others who had lost their way. The cult preyed on their vulnerabilities, inserting their ideology into the cracks of weakened spirits. When their numbers swelled, they''d vanish to a distant place to live in comfort. Their reasons for being here didn''t matter. What mattered was that they needed to be dealt with. After a day spent scouring the city, the results were meager. "You''ll have to search for them yourself," was the most helpful advice, courtesy of Millio, who had also observed Enkrid and Oara sparring. "Care for a match with me?" Eager and persistent, Millio wielded a heavy hammer¡ªeffective for crushing enemies in one blow but too slow for follow-ups when dodged or blocked. "What if you grip it here and twist like this?" "Ahh, that hurts!" Enkrid demonstrated a few footwork and joint techniques to counteract the hammer''s inherent sluggishness. Though rudimentary, they offered a way to exploit an opponent''s momentary hesitation. As time passed, Rem awoke late in the afternoon. "Those cultists? They''re a day''s journey from here." Unexpectedly, he had stumbled upon a clue while looking for a whetstone. "...You saw them?" "They were gathering far off. I thought they were bandits, but their behavior screamed cult." "You know where?" "Do I look like some clueless swordsman who can''t find his way or follow directions?" Rem''s sharp glare hinted at a quick temper, ready to draw his axe at any slight. Enkrid considered whether this was something to delay. It wasn''t. It was his task¡ªcapturing deserters and dealing with the colony. "A deserter turned cult leader." Even if they''d gained some notoriety here, they wouldn''t be on par with a true bishop of a cult. At best, their strength might rival that of a squire. With a small, elite team like Rem, Dunbakel, and Lagarne, they wouldn''t be lacking. Though the cultists reportedly used strange incantations, his instincts didn''t perceive them as a real threat. It would be nothing more than tedious theatrics. With his team''s current power, it would almost be overkill. Enkrid knew his abilities objectively. And if danger arose, retreating was always an option. It wasn''t a mission to protect something but closer to an ambush. Delaying any longer would make tracking down these troublesome targets more difficult. Hence, the suggestion arose. "Shall we go now?" The question was posed with the answer already decided. The sun was beginning to set. There''s a saying that the sun belongs to humans, and the darkness to monsters. For creatures whose eyes excel in the dark and shun the light, this was their prime hour. It was the same now. Dusk had arrived. Of course, none here were concerned about such things. "Just the four of us?" Dunbakel asked. "Do you see anyone else around here who knows the area?" Enkrid replied with a counter question, implying there wasn''t anyone else to bring along. Recruiting soldiers? That would be pointless. They wouldn''t be of any help. With that, they left the city. The soldiers guarding the gates tilted their heads in confusion. "You''re leaving now?" "Is that a problem?" The one asking was the demon slayer, the hero of the civil war. The soldier shook his head. The guard assumed Enkrid''s party was merely stepping out for a stroll. After all, that barbarian, Rem, had done the same yesterday, leaving briefly and returning shortly after. Thus, the guard taught them the passphrase to use upon their return. "No, sir. Just shout, ''The cloak should be red, after all,'' in front of the gate, and we''ll let you in." This was a measure to prevent strangers from entering the city at night. The soldier passed this instruction to the next shift, and they, in turn, relayed it to their replacements when their watch ended. "They''re taking their time, huh?" "Do you think there''ll be any trouble?" To an average soldier, a semi knight was akin to an unreachable peak. Encountering a few monsters on the way wouldn''t be an issue for them. Not to mention they had a Frog and a beastkin with them. Dawn broke. The morning guard saw figures returning against the light of the rising sun. It was Enkrid''s group. "Open the gate." The sight of blood-soaked armor caught their eye¡ªblack and red blood mingled together. "Did you run into monsters?" "Something like that." Enkrid answered as they entered the city. When they first left the gate, Enkrid thought the mission would be simple. Finding them was the hard part; dealing with them would be easy. "Which way?" "This way." Rem led the group. Clouds obscured the moon, leaving their surroundings dim, but the faint moonlight sufficed for those present. "Want to learn how to track people?" "Now?" Enkrid''s response to the sudden question wasn''t a refusal, just curiosity. Rem figured it would be easy to find their targets¡ªa cult group. There was a reason. Rem''s gaze fell on the beastkin. Dunbakel''s eyes glowed golden even in the dark. He''d always thought those eyes were unique. Beyond that, her sense of smell was exceptional, even for a beastkin. Dunbakel noticed his gaze and instinctively reached for her curved blade. "Crazy beast, sniff them out. This isn''t a sparring match." "This is your method?" Enkrid asked in the middle of it all. "Why take the hard route when there''s an easier one? We''ve got a beastkin here, and she can track scents with freakish precision¡ªeverything except her own." It wasn''t wrong. Even Dunbakel agreed. She wrinkled her nose, sniffing, before speaking. "The scent''s coming from that direction." The group moved and soon spotted a group with makeshift tents. "Who''s there?" One of them, picking his nose at the front, called out. Enkrid responded with action instead of words. He stepped forward, raising his sword. The blade cleaved upward, carving a red line from the man''s chin to his forehead. Thud. Blood sprayed as the body collapsed forward. "Crazy bastards." The spiky-haired blonde beside him spoke in a trembling voice. Thwack. Dunbakel''s blade flew toward his face. He stood dumbstruck, unable to dodge. "Why stop?" Dunbakel asked. "I didn''t." Enkrid replied, cutting down whoever he could see. He ignored those fleeing. "The devil''s henchmen have arrived!" A man who looked like the leader appeared. He seemed more like a seasoned bandit than a true cultist. Enkrid focused on him instinctively. He wasn''t a mage but performed a feat resembling magic. The man closed the distance and extended his hand. An invisible blade shot forth. Enkrid had encountered similar attacks before¡ªfrom Shinar and earlier from Oara that same day. Invisible didn''t mean nonexistent; the energy remained. Ting. Enkrid unsheathed his gladius, twisting it to deflect the attack. The leader''s hand contorted as if gripping an unseen weapon. It was fascinating. It truly seemed as though he held a transparent sword. Without hesitation, Enkrid raised his blade and swung down on the man''s shoulder. His strikes were as indifferent as chopping firewood. Crunch! "Aaaagh!" Blood spurted as the man tumbled backward. Despite his speed, the blow aimed at his head struck his shoulder instead. "Please, spare me! Spare me!" A stark contrast to his earlier cries of allegiance to the devil. "The cult supports you, don''t they?" "That''s just a rumor I started!" The man''s eyes darted around as he spoke. Rem, uninterested in such excuses, hurled a throwing axe while Enkrid exchanged a few words. Whizz! Thunk! The axe embedded itself in the man''s forehead, his body flying backward from the force. Enkrid noticed something fall from the man''s hand. Approaching, he saw the object glint faintly under the torchlight. "This isn''t something gold coins alone can buy. Do you know Carmen? He''s not called a master craftsman for nothing. If this dagger appeared on the black market, assassins would kill each other over it. In fact, a few years ago, Carmen''s third masterpiece, a katar, caused a commotion among assassin guilds." Jaxen''s words resurfaced in his mind. He had mentioned what Carmen''s collection was and the name of its final dagger. Invisible Blade. A gift came out, out of nowhere. Enkrid pocketed the dagger and returned to the city. On the way, they encountered a few beasts. A pack of feral dogs, seemingly transformed into monsters, attacked them, but all were swiftly dispatched. Dawn broke. It was time to return. Back in the city, they ate, cleaned up, slept briefly, and then headed for the gate once more. "Looking for colonies? That''s even easier. The terrain makes it obvious." Rem commented as they set out. The oppressive heat remained unchanged, the humidity unbearable. They had already witnessed how troublesome a harpy colony could be. Enkrid''s group moved immediately. Somehow, their pattern continued¡ªresting during the day and venturing out again at dusk. "Heading out again?" The same guard on duty the night before asked, experiencing de?ja? vu. "Any problems?" "None." With that, Enkrid''s group departed. Rem had ample experience hunting monsters. Dunbakel''s sense of smell was almost absurdly sharp. Luagarne brought a wealth of knowledge. None of them were polished warriors from an organized group. Instead, they were individuals forged by the wild. With Dunbakel''s keen nose and their combined experience, locating the harpies'' nest was a breeze. "This stench is foul." "It''s perfect for hiding and gathering. Clearly, this is it." Dunbakel and Rem alternated remarks as Enkrid stared at the towering cliffs. The bizarre terrain of the demonic realm was as unpredictable as ever. Was it a cliff or a natural tower? The circular rock formation was so tall that Enkrid had to crane his neck to glimpse the top. Judging by eye, not even ten Rems stacked on top of each other could reach the summit. It was tall¡ªvery tall. Above, the harpies began to appear, flapping their wings. They weren''t formidable, wielding only minor wind magic, but their sheer numbers made them a threat. "I''ll start." Rem spoke, pulling out his sling. Though using a spear might be challenging, this barbarian excelled at hurling stones with deadly precision. Today was brighter than yesterday. Two moons alternated their glow¡ªone large and one small. Amid their light, a hum began to echo. The whistling grew into a deafening roar as it pierced through the air. Whooosh! Between the moons, Rem spun his sling. Soon, a third moon appeared above him¡ªa full moon crafted by his sling. ------------------------------ In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work! Chapter 444 - A Day of Rest Chapter 444 - 444 - A Day of Rest Chapter 444 - A Day of Rest Swish, snap, zing, bang! The battle with the harpies could be summed up in these four sounds. In the end, Rem tore through two slings and fired nineteen rounds of ammunition. Kyaar! Kyaar! The harpies cried as their heads exploded. They kept charging, casting spells in response. A swirling wind formed a barrier of sorts. On closer inspection, the distorted space appeared faintly visible, though even if it weren''t, one could sense it. So what? A barrier? What difference does it make? Whoosh, bang! The harpies'' magic couldn''t withstand the overwhelming physical force of the sling. The bullets shot from the whirring sling tore through the barrier without hesitation. Kyaar! Kyaar! By then, the harpies'' cries sounded like laughter. Are they laughing as they die? Ah, they must have wanted to die but couldn''t find anyone to do it for them. Well, your barbarian executioner is here. I''ve come with stones, oh yes, I have. Murmuring an old rhyme, Enkrid didn''t even have a chance to step in. "There''s a lot of them." As he placed a hand on his Aker Grip and raised his head, harpy chicks screeched as they emerged. The flapping of wings, scattering feathers, the rancid stench of blood¡ªit all assaulted his nose. More than thirty harpies had appeared. ''Might even reach fifty. '' As Enkrid watched, more harpies emerged from the stone tower, likely pushing their numbers beyond fifty. Swish! Snap! Once again, bullets ripped through the air, moving too fast for the eye to follow. When a stone pierced through the chest of a female harpy with swaying breasts, black blood sprayed into the air like rain. The harpy, now sporting a hole in place of her chest, crashed to the ground like a falling star. Boom! Dust billowed with the sound of impact. The harpies didn''t just sit back and take it. Three male harpies with solid pectorals flew down, flapping their wings to launch razor-sharp feathers. Dozens of feather blades, no different from knives, rained down on the group. Enkrid pulled out a circular shield, about two spans wide, reading the trajectory of the feathers and blocking them. Thunk, thunk. The feathers failed to penetrate the oiled surface of the shield, merely embedding themselves into its exterior. Blocking them was easy enough. He only needed to intercept the ones aimed at him. The rest were evaded by predicting their trajectories. ''Should''ve just slashed them with my sword. '' That wouldn''t have been hard either. Regardless, he had blocked them, so there was no point dwelling on it. Luagarne drew her loop sword, positioning it to shield her heart, while ignoring attacks elsewhere. She wore heart-guarding armor, with its multiple layers of thin steel plates, high-quality beast leather, and enchanted fabric around her chest. Feathers were no match for her armor and simply bounced off. However, Frogs typically suffered from a deep-seated fear of heart injuries. Even with double or triple layers of protection, they couldn''t help but feel anxious and terrified. Luagarne, on the other hand, was an exceptionally trained Frog who could even mutter the word heart without flinching. The feathers struck Luagarne''s limbs and abdomen but merely slid off her mucus-coated skin without leaving a scratch. A Frog''s skin, covered in a unique viscous layer, naturally deflected most bladed weapons, so this outcome was expected. Only a blow strong enough to sever limbs could have posed a real threat. Dunbakel simply leapt out of the attack range. Rem, meanwhile, dodged effortlessly while spinning his sling. The three harpies who had launched the feather attack hesitated for a moment. Their supposedly terrifying attack¡ªenough to make most opponents panic¡ªhad been shrugged off like it was nothing. ''If I were them, I''d be a little stunned too. '' Enkrid understood their reaction. Good strategy always starts with understanding your opponent, after all. Knowledge gleaned from swimming through the lake of experience. Know your enemy, know yourself. It''s something that should happen long before a fight begins. The male harpies'' thick pectorals heaved visibly. Ah, what are these creatures? Monsters? The thoughts of the beasts seemed almost audible. Their brief hesitation was a mistake. The harpies had descended just enough to attack, bringing them within range of a determined leap. Dunbakel sprang into action, using the tower''s wall as her ground. In a few strides, she reached the harpies'' height, twisting mid-air as her curved blade and claws tore through their heads and chests. Her body spun gracefully in the air before landing lightly on the ground. Thud, crunch, thud. The three harpies crashed lifelessly to the floor. Meanwhile, Rem''s bullets continued to tear through the air. Swish! Thud! The colony leader, a harpy firing wind arrows, was struck down as well. Rem''s shot pierced the leader''s skull with precision. Of course, this wasn''t just any ordinary shot. Rem spun his body in a full circle, releasing the bullet with the sling''s momentum, amplifying its speed. With that, the harpy colony was finished. The leader lost her head without even casting a single significant spell. Screeeeech! The remaining harpies screamed in terror. Some charged in anger, while others fled. The attackers were swiftly slain by Dunbakel and Lua Lagarne. "Shall we move on to the next group?" Enkrid asked. The fight was over before he could act, and his companions didn''t seem particularly fatigued. The night was still young. "Let''s do it," Rem replied, tossing his torn sling to the ground. Tracking the black dog colony was even easier. "Dogs, even as beasts, leave territory marks." They followed traces of excrement and scents without difficulty. Dunbakel, experienced in hunting, was excellent at tracking by scent. After all, it was her specialty as a bounty hunter wandering the continent. Thus, they found the second monster colony. This time, a bipedal dog emerged¡ªan aberrant version of a hellhound. Indeed, the creatures near this region seemed far from ordinary. Spell-casting harpies, bipedal dogs¡ªit was remarkable for a non-major miasma zone. "The monsters near miasma zones are never ordinary, and that makes them all the more dangerous," Luagarne remarked, spinning her loop sword in her hand. The heavy metal blade cut through the air with a resonant hum. It was said mounted troops couldn''t operate near miasma zones. No animal could endure the fear these places induced. The result was an eerily desolate environment devoid of typical wildlife, replaced instead by an abundance of beasts and monsters. Grrrr! The leader of the beasts¡ªa two-legged hound¡ªspat fire and carried venomous fangs, but none of it mattered to Enkrid. With two swift strikes, Enkrid severed its head. He parried its front paw with his left-hand gladius before finishing it with a clean slice to the neck using his right-hand aker. Meanwhile, Rem and the others felled dozens of the beasts, slashing and battering them until they were lifeless. There had been over a hundred beasts in total, and half were slain. The rest, gripped by fear, scattered in all directions. Chasing them all down was neither feasible nor necessary. "They''ll die on their own," Luagarne? remarked, offering an explanation. The beasts in the vicinity were resilient, but wandering alone without a colony spelled certain doom. This region was unforgiving even to the strongest of monsters. Her lecture on monster ecology continued, and Enkrid listened attentively. It was a topic filled with intriguing insights. The crux of her lesson was this: "Monsters near the Demonic Zone undergo evolution?" On the way back, Enkrid summarized the key point in his question. Lua Garne? nodded. After resolving two monster colonies, they returned to rest, sleep, and recover. Upon waking, Aishia came looking for them. "What exactly have you been up to?" Her question, tinged with astonishment, wasn''t about their sparring sessions but likely stemmed from the reports she had received after her rest. By now, she must have heard how Enkrid had eliminated two colonies and a deserter who had evolved into a cult leader. Understanding the implications behind her words, Enkrid responded casually, "Just fulfilling requests." He said this while meticulously cleaning his blade with an oil-soaked cloth¡ªpremium flaxseed oil, to be precise. This city''s cuisine was mediocre, but its weapon maintenance supplies were superb. It seemed as though this city existed solely for warriors destined to die in battle. "In two days?" Aisia asked incredulously, her hand instinctively resting on the hilt of her sword. She wasn''t here to argue, but she marveled at how efficiently the task had been handled. Enkrid, seated on a tree stump outside their lodgings, continued maintaining his weapons laid out on a thick leather mat. "Two days are more than enough," he replied simply. "Hah." Aishia exhaled sharply, marveling not just at his combat prowess but at his tracking abilities¡ªakin to an elite ranger. Sure, the Thousand Stones legion had capable rangers, but few matched Enkrid''s dual mastery of battle and pursuit. His work had created a much-needed buffer for the city. Without him, they would have been forced to confront the winged harpies directly. "Impressive work," Aishia said finally. Just then, another visitor approached¡ªthis one far more casually dressed. It was Knight Oara, her brown hair untamed and her outfit daringly light: a loose shirt revealing glimpses of her neckline and short trousers exposing her knees. "Hey, want to hang out?" Oara asked with her usual unpredictability. "Training?" Enkrid asked, hopeful. He was always ready for a fight, his determination radiating palpable energy. "Not today," Oara said firmly, noticing his intent gaze. "Why not?" "It''s a day of rest." "What''s that?" "Work for six days, rest for one¡ªit''s a divine teaching," she explained, lifting a pendant symbolizing her faith. Enkrid recognized the sentiment. Audin, too, would have appreciated such discussions rather than dismiss them. "You wrapped up your tasks so efficiently. It''s time to relax," Oara said, her brown eyes twinkling with amusement. Enkrid hesitated briefly before delegating tasks. "Dunbakel." "What?" "Finish up here." Without protest, Dunbakel got to work. She was dependable like that. "Aishia, don''t you have time now that the harpies and venomous hounds are gone? Come with us," Oara invited Aishia, pulling her into their plans. As Enkrid rose from his seat, Rem, sharpening his axe with a whetstone, looked up. "Have fun. I''ve got work," Rem said, fully engrossed in his task. "How did you locate the colonies?" Oara asked, her boots light against the damp soil. "We''ve got a beastkin with a good nose and a unit member who''s a great tracker," Enkrid replied succinctly. Oara listened closely, nodding in admiration at the strategy. After a brief walk, they stopped in front of a bustling tavern. The air was filled with cheers, jeers, and shouts of encouragement. "What''s going on?" "We lifted the alcohol ban," Oara explained. Inside, two burly men were locked in a fierce arm-wrestling match, their struggle the centerpiece of the lively scene. ----------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work ;) Chapter 445 - Arm Wrestling, Drinks, Pride, Duty, Responsibility, and the End of Rest Day Chapter 445 - 445 - Arm Wrestling, Drinks, Pride, Duty, Responsibility, and the End of Rest Day Chapter 445 - Arm Wrestling, Drinks, Pride, Duty, Responsibility, and the End of Rest Day It was arm wrestling. "Ruben! Ruben! You bastard, Ruben, you son of a bitch!" A man named Ruben lost. His wrist slammed back with a loud thud. Some in the betting crowd screamed Ruben''s name as if spitting blood. The arm wrestling match was held outdoors. Several tables were set in front of a tavern, and the owner, his nose red from drinking, bellowed: "James wins!" Someone shouted amidst the increasing noise. "Hey, let me join in!" Oara barged into the crowd without hesitation. Enkrid stood idly by, turning his head to look at Aishia. "She''s always like that. Get used to it." Saying this, Aishia also moved toward the crowd. She didn''t seem particularly opposed to moving together. Enkrid stepped toward the front of the tavern. The owner, who seemed just as intent on drinking as selling, was already heavily drunk. Yet even in his state, he recognized Oara. "Hey! That''s not allowed! That''s cheating, Oara!" Knights were respected by all, but they didn''t impose that respect on friends. Even knights had friends. The tavern owner seemed to be one such friend, an acquaintance or companion of Oara. Snorting, he voiced his objection, and Oara protested. "Oh, why not!" If one only saw her petulant behavior, she might seem like a mercenary who swung her sword a few times for coin. But this woman could kill everyone here with just a few strikes. "Come on, how could that be fair? It wouldn''t be a proper bet," said James, the victor. He rubbed his flushed head, looking as if an octopus had taken up residence on his face, with no clear boundary between his forehead and crown. "Do you see these frail wrists and still call it unfair?" Oara kicked James from across the table and climbed onto a chair, shouting. The man tumbled to the ground but quickly got back up. "Hey, why are you kicking me?" "Because you''re annoying!" Faced with her blunt response, the man nodded. Was he accepting it? Enkrid silently asked himself and continued watching. The tavern, now free from the prohibition, had transformed into the opposite of what it was initially. Though it wasn''t quite a festival, the atmosphere was one of celebration and revelry. "Oh, tell me again. No one dares challenge these wrists? Really?" "None at all!" "Oara, you''re a knight. Did you forget that?" The tavern owner also chimed in. Oara turned her gaze, her eyes hunting for someone who might say something she liked. Among the crowd, there was a familiar soldier carrying drinks. It was that same fellow who had been scrounging for money due to a lack of krona. He seemed to have come here for work after his stint at the inn. "Hey, you agree with them too?" Oara pointed directly at the soldier. He rolled his eyes a few times before answering. "No, I think we should honor Lady Oara''s wishes." His response was sly, though his demeanor made it seem like a heartfelt pledge of loyalty. Oara smiled brightly and said, "Drag him over and seat him down." With a light jump, she leaped into the air and landed squarely on her chair with a thud. Following her words, the surrounding men grabbed the soldier. "Hey, hey, what''s going on?" "Shut up and sit down, you punk." Oara laughed as she spoke, and soon the soldier was seated across from her. "It''s a bet! If you don''t like it, back out. If the person you pick beats me, you''ll get three gold coins. If I win, you''ll lead the charge in the next monster wave." What?" Leading the charge against a monster wave¡ªa surge of creatures pouring out from the labyrinth¡ªmight as well have been a death sentence. Her words drew hearty laughter from the crowd. The soldier regretted not joining the fight when Jack the Blade had asked him last time. Of course, even if he got the chance again, he wouldn''t go. He loved a woman who worked the alleys for a living, dreaming of taking her away and marrying her someday. What did it matter if she''d sold her body? Now, she offered herself only to him, and that was enough. "Come on, man. You only die once, not twice! Besides, don''t you want to marry Rowena? Didn''t you say you were broke?" Oara''s words spurred him on, and the surrounding jeers followed. "Just do it already!" "If you''re too scared, give up on Rowena!" Flustered, the soldier shouted back, "Shut up!" He turned serious, then cautiously asked, "Are you going to pick someone from the knight order?" "Nope." Oara shook her head. "You''re not stepping in yourself, Lady Oara?" "Absolutely not." Oara''s head bobbed vertically this time. The soldier pretended to think deeply but had clearly already made up his mind. Enkrid could tell. Still, he acted hesitant, as if deliberating hard. Some people were just naturally like that. Not that it made him seem bad. In a way, he was amusingly transparent. His thoughts were plain to see. Oara folded her arms, smirking, and waited. "I''ll ask Sir Oliver to represent me." His choice prompted jeers from some of the soldiers. Enkrid spotted a man with arms twice as thick as the others''. Though short in stature, his stocky frame and thick jaw gave him a powerful appearance. Smaller than Oara in height but renowned as the strongest in arm wrestling at Thousand Stone¡ªa squire of the knight order, Oliver. "Is that allowed?" The soldier hesitated, gauging reactions. He was clearly aware of the rules and cautious about his choice of a squire. Oara waved him off. "I accept the challenge. Now, who should I pick?" Feigning contemplation, Oara scanned the crowd dramatically. Oliver patted the soldier''s shoulder and took a seat, his physique radiating raw, innate strength. Oara rested her chin in her hand as if deep in thought, then turned to Oliver. "Oliver, you''ll throw the match, right?" "I won''t lose." His immediate response earned a decisive nod from Oara. "My champion is you. Come on!" Her finger pointed right past Aishia¡ªto Enkrid. "Me?" Watching the spectacle, Enkrid blinked, then asked. Unperturbed by his interruption, Oara declared, "Or should I send Aishia? Look at those delicate wrists of hers!" Apparently, she had a habit of mocking others'' wrists. "If you''re scared, you can back out. You might get hurt," Oliver said. Despite his polite tone, his expression radiated a fierce competitiveness. Enkrid stared at him briefly before stepping forward. Oara grinned and moved aside. Enkrid took his seat, meeting Oliver''s gaze. "Don''t worry. You won''t get hurt. Oh, I mean you, not me. I''ll go easy on you." "Go easy?" Oliver''s face hardened at the provocation. "I meant I''ll make sure you don''t get hurt." Enkrid''s words were calm yet taunting. "Is that so?" Oliver''s expression tightened, veins bulging prominently across his forehead. His arms were equally thick, his veins looking ready to burst. Enkrid rolled up his sleeves, revealing lean but solid muscles honed through the Isolation Technique. Though not as thick as Oliver''s, they were compact, compressed through Audin''s rigorous teachings. "Place your bets!" Oara shouted. It was time for the match. Spectators swarmed in¡ªthose training nearby, idlers, even gamblers abandoning their dice. "Still, betting on Oliver seems like the smart choice, right?" "His opponent''s a semi knight, though. The demon slayer." "You''re clueless. Even Lady Oara said Oliver''s strength is unmatched!" "So? You don''t know Sir Oliver? He could crush even a demon''s hand in arm wrestling! Haven''t you heard of Giant Arms Oliver?" Bets began piling in favor of Oliver. Enkrid, however, remained indifferent. Someone placed a tankard of beer next to them. The pewter mug brimmed with golden liquid, topped with frothy foam. Oliver took a hearty swig, exhaled deeply, and then rested his elbow firmly on the table. Thud. Visually, he resembled a stone golem shaped into human form by some crazed mage. Enkrid grabbed his own mug and drank. It was bitter yet fragrant¡ªa refreshing and satisfying beer. After finishing his drink, Enkrid mirrored Oliver, placing his arm on the table and clasping his hand. It truly felt like gripping the arm of a stone golem¡ªunbelievably solid and heavy. Oliver met Enkrid''s gaze, but Enkrid lowered his eyes, reflecting inwardly and focusing. Was it a lack of competitiveness that made him willing to lose? A carefree disposition or humility? Quite the opposite. Enkrid was the type of person who latched onto a challenge until he won. In short, he abhorred losing. However, he used all his strength and willpower to ensure victory in the next battle. If winning were possible now, he wouldn''t entertain the idea of defeat for a second. As the noise around them quieted, Oara gave the signal. "Begin." Both Oliver and Enkrid exerted their strength simultaneously. Crack. The table groaned but held together. Oliver''s strength could easily be described as monstrous. His grip alone might justify the claim that he could crush a demon''s hand. However, sitting across from him was a man who had trained in the Isolation technique under beings far stronger than Oliver. Enkrid unleashed the full force of his Will, channeling it to his muscles in an explosive surge. It had been rare in his life to exert himself to this degree. ''Giant''s Strike. '' He employed a technique learned through swordsmanship. Or, as Rem would call it, the strength of a giant using every ounce of effort. "Grrrr!" Oliver let out a groan, something between a growl and a whimper. Crreeeeak. The table trembled, cracks spreading across its sturdy wooden surface. Oliver''s arm started to tilt slightly to one side. Snap! The table finally gave way, the section under Oliver''s elbow collapsing. Even with the table''s support compromised, Oliver struggled to hold on. "Is it a draw?" A soldier muttered. Enkrid stopped at that moment. Oliver steadied his breathing. After holding out for a while, he relaxed his grip. "I lost," Oliver declared. "Nooo!" A soldier, a man apparently close to Rowena, let out a wail of despair. Yet those who had lost their bets burst into laughter, cheering enthusiastically instead. "Wow, impressive strength!" "Hey, big guy, is your stamina as impressive at night?" Several soldiers cracked jokes, and someone retorted, "What good would it do you to know?" "The soldier deserves another chance. How about a drinking contest this time?" Oara extended a hand of salvation to the despondent soldier, though it was unclear whether it was angelic or devilish. "Let''s do it!" The soldier, full of determination, squared his shoulders. Enkrid nodded approvingly, deciding there was no harm in fully embracing the camaraderie for one night. Strong spirits were brought forth. Enkrid drank the unnamed liquor. By his fourth glass, the soldier''s eyes glazed over, and he collapsed, shouting, "I love you, Rowena!" The soldiers roared with laughter. Enkrid set down his glass, smirking. "Next." He had no intention of losing this challenge either. "I''m up," Oliver declared, only to pass out after a single glass. Strong in body but weak to alcohol. Oara downed her drink, as did Aishia, who opted for a light fruit wine. Nearby, some soldiers started gambling with dice, while others began swapping bawdy tales. Enkrid overheard two women making particularly risque? jokes and silently marveled at their audacity. Even Rem eventually joined in. "Why am I the only one left out of the fun?" he complained, blending into the lively crowd. Soon, Luagarne and Dunbakel also joined, turning the tavern''s front into a bustling carnival. "Enjoying yourself?" Oara asked. Enkrid, already tipsy, replied, "It''s heartwarming." And he meant it. As the sun set, casting a golden glow over the town, the soldiers chatted loudly. Some on duty cursed under their breath, "Damn it, why''s everyone so lively today?" "Unlucky bastards!" others jeered in response. One commander lamented his woes to Oara, and a squad leader awkwardly tried to balance praising Enkrid with not offending Oara. One soldier confessed love at first sight to Aishia and promptly got pummeled for it. It was a truly vibrant scene. As twilight gave way to night, Oara wandered among the soldiers, listening to their grievances while drinking. At one point, she left briefly and returned with a large log to replace the broken table. "Fetch a plane!" Her carpentry was rudimentary at best, so a petite female squire from the nearby lodge took over, skillfully crafting a new tabletop. The night continued with laughter and revelry. "I like this town," Oara declared drunkenly. Enkrid, who had spent several days here, agreed. This was a garrison where deserters were common, yet those who remained genuinely loved the place. "A final bastion guarding the frontier¡ªimpressive, isn''t it?" Pride radiated from them. "If we fall, the towns behind us will be destroyed. Do you know that? If the Maelstrom expands its territory, this entire region is doomed." They spoke with a deep sense of duty. "This is my job, so I do it. What''s the problem with that?" Their commitment was unwavering. Living on the Maelstrom''s border meant constant danger, but it also cultivated mental and physical resilience. "Ah, this is great!" Oara shouted, clinking her glass with Enkrid''s. The alcohol-fueled night passed, and Enkrid returned to his lodging to sleep. Rem, who had joined the drinking midway, was already snoring. Luagarne, who had indulged in a special bug-based dish alongside the drinks, remarked, "Exquisite," clearly satisfied. Dunbakel, meanwhile, was curled up in a corner, softly snoring. Enkrid closed his eyes. In his dream, the ferryman asked, "Having fun?" It was a hundred times more unsettling than forewarnings of impending doom. Just as Enkrid was about to respond, he woke up. The same routine greeted him¡ªwarming up and working up a sweat outside. Luagarne soon joined him, followed later by Dunbakel. "Do you even sleep?" By noon, Oara arrived again, clad similarly to the previous day but carrying a long, slender sword. "Rest day''s over," she announced. It was a welcome change of pace. ----------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work ;) Chapter 446 - Millio’s Dream Chapter 446 - 446 - Millio''s Dream Chapter 446 - Millio''s Dream "What is swordsmanship?" After the sparring session, Oara posed the question. They were standing in a courtyard that hardly deserved to be called a training ground. Enkrid knelt on one knee, clutching his abdomen. He had dodged a vertical slash and the subsequent thrust. These were techniques he had seen many times before. With his Sense of Evasion, avoiding them wasn''t too difficult. He evaded the swordplay, but Oara immediately closed the gap and struck his abdomen with her palm. The impact pierced through his guts and seemed to blast out his back. It was a relief he hadn''t coughed up blood. Although her attack was imbued with Will, the movement itself was remarkably simple¡ªnothing more, nothing less. "What must you do to subdue your opponent? Think about it." Enkrid nodded. Saluting her with military courtesy, he watched as Oara smiled brightly and departed. Her words echoed in his mind, but they didn''t resonate deeply. Oara returned the following day. "Don''t tell me you didn''t understand what I said? Strange, your body should have responded by now." The knight with chestnut-colored hair tilted her head in puzzlement, then continued as if dismissing the issue. "Don''t you think you know too much? Any vessel overflows when filled to the brim, and the excess is wasted¡ªundrinkable, even." "Is that a problem?" "Swing only as much as needed, when needed. That''s all there is to it. Keep that in mind." While her words didn''t strike Enkrid with the force of sudden enlightenment, he understood her point. "Too much knowledge is a hindrance?" Oara reiterated her advice another time. "Technically, you have more than enough. Discard what you don''t need." She was firm, and Enkrid contemplated her words. They might be exactly what he needed to hear. Even so, something held him back. Why? He wasn''t sure¡ªit was just a feeling. He didn''t like it. While brooding over this, his gaze fell on Rem, who was meticulously sharpening his axe. Shrrk. The sound of the whetstone against the blade rang clear, a pristine note. Beads of sweat dotted Rem''s forehead. His focus was absolute, a rare sight. He appeared far more dedicated than when teasing Ragna or harassing the soldiers. Shrrk. The sound had been a constant in recent days, echoing in Enkrid''s ears. "Rem." "Can''t you see I''m busy?" Without even looking up, Rem responded. Enkrid stood where his shadow cast over Rem''s head, blocking the sunlight. "Am I greedy?" Shrrk. Rem pressed the whetstone against the blade and repeated the motion. "Is that even a question?" His tone was nonchalant, as if the answer was obvious. To Enkrid, it sounded less like a response and more like a suggestion to drop the matter. Sitting beside him, Enkrid unsheathed Aker, Ember, and Gladius. He began oiling the blades with flaxseed oil, polishing them until they gleamed in the sunlight. Nearby, Dunbakel exhaled through her nose, engrossed in her muscle training. Luagarne swung her loop sword and whip, honing her senses. She claimed to be preparing to demonstrate a Frogs'' fighting style¡ªa prospect that intrigued him. He cleaned his swords and counted his Whistle Daggers¡ªthree remained. He sharpened them, inspected his throwing axes and round shield, and checked for any damage caused by the humid air. Finally, he spent his spare time practicing his swordsmanship. That evening, he joined the team in exterminating the remaining colony. The last threats were ghouls, a rare sight outside the demon borderlands. These ghouls spat bodily fluids that no one wanted to get hit by. Their saliva corroded metal and emitted smoke upon contact. Luagarne handled them effortlessly. From three steps away, she wrapped her whip around their necks and snapped them. The Frogs were indeed a combat race, and Luagarne proved it. "With this, the colony''s done," said Dunbakel, clearly eager to leave. Enkrid ignored her. Returning to camp, they enjoyed a quiet evening in the life of Thousand Stone. During this time, Oara left the city only once, returning covered in black blood. "Spiders were gathering. I dealt with them," she said casually, as though it were a light warm-up. "Thanks to you, my handsome little genius, I didn''t need to worry about the rear. You''ve made preemptive action possible." A knight capable of slaying a thousand on her own, she had gone out alone and slaughtered dozens of monsters as though on a stroll. Accompanying her were two familiar figures: a large man and a petite woman, both semi knights. "Not as handsome as me, but your skills are commendable," said the man. "You can ignore whatever he says," added the woman. Enkrid observed the two. They were far from ordinary. Along with Oliver of the Order, they were among the best. Behind them, Oliver gave him a knowing nod. Enkrid thought of them as honest, straightforward people. None hesitated to express their thoughts or jokes. ''If Shinar had been here, it might''ve been fun. '' Shinar, too, enjoyed a good joke. During this time, Eisia had been overseeing city security. With no threats, there wasn''t much to do. After her trip, Oara spent two days inside her home, for reasons unknown. Meanwhile, Enkrid sparred with some soldiers. A few uneventful days passed, until one evening when the sun dipped and the horizon blushed with twilight. This was the hour when shapes blurred, and it was hard to distinguish a dog from a wolf. The sound of insects buzzed faintly, as meat skewers sizzled over Dunbakel''s campfire. Rem sprinkled salt and spices over the meat, while Lua-Garne happily chewed on bugs, puffing her cheeks in delight. Oara appeared again, sparring with Enkrid once more. At the end, she remarked, "This is refreshing." "Is it?" "You''re stubborn, aren''t you?" "I''d call it resolute." "Stubborn," she concluded. Rem burst into laughter, interjecting, "She reads people well." "I agree," said Luagarne. Dunbakel opened her mouth to speak but, catching Enkrid''s gaze, opted instead to chew her food. Crunch. She ate with remarkable gusto. Enkrid didn''t bother defending himself. He wasn''t stubborn; he was steadfast. There was no need for external validation. "Your eyes give you away. You''re a maniac," said Oara. If she hadn''t been a knight, her words might have earned her a beating. Rem laughed even harder, his voice booming. "That''s true." Enkrid made a mental note to ask what had amused him so much. As Oara walked away, taking a skewer of meat with her, she gave him a thumbs-up for the excellent roasting. The entire conversation had taken place after their sparring session. At the end of it, Enkrid was lying flat on the ground. It hadn''t been bad at all. "Not bad," said Luagarne, puffing her cheeks lightly¡ªa gesture he assumed expressed her joy. "To be honest, I was surprised," she added. "If that surprises you, you''ll be surprised twelve times a day teaching rookies," quipped Rem, now calm. His words seemed to hold more meaning, prompting Luagarne to react. "What''s so surprising?" The question was asked with genuine curiosity. "Because a madman always chooses to do mad things," Rem replied, gazing at the stars as if he were a sage imparting wisdom. In that moment, he seemed like someone who had reached profound enlightenment. Of course, it was nonsense. Enkrid still wasn''t entirely on board with Oara''s advice to discard complexity and chaos. Must one abandon the very things that safeguarded their life in order to progress? He questioned himself and then answered himself. No, he didn''t want to. So instead of discarding, he embraced it. To be precise, he integrated it. He had done it once before and had naturally used the technique several times since, so it wasn''t particularly difficult. The starting point was what he had learned from Jaxen. "The sense of evasion, the realm of intuition, the sense of attack. All of it focused on honing perception. Jaxen referred to it as sensory skills. Had Jaxen separated these techniques when he used them? No, he hadn''t. His movements were seamless. So why couldn''t Enkrid achieve the same? He simply shifted his perspective. And then he realized it. Everyone had dismissed Enkrid as someone with mediocre talent, and even he hadn''t repeated the day''s success. But he had done it. He had achieved it. Enkrid took pride in that accomplishment. It was unfortunate that it didn''t work perfectly against Oara just yet. "It''s still unrefined," Rem advised, pulling out his axe and whetstone after finishing his meal. "You''ll wear that axe blade down at this rate." "Don''t worry. I''m keeping an eye on it. What, do you take me for a fool who gets lost easily?" Recently, the person Rem harbored the most animosity toward was Ragna. The teasing over Ragna''s promotion to knight was the biggest reason. Ragna, for his part, teased Rem incessantly, as if to show that Rem had been under him for a reason. "Savage, that''s not how you eat. Proper dining manners will improve your skills. Hold the fork properly." Even during meals, it was like this. Enough said. "Attack like a storm, defend like an unyielding mountain," Oara had imparted during one of her lessons. And one afternoon, she asked him again. "You intend to become a knight?" "Yes," Enkrid replied, lowering his sword. Strength had yet to return to his left arm, numb from an attack imbued with Will that Oara called a "grip." If the Mercenary King''s bull attacks added weight to his strikes, Oara''s sword made his arm muscles tingle with just a brush. Of course, the sensation soon subsided. The Unyielding Will began to push out the Will Oara had imbued. Seeing this, Oara looked slightly surprised. You''re doing something curious, aren''t you? That was the look in her eyes. And then she asked the question. "Do you want to be a knight?" "Not a shadow of doubt," he replied. "Good. You have a fine face and a commendable resolve. Then let me offer you some advice." "I''ll gladly accept it," he said with a steady tone, though his eyes gleamed with eagerness. Oara liked those blue eyes. She wouldn''t have spent time sparring with him otherwise. Was it because she liked him as a man? While his looks were appealing, it was more about the fire in his actions, the way he stirred the hearts of those around him. "If you want to be a knight, first define the scope of what you''ll protect." She spoke with the sun at her back, shadows casting over her face, but her smile was still vividly visible. Was she beautiful? Did she have striking features, a graceful jawline? If it was purely about looks, Shinar, with her inhuman beauty, outshone her. Esther, with her mysterious aura, was superior. For human beauty, the lady from the Marquisate of Baisar was remarkable. Kin, was it? She would likely explode in anger if she knew Enkrid had forgotten her name again. She radiated vitality. In terms of vitality, Dunbakel, too, was lively¡ªthough her unwashed odor was another story. Teresa had a dependable, calming presence. Yet Oara stood apart from them all. The allure she exuded wasn''t one of mere femininity. "I wish to be arrogant, but I''m bound here¡ªto this city, to those behind me. That''s my scope." A knight''s conviction is forged by their Will. That conviction becomes both their restraint and their oath. "As long as I stand, this city will not fall. I won''t allow the Demon Realm to approach." Oara smiled¡ªa smile that earned her nickname as a knight. Her epithet was peculiar. Aishia had explained to Enkrid why Oara was called that. Because she never lost her smile, no matter the situation. Though it wasn''t a question, Enkrid already had his answer. So he answered. "The scope of what I protect is everything I see and everything I feel I must." "Hmm?" Oara blinked, caught in the light drizzle that began to fall as she stood with her back to the sun. Her smile faded slightly before broadening again. "You''re utterly insane, aren''t you?" "Am I?" "That''s far too arrogant. But, well, do as you please." That was already his plan. "Now that the job''s done, you''re free to leave, Enkrid of Border Guard." "This place weighs on me, so I''ll stay longer." "That''s not something I can stop." Oara vanished in a flash. Enkrid, watching the rain cool the earth, packed up his gear and returned indoors. Rem, still sharpening his axe, came into view. The next day, a familiar soldier approached Enkrid amidst a group of troops. "Milio, sir. In case you''ve forgotten," the soldier introduced himself. He had a solid, grounded demeanor rather than a sharp one. He had guided Enkrid around the city after Aishia and expressed a desire to learn from him. "I''ve been busy with no days off, but I''m here now to ask for your guidance." And so, Enkrid obliged by beating him senseless. Milio returned the next day. And the day after that. The rain continued for two days, and Milio tirelessly rolled in the mud, his face covered in dirt. By the time the rain stopped, the air around them felt heavier, as if something unseen loomed. At dawn, when the rain ceased, Milio visited early. "I have duty during the day, so I came now," he explained. Milio wasn''t the only one seeking Enkrid out. Other soldiers, many of them skilled, also came to him. Observing this, Enkrid realized something. Overstaffed troops? The place housed a knight, two junior knights, and four squires. Even excluding Aishia and his companions, this was a formidable gathering. All of them were as skilled as junior knights. The soldiers, hardened by relentless battles, were no less capable than Border Guard troops. While the Border Guard primarily fought Aspen, these forces defended against incursions from the Demon Realm, shaping them into elite fighters. Their numbers were modest but sufficient. It wasn''t an overconcentration of troops¡ªit was evidence of the danger this place faced. That''s why he didn''t want to leave. Moreover, each soldier bore a sense of purpose¡ªduty, responsibility, and mission. Milio, however, stood out. "What''s your goal?" Enkrid asked him. Milio blushed slightly, scratching his cheek before answering. "To marry Dame Oara." The man had an audacious dream. At twenty-five¡ªthough he looked thirty-five¡ªhe aspired to wed a knight at least a decade his senior. But Enkrid supported him. His own dreams were absurd. Why not cheer for someone else''s impossible goal? "Good luck." "I''ll do my best." Two days later, something else unfolded. ---------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work ;) Chapter 447 - Shivers Down My Spine Chapter 447 - 447 - Shivers Down My Spine Chapter 447 - Shivers Down My Spine "Enki, it''s a wave." It was the afternoon, still some time before the sun would set. At Aishia''s almost commanding words, Enkrid relaxed his grip on the sword in his hand. Luagarne had just finished untying the whip fastened at her waist, saying she''d inform them about the Frog''s techniques. "Let''s go. It''s not something you get to see every day," Luagarne said, rewrapping the whip around her waist. Enkrid agreed, and the rest followed. "We''re off to that cursed place. Cursed, cursed, cuuuursed!" Rem hummed a bizarre tune as he followed along, while Dunbakel reluctantly dragged her feet, muttering under her breath. "Guess we have to. Damn demon grounds. so exciting," she said with all the enthusiasm of someone trudging to their doom. As they walked briskly toward the northwest part of the city, Enkrid recalled a scene from the battlefield of Aspen. A squire knight in a crimson cape had once dashed past him, leaving his heart pounding in awe. This time, however, it wasn''t a junior knight, but a full-fledged knight. And it wasn''t a sparring session; it was the real deal. To say he wasn''t looking forward to it would''ve been a lie. Soon, they arrived at the west gate. It was a pair of massive doors carved entirely out of stone. The craftsmanship was so intricate that it left Enkrid wondering how it had been done. About thirty soldiers had gathered, all armed with longbows, lined up along the walls. "Here you are. Never seen a gate like this before, have you?" Oara greeted Enkrid with a smile in front of the closed gate. "Did you carve it yourself?" "No, my grandfather did," she replied, her tone hinting at a story untold. One for another time. "Hey! Man of Rowena, show your guts!" A shout echoed from outside the gate. "Open it," Oara ordered the four burly soldiers standing by. Then, giving Enkrid a playful nudge on the arm, she added, "Today, just watch from the wall. Trust me, you''ll witness the miracle of one man''s devotion!" Enkrid complied, ascending the stone stairs leading up the wall. The staircase, built from stacked bricks, had a railing on the outer side that reached chest height. As he climbed, Enkrid noticed the railing was free of dust, evidence of its frequent use. "Oh ho, looks like a public execution." Rem''s amused comment came as he trailed behind, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Is that supposed to be entertaining?" For once, Dunbakel''s tone carried a trace of irritation. A rare display of negative emotion from someone who would typically rather feign injury after being clobbered by Rem than show such feelings. Enkrid, aware that the scene before them likely touched a nerve in Dunbakel, decided to let it go. It was something she''d have to process on her own. "Of course, it is," Rem chuckled. Dunbakel fell silent, her lips pouting slightly in annoyance. Luagarne, meanwhile, chewed on dried insects without a word. Seeing her relish such delicacies, peculiar to the demon-infested areas, brought a strange warmth to Enkrid. He thought he wouldn''t mind slipping the tavern owner a few more silver coins to procure more for her. Crunch. Chomp. Luagarne''s long tongue darted out, wrapping around an insect and swallowing it whole. Even her peculiar eating habits seemed almost endearing to Enkrid now. "Is that good?" "Want one?" Luagarne replied, holding out her palm, where a white grub wiggled atop her slimy skin. Rem declined. Enkrid shifted his gaze along the wall to the right. On the opposite wall, he spotted Aisia ascending as well. Their eyes met briefly, and Aishia motioned ahead with her chin, as if to say, "Just watch." Enkrid glanced at her once more before looking away. "Hoaaah!" A shout rang from beyond the gate. It was someone''s war cry. "Hoaaah!" The soldiers flanking the voice joined in, chanting in unison. Thud! The soldiers on the wall, armed with longbows, stomped their feet in time with the chant. "Damn it, I said I''d do it, so I''ll do it!" The lone man of Rowena shouted with determination. Although the wave hadn''t even begun, Enkrid felt an ominous tingling sensation crawling over his skin. Beyond the wall lay a dense gray forest, its sinister aura permeating the air. The Demon Grounds. A place where the earth itself seemed tainted by the malice of the creatures that dwelled there. Directly outside the wall, the earth was a dull clay color, but it darkened as it stretched toward the forest, eventually becoming almost black near the treeline. The stench of decay wafted faintly through the air, carried from the depths of the forest. Mounds of earth rose like grave markers, signifying the edge of the forest. And then, the monsters began to emerge. Groooaaaah! Their cries resonated through the ground, reverberating off the walls like the strike of a spear. Enkrid''s heightened senses made it appear as though he could see the sound itself crashing against the wall. It was a testament to how far his mastery of martial intuition had advanced. The monsters appeared grotesque: creatures that walked on all fours, others with arms so long they dragged along the ground, mouths split wide open with drool dripping down, and some with two heads. Each bore long, jagged claws, with some having talons even longer than their claws. Those monsters used their hands to move while their feet barely touched the ground. Their flesh split open in places, revealing sinewy muscle beneath¡ªa clear indication they were Ghouls. These flesh-eating monstrosities existed solely to devour humans. Even the spitting Ghoul from the colony before had been peculiar, but here, the abnormalities were overwhelming. "Demon Grounds allow monsters to evolve," Luagarne had once said. The truth of her words unfolded before Enkrid''s eyes. And their numbers were staggering. In just a few moments, over fifty had emerged. Beyond the forest''s gray trees, their numbers seemed limitless, hidden by the shadows within. Wave indeed. The Ghouls now seemed like a gentle tide, but the moment they charged, they''d become a devastating flood. But these weren''t ordinary Ghouls. A typical Ghoul might take three or four trained soldiers to subdue. If the soldiers are experienced it may only take two. But these? At least ten experienced soldiers would be necessary to take on even one of these creatures. "To face these head-on. a few soldiers would be torn apart instantly," Enkrid thought grimly. One Ghoul picked up a stone and crushed it effortlessly in its clawed grip. It was clear these monsters weren''t something ordinary soldiers could handle. The sunlight seemed to dim as if the Demon Grounds themselves rejected it, their unique gray trees and dark soil enhancing the ominous atmosphere. Fear crept in. Seeing hundreds of Ghouls emerging from the forest, one couldn''t help but feel dread. Groooaaaah! Their cries were like smoke rising from the depths, low, thick, and lingering. How could humanity stand against such terror? Enkrid gripped his sword, determined to do his part. "Ridiculous," Rem scoffed. "Why are they holding a public execution?" Dunbakel muttered, trying to avoid the reality before her. "This is your first time seeing the Ghouls of the Demon Grounds and the warriors who fight them. Watch closely," Luagarne said, her words relentless, as if she sought to teach until her final breath. It was as if she believed that without such resolve, even if one taught a single thing, the lesson would fail to leave any mark. They were right in front of the city wall. From behind Rowena''s man, the wail of the ghouls from the depths received its reply. "Oaa!" It was the same chant as before. A shout countering the soot rising from below. "Laugh!" The shout was followed by a cry, and the army atop the walls stomped the ground in unison. It was a declaration, embodying the mindset and conviction of those who opposed this land, this city, this demonic realm. "Let''s die with laughter!" All of them belonged to the Order of Laughing Knights, Oara. And so, they would die laughing. "I love you, Rowena!" The soldier standing at the forefront, having lost a bet, yelled out. Oara honored their wagers. Even words spoken lightly were upheld with sincerity. Knights, after all, are those who honor their spoken word. It is their oath. A will is born from conviction, and conviction begins with words spoken from one''s mouth. A knight who fails to uphold their word cannot wield their Will as it should be. A roar swept the ground as ghouls clad in soot charged forward. Their blackened eyes shredded through light, and their greedy tongues darted about, searching for crimson blood and tender flesh. Gwaaaaa! To Enkrid, Rowena''s man appeared to have skill exceeding even a seasoned upper-tier soldier in the Border Guard. He could undoubtedly prove himself at the outskirts of Martai''s defensive forces. But holding back the tide of monsters alone was beyond him. Even so, he didn''t back down. Though Enkrid could not see the soldier''s face from the wall, the voice of what was presumed to be Rowena rang clear. "If you make it back alive, fine, I''ll marry you!" Hearing that bold declaration, Enkrid could easily imagine the expression on the man''s face. He must have been smiling. Even in death, he would die laughing. "Are you going?" Rem''s question came as Enkrid placed a hand on the wall. "Probably?" He would act as he pleased. That was how Enkrid lived. And so, that soldier wouldn''t die today. Enkrid gripped the wall with strength. Though it was high and his body heavily burdened, leaping down wouldn''t be impossible. "No need," Rem said, gesturing with his eyes. Someone had already rushed forward from behind Rowena''s man. It wasn''t a nimble leap but a heavy, deliberate sprint. Thud, thud. Each stomp propelled him faster, his body surpassing Rowena''s man and drawing a long arc until he reached the front of the ghouls. Despite his weighty movements, he was faster than the ghouls charging on all fours, their claws scraping the ground. It was the exact moment Rowena''s man clashed with the first ghoul. "I love you, Rowena!" Even with his final breath, the soldier made a confession, thrusting his spear with precision. He had no time to worry about whoever was coming from behind. All his focus was on slaying the ghoul. The spear''s technique was commendable. Thwack¡ªthe spear pierced upward into the ghoul''s skull. Calm and steady, the thrust hit true. The soldier tried to pull the spear out but gave up, instead grabbing another one planted in the ground nearby. It was then that he realized someone had charged forward from behind him. "You started well!" shouted the figure. From the wall, Enkrid recognized the man''s familiar movements. It was Squire Oliver. "Oliver, the Hex Mace!" A shout came from one of the soldiers. Oliver, a man with an alias, now lived up to it. Six ghouls had advanced; one was killed by the soldier, leaving five. Oliver wielded a long rod with a hexagonal steel head at its end. He adjusted his pace, slowing slightly, before accelerating again to throw off the ghouls'' timing. A brilliant tactic. Oliver swung his mace. Thump, crash, splatter! It sounded like fireworks exploding. The mace smashed through ghoul skulls, sending black blood and fragments of bone flying into the air. Oliver wasn''t alone. "The bet''s over. Fall back." He pushed Rowena''s man back. There were four squires at Thousand Stone, all as capable as semi knights in their own right. While not quite at a knight''s level, they were formidable combatants. Following Oliver, the other three squires advanced, wielding similar weapons. One carried a flail with a spiked iron ball attached by chains. Another bore a Morningstar, lacking chains but equally brutal. The last wielded a long-handled war hammer. The four squires formed a frontline, advancing and swinging their weapons. Crunch, crack, splat. Bones shattered, blood sprayed. Amidst the battlefield''s chaos, the four squires shouted in unison. "Let''s die with laughter!" Enkrid recalled the sight of sprinting knight-trainees he had seen in Aspen''s war. These four, too, wore red capes. The sight sent a tingling sensation through his skin, as thrilling as those charges he remembered. Oara''s instruction to merely observe felt almost cruel. Not that Enkrid couldn''t have ignored it and joined the fray. But there was neither time nor opportunity. "Let''s go." Oara moved first, flanked by the two semi knights. "Excited, aren''t they," Rem muttered. He, too, must have felt the itch to act. Dunbakel remained by the wall, retreating slightly. The two semi knights wielded heavy weapons. One used a thick sword-like club that could barely be called a blade. It lacked a guard, but the long, hefty iron bar served its purpose. He swung it like a wooden sword, though it was far from one. Bang! With a single strike, three or four ghouls were torn apart, their bodies exploding. The short-haired squire fought in stark contrast, silently flitting between ghouls, using daggers or piercing strikes with an awl-like blade. Though less destructive, her lethality was comparable. Guttural cries from the ghouls turned to screams as green smoke seeped from their nostrils, blood streaming down their faces. One by one, they collapsed, their heads slamming into the ground. "Well, well," muttered Rem, clearly recognizing something. And then there was Knight Oara. From within the ghoul wave emerged a Ghoulra, its sagging chest marking it as female and its stature indicating it was the leader. The Ghoulra extended an elongated arm toward Oara. The limb stretched like a tentacle, slicing through the air faster than the eye could follow. Even from the wall, its speed was startling. Had it occurred up close, reacting would have been impossible. Such a monster could easily overpower a single squire. The battlefield path carved through hundreds of ghouls by the four squires and two junior knights suddenly became the stage for Oara''s intervention. The Ghoulra''s arm stretched, and in that instant, Enkrid saw Oara step forward. Her sword swung upward diagonally, cutting through the elongated limb. But her movement didn''t end there. It was a simple, straight line connecting two points: where she stood and the monster several paces ahead. Enkrid had seen such strikes before but had never executed one with such finesse. Oara created a point where she stood, drew another point over the monster, and simply connected them with her blade. Slash! Oara left afterimages¡ªthe moment her feet kicked off, the instant her blade severed the Ghoulra''s arm, and finally, when she split its body from chest to head, raising her sword skyward. "Not so fast." Oara spoke. The Ghoulra died. And it sent shivers down Eknrid''s spine. ---------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work ;) Chapter 448 - A Lucky Day Chapter 448 - 448 - A Lucky Day Chapter 448 - A Lucky Day "It was just a light wave." Those were Oara''s words upon returning after slaying a Ghula. The eerie cries of ghouls, as though they had emerged from the depths. The overwhelming presence that made one''s head spin at the mere sight. And the ghastly figure of the Ghula with its elongated limbs. For an ordinary person, panic would have been inevitable. Yet, Enkrid couldn''t deny Oara''s assessment. Four squires, two junior knights, and one knight. This force demonstrated overwhelming combat power. Enkrid had also noticed something else: the tactical structure of this city. ''Use squires and junior knights as the wall, with knights intercepting the enemy. '' A simple yet efficient strategy that clearly defined the roles of shield and spear. The remaining soldiers focused entirely on ranged attacks. The soldiers atop the city walls carried longbows crafted from the bones of magical beasts¡ªhigh-quality weapons. They resembled turtles, sticking their heads out from their protective shells¡ªthe city walls. The turtle risked its safety to fire arrows, leaving the knights to finish the rest. Hadn''t they just proven the effectiveness of this tactic? Oara had taken down the Ghula with a single stroke of her sword and leisurely returned. She hadn''t bathed in black blood, nor had she traversed the battlefield in chaos. Yet, the few times she swung her sword while returning, a dozen ghouls lost their heads. Of course, no ghoul could reattach its severed head¡ªsuch a feat was beyond even trolls. "These bastards, I''ll wipe them out someday. I''ll clear out the Demon Realm and plant orange trees there!" Oara spoke with a bright, mischievous smile, her upper teeth flashing. The ability to smile so purely while saying such things was a talent in itself. ''No wonder they call her Laughing Oara. '' A surviving soldier knelt inside the city gates, shouting in triumph. "I''m alive!" Oara chuckled at the sight, as did the four squires and two junior knights. Laughter seemed to be their constant companion. Even Enkrid smiled. It was enjoyable, and it left a lasting impression. "What amusing people," was Luagarne''s candid observation. "Well, it''s nice to see," Rem agreed. "Are we going home now?" asked Dunbakel, ever evasive. Enkrid heard it all but couldn''t take his eyes off Oara and the people around her. The wind ruffled a crimson cape¡ªa symbol of the knightly order. Oara, its cornerstone, sensed his gaze and met it. Facing the wind, she spoke. "Next time, let''s fight together." Enkrid nodded. "Hey, the bread''s burnt!" Oara remained as lively and cheerful as ever. She strolled through the market, greeting people and munching on slightly overdone brown bread. "Is she a fun person? I''m not sure. But one thing''s certain: she''s unpredictable." Aishia often came by to drop such remarks. "How about a sparring match?" "Don''t think I''m the same Aishia as before. You''ll regret it." Enkrid almost responded reflexively, as if addressing Rem, but held his tongue. "What? Did you have something to say?" Aishia noticed his hesitation. "No." Enkrid answered as he drew his sword. It was a simple sparring match to test what he had and refine his skills. If instincts could unite into one, couldn''t other things as well? The Heart of the Beast, the Heart of Strength, the Giant Slayer, and the Breath of Unity. Rem had taught him a mountain of techniques. Had naming them been Rem''s intent? Or was it for another purpose entirely? ''To teach, perhaps. '' That might have been it. Struggling to explain, Rem had likely started by naming and defining them. Looking at Rem, one thing became clear: everything he taught emerged naturally from his body. Skills and techniques honed in the realm of instinct erupted on their own. Enkrid had things that came naturally and things that didn''t. He resolved to start by making everything flow naturally. "What are you staring at?" A barbarian from the western lands, suspected of madness, continued sharpening his axe blade. He was already on his third whetstone. ''And I''ll keep swinging my sword. '' If strength was needed, he would use it. If boldness was required, he would embody it. Enkrid spent his time combining all the things Oara had told him to discard. "You''re choosing to walk your own path. That''s not a bad thing." Oara didn''t claim her words were the absolute truth. When ten people gather, each has a unique hue. The same holds for a hundred. Knights were no exception. Ragna was different, and so was the Mercenary King. Naturally, Enkrid himself would be as well. Perhaps this time spent refining what he had was exactly what he needed. It was dawn. Uncharacteristically, Rem was up before Enkrid. As Enkrid reviewed what he had learned, Rem spoke. "Not bad." The darkest hour is just before dawn. Though the surroundings were pitch black, the air had grown cooler. Looking at the dim sky, Rem rested a hand on his waist and gazed at the fading stars. As the sun rises, stars vanish, along with the twin moons that had illuminated the night. "Do you remember Utkyora?" Rem asked. Lowering his sword, Enkrid nodded. "A term for the dark morning, the darkest hour before dawn." "Right. But it feels like those words apply to me now." "What do you mean?" "I need to head west." To leave and then return? Or perhaps to find his place? Rem wasn''t sure. Honestly, he felt he''d only know once he went. It wasn''t as if he had left his homeland for any grand reason. There had been various events, of course, but claiming it was entirely unplanned would be a lie. If he had to name a reason: ''Because it wasn''t fun there. '' He had left in search of excitement. But this mad commander''s side was fun. It still was. To Rem, this city was like a candle in the wind. A strong gust could snuff it out. Knights were the ones holding it steady. Why did they go to such lengths to protect this city? He didn''t care to ask. Instead, Rem thought of his homeland and the people who stayed behind to protect it. He wanted to go back and ask them. The stray cat and the lost fool may have spurred him on, but independently, Rem felt it was time to revisit what he had left behind. His heart told him so. "Do as you wish," Enkrid said plainly. He was never one to cling to others. "Damn it, let''s spar. Just this once, I''ll humor you." Rem grinned as he lifted his well-sharpened axe. Even in the dim pre-dawn darkness, the axe blade glimmered faintly. "Have you gotten worse from being near the Demon Realm? Then I suppose you need treatment." Enkrid raised his sword in response. Rem found Enkrid''s provocations oddly endearing. "If running your mouth were the standard, you''d be the continent''s best, Captain." "Alright, let''s heal then." The "healing" resembled the persuasion Enkrid often practiced. It involved slight contact at the least, and if necessary, even drawing a small amount of blood with a blade could be part of the process¡ªlike lancing a boil to release its pus. Rem figured the same principle applied to Enkrid''s thick skull. "When I say shut your mouth, I mean it," Rem remarked, moving as he spoke. By the time the word "mean" left his lips, he was already in motion. To Enkrid, the axe seemed to vanish from view only to reappear descending toward his head. Thud! Of course, he blocked it. It was a simple sparring match. However, Enkrid appeared to have regressed. He was in the process of mixing and consolidating what he had rather than using it all outright. Like dough needing time to rise for the perfect loaf, Enkrid needed time. Rem understood this but pressed him relentlessly, knowing that survival instincts often lead to improvement. Still, progress was painstakingly slow. "You''re disgustingly slow," Rem grumbled, as always. Over the next few days, Enkrid alternated between sparring with Rem, Luagarne, and Aishia. Millio''s dreams persisted, and occasionally, he sought out Enkrid. "Don''t give up, soldier. No matter what others say." Do I really seem so hopeless?" At times, Millio''s earnest encouragement was met with sulky reactions, but he was as persistent as ever. Enkrid also spent time walking around Oara and even sparred lightly with some of the city''s junior knights¡ªnot Aishia but others. "I don''t do sparring," said a short-haired blonde knight. Her techniques weren''t suited for sparring, leaving only the burly man as an option. "This thing is for smashing and breaking," the man declared, pulling out a gray cudgel. Its handle resembled a greatsword''s but was thicker, fitting his massive hands¡ªhands even larger than Audin''s. "Everyone here seems to have a nickname," Enkrid remarked while gauging the distance. "Yeah, some are for morale. But for you, I bet you understand: a ''will'' becomes a concept that can embody one''s essence." "What''s yours, then?" "People call me Roman the Crusher." Internally, Enkrid considered nicknames for his comrades: Audin, the Praying One. Jaxen, the Sneaky Wild Cat . Ragna, the Lost Wanderer. Rem, the Unhinged Berserker. All quite fitting. "Alright, let''s begin." From Roman''s movements, Enkrid noticed something peculiar: every action was clumsy, full of openings. Roman''s entire style was tailored for fighting with heavy armor and specialized against monsters, yet it still felt lacking, as if a precise thrust could spill his blood in an instant. "Fine, I''ll take this seriously just once." Toward the end of their bout, Roman smiled, catching his breath, and swung downward with all his might. Whoosh. The cudgel disappeared. In that fleeting moment, Enkrid saw flashes of Ragna''s lightning-strike sword, the Bull of the Mercenary King, and the Aspen knight piercing his own heart. He even recalled Oara slicing through Gula. Roman''s downward strike reached a knight''s realm. Enkrid sharpened his focus and caught the cudgel''s presence. If not for his countless encounters with Ragna''s strikes, he wouldn''t have been able to follow it. The gray blur vanished briefly, then hurtled toward his shoulder. Enkrid''s sword moved. Clang! Crash! Even with Aker meeting the blow and Gladiuos supporting, deflecting the strike wasn''t seamless. The force pushed Enkrid back, forcing him to absorb the remaining impact. "How was that?" Roman asked, his face pale with exertion. "What did you just do?" Roman found himself liking Enkrid¡ªnot just for his combat skill but because he embodied the spirit of the Thousand Stone. Laugh today, even if you die tomorrow. Train hard, even if death awaits. That was the spirit Roman admired. So he showed Enkrid something special, even if he wouldn''t reveal its secrets. "Not telling." Roman''s reaction was refreshing to Enkrid. Unlike those who readily divulged their methods, Roman treated him as a rival. Even the short-haired blonde''s refusal to spar made sense now. Her techniques were lethal, and she wouldn''t engage in sparring she was certain to lose every time. "Fair enough." Enkrid wasn''t disappointed; if anything, he smiled faintly. "You''re a bit of a freak," Roman quipped before leaving. "Can''t argue with that." Enkrid caught Luagarne agreeing in the background, but it didn''t bother him. In their spar, Enkrid had bested Roman, though not overwhelmingly. In a life-or-death fight, he reckoned he''d win seven or eight out of ten times. However, that final strike Roman showed? That was a different level altogether¡ªa knight''s technique. How could that be? It was worth pondering. The next morning, Enkrid woke feeling unusually light. His habits of eating well, sleeping soundly, and staying in shape paid off, but today felt exceptional. The sticky air near the Demonic Realm had cleared, and a refreshing breeze blew under a temperate sky. After training and eating, a soldier approached Enkrid with freshly baked bread. "This is the best I''ve made in years." The golden-crusted, soft-centered loaf emitted a warm aroma. Tearing it open and taking a bite revealed a perfect balance of savory and salty, with a subtle umami that made Enkrid nod in approval. "It really is excellent." "I told you so," the soldier replied with a quiet smile before walking away. Later, Millio, armed for duty, approached. "The weather''s amazing. You should visit the western wall. The view''s incredible." "Is that so?" "Absolutely." Enkrid took Millio''s advice. From the wall, he saw the rising sun push back the ominous gray mist of the Demonic Realm¡ªa rare and breathtaking sight. The sunlight shattered the fog, scattering it like waves breaking upon a shore. "Quite a view." On his way back, he found a silver coin and enjoyed a day where everything¡ªfrom food to training¡ªfelt just right. By evening, Oara sought him out. "Remember when I said my grandfather built the city gates?" She did. "Let''s talk. It''s a good day for it." What followed was a conversation that, while seemingly trivial, allowed them to understand each other better. Enkrid thought it was a good use of time. --------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work ;) Chapter 449 - A Dream of Sweeping Away the Demonic Realm Chapter 449 - 449 - A Dream of Sweeping Away the Demonic Realm Chapter 449 - A Dream of Sweeping Away the Demonic Realm "My grandfather carved this castle gate himself with a sword. Isn''t it amazing?" When Oara spoke, Enkrid responded appropriately with a comment. "Indeed." "Ah, I miss my ex-husband." Out of nowhere?" Oara often blurted out inexplicable things, giving the impression of being impulsive. From her actions so far, she didn''t seem like a particularly calculated person. "If I just kill that bastard ex-husband of mine, this demonic realm will be over." Though it was a puzzling statement, Enkrid received it calmly. After all, his experience dealing with people like Rem hadn''t gone to waste. "Does your ex-husband live in the demonic realm?" At that calm question, Oara laughed heartily. She''d never met someone who replied like that before. "Oh no, it''s just someone with the same name." At some point, Roman approached, carrying a liquor bottle and a metal cup. Drinks started making the rounds. "What''s this? What are you drinking? Give me some." Rem appeared. "Go ahead." Oara nodded in approval. Uncharacteristically, the barbarian from the West wetted his lips and quietly listened. Most of the conversation was led by Oara. They sat haphazardly, using a tree stump as a table. Perhaps because of the pleasant weather, there wasn''t anything to feel uncomfortable about. The breeze was cool, and the liquor was pleasantly mild. The only snack was jerky, but it wasn''t bad. "His name''s Jericks." After hearing the full explanation, Enkrid thought it was quite the eccentric hobby. Why give a name to a monster living in the demonic realm? Not that it was his place to comment, so he refrained from adding any sarcasm. It happened during Oara''s days as a squire. She had fallen in love with a man and hoped to marry him, living closely together. But one day, the man succumbed to his wanderlust and left. He had been a strikingly handsome bard, Oara said with pride. Enkrid resisted the urge to ask if that was something to boast about. "Men should look like me." Roman chimed in, and Rem nodded in agreement. However, Oara paid them no mind. "It''s because of that bastard I became a knight." If heartbreak alone could make someone a knight, Enkrid thought he wouldn''t mind enduring a thousand breakups. Of course, Oara''s path to knighthood couldn''t have been solely because of her foolish fiance?. Rumors said Jerick had gone on to leave dozens of women heartbroken wherever he wandered. The conversation continued for a bit longer, punctuated by quiet moments when they emptied their cups. The liquor wasn''t particularly strong, just right for a relaxing drink. After days of humidity, the crisp night breeze, the majestic castle walls seen earlier in the morning, the stories, the drinks¡ªeverything came together to create a perfect evening. "Before I die, I''m going to wipe out that demonic realm." Oara''s sudden declaration struck a chord with Enkrid. Even if she were to die, she seemed determined to rid the world of the demonic realm before that happened. Interpreting it in his own way, Enkrid thought her words carried a peculiar depth. Then Oara dusted herself off and stood up. "Good night." With those words, the two junior knights departed. "Don''t you think she looks like she might charge into the demonic realm any minute now?" Rem had a sharp eye for such things and seemed to sense the same feeling Enkrid did. "She does." But could the demonic realm be dealt with so easily, just by closing it off? Killing the central monster would end it? Would defeating that monster really be that simple? Unlikely. If it were that easy, someone would have already armed themselves, entered the demonic realm, and slain the monster. Oara seemed to be waiting for the right moment. And perhaps she was hoping that moment would come soon. But that wasn''t something Enkrid needed to dwell on now. He, too, dusted himself off, brushing away the dirt before heading to the well beside the house they used as lodgings. There, he quickly washed up. When he returned, he saw Dunbakel lying on the bed, having not bathed in days. Her boots, caked in dirt, and her disheveled clothes stood out starkly. She had stripped down completely, wrapping herself in only a thin blanket. Sensing his gaze, Dunbakel opened her eyes. "Want to hold me?" "Shall I wash you instead?" "I''m asleep. I''m already asleep." Dunbakel spoke with her eyes tightly shut. Since it had been a good day, Enkrid decided to postpone any further nagging until tomorrow. It was a fortunate thing for Dunbakel. "You seem to be in a good mood." Luagarne, who had become an expert at reading Enkrid''s expressions, commented. She was settling down on her bed after finishing her meditation. Luagarne prayed to the Frog deity every few days, and today must have been one of those days. Otherwise, she might have joined them for a drink and a chat. Luagarne enjoyed mingling with humans, especially Enkrid. From her perspective, there was much to see, interesting conversations to be had, and enough unpredictability in his actions to make it entertaining. "Do I seem like it?" Enkrid asked in return, nodding. It had indeed been a good day, even by his own measure. After replying, he lay down. Sleepiness soon overtook him. With a thought about his good fortune, he quickly drifted into slumber. Not long after, he woke up. It wasn''t his usual waking time¡ªnot even midnight. Screeches echoed from afar. Not human cries, but undoubtedly the wails of monsters. "Relish this as well." A ferryman appeared in his dream, but only briefly. Whether real or imagined, it felt like only a fleeting moment. As soon as he heard the screeches, Enkrid jolted awake and grabbed his sword. He began gearing up immediately¡ªarmor, dagger sheath, three swords, shield, and javelins. "What''s that noise?" Rem woke up as well, equipping himself at a pace similar to Enkrid''s. Dunbakel and Luagarne did the same. When they stepped outside, they saw a commander leading twenty soldiers. The soldiers were all armed with longbows, with shortswords, axes, or iron-tipped clubs at their waists. "Did the noise wake you?" Marching in unison, the twenty soldiers moved at a deliberate pace. The commander in front raised his fist and asked. At his gesture, the soldiers slowed their steps. Their demeanor seemed almost too calm. Thinking this, Enkrid responded. "I heard a strange screech." It was an unusual scream. "That''s probably the Screaming Spider. With the recent increase in spider hatchlings, something must have stirred things up inside the labyrinth again." The commander remained calm. This was clearly not the first time such an incident had occurred. Hoo-ooo-ooo. An owl''s call echoed from the distance. "Seems like an Owlbear''s here too," the commander remarked. His demeanor was unchanged, steady and unperturbed. "Well then." He raised his right hand to his waist in a military salute before moving forward. The twenty soldiers quickened their pace slightly, ensuring the formation stayed intact. Enkrid followed closely behind them. "Impressive composure," Rem commented from behind. "That''s to be expected," Luagarne added. "This is the borderland. Such battles are part of their daily lives." She glanced at the two moons above Enkrid''s head. Clouds gathered on one side, threatening to obscure the moons at any moment. It''ll get quite dark soon, she thought as they pressed forward, finally reaching the western gate. "Hey, over here." Dunbakel stepped closer to Enkrid, walking beside him as she spoke. "What is it?" Dunbakel''s nose twitched repeatedly. She had caught a peculiar scent¡ªless a smell and more a signal. It was a scent only she could detect, one that had led others to call her a liar in the past. While beastkin often used scents as signals, they found it hard to accept this unique ability of hers. Occasionally, certain monsters used scent as signals, much like humans used sound. Scent was just another sensory mechanism, akin to hearing. Thus, just because others couldn''t smell it didn''t mean it didn''t exist. She had been ridiculed for mentioning this before. After that, she never spoke of it again¡ªshe wasn''t about to be mocked as a fool a second time. Should I mention it now? Enkrid''s gaze briefly met hers. As always, his eyes burned with the single-minded intensity of a madman. If she voiced her thoughts, what would he say? "Believe it or not, I don''t care. If I want to say it, I''ll say it." Imagining Enkrid''s blunt encouragement in her head, Dunbakel spoke up. "There''s something out there¡ªsomething that uses scents as signals." Enkrid didn''t ask for further explanation. He simply accepted the information. He didn''t bother questioning its truth. For now, he trusted her. She was one of his people. If he didn''t trust her, who would? Dunbakel felt reassured by his response, and Luagarne chimed in. "Monsters communicating with each other isn''t all that uncommon." It was an answer born of experience. Caw! A raven flew overhead, its cry resembling a horrific scream. It sounded as if it were fleeing something. As the group finally reached the western wall, they saw what lay ahead. "Fire!" Just as Enkrid anticipated, the soldiers atop the wall were unleashing a barrage of arrows. With a wall, knights, and squires at their disposal, such tactics were to be expected. "Draw your bows!" "Hold your fire! Wait! Wait!" "Use fire arrows only! Light the area!" The commander''s voice boomed above the chaos. Darkness blanketed the surroundings; it was, after all, the dead of night. The flickering red glow of the torches cast shifting shadows over the wall. It almost looked as if shadowy monsters were leaping at them. Reaching the wall, Enkrid climbed the stairs. He passed a soldier carrying a bundle of arrows, ascending the narrow staircase with measured, unhurried steps. Calm and composed. "No real trouble, it seems," Rem observed. Enkrid said nothing, focusing instead on assessing the situation. Once atop the wall, he saw the commander shouting orders, veins bulging in his neck. "Fire!" At his command, the sharp twang of bowstrings resonated as over twenty archers loosed their arrows. Whoosh! Arrows arced gracefully through the air, cutting through moonlight before descending. By that faint moonlight, a swarm of spiders crawling across the ground became visible. They were as large as humans¡ªgiant spiders, unmistakably monsters. "Giant Spiders," Luagarne muttered. Although it was her first time seeing them, Enkrid had heard of these creatures before. But weren''t Giant Spiders supposed to only grow as tall as a person''s knee? Enkrid estimated their size. From atop the wall, they seemed smaller, but on the ground, their heads might reach up to his waist. While Enkrid was still studying the creatures, a voice called out to him. "You''re here?" It was Oara. She stood atop the wall, arms crossed, calling him over. Enkrid approached. "Looks like sleep''s out of the question tonight," she said. "Seems that way," he replied. Despite not being drunk, he felt a trace of fatigue. It was natural to feel tired after missing proper sleep. Oara felt the same. Knights might be superhuman in many respects, but that didn''t mean they could forgo sleep or food entirely. They were skilled killers, not beings beyond human needs. Enkrid understood this well. Still, he believed he could manage¡ªhe could endure two sleepless nights and remain functional. It might slightly throw off his balance when wielding his sword, but for now, he trusted himself to stay sharp. Knights, of course, were expected to endure even more. But looking at Oara''s face, he noticed the signs of fatigue¡ªdark circles under her eyes, bloodshot whites, and pale skin. She looked like a peasant woman returning home after a day''s labor in the fields. Was it from a few weak drinks? Or simply from lack of sleep? Either way, it seemed excessive. "It''s supposed to be the day of rest," Oara murmured. The religious symbol around her neck swayed, its blue gem gleaming faintly in the dark. Enkrid''s mind raced. Day of rest, knights, labyrinth, dreams, Jerix, borderland again, Thousand Stones, Roman mimicking the knights'' swords. "I''m going to clear out that borderland before I die," someone had once said to him. The thought clicked into place. "Are you unwell?" he asked, breaking the silence. Oara blinked a few times. "Huh?" "You''re not sick?" She realized again how observant and relentless this man was, despite his calm exterior. "Sharp as always. Roman didn''t notice for six months," she muttered. While Roman was also quite perceptive, he had been slower to catch on. Oara had hidden it well. Pulling her cloak around herself to shield from others'' view, she lifted her shirt slightly. Beneath the soft fabric, veins protruded faintly across her abdomen, a faint bluish hue showing under her skin. "It''s poison," she stated flatly. At her words, the clouds finally swallowed the moon, plunging the world into darkness. Fwoosh. A gust of wind stirred the torches, their flames flickering as Oara''s shadow seemed to split apart. --------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work ;) Chapter 450 - The Unlucky Night of the Twin Blood Moons Chapter 450 - 450 - The Unlucky Night of the Twin Blood Moons Chapter 450 - The Unlucky Night of the Twin Blood Moons "It''s nothing major, just some bad luck," Oara said. She had entered the demonic domain dozens of times already¡ªalways alone. At first, she merely took down monsters near the entrance. Later, she ventured further, seeking ways to eliminate the demonic domain itself. In the end, she formulated theories and delved even deeper. During one of these expeditions, Oara encountered a peculiar monster¡ªa ghoul with deadly poison on its claws. The moment she laid eyes on it, her knightly instincts warned her: this was no ordinary foe. Moreover, it served as evidence to support her hypothesis. What was the demonic domain, really? It could be likened to a colony. And in a colony, killing the leader often caused the entire system to collapse. So what about the demonic domain? "It''s the same principle. This one isn''t even that big of a demonic domain, but it''s been here for over fifty years," she explained. Her words, tied to the nature of poison, carried on, while Enkrid listened quietly. Oara wasn''t a scholar, but she had dedicated her life as a knight to eradicating the grey forest demonic domain before her. Problems she couldn''t solve with reason or intuition? She resolved them by throwing herself headfirst into the fray. "Don''t know the answer? Then go in, see it for yourself, and find out," she thought. It was a method that required brute strength beyond the norm¡ªbut Oara managed it. And that''s how she came to understand: "It''s a generational shift." While she couldn''t explain the mechanism, one thing was clear: the core of the demonic domain changes. Oara determined that the ghoul was the next core meant to sustain the labyrinth. If this were a colony, the ghoul was the leader. After a few clashes with the creature, she discerned its extraordinary power, speed, and intelligence. She had no idea what the previous core was, nor did she care. To Oara, only one fact mattered: if she could kill this evolved ghoul, the demonic domain would lose its power. No monster more dangerous than that ghoul would emerge, and the remaining ones could be cleared out over time. In the end, there would be no need for knights. Roman, her chosen successor, would handle the rest. Oara had already decided to stake her life, if necessary, to erase the demonic domain''s core. This resolve, her unwavering belief, was her driving force. For once, her expression brightened. A peculiar energy, her Will, flowed through her body. It was strange, but talking to the man before her sparked a surge of determination. It reminded her of the omnipotence she felt when she first became a knight. "Is it incurable?" Enkrid asked, grasping the heart of the matter. Meanwhile, arrows rained down again on the darkened land. "Oara!" The soldiers shouted in unison, their war cries echoing. Protected by the fortress walls, squires and junior knights stood at the gate, ready to strike down any approaching monsters. Oara responded to Enkrid''s question with a laugh, giving him a hearty slap on the back. "Hey, do I look like I''m dying? We''re working on a cure, so don''t worry about it. And I''m fine for at least another ten years, alright?" Her casual assurance didn''t sound like a lie. Though poisoned by the ghoul''s claws, she had managed to keep going into the demonic domain repeatedly. She had even fought the ghoul two more times, mixing the poisons further into her system. Holy magic and renowned alchemical remedies had been tried, yet no solution had been found so far. Holy magic wasn''t omnipotent, after all. "Man, your back muscles are insane," Oara remarked, flexing her hand. The sensation of Enkrid''s firm muscles lingered on her palm¡ªa surprisingly pleasant feeling. "Sometimes, there are days like this," she said. And today was one of them: a day when troublesome monsters suddenly swarmed. The demonic domain''s movements were unpredictable. "Those spider bastards," she muttered, her eyes glowing white as her Will sharpened her senses to pierce through the darkness. A pack of giant spiders lunged at the squires and junior knights. Their enormous bodies threatened to engulf the humans. "Don''t mess with me!" Before they could strike, Oliver smashed his mace into one of their heads. The spider''s skull shattered, spilling thick black ichor. "Dunbakel." Enkrid called for Dunbakel, who reluctantly shuffled over, dragging her feet like someone who wanted to be anywhere but here. For days, she had been whining about going back, so her slow response was hardly surprising. When Rem threatened to cut her ankles if she dragged her feet again, Dunbakel''s pace quickened noticeably. A crow cawed incessantly overhead, while in the demonic domain, the eerie hoot of an owl echoed repeatedly. "Do you see them?" Enkrid asked. "Somewhat," Dunbakel replied. Beastkin had excellent night vision. Though Enkrid''s training allowed him to see objects in the dark to some extent, he wasn''t as precise as her. "They''re holding them off in front of the walls," Dunbakel added. The screeches of the spider monsters resounded again. The soldiers fought under the dim light of a few torches, their shadows stretching long into the demonic domain. The four squires and two junior knights stood firm, breaking and smashing the incoming spiders. Their defenses seemed impenetrable. Roman, a cornerstone of their formation, radiated an almost overwhelming energy. "Die with a smile on your face!" he shouted spiritedly. It appeared there was no danger, yet Enkrid''s instincts screamed otherwise. His skin prickled as though warning him of something unseen. Why? He didn''t know. Even Oara, who had survived countless life-or-death battles, sensed the change in the air. "Is it a twin blood moon?" she wondered aloud. Rarely, the two moons turned crimson at the same time¡ªa phenomenon called "Darpina." It was said to be the time when the god of death descended upon the land, and the god of monsters peered into the world. In other words, it was a day when bad things happened. "Bring me my armor," Oara ordered. Two soldiers brought her armor¡ªa chestplate reinforced with steel and leather. As she donned it, a strange noise from within the fortress caught Enkrid''s ear¡ªa discordant sound amidst the twang of bowstrings and shouted commands. It sounded like an argument. "I''ll go ahead," Enkrid said, descending the stairs. At the partially open gate, he saw two men arguing. "Let me out!" "Don''t be stupid. You''ll die if you go out there." "I don''t care! I''d rather die!" One of them, a soldier, shouted desperately, but Millio, guarding the gate, refused to budge. "Don''t be an idiot." "Damn it, Millio! Rowena went out on patrol and hasn''t come back!" The soldier''s voice cracked, bordering on a sob. Millio hesitated, knowing Rowena and this man were the most famous couple in the city¡ªa flower that had bloomed in the dark shadow of the demonic domain. Millio also knew one more thing: these two would lay down their lives for each other without hesitation. But letting him out wasn''t an option. Rowena was capable, likely alive. "Trust her and wait. Rowena''s tougher than you think." "It''s already past time to return." Millio knew he couldn''t defeat this man. The subordinates of a loyal friend silently stood behind him. "Are all of you planning to go together?" "To cheer for the squad leader''s love, of course." A soldier standing directly behind answered. He was someone who had killed two of the lackeys of a tyrannical lord back in his territory before making it here. Now, he was a proud soldier of Thousand Stone. It was madness. Utter madness, but Millio stepped aside. "The knights are already holding off the front. Take the left flank to bypass them." "We know." The soldiers slipped out of the castle gate. "Oi!" Millio suddenly shouted, and the soldiers on the walls stomped their feet in response. "Oi!" "I''ll die laughing!" The rallying cries tore through the night sky. The Screaming Spider was only one type of spider monster. There were others¡ªarmor spiders, web-shooting spiders, and so on. Yet none of them could breach the barrier constructed by the knights twenty paces before the castle gate. To make matters worse for the monsters, another figure joined the fray. "Hey, let''s play together!" It was Oara. She slid down the castle wall as if it were a performance, landing seamlessly before merging into her squad. Even descending the wall like that was a feat of skill. Now she moved nimbly among the monsters. "Where do you think you''re going!" Drawing her longsword, she charged straight ahead, her movements shifting fluidly as she cut her way forward. Her blade flowed like a stream of water slicing through darkness¡ªa seamless, continuous motion forming elegant curves. Armor spiders, giant spiders¡ªnone could resist her strikes. Anything that touched her blade was severed, whether it was flesh, heads, or carapace. It was clear just from observing her: if the monsters approached one by one, she could kill them all on her own. At times, even a glance from her froze the monsters in their tracks. It must have been the overwhelming pressure, a chilling effect even Enkrid had experienced before. Oara was just warming up. Nearby, a short-haired woman with white, glowing eyes commanded her formation. "Poison! Evasive maneuvers!" Peering through the darkness, she directed her soldiers, splitting four squires into pairs to cover both flanks. Splat! A blob of black slime landed where they had been moments ago. A spider capable of spitting poison had aimed at them. "Tch." The short-haired woman''s hand moved, and a throwing knife followed her motion. It pierced the poison-spitting spider''s head with precision. "Damned spider bastards." Roman, a man wielding a massive greatsword, broke formation briefly. Advancing alone, he swung his weapon. Boom! Boom! The armored bodies of six spiders were crushed under his overwhelming strikes, their dark fluids splattering across the ground. Meanwhile, a soldier under Rowena stepped forward. "Hey!" Oliver, wielding a mace on the far left flank, shouted as he saw this. "I''m coming too!" Enkrid followed immediately, with Rem and the others trailing behind. The soldier under Rowena''s command looked on, almost tearful. "Are you an angel?" "Shut up. If you don''t move, I''ll throw you back myself." The soldier swallowed his words at Enkrid''s calm warning. They planned to scout only a small area. If they could just hold out until dawn, perhaps they could endure. Twin moons cast an ominous red glow from behind the clouds. Enkrid turned back briefly to see Millio leading a small detachment outside. A knight could cut down hundreds, but they were still just one body. While one fought, a hundred others could act elsewhere. The squires, junior knights, and soldiers filling those gaps were essential. As he turned forward again, Enkrid''s instincts flared. "Block it!" Before he could fully grasp what was happening, Oara''s shout echoed. Then came a sharp noise¡ªti-di-di-di-di-ding! ¡ªas objects rained down from above. Enkrid sensed the monsters'' attacks through the wind and sound: arrows. But he couldn''t see them clearly. The darkness obscured everything like a veil, and the twin moons, hidden by clouds, provided no assistance. Dunbakel''s pupils dilated, expanding into her eyes as she caught the light. She could see them¡ªwhite arrows, seemingly spun from silk, filling the sky like dozens of falling meteors. Dunbakel instinctively drew her curved blades and crossed them above her head. Blocking, deflecting, and evading, she fended off the arrows. "Watch your head." Rem reacted as well, pulling down the head of a nearby soldier before swinging his axe. Enkrid reflexively raised his shield. Thunk! Thunk! The arrows struck his shield with weight rather than sharpness, glancing off. They weren''t particularly pointed but carried a heaviness that Enkrid could feel. Kneeling with his shield raised, he easily fended off the volley. But the rain of arrows didn''t stop. While squires, junior knights, and knights could withstand such an attack, ordinary soldiers couldn''t. Those fighting alongside Rem, Dunbakel, and Lagarne could manage, as could the troops on the walls using them as shields. But what about those who risked their lives to close the gaps? "Millio!" Enkrid shouted in warning. He saw one of the white arrows fired by the monsters strike Millio''s head. Crack! Millio had thrown himself to protect a subordinate. His helmet caved in, his eye burst out, and blood sprayed as his skull fractured. Not all arrows carried equal power. Some were devastatingly lethal. The monsters were clever. Instead of targeting those they couldn''t harm, they focused on weaker soldiers. "These damn bastards!" Someone cursed aloud, voicing what everyone felt. Millio had been one of the kindest, most accommodating people during Enkrid''s time here. Losing him hurt deeply. But it wasn''t over. From the monster horde, a tall pole emerged. A person was tied to it, with a blue stone¡ªlikely a firestone¡ªfastened to its top. Its pale, blue light mixed with the darkness, illuminating the bound captive. "Rowena!" One of the soldiers shouted. Even monsters were taking hostages now. Enkrid instinctively knew this wave wasn''t like the others. But should they stop here? Should they freeze in fear? "Rem, Dunbakel, left flank." While others hesitated, Enkrid crouched low. Darkness, firestones, hostages¡ªnone of it mattered if they didn''t move. In battle, you fought. "Damn it," Dunbakel muttered, moving. Rem was already crouching low and advancing. ------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work ;) Chapter 451 - The Thief of Smiles Chapter 451 - 451 - The Thief of Smiles Chapter 451 - The Thief of Smiles Enkrid responded as Dunbakel and Rem moved. Arrows sliced through the dark night sky in quick succession. A few scaffolds collapsed to the ground. In Enkrid''s mind, the whole situation unfolded like a picture. In such a dire situation, Enkrid''s instincts shone coldly. The blade of intuition cut through the darkness. ''Save half. '' Some of the hostages tied to the scaffolds were on the verge of death. The giant spider showed no intention of saving the hostages it had tied to the poles. Its sole intent was to break the morale of the enemy. For a monster to think like this? It was surprising, but not the time to dwell on it. The key now was how many could be saved. Not all could be saved. The giant spider, shining in bluish-white light under a stone, extended one of its sharp legs. That leg was as long and pointed as a spear. ''Exactly half. '' It might be possible to kill by throwing something, but that wouldn''t save anyone. The Will was activated. The vision provided by the instinctual eye expanded, showing glimpses of the future. This was the future seen through intuition. Even so, nothing could be changed. In the meantime, Rem and Dunbakel killed two of the spiders. Axes and sickles split the monsters'' heads. Enkrid reached one of them, thrusting his spear with sparks flying. He kicked the ground and swiftly thrust again, piercing the spider''s head. He pulled it out and immediately put power into his leg. Should he give up just because he saw an unchangeable future? Enkrid didn''t do that. Whether it worked or not, he was going to take the next step. There were nine scaffolds. Even if he ran, he would die. This was what the canvas of the future Enkrid saw depicted. Even so, he wouldn''t stop. And silver light tore through the canvas. Whoooosh. It cut through and severed the spider''s leg, which was aiming for the hostage. Enkrid halted his steps as he had intended to charge. He forgot to breathe. Had he seen the knight''s sword? It was a misunderstanding. What did it mean to split the fabric alone? Why was it called a disaster? The mercenary king thrust his spear from an angle that was incomprehensible. Ragna''s lightning, descending with incomprehensible strength. Shinar''s sword, manifested in an unimaginable form. And now. Oara moved at an incomprehensible speed, her sword changing the picture drawn on the canvas. Her position was farther than Enkrid''s, but now Oara was everywhere. Six scaffolds held the hostages; six that Enkrid had missed, and six that Oara also took care of. The divine speed she had created unfolded before their eyes. A single sword strike sent chills down their spines, but now, ecstasy filled their bodies. This was what he wanted. This was what he wanted to see. This was what it meant to be a knight. Oara of the Red Cloak Order wielded her sword and began to dance among the monsters. Her sword became a rain of disaster, pouring down on the spider monsters. "Impressive." Rem''s admiration was heard. "Ah." Dunbakel''s exclamation followed. Enkrid''s gaze was fixed on Oara''s sword. "Hahaha!" Oara laughed loudly. With a simple longsword, she killed giant spiders the size of human heads, one after another. It was a series of simple actions. Just as she had been taught. "Fancy swordwork is unnecessary." Her words seemed to echo in his ears. She thrust, slashed, sliced, and struck. That was enough. With each laugh, Oara''s sword grew fiercer, and her kicks became like a war hammer, speeding up even further. One spider monster opened its mouth and spat out a mass of webbing. The mass of web was bigger than its head. Oara''s sword cut through it too. Plick, from the torn webbing, a small baby spider exploded outward. It was a little spider no bigger than a fingertip. That wasn''t even a problem. Though it couldn''t be seen, Enkrid guessed that Oara had sneered. In that moment, her sword created flowers. A flower made from dozens of stabs. Sssshhhh! A dozen baby spiders died at once, all due to the swordwork. Enkrid had watched, but it wasn''t a long time. Therefore, it was fair to say the change on the battlefield came in just a few breaths. The hostages appeared, and Oara showed the strength of a knight¡ªall of it happened within the span of only a few breaths. Oara then lowered her sword, puffed her chest, and shouted. "All units¡ª! Take your positions!" Enkrid heard those words and began throwing hostages back one by one. Rem caught them and sent them further back. "Shit, Oara!" The man shouted, lifting a hostage. It was Rowena. Another soldier also began running, carrying a hostage. "Close the gate!" Enkrid''s gaze shifted back. The dead Milio and some of the soldiers were visible. Had Milio reacted to the earlier shout, he might have lived, but he threw himself in front of his subordinates to protect them. He probably hadn''t planned it. It was just instinct, and his body moved on its own. It was just a shame. He would never dream again. The dream of welcoming Oara as his bride was over. The dead could not be with the living. Instead, Rowena had survived. "Don''t die, I''m here." The soldier carrying Rowena kept shouting as he ran. Is there a flower blooming even in a cursed land? Such a phrase existed in the city. Here, people lived, and there were those who loved. These were the things Oara wanted to protect. "Commander, are you just going to watch?" Rem asked. This was different from before. More monsters, far more than before, squirmed out from the darkness. There were terrifyingly many of them. And that wasn''t the end. In front of Oara, a dark figure jumped out and slashed with its sword. Enkrid''s eyes caught it. It wasn''t just one sword, but many. The sword strikes were so fast that they appeared as dozens of afterimages. Tch-tch-tch-tch-thang! Oara''s sword moved, deflecting them all. Each strike was followed by a counterattack, and thrusts were added. But the one who swung the sword retreated and avoided the blows. Enkrid''s eyes saw the opponent. It was an unusual form. A spider monster with eight legs, standing on two, and the others hanging like arms, had an appearance resembling a human face. "Special species." Luagarne spoke, drawing out a whip. The spider monster wielded eight blades, its face resembling a human''s with pale skin. Its eyes were divided into dozens of insect-like lenses. Its nose had a single round hole, and there was no snout. On each of its eight legs, white blades were attached. No, it was all tangled up. The legs were like blades. "Let''s see it you bastard" Oara laughed as she spoke. Even if everything wasn''t to her liking, she still smiled. That was Oara, the laughing knight. "Master!" It was the shout of Roman as he appeared behind Oana. "Those damn monster bastards." On the opposite side, a short blonde emerged, and the four squires stepped back. At that moment, arrows began to fly from deeper inside the gray forest. They hadn''t even collected the body of the dead Melio yet. Enkrid raised his shield to block the arrows, while others quickly struck and deflected them. No arrows flew near Oara or the junior knights. It was just a standoff between Oara and the spider, which had eight legs and walked on two limbs. ''Knight-class monster. '' A world without monsters to challenge knights was an impossible dream. Naturally, there were monsters that could face knights. It was one of them. The spider, with its eight legs, split into dozens of segments, and its red eyes glowed menacingly. "Ugh." To Enkrid''s ears, it almost sounded like the creature was laughing. "Is it fun playing with another woman? Oara jested, showing her sharp wit. The spider, with its eight blade-like arms, gave off an intense pressure that could make anyone tremble, but Oara paid it no mind. She held her sword, and the spider stepped aside. From behind, an Owlbear appeared. With the head of an owl and the body of a bear, two abnormally large hands were visible. When it clenched its fists, rocks seemed to hang from its fists. Its inflated feathers made its body and fists appear even larger. "Well, this one''s not so easy either." Rem commented. Enkrid felt the same. It was staggering to look at. His heart raced as well. It was clearly a strong monster, not some trivial one. "Did you plan this, you guys?" Oara''s mouth opened. Two monsters charged. The knight''s sword and the monsters'' weapons clashed. The speed exceeded limits, creating long streaks in the air like sparks. As their trajectories overlapped, the light scattered in a dazzling display. Boom! Crash! Clash! Loud explosions rang out with each moment. The junior knights only looked for an opening to intervene. But it was hard to just jump in. It was a two-on-one fight, but it was hard to say Oara had the upper hand. And this wasn''t the end. Thud-thud-thud-thud! Another monster began shooting arrows. Beyond the magic boundary, more monsters began crawling out. It was a wave. The wave Oara had been holding back was crashing down on Thousand Stone. Oara swung her sword horizontally with great force, slightly injuring two of the monsters, then shouted. "Enki, Aishia, protect the city!" She would handle the rest of the fight. The two junior knights followed closely behind her. Asia wasn''t visible, but she had already gone to deal with the monsters shooting arrows. "This is troublesome." Rem spoke, pulling out his axe. The number of monsters was too much for stones to solve. Enkrid also drew his sword, Aker in his right hand, and the fairy blade in his left. Would Oara be pushed back? It didn''t seem likely. She skillfully parried the spider''s eight bladed arms and the Owlbear''s fists. ''What about me? '' There was no way he could handle it that easily. The two monsters worked together skillfully, covering each other''s weaknesses. How could he break them apart? ''Ragna''s sword of lightning. '' That might work. Could he mimic that with his own white lightning? It was impossible. He knew it the moment he saw it. Enkrid shifted his focus away from Oara''s fight. While she fought, he too had his own duties to attend to. Kii-riik. Strange cries and the sounds of creatures scuttling along the ground followed one after another. The spider horde emerging from the darkness was a horrifying sight to behold. Enkrid decided to meet that horror with his sword. Thwack, thud. Aker sliced through the head of a spider at neck height. Rem helped from the side, his axe doing similarly gruesome work. Luagarne, observing the situation, spoke. "Just hold out." At those words, Dunbakel seemed visibly relieved. Even though there had been casualties from the flying arrows, the soldiers took it in stride, shouting their war cries. "Oara!" The shout echoed from Roman the previous night. That shout was for Oara. These were the people Oara had sworn to protect. The owner of the city she had devoted her beliefs to. If Oara fought for them, They too would fight for her. And fight for the city. After killing four monsters with his sword, Enkrid briefly looked forward. He was following his instincts. His intuition told him someone needed to look ahead. It was deep in the forest. There, a spider and another strange monster emerged. Between the gray trees of the magic boundary, the creature walked, stepping on the black soil. "Jericks, you really prepared well." [In case of any missunderstandings she refers to Jericks(her ex husband) as the monster who sends monsters from the demonic domain and keeps the demonic domain afloat] Oara said, as she blocked and parried the attacks from the Arachne and Owlbear with her sword, creating a brief opening. The two peculiar monsters stepped back for a moment, stopping. "Are you aiming for me?" Oara asked. The ghoul didn''t respond. And Oara smiled. Enkrid couldn''t grasp the full situation, but one thing was clear. They were outnumbered. Jericks, her ex-husband, the monster maintaining this magic boundary. The monster Oara most wanted to kill. If she killed him, the magic boundary would lose its power. The magic boundary was essentially a massive colony, they said. And yet, it had emerged. This was a fight for survival. When coincidences pile up, they become inevitable. Oara had torn through the magic boundary countless times. A monster capable of thinking. Double Crescent Moon. The number of monsters gathered. From the monster''s perspective, there was only one way to end this threat. Kill Oara. All these coincidences had led to this moment. Finally, Enkrid''s gaze fell on the ghoul. Blue skin, torn lips, a nose-less face with holes, black eyes with no pupils. Its arms hung limply, with claws growing about half an inch at the tips, and its skin looked unusually hard. It almost seemed like it was holding a sword. The ghoul''s posture caught Enkrid''s attention. Its gait was different, and its arms looked as if they could be used like blades. Even its claws seemed to be coated with poison, enough to contaminate a knight with just a touch. The claws were a dark color, unlike its skin, like soot stained on them. It absorbed the light of the Double Crescent Moon, dark as night. In the end, the ghoul''s posture looked like that of a swordsman. "The magic boundary makes monsters evolve." Luagarne spoke. Enkrid didn''t fully understand why, but after witnessing what happened right in front of him, he could guess what had occurred. A single ghoul who had been born from the magic boundary. It had observed humans, fought them, and barely survived. Oara had said she failed to kill Jericks three times. Each time, the creature had become stronger. Each time, it had become more cunning. And now, they had reached this point. ''Evolving monsters. '' Monsters that trained and hardened. The ghoul''s lips twisted upwards. It had even stolen Oara''s smile. Guuuuhhh! It burst into laughter. At least, that''s how it sounded to Enkrid. ------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work ;) Chapter 452 - Laugh and Die Chapter 452 - 452 - Laugh and Die Chapter 452 - Laugh and Die Thud. Enkrid drove Aker vertically into the oncoming spider''s head. The blade pierced through the monster''s skull and sank into the ground by about a palm''s length. As he stepped on the spider''s back and withdrew the sword, black blood flowed along the blade. ''A lot.'' In the distance, many spiders could be seen, continuously crawling out. But there weren''t too many nearby at the moment. The battlefield was more advantageous for deflecting than charging forward. His instincts told him so. Therefore, there was no need to be overly cautious. Enkrid''s gaze turned to where the monsters were gathering, in front of Oara. The spider swung its eight legs. Whoooosh! With the sound of the blade spinning, wind poured forward, and the spinning and movement of the blade formed a circular shield in front of Oara. It resembled a disk made from a sling. Instead of charging, the spider took measured steps, moving at walking speed. In sync with its pace, the shield made of blades advanced toward Oara. Watching this, Enkrid thought. ''What would I have done?'' This was a different type of combat from before. Should he thrust the sword in? He couldn''t do that. No, it would be more accurate to say he shouldn''t. ''No gaps visible.'' Relying on luck and thrusting blindly would not be an act of victory, but an act of giving up. The spider was far from over. The Owlbear started to move. It was a strange movement, silent and fading into the darkness. Even though the dark had settled, the red moon shone brightly enough for visibility. Still, the Owlbear''s large body seemed to blend into the darkness, becoming indistinct. It felt as though Jaxen had disappeared from sight. A blade hiding, waiting for an opening. Like a sneak stab. The ghoul gracefully emerged from behind the spider, walking as though to flank it. Its arms hung low, and the long claws at the end of its fingers could cause fatal damage with just a light swipe. Damn it. That was the honest feeling. Enkrid imagined switching places with Oara in his mind. He would die. It would be a wall. But still, what would he do if he were standing there? He could see Oara''s back. Her red cloak fluttered in the wind as the sword''s tip tilted slightly toward the sky. She held the sword with both hands. "This is fun." Then, Enkrid heard Oara''s whisper. He could only see her back, but he could almost guess the expression on her face. She was smiling. Brighter than the stolen smile of a ghoul, she was smiling like that. Oara was smiling. How does a knight earn a title? By proving oneself. The title is earned through action, through practice. "Everyone, pay close attention. I''ll show you what a knight''s battle is like." Oara''s voice spread at a suitable volume. Preparation to face a knight, traps, and special monsters. Everything was a threat. It could be called a crisis. "That''s too much for me too." Rem also spoke. To be exact, it was too much for now, but what was the point of talking about something she didn''t even possess at the moment? Her last words were only to herself. Oara spoke again, using her back and sword. Now, she told them to just watch and eat jerky. Enkrid did just that. Instead of chewing jerky, he swung his drawn sword. In the meantime, two spiders closed in and were decapitated by the sword. As he pulled the sword back with a slicing motion, Oara moved. In that instant, Enkrid missed her movement. When one becomes a knight, their reflexes and physical abilities are at a different level. They strike at angles that cannot be understood. They move with speeds that defy comprehension. Even if one tries to watch, it''s hard to see it clearly. Enkrid knew this from experience. He had already faced the strength of knights before. "If you try to see it as a point, you won''t see it." Enkrid remembered Luagarne''s words. He didn''t watch her movements but followed the flow. Only then did he vaguely catch sight of the fight. Oara''s sword fell on the spider''s barrier. The straight, clean sword strike met the barrier. Ting ting ting ting! The dim red moonlight poured through the dark and golden sparks pushed the shadows and moonlight aside. "My sword''s name is Laughter." This was what Oara had said during their sparring. A knight wields a weapon of engraving. An engraving weapon is one that imbues the knight''s will into it. It is forged by a master craftsman, rare metals, and the knight''s will. The combination of these three makes a weapon that is capable of something extraordinary, a weapon that carries the engraving of will. "My sword never breaks when I smile." Enkrid heard it just like that. The weapon becomes so imbued with will that it feels like part of the knight''s body. Her sword was like that. Among the golden sparks, white powder-like substance flew and mixed in. Her sword tore through the spider''s forearm and the barrier of blades it had made. Naturally, the sword, "Laughter," was unharmed. "Let''s see how long you can block it!" Oara''s shout echoed. The white powder was made of pieces from the spider''s blades. Oara''s laughter began to carve away at the spider''s arms, which had transformed into blades. Then, the Owlbear suddenly emerged behind her. From a distance, Enkrid did not miss it. But up close, what would it feel like? It would feel like facing Jaxen. A blade suddenly shooting up at him was his specialty. Instead of blades, the Owlbear swung a fist. Its feathered fist struck Oara''s back. No, at the moment it seemed to strike, Oara''s body smoothly bent. Her body fluttered like wind-blown cloth and shifted sideways. It was an astonishing level of reflexes. To Enkrid, it seemed like a perfectly coordinated movement. The Owlbear''s fist struck the air. There was a loud burst as the air was torn apart. The force of the punch could be felt through the deafening sound. It was a punch that split the air. At the same time, Oara''s face, feet, and hands came into view. A soft smile, stepping feet, a twisting wrist, and a bending blade. The blade was aimed at the Owlbear''s neck. The white light struck the monster''s neck. The Owlbear shrugged and pulled its neck inward. Feathers around its neck stood up and blocked Oara''s sword. Clang! The blade seemed ready to split the feathers and rip through its neck. Dark blood splattered. The feathers that had been cut from the blade shattered like metal pieces and bounced away. Then, the spider removed its barrier and approached quickly, swinging its eight legs. Two of its arms slammed down from above, and two others sliced diagonally. Two more aimed at the thighs, and the remaining two aimed at the feet. The eight blade-like arms did their job. Oara stopped cutting the Owlbear''s neck and drew her sword, showing eight afterimages. Her sword deflected each of the spider''s strikes. Enkrid felt his senses sharpen. His ears caught eight distinct sounds. Whack, thud, thwack, crack, sizzle, splat, thump! Concentration, sensory skill¡ªeverything was needed to watch this fight. Oara had struck and shattered five of the spider''s legs, cutting and breaking three others. It was impossible to see it all, but it was possible to deduce the process from the results. His head spun. ''She twisted her wrist, slashed, stabbed, and struck.'' Could all that be done just with the wrist''s movement? It was possible because she was a knight. By thrusting, twisting, and pulling her sword, she tore a spider''s leg apart, then swung her sword to cleave the second leg with force, and finally struck the last one, folding it in half. The spider''s broken legs flopped. How could she move like that? Enkrid didn''t know. He couldn''t understand it. But this was the place he wanted to reach, the path he wished to walk. Ragna, Shinar, the Mercenary King, and the Knight of Aspen. What would happen if those four gave their all? Oara was showing it now. A mere swordsman discussing omnipotence. That was a knight. "Ah." A gasp left my mouth as my attention was caught. It couldn''t be helped. "Are you crazy?" Rem tossed the comment from beside me. "There are too many monsters. Far too many." Luagarne said, feeling an ominous presence. If even a dull Frog like him felt this, then it was a serious situation. Dunbakel started trembling beside us. Still, Enkrid was staring at Oara, who was smiling. All of his senses, his gaze, were fixed on her. "Oara!" The soldiers shouted a battle cry. Oara responded to the cry. A ghoul had just stabbed toward her arm during the chaos of the battle. The speed and angle were enough to recognize it. ''A knight.'' The monster fought like a knight. Oara, holding a sword in her right hand, struck Owlbear''s fist, while swinging her left arm to block the ghoul''s claws. It was a stunt. She used the vambrace on her left arm to block the claws, twisting the angle. Ka-kak. A scratch appeared on the vambrace. In the meantime, the spider-like arm struck Oara''s torso. Oara endured. Thud. She cleverly twisted her body to absorb the shock, but she didn''t stop there. Owlbear''s fist, blocked by the sword, had already pierced the spider''s head. ''I missed it.'' This attack was completely unseen. The spider died. Owlbear once again hid in the darkness, while the ghoul alternated striking with both hands. Head, chest, abdomen, thighs. The target was clear. One strike, and it was over. Oara alternated using her sword and vambrace to block. Meanwhile, Owlbear swung its arm from behind. Whoosh! Even though she wasn''t standing there, it felt as though the wind was hitting her face. It was a horizontal swing, the range too wide. Rather than blocking, Oara jumped straight up and kicked Owlbear''s swinging arm with the soles of her feet, then soared high into the air. Twisting her body in midair, Oara swung her sword down from above. The bending blade looked like three separate strikes. It was a terrifying combination of power and speed. The ghoul moved both arms. It was a mirrored movement, as if copying Oara''s block with the vambrace. The battle continued with almost divine skill from both sides. Whoever won, it was anyone''s guess. And then... Crack. Thud. Oara''s sword split the ghoul''s head in half. It happened at the same time the ghoul''s claws stabbed into Oara''s side. "I won. You disgusting bastard." Oara said, her smile still intact. Her tattered red cloak fluttered in the wind. The half-sliced Owlbear''s hand, its face half severed, still clutched part of the torn cloak. The ghoul, Jericks, whose skull had been split vertically, collapsed to the ground with a thud. "Waaaaah!" Roman screamed in victory. "There are too many. Someone keeps sending them." Luagarne said, as spider monsters continued to pour out. "I think so too." Aishia entered, but it was still not resolved. Was it over now? At least they had bought some time to breathe. That''s how Enkrid judged it. Dunbakel flinched, feeling her entire body tense up. Why? She didn''t know. Fear sometimes pushes past even one''s instincts. Dunbakel was feeling it. She sensed it and spoke. "Something''s coming." Dunbakel''s gaze shifted to one side. Oara''s gaze also turned that way. Enkrid took a moment longer to look. Boom! It was in front of Oara, who had just slain three monsters. A beast covered in red muscle appeared. Two legs, two arms, bat-like wings, and a broken horn rising from its forehead. This creature was among the most special of monsters, often called a Demon on the continent. It was the sort of creature one might see in the Dark Realm. Dunbakel smelled sulfur. The monster, appearing as if it had risen from hell, charged toward Oara, immediately overwhelming her with its final strength. Having barely blocked the attack, Oara, with her left hand holding the blade and her right gripping the sword hilt, stopped its claws and spoke. "...Everyone run." Oara said. "Dammit, run." Rem also spoke. "Baalrog? No, just a piece of Baalrog." Luagarne recognized the creature. It dominated the surroundings the moment it appeared. The monster''s presence overwhelmed the entire battlefield. This was what pressure felt like. Every soldier''s feet froze. Snap. In the meantime, a soldier was killed by the spider''s leg. Some soldiers stood silent, mouths agape. Dunbakel was soaked in fear. As a beastwoman, her eyes could see the current situation more clearly than anyone else. She saw Oara''s arm trembling, and her heart shrank in terror at the overwhelming pressure from the monster. She needed to run, without looking back. Fear was breaking her mind. Without realizing it, Dunbakel dashed forward, striking at the new monster with her sickle. The monster, leaving its claws on Oara, struck Dunbakel''s head with an uppercut. Boom! Her skull shattered, and blood poured out. "Dunbakel!" Enkrid shouted. The Will of Rejection activated. His body moved. "I told you to run." Oara mumbled, pushing the claws that had been holding her away. A few exchanges took place, but the results were grim. Thud. Oara''s neck snapped as she was hit in the head. Was it from the ghoul''s stab to her side? No, it wasn''t that; she had already exhausted all her strength. She was poisoned, unable to fight for long. So the monster had set the stage and then struck when she was weak. It was a sinister one. A ruthless one. Enkrid understood this was a death sentence as he raised his sword. But his body still didn''t respond. It wasn''t just that. It was when he saw Oara die. "Let''s die with a smile!" Roman shouted. "Let''s die with a smile!" "Oara!" "Oara!" The battle cry with her name. This city was Oara''s city. The knight Oara defended this city. The pride surged. Before, when facing such a situation, those who rushed in knowing they would die would be called madmen, but here, only such madmen existed. The Baalrog fragment or whatever it was, was on the level of a knight. ''The three monsters are below that level.'' A clear power disparity. While the spider monsters kept attacking, arrows made of thread rained down from above. The arrows that had killed Milio. Enkrid exchanged five sword strikes with the Demon. Though it was almost divine in its swordsmanship and movement, eventually, a kick struck his side, and he was sent flying. Then he saw Roman die. He heard Rem, rolling on the ground, murmuring as he bled. "I should''ve gone earlier." One by one, starting with Dunbakel, they all died. Annihilation. The city Oara had wanted to protect was vanishing. Enkrid took it all in, his breathing slowly becoming more difficult as the surroundings darkened. He knew from how much had died. ''I took the wrong hit.'' The shock was so great that even the bandage armor couldn''t hold up. Broken ribs punctured his organs, tearing them apart. "Cough." He coughed up blood. He would die soon. Just before his eyes closed, Enkrid saw the monster called the Baalrog fragment slay the remaining soldiers. With a single blow from its club, two to three soldiers died. It wielded Roman''s weapon, the one it had killed him with. Boom! Thud! Things exploded, shattered, and flew. "Argh!" "Let''s die with a smile!" A soldier, just before dying, cried out in a shout. He was familiar, though his name escaped him. Everything Oara had wanted to protect was collapsing. Enkrid closed his eyes. A short but long tunnel of darkness passed. Surge. The boat swayed with the movement of the waves. When he opened his eyes again, a violet lamp came into view. "This wall will be much to your liking." The boatman said cheerfully. Without time to respond, Enkrid closed his eyes again and opened them once more. Screeeech! Now he recognized the scream as the spider monster''s repeating cry. He woke up before midnight, but the day hadn''t started yet. The day started after waking up. So, this day was very short. ------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work ;) Chapter 453 - Crazy Bastard Chapter 453 - 453 - Crazy Bastard Chapter 453 - Crazy Bastard Does the brevity of today change anything? No. The task was clear: stop the threat approaching the city. Enkrid moved immediately. Repeated actions inevitably lead to mastery, and even if today''s repetition was unnecessary, his hands were already adept at preparing his gear. "Is waking people with screams a local custom?" Rem had woken up. "It''s a monster. Probably a wave," Enkrid replied calmly as he stepped outside. The others would follow on their own. Passing through the soldiers, he made his way back to the city walls. Instead of climbing up to where Oara was stationed, he waited briefly in front of the gate. "Let me out!" A man from Rowena''s group appeared, shouting. Enkrid smacked the back of his head. Thwack! "...Huh? What are you doing?" Milio looked at him in surprise. "If he goes out, he''ll die." More precisely, anyone going to support that fool, including Milio, would die. "Well, that''s true," Milio admitted. "A commander must keep a cool head," Enkrid said, feigning indifference. But inside, it wasn''t so. You can''t die like that. The memory of Knight Oara''s end haunted him. It was devoid of grandeur, without any nobility. Her death wasn''t tied to the previous battles. She had died without even mounting a proper resistance. The city was meant to be defended, yet it wasn''t. It was a meaningless death. Should he let that happen? No. He didn''t want to. He couldn''t allow it. Enkrid set a goal. The Ferryman, observing him, chuckled. Even if one tried to change everything, some things would never change. The Ferryman foresaw this tearing Enkrid apart. And yet, there was a flicker of expectation. What will he do? What would that madman gain from repeating today? What would change? The unknown was delightful, and it made the Ferryman laugh. Watching someone struggle to change their fate only to remain trapped in the day was entertainment in itself. "Oa!" A battle cry echoed. Enkrid surged forward. He braced against incoming arrows and stepped outside the gate even before the hostage emerged. He didn''t stop there, striding boldly into the darkness beyond. "Are you planning to go crazy here?" Rem followed after him. "And what are you doing tagging along?" "Think of me as a caregiver for a lunatic." "Since you''re at it, do it properly." Enkrid''s gaze darted around, scanning for anything unusual. Rem found this leader fascinating at times, as though he foresaw the future. Did he trade talent for instinct? He mused silently, refraining from asking aloud¡ªany such question would be met with bizarre answers. "I die and repeat the day." That sort of nonsense. Who would believe such a claim? Enkrid quickly located a spear and a glowing stone pinned beneath a spider monster''s abdomen. The monsters were lying in ambush, ready to strike. "Rem." Enkrid needed only to call out for Rem to understand his intent. The two moved instantly, splitting the monster''s head. They rescued the hostage. Enkrid noted it took less time than yesterday. But the result was unchanged. "Where''s Knight Oara?" Returning to the gate, they found Aishia and asked. "She went into the domain after spotting two strange beasts." It was too late. The ripple effect of their actions had altered the situation. Enkrid tried to rush into the domain but was again too late. Thwip-thwip-thwip! Arrows rained, and the swarm of spiders began its assault. The spiders, the size of grown men, surged forward. "Rem, Dunbakel, we''re breaking through!" "Is that necessary?" Luagarne questioned but was ignored. Enkrid carved a path toward the labyrinth¡ªspecifically, where Oara had gone. It would take time. But he had to push through. Without a word of complaint, everyone followed his orders. "Glad I sharpened my axe," Rem said, letting his arms dangle loosely before launching into action. In his hands was a Lewis steel axe. With his technique, Feathered Axe, Rem dashed forward, his weapon cutting indiscriminately through the swarm. Any spider caught in its trajectory became a corpse. As black, viscous blood spattered, Luagarne advanced, wielding a whip in her right hand and a loop sword in her left. "Don''t block me," she said, lashing and slashing at the enemies. Dunbakel drew two curved blades, and Enkrid followed suit with Aker and Flint, cutting, stabbing, and smashing his way forward. They reached the inner labyrinth. "Roman!" A faint cry echoed. The dense forest muffled the sound, preventing it from spreading further. Upon entering the labyrinth, an unpleasant sensation hit, but Enkrid ignored it. He saw a spider''s three legs piercing through Roman''s abdomen. Blood soaked the stakes extending from the creature''s back. But the spider wasn''t unharmed. Its head was crushed by Roman''s club-like greatsword. "Shit. Couldn''t do it alone," Roman muttered. "Where''s Knight Oara?" Enkrid asked, turning his gaze. The cry had come from a junior knight with short blonde hair, who clutched her stomach, panting heavily. Looking around, he saw the corpses of owl bears. Weren''t there supposed to be just one? Instead, there were three. Though not knight-level threats, they had clearly been a deadly ordeal. The bloody battlefield told the story. They''d fought desperately and won. But there were no ghouls. Nor was there any sign of the fragment of Balrog. "How did you know to come?" The blonde knight asked. Her pale complexion hinted at her dire state. Blood poured from her grasped stomach, and even immediate first aid wouldn''t guarantee survival. "It''s my fault the master couldn''t fight properly," she said flatly, though a shadow of sadness lingered. "That''s nonsense, you fool," Roman replied with a grin. Her gaze remained fixed on him. After those words, Roman blinked slowly, death hovering over him. "Did the monsters lay a trap?" Luagarne muttered. She was right. If they entered further, it would lead to this. Enkrid absorbed the situation and moved. As he stepped deeper inside, Rem questioned, "Are you heading to your death?" The intent to dissuade him was clear. "Anyone can see this is too much," Dunbakel murmured. Enkrid turned to them. "Even if this is my end," he said, "I''ll go forward." There was no intention to persuade. Only sincerity. Knight Oara shouldn''t die here. She couldn''t die like this. Knowing that, he couldn''t let her go alone. "If I must move forward, I will." Enkrid finished speaking. "Who''s stopping you?" Rem smirked. "Talk about the pot calling the kettle black," Enkrid retorted. Rem, at times, seemed oblivious to his own state. "It''s my place to say. Now hurry up." As they advanced, Enkrid spotted a Beelrog fragment¡ªor so it seemed. "Beelrog? No, a fragment," Luarne echoed. "A fragment?" Enkrid asked, having the time to probe further. "In demonic domains, there are monsters treated as war-crazed demon gods. One wields a flaming sword in his right hand and an unbreakable whip in his left," she explained. "You sound like you''ve seen it." "My fighting style was inspired by it." That meant she had firsthand experience. "I heard it sometimes splits its soul to create things like this." Enkrid nodded slightly and turned his attention forward. Even looking at the red, muscular figure made his shoulders ache. The oppressive weight bore down on him. Was the fragment equivalent to a knight? Oara''s corpse came into view, alongside a ghoul with its head split. A creature dubbed Jericks. Death loomed once again. Yet, should he do nothing? Enkrid gripped his sword tightly, raising Aker. "Can you speak? Your father''s Balrog, right? Is your mother a ghoul?" Enkrid taunted, though naturally, the monster did not respond. Rem, staying close, muttered about his bad luck, claiming he came to ward off misfortune but encountered it instead. Dunbakel succumbed to fear again. This time, rather than confronting it, she fled. Luagarne, however, remained indifferent to her own life. Instead, she left behind a single remark: "I regret that I won''t see you become a knight." *** "I was planning to stab my ex-husband''s face and leave. But seriously, how many lovers do you have?" Even on this new day, Sir Oara''s jokes persisted. This was as she noticed a group of trolls blocking the way. "You''ll die if you go alone," she was warned as she prepared to enter the Demonis Domain. But Oara shook her head. "If I retreat now, there won''t be another chance." As soon as her words ended, five trolls lurking in the darkness of the Demon Domain began creeping toward them. Those creatures were the commanders of the monsters. "Leave them to me," Oara said with a smile, a bright grin lighting her face. *** In this fresh new day, she spoke again. "So, your dream is to become a knight? Back then, I asked you to define the boundaries of what you''d protect as a knight. And I told you what I would protect, didn''t I? If I want to protect the city, what should I do?" The answer required no second thought. "Destroy the Demon Domain." "Exactly. And so, my dream is to kill Jericks." She had named her ex-husband after a ghoul, determined to destroy him. Oara''s purpose was clear: she was poisoned and living on borrowed time. Her life''s candle had melted to its final inch. Her one remaining desire was to kill the central monster sustaining the Demon Domain. To slice apart the knight-level monsters that equaled her own strength. But she didn''t know that Jericks wasn''t the core. "Any chance of victory?" Luagarne asked. "Once I engage, I won''t lose," Oara replied with a grin. She knew the truth: she wouldn''t lose. The problem lay with the ghoul-level monster or, worse, something even deadlier appearing. ''What if we had another knight-level warrior?'' It would simplify things. Oara already knew what she needed: a knight. Clearing the Demon Domain was a task requiring such power. If they could do it without massive losses, her wish could come true. But if that wasn''t possible? "Even if I die, I''ll kill the bastard." That was Knight Oara''s dream. Enkrid had seen the end of that dream countless times. The Demon Domain didn''t end. Soldiers died. Roman died. The city fell. The wave couldn''t be stopped. The Demon Domain had prepared. Humanity hadn''t. This time was no different. As the fragment of the Beelrog approached the exhausted, injured Oara, Jericks lay sprawled lifelessly nearby. ''Does that bastard even know he was named after her ex?'' "Damn, that''s a monster," Rem muttered as soon as he saw it. Enkrid couldn''t help but wonder about the Beelrog''s main body¡ªwhat it was like compared to the fragment. But curiosity wouldn''t help here. Right now, all that mattered was dealing with the immediate threat. To once again face this new day. To encounter the ghoul again. *** "Have you been eating properly?" Enkrid asked out of nowhere. "My ex-husband," Oara interjected with a laugh, "would you let me settle my grudge with him?" The monsters had evolved, prepared now to face knights. The ghoul raised a sword, mimicking Oara''s stolen smile. Groooowl. The sound felt like an oppressive force. Still, the monster would die. Oara''s sword would cut, tear, and slice through it. Then, she would die again. She could flee. She had that option. If she chose to escape before the Beelrog''s shard could strike, it wouldn''t pursue her. In fact, Dunbakel had once fled in terror, and the shard hadn''t followed. But no one questioned Oara''s resolve. Enkrid understood her. "Roman, wait for me. That one is mine," Oara declared, slaying the ghoul. She had once managed to fight the Beelrog shard to a standstill. But not while weary and injured. Enkrid assessed the situation, reflecting on the day, fighting, and enduring. What was needed now? On some occasions, he had pushed back the monsters, including ghouls. Even mobilized Aishia to hold the line. There had been days when Oara survived by a narrow margin, only to faint as dawn broke. It was a recurring pattern. *** "What''s the plan?" Enkrid finally asked the Ferryman after 121 repeated days. The Ferryman, his eyes burning like twin blue flames of madness, replied with a smirk. "You''re a crazy bastard." The eyes of someone who still dared to hope amidst despair naturally evoked such words. ------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work ;) Chapter 454 - Knight’s Oath Chapter 454 - 454 - Knight''s Oath Chapter 454 - Knight''s Oath "Give up." The ferryman spoke, his tone devoid of effort. Whether his advice was sound or not seemed irrelevant to him. "Does today burden you? A different tomorrow awaits. Go there and settle. That is all you need to do." It was an attempt at persuasion, yet even the ferryman himself lacked conviction in his words. He knew they wouldn''t work; thus, his delivery held no sincerity. It was as though he was saying it because he felt he had to, not because he believed it would have any effect. But sincerity was unnecessary. The madman standing before him was untouched by despair or defeat, his gaze fixed only on the future. When told to remain trapped in today, Enkrid instead looked only at tomorrow. "Do as you wish. What can you possibly achieve? I sought to bless a mortal with freedom from death, yet you repeat only foolish acts. Abandon suffering and immerse yourself in joy. That is your path." Still, the ferryman said what needed to be said. That was his role. Just as Enkrid fulfilled his own. "See you next time." A parting. A clear declaration that he would not leave. It almost sounded like a demand to be sent away quickly. Within the ferryman''s antiquated demeanor, another self briefly surfaced. Unconsciously, his grip on the oar tightened. The urge to smash Enkrid''s head with the lamp and then bludgeon him with the oar flared¡ªbut the antiquated self suppressed it. "Struggle in pain once more." Instead, he pressed his lips firmly together and spoke. "Thank you for the encouragement." With those parting words, Enkrid turned to face a new tomorrow. A shriek pierced the air, a sound that could only come from a screaming spider. It shattered the silence of the night, marking the start of today¡ªthe hours between midnight and dawn. "Good morning." Enkrid greeted the day cheerfully, flexing his abs as he sprang upright from the bed and stepped off. He had turned the living area into an impromptu barracks, likely out of habit from his days as a soldier. It was more comfortable this way. After all, what could be better than having a training ground just beyond the door? "What''s so good about it? Care to explain?" Rem voiced his irritation. "Every day is a good day when you wake up." Though it was still dark outside, and their awakening had been prompted by a scream, Enkrid insisted as he began preparing his gear. As he moved, he mentally reviewed his plans¡ªrecapping, organizing. Reflection wasn''t just for battle. Repeating the rhythm of the day helped prepare him for what lay ahead, encompassing everything from his mindset to his objectives. Sir Oara had vowed to protect her homeland. That was her dream, her goal, her knightly creed. It was her responsibility and duty¡ªa solemn oath. Through the repetition of today, Enkrid had come to understand Oara''s vow. She would face anything without fear, greeting even death with a smile. That was her oath. That was why she always smiled. If she lost that smile, her sword would lose its strength. What would it take to ensure that never happened? To end the repetition of today, he had to protect the city. And to do that, he had to safeguard her smile¡ªher dream. "A smile means you never lose." That was Oara''s belief. She intended to lose to no one. ''If her condition is fine, she might just pull it off.'' Nothing was certain, but there was no harm in trying. He would do as always and see it through. Enkrid assessed the situation, categorizing and prioritizing what needed to be done through instinct. He briefly missed Krais, but his absence was not a hindrance. After all, he could manage without. "Let''s go." Fully armed, Enkrid spoke with determination. The resolve to advance, to fight, to protect¡ªit came naturally to him. Enkrid wants to become a knight to protect those behind him. This was no different. Just because Oara was a knight, or better at fighting than him, didn''t mean she wasn''t someone to protect. That wasn''t how he saw it. Enkrid was arrogant in such matters. He would protect her, as he respected her desires. "Run, all of you." Oara had once told them to flee, claiming she couldn''t protect them. Yet she had held her ground, biting down on the arm of the creature¡ªa fragment of Beelrog¡ªand fought back. Even after losing her smile, with fists and feet, she had continued battling monsters. At the very least, he would ensure she could fight without holding back. Enkrid made this his new goal. "Think you can manage that?" It was as if the ferryman''s words lingered. Though not actually spoken, they echoed with the same meaning. It didn''t matter. Permission wasn''t needed. It never had been. He hadn''t sought the ferryman''s advice so much as used the conversation to organize his thoughts. Now, his plan was clear. Enkrid stepped outside, merging into the cacophony of the city. "Rem." "What?" "Do you think you could fight like a knight for a short time?" Rem stared at the madman''s eyes. As always, they were disturbingly earnest. Sometimes, Enkrid''s madness burned brightly, and this was one of those times. Whatever he had decided, it was undoubtedly insane. "Do you think it''s possible?" Knowing the answer, he still asked, those blue flames in his eyes blazing brighter. "You know, being a knight means...." "It''s about Will," interjected a passing officer. Enkrid nodded, acknowledging the explanation. He quickened his pace, walking ahead of the unit. "Will is a force of resolve. I can use it, too," Rem admitted. "But it''s not my specialty. Even if I tried, the truth is, some things just can''t be done." Enkrid shifted his gaze. The next target of his burning determination was the Frog. "Lua." "No." Luagarne''s answer was curt. To her, Enkrid showed no sign of impatience. "Why ask?" "Just because." Enkrid''s reply was simple. His intent didn''t need to be explained. To ensure Oara could fight as she wanted, he had to be able to hold his own¡ªeven just once, even for a moment. Could a single strike turn the tide of battle? "Let''s run." With that, Enkrid took off. Repetition had taught him much. "Roman!" At the gate, Enkrid called out to a junior knight wielding a massive greatsword like a club. "...What?" Roman turned, having just crushed the skull of a spider-like beast with the pommel of his sword and kicked its lifeless body aside. Black ichor pooled at his feet, staining his clothes and face. Roman''s grim expression matched his battle-worn appearance, but Enkrid saw hope in him. "That strike you did¡ªhow do you do it?" Roman blinked a few times, processing the absurdity of the question. Then, finally understanding, he asked with disbelief: "Is that really what you want to know right now?" Roman questioned with his mouth and his eyes. "Are you seriously out of your mind?" Enkrid nodded. "Yes, I want to know." "Master, I think this guy''s lost it," Roman exclaimed, raising his voice. From atop the wall, Oara burst out laughing. "Just tell him already." "Why should I reveal my secrets?!" In the meantime, Enkrid thrust Spark into the incoming spider beast. Extending his left foot forward, the blade flashed like lightning. In an instant, it pierced the spider''s head and withdrew. By now, Enkrid had memorized their patterns through repeated battles. These creatures liked to surround the few with many. Before it got to that point, there were a few core ones to eliminate. Enkrid punctured one''s head and threw his remaining Whistle Daggers, all three of them. Today''s repetitions brought mastery of technique. This was no exception. Enkrid wasted no time. He used battles against these beasts as both training and survival. His strikes grew sharper, as one of his knives pierced through another spider beast''s head. Following this, he hurled a spear, disrupting the charging monsters'' rhythm. The creatures, usually bothersome and strategic, began rushing head-on like mindless fools. "Hah!" A short-haired woman wielded a relatively slender, long spear and began thrusting. The shaft bent like a whip, multiplying its blade into dozens as it pierced through the spiders'' torsos and heads indiscriminately. A silent scream echoed as black blood dripped from the grotesque, metallic-jawed mouths of the creatures. The poison-coated spear tips had done their job. Enkrid''s eyes focused on her spear and technique. "A technique effective against multiple foes," he thought. She was a semi-knight, displaying overwhelming strength against weaker enemies. It was nothing new to him, so he observed briefly and moved on. "Seems like we have some breathing room now," Enkrid said after clearing a cluster of spiders. "You really want me to spill everything, huh?" Roman grumbled. "Do you hate the idea?" "You''re seriously insane," Roman retorted, shaking his head in disbelief. "Come on, just share it." Enkrid was relentless. Given time, he would have asked once or twice a day. But this situation was different. His desire to learn and master something wasn''t just personal¡ªit was a way to assist Oara in the fight. There was no better solution, so he persisted. "Teach me." He asked as he killed more spiders. "Someone take this guy away," Roman snapped. "He''s not the type to leave just because you tell him to," Rem chuckled, splitting a spider''s head with his blade. It had been a while since Enkrid had acted so recklessly. Jaxen once relented after repeating the second day in the infirmary, teaching Enkrid a sensory technique. He had done so knowing Enkrid wouldn''t give up. This man was relentless, obsessive, and utterly mad. "Get lost, will you?" Roman shouted again, this time looking like he might swing his weapon at Enkrid instead of the spiders. But Enkrid was unmoved, standing firm like an unyielding rock. He was persistence incarnate¡ªunyielding, immovable, and determined. "Pahahaha!" Oara clutched her stomach, laughing, while Rem joined in, cackling as he cleaved through spider heads. Even Dunbakel felt a strange sense of relief watching Enkrid''s madness unfold. This lunatic was willing to go to absurd lengths to learn a single technique, whether it was Wave or something else. Indeed, he was a madman. After resisting twelve times, Roman finally gave up with a sigh of defeat. "You crazy bastard, do you think you''ll even understand it?" "Probably not." Why was he agreeing so easily? Roman felt exasperated. Oara, who was still rolling around on the wall, laughing until tears streamed down her face, looked like she might die from amusement. Meanwhile, Rem seemed satisfied. The soldiers, archers on the wall, and everyone else nearby had come to a shared understanding: Enkrid was on a different level of insanity. "So, you want me to explain it?" Roman grumbled. "Just let me hear it," Enkrid said. "Do I look like I''m responsible for you?" "Nope." "Stop admitting things so easily!" Roman exploded before launching into his explanation. "Listen, a knight''s swordsmanship is fundamentally infused with Will." Enkrid nodded. He already knew that much. Roman continued, explaining why he couldn''t block Oara''s sword. He had once asked her directly, and her answer had been, "I wove my Will." It was an abstract reply, but whether it was luck or hard-earned insight, Roman didn''t know. He had found a direction and followed it. "From fingertip to toe, every movement in my swing carried Will." It wasn''t an easy explanation. "Don''t we already do that?" Enkrid asked, frowning. He also infused Will into his strikes, accelerating his thrusts or unleashing a thunderous blow he once dubbed the "Giant''s Strength." Roman smashed an incoming spider''s head with his fist, the skull cracking with a loud "thud." He wasn''t a semi-knight for nothing. This marked the arrival of more prepared monsters from the labyrinth. Five trolls, a bipedal spider, and two owl bears emerged. Though the situation seemed tense, the looming crisis felt much less threatening. Oddly enough, Enkrid''s relentless efforts to learn had boosted the morale of the group. Even the monsters'' attacks seemed to falter in timing. Oara descended from the wall, wiping her tear-streaked face with her fingers. "Haah, I almost died laughing." The Knight of Laughter was the last person who should be saying that. "Got anything else to share?" Enkrid persisted. Even amidst the changing atmosphere, Roman clicked his tongue and relented. "Do you use Will even when picking up a fork? How about when drawing your sword or positioning yourself?" Roman''s point was simple: Master control over every single motion, down to the smallest muscle movement. Why? All for a single, perfect strike. Enkrid finally understood. For the next hundred and sixty-two iterations of today, Enkrid practiced Roman''s teaching. It wasn''t easy¡ªit felt overwhelming. Even after understanding it in his mind, his body wouldn''t respond as he wanted. This was the beginning. In the midst of darkness, when one finds a sliver of light, they call it hope. But Enkrid, who had never let go of anything in his life, didn''t need hope. He held onto the fire Roman''s insight ignited within him. What was he doing now? Mimicry. Just as he had once mimicked Ragna''s sword, he was now imitating a knight''s technique. But could he perfectly replicate a knight''s swordsmanship? The answer was no. Why? Because every knight''s path is unique. Each knight''s sword was different, shaped by their own journey. This truth, imparted to him by the knights of Aspen, by Ragna, the Mercenary King, and Shinar, guided him forward. Thus began his journey to find his own path. Enkrid delved into the study of a knight''s strike. It would take him a hundred and sixty-two more iterations of today before he truly reached the realm of understanding¡ªnot just intellectually but physically. "To embed Will into every motion, even a twitch of a finger or a shift in a toe¡ªthat''s it, isn''t it?" As he asked this, Roman''s eyes widened in today''s new iteration. "You''re a genius, huh?" Roman misunderstood, but Enkrid didn''t bother correcting him. It was time to put his newfound understanding into action. ------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work ;) Chapter 455 - Earning Trust Through Action Chapter 455 - 455 - Earning Trust Through Action Chapter 455 - Earning Trust Through Action A knight''s strike. That was all Enkrid desired. What must he do to achieve it? Uncertain, he sought answers. "Moving Will? I mean, isn''t it just something you do?" That was Rem''s response. Enkrid came to a fresh realization that the insane bastard who had a penchant for cutting off nobles'' heads was, in fact, a genius. "Oh, so Will can be used that way, huh?" Luagarne, adopting the role of a scholar, began her own research. Her insights proved invaluable later on. "What about breaking it down step by step?" Dissect the movements. Infuse Will into every motion of drawing and thrusting the sword. Approach even the preparation phase differently, she suggested. Enkrid reframed his questions and sought advice. He kept asking Roman as well. One day, even while staying by Oara''s side, he asked. "What kind of answer am I supposed to give when it just... works?" Oara''s answer was much like Rem''s. Ragna would likely say the same, as would Audin. Jaxen wouldn''t be much different either. "Just do it." Ragna would respond while swinging his sword. "Just pray; it''ll work." Audin would declare. "You''ll feel it through instinct." Jaxen might say something like that. It felt as though he was hearing advice from afar, as though they were back in Border Guard. Prayer might not be the solution, but meditation could be. Swinging recklessly wouldn''t suffice, but neither should naturalness be neglected. Could sensitive senses allow one to feel Will? Not exactly, but they could reveal how a movement differs from the ordinary. When a student surpasses their teachers, such feats become possible. For the first time in his life, Enkrid experienced the process of hearing one thing and understanding two. Anyone aware of his humble beginnings would be astounded, though for now, no one knew. Not even Rem, who observed from nearby, could fully grasp it. Upper horizontal slash, side glance cut, overhead slash, counterstrike, half-sword fighting, parrying, deflecting, chained strikes, weaving, drawing and slicing. He reviewed his techniques and pulled one to the forefront. "Thrust." He decided to follow where his instincts led. Enkrid focused entirely on the act of thrusting the sword. He gripped Spark and struck forward. The lessons he had gained through repetition and today''s insights into Will coalesced in that motion. "Should I separate it?" No, it must remain unified. "From the toes." Stepping forward and thrusting the sword¡ªjust that. What would it take to render such a move unstoppable? "Speed and power." These were realms beyond imitation. Refinement of speed¡ªa focus on precision and swiftness. He repeated it. Time passed. He poured his days into it. The sands of his personal hourglass trickled away. Ordinarily, such effort might have driven him to madness, left him a broken shell. These were hours fit for despair and lamentation. Moments to curse the trials he faced and cry out for respite. Times to blame the gods or the unknown parents who bore him. Instead, he spent every second on training, ignoring even the screams of Oara. "You seem to delight in their deaths." The Ferryman mocked him. He ignored it. Soldiers perished. Milio fell. Rowena was lost. "Are you enjoying yourself?" The Ferryman pressed. Enkrid gave no answer, thinking only of his sword. "You''ll never surpass this wall." The Ferryman declared with certainty. Enkrid didn''t hear it, nor did he care to. "You''ll regret this, pounding the ground in frustration. Some things never change." Even as the Ferryman''s words grew laden with concern, Enkrid dismissed them. "You''ve got too many scattered techniques." Oara''s advice was clear: consolidate. Enkrid''s body naturally combined everything into one. Was this the path to knighthood? Or was it the wrong road? Perhaps merely a desperate struggle? A waste of time? Doubt could have consumed him, yet Enkrid walked forward, undeterred. And so came today. A piercing scream broke the silence. Enkrid, without so much as wiping the sleep from his eyes, told Rem to follow him and grabbed his sword. "Block this." Without warning, he lunged. Rem reflexively moved his axe. He saw the point surpassing speed and barely managed to intercept it. Clang! The sword''s tip met the axe''s surface and rebounded. "Damn it, were you trying to put a hole in my axe?" Had Enkrid gone all out, the axe might have cracked. He clenched and unclenched his hand several times. Was this a move he could only perform once? Even with a body hardened through isolation techniques, his ankle, waist, and shoulder all ached from that single thrust. His muscles screamed, but he didn''t care. "Let''s go." Enkrid headed for the battlefield. In his mind, the day''s practice replayed endlessly. It was just the beginning. "Dunbakel." The beast-woman approached, looking unusually uneasy. Her face was grimy, unwashed, and reeked of sweat. Enkrid whispered. "Did I ever tell you?" "...Tell me what?" Startled by his sudden friendliness, Dunbakel grew wary. Her instincts as a beastkin screamed that this man was up to something. "I trust you." "..." A dog''s bark broke the silence, and Dunbakel blinked. "You''re the prettiest beast-woman I''ve ever seen." Enkrid could count the number of beast-women he''d encountered on one hand. Dunbakel was the only one he''d truly looked at closely. Still, it was an out-of-the-blue remark. "What?" "You''re strong." "Rem, is he feeling alright?" "I''ve always thought your potential surpasses mine." This was the truth. Enkrid was acutely aware of his own meager talent. "No fever." Dunbakel brushed her hand against his forehead. "So, it''s fine to run away." There''s a saying that flattery can make even a dragon dance. Even self-centered beastkin aren''t immune to kind words. Enkrid didn''t want to see Dunbakel reduced to a terrified kitten. "Run if you must, but fight until then. Do what you can." Dunbakel froze. Did he understand what he was asking? All she wanted was to survive, and that desire weighed heavily on her. "Is mere survival enough?" Beastkin are creatures of survival, but Dunbakel was more so. She could do anything to live. Yet deep down, she knew survival alone wasn''t enough. "What do I want to become beyond surviving?" Enkrid''s words brought her to a halt. As others moved forward, she stood lost in thought. Not for long. Before the others had taken three steps, she had reached her decision. "Why am I here?" She threw a stone of inquiry into the lake of her being. The ripples formed and spread. Before they subsided, clarity emerged¡ªa revelation. "Proof." She wanted to prove she wasn''t a failure born of beastkin, that she could live well without her parents'' love. She had always denied herself, and perhaps that''s why she envied Enkrid, who strode forward resolutely. Not that his journey was easy. "Ah." With a small exclamation, Dunbakel moved again. She had decided on her task. The fear that had gripped her lightened, even if only a little. A single spark of resolve couldn''t overcome everything, but a guiding star could illuminate the path. As Enkrid strode ahead, Dunbakel, too, saw where her steps would lead. "Rowena is..." "If you''re going to save her, come along." Enkrid cut through the commotion at the gates. "...Pardon?" Rowena''s lover stared at Enkrid, momentarily dumbfounded. But as realization dawned, the soldier moved. "You''re coming with me?" "Your name?" Until now, Enkrid hadn''t known this soldier''s name. "Admor here." "Alright, let''s go." Enkrid knew he had to make his intent resonate with everyone. It reminded him of the time he persuaded Andrew back during his squad leader days in the Tall grass Fields. Back then, he had started by proving his skills. Now, that wasn''t necessary. "Aishia!" At his shout, Aishia emerged from one side, draped in her cloak and armor. The knights'' cloaks were said to be flame-resistant and enchanted to retain body heat when wrapped tightly. They also provided protection against simple spells, a symbol of the order itself. It wasn''t cumbersome attire but practical and efficient. "What?" "Have I ever mentioned this?" Speaking just loud enough for everyone to hear, Enkrid felt the soldiers'' gazes converge on him. Not just them¡ªOara and the group of junior knights and squires at the forefront were also listening. "...Mentioned what?" Aishia found his behavior peculiar. This was a man prone to eccentricities, and now he was deliberately drawing attention. Enkrid noticed her reaction but ignored it. There was no time to address every detail. "That I was once a famous monster hunter." That was a lie. He had been a monster hunter, yes, but never a famous one. "Is that so?" "I''ve got a feeling." "What kind of feeling?" "There''s a snake coiled deep inside there." Aishia turned her gaze to where Enkrid indicated. It was true that the sinister air of the labyrinth was palpable, prickling her skin, but she couldn''t sense anything specific. "What are you talking about?" From atop the wall, Oara asked. "The air has changed. One of my beastkin underlings even caught a scent. It''s not just the screaming spiders¡ªthere''s a stench of conspiracy coming from deeper inside the labyrinth." "Me?" From the side, Dunbakel pointed to herself with a finger. Rem slyly nudged her forward and said, "Shut up and watch." It seemed their captain had a plan brewing. What it was, no one could tell. "Probably something amusing," Rem thought. Enkrid was not the type to act recklessly without reason. Rem had faith in that. "Rem, Dunbakel, head out quickly." Enkrid looked at Rem as he spoke. "And where exactly am I going?" "Over there." Enkrid pointed deeper into the labyrinth. Admor, who had come out to rescue Rowena, fidgeted nervously, unsure what to do. "Into the labyrinth?" "Afraid?" "Is that supposed to be provocation?" "No, just asking." "Damn it, I don''t know what''s there, but fine. I''ll go." "Be quick and come back safely." Enkrid''s instruction left no room for objection. Rem could have questioned him. For example: "You''re sending me into the unknown without any idea of what''s in there. What are you thinking?" It was a frustrating order. And Enkrid might have responded with, "Just go and find out." Or perhaps, "Call it instinct." Enkrid had no specific answers prepared. "Fine." Rem nodded, accepting. Enkrid then told Admor to follow Rem. "Look for traces. You''ll find what you''re trying to save." With no other choice, Admor hurriedly trailed after Rem. As Rem departed, Enkrid''s gaze lingered on his back. In the past, during his wandering days across the continent, no one would have heeded his words. Back when he led a rowdy squad, he had relied on force in similar situations. It reminded him of Andrew¡ªtimes when brute strength was necessary to earn compliance. But now? All he had to do was trade trust for action. Enkrid had spent enough time with Rem to know how he would react. "Let''s go, Aishia." "And where am I going?" Eysia, standing nearby, was utterly perplexed. "Lead the squires into battle." Enkrid''s tone was firm. "Now? Me? Out there?" "Aishia of the Red Cloak Knights, will you stand idly by while the Thousand Stone fall into danger? Do you intend to keep wearing that red cloak after doing so?" At the sudden rebuke, Aishia glared daggers at him. "Are you picking a fight?" "No, cheering you on." In the end, she relented. Aishia couldn''t refuse the words of the man who had given her so much. He was the one who had enabled her to wear the red cloak to begin with. During the civil war, she had incurred debts she felt she could never repay¡ªmassive debts. For that reason alone, she had no excuse not to listen to him now. Enkrid killed six spider monsters that had been rampaging in front of four squires before stomping on the ground with his foot. The heavy thud drew everyone''s attention, including Roman and Oara. "No one surpasses me in hunting monsters. From now on, I''ll lead the frontlines." "...Did the drink you had earlier go bad?" Roman muttered under his breath. Enkrid ignored him. He had used trust to buy action, but now it was time to use action to earn trust. "Burrow spiders. On the ground." The countless repetitions of today allowed Enkrid to stay ahead of the game. By acting within predictable patterns, he could anticipate the enemy''s moves. Rumble. The dirt floor shook before a spider''s head burst through. "Oliver, hit it!" It didn''t matter whose order it was. Oliver reflexively slammed his mace down. Crack! The spider''s head burst, spraying black ichor. "Roman, under your feet." Before Enkrid''s words even finished, dust began to stir beneath Roman''s feet. Whether from the sky or underground, no one here would fall victim to a sudden attack. Naturally, smashing in the heads of spiders that emerged cluelessly into the open was no challenge. Crunch! Roman''s greatsword crashed down, splitting another spider''s skull. Following Enkrid''s predictions, spiders emerged, their formations pressing forward as reinforcements arrived. The rear gate began to creak open. "Close the gate! Hold the line with those stationed at the front! Archers, aim only beyond us!" Enkrid''s voice was calm at first, but it rose to a commanding shout by the end. This uncharacteristic intensity drew even Oara''s attention. From her vantage point on the wall, she nodded with interest. It was evident even at a glance. His words and gestures carried conviction. If things went awry, she could intervene later. For now, his judgment didn''t seem flawed. Enkrid moved as planned. He bought action with trust. And earned trust through action. What came next? It was time to fight like hell. ------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work ;) Chapter 456 - How to Dominate the Battlefield Chapter 456 - 456 - How to Dominate the Battlefield Chapter 456 - How to Dominate the Battlefield Enkrid wanted Rem to handle things with precision, wit, and quick thinking. And Rem intended to do just that. "I''ll handle it." It wasn''t blind faith. From what he''d seen so far, that''s exactly who Rem was. Enkrid''s goal was to kill the peculiar monster leading the group, which spun thread to launch as arrows. Reducing the number of monsters was a secondary objective. Though he hadn''t spelled it out, both Rem and Dunbakel would know what to do. Would there be dangerous monsters there? Of course. But... "If I were a monster," Enkrid thought. He wouldn''t waste his forces recklessly near Oara, especially when they could draw even more attention here instead. Enkrid had endlessly replayed scenarios in his mind, analyzing and strategizing. By putting himself in the enemy''s position, he could observe his own forces with a shifted perspective. "What is the greatest threat?" No need to ask. It was Oara. "And what is their objective?" This, too, was already clear. "Knight Oara." The enemy''s focus was singular: to kill the knight named Oara. Just as Oara aimed to destroy the core to eliminate the mana field, the enemy sought a similar strategy. Enkrid had deciphered their intent, confirmed through repeated mental simulations of the day''s events. "Born with a talent for reading the battlefield, huh?" Roman muttered. But it wasn''t an innate talent. It came from experience. And so, he spent today as he had countless others. Yet, not a single one of those days was wasted merely gathering information. Even the ferryman had been astounded. Enkrid spent his days swinging his sword with relentless fervor, absorbing every scrap of intelligence from his surroundings. That was how this day began. The conclusion? Rem and Dunbakel would handle their tasks. So, Enkrid would focus on his. "Hah." He puffed out his cheeks, exhaled, then pursed his lips to draw in air. With steady steps, Enkrid began to move forward. His body felt light, his condition excellent¡ªno, more than that. Better than usual. A flame of anticipation surged in his chest, igniting his resolve. Enkrid quickened his pace into a light run, with Luagarne following close behind. From atop the wall, Oara observed, while nearby, Roman and the short-haired blonde, Aishia, watched. He would win their trust through action. So, he would show them. Enkrid''s eyes locked onto the head of an oncoming spider monster. Dozens of compound eyes, a split maw, and legs that, while not forged of steel, seemed as solid as iron. It was swifter than others of its kind. The creature skittered closer, its front legs crossing like shears. As his sixth sense heightened, time seemed to slow, sharpening his focus. He could see the blade-like legs, serrated edges lined with spikes at regular intervals. He could feel the force behind the intersecting limbs. If caught, his body would be severed in an instant. Even a mere graze would shred his flesh. So, he moved before it could reach him. In the split second where time fractured, Enkrid accelerated his thoughts and acted. From below, he swept Aker upward. The blade carved a graceful arc, severing the spider''s legs before cleaving its head in two. "No need to stop." Think and act. Enkrid cut down the monster and moved forward, swinging Aker one-handed. His feet struck the ground with precision, sliding, twisting, and propelling him onward. His waist turned, his ankles pivoted, and his blade slashed, stabbed, and cleaved. Thud, crack, squelch, snap, crunch. "What''s needed to face multiple enemies?" Boldness and decisiveness. Instinct, rather than thought, guided his actions, and his skill ensured those instincts were always correct. Rem excelled at this. His axe moved instinctively, tracing unrelenting arcs. Enkrid mimicked him. Ting! A flicker of flame ignited in Enkrid''s left hand. He wasn''t copying techniques but the sheer force of will. "I am a barbarian." A crazed savage. A barbarian with a penchant for splitting nobles'' heads. One who started fights whenever he didn''t like something. Enkrid''s twin blades whipped and struck like lashes of light. The flaming bolt descended diagonally, seemingly stabbing at empty space¡ªbut it wasn''t empty. A spider monster lunged into the path of the firebolt, its head impaled. Screech! A massive spider reared back, attempting to spray venom from its abdomen as it died. Thick brown liquid arced through the air, splattering on the ground. It didn''t touch Enkrid, nor did it hinder him. As the venom-spewing monster collapsed, Aker dashed through the battlefield like a swallow, cutting, smashing, and breaking. Sensing movement behind him, Enkrid ducked. Whish! A spider leg swiped overhead, severing a few strands of his hair. Enkrid twisted his body, kicking backward. Crunch. His heel crushed the spider''s head. A smaller creature crawled forward, using scythe-like forelegs to strike at his left foot. Enkrid retracted his kick and sent it flying upward. The scythe-like limb stopped just short of his boot, the reinforced steel of his footwear smashing into the spider. Bang! The smaller monster burst, its black ichor splattering over his boot. Big ones, small ones, medium ones¡ªvenom-spitters, thread-shooters, blade-limbed terrors, relentless chargers, burrowers, sneaky ambushers. There were plenty to kill. Enkrid glimpsed a fraction of the future. And swung accordingly. Aker slashed downward as Spark returned to its sheath, replaced by the gladius, which pierced the ground. Simultaneously executing two maneuvers, he leaped to the side. Clang! A chain with a weighted end struck where he had just stood¡ªLuagarne''s support. Landing in the heart of the enemy horde, Enkrid dodged swiping limbs and parried strikes with his blade''s flat edge, deflecting them effortlessly. His overwhelming skill made the impossible possible. Though reckless, madness done right could become greatness. For the line between lunatic and hero was razor-thin. Enkrid walked that line now. Dodging, blocking, and positioning himself perfectly, he stood amidst the monsters. Enkrid, squeezing Aker with both hands, swung it fiercely through the masses of monsters. His strike carried the centrifugal force of a two-handed sword technique. The blade cleaved through the monsters like a tempest. Everything the blade touched was sliced and cut. With a single strike, Enkrid had created a hole in the heart of the monster swarm. The area around him became empty in an instant, as if a vacuum had formed. He took a breath and flicked the blade into the air, blood splattering onto the ground. After repeating the day''s battle, he had learned the monsters'' patterns. Through instinct and intuition, he had drawn his own picture over the memorized patterns. Having understood the monsters'' nature and predicted their movements, he painted a picture on the battlefield with their black blood as his paint. Normally, it would be impossible to know all of a monster''s habits, but not today. Today was the day Oara would die. Today was the day he would die, the day Rem, with a hole in his stomach, lay in wait. The day Aishia''s neck would be severed, the day Lua would die with her heart pierced, the day Roman would die without being able to do anything. There were countless such "todays." This today had accumulated experience and condensed it into one human being. For this reason, at least on this stage, Enkrid was the most experienced hunter. ''Not bad,'' he thought. The more he moved, the looser his body felt. He wasn''t fatigued, even though he had used moments of Will, Giant''s Strike, and the Will of the Severing Blade. Enkrid didn''t stop. For a moment, he forgot about Rem, forgot about Oara, and just kept running. He swung the sword and moved his feet, fighting without pause. This was his moment to prove himself, and there were those watching him. Milio was waiting in front of the castle gate, unaware of what was happening ahead. Just as the gates were about to open, he heard someone shout for them to close, but there was no reason to follow that order. Still, he almost moved to obey the command, only to stop. "Close it." At that moment, Oara''s voice rang out. Milio, even without the knight''s order, thought he might have followed the cry from the front, even if he wasn''t sure why. "We''ll go up to the wall. Everyone, grab your bows." Milio spoke to his unit and started moving. *** ''Admor, that bastard, hasn''t died yet, has he?'' Although Enkrid had jumped in, it was still his own judgment to send him out. A subtle worry settled in his mind. Of course, it wasn''t the time for such thoughts. Didn''t they have monsters swarming like never before? It was a large-scale wave. Oara and everyone had stepped into the battlefield, and Milio couldn''t let worrying about one comrade ruin the task at hand. Milio took another step. He knew there was no need to rush, but his feet moved faster by themselves. ''Why aren''t they shooting?'' To reduce the number of monsters, the common sense of Thousand Brick said to shoot arrows before the monsters closed in. Yet, no arrows had flown. Not yet. Milio quickened his pace and soon stood on the wall. Behind him, he grabbed his bow and prepared to nock an arrow. Now, all he had to do was wait for the signal to shoot. Though Oara was present, the command fell to someone else. In any case, when the knights went into battle, they always had someone to command the archers from behind. That was how Thousand Stone had survived. Milio saw the one who was supposed to give orders unable to speak. The soldier supposed to wave the flag and make signals was also in the same state. No, even Oara was the same. "Crazy bastard," Oara muttered, twisting her lips upward. Oara always smiled, but the real joy behind her smile was different. It was a subtle difference only Milio knew, gained through long observation. Oara''s smile reading was one of Milio''s specialties. And right now, Milio saw that Oara was genuinely excited. Naturally, his gaze shifted forward. There was a time he had witnessed a fight between a squire and a semi knight, a red-caped semi knight of the Order. It was the battlefield between Naurilia and Aspen, in the heart of Green Pearl beyond Border Guard. The semi knight, with all his power in his legs, leaped forward and charged. The following sword strikes were as graceful as butterflies, and his movements were as swift as lightning. A single fighter tore through the battlefield. When a semi knight entered the fray among ordinary soldiers, such power was possible. It was the kind of strength that could turn the tide of a battle. Milio hadn''t seen that fight himself. He could only see what was before his eyes. But something similar was happening now. It was outside the castle gate. The reason Oara was smiling was clear. Amidst the monster swarm, a sole man was cutting through everything in sight, his only ally nearby was a Frog trailing behind. The Frog''s fight didn''t even catch the eye. In a place where Milio himself wouldn''t last more than a few exchanges, a figure wielded a sword¡ªslicing, thrusting, cutting, and breaking. He rampaged on the right side, and when a loud crash came from the left, he had already changed positions. Where he had struck, black earth rose into the air. Before the dust could settle, four monsters had their skulls pierced. What kind of human could do such a thing? Nearby torches flickered wildly, casting light on his actions. Milio had seen few soldiers who had been so close to the Order''s fights. Therefore, he understood: squires and knights-in-training were not invincible. They, too, needed rest and food to function properly. Milio felt the sweat on his palms. His heart raced. A strange exhilaration surged through him. He didn''t know what that person was fighting for, but if asked who was at the front of the battlefield now, Milio would confidently answer: Boom. "Oara." The soldier stomped his foot and shouted the battle cry. "Oara!" Another soldier echoed the cry. Soon, many voices followed suit. The cheer spread. It was a cheer for one person. Everyone in the city, everyone on the wall, watched as one heart, united, gazed at the battlefield. Even Oara herself. "Enkrid!" They shouted the name of one person. It was a strange thing. Hadn''t the fighting Enkrid showed just now been any different from what the Order had shown before? No, it wasn''t. Yet, the way that man fought stirred something in their hearts. The heart raced. The chest warmed. The head felt light. Exhilaration surged through their bodies. Milio believed he could kill anything on this battlefield. Even with the twin moons hanging high, no one looked up. No one spoke of danger. They were only watching the lone figure cut down the monsters before them. ------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work ;) Chapter 457 - Dance Chapter 457 - 457 - Dance Chapter 457 - Dance "Draw your bows!" The command, heard countless times before, rang out. Despite the shared excitement of the moment, the commander carried out his duty. Millio''s gaze turned to one side. A mass of monsters broke off from the forest, forming a separate group. The soldiers on the walls were instead filled with relief upon seeing it. Millio felt the same way. Finally, the opponent had appeared, one that would send waves of heat, burning through his entire body like a furnace. "Focus!" The commander''s shout echoed across the walls. Each unit leader repeated the order. "Focus!" The archers adjusted their arrows, aiming and preparing to fire. The bows, made from beast bones and tendons twisted into a string, were drawn back. Twang. Millio held the taut string, waiting for the signal. All the soldiers held their positions. The commander was too focused on determining the scale and numbers of the approaching monsters. It was night, so it was difficult to get a clear view. Despite furrowing his brow and concentrating, it was still hard to see. One of his subordinates shot a fire arrow. The fire arrow flew with a loud whoosh and landed among the enemy''s ranks. The monsters ignored the fire arrow entirely. In fact, the fire arrow did no real damage. The black earth swallowed the flames. The fire quickly extinguished. With just one shot, it was clear that visibility wouldn''t improve. "It''s manageable. What we''re seeing now is about the middle point, and it''s not an overwhelming number. It''s not that many." Compared to the double crescent moon. The words were swallowed by Oara, a knight standing motionless with her arms crossed on the walls. Upon hearing her, the commander nodded. The fire arrow shot earlier would serve as a guide for everyone''s aim. They would remember its position. "Fire!" At his command, the flag dropped. Whoosh! The wind, red moonlight, torches, and elongated shadows tangled together. The commander, watching the flag drop beside the archers, opened his mouth. "Fire!" A good archer is someone who can hit their target. However, a good archer is a different breed from a great bowman. They were not those who could hit a mark, but those who could shoot precisely to a predetermined spot. And these were well-trained, excellent soldiers. Archers, equipped with bows. Arrows tore through the air, raining down on the monster horde. Arrows with heated, iron-tipped heads pierced the bodies of the spiders, sticking into the ground. The sound of arrows cutting through the air filled Enkrid''s ears. They were not fired from the enemy''s side, but from his own. What did the current situation suggest? It meant that Rem and Dunbakel had done their jobs properly. It wasn''t just the soldiers like Millio who had been riled up; Roman, Asia, the short blond-haired knight, and the four squires quickly took action. "I''ll hold them here." Roman grit his teeth and spoke. "You four, gather around me." The short blond-haired junior knight stepped between the squires, taking charge. Her weapons were daggers and poison. She was in the right position. Roman and Aishia moved in sync. Roman became the spear, delivering powerful strikes, while Aishia became the shield, cutting down spider legs that attacked. They made a good pair. The monsters were many, and the double crescent moon had risen. "We''ll kill them all." Roman didn''t hide his rising spirit. Turning his back to a torch, he struck down with his sword. Whoosh, bang! His greatsword crushed six spiders in a single blow. Before that, Aishia had slashed in and out, pushing back the monsters. It was a relentless process of killing and attacking. Enkrid sensed something outside his field of awareness. Something sharp rose from below, aiming for his abdomen. He barely caught the movement and reflexively drew his Gladius, deflecting it. The technique involved twisting his left wrist and using a flowing parry. Thud, clang! He deflected it, but the blow was heavy, like that of a giant. It could have cut him open if his armor hadn''t held up. The arm of a monster had come at him like a blade, its end tipped with poisoned claws. A ghoul. Its name was... "Jericks!" Oara''s shout echoed from the walls. If left unchecked, Oara would come in and fight. It would be the same as any other day. Therefore, from now on... ''I''ll hold my ground.'' Enkrid didn''t intend to give up this fight. "Roman! Wait!" Enkrid''s shout rang out just as a similar monster appeared before Roman. It was a giant spider, a monster with eight sword-like arms. Everyone was surprised. The enemy showed the same overwhelming presence as a knight. Amidst the shock, a shadow rose from behind the squires. It was an owl bear. Enkrid hadn''t anticipated all the events. But there was one thing he knew¡ªwhenever a battle like this unfolded, the owl bear would always target a weak spot first. For example, if a squad was stationed on the wall, they''d always be the first to be targeted. So now, it was aiming for the squires. Before the shadow could fully rise, Enkrid had already predicted the move. He shouted to Roman and leaned back. He saw the four squires. Torches, shadows, red moonlight, the short blond-haired knight, the positions of the squires. He took in everything, and then caught sight of something moving behind Oliver. Oliver had been panting heavily, exhausted. His endurance was lacking. The owl bear was targeting that weakness. Enkrid turned his gaze, extending his right leg out and pivoting his body in a half-circle. He thrust his left hand forward. His sword, now perpendicular to the ground, cut through the red moonlight in a sharp arc. Whoosh! As soon as he threw the sword, Enkrid didn''t bother correcting his balance but completed a full spin, slashing horizontally with Aker. Clang! Thud! Two sounds hit his ears simultaneously. One was from the owl bear, and the other from right in front of Enkrid. Aker struck the ghoul''s claw, while the owl bear blocked the downward strike by crossing its arms in front of its chest. Its feathers were slightly torn, and black blood oozed, but it was not a fatal blow. The Gladius bounced off and fell to the ground. It felt like lately, the Gladius hadn''t been used to cut through anything. Yet, the sword had done its job. Enkrid raised Aker horizontally again, bringing it up to face level. His blue eyes gleamed, cutting through the red moonlight. The ghoul retreated a step, surprised by the blocked attack. Was it stunned by the block? It was a monster, driven entirely by instinct, trained in the art of slaughter. It wasn''t capable of such intelligence. Strangely enough, its name suited it. "Madness." Luagarne''s muttering came just a moment too late. He understood the meaning behind the words. Enkrid had turned his back on a knight-level monster to save his allies. It was a mad act. And that''s why it was exhilarating. ''Ah, this is so fun.'' Enkrid didn''t hide his feelings. There was no need to. He was shattering everything these monsters wanted, piece by piece. And that, in itself, was a reward. Enkrid laughed. Things had gone as expected so far. But would everything go exactly as planned? The chances were low. ''I can''t predict everything.'' Things never flow exactly as expected. Of course. Today repeats, but it is never quite the same. Yet, some things remain unchanged. ''Ghoul, Owlbear, Spider.'' Three forms of monsters, dog-like creatures, and sacrificial offerings for hunting knights remain the same. Then there''s the fragment of Balrog, a trickster in this game. So, what is it that needs to be done? It was already decided. "Your mother really must be a ghoul." Enkrid muttered useless words. The ghoul exhaled, its breath filled with a poisonous aura. Its claws and maw both poisoned. "Brush your teeth sometime." Enkrid spat out another crazy remark. "Are you sure you''re alright?" Luagarne asked. Yes, it was fine. This was like warming up before exercise. It was like the rituals performed before a sacrificial ceremony. Provocation by words didn''t seem to work, but the provocation by action seemed effective. Look at this. Someone like you doesn''t matter whether you''re in front or behind, as I deliver a blow to that Owlbear brat in the back. It''s a provocation that says, "I won''t fall to someone like you." The ghoul growled again. Enkrid could feel the annoyance of the monster as it didn''t go as it desired, and he smiled wide. "Do you want to get the nickname ''The Laughing Enkrid''?" Even Luagarne tensed up. It was that kind of monster. Enkrid, with a smile, thought of his goal. To send out Oara, unscathed, with no exhaustion. To send out a smiling Oara. If the enemy wanted a non-smiling Oara, a shell deprived of its will, then Enkrid would show them Oara, full of substance. "What''s the bet?" Only then did Roman''s voice come through. He opened his mouth, cautious of their surroundings. Enkrid felt Oara''s presence coming from behind. She didn''t hide her momentum. The usual pressure. Her imposing aura spread outward, pressing on everyone in front. Some nearby spider monsters were knocked back as they saw Oara. She didn''t even draw her sword. "That one''s mine." She said, her voice full of clear will. Enkrid rejected that strong will. "Let''s follow order." A brief silence pressed on their shoulders. A wordless pressure. Enkrid rejected that as well. Oara broke the silence and asked. "Do you not need help?" "Just cheer for me." Enkrid replied, without taking a breath. It was a statement of his already set path. This was his fight, his will. He was stubborn, determined, and resolute. You want to hunt Jericks? Now, he was not your prey.It was my prey. A will close to obstinacy grew and became his momentum. There was no red cloak, but the back of one who could be a knight was visible to Oara. "A strange bastard." Oara said. It almost sounded like a compliment. Had Oara smiled at her own words? She probably did. There was no time to turn back now. The ghoul''s presence was felt. It was like it was saying, "One wrong move, and you''ll feel the kind of strike the knights of Aspen use." Enkrid opened his chest and spoke with his body. Try if you dare. The dice had been thrown, and it was time to check its outcome. The first repetition of today, that unchanging constant was like the dice roll. In this battlefield, there was something similar. Then, what was the condition to break through the wall? It was simple. Survive, and that was all. As the saying went, the boatman didn''t speak, just rowed. "Run," he said. It may sound like goodwill, but for Enkrid, it was not. If all they wished for was for him to survive. "I never dreamed of such things." Enkrid muttered again. With those words, his will shone brighter. The stubbornness emanating from his entire body stopped Oara in her tracks. The ghoul couldn''t understand human speech, so it stood there, dazed, after hearing Enkrid''s muttering. Enkrid calmed his breath and focused. He could imitate a knight''s strike. But would his opponent accept it calmly? When tense, your shoulders stiffen. So, it was better to relax a bit. Enkrid fixed his gaze on the ghoul and then finally responded to Roman''s earlier question. "Roman, if you kill a monster before me, I''ll acknowledge your face as better than mine." At a time like this, making jokes was probably insane. But if one couldn''t enjoy such a moment, they wouldn''t have made it to the rank of a junior knight. A knight was a talent one in ten thousand. A junior knight was also a title that couldn''t be reached without similar talents. If there had been no repeated today. Now, in a place very little talents could never reach, they discussed wagers and obstinacy. Enkrid felt the hairs on his body stand on end. He had never thought that dying was acceptable. But this was undoubtedly the moment he had been hoping for. A life dedicated to guarding those behind him. The life of a knight, as sung by minstrels. "I want to be a knight." That one sentence became his dream, torn and faded but now renewed, shining once more. "Accepted." Roman''s response was heard. Sometimes, a man needed the acknowledgment of his rivals. "So should I just cheer for you?" Oara spoke from behind. There wasn''t the same resolve in her voice as before. But she would intervene whenever. Her momentum was brimming with energy. Enkrid knew Oara''s weakness. She couldn''t fight for long if poisoned. Her endurance wasn''t knight-like. So, the one dancing on this battlefield would not be Oara. She wouldn''t draw her sword now. "I''ll do my dance, then." Enkrid replied, swinging his sword. ------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work ;) Chapter 458 - Twisting the Day Chapter 458 - 458 - Twisting the Day Chapter 458 - Twisting the Day Facing Aspen''s knight taught one valuable lesson: merely defending would lead to inevitable death. This was now a truth Enkrid knew by experience. As Enkrid swung his sword, his feet moved in unison, boots stained with blood pressing firmly into the ground. Sword and step became one fluid motion. Observing Oara''s strikes had imparted valuable lessons, which he now applied. Merging footwork and swordplay wasn''t easy¡ªit demanded over sixty painstaking days of practice to master. Two blue eyes pierced through the darkness. Channeling his immense strength with sheer willpower, he brought his sword down. Crack! The blade, infused with white lightning, struck the ghoul''s head and cleaved toward its shoulder. It seemed as though part of the ghoul''s body might be severed. Thud! Clang! Yet the ghoul caught the blade with its palm, effortlessly nullifying the knight''s forceful blow. Their speeds differed, allowing such a feat. Unfazed, Enkrid quickly pulled back. Sparks flew as his sword aimed once more, this time targeting the ghoul''s eye in a sharp, calculated stab. Swish! Again, the attack missed. The ghoul twisted its head aside, dodging deftly. Enkrid immediately adjusted his swing, slicing sideways. The ghoul stepped lightly, completely evading the sword''s trajectory. The maneuver placed it at Enkrid''s flank, and its clawed hand lashed out. Enkrid raised his left shoulder, blocking the claws with his pauldron. Crash! The armor shattered, fragments flying and grazing his brow. A slightly worse angle might have cost him an eye. Without a moment''s hesitation, Enkrid stepped back with his left foot, creating space to swing his sword once more. The ghoul was skilled against knights but was no knight itself. It could mimic Oara''s laughter, but not her swordsmanship. Enkrid''s next strike emerged unpredictably, a blow imbued with raw strength, aimed at the ghoul''s head. Even with its toughened shell, this strike would inflict serious damage. Blood would flow, and something would surely be severed. Thump! The ghoul crouched and sprung backward, effortlessly leaping out of the sword''s range. A hollow indentation marked where its feet had pressed into the ground. How could it evade so easily? The earlier strike that shattered Enkrid''s shoulder guard had been a feint. Their physical capabilities were worlds apart, enabling such evasion. Enkrid had lost his pauldron to such a light attack. "Whew." Enkrid retrieved spark and gripped his sword, Aker, with both hands, angling its tip toward the sky. Steadying his stance, he locked eyes with the ghoul''s soulless black orbs. How many of its attacks could he endure? He didn''t know. But Enkrid intended to fight until victory. The fire of determination burned within him. Yet he hadn''t forgotten his goal. His endurance was only temporary; failure wasn''t an option. Oara watched. If she intervened, it would mean he had failed today. "So..." Come quickly. Enkrid visualized his objective, sketching it in his mind. He needed his comrades to return swiftly. If they couldn''t overpower the ghoul, Oara would step in. But he planned to kill the ghoul before that happened. Failure would make today no different from countless others¡ªand that, he couldn''t accept. He wouldn''t let Oara lose her smile. He would show what a true knight was. He would twist today into something new. "Do you truly believe you can twist fate?" At the end of one of countless days past, the boatman had asked him that. For Enkrid, it wasn''t about belief. "I have to do it." He would keep going until it worked. That was the mantra that had carried him this far. The boatman had smiled at him. Was it mockery, or something else? Enkrid couldn''t tell. It was simply a feeling¡ªone that foretold something was about to happen. "That''s why I sharpened my axe today. That''s the foresight of this great me," said Rem, displaying the razor-sharp edge of his azure axe. His pace was brisk, almost as fast as a run without breaking into one. Dunbakel followed effortlessly, responding with a quip. "Don''t you sharpen it every day?" Her comment implied that his so-called foresight was as trivial as a dog''s droppings. Sharpening his axe daily wasn''t exactly a special event. Dunbakel often lacked tact¡ªperhaps too much at times. At this moment, buoyed by Enkrid''s earlier praise, she was in high spirits. "Didn''t you just find a good whetstone and get excited about it?" Her tongue sometimes moved independently of her brain, as if her heart spoke directly, turning thoughts into unfiltered words. Rem twisted his lips into a smirk. "That, too, is foresight." Nonsense, thought Admor, trailing behind them. But he kept his thoughts to himself¡ªpartly because the pace left no room to speak. Despite his well-trained body, keeping up was a struggle, as if he were sprinting. Opening his mouth now risked biting his tongue. Staying silent was the wiser choice. Even without the sprint, Admor would have stayed quiet. He had tact and understood the wild light in Rem''s eyes. One more careless word and the axe-wielder might cleave heads before dealing with the monsters. Yet Dunbakel, undeterred by the implied threat, threw out another provocative remark. "How absurd." The barbarian, with a smile that barely masked their inherent gentleness, made a pointed promise post-battle. "See you after this." Dunbakel hesitated momentarily but didn''t falter in her steps. Instead, she puffed out her chest and replied, "Do as you please." She had resolved to prove herself. Retreating before the fight had even begun wasn''t an option anymore. There wasn''t an axe blade swinging for her face at this very moment, after all. Though that crazed axeman had pushed her to the brink of death countless times during their sparring sessions, it was clear he wasn''t truly intent on killing her. She had endured many harsh days under the guise of "training," days that still stung bitterly when she thought about them. But facts were facts. So she wouldn''t back down. Giving up here would make her goal of proving herself a distant dream. "Good, I''ll hold you to that." Rem quickened his pace, his tone unyielding. Admor, gasping for breath, trailed behind him, reassessing his earlier preconceptions. Normally, "I''ll hold you to that" was the language of bluffers. Yet coming from Rem, those words felt genuine. Admor could feel it¡ªthis man harbored grudges that stretched for miles. "Wait, I smell something," Dunbakel said suddenly, halting mid-step. Her nose twitched repeatedly. To their left lay a noxious swamp; ahead, a gray forest stretched ominously. Admor raised his right fist, knuckles facing outward¡ªa signal to stop. The soldiers all halted, their shoulders rising and falling in tense rhythm. A chill swept through the group, draping them in an oppressive silence. And why wouldn''t it? This was the Demonic Realm. Even soldiers stationed near the borders of the Thousand Stone rarely ventured this deep into its interior. Almost never, in fact. Recon squads typically skirted the periphery. Their tasks ranged from eliminating pre-ascension beasts to predicting waves of monsters. Yet this mission was anything but routine. What should''ve been a standard operation had devolved into a desperate search for their missing scout. "Rowena..." Admor scanned the area, straining his eyes. But he wasn''t a ranger, and clues didn''t easily present themselves. All he knew was that Rowena had prepared thoroughly for this mission, expecting danger from within the Demon''s Realm. Surely she couldn''t have fallen easily. But then, where was she? And why were there so many monsters here? "Relax," came the voice of Rem, his gray-haired head nodding forward as he spoke. "I told you, this is all part of the plan. My foresight never fails." Admor exhaled sharply, realizing he''d been holding his breath. Ahead, he caught sight of Rem loosening the leather strap on his axe sheath. Despite the suffocating tension and the grim thoughts clouding his mind, Admor forced himself to ask, "Why do you follow orders so unquestioningly?" He already anticipated Rem''s answer¡ªit wasn''t genuine curiosity that made him ask. The question was just a distraction from his nerves. He assumed Rem owed some kind of life debt or had pledged undying loyalty to someone. But Rem''s response left him momentarily dumbfounded. "Because he asked for help." "Wait, what? Seriously?" Admor stammered. Dunbakel, overhearing, added with a sniff, "Yeah, he did. Just earlier." Admor was at a loss. Had he misheard their earlier conversation? Was his worry for Rowena clouding his senses? He glanced back at one of his subordinates, seeking confirmation, only to be met with an expression of equal bewilderment. "He asked, so I''m helping. Simple as that. Not something he does often," Rem said casually. Admor let the bizarre answer sink in, his earlier tension momentarily dissipating. He realized it was futile to try to make sense of a man like Rem. His attention returned to the terrain as he spotted clear traces on the ground: boot prints, drag marks, broken trees, and torn vines scattered around. "What happened here...?" Admor murmured, but before he could piece it together¡ª Uuuuuung. The gray forest shuddered. Vibrations rippled through the ground, making Admor''s body tremble. Rem turned, flashing a smile. But it wasn''t a reassuring one. It was the mischievous grin of a delinquent who''d found the perfect toy. The moon disappeared behind a cloud, casting his face into shadow. For a brief moment, it felt like Rem had vanished entirely. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone. Admor''s eyes struggled to keep up as Rem propelled himself forward, barely making a sound. A resounding thud snapped Admor''s attention to the giant spider ahead, now lifeless with its head split cleanly in two. Admor signaled the group to advance cautiously, covering the gaps Rem and Dunbakel were carving open. They moved like a seasoned squad¡ªsilent, efficient, and poised. The only way to survive the Demon''s Realm. ------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work ;) Chapter 459 - Protecting a Knight’s Pride Chapter 459 - 459 - Protecting a Knight''s Pride Chhapter 459 - Protecting a Knight''s Pride Rem didn''t understand why Enkrid had ordered him to delve into the demonic swamp. Did he sense something? Or was it just speculation? The reason didn''t matter. If Enkrid felt unease, asking for help was only natural. That was enough justification. Verifying it and finding nothing amiss would simply mean heading back. But there was work to be done¡ªwork that now lay unmistakably before him. The reason Enkrid had sent him here was practically oozing with the scent of blood. The task was clear: reduce the number of monsters lurking in the swamp. Lowering his stance deliberately, Rem scanned his surroundings broadly. Despite the darkness, he could vaguely make out the area. And what he saw was monsters. Clusters of creatures filled the gray forest, giving the impression of a grand army standing in formation. There were two types: massive spiders and owlbears. What is this, some kind of parade drill? Shrugging off idle thoughts, Rem relaxed his grip on the axe, lowering his body as though pressing his chest to the ground. As he sprinted forward, arms trailing behind, his movements resembled a swooping eagle¡ªhis axe serving as its wings. Wings that wouldn''t lift him to the sky but could carve and tear through anything in their path. Under the faint red glow of the twin moons¡ªknown as the Red Moon phenomenon, which strengthened monsters¡ªRem remained unbothered. His sole focus was swinging the axe. In a crouch even lower than a seated posture, Rem slashed forward with his axe as he ran. Two crimson lines streaked across the monsters'' bodies under the red moonlight. Slash! Crack! Every obstacle caught by the axe''s edge was severed without distinction¡ªheads, limbs, torsos. Black fluids sprayed from the wounds but not a drop landed on Rem. The gray streak of his movements shone brightly in the darkness, weaving through the monsters as he swung his axe. A few spiders reared up on their legs. Thud! Slash! Crunch! Rem passed by, slashing their legs and leaving a trail of destruction. Broken legs didn''t kill them, but a severed head did. His axe slashed the legs, moving forward, only to halt mid-swing, reverse direction, and cleave the spider''s head in one fluid motion. It was as effortless as a child playing with a loose thread. Crack! Another monster collapsed to the ground, its head crushed. Rem felt satisfaction in the rhythm of his strikes. Not bad at all. It wasn''t a legendary weapon, but for something commercially available, this axe was likely the best of its kind. A solid steel axe forged out of Lewis wasn''t a common item, after all. And without his strength, wielding it effectively would be impossible. Mastering such a weapon required precise control over force¡ªboth applying and withholding it. With this axe, he could execute the unique "feathered axe swings" technique, which relied solely on his physical strength rather than the weapon''s weight. It allowed him to change direction without recoil¡ªlike the reverse strike he had just performed¡ªmaking his attacks unpredictable. As Rem continued swinging his axe, the sharp-edged arcs tore through everything around him. Screeech! A spider missing half its body screamed, warning its kin of danger. From that sound, Rem deduced the monsters were being directed by something. His instincts sharpened, fusing his senses into a sixth sense that guided him. His gaze fixed on a specific point. If someone viewed the scene from above, they''d find it peculiar¡ªa cluster of monsters forming a circular pattern around the clearing''s center. Though Rem couldn''t see it from above, he trusted his instincts. Suddenly, claws struck from behind. Silent but deadly, the feathered arms of an owlbear aimed to rend flesh and reduce him to a bloody mess. Rem twisted his body and thrust his right foot back. Crack! His kick connected with the owlbear''s chest, its feathers denting inward under the blow. The creature''s chest bone crunched audibly as it was hurled backward, rolling across the ground. Even as it tried to rise with its crushed chest, an axe fell upon its head. It was, of course, Rem''s handiwork. Slash! The monster collapsed, black blood pooling in the ground beneath it. "Even feral cats are more savage than you, little cub," Rem muttered. The fine steel edge of his Lewis mountain-forged axe dripped with black liquid under the Red Moon''s eerie light. Red or black, it made no difference. Rem lowered his axe again. Though he wouldn''t admit it aloud, not even under threat of death, he acknowledged it. "Those lunatics... they''ve helped me." His muscles had grown stronger. The power behind his axe strikes had become fiercer. His senses were sharper. It was all thanks to those madmen he''d been around. Techniques and skills based on physical strength, which he thought had reached their peak, proved capable of further growth. He had learned this from a man who refused to accept limits. There were no boundaries¡ªno end to what could be achieved. Because of this, Rem felt a flicker of anticipation. Compared to his former self, the gap in his skill was undeniable. And if he added sorcery to this? He had never thought knights were superior to him before, even when he possessed magic. "Hey, I''m busy here. Come on, let''s get this over with!" Grinning, Rem charged once more into the mass of monsters. Meanwhile, Dunbakel cleaved an owlbear''s head with her curved blade before leaping into a tree. Her extraordinary vision and intuition allowed her to spot a cluster of spiders with bow-like appendages at the rear of the monster horde. The moment she saw them, she anticipated the devastation they could cause. "Bows, arrows, monsters," she murmured. It was an unexpected and dangerous threat. To neutralize it, decisive action was needed. Her survival instincts kicked in, heightening her senses. Though she didn''t understand how, she could detect distinct smells, signaling a leader among the monsters. There was a commanding presence orchestrating them nearby. Her gaze briefly flicked to Rem, the berserker carving through the monsters. Even amidst the chaos, a special scent emanated from several monsters around him¡ªperhaps five. These needed to be dealt with. Though Dunbakel felt apprehension at diving into the chaos, she steeled herself. "I need to prove myself." Why was she here? The answer was clear. To slay and kill monsters. Her body shifted as white fur sprouted across her form¡ªa transformation her kin once deemed a curse. With enhanced strength and speed, she dashed forward silently, her movements as smooth as a hunting predator''s. Ignoring the toxic fog ahead, she held her breath and plunged into the swamp, heading straight for her target at the center. *** Near the battlefield, Admor saw Rowena tied to a pole. "Damn it, Rowena." Gritting his teeth, he approached her, loosened the ropes, and checked her injuries. "How...?" Rowena blinked and asked. While she wasn''t severely injured, her thigh was wrapped in torn underwear as a makeshift bandage. "Did you come to rescue me? Is Sir Oara here? Or Sir Roman?" "A barbarian and beastkin came instead. Let''s save the details for later." Admor drew his dagger, cut the ropes, and hoisted her onto his back. Half of her unit was dead, but the other half had survived. "I thought it was all over..." Rowena muttered. "Where did you think you were going, leaving me behind? What''s supposed to be over?" Admor spoke as he bound himself and Rowena tightly with a rope. Now what? He had found and rescued his ally. The area was littered with monsters slain by axes, but his vigilance didn''t waver. The place remained dangerous, threatening, and terrifying. Could they just leave now? As he pondered the next step, remaining on high alert, a voice rang out: "Bring it on!" A figure rampaged near the swamp, slicing through foes with twin weapons that trailed sharp arcs through the air. Though clearly axes, they seemed almost weightless, like feathers. Yet those "feathers" shattered and cleaved through everything they touched. For a brief moment, Admor stared blankly at Rem fighting. Wherever Rem moved, dark fluids sprayed, staining the surroundings. But Admor couldn''t afford to remain dazed. "Let''s get out of here." He retreated with Rowena on his back, confident no monsters would pursue them. *** Oara felt a strange sense of de?ja? vu. "Has this happened before?" No, it hadn''t. She had never left a fight she should take on to someone else. Oara watched as Enkrid fought Jericks. This was no ordinary foe¡ªthis was the one named after her ex-husband. A foe she was meant to cut down. So why wasn''t she stepping in? The answer lay before her. It was Enkrid. His unwavering will had stopped her. "He''s holding up well, but..." From her vantage point, his situation seemed precarious. Clang! Zerix''s clawed strike was blocked by the flat of Enkrid''s sword. As he blocked, Enkrid hooked a foot at the ghoul''s leg. Jericks narrowly avoided the trap, lifting his leg and bending his knee to aim a strike at Enkrid''s groin. Enkrid, as if predicting the move, pulled his sword parallel to the ground and struck the ghoul''s knee with the pommel. Before the pommel could connect, Jericks leaned back and extended his leg, maintaining his target. In the nick of time, Enkrid dropped his left forearm to block Jericks'' shin. Their limbs met in a cross-like collision. Clang! The sound of metal reverberated. The silver vambrace on Enkrid''s left hand had deflected Jericks'' attack. After the rapid exchange, the two fighters took a moment to create some distance. Oara observed intently. Jericks wouldn''t stop attacking, nor would he recklessly attempt to end the fight. The ghoul was cautious, keeping an eye on her while battling Enkrid. "Jericks, you''ve gotten better." Should she intervene? If she did nothing, Enkrid might die. He was a valuable person¡ªboth skilled and... well, handsome. She didn''t want to lose him. Yet, stepping in wasn''t so simple. Despite not being a knight, Enkrid exuded a knight-like Will that stood firm before her. It might''ve been an illusion, but it was unmistakable in that fleeting moment. Even though his stance seemed precarious, he was holding his ground. Oara, a knight herself, understood honor and wielded her blade in accordance with her oaths. She couldn''t bring herself to undermine the man standing before her, who bore a resolve similar to her own. A resolve rooted in protecting this city. For her, the city was her joy, her laughter. What was driving Enkrid? What was he protecting? "What is it, really?" Oara''s curiosity grew. Though she stood by for now, she would act if the situation soured. Yet acting wasn''t easy. Nearby, Roman was fending off the Spider Swordsman while a powerful Owlbear kept a wary eye on the knights. Oara found herself at the center of a precarious balance. If she acted, one of the three monsters could be slain, but the remaining two might target her allies. Could she prevent that? Unlikely. So, she chose to maintain the balance for now. If someone could kill just one of the monsters, the rest of the battle would become more manageable. "No one needs to die to end this fight." Still, the odds weren''t in their favor. Time worked against them. While the monsters showed no fatigue, her allies seemed to be slowly losing ground. Yet the fire in their eyes burned brightly. Their determination fueled the soldiers'' spirits. "Oara!" A soldier on the wall shouted from behind her. "Let''s die with a smile!" Though she didn''t want anyone to die, Oara momentarily held back her decision. "How unlucky." Oara, poisoned and unable to fight properly, was frustrated. "I''ll hold them off to the end." In the end, she died standing her ground. Oara had never truly lost¡ªshe just hadn''t had the chance to fight properly. At least, that''s how Enkrid saw it. The fragment of Beelrog had sent monsters ahead to drain her stamina, claiming an easy victory. What if she hadn''t been poisoned? She could''ve fought. Unable to fight because of the poison? Then Enkrid would give her one proper fight. What Enkrid sought to protect was the pride of the knight, Oara. Though his muscles ached from blocking the ghoul''s claws and defending Oara behind him, Enkrid endured. The ghoul couldn''t easily find an opening to kill him. He held on. He endured and kept enduring. It was the end of his endurance. "What''s this? Chaos here too?" Rem arrived. "There was a commander leading the archers. I killed him," said Dunbakel, limping back, eager for praise. "You took your time, Rem," Enkrid said. ------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work ;) Chapter 460 - Cheer me on and keep dancing Chapter 460 - 460 - Cheer me on and keep dancing Chapter 460 - Cheer me on and keep dancing "That''s not like the half-baked ones we faced before. Did you know that when you faced it?" Rem''s tone wasn''t reproachful. Jericks froze momentarily, as if wary of this newly arrived Rem. The ghoul had even been given a name, indicating it wasn''t an ordinary creature. Perhaps it was capable of thought. It was common knowledge that what sat atop a ghoul''s neck was merely decorative, but this was the Demon Realm, where common sense held no sway. As the tense standoff settled into a momentary lull, Enkrid took the opportunity to carefully observe the ghoul now named Jericks. One thing was clear¡ªthis monster was absurdly strong. Far beyond the fake knights crafted by the necromantic count they''d encountered before. "That''s right," Enkrid replied. From experience, he already knew that this ghoul understood how to fight. The half-finished creatures Rem referred to were precisely those counterfeit knights, grotesque toys of stitched flesh and muscle. "And you still fought it, knowing that?" Rem pressed further. "It was manageable," Enkrid responded simply. It was the truth. In the past, he wouldn''t have even survived, but now, it was doable. The ghoul was also wary of Oara. For various reasons, his muscles ached, and his joints creaked, but he''d avoided being pierced by its claws. His ribs throbbed from two kicks to the chest, but the pain was tolerable. Should I thank Audin for this? If not for the training in striking techniques, his ribs would''ve been broken. Furthermore, through countless battles, he''d gained an understanding¡ªhe could sense the motion of Will in the moments he was struck. The important thing was that he had endured. In hindsight, he realized he could probably now withstand the swordplay of those knights from Aspen, whom he''d once feared. "Did you learn that bravado from that directionally-challenged guy?" Rem smirked as he spoke, but inwardly he was serious. Ah, this one''s no joke. This ghoul wasn''t like the half-finished creatures they''d fought earlier. Those monstrosities had strength but lacked technique. What good is power if the one wielding it is incompetent? That''s why those things had been easy to handle. But the monster before him was different. It had survived countless battles, even against its own kind. For a ghoul to develop instincts and survive to this level meant it had fought to the brink of death repeatedly. This strength was the result of hard-won battles, not incomplete craftsmanship. Rem recognized the situation clearly: We can''t kill it. Not as they were now. Magic would be necessary. His current skill level wasn''t enough to overcome it. Besides, they''d already fought off five trolls hidden among the other creatures. Even those trolls weren''t ordinary. Pain lingered in his left forearm, and his hip joint creaked. He''d blocked a stone axe with his left arm while killing the third troll, taking a hit to his waist in the process. The minor injuries from the battle against the five trolls had thrown his body slightly off balance. It wasn''t fatal, and a few days of rest¡ªno more than a week¡ªwould be enough for recovery. A walking journey or dealing with simple bandits would still be manageable. As long as he didn''t engage in intense combat, especially against oversized monsters, he would be fine. But the oversized monster stood right in front of them. And their leader showed no intention of retreating. In fact, it seemed Enkrid was deliberately preventing Oara from stepping in. This is excessive, even for bad luck. Rem scratched his head with the haft of his axe. He''d resolved to head west and was prepared to deal with some misfortune, but this was over the top. "What do you want?" Even so, Rem asked. "To land a decisive blow." The answer came without hesitation, showing that the decision had long been made. Well, Enkrid wasn''t the type to hesitate. He was the kind of madman who moved first and then made his chosen path the correct one through sheer determination. Rem found that strangely appealing. That''s why he had stayed here in the first place. He''d learned from this man, and that''s why he was finally ready to return west. The ghoul flexed its fingers, as though calculating something. A monster that instinctively used the power of a knight in battle. Rem briefly wondered if he might die. "Let''s do this," he said. Retreat wasn''t an option. There wasn''t enough time to formulate a proper strategy, but Enkrid had been waiting for Rem from the start. All they needed was a single opening. Rem would create that opening. Enkrid believed it completely. Ghouls were not creatures of thought. The head atop their necks was, indeed, ornamental. But the ghoul named Jeryx could think¡ªrudimentarily, but enough. That thinking ability was the main reason Jeryx had evolved into its current state. Through this, Jericks assessed situations and made judgments. Whether one opponent or three stood in its way made no difference. They were weaker and slower than it was. But if it killed the one in front of it, the blade from the one behind would come for it. A blade it had faced multiple times. Jericks thought. It only needed to endure and buy time. Then the being that had driven it here would intervene. That was the conclusion it reached through thought. A troublesome blade approached again. Jericks casually kicked away the axe blade aimed at its ankle and meticulously blocked the sword. The blade carried a disturbing aura, something that was immediately apparent. It wasn''t just an ordinary weapon. It contained traces of argentium, known as True Silver. Jericks instinctively knew to avoid being deeply cut or pierced. This fight was about learning, as it always had been for Jericks. It had learned from fleeing those wielding terrifying swords. It would learn now as well. It suppressed its bloodlust and waited. Time was on its side. Of course, every being in the world is prone to error. A scream pierced the air. Jericks''s unfocused pupils contracted as its gaze snapped toward the source of the sound. A small human female was clutching her shoulder, rolling on the ground. Blood spilled from the wound, its scent tantalizing. Tempted by bloodlust and hunger, Jericks struggled to suppress its urges, choosing instead to watch. It evolved further in that moment. Though its exterior remained unchanged, its inner self had advanced. For ghouls, moments of crisis often spurred rapid evolution jericks'' cognitive abilities sharpened even more. And then¡ª "Now." Amidst the chaos, a moment of distraction. A blade, moving so fast it appeared as a mere line, sliced through the air in a lethal trajectory. Its target: the wrists¡ªinescapable. It had all unfolded in the brief instant when attention was diverted. The blade of an axe aimed to sever both hands. Why had his attention strayed? It wasn''t due to the injured man. No, it was because of the terrifying sword moving right beside him. The human pressing him had stepped away, leaving an opening. That same sword then cleaved through the air, slicing toward the scent of blood behind the man. To be precise, it didn''t aim for the human but for the owlbear closing in on him. Shwick, thud, squelch. It all happened in a flash. Oara had leaped and swung her sword. The owlbear split vertically, spraying black blood everywhere. The ghoul extended his hand, twisting his wrist to catch the axe blade mid-swing. No longer needing to hide his strength, claws extended as he gripped the weapon tightly. Crunch, crack. The axe blade cracked and shattered. Destroying it completely, Jericks stepped forward with his left foot. His kick, precise and deliberate, was his hidden trump card. Faster than any hand, his leg extended. Boom! A deafening impact. The axe wielder was sent flying backward by the kick. It all fell within the ghoul''s calculations¡ªeverything was accounted for. But then, he saw it. A light beyond comprehension, outside his calculations. The light surged forward and vanished just as quickly. It was gone because it had pierced through his skull, entering between his eyes and exiting his head. In that fleeting moment, Jericks didn''t understand what had happened, but one thing surfaced in his mind: The terrifying blade that had once aimed for him. This light was the same. His skull breached, Jericks made one last move. He raised his claws and thrust them forward. It wasn''t an act born of emotion, but a primal instinct. His claw tips dug into flesh with a faint thunk. If Roman''s strikes had once been about squeezing every ounce of strength from his muscles, his current attack was different. "Infuse Will into every action." From the first step he took to each breath he drew, everything carried intention. Unable to become a knight yet, Roman sought to emulate a knight''s strike by embedding Will into everything he did. Enkrid observed this method, learning and internalizing it. Will, often called a force of sheer determination, could be felt but not wielded at will. So how had he executed Swift Strikes or the Giant''s Blow? "It all resides within me." By committing fully to each movement, it could be achieved. Step as though your life depended on it; grip your sword with the same conviction. Understanding came in a moment, but progressing from that point required endless repetition. Enkrid trained until his body absorbed the revelation. Just as he had infused Will into Swift Strikes or the Giant''s Blow, he now embedded it into every gesture. By breaking each action into smaller components and infusing Will into each, his movements became simpler and more direct. "Thrust." After countless failures, he finally succeeded in embedding it into a single motion. His footing felt awkward, and the hand gripping his sword seemed strange. But from the ankle planted on the ground to the tip of his fingers, Will coursed through him. The world blurred, his senses narrowing. He moved only as initially intended, focused solely on infusing Will into his actions. Enkrid thrust his sword. Not in a single motion, but by dissecting the act into countless deliberate steps. Each was precise, intentional, and executed with focus honed to a fine point. Did it feel different from usual? Perhaps. He couldn''t say for certain. But for a fleeting moment, the Will coursing through his entire body granted him a taste of omnipotence. "Thrust." The enemy couldn''t evade. It was inevitable. And indeed, the outcome aligned with that certainty. The tip of Aker pierced through Jericks'' forehead. Roman had warned that such an act would leave him hollow and utterly drained of strength. Yet Enkrid felt no emptiness. Having experienced it several times before, he understood it well. The absence of Will brought no void, only the agonizing pain of overstrained muscles. As Jericks fell, claws extended in a final strike. And then, a white shadow interposed itself before Enkrid. It was Dunbakel. The sight of the monster made her tremble uncontrollably. She wanted to run, but she didn''t. "Run. Flee. Escape." Those words only arise when one faces their fears head-on. And so, Dunbakel hurled herself forward, her body moving before her mind could process it. "Why?" The question followed her actions. A faint thunk punctuated her confusion. "Urgh!" She braced for excruciating pain, expecting her abdomen to be pierced. Yet all she felt was the taut ache of her tightened muscles¡ªno pain, no wound. Tremble. Her trembling eyes fell upon her arm. Its muscles quivered, and her damaged arm guard caught her attention. In her grasp was a piece of the monster''s body. "What are you doing?" Enkrid''s voice broke the moment. He had already lifted another piece of the monster''s corpse. "Are you stepping in?" Enkrid was overwhelmed with exhaustion. Not just from the thrust, but also from using Will to lift the monster''s body as a shield. His muscles screamed in protest, though his eyes remained sharp. The dullard who glimpsed omnipotence paid no mind to the enormity of his feat. Now wasn''t the time for self-reflection. Jericks was dead. Roman had dispatched the spider swordsman with a knight''s strike. Oara had slain the owlbear. A short-haired blonde woman, wounded during the chaotic struggle, lay collapsed. Oara stood next to her. "What are you?" Her startled voice directed the question toward him. Enkrid replied simply. "It''s your turn now." Oara, despite the suddenness of his words, said nothing, turning her focus ahead. There stood the true master of this labyrinth: a fragment of Beelrog. Oara knew she couldn''t endure a prolonged battle due to the poison. Even now, stepping away from the city for too long was impossible. Only in moments of utmost necessity did she intervene. Had she fought before this, facing Jericks and the others, if she had to confront Beelrog''s fragment as well, she might as well lay down her life now. Yet Enkrid understood. He knew what today would bring. "Let''s see it¡ªwhat it is that Knight Oara protects." The visitor who had come to the city spoke from behind her. He was strikingly handsome, a man of unique presence. It was as if he had foreseen everything. And was there a problem with that? None. Oara, knowing her role, smiled. Raising her sword, she returned Enkrid''s earlier words. "Cheer me on and keep dancing." As she swung her blade downward, her steps flowed in a gentle curve. The sword''s destination: Beelrog''s head. Clang! The fragment, now wielding a blood-stained steel weapon, blocked her attack. A knight and a monster locked weapons, their clash reverberating. Enkrid hoped for this moment: to see Oara fight with all her might. And for that, he had repeated this day. His cheer was already delivered¡ªby slaying the ghoul Jericks. This battlefield was his tribute and support. All he wanted was to see it: what a knight does and what they are capable of. Through today''s repetition, Enkrid had conveyed his desire. And Oara, fulfilling his hope, showed him what he yearned to see. ------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work ;) Chapter 461 - I’ll become a knight and then I’ll kill Beelrog Chapter 461 - 461 - I¡¯ll become a knight and then I¡¯ll kill Beelrog Chapter 461 - I''ll become a knight and then I''ll kill Beelrog From the start, Enkrid never dreamed of becoming a knight. Not even once. In all the countless "todays" he''d endured, not a single one allowed Oara to emerge unscathed. The conditions for that outcome were simply too demanding. "Kill the ghouls before Oara steps forward." During that time, Roman would slay the spider monster, using its eight legs as swords, while simultaneously blocking the ghouls'' final strikes. There was no way to relive a day where Dunbakel or Rem ended up dead. Oara slaying the owlbear might not have been part of the plan, but it was a fortunate development. "Not bad." That was his conclusion. At that moment, he suddenly recalled the ferryman''s words. "Do you know what they call someone who willingly walks a harsh path?" "A saint?" "A fool." The ferryman had ruthlessly criticized Enkrid. It didn''t bother him. Such criticism was nothing new; he''d grown used to it. When he declared he would become a knight, the number of tongues that mocked him were too many to count. It no longer mattered. What did matter was the emptiness that came from failing to protect what he held dear due to his own inadequacies. He had seen a man fighting monsters to protect his family. He had also witnessed that man''s death. And the family he fought to protect. When Enkrid saw a mercenary smirking at the lone surviving daughter, he lost all reason. "Stop that madman!" "Hey, you bastard!" "Agh, my ear!" Enkrid bit off the mercenary''s ear and drove a dagger into the back of his neck. "You. Hah, forget it. Cool your head." The mercenary captain let him off. By "letting him off," they meant imprisonment¡ªbecause otherwise, he''d be killed by the dead man''s comrades. He spent half a year in a cell, with nothing to do but train his body. Most of the guards ignored him, but one¡ªa grizzled warden in his fifties¡ªspoke to him. "Why did you do it?" "I didn''t like his smile." "Are you insane?" The warden eventually released Enkrid. And before doing so, he said something that lingered in Enkrid''s mind for a long time. "Without strength, you can never achieve what you truly want." As Enkrid left the prison, he rubbed his unkempt beard and replied, "I know that well." His dream was to become a knight¡ªnot for honor, but to protect what he wanted to protect. "Hahaha!" Oara''s laughter rang out. The fragment of Beelrog growled like a beast. It was impossible to count how many attacks had passed between them. Oara''s "laughter" sliced through the Beelrog''s arm and carved a hole in its belly, but it didn''t die from that. In fact, the wound only made it move more ferociously. Black smoke rose from its body, sealing its injuries without any visible effort. Even as the creature swung its crimson rod¡ªwhich resembled a sword¡ªdozens of times, Oara didn''t retreat. Instead, she met the attack with a rising strike of her laughter, shredding the net-like lines into fragments. A flash of white light burst forth, and the surrounding air trembled under its pressure. Boom! Thud. The ground shook violently as the Beelrog stomped down like a hammer. Oara swung her sword. Something intangible rippled along its blade, multiplying into countless shimmering images. Enkrid could see it clearly¡ªa projection of Oara''s will manifesting through her weapon, turning invisible power into a tangible force that swept the battlefield. The Beelrog responded in kind, its red rod mimicking the same phenomenon. Sometimes, the weapons turned into whips; other times, they became beams of light. They bent and straightened unpredictably, forming walls of steel or slicing through the air like spears. To Enkrid, it looked as though they were merely swinging their swords, but the clash was far more profound. Boom! The Beelrog fragment and Oara collided again. No one could interfere in such a battle¡ªit would only hinder them. This was a knight''s fight. "Master!" Roman shouted. Enkrid silently observed. The battle didn''t last long. Having glimpsed the realm of omnipotence, he could sense how it would end. Oara would win. But calling it a loss for the Beelrog wouldn''t be accurate either. Nearby, Rem staggered, his face pale. He coughed up blood as a fractured rib seemed to pierce his insides. But this wasn''t enough to kill him. Instead, he dragged himself to stand alongside Enkrid and watch the fight. "She''s won," Dunbakel said, slumping to the ground after narrowly escaping death. A long, dark line had been carved across the Beelrog''s neck. Its head separated from its body¡ªnot in a bloody farewell, but a blackened one. No one could tell if the separation was agonizing or satisfying. But what did the emotions of a monster matter? Oara turned, her face still wearing a smile. "People die, regardless," she said with that smile. Enkrid knew. Oara wouldn''t live long. No matter what, some things couldn''t be undone. Repeating today wouldn''t change the inevitable. "Well, that was satisfying," Oara remarked. A red rod¡ªthe Beelrog''s weapon¡ªwas lodged in her chest. It was a crimson skewer, like a burning sword. Luagarne had warned them: Beelrogs wield flaming swords and whips. This fragment, being incomplete, only wielded a sword that didn''t burn. "Roman, take care of the city," said the knight with the rod piercing her chest. "Sorry I''ll miss Rowena''s wedding," said the ruler of the city built from a thousand stones. "The labyrinth ends here. Just kill what''s left. No more monsters will emerge." Oara smiled at Enkrid. "Thank you." Her final words carried gratitude. "That was fun." And with that, her story ended. Life begins and ends. To live is to walk toward death. What one chooses to do along that path is what matters. Regrets over roads not taken are meaningless. In life, only effort to make the chosen path worthwhile brings beauty and fulfillment. Enkrid sheathed Aker and straightened his stance. He placed his hand on his right hip¡ªa gesture of control over his weapon. Then he bowed, paying respect to her. "Oara." He spoke her name as a final salute. And with a smile, he watched the last moments of the knight who had laughed as she died. Two apprentice knights managed the aftermath, while Aishia dragged her exhausted body to handle the rest. On the battlefield, anyone could die. Knights were not immortal. Everyone knew that. "The Master was dying," said a short-haired soldier as they lit a torch. Few wept. As they cleaned the battlefield, there was much to do. The entire city joined in to lend a hand. Roman carried Oara''s body to her home. There was no coffin yet. For a fleeting moment, it seemed as though she might suddenly burst in with a laugh and shout, "Surprise, you bastards!" But such miracles didn''t happen. Knight Oara was dead. Enkrid washed off the blood from his body. Outside, the noise from the troops moving for the night watch echoed incessantly. He returned to his quarters, washed up, and lay down, closing his eyes. He soon fell asleep, and in his dream, the boatman appeared. "Do you want to turn back today? But there are some things that never change. For example, the dice''s roll never changes. Where a god resides, curses lose their power." The boatman mixed in words that were hard to understand. There were several words Enkrid could not make sense of. He could only vaguely guess their meanings. What did the place where a god resided even mean? "If you stayed in today, you would never have had to see that death." The boatman''s tone was enticing, yet not seductive. From the start, Enkrid had one thing in mind: to protect Oara''s content smile, her joyful smile. Watching the hero fight properly was secondary. Enkrid had seen Oara smile like that, and because he saw the hero die with a smile, he didn''t feel troubled. What he had aimed to protect was her smile. It wasn''t a life he would cling to just to survive while abandoning what he needed to protect. Without a word, Enkrid fell back into sleep. The boatman''s image faded, and the sound of waves grew distant. Soon, another dream came. This time, it was a real dream, one without the boatman. It was a mix of random thoughts based on the memories still lingering in his mind, blending fragments of memories and information. "Hey, how''s my city?" Oara, draped in a red cloak, stood atop the city wall and asked. Enkrid, now standing beside her, noticed he was without a cloak. If it was a dream, she could have at least given him one. His back felt empty. "How is it?" "It''s nice. It''s good to look at, and good to live in." "Then will you stay?" Without hesitation, Enkrid shook his head. "You''re still set on becoming a knight?" Perhaps because it was a dream, the flow of conversation was strange. No, Oara was always like this, impulsively asking questions, though they were sharp as blades, hitting at the core of things. "Yes." "Yeah, I think you''ll make it. Anyway, thanks a lot. That was really close in the end." "Really?" "You didn''t see it properly, right? Come here, let me show you how it was done." In the dream, Oara reenacted her fight against Beelrog. Enkrid stood in Beelrog''s position and at times in Oara''s, remembering each move. "If you raise your sword like this, this guy''s going to try to trip you in a sly way." "Is that a prediction?" "No, it''s intent." In the brief exchange, countless calculations of intention were mixed in, as if Oara was using all her power to read her opponent''s moves. "You''re using intent now, right? But once you get used to it, you''ll be able to use Will freely." Oara generously shared all her insights. They talked for what felt like ages. In this dream, it was unclear whether it had been a day or a month. "Goodbye." With a bright farewell, Oara kissed Enkrid on the cheek. When Enkrid gave her a questioning look, the dream hero answered. "It''s a thank-you." There seemed to be no other meaning behind it, just friendship or gratitude, as she said. Oara was still Oara, even in the dream. She faded away, leaving behind the afterimage of Beelrog. Enkrid saw the demon placing a chain around Oara''s neck. Why? Was it because it was a dream? It didn''t feel quite right, though. It was an unsettling end. Enkrid woke up. It was dawn. When he stepped outside, Roman was there. "Awake now?" Roman asked. His face was pale, exhaustion evident. "You don''t look like you slept." Enkrid said, noticing Roman''s tired face. "I did." Roman replied, his voice flat. But despite having slept, there was something about his expression that was off. Roman, who had fought the spider inspector, had a deep wound on his arm, wrapped in bandages. "Just for a bit, but in my dream, the master came and told me not to do anything foolish." Roman, now relaxing his tense expression, began talking about his dream. It was quite different from the one Enkrid had. "Was it a subconscious manifestation of your will?" The words came from Luargarne, who had appeared in the doorway as Enkrid stepped outside. It was only natural that she would follow him. "Beelrog collects the souls of those he kills. He turns them into sculptures, storing them in the flames of hell," she continued. What exactly were souls? They were something every being with intellect had. "So?" Enkrid interjected, signaling for her to finish what she had to say. Luargarne continued. "The reason Beelrog scatters fragments is that he''s a soul collector. He''s also called a knight hunter in the Grand Magic Realm. He''s a monster who enjoys collecting beings that fight beyond their species'' limits." He disregards worthless souls but watches over those with potential. He waits for them to grow, sometimes even nurturing them. When he sees a being with a stronger body and mastery over their skills, he rushes at them like a famished dog. On the surface, he appears cultured, but he lives intoxicated by his desires. A monster with true intellect, he was called a ''demon'' on the continent. "Does that mean the master''s soul is with Balrog now?" Roman asked, fire flickering in his eyes. "Probably." Before Luargarne could finish, Enkrid spoke. "Ah, I see." A simple phrase that usually would have no significance felt heavy, resonating in the air. That one phrase carried more weight than any other response, like an unspoken promise. For now, there was nothing they could do. Even if they went to the Grand Magic Realm, it would be hard to find such a monster. But one day, when Enkrid climbed to the top of the knights, when he had become a true knight and continued to move forward, he would meet Balrog again. "I''ll go first." Roman said, understanding Enkrid''s words. "I''ll become a knight. And then I''ll kill Beelrog." Enkrid adorned his dream with a new piece. The requiem for the hero would be played then. The song of encouragement that had never been heard, the dance never shown, would be expressed by killing Beelrog. The blue flames flickered silently in the background, never to extinguish, as Luargarne observed with unwavering eyes. "It''s dangerous." When Enkrid didn''t reply, she added, "You won''t listen if I try to stop you, right? Just don''t forget it''s going to be difficult to become a knight. Don''t forget that." Enkrid had never dreamed of just becoming a knight from the start. The knight in the song was the ''End of War,'' and the meaning behind those words was a force that brought an end to all battles. That had always been his goal. Not to simply become a knight, but to be the kind of knight who could do anything he set out to do. He had glimpsed some of the power of the gods. Enkrid knew that the dream was within his grasp. Only the act of reaching out to seize it remained. He thought this, knowing the path ahead would not be easy, just as it had never been easy before. But he would not be afraid, nor would he stop. He had never stopped before. ------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work ;) Chapter 462 - To Honor Knight Oara Chapter 462 - 462 - To Honor Knight Oara Chapter 462 - To Honor Knight Oara Roman glanced at his fist upon hearing that someone from the royal palace was coming. It was a large, solid hand, covered in scars. ''Wouldn''t it be bad to hit someone sent by the royal family?'' It was an obvious thought, but it still troubled him. Do you swear loyalty to Naurilia? If danger comes, will you fight for the royal family? If someone asked Roman that, he would nod without hesitation. But if they asked, "Would you kill a noble you don''t like?" Roman would nod even faster, twice as quickly as before. Swearing loyalty comes from the heart, but... ''I''d rather be given the power to execute nobles on the spot.'' When Roman was in the royal palace, serving in the knight order, he had often thought that way. The palace was full of fools who only talked nonsense. Oara died. His master had passed away. Her corpse did not rot quickly despite the damp weather. Sadness, mourning¡ªsuch things mattered only to the people of this city. But what about the one sent from the royal family? As soon as the news reached the palace, they sent someone. It was a quick response. Was it expected? Yes, it was expected. A knight of the order had died. One of the nation''s pillars had fallen. Roman couldn''t know everything that happened here, but considering the need to suppress the Demonic domain and their political position, it must have been a headache for them. ''They must have a mountain of things to worry about.'' That''s why someone from the royal family arrived before the casket made of cedar. That person would question why a knight had died here. They would scold Roman. Why had there been such a fight here? Roman''s grip tightened, and veins bulged on the back of his hand. He would endure it, as long as he could. But if he couldn''t control himself? Didn''t Enkrid''s subordinate have a nickname as the noble hunter? The rumor was that he had killed a noble who had been messing around. Roman thought that he might take that nickname for himself. Today was the funeral of Knight Oara, his master''s farewell. "Ha." Roman exhaled a sigh and went outside. Flames were lit on the watchtowers, even though it was day. The fog in the city was thick. Usually, on days like this, monsters would run rampant. When the twin moons rose, such days were often repeated. The beasts, intoxicated by their instinct to kill, would go on a rampage. But not this time. "There are no signs." The scouts had been active since dawn, confirming that the magic zone was quiet. Just as his master had said. The Demonic realm was calm. The monster at the core of it had been killed. The Demonic Realm had expended all of its energy. It was now just a collection of colonies. The Demonic realm of the Forest¡ªOara had wanted to end it. Knights were walking disasters. That''s why they were called that¡ªthey had enough power to warrant the name. Even with that power, closing the demonic realm was difficult. But Oara had done it. ''Hasn''t she? What about all the things my master did for this city? How much did the people of this city love my master?'' If the person sent from the royal family belittled Oara''s accomplishments, Roman would no longer be a semi knight but a thug. ''Respect my master. Please.'' His turbulent feelings made him grip his fist harder. He decided it was better to leave the weapon behind. Roman had done so. He left his weapon behind. The knight who had been called a disaster by some. But to Roman, she was a lucky person, and traces of her remained all over the city. "Hey, do you want to live like a fool, scraping a few coins from the whores?" "What are you saying? Do you want to die?" It was when he had just joined as a soldier in Thousand Stone. He had rushed in blindly, and after getting beaten until stars appeared in the daylight, he learned. "You need some education. Follow me!" At some point, Roman had fallen for Oara. It wasn''t a rational feeling. It was admiration. If it hadn''t been for her, he might have ended his life as a lowlife in the back alleys or as the leader of a criminal guild. That was who he was. No one was leading the funeral, yet all the citizens of the city had gathered. The city was almost devoid of children, women, and the elderly. It was a city like a large military camp. Oara loved the city, but she was also saddened by it. "If there were no demonic realm, wouldn''t people laugh and talk more freely? I want to hear children''s laughter in this city." That was Oara''s dream. She had made that dream a reality. Even as she died, she did not give up, and she had laid the foundation. The remaining demonic realm would be erased and wiped away by herself. Then, the city would hear the laughter of children. Roman had shared these words with his friend Enkrid. He had quietly listened and nodded. No, just listening and nodding had been a comfort. He was an interesting fellow. Having blended into the city and witnessed the end of his master, it seemed so natural. Roman''s eyes were drawn to the central podium. Someone was standing there. It was someone from the royal palace. The face was unfamiliar¡ªhe didn''t recognize him. ''Of course, why would I know a nobleman?'' The man stood on the platform without a cloak. No armor either. His clothes had an aristocratic, luxurious air about them. But his hair was dusty, and his sweat-soaked clothes had dried, leaving white salt marks. The man stood on the platform and looked at everyone. Roman saw everything about his actions and felt the atmosphere around him change. The man hadn''t said anything yet, but his gaze alone seemed to draw the attention of the entire crowd. The air, the flow, the atmosphere¡ªall seemed to be absorbed into the platform. "I apologize." The man spoke. He didn''t introduce himself first; instead, he spoke of apologies. "I am grateful for the efforts of Knight Oara, but I cannot deny that her death is, in part, my responsibility." He wasn''t crying, but he looked like he was. What was he sad about? Was it the loss of a knight? No, it wasn''t that. He genuinely seemed to feel sorrow. Roman thought so. The man''s expression did not change. He stood quietly, and his eyes and breath spoke volumes. He was sorry. He was sorry for not being able to do anything for the person who had protected this land. Who was this man to speak so arrogantly? Roman''s anger flared, and he struggled to control his emotions. Just as he was about to shout something, the man on the platform spoke again. "My name is Kryanaht Angius Naurilius. I am the one you will resent and curse." What? Roman widened his eyes and glared at the man on the platform. Was this bastard saying what he thought he was? "Knight Oara''s dream was to protect this city, and I too swear to protect this land and city until Naurilia collapses or falls, even if it does." The royal family had sent someone. That person had sworn to protect the city. That person showed sorrow for Oara''s death. But he didn''t only speak of Oara. He listed the names of each soldier who had fallen. Roman had heard that the new king, after the civil war, had done such things. The king had done it again this time. As soon as he heard the news, he had rushed over day and night. And now, with a body on the verge of collapsing, he stood on the platform and spoke of his sorrow and vow. "You are free to throw stones." There had been a knight who loved the city. That knight had protected the city in the end. And now the king, who should have protected that knight, said the resentment should fall upon him. Even if this was a lie. Roman thought with tears in his eyes. Protecting this city was ultimately about protecting the kingdom. Oara had protected the city, showing loyalty to the royal family. Roman himself would do the same. If such a king were to appear. He would protect the city in place of Oara. Roman lifted his head. The fog cleared. The twin moons, the red moon, and the rising sun shattered everything. The gray mist from the Gray Forest of the demonic realm dissipated, and sunlight poured in like waves. The sunlight, pouring in like waves, stopped in place and brightly illuminated the world. It shone on the king, on the people, and on the dead Oara. In the sunlight, the blonde king looked at everyone. "Honor to Knight Oara." The king paid his respects. Krang, who had descended from the platform, opened his mouth. Behind him, in the corner of the platform, Enkrid quietly listened to his words. "Did I arrive right on time? Or was I late? Or should I blame my ignorance for not being able to do anything for the knight who protected this land?" Political position, power, the royal family''s influence. He hadn''t come after calculating such things. He had come to comfort those who mourned the death of someone. If cynical advice had been needed, Krang could have offered it. But he didn''t. Instead, he stood on the platform, giving a speech that wasn''t really a speech. They say that sharing sorrow lightens the burden. Krang shared his sorrow with the entire city. Oara was dead. But no one would forget her name. "From today, the name of this city will be Oara." The king spoke and descended from the platform. "It''s exhausting." Only then did Krang, with a whining tone, speak. He was looking directly at Enkrid. Enkrid, who had been watching, scolded the king. "You should have brought a coffin made of sandalwood." "Indeed." If they had thought about it, they probably wouldn''t have come at all. Even the guards accompanying them didn''t seem to be at ease. "Ha. Damned monsters, damned demonic domain." Krang muttered while looking at the sky. Even under the falling sunlight, he didn''t furrow his brows or squint but closed his eyes. And with his eyes still shut, he continued speaking. "I''ll erase the demonic domain. I''ll dedicate my life to it. This land is my responsibility, my country. And in this land, a knight has fallen. Therefore, I will erase the demonic domain entirely." There was Will. The Will that lay within his resolve and beliefs. Krang'' words were filled with determination. It was the same as when Enkrid had first met him at the duty barracks. His speech, his gaze, his gestures¡ªeverything flowed as if it had been decided. Like the sun rises and the moon sets. Krang spoke with all his heart. Enkrid truly heard him. He understood. He read the determination behind his words. It was still just one phrase, neither fast nor slow, but he would do it. He would erase the demonic domains. The king would burn his flame for that purpose. An illusion once again appeared. The knights, the squire, the squires, the soldiers¡ªall of them raised their swords for one king. They would wield their swords and stab their spears. Against the monsters, against the king''s enemies. The king would bear the responsibility and set the direction. The knight would remove the obstacles along that path. That was the role of each person. "My sword will be with them." Enkrid replied. "That''s good to hear. Let''s walk for a bit." Krang quickly returned to his usual self, an attitude not unlike when Enkrid first saw him at the duty barracks. "You look like you''re about to collapse. Are you sure you''ll be okay?" "If I collapse, you can at least help me up." "You''ve got your guards. Why would I need to?" "True enough." With that lighthearted exchange, Krang smiled faintly. Enkrid smiled as well and began walking. The day that passed would never return. The dead would never return. It was the same thing. Was this the best choice? Was there no better way? It might have crossed Enkrid''s mind, but he shrugged it off. To regret the day that passed and wonder if the path not taken would have been better, imagining that there was a better choice, was as foolish as anything could be. It was more dangerous than any curse to dwell on such thoughts and regrets. If he had lived with such a burden in his heart, he wouldn''t have made it this far. So he let it go and walked on. Not forgetting the day that passed, or the people who died. Perhaps, until the moment of his own death, he would never forget them. Then, was Oara dead? Her body had died, but her spirit would live on in the city of Oara. At the forefront... Although he didn''t understand why Roman, his bandit-looking friend, was crying, he figured it would be him. It wasn''t just Roman crying, however. The grief that Krang had shared was felt throughout the city. Some, so deeply sad, couldn''t even shed tears. If their tears could carry on the spirit of Oara... ''I will inherit some of the techniques, Oara.'' The spirit, the techniques, the will¡ªthose things would remain and be passed on. Though dead, they would protect this land. With this, the knight of Oara had upheld their own will and belief. With such thoughts, Enkrid walked, his steps loud and steady. Krang walked alongside him, followed by the guards. Then, Luagarne came up on the opposite side of Krang, walking with Enkrid at the center. "So, after your contract with the former queen ended, are you willing to help me now, Luagarne?" Krang spoke, sticking his head forward. Luagarne puffed her cheeks and smiled, answering. "My interest lies here, not there." Luagarne stuck out her tongue, pointing at Enkrid. Even while doing so, her pronunciation remained perfect. If it was a skill, it was certainly a skill. "You said you were interested in my face, didn''t you?" "Reveling in beauty is a trait of the Frog species, so it can''t be helped. It doesn''t necessarily mean I''ll make a contract with you." "I know. I''m just disappointed." She laughed, rolling her cheeks. It seemed like Krang was also part of her tastes, as she seemed to enjoy just looking at faces. Enkrid and Krang walked between the broken sunbeams. No special words were exchanged. The future, politics, the problems caused by the absence of knights¡ªneither of them cared for any of those. "So, you killed a ghoul who fights like a knight? Your skills have improved." "I''ve just been doing it." "Don''t just say ''I''ve just been doing it.''" "Of course not. It''s an incomprehensible talent." Luagarne chimed in from the side. Even she found it mysterious how he could reproduce a knight''s strike in an instant. How was that possible? She asked, but Enkrid wouldn''t have an answer for her. Various small talk passed by. Enkrid listened to Krang'' stories and shared his own. Mostly trivial things. Although many of them were important and secret, to them, it was just idle chatter. For example, something like this: "Ah, I''ve gotten engaged." For the king, having descendants was also a matter of business. Krang spoke calmly about his affairs. Enkrid congratulated him. "Is it really something to congratulate?" Krang joked. They both laughed. The internal problems of the city of Oara were many. But others would be able to solve them. They just passed the problems onto others and continued their conversation. "What kind of person was Oara?" Krang asked about the hero who had protected the city, someone he had never seen. "She was someone who shone." Like sunlight. Enkrid answered, recalling the memories. ------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work ;) Chapter 463 - Reflection Chapter 463 - 463 - Reflection Chapter 463 - Reflection Stories about Oara, as radiant as sunlight, filled the conversations. The funeral was over. Among the townspeople, there were no loud cries of grief. They shed tears but mourned in a calm, composed manner. "Oara!" Now, only the shouts in her honor remained. "For Knight Oara!" The voices of those left behind echoed. Knight Oara''s will had been eternally etched into the city. Just as every knight possesses a weapon engraved with their mark, Oara now had a city bearing her name. The city of Oara¡ªthe new name of Thousand Stone. "Take your time to talk; I''ll head back first." As Enkrid and Krang delved into conversation, Luagarne excused herself. After their talk and upon reaching the city gate, Enkrid clenched and unclenched his hand a few times. His forearm muscles were still sore, making it difficult to wield his sword freely. While assessing his own condition, Enkrid abruptly asked: "Are you leaving right away?" A day''s rest might have been reasonable, but Krang hadn''t even unpacked. His escort''s faces had grown darker and more anxious as time went on. The implication was clear. They weren''t staying; they intended to leave immediately. Krang had come to mourn the fallen knight and comfort the townspeople, but his life was evidently too busy to linger. "Check the carriage," Krang called back to his escort. "There''s nothing more annoying than a wheel breaking during the journey." Turning to Enkrid, he added, "I dropped everything to come here. If I don''t leave soon, someone might literally work themselves to death on my behalf." It was half a joke, but half-serious as well. "Understood," Enkrid replied. Krang came and left like the wind, showing no need for a grand farewell. As he was about to leave, Krang turned his head and asked, "Next time, will you come as a knight?" His eyes sparkled, their brilliance undimmed even in the sunlight. They asked a silent question: Would they meet again in their respective positions? Would Enkrid reach that point? Looking directly into Krang''s gaze, Enkrid responded, "Do you really think I can ascend without a red mantle?" Krang laughed and replied, "Do I need an answer?" "No," Enkrid said with a slight smile. Krang burst out laughing and turned away. As one of his escorts approached Enkrid, he spoke. "I''m Squire Lug. How''s Ropord doing?" "Probably well," Enkrid replied. The name Ropord felt oddly distant after repeating the day. A friend who had followed him to the Border Guard after the civil war came to mind. Enkrid recalled how Ropord had persistently challenged Ragna. If he hadn''t died to Ragna''s sword, he should be alive and well. "That guy, always wandering aimlessly, suddenly turned over a new leaf. He says it''s all thanks to the Demon Slayer Lord." The title sounded strange. "Lord" had been appended, and the nickname "Demon Slayer" seemed to have solidified. Though not part of the knights, Ropord''s skills had earned him such recognition. To Enkrid, however, it was a rather grim moniker. "Could I receive some instruction from you in the future?" Squire Lug asked again, his eyes gleaming with competitive spirit. He clearly wanted to cross swords with someone renowned. "Lug, if you want to leave your escort duties and become Enkrid''s squire, just say so. You''re free to go anytime," Krang teased. "No, my lord! I have no such intentions," Lug replied, flustered. "I''d bet a year''s budget that''s a lie," Krang laughed, then nodded to Lug as he walked away. "Visit the Border Guard anytime," Enkrid called after him. Lug briefly turned his head to give a thankful nod. "Now, I''m really leaving. I''m so tired I might drop dead. That saying about bearing the weight of a crown? It''s nonsense. It should be about enduring work, not a crown." With that, Krang departed for good. Enkrid, too, began to walk, savoring the sunlight and peaceful air. He had seen Krang''s exhaustion from rushing to this place, but even after a few days of rest, Enkrid''s own body felt just as creaky. The result of facing off against Jericks, no doubt. As he walked back, soldiers bustled around repairing the aftermath of the battle. They were energetic, moving materials to repair the broken gate. Others worked at forges, casting molds and crafting arrows. Some disassembled the carcasses of spider-like monsters, using their tough exoskeletons to fashion sturdy shields. The unpleasant stench forced many to work with cloths covering their noses. Work carried on, regardless of the funeral. Life here brimmed with such vitality. "Oara!" The shouts continued as soldiers hauled logs on their shoulders. The name of the city, Oara, carried forward the legacy of the knight. On his way back, Enkrid felt drowsiness creeping in. His muscles ached, from his thighs to his back and shoulders. It was a satisfying soreness, yet moving carelessly could spell trouble. "Rest when you need to," Luagarne advised, waiting at the lodging. Enkrid nodded in agreement. Now was the time to recover, to close his eyes and sleep. Yet he had something to say first. "Dunbakel, if you don''t bathe right now, I''ll make sure your bath is going to be a long one." After being sent to scout and help with the cleanup, Dunbakel had slain a few monsters but had yet to clean herself. The stench from the spider corpses still lingered on her. "Do I smell?" Dunbakel asked, feigning innocence. "How can you not smell yourself?" Rem quipped from where he lay, recovering. Dunbakel, however, stood her ground. "Not really your concern, is it?" Something had changed in her; she seemed far bolder now. During their last battle, she had even thrown herself in harm''s way to protect Enkrid. Though he had stopped her, she might have died otherwise. It was a stark reminder that anyone could die in war. Grinding his teeth, Rem gave a sharp smile. "Think I can''t kill you in my condition?" Even outside the battlefield, having an angry barbarian ally could be dangerous. "Fine, I''ll go wash. Right now," Dunbakel muttered, quickly learning fear anew as she darted out. Rem, holding a damaged axe handle, chuckled. "Seems like she''s struck with a disease where people only listen when you beat them senseless." "You''re the one who seems to be infected with the need to beat first and think later." As Enkrid thought this to himself, Rem seemed to catch on and spoke up. "Are you badmouthing me?" "I wanted to ask what''s out west. Might as well hear it now." Both of them were bodies in need of recovery. Weren''t their bodies creaking from the battles with monsters? Rem, in particular, was close to being seriously injured. Though he lay there feigning normalcy with his chatter, anyone else would have been groaning in pain. "Low skies, curious clouds, or the other way around¡ªhigh skies, and the River of No Return, made of sand. Do you want to hear old tales or something?" "If it''s an interesting story, sure." "I''ve got a few I heard as a kid." Enkrid skillfully steered the conversation, and Rem went on to share a few old legends from the West. They were myths and folktales, some involving ancient origins of the dusky skies and even fragments of archaic language. Enkrid briefly wondered if the West spoke a different language, but that wasn''t the case. "Ever since the Language War, the entire continent has used the same tongue." The Language War had been a conflict initiated by the Empire, back when it was still divided into three kingdoms. Surprisingly, Rem was a compelling storyteller, and Enkrid listened attentively. For instance, Rem explained that in the West, the term "pocket sneak" was a significant insult because they despised acts of stealthy thievery, viewing them as dishonorable compared to openly taking something through a contest. "What does ''pocket sneak'' mean?" "A thief." "So boldly taking something through a fight is fine, but that''s just robbery, isn''t it?" Luagarne interjected with a question, to which Rem shook his head. "It''s a bit different. Robbery''s just brute force. This is more like a wager." Enkrid listened quietly. Before long, Dunbakel returned, freshly washed, and joined the conversation, bringing even more vibrancy to the stories. The tales from the West were fascinating in many ways. "Out there, they don''t ride horses. Instead, they have something else. In the desert, it''s as enduring as a camel. On flat terrain, it''s not as fast as a horse, but it handles most terrains well. They call it a ''Velopter.''" Enkrid had heard of such creatures but never seen one himself. The ferryman watched the group sharing stories. "You seem to be enjoying yourselves," he remarked, genuinely observing their lively camaraderie. Life often threw up walls, some of which left lasting scars even when surmounted. Those scars gnawed away at people over time. Moments like facing the unchangeable¡ªthe unsalvageable¡ªmarked the day for those called mad. The ferryman thought this was another one of those days. Yet, once again, he was wrong. "When does a person truly die?" The ferryman muttered. When life ends? Then, when does a knight die? When the sword of conviction shatters. When they fail to protect what they swore to uphold. Knight Oara fulfilled her duties, kept her oaths, and died with a smile. This mad soul moved past what could not be undone, ensuring that each choice made became the best it could be. This attitude stirred memories in the ferryman, ones he didn''t wish to revisit. He scattered the rising memories into the river, letting them drift away. There was no need to dwell on what had long since been forgotten. "Regret leads only to remorse when contemplating roads not taken." He murmured the words like a verse. The rhythm of his voice spread through the air. The ferryman continued to watch the one afflicted by the curse. Before long, the man, having brushed off the weight of yesterday, stood once again. He was a figure that lived for tomorrow while casting aside the ruins of today. From the stagnation of today, he shone, dazzlingly so. The ferryman could not look away. Darkness always yearns for the light, after all. And so, he longed to bring that light into the shadows, to place it within reach. It was only natural to desire such brilliance. The waves rippled. The violet lamp swayed. On his humble boat, the ferryman gazed quietly at the cursed one. This person defied everything the ferryman had seen before. The sense of awe lingered. With a sigh, he murmured, "Huh." What a lunatic. Barely healed, and already moving like that? The cursed man swung his sword, sweat pouring from him, but it didn''t seem normal. "A madman. A true madman." The ferryman repeated the words. Yet, seeing this, it became clear: This madman never ignored anything left behind by the dead. He carried their burdens, drawing strength from what was given to him. After two more days of rest, his body was nearly recovered. The sharp pain shooting from his wrists with even the slightest finger movement had vanished. "Regenerative body, was it?" Enkrid silently thanked Audin. His body was almost completely healed. He got up, gathered his equipment, and stepped outside his quarters. "You''ve held back for a long time." Luagarne was already outside. She basked in the sunlight, her pale cheeks glowing. Today was one of those humid days Frogs seemed to love. "Yeah." Enkrid replied, his thoughts wandering to everything that had been swirling in his mind. There was much to reflect on, especially the legacy Knight Oara had left behind. She''d left more than just laughter. Fragments of Oara and Beelrog. Every movement in their battle was etched into his memory. Dealing with the Beelrog would come later. For now, each day''s repetition was necessary to face tomorrow. Understanding this all too well, Enkrid focused on the task at hand. He studied every move Oara had shown him, everything she''d imparted in his dreams. Even the Beelrog''s fragmented movements, barely glimpsed, became objects of analysis. It was a knight-level battle beyond a squire''s reach. He had seen less than he had missed. Yet he absorbed every bit he could, with Luagarne assisting him. One step at a time. Enkrid resolved to move forward patiently, methodically. "Looks like I don''t need to remind you not to rush," Luagarne remarked, satisfied. This man was worth teaching, though his learning pace was slow. Enkrid had long embodied a life philosophy that even the Frog had summarized succinctly: "Everything begins with a single step." He studied the incomprehensible, repeated what he could grasp, and slowly transformed it into something uniquely his. "Gain experience, then refine it through training until it becomes yours," Luagarne said. That was already his way. He revisited every detail, every nuance. It was part of the legacy Oara had left behind. The clash between Oara and the Beelrog was unforgettable. At times, they seemed to float in mid-air, and their swords emitted real light, not just metaphors. Oara''s movements were relentlessly simple, yet the Balrog''s shards were anything but. It twisted and contorted, making bizarre moves. How did Oara''s sword counter that? Enkrid began to ponder every detail anew. ------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work ;) Chapter 464 - Blocking the Gate Chapter 464 - 464 - Blocking the Gate Chapter 464 - Blocking the Gate The short-haired blonde junior knight subtly let her sleeve drop as she sensed a presence near the gate. A thin blade hidden within her wrist slid into her grip. It wasn''t out of fear but rather a habit born from caution. With a hint of wariness, she spoke. "Do you have something to say?" Rem, the barbarian of the West and a companion of Enkrid, leaned casually against the gate. His gaze was indifferent, revealing no discernible emotion. In an unperturbed tone, he asked, "Where did you learn that poison technique?" The question came out of nowhere, but the junior knight understood immediately. West, barbarian, someone she once saved¡ªit all clicked. She also knew that the poison technique she employed wasn''t ordinary. The poison wasn''t singular. For instance, Jaxen used toxins derived from plants, animals, and minerals, combining them into synthesized poisons¡ªarsenic, belladonna, poisonous mushrooms, and countless others. However, what the blonde junior knight used was different; it was poison crafted through sorcery. While it shared similarities in refinement and application, Rem silently noted the distinct difference. The manufacturing process isn''t remotely the same. It was the kind of technique one couldn''t use without a mentor¡ªparticularly the kind Rem recognized. The junior knight, recalling Rem''s prowess on the battlefield and perceiving no malice in his inquiry, answered without hesitation. Her poison sorcery wasn''t a primary skill, and the question didn''t feel like an intrusion. "I saved someone who was injured by chance, and I learned it then," she replied plainly. "They said something about owing you their life, perhaps?" Rem asked. "Probably? They were... unusual. I''d say their proud demeanor left an impression, despite barely clinging to life." The blonde junior knight shared the memory, her voice tinged with faint amusement. Rem, meanwhile, pictured a certain someone from his past, someone who would likely spout strange nonsense even after being rescued. "I see. That''s all I needed to know." Rem simply wanted to confirm that the technique hadn''t spread through improper means. Deep down, he doubted that it had, but asking provided clarity. Having asked, he felt it marked a sign. The remnants of his old world appearing even here felt like a prelude to his eventual return. This battle, he realized, had been like a cleansing ritual before a significant endeavor¡ªa trial to ward off misfortune. Truthfully, it was more than half my life on the line. His ribs still ached, and the bruising along his side made walking uncomfortable. With no further reason to stay, Rem turned to leave. As he did, the blonde knight spoke. "Thank you." The sincerity in her voice prompted a wry response from Rem. "That person, they left with a beaming smile, too." The blonde knight chuckled softly at his remark. There would be tears one day, but until then, she would live with laughter, as Oara would have wanted. Rem stepped out of the house and looked at the sky. The sunlight poured down, not warmly but oppressively, like a heavy weight pressing down. Despite the rain the day before, the air remained damp and stifling. Yet, everyone bustled about without complaint, moving with determination. As he walked through the city, taking in the sights, a familiar sight greeted him at the inn''s entrance¡ªa figure even more diligent than the rest. "What''s this? Hands trembling like that¡ªwhat are you doing?" he called out. It was Enkrid, gripping a sword and slowly practicing his swings. Every movement was deliberate, an effort to control even the smallest muscles. It was the kind of training used to dissect and refine techniques. Rem had tried it a few times but found it tedious and unnecessary for his style. Oara''s fight, though inspiring, hadn''t taught him anything new. But Enkrid was different. He would internalize every detail, savoring each lesson. Rem understood this, yet some instinct compelled him to tease. "Repetition," Enkrid replied flatly, unaffected by Rem''s jab as he resumed his training. In front of him, Luagarne stood with arms crossed. "You should be grateful for the body you were given," the Frog remarked. Having observed Enkrid, she considered his physicality a foundation of his capabilities. She had seen him replicate the knight''s strike¡ªa feat that could have ruptured muscles or drained excessive Will, leaving him defenseless. Yet, Enkrid''s body endured. The phenomenon fascinated her. How could he withstand such strain without succumbing to the Curse of Emptiness? The curse described the state of lethargy that followed overexertion of Will, akin to burnout. Enkrid, however, defied these norms. Anyone else would have collapsed. Even the seasoned Roman had collapsed after wielding his brute-force greatsword to crush a bipedal spider beast. If not for Aishia shielding him afterward, Roman would likely be among those honored at today''s funeral. Yet, Enkrid stood unscathed, swinging his sword as if nothing had happened. It was nothing short of miraculous. For Luagarne, no curiosity could rival this. Enkrid divided his time evenly between sword training and meditation. Needing the latter, he now sat cross-legged on the dirt outside the inn. To passersby, he appeared idle, staring blankly at the sky. His gaze indeed followed the clouds¡ªthicker than usual today. Low-hanging gray masses suggested rain by the afternoon. Though his gaze rested on the heavens, Enkrid''s mind raced. How did I block that? The Beelrog fragment had lunged low, aiming beneath his knees¡ªa surprise tactic. Ordinarily, he would have dodged. But Oara had responded by bringing her sword from overhead to intercept the strike, redirecting her attack to crush the Beelrog''s head. The fragment retreated swiftly, realizing its misstep. The Beelrog''s agility was remarkable, but Oara''s swordsmanship had stunned Enkrid more. Her movements, once incomprehensible, were now becoming clear. His attempts to mimic the knight''s techniques had broadened his perspective. It''s the same as before. Her sword traced connections between points like an artist sketching lines. At any moment, she could react and adjust mid-strike, like a hand reaching for a cup only to pull back and change course. React as you go. No predetermined target, just adapt. The concept fascinated Enkrid. Could he strike with full force while maintaining such adaptability? Oara had done it. The possibility no longer mattered¡ªhe had witnessed it firsthand. Her style defied conventional forms, drawing efficient lines in real time. It was a swordplay that rendered elaborate tactical feints meaningless, summoning only what was needed, precisely when it was needed. The technique Enkrid witnessed was one only possible for knights: a form of swordsmanship relying on extraordinary reflexes honed by their physical prowess and Will. It was a skill exclusive to knights, developed after one became a knight. Before attaining knighthood, Oara must have relied solely on fundamental techniques to defeat her opponents. In a way, it was reminiscent of Rem''s style¡ªan instinct-driven approach that drew out deeply ingrained habits. Clouds intertwined, twisted, and moved like Oara''s sword. Enkrid swung his own weapon in response, and the gray clouds shifted again. Fragmented pieces of Balrog took unpredictable trajectories, the red rod in their grasp slashing at sharp angles. The heat emanating from the rod¡ªbarely a sword by definition¡ªscorched Enkrid''s skin. The ever-changing cloud transformed once more, becoming Ragna''s blade, then morphing into the spear thrust by the eastern Mercenary King. "Experience it." The Mercenary King''s words echoed in his mind¡ªadvice that proved invaluable. Enkrid knew what he had to do. "Master everything you possess," he muttered, almost to himself. "Did you have some strange dream?" When Enkrid opened his eyes, Rem stood three paces away, his gray hair disheveled. For a barbarian from the western lands, he was uncharacteristically clean, though his role in the unit¡ªsplitting rebellious nobles'' heads with an axe¡ªwas hardly refined. Rem was known for sharing tales of the Belopter, the Dusksky, the black meteor''s landing site, man-eating tribes worshipping strength, and the River of No Return, yet he never spoke of himself. He avoided mentioning his personal history, as if by design. "You''re heading west, aren''t you? When do you leave?" Enkrid asked. "I could die if I go as I am now¡ªno, I''ll likely die regardless." "Did you behead someone there too?" "Not quite. Let''s just say I have my reasons." Enkrid looked up at Rem. Normally, he wouldn''t be curious, but something about the axe-wielding madman''s tone suggested a hint of fear. It piqued Enkrid''s interest¡ªso much so that even Luagarne, who had been nibbling on insects nearby, raised her head. "Gurrrk," she murmured, the sound akin to a human saying, "Oh?" "Mind if I tag along?" Dunbakel asked, her voice cutting through the moment. Even she, usually consumed with her training, showed interest in Rem''s hesitance. The sight of Rem, a man unshaken by anything, faltering, had created an irresistible spectacle. "You''re all crazy," Rem said with a scowl. "Why would you want to come?" "Just for the experience. I''ve never been west," Enkrid replied casually. "You''re not busy?" Enkrid wasn''t. The Border Guard would remain secure unless Aspen acted, and there were no signs of immediate trouble. Even Krais, who might have sent a warning through Krang, had been silent. Ragna, now equipped with a knight''s power, could handle himself even if he wandered across the border. "I''m not busy," Enkrid finally said. But Rem''s response was unsettling. "Did I ever say I''d come back after going west?" His tone was almost a threat¡ªa warning to let him go quietly if they wanted him to return. The challenge stoked Enkrid''s competitive spirit. "I''ll just stop by for a bit," he replied, concealing his true intentions. "You''re really coming along?" Rem grumbled before shaking his head in resignation. "Do as you wish." And so, Dunbakel, Luagarne, and Enkrid prepared for the journey west. They rested for three more days to recover fully. Despite two bouts of rain, the skies cleared noticeably¡ªperhaps due to Oara''s defeat of the domain''s core. It was a bright, cloudless day when they departed, the sunlight as harsh as ever. "Are you leaving?" Aishia asked, falling in step with them. "Yes," Enkrid replied. "Did you say your farewells?" "Roughly, last night." He had informed Roman of his departure two nights earlier, but Roman had urged him to wait another day. "Stay one more day," Roman had insisted. Enkrid had no reason to refuse. It wasn''t an urgent departure, and the rain that had begun to fall made leaving less appealing. "Fine," he had agreed. Now, after a morning spent stretching and inspecting his equipment, he found himself short of Whistle Daggers¡ªevery single one had been thrown in battle and rendered unusable. Though he considered acquiring more, the blacksmiths in the area had unanimously refused. "We have nothing to sell you," one obstinate craftsman had said, his tone implying it wasn''t a matter of stock but a deliberate decision. As they left, Aishia made an unexpected admission. "I had almost given up." "On what?" Enkrid asked, matching her pace. "On trying. I thought living on one meal a day with my brother was enough. But it''s not." Her determination to move forward had returned, and she credited Oara for it. "Because I saw Oara''s back," she said. As they neared the city gates, Roman appeared, a massive sword resting on his shoulder. "I still don''t understand," he said, his resolve clear. Behind him stood Milio and the unit, alongside a short-haired squire. Their presence made it obvious: Enkrid and his party wouldn''t be passing through the gates easily. ------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work ;) Chapter 465 - Walking Away from the City Chapter 465 - 465 - Walking Away from the City Chapter 465 - Walking Away from the City As they walked away from the city, Roman broke the silence. "Why aren''t you part of the knight order?" His question was valid. With those words, Roman swung the greatsword resting on his shoulder. The blunt blade stopped just short of Enkrid''s nose. Enkrid remained still, unfazed, as he felt no killing intent from the strike, merely watching with curiosity. "Either everyone in the capital is blind, or you have something else you''re aiming for," Roman continued. Oara''s end had been what she had desired. Roman knew that. He also understood that it wasn''t he who stood by her at her final moment but this man, Enkrid. There was no hesitation in his heart. Roman had already made his decision as he blocked Enkrid''s path and swung the greatsword. He flipped the sword in his grip and drove its tip into the ground with a resounding thud that reverberated through the earth and their hearts. Under the blazing sunlight, with everyone watching, Roman spoke. "My name is Roman. I will not forget the debt I owe. Call for me, and even if it is in the heart of the Demon Realm, my sword will stand by your side. This is a personal promise, regardless of the knight order''s opinions." His words carried conviction¡ªa vow he would honor even as a knight. The pledge astonished everyone present, not just because of its weight but its meaning: it was a promise to risk his life for Enkrid''s sake. "And why should I trust you?" Enkrid asked, bewildered. If he ever harbored even a hint of malice, Roman would be as good as dead. Such an oath could also serve as a shackle, ensuring Roman would never stand against him. "This is merely respect for the second hero who saved the city. If you don''t like it, forget it and move on." Roman''s response was blunt, his usual style. Tossing such a grand gift and then suggesting to forget it? Madness. Another lunatic had appeared. "Here." A short blonde squire approached and handed over three daggers, all meant for throwing. The sight of them made Rem narrow his eyes. "You... you know what those are, right?" "I do. That''s why I''m giving them to him." The blonde interrupted Rem''s question, cutting it off. She placed the daggers in Enkrid''s hands. When he held them, a subtle sensation stirred his sixth sense. If his senses weren''t sharpened, he wouldn''t have noticed it. "Treat them with care. Don''t throw them recklessly," Rem advised from the side. "I hope these will aid you on your journey," the blonde added. Shouldn''t they explain how to use such tools before giving them? Enkrid''s questioning gaze received a cryptic answer. "They will become the strength you need in the moment you require it." The blonde, visibly exhausted, had dark circles under her eyes. It wasn''t just these two offering their gifts. "Everyone in the city knows what you''ve done," Milio said, stepping forward and rubbing his freshly shaved head. He might be planning to join a monastery; his hair was that short. "Should I recommend you to a monastery?" Enkrid joked. Milio chuckled mid-sentence, lifting his left hand. "What, did you think I''d spend the rest of my life alone, reminiscing about Lady Oara? No way. I''ll find someone ten times more beautiful and skilled than her." Milio laughed heartily, mixing humor with a bold declaration. Such a woman didn''t exist. Oara had been special¡ªmore so to Milio. Even in death, she had left so much behind. Enkrid knew this and respected Milio''s dream despite knowing its improbability. "Stay strong. Don''t give up, no matter what others say," Enkrid advised, echoing the same words he''d offered when Milio vowed to become Oara''s partner. "I will." Gone was the man who once seemed hopeless. Milio nodded with a serene smile, determined to move forward as a squire of the knight order. His resolve radiated through his entire being¡ªa manifestation of will and purpose as solid as a fortress. Milio would become a steadfast man. "There are rare, special parts found in some monsters," Milio said after a moment. Like humans, dwarves, and fairies, no two were identical. Giants were no exception, nor would dragonfolk, had he ever met one. Frogs, as a species, showed clear individual differences. Monsters were the same. After slaying a ghoul, a multi-armed spider, and an owlbear, their remains had been used to create extraordinary items. Milio handed Enkrid a bow as long as his arm. "Made from ghoul hide, spider silk, and owlbear bones," he explained. The composite bow was a masterpiece, crafted by oara''s finest artisans who had worked tirelessly day and night. "Please accept this," Milio said, offering it with both hands. Enkrid took the unstrung bow and inspected it. It seemed easy to carry when strapped to his back or waist. "This breastplate is made from spider shells," Milio continued. Despite being overwhelmed with orders, the blacksmiths had poured their skills into creating this armor. The black breastplate was adorned with what looked like fine black fur, which turned out to be steel fibers. No ordinary sword or spear could pierce it. Along with the breastplate, Enkrid received pauldrons and arm guards made of the same material. "Thank you," Enkrid said sincerely. "You''ve preserved our master''s honor. For that, we salute you," said a female soldier, bowing her head. Squire Oliver chimed in, "Should anyone insult you, I''ll personally shut them up with my fist." The brawler laughed heartily but had tears in his eyes. The once rowdy fighter had cried every day since Oara''s death. His tears didn''t signify weakness¡ªthey required immense courage. In this regard, the squire was a hero in his own right. "If I have a son, I''ll name him Enkrid. If it''s a daughter, Oara," declared Squad Leader Admor, the man of Rowena. By now, a crowd had gathered around Enkrid and his group at the city gates. "No need to go that far," Enkrid replied without a hint of amusement, causing Admor to scratch his head sheepishly. Enkrid smirked and added, "Let''s make a bet. Take the lead in the next wave, and you can do whatever you like." The Demon Realm wasn''t as fearsome anymore. Oara''s sword had carved through its menace. "Deal," Admor responded boldly, lowering his hand with confidence. "Show-off," Rowena, standing nearby, offered a gentle rebuke. She lowered her head as her eyes met Enkrid''s. "Thank you," she said. Then, everyone else spoke in unison. "To the second hero who protected the city." Enkrid had never spoken of his deeds. Yet, one thing was clear: he fought with all his heart and strength¡ªnot for himself, but for the pride of Oara, aiming to go beyond the repetition of today. There was no need to boast. It wasn''t about facing tomorrow without meaning but ensuring that today could give a knight a fitting end, one worthy of pride. "Was that the best you could do?" The ferryman asked. There was no need for an answer. No one could live every day to the fullest, but neither would they stop by looking back on past days. The people here, now, were living in the same way. They, too, were walking toward tomorrow. "Then," Enkrid''s brief farewell prompted the crowd to part, making way for him to leave the city. "Enki!" Someone led the chant. "Enki!" Behind him, a cheer rose, filling the air with Oara''s gratitude. Enkrid turned back once, then set his sights westward, heading down the road. It was the path toward the west. The sunlight was warm. The damp air dissipated, and the mist of the enchanted lands melted under the sun''s rays. Thus, Enkrid and his companions left behind the born anew city of Oara, born from the sacrifice of Knight Oara. The time of dawn, when the blue world of early morning pushes away the night, or the orange-hued hours ruled by sunset¡ªthese were the hours Enkrid loved most. Why was that moment so precious to him? Even if asked, he couldn''t give a clear reason. Was it because it signaled the start of a new day? Or perhaps because he often gained insight during those fleeting hours? Maybe that was it. During those times, he felt differently, his will surged, and he was filled with elation. He preferred sunny days to rainy ones because of this. Sunlight, the dawn, the wind, and the flowers¡ªthese seemingly useless things stirred his spirits. Though there were days when even rain had its charm, the brightness of the clear skies always invigorated him. Perhaps all these experiences were why he had come to cherish the present moment so much. The world was bathed in orange hues. Moving southwest, through the gray forests of the enchanted lands, past the poisonous swamps, and further south before turning west, they came upon open plains. In the distance, the horizon stretched wide, the sun sinking beneath it, casting the world in an orange glow. Even now, Enkrid gained new insight. Rem was human after all. Even someone like Rem had fears. He hid them well, but every so often, a glimpse showed through. It was rare for someone as guarded as him to reveal such vulnerability. Rem was the kind of man who, no matter the foe, would never retreat, often bordering on reckless bravery. "Have I mastered the Heart of the Beast? I don''t need it. My body has carried the blood of beasts since birth." Enkrid recalled him baring his fangs with pride¡ªa stark contrast to the man he saw now. "Are you really coming with me?" Rem''s tone, his eyes, everything about him said he didn''t need their company. That they didn''t have to follow. "Absolutely," Enkrid replied with the determination he''d seen in Roman before. Could mortals wield words of power like those of the divine? If so, Enkrid wanted to use them now: "Absolutely, without fail, no matter what." His gaze carried that resolve. Rem''s pupils quivered. "I''m coming," he said. "So am I." "And I as well." Enkrid spoke first, followed by Dunbakel, with Luagarne adding the final word. Rem met each of their eyes in turn. Though his shaking pupils steadied and his fierce gaze returned, Enkrid caught a flicker of fear deep within. What are you so afraid of? "It won''t be fun. It might even be unpleasant," Rem finally said. "We''re not going for fun. It''s curiosity about the west that drives us," Enkrid replied as he walked. "Sure," Rem muttered sarcastically. He wasn''t a fool; he could read Enkrid''s intent. He knew this was an excuse to mock him. "I''ve warned you," Rem said. "Warning received," Dunbakel interjected, only to be struck on the head with an axe handle. With a swift flick of his left foot and a wave of his right hand to distract, Rem swung the axe in his left hand. Though it wasn''t fast, it was calculated. Smack! "Ow!" Even with its slow arc, the strike carried enough force to hurt. Sometimes, it felt like Rem might even be stronger than himself, Enkrid mused. Still, if Dunbakel could understand and counter such movements, it might lead to growth. For now, though, it was out of reach. The strike resembled Jaxen''s pinpoint thrusts or a blow aimed to strike a vital point. It was excessive for dealing with a bothersome beastkin. Enkrid suddenly realized he could see the technique''s form clearly, even break down the subtleties Rem had incorporated. Another insight. This was why he had come west¡ªnot just for Rem''s reactions, but for other reasons, too. Rem began explaining the enchanted dagger with short blonde hair embedded in its hilt. "There''s a ritual where one sacrifices their lifespan to craft something. This dagger might not have cost actual life, but it probably carries the weight of accumulated karma. It could even prevent further spellcasting... Are you listening?" Rem frowned as he noticed Enkrid zoning out after asking the question. "Madman," he muttered. The aura emanating from Enkrid intensified, the will to fight manifesting as palpable pressure. Though neither of them had knightly titles, the oppressive force radiated by both was undeniable. Rem grinned. The mad commander had fully recovered. Both were now fit for battle. Rem''s prized axe was irreparably damaged, so he carried two ordinary hand axes. A slight disadvantage, but no matter. A fighting spirit stirred within Rem. "When we left the city, no one cheered for me. Was that your doing?" he asked. "Yes," Enkrid answered. "Dunbakel looks rather pretty when her fur''s brushed, doesn''t she?" At that, Dunbakel raised her head, her golden eyes brimming with curiosity as she glanced between them. "Yes," Enkrid nodded. Rem was certain now¡ªhe wasn''t paying attention. They stopped walking. Dunbakel, gathering twigs for their campsite, paused to look at them. The axes and swords reflected the orange light of the setting sun. "I won''t hold back," Rem said. Enkrid grinned widely at those words. It thrilled him to hear such determination from his subordinate. This wasn''t carelessness¡ªit was readiness to give one''s best. It was a feeling Enkrid found indescribably enjoyable. "He''s smiling again," Rem muttered. ------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work ;) Chapter 466 - No Longer Equal Chapter 466 - 466 - No Longer Equal Chapter 466 - No Longer Equal The sunset lit half of their faces, making the unlit side appear even darker. The sunlight stretched between the two men, seemingly drawing a line that divided their stances. Enkrid''s smile had vanished, leaving his expression unreadable. Rem''s face was even more detached. Both stood with arms slack, weapons undrawn. Dunbakel and Luagarne felt an oppressive tension radiating from the two figures, even in their unassuming postures. "The calm before the storm." Dunbakel''s thought was immediate. "Waves stirring in a swamp." Luagarne thought in parallel, yet distinct in interpretation. The difference lay in their perspectives. Dunbakel, driven by instinct and intuition, saw the inevitability of a forceful clash ahead. Victory, to her, would hinge on a single decisive moment. In contrast, Luagarne, a strategist by nature, valued the ebb and flow of momentum beneath the surface. To her, victory would favor the one who first seized the unseen advantage in this battle of wills. Both were correct. This was a silent, yet turbulent duel¡ªa stark contrast to their usual confrontations. Normally, Enkrid would charge in recklessly, while Rem would abruptly swing his axes to start the fight. Above them, clouds spread evenly across the sky, painted in shades of orange that deepened into violet as the sun dipped below the western horizon. The faint glow of two moons began to appear, casting an ethereal light over the scene. A strong gust of wind blew between them, carrying the weight of the coming storm. Whoooosh. The westerners called such days "Low Sky," and this particular wind, "Urging Wind" or "Blocking Wind." Rem had shared this unique phenomenon earlier¡ªhow it could act as a barrier when blowing against you, or propel you forward like a push from behind. Unaffected by the wind, Enkrid reached for his sword hilt, gripping it with calm confidence. Meanwhile, Rem drew his axes. Shiiiing. Enkrid unsheathed Aker, holding it with both hands, his gaze locked on Rem. In response, Rem wielded his dual axes, letting his arms hang loosely at his sides once more. Raising Aker to a horizontal position, Enkrid tilted the blade slightly, shifting it to an angled stance. "Impressive," Luagarne murmured, her large eyes sparkling with admiration. Rem adjusted his posture, shifting his weight onto his right leg and pulling his left foot slightly back. Aker''s blade pointed at Rem''s left thigh, a position that demanded a response. The exchange of moves resembled ripples in a swamp¡ªsilent, yet charged with undercurrents. Every shift in stance or slight adjustment hinted at a coming clash. "Think this''ll settle it?" Rem provoked, his tone teasing. Enkrid silently agreed. This was merely a test¡ªa trial of techniques he''d learned and refined. He knew brute intimidation would never faze someone as stubborn as Rem. But what about a strategy that disrupted his rhythm? The tactic was something Enkrid had learned from Luagarne¡ªpreparing to dominate from the very first move. Every adjustment of stance, every calculated tilt of the blade, was a step toward claiming an advantage. Their weapons finally moved. Bang! Aker''s blade arced downward, only to be intercepted by the crossing of Rem''s dual axes. The axes caught the blade, attempting to disarm Enkrid, but Aker withdrew immediately, its wielder anticipating Rem''s intent. The rapid disengagement chipped one of the axe blades, sending fragments flying, but neither fighter faltered. "Not bad," Rem chuckled. "You''re not too shabby yourself," Enkrid replied with a grin. What followed was a storm of ferocity¡ªslashes and strikes aimed at necks, torsos, thighs, and arms. Steel clashed against steel, sparks flying as each weapon sought to prove its dominance. Clang! Clang-clang-clang! The violet-hued twilight bore witness to their relentless exchange, as blows rang out like declarations of skill. Finally, a decisive moment arrived. Clang! With a thunderous sound, Enkrid closed the distance, slipping into Rem''s guard. Rem countered with a rising knee, but Enkrid blocked with his left forearm, the impact reverberating through his body. Thunk. Clatter. Aker fell to the ground, its blade embedded in the dirt. One of Rem''s axes also slipped from his grip, clattering to the floor. Enkrid rubbed his forearm, stepping back. "...You''ve improved," Rem muttered, cracking his neck as he stood. "Even I think so," Enkrid replied, his tone matter-of-fact. The duel had revealed something profound. Enkrid''s growth was undeniable¡ªshaped by his encounter with the knight''s strike, which had served as both a challenge and a catalyst. "Among semi knights, there''s no one left to face you," Rem remarked, retrieving his axes. "One more round?" "...Let''s do it." Though Luagarne and Dunbakel were astonished, they could not deny the outcome. The fight had proven one thing: Enkrid had reached new heights, solidifying his place among warriors. "Is there any reason not to be surprised?" Every time he looked at Enkrid, it was evident that the man had reached his limit. It was almost incomprehensible how much his skills had grown. He seemed like someone who had risked his life thousands of times in battle, gained profound insights, and honed those lessons over hundreds of days. "Even on ordinary days." He poured all his time into swinging his sword and contemplating techniques. Ragna had helped him and witnessed it firsthand. In terms of experience alone, Enkrid surpassed anyone else on the continent by far. "A body tempered by all that experience, meticulously trained techniques, and ideas that caught opponents off guard." Those were the things that now allowed him to surpass Rem. During their second spar, neither had been sent flying or knocked down. Yet, Enkrid was confident. "I can catch him." If he set his mind to it, he could defeat Rem. An equal match? Not anymore. The advantage was his. "Just now, you thought you could beat me if you wanted, didn''t you? Knock it off. You know things would be different if we fought for real." "You know it too. I haven''t been sparring as if my life depended on it either." "...You''ve got a way of talking that really gets under people''s skin." By now, they were on their third sparring match. Rem''s eyes had changed. So had Enkrid''s aura. "One of you is going to get killed at this rate." Dunbakel, sensitive to their intensifying auras, voiced her concern. They had reached their second campsite after walking all day. With the firewood they had gathered, a fire crackled behind them as their sword and axe clashed once more. This match didn''t last long. But every exchange was deadly. Clang! The sound of metal striking metal was rare. Rem''s weapon wasn''t like Aker''s; the more it clashed, the more it wore down. By now, the axe blade had turned serrated, almost like a saw. It could even be called an axe-saw. They were fighting as though it were half a real battle. In the midst of this, Enkrid found himself surprised again. Rem showed him something new yet again, as if to prove that sparring wasn''t everything. Lethal intent flashed between them. Then, before anyone realized, both had stopped. Their shoulders heaved, their breath escaping in ragged gasps. Despite neither yielding in terms of stamina, the match had drained them. Their sword and axe were poised, each pointed at the other''s heart. "Mess around, huff, and there''ll be a hole huff right here," said Rem. "Huff, you''re already dead," Enkrid replied with a smirk. At that, they both broke into laughter. "Alright, fine. We''ve got over ten more days of this trip, so I figure you''ll want to keep sparring. Might as well let you win a few." Rem backed off. "It''s not letting me win. You lost." Enkrid couldn''t resist pointing it out. "Yeah, yeah, fine. Let''s say I lost." Even as he spoke, Rem found it curious. "This feels strange." Losing wasn''t something he was used to. It wasn''t just for nothing that he was called a genius. There was a time when he was hailed as the strongest in the west, the greatest talent of the western tribes. Few among his teachers had lasted a month against him. "Learning curses was a bit tricky, though." But even that, he had learned, mastered, and understood. Several sorcerers had debated making him their successor. And then he left that land. Even after leaving, losing was a rarity for him. Recently, there had been a mad lost wanderer and a stray cat that suddenly went berserk, but before that, losing wasn''t even a concept he was familiar with. Losing should have felt unpleasant, but strangely, it didn''t. "This is different from that mad wanderer." There were many reasons, but perhaps it was because this insane captain didn''t seem like he would stop anytime soon. It wasn''t as if he considered Rem merely a checkpoint to pass or a goal to ultimately overcome. "This was just something that happened." A part of his journey toward his own dreams. That''s why, even now, he continued to wield his sword. "This campsite is uncomfortable for a lot of reasons." As they built the fire, Dunbakel commented. "And I''m thirsty," added Luagarne. As they ventured further west, the increasingly dry weather must have been tough on the Frog. "Alright, let''s see." Rem began digging into the ground. Everyone, including Enkrid, turned their gaze toward him. "Just wait. I''ll get us something sweet to drink." This was the west, the land where he was born and raised. There would be plenty of troublesome matters further in. "But it''d be a waste not to enjoy the present." Always have fun¡ªthat had always been his creed. After digging for a while, Rem plunged his axe into the ground, grabbed something behind the blade, and pulled it up. Crack. The earth broke apart more easily than expected, and something round emerged. Too large for one hand but too small for two. "Fruits grow underground?" Was it some kind of root fruit? Enkrid asked, puzzled. "It''s a western specialty, the ground-squirrel fruit." Its hard outer shell was made of compacted dirt. Rem cracked it open to reveal a shriveled fruit inside. He brushed off the dirt, sliced it with his axe blade, and split it in half. Inside was a sloshing liquid. "Give it a try. Once you taste it, you''ll never forget it. Merchants used to call it paradise water." Enkrid was the first to take a sip. As the liquid went down, the sweetness spread from his mouth to his entire body. It was very sweet, but not unpleasantly so. Instead, it was the kind of sweetness that left you wanting more. "If you drink too much, it''ll make your mouth even drier, so one per person per day is just right." "You''re officially our guide to the west now," Enkrid praised, genuinely impressed. Rem responded with a curse. Just hearing the word "guide" made him reflexively curse. Of course, he was the guide. Who else had been leading them all this time? Sometimes, the captain managed to turn people inside out with a single word. This was different from admitting defeat. It was a comparison to that mad wanderer, and it made him thoroughly annoyed. ------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work ;) Chapter 467 - Calculating Eyes Chapter 467 - 467 - Calculating Eyes Chapter 467 - Calculating Eyes Since that day, the journey westward had been peaceful. The vast plains were so wide that it felt almost exhausting to look at, but it was truly a good road to travel. "Today, the sky is high. On days like this, it''s nice to walk while looking at the sky," Rem said. He was an excellent guide. Although it had been quite some time since he left the west, he was still very skilled. "Hasn''t anything changed?" I asked. "Of course not. This land is the way it is," he replied. That was the kind of answer I got. We walked, watching the clouds float by. The clouds scattered and gathered, then scattered again, repeating the cycle. A high sky was one that appeared to be especially far away, with almost no clouds visible. Today was such a day. After drinking a ground squirrel fruit, Enkrid sensed something strange. It was dawn. He was on watch when he felt a strange gaze. It was low and thin, but it was unmistakable, a presence that would have gone unnoticed without intuition, yet still had a subtle and secretive quality. Enkrid found the source of the gaze. A small shadow quickly passed over the uneven ground and disappeared. After that, no other presence was felt. When he spoke of it in the morning, Rem nodded and smiled. "It''s about time for the pocket snoopers to show up." "Pocket snoopers? Isn''t that a thief?" He spoke while sharpening Aker''s blade and gathering the weapons and bow he had received as gifts. His breakfast consisted of dry rations. Well, on a long journey, cooking properly was difficult, so he had filled his stomach with jerky, salted meat, and dried fruit for several days. Rem said it could last for a few days, but during that time, Enkrid had felt that strange presence in the quiet journey. "If we steal the fruit, how angry do you think the owner, who has been ripening it, would get?" "Does the fruit have an owner?" Of course, I thought it came from the ground. "It''s called a ''word.'' Look, there." Rem raised his hand and pointed at a dry tree with thorn-like branches in the barren plain. I had seen it several times. The branches were like thorns, with long leaves hanging from them, and the leaves seemed to be made of tough material similar to wood. "That''s the ground squirrel fruit." "What?" I couldn''t see any fruit. "That one." Rem pointed at the long leaves. As my gaze followed his finger, I could see it. "That?" "Is that it?" Dunbakel, too, seemed curious and came closer to ask. After her sparring with Enkrid, she had been called for another round, and her eyes were marked with bruises. Even though she had taken quite a beating, she had no complaints, and there were no wrinkles in her demeanor. "That''s it." That was true even for Rem, who had struck her. The two didn''t hold any grudges, nor did they exchange any feelings. They just trained by striking each other and enduring it. Watching them, it was quite remarkable. You''d think that some kind of romantic tension might develop, but Rem was always thorough. It seemed like women didn''t even exist in his world. "Those fruits are carried by the ground squirrels and buried in the earth. Then, the fruit absorbs the earth''s energy and grows. The squirrels are the only ones who can find the right land for the fruit to grow in." The west was full of rare and interesting things. Enkrid understood that the strange presence he had felt was indeed from a ground squirrel. Everything he saw and heard here was a valuable lesson. This was also the third reason why he came to this land. "How do other westerners fight?" Whether sitting, standing, walking, or stopping, Enkrid was focused on one thing. While that could be an advantage, it could also be a weakness, as it often led to single-minded rushing. Rem, watching the crazed swordsman, answered. "There are those who fight like me." "And?" "And there are those who fight in different ways." "Is that all?" "Do you want to know in advance?" Enkrid didn''t think much about it and shook his head. "No, don''t tell me." If it had been in the past, when his skills were lacking, he would have wanted to know every detail and understand as much as possible to prepare, even if it meant dying. But now, he felt like he could afford to be a little more reckless. This was a path he could walk without fearing death. ''Let''s face it and enjoy it.'' It would be more fun to face the opponent without knowing anything. It wasn''t a path to death after all. Rem grinned. He had expected this. Enkrid also smiled, now understanding Rem''s intentions. The two of them bumped their fists together, and it felt like the flower of friendship was about to bloom. "You''ll have fun when you meet them. Ah, you might get angry, but I''m not sure about the chief. That stupid beastwoman will probably have it tough, and the frog might not even bother." Rem reminisced as he guided the way. Leaving the plain behind, he said that they would walk a little above the direction the sun was setting, with a small hill on the left. They would soon reach a small settlement. There were occasional monster attacks that made things troublesome, but everyone in this settlement was a warrior. From the continent''s perspective, they would be called rangers living on the borders. However, in the west, they were simply known as the warriors'' settlement. A place where everyone could fight and fight well. Now, it was time to encounter a familiar face. ''Huh.'' Rem secretly took a breath. He was a bit nervous. One of the people he was about to meet would probably resent him a lot, and that resentment would be justified. ''What should I say?'' Should he say "long time no see"? If he had known this would happen, he would have gathered some shiny gems or something. If Krais had been there, he would have made sure Rem didn''t go empty-handed. He was lost in such trivial thoughts when¡ª Thunk. Enkrid raised his arm to block Rem''s step. Looking at Enkrid''s arm resting on his chest, Rem raised his head. The settlement he knew was a bit farther along the road. Before reaching it, however, three figures appeared, hiding awkwardly behind a short hill. "Who sent for lunch?" "What, you idiot? We''re the farthest out, so who would send anything?" "Then what are those?" The three of them spoke loudly, their voices booming like thunder. If you were close enough, your eardrums would be in agony from the volume. Their faces were hard to miss¡ªgiants. The three giants had been talking, but they stopped when they saw the group. All three carried thick black-brown wooden clubs with sharp thorns on them. "Let''s eat." The three giants turned their bodies. Enkrid had faced giants before, but this was the first time he encountered such a sight. What did they mean? Eat? What, are they going to eat us? Are these giants going to treat humans as food? "Frogs are tasteless, so get lost!" The one in the middle of the three giants shouted. His rough shout echoed across the desolate field, bringing with it an overwhelming pressure. Naturally, Enkrid''s "Will" of rejection activated in response. "Grh!" Dunbakel''s pupils elongated vertically. Swish, thud. Even in such a strange situation, Rem spun his axe around and gripped it above his head. Swoosh! Luagarne unsheathed her whip, snapping it against the ground. The sound of the whip hitting the earth was followed by a light cloud of dust rising into the air. The three giants took long strides forward. "Frogs are tough." "Just chew them and toss them aside." "The beast is mine!" These were not giants who only ate humans¡ªthey seemed to be omnivorous giants. The three giants closed the distance. At first glance, they appeared slow, but that was only because of their massive size. They were definitely not slow. One of them suddenly accelerated, speeding up and thrusting its club forward. It was an unexpected move. It seemed as if it would strike down heavily, but instead, the club was thrust straight at them. The surprise attack came at an awkward moment. While Enkrid was shocked, he quickly reacted. His heightened senses allowed him to instinctively draw the blade from within. Crack! Aker met the giant''s club with a sharp, explosive sound. The two weapons collided and then separated. Aker''s sharp blade sliced through part of the giant''s dark-brown club, sending fragments flying to the side. The giant staggered and stopped, and the other two giants, standing next to it, pulled back and created space. The three giants had surrounded the group. Enkrid lifted his sword, his eyes cast downward. Was it really the giants'' strength? Even after the hearth of the beast was pumping moments ago, his feet had still been pushed back. Rem, holding his axe on one side, tilted his head and asked, "What are you guys?" Why were man-eating giants showing up here? Rem was genuinely curious. "Roar, are you scared, little one?" The giant spoke in a mocking tone, as if trying to scare a child. Rem, who had never been treated like this before, lifted his head and thought for a moment. If they could keep alive just one of them, perhaps they could speak. Based on how they had attacked earlier, these weren''t mindless beasts¡ªthey knew how to use their appearance to their advantage. In other words, they were capable of strategy. And knowing how to strategize meant they were also familiar with fear. "Don''t kill one of them. Just play around with it," Rem said, lowering his axe. He pulled his chin back and tilted his head slightly, his eyes glowing with a fierce light. There should have been someone here to protect this area. But they were nowhere to be seen, and only these omnivorous giants remained. This meant something had happened here. That thought gnawed at Rem''s mind. He planted his feet firmly into the ground. The heart of the beast moved, sending power to his thigh muscles. He bent his knees and pushed his ankles forward. Thud thud thud. The ground trembled. "What is that?" The giant continued to act like a fool, trying to lure Rem. Rem decided to play along with the giant''s tactics. Boom! He pushed off the ground. There were moves he couldn''t use while sparring with Enkrid¡ªlike fully activating the heart of the beast. But that didn''t mean he could defeat Enkrid, as his captain was just as skilled and had his own secrets. Whoosh. At the precise moment Rem moved, the giant''s club dropped right above his head. Rem pushed off with his left foot, sending his body forward as though he were launching himself. Then, with a second push from his right foot, he propelled himself again. It wasn''t as explosive as the first, but the speed was enough to make a difference. Bang. His second step wasn''t as explosive as the first, but it was more than enough to gain speed. His axe sliced through the giant''s body. Slash! "Ugh!" The giant let out a beast-like roar. Their blood splattered everywhere. Normally, giants were known for their red blood, but this particular one had dark purple blood, almost violet. As the blood spread across the ground, the giant howled and swept his leg across the space where Rem had been standing. Rather than just kicking, the giant swung his leg widely, indicating he knew how to fight. Rem struck the giant''s leg with his axe, using the rebound to launch himself sideways. It was a move he had intentionally planned. As he moved, one of the other giants swung its club at him but missed, reaching out instead. Rem kicked the giant''s outstretched hand and dodged sideways. Enkrid was watching, and before long, one of the giants had closed the distance behind him. "You!" The giant swung his club, aiming to block Enkrid''s movement, while attempting to grab his shoulder with his left hand. As the giant shouted, the volume of his voice was so loud that it made Enkrid''s ears ring. The sound had the power to briefly freeze a person''s body, but it didn''t work on Enkrid. He had already sensed the movement, and as he turned, spark flew while his other blade, Aker met and deflected the club. The result was that Aker''s blade met the club while spark struck the giant''s palm, leaving a small wound. The giant quickly pulled his left hand back, minimizing the damage. Drip. The giant''s hand now dripped with dark purple blood. It was definitely not the usual red blood. "Where did you come from, you freak? I won''t forgive you!" The giant roared in fury. Enkrid stared coldly at the giant''s eyes. The eyes of the angry giant were as cold as those of Krais when he counted Krona. They were calculating eyes. ------------------------- In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work ;) Chapter 468 - When He Spoke, and Rem Followed Chapter 468 - 468 - When He Spoke, and Rem Followed Chapter 468 - When He Spoke, and Rem Followed Enkrid spoke, and Rem followed. The journey, which had been more of a leisurely stroll while watching drifting clouds, had come to an end. The arrival of the giant altered the atmosphere. Enkrid adjusted the direction of his blade, observing the giant''s reactions. His opponent seemed indifferent, blinking his eyes like an innocent ox. "What''re you doing¡ªplaying with your sword?" Feigning ignorance, the giant tilted his head in confusion. His speech was awkward, but Enkrid wasn''t fooled by the clumsy act. This guy... Even as he spoke, the giant subtly moved his hand toward his waist¡ªclearly preparing to guard against Enkrid''s blade. Then, he began swinging the massive club in his right hand, whipping it through the air. The gusts from the swings stung Enkrid''s face. The sheer force of the wind caused his eyes to water, but he narrowed them to shield his vision. Two thoughts crossed his mind: Getting hit won''t just leave a bruise¡ªit''ll shatter something. Could this be useful for training my strikes? He adjusted his grip on the sword, pointing its tip toward the giant''s abdomen, and shifted his footing. "Need help?" Dunbakel offered, though her intention seemed less about aiding him and more about venting her frustration from Rem''s earlier beatings. "No need," Enkrid replied curtly. The giant''s aura was exceptional¡ªunique, even. Enkrid didn''t want to let such an opponent slip away. As his skills grew, so did his thirst for battle. Enjoying the fight itself was natural. Yet succumbing to that pleasure would transform him into nothing more than a killing machine. Of course, that would never happen to Enkrid. He had a dream. But should he be forced to live without any joy at all? Of course not. That was why he neither conceded nor abandoned his adversary. The fragments of exhilaration he''d felt when fighting ghouls grew in his chest, offering him a strange joy. Was his opponent dangerous? Regardless of skill, the sheer power of that club would break bones or worse on impact, regardless of rank. If I can''t deflect it, I might die. There was always danger in a duel to the death, and that element heightened the thrill. The whip-like motions of the giant''s swings betrayed nothing, but Enkrid knew his opponent was watching everything. His instincts warned him. This wasn''t a fool¡ªit was all a tactic. "What are you looking at?" Enkrid''s question met the giant''s gaze head-on. Their eyes locked. Enkrid''s blue eyes were steadfast, glowing like stars. The giant''s were dull, resembling clumps of coarse sand¡ªa murky brown hue. Though outwardly vacant and feigning innocence, the intelligence within those eyes couldn''t be entirely hidden. Deceptive eyes. The giant''s pupils shifted slightly. Enkrid tried to read his opponent''s thoughts but failed. He wasn''t a mind-reader, after all. But one thing was certain: He''s not retreating. At that moment, the giant halted his club mid-swing. "Aren''t you scared?" The giant''s voice grew unexpectedly soft, almost coaxing, as if trying to lure him into complacency. It was an impressive act, designed to catch him off guard. "Leave one behind, and I''ll spare the rest," the giant said, without so much as wetting his lips with a lie. Throughout, Enkrid watched only the giant''s eyes. A pang of guilt flickered¡ªfor thinking briefly of Krais. Similar, but different. What was the biggest distinction? Truth and falsehood. The giant''s eyes reveled in deceit, taking pleasure in manipulating and fooling his opponents. The stench of treachery and savagery wafted from him. "Will you do it?" Enkrid''s narrowed eyes met the giant''s question with a calm reply. "Sure," the giant responded. "I swear it on the name of Banatur." Both stood rigid as statues, neither moving a muscle. Despite their words, their bodies remained taut with tension. The giant, Banatur, realized his opponent wasn''t deceived. "Are you mocking me?" Suddenly, the giant growled and lunged forward¡ªfeigning an attack. His movements reminded Enkrid of the mercenaries of Valen: subtle but deceitful strategies aimed at overpowering their targets. The giant leapt forward, halting mid-stride, and brought his club down in a calculated strike. A deafening crash echoed. Even a restrained swing tore through the air, showcasing the giant''s raw power. Banatur wasn''t a giant in name only. Enkrid remained calm. The ferocity of his opponent''s strength, the taunts, the promises of mercy¡ªall of it left him unshaken. The Heart of the Beast. This discipline instilled an unshakable serenity, ensuring he never lost focus. Enkrid''s blade, Aker, rose diagonally just as the club came down. The blade grazed the club, shaving off chunks of its spiked exterior with a sharp crack. The giant shifted his weight to his right foot and kicked out with his left, sending debris flying. The splinters from his shattered club became projectiles. Enkrid twisted his body gracefully to avoid the barrage and switched Aker to his left hand. In a fluid motion, he struck at the giant''s shin. Crack! The blade collided with a protective sleeve around the giant''s leg, cutting through but not quite breaking flesh. Still, the resistance was palpable. "Agh!" The giant let out a pained cry, but his eyes betrayed no panic. Even as he feigned agony, he thrust his hand forward¡ªready to crush anything it grabbed. But Enkrid saw through the ploy. This was no act of desperation. Every motion¡ªfrom the scream to the attack¡ªwas deliberate. Banatur''s shattered club descended silently this time, the angle sharper and the strike swifter. Hmph. Enkrid exhaled briefly and held his breath for a moment. A singular focus. Time seemed to slow. His senses expanded, perceiving everything around him, relaying the situation in vivid detail. Fueled by the surging vitality of his Will, Enkrid moved. With his right hand straightened like a blade, he struck outward, while the Aker in his left hand swung upward. At the same time, he stepped forward, planting his foot squarely on the giant''s instep. Crack! Crunch! Snap! The knife-hand strike shattered the giant''s wrist, his foot broke the instep bones, and Aker pierced through and split the club in half. Splinters and chunks of wood rained down from the broken weapon above his head. "Graaaargh!" Finally, the giant let out a genuine scream of pain. It was real. Retrieving Aker, Enkrid leaped back to create distance. The giant, undeterred, dropped his club and swung his massive fist. Whoosh! The punch whistled through empty air. One hit could have been fatal, but Enkrid had evaded it. "Damn," the giant growled in frustration. That too, was real. Enkrid looked into the giant''s tear-streaked eyes. Those tears were also real. He found himself satisfied. While Enkrid was toying with one giant, Rem had already killed two others. The fight on his side hadn''t dragged on. Initially, they exchanged blows at a mid-range, testing their weapon skills. But soon, Rem closed the gap, entering the giants'' reach. Losing control of the distance, the two giants flailed their arms and legs in desperation, only for Rem to parry and shove them aside, driving his axe deep into their torsos. One giant died, spilling its entrails through the gaping wound Rem had carved in its abdomen. The other, with a hand axe embedded in its skull, staggered before collapsing. Purple blood splattered across the ground. Seeing the second giant keep fighting for a while despite an axe lodged in its head was a testament to their extraordinary vitality. But even for giants, spilling all their entrails and having their skulls completely split meant certain death. The three giants were simply unlucky¡ªthey had encountered monsters in human form. "Who are you people?" Rem approached after the brutal skirmish, directing his question to the sole surviving giant, whose wrist and instep Enkrid had shattered. The giant blinked, seemingly pondering Rem''s words. "Why are your kind here? You don''t live in this place," Rem pressed again. The giant, known as Bannatur, blinked once more. "Ugh... It hurts. Why are you asking me that?" Feigning ignorance again. Enkrid wasn''t the only one who noticed. Rem didn''t waste words; instead, he drew a dagger and pressed it beneath the giant''s eye. Nearby, Luagarne used her whip like a rope to bind the giant''s arms. Approaching the giant at such close range was a dangerous gamble, but for Rem, it was manageable. After all, no one expected him to fall victim to such antics. Even kneeling, Rem remained slightly shorter than the seated giant but still held his gaze. One foot planted firmly on the giant''s thigh, ready to crush its femur at a moment''s notice. "I could start with your eyes," Rem said coldly. "Unless you have another preference? I''ve even been known to start with what''s dangling in the middle. Either way, I''ll keep you alive for two days, at least." If Jaxen was a master of torture, Rem was willing to match him if necessary. He might not be an expert, but his extensive experience cutting people apart had undoubtedly given him a thorough understanding of the human body. And giants, after all, weren''t magical creatures with four hearts. Their physiology was still human-like. "Wait, if I talk, will you spare me?" To Enkrid, the situation felt surreal. He hadn''t encountered many giants, but their reputation as the Red Blood Beasts was well-earned. A species born for battle, known for their unrelenting combat instincts and refusal to retreat even in the face of certain death. Yet, this giant had submitted after losing a hand and a foot. He could still resist¡ªLuagarne''s whip bindings were tight but not unbreakable. But instead, he cowered. Rem drove the dagger deeper beneath the giant''s eye. Purple blood oozed out. "I''ll kill you quickly," Rem promised. And Rem never lied. "You''re vile humans," the giant muttered. Perhaps they were smarter than they appeared, though their language seemed rudimentary. The deep, resonant voice carried a coarse, almost primal tone, making it harder to understand. Still, their words slowly became clearer. "Damn it. No promises, just greed. What''s so great about this land, anyway?" The giant rambled, his sentences disjointed, but the message was decipherable. "All is as the prophet foretold," the giant declared suddenly, attempting to bash his head into Rem''s dagger. Of course, it didn''t work. Rem swiftly withdrew the blade and punched the giant in the cheekbone. Thwack. The giant''s head snapped back. Luagarne tightened the whip bindings, veins bulging beneath his smooth Frog skin. "It hurts!" the giant roared. "Did you think I''d hit you for pleasure?" Rem quipped before twirling the dagger and driving it into the giant''s eye. Squish. "Graaaargh!" Another scream. This too, was real. The giant had been broken. "This land is ours now," the giant confessed. "We were told to take it." "Who told you?" "The great prophet." Even with further questioning, little more was revealed. At last, Rem slit the giant''s throat with his dagger. Purple blood sprayed forth in a high arc. "We''re still in the dark, but we''ll learn more if we go deeper," Rem said calmly. "Better if you don''t follow," he added, echoing his earlier advice. Enkrid remembered the moment he suggested diving into the demonic domain. He had warned Rem it might be dangerous, yet he followed anyway. ------------------------ In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work Chapter 469 - Acquaintances Chapter 469 - 469 - Acquaintances Chapter 469 - Acquaintances Clothes stained with deep purple blood, a dagger in hand, and the still refreshing breeze under a sky filled with billowing clouds. Amid it all, three incongruous corpses of giants. It would be dangerous. Instinct warned of this. Yet turning back was not an option. "Alright, let''s go," Enkrid said. It sounded sudden, almost out of place, but his intent was clear: he would go with him. "If you''re going, I''m going too," said Luagarne. "Heh, fine. I''ll tag along as well," Dunbakel added, almost as if doing them a favor. Rem looked at Enkrid. Would a man like him go just because he was told to? Definitely not. His stubbornness was unmatched on the continent. Could that stubbornness be broken? Not a chance. Rem reached a swift conclusion and responded. "Alright. Let''s go." They set off again. After discovering the three giants, Rem began searching for signs of a village. "Damn it. What even is this?" Rem muttered. Torn tents, a pot with holes rolling on the ground, and scattered slabs of stone-like objects came into view. There were barely any bloodstains, and the smell of blood was almost nonexistent. The site, once a village, was on slightly elevated terrain, like a low hill. At its center, the remnants of a large bonfire could be seen¡ªa burned-down homestead. Nearby lay charred pieces of tents, scraps of leather, and bundles of dried wood. In the middle of it all was a massive cauldron. Beside the cauldron were several bones unmistakably human in origin. Rem''s expression hardened more than ever before. He scooped some dirt with his hand, sniffed it, and surveyed the area. "There''s not much to go on here," he concluded. There were no shattered barricades, broken bows, or spear shafts. For a battlefield, the traces were too faint. That was Rem''s assessment. Too many unanswered questions, but nothing conclusive. Looking at the remains of wooden palisades imbued with some special sap, Rem spoke. "There used to be people I knew here. No, there should have been." "And now, they''re not," Enkrid said while inspecting the ground. Beyond the three giants, no other signs were apparent. Then, what did the prophecy the giants mentioned signify? "Exactly. And those three giants¡ªsomething about them feels off. Their blood feels wrong, and the lack of monsters nearby is strange too," Rem muttered, folding his arms and leaving his axe behind for a moment. It didn''t make sense. This was the west, after all. Monsters were supposed to be abundant here. From sandworms to creatures that mimicked human voices with white fur, and even rat-men¡ªthese were commonplace, Rem had said. In contrast, due to the arid climate, creatures like lizard-men or crocodiles were rare. They even spotted a few wild velocaptors along the way¡ªshort-snouted creatures with scaly bodies, small forelimbs, and long hind legs. Watching them run, they were almost as fast as horses. But taming such creatures seemed doubtful. Even so, in the west, there were some who reportedly rode them, which meant taming them was possible somehow. "Let''s move on," Rem said, brushing off his hands. A giant attacking a village¡ªwhile possible, the people here wouldn''t have been defeated so easily. This meant there was something Rem didn''t yet understand. He took a step forward, and the group moved again. Though one village lay deserted, the paths Rem remembered hadn''t changed. The roads were the same. Walking, Enkrid tilted his head upward for a moment, watching the clouds seemingly rush by. He had heard that in this region, rain would either pour like a deluge or be almost nonexistent. On a day like today, with this dry atmosphere, rain seemed unimaginable. The air was coarse, almost scratchy. From his experience, Enkrid couldn''t detect the faintest scent of rain. Luagarne, following behind him, spoke up. "It''s so dry." Though this was ideal weather for travel, it was likely uncomfortable for her. She kept sipping from her water supply. "Drink as much as you need. We''ll reach our destination by nightfall," Rem said. Luagarne nodded. Occasionally, winds laden with yellow dust would blow through, followed by refreshingly clean breezes. As they continued, Rem spoke. "People here don''t like change much," he remarked, surveying his surroundings. It looked like he was searching for signs of giants again, but he was merely navigating. Landmarks like ridges, boulders, or large trees were his guide¡ªunchanging markers amidst the transient. Even under storms, these stood unmoved, a majestic and grand sight. For someone living here, they''d be but a speck against the vastness. The ochre-colored land had patches of grass here and there, alongside stretches of gray, stony terrain. There were chunks of sandstone, shaped and weathered by time. However, these were poor as landmarks. Admiring the surroundings, Enkrid asked, "What do you mean by that?" "There are wars, infighting among us, sure. But ultimately, we resist significant change. Whether we wander this land, fight, or die in struggle, that''s all there is to it. People here live believing it''s all fate," Rem explained, his tone calm. Enkrid noticed this was how Rem spoke when discussing something he truly detested. Whether or not Rem was aware of this, Enkrid could tell. For example, when scolding someone like Jaxen or Ragna, Rem would raise his voice, which was fine¡ªit showed he was moderately angry. But speaking softly while gripping his axe? That was a warning sign. Recently, Ragna had given Rem a good beating, so this calm tone had been more common. "I don''t see what''s fun about that," Rem said. Without hesitation, Enkrid replied, his words light but meaningful. "Why should you care?" Rem''s steps halted. "True enough," he muttered, resuming his stride. Was there a correct way to live? Even if everyone said so, did that make it true? Should life have a definitive answer? No. If there''s something you desire, shouldn''t you strive for it and seize it? That was Enkrid. Rem wasn''t much different. That''s why he had left the west. To claim his life. For enjoyment. To move forward. He didn''t want to become a weathered sandstone lump, eroded by the west''s winds. He acknowledged his past of evading responsibility and obligation. Acknowledging it allowed him to move forward. It defined his current path. It was all about the heart, the mood, and the will. When learning spells, he had moments of realization. Now, it felt the same. "Let''s walk through the night. Anyone tired... just lower your hands before I break them you stupid beast," Rem said. "I just raised them. My armpits were itchy," Dunbakel grumbled. She was an indifferent beast-woman, bothered only by the sight of vast lands. Perhaps it reminded her of the plains her kind lived on. "Try washing up once in a while," Rem quipped at her. "There aren''t many beastkin as good at washing as I am." Dunbakel responded confidently. Naturally, Enkrid didn''t believe her. Neither did Rem nor Luagarne. "If you''re tired, get on my back," Rem said nonchalantly, striding ahead. They moved through the plains, which resembled a barren wilderness, crossing dirt paths and short grassy patches. To their left loomed a ridge filled with sparsely perforated rocks. It seemed like an ancient volcanic zone, as the faint geothermal heat emanating from the basalt gave the impression of the land being crushed under its weight. ''From afar, it looks like a lava giant stomped here.'' With his honed senses and keen observation, a result of rigorous training and sensory techniques, Enkrid deduced the shapes of the rocks and the sunken basin. The group walked through the night. Along the way, a few monsters appeared¡ªa pack of Ratmen. These rodent-headed monsters with long claws were quickly sliced apart by Dunbakel''s curved blade. "My turn!" she exclaimed, deftly dodging aside after each swing to avoid being splattered with monster blood. It was a classic hit-and-run tactic, and she managed to slay the creatures without a single drop staining her. Dunbakel''s skills had improved significantly. Enkrid could see that. What if she faced the giant from earlier? He had been confident he could handle it, but... ''Dunbakel would win. Her chances are far better.'' Of course, in actual combat, "chances of victory" are always tenuous. Regular training increases survival odds but guarantees nothing. ''Am I overestimating Dunbakel''s abilities?'' Should he push her further to motivate her? She seemed indifferent. Perhaps she had changed after receiving praise in their last battle. ''Not my concern.'' It wasn''t Enkrid''s job to worry about her path¡ªDunbakel would find her own way forward. "The hyenas or vultures will deal with the corpses," Rem remarked, surveying the slain monsters before resuming his stride. As they proceeded, jagged, blade-like rocks surrounded them¡ªsharp, formidable natural barriers. On their right, patches of short grass dotted the terrain. A few sheep grazed there, leisurely nibbling at the ground. ''Sheep?'' Here? And there were cattle too. Amidst them, a few people appeared. After walking all night, dawn was breaking. The interplay of sunlight, clouds, and the characteristic light, dry western air illuminated the landscape. The land, predominantly gray and ochre, glowed warmly under the sunlight. The absence of mist allowed for a clear view, revealing hues of light and dark brown, green grass, and a harmonious blend of gray and ochre with dashes of green. Four people stood gathered among the livestock, one of whom stepped forward. Instead of showing wariness, the figure glanced at the group and approached without hesitation. "When I read the clouds, they didn''t say enemies were coming," said a tall, broad-shouldered individual in a surprisingly light voice. The person wore a suit of fur-covered armor¡ªnot for warmth, but as if the fur itself was part of the armor''s design. Their hair, bright brown, was braided and hung down their back. Their footsteps were nearly silent, as if something padded their boots. Enkrid noticed this detail immediately¡ªperhaps a hunter, judging by their attire. The newcomer''s gaze swept over the group, lingering briefly on each member, assessing them. It felt like an odd mixture of scrutiny and wariness, coupled with an almost imperceptible intensity. ''Like flowing lava.'' Though slow on the surface, one wrong move would ignite it, consuming everything in its path. This was someone whose searing anger had been carefully restrained. The gaze moved from Enkrid to Dunbakel, then Luagarne. It didn''t linger longer on Enkrid despite his sharp features, which were usually pleasing to the eye, even if dirtied by travel. The person seemed utterly uninterested and turned their attention elsewhere. "Which side are you on?" The question was abrupt. "What''s that supposed to mean?" Rem replied, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant. Rem? Hesitant? The sight was surprising, not because they seemed familiar, but because Rem appeared unnerved. Enkrid glanced around, wondering if this was a ferryman''s dream¡ªa vision shown by some phantom guide. There was no ferryman, no mirage, only reality. His senses confirmed it. "You ran away from home. Why?" The broad-shouldered woman asked again. Rem didn''t answer immediately. As Enkrid observed the two, instincts kicked in. His mind began piecing together reasons and conclusions. ''Do we really have to go together?'' ''Couldn''t he go alone?'' ''Why take the longer, more dangerous route?'' The hesitation in Rem''s movements. ''If we go now, we might die. No¡ªI know we will.'' Why Rem adamantly refused to leave while injured, why he seemed unusually reluctant about retrieving what he had left behind¡ªall of it was now clear. "Hey, you bastard, speak up already!" The western warrior fiddled with the axe at her waist. She was Rem''s wife. ------------------------ In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work Chapter 470 - The Woman Rem Chapter 470 - 470 - The Woman Rem Chapter 470 - The Woman Rem The braided hair swayed, unaffected by the wind. It moved because the opponent had stirred. A lone woman shone in rich brown hues within the gray world. A sense of vibrant vitality radiated from her. In other words, her movements as she unsheathed the axe from her waist seemed light and rhythmic, almost like a dance. Then came the vertical chop of her axe. Enkrid''s gaze followed the trajectory of the axe swing. "No hesitation." While it wasn''t a deep bloodlust, her intent to cleave something was evident. Past the falling axe, splitting like chopping firewood, her piercing eyes traced a sharp line. The axe sliced through the air with a singular purpose: To split Rem''s skull. In the same moment, a few muttered words¡ªperhaps a curse or exclamation¡ªfilled the air. There was barely a half-breath to react, but naturally, Rem responded. The axe in his hand rose to meet its counterpart in mid-air. "Thud, krkkk!" Luagarne and Dunbakel''s eyes darted around. The clash of axe blades had created a startling shift, drawing their gazes to the intense exchange. Enkrid watched with relative composure, his sharp vision capturing every detail. The two axes collided and recoiled apart, thanks to the subtle twist of Rem''s wrist. "Hmph!" Rem''s opponent snorted through her nose. She yanked the recoiling axe back with brute strength. Her forearm, tightly wrapped in leather straps, bulged as muscles swelled beneath, making the straps sink into her skin. The axe leveled horizontally, now targeting Rem''s jawline. "Ayul." Rem twisted his body slightly to evade, speaking as he moved. The woman called Ayul responded with her axe, pushing it forward in a straight thrust. Rem caught it with his bare palm and redirected it to the side. "That''s Audin''s technique." Enkrid recognized it instantly. What Rem had just demonstrated was a variant of a body-flowing technique. But he had executed it barehanded. Even though Enkrid might have been able to defeat Rem, replicating such fluid movements so effortlessly was beyond him. It was a matter of talent¡ªthe natural ability to grasp a method and manifest it physically. Of course, Enkrid could also deflect blades with his bare hands, but doing so on instinct, as Rem had, was another matter entirely. What Rem had shown wasn''t calculated; it stemmed from raw instinct. Enkrid didn''t feel particularly emotional about it. There was no awe, just a note of interest in the technique''s ingenuity. It seemed worth practicing later¡ªa parry that blended striking and deflection. "I''ve chosen my partner and sworn upon my axe not to spread my affections elsewhere." Rem''s tone was calm as he spoke. Ayul, whose axe had missed its mark, slowly sheathed her weapon at her waist and replied. "Fine, let''s leave it for now." "A smelly beastkin, a Frog, and to top it off, one of them is a man." Rem''s words came again, this time a response to the implied accusation of infidelity. The context of the conversation made the situation clear. His explanation might have sounded like an excuse, but it was the truth. "If testimony is needed, I''ll provide it." Enkrid interjected, a declaration of camaraderie born from their shared battles. "I don''t know who you are, but stay out of it unless you want a new ornament on your skull." Enkrid chose to respect her stance. Dunbakel, meanwhile, stifled the urge to clarify that Rem wasn''t her type. The woman before them didn''t seem like one to make idle threats. Luagarne watched the unfolding events with curiosity. "A female Rem, indeed," she thought. Dunbakel had a similar impression. "Two crude axes." Enkrid, too, came to the same conclusion. "A woman Rem." Ayul rested her hand on her axe and gazed at Rem. Her eyes carried a heavy, silent menace. "We''ll talk later." Rem''s expression darkened slightly. "Fine." In life, there were unavoidable obligations. For example, a husband who had left home owed his waiting wife an explanation upon return. As Ayul''s fury subsided, a few other westerners approached, seemingly unbothered by the earlier tension. They likely knew Rem well. Among them was a man with patterns etched on his face, like spikes drawn with dye. "This is unbelievable. Grimek would weep." He seemed genuinely shocked. Grimek referred to a mythical beast living in shadowy forms, a figure from Western legends. Enkrid regarded the man with a habitual gaze of scrutiny, a reflex born from his early sword training. "Take everything in and analyze it." The man''s complexion was dark, likely sun-tanned, as hints of reddish skin peeked through near the boundaries of his hands and sleeves. His face had pronounced cheekbones, narrow eyes, yet carried a gentle appearance, making him seem more amiable than sinister. In contrast, Ayul was equally striking¡ªher beauty fell into the category of undeniable allure. From behind, Luagarne''s muffled sounds of fascination could be heard; Frogs were known to appreciate human attractiveness. Rem, however, bore a more continental appearance, distinct from the Westerners. This revealed something about his origins, a secret subtly hinted at in the difference. "Hey, it''s been a while." Rem sheathed his axe and raised a hand in greeting. "I nearly lost count of how many Danubaks passed." "Six." Ayul corrected him from behind, and the man nodded. "Yeah, it''s been a long time. What have you been up to?" "Traveling at first, then serving in armies, fighting recently. Now I''m back to retrieve something." While some words were unclear, Enkrid pieced together the gist through context. "What''s he saying?" Dunbakel tilted her head, unable to follow. Luagarne, familiar with Western dialects, understood perfectly. "Well, there''s only one thing to say in times like these: welcome back, Rem." One man spoke. "Thought you were dead somewhere, but you made it back." Ayul, too, blessed Rem''s return in her own way. Finally, the man with the spiked markings turned his attention to Enkrid. "Are you one of Rem''s companions?" From three steps away, his gaze carried a subtle wariness. "Should I acknowledge it or deny it? I''m still deciding. Can I delay my answer?" Enkrid''s response made the man chuckle, finding the humor to his liking. "An interesting fellow. I''m Juol." "Enkrid, from Border Guard." "Enkrid? That''s quite a long and hard-to-pronounce name." Although the empire had spread a common language across the continent, subtle differences in accent were common. Juol''s manner of speech reflected such nuances. His comment about the difficulty of pronouncing Enkrid''s name stemmed from the same reason, similar to how dialects arose over time. "Is that so?" Enkrid brushed it off casually. Rem, however, interjected. "What''s this about the village outside being attacked? We even ran into a giant on the way here." It wasn''t as if he''d forgotten¡ªit was just that the conversation had only now circled back to it. "That''s a long story. Let''s head to the Great Wings first. Ayul?" Juol suggested, but Ayul simply stared at Rem with an unreadable expression. The other Westerners merely stood by, observing. Enkrid studied their dynamics, piecing together the relationships. ''The woman, Rem, seems to have the authority, while Juol might be something like a squad leader.'' He wasn''t far off. This group, tasked with grazing cows and sheep while keeping watch, regarded Ayul as their strongest fighter. "Understood." Rem''s return stirred mixed emotions in Ayul, a blend of relief and frustration. Regardless, it was a fortuitous event, seemingly blessed by the Sky God. "We''re heading to where the chief of the Great Wings resides," Juol declared. The remaining Westerners whistled, herding their livestock. Using long staffs, they tapped the ground to align the animals and guide them, their skill something even the Shepherds of the Wilderness could learn from. When Enkrid commented on this, Luagarne puffed her cheeks in amusement. "Croak. That''s not how wilderness shepherds do it. You''ll see someday. Ask Fel about it when we''re back." "If we survive, I''ll be sure to," Enkrid replied with a nod. Though his conditional phrasing¡ª"if we survive"¡ªmight seem unsettling, both Luagarne and Dunbakel took it in stride. However, one of the Westerners walking beside them tilted his head, confused. "If we survive?" The young man seemed to wonder, "Who? Is this a Continental joke? A dialect thing?" Of course, it was neither. As they walked, Rem sidled closer to Enkrid, whispering softly enough that Ayul, walking ahead, wouldn''t hear. "Man, I almost died back there." "Wouldn''t it have been better to just take a hit?" Enkrid whispered back. Perhaps letting himself get hit would have been easier. "Hard to get hit when they''re swinging like that," Rem muttered. Enkrid agreed. It was tough to take a hit when someone was swinging an axe powerful enough to cleave off a limb. "Rem? Is that the same Rem who ran away from home before?" One of the Westerners, watching intently, asked. "Yeah, that''s me." "Was it because of the Wanderer''s Curse?" "Who said that?" "Ayul did." "And who are you?" "I''m Eire." The young man had sunken cheeks but sharp eyes. His body, hardened by a controlled diet and relentless work, looked solid as a rock. The way he tapped the ground with his long staff suggested he was no stranger to combat. Though lacking visible aggression, his disciplined air didn''t escape Enkrid''s growing discernment. He sized up Eire''s abilities at a glance¡ªa skill he had refined far beyond what either Rem or Ragna could manage. ''If we brought him to Border Guard, he''d be treated as a top-tier soldier.'' While Enkrid couldn''t be sure how he''d fare in an actual fight, Eire''s skill level was evident. Of course, nothing was guaranteed in real combat. That truth remained constant, whether he was a squire now or a low-ranking soldier in the past. By comparison, Rem''s abilities far surpassed Eire''s. From what Enkrid could tell, he hovered somewhere around the level of a Squire. In response to Eire''s question, Rem answered briefly. "It''s not like that." Explaining her past would take too long, and it wasn''t something a young man like him needed to hear. "Hmph!" Ayul, ahead, snorted. While she probably hadn''t heard the whispered exchanges, she could clearly catch the rest of the conversation. As they continued walking, patches of grassland appeared, scattered with Westerners herding livestock. Spotting the group, the shepherds paused to watch, a few recognizing Rem. Before long, an acrid smell wafted through the air. It wasn''t pleasant. Enkrid glanced sideways to see Dunbakel twitching her nose. If he could smell it, Dunbakel, with her keener senses, must have noticed it first. "What does it smell like?" Enkrid asked. "Seems like they''re burning a mix of plants," Dunbakel replied. Rem raised his head, also catching the scent. In the distance, gray smoke rose into the sky. "Something must''ve happened," Rem noted. "You''ll find out once we get there," Ayul responded curtly, her tone still heavy with irritation. Will she ever let that go? Enkrid mused as they marched on. A gentle hillside came into view, and beyond it lay an open clearing. "It''s been a while since we''ve had outsiders. Welcome, strangers who''ve crossed the boundary," Juol said. The clearing was filled with tents¡ªrounded, angular, and everything in between. Counting them all would take ages, and the people matched in number, forming a community of several hundred. It was, in essence, a Western city. "In Continental terms, you''d call this Elder Bear¡ªor something like that. We''re descendants of the goddess who became a bear. At least, that''s what the myths say." Rem had explained this beforehand. Tales of giant-slaying bears, animals transforming into humans, and the first humans born of bears were abundant among the Western tribes. Each tribe seemed to have its own version of these myths. The sight of the Western city was just as she had described it. ------------------------ In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi! www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work Chapter 471 - It’s All Rem’s Fault Chapter 471 - 471 - It''s All Rem''s Fault Chapter 471 - It''s All Rem''s Fault The first thing that caught his eye was a group of three girls and one boy playing with a rope braided from tree bark. The girls were enjoying themselves, while the boy seemed to delight in playing the troublemaker. He casually tripped one of the girls'' feet and dashed away. "Stop it!" One of the girls'' eyes flared with anger, her tone sharp. She looked genuinely upset, a face not unlike Ayul''s when she swung her axe at Rem. The boy, sensing danger, scrambled away quickly, darting between the large tents with nimble steps that spoke of a childhood spent running wild. His thin frame only made him appear faster. "Not even a bellopter would bite that little pest," one of the girls holding the rope muttered venomously, her dark brown eyes flashing with irritation. Unlike the adults, who often had painted symbols on their faces, the children''s skin was clear and smooth, unmarked by such decorations. Her naturally tanned complexion seemed to glow in the sunlight. Clearly, their playtime had been disrupted, and her frustration made it seem she wouldn''t let this slide easily. To Enkrid, it was obvious the boy just wanted to join in the fun in his mischievous way. Kids that age often sought attention through harmless pranks. A group of four men working on leather nearby chuckled at the scene. "If he keeps it up, he''ll end up with a broken bone." "Better to stand your ground and take the beating, kid." "Running will only make it worse if they catch you." Their tone was teasing, but their laughter carried a somber undertone that Enkrid couldn''t ignore. The boy, peeking out from between two large tents, shouted back with a cheeky grin, "I just won''t get caught!" The adults laughed again, shaking their heads at the boy''s defiance. "You can''t run away forever," they warned, though the boy paid no attention. A low, guttural sound broke the air¡ªa familiar growl. Enkrid had sensed the beast''s approach long before it arrived. "Hyah!" A child rode up on a young bellopter, its soft, unripe scales glinting under the sun. The small creature''s low stature made its rider and Enkrid''s eyes meet at the same level. "Don''t block the path of a hero!" the child declared boldly. Enkrid stepped aside without protest. A massive ox lumbered past, dragging a cart laden with goods. The child gently patted the bellopter''s neck to steer it out of the ox''s way. Though enormous and capable of crushing a human with a single charge, the ox seemed docile, its placid eyes shining gently. The man guiding the ox paused briefly to let the child pass. The scene around Enkrid unfolded with a lively rhythm: women carrying baskets of herbs strapped to their backs, men drying grasses, an old man scraping a long pole with a work knife, and a one-armed man meticulously stitching leather with his foot holding it in place. "It''s charming," Enkrid remarked as he surveyed the area. Though there was an underlying grimness, the place felt alive and full of warmth. "I told you it''s a good place," Rem replied beside him. He had said so before¡ªa place that wasn''t prosperous but peaceful. To Enkrid, it indeed appeared that way. It was a pastoral scene, simple and brimming with homely charm. The bleating of sheep and the lowing of oxen filled the air. A few short-legged, sturdy horses were visible, bred more for hauling loads than speed. Bellopters rested in one of the open spaces, their short front legs folded as they dunked their heads into feed buckets. Their vertical slit-pupiled eyes glanced curiously at Enkrid, and one of them emitted a raspy growl as its scales rippled. Being cold-blooded creatures, they couldn''t survive in colder climates, which was why they were unique to this warm, western region. Sweat trickled down Enkrid''s back under the sweltering heat, though the occasional breeze offered a welcome reprieve in the shade. Among the bustling crowd, not everyone wore a cheerful expression. A one-armed man wiped his sweat with a grin, but a gray-haired woman walking ahead of him carried a severe, somber demeanor. Her short hair and gray eyes bore an uncanny resemblance to Rem''s. With a basket of herbs in hand, she marched ahead, her focus fixed on some distant point, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings. "Move," she said quietly to a group of children blocking her path. Without sparing them a glance, she continued, her expression as if lost in thought. Behind her, the children hesitated for a moment before resuming their game, laughing and leaping over the long rope they held, following some unspoken rules. Their joy and concentration were infectious. Tents stretched out in every direction, with empty spaces here and there. The people seemed uniformly shaped by hard labor and limited sustenance, their lean frames emphasizing their wiry muscles. There were signs of scarcity everywhere¡ªpatched tents, worn tools, and anxious faces. Yet, most of the people seemed content, finding their own happiness amidst the struggle. "Strange, isn''t it?" Rem broke the silence. Enkrid remained thoughtful. Memories of Oara surfaced unbidden¡ªher dream of a city where children could play and laugh freely. This place was just like that. It lacked wealth, but the people found satisfaction in what they had. Now, he understood why Rem had described the place as "boring." "They''re enjoying life as it is," Enkrid thought. These people seemed content with the present, embracing a life of stability rather than ambition. No one paid much attention to the travelers standing in the open clearing. A few passing glances were all they received. A group of children, however, watched Lagarne with wide-eyed fascination. "A frog!" "A frog-woman!" It was clearly their first time seeing a Frog. Fortunately, Frogs didn''t think of themselves as frogs and were unlikely to take offense at such remarks. As long as their purpose wasn''t interfered with, or someone didn''t mention hearts, Frogs were generally peaceful. The whole settlement had a distinct atmosphere¡ªa life of acceptance rather than striving. It wasn''t unpleasant to Enkrid, even though Rem had warned him it might feel stifling. For Enkrid, respect for another''s way of life was only natural. Life was like that¡ªsimilar yet different, different yet similar. "Who''s here now?" Some passersby called out, recognizing Rem. "Is that Rem?" "The real Rem, not an impostor?" "Wasn''t Rem supposed to be dead?" "Didn''t Ayul say he is dead? Or did you say you will kill him?" The last words spoken were particularly striking. The man, who had gray eyes much lighter than Rem''s, looked up as Ayul nodded in response to those words. "I will kill him soon." Her words sounded so sincere that they sent a chill down one''s spine. "What are you talking about?" Rem asked, and for the first time, Ayul smiled. Her smile, with just one corner of her mouth lifted, was not only unsettling but felt ominously foreboding. It triggered everyone''s survival instincts. "It''s all Rem''s fault." Luagarne remarked, her sharpness showing. Had she always been this quick-witted? "Right." Dunbakel agreed. "Rem, apologize." Enkrid, too, joined in promptly. It seemed clear that Ayul, the woman in question, held significant influence here. It felt like they might leave without even getting a piece of meat, and if told to leave, they would have to obey without hesitation. It seemed no one would listen to Rem''s opinion in this place. What do you think you know?" Rem, still dumbfounded, turned to his group. He didn''t understand, but it was still his fault. Unquestionably. Enkrid expressed his will through his eyes. "You''ve got some backbone." Ayul showed a slight hint of affection. Despite the poor first impression Rem had left, things had improved a little. By siding with Ayul, Rem muttered, "Fighting for your life will be pointless." In the moment the atmosphere lightened, Enkrid spoke to Rem. "Go apologize. Bow your head once every three steps." "Just shut up and wait?" Rem said with clear frustration, and Enkrid wisely held his tongue. "I need to check on the chieftain, so stay here." Rem took a breath and said with a much lighter expression than when facing Ayul. Meeting the chieftain seemed like no big deal to him at all. Thoughts of heading west resurfaced¡ªhe had only worried about facing his wife. "Alright." Enkrid replied, and Juol stepped forward, indicating a spot to rest¡ªa secluded tent. In the western culture of sitting on broad cloths instead of chairs, a large cloth had been spread out inside the tent as well. "You can rest here." Juol''s words were met with a nod from Enkrid. The thick, cotton-filled ground was quite soft, and Enkrid set his heavy backpack down to relieve his shoulder. The bag, filled with a thick cloak, wooden dishes, and various other things, had been heavy. Now that it was off, his shoulders felt lighter, and he had the sudden urge to move. He had thought of many things while coming here, and now he felt as if something tangible could be grasped by facing a giant. As he stood and grabbed his sword, he stepped outside the tent, and Dunbakel asked from behind, "Where are you going?" "Just stretching." "Later, ask what this smell is. What kind of herb is burning? It''s annoying." It was a comment from a beastkin, who had a keen sense of smell. Enkrid nodded but responded, "Don''t you worry about the smell coming from you?" "I kind of like it when I smell it." Enkrid almost moved his hand involuntarily but restrained himself. His right hand lifted slightly, but it was his left hand that touched the gladius at his side. With that, he paused, using his self-control. His willpower shone through, and he almost acted like Rem, but it wasn''t entirely his fault. Dunbakel''s provocations often made people lose all rational thought. What made him angrier was that she hadn''t meant to provoke him at all. "Come on. If hitting her would make her listen, she''d have listened already." Luargarne said, showing some insight. She had never been intimidated by Rem''s violence, so in some ways, Dunbakel could be considered the most stubborn of all. "Understood." After responding, Luagarne followed him out. Standing in front of the tent, Enkrid swung his sword to clear his mind. Whoosh, swipe, whoosh, swipe. A slow swing followed by a fast one. Repeating the motions. He had watched enough of the surroundings, and with the large tent blocking the view, there was nothing more to see. Instead, the gazes that had been quietly observing them earlier disappeared. Apart from the children, everyone had looked at them once, but it didn''t seem like they were particularly interested. Enkrid kept swinging his sword, focusing inward. He reflected on what he had learned from Oara earlier and revisited his accumulated experiences from fighting giants. "After enough real combat, your balance will inevitably start to skew, and your stance can break. That''s why you shouldn''t slack off on training." It was advice he had heard from a mercenary. Enkrid recognized it as something most of his instructors would agree with. "That''s a given. Proper training will come out subconsciously." Luagarne nodded in agreement. The same had been said by Ragna, Rem, Jaxen, and Audin, though their interpretations were slightly different. Ragna had mocked the concept of training, suggesting that even if he didn''t perform well, he should swing a sword a few times, which was more of an insult to the word "training." Jaxen had criticized others, claiming that training in the mind made it easy to reproduce in the body, calling everyone else foolish. Rem simply believed in swinging the sword however he could, which made Enkrid acutely aware of the difference in talent. Audin had emphasized training, particularly his isolation technique, which required daily practice. Despite his immense talent, he never skipped training the body. When Enkrid thought back on it, a wave of nausea nearly rose¡ªhe remembered the brutal three-times-a-day training routine Audin had put him through early on. "Wasn''t that the Three Times Method?" Back then, when he had trained three times a day, it felt like his body was falling apart, and moving a finger was almost impossible. But if anyone asked if he blamed Audin for it, Enkrid would shake his head. It was because of those painful days that he now had the strength to swing his sword. "Did you come with Rem?" The voice broke his concentration, and Enkrid returned to the present. It wasn''t like he had sunk deep into his focus, but training often made him lose track of time. He felt the approach of someone and, without hostility or intent, simply let it happen. His eyes shifted forward. A middle-aged woman stood before him, holding a long stick. She took a drag from it and exhaled smoke¡ªa cigarette, with a sharp, spicy scent. "Who''s burning something?" Dunbakel, from inside the tent, stuck her head out and asked. Enkrid didn''t answer immediately but instead looked behind the woman at the two westerners standing behind her. They had similar brown hair and looked like twins. "You wanted to spar? Rem sent me." As the smoke passed in front of his face, the strong, bitter scent lingered. But within it, there was a subtle sweetness. Whether the scent was real or not, it seemed to linger. These two must be skilled¡ªhe could tell at a glance. "Are you really sure you want to spar?" The middle-aged woman asked, and Enkrid simply nodded. It was a question that didn''t need an answer. Chapter 472 - Rem Brought an Odd Fellow Chapter 472 - 472 - Rem Brought an Odd Fellow Chapter 472 - Rem Brought an Odd Fellow The warning from the middle-aged woman was that the spar wouldn''t be as fun as it seemed. In the West, there was also a concept of warriors. Rem and Ayul were examples of such. These warriors wielded axes, spears, and wide-bladed swords with one side sharpened. In this region, double-edged swords weren''t commonly used. If they used polearms, spears were preferred, and if they used shorter weapons, axes or a single-edged form of swords like the Palchion were more practical. Spears were useful for hunting, while axes and halberds were good for chopping wood or cutting grass. But double-edged swords were just inconvenient in many ways. The environment didn''t allow for a livelihood based solely on swordsmanship. Furthermore, not all warriors were of the same type. The mentality of not retreating in battle was the same, but the fighting style could differ. The twins before him were like that¡ªthey weren''t fighters but hunters. Of course, Enkrid didn''t know that. He only saw the weapons the twins were holding. ''A spear. '' The spear had a handle connected to something like a stick. It wasn''t familiar, but Enkrid knew what it was. He had occasionally seen mercenaries using such weapons. ''Was it called Atlatl? '' It was a spear-throwing device. It was a tool to more efficiently transfer force than just throwing a spear with arm strength. When the throwing stick connected to the spear was swung forcefully, the spear would fly with that momentum. Spears were inherently bulkier and heavier than bows. A poorly made shield might be pierced through. Three spears were sticking up from their right shoulders. Although Rem and the woman smoking in front of him said it wouldn''t be fun, Enkrid found it amusing. Was it only fun if swords clashed? That wasn''t true. Since he had said he would spar. "Alright, then." The middle-aged woman spoke. As soon as the words ended, the twins jumped backward. They kicked the ground lightly, their movements surprisingly nimble. Enkrid stared at them as they retreated and prepared their stance. It wasn''t enough to just retreat; they shifted their weight onto their heels. It was a stance ready for an evasive move, a stance from which they could retreat at any moment. Enkrid''s gaze studied their eyes, arms, legs, and beyond the weapons. ''Balance is good. '' The split calf muscles visible under their shorts looked as solid as if they had stones inside them. Those legs could burst with power at their master''s will. Was it the heart of immense strength? No, that wasn''t it. They had fought in this manner many times before. A battle where they would use their throwing weapons before the opponent got close. They had likely fought in a similar way in hunts and skirmishes. What if the spear-throwing failed? From their waist, Palchion-shaped broad swords dangled and swayed. "If you can''t dodge, you''ll die." The woman who brought the twins spoke as she exhaled smoke. Enkrid thought it would be possible to close the distance and prevent the twins from throwing their spears, binding their hands and feet in the process. But he decided not to do that. ''That would make it less interesting. '' He waited purely out of curiosity. If it was a spar, why not wait for it? It wasn''t arrogance, but confidence. The twins hopped back like grasshoppers, fast and tough like insects, bouncing backward and lowering their stances. There were no obstacles, as the area with the tent was in a secluded part, and there were no barriers. But what would happen if the spear-throwing missed? The tent might rip. With that thought, Enkrid took a step sideways. Step by step, moving slowly, the twins adjusted their distance. Was that the maximum range? Or the optimal distance for applying force? There must be a distance where the killing power was amplified. The twins had a wealth of experience, and Enkrid could sense it. "That''s too far." One of the twins furrowed his brow at those words. "If you get closer, you''ll get hurt." "We can get closer." Luagarne spoke from behind. The words of the Frog, with his talent for reading people, were always reliable, but the twins didn''t move. "Do as you wish." The middle-aged woman said, and only then did the twins take two steps forward. Still too far? Well, if they blocked once, they''d probably reconsider. Enkrid began calculating a few assumptions in his mind, formulating strategies and scenarios. Naturally, his foresight activated. He analyzed their feet, the direction of their toes, their hands, the strength in their fingers, and their knees slightly bent. After taking in all these details, he predicted their actions. As the twins moved, Dunbakel, who had poked her head out from behind the tent, watched nonchalantly. Thud. Twisting their entire bodies, the twins swung their throwing devices. Two spearheads flew out, extending and heading toward Enkrid. They were about to graze his torso and pierce the ground behind him at an angle. It was a split-second. Enkrid peered into their thoughts. They had no intention to kill. Since it was a spar, they''d give him a chance. But they could still cause injury. And then, Enkrid swung his sword. Swoosh! The twins couldn''t even see the blade''s movement. The spears didn''t break. Enkrid had deflected the shaft of the spear with the flat of his sword, sending it flying away. "Wow." The middle-aged woman let out an admiring sound. Before the sound even left her mouth, the twins had already jumped back. They''d retreated over six steps, shifting their weight far back, making it possible for such movement. Enkrid didn''t chase them. What was the point? They weren''t opponents worth chasing. But their tactics and style were interesting. ''They throw the spears from far away and don''t allow themselves to get close. '' Such tactics would only work if their feet were fast. That meant the twins were incredibly fast on their feet. If Enkrid thought about it, Rem was similarly quick. When he decided to move, only Ragna, Jaxen, or Audin could even think about keeping up. ''Is that all? '' If that was all, then yes, just as Rem had said, it was a bit monotonous. "Yeah, you''re not ordinary. Summon the guardian spirits." Puff. The middle-aged woman spoke while exhaling smoke, and the twins closed their eyes and began muttering something. Enkrid waited again. What would they show now? Would something rise from the ground and settle on their arms, or would it come down from the sky and form wings? Listening closely to their muttering, Enkrid could catch some words. There were many dialects mixed in, making it hard to understand every word, but it was clear they were performing some incantation. When the muttering stopped, something changed. They still appeared the same outwardly, but... "Ho." Luagarne exclaimed with admiration. "Hmm?" Dunbakel tilted her head in curiosity. Enkrid also sensed it. Something had changed. What was different? Was it their gaze? Their aura? No, it was the power in their arms. "Ha!" One of the twins moved with a shout. The sudden focus activated, and to Enkrid, all their movements seemed to slow down. One of the twins stomped his left foot onto the ground, twisting his whole body. He used his entire body like a throwing spear. His weight shifted forward from his ankle, knee, and waist, and his arm stretched out. The movement was the same as before, but the power was different. Ping. There was a noise, and then a dot appeared. It had traveled farther, now twice as fast as before. The tip of the spear transformed into a dot and flew towards him. It was a spear thrown by a squire knight, no doubt. It was harder to knock away than before, and Enkrid''s arm tightened. Thud! The spear flew through the air. He had struck it with his forearm, using his strength to redirect it. In the gap that formed, another dot flew toward him. It was from the other twin. This time, it wasn''t a thrown spear but a direct charge, holding the spear with both hands and thrusting forward. It seemed like he would be hit, but Enkrid extended his left hand and grabbed the spear''s shaft. Clang! The charging spear lost all its momentum and abruptly stopped in mid-air. At the same time, the twin who had charged pulled a sword from his waist. Ting-ting. The sword was starting to leave its scabbard. Enkrid didn''t just stand by and watch. He swiftly lifted his foot and pressed down on the hand attempting to unsheathe the sword. Ting-ting. The half-drawn blade scraped against the metal edge of the scabbard, causing a sound of friction. Enkrid let go of the spear and extended his right hand, grabbing the assailant by the collar and shaking him. Quickly from side to side. The adult man''s body wobbled like a sheet of paper. "Ugh." A groan escaped from him. When the body is suddenly shaken like this, the brain shakes as well. The opponent couldn''t withstand it. The other twin, who had been circling around, changed angles and aimed at Enkrid. Enkrid moved the twin he was holding like a shield, pushing him sideways. Throwing the spear would risk hitting his brother. Would he have done that in a real fight? Perhaps not. But this was just a sparring match. "I give up," the twin who had thrown the spear said. You''ve spent your life fighting, haven''t you? Your skills are impressive," the middle-aged woman with a pipe in her mouth said, her eyes wide with surprise. Only then did Enkrid release the collar of the twin he was holding. The twin, now on the ground, coughed. "Was that sorcery?" Enkrid asked. He was a little surprised. It had been fun. He had heard about sorcery from Rem a few times. "Yes," the middle-aged woman nodded. She wasn''t even thinking about the pipe she held; her gaze was fixed solely on Enkrid. Rem had told her to fix his cocky attitude, but he didn''t seem that cocky, and his fighting skills were exceptional. Would he fight better than Rem? She didn''t know. Was this a sign of hope? A gift from the gods? She briefly thought about it but decided not to jump to conclusions. Whether this person would fight for them or just leave was still unknown. Everyone valued their own lives more than the lives of others, and they didn''t have anything to offer to strangers. They didn''t have overflowing wealth or treasures. Would they have to give someone up? Perhaps a beautiful woman? That wouldn''t happen. None of the women in the west would trade people as a price. They might die, but they wouldn''t throw away their integrity. That was their pride. The middle-aged woman, enjoying her pipe, didn''t know, but they did have something to offer. "One more?" Enkrid asked, his eyes full of anticipation. He could offer a sparring match. The man who was crazy about sparring had a gleam in his eyes. Just a moment ago, when facing the guardian spirits, the twins had shown unexpected strength. It was clear that they had exceeded their limits. What appeared before him was not the full story. That was what intrigued him. The twins nodded. They too, still seemed unsatisfied. "We''ll do it," one of the twins said. "Then do it," the middle-aged woman nodded. It was time for another sparring match. The rules remained the same. The twins continued running around, keeping their distance. "Let''s do it again." "Let''s do it again." "One more time, just one more time." "You can do it," Enkrid cheered as the sparring continued. Without resting, they fought six more times. Eventually. "We can''t do this anymore." "We''re going to die at this rate." The twins shook their heads. One of them stuck out his tongue like a dog and panted heavily. They had used so much sorcery that they no longer had the strength to move a finger. The middle-aged woman, the fortune-teller, dropped her pipe in shock. "Rem really brought a madman," she thought. A madman obsessed with fighting. Of course, this was good news. Half a day had passed, and before the sun set, the two greatest warriors in the area were exhausted. But Enkrid, on the other hand, was perfectly fine. He was only sweating a little. And now he was busy chatting with the frog he had brought along. It sounded ridiculous. "Sorcery is amazing," Enkrid said. "It''s interesting, but it probably wouldn''t satisfy you," the frog replied. "It was fun. I wonder if there''s anyone who fights like Rem?" "Do you think such a person is common?" "I know two or three guys like that." "Big dreams." "My dreams are always big." Enkrid, speaking of how he had three others in his unit who were just as skilled, didn''t realize the fortune-teller wouldn''t understand. By then, it was hard for her to even understand what he was saying. "But how long is that smoke going to last? What are you burning?" As they were talking, a beastkin approached and opened her mouth. The woman, the fortune-teller Hira, was one of the healers of the united tribe, so no one knew more about the smoke than she did. "It''s for those who are dying," Hira replied. "Who''s dying?" "Those cursed." It was the work of a fallen sorcerer and a group of traitors from the West. "It''s a long story. Would you like to see?" Hira asked. Without thinking, Enkrid nodded. He wasn''t uninterested in the unusual nomadic city, even though he was swinging his sword here. He would be able to explore the city more when Rem returned, but it wouldn''t hurt to take a look through someone else. "I''m curious too," the frog said, its interest piqued. "What are you burning all the time?" the beast-woman chimed in. "That''s where the father of these twins is. He was originally the best warrior here." "Now?" "He''s sick." Enkrid was curious about this sick person. He just wanted to see how he was sick. So, the fortune-teller Hira led them toward the area where the sick were gathered. It was a tent where those cursed were being gathered. Chapter 473 - The Return of the Prodigal Son Chapter 473 - 473 - The Return of the Prodigal Son Chapter 473 - The Return of the Prodigal Son Enkrid had difficulty following their conversation. "Should I call it the return of the fool?" The chief greeted Rem warmly. He knew of Rem''s skills. In a situation like this, to have someone called a hero return... But it wasn''t a time to relax. Even with Rem here, there was no room for hope. That was the truth. ''No matter how skilled Rem is, fighting those two monsters at the same time will be difficult.'' The chief recalled the two giants threatening his tribe. His bright expression quickly darkened, then brightened again. Still, good things were good things. Even if he felt like pissing himself under the pressure, if he didn''t enjoy the present, then what was the point of living? "Welcome back." The space beneath the round ceiling made of stiff fabric was wide enough to have a small fire lit. Though the fire wasn''t large, the fact that it was regularly replenished with wood was a luxury reserved for the chief alone.Over the fire, flat meat was roasting on a long pole. It was a rat, its blood drained, insides removed, and roasted by pressing it. The organs were poisonous, so this was the safest way to cook it. It had been a long time since he''d seen such western-style rat roasting. Sitting in a furry chair, the chief greeted Rem, his face changing from bright to dark and back again. He glanced nervously at Ayul and cleared his throat loudly. He hadn''t become chief because of his remarkable fighting abilities. He had become chief because of his good reputation, not because he was a great warrior. And because of that, this current crisis felt all the more overwhelming. Still, it was encouraging that he was managing to hold up. In any case, the western tribes were in a complicated situation. "I came for your magic," Rem suddenly said, getting to the point. The chief blinked a few times, thinking. He had known Rem was someone who always thought of himself first, even back then. It was probably because of this selfishness that he had left his tribe behind. "It''s difficult right now," the chief replied, shaking his head. "Why is it difficult?" "The holy land was taken by another tribe." "...Taken?" The holy land was the land that all the tribes gathered to protect. It was a place of rituals and spirits, a place where their traditions and souls resided. The western tribes usually buried their dead in this holy land, so it also served as a cemetery. In short, it was the land they were willing to risk their lives to protect. To have it taken away? Now that he thought about it, it seemed strange. It had started when the giants had taken over a village, and the situation had escalated from there. Originally, the western tribes were nomads, wandering in search of pasture. So why were they gathered like this? Large-scale meetings like this were rare. Maybe once or twice a year, usually in autumn when there was plenty of food, or before spring when food was scarce. But now, the situation was different. They had gathered because something was wrong. "Since you left, nothing has gone right," Ayul interjected, seizing the opportunity to criticize. At this point, Rem didn''t bother to listen to her complaints. He figured he would deal with Ayul''s mood later, even if it meant taking a hit from her axe. ''It''s my fault,'' he thought. Everything that had gone wrong was his fault. Enkrid and Lagarne weren''t wrong. Though Dunbakel probably didn''t know anything, she had spoken the truth. "That''s how it happened." The chief''s face darkened again. One problem after another had come up that he couldn''t deal with. It wasn''t just that he couldn''t sleep because of the pressure; his eyes were becoming darker from the stress. If he wasn''t killed by a curse or a blade, it felt like the pressure might eventually be the end of him. Where should he begin? The chief thought for a moment and then spoke. "Do you know about the cannibals?" Of course, Rem knew about the cannibals of the western lands. Those who lived by eating others, no matter how many times they were killed, always reappeared. They were a fighting tribe, skilled in battle. Before leaving, Rem had split the head of the strongest of the cannibals, thinking their tribe would crumble without their leader. But had they survived? The chief didn''t explain in detail, just cutting to the chase. "One day, suddenly, a giant cannibal appeared." The western tribes were practical, valuing survival over etiquette. Because of this, they had developed clear terms for ambiguous situations, like "Urkiora" and "Dullskyun," which described situations that weren''t quite what they appeared to be. Now, even though the term "giant cannibal" sounded strange, it was true. "Do the two have some connection?" "Did you suspect it was the ones you sent from the continent?" Rem ignored Ayul''s words and looked at the chief as he continued speaking. "The cannibals disappeared, and the giants appeared in their place." What did this mean? Was there no connection, or was something happening over there too? It was unclear for now. "These bastards attacked and wiped out two tribes." The chief picked up a thin piece of firewood and struck it against his palm. "Do you have any idea where they came from?" "No." So, should they just kill the giant cannibals? While Rem was thinking, the chief spoke again. "And I don''t know what they ate, but the soothsayer tribe went completely mad." The soothsayer tribe was a group of shamans. Individually, they were nothing special, but together, they could become a huge threat. They were masters of collective magic. "Are you serious?" Rem asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought maybe you caused this by blowing some wind through here," the chief said, ignoring Ayul''s nonsense. "Yeah." The chief nodded, momentarily ignoring Ayul. The collective magic had indeed been triggered. "Was it a prayer? A ritual?" Both were forms of collective magic, but they differed. A prayer was small-scale, but a ritual was large-scale. If this had been used to attack them, it would have been a serious problem. That they had managed to defend against it was impressive. "Over a hundred people have died from a blood-changing ritual, and even more are struggling to survive." Rem blinked in shock. So, what was the situation now? Had the giants and the soothsayer tribe joined forces? Why? Could they even work together? He had seen the giants on his way here. He noticed that some of the expected members were missing. A large pot had replaced where the Nare tribe had been guarding, and the fences had been broken. "Did the Mura tribe suffer too?" "They did. Some survived and sought refuge with our tribe." That was good. "And there are outsiders too. People say they saw fairies or strange magicians." "I thought you might have sent them," Ayul said. Rem tuned Ayul out, but the chief''s words about the outsiders caught his attention. What had happened while he was gone? Was there a gold mine in the western lands? Why was everyone coming here? While the holy land was important, it wasn''t just because of the tribes. Why was everyone causing such chaos? "If you didn''t send them, why should it concern you?" Ayul, still pouting, shot a few more barbs at Rem. "Enough, Ayul." The chief scolded, but Ayul ignored him. In the middle of their conversation, Juol interjected with more details. The Nare tribe and smaller tribes like Maru and Garam had also been attacked. "The two giants are just too strong." The two monstrous giants were wreaking havoc. "The chief shaman tried to block the curse with a ritual, but she collapsed. She might die from the curse now." The eldest shaman, the one most skilled in magic on the continent, had collapsed while preparing for a ritual. Rem briefly pondered whether what he had done was just a misfortune or something worse. But then he decided. "The two giants will be fine." He was confident in his ability to take down such creatures. They weren''t a problem for him. "...You might struggle. If you trust the Frog you brought, then I think it''s better you take her with you," Juol said. The chieftain tossed a log into the campfire. The log held against the flames for a moment, then caught fire. The flames surged, causing the fire to flare up brightly. Shadows stretched across the ceiling. "I''m fine. Two giants won''t be a problem," Rem said again. "The problem isn''t just the giants; it''s their numbers," Juol responded. "How many times have you fought them?" Rem asked. "Twice," Juol replied. Both times they had lost, and because of that, they had lost their way to the holy land as well. "Even with the guardian spirits?" Rem asked. He pressed Juol for more details on the terrifying giants. Though it was hard to judge just from hearing about them, it seemed they didn''t fight like knights. Before the curse struck, several skilled warriors had tried to stop them. "What about the continental people in the frontier?" Juol responded, "They won''t help. It seems they have no intention of intervening." The western region was divided between frontier lands and native lands. While there had been some outposts, they had recently seen little human activity. ''What''s going on?'' Rem''s mind was troubled. Invaders, giants¡ªwhatever they were¡ªthey were only moving if there was something to gain. Why else would they keep fighting without compensation? It was clear that these giants were after something. The image that flickered in his mind seemed almost clear but still not fully understood. But for now, his task was clear: defeat the giants. "Ah, the greatest warrior of the west has arrived," Ayul''s voice echoed. ''Before anything else, I should calm Ayul down.'' If he didn''t, an axe might fly at the back of his head. One thing was certain: to stabilize this land, they would need to fight a lot. ''It really does seem like a misfortune.'' If it hadn''t been for that, Ayul and the rest would have died, and Rem would never have arrived in time. Listening to the chieftain, it seemed like they were on the verge of destruction. ''They''ll probably accept this situation,'' Rem thought. At least the chieftain, Ayul, Juol, and Hira would probably step in. On the way here, he had asked Hira to look after Enkrid. ''The captain''s here too.'' They wouldn''t lose a fight, not with a few monsters attacking. "Two giants? I can handle that." "I told you, if you trust the Frog, it might work. Honestly, I don''t want you to step in. The situation''s darker than you think," Juol warned, as someone who knew Rem''s abilities well. "Why do you say that I shouldn''t step in?" Rem asked, curious. "If we lose you, there will be no hope left." It was a grim statement. Juol had always been the optimistic one, and for him to speak like this meant they were cornered. "I''ll be fine. Do you think I''ve just been sitting around doing nothing?" Rem replied. "Others have already fallen to the giants, including your teacher," Juol said. Rem''s eyebrows twitched at those words. The Maru tribe''s leader was also his teacher, the one who had taught him how to wield an axe. He had been the last real opponent Rem had faced before leaving. "They couldn''t even last long," Juol added. Rem''s gaze turned to the chieftain, silently asking if it was true. The chieftain nodded. "Right now, we don''t even have enough warriors. We can''t scatter¡ªif we do, we''ll all fall. If we stay and wait, we''ll starve," the chieftain explained. He wasn''t an idiot. The problem was, there was no place left to retreat. "I understand. For now," Rem said, but paused and looked up at the shadows cast by the flames. Then he spoke again. "Let''s check on the curse situation." "You can''t even use magic," Ayul remarked with a sharp tone, but moved immediately. Although Ayul had a bitter edge to her words, she was someone who would do whatever it took for the tribe. She understood that Rem''s arrival was a stroke of luck. If he hadn''t arrived, they might have fought to the death. ''Is this a crisis or an opportunity?'' Rem thought, perhaps this situation allowed Ayul to hold his temper. At least it gave them time to explain things. He began to walk, wanting to see those affected by the curse. First, he needed to assess the situation. As he left the tent, the chieftain called out from behind. "Go on, take a look. You truly returned. My new son." The term "new son" referred to the husband of the chieftain''s daughter. He was the father of Ayul and the leader of the tribe. "Sorry I''m late," Rem replied, and Ayul added from beside him. "Really late." Rem understood. That''s why he had no words. Without speaking further, he moved on, with Ayul leading the way and Juol following. ''It feels like the situation is really, really bad.'' Rem, having just arrived from the outside, felt the crisis more acutely than those trapped inside. As he walked, he formulated a conclusion: it would be difficult to stop the giants at all, not without confidence. ''The longer this goes on, the weaker the tribe will become due to the curse.'' Once the giants came, it would be easier than breaking a child''s wrist to tear the tribe apart. Giants, especially man-eating ones, could be cruel easily. ''But why?'' If the goal was to bring together nomads and herders without a home, to unite them, that would be the purpose, right? But what would they gain from the west? As Rem thought, he began to understand what the invaders¡ªwhether giants, foreigners, or the curse¡ªwere after. ''People?'' Outsiders, giants, curses¡ªthree things combined could form a certain picture. But there was still too little information. ''This is going to be troublesome.'' As they reached the tent, Ayul gave Rem an occasional side-eye, which he noticed. When they reached the tent, a voice suddenly shouted. "Fainting, no¡ªit''s a miracle!" ---------------------------------- Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 474 - In Front of the Mother Filled with Malice Chapter 474 - 474 - In Front of the Mother Filled with Malice Chapter 474 - In Front of the Mother Filled with Malice "Mom, am I going to die?" The child asked. "No, that''s not possible. After a few nights of good sleep, you''ll be fine." The mother answered. "Okay." The child couldn''t open their eyes properly because of the crust that kept forming. For several days, the fever hadn''t gone down, and now the child couldn''t see properly. "Grrr." The mother''s heart shattered as she watched her child foaming at the mouth in the early morning. A few days ago, blue spots began to appear all over the body, and now the veins in the child''s arms and legs had swollen and turned purple. The child had started to suffer. ''I would rather take the pain for you.'' Whether it''s a guardian spirit or an ancestor god, whatever it is, let it save my child. The mother went out at dawn to search for herbs to soothe the pain. "It''s dangerous to go out now." A warrior, guarding the tent, warned her. Though the appearance of monsters in the western region was much less frequent than on the continent, danger was still present. If one were unlucky, death could come just as easily in this place as on the continent. "I''ll be fine." At times, the thought of just wanting to die rose up, but that couldn''t happen. "Mom, mom." The child, still calling out, was holding on. Resentment began to rise within the mother. A burning heat, starting from her toes, rose up to her chest and blazed fiercely. ''Why.'' This wasn''t the natural order of things. Everyone could die. But not my child. Why should this young child be made to suffer such pain? The mother pulled out a short dagger she had hidden in her arms. It was a curved one-inch blade, known as a karambit. The dull, gray metal blade wasn''t very sharp on the outside, but the inside was finely honed. It was sharp enough to slit the neck of a young child. It would be easy to pull it across her own throat too. How long must she watch her child suffer in this river of pain? If the child were to die from a cut, there would be pain, but it wouldn''t last long. Even if the child were to drown, it wouldn''t be as agonizing as the current suffering. "It''s not enough. A lake larger than Ongdalseom, a river bigger than a stream, is needed." The eldest shaman, trying to stop the curse, had said that before closing his eyes. That was the last thing he said. After that, he never opened his eyes again. He collapsed in a prayer posture and had not woken up since. The flame of hope had been extinguished. The world turned dark because everything the mother had was dying. Even if she had eyes, she could no longer see the light, and though her ears could hear, she couldn''t hear the birds singing. The child was dying in pain, and the mother had only brought back herbs to ease the pain. This was a task she had almost risked her life to complete. "This way, this way." While searching, she had encountered a monster. It had called to her in the child''s voice. It sounded like the voice of her endangered child. The mother, barely holding on to her sanity after days of sleeplessness, listened intently, her head turning in response to the sound. The despair and frustration had gnawed at her body and mind. ''If I save that child, maybe someone will save mine.'' The hollow hope made her mind even more dazed and her vision blurred. She was walking between the winding hills when someone grabbed her shoulder from behind. "It''s a copycat. You should know that." When she turned around, a man with a sharp jaw and cold eyes appeared. It had been five years since the father of her child had died. Naturally, talks of remarriage had surfaced. This man had been circling around her for some time, and when he saw her go out alone, he followed her. "It was my child''s voice." "Are you giving up on living without your child? Then death is the only end. Do you want to die first, before your child? Don''t weaken." The man said. The woman, her heart breaking, tears flowing freely, nodded. Yes, a copycat. In the continent, there were monsters that had human faces, but here, there were monsters that imitated voices. A monster of that sort would be easy to deal with for any adult male, especially one from the warrior class. The mother would have had no trouble if she had been in a normal state. But facing it like this, she was at a disadvantage. Despite being weaker, a monster was still a monster. It could tear through human skin with its claws. "Then do something about it." The mother spoke, but the man said nothing. She would sell her soul if needed. She would break any taboo, forsake her chastity, do whatever it took. Anything. She would sacrifice her life. Take whatever was wanted. A demon, a monster, a beast, even a cannibal¡ªanything would be fine. Just save my child. Then she would do whatever was asked of her. She wished with all her heart, but there was no one to listen. The mother, having faced the waves of despair, knelt. There was no more hope. The curse cast by the fortune-teller tribe would kill her child. Just like the people who had died before, her child would die. "Why." The mother asked the sky. Still, no answer came. She saw a man who had lost his partner, going mad with grief. She saw a woman, too, who had lost her companion, staring blankly. The chief had separated the cursed people from the regular tribe members. Though the curse wasn''t an epidemic, some believed it spread, and the chief wanted to keep the despair from affecting the others. The curse had only affected a small portion of the western tribe. It wasn''t consuming hundreds, just dozens. It seemed like a small number to the group but was everything to those affected. The curse was gnawing from within. The mother was one of those being consumed. ''If my child dies, no one will leave it at that.'' Malice stirred in her heart. If they broke the taboo, so would she. But the chief only showed lukewarm indifference. She wouldn''t leave it at that. She would never leave it at that. A mother, halfway driven mad, felt resentment, pain, and malice growing inside her. This, this was the real curse. She walked with the herbs, then saw children playing. A few days ago, she would have just looked at them with sorrowful eyes, thinking of her own child, but now, she was filled with resentment. Why must it be my child? Why are these children laughing? Why is it only me who is sad? "Come out." She called to the children. With great restraint, she entered the cursed tent and sat next to her child. These children were innocent. She tried to steady herself. The purple veins bulging out, the blue spots, the crust covering half the child''s face. Is this the face of my child? Is this the body of my child? "Grrr." She bit her teeth, swallowing her tears. Her child would never be able to see again. Therefore. ''Chief.'' I ask you now. What is the right path? Will you keep living like this? Why are you letting the fortune-teller tribe do this? Strike down this curse now. If it''s not your responsibility, whose is it? Resentment filled the mother''s heart. Malice filled with resentment. It enveloped the entire tent. Even a stranger would feel uncomfortable, and for those who knew, it was a dangerous aura. *** The fortune teller Hira was full of worry, knowing that the curse brought ruin to their already scarce resources. It was only because the eldest shaman and the best warrior were blocking it with their bodies that it hadn''t gotten worse, but what would they do moving forward? Dunbakel, entering the tent, frowned. Luagarne had no particular thoughts. Enkrid, however, immediately detected the malice lurking in the air. What''s with this atmosphere? His mind raced. As soon as he entered the tent, a foul, unpleasant odor hit his nose, mixed with the stench of sweat. It was obvious; these were people who hadn''t been able to clean themselves properly. As he moved further inside, he noticed a child lying on a bed made of layered cloth near the entrance. Why does the child have so much crust in their eyes? I wish someone would clean that off. As he looked, the child waved their arm¡ªnot asking for help, but simply because his hand brushed against them. He wasn''t worried about the curse affecting him personally. If it were contagious, they wouldn''t have left them there. By now, the disease would have spread wildly. Although still a small problem, it looked like a headache. That was all. Then the child''s hand brushed his, and he grabbed it without thinking. Perhaps it was because old memories stirred. *** "There''s nothing we can do." The mercenary captain muttered as he looked at the infected. It was just one of those things, he said. There was nothing a sword could do in this situation. Without Krona, neither a priest nor a healer was available. Enkrid had done something reckless back then too. The only thing he could do with his sword was one thing, and he did it. "Are you crazy?" That was what a comrade said after he followed him despite being told not to. Enkrid didn''t answer. He simply did what needed to be done. "Are you going to die here? Or follow me?" They were at one of the best healer''s homes in the area. With no choice but to act, Enkrid climbed over the wall at night. He held the healer at swordpoint and made his demand: either come along or die here. "I''ll follow you!" The greedy healer surrendered to the sword. "You''re a mercenary, not a thief." His comrade didn''t stop criticizing him, but couldn''t ask why. They were both busy after that. Enkrid kidnapped the healer. It was the best he could do with his sword. Afterward, Enkrid was briefly a fugitive. "You really are a crazy bastard." His comrade, who hid him for a while, said this when they parted ways. Later, the comrade explained the reason they helped him. They were a mercenary, about ten years older than Enkrid, and said it with a sly, embarrassed look. "I thought about my younger sibling left at home." It was a brief farewell. Enkrid wandered the continent for a while. Even though he had kidnapped a healer, he couldn''t save the child who died and was buried. The child he held now, however, was alive. That meant he wouldn''t give up. Regardless of the curse, there had to be a way to save them. Even if there was none, he would do his best. That way, the remaining people would survive. At least they''d know someone tried. He patted the child''s hand lightly with his other hand, conveying reassurance. The child''s hand was weak, and their grip barely had strength. Enkrid held the child''s hand gently, careful not to hurt them. The child looked no older than ten. The child''s mother appeared soon after . She was the same woman he had passed earlier in the village square, who seemed quite fierce. While she hadn''t yelled at the children, there had been an air of danger around her. She wiped the child''s face with a cloth dampened in water, cleaning the crust from their eyes. Enkrid wondered why she hadn''t done this earlier. As he watched, the child''s eyes fluttered open. Hira shouted, and the twins approached. Just then, Rem entered with his wife. Behind them, Juol blinked his eyes. "What did you do?" Rem asked. Enkrid looked at his hands, briefly raising them. Was it his left hand? No, it was his right. He quickly realized the situation and understood. "I think You''ve awakened some divine power." Rem approached, whispering. Of course, Enkrid didn''t truly believe it; it was just a lighthearted joke in the manner of fairies. "Seems like this place is cursed too?" Rem asked seriously, looking behind. "It''s not a curse that works like that. It''s the source of malice," Rem''s wife immediately swung her words like a sword of criticism. Still, her eyes never left the child. Ayul also looked surprised. Rem nodded in understanding. "Then what now?" Rem asked again. "I don''t know," Enkrid shrugged, honestly admitting he had no clue. But someone else didn''t care about what was important. Hira stared at Enkrid from head to toe, clearly lost in thought. How was this possible? Wasn''t something bigger than a spring needed? The child''s mother, with eyes shining like starlight, stood next to them. The veins that had been raised on the child''s body were visibly receding. The spots on the skin faded. "You..." She called out to Enkrid. "Hm?" Enkrid responded, still unsure of what he had done. But seeing the situation, it seemed like his hand had caused this. Whether it was by accident or something more, it appeared that way. The mother seemed to realize this as well. She knelt down, palms open toward the sky, and pressed her forehead to the ground. The floor of the tent was covered with a thick cloth, but it wasn''t clean. There were visible traces of blood, sweat, and pus. Yet, the woman didn''t hesitate to kneel and bow her head. "I will do anything you ask, just please, stay by my child''s side..." She trembled, unable to finish her words. "What the hell did you do? Do you know what this means? She''s offering everything, her body, anything..." Rem whispered urgently. She would''ve come to his tent with nothing but the clothes on her back if he''d asked. Of course, Enkrid didn''t understand. Then, Hira raised her head and examined Enkrid closely, from head to toe. The reason this had happened? She didn''t know, but one thing was clear. Hira, a shaman and fortune teller, specialized in healing. Since most healing arts were based on magic, she was skilled in undoing curses or any harmful effects caused by misused magic. Her senses told her that the curse cast by the tribe was fading. And it was all because of one man''s appearance. While she couldn''t pinpoint the exact reason, she guessed the principle behind it. This man seemed to be erasing the curses around him. "I have a request too," Hira said quickly. This curse was dangerous. While she couldn''t tell everyone in the tribe, Hira had sensed the tribe''s doom approaching. Her intuition had twisted. "Everyone, stop for a moment," Rem intervened. Enkrid stood still, genuinely clueless about what had just transpired. ----------------------------------- Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 475 - Human Totem Chapter 475 - 475 - Human Totem Chapter 475 - Human Totem "Have you ever heard of a totem?" It was a tool used in shamanism, as I had mentioned before. "You told me about it," Enkrid replied, seated in the middle of the tent. The chair he was sitting in lacked a backrest, but it wasn''t too uncomfortable. In front of him, Rem had taken on the role of a serious shaman teacher. "Now, the captain will become a human totem. You will eat, sleep, and play here." Rem spoke with a solemn tone. Enkrid, quick to catch on, immediately understood the situation. It seemed like this was what he was supposed to do. Of course, it took several experiments to get here. Just a moment ago, when Rem intervened, he had said this right away: "Get out. Now." Enkrid followed Rem''s command, stepping outside the tent. After taking about three steps, Rem called from the entrance, his foot resting against the flap. He waved his hand, showing the back of his hand. "Go far over there." Enkrid obeyed, moving further away. Dunbakel emerged from the tent and sat down, holding her nose with one hand, watching the scene. Luagarne followed Enkrid from behind. "He thinks you can block curses," she said, drinking water repeatedly. "That can''t be," Enkrid muttered. It was just a coincidence. Even though he joked about realizing divine power, there was no way that was true. He hadn''t even touched shamanism. There was no need to reflect on his past life; he had been too busy wielding a sword. Even now, his mind was occupied with the things he had pondered earlier. The twins attacked in a very unique tempo. One used a single tempo, throwing a spear with precise breath, while the other used a half tempo. Watching that, many thoughts crossed his mind. ''What if I mix the tempos?'' The idea came to him, recalling how Oara had demonstrated her technique. Her swordsmanship was rooted in basic principles, one of which was tempo. She applied the counter to a single tempo, split it with a half tempo, and added two moves into a single tempo, creating a double tempo. Tempo could also be seen as a single breath. Ragna, too, added three or four moves in one breath. Would it be called a triple or fourth tempo? The name didn''t matter. Oara did the same¡ªsplitting tempos and using a single tempo. She even did the opposite, lengthening her strikes and making them slower. That was what she did with the fragments of Beelrog''s attacks, showing continuous swordplay. Her sword never stopped¡ªit flowed, one strike following another. It left a strong impression. Other figures came to his mind, too. Ragna swung his sword for one heavy strike, engaging in trickery or strategic feints to deceive the opponent. But the goal was always the same: landing the decisive blow, whether on a sword or shield. The King of the East used cutting movements that were unpredictable and irregular, thrusting the spear in strange angles and breaking gaps in the defense. There was no clear pattern to his strikes. Enkrid continued to reflect. His mind raced, and his body repeated the motions, adjusting with every strike. As he walked, practicing his swordsmanship in his head, Luagarne watched him, wide-eyed. ''He''s obsessed with training.'' That was a common thought from those who saw Enkrid practice. Luagarne agreed with it. Training, relentless training. He didn''t tire of it, even breaking up his sleep time to practice. That was Enkrid. Even now, his thoughts were consumed by swordplay. He thought about breaking the tempo like one would break a breath. Could such a sword technique exist? There was one, in fact¡ªValen-style mercenary swordplay. "I used to think that was nonsense," he mused. Valen-style mercenary swordplay was about mixing your breath and tempo however you wished. It was a technique that played with rhythm and breath. But how could it work? It required perfect mastery of all basic skills. Was it an easy path? No. It was difficult. A hard road. And yet, Enkrid found joy in it. It was the path he enjoyed. Looking back, there was no swordplay more focused on mastering the basics than Valen-style mercenary swordplay. Even more so than Oara, who had been an incredible practitioner, Valen''s teachings had a more stringent emphasis on the basics. While Enkrid didn''t physically hear those lessons, it was almost as if he had. Back when he had learned the Valen-style, there had been a manual, and every page was filled with advice about mastering the fundamentals. "First, get the correct posture. Without basics, you can''t deceive your opponent." "If you can''t wield your sword with the right posture, you can''t even cut straw." "Make your body work, so you can hold the proper posture." "It all starts with your stance." "Focus on the stance when holding your sword. That''s where it begins." "What comes before technique? Think about it. Yes, it''s your posture." The book would have been thinner if it removed all the advice on posture and foot placement, but those things were that important. Most who read it ignored these words, dismissing them as unnecessary details. Enkrid, however, could not afford to do that. He had to follow those instructions. During a time when he was desperate, he had sharpened his skills through these basic teachings. He couldn''t imagine becoming a swordsman without them. If Valen had returned to see Enkrid now, he would have proudly called him his disciple. But back then, Valen might have scoffed at Enkrid''s meager talent and asked how he could possibly live off a sword. The truth was, Valen-style swordsmanship was about mixing in truth to deceive your opponent. By honing the basics, one could employ various tricks within the swordplay. Enkrid was immersed in these thoughts as he walked farther from the tent. "Come back!" Rem called from a distance. Enkrid turned back and walked toward the tent. Along the way, there were eyes watching him¡ªsome dull, others staring thoughtlessly. The sun was bright, and the light hurt his eyes. Enkrid sought a shady spot, walking along the side of a large tent. It seemed like an unnecessary task. Some other factor must have been involved. After all, how could just his confidence make the curse disappear? As he neared, he saw that Rem''s expression had grown serious. "Go there. Move away." Rem''s tone had lost its playful edge. The woman, who seemed to be a mother, knelt and sat quietly. The shaman, Hira, kept placing an incense stick to her mouth, the smoke clouding her face. Enkrid did as Rem instructed. After three rounds of coming and going, Rem muttered under his breath. "Damn, is this really happening?" But then, he nodded. The situation was too chaotic to question or consider properly. It was a mess, and there was no time to analyze it. So, Rem decided to establish the human totem, and Enkrid had to accept it. Looking around, Enkrid saw that many of the people were injured¡ªmore than twenty of them. He thought to himself, Do I need to bring a healer? Or perhaps a shaman? At least becoming a human totem seemed much easier than threatening a shaman with a knife to their neck. After Rem''s experiment ended, it was Hira''s turn. She would make contact with those cursed and sit quietly. And that''s how the decision was made. In the middle of the tent, Enkrid became the human totem. A special chair was brought in, replacing the usual one. It was his personal chair, with a soft cushion and fragrant herbs from the west burning instead of pungent smoke. A clay vessel used by the chief was moved here. It had four holes at the top, and when the herbs burned, smoke rose gently from them. "Ah, this smells good," said Dunbakel. Enkrid deeply inhaled the scent that drove away the rancid and foul odors from Dunbakel''s body. As she had said, it smelled good. It made him want to scold her immediately. "Go wash up." "Ah, why?" "Now." "In our village, there''s a saying that if you wash too often, it brings misfortune." "Do beastkin villages really have such a saying?" Luagarne knew the habits of beastkin well. She knew they didn''t enjoy bathing, but also that they didn''t casually mention such superstitions. Dunbakel didn''t continue speaking. After all, she hadn''t spent that many years in the village¡ªshe had been cast out as a child. "Are you going to wash?" Before long, the mother of the child, who had almost become a follower, approached. Enkrid was a little wary of her. Her attitude had changed so suddenly, and her demeanor seemed different. Actually, when he thought about it, westerners tended to be like this. They were bold, straightforward, and had little pretense. The middle-aged man who had come after hearing the news of the curse being blocked had been like this too. "Thank you, thank you." Enkrid had just nodded vaguely, not even knowing who the child was was. The child''s mother stared at Dunbakel. Enkrid read her gaze. Will she speak if I say something? What if she doesn''t hear it? The mother''s hand slipped into her robe. She subtly grasped a karambit, a small curved dagger, and appeared lost in thought. "Hey, wash up. Don''t make things difficult." Enkrid kicked Dunbakel in the rear and sent her off. There was nothing else to do. Mostly, he just watched as Hira, who was gradually losing her temper, occasionally spat out sharp words. "Protect this land." Hira muttered this as she continued tending to the patients. Was that some kind of spell? She applied a dark, viscous ointment beneath the patients'' eyes, turned their bodies, wiped their faces and limbs. It looked more like careful nursing than magic. "You can walk around near the tents." Hira''s attitude also changed. She had become more polite toward Enkrid. When they stepped outside, the twins were standing guard near the tents. It was in response to Rem''s statement when they asked if he needed anything. "Prepare a sparring partner for me." "Okay." "Not going to do it yourself?" "I''ll be busy." Rem said this and left. And so, Enkrid became the totem. It wasn''t boring at all. When sitting, he trained in his mind. When he went out, he moved his body. He had cleared enough space in front of the tent to swing his sword. He didn''t even feel awkward adapting to the western tribe. Having lived as a mercenary, surviving on swordplay for years, how could he possibly not adapt? To sum it up, Enkrid got along well. "Please, eat." Nearby, the child''s mother was tending to him with great care. Yes, it wasn''t just attending to him¡ªshe was practically serving him. "I''ll eat well." Enkrid responded casually, quenching his thirst with a ground squirrel fruit and eating some well-cooked lizard meat. Their cooking style was quite similar to what he had experienced with Rem. They would catch a brown-furred rabbit, skin it, remove the innards, and then either crush the meat into a porridge or make it into dumplings. Like a noble''s table, no food was wasted. They ate just enough, but it was sufficient for their nutrition. Was it tasty? Yes, it was. The habit of eating whole animals had likely come from the scarcity of resources. Several hours passed, and before evening, some of the children were wandering around. Enkrid, while polishing his sword, gazed at the children silently. Did they come to watch me? Were they curious because I''m a foreigner? They hadn''t seemed particularly interested until now. Some of the children did show curiosity. However, their purpose wasn''t to watch him. "Is Jiba alright?" One of the children asked, looking toward the tent. The mother came out and looked at the child. Enkrid recognized the face¡ªit was one of the girls who had been playing earlier. "I told you not to come near here." "But they said it''s okay now." One of the children spoke up. There was concern in her attitude, words, and gaze. When her friend had collapsed, the children had been lingering around, worried. Though children were playful, they also worried. Enkrid merely watched. He didn''t need to interfere. "Still, don''t come near." The mother, having regained her composure and forgotten the resentment and hatred, shooed the children away. She didn''t want to bring any bad luck to her children by being too close. "Benefactor, if you''re feeling bored, please have some of this." The mother then offered dried plums to Enkrid. He took one and chewed it. It was sweet. Next to him, Luagarne was drinking water constantly. Then, the woman gave a gift for Luagarne as well. It was a dry, grasshopper-like insect. After catching one from the wild, she put it in a basket made of tree branches. When Luagarne saw it, her cheeks puffed up with joy. Looking back, Luargarne might have a thing for food. Enkrid spent the whole day training with his sword, eating, drinking, and relieving himself. He felt a change¡ªit was making the training more enjoyable than before. The twins occasionally served as sparring partners. Rem also came by from time to time. "I''m going to die." "What''s wrong?" Enkrid asked, wondering if something difficult had happened. It was a bright night with the moon shining, so clear that everything was visible without a torch. "Ayul won''t listen." "When did you leave?" Rem hesitated before answering. "About ten days after the wedding." "Then?" "I just..." "Just?" "I ran away in the middle of the night." This fool! He did that, then proudly walked on two legs? Would it even be forgivable after crawling on all fours and begging for mercy? Enkrid gripped the hilt of his Aker''s sword, his face grim. "Bend your waist. Put your neck here" As he looked at the tent pole outside, Rem asked. "What are you going to do?" "I''m going to calm her anger. It might be quicker to cut your head off and bring it back." There seemed to be no other option. Rem chuckled, but Enkrid didn''t laugh. "Wasn''t that a joke?" "I''m serious." "Hey, don''t meddle in other people''s affairs." It seemed he had gone too far in teasing Rem. He turned around with a stern face. Afterward, Rem was no longer around. He looked busy. The first night passed like this, and on the second night, when Enkrid was trying to sleep in the middle of the tent, something began to shake his body. Splash. It came with the sound of the river water moving. ----------------------------------- Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 476 - Those Who Are Deeply Impressed Chapter 476 - 476 - Those Who Are Deeply Impressed Chapter 476 - Those Who Are Deeply Impressed "Couldn''t we have saved them?" A man with black hair and blue eyes muttered while kneeling. His pupils were trembling, and his hands were shaking. His skin was dry, and the area under his eyes was dark. He looked like someone who hadn''t slept properly for days. He appeared to be broken, drenched in regret. Underneath his kneeling form, the ground was filled with sharp gravel. Despite the blood seeping through his pants, he didn''t seem to care. His only concern was seeking an answer with desperate eyes. Then, the answer came. "Yes, we could have done so." The kneeling man opened his mouth again in sync with the response that echoed from somewhere. "Right? Well, they say the number on the dice can''t change, but what if I forced it to change? What happens then?" "It would change. Then, it would be different." There''s nothing that can''t be done with willpower. It was a definitive answer. But is that a good thing? The man murmured to the air, yet an answer kept returning. Before him stood nothing but a black wall, and yet, the answers kept coming. "Then did I let Knight Oara die?" "That''s how it is." Before he knew it, the black wall had disappeared. In its place stood a man with black hair and blue eyes, lips tightly pressed together. It was the same. Two identical figures, yet they did not look at each other. They simply spat out their words. "Then was my choice wrong?" The kneeling Enkrid''s pupils shook, and his hands trembled more violently than before. "Did you think it was the right one?" The standing Enkrid asked with an indifferent expression. Tears of blood flowed from the kneeling Enkrid''s eyes. At first, they dripped, then poured like a waterfall. "Ah, ah, make that today repeat again!" As he screamed in agony, the blood tears flowed desperately. "You know it''s impossible." The indifferent answer came back. Despite the blood rising up to his ankles, his demeanor remained unfazed. "So, I hope you make a better choice next time." The words of the indifferent Enkrid standing on the gravel field struck the kneeling Eknrid like a dagger, piercing the heart. The physical manifestation of the blade truly penetrated between his ribs. Then, blood began to pour from the chest of the kneeling Enkrid, flowing like a waterfall. The blood clumped together, turned black, and became a river of dark blood. When did it get there? The river of blood was flowing, and a ferry appeared over it. A purple lamp illuminated the surroundings, and a ferryman in black robes stood rowing the boat. The real Enkrid, who had been observing everything, asked. "What are you doing?" Suddenly, the blood disappeared, and the two fake Enkrids vanished. The ferryman had finished his one-man play. "I was just in the mood to try it. Was it impressive?" It was neither bad nor did it lead to any realizations. Enkrid remained unchanged. A perfect today is worse than a failed tomorrow. If you don''t move forward, you stagnate. Better to lose your limbs and keep moving. Of course, there may be something you can never compromise on. But always seeking the best path at every crossroads is arrogance. You just do your best with what is given to you in that moment. Enkrid lived by this resolve, never getting trapped in today. He had no regrets and was a traveler moving forward. He found it interesting and asked, having never seen a ferryman talk about feelings. "Why all of a sudden?" What could possibly make him feel good? "Don''t you know?" the ferryman asked. Enkrid, taken aback by the unexpected question, responded calmly. "I don''t know." But it was still a decent conversation compared to the madness of his old unit. He had fond memories of his time with them. "You''re adding strength to the curse I''m casting." Enkrid looked at the ferryman''s face that was revealed beneath the robe. His skin was split with a grayish hue, and his eyes were colorless. The lamp swayed, the river churned, and the strange one-man play continued. Thoughts translated into reality. Repeating today was a curse. What he was doing outside was called an exorcism. Normally, human exorcisms were forbidden, but technically, what he was doing could be considered a totem, not an exorcism. In any case, it was a complicated matter. But one thing was certain: there were two curses. Sometimes, without considering the process, conclusions came intuitively. This was one of those times. "Are you absorbing the curse in the tent?" That''s why the ferryman was in a good mood. Instead of answering, the ferryman smiled. His lips curled upward, but it wasn''t a pleasant smile. It was a terrifying one. His mouth was dark and empty, with no teeth. But Enkrid didn''t mind, watching it indifferently. "There happened something similar before, involving a curse user trying to end you." The ferryman laughed and continued. "All the curses around you will gather to you. Do you know what that means? It means you can never leave this place. You''re my toy. A sacrifice trapped in today. You''ll never escape my grasp. Even in death, you''ll stay here. So your best bet is to enjoy today." The last words echoed in his head like a hammer hitting it. Even so, Enkrid didn''t furrow his brows. He just thought. So that''s how it is. It wasn''t that he had some special power; it was just that he was cursed in a way that absorbed other curses. It wasn''t bothersome, but he had been curious as to why this was happening. He remembered that back in Border Guard, Audin had mentioned someone who cast strange curses. It must have been the same person the ferryman was talking about. He had naturally passed away after touching him, but until now, Enkrid had believed the assassin sent by the cult had died of natural causes. "So, will I be cursed for life?" At Enkrid''s question, the ferryman''s gaze shifted to the man he had mentioned. The smile that had risen on the ferryman''s lips slowly faded. Enkrid found the reaction amusing. "That''s about it." "I see." "Yes." "Yeah." "...Go on." "Yes." The dream ended. When Enkrid opened his eyes, it was just before dawn. He felt light and free, as though the curse had no effect on him. ''So, it absorbs curses...'' It seemed difficult to feel it physically. Does this mean he can be a bit careless when dealing with spells? "Man, I''m so tired." Enkrid muttered as he entered the tent, glancing at Rem. He had silently walked over and lay down about three steps away. "What are you doing?" "Can''t you see? I''m going to sleep." Enkrid hesitated, wondering whether to ask if Rem was sleeping at this time or if he had nowhere else to sleep, then chose the latter. "Don''t you have a home?" "I do." "Then?" "Ayul isn''t accepting it." It seemed their relationship hadn''t been restored yet. Should I really just cut his throat? "Stop thinking about nonsense. I''m already thinking about it myself." Rem made the first move. "Tell me about your worries." Enkrid, thinking it was hopeless, spoke. He was willing to help as much as he had been helped. And he was confident that he was more rational than this ignorant barbarian. "Hmm." Rem seemed to be thinking for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. Enkrid judged it right to speak out what he had already guessed in order to hear what Rem really meant. "You can speak." "...What?" Rem blinked and asked. Enkrid, feeling it was time to speak frankly, did so. "Isn''t it about your birth secret? You can talk about it. What''s the problem with that?" Considering that he was raised to swear like a sailor, a birth secret wasn''t much of a concern. Westerners had similar appearances, but Rem''s looked a little different. Enkrid judged that Rem had some blood from the continent mixed in him. It was a guess, but it seemed correct. The appearance was different. That thought came up when he met Ayul. That was the birth secret. Could it have been a hindrance in their tribe? Whether it was from the mother''s or father''s side, he was likely of mixed blood. "Damn, what are you talking about?" Rem widened his eyes in disbelief. His eyes became triangular, and his tone was slightly annoyed. Enkrid''s intuition warned him. He had made a misstep. "Not so?" Enkrid asked again and added a brief explanation. Just to confirm, wasn''t there some blood from the continent mixed in? "I''m a pure Westerner, what are you talking about?" Enkrid cautiously looked at the child lying below him. The child''s name was Jiva, and when she grew up, she would surely be quite a beauty. Luagarne had vouched for her. Westerners, in general, had beautiful faces. Their cheekbones were prominent, and some had freckles, but by ordinary aesthetic standards, they had quite handsome and pretty faces. According to ancient myths, a bear had become a human and passed down its traits, and that bear was said to have been extremely handsome. There were also rumors about fairy blood mixing in, but that didn''t seem to be the case. Enkrid could tell from seeing her. The otherworldly beauty granted by fairies was different in aura. These people exuded vitality, fighting and struggling to raise cattle and sheep. Enkrid, sitting up with his back against the thick cloth on the ground, looked at Rem. No matter how he looked at it, Rem looked more like a manly type than a beauty. His muscular arms only accentuated his appearance. His gray hair was tightly tied, and his eyes were fiercely wide. Those eyes looked like they could wield an axe if provoked. He drew his eyes into shapes, sometimes making them look triangular. "Not so?" Enkrid asked again. Maybe there was some ancestral connection Rem didn''t know about. "Are you looking for trouble? I''m busy right now. I need to sleep and go out again after waking up." "Really not?" Enkrid trusted his instincts. He was sure it wasn''t true, but just in case, he wanted to confirm. "Let''s not talk, really. I''m sleeping. What do you know, saying it''s fine? Did the curse break your head?" Enkrid had nothing to say. He had made a mistake. Intuition wasn''t always the answer. So, he decided that today''s schedule would focus on practicing and refreshing his sensory techniques. Nothing too fancy. It was all about warming up his body and listening to various sounds. The sounds of birds, crying sheep, mooing cows, and the chirping of belopters. He stepped out of the tent, ready to open his ears. Through sound, he opened his sixth sense. Luagarne followed behind without looking. She quietly settled behind him. Dunbakel joined as well, having nothing else to do, she joined the training when asked. As Enkrid twisted his body to stretch, Dunbakel stretched behind him. She arched her back like a cat, pressing her hands against the ground. There was no need to go far, so they spent time like that. Training, occasionally speaking to those who were fully awake. "Did you come with Rem?" This person was one of them. While training, Rem had left around noon, and by evening, someone had awoken from the curse. Enkrid had been in the tent and heard a man speak to him when he returned. He had silver hair, with some strands white, but the rest of his hair was as dark as Enkrid''s. "I''m Geonnara." "Call me Enki. People say it''s hard to pronounce with such a long name." After exchanging pleasantries, the man spoke. "That guy''s not someone who listens to others." It seemed the relationship between leader and subordinate sounded a bit strange to the man. The man''s gaze seemed intent on observing Enkrid. Enkrid replied, looking at him. "If he doesn''t listen, we can always use this to communicate." He pointed to Aker. It wasn''t a lie. If necessary, communication could happen through a beating. Of course, right now, it was possible to have that conversation without the beating. "You fight better than Rem?" The man acted surprised. "A little. I win about nine out of ten times." It wasn''t true in the past, but now it was. To be precise, it would be hard to win nine out of ten, but sometimes one had to indulge in a bit of bravado. The word "little" didn''t quite match the following words, but the man didn''t mind. He had a mischievous look in his eyes, though he didn''t express much admiration. "Impressive. Even without magic, a guy who fights better than Rem." "Does magic change things?" "It would make things completely different. He''d be worthy of being called a hero. He''s a man who resides in the dark sky by his own power." Why didn''t he use magic? It was anyone''s guess. "I heard from Hira. I got beaten by two giants and cursed, thought I was finished, but now I owes you my thanks." Geonnara had purple veins sticking out on his limbs, looking as though they were wrapped tightly around them. It was said to be a curse called Bora Mains'' curse. The name was quite descriptive. The curse was said to be modeled after the appearance of the purple-skinned Mains. Even if the curse weakened, it still seemed painful. Enkrid knew this from the two days of seeing it. Geonnara blinked his eyes, which were crusted with sleep. Then he tried to get up but lay back down, still unable to move his body. "I can''t get up, so take my greeting in words." This man was also an interesting person. "Sure." Enkrid casually accepted the words. They were just people he liked. Especially... "When my body''s better, we should spar. I''m curious about your skills." It was a pleasant surprise to hear that. "Do you know a way to get better quickly?" Enkrid asked Hira. "Think I should shut up and rest." Geonnara laughed at that, then coughed a bit, still clearly struggling with his body. But he didn''t lose his sense of humor. The next person to wake up was a woman around Hira''s age. She quickly grasped the situation and said, "Thank you. I''d even want to give you my daughter if I could." Geonnara quickly interrupted. "You don''t have a daughter." "Exactly, that''s why I''d give her to you." The two of them laughed together. Their laughter sounded quite similar. Enkrid also joined in the laughter. It was a joke that was worth laughing at, unlike the typical fairy jokes. Enkrid found these people quite enjoyable. They were lively and pleasant. ------------------------------------------ Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 477 - The Silent Escape Chapter 477 - 477 - The Silent Escape Chapter 477 - The Silent Escape Ayul cursed under her breath. It had been three days since Ayul arrived at the tent. It was the moment the sun was just rising, and he was in the middle of moving his body using the Isolation technique. While standing in front of the tent, he saw Ayul approaching. Her sunburned brown skin, the markings drawn on her face, and her bright, shining eyes¡ªher impression was different. She seemed softer than before, and at least she didn''t seem like someone who would swing an axe to decapitate anyone. Her words reflected that too. "It''s nice to meet you. I''m Ayul." Her demeanor was completely different from the first time they met. She was calm. Was she really a westerner? Enkrid seemed to understand the habits of westerners well. They were straightforward and didn''t hide anything, much like Rem. "This feels a bit awkward for introductions, doesn''t it?" Enkrid casually said, stretching his muscles. He grabbed the tip of his left finger with his right hand and rotated his arm, stretching from the elbow to the wrist, loosening up his muscles and tendons. Flexibility doesn''t come overnight; it requires daily training. Of course, Enkrid had been doing this for years. As Enkrid stretched, Ayul''s eyes scanned his body. Despite his large frame and muscular build, his body was surprisingly flexible¡ªtough and solid, yet elastic. If cannibals saw him, they''d probably shake their heads in disapproval. Cannibals tended to dislike tough, rigid bodies. "That''s true, but proper greetings are still necessary." Ayul observed his body but showed no signs of emotion in her eyes. She was calm. "Well, I suppose so." Enkrid nodded and Ayul asked, "Can we speak casually?" "That works for me." After settling into a more comfortable tone, Ayul seemed to appreciate Enkrid, who had become a human totem. "I was thinking of showing you around a bit." Ayul said while gently holding her colorful skirt. Enkrid suspected there were probably two long daggers hidden under the skirt, near her thighs. Even without seeing them directly, he could tell from her walk and gestures. Her steps were uneven, with more weight on her right leg. There was likely a heavier weapon concealed there. Enkrid remembered how when he first saw Rem, it was clear she wasn''t the type to wander around unarmed with her axe. Ayul, too, was a warrior. Her appearance and behavior suggested it. The fluttering skirt seemed like it could be used to conceal something. If she were Rem''s wife, perhaps she would use that skirt to obscure her opponent''s view in battle. Ayul seemed like someone who would turn any situation into a fight. Ayul, facing the rising sun, waited for Enkrid''s response. The warm sunlight that began to pour down with the dawn made the dry air more comfortable for movement. Enkrid, having just finished his stretching, wiped the sweat from his brow and entered the tent to ask Hira if it was okay to clear the area. "Will you be back before noon?" Hira asked, her tone more like a request. She seemed concerned, since it had been three days without proper sleep. Enkrid nodded in agreement. Some of the people lying nearby recognized him, and after three days, there were more people starting to recover. One of them was the child he had first encountered. "My name is Jiba. I''m planning to marry you later, mister." The child was bold. Luagarne, seeing that, puffed out her cheeks and stuck out her tongue while laughing. "Get in line, little human." "Huh?" "There are already plenty of competitors in front of you." Jiba sulked for a moment at her words. She had just gotten up from the bed and immediately claimed he would marry. She was a truly bold child. Her mother, however, just calmly listened to her child''s declaration. "Should we follow?" She asked, meaning she''d stay close if needed. Enkrid shook his head and went back outside. "Let''s go." Ayul said, and Enkrid followed her outside. There had been a man staring at him strangely for days near the tent, but Enkrid ignored it. The man''s gaze was filled with a strange mix of love and hate. He was someone Enkrid had never met before, but seemed to have no ill intentions, perhaps because he was close to Jiba''s mother. Ayul led Enkrid out from the tent. Between the rows of tents, the sunlight greeted their steps. "Did you cut off Rem''s head?" Enkrid stopped mid-step, widening his stride. Ants were crawling under his left foot, and as he moved, the ants scattered. A dung beetle busily rolled a cow''s dung nearby. Would Luagarne eat that, too? Unlikely, it seemed. She appeared to be picky about food, just like humans. "When a person''s head is cut off, they die." Ayul stated the obvious. "Seems like he did something bad enough to deserve it." Enkrid agreed but stopped himself from adding more. Yesterday''s events came to mind. The day Rem stayed at Ayul''s home. "I want to have a child." If there was something you wanted, you had to state it boldly, right? Ayul did just that. Her partner, however, was indifferent. "Is that so?" He looked the same as always¡ªfocused on axes, fighting, and cannibalism, with little interest in anything else. Wasn''t he more mischievous before? Ayul pushed the thought aside. *** They were a week away from their wedding. Rem had been fully dedicated to battles and hunting. Looking at him, Ayul thought: ''It feels like he''s running away.'' It was just a feeling, but Ayul couldn''t help but wonder. Would Rem really want to run away? He loved this land more than anything, more than himself. Ayul liked that about him. So, he wasn''t running away. She was sure of it. One week after the wedding, Rem chose to sleep in the fields rather than at home. As a warrior from the cannibal tribe had taken the life of another warrior from their tribe. Under the low sky, the wide clouds looked like a white ceiling, with blood dripping from his axe, painting red streaks across it. "Ahhh!" Her partner let out a scream of victory. That insane battle had been the turning point. Rem left. The reason? Ayul didn''t know. He never said a word. At first, it was shocking. ''This guy?'' Rem had said before that he had never thought of any woman other than his partner. They had grown up together, using similar techniques and developing similar temperaments. "I don''t doubt your mother, but you two seem like you''re from the same womb." At that time, his father, who wasn''t yet the clan leader, would often say such things. "Really?" Ayul found those words pleasing. Had Rem felt differently? Was his partner, the person he was meant to live with for life, not like him? Was there a misalignment of hearts? ''Was it just me?'' Had he been the only one to harbor such feelings? Rem left. After a month, the shock turned to anger. Was it reasonable to leave without even a letter? "Forget about it." Her father, who had become the clan leader, said that. Many things happened after that. The sun set, and traces of the four seasons remained on the fields. Amidst the summer winds, Ayul made a decision. ''If you come back, I''ll cut off your head.'' Beyond shock and anger, what remained was a murderous intent. And then Rem returned. "You said you wanted a child, didn''t you?" After avoiding Ayul for several days, Rem approached and said these words. His shadow stretched long in front of the tent. Ayul looked at the shadow and spoke. "Right now, I''d rather cut one of your limbs off and hang it on the wall." It was a harsh remark. She probably wasn''t referring to cutting off his arms or legs. She must have been talking about something unnecessary, something not even useful. Rem scratched his head. He couldn''t act shamelessly in front of Ayul, unlike with everyone else. He had abandoned his responsibilities and thrown away his duties. The worst of all was leaving his partner in such a way. Rem admitted his faults. That was why, standing here now, he could say it. "What kind of world do you think the child should live in?" He had once thought of the western lands as stagnant, believing the people of the west were those who had lost the will to move forward. ''Wouldn''t it be better to be like the immortal bastard who lived madly without fear of fire?'' But no, that wasn''t the case. He wasn''t comparing himself to a madman who defied the laws and broke taboos. It was just that frustrating. Was it a step taken to achieve something? No. It was just an excuse, a reason. Rem had realized that after leaving the western lands. More specifically, after seeing someone like Enkrid. There had been something he had once given up without even knowing what it was. ''I will change it.'' That was his resolve¡ªto change the west. But before he could recognize that, he had abandoned it, forgotten it, and thrown it away. Rem had been a failure and a runaway. He had accepted it and therefore couldn''t receive divine blessings. The moment he did, he would die. That would be the end. There would be no chance to change, no opportunity for life. He couldn''t walk into the valley of death like that. Rem became a fugitive who indulged in the pleasures left in the world. He could no longer see Ayul. He couldn''t show her his pathetic side, nor could he ask her to live with some fool as his partner and lifelong companion. So, he ran away. Ah, how embarrassing. Really. Rem was ashamed, but he didn''t run any further. Now he had learned and understood. He knew how pathetic he was and how he should live. ''Running away doesn''t solve anything.'' It was better to walk a path where death might be waiting, than to live as a puppet continuing an insignificant life. And so, he would walk that path. But he didn''t believe he would die. In this unfair world, he would shout. This wouldn''t be a hindrance. If there was something he wanted, he would go after it. Enkrid had done just that. When Rem first saw him, he was just a reckless man about to die. Later, he became someone amusing to watch. Afterward, he was someone too valuable to die. As time passed, the captain who had struggled in front of him appeared in his mind. He spoke with his hands, feet, and body. He would not give up, nor would he despair. He would walk through whatever stood in his way. He was that kind of person. Rem learned. He realized. He looked back at his life. He thought of what he had left behind. Everything had been an excuse. The lost fool and the stray cat had just given him a trigger. Only then did Rem turn his head and look at the western lands. He faced what he had abandoned and given up. And now, he could say it. "It''s embarrassing, but I ran away." Rem spoke honestly and plainly. His words came steadily, without hesitation, and he could now speak clearly, thanks to the improvement in his ability to articulate. The reason he ran away, and if his child were to be born, he hoped the world they would live in wouldn''t be like it is now¡ªthat had become his goal. Ayul continued to look at Rem''s shadow. Both Rem, speaking, and Ayul, listening, were calm and composed. "If it''s enough for you, I''ll cut whatever you want and give it to you." If that was his atonement, Rem was willing to do so. Ayul raised her head, and her gaze moved from Rem''s feet to his knees, from his knees to his waist, from his waist to his chest, and finally to his face. At the end of that gaze, gray eyes met hers. Rem had always been honest, especially with himself. Was this the moment she had been waiting for? It would have been better if he had said it earlier, but now that she had heard it, she could at least refrain from killing him. "It took a long time. I''m sorry." Rem spoke. Ayul couldn''t forgive the past version of Rem. But she could feel the torment of the person she had chosen as her partner. Without realizing it, a single tear fell from Ayul''s eye. It was because of dust. Though today was as clear as any day, with no dust in the air. Under the bright moonlight, Ayul reached out her hand. "Hold it." Rem grabbed that hand. "I''ll let you sleep inside tonight." Ayul said. Perhaps not just tonight, but for many nights to come. They talked. Rem laid bare his inner thoughts, and Ayul expressed her lingering frustrations. After their conversation, Ayul felt a little uneasy. "Well, there''s still something I want to do." "So, as soon as you come back, you beg for forgiveness and then say you''re leaving again? Just taking the magic with you?" This damn bastard. Ayul couldn''t help but curse. ------------------------------ Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 478 - Observation, Nature, Jest, Solitude Chapter 478 - 478 - Observation, Nature, Jest, Solitude Chapter 478 - Observation, Nature, Jest, Solitude Last night, Rem spoke. He spoke of the way Enkrid had shown him how to live, the path he walked, had illuminated the road he needed to take. For that, she was grateful. Though she found it aggravating that he''d decided to follow this man again, gratitude was gratitude. And so, Ayul wanted to show him what she cherished¡ªwhat her family, her friends, and the West loved. "I want to show you something," Ayul said, leading Enkrid. The two walked, avoiding ants, observing insects, and feeling the wind against them. They quickly left their temporary shelter, their strides steady and sure. In the West, magical beasts weren''t as common as across the continent, but that didn''t mean one could wander around carelessly. Still, neither Enkrid nor Ayul were the type to be troubled by a few monsters. They had already cleared out a few packs while their tribe was settling, so the area was largely safe. Perhaps only the trickster cat-like creatures, Copycats, might appear. These weren''t dangerous so much as they were a nuisance¡ªcreatures adept at exploiting human vulnerabilities through sound. In fact, the term "stray cat" was often used as an insult in the West. That was when Enkrid finally realized why Jaxen was referred to as a sly stray cat¡ªit was, indeed, an insult. Though, even before knowing, it had always sounded like one. The pair''s brisk pace took them up a small hill, and Enkrid glanced skyward. "Beautiful, isn''t it?" Ayul asked. Enkrid nodded. The sky looked like it was draped with a white ceiling, with clouds stretched low and wide, covering the heavens. Yet it wasn''t dark¡ªthe thin clouds allowed sunlight to filter through, casting a soft glow on the land. It was a mesmerizing sight. "Those are sunshade clouds," Ayul explained. This was a scene unique to the West, and it was breathtaking¡ªthe clouds, the sunlight, and even the distant horizon. It reminded him of a knight named Oara, whose kindness had been akin to sunlight. This sunlight was like her smile¡ªneither harsh nor scorching but gently enveloping. It was different from the blinding light of the city Oara, which fought against the darkness of the magical realm, breaking through the mist with force. The sunlight of the West didn''t break anything; it simply wrapped the land in a gentle embrace. This sunlight, then, resembled the knight Oara¡ªa protector, nurturing and warm. "Do you think it''s worth protecting?" One day, the ferryman had asked this question out of the blue. The intent behind it was obvious, even without a direct object. "Is what you''re trying to protect worth it?" "Is there a reason to endure the pain and press on?" Enkrid didn''t bother answering; he already knew the answer. Value is determined by oneself. Just because someone called a sage says something doesn''t mean you should follow it. What others decide cannot define your standards. This is your life. Thus, worth is something you complete through your own perspective. The people of the West understood this. Ayul began to speak¡ªa story that might seem unremarkable or, depending on one''s view, like the inheritance of the Western spirit. "On days when the sunlight is strong, heat haze rises over there. Strangely, after such blazing sunlight, it always rains a few days later. We call it the Bear''s Blessing." To explain why it was called that would likely require delving into long myths. "It''s not abundant here, but there aren''t too many hardships, either." What is worth protecting? Ayul expressed that he loved the West¡ªthat protecting it was a joy. "I''ve never seen snow, but I imagine it''s like the white hailstones we get." By "hailstones," he meant the hard pellets of ice. Comparing those to soft snow might seem far-fetched, but still¡ª "Snow must be beautiful too," she added. Loving the West didn''t mean looking down on other places. Of course, if he said snow was beautiful to the army, they''d likely make him run a lap around the training grounds with their weapons drawn. But no one could deny its beauty. There had been days when Enkrid gazed at snow-covered mountains, and others when he admired autumn-colored forests. In his hometown, two large trees guarded the village entrance. Their trunks were so wide that even with arms outstretched, one couldn''t encircle them. In autumn, the trees bore fiery red leaves; in summer, lush green ones; and in winter, their bare branches were blanketed in snow. To Enkrid, those trees were beautiful. The worth of what you protect is something you determine for yourself. Ayul was the same. The people of the West were the same. "We love this land," Ayul declared. Therefore, they had no need to covet the rest of the continent. If something was lacking, they would live with that lack. What had endured for ages became tradition, and the traditions of the West were rooted in their spirit. That day, Enkrid saw the sunshade clouds and the cloud tower. From a high ridge, the horizon stretched out, and from beyond it, a white column of clouds descended like a tower. They returned in the afternoon after observing the horizon, sunlight, wind, and clouds. By sunset, Ayul had come again. "Hira, are you okay?" "Yes, I''m fine." Though Enkrid had become a sort of talisman or human totem, he didn''t have to stay in the tent all day. The same curse couldn''t strike again unless the someone conducted a group ritual. Hira understood how difficult such collective rituals were¡ªthey likely required sacrifices. It was no simple feat to spread a strange curse like this, and without offerings, it wouldn''t even be possible to attempt. The eldest shaman had countered the curse by offering his consciousness and lifespan as sacrifices. Such a curse couldn''t be executed or blocked without sacrifices. This was why the eldest shaman hadn''t yet awakened¡ªwhat was sacrificed rarely returned so easily. Rem sometimes asked if the eldest shaman would awaken, but even Hira couldn''t say when. "If not for him, the entire tribe would have fallen to the curse," she thought. By reducing its scale and buying time, the eldest shaman had managed a remarkable feat. It was easy to say but, from a shamanic perspective, he had succeeded in several gambles. Luck had been on their side¡ªas if someone somewhere had absorbed misfortune for the tribe. Hira left it at that. It wasn''t her place to analyze everything. Her task was to work tirelessly to erase the traces of the curse as quickly as possible. Heating the short needles in her hands over a flame, she nodded. That was her true response to Ayul''s earlier question: "Hira, are you okay?" "Let''s go," Ayul said, once again leading Enkrid. This time, they were headed to a vast lake. "You haven''t ridden one before, have you?" she asked, holding reins. At the other end was a Bellopter, a creature with vertically slit pupils that observed Enkrid curiously. Beside her were Juol and the man who had stood guard outside the tent. The man had short hair and a blade-like pattern etched onto his forehead, his expression naturally fierce. Ayul had brought four Bellopters with her. "Do you know where Rem is sleeping?" When she asked why he hadn''t been around, the response came quickly. "He sleeps with me¡ªwhere else would he sleep?" "It''s only natural for a married couple to share the same house," Ayul remarked in a matter-of-fact tone. What charm could have turned Ayul''s heart? Given that Rem''s only talent seemed to be chopping wood, he might have won her over by force. Enkrid resolved to tell him that such behavior toward one''s wife was unacceptable. Juol, standing nearby, simply chuckled. The man next to him, however, was discreetly radiating hostility toward Enkrid, and the reason for it was becoming clear. His gaze kept shifting between Enkrid and the woman who had followed him. "Benefactor." It was Jiba''s mother, who had insisted on following despite Enkrid''s reassurances that it wasn''t necessary. Even now, she was urging him to step on her hands so he could mount the bellopter. "Please, climb up." "I can manage on my own," Enkrid replied. He moved to the opposite side, lightly pushed off the ground, and mounted the bellopter with ease. The creature, apparently docile, didn''t flinch despite bearing his weight. It briefly bent its knees to adjust but then rose back up. If it were human, one might say it had excellent reflexes¡ªit seemed to understand how to balance the force placed on its back. Rem had mentioned the creature was smarter and more agile than a horse, though perhaps not as clever as Weird-eyes. Weird-eyes wasn''t just intelligent; it had an indomitable spirit. Despite being part beast, Weird-eyes had dared to mate with mares and was even rumored to have spread its seed near Green pearl. That information came from Noir, who had been Krais''s lover and once served under Green pearl''s commander. Why such thoughts surfaced now, Enkrid couldn''t say¡ªperhaps seeing the mount triggered them. Shaking off the distraction, he grabbed the reins of the bellopter. He had been told the reins, clamped in its mouth, would guide the creature with a simple tug. Luagarne, meanwhile, stayed behind at the tents for a reason. "A peculiar smell lingers," Luagarne remarked once preparations to depart were complete. "I bathed two days ago," Dunbakel chimed in, her legs stiff from sitting too long. "It''s not that kind of smell," Luagarne said softly, scanning the surroundings. Enkrid didn''t pay much attention. Frogs might have dull senses overall, but when it came to their chosen objectives and desires, they often surpassed beastfolk in sensitivity. It seemed something had caught Luagarne''s attention. "Let''s move," Ayul commanded, leading the way. The bellopter started bounding forward, its strides rhythmic against the ground. Enkrid tightened his legs and used his core strength to stay steady¡ªit wasn''t easy to adapt to the ride, as the creature moved quite differently from a horse. "Having trouble?" Juol asked from beside him, offering guidance. "Don''t tense up. Let your legs hang loose. The bellopter is smart; just let it take the lead. This one''s well-trained." Following Juol''s advice, Enkrid loosened his posture. Ayul slowed her pace slightly. "Kids with a knack for riding take to it immediately. You''re a bit slow, though," Ayul teased. The implication was clear: someone naturally gifted in physical abilities would pick it up quickly. Still, after a while, Enkrid began to adjust. His improved control over his body played a role in helping him adapt more quickly than before. They arrived at a vast lake, so large its shores stretched beyond view. "A grand lake," Ayul commented with a smile. Western regions seldom had mist over their waters, but today was an exception. Beneath the clear sky, the lake reflected the heavens. Fish darted playfully beneath the shimmering waves, and white pebbles along the shore added to the lake''s pristine appearance. While admiring the scenery, the hostile Westerner spoke up. "What are your intentions toward that woman?" Blunt and to the point, a typical Westerner. There was no need to clarify who he meant¡ªJiba''s mother. "I have no interest and no intentions," Enkrid replied calmly. "Remember, Jiba is still a child," the man insisted. Enkrid reassured him with a cool demeanor. "Do you know how to fight?" "...I''m a warrior." "Then let''s spar." Words alone wouldn''t suffice. They clashed briefly, exchanging strikes. The man wielded a broad falchion, demonstrating decent skill. With continued training, he could likely surpass most squires¡ªhe had potential. "I''m not interested, so stop worrying. And yes, I''m aware Jiba is young," Enkrid said, tripping the man and striking his solar plexus. The Westerner gasped, his face pale from the blow, but he managed to cough and respond. "Hmph... I know. It''s just jealousy." Typical of a Westerner¡ªtransparent about his emotions. Enkrid found the trait refreshing. "How skilled is Geonnara?" "You mean the Geonnara of the Narae Tribe? He''s the best warrior," the man replied, with Ayul chiming in. "The best warrior means the strongest in the tribe." Enkrid had already deduced as much. Returning to camp, they resumed training and banter with Geonnara. "I saw a wide river. Beyond it, I glimpsed my deceased father," someone recounted upon waking. "And?" Geonnara prompted, while Enkrid also listened intently. "I crossed the river¡ªhow could I not, when he was calling me?" Even Jiba had joined, ears perked to the tale. The storyteller cast his gaze far into the distance, as if recalling a vivid memory. "The water reached my waist, but the current wasn''t strong. With soaked pants clinging to my legs, I trudged on until I stood before my father." "And then?" Geonnara asked again, curiosity piqued. "I socked him in the jaw and came back, telling him it wasn''t my time yet!" Despite his frailty, the man slapped his own arm and raised a fist as if reenacting the act. His claim to have struck his father''s chin left everyone laughing. Geonnara guffawed, Jiba giggled, and her mother couldn''t hold back her laughter either. "So, is this the land of the Sky God? Or did the Earth Mother pull me back? Seeing your face, Geonnara, it seems I''m still in our filthy homeland," the man jested. Even in his weakened state, he managed to crack jokes. "Stranger, they say when you wake, you should thank your savior. Did you blackmail Hira for help?" he quipped. "What do you think?" "Or did you seduce her with that face? I wouldn''t have guessed she''d fall for it," he laughed. Later, when Enkrid was called a "human totem," the man rose with effort to bow his head. "Thank you. I would''ve died in regret otherwise. Stranger, I will repay your kindness." More woke up, and Enkrid observed the Westerners'' way of life. After seeing the great lake, the sky''s veiled sun, and rolling hills called Miroreum, he continued training within the camp. Then came a thunderous voice from outside the tent. "HU-MAN!" It was like the heavens roared, tearing through his eardrums. Enkrid stepped out and saw the tent flap ajar. Beyond it loomed a massive head with bulging eyes, shattering any sense of perspective¡ªa giant. Enkrid had heard of the two giants threatening the tribe, monsters beyond even junior knights. Now, seeing them firsthand, he understood the danger. Rem entered the tent just as Enkrid turned to follow. "There you are," Rem said, stepping outside. Enkrid followed him to a feeble wooden fence. "Bring me five humans. I''m hun-gry!" bellowed the ignorant giant, wielding a grotesque, blood-stained club. Its foul odor reeked of blood and base desires. "Quite a formidable foe," Luagarne remarked, gauging its strength. Enkrid agreed. Among giants, this one was exceptional¡ªa true predator. Two giants now loomed before them, blocking the horizon Aiyul had shown him earlier. Rem gripped his axe, ready to charge, but Enkrid, who had approached unnoticed, grabbed his wrist. "You want to do this together?" "No." Then what? Rem''s questioning gaze asked. Enkrid stepped forward, speaking calmly. "I''ll handle it alone." Rem hesitated. He, too, recognized the giants as dangerous foes. Alone? Enkrid did not repeat himself. He simply advanced. ------------------------------------------ Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 479 - Dawn’s Cry Chapter 479 - 479 - Dawn''s Cry Chapter 479 - Dawn''s Cry Two giants stood before him. Enkrid stepped forward. Scenes flickered through his mind¡ªJiba, Geonnara, the playful jests of the woman, Hira, Rem, Ayul, and the things the Westerners had shown him. The laughter they shared and the lives they led. Was it worth protecting? He believed so. "I''ll devour everything!" A thunderous roar erupted from the mouth of one of the giants. Enkrid didn''t stop his stride, nor did he avert his gaze from the two giants. Could he perfectly gauge their strength by sight alone? No. Did he feel like he would lose? Absolutely not. That thought didn''t cross his mind. The Western tribes had labeled these two as monsters¡ªthe strongest fighters among the giants. Among the Westerners, some bore expressions of fear, while others mustered courage, forced or genuine. Enkrid felt the weight of their gazes on him¡ªtheir eyes, their worry, reaching his back. Still, his eyes remained fixed on the giants. They filled his vision completely, obscuring the rest of the Western plains. "Facing them alone is too dangerous!" The westerner harboring a hidden affection for Jiba''s mother, shouted from behind. Was it dangerous? Perhaps. But that didn''t matter to him. He simply felt capable. He wanted to do this. "One won''t be enough!" One of the giants barked, looking at Enkrid as if he were prey. Was this what they thought of him, despite his sword and deliberate steps? They saw no value in his presence¡ªbeasts, incapable of seeing beyond their hunger and greed. Enkrid raised his head, meeting the giant''s eyes. All he saw was raw desire, no more than a predator''s instinct. To call them monsters was no exaggeration. Ting. He loosened the latch on his sword''s sheath with his thumb and drew Aker. The blade shimmered in the calm sunlight. "Stay out of this." Enkrid spoke, directing his words at Rem, who followed behind him. Rem furrowed his brow and responded. "Must you?" Why face them alone, he seemed to ask. "I believe the stronger, more capable fighter should take the lead." Enkrid''s reply wasn''t an explanation but a declaration of resolve. Damn it, seriously." Rem muttered under his breath. It was true, though¡ªfor now, Enkrid was ahead of him. The two giants had reddish skin. Enkrid found himself curious about the color of their blood. He continued forward until stopping at a distance where one swing of their club could easily kill him. Since the battle in Oara, Enkrid had never neglected his training. He sparred with Rem, sought help from Luagarne?, and occasionally dueled with Dunbakel. It was routine¡ªa cycle of practice and discipline. From this repetition, something began to bloom within him. What he learned from Oara, what she left behind, and the fruits of his relentless efforts now coalesced into a single, growing entity. The buds of this flower began to unfold, petal by petal. "Only two of you?" Enkrid raised his sword and asked. Some found joy in peace. Others sought to destroy it. Before him stood such destroyers¡ªthreats to the West, its people, and their lives. Unknowingly, Luagarne? gripped the hilt of her Loop Sword. "What''s this?" Enkrid was the same as always¡ªor maybe not. He swung his sword in a wide arc toward empty air¡ªor so it seemed. The blade''s edge found the giant''s foot, precisely where it was about to land. The giant had tried to kick Enkrid, but Enkrid had already struck the spot where the movement would end. It was a feat only possible because he had read the giant''s intent and muscle movements. Whoosh. Schhh! Aker''s blade glided across the giant''s foot, slashing deeply. The giant retaliated by slamming its fist down, but Enkrid dodged with a frog-like step, feinting left before darting right. Boom! The fist struck the ground, shaking it violently. Dust billowed, and dirt and rocks scattered in all directions. "You little pest." The disparity was clear. The giants neither trained nor refined their skills. They relied solely on their innate strength. But they had survived thus far because they were undeniably powerful. As one giant''s heavy fist cratered the ground, a faint line appeared through the rising dust. Luagarne? narrowed her eyes. The line bent, curving gracefully like a drawn thread. A Frog''s eyes were sharp, and she realized what it was. Aker. It was Enkrid''s sword. What he wielded now carried traces of Oara''s teachings¡ªa seamless, flowing technique born of long, steady breaths. That line slashed through the giant''s arm, shin, and waist. Splurt! Blood spurted from the giant''s waist, dark and viscous. Its thick fur offered no protection against Aker''s keen edge and the Will wielding it. Even amidst the dust, Enkrid''s presence was unmistakable¡ªmarked by two glowing, azure eyes. The owner of those eyes launched upward, stepping off the giant''s foot and knee to propel himself higher. "Gah!" The giant roared, swinging its massive hands wildly, dropping its club in the process. "I''ll help you!" The second giant charged in, swinging its open hand toward Enkrid. The injured giant clapped its hands together, aiming to crush him. Clap! The strike missed entirely, the sound echoing loudly. The second giant''s hand, aiming to assist, smacked its companion square in the chest instead. "Agh!" The injured giant howled in pain. By then, Enkrid had already leapt over its shoulder. While doing so, he drew a gladius and dragged its edge across the giant''s back. Shhhk. "Aargh!" Another scream erupted. The giant bled profusely from its waist, legs, arms, and back. One knee hit the ground as the wounded giant swung its arms aimlessly. The second giant grabbed its club and struck diagonally at its fallen ally''s back. Whoosh! The sheer force blew away the dust, but Enkrid had already disappeared. The club struck nothing but air, and with a dull thud, the fallen giant sprouted a sharp protrusion from the bridge of its nose. That protrusion was Aker. Enkrid yanked the sword free, shattering bone as he did. Blood gushed, and the giant collapsed face-first into the ground. Thud. One giant fell lifeless, head down. "Who are you?" The remaining giant roared. Was there any point in talking? No. Enkrid swung his sword once more. Luagarne?, as a Frog, didn''t sweat¡ªbut even she felt a chill watching him. The giant''s tongue darted nervously, and its eyes rolled as if searching for an escape. "A knight?" No, it wasn''t. Despite rummaging through everything he had seen and heard, this was unlike anything he had encountered before. "Not a knight." If he had to describe it, perhaps it was something between a knight and a semi knight. Or to put it another way, the strongest semi knight on the continent. Not quite a knight, but certainly no mere semi knight either. He couldn''t wield Will at will, but in critical moments, strikes forged from sheer determination erupted without fail. Just like moments ago. The step he used to dodge the giant''s club was extraordinary. And the speed of his thrust after that was even more so. It was the same type of thrust he had used to slay a ghoul before, leaving the giant unable to even think of dodging. It died on the spot. The remaining giant, terrified, rolled its eyes and spoke. "I don''t even like humans!" The three giants he''d seen previously had shown intelligence, but this one was different. It rambled nonsensically. "I won''t eat you! I''ll leave! I''m leaving now!" While there were rumors that giants were stupid, if they were truly dim-witted, they wouldn''t have survived as a race for so long. This particular giant wasn''t representative; it was just exceptionally dull. Enkrid lowered his arm as he watched the giant with its half-severed wrist. To Luagarne, it looked like he was preparing for a final strike, but to the giant, it appeared as if Enkrid had let his guard down. "You''re trusting me? Thank you! I have treasures¡ªlots of them! I''ll give you treasures!" The giant inched forward hesitantly. Its two steps, though enormous, looked more like a tentative shuffle as it carefully placed its feet on the ground, gauging the situation. Then, suddenly, it swung its club with all its might. Enkrid moved at the same time. His sword slashed through the air, blending mid-strike with a heavy technique. His foot pushed off, and his body glided forward. Only Rem fully understood what had happened; it was a level of swordsmanship few could perceive. His body became a straight line, while his blade drew arcs that could cut through anything. Crunch. The sword cleaved through muscle, bone, and nerves alike. The giant''s club smashed down onto empty ground with a heavy thud. "Ghhhkk." The giant should have collapsed immediately, foam bubbling from its mouth, after being cut so deeply from chest to stomach. Yet its incredible vitality allowed it to stagger back even in its death throes. Enkrid countered with his sword hand, driving a punch into the retreating giant''s foot. Boom! Crunch! The skin tore, bone shattered, and blood splattered everywhere. The giant fell and moved no more. Silence descended, enveloping the battlefield in eerie calm. Enkrid casually wiped his blade on the fur of the fallen giant''s clothing. The ground was soaked in dark purple blood. Though the clouds above shaded the sun, they weren''t enough to block it entirely. As if preordained, the clouds parted, and sunlight poured down¡ªbrighter and more radiant than ever. The clan chief, watching the scene unfold, was on the verge of tears. His clan, the largest in the western region, had been on the brink of annihilation. Despair had come in many forms: an outsider magician, curses, and the giants. While they had dispelled the curse, relief remained elusive because the giants still loomed. But now, they were gone¡ªthe very giants who had slaughtered, devoured, and oppressed his people. The warrior who shattered that boulder-like oppression stood bathed in light. He turned briefly, then faced the western lands once more. "Now I see," he murmured, gazing toward the horizon. Beyond the beautiful plains, the seamless line of the horizon was breathtaking. The clan chief wept openly. Suppressing tears wasn''t the western way. "Welcome the great warrior," he proclaimed, his voice thick with emotion. It was the highest praise for the one who had saved his people. "Welcome the warrior!" someone echoed. Hira, who had been groggily watching the scene, gaped. She had been awestruck when she saw him fight the twins, but this¡ªthis was something else. A monster. His skill and power were beyond belief. The man Rem had brought had single-handedly vanquished the threat to their tribe. That simple fact sent shivers through her. "Aah. Hira let out a breathless sigh, her body trembling as though in the throes of divine revelation. Some of the shamans quaked as well, overcome by the moment. The warriors, who had been the tribe''s last line of defense, clenched their fists. They knew Rem''s strength well, and they also knew that even he couldn''t have handled two giants alone. That was why they had donned their armor despite their injuries and brought the totems to the fight. Yet, the man before them had slain the giants without assistance, slicing them apart with ease. "He''s not just a bit better than Rem," murmured Luagarne, astonished. The gap was undeniable, though her words stemmed from ignorance of Rem''s current state. Even Rem shared a similar sentiment. "I''m feeling the pressure now," he thought. It wasn''t that he minded losing to Enkrid, but this was too much. A ritual was necessary. Enkrid, meanwhile, pressed forward into unfamiliar lands, using his sword as a staff for support. But Rem had no intention of simply standing by. After all, the hero who had slain their enemy and saved the tribe turned back from the horizon and made a simple request. "Some water to wash up." The giant''s blood clung unpleasantly to him. "Savior!" someone cried out. The tribe erupted with cheers, an overwhelming wave of joy and fervor. The air itself seemed to grow warmer. "This calls for the Dawn Bird''s cry," Geonnara muttered. Of course, the Dawn Bird never cried; as the herald of the sun, it only moved forward. But in this context, the metaphor meant it was a moment of immense, joyous surprise. Geonnara sat down heavily, his strength spent. Despite his awe, a niggling worry crept in. "Maybe I shouldn''t have asked him for a spar," he thought, beginning to regret his earlier challenge. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 480 - The Giant Slayer Chapter 480 - 480 - The Giant Slayer Chapter 480 - The Giant Slayer "I''ve made up my mind, mister," said Jiba, her words cutting through the still air. Enkrid looked up from drying his damp hair, her sudden declaration pulling his attention away from the lingering warmth of the recent battle. Jiba''s small figure stood resolute before him, her eyes alight with an intensity that made her seem far older than her years. Her damp hair clung to her face as she spoke, her gaze unwavering. "I''m going to become your bride. Just wait five years!" Beside them, Luagarne puffed out her cheeks in an effort to stifle his laughter, while Dunbakel tilted her head, her sharp gaze flicking between the two. "Will five years be enough?" Dunbakel asked, skeptical. "Doesn''t seem like there''s much to grow from." Jiba''s small frame straightened defiantly. "Look at my mom! I''ll grow¡ªtremendously!" What exactly would grow remained a mystery, though Jiba''s mother, seated nearby, wordlessly straightened her back and thrust her chest out with pride. The western man sitting beside her nodded approvingly, his face a portrait of agreement. Rem, unfamiliar with the dynamics of this particular tent, finally broke his silence. "Who''s this kid?" "She''s Jiba, the plucky little dreamer," Enkrid replied with his usual bluntness, drying his hair with a cloth Jiba''s mother had thoughtfully provided. "A dreamer without much support," Rem observed, raising an eyebrow at the peculiar situation. While most dreams were worthy of encouragement, this one seemed destined for complications. After all, marriage required mutual consent, not to mention understanding. To Enkrid, Jiba was simply a spirited child, one fortunate to have survived thus far. Her bold proclamation, while endearing, held no real weight in his mind. Jiba, having said her piece, stepped back. She understood when to retreat, particularly when the lingering heat of combat still coursed through the camp and others sought Enkrid''s attention. "You''ve improved significantly," Rem noted, his tone carrying genuine admiration. He wasn''t wrong. The murmurs calling Enkrid a great warrior or savior no longer seemed exaggerated. Even Rem, with his keen eye for strength, couldn''t deny the skill Enkrid had demonstrated. The victories over the twin giants were not mere feats of strength¡ªthey were proof of cultivated experience, honed abilities, and an unyielding spirit. Rem mused quietly, "Combat is unpredictable. Even a knight might fall to a squire. Skills only provide so much certainty." Enkrid''s evolution wasn''t just about strength; it was about depth¡ªa refinement borne from surviving countless battles. As Rem observed, his abilities had been elevated across all aspects: speed, judgment, adaptability, and an uncanny mental resilience. It was an alchemy of knowledge, instinct, and grit. "That''s extraordinary," said Ayul, who had been silently listening. Her voice carried awe, her expression openly impressed. "I''ve never seen anyone fight better than Rem." Juol, standing nearby, nodded in agreement. "I had a feeling you weren''t ordinary when I first saw you, but this..." His voice trailed off, as though words failed to capture the enormity of what he''d witnessed. Even a Western elder, his face still streaked with the remnants of tears, stepped forward to express his gratitude. "You saved my tribe from the curse and slew the giants. I don''t know how to thank you enough." Enkrid, bewildered, glanced at the man. "You''re the chieftain?" The elder chuckled. "Didn''t you know?" Enkrid shook his head. The man had always seemed kind but unassuming, his gestures limited to gifts of fruit and quiet thanks. That such a humble figure led the tribe felt surprising. "Regardless, what you''ve done for us goes beyond words. If there''s anything you need, even my position as chieftain is yours to claim." The camp buzzed with activity as the moment of levity¡ªJiba''s innocent declaration and the chieftain''s effusive thanks¡ªgave way to the rhythm of daily responsibilities. One by one, the others dispersed, leaving Enkrid a rare moment of solitude. "Let''s spar later," said a voice. It was Geonnara, his Western teeth bared in a challenging grin. "Didn''t you say you''d wait until you fully recovered?" Enkrid replied. Geonnara shrugged. "What''s the fun in holding back?" His sharpened fangs gleamed as he spoke. "Won''t change the outcome," Enkrid said with a smirk. "You''ve got a way with words, don''t you?" "Been told that before." Enkrid turned inward, his thoughts drifting to the battles and growth that had brought him here. Each step, each swing of his sword, had been a process of learning and unlearning, a layering of techniques from mercenary traditions to the fluid movements of unnamed sword styles. It was a discipline of breaking apart, understanding, and rebuilding. And now, standing at the precipice of even greater strength, he prepared to face what lay ahead. "I think I could go further." It was a realization born from intuition and insight, something observed and understood through reflection. So, what was needed now? "For now, I suppose you don''t need me," Luagarne said. Her words were accurate. While he still wielded his sword as always, it felt more fitting now to embody each concept physically rather than ponder and deliberate. "That seems to be the case." "Good timing, isn''t it?" Luagarne murmured as she prepared to leave. Lately, she often went out, though he didn''t bother asking why. If it mattered, she''d eventually share it herself. With this atmosphere, life didn''t change much. Enkrid remained deeply immersed in training, as always. "You''re free to leave if you''d like, but if staying here is more comfortable, that''s fine too. Let me know if there''s anything you want; I can procure most things," Hira said, the familiar reed stick in her mouth. Though she''d always been kind, her attentiveness had become even more pronounced. At meals, Jiba''s mother served them dishes just as she always had. "This is wind rabbit meat, a specialty of the West. Please enjoy." Wind rabbits were native to the region¡ªnimble creatures twice as fast as normal rabbits. Only the most skilled hunters could catch them, even in the West. The meat was tender, almost melting in the mouth. Ground Western-style and mixed with grain flour, it was grilled flat, dissolving effortlessly on the tongue. "We''ve got a guy in our unit named Krais. If he tasted this, he''d probably suggest opening a shop immediately," Enkrid said with genuine praise. Though Hira and the other Westerners often asked what he wanted, Enkrid only expressed a desire for sparring partners. "Are your wounds still not fully recovered?" Hira asked. Geonnara shook his head. "Not yet." It wasn''t avoidance. As he had realized earlier, a proper clash required preparation. Surprisingly¡ªor perhaps inevitably¡ªfinding sparring partners wasn''t difficult. Westerners prided themselves on their resilience, viewing retreat as shameful. There were plenty eager to fight Enkrid, drawn by his strength. Among them was one who had observed his battles ten days ago and come to learn. "A scar on the back is shameful for a Westerner," said the newcomer. He had short gray hair, a sharp jawline, and a determined look. "What if it''s from an ambush?" "Well, that can''t be helped." Westerners weren''t rigid to a fault¡ªthey were flexible and, above all, loved a good joke. Enkrid smiled, catching the wooden sword tossed to him by his opponent. The craftsmanship seemed off, the balance unsteady, but it was clearly carved with care. "This sword feels wrong," Enkrid thought, testing its weight. Was it poorly made or purposefully crafted for this duel? The man continued speaking, even as he approached, wooden sword in hand. "They say it''s dishonorable to fight unfairly, but..." Mid-sentence, he suddenly lunged, swinging his sword. His cloak whipped violently, its patterned design blurring Enkrid''s vision. Everything¡ªhis weapon, his movements, even his words¡ªwas calculated to gain the upper hand. "Tactics," Enkrid noted silently. Deception, too, was a form of strategy. But such ploys held no sway over him. The wooden sword, it turned out, was hollowed and brittle. Feigning engagement, Enkrid let his sword drop. His opponent''s swing followed through, snapping his weapon in two. "Just how rotten was that thing?" Enkrid wondered. Seizing the moment, he stepped in close, driving the heel of his palm into the man''s solar plexus. He didn''t use his full strength¡ªotherwise, the man would''ve been a corpse. A sharp crack echoed. His opponent collapsed, unable to react, gasping for air as if lifeless. "You trying to kill him?" Dunbakel asked, stepping in to prop the man up. "Cough... Huff... I saw my dead father," the fallen warrior managed to wheeze. Examining his own hand, Enkrid thought, Still need to work on control. Another challenger¡ªa female warrior¡ªstepped forward. Her braided hair framed broad, muscular shoulders, and she wielded a massive axe. Watching her comrade barely survive didn''t faze her. "Even if you go all out, I don''t think I''ll die. Shall we?" she asked. Enkrid nodded, sidestepping her powerful strikes before delivering a precise blow to the back of her neck, rendering her unconscious. He realized that this settlement held many skilled fighters¡ªand their numbers seemed to be growing. "Is it true he''s that formidable?" some newcomers asked, approaching to witness the warrior who felled a giant. "Show respect. Act up, and you''ll end up dead," Geonnara warned them. "Yes, sir," they replied, nodding obediently. Though impressed by Enkrid''s feats, they had their own duties¡ªsharpening weapons, meditating, training. The settlement was clearly preparing for battle. The giant''s death wasn''t the end of things¡ªit was only the beginning. Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 481 - Dreams, Flowers, Dreams Chapter 481 - 481 - Dreams, Flowers, Dreams Chapter 481 - Dreams, Flowers, Dreams "You always have people around you, don''t you?" The ferryman appeared again after a long time. Rippling water, a purple lamp, and a blurred face. Today, the ferryman had one eye shut, with the other open. Enkrid reflected on the ferryman''s recent words. People? Of course, there are people. What else would there be? Or is this some kind of clue? Then another thought struck him. Has anything this ferryman said ever been helpful? It didn''t seem so. Most of the advice was along the lines of run away or give up. Enkrid let the words go in one ear and out the other. He stopped himself from asking whether the ferryman was just lonely, rowing endlessly on the water. It wasn''t worth saying. Not everything needed to be spoken aloud¡ªbeing tactful wasn''t dishonest; it was just being considerate. "You are never truly alone," the ferryman repeated. Enkrid cast his gaze into the distance, beyond the ferryman and across the river. There was nothing to see. The only things discernible were within the range of the lamp''s light: the ferryman, the small boat, the oar, and Enkrid himself. The scenery wasn''t picturesque, like the vast landscapes of the west. The river was just endless, dark water. Bringing his eyes back to the ferryman, Enkrid wondered if another soliloquy was about to begin. "Loneliness will consume you." That sounded familiar. The ferryman had said something like it before. Still keeping one eye closed, the ferryman met Enkrid''s gaze. His own gray eyes stared into Enkrid''s blue ones. After a moment of silence, Enkrid spoke. "Is this the companion to the foreboding you mentioned earlier?" There comes a point where even the most patient person cannot remain silent. This wasn''t about tact; it was instinctual. Hearing such words had made his tongue move on its own. It was like a swordsman instinctively deflecting a poorly aimed strike. The ferryman shut his mouth. He looked irritated but said nothing more. The dream ended. Enkrid opened his eyes. The familiar ceiling of the tent greeted him. "Awake?" Two eyes stared at him. Though there were violet veins in the whites, the irises were a warm, deep brown. The gaze felt fresh, untouched by hardship. Above those eyes was a smooth forehead, and below, a harmonious blend of features made for a pleasant face. The owner of those eyes, Jiba, would grow into someone truly stunning. "You''re up early," Enkrid muttered. Jiba beamed. "I woke up a while ago." Whether as a human totem or a protective charm, Enkrid wasn''t sure what his role was. But he knew that his presence weakened the curse afflicting these people. Geonnara was moving again, and Jiba was now playful with the other children. Hira said they needed a few more days to recover fully, but Geonnara was already saying she was fit to fight. Not perfect, but functional. The eldest shaman, however, remained unconscious. That was a problem Enkrid couldn''t solve. Still, the ferryman wasn''t entirely wrong¡ªthere were many people around him now. Initially, it had just been Rem, Dunbakel, and Luagarne. "You''re surprisingly diligent," Geonnara commented, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Nearby, Hira was packing tobacco into a pipe. Luagarne, a long-time companion, stretched with a yawn, while Dunbakel woke sluggishly. "What are you doing?" At that moment, Rem entered the tent. He was covered in leaves and thorns, evidence of whatever he''d been up to since dawn. "What were you doing outside?" Enkrid asked, nudging Jiba''s forehead as he spoke. Rem held up his left hand. The faint light of dawn made it easy to discern the object he carried. "Flowers?" White and red blooms, arranged neatly into a bouquet, tied at the base with what seemed like stems. "These flowers only bloom at this time of year," Rem explained. "Flowers?" "Ayul likes them." Rem was unashamed, confident as always. Enkrid realized why Rem hadn''t found the giant after days of searching¡ªhe''d been busy picking flowers. "So, instead of going straight to her, you came here first?" Ayul''s voice called from outside the tent. "I stopped by on the way," Rem replied. "Sure you did," Ayul said, entering. Though her tone was sharp, the murderous edge of the past was absent. Her eyes softened as they landed on the flowers in Rem''s hands. "See you later," Rem said, turning to leave. Ayul grabbed his arm firmly. She wasn''t letting him go. Enkrid watched the scene and thought of the ferryman''s warnings. Wasn''t there supposed to be a crisis? Ayul and Rem seemed perfectly fine now. "That guy is so carefree," Geonnara remarked, voicing Enkrid''s thoughts. Still, it was a pleasant sight. It seemed likely that Rem would stay. Ayul appeared intent on making that happen, and Rem didn''t seem to mind. Starting a family meant settling down, after all. "Dunbakel, let''s go," Enkrid said, rising to his feet. The morning sun cast light over the camp. Enkrid couldn''t pinpoint the change he felt. But something had shifted within him. I can win. Even if there were three giants, he was ready. Luagarne sat, reflecting on a dream from the night before. It had been unsettling. It had been a while. A familiar face had appeared, but in the last moment, Luagarne failed to recall it. What could matter as much as desire and yearning to a Frog? Spiritual love was their ideal, sometimes leading them to choose humans as partners. It wasn''t common; few possessed both the beauty and inner grace to captivate a Frog. Luagarne''s first lover had been a mistake. But the second? A remarkable person. "Laga, what do you think lies beyond that?" Looking at a map of the continent, the lover had asked. Being a Frog, Luagarne had responded like one. "Does it matter?" At the time, her goal wasn''t exploration but mastering combat techniques. And she''d fallen for someone dazzling, a man who shone just by being. "Haha," he laughed loudly. "It doesn''t matter," he said. He never forced anyone into anything. "I''m going to make a map. A map that covers the whole continent." It was his job to go to places where no one had set foot and study and investigate. His swordsmanship wasn''t particularly impressive, but he had those who shared his vision. Mercenaries, former thieves, and discharged soldiers, including Frogs. There were more than ten of them in total. All, including Luagarne, wandered for their own goals and gains. They dug up ruins, took on commissions, and moved as needed. These tasks continued. However, was it easy to explore the unknown? There were those who left. "You need krona to do anything. What can you do in a beggar''s situation?" There were sharp criticisms. The nobles who promised to support often withdrew their words. "People all think differently, and their values vary. I can''t force anyone." He could have resented them, but he didn''t. He never treated people that way. And then it happened. Before they reached the eastern frontier of the continent, a plague spread nearby. Luagarne then remembered her first lover, someone about the age of a ghoul''s son. It was when she was still immature. She had chosen him just by his looks, but the man was one who would roam the gambling halls using Luagarne''s name. The Frog backed him up, so who would dare treat him poorly? He lied whenever he opened his mouth. To sum it up, he was a crazy fool. Luagarne broke all ten of his fingers to knock some sense into him. He cried, snot running down his face, and promised to quit gambling, but three days later, he was hanging around the gambling hall again. His fingers hadn''t even fully healed. Luagarne didn''t kill him. He wasn''t worth it. He was just a man with a decent face. His second lover was a man of good character and big dreams. He couldn''t just pass by a place where the plague was spreading. "Not good." He tried to find the source of the disease, only to discover that someone was behind it. "If we leave it be, people will die." He had a somewhat naive sense of justice, and Luagarne had confidence. The kind of arrogant confidence that made her think she could protect at least his man in almost any situation. She should have stopped him. "Lua, I''m sorry." His dying lover spoke. Luagarne, who had lost her arm trying to protect him, had no time for tears. The opponent was a heretic. It was a tragedy. "Have you heard of the dog of Huarin?" He summoned dozens of black hunting dogs with thick soot. In the place where the plague had devoured a whole city, Luagarne tasted despair. "Chase the heretics!" The army of the holy city came and swept through the area. Luagarne barely survived because of them. After surviving, she spent a long time hunting heretics. ''I will eradicate all the cultists from this continent.'' But that couldn''t become her goal. The Frog''s desire didn''t revolve around revenge. A new goal arose. ''The unknown stirs the heart of man.'' Experience changed her goals. Desire followed suit. The gift his second lover gave her had shifted the direction of her desires. The death of his lover repeated endlessly in her mind. Even after waking from dreams, it continued. It ached. It hurt terribly. She placed her hand over that aching spot. Even though the hardened breastplate that she never removed at night protected it well, still... ''I feel like I''m going to break and tear apart.'' Suddenly, negative thoughts kept coming. In the end, it felt like everything would burn and disappear. Frogs were mentally strong, but that didn''t mean they were perfect. There were days like this. Days when everything just felt off. The image in Luagarne''s head became a disjointed montage of past scenes, leading up to the present. "Ha!" A yell brought her back to the present. The focus returned to the Frog''s eyes, now back in the moment. In front of her, a person, drenched in sweat, with black hair, was seen. A human who had exceeded the rank of Semi Knight. That was an inexplicable mystery. ''Exceeding even the will of a Semi Knight? How?'' She couldn''t understand the process. She could only think of luck or some divine prank. But when she saw the man in front of her, even those thoughts vanished. Enkrid simply swung his sword. Repeatedly practiced everything he had learned. It never seemed boring. It was always the same. The Enkrid of yesterday and the Enkrid of today were different, yet he didn''t live differently. He proved himself through action, through life. He simply swung his sword. Watching him, Luagarne''s random thoughts began to fade. After a few days, for some reason, she felt strangely uneasy and looked around. She saw traces of soot but couldn''t be sure if they belonged to heretics. However, keeping silent about it felt unsettling, so she spoke up. "I think I saw traces of the heretics, but I''m not sure." Enkrid stopped swinging his sword and turned his head. Lowering Aker, he spoke while turning his back to the sun. "Is that so." He didn''t seem to care at all. In fact, whether it was heretics, their parents, or grandparents, what did it matter? If they were enemies, he''d just kill them. That was why he was swinging his sword now. The next day, Luagarne''s mood had improved considerably. *** Two days later, a group of warriors, led by the sword-wielder, gathered. "It''s a fight." When he spoke, one of the tribal warriors raised his axe high. "For the soul of the west!" "For the soul of the west!" They all shouted as they raised their weapons. It was battle. The number of warriors gathered barely exceeded two hundred. It was probably just over a hundred and fifty. Among them were Rem, Enkrid, Dunbakel, and Luagarne. Everyone was going to fight, so they couldn''t just sit back. Enkrid, however, thought he didn''t need to drag the fight out. Even though the chief had told him he could stay behind and wait for the main force to arrive, Enkrid ignored that and charged ahead. ---------------------------------------------- Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 482 - How to Face a Mage Chapter 482 - 482 - How to Face a Mage Chapter 482 - How to Face a Mage Narai, Garam, Maru, Fortune-Teller, Cloud, and Hani¡ªthese were the six main tribes of the Western region, excluding minor clans. The Western tribes were a collective of numerous smaller tribes, each initially nameless, eventually gathering to form larger entities. This created a duality where both smaller offshoots and the parent tribes shared identical names. For instance, a single elder could decide to leave their tribe with their family. If they were from the Narai tribe, they might simply be called "Little Narai." Over time, the largest faction became known as "Big Narai," which was Rem''s tribe. The Western tribal society functioned under this framework, with titles like chieftain, chief warrior, and eldest shaman serving as both positions of power and symbols of strength. Big Narai, being the largest, was regarded as the "parent" of all tribes. Enkrid, piecing together tales he''d heard of the Western tribes, understood this structure well. Many came to share their stories with him¡ªwhether they were from the Narai tribe, or a Maru warrior who visited often. After sparring matches, some sought his teachings. And during moments of rest, conversations flowed freely. It seemed gossiping was one of the Westerners'' favorite pastimes. Finding someone reserved was a rarity. Enkrid thought back to his upbringing in a similar environment, in a small settlement born of refugees from war. There, everyone knew each other¡ªif not by blood, then by shared struggles. The village was a patchwork of the wounded and weary from across the continent. There was the apple seller who skillfully carved away rot, the old woman who roasted potatoes over the fire, and the foul-mouthed crone who once sold her body. It was a place where mercenaries, fleeing battles and monsters, found a fragile sense of home. "It''ll be repaid in kind." Before setting out, Geonnara grinned broadly, his sharp teeth glinting. His laughter carried a solemn resolve¡ªone only someone prepared to risk their life could exude. ''Retribution.'' Even in his own village, a similar concept existed: if you didn''t retaliate, you became a target. Enkrid understood it instinctively. Geonnara donned a wolf-shaped headdress. When draped and crouching, he could easily pass for a wolf. Despite the violet veins visible on his arms¡ªa remnant of a curse¡ªhe showed no signs of retreat. As Big Narai''s chief warrior, backing down from this fight was never an option. The Western tribes weren''t passive victims. They gathered their warriors and worked to resist the curse. Leading them was the chieftain of the Narai tribe, who stood beside Geonnara with a calm facade masking his unease. He whispered a prayer to the Sky God. Yet beneath the surface, he knew their position was precarious. Suppressing the curse had already taken a toll, especially when both the eldest shaman and the chief warrior had been afflicted. Still, their intervention had spared most of the tribe. It was like holding back a flood with a boulder¡ªbuying time to build defenses. The plan relied on shoring up their barriers before the water could seep through again. However, their plight worsened when two giants appeared, threatening the coalition of five tribes led by Big Narai. In the chaos, Maru''s chief warrior was slain. "I''ll hold them off! Everyone, retreat to Big Narai!" The Maru warrior, who once taught festival-goers how to wield clubs, stood resolutely with three others. Even Rem had learned from him in the past. Yet against two giants, it was a losing battle. Those giants were slain by an outsider who arrived with Rem, shocking the Western tribes¡ªespecially the Maru. "Hero!" The exclamation from a member of the Maru tribe echoed the awe that rippled through them. It was justified. The Narain chieftain continued to rally warriors. Their goal was to reclaim the sacred ground and eliminate the giants, the Fortune-Teller tribe''s curse casters, and their mysterious orchestrator. They had no time to consider their chances of victory. Delay would mean succumbing to the curse. And though the giants'' hesitation had bought them time, it was unclear why they hadn''t launched a full assault earlier. At the sacred ground, the gathered warriors prepared for battle. *** "Coming with us?" The Narai chieftain turned toward the voice behind him. The speaker was a relaxed yet commanding figure¡ªblack-haired, clad in black leather armor, carrying three swords, and armed with a collection of enchanted gear. Despite his heavy equipment, it all seemed necessary and never cumbersome. The man''s question was answered by Rem, standing nearby. "He says he''s coming as her companion." Rem''s words drew a response from Ayul, standing by his side. "Of course he is." The chieftain, both Ayul''s father and leader of Big Narai, looked at his daughter. He couldn''t tell her to stay behind, not when others were expected to risk their lives. As chieftain, he bore the responsibility for all. "Let''s break them all." The chieftain shouted once more, masking his unease. Geonnara gave a half-hearted response with a simple gesture. The warriors nodded and strode forward with determined steps. Enkrid glanced at the chieftain, who was constantly muttering something. Why is that person even coming along? "There might be cultists as well, not just giants," Enkrid said. "Seems likely." "You knew?" When asked, Rem lowered his voice considerably as he replied, "Did you really think I was just out picking flowers?" I guess I did. "Your eyes look strange." "They''re not," Dunbakel interjected from beside them, tilting her head. "So there are a bunch of giants gathered? Will we be enough?" In an uncharacteristically sharp observation, she pointed out the concern. "First, we assess their strength," Luagarne interjected appropriately. "We''re not charging in for a full-on battle right away. We''re going in to gauge the enemy''s scale, set up a nearby camp, and proceed systematically. Fighting isn''t just about running in blindly swinging your weapon. At least, not for normal fights." He was right. Enkrid knew there were still plenty of warriors left behind. The twins, Hira, and other shamans hadn''t joined them. This group was more like a reconnaissance unit in preparation for a larger confrontation. People call Westerners savages, but that doesn''t mean they''re thoughtless brutes who fight without any strategy or tactics. Ten warriors mounted on Velopters accompanied them. In addition, there were just over fifty other fighters, but fewer than twenty of them seemed truly capable by Luagarne''s standards. "The rest will have to stay sharp if they want to survive," Luagarne said, her tone slower and her gaze deeper, as if she had reached some profound understanding. There was no need to ask what it was. Life tends to bring various realizations over time, and they can often be helpful. If they became a hindrance, Luagarne would quickly snap out of it¡ªshe was that kind of Frog. Enkrid trusted that much. The journey ahead didn''t feel particularly tense; it wasn''t the time for that. His instincts weren''t issuing any warnings either. When they encountered the enemy, they would fight. That was all there was to it. The giants could present danger or unforeseen threats, but for now, Enkrid wasn''t anxious. They said the sacred site was a cliff with over a hundred caves. "A long time ago, bears, tigers, wolves, foxes, and all sorts of animals were blessed by the Sky God in those caves and became humans. Or so the myth goes," Rem had once said. As they walked, Rem casually picked his ear while Ayul scolded him to stay alert, reminding him there were more enemies than just the giants. "The enemy knows nothing. They''ll have to take a lot of hits before they figure things out," Luagarne muttered, her tone oddly changed. "What don''t they know?" For a brief moment, Dunbakel displayed sharp intuition, but she soon seemed to know less than the enemy themselves. Recently, she appeared to have given up thinking altogether. Aside from sleeping, training, and reluctantly bathing after being nagged, she didn''t seem to do anything. Swiping at butterflies with her claws was the most effort she put in. Enkrid, overhearing Luagarne''s remark, agreed. What didn''t the enemy know? They didn''t know him, nor did they know Rem. Two giants were dead¡ªwould they increase their vigilance? Probably. So what? Luagarne had mentioned being somewhere between a squire and a knight. What did that even mean? Enkrid didn''t know, nor did he need to. He simply did things his way. He found the idea of categorizing swordsmen amusing. Sure, does a mid-level soldier always defeat a low-level one? Does a knight always beat a squire? Fights don''t start on perfectly leveled ground with formalities. The battlefield is a place where lives are at stake, and one must always be prepared to die. A knight can fall to a squire if they''re careless. Complacency leads to defeat. Defeat leads to death. Thus, one must always give their best. "Well, maybe I can ignore their spells a bit." They said Ferrymen''s curses devoured everything. Walking with such thoughts, Enkrid refocused his mind. This ability to steel himself was one of his strengths. Even against a child, he wouldn''t let his guard down. After all, once you''ve been stabbed in the gut by a twelve-year-old, you learn your lesson. When they arrived at the sacred site, they saw small hills ahead, flanked by tall ridges that formed a canyon. In the wide-open space, dozens of giants gathered, looking almost like an army. At a glance, there were over thirty heads. They weren''t in perfect formation but stood in crude ranks. Even so, the sight of these towering figures was enough to instill immense pressure. Several Westerners gulped audibly. Damn, they''re all ready to fight. "So, it''s you, the outsider," came a voice. Before the giants stood an old man, unnoticed at first due to the towering figures around him. A line of humans stood behind him, all filthy and disheveled, as though they were Dunbakel''s kin. Their unwashed faces were pitch-black, making their eyes stand out starkly. One of them smacked his lips, revealing blackened teeth. Among them, the elderly man in a long cloak holding a wooden staff looked like the stereotypical wizard. Enkrid dug his toes into the ground. While Luagarne had immersed him in the Lake of Experience, Esther had taught him how to handle mages. How to handle mages? "Strike them down before they can utter a word." Enkrid did just that. He planted his left foot, driving his thigh muscles into the ground. The force propelled him forward. It was a charge adapted from a knight''s strike. Far faster and more explosive than the squire from the Crimson Cloak Knights had ever displayed in Aspen''s battlefield. Most of the Westerners couldn''t even follow Enkrid''s movements. Boom! The ground burst, dirt spraying like a fountain. Crack! Aker''s blade was already slicing diagonally through the mage''s body. The sound was like wood splitting as it tore through flesh and bone. The strike had cut the mage''s mouth mid-sentence. He couldn''t finish his words, yet his eyes lacked the shadow of death. Instead, his form blurred, and another identical figure emerged behind him. "You filthy¡ª" Before he could finish, a spark shot from Enkrid''s left hand, piercing the mage''s face. Rule number two for handling mages: never give them a chance to speak. "Impatient, aren''t you?" Behind him, Rem also leapt forward, pushing off the ground. There was no time for astonishment or hesitation¡ªthe brawl erupted instantly. Rem knew it was generally unwise to engage giants in such chaotic melee combat. But honestly, it didn''t matter now. Seeing Enkrid and Rem, Geonnara joined in as well. They''d come to fight, so what was the point in talking? Now was the time to settle scores. Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 483 - Reckless Calm Chapter 483 - 483 - Reckless Calm Chapter 483 - Reckless Calm The western lands were vast. Beyond the six tribes, there were others who clung to their traditions, whether out of stubbornness or devotion. Among them was someone the short-haired blonde had met in the city of Oara. Even Rem knew one such person¡ªa wanderer who dabbled in cursed poisons, as the blonde had mentioned. "Didn''t you say leaving traces everywhere was dangerous? Then why use cursed poison?" While picking flowers and tracking the signs of giants, Rem stumbled upon an old friend from a smaller tribe. "How did you figure it out?" The black-eyed woman asked, her tone free of suspicion and full of pure curiosity, as always. She stood above Rem on a slope, while he remained below. That was typical of her. Even the fact that Rem had returned to the western lands didn''t seem to surprise her. She likely hadn''t even noticed his absence. "Just happened to," Rem answered casually. Her black eyes blinked a few times. Whatever thoughts she had remained impenetrable, but her nature and goals hadn''t changed. She was still the same person who preferred to step back like a ghost, observing people from a distance and finding joy in merely watching the world go by. As the wind blew her long hair around, she tied it back with a ribbon she had pulled out, her movements unhurried and practical. "There''s no one else who uses cursed poison, so it wasn''t hard to connect the dots." The encounter was purely coincidental. Tribes like hers avoided interaction with outsiders, believing that isolation was the only way to preserve their spiritual essence. And yet, amidst such insular traditions, anomalies occasionally emerged. This particular woman, gazing at the stars one night, had wandered beyond her tribe''s borders, eventually reaching the frontier settlements. She believed her tribe could no longer afford to stay isolated, a stance born of both ideology and personal desire. "Stagnant water rots," she used to say. Her belief, however, was underpinned by a simple yearning to observe the world and its people. Rem, in the past, dismissed their customs as nonsense. They claimed that merely conversing with others or mingling thoughts could erode their spiritual power. Women who had never touched a man were deemed worthy of becoming priestesses. It was absurd. Magic didn''t work that way. Yet, Rem acknowledged that their faith lent them power. Rituals rooted in deep belief strengthened their magic. These tribes worshiped the same sky god born from birch trees, but their way of life was starkly different. Was it fair to criticize them for it? To scorn their traditions or force them to change? There was no need. They harmed no one and simply wished to live as they always had. If anything, they were often the targets of aggression, as some groups coveted their spiritual energy. But these tribes, for their part, avoided conflict, rarely seeking any form of exchange with the outside world. Even this black-eyed anomaly, whom Rem jokingly called a "misfit," did little beyond occasionally venturing out to observe the world. "This time, you''ve gone far, haven''t you?" Rem asked. The black-eyed woman replied without hesitation. It wasn''t a secret, and the issue remained unresolved even now. "Three summers ago, a madman tried to steal our sacred offering. We lost part of it and have been searching for it ever since." The cursed poison practitioners were formidable. Even Rem couldn''t take on an entire tribe alone. But this so-called offering¡ªit was the core of their faith, akin to a holy relic in the wider world. When their traditions, energy, or beliefs were violated, even these pacifist tribes were willing to engage with the outside world¡ªthrough battle. And some lunatic had dared to steal it. The misfit had likely seen or heard more of the outside world than anyone else in her tribe. Though she hadn''t come seeking help, it was clear they had been the first victims. "It was a foreigner from the continent. A mage," she explained. Rem pieced together what he knew, arranging the fragments in his mind to form a picture. He sought the motives behind the events, but his interest was less about solving the mystery and more about confronting whoever had done this. "Want to join me in taking them down and reclaiming the offering?" he asked. "We know where they are. But if we fight, we''ll lose," she admitted. Their tribe''s priestess had already lost an arm in a previous encounter. For them, the offering was vital, but sacrificing the entire tribe to retrieve it wasn''t an option. "Fine. When we fight, you can come and take it back," Rem said simply. *** Rem moved with precision, his left axe deflecting a giant''s club as his right axe slashed horizontally. Thwack! Splurch! The club ricocheted off his left axe, and the right axe cleaved into the giant''s shin, splitting flesh as purple blood spurted out. "Could''ve just found it and handed it back," Rem thought, leaping aside. Boom! The club smashed into the ground, sending stones flying. The terrain was rugged, covered in gravel, rocks, and sand. The giant''s strength left deep craters wherever its weapon struck. The giant was powerful, but its strength was meaningless if its attacks didn''t connect. Rem, however, remained calm. Compared to facing ten thousand phantoms, this was easy. Whoosh! A club swung down toward him. It was a dark brown weapon, its uniform appearance suggesting it had been crafted for the giants. Someone had supplied them with these weapons, likely at great expense. As the club descended, Rem raised his left axe, bending his knees slightly and leaning forward. Crash! A deafening sound erupted as the club struck, but Rem wasn''t crushed. Instead, the club halted mid-strike. Using his monstrous strength, Rem absorbed the impact with his arm, channeling the force through his body and into the ground. His muscles distributed the energy evenly, softening the blow. In the past, he would''ve taken it head-on with brute force. Not anymore. He had grown more skilled, more experienced. Crack! A fracture appeared in the club where his axe had struck. Without hesitation, Rem charged forward. Drdrdrdrdr! The club split apart under the force of the axe in Rem''s left hand. Alarmed, the giant lashed out with a kick, sending Rem flying backward. Undeterred, Rem pushed forward with the axe in his right hand, setting up his next move. With his left hand, he batted away the shattered remains of the club and aimed the blade of his axe at the giant''s ankle¡ªa sluggish target compared to Enkrid''s swordsmanship. He spun, drawing a tight circle with his axe. Crack. The giant''s skin was as tough as iron, impervious to ordinary blades. But Rem''s axe bit through without hesitation, slicing deep. Dark purple blood spurted violently as the nearly severed ankle dangled grotesquely. The massive body collapsed with a heavy thud, pooling blood spreading quickly across the ground. "Grrraaaah!" The giant howled in agony, but its eyes remained lifeless. Those dull, unfocused pupils had seemed off from the beginning. There was no trace of thought behind them¡ªonly an empty, animalistic haze, like someone heavily drugged. These giants were unlike the adversaries Rem had faced when first entering the West. Or maybe they were the same; those other enemies hadn''t been particularly normal either. But did it matter? The giant, roaring in pain, swung its massive hand wildly. Rem sidestepped and struck with his left axe, deflecting the incoming blow. Thunk! The blade cracked under the strain. Without hesitation, Rem hurled the broken weapon like a spear. Though the jagged edge couldn''t pierce the giant''s tough hide, it was sharp enough to target its vulnerable eye. The makeshift projectile flew straight and true, stabbing into the giant''s pupil. "GRAAAA!" The giant let out another tortured scream as clear fluid mixed with dark purple blood and splattered across the ground. "Hand me another axe," Rem commanded, stretching a hand backward. Behind him stood a warrior carrying a literal arsenal of axes. In the hierarchy of their group, this person was akin to a squire¡ªa helper responsible for logistical tasks and combat support. Here, they were referred to as "small warriors." At first, the small warrior had been puzzled about the excessive number of axes they were made to carry. Now, they understood. Weapons that could endure Rem''s strength were a rare commodity. "Hyaaah!" With a sharp cry, the small warrior hurled an axe. It spun through the air and landed perfectly in Rem''s waiting hand. Thwack. Rem caught the axe effortlessly, flexing his neck from side to side as he prepared for his next move. "Keep your damn eyes open," he muttered. None of the giants responded. They showed no fear, no hesitation¡ªonly a blind, unrelenting desire to kill. Their white eyes, with unfocused dark pupils, held no life. The only emotion visible was a raw, primal bloodlust. For most, facing such creatures would have been paralyzing. But not for Rem. His lips curled into a crooked grin. "Bunch of mindless bastards." He hefted the axe onto his shoulder, exuding an air of casual confidence. Meanwhile, Enkrid continued slicing through the mages. "Th¡ª" "Thi¡ª" "Cur¡ª" "Curse¡ª" The enemy mage, caught in a strange, silent affliction, struggled to complete his spells. Enkrid paid no mind, relentlessly pressing the attack. His strikes were methodical, precise, and unyielding¡ªhis persistence reminiscent of Oara''s endless assault. Nearby, other mages began to chant and clasp their hands in preparation for a ritual. Snap! A whip cracked through the air, disrupting their incantations. It was Luagarne. "So, you''re all cultists," Lagarne said coolly, her tone calm but laced with cold fury. "Rethir, your enemies are gathered here in droves." Muttering words incomprehensible to anyone else, Luagarne dove into the fray, wielding both his whip and blade. Rem, always aware of his surroundings even amidst the chaos, spared a glance toward Luagarne''s battle. The faces of the enemies were familiar. Some were fairies, but most were human¡ªand disturbingly recognizable. They were the cannibals he had fought in the past, lunatics who believed consuming human flesh would grant them power. These were the very same ones whose heads he had split open before leaving. Their alliance with the cultists wasn''t surprising, nor was it entirely their fault. After all, the man who was supposed to be their champion had met his end beneath Rem''s axe. From there, it was a downward spiral¡ªoppression, desperation, and finally, the lure of the cultists. Rem didn''t dwell on the morality of it all. What was done was done. There was no point in regretting it. The battle was chaotic, but it wasn''t a true melee¡ªonly a handful of combatants fought. To his right, Dunbakel dashed forward, slashing at the wrist and forearm of a giant with her curved blades. With sudden audacity, she darted under her opponent''s guard and sliced vertically through its chin, then withdrew just as quickly. Her movements were faster than ever, leaving streaks of dark purple blood in her wake. "They''re cultists!" Luagarne shouted. "I see now... slaying them one by one with a sword is the only way this will ever end!" Her voice was steady but burned with righteous anger. Rem couldn''t help but wonder why Luagarne was suddenly so impassioned. Regardless, as long as she fought well, it didn''t matter. Clang. Rem clashed the blades of his twin axes together, letting out a sharp metallic ring. No matter their madness or savagery, these enemies had endangered his wife and family. If Ayul had died, he would have lost all restraint. "Not a single one of you gets past me," he muttered, though the words felt unnecessary. The giants were too far gone to take orders or retreat. Nearby, the best warrior Narai, known as Geonnara, raised his totem¡ªa weathered wolf''s head carved from dark wood. "Wolf god, wolf god," he prayed, veins bulging violet against his skin. With a fierce invocation, he called upon the spirit of the wolf to descend and devour his foes. ------------------------ Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 484 - The Chieftain’s Relief Chapter 484 - 484 - The Chieftain''s Relief Chapter 484 - The Chieftain''s Relief The chieftain let out a sigh of relief. The term "descent," the summoning of a god to this land, carried a weight that could bring dire consequences. In the continent, particularly within the Holy Nation, uttering such words would instantly summon the inquisitors. They would not stop until they had their quarry, ensuring the accused could never again chew meat, pulling teeth, fingernails, or toenails in the process while demanding: "Confess to your heresy." From the perspective of certain zealots, the entire Western region could be seen as a haven of heresy. Were it not for the existence of the Sacred Demon Sanctuary, war might still rage between the continent and the West. History recorded instances of the West and the continent waging wars over differing ideologies¡ªconflicts born of religious discord, linguistic misunderstandings, and opposing philosophies on life. Rulers, seeking to assert their will, often turned such differences into violent clashes. Perhaps some rulers even used religion as an excuse to gain profit through war. But fortunately, this was not one of those times. Who would dare to claim they would subjugate the Western heretics when the Sacred Demon Sanctuary was so openly revered? Such a claim would mark one as mad. Few would agree, and no one would take such declarations seriously in this era, where even the West''s cultural uniqueness was respected. Terms like "heretic" or "barbarian" were merely slurs to demean them. Of course, Geonnara cared little about what others called him. To him, it was enough to revere the god he believed in. "Rip them apart, devour, and shred them to pieces." It was a curse. From the blackened fragment of wood in Geonnara''s grasp, dark smoke began to rise. The smoke didn''t disperse but instead coalesced in front of him, taking shape. Its sharp ears stood out in stark white, contrasting with the rest of its pitch-black form. Amid the swirling dark smoke, the white ears gleamed distinctly. "Go forth." Blood dripped from Geonnara''s mouth, his lips stained red as he issued her command. The instant his words ended, the legless wolf of smoke surged forward. Its undulating body made it appear as though it was running, despite having no limbs. Two white streaks, drawn by its pale ears, sliced through the air. Awooooo! The wolf''s howl reverberated, shaking the very core of those who heard it. In an instant, the black smoke darted past the tribespeople and sank its fangs into the thigh of a giant. The target was one that had eluded Rem''s axe by shifting sideways. No matter how skilled Rem was, he was only one man. Even without using any curses, it was impossible to singlehandedly hold off dozens of giants with mere physical ability. Some of the giants had started to retreat, sensing an opening, and it was in this moment that the wolf emerged, sinking its teeth into one''s thigh. The smoky fangs pierced the giant''s thick skin with ease. It was a surreal sight¡ªthe tearing of flesh visible through the smoky veil. Crunch! Purple blood splattered through the smoke. Grahhhh! The giant let out a scream, swiping at the wolf with its massive hands. Though momentarily disrupted, the smoke reformed into its original shape. Rip. The wolf summoned by Geonnara ignored the flailing hands of its prey. It bit down once, twice, relentlessly gnawing at the giant''s flesh. Chunks of flesh were ripped away, blood splattering everywhere. The wolf buried its head deeper into the mangled thigh, the giant''s agonized cries becoming even more horrifying. Aarghhhh! This was expected. A bite from a wolf was painful enough on its own, but the fangs of the wolf-god carried a curse of pain. Each bite inflicted agony akin to needles driven under fingernails or fingers digging into festering wounds. During the last giant incursion, the curse had failed, likely due to interference from an enemy shaman or mage, possibly a dog of the continent. But this time, there was no such obstruction. Even though Geonnara had prepared for potential interference, such a scenario made it difficult to imagine what countermeasures the enemy could possibly take. *** "Damn it." "Hey, you!" "This...!" The enemy leader could barely string a sentence together while fending off relentless sword strikes. His form flickered, skillfully evading Enkrid''s strikes for now, but how long could that last? Enkrid, the outsider, swung his blade with an unyielding calm that was unsettling. ''Should I avoid that sparring match with him?'' Even a bold warrior of the West could not help but feel dismayed at such overwhelming skill. "Ugh." Despite his fleeting thoughts, Geonnara couldn''t suppress the bile rising in his throat and spat out blood. It felt as though his innards were being squeezed. The summoning of the wolf-god had strained his body severely. Before, he might have forced himself to endure for appearances, but there was no need for such pretenses now. "Don''t overdo it. You''re a patient¡ªjust watch and let us handle it." Rem''s voice rang out from the front lines. Despite the content of his words, the fact that he noticed him spitting blood from afar was oddly reassuring. "Mind your own business." Wiping his mouth, Geonnara retorted, though he doubted Rem even heard him. The tribal warriors raised their spears high. "The trembling earth. The trembling earth. Mother of the land, guide us, protect us." Two shamans shook their rattles, murmuring prayers. The sound was like that of children''s toys to allies, but to the giants, it was anything but. Guhhh... The giants wavered, some staggering as though struck. The shamans'' chant was a sound-based curse that assaulted the giants'' senses. Between the wolf-god, the rattles, and the fearless Western warriors, the giants suddenly seemed manageable. Unsurprisingly, the most overwhelming presence on the battlefield was still Rem. "Don''t get yourselves killed for nothing. Ayul, take charge." Despite being in the midst of the giants, swinging two axes relentlessly, Rem issued commands with composure. "Dallae, Maru, Tamu, and Altan, ready your slings. Lange, Naran, Gute, Tan, and Hun, prepare your spears!" Ayul, the leader of the Western warriors, responded immediately. When Geonnara was incapacitated, it was Ayul who had rallied the warriors and taken command. She was a pillar of the tribe, ensuring its cohesion in times of crisis. The warriors rearranged their formation swiftly. Four took out slings, positioning themselves in pairs, while the rest readied their black-tipped spears. The spears, tipped with obsidian blades, were fragile but ideal for a decisive strike. The Western tribes were no fools; they had prepared well for such battles. Even without Rem, they would have fought fiercely, albeit with more difficulty. Now, the battle seemed so manageable it could be observed from a straw mat. "Huah!" Among the chaos, a beastkin darted through the giants with movements that seemed almost divine. Bounding off a giant''s thigh, the beastkin soared upward, seizing a greasy tuft of hair and slamming an elbow into the crown of its skull. Crack! The sound of bone shattering echoed. The giant staggered, attempting to stay upright, but the beastkin, relentless, clawed into the fractured skull before leaping away. Thud. The giant collapsed with a strange, guttural groan, its mangled head leaking blood and viscera, signaling it would not rise again. The chieftain rubbed his eyes, fearing that if this were a dream, waking up would be a loss. Of course, it was no dream. He knew that well. The chieftain was no fool, unable to distinguish reality. It was simply all too surreal. In one corner, a figure flickered and danced through a storm of blades. The wielder of those blades was the outsider, Enkrid, Rem''s companion. "All cultists are my enemies. I will destroy them all." The Frog fought as though possessed, cheeks puffed up, muttering incessantly. Just hearing her words exuded an intense bloodlust. Alongside her was a beastkin battling a giant. Yes, those three were outsiders; it made sense they could fight like that. Even through the chieftain''s eyes, their skills were difficult to gauge. But the other one was different. The hero candidate who had brought the outsiders¡ªRem. The chieftain''s gaze rested on one particular spot, where the returned prodigal son was chopping giants like firewood. "An axe." Each time one broke, a new one was handed to him, and he kept splitting logs without pause. The only difference was that the logs being cleaved weren''t green or dried wood but rather the flesh of giants. The man-eating giants that had threatened the tribe were being reduced to splinters, unworthy even of kindling, and dying one after another. It would be a lie to say the chieftain didn''t feel a sense of satisfaction. He had endured this torment, barely holding on. The pressure he had endured could crush a person entirely. Sleepless nights, a suffocating chest, and a wildly beating heart. His anxiety had grown so severe that his appetite vanished. His face grew gaunt, his days bleaker. If not for the ceremonial markings on his face, he would have looked like a corpse. Such was the weight he bore, the hardships he endured. The chieftain, more than anyone, knew the reality. "We''re doomed." The dark clouds that hung over the western lands obscured the sun and blanketed the skies. He had tried everything, anything, desperately. Searching for smaller tribes to aid them? He had prioritized that over summoning Rem. Yet no one responded. He had even attempted to secretly negotiate with the Seer Tribe, to no avail. He was ready to promise them anything¡ªto become a great tribe if that was their desire, to give them all they wanted, if only they would return and stop this madness. But they wouldn''t listen. He had thought of seeking aid from powers beyond the continent, across the frontier. But nothing went as planned. Not securing help from other continents. Not finding smaller tribes. Nothing worked. Day by day, the situation worsened. A curse fell upon them, the eldest shaman collapsed, and their greatest warrior, Geonnara, was bedridden. "Damn it all." The chieftain knew escape was a viable option. But how could he abandon the western lands? This was the land they were born on, raised on, and where they would one day be buried. Low clouds, high clouds, the sun-hiding clouds, the great lake, the sand-covered canyon, the Myr hills¡ªhe loved them all. If this was the end, he would accept it. Despair gnawed at his insides, leaving only a hollow shell awaiting death. Then, at his lowest, when Rem returned, when the curse was lifted, and two giants were felled, hope appeared. Yet, never like now. The chieftain felt serenity. Rem kicked a giant''s ankle, and the chieftain watched. The giant was twice Rem''s size. Normally, a kick like that wouldn''t even make the giant flinch. But this was different. With a single kick, the giant lost its balance. Its ankle bone snapped audibly beneath its leathery hide, and it toppled sideways. The blade of Rem''s axe met the giant''s neck. Thud! With a clean strike, dark purple blood spurted forth. The neck-cleaving blow left Rem coated in gore, grinning. "Hey, there''s less than half of you left now." Rem said, the returned prodigal son. He was different now. Without shamanic powers, without a blessed weapon, he fought. He fought astoundingly, exceptionally well. The chieftain felt relief. This battle¡ªthey had won. Tonight, he wouldn''t wake up in a cold sweat. Even when the foreigner Enkrid first leapt into the fray, his heart, which had skipped a beat, now thudded steadily once more. The relief brought by calm and safety. Even as blood sprayed, bones broke, and screams echoed ahead, the chieftain felt peace. Geonnara had coughed up blood, but his condition seemed manageable with a few days'' rest. The chieftain muttered: "We''ve won." Of course, it was a premature conclusion. Luagarne hated the cultists yet knew her battles rarely ended with satisfaction. "Can all cultists be slain?" No. "Can the cult be eradicated?" No. After losing her second lover, Luagarne had wandered aimlessly for a time. She cared for nothing except killing cultists. While it might have been logical to make their destruction her ultimate goal, she didn''t. "Because it was futile." Setting that as her aim would ensure its failure. So, she shifted her desires. She pursued the unknown. It was a fitting alternative¡ªequally satisfying and seemingly plausible. From the outside, it might seem as though the Frog''s desires stemmed from instinct or some inscrutable source, but her understanding was different. "Where there''s will, desire follows." True Frogs cultivated their desires. They expressed what they wanted clearly and pursued it with reason. They weren''t led by baseless whims. "Ah." It was a sudden realization. A nightmare of her worst moments. A faint trace of cultist influence. Ultimately, she faced enemies destined to be lifelong foes. Traveling with Enkrid wasn''t unpleasant. Exploring the unknown was enjoyable. Someday, she hoped to step foot in the East. She would complete the map her former lover had dreamed of. Luagarne observed Enkrid wielding his sword. Watching his daily life for so long had given her insights. "Explore the unknown." "Destroy cultists." How? Whether there was an end or not, she would keep at it diligently. Even if the end brought sorrow, she would savor the process. A man wielded his sword with a smile. Unrelenting, tirelessly training every day. Croak. Amidst her fury, Luagarne laughed. But to the cultists, her mix of laughter and anger was indistinguishable. "Crazy Frog!" "Crush her heart!" "Tear out her heart!" The savages and cannibals howled ceaselessly. Their intent was clear¡ªshe was to react to the word heart. Luagarne stood firm, letting the irksome words pass her by. One of them stomped the ground, magical energy flowing from his boots. His body flickered and moved rapidly to her side. It was an item enchanted with a high-speed movement spell. She had encountered it before¡ªwhen facing the Gnoll Colony. Enkrid had been there too. The memory surfaced, and she couldn''t help but let out a battle cry. Croak, croak! The Frog''s war cry. Simultaneously, her Loop Sword slashed upward to her right, cleaving through the air where a cultist mage had just appeared. Whoosh! The powerful strike forced the cultist to retreat in panic. "Tch!" The cultist leader, a woman, gestured sharply. The other cultists began to gather around her. In the meantime, a one-eyed fairy lunged to stall for time. Not a formidable opponent, but difficult to subdue quickly. It was a clever ploy to buy time. "Summon the warrior''s arm." One of the cultists muttered, stretching a hand forward. A black droplet formed at his fingertips, falling to the ground and expanding into a dark pool. From it emerged a pitch-black hand. A cultist spell. ------------------------ Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 485 - Breaking Chains and Advancing Chapter 485 - 485 - Breaking Chains and Advancing Chapter 485 - Breaking Chains and Advancing "Rise, warrior''s leg," one of the cannibals muttered as he extended his foot. He appeared weaker than the previous caster, a cannibal adorned with a colorful headband and chaotic patterns smeared across his face. His filthy leg turned black and began to crumble. Crack. The magic backlash had begun. "Ugh," the cannibal grunted, clenching his teeth to endure the agony. His muscles, bones, and leathery skin twisted unnaturally, emitting a chilling sound that would make anyone''s skin crawl. Below the knee, his leg detached, turning into a black mass that pooled on the ground. From this black pool, a muscular black leg regrew. After producing one arm and two legs this way, one of the casters collapsed, bleeding profusely from his eyes and nose. His body imploded inward, forming a pool of black blood, from which a dark, grotesque figure emerged. The creature had thin arms and legs but no head. Instead, it bore a single newly-formed arm and two legs attached to a soot-like humanoid body. Its lone hand gripped a long, rod-like weapon¡ªa spear, to be precise. It was a dark warrior born of death itself, perhaps best described as a Death Knight, the pinnacle of necromancy. The sorcery used to create this creature was of a lesser degree, yet it still yielded a formidable result. It began with capturing a skilled warrior, tearing out their heart, and keeping them suspended in a state between life and death for seven agonizing days. Though their body was dead, the sorcery deluded them into believing they still lived. "Whose heart is that?" While their body succumbed, their mind remained intact. Once they believed themselves alive, necromantic rituals completed the transformation. A death-born warrior emerged, incapable of understanding the words of the living or speaking them. Only the primal urge to fight remained¡ªfight, kill, and pierce their enemies. Luagarne lashed her whip at the dark warrior''s head. Snap! The warrior countered, twirling the shaft of their spear to intercept the whip''s tip, causing it to coil around the shaft. Without hesitation, Lua lunged forward, swinging her loop sword horizontally in a sharp arc, intending to cleave through the enemy''s torso. However, the black warrior drew the spear back, using its strength to parry the blade. Clang! The whip unraveled from the spear as Lua retreated, reclaiming the whip''s handle. With a calm voice, she muttered, "Ignite." Flames erupted from the whip''s center, their heat intensifying the surrounding air. Even with the advantage of a magical weapon, her combat instincts warned her of looming defeat. It wasn''t just the Death Warrior; more enemies were approaching. Among them, figures stood out¡ªa half-fairy with a mutilated ear and a half-giant whose angular face resembled a stone slab. These were no ordinary westerners; their appearance and clothing suggested a foreign origin. Lua''s combat intuition spoke one word: death. The ominous presence of an enemy with black hair, featureless white eyes, and unsettling tattoos beneath each eye¡ªa teardrop on the left and a dagger on the right¡ªonly deepened her foreboding. "Even so," Lua resolved, "these cultists are my enemies. Whether I win or lose doesn''t matter. My anger is justified." With a mix of grim determination and defiance, Lua puffed her cheeks, ready to unleash everything she had. Victory or not, vengeance was the only path. "Did you think giants were all I prepared?" The Apostle of the Sacred Demon Cult, cornered and silenced by a relentless barrage of blades, bristled with anger. "I divided the West and created giants. You have no idea how many seeds I''ve sown over the years. You think you can stop this?" Their ultimate goal was to turn this place into a demonic sanctuary by summoning demons and harvesting the fear, despair, and futile hopes of the westerners. The Apostle sought to turn the very land into a cursed domain. But the constant flurry of strikes prevented them from focusing, their lips unable to chant, and even forming hand seals was thwarted. "Curse you." Though enraged, the Apostle recognized that succumbing to anger would only worsen the situation. They closed their eyes and began to pray silently: "Within the sanctuary lies our slumbering god..." "Awaken him to govern this land. Deliver divine retribution to all the fools. Hang and kill all who dare to falsely claim kingship. Split the hearts of those who insult the one true god slumbering in the demonic abyss with their misguided faith. Die and be reborn anew. Thus, the world will answer the true god''s call." While delivering this declaration, the soothsayer tribe joined the fray, and two hidden warriors began approaching him. They were meant to handle the one continuously swinging their blade toward his mouth and hands. Once the adversary was restrained, bound, and brought to their knees, he would speak. "Why do you wield such power to walk a misguided path? Stand beside me and feel true joy as we honor the god of the abyss. If you refuse, I will have you die and be reborn to stand beside the apostle. Regardless of your will, I will make it so. That is my duty, my path for the god." The apostle, known for his verbosity, had countless thoughts and words tangled within him. Yet every time he tried to speak, a blade would slice through the air. The incorporeal spell allowed him to let the blade pass through harmlessly; otherwise, he would have perished long ago. However, staying in this state made it frustratingly impossible to cast proper spells. Still, he thought there might be a way to utter his voice amidst the chaos. Desperate to speak, the apostle resorted to trickery. If he could convey his will, then surely he could also cast his prepared spells. He decided to open a gap through unconventional means. "I!" "Will!" "Make!" "You!" "Listen!" "To!" "Me!" Clever. The apostle, unable to speak continuously, broke his words into single syllables. Enkrid, wielding only Aker, pressed the mage relentlessly, occasionally adding bursts from spark to the mix. This approach ensured the mage couldn''t chant or use intricate hand signs. "By blocking their chants and signs, the mage would need to rely solely on willpower to cast. But that is no easy feat for any mage. So, cut their hands and silence their voice." Esther''s teachings were sound, and Enkrid followed them faithfully. The opponent still couldn''t properly cast magic. But how long could this go on? Even if Enkrid slashed away tirelessly for three days and nights, would the mage relent? He wasn''t sure. With their mouth silenced, the mage began attempting communication through their eyes. Their rolling, expressive gaze made it seem like they might even conjure a spell with their eyeballs. ''Would Audin make such an expression if he lost his mind?'' No, probably not. Enkrid dismissed the thought and focused on slicing through his opponent''s incorporeal form, which felt like cutting through mist. Despite the lack of resistance, Enkrid persisted. "Re!" "Born!" After several more strikes, the mage''s intent shifted. Instead of spewing meaningless demands, they began a new chant. Enkrid''s instincts flared as the resonance of magic reached him. Even with Enkrid''s interruptions, the mage managed to chant syllables between slashes. What kind of people were the apostles of the Demon Abyss Church? They were said to be geniuses, after all. The apostle accounted for Enkrid''s interference and manipulated their magic accordingly. There was no need for a lengthy incantation¡ªpreparations had already been made. "Re!" "Born!" Six syllables formed the spell. Beneath the earth, sacrificial offerings responded to the apostle''s call. Thanks to Rem and Dunbakel, the number of giants had been significantly reduced. Yet at the apostle''s command, the dead giants began to stir. Grrroooarrr! Shattered flesh reassembled, severed heads regenerated atop necks, and writhing masses of muscle and sinew formed new eyes, noses, and mouths. It was grotesque, enough to induce nausea. Despite their muddled gazes, the resurrected giants moved again, exactly as they had before their deaths. What kind of monstrous regeneration was this? Even trolls or Frogs couldn''t replicate such recovery. "Awaken!" The apostle continued their incantation, and before Enkrid''s eyes, a creature materialized¡ªa towering beast with a crimson comb larger than an average human''s head. Below it was the head of a chicken, a body covered in steel-like feathers, yellow legs with razor-sharp talons, and a serpentine tail slithering across the ground. Enkrid quickly recalled the scene moments earlier. A crimson magic circle had appeared on the ground, and from beneath, the creature emerged. A Cockatrice¡ªa creature that shot petrifying beams from its eyes. The beast wasted no time. It aimed its deadly gaze at Enkrid while preparing to peck him with its beak and slash with venomous claws. But before the Cockatrice could act, a streak of light flashed, severing its neck. The cut was so swift it seemed the beast had offered its neck willingly, though this was merely an illusion created by the difference in speed. Ssslice! Thunk. The beast''s head soared into the air, its glowing eyes dimming. The summoned Cockatrice perished without unleashing a single attack or cry. However, its death bought its summoner a brief opening. "Chains of Gulak!" The apostle dispelled their incorporeal state and cast a spell. Green chains shot up from the ground, coiling around Enkrid''s calves and forearms. "Trying to slash an incorporeal opponent? How crude." Enkrid heard a faint, mocking voice, but he ignored it along with the chains binding him. What was willpower? It was the desire to act. Enkrid poured his intent into advancing and slashing. Chains tightening around him and phantom whispers didn''t matter. Snap! Bang! The chains shattered under the force of his movements, unable to withstand the strength of his well-trained muscles. If Audin had witnessed this, he might have prayed fervently, asking for his father''s guidance. "You!" The apostle, preparing another spell, cried out in shock. They were visibly startled. Who wouldn''t be? What kind of lunatic breaks magic with raw strength? The apostle''s hybrid subordinates¡ªa half-giant and a half-fairy¡ªrushed forward to intercept Enkrid. Both aimed to hold him down, and for a brief moment, they succeeded. But only for half a breath. Enkrid, unfazed, moved his arms. His blades swung in half-tempo, striking at irregular intervals to slice and pierce. Boom! Crack! Stab! Chapter 486 - A Series of Coincidences Chapter 486 - 486 - A Series of Coincidences Chapter 486 - A Series of Coincidences There are those stronger in real combat than in training. Why is that so? Is it due to heightened senses? Or perhaps a matter of talent? Maybe it''s because they can only concentrate fully in moments of crisis. None of these applied to Enkrid. He possessed none of those qualities. His senses were average, making his responses to unconventional attacks awkward. He lacked any spark of genius or original brilliance. Concentration in crisis? If he had that, he wouldn''t have faced death as often as he had. What he did have, however, was experience. He carried the weight of countless hours of training, practice, and rehearsal. "What if I twist like this? Or deflect like that? What if I deflect and strike immediately?" He repeatedly tested his ideas with his body, refining them through relentless iteration. This was after he mastered the essential forms of swordsmanship across various schools. Without rest, without boredom, he simply kept at it. His method could easily be dismissed as mindless, even foolish. Yet, through this approach, he worked out practical applications of his ideas in real combat. Lacking natural talent, he repeated every action countless times. Through repetition, he uncovered subtle differences in technique. Where others succeeded with ten swings, he needed a hundred. When a hundred wasn''t enough, he swung a thousand times. What happens then? You focus on the essence of a technique rather than its utility. There''s no other choice when comprehension is mandatory. Why does a technique involve clashing blades at a certain point? Why turn the body to evade the opponent''s blade? Why position the blade to press into the crook of the opponent''s elbow? The partial turn creates an opportunity to press down on the opponent''s hand. Positioning the blade in the crook of the elbow disrupts the opponent''s leverage, rendering them momentarily powerless. But is it always necessary to twist the body? Could footwork suffice if mobility is essential? Is gripping the opponent''s hand always required? What about counterattacking during deflection? These are the fundamentals¡ªthe reasons behind the movements. Enkrid repeated, reflected, and practiced these fundamentals endlessly, even at the brink of death. This constant pursuit is why Enkrid excelled in real combat far beyond training. His unyielding determination set him apart in battle. His sapphire-blue eyes shone as he confronted an Apostle, a master of necromancy. "Intangibility won''t work," Enkrid thought. The Apostle couldn''t fully utilize their magical realm in an intangible state. Their barriers and prepared spells required substance. They relied on synthetic relics imbued with mana, artifacts made from treasures obtained in a magical land. The Apostle suppressed their fear. Succumbing to terror would render their incantations useless. Their calculations began but faltered from the start. They couldn''t even see Enkrid''s strikes. Clang! Crash! Clang! Within a single breath, the Apostle''s barriers shattered. "Should I hold out? I must." Before the final barrier fell, the Apostle invoked another spell. "Rise, eight siblings of Gulak!" They opened their magical realm, summoning eight ghouls. From the ground, mid-air, and pitch-black voids, grotesque figures emerged. These were synthetic creations, each with unique traits: elongated arms, venomous fangs, and more. But the Apostle was unfortunate. Enkrid had prior experience with knight-class ghouls from the Gray Forest, a demonic land near the city of Oara. That experience remained vividly with him. The blue-eyed swordsman swung his blade eight times. A diagonal cut as he stepped to the side, a horizontal slash as he drew back, a downward cleave to the crown. He deflected an outstretched claw with his blade, thrusting immediately afterward. Precision didn''t mean sacrificing lethality. The so-called "Snake Blade" technique demonstrated its full effectiveness. Next came a horizontal slash that decapitated another ghoul. A piercing thrust followed, then an upward slice that split a ghoul''s head in two. Finally, a horizontal strike removed the top of the last ghoul''s skull, and with his left hand, Enkrid reversed his grip to deliver a single-handed stab. The Apostle, despite their preparations, couldn''t follow the speed of the assault. Thwack! Crack! Squelch! Crunch! The eight ghouls fell in quick succession, their bodies mangled and lifeless. Eyes wide, the Apostle clutched their relic. They saw two streaks of light¡ªblue and silver¡ªthat seemed to stretch endlessly, their movements extending time itself. "I''ll block it." The Apostle still had spells ready, barriers designed to absorb physical impact, and artifacts for protection. Even their skin had been augmented to be as tough as a monster''s hide. But these defenses mattered little. Enkrid''s blade¡ªdriven by the essence of technique and brute force¡ªtore through everything. Slice! The Apostle''s head soared into the air before falling lifelessly to the ground. Suddenly, a voice cried out. "Father!" A young man, barely more than a boy, emerged from the seer tribe in the canyon, tears streaming from markings on his face. The boy''s cry triggered a monstrous roar from the giants in the vicinity. Roarrr! Their muscles swelled, veins turning a vivid purple. Their eyes glowed like blazing torches, and their skin darkened to a deep, foreboding hue. The giants'' transformation exuded an overwhelming presence, as though even sunlight and wind bowed before them. Though much of the Apostle''s will had burned away before full realization, a single command activated the synthetic relic. It unleashed the awakening of every giant present. "You wretch!" As soon as Enkrid killed the apostle, he felt a force coming from behind him and swiftly turned, swinging Aker. It was a light strike, but not something that could be easily dodged or blocked. The angle was tricky, and it carried both strength and speed. Thud! But it was blocked. It was surprising, but Enkrid didn''t react. He quickly recovered his sword, and with the same angle, he struck again. This time, it was a powerful blow, akin to a heavy sword''s downward strike aimed at the collarbone. Instead of a slicing motion, it was more of a pushing strike. The opponent was halfway off the ground. While swinging the sword, Enkrid''s eyes scanned the opponent''s attire and stance. A vest made of short fur, pants, shin guards, facial markings, and a black stick slanted across their back¡ªa blade made of obsidian. The weapon that blocked Aker was a dagger called a karambit. It was so sturdy that it neither broke nor cut Aker''s blade. Only the edges of the dagger were slightly chipped. The opponent''s eyes were filled with resentment and curses. He managed to block the second strike as well. The dagger twisted to deflect the sword''s force. This was truly impressive. Considering his talent, he might be on par with Rem. For now, he might fall short, but left unchecked, he would quickly grow stronger. He twisted the dagger to deflect the sword''s direction, then as the sword hit the ground, he rolled backward. Enkrid attempted to chase but stopped. It was a warning from his intuition. As the opponent rolled backward, an obsidian spear floated in the air. A trick? No, it was sorcery. Without being touched, the spear floated on its own and flew toward Enkrid. His sense of danger flared, prompting him to halt. Though it was invisible, Enkrid believed there was something holding the spear in mid-air¡ªperhaps some kind of ancestral deity, as they say in the West. Ting! Blocking the spear was no trouble at all. Enkrid confirmed the spear''s speed and deflected it with his blade. He then took a large step forward and, while advancing, he swung Aker over his head, rotating it halfway behind him before bringing it down, aiming to strike vertically. All of these movements happened in one breath. Wham! Once again, Aker did not strike the enemy. The sword swished through empty air. The opponent had withdrawn, stepping back. As he retreated, the opponent extended his left hand. The rings on his fingers jingled¡ªgolden bells hung from each finger. He raised his left hand, shook it, and spoke. "I will take your eyes." Enkrid blinked, but nothing happened. The opponent, with his left hand still extended, froze. Creak. The opponent gritted his teeth and shouted again. "Take three steps and fall!" The first curse was that of the blind, the second that of the cripple. Naturally, neither took effect. Enkrid felt no sense of dread. He only had a fleeting thought¡ªperhaps the ferryman had a feast in front of him, wherever he was. "Delicious!" Or maybe he shouted something like that. *** "You... You''ve swallowed the curse." A youthful voice sounded. The opponent glared at Enkrid fiercely, then fled. He kicked the ground a few times, and his body faded, disappearing into the distance. Watching him flee, Enkrid threw a dagger. The dagger flew with a sharp hiss and embedded itself into the fleeing sorcerer''s back. The sorcerer staggered for a moment but continued running until he vanished. He was too fast to pursue. Still, there was a more pressing matter. The giant and the black warrior were still fighting behind. Chapter 487 - It Was no Big Deal Chapter 487 - 487 - It Was no Big Deal Chapter 487 - It Was no Big Deal Enkried immediately turned his body toward the black warrior. Though the giant horde seemed to writhe and prepare for awakening, it felt manageable. "It should be fine." Rem was there, Dunbakel was there, and above all, Ayul and her people fought skillfully. This was where it began¡ªhis instincts told him so. "He''s coming!" One of the cannibals shouted at the sight of Enkried, his voice filled with fear. And why wouldn''t it be? The one who had led them until now lay lifeless, his head severed from his neck. Enkried caught a glimpse of the cannibal''s blackened teeth but let it slide. The situation, the battlefield¡ªit all seeped into his mind, making the priorities clear. He organized the sensory input, a skill honed during his battles with Aspen. Beyond strategies and tactics, he instinctively understood what needed to be done. As Enkried charged, fear grew in the eyes of the cannibal horde. Pupils trembled, and some hands shook uncontrollably. "How can we survive against such a monster?" In truth, they had no need to ponder this. Once dead, such worries would become irrelevant. Though there were a few scratches on the protective armor of Luagarne, there were no severe wounds. A jagged piece of metal stuck out from her abdomen, the remnant of a cannibal''s spear that had broken mid-flight. On the other hand, the black warrior on the opposing side had lost an arm, its stump burnt and twisted¡ªlikely the work of a flame whip. The battle seemed evenly matched, but the black warrior had the cannibals on his side, while Luagarne had the Westerners. Was it precarious? It had been. Not anymore. A faint shadow appeared behind the black warrior. Of course, it was Enkried. Moving with blinding speed, he swung his sword. The silver blade severed the dead warrior''s neck cleanly. Spurt. Though the soot scattered, the neck reattached almost instantly. It was a body impervious to ordinary attacks unless imbued with magic. But that was no issue; Enkried wielded Aker, a magic sword capable of wounding even the black warrior. Still, it wasn''t a sword strong enough to deliver a fatal blow in one strike. And lately, he felt the sword''s energy waning slightly, though it was still functional. Even after his slashes lightened the warrior''s dark form, it remained undying. "It doesn''t die." Was there no point in decapitating it? What now? Perhaps repeated attacks to dissipate the darkness? His thoughts were brief, and his actions swift. Enkried swung Aker like a branch, slashing rapidly and repeatedly. The blade, moving at incredible speed, cleaved through the black warrior''s body again and again. The black warrior retaliated with a spear, but it was futile. Enkried shifted his position, dodging the spear and delivering three more cuts. After a total of nineteen slashes, the black, shadowy warrior began to dissipate. Ordinarily, such an enemy required magical tools or ritualistic handling. That''s why Geonnara had been preparing to summon her wolf again, even at great cost. But there was no need for that now. Seeing the summoned foe crumble under Enkried''s swift strikes, Geonnara reflected: "Do I really need to spar him?" The shadowy figure dissolved like smoke from a cigarette, scattering into the air. Sunlight filtered through as the black smoke disappeared, and the formidable enemy that had endangered Luagarne vanished without much resistance. The disparity in strength was undeniable. "Run!" "The sand ghost!" The cannibal horde scattered in all directions. They chanted incantations and fled on foot. Luagarne shouted and began chasing them down. "Not a single one will escape!" Enkried let them go without pursuit. The fleeing cannibals wielded odd charms and weapons, but they seemed no match for Luagarne. One cannibal threw a charm, causing sand to rise and form into humanoid shapes. However, Luagarne''s flame whip wrapped around them, igniting them into blackened ashes. Luagarne wasn''t the only one taking action. Over five Western warriors used spears or slings to intercept the fleeing enemies. Geonnara hurled a hand axe with incredible force. Whoosh! The spinning axe struck a fleeing cannibal in the back, making a dull sound as he collapsed forward. Immediately, his head was crushed under the foot of the Frog. Crunch. The sound of a skull breaking was followed by his eyes popping out and rolling on the ground¡ªdeath. Luagarne continued chasing others. Though cannibal magic caused some unpredictability, Enkried blocked further magical efforts with ease. He couldn''t fully grasp the nature of the intervention, but it simply felt right. The threat was gone. The remaining enemies were too weak to pose any danger, fleeing as fast as they could. "Enki, it''s not over." Geonnara called out to Enkried, who nodded and turned away. The battle wouldn''t end until the enemy''s last resistance was quelled. "Do you want to die twice? Fine, then die." At that moment, Rem''s shout echoed. It didn''t matter that the defeated enemies resurrected or that over a dozen threatening giants remained. Enkried watched as Rem fought fiercely. With his left-hand axe, he deflected a giant''s club, while his right-hand axe slashed its wrist. The powerful blow sent the giant''s hand flying. Next, he aimed for the neck. Stepping onto the giant''s foot, he launched herself upward, his axe cutting through the giant''s throat. Slash. A new mouth appeared on its neck, gushing blood. Rem''s arm guard was soaked red. Blood splattered everywhere, and beside him stood Ayul. "Kill them all!" She swung her axe with a loud cry, her movements demonstrating techniques likely taught by the twins. Her entire body emitted a faint blue aura, which enhanced her speed and precision. The combination of her powerful physique and the heavy axe created devastating strikes. One of her swings cracked a giant''s shinbone, causing black blood to ooze from the wound. The massive creature couldn''t support its weight and fell with a thud. Another giant swung its fist, only for Ayul to catch it single-handedly. Thud! Instead of deflecting, she held it firmly¡ªan immense display of strength. "The spirit of the bear is with me," Ayul murmured, deflecting the giant''s fist and delivering a massive blow with her oversized battle axe. Crunch. Bones shattered, and black blood sprayed as Ayul smiled faintly¡ªa smile of joy and exhilaration. The female Rem was undeniably formidable. The couple fought like a well-coordinated pair, while Dunbakel also wreaked havoc nearby. "Why do they keep coming back to life?" Though faced with persistent foes, she employed hit-and-run tactics, buying time for the Westerners to throw spears. Even Dunbakel seemed more than capable of holding her own, despite the number of giants. Then, unexpectedly, something else happened. Thwip, thwip, thwip. A group of smaller Westerners fired darts and swung grappling hooks, blinding the giants and causing blood to pour from their eyes and noses. Though not enough to kill instantly, it significantly weakened their combat abilities. The poison was likely the work of the small tribe summoned by Rem. Recognizing them as allies, Enkried joined the fray with measured movements. A giant suddenly swung its arms and legs like a windmill as it approached. Encrid parried the blows from its club and feet with his sword, Aker, and then thrust upwards, piercing the giant''s head. As he pulled out the blade with a wet squelch, streams of blood sprayed out. The giant twitched on the ground for a moment but did not rise again. "Doesn''t look like it''ll come back to life," he muttered. Though many Westerners had been terrified by the recent resurgence of awakened giants, they had grown accustomed to such horrors. They no longer panicked but remained steadfast. Facing the giant directly, Encrid quickly realized it was weaker compared to the two he had fought previously. Normally, a necromancer would summon spectral armor and bone weapons to fully empower these deathly giant warriors, but the necromancer had already been slain. This left the giants as incomplete versions of their intended might. The chief, observing the battle, was overcome with tears. He had feared something might go wrong mid-fight but was relieved it hadn''t. The warriors, led by the chief, had marched out with resolve, ready to die for their homeland, their freedom, and their survival. But to their astonishment, no one had perished. Even the final, desperate curse of the fallen necromancer had been destroyed by Encrid, Rem, and the blade of the beastwoman warrior. Poison from their shamans had immobilized the giants'' feet. From a distance, tribal villagers stopped throwing spears¡ªthe giants were all dead. With no more foes to fight, the small tribes that had joined the battle quickly retreated, vanishing as silently as they had arrived. They considered even conversing with others a potential breach of their traditions. The Westerners respected their culture and let them go without question. The battle had begun at dawn and ended well before noon. Yet, no one felt the anticlimax of an easy victory. Nor did anyone presume the outcome had been simple. They only felt the weight of survival¡ªthe recognition that they had eliminated a threat to their existence. Basking in the gentle warmth of the Western sun, Encrid felt the wind blow cool against his skin. Purple blood flowed in rivulets like streams, its stench thick in the air. Corpses lay scattered across the battlefield. Yet, the Westerners, including their chief, seemed oblivious to these grisly details. Their eyes were fixed on two figures in the distance¡ªthose who had led and concluded the battle. Who were they? One was the prodigal son who had returned; the other, the outsider he had brought with him. While Encrid enjoyed the breeze with Aker hanging loosely in his hand, Rem approached him. Anticipating what Rem might say, Encrid spoke first. "You don''t need to bow your head and thank me." "What are you talking about?" Rem tilted his head, confused. Fortunately, their conversation was out of earshot, sparing the spectators from having their awe shattered by mundane banter. Only Ayul came close, observing Encrid with a mix of incredulity and curiosity. Isn''t this guy a little unhinged? she wondered. Still, as their benefactor, she kept her thoughts to herself. Saying otherwise might make her seem ungrateful¡ªa fool undeserving of the salvation they had been granted. "Well," Encrid continued, "if you''re thankful, just do better from now on." "Are you sure you''re all right? You sound like you''re hearing things. Maybe we really should bring you to a priest." Rem''s response was dry, but it carried a familiarity that Ayul could recognize. It spoke volumes about how these two had been living, fighting, and joking together. She couldn''t help but feel a bittersweet warmth as she watched them. This was the time her husband had spent apart from her. Seeing Enkrid and Rem together, she could glimpse a version of Rem''s life she had never known. They had fought, they had won, and now they shared a frivolous joke. "Let''s have a drink," Rem said in his own way of expressing gratitude. Encrid nodded nonchalantly. "Sure." To him, it was no big deal. Compared to what Rem had given him over time, this truly felt insignificant. The battle was over. The threat to the West had passed. Yet, the story wasn''t finished. --------------------------------- Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 488 - Loot, Bracelets, Gifts, and Food Chapter 488 - 488 - Loot, Bracelets, Gifts, and Food Chapter 488 - Loot, Bracelets, Gifts, and Food Whether or not the elder shaman woke, Enkrid kept himself busy. This involved honing isolation techniques that tightened his muscles and applied oil to them, as well as having Luagarne strike his body with a blunt club. Thunk! Even with moderate force, the blow left him breathless, which was exactly how he wanted it. The pain ensured his body toughened. Without pain, there was no strengthening. After enduring countless strikes, he began to suspect that the "Will of Rejection" might be manifesting in the areas being hit. Though it wasn''t entirely certain yet, he figured consistent practice would reveal the truth. As Enkrid continued his strike training¡ª "Is it a hobby of yours to enjoy getting hit?" A twin approached and asked, curious. "I''m training to take blows to the sides," Enkrid replied with a half-joking tone. The twins furrowed their brows simultaneously, questioning whether this was genuinely helpful training. "Don''t try this recklessly. It''ll ruin your body," Luagarne interjected sagely, cautioning the twins. "Then, how does an honored warrior like you train?" This time, another Western warrior asked. A man with three deep scars running from his forehead, across his left eye, and down to his cheek. He''d once fallen victim to a shape-shifting monster in his youth. Since then, he had been called "Three Claws." "I started by striking with soft things, gradually moving to harder ones," Enkrid answered, straightening his back. There was no secret to this. When Audin had taught him, it wasn''t some mysterious technique. It wasn''t even a "technique" in the proper sense. Soft things, indeed¡ªbut not truly soft. Audin''s idea of "soft" was his fist smashing into Enkrid with just enough restraint. Looking back, it was undeniably crude. Would he do it again if asked? Certainly, since the benefits were undeniable. But did he want to? Even Enkrid would hesitate, given the sheer pain and the initial uncertainty of its effectiveness. He''d only followed through because Audin had egged him on. Once the results showed, though, it didn''t seem so bad. "It still sounds painful," one of the twins muttered, before segueing into a tangent that was even more irrelevant. The twins'' father was Geonnara, whom Enkrid had saved. "Thank you so much," they said earnestly. Despite their rugged appearance¡ªbroad shoulders and arms strong enough to subdue a bull¡ªtheir gratitude was surprisingly heartfelt. Unbeknownst to Enkrid, the twins had much to be thankful for. In fact, all the Westerners did. Had Rem not returned... Had Enkrid, the Frog, and Dunbakel not come together, the worst could have happened. Geonnara would''ve used his life to fuel a forbidden spell, briefly fighting as a hero before withering into a mummy-like husk, dying in agony. The transgression against natural order would''ve burdened his soul even in the afterlife. The fact that Geonnara avoided such a fate¡ªand that their land was saved¡ªwas reason enough for the twins to express their gratitude. "Yeah, sure," Enkrid replied casually, finding no need to dwell on it. Was he supposed to demand repayment for saving their lives? He hadn''t done it expecting anything in return. If anything, Enkrid himself had already received plenty. The morning after practicing isolation techniques, Enkrid trained in swordsmanship, sparred with Luagarne, exchanged techniques with Dunbakel, and even matched blades with Geonnara. Geonnara wasn''t bad at all, wielding a battle axe in one hand and a spear in the other. Both weapons were handled at a highly competent level. "Who do you think taught Rem?" "I thought he said he was self-taught." "That bastard." "On that point, we agree." During their sparring break, the two bonded over their mutual disdain for Rem¡ªa strangely satisfying topic of conversation. Geonnara was a cheerful man, as most Westerners tended to be. The sparring sessions ended, gratitude from many¡ªincluding the twins¡ªwas received, and there were even women offering to marry Enkrid on the spot. Luagarne shook her head, discouraging the offers. "Forget it. There''s already a black-haired beauty and a fairy waiting for him back home," Luagarne pointed out, prompting all but one woman, Jiba, to abandon their pursuits. Even Jiba''s persistence seemed futile. After news spread that the elder shaman had awakened, Rem disappeared. With nothing better to do, Enkrid resumed his training. Westerners gathered to watch, spar, or train themselves, filling the air with shouts and laughter. "Take this!" "Hyah!" "Yah!" Children played with wooden sticks, pretending to duel, while nearby girls engaged in a gentler game resembling house play. "Where have you been, dear husband?" a girl asked, playfully striking a boy with her palm in mock scolding. It was amusing to watch, though the content reminded Enkrid of Rem and Ayul''s story¡ªa tale that would likely become a legend. A husband who fled under the cover of night, returned home, survived, and lived a loving life with his wife. "Not a bad title," Enkrid mused, thinking it could make for a great story. If he''d been a bard, he might''ve dedicated himself to spreading such tales. But instead, he swung his sword. Suddenly, he stopped, a stray thought intruding. Plunging the end of his sword into the ground, Enkrid let fragments of memory resurface. "What was that voice I heard back then?" It was during the fight against the Apostle. "Trying to cut a unmaterialized opponent? That''s pretty stupid." He''d heard those words. On the battlefield, hallucinations and auditory delusions weren''t uncommon. He''d once seen a comrade scream for his mother mid-battle, only to charge forward and get skewered by an enemy''s spear. Fear and panic often triggered such visions. Even Dunbakel had been overwhelmed by terror during their fight in the Grey Forest demonic domain. But this voice? "No." Enkrid dismissed the idea that it was merely a hallucination. His mental fortitude had never wavered, and his willpower had always been strong. If it wasn''t a spell, then what was it? He didn''t know. And since it hadn''t happened again, he chose to ignore it for now. Instead, his thoughts shifted to the spoils of battle¡ªthe things the Apostle had left behind. Among them was a peculiar item: a silver chalice. Intricately embossed with tree-root patterns so realistic it seemed a tree should grow from it, the chalice was filled with a deep purple liquid resembling the blood of giants. "It reeks," Dunbakel commented, grimacing at the sharp, musty odor. The unpleasant yet strangely compelling scent lingered in the air. "Can I smell it again?" Dunbakel had mentioned it several times. Anyone could tell something was off¡ªwhether it was Dunbakel, the root-carved silver cup, or both¡ªwhen she spent the whole day spacing out and suddenly insisted on sniffing it again. "Have you lost your mind?" Enkrid scolded her gently¡ªby which he meant adding a touch of physical persuasion. He kicked at Dunbakel''s shin with his left foot and slapped her forehead with the palm of his right hand. It was a modified version of the "dual extension" style mercenary swordplay from Valen. While Dunbakel managed to dodge the kick, she couldn''t avoid the slap, and with a groan, she staggered back. Even she must have realized something was wrong. "It''s strange. I keep thinking about the smell, and I feel like I need to sniff it again. I even want to run away with it." "Resist it." "Yeah, okay." Enkrid convinced Dunbakel without using his fists, and surprisingly, Dunbakel complied easily. The root-carved silver cup emerged from the cultist''s belongings. Despite being an artifact of a heretical group, its exterior radiated a sense of purity. It was certainly not a cursed item from the Demon Realm. "We should take it to a proper priest for disposal." "It''s not related to curses, so keeping it is fine," Rem advised. Naturally, Enkrid ended up holding onto it¡ªnot because of any lack of self-control on Dunbakel''s part. "Sometimes, items that can enthrall people simply by existing show up. This seems like one of those," added Luagarne, who had calmed down after nearly losing herself to plowing down cultists. "A corrupted relic, maybe?" Returning to the mainland and leaving it at any temple might suffice. But finding a virtuous priest? That might be a tall order. Such individuals were as rare as honest thieves, kind-hearted bandits, or kings who prioritized their people. Still, a priest capable of wielding holy power? That was more plausible. "Maybe Audin knows someone." Audin spent his days praying, though he always seemed to avoid priests whenever they visited the city. Still, he might know someone. It was worth asking later. Several other magical tools were among the gathered items, all stuffed into Enkrid''s backpack. His load had grown heavier since departure¡ªnot an illusion. They had also collected items from the city of Oara and loot from battles in the west. Were they trophies? They felt more like troublesome items they couldn''t leave behind. Among them was the blade from Carmen Collection¡ªa transparent-bladed sword meant for Jaxen. "If we keep wandering for another year, we might need a cart instead of a backpack." It wasn''t an exaggeration. "Good fortune is vital for long journeys," said the mother of Jiba as she handed over bracelets crafted with leather, fabric, and strands of hair. These bracelets, woven with sincerity, served as charms for luck and tools to ward off insects. The collective prayer of the women elevated them into magical artifacts. One adorned Enkrid''s arm, a colorful string bracelet large enough to secure above his elbow. Among other gifts was an oddly dried fish, its flesh hard as a rock. The tail was crispy, and the eyes had been removed from the head, leaving it looking like a makeshift club. As Enkrid examined it, the giver explained, "This is a fish from a great lake, dried for preservation. It''s quite peculiar, isn''t it? Let me show you how to make it easy to carry." He demonstrated by snapping off the head and tail and tucking the pieces into a cloth pouch. Then he split the flesh to remove the dried bones with a few deft motions. What remained was a cleaned, dried piece of fish, ready for travel. "Just tear it apart like this." The man showed him how to shred the flesh into strips for portable dried food. "Boil it in water, and it makes a hearty broth." Despite being dried fish, it emitted almost no smell. The faint scent that lingered was far from unpleasant. "Doesn''t it smell nice? We coat it with powdered herbs, which whets the appetite." The man rubbed his nose with a smile, as Enkrid silently observed. Curious, he tasted a strip. It was hard, requiring effort to chew, but his saliva softened it, revealing a savory flavor. Though he had eaten boiled dried fish before, this was his first time consuming it raw. The initial texture was unusual, but it grew tender as he chewed, leaving a pleasant, nutty aftertaste. It turned out to be a prized food among local hunters, rich in nutrients and easy to carry. Preparing it for portability required special techniques to prevent spoilage, making it an expensive delicacy. Unlike pemmican, common on the continent, it was milder and more palatable. Pemmican often developed an off-putting smell and taste over time, earning infamy among soldiers as worse than the enemy. Aged pemmican was particularly dreadful, something to be consumed only when desperate. "How is it? Ha-ha!" The man''s cheerful laughter was infectious. This dried fish, rich in tradition and taste, came with fascinating stories, shared by the generous giver with undeniable charm. "It''s good." ------------------------------------ Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 489 - The Path of Grime Chapter 489 - 489 - The Path of Grime Chapter 489 - The Path of Grime "My mother was ready to cut my manhood," declared a Westerner, his face adorned with tree-leaf patterns. "If she had a daughter, she''d have tried to pair her with the honorary hero." This brazen statement elicited laughter. The one joking about offering her daughter earlier was none other than this man''s mother. Since she lacked a daughter, she''d considered removing her son''s manhood¡ªa bizarre jest that caught everyone off guard, including Enkrid, who couldn''t help but smirk at the timing. But the man wasn''t done. "Lucky Fish carries a peculiar scent that attracts Belopters. If one goes missing, we sometimes use it for tracking. It''s handy for that purpose." This peculiar dried fish, called Lucky Fish, was more than food; it was a keepsake, a charm of sorts. While it served as emergency sustenance, its cultural significance made it a revered item in the West. "In the old days," the man continued, "many hunters went missing. Without proper burials, their souls couldn''t join the Sky God, so finding their bodies was vital." Lucky Fish''s scent often led to the lost. Over time, scattered tribes coalesced into communities. These groups formed families and eventually established the Western tribes we see today¡ªan evolution chronicled both in myths and anthropology. "Here''s a gift," the man added, his cheerful smile free of shadows. Enkrid accepted the small cloth pouch with gratitude. Even Dunbakel, who had sampled the fish, nodded in approval, declaring it delicious. "Do beastfolk enjoy it, too?" the man quipped, laughing heartily, his grin now free of the darkness that had once lingered on everyone''s faces. The heavy burden Enkrid noticed upon arrival had dissipated. The villagers'' laughter now felt genuine, untainted. Enkrid watched this scene of joy, his mind drifting to memories of the city of Oara¡ªa place where children''s laughter dispelled dark clouds. The warmth of the present moment brought a single thought to mind: "The reason I wield a sword?" Enkrid reflected silently. "To see people smile like this." It was a simple answer, one that encapsulated his journey thus far. The day passed with training, sparring matches, and teaching others. Evening arrived, bringing a hearty meal of tender boiled beef and turnip stew. As Enkrid enjoyed the quiet, Rem approached him with an update. "They say it''ll take over a month," Rem began. Fresh from a bath and dressed in a finely crafted leather garment gifted by Jiba''s mother, Enkrid raised an eyebrow. The West''s leatherwork was exceptional, rivaling the craftsmanship of mainland metalsmiths. "So?" Enkrid replied, shaking the water from his hair. "We''ll have to wait," Rem reiterated, clearly referring to their return journey. "Why?" Rem''s answer was clear: "To beat that directionally-challenged bastard senseless." Understanding dawned immediately. Rem wasn''t one to take a beating without returning the favor. Even if magic rituals were in progress, the score needed settling. The following days passed with training and exploration. Enkrid taught willing learners, sparred with eager twins, and marveled at the persistence of Westerners seeking to better themselves. It was a place of growth, community, and quiet joy¡ªa reminder of the many reasons Enkrid chose to fight. Encrid was a teacher who spared no effort in teaching. Compared to Rem or others, he could undoubtedly be called an excellent teacher. It was only natural. His path had been painstakingly carved out step by step, chewing through every challenge carefully because he lacked innate talent. Those with talent were taught in ways that suited them. Likewise, those without were taught in ways tailored to their needs. If one doesn''t climb a mountain, they can''t see the view from the top. And if one rushes to the summit in a single leap, they miss the scenery along the way. Encrid had done both: he climbed steadily, step by step, savoring every moment. Naturally, this made him an effective teacher. But¡ª "You need to build your stamina first. Run, from morning to night." "Here, you pretend to swing an axe but aim to trip your opponent instead. Practice the correct posture and basic skills every morning until noon." He wasn''t a soft teacher. Hard work was mandatory for achieving what one desired. Encrid didn''t compromise on this. If you didn''t want to do it, you were free to quit. Many did. Yet, no one resented or blamed Encrid for it. Even after quitting, they lingered nearby, grilling meat, simmering stew, or just hanging out. The Westerners even devised a card game using twenty wooden cards reinforced with leather, each decorated with drawings of animals and flowers. "It''s called Bak-tu," someone explained. Sometimes, they bet using Kronas. Though bartering was more common here, people would often trade quality leather or beast teeth instead of coins. Necklaces strung with such teeth were also seen. While the continent called them savages in need of enlightenment, these people had their own culture worthy of respect. That''s how Encrid saw it. Was it uncomfortable to accept? Perhaps, or perhaps not. These were matters a sword couldn''t resolve. A sword could protect people, slay monsters, or lead one to war, but it wasn''t a tool for addressing culture or politics. Such things were best left to others. He didn''t need to involve himself. He simply hoped things would turn out well. As Encrid passed the time, the morning sun rose, and Rem arrived. "What''re you doing?" "Just watching." Ayul and Juol accompanied him. "Will LuaGarne and Smelly come with us?" Rem asked, looking past Encrid. Dunbakel, who was nodding off on a small rock, perked up immediately upon hearing "Smelly," recognizing it as his nickname. It seemed his obliviousness only applied when it wasn''t necessary. "Where to?" "We''re heading somewhere with the captain." "I''m coming." Luagarne chimed in from the side. Although she found the Westerners amusing and stimulating, her strongest interest lay in Encrid. His existence continued to baffle her. How does he block curses? She couldn''t grasp the principle or the reason. He hadn''t learned sorcery, nor did he possess any magical tools. As for his swordsmanship? How could one explain its development? Even now, he seemed to have reached his limit¡ªboth in talent and skill. Further dramatic improvement seemed impossible. He could grow slightly stronger and tougher, but only marginally. That was his ceiling. It had been evident from their first meeting. And yet, this man stood in the liminal space between knight and squire. How? She didn''t know. Occasionally, a person would break through their limits through sheer fortune. Cases beyond even a Frog''s ability to analyze talent? They existed¡ªoften attributed to divine intervention or a goddess''s kiss of fortune. But this isn''t luck. To Luagarne, luck was the result of preparation. Without preparation, even fortune was meaningless. In her eyes, Encrid prepared every day, tirelessly. Born without innate gifts? That didn''t matter. "I''ll become a knight." That''s what he declared, and he simply moved toward that goal, without hesitation or doubt. Luagarne shuddered with admiration daily. She felt this fascination growing with each encounter. Where could I ever find another like him? Nowhere. Then I must follow him. Initially, her motives were partially selfish. She''d hoped to secure him as a spiritual partner. But those desires had long since vanished. Now, she simply wished to stay by his side, to see where his path led, how he walked it, and how the world changed with each step. I''m curious. That insatiable curiosity was what drove her to follow him so closely. "Alright," Smelly (Dunbakel) agreed, nodding without much thought. It wasn''t like she had anything better to do. "Let''s go, then. It''ll probably take about a month," Rem announced. A month? That sounded long. Encrid considered this and asked, "You''re not going to tell us where we''re going?" "Didn''t I mention it?" "No, you didn''t." "Ah, that''s because the captain was spouting nonsense yesterday." Only someone like Rem could shift the blame so effortlessly. Ayul nodded as though it made sense¡ªaccepting absurdity as a matter of course. There was a saying in the West: When the husband sings, the wife follows. Rem blaming others and Ayul nodding in agreement was an irritatingly fitting image. Encrid waited patiently for an explanation, and Rem, sensing no further need for excuses, finally elaborated. "There''s something called the Path of Grime." It was a tale rooted in ancient traditions, passed down through time. Chapter 490 - Picnic Chapter 490 - 490 - Picnic Chapter 490 - Picnic Rem''s explanations had improved, though they still left much to be desired. Ayul and Juol, however, were astonished. "Where did you pick up this knack for talking? I hope you haven''t been using it to charm other women." "Did you attend some speech academy on the continent or what?" Enkrid felt a mix of understanding and resistance toward their amazement. Rem, in his view, was far from an eloquent speaker. If he had ever tried being a bard, Rem would have likely caused widespread frustration instead of inspiration. "The Path of Grime is... well, Grime was a person. This is the path he walked. And this path is basically his life story. Got it so far?" Of course, if the listener was exceptional, Rem''s clumsy delivery wasn''t a problem. Enkrid was, as always, an attentive audience. He listened with focus and responded appropriately, prompting Rem to speak with more enthusiasm. Enkrid''s knack for distilling convoluted narratives into their core essence allowed him to grasp the tale. The Path of Grime referred to a historical figure from the western lands, a legendary hero named Grime who had traversed the land, akin to a pilgrimage. Unlike religious pilgrimages, Grime''s journey could be dubbed a hunting path, for he chose locations inhabited by creatures that needed to be slain. Wherever Grime went, he sought and destroyed monsters, magical beasts, and all manner of abominations. Grime''s journey was an epic tale that balanced between myth and reality. He set a monstrous, man-eating tree ablaze with sorcery, discovered the weakness of a many-tentacled beast lurking in a lake, and even killed a bandit using an enchanted cloak of invisibility. Some of these tales seemed implausible, colored with the embellishments of oral storytelling. At one point, the western regions had adapted Grime''s story into a rite of passage. Young men and women would replicate sections of his path to mark their coming of age. "We''ll be walking the real Path of Grime," Rem declared. Unlike the ceremonial rite of passage, which had been watered down for safety, Rem proposed walking the actual route Grime had taken¡ªspecifically his final journey. This wasn''t about honoring the hero but more about exploration and practical reasons. "It''s the perfect time; a lot of interesting sights are gathered along this route." Rem''s intent was straightforward, with a hint of mischief. Enkrid noticed the hefty backpacks slung over Rem''s and the others'' shoulders. "You could''ve told me to pack," Enkrid remarked. "Why bother? We''ve got everything ready. It''s just a picnic," Ayul responded casually. A picnic, of all things, to retrace the path of a hero who had slain monstrous beings? The westerners nearby blinked in confusion. Though absurd, the term fit when applied to Rem''s group. After all, they weren''t embarking on some perilous quest filled with legendary beasts. And so, their journey began. "Let''s go." "Yeah, let''s." Enkrid needed little persuasion. With a quick pack of a few belongings, including gifted items and spare clothes, he joined the others. "A month? That sounds nice," said a beastwoman who had been grumbling about the sparse bathing opportunities. Now, the excuse to forego regular washing lifted her spirits. Their group included Enkrid, Rem, Dunbakel, Luagarne, Ayul, and Juol¡ªsix in total. Before departure, Geonnara bid them farewell with characteristic humor. "I''d love to join, but someone needs to recover, deal with the fortune-tellers, and handle the remaining cannibals. Don''t miss me too much." "Terribly disappointing," Enkrid replied in a deadpan tone. Geonnara smirked, amused. Enkrid asked about the chief shaman, who was still bedridden. Rem explained, "He''s recovering and preparing. A month isn''t much time¡ªit''s fast, even. By the way, he wanted me to thank you." "It was nothing," Enkrid responded, his usual dismissiveness intact. Rem glanced at him, once again struck by how extraordinary Enkrid was¡ªan ordinary man in appearance, yet extraordinary in resolve and ability. "Let''s get moving." Rem slung an arm over Enkrid''s shoulder. "Doesn''t this bother you?" "Getting taller, eh?" Though Enkrid had always been the taller of the two, Rem''s effort to sling his arm over his taller friend''s shoulder was amusing. "How about a sparring session later?" Rem asked. "Sounds good." As they moved, Juol explained that their tribe planned to live nomadically for the year. After recent losses, abandoning smaller groups to fend for themselves would have been equivalent to a death sentence. Instead, the larger tribe would take responsibility for their survival. Before leaving, Enkrid had arranged for letters to be delivered via merchants passing through the region. These letters, addressed to a king and the Border Guard, carried a simple request: send surplus bread if available. Though mundane, Enkrid trusted the recipients¡ªKrang and Krais, sharp-minded individuals¡ªto interpret and act wisely. The journey promised cool breezes, untraveled paths, and quiet companionship. Walking alongside Ayul, Enkrid inquired casually, "Rem said you won''t be be coming along." "I know," she replied. "Aren''t you?" "Why would I?" Her nonchalant reply mirrored Rem''s. "You''re staying behind?" Enkrid asked, surprised. "Of course," Ayul answered, leaning on her staff. "I''m with child." Her statement left Enkrid momentarily speechless. After a pause, he asked, "What?" Ayul explained that those attuned to spiritual energies, like shamans, could detect the presence of new life within themselves early on. Rem had already achieved another milestone. In the western lands, pregnancy didn''t equate to frailty. Ayul planned to continue her duties and only take additional rest when absolutely necessary. "I''ll work for the tribe, protect them, and raise my child. I love this land and have no desire to leave it," she declared, her hand resting protectively over her abdomen. Ayul''s determination shone in her serene expression, radiating strength and beauty. Though Enkrid admired her resolve, it wasn''t as a man admiring a woman but rather an appreciation for a radiant soul. "Is it fine if Rem won''t be here?" "It''s a bit disappointing, but it''s okay. He''s not leaving forever. He''ll do as he pleases anyway. I don''t need some guy who just hangs around and whines, with nothing but his shell left." That seemed true. Any regular man wouldn''t have arms as thick as Ayul''s biceps. If we were talking about health, she was a beauty with a body so fit it could put even Teresa or Dunbakel to shame. Her mind was sharp and understanding as well. It wasn''t surprising that Rem had fallen for her. As Ayul continued speaking, Rem, who had been listening intently, interrupted with a question. "That''s how it turned out. But why do you think I''ll stay here?" Enkrid thought that when it came to matters like this, Rem''s instincts were as dull as Dunbakel''s. "Well, your wife, the West, and the reasons to stay are all plenty, aren''t they?" Enkrid gently tried to console him, but Ayul had heard everything. "You crazy fool, is leaving really the right thing to do?" She sent him off with a somewhat affectionate curse mixed in. The journey began with a bit of noise. It wasn''t unpleasant, though. Juol, seeing this, laughed and gestured to the Belopter. The six companions were accompanied by six belopters. Enkrid''s mount was one with red scales shaped like flames on its back, overall a brownish color. Watching it, Enkrid couldn''t help but think of Weird-eyes. Riding him, he often felt a strange satisfaction. Would there ever be a time to charge with him again? With such thoughts, Enkrid rode the belopter. There wasn''t anything particularly difficult about the journey. "Help me." In the middle of the trip, a monster, the Copycat, appeared. "I''ll take care of it." Juol stepped up and drove it off with a few rocks. "Killing it here will attract others with the blood scent." The reason for driving it off instead of killing it was clear. It meant they had a skilled hunter in their group. "It''s a Ratman group. I''ll go take care of it." When an unavoidable group of monsters came, anyone, whether Rem or someone else, would step up and swiftly deal with them. He''d rush in, splitting the skulls with an axe, and with a swift kick, crush the skulls of another monster right behind. Watching it made the monsters look almost pitiful. "We''ll move toward the waters today." Though mostly wasteland, here and there, small lakes and sparse grasslands appeared. The western journey was mostly land that wasn''t quite prairie or wasteland. The belopters ate grass, drank water from the lakes, and even enjoyed dried fish. They were generally good eaters, but they especially loved fish. Grrr... When fed, they affectionately nuzzled their heads against their caretaker, making it hard not to feel a bond. Their scales were cool, though not cold enough to surprise. The night came, and they set up a campfire. Dunbakel, using her beastkin hunting instincts, returned with a rabbit and a mole. "Well done." Juol, impressed, took on the task of cooking. Hunting in the West wasn''t easy, but Dunbakel had managed it effortlessly. As Juol started preparing the food, Ayul took a step back. "I know she''s my wife, but remember, if she starts cooking, stop her." Rem spoke in a subdued tone, and Ayul, perhaps uncertain of her own cooking skills, refrained from stepping forward. Juol was a better cook than Rem, anyway. Finding a waterside, Juol cleaned the rabbit and mole, removing blood and innards, and simmered them into a stew. The scent of the bubbling stew whetted their appetites. Taste? It was savory and mild. Especially with the added salt and herbs, it was delicious. "I''m not the best in the West, but I''m confident in cooking." It turned out Juol had been in charge of cooking during their tribe''s communal living. But he was also good at fighting and hunting, which is why he often took on various tasks. Juol had said that he enjoyed watching others eat what he cooked, rather than just making food for himself. "Then why''d you come along this time?" "I couldn''t miss the chance to cook for the hero who saved the tribe." That was the answer. It was a cheerful one, and after dinner, Juol took the lead in washing the dishes. "Everyone''s a benefactor. I don''t want to burden anyone with chores." The journey was said to take about a month. Until then, it seemed Juol intended to take on all the chores. After a hearty meal, they stood with swords in hand. Rem stood opposite Enkrid. Whoosh. The wind blew. The crumbled sandstone turned into dust and irritated their eyes. Both Enkrid and Rem squinted instinctively, protecting their eyes from the dust. "Let''s have a match." "Is it okay to lose in front of your wife?" Rem chuckled. He certainly knew how to speak. "I''ve got something prepared to make it more fun." They were in the West. Rem was from the West. Though his weapon and magic had to be sought in the holy land, there were shortcuts. During his time fighting the immortal lunatic on the continent, he had learned something new. "Ayul." After practicing for a few days, he was prepared. Ayul had initially hesitated but, after trying it, realized there were no issues or side effects, and even thought about studying it further. In the meantime, Rem had taught the tribe people how to use the Heart of the Beast. It was an improved version, perhaps? Watching Enkrid use it, Rem mixed his own understanding into it. Now, most of the West could use this technique. But for now, it was time to receive Ayul''s magic into his body. "Bear''s strength." With those words, something formless entered Rem. Enkrid could see something flickering above Rem''s shoulder. What was that? It reminded him of when Ayul fought, and something had appeared above her body as well. Rem''s gray eyes shimmered with a strange light. Enkrid tightened his grip on Aker. Then, the axe came flying toward him. It was a strike on the level of a knight''s blow. In that instant, Enkrid tilted Aker to the side, making it parallel to the ground. The axe blade fell, both weapons meeting. Clang! A deafening noise erupted. The impact sent Enkrid''s body flying back. He allowed the force to push him back, his feet leaving long marks on the ground. Rem, in his axe-wielding stance, twisted his lips into a smile. "How''s that?" What could be said? Enkrid smiled too. Chapter 491 - Rematch Chapter 491 - 491 - Rematch Chapter 491 - Rematch Juol couldn''t help but laugh while crying. Yeah, if he only got beaten up, he wouldn''t be Rem. He wasn''t sure what would happen if he truly found his own magic, but for now, it seemed he could still hang out with him. "Alright, Boss, this should be fun, right?" After Rem spoke with his axe, Enkrid had to respond. He gripped Aker and assumed his stance. Ever since battling giants and mages, Enkrid had been obsessively replaying his past experiences. It was a habit. This was the conclusion he''d come to. Every fight felt slightly lacking. None were satisfying. "Disappointing." The giant was just strong. The mage wasn''t a swordsman. He had felt some pleasure, even a thrill, but those were the results of past experiences. So, if he didn''t want a worthy opponent to clash swords with, he would be lying. The giant''s strength was threatening, but its technique was terrible. Strength alone couldn''t win; it wasn''t enough. Timing and precision were far more important. The difference between a correct strike delivered with the proper posture and a random slash was huge. How to corner an opponent with the correct stance. The correct form, refined by Luagarne''s experiences, combined with Enkrid''s time and effort. This was the sword that would trap Rem. Top-down strikes, sweeping cuts, diagonal cuts, horizontal overhead strikes, and mid-sword spinning strikes. Every movement conveyed one message: He would thrust with one hand. This was the final and most important attack of their duel. Rem was ready. Of course, why would he be caught off guard when he was shown the move? While Enkrid pressured him with a proper stance, he mixed in a trick. A deceitful blade. The feint had begun. Enkrid, with every move he made in this swordplay, had set up a trap. He made it seem like he would thrust with one hand, only to suddenly close the distance. In an instant, he lunged forward, catching Rem off guard. Seeing Enkrid close the distance, Rem swung his axe with his fist. Enkrid readied his left hand, positioning the blade forward. If they stayed like this, Rem would strike with his fist against the blade. Though Rem could break most blades with his fist, the blade in Enkrid''s hand was enchanted. Instead of striking with his fist, Rem bent his wrist, extending the axe''s blade and pressing it against Enkrid''s. The clash of blade and axe resounded, both tangling and separating repeatedly. The sound of metal clashing echoed with a satisfying spark. In that brief moment, Enkrid released Aker from his hand and extended his finger, aiming for Rem''s eye. A typical Valah fighting technique, blinding the opponent. It was a quick move, faster than before, targeting Rem''s moment of vulnerability. Still, Rem tilted his head back to avoid it. The fingertip grazed his chin, drawing a drop of blood, and a few grey whiskers flew up. Enkrid''s finger had torn a bit of Rem''s skin. Rem stepped forward to kick, but Enkrid absorbed the strike with his knee. The two exchanged blows, then retreated, and before long, Enkrid brought his sword down vertically. Ayul, watching from behind Rem, thought it looked like two blue meteors falling from above. Enkrid''s eyes had created that illusion. It was a full-powered downward strike with his sword, a knight''s blow. This entire fight had been building to this one moment. Their duel had been fought with about eighty percent of their power. If they had used their full strength, one of them would be at risk of death. But now, both were fully invested, and without realizing it, they had given it their all. When Rem saw the approaching sword, he raised his axe to meet it. It looked like he was about to clash brute force against brute force. Just before the two weapons collided, Rem''s wrist gently bent as he raised the axe. The sword, in a mid-sword downward cut, was redirected by the axe''s edge. It was a flowing blade. And just like that, they both froze. Enkrid, with his sword held at an angle, and Rem, holding his axe in front of his stomach. If they fought any longer, one of them might die. It was that deadly. No, could this even be called a duel? Juol had unconsciously held his breath, then exhaled loudly. Despite the intense fight, both were smiling. "Heh, how was that?" Rem asked. "This is serious," Enkrid replied with a smile creeping onto his face. "It''s damn fun," Rem chuckled. He didn''t need to say it aloud; it was already clear. The captain would smile if he really enjoyed something, but he didn''t seem to realize it himself. It was pure, like a child receiving a gift. "Both of you are crazy," Juol said. "I almost fell." Ayul marveled as well. "That''s a bit scary," Rem remarked. Dunbakel nodded silently. They were exactly the type of people who did that. Luagarne shuddered again. She was starting to feel as though she was watching Enkrid simply to be amazed. "He''s terrifyingly strong now." When Rem got serious and fought with all his might, it became clearer how much Enkrid had grown. "And he''ll grow even more." For the first time, it seemed like Enkrid wasn''t at his limit but was still improving. If Luagarne''s talent reading sense wasn''t malfunctioning, it was certainly true. She thought this because of a small realization. Looking at the smiling Enkrid, a sudden understanding flashed in her mind. "He''s smiling." Grins, joy, exhilaration. Enkrid chases his dreams. And he enjoys the process. That''s why he doesn''t stop. When Luagarne saw that smile, the realization hit her all at once. "If we fight like this again, I might leave my child without a father. Let''s do it again after I find some magic. And I need to replace this axe," Rem said, raising his axe, which had cracks all over it. It looked like it might break with just a tap. Enkrid nodded in agreement. If they fought like this one more time, one of them might die. "Yeah," Enkrid replied, nonchalantly packing up his things. It was time to continue the journey. They encountered monsters and unique landscapes along the way. "This is where the black meteors fell. From here south, they say it''s called the Horizon Land," Rem, Juol, or Ayul would often explain as they traveled. The monsters were no match for them, so the hunting route became a leisurely one. It was no surprise, given their lopsided strength, with Enkrid and Rem included. Horizon Land was dry, with almost no grass. Large trees, rocks, and hills dotted the landscape, but it was mostly just vast land. It was so wide that if your eyesight was good enough, you could see moving dots far in the distance. Though it looked barren, with the sunlight and breeze, it also felt peaceful. They traveled on, eventually reaching the site of their previous battle. "This is called the Sandbar Gorge. It''s where you can pass through and end up in the Sand River, the desert, you know?" Rem explained. "I''ve heard of a desert¡ªit''s just land made of sand. I haven''t been to one, though." "That place is the most dangerous for Frogs," Rem added. Luagarne had always felt uncomfortable in dry places, though she managed to endure. Some Frogs went into a frenzy when wounded in the heart, but Luagarne stayed calm unless dealing with heretics. Juol remarked how hard it was to explore the desert. "Once you go in, you get lost and die," Ayul added. Enkrid agreed, not eager to enter. Although they expected traces of a recent battle, everything had vanished, including the giant''s corpse. The gorge was deep. As they passed the cleared entrance, they saw many caves on one of the walls. They had to look up to see the high cliffs filled with cave openings. "This is a sacred place," Juol said. It was a holy site in the west, symbolizing magic and acting as a graveyard. When asked if she felt a divine energy, Luagarne wasn''t sure. It was strange, though. The many caves and animals climbing the cliffs were fascinating. "Is that a monkey?" Rem asked, but Juol explained that it was a cross between a bear and a monkey. "Bear-monkey." Juol went on to explain that it was a sacred animal, one that shouldn''t be harmed. Even though it appeared clumsy with its pointy ears and round body, it didn''t seem to have any problem with humans. One even came up, left something, and walked away¡ªa small red fruit. When split, it revealed tiny seeds inside, much like pomegranate seeds. "Everlasting life. Sour, but sweet and delicious. Since we''ve received a gift, we should return the favor," Juol said, offering pieces of lucky fish or grain snacks. The bear-monkey cautiously approached and took the food, eyeing them suspiciously. Though it seemed wary, it didn''t seem entirely untrusting. "Cannibal tribes attack even bear-monkeys, but by the looks of it, it doesn''t seem like they''re hiding here," Juol remarked. "Those who ran away at that time?" "Yeah, our people probably still chase them. Hunters have gathered and are moving together, so they should catch them soon. The west is wide, but there''s nowhere to hide." Enkrid remembered the moment when he plunged his dagger into the back of the last man who had wielded the spear. The wound was deep, so it would be hard for the man to move properly, wouldn''t it? Were the cultists'' healing techniques as powerful as holy magic? If so, he might be able to walk on his two legs, but otherwise, he''d have become immobile. He had stabbed the area around the back, near the spine. It was a serious wound unless he was wearing some artifact like the bandage armor that Enkrid himself wore. If not, it would be a fatal injury. Yet, somehow, that man had managed to keep fleeing. He hadn''t been caught or imprisoned, nor had he died already. Just that fact alone suggested he wasn''t an ordinary person. His skills were extraordinary. "Let''s go." The road of Grime was far from over. They continued their journey while discussing various things, sparring, cooking, and even throwing Dunbakel into the lake. Most of the time, they rode Belopters, but compared to the continent, the land felt much wider. There were no mountain ranges blocking their view. Out of nowhere, a ghoul appeared during their westward journey. Grrroooaaar! The ghoul, a monster that was rare to see in the west, symbolized the demonic domain. Dunbakel took action, drawing her curved sword from her waist and swiftly slashing its neck. With a dry thud, the head flew off and tumbled to the ground, blood spilling. After a few more ghouls appeared, Ayul spoke in a serious tone. "Rem, from here on, this is a forbidden zone." "I know." "We shouldn''t go any further." "I know." Despite that, Rem kept walking forward. As he did, he spoke. "I said we would follow the road of Grime." Grime, the legendary hero, had not met a happy ending. He had sought the demonic domain and died fighting the monsters that emerged from there. His end was not happy but brutal, and yet it was a testament to his greatness. "There is a demonic domain in the west too." Rem said. The demonic domain stretched across the continent. The largest was the southern demonic domain, but that wasn''t the only one. This was something he had heard over time. "And there are demonic domains with names as well." Rem knew more than Enkrid did. He had seen one during his rite of passage in the west. It was a secret known to only a few. During the rite of passage, Rem had approached the boundary of the demonic domain and had seen inside. "The demonic domain here is called Silence." With those words, Rem stopped walking and then, with a smile, asked: "Would you like to take a look?" Enkrid nodded without hesitation. He would draw his sword to protect. That had been his dream¡ªto be a knight. One of the obstacles to that dream was the demonic domains. It was also the demonic domain''s fragment of Beelrog who had killed Oara. "Ayul, it''ll be fine. You know why it''s called Silence, right?" Juol, after a long pause, tried to reassure Ayul. She reluctantly nodded in agreement. They had been riding Belopters for over twenty days, not at full speed, but they had still covered a lot of ground. Their destination was the demonic domain. As they traveled further, the light soil gradually darkened. But it wasn''t just dark; a foul stench started to fill the air. Grrroooaaar! They encountered a few more ghouls and mutated Ratmen. However, the numbers were still small. The amount was too few to be called a demonic domain. The grassy fields that had surrounded them disappeared, and small hills began to block their way. The hills were low but stretched far on either side, all covered in black. They climbed the hills, and by the time they reached the top, Ayul said nothing more. Some of the westerners claimed that merely setting foot here would lead to death, but those in the know understood there were no such curses. Entering further would have adverse effects on the body, but this was merely the outskirts. They hadn''t even reached the true demonic domain. Beyond the hills was the real demonic domain. Once they reached the top of the hill, they saw that the dark, murky colors were interrupted by occasional lighter hues. The gray trees, the symbol of the demonic domains, had a bizarre shape. Their branches and leaves seemed to form the silhouette of a disheveled woman. The rocks, dark brown in color and shaped like human hearts, stood without any light. The air, thick with a heavy and oppressive atmosphere, was no longer cool but suffocating. The gray forest demonic domain was a curse that had once fallen on the city of Oara. It was a curse that had been split and destroyed by the knight Oara. And now, the curse that had descended on the western lands was right before their eyes. The black mist spread out in all directions, making the horizon impossible to see clearly. "This is the second time a something has appeared from this demonic domain, and both times, the west almost fell apart," Rem said. It was a past event. "Boramain was one of them. They say that, from a magical perspective, names imbue power, but that''s why the curse was named that," Rem continued. Was Boramain the name of the curse cast by the fortune-teller tribe? Enkrid noticed a certain fire in Rem''s eyes. There was a determination to put an end to the demonic domain. There must be a reason for that. "Did someone you know or a family member suffer from it?" When Boramain had appeared, that could have been the case. And Rem''s dying father might have said: "Run away, don''t fight, leave the demonic domains alone." People living in the western continent wouldn''t try to fight the demonic domain, for doing so would only lead to death. That didn''t sit well with Rem. He must have considered it the enemy of his family, the enemy of his father. Rem scoffed at Enkrid''s question and replied: "What''s that supposed to mean? I just didn''t like it being so close." It was a response that showed he didn''t want it nearby. "Is that all?" Enkrid asked. "What else should there be?" Rem, as expected, had a way of replying that sounded like a challenge. But it was no surprise. It was classic Rem. He just didn''t want it near him. "You didn''t come here to charge in, right? Hold back." "Why?" "Well, when you see demonic domains or monsters, your eyes tend to get a bit wild. It''s like how the Frog gets when she sees the cult." "Me?" "Yeah." Enkrid didn''t like the way Rem was looking at him, as if he were some kind of madman. "If we charge in now, it''s suicide. Get a grip. If not, we''ll stop you by force. Ayul, be ready." Rem''s seriousness made Enkrid curse under his breath. "That bastard..." "Don''t die! Get a grip!" Rem shouted, not letting up. Unable to hold it in, Enkrid swung his Aker. They had a bit of a tussle in the demonic domain and the forbidden zone, but they didn''t get serious. The sparring stopped when Enkrid struck Rem''s side with his fist. Since Rem didn''t use magic, Enkrid had the upper hand. Both of them, covered in sweat, suddenly burst into laughter. It was clear they were joking. They weren''t going to risk their lives just to erase the demonic domains right now. It was a declaration of their determination, but they weren''t going to do anything foolish. "Anyway, we''ll be back here next time." "Yeah, let''s take care of it when we do." "Agreed." They stood up, and Ayul carefully watched the surroundings. It seemed her mind was a little disturbed. She thought about the demonic domain, about erasing it, and laughed. Juol''s heart was pounding. The things they said were so absurd, yet there was a strange excitement. Now, he understood why so many people were drawn to someone like Enkrid, the renowned hero. Were they good at fighting? There were plenty of people like that. Rem was one, and there had been heroes in the western lands before. Were they handsome? That wasn''t it either. "Dream." The way they chased after their dreams was what shone. Their approach to life was what made them so bright. That was why people gathered around them. This moved Juol, and without realizing it, he started crying. "If you''re scared, just piss yourself. That''s better than crying." Rem scolded him. Juol, still crying, laughed. It felt like what they were saying was already coming true. "Should we bring a priest to check on this guy?" Rem muttered with concern. ---------------------------------------------------- Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 492 - A Vow of Vengeance Chapter 492 - 492 - A Vow of Vengeance Chapter 492 - A Vow of Vengeance He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he spoke. "Father, I will avenge you." Once a genius shaman of his tribe, the man declared this as he cut off his finger and cursed himself. It was all in preparation to kill one person. Unable to succeed with regular methods, he would resort to anything, even relying on luck if necessary. The man made up his mind. *** Leaving the Silence demonic domain behind, the group veered southward, and patches of grassland began to appear. With the grass came an increase in monsters. There were two demonic domains in the west: one was the Silence, and the other was the River of Sand, from which no one returned. The grassland they saw now was a place made barren by the Demonic domain of silence. Naturally, the monsters weren''t a problem for the group. It was still like a picnic for them. Even if ghouls, who fought like knights, appeared, they could easily kill them without losing an arm or a leg. With Rem''s assistance and Enkrid''s current strength, it was a certainty. Grrrrr. When a ghoul appeared. "Hyah!" Dunbakel leapt forward to face it. Whenever they passed by an area where monsters were gathered, they would often change course to move toward them. "Let''s stretch out." That''s when Enkrid would step forward. Rem just watched idly. ''He''s really improved.'' His steps were unhesitating, and there was no mercy in the swings of his sword. A ratman lunged forward, thrusting a stick it had picked up, but Enkrid dodged it without looking and sliced its neck with Aker in his hand. Swick. The ratman''s tough flesh was easily sliced through, and its head flew into the air. Another ratman collapsed with a hole in its forehead. It had been the result of the spark he had pulled out and used. A faint afterimage appeared in front of the ratman with the hole in its head. It was the illusion created by Enkrid''s body moving at high speed. He was already elsewhere, swinging his sword. The series of strikes was unstoppable and forceful. He slashed vertically, thrust, and kicked. All the movements were made in a single breath. Three actions in one tempo. It wasn''t easy, but he was doing it quite well now. Six more ratmen died before the first one hit the ground. Then a snake-like monster emerged from the ground. Enkrid had felt something strange beneath his feet earlier, and now the sandworm had appeared. While large ones could create dunes in the desert, this one wasn''t as big. Though smaller, its girth was still as large as an adult man''s thigh, and its tail tried to wrap around Enkrid''s ankle. Enkrid jumped forward to avoid it, but as soon as his foot left the ground, he quickly regained balance mid-air and drove the spark into the flat ground beneath the sandworm''s head. ''How did he know its weak point?'' Rem thought to himself. The sandworm usually hid its head when fighting, and its head was its weak spot. Enkrid had intuitively identified and struck it. Instinct? That was likely it. From a hunter''s perspective, sandworms hid their weak spot instinctively. So, Enkrid had attacked only its tail. It was easy if you knew, but difficult if you didn''t. Yet, Enkrid had been relentless despite not even knowing it. Reluctantly, Rem admitted it was due to Enkrid''s sneaky, cat-like skills. Rem''s assessment was accurate. Enkrid could probably sense the enemy''s location even with his eyes closed. His sense skills had become far more refined, allowing him to perceive everything sharply. Fighting giants, killing mages, and sparring with Rem¡ªit was clear to Enkrid that, despite training the same way, something about his progress was different. It felt as though he was growing more each day. ''The sword just extends so smoothly.'' To explain, his physical state was always optimal. He breathed easily, his arms extended effortlessly, and each movement flowed naturally, with the next action springing to mind. If a ratman tried to stab with its claws, he would either block, slash, dodge, or counter with dozens of other attack options. Enkrid simply chose one and acted accordingly. The outcome was predictable. The sandworm was the same. As soon as its tail appeared, Enkrid instinctively knew where its body might be hiding. He struck at the spot, and black blood erupted from the hole he made with the spark. After killing a few monsters, Enkrid returned, with just a few droplets of black blood spattering on him. He wasn''t even out of breath. Anyone who saw him would think he had just gone for a stroll. A casual conversation like this would have been appropriate, as he returned completely unharmed, having killed more than ten monsters, including the ratman. "Insane." Rem couldn''t help but laugh. Once they returned, he figured they''d have to force-feed herbs into the shaman to hurry up and find a solution to get him the magic. Dunbakel''s gaze seemed unusual. She appeared lost in thought as she watched Enkrid. Luagarne simply nodded. "Enjoying it means forgetting your limits." It seemed she had come to some conclusion. At any rate, the group continued moving. When not fighting, they often chatted. Whenever Juol became immersed in cooking, Ayul would tell an amusing story. "Sometimes, hunting groups from the continent settle near the western desert, close to the northern area." "They say you can''t come back once you go in there, right?" It was a story about the outsiders living near the desert. "Yeah, they just stay on the outskirts." "Greed causes trouble. If you crawl into the desert, you end up as a skeleton soldier, but that''s a long way from here." Rem chimed in from the side. As Juol stirred the pot with barley, oats, and thinly sliced salted meat, adding oil and frying it, he spoke. "The hunters come for the jeweled-tailed lizards and jeweled-eared foxes. Sometimes, they venture out to the desert''s outskirts to catch them." It was the first time Enkrid had heard of such creatures. The west was home to many strange animals, and these were among them. According to Juol, the animals had jewels attached to them. The lizards had jewels on their tails, and the foxes on their ears. They lived on sand and were described as quite wild but didn''t die from exposure to water. They were also said to be immune to poison. While hunting them was dangerous, they would often flee if they were sprayed with water. If you succeeded in hunting one, you could obtain a few jewels, but failing wouldn''t necessarily cost you your life. Then, what was needed? "Maintaining your boundaries. Not venturing further and waiting patiently." "Luck needs to be on your side. Just waiting won''t guarantee you meet them." "Luck? Understanding their habits is what matters first." Rem, Juol, and Ayul each had slightly different perspectives. But they all seemed to understand. It took a clever and prepared hunter to catch them, and patience was essential. Then, how many skilled hunters came to the west to catch the jeweled-tailed lizards or jeweled-eared foxes? Criminals, fugitives, deserters, debtors, and various other types of people¡ªmany who were desperate came to try. Naturally, the foolish ones often ended up getting into trouble. Juol said that once, a mercenary group came to hunt foxes and ended up raiding a tribe in the west. Sizzle. Juol shook the pot up and down. The salted meat and grains bubbled, sending a rich, savory aroma into the air. Enkrid, ever the attentive listener, added his own comment to the rhythm of Juol''s actions. "So, what happened? This smells amazing." "Expect the best. This is the western specialty, fried barley. What happened? They tried to kill a few, but they ran away. The rest probably became monster food." Occasionally, some hunters managed to wait patiently and return with jewels, but it didn''t sound like an easy task. And even if they succeeded, the jewels didn''t seem to be enough to change their lives. ''If Krais hears this, would he organize a whole unit of hunters to come after them?'' It didn''t seem likely. Krais hated leaving things to chance. If, despite everything, they still wanted to catch the gemstone animals, they would first have to understand their habits and somehow find a method, moving in a way that eliminated as much luck as possible. What about Enkrid himself? He wouldn''t catch them. Krona could be earned another way. It was just idle chatter. Sizzle. Steam rose from the pot. The famous barley stir-fry from the west was ready. The dish was made with wild barley, oats, and various dried vegetables. The seasoning was perfected with finely chopped salted meat, and the taste was beyond words. Taking a large bite, the barley bounced between his teeth and rolled around in his mouth. As he caught it and chewed, the nutty flavor spread, and the harmony of the herb fragrance and saltiness was exquisite. Without realizing it, Enkrid gave a thumbs up. "Very good indeed." Juol grinned with satisfaction. The group tidied up the remaining monsters and returned to their tribe. "Did you return?" The chief greeted them first. Once back, life resumed as usual, and two days later, Rem came and said: "I''ll be off. Don''t cause any trouble while I''m gone." "I never thought I''d hear that from you." "It''ll be fun when I return." Rem laughed as he turned to leave. What exactly was magic? He wasn''t sure. But one thing was clear: Ragna had reached the domain of knights first, but Rem would soon reach a similar level. "If you''re not careful, you could die." The higher the talent, the higher the chance of dying. That''s what Enkrid had heard about magic. It was something Ayul had told him. He asked Rem about it, and Rem simply turned his head to ask back: "Do you think I''ll die?" "No." The answer came immediately. At that response, Rem chuckled and left. Enkrid also smirked and finished what he was doing. In other words, wielding his sword, moving his body, and occasionally sparring. "Isn''t this boring?" One of the twins asked from the side. One of them was passed out. The two of them alternated saying a single sentence, and Enkrid had wondered if the one who fainted would only speak half, but that didn''t seem to be the case. Enkrid responded to the twin''s question with a question of his own: "What?" "Training." "Why would this be boring?" The twin fell silent. Enkrid ignored the question in one ear and enjoyed the anticipation. He had learned something from Ragna, and he would surely learn something from Rem as well. That was what made Enkrid''s heart race. Later, Ayul came and said it would take about two weeks for Rem to return. Enkrid thought that wasn''t such a long time. During that period, the fortune-teller tribe that had fled was captured, and a young shaman saved a poor cripple from his tribe. It was said he had been a man the cannibals had been keeping as prey. His face was covered with pokemarks, and his left hand was completely severed except for the thumb. He spoke haltingly. While he wasn''t exceptionally gifted in magic, his dedication to caring for the sick was remarkable. Because of his own body''s abnormalities, it seemed he had a deep understanding of others'' pain. He cared for those still under the curse of Boramain and, like Enkrid, used the same barracks. The crippled man, always crawling on the ground, made strange noises as he approached. Sssshh, sswhhh, ssshhhhh. The sound of him crawling with his arms on the ground. *** It had been five days since Rem left for the holy land. Enkrid had gotten up early in the morning and was practicing the Isolation technique. It was earlier than usual, and since Luagarne and Dunbakel hadn''t yet gotten up, he was alone. As he moved his body, Enkrid pondered a thought. ''If the curses don''t work, does that mean magic doesn''t affect me?'' Does that mean I can relax when dealing with shamans? Probably not. But curses don''t work, that much was clear. That created a small gap for Enkrid. "You know the curse doesn''t work on you." The crippled man spoke. Enkrid hadn''t paid attention, but he noticed that the man''s speech had changed. There was no longer the usual awkwardness. Enkrid was wearing armor and had Aker at his waist. He was fully equipped. Why was he armed? There was no specific reason. He could train without weapons, but today he had decided otherwise. This morning, Enkrid had come to the conclusion that comfort was a compromise, and steady training and repetition were the true sources of strength for tomorrow. So, it also meant checking his equipment. That was why he had armed himself. Moreover, he was carrying the bow he had received as a gift, though he had yet to use it properly. That was unfortunate for his opponent. Even if he wasn''t armed, it would have been fine, but with armor and a bow, it was even worse for the other side. Enkrid could see dozens of possible attack lines, and he knew the opponent''s disability was genuine. The enemy was also within the range of his sword. If Enkrid wanted to, he could defeat the opponent without even needing to take a breath. "The curse does not work on you. You''re our natural enemy." The man said again. Enkrid made eye contact, and he seemed to recognize him. He had briefly passed by him, but the impression of the man who he had swung his last dagger at after killing the Apostle was vivid in his memory. It was him. Was he a member of the fortune-teller tribe? Ah, he was said to be the most talented person after Rem. A member of the fortune-teller tribe, an exceptional shaman, possibly even more talented than Rem. He was a young man from the west, too young to be so gifted. Enkrid had noticed him too late; his greasy hair and eye crust were a clear sign, and his missing front tooth seemed as if he had misplaced it. Had he lost his leg due to the dagger he''d thrown? Did he simply cut it off because he couldn''t move it? It looked that way. His appearance was a mess. The man laughed. But instead of joy, there was madness in his expression¡ªmadness filled with hatred. It looked as though someone had poured boiling water into his eyes. The steam of hatred seemed to rise from his eyes. His voice matched the madness, filled with such torment, as though his intestines were being torn apart. "You thought there was no way once the curse didn''t work?" With a fake, agonizing laugh, he continued: "This is a magic I created by sacrificing everything¡ªmy future, my soul." Why did it remind him of the fairy assassin he encountered when he was at Beldar Guard? It wasn''t because of negligence. It was because of a gap that he had allowed. That dagger, it was similar. "I sacrifice the past, present, and future." The man spoke and stretched out his hand. From his fingertips, something resembling thread came out and touched Enkrid''s body. It wasn''t dangerous, so Enkrid ignored it. But he reflexively struck out with his sword. In the time it took for him to breathe, his sword cleaved the man''s head in two. Crack. The man''s head split open, his brain and skull spilling out. The world before Enkrid''s eyes turned pitch black. Even so, he didn''t close his eyes. The surroundings spun, and the world flipped. There was a feeling of floating, a sensation he had never experienced except when being hit and thrown. At the end of the floating feeling, a burst of light appeared before his closed eyes, forcing him to shut them completely. The first sensation he felt was heat. It wasn''t like the warm sunlight of Oara city or the gentle heat of the west; this was scorching, as though it would burn his flesh. When he opened his eyes, the world was yellow. The sky was high, and there was only sand around him. What was peculiar was that there were three corpses sitting on their knees in three directions, dried up with no sign of life. Even without looking, Enkrid could tell. There was no life left in them. They were already dead. Enkrid''s strength was in his ability to assess situations quickly. Let''s think this through¡ªwhat happened? One thing was certain. There was something he had learned. Never let your guard down, no matter what. Even if you''re wearing full plate armor, a sharp dagger can pierce you. He realized this was what had happened to him. He surveyed the surroundings. All he could see was sand. Sand dunes, the heat rising from the ground. He thought of one thing. Wasn''t this the river of sand they said you couldn''t return from? It seemed like the last resort of his enemy. A technique, not a curse, created by a genius shaman who sacrificed his life and even his comrades. Since the curse didn''t work, he had been sent to the desert. Looking at the situation, Enkrid concluded that this was likely the case. ------------------------------------------------------------ Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 493 - Reflections and Choices Chapter 493 - 493 - Reflections and Choices Chapter 493 - Reflections and Choices Why go this far? Enkrid couldn''t understand for a moment. Was there truly a reason for such hatred toward him? Though he had seen resentment in those eyes, he couldn''t fathom its source. Even if one were consumed by hatred and blame, why him? Of course, Enkrid couldn''t know¡ªhe was unaware that the genius shaman of the Soothsayer Tribe called the apostle Enkrid had slain "father." In the West, there was a saying: One cannot live under the same sky as the one who killed their father. The young shaman was simply following what he had been taught since childhood. Or perhaps, with everything already ruined, he merely needed someone to blame. In hindsight, it was a foolish thing to do. Why betray the entire West and still cling to its teachings? Yet, in another sense, it made perfect sense. The young shaman of the Soothsayer Tribe had been brainwashed and pushed into a corner. He had only two choices left: accept capture and die, or do something insane. He chose insanity. For this, he staked everything. He sold his soul to a demon and cursed his own body. Even if his soul fell into the flames of hell to suffer eternal torment, he didn''t care. He wagered everything, casting bad luck upon himself to absorb it as a talisman, and somehow, he succeeded. He even managed to deceive a shaman of the Great Wings Tribe, and fortune smiled upon him there. That shaman, seeing him sick and crippled, pitied him. Pretending to be prey for cannibals had worked as well. Fate seemed to favor his actions, so the shaman believed what he was doing was right. Every circumstance pointed him in that direction. The genius shaman thought this way, and his misguided choices led to this outcome. Of course, Enkrid had no way of knowing any of this. And so? Would it change the present? No. All Enkrid could do was accept it. "Hmm." He let out a faint murmur. The world around him was yellow. Even the wind seemed like it might crackle if touched. The searing heat aside, there was nothing around him to use as a landmark. So what now? Fortunately, Enkrid was not Ragna. He could wait until nightfall. Though not skilled in navigating by starlight, he could manage. The journey through Grime''s Path had taught him the general direction of the desert. "South-east should be fine." He had a rough idea. Enkrid scanned his surroundings, his gaze traveling over endless expanses of sand¡ªrivers of sand, lakes of sand, seas of sand. Sand, sand, and more sand. He gave up searching for shelter from the relentless heat. The desert was a wretched place, offering nothing. Hadn''t he heard of cacti, monsters, or animals that thrived in deserts? Yet here, there was nothing. At least, that was what his senses told him. He resigned himself to enduring the scorching sun, the blistering heat roasting his skin. Luckily, his armor mitigated some of the heat thanks to its monster-hide composition. It was tolerable. Though unfamiliar with the desert, Enkrid knew well enough that moving recklessly in an unknown environment was dangerous. He walked a short distance, observed his surroundings, and then stopped to endure. Endurance was Enkrid''s specialty. "Was I careless?" With time to spare, he revisited the techniques he had recently learned. The wait for nightfall seemed long, the sun burning hot overhead. Wasting energy through physical exertion was out of the question. Enkrid sat down, slowed his breathing, and meditated, waiting for the cover of night. *** Before a corpse with a shattered head, Geonnara stood, accompanied by Luagarne and Dunbakel. Geonnara frowned deeply and spoke. "A spatial displacement spell." Such sorcery relies on a medium. It could be a totem, a talisman, or even life force offered as a sacrifice. Geonnara had prepared for such a scenario, intending to burn his lifespan as a medium if Enkrid or Rem had been absent. Using the fire of life to fight with the might of a hero, if only briefly¡ªthat had been his plan. Having made similar preparations, she understood. The enemy hadn''t merely offered lifespan but everything. "A madman," he muttered. His deductions pointed to the most plausible scenario: a shaman from the Soothsayer Tribe with talent rivaling Rem''s had sacrificed their soul for the spell. Not a totem, but their very life and soul had served as the medium. The traces on the corpse confirmed this. Talent, soul, sacrifice, offering. A desperate, forbidden act. Without it, this outcome would have been impossible. "They even cursed their own body first, absorbing misfortune as a talisman." The shaman had faced misfortune deliberately, gambling everything on success. By all logic, they should have failed, succumbing to backlash and dying alone. Yet somehow, they managed to send Enkrid elsewhere. Where? No one knew. This was conjecture, after all, and there was no way to discern everything. "If it was spatial displacement, where was he sent? Not even the grand archmages who master the pinnacle of magic can displace others." The frog spoke. Geonnara considered the possibility that even if the shattered corpse were resurrected and attempted the spell again, success would be impossible. It had been a fluke, a shift in the scales of fate, a moment when fortune favored the enemy. In the continent''s terminology, the Goddess of Fortune had extended her hand to the enemy. In the West, this would be described as the scales tipping. "The scales tipped unfavorably," Geonnara remarked. "Speak plainly, human," the frog retorted. "What of the benefactor?" At that moment, Jiba''s mother emerged, blinking her eyes. The atmosphere shattered visibly, tensions broken. The disappearance of their honored hero spread through the entire tribe. Naturally, the Westerners, eager to show their gratitude, gathered. Their chieftain stood at the center, his voice carrying authority. "Every Westerner, listen." He swallowed, his eyes blazing, his voice firm. "Find him, no matter what." And so they began. Scouring every trace, following every lead. "It doesn''t matter if it takes years. We will find him." The chieftain was not one to make promises he couldn''t keep. He was sincere. Without loyalty, one couldn''t call oneself a Westerner. Rem sat alone in the pitch-black void, deep in thought. How many days had passed? He didn''t know. But one thing was clear: the ritual was over. The memories that had flooded his mind during the process flitted past like a whirlwind. As a child, the shamans who observed Rem''s talent all said the same thing: "If your body can''t keep up, you''ll explode. So take it slow." The eldest shaman of that time had given the warning, and he still held that position now. Rem half-listened, outwardly obedient but secretly doing as he pleased. Why? Because it was fun. Why stop something so enjoyable? Through this, he learned the concepts of ancestor spirits and divine shamanism, and it was then he realized he was different from others. "Is there no alternative use for this?" he thought. It felt like there was. A shift in perspective, coupled with experience and instinct, guided him. Absorbing another''s sorcery into one''s own body was sheer madness for most, but Rem managed it, even formulating a theory around it. He explained everything to Ayul, who initially recoiled but eventually understood. He knew why everyone, especially the head sorcerer, was worried. Sorcery involved invoking divine spirits to channel their power. However, these so-called spirits could also be demons. "The Deviant Path." An improper, erroneous road¡ªone littered with precedents. Countless tales spoke of cunning serpents deceiving people into creating malevolent spirits. The greater the vessel handling the sorcery, the stronger and more potent the spirits that could exert their influence in the mortal realm. Naturally, this worried people. But with unwavering resolve, he dismissed any doubts. "That won''t happen to me." He had reassured them. And so he chose his medium. His axe. It was an axe forged of meteoric iron. Even Rem, despite his abilities, needed a medium for his sorcery. He had long designated his custom-forged heirloom weapon as his medium. Thus, there was no need for facial tattoos. Why carve into one''s skin, inject dyes, and risk impairment if those marks faded or were damaged? Though westerners without talent in sorcery often skipped tattoos, most practitioners relied on them. Rem, having no such necessity, never bothered. In the dark, the medium of his sorcery began to resonate. The axe, which had been sulking in refusal, finally complied. The weapon was a double-headed axe. One blade was significantly larger than the other, with the smaller, hand-span-sized blade facing him and the larger, double its size, aimed outward. Though it required regular sharpening like any blade, this axe, functioning as his sorcery medium, neither dulled nor broke. Sharpening it was merely an indulgence for the axe, akin to giving it a treat. After steadying his thoughts and refining his determination, Rem opened his eyes to find the elder sorcerer standing before him. "You startled me, you rascal." "Why were you startled?" "It''s been six days." Rem had infused his heirloom weapon with all of his sorcery. Yet, during his absence, the weapon''s accumulated power had grown disproportionately. For lesser sorcerers, approaching it could cause them to faint. The head sorcerer had estimated it would take at least ten days for Rem to reintegrate the heightened sorcery into his body. But not for him. From a young age, he had handled spiritual descent and possession without strain. Now, with a stronger physique and honed skills, his vessel had only grown. He''d also finalized his understanding of what a champion was and the difference from knights. Accepting the sorcery anew had been straightforward. Knights harmonized technique and Will. Champions harmonized technique and sorcery. In simple terms, that was it. Though the process of integrating the sorcery took five days, three of those were spent pacifying his weapon. Including a day of physical and mental preparation at the start, the entire process took six days. If a weapon imbued with personality could be considered to possess an "ego," then heirloom weapons like his fell into that category. Though it didn''t speak, the weapon carried emotions. The emotion Rem had felt upon first touching it was akin to Ayul''s¡ªa sense of sadness. "Why did you leave me behind?" It was still young. Rem soothed it like a child, coaxing it gently. As he finished the final stages of the process, an overwhelming sense of omnipotence enveloped him. "One more step, and I could stride directly in front of that directionally-disfunctional fool." With a single swing of his axe, he felt as though he could cleave mountains. The sun, the wind, lakes, the very earth¡ªeverything seemed within his power to rend apart. But Rem shook off the feeling. His experiences with countless spirits had already taught him this: knowing the difference between what could and could not be done was crucial. Rem understood that distinction well. It was why he could fight semi knights even without sorcery and, when determined, could kill them. The sorcery flowed seamlessly into his expanded vessel. Though capable of holding the immense power, he had deliberately left it behind before¡ªtemporarily. Now, with the sorcery restored, the omnipotence returned. And so? That was all. The head sorcerer, observing Rem rise with his axe, looked older, his face etched with new wrinkles. "You''ve worked hard." Sorcery required invocation and ritual. Not even Rem could casually dive in and return unscathed. The elder sorcerer had likely spent over thirty days conducting rituals. Appeasing the heavens and pacifying the earth, he had sought the permission of all spirits dwelling in nature¡ªon Rem''s behalf. "Shall we head back?" "I''ll rest a few days first." Impatient, Rem left the elder behind and returned ahead of him. The first news that greeted him was this: "Enkrid has disappeared." From Luagarne. "Where did he go? Don''t tell me he went monster hunting alone?" Rem asked. "No." "He''s not one to get lost." Rumors of spatial teleportation techniques surfaced. With no sheath for his heirloom weapon, Rem carried it in his hand. Everyone around seemed tense. Rem, infamous for his outbursts when displeased, surprised them with a calm response: "He''ll return on his own." Enkrid wasn''t the type to perish over something trivial. Rem''s unwavering belief conveyed as much. Ayul and the others blinked in surprise, unprepared for such a reaction. But Rem was confident. He trusted that Enkrid wouldn''t fall to something as minor as this. --------------------------------------------- Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 494 - Fortune Flows in Both Directions Chapter 494 - 494 - Fortune Flows in Both Directions Chapter 494 - Fortune Flows in Both Directions Rem crouched before a corpse whose skull was cracked and decaying. With a dagger in hand, he split open the cadaver''s chest. Rotten flesh tore apart effortlessly, and the blade, tainted by the decaying tissue, turned black. The rigor mortis had already dissipated, making the task easier. Even if it hadn''t, it wouldn''t have mattered. From within the chest cavity, he unearthed a heart, partially devoured by worms, riddled with holes and damage. Blackened blood had coagulated into a viscous substance. Interesting. Assessing the situation before the captain''s return was a fundamental step for Rem. None present truly understood, but his comprehension of sorcery had advanced far beyond its previous limits. Part of this growth came from innate talent, yet much was due to the lessons gained after slaying the Immortal Madman and the inspiration drawn from Enkrid, which had reshaped his perspective on life. Examining the traces of sorcery, he gained a rough understanding of what had transpired¡ªspecifically, what the opponent had done. This isn''t typical spirit magic. It was an unorthodox craft¡ªa technique achieved by borrowing power from another entity. After reviewing several possibilities, Rem reached his conclusion: Fortune smiled upon me. He agreed with Geonnara''s assessment. The scales of fate had tipped slightly in their favor. He also gleaned some additional insights¡ªthe identity of the unorthodox craft. The Sacred Demon Cult, a heretical sect, worshipped demons as gods. Their priests borrowed divine powers, and it stood to reason that the cultists could do the same. By praying to the rulers of the Demon Realm, they channeled their power. Would this qualify as divine magic? If Audin knew, he''d throw a fit, yelling blasphemy while launching a double kick on the spot. Still, this technique blended demonic teachings, infernal power, and a prodigious talent for sorcery. They performed a ritual to deify a demon? Understanding the principles and tracing the sequence of events gave him clarity. Yet, acting impulsively wouldn''t change anything. There must have been additional sacrifices sent to the intended destination. It''s not the Demon Realm. Muttering to himself, Rem nodded. "It''s not far off." "Of course it isn''t," Luagarne replied beside him. It was an obvious statement. At most, the journey might take a fortnight on foot. Other offerings would have been placed at the destination, meaning the target wasn''t hurled into the Demon Realm. After all, the realm''s silence wasn''t easily disturbed, nor was it a place one could casually send someone. With sorcery of this caliber, all the offerings are likely dead. The worst-case scenario was the land beyond the Sands of Death. If not there, then they would likely emerge somewhere in the western plains, gazing at the stars to navigate his way back. Rem concluded, "He hasn''t gone far." That night, two moons lit up the western lands, their light shining brightly as the stars scattered across the night sky. "Are you worried?" Luagarne asked, watching Rem. He had been examining the corpse, organizing his thoughts, but now sat by the fire, lightly roasting wind rabbit meat. Even a slight misstep would burn it, ruining the flavor entirely. Cooking required precision. Staring into the fire, Rem replied, "If he were the sort to die from this, he''d have perished long ago." Luagarne conceded the point. The initial shock of Enkrid''s disappearance had faded, leaving behind acceptance. Dunbakel felt the same. When Rem appeared, her confidence in Enkrid''s return was almost instinctive, followed by a short nod of approval. Though Rem entertained the worst-case scenario, he doubted their leader would succumb to such misfortune. Surviving countless near-death experiences made him immune to luck''s caprice. If, by some chance, Enkrid had perished? It was an idle thought, one he quickly dismissed. What''s the point of gaining magic, if it ends like this? Rem chose to wait calmly. Pacing around wouldn''t change the outcome. "Just focus on your tasks. What''s the point in searching when nothing''s visible? If it''s not the desert, he''ll find his way back." "And if he''s in the Sands of Death?" "He''ll still return." When the chieftain asked this, Rem responded without hesitation. How, exactly? He couldn''t say. But Enkrid would return, as he always had. Call it baseless faith, or trust¡ªit didn''t matter. Enkrid would fulfill his promises, guarding whatever he held dear. He still needs to taste my heirloom weapon. Three days passed since Rem inspected the corpse. Enkrid had yet to return, and no trace of him had appeared. *** Meditation. Reflection. Deliberation. Lost in thought, Enkrid watched the sun dip below the horizon. He tried gauging his direction, but the unfamiliar sky betrayed him. There was no sunset glow, only fading light giving way to twilight and, swiftly, to night. Under the starless desert sky, the heat vanished, leaving biting cold in its wake. As the temperature plummeted, the frigid air seemed intent on freezing him to death. Then, a sudden warmth rose from within his chest, banishing the chill instantly. Reaching into his pocket, Enkrid drew out the source¡ªa dagger emitting a faint crimson glow. "A dagger imbued with warmth," Hira had called it when she handed it to him. Its heat formed a thin barrier around him, shielding him from the cold. For now, he had warmth. But direction? That was still a problem. Enkrid inventoried his possessions: Acker and Gladius, his main weapons; Spark, his fairy sword; A set of throwing knives in a chest holster, one hidden blade strapped to his ankle, and lightweight armor crafted from spider shell. Lucky Fish, wasn''t it? There was also the preserved food, a bracelet gifted by Jiba''s mother, a composite bow made by a craftsman from Oara, and the glowing dagger. Finally, he had a dagger with a long central blood groove¡ªthe "Calamity Dagger," as it was called. It was nothing more than a token¡ªits blade unsharpened. Curses, supposedly, were devoured and scorched by the Ferryman, leaving it with little practical use. There was no tool to help guide him in the right direction. All he had were blades and preserved rations. Enkrid faced a choice: to move or to stay. But the answer was clear. If standing still changed nothing, movement was the essence of who Enkrid was. He began to walk, his steps deliberate and heavy. Starlight blanketed the sky, illuminating an endless expanse of sand. Though there was nothing but desert in sight, he trudged forward tirelessly for an entire night. The warmth from his dagger kept the cold at bay, a small mercy he was grateful for. As night turned to dawn, he tore pieces of his undergarments to wrap around his head. If the sun continued to rise unimpeded, his scalp and face would blister under its merciless heat. Even now, his skin was burning, and his neck felt scorched. By the time the sun rose again, he knew walking during the day was impossible. The cold at night was tolerable thanks to the dagger, so he decided to travel only under the stars, moving slowly and breathing deeply. Perhaps there was another way¡ªlike running with all his might, propelling himself beyond human limits by unleashing bursts of Will through his thigh muscles. Could he escape the desert in one fell swoop? And if he failed? How many bursts could he manage¡ªten, twenty? Assuming his body could withstand it, would that even suffice to cross the wasteland? No, such thoughts were folly. The best course was to conserve his strength, move steadily, and endure. As he walked, he contemplated the limits of human survival. People typically died after three days without water, but the exact threshold varied. Enkrid, with his remarkable stamina and patience, avoided overexertion. He neither sprinted recklessly nor wasted precious energy. Instead, he conserved every ounce of strength and moisture in his body, treading carefully. On the tenth day, a change broke the monotony: a sand dune appeared, peculiar enough to give him pause. The moment he stopped, a sharp object whizzed toward him. Instinctively, Enkrid drew his blade, deflecting the attack with a calculated sweep. Thud! A tail. To be precise, the tail of a scorpion-like beast emerged. With a loud roar, the creature burst from the sand. A magical beast or monster, but its appearance was oddly comforting. Enkrid briefly glimpsed countless attack trajectories. He could charge forward and cleave it with his sword or dodge and strike with a fiery thrust. However, each option would cost him stamina. Instead, Enkrid flicked his left hand, and the dagger he held flew through the air, piercing the scorpion''s head. Crack! The creature''s tough exoskeleton shattered, sending chunks of its blackened blood scattering. Adapted to desert life, its blood had solidified, not liquid but crystalline. Not that it mattered; monster blood was undrinkable anyway. If anything, the sight made his thirst worse. "I''m parched." His skin felt parched, too, rough and cracked. As Enkrid extended his hand, the dagger returned slowly, as if tugged back by an invisible thread. He tightened his grip, pulling it faster until it landed firmly in his hand. He admired its craftsmanship. A weapon this effective had been a waste to leave unused for so long. Gathering his scattered gear, he adjusted the bow slung over his back. Though it wasn''t heavy, it was cumbersome. He briefly questioned why he had brought it¡ªhe hadn''t even practiced archery. But as he used the monster''s shell to create a makeshift shade, the bow proved its worth as a frame for his cover. He reconsidered, realizing the bow had its uses, especially as it endured both heat and cold without issue. "Perhaps I could substitute it with Ember or the Gladius," he mused. But he didn''t discard it. By the twelfth day, his body exhibited clear signs of dehydration. His urine had turned black and reeked. His skin, dry and brittle, failed to regain its shape when pressed. His armor felt unbearably heavy, but abandoning it would mean succumbing to the day''s searing heat. His thirst was unrelenting, as though it constricted his very heart. His lips cracked and peeled, his skin shedding like bark stripped from a tree. "Like a molting snake," he thought grimly, staggering forward until dizziness overwhelmed him. "You are alone, surrounded by nothingness. What is solitude but torment? Such is the day you have chosen." The Ferryman''s voice echoed from afar, though there was no river, no boat, not even a lamp¡ªjust the haunting resonance of his words. Enkrid lacked the energy to respond, so he merely listened and opened his eyes, resuming his march. Time blurred, the days melting into an indistinguishable continuum of pain and delirium. He wandered aimlessly, directionless, knowing he might never escape the desert. The Ferryman had succeeded in his aim, yet Enkrid walked on, driven by sheer will. He was still human, after all. Without sustenance, even knights and squires were mortal. Yet, he resisted consuming his rations, knowing the salted fish would only worsen his thirst. His restraint was extraordinary. Despite legends of mirages, Enkrid saw none. His ironclad patience left no room for hallucinations. So, he walked, step after step, crossing countless thresholds of exhaustion. "It''s hot." When the sun''s rays burned through the gaps in his monster-shell cover, he finally collapsed, his consciousness fading. Even as he stood at the brink of death, his body, tempered by willpower and training, refused to yield. But Enkrid himself wasn''t entirely aware of his death. "Is this the same day?" The unchanging desert landscape made it impossible to distinguish one day from the next. He died on his feet, walking, yet his perception blurred the lines between death and another excruciating day. The Ferryman reappeared sporadically, sometimes laughing, other times offering pity. "Give up, and you''ll find peace," he urged, before vanishing once more. At times, faint voices echoed in his mind, fragments of unspoken conversations: "Hey, I can''t quite speak yet. If you''ve got any Will left, pour some more into me." Though incomprehensible, these murmurs spurred Enkrid onward, his instincts guiding his steps. "Today, this way." The desert was a land of no paths, its meaninglessness making the search for direction futile. Some whispered of desert guides, but even they rarely ventured into such inhospitable terrain. One day, a sandstorm consumed him; on another, dehydration claimed him. Each death was followed by more wandering. How many times had he died? How many days had passed in this endless torment? Living was agony, and dying brought no relief. ------------------------------------------------- Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 495 - Watering the Seeds of Growth Chapter 495 - 495 - Watering the Seeds of Growth Chapter 495 - Watering the Seeds of Growth "Let''s summon the Grime." On the fifteenth day since Enkrid''s disappearance, Rem spoke those words. He was already prepared to convince everyone. Grime, aside from being the name of a hero, was also the term for a black bird born of wishes, a form of invocation. There was a legend that, after a hero''s death, they reincarnated as a black bird to protect the West. Regardless, Rem decided it was time to take a drastic step. What is a wish? It is an intense thought and prayer. But did such desperation truly produce miracles? Not exactly. Summoning the bird of wishes wouldn''t instantly locate Enkrid, but it could reveal whether he was alive and provide a general direction. The problem lay in the cost¡ªthis ritual consumed precious food. Grime, whether hero or bird, was known for its insatiable appetite. Food had to be offered as a sacrifice. Rem thought, "It will be a harsh time if we go through with this, but we might endure." The inevitable hardship and scarcity awaited them. Still, this had to be done. If the West owed its life to this hero, then it was only right to honor him appropriately. That was the Western way. Before Rem could even begin to persuade, the chieftain nodded without hesitation. "Let me explain¡ª" Rem started but stopped mid-sentence, confused by the sudden agreement. "Yes. Let''s summon it," said the chieftain. Rem was taken aback. "Bring the shaman," the chieftain commanded. Ayul moved swiftly, followed by Juol, who had been sitting in the corner of the tent. Geonnara and Hira nodded deeply. "I will lead the ritual myself since our head shaman is bedridden," declared Hira. Even without her ritual tools, her eyes burned with intense resolve. While Rem possessed exceptional talent in battle-oriented magic, his ritualistic skill was coarse at best. Asking him to perform this delicate ceremony would be akin to making a request in an argumentative tone. It wasn''t something he could change. This required a proper shaman, and Hira volunteered, fully aware the ceremony could leave her bedridden for at least two weeks. Yet she showed no hesitation. "But if we use Grime now, what will you do later?" Rem asked, feigning concern over future repercussions. "We''ll deal with that when the time comes. The Sky God will provide," the chieftain replied, his unwavering faith evident in his gaze. A chieftain was supposed to consider the entire tribe''s well-being. Was risking the tribe''s safety for an outsider''s life wise? Even by the West''s principles of loyalty, this seemed excessive. Rem felt uneasy, recalling how summoning Grime had faced opposition in the past. It had been refused during the Great Tribal War. It was avoided when strange weather plagued the West. The bird of wishes was a last resort. Had they discovered some miraculous way to reduce the offering in his absence? Apparently not. A large bonfire was lit, and offerings piled high upon it. From lucky charms to precious food supplies, all were sacrificed. The shamans knelt around the flames, beginning their chants. "Nothing''s changed," muttered Rem. "What hasn''t?" asked the chieftain, his expression calm as he watched smoke begin to rise from the bonfire. "I mean, summoning the bird of wishes like this... Is it really okay?" The chieftain lowered his head briefly, his own wish joining the ritual, then raised it again to meet Rem''s eyes. "When there''s no other way, we must do whatever we can." Life for life. It was a common saying in the West. Gratitude must be repaid with gratitude, and the chieftain embodied this principle. So did the rest of the tribe. This was, after all, what Rem wanted. Still, it felt strange to see the same people who once opposed the idea now more eager than he was. Enkrid must have left a deep impression on them. Not just with words like "honored hero" or "savior," but by compelling the West to stake their entire tribe on finding him. Thick smoke rose, flames climbed higher, and soot gathered above, forming a solid shape in the sky. No one dared approach the fire. Entering the smoke meant certain death¡ªconvulsions, madness, and collapse followed by death. No one ventured close. Above the heads of the retreating tribespeople, the soot solidified. Fifty shamans invoked the bird of wishes. A deep caw echoed as black smoke formed wings and a beak. It was a breathtaking sight. The soot-bound bird hovered in the sky briefly before vanishing. That was enough. "He''s alive!" Hira exclaimed, before collapsing. The bird flew for three days, consuming all the tribe''s food. "There!" Hira shouted, pointing as she fainted. Rem followed her finger, looking toward the direction she indicated¡ªnot the deadly Sand River but slightly to its east. "What could possibly allow someone to survive the heart of the desert?" Rem''s mind raced. He knew the desert, not enough to roam freely, but enough to cross its deadly expanse. Some small tribes even lived near the desert''s heart. But escaping the center alive? That was another matter entirely. "Luck must be clinging to him like a second skin," thought Rem, realizing the bird had pinpointed the direction. Rem sighed, "There goes my chance to become a legend myself." "What nonsense are you muttering now?" Ayul scowled. "Nothing. We''d better prepare to welcome him back," Rem replied. He began walking in the direction the bird had shown. Enkrid, if he had indeed escaped, would likely be near death. Over a hundred Westerners followed Rem. "This is too many," Rem grumbled. "We''re all worried," someone replied. "As his future wife, I can''t stay behind!" another declared. "I can help if you''re in spiritual danger." "I just want to follow." Jiba''s mother, Jiba herself, an unnamed shaman, and even a warrior who was just decent at fighting. Every one of them did as they pleased. "Demonic charisma, huh." Luagarne mumbled beside him. At one time, Enkrid was called the Unit Commander of Demonic Charisma. Everyone seemed mesmerized by Enkrid back then. Here, too, the room was full of people under his spell. In a way, it was to be expected. Remembering and honoring those who fought for them was a Western tradition. But now they heard that the one who had saved them from threats and crises was himself in danger. How could they just sit idly by? "I don''t know either. Let''s just go with him." Rem spoke and led the way. *** "It was isolation," the ferryman said. Enkrid blinked. He instinctively knew it was a dream, though the setting felt different. Was it a reflection of the ferryman''s desire to torment him until the very end? Instead of the black river, everything was filled with sand. It was the river of sand he had seen when dying. Sand stretched endlessly in every direction, and a small ferry swayed as it scattered the grains. Was he supposed to be terrified at the sight of sand? Feel as if he were reliving a nightmare? But Enkrid felt nothing. A violet lamp cast its light over the sand, held by the ferryman, who spoke again. "You walked so well." Today''s ferryman seemed unusually solemn. Had he lived so long that his personality fragmented, or was he simply eccentric? Whoosh. The sand scattered, and the ferry swayed. It was then that Enkrid realized he was sitting on a stone chair with a backrest. The ferryman was seated in the same kind of chair. A stone table lay between them, and they sat opposite each other. The ferryman''s cracked gray skin and violet eyes were locked on Enkrid. Had he asked how well he walked? Of course, he walked well. Why wouldn''t he? "Despite having nothing to protect." "I did have something." Enkrid interrupted the ferryman''s words. The violet eyes stared at him intently. The ferryman''s gaze felt deeper and heavier, but Enkrid didn''t shy away. Before, looking into the ferryman''s eyes had made him feel a strange dizziness, but now he felt calm. Was he getting used to it? Perhaps. "I protected myself by never stopping." It was the simple truth. He hadn''t attached any specific purpose to walking, but over time, that thought took hold. Isolation, loneliness¡ªthose weren''t the important things. So, was there a meaning to this journey? Wouldn''t it be easier to endure and settle for less hardship? Then why walk at all? Why? Because living uncomfortably was better than dying comfortably. He''d arrived at his own answer. It wasn''t a profound revelation¡ªjust his usual line of thought. It wasn''t the source of his will or anything lofty. If he''d wanted to give a simple answer, he could have just said, "I walked." The steps he took to escape the sand were all for himself. Enkrid spoke, and after a brief silence, the ferryman muttered: "...A path to protect yourself." To Enkrid, the ferryman''s voice sounded as if it came from a great distance. Then the voice faded further, the sand transformed into black water, and the ferry dispersed like smoke. Enkrid felt himself floating, rising upward toward a light. Droplets of water fell, trickling through the light. A searing pain began, as if a plow had scraped his throat. The brightness made him shut his eyes tightly. When he opened them again, he was awake. "Awake, are you?" A face came into view, and Enkrid felt the burning pain in his throat. Yet he had to speak. "Still dreaming?" His voice was as rough as his aching throat. Was this still part of the ferryman''s trickery? Had the environment shifted again, just like the sand river in the dream? Reality still felt distant and surreal. "I was just as surprised, Captain." The person speaking triggered a memory in Enkrid''s mind¡ªone of his former subordinates. Enri, a plains hunter who had retired to start a life with a widowed florist. Some memories were too vivid to fade. "What are you doing here?" His words were short. Speaking felt more exhausting than swinging a sword for three days straight. The scorching desert heat and cold nights had drained his stamina relentlessly, the sweat loss leading to dehydration. Even knights would be risking suicide if they entered the Western desert unprepared. Sure, a skilled knight might survive, but even then, the desert could kill them. For Enri, deserts were places where even knights met their end. Yet somehow, out of that very desert, Enkrid had emerged, half-dead. "If I started explaining why I''m here, it''d fill two books." Enkrid nodded faintly and immediately passed out. Enri, seeing his captain collapse, fetched water and tidied the area. They were in a village near an oasis on the desert''s edge. The low walls reflected the fact that this area was free of most monsters and beasts. Criminals and hunters gathered in this place. Enri''s reason for being here was simple: Krona. After being rejected by the florist, he had briefly worked as a caravan guard. His archery skills, cautious nature, and reliability had earned him a good reputation. With time, he developed an eye for trade routes and heard stories about the West. They said a few gemstones could change your fortune. Could that be true? Of course, stories tend to get exaggerated the more they''re passed along. Still, after much inquiry, he concluded that while fortunes weren''t guaranteed, obtaining rare gems or Western goods through hunting could provide enough capital for business. So he had invested all his savings into buying a Belopter and ventured here. Enri wasn''t one to rely on sheer luck. He had studied animal behavior and prepared extensively. He was determined to start anew, maybe even fulfill his dream of forming a trading caravan. That was when he stumbled upon Enkrid. It was a place where skeletal monsters frequently appeared, born from the deaths of adventurers and treasure hunters who had ventured unprepared into the desert. Amidst it all, Enkrid emerged. At first, Enri thought he might be a monster himself. The hollow eyes and withered appearance resembled a mummified corpse. But his eyes¡ªsharp and vivid blue¡ªhad life. "What on earth happened here?" Despite his confusion, Enri didn''t hesitate to abandon his search for a rare fox gemstone to save Enkrid. One look into those eyes, and he recognized him instantly. The equipment and demeanor had changed, but it was unmistakable. Sometimes, a single encounter leaves a lasting imprint, unforgettable for life. Why save him? His body moved before his mind could reason it out. Once upon a time, this man had saved Enri''s life, and he owed him a debt. There were no regrets. Two days later, Enkrid opened his eyes again. By then, Rem and the Westerners had arrived at the small oasis village. "I thought you were dead," someone remarked. Enkrid, whose throat had improved, replied: "Nearly was." In truth, he had died countless times, but they wouldn''t know that. To them, he seemed like someone blessed by fortune itself. "Oh, honorable lucky hero!" The chieftain gave him the bizarre nickname. Enkrid didn''t take it seriously. He simply reflected on what he had realized during his solitary journey. Isolation, loneliness¡ªthose were mere words. The ferryman had urged him to walk in solitude, yet out of habit, he had treated it like training. When he woke, he realized that something had shifted. Through the knight''s strike and his experiences, a new understanding had emerged. How would he walk the path of a knight? The answer had become clear. Clearer than ever before. Wandering the desert had made it so. The experience was like watering the seeds of growth within him. --------------------------------------------------------- Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 496 - Recovery and Beyond Chapter 496 - 496 - Recovery and Beyond Chapter 496 - Recovery and Beyond Should I call this a gift from the ferryman? No, that wouldn''t be right. After all, the ferryman didn''t push me into the desert. Then, should I call it a gift from that shaman whose split head I split open before I took flight? No, none of that was true. It was chance and luck. But if I put it another way, it was possible because of all the desperate efforts I''d made to seize opportunities until now. Enkrid stopped mulling over it and stood up. He wanted to test something with his body, but first, he needed to restore it fully. The "Regeneration Body," as it was called, endlessly reborn. Thus, movement would only improve his condition. This wasn''t based on any scientific theory, just an instinctual feeling. At least he wasn''t in excruciating pain anymore. As he began eating porridge and sipping water, he felt himself gradually stabilizing. "You really shouldn''t move yet," Enri warned from the side, trying to dissuade him. "I think I''ll be fine," Enkrid replied, shaking his head. "Is this just extraordinary recovery, or do you have Frog blood from your ancestors?" "It''s the result of constant training," Enkrid answered matter-of-factly. Though true, to Enri, it merely sounded like a joke. It wasn''t as if someone who narrowly escaped death by dehydration could recover in two days and walk around briskly by the third. Still, there didn''t seem to be any issues with him moving. Stretching his arms and bending his waist to loosen his muscles, Enkrid noticed some Westerners nearby nodding in acknowledgment. "You''re moving already?" "Seems like it." "As expected." The Westerners had taken up residence here, and no one was in a position to argue with them. At first, there had been resistance, but not anymore. This small oasis village, unnamed and barely fortified with low walls, was now effectively under the control of the Westerners. A single fight had sealed that outcome. The village had been a haven for criminals fleeing from the continent or outcasts from the West. Despite the presence of an oasis, it was too small and desolate, sustained only by scraps from the desert. To the west lay the desert, to the east, barren wastelands. A handful of foolish locals, unable to resist their habits, had cast lustful glances at some of the Western women and made lewd advances. "Hey, don''t you know you need to pay a toll to stay here?" This remark came from the deputy leader of a gang that had occupied the oasis and formed a crime guild. Perhaps the Westerners'' shabby equipment and emaciated appearances made them seem easy targets¡ªor perhaps the man was simply an idiot. Living near the West should have taught him how ruthless Westerners could be. To Rem, both ignorance and audacity were unforgivable. So, without a word, he swung his axe. Enkrid hadn''t witnessed it, but according to Enri, it was like watching an axe perform tricks¡ªsplitting the man''s head before returning to Rem''s hand. At that time, Enkrid was still unconscious. "Awake now?" When Rem had finished securing the village, Enkrid woke for the third time, only to find Rem''s face looming over him. He momentarily wondered if he was trapped in a nightmare. "Am I dreaming?" Speaking felt much easier now, thanks to Enri''s devoted care. "Had a bad dream?" Rem asked, showing no sign of concern. "No." "Then what are you talking about?" "Move your face out of mine." "Damn, is that how you greet someone who came to check on you?" "Yes." From behind, Ayul tugged on Rem and added, "It''s not an unreasonable request." In truth, Rem hadn''t been that close; it was just his way of showing concern. Even so, Rem eventually smirked. "Did you enjoy the desert?" "It was... interesting." It wasn''t a joke¡ªit was sincere. Wandering the desert had shown him a new path. Later, Luagarne mentioned that a Bird had led the Westerners here, and Dunbakel remarked she knew he wouldn''t die, idling nearby. After three more days of light training, stretching his body, the Western chieftain approached Rem and Ayul, informing them it was time for their people to leave. "We must return to our original lives now." Without demanding or expecting anything in return, the chieftain led the Westerners away. Despite their haggard appearances and meager provisions, their demeanor remained dignified. Gurgle. The chieftain''s stomach growled audibly as they departed, but Enkrid pretended not to hear it. "Come visit us again," said Geonnara, stopping by before leaving. "This time, I''ll show you the taste of magic." "Why not now?" Enkrid replied. "I''ll spare you, for the sake of your health." For some reason, Enkrid imagined Rem speaking in the same tone when he grew older. "Sounds good." "Indeed." With a firm punch to Enkrid''s chest, Geonnara bid him farewell. One by one, familiar faces exchanged goodbyes. Jiba, however, was in tears. "Don''t forget me, my dearest husband." To which Luagarne immediately retorted, "Who''s your husband?" "My purity belongs to you," Jiba declared. Ignoring Luagarne''s protests, Jiba repeated her vow. "Since when?" "I''ll never forget you. I''ll come back for you." "Don''t run off aimlessly, or you''ll end up as a monster''s meal." Their back-and-forth sounded like a comedy routine. Watching the Westerners leave, Enkrid silently reflected. Though they''d burned all their rations in the search for him, they left without showing any signs of superiority. Perhaps that was just their way. But listening to Rem''s words suggested otherwise. "They think what the captain did for them was greater. Westerners value what''s owed." Enkrid felt that what he had received was indeed greater. After all, he still owed Rem. Once the Westerners were gone, Enkrid spent half his days practicing the Isolation technique and the other half meditating. During meditation, he replayed his recent experiences, not to dwell on pain but to analyze his actions during those moments when his mind was half gone. It wasn''t a fight or a battle, but¡ª "There''s something to learn from everything visible." That''s what someone once told him, though he couldn''t recall who. It was true nonetheless. As he walked through the desert, when his body felt drained of strength, how had he managed to take another step? He''d briefly wondered if he should have pushed harder when he still had strength. But Enkrid quickly brushed away such distractions, channeling his energy into his legs instead. He''d pushed beyond his limits. Even in total exhaustion, he''d moved forward, step by step. How? Through will. Through Will. "Everything is Will." Moving forward was Will. Swinging a sword with the intent to cut was also Will. Semi knights use only a fraction of Will. But what about knights? The words of Reavart, the false knight under Count Molsan, came to mind. "Master each skill to a knight''s level." He believed this and modified his own body, becoming a Chimera Knight. But did that make him a true knight? No, it did not. So why did he make such a choice? It was likely because he focused on what changed when handling Will. Enkrid didn''t know Rievart, but he seemed to understand the desires and ambitions Rievart harbored. I want to become a knight. Why is this forbidden to me? Even after swinging a sword day and night, why can''t I achieve it? Starting from desire and reaching despair, Rievart must have noticed something different. When faced with the question, What sets a knight apart?, he proposed things like strength and speed. But Will is something intangible that allows one to surpass human limits. Enkrid went beyond the premise of mastering each skill to a knight''s level. What if I imbue every action with Will? To mimic the strike of a knight, he infused Will from the tips of his toes to his fingertips. What was the principle behind it? Did he know? He didn''t. Yet, he managed to imitate a knight''s strike. Eat, sleep, fight. Could one imbue Will from the moment they rise until they lie down? Would doing so change anything? It was a sudden thought, a conclusion drawn while wandering the desert. What if he imbued Will even into the Isolation technique? From the process of intent and the rise of willpower to the execution of movements, nothing came easy. It wasn''t something he could do just because he wanted to. But that didn''t matter. Enkrid excelled at taking one step forward, no matter the challenge. He found a proper clue, grasped it, and all that was left was to move forward. This reassurance allowed him to focus. Still, it wasn''t the only thing he needed to do. Rem was waiting for him as well. "Let me know when you''re ready." They had said things would change once the curse was found. Only someone inhuman wouldn''t wonder how much things had changed. "Spend more time with Ayul." Once his body healed, it would be time to return. Ayul, too, would have to leave. "Don''t worry. I will wait patiently. If Rem dies, please let me know. I need to mourn properly." Rem nodded at Ayul''s blessings for her still-living husband. "Yeah, if I die, go find another man. But I wonder if there''s anyone out there who fights better than me?" Ayul''s ideal type had been unwavering since childhood¡ªa man capable of knocking her down. Even scouring the Westerners, such a man would be rare. "If not, I''ll raise one myself." Ayul replied casually. Perhaps this was simply the Westerner way, or maybe it was because Ayul and Rem were male and female versions of the same person. Focused on recovery, Enkrid returned to meditation, repeating the same actions. He wasn''t certain if the methods he found were correct. But even if they were wrong, it wouldn''t change much. When had he ever walked a path knowing where it led? From crawling to walking, he''d eventually stood up and marched forward, finding signposts along the way. Even when there were no markers, he had pressed on. Enkrid stayed in the oasis for another week. During that time, Rem summoned some Westerners and proposed forming a trade caravan. Thanks to this, the twins returned to the oasis. "If you draw too much water from this oasis, it''ll dry up quickly. It''s not particularly valuable land," said the twins. Surrounded by nothing but desert and wasteland, it held no value in their eyes. Enri stepped in to explain. "It does have value." "What kind?" "How so?" The twins turned their heads in unison, a curious sight to most, but unsettling for Enri. These two were Westerners who might toss their spears at any moment. Enri believed that successfully trading from here to a commercial city could yield substantial profits. His conclusion was based on his experiences wandering about. Not everything would go as planned, but he was willing to help Enkrid if needed. In the midst of this, Enri received a composite bow that seemed undeniably valuable. "Take it." Recalling the moment he received the bow, Enri continued while holding it. "We could sell desert lizard hides or obsidian from here." "Where to?" "If we take them to the southern trade cities, the profits would be significant." "And where are those?" To the twins, the location was somewhere unfamiliar, deep in the southeastern continent. Beyond Naurilia, even further southeast, was a southern superpower with a trade city-state at the confluence of a large river. Enkrid had only heard of it, but Enri seemed to have worked there before. While long-distance trade was nearly impossible due to monsters and magical beasts, there were rare successes. Sometimes, circumstances and vision aligned. Enri had both. Missing the jeweled fox led to something bigger falling into his lap. Even the composite bow he now held was likely more valuable than the fox''s gem-adorned ears. Enri calmly explained while Enkrid warmed up beside him. After a week of rest and abundant water, Enkrid felt strength returning to his hands. "Rem, come out here. I''ll break that cocky nose of yours." Enkrid called for Rem in a tone that was both kind and taunting. Yawning and scratching his cheek, Rem stepped outside. "Oh, today, huh? No crying or complaining about pain after I beat you, alright?" Enkrid adjusted his grip on Aker and looked ahead. He intended to fight and find out just how effective that so-called curse truly was. At a glance, Rem seemed unchanged. For a moment, Enkrid forgot how devious Rem could be. That was his mistake. Whoosh! Without any stance or preparation, an axe flew straight at Enkrid, nearly reaching his nose. In that instant, Enkrid realized this axe was twice as fast as before. He raised Aker to deflect it. Clang! Instead of bouncing off, the axe vibrated with a metallic hum as it slid along Aker, splitting into eight blades mid-flight. It was then that Enkrid finally saw Rem clearly. Behind him, a faint, blue beast-like aura loomed, poised to pounce. ----------------------------------------------- Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 497 - The Chieftain Wept Once More Chapter 497 - 497 - The Chieftain Wept Once More Chapter 497 - The Chieftain Wept Once More Bang! Enkrid instinctively swung his sword, Aker, in a diagonal slash from lower left to upper right. In that fleeting moment, he saw Rem smiling. With a deafening roar, concentric rings of dust spread between the two, sending onlookers stumbling backward and landing hard on their backsides. The axe and sword clashed, their gazes locking through the crossed weapons¡ªblue eyes meeting gray. "You managed to block that?" Rem asked, his wild grin exuding a feral energy, as though he might rip out Enkrid''s throat at any moment. "Was I supposed to let you hit me?" Enkrid shot back. Rumble. As Enkrid responded, his foot slid slightly backward, a small rock under his heel cracking apart. Neither man eased their grip, the intensity of their clash unwavering. Inwardly, Rem was impressed. That axe strike just now had been comparable to Oara''s swordsmanship. The technique was different, but the strength it conveyed was unmistakable: the blow of a knight. And Enkrid had blocked it¡ªnot simply with a knight''s power, but through an intricate combination of strength and skill. He had raised his sword to absorb the impact, letting part of the force flow through his solid wrist while bending his knees and ankles to distribute the remaining force. Normally, such a blow would have shattered the wrist, leaving bones jutting through flesh. But Enkrid''s muscular arms and robust tendons compensated for any imperfections in his deflection technique. It was beyond impressive, a feat surpassing even the deceptive tricks of a knight''s strike. Against the ghouls they had faced before, Enkrid would now hold his ground with ease. How could Rem not admire that? "Don''t die on me, now," Rem said, his grin widening as his canines seemed to grow longer. Suddenly, Enkrid lost sight of the axe. The keen perception that allowed him to predict his opponent''s moves faltered. He knew from experience that hesitation would lead to death¡ªhis first lesson on the battlefield. Bracing himself, he tuned into the primal rhythm of his heart. Raising Aker vertically, he sharpened his senses to the point where he could pinpoint a needle dropped on the sand. This was sensory art, and his razor-sharp intuition identified the axe''s trajectory: upper left. Enkrid stepped his right foot slightly back and raised his sword to intercept. Before his elbows had fully extended, sword met axe once more. Clang! The resounding clash echoed again. Enkrid twisted his sword to deflect, aiming to counter, but Rem extended a leg, thrusting it like a spear. Boom! The kick hit Enkrid squarely in the stomach, the impact bursting the air like an explosion. Though Enkrid narrowly twisted his body to avoid fatal damage, his armor tore apart, as though reduced to rags by Rem''s kick. Armor crafted from beast hide, which had withstood countless sword strikes, had been shredded. "Yee-haw!" Rem yelled, his voice intoxicated with exhilaration. His axe blurred, transforming into a streak of light. Once again, Enkrid responded. Igniting the heart of the beast, he brought his sword down, utilizing a technique honed through repetition. A method to deflect weapons¡ªmatching the opponent''s angle and diverting their trajectory mid-swing, combining the finesse of a flowing blade with the force of a heavy strike. Thud! The axe and sword collided again, but this time the impact felt oddly light. At that moment, another blade flashed toward Enkrid''s neck. Swish! Enkrid leaned back, seeing the thin line in the air where the weapon had sliced through. In Rem''s left hand, a karambit¡ªa curved Western-style dagger¡ªhad appeared. The reversed grip covered Rem''s mouth, but his eyes were visible, the upturned corners hinting at a grin beneath. Stopping meant death. The Enkrid who once closed his eyes in the face of death was long gone. He immediately swung his sword, connecting the dots to form a downward slash, transforming into a white bolt of lightning. "Heeya!" With a wild cry, Rem swung his axe upward to meet the descending lightning. The Result of the Duel? Enkrid lost. But it wasn''t without resistance. "How was that?" Enkrid asked, brushing off sweat, dust, and hair stuck to his face. "You''re not bad," he replied with his usual unshakable confidence, regardless of winning or losing. This wasn''t a fight to the death but a sparring session¡ªone where he had learned a lot. No, more than that, he had witnessed something truly unique. Why doesn''t this lunatic have any preparatory movements? "It''s called feathered axe play," Rem said, laughing. "A little different from when I toy around." The axe spun lightly in his hands, seemingly weightless, though Enkrid, having just faced it, knew better. If Rem called that lightweight Lewis Mountain axe a toy, the craftsman who forged it might be devastated. Yet Rem appeared euphoric, reveling in yet another victory over Enkrid, as though it were his first. "I am the great hero Rem!" "Best sorcerer? Forget the flattery." "One more round? Come at me anytime!" "Haha, what? Of course, I''m solid as a rock!" "Feathered axe play isn''t something you can just learn. You''d need to start with sorcery, but never mind¡ªit''d be useless for you anyway." Resting his hands on his hips, Rem prattled on, his words flowing freely. Though Enkrid remained silent, Rem seemed perfectly content with his one-sided conversation. But why did he tilt his head skyward, as if aiming to outshine the heavens? "Lua." "Yes?" Lagarne, often seized by shivers lately, answered Enkrid''s question. "Where''s the nearest temple?" Watching Rem in his overexcited state, Enkrid concluded that his head had broken under the influence of sorcery. Perhaps Audin''s style of healing¡ªwith a hammer¡ªwas precisely what Rem needed. "Hahaha!" Rem continued laughing uproariously. Is beating me really that exciting? Enkrid wondered, though he felt no shame in defeat. He simply sought to learn and reflect, just as always. "Hahaha! Let''s go again!" "Alright, let''s see what I can learn." "Just one technique? I''ll teach you twenty!" Rem lifted his chin so high that only his jaw was visible. He had always seemed half-crazy, but now he was entirely unhinged. That day, they sparred three more times. The watching twins were awestruck by Enkrid''s relentless attempts and his falls to the ground. Luagarne shivered while pondering what to say to Enkrid. Dunbakel, meanwhile, regarded Rem with a grave expression, knowing his exhilaration might soon affect her too. "Wait, you damned idiot! I''ll slit your throat!" Rem roared. Although he had been seeking sorcery for ages, it seemed he had only now decided to proclaim it. Enkrid had long thought Rem abnormal, but now he was convinced: the man was utterly insane¡ªa lunatic with no need for further qualifiers. "Captain, isn''t that Rem a bit dangerous?" With curiosity gnawing at him, he approached Enkrid and cautiously asked. Enkrid responded with a question of his own. "Are you a noble, by any chance?" "Huh? Of course not." Why would a noble even be here, hunting like this? "Then it''s fine." How does that make sense? "He''s less likely to target you if you''re not a noble." Enri frowned at Enkrid''s additional comment, struggling to grasp its meaning. It wasn''t that Enkrid had a clear answer¡ªit was simply a casual remark borne out of his own contemplations. Rem''s axe swings were unlike anything he had ever encountered. How does he manage it? Despite lacking preparatory movements, the sheer force behind his strikes exceeded even the strength of the Heart of the Beast. Having been imbued with some sorcery, his strength and speed had both increased dramatically. His observational skills, too, were sharper, with every aspect of him seemingly enhanced. He resembled a knight wielding "Will." That much made sense. But what was with those axe strikes that came out of nowhere? They completely disrupted any attempts to read ahead. There was no room for tactical maneuvering. Understanding everything wasn''t possible just by analyzing it. It was a process of inferring steps based on outcomes, but even that wasn''t easy. Simply seeing a masterful swordplay technique, like Oara''s strikes or Shinar''s precision with energy, didn''t mean it could be replicated. Through deep contemplation, Enkrid began to grasp the principle behind Rem''s axe swings¡ªit was nothing but raw instinct. The same method he''d always used, which allowed Enkrid to notice the pattern. "Without thought, there''s no visible attack line." Rem struck, slashed, and broke things as he saw them, trusting solely in his combat instincts. "As soon as his mind moves, so does his hand." That overwhelming strength allowed him to wield his axe like a twig, making it impossible for opponents to respond before the axe landed. Every single strike followed that principle. Not only his axe¡ªhis entire body moved this way. Arms, legs¡ªhis whole being was a weapon. Could such mastery come from sorcery alone? No way. Time spent honing his body, moments of awakening techniques, all layered beneath the sorcery that enhanced him. Sorcery was a tool that supported what Rem sought to achieve. What about "Will"? It was likely the same. Simply possessing Will wouldn''t make everything possible. The body still had to move to execute an action. Adding what he learned from Rem to his earlier realizations, Enkrid rose from his seat. The three sparring sessions they''d had were far from the end. There would be more to learn, and time for that awaited him. The sheer thought thrilled him so much that he burst into laughter. "Hahaha!" Unable to suppress his joy, he laughed aloud. "Ha! Hahaha! You damn stray cat, I''m coming for you!" Beside him, Rem threw his head back, laughing wildly. "Kurrrr!" Nearby, Luagarne puffed her cheeks in exhilaration. "Nya-haha-ha!" The disheveled beastwoman laughed along, contagious in their mirth. Rem didn''t feel threatened by any hostility from Enkrid, and everything seemed to fall into place naturally. Watching them, Enri briefly wondered if trusting Enkrid and going along with his plans was the right choice. "Is this really okay?" He didn''t know. The dice had already been cast. As Enkrid tended to the chipped blade of Aker, he found three new nicks from Rem''s relentless axe swings. He''d need a good whetstone to repair it. "By the way, are you really okay with giving away that bow?" Rem, now calm, brought up the rare gift Enri had received¡ªa precious and meaningful object. "Considering he saved my life, I think the giver would understand." Enkrid replied while applying linseed oil to his sword. The bow wasn''t suited to him¡ªhe lacked the physique, interest, and training for archery. He wasn''t entirely clueless about shooting, but it held no value to him. It was far better as a payment for saving his life. "When are you leaving?" "At dawn tomorrow." *** After a restful night, Enkrid prepared thoroughly in the morning, eating a hearty meal and packing supplies. Enri stayed behind with a Belopter he''d purchased at great expense, viewing it as a symbol of fortune. After all, the Belopter had seemingly sniffed out the scent of luck, leading him to save Enkrid''s life. "It was good seeing you again." "We''ll meet again, right?" "Huh? Oh, yes. If all goes well, I''ll stop by Border Guard." Once a hunter, Enri now sported a clean-cut look that gave him a respectable appearance. "But why are you even here, Enri?" Rem asked the question just as it was time to part. Enri chuckled sheepishly, but Enkrid answered bluntly. "Heartbreak." "Ah." Rem nodded. He''d been dumped. "...Captain, being rejected by a widow was just the tipping point. It''s about finding new purpose while traveling." Enri tried to explain, but no one listened. He was now a man who had found a new calling through heartbreak. "Let''s go, then. Twins, help Enri out." The twins nodded, and Rem turned to Ayul. "Don''t forget to notify me if he kicks the bucket." Ayul addressed Enkrid, standing behind Rem, who hesitated before replying. "Do I look like the dying type?" "Take care!" Ayul responded in a lighthearted tone, but the sentiment behind it wasn''t shallow. Both carried an air of mutual trust, unmarred by sorrow or fear. They knew their paths would cross again, bound by a shared belief in one another. Ayul gave Rem a brief embrace. "I''ll name the child myself." "Make it a good one." "I will." Enkrid couldn''t discern whether their bond was of friendship, love, or mutual understanding. All he cared about was practical alternatives should things go awry. "If it doesn''t work out, come live at Border Guard." "I have too much to do in the west." Ayul replied somberly, knowing full well the magnitude of tasks ahead, starting with the food crisis. "Let''s go." Rem led the way, followed by Enkrid, Luagarne, and Dunbakel. It was time to return. "What is this?" The chieftain of the Narai Tribe stared at the stack of smoked ham, dried fruit, and vegetables before him. The merchant who had transported it here answered from behind his bodyguards. "A gift from His Majesty, the wise and honorable king of Naurilia, as well as the Rockfreed Trading Company under Border Guard." "Why?" The merchant blinked. Why indeed? He was just following orders. Transporting this had been exhausting. "It seems General Enkrid sent word requesting aid." Through his connections, Enkrid had handed letters to those traversing the western lands and the continent. Krang and Krais handled the details, ensuring food supplies were sent after meticulous planning. Realizing the situation, the chieftain wept. Though summer was ending, they were far from ready to resume their nomadic ways. Starvation loomed, with death from hunger a distinct possibility. Grazing animals needed to roam for fresh pastures, yet maintaining livestock required more resources than they had. Such worries vanished with this delivery. "His Majesty also wishes to establish diplomatic ties. Please accept." "Gladly." The chieftain, weeping, nodded. The merchant, baffled by the display, couldn''t understand why the man cried so much. In the distant future, the chieftain would be interred in sacred ground, with the epitaph "Chieftain of Tears" engraved on his tombstone. But that was a tale for another time. For now, the chieftain wept once more. ------------------------------------------------- Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 498 - Autumn Arrives Chapter 498 - 498 - Autumn Arrives Chapter 498 - Autumn Arrives The way back was similar to when they had come. Watching the crackling campfire, they occasionally trained with Rem. In the meantime, Enkrid focused on repeating what he had learned and reflecting on his previous realizations. Had he really mastered something just because he understood it? That wasn''t the case. ''How can I use Will in every moment, even while sleeping?'' It required contemplation. He needed to think, experiment, and try various things. Not everything would go as planned, but there was no need to rush. It was one of those nights spent camping in the wilderness¡ªsurrounded by the warm fire, people, the bright moon and stars, all casting their light, while they sat around the fire, speaking softly. "It''ll rain in a few days, maybe three or four at most," Rem said. Translated into the continent''s language, it meant it was going to rain. It was the season when the heat faded and seasonal rains fell. The rain would likely fall in sporadic drops over several days before pouring down heavily again. The heaviest downpour was still a little way off. "Ugh, rain," Dunbakel grumbled. She disliked rain. Not because she had a condition like combat fatigue, but simply because she didn''t like water. It was just her preference. Most beastkin didn''t enjoy washing, but Dunbakel seemed to be especially averse to it. They had already finished their sparring, and as they walked along, they came across a small stream, cleaned their dishes, and even took a quick bath. They could have stopped by Thousand Stone, but since they were on their way back, they chose to camp. There were no issues with that. Luagarne took care of his own meals, and Dunbakel diligently hunted animals. She even managed to catch a large deer, so they feasted. The cooking was handled by Rem or Enkrid, making it quite a nice meal for a field ration. "You sent someone west, right?" Rem asked after the talk about the rain. "Because they said food was running low," Enkrid replied, slicing off a piece of roasted deer thigh from the one he had caught yesterday and placing it in his mouth. With some salt and seasoning from the west, the meat became savory and flavorful. It made Rem realize once again that Enkrid was surprisingly meticulous. He had been like this even back when he was a squad leader¡ªtaking care of the bothersome tasks and always starting by respecting others. ''He also listened well,'' Rem thought. Was it just that Enkrid endured and that was why everyone accepted him as their leader? No, it wasn''t just that. Enkrid was good at listening to others, whether it was his own words, or those from lost travelers, stray cats, or even religious zealots. Even now, he listened carefully. It was a calm night under the stars with the moon shining brightly, and there had been no monsters to deal with, so they had all spent the day without needing to use their bodies. They hadn''t spoken much but, when Rem asked about the person Enkrid had sent to the west, he explained that it was to bring back food. By now, the person should have arrived, and the chieftain was probably lamenting, since he had always been someone who became sentimental easily. "And I''m thinking of heading back first," Dunbakel suddenly said. Enkrid didn''t ignore her words, listening carefully. Rem, who had been reflecting on how he had beaten up a beastkin during their sparring the previous day, wondered if Dunbakel had just been tired of being hit. ''Does she just want to stop getting hit?'' Though he wanted to dismiss it, Enkrid was the first to respond. "Are you?" His tone was casual. The firelight cast a red glow on Dunbakel''s face, her white hair and golden eyes illuminated by both the fire and the bright moonlight. The flames seemed to reach up toward the sky as the night grew still. "The east. I''m going to the east," Dunbakel said. "Why the east?" Enkrid asked, turning the skewer with the deer''s thigh over the fire. Dunbakel wasn''t exactly fluent in speech, but she was direct in her response. "I think I can learn something by going under the king of the east." She wanted to learn more. Who would understand her best ? Did she really need to go there? Couldn''t she do everything she wanted here? Enkrid thought of many things to say but could tell from the thoughtful look on Dunbakel''s face that she had likely been considering this for some time. He wondered if she had been contemplating it during their earlier silence. "Go ahead," Enkrid said, nodding after meeting her gaze. "Do you think there won''t be anyone nagging you there?" Rem chimed in. "It''s not to escape the nagging. And I''ll be back," Dunbakel replied. She had built up her sense of self-worth, using her days of fleeing, surviving, and denying herself as a way to prove she wasn''t wrong¡ªthat she had the right to be born, to live, and to keep living. She wanted to show the world that. It was a form of proof. Dunbakel had always only known how to fight, so she had to be good at it. But simply being good at it wasn''t enough. The reason she was leaving was clear¡ªit was Enkrid who had provided the motivation. She had initially seen him as a man to be desired, but now, it wasn''t that at all. Now, he was the unquenchable light. The problem was that her own skills weren''t enough. What good was a beastkin whose fighting ability was weak? Was she still hoping to prove herself as a "woman"? ''No, I don''t want that.'' Dunbakel was honest with herself. She didn''t want to prove herself as a woman¡ªnot at least right now. Her experience in the city of Oara had helped her grow, and that was the reason she was leaving. In the east, there was a monster who had risen to become a knight as a beastkin. Dunbakel instinctively realized that the king of the east was a beastkin, and he would be the perfect role model for her. She would learn his skills, even if she had to steal them. It would be the right opportunity. There, in the harsh terrain, she could face death and survive. That was her short-term goal. Once she returned, she would stand by Enkrid, proving herself. Enkrid''s dream was grand and difficult, but no matter the result, she wanted to stand by him, a sword in hand. It was her long-term goal. That was the way she would prove herself. "Good luck with that," Rem said with a sneer. "Unhinged barbarian," Dunbakel muttered bluntly. "Fine, let''s just fight again then. A sparring match, huh?" Rem said, getting up and cracking his knuckles. "Let it be," Enkrid interjected. Rem wasn''t really intending to strike Dunbakel. Her complaints were something that could be indulged once in a while. "The road to the east is long." Enkrid explained the path he knew. Dunbakel had her own plan. "I''ll stop by Martai to resupply," she said. "Sometimes you actually use what''s above your neck, huh?" Rem remarked, impressed. "Yeah, unlike some people." Dunbakel finally got hit on the head. Enkrid chuckled. "Laughing at others getting hit is a bad habit." Was it from the time of Oara? At some point, Dunbakel started blurting out her thoughts. "If you do that in the East, a lot of people might try to kill you," Enkrid honestly expressed his concern. "If I couldn''t say anything, I wouldn''t even go to the East," Dunbakel replied, her resolve unwavering. "True. If you''ve chosen a path, you should walk it." Luagarne, while rummaging through the campfire, spoke up. The crackling of the fire sent sparks soaring into the night sky. Some dreams were like those sparks¡ªflashing brightly for a moment before fading away. But knowing that wouldn''t stop anyone. That''s why Enkrid supported Dunbakel''s choice. Whether she went East or anywhere else, if that''s what she desired, then that''s the right path. The night grew deep. The three humans, one beast, and one Frog lay down by the fire to sleep. The moonlight was especially beautiful and bright tonight. If someone were to capture this moment in a painting, it might look like a poetic scene. Amidst that warmth, Rem spoke. "Smelly beastkin, want to die? It''s your watch." Dunbakel groaned and got up. "I forgot." "Prideful." "Not prideful, anyone could forget." "...You''re not wrong, but why do I feel like hitting you?" "Because you''re violent by nature. You can''t be satisfied without hitting someone." "Rem." Before Rem could reach for her axe, Enkrid intervened and closed his eyes. Despite just narrowly escaping death, Dunbakel hummed a tune. The soft melody merged with the crackling of the fire, a perfect lullaby. When is the peak of a typical human''s life? Giants are said to be at their peak from birth to death. Frogs are most faithful to their desires in their prime. That was true. Luagarne recently noticed an improvement in her combat style and overall abilities. Humans are said to have a short peak, but their fire burns bright. Fairies or dwarves may not find the idea of a prime meaningful, but for humans, given their short lifespans, youth is often considered the peak. More specifically, for humans and beastkin, youth is considered the peak of life¡ªbetween their twenties and thirties, or at most by forty. But do humans continue to grow after thirty? ''Yes.'' That''s why Luagarne considered that every peak was different. And there was proof right in front of her. Enkrid, though in his mid-thirties, was still growing and shining brighter than ever. The peak of a knight''s career would have different standards, and perhaps that would define Enkrid''s future. This thought continued to fuel Luargrne''s ''thing''¡ªher drive. "It''s fun," she said while walking. "What''s fun?" Enkrid asked. Instead of answering, Luagarne began to teach. "Is every knight the same?" The question sparked a glimmer in Enkrid''s eyes. It was an interesting question. He wasn''t really curious about what was fun, but that could be asked later. If Enkrid didn''t want to answer, he wouldn''t have to. "Each one is different," Enkrid replied, drawing from his own experiences. "It''s what the Knight of Writing established. Want to hear about it?" The Knight of Writing was a historically famous knight, known for both writing and composing poetry. He was a bit of an eccentric who was more passionate about teaching writing than swordplay. "I''ll listen." Enkrid slowed his pace as the story began. Rem, walking alongside them, also paid attention. It was an intriguing topic, with plenty of room for reflection, especially when comparing it to magic. "When a knight is made, what''s the first major difference they''ll feel?" "Sight," Enkrid answered immediately. He felt this shift himself. The difference between when he was an Squire knight and where he was now was clear. Each day brought more changes, and it wasn''t just a visual change¡ªhe meant a more profound perception of everything. Rem nodded. "The first distinction is sight. It''s called Future Sight." It was like the ability to see a step ahead, to read the opponent''s movements and intentions. It wasn''t just vision, but the ability to sense, to understand the opponent''s nature. That was why it was also referred to as insight or foresight. "After sight comes the body, the armor." Luargrne looked at Enkrid''s side, where Rem''s kick had torn his armor. Enkrid''s body was far tougher than an ordinary human''s, a result of rigorous training under Audin''s teachings. "Armor refers to when Will permeates the entire body, toughening the skin." Rem nodded again. There were some similarities with magic here. "Next is strong legs, firm foundations." Then more concepts emerged. Insight, a firm body, stronger legs¡ªmuscles that became unyielding. After that came expansion, transfer, language, and time. Expansion meant spreading Will throughout the body, while transfer was the ability to send Will elsewhere. Language referred to making speech carry Will, which even Rem thought was odd. Time described walking in two different times, a concept that half made sense but was difficult to grasp. "It''s hard to explain in words. You understand it by doing it," Rem added as they walked. There were sensations of omnipotence, delicate feelings that couldn''t be explained by mere words. Enkrid nodded quietly, feeling like the flame inside him was still burning brightly. He had longed to be a knight, and now, with each passing day, he was getting closer. "The writer also wasn''t sure about two things," Luargrne continued. "What are those?" Rem asked, interested but still skeptical. He hadn''t found any absurdities in the tale so far. "He said there were two stages that never dry up or cease¡ªcalled Usucera. And another stage where one''s possessions change entirely, called Indules. These are ancient terms." This was new to Rem. He let it go, but Enkrid engraved it in his mind. He realized, once again, that no matter what talent or ability one had, they had to work through each step to reach higher levels. Meanwhile, Enkrid had already started training in Future Sight and Armor. "That training method came from a religious knight''s unit, right?" Luagarne commented. Enkrid and Rem had a rough idea of where Audin had learned it. Judging by his actions, it was easy to guess his origins. "I''m going," Dunbakel said as she reached a crossroads. She wouldn''t die from being attacked by a monster here. Even if she often took beatings from Rem, her skills would make her a monster in small towns. Her sharp ears would keep her alert even while sleeping, so there was little risk. "Go ahead," Enkrid said. "If you die on the way, I''ll kill you myself," Rem added. "If you walk as you''ve chosen, that''s your true step," Luagarne commented. Dunbakel waved her hand and left. Enkrid, Rem, and Luagarne continued walking, reaching the Border Guard territory. Enkrid, stepping onto land he had received as a general, saw a construction site. New walls were rising and a city was under construction where there had once been nothing. Workers and soldiers were setting up tents. The sound of raindrops began as they quickly picked up their pace. "How long has it been since it rained?" Luagarne asked, delighted. As a frog, she was fond of rain. Enkrid, now aware of the autumn''s arrival, felt the chill and the seasonal rain. It welcomed him back. ----------------------------------------- Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 499 - While I Was Gone Chapter 499 - 499 - While I Was Gone Chapter 499 - While I Was Gone The rain was too light to be called autumn rain. It was still more appropriate to call it late summer. The rain started to fall, then suddenly stopped. It was an ambiguous situation, as it wasn''t quite rain, nor was it dry. The ground wasn''t even wet yet. The sky had darkened, and it looked like more rain might fall. "Who are you?" As the three of them entered the border of the territory, a group of soldiers blocked their path. It was clear that Krais wasn''t slacking off. The soldiers blocking their way had a disciplined posture. Some soldiers gave off a feeling that they could be easily bribed with a few coins, but the ones in front now clearly belonged to the latter type¡ªsoldiers who displayed military discipline. Their grip on their polearms revealed this. The muscular forearms exposed by their short linen sleeves gave a hint of Audin''s influence. They were also well-armed, carrying short swords at their hips. Enkrid noticed all this with a glance. His ability to observe and process information seemed sharper than before. "What is it? Enki?" A woman in light attire recognized him. She had sweat beading on her forehead, holding a piece of parchment in her hand. It was Leona, the guildmaster of Rockfreed Trading Company. "...What are you doing here?" Enkrid asked, a hint of curiosity in his expression. "Work." Leona replied with a smile. It seemed they were in the process of building a new city. She nodded in response when Enkrid mentioned that they were returning and about to enter. Behind Enkrid, Rem''s face lit up with excitement, a smile full of anticipation. "I see. I wonder how my troublesome subordinates are doing." When he was excited, Rem tended to talk more. Leona wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve, then stared at Enkrid as she spoke. While he mentioned subordinates, Rem didn''t have any under him, so he was likely referring to the members of the unit. "It''s been a while since I''ve been near Border Guard, so I don''t know much about the latest news." It made sense. There seemed to be a lot to do here. From the looks of it, they were expanding the city from the Border Guard. That wasn''t an easy task. Even here, while settling in, there was work to clear out monsters and gather stones to build with. When establishing a new city, the first step is often to set up a wooden fence to mark the boundaries, and then drive away nearby monsters. Why? If monsters kept attacking while trying to establish the city, there''d be no chance. If the ground were soaked and waterlogged from the rain, that would be a problem too. And there needed to be farmland around the city to support its inhabitants. The idea of a trade city was all well and good, but how many cities on the continent could survive solely by trade? In a kingdom that follows feudalism and centralized rule, even royal territories receive supplies of food and goods, but... "Practically, a city needs to be self-sustaining to be meaningful." That was likely why they were building this city with self-sufficiency in mind. However, there weren''t any farmlands nearby, and the forest where the Centaurs once lived was close by. Forests, while rich in resources, were also perfect habitats for monsters. They probably didn''t intend to wipe the entire forest out, but it seemed they were going to take action to deal with it to some degree. Logs were stacked beside the piles of stones. It was clear that a lot of work had already been done. Enkrid looked around. There were obvious signs that someone had been actively working here. He was curious about what Krais was thinking. "The name of this city is Rockfreed." Leona said with a smile. She was directly overseeing the construction of the trade city under the trading company''s direction. Behind her, Mathis nodded, acknowledging Enkrid''s presence. "Back already?" Mathis seemed different from before, with more wrinkles on his face. A young swordsman, whom Enkrid didn''t recognize, stood next to him. The young man appeared to be Mathis''s disciple. The Rockfreed Trading Company seemed to have more fighters than Enkrid had expected. While not on the scale of Border Guard, they were still a formidable group of soldiers. "Ah, you were a general, right?" A group of soldiers who recognized Enkrid, courtesy of Leona, saluted him. "Good, thank you for your service. Everyone''s doing well?" Rem said with a smooth smile, casually tapping the soldiers'' shoulders. The soldiers stood at attention, saying nothing. It was clear that someone had warned them about Rem. They were probably told to ignore the gray-haired man holding an axe and endure whatever he did. Enkrid sensed this and instinctively knew the warning was accurate. He remembered his previous mistake in thinking that Rem was simply a mix of continent people, so he had learned the importance of confirming such things. Being cautious was always necessary. "There are gaps in everyone," Enkrid thought. It was an insight he had gained after nearly dying in the desert and repeatedly reliving the experience in a broken mental state. It was a lesson he''d learned: Always check and confirm. And once gaps are found, action must be taken immediately. Anyone can fall, but not everyone can get back up right away. However, getting back up quickly is key. "Think ahead and act." That was the skill to be learned by knights, and Enkrid had learned it, bit by bit. His habit of reflecting and looking for paths even in small things was something he had developed over time. "Did someone warn you to be cautious?" Rem casually asked, as he walked past the soldiers, and Enkrid, following behind, whispered his question. One of the soldiers glanced around nervously before answering. "Instructor Lord Ropord." The title of ''Lord'' was likely either because he was a squire, or simply a sign of respect. Titles often carried respect in this context. "We''ll talk later." Enkrid waved at Leona and told the soldier as he walked past. Without warning, Leona asked him, her face expressionless, "Do you have plans to marry me?" Enkrid stopped in his tracks, blinking in surprise, while Leona said the rest without a single change in her expression. "Just joking." Had she been hanging out with Shinar lately? Enkrid thought, as he passed by the construction site, heading toward Border Guard. After walking for a while, the city walls appeared in the distance. It would have been a short distance if on horseback, but on foot, it would take a little longer. Enkrid calculated that he would probably arrive before noon, around three hours later. Krais must have had his reasons for choosing this location to build the new city. As light rain began to fall again, Enkrid neared the city walls. "General?" It was Vengeance, the former platoon leader, now likely a company commander. He greeted Enkrid from atop the walls. Enkrid could see from far away that Vengeance had recognized him. Vengeance''s eyesight has always been sharp. Enkrid looked over the soldiers standing guard along the walls. Familiar faces were visible. There were also quite a few unfamiliar ones. The area in front of the wall seemed somewhat chaotic. People were lining up to pass through the wall, and there were others living under tents nearby. Fairies were occasionally spotted, and dwarves could be seen too, in fairly large numbers. Some tents were emitting steam, as people were preparing food on-site. It didn''t look like they were living in poverty, just that they had settled here. "Please come in." Vengeance greeted him respectfully. Personally, he was a benefactor who had saved his life, and professionally, he was the highest-ranking officer in his unit. As Enkrid walked in, everyone tilted their heads in curiosity. Why was this person allowed to pass through so easily? However, no one attempted to stop him or make a fuss. It was clear that Vengeance himself had come down to guide him, and seeing Rem and the Frog following behind made anyone hesitant to speak up. The man with the black hair walking ahead had an unusual appearance and a presence unlike others. It was clear that his Will had naturally begun to spread around him. As Enkrid entered and walked along familiar paths, he noticed that much had changed in just a few months. First, there were more vendors selling goods. The Border Guard was already a major hub for traders, so it made sense. The barracks had expanded. The walls had grown wider, and several new buildings had risen up, stretching toward the sky. "Did they rush this construction?" Rem commented, clearly surprised. How could the scale have increased so much in such a short time? If anyone saw it, they might mistake Krais for a wizard. But if one knew the details, it wouldn''t seem so remarkable. Krais had cut out unnecessary processes in construction, directly contacting the stonemason and artisan guilds. Usually, when nobles start a project, they send orders down the chain, with middlemen taking a cut and making the process slow and costly. "We''ll settle the guilds in the city." Krais spoke as if notifying Lord Graham, the lord responsible for the Border Guard, and began implementing the changes. No one could stop him, and there was no reason to. The fame of Enkrid played a significant role in gathering people. "Isn''t the general over there the one who stopped Aspens and then swept through Martai and even the Molsan territory?" Most guild leaders were asking questions like this. Whether it was the stone masons or artisan guilds, people were naturally drawn to him. First, there were the fighters wanting to test Enkrid''s strength. Then, the nobles hoping to secure a future with him. After that came the merchants eyeing the trade routes, and now, engineers had joined. Krais had gathered them all and set the work in motion. "Each person in charge will take full responsibility. I give you the right to select five people. You can manage them however you like, and half of the payment will be given in advance." He selected skilled individuals, assigning them to recruit five more skilled workers to ensure smooth operations. He also created an inspection team, not to uncover faults, but to handle issues whenever they arose. By organizing the team like a unified guild, he was able to make things work where they otherwise might not have. "Why isn''t this working?" "The hunters'' guild is selling the hides too expensively, so the work is stalling." "That''s the proper price. Do you think getting monster hides is easy?" When such problems arose, Krais would immediately send in the military. He would hunt down the monsters himself, not to undercut the hunters, but to strike a deal with the hunters'' guild for a fair price. This quick resolution of problems sped up all processes, and that was why a new barracks had appeared in front of Enkrid. Rem made a quick remark about the new barracks before walking in. First, they encountered a large training ground, where more than twenty soldiers were sweating and training. Despite the rain, they were all working hard, training without pause. To Enkrid, Rem, and Luagarne, it looked like regular training. However, to the soldiers rolling on the ground, it felt more like torture. "Captain!" From a raised platform, where only one person was sheltered from the rain, Ropord called out. He greeted Enkrid warmly. Enkrid waved his hand, and Rem walked ahead. "Where''s that directionally-disfunctional bastard?" Rem had already assumed a battle-ready stance. His right hand was resting on his waist, already grasping an axe. He looked ready to throw it the moment he saw Ragna. They had sparred several times on their way here. Enkrid wasn''t sure who would win if Ragna and Rem fought. Rem, with his magic, was certainly at the level of a knight, capable of exuding a pressure akin to a curse, perhaps inflicting fear. Ropord laughed awkwardly at Rem''s question. "Is something wrong?" Enkrid asked, but the soldiers didn''t stop their drills. They were clearly focused on training, a powerful display of discipline. There had likely been several demonstrations of force before. "Well..." Ropord scratched the back of his head and explained. "He went out for a walk and hasn''t returned in four days." "Is he insane?" Rem couldn''t hide his disbelief. How could someone who couldn''t even find their way go out for a walk? "Where to?" Enkrid asked calmly. "He said he''d briefly explore the mountainside," Ropord replied. "Why send him alone?" Enkrid asked. "He said if anyone followed, he''d kill them." Of course, Ragna must have insisted on it. Enkrid didn''t need to be told. Had Ragna gotten lost in the mountains? Couldn''t be, he thought. But did he really go to the mountains? If he left from the barracks, he might have already crossed into the eastern lands by now. Four days seemed too short for that though. Enkrid quickly dismissed his worries. Ragna was not someone who would perish so easily. "What about the cat?" "He''s gone to another city to deal with a problem." "Damn it." Rem grumbled. It seemed that two others were also absent. That was probably why Ropord was here. "Krais is in the city of Green Pearl." Green Pearl had been turned into a fortified city, and the name "Green Pearl" had been chosen for it. "Lord Audin and Lady Theresa have gone to the mountains for a fasting prayer." Enkrid wasn''t surprised. They were the type to go off on their own without a second thought. He figured they would return in their own time. But what caught his attention was the noticeable change in Squire Ropord. His demeanor was different from before. Enkrid could tell that his skill had greatly improved since their last meeting. Naturally, his attention shifted toward Ropord. -------------------------------- Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 500 - A Bit Empty Chapter 500 - 500 - A Bit Empty Chapter 500 - A Bit Empty "I''ll be back after handling some of the recruits." Ropod said and turned around. He had his own tasks to attend to. Today was the day when recruits would be chosen to spar and fight against each other, a reward given after their grueling training. "You promised, right? Anyone who defeats me will immediately be under the General''s command." Ropod said as he stepped onto the platform. A drop of water fell from the roof''s edge, landing on his hair and dampening it. Behind him, Rem grumbled. "Didn''t these idiots notice we were coming and run off?" If either Ragna or Saxen had predicted Rem''s rise to knight rank through magic, he should have been wielding a crystal ball, not a sword. So naturally, they hadn''t run away. Enkrid, having heard Ropod''s words, turned his gaze toward him. Although it wasn''t something he had authorized, it seemed that Krais''s influence was at play here. While Audin was the best at managing recruits, motivating them was another matter. For that, one needed to understand how to handle people. Audin, despite being good at isolation techniques, wasn''t the best at this. "Try this." "I can''t apply any strength." "No, you''re doing it." "My arm won''t move." "No, it will." This was Audin''s approach. Was Ropod any different? He had spent nearly his entire life in the knight''s order. He had faced fierce warriors and dealt with criminals, but handling and leading people was another matter. Training wasn''t just about building strength and stamina; it was about understanding who people were. To do that, one had to sometimes push them or provide proper rewards. Enkrid accepted that Krais had likely influenced this situation. While Krais wasn''t seasoned in mercenary life, he understood how to handle people¡ªespecially ordinary ones¡ªbetter than anyone. Audin had learned the hard way through his isolation technique. The recruits gathered here were drawn by the name Enkrid, though some were skeptical of his abilities, unable to trust rumors. After all, rumors were one thing, but actual abilities were another. Marco was a spear master who had earned recognition from a famous spear specialist in the western trade city. He honestly didn''t think much of rumors and believed that if the so-called legends in the west were truly as skilled as claimed, they would be much stronger. So, Marco had come to prove himself. However, the hero who ended the civil war was absent. Without training, there would be no chance for a duel. So Marco followed the orders, but frustration was starting to build. Now, seeing Ropod, he could tell the man was no pushover, but he wasn''t the demon slayer. ''Should I show my technique first?'' That would be a disadvantage. Most martial artists in the continent believed revealing their techniques first was a mistake. Marco thought so as well. He had no doubt he could defeat anyone with his spear. After all, he had learned spear techniques from books and had few rivals in his youth. Even among those he met later, it took at most a month to catch up with them. However, there was something about this encounter that had him intrigued. If Audin wasn''t fasted, if Ragna hadn''t gotten lost, if Fel had been sociable enough to be here, Marco wouldn''t have been thinking this way. He didn''t look at Ropod; his gaze was fixed on Enkrid. The rain had turned his curly hair into something resembling seaweed, and Marco brushed his face with his hand. "Grrr..." Behind him, a gray-haired beast bared its teeth, but Marco''s focus remained on Enkrid. Enkrid, the General, the hero who ended the civil war, the demon slayer, the protector of the Border Guard, the king''s close friend, the destroyer of the Fog¡ªhis titles were endless. Seeing him in person, Marco could tell that Enkrid wasn''t a mediocre fighter. ''Would I lose for sure?'' Probably not. Marco was confident. He had trained his whole life, and he had never been defeated in a way that left him finished. Even if Enkrid was a formidable opponent, Marco was ready. "Can I choose my opponent directly?" Marco spoke up. Many soldiers came to the Border Guard for the high salary, but many also came to test their abilities. Enkrid understood this. With just a look, it was clear what was about to happen. Marco wasn''t backing down. "Is it alright?" Enkrid wouldn''t reject those who wanted to face him. He had learned that much even after long travels. Ropod asked, and Enkrid nodded, setting down his backpack. He considered drawing Aker but decided on just his Gladius. The scabbard was loose from frequent use, and the blade rattled. He would need to visit a blacksmith in the city when he had time. Marco readied his spear, which was a little longer than his own height. He gripped it firmly and took a stance that made him look like a seasoned warrior. For someone not belonging to a knightly order, it was impressive. Marco could be considered a lower-tier squire knight. To Enkrid, the term "lower-tier squire knight" seemed almost meaningless. ''If I''m hit, I''ll die, but there''s a definite skill difference.'' No matter how much Marco thought about it, he didn''t think he''d lose to someone like Roman, or even Aishia, who had returned to the royal palace. "I don''t think I can hold back." Marco said, and Enkrid smiled. He could tell Marco was serious. The stance, the atmosphere¡ªall of it was obvious. "I''ll need to show my skills." Enkrid tossed his Gladius into the air and caught it with the reverse grip. "...Is that your weapon?" Marco asked, noticing Enkrid''s simple weapon. Enkrid simply flicked his fingers, acknowledging the question. The rain fell heavily as Marco charged, his spear flashing with lightning speed. Thud. The blade struck the spear''s edge as Enkrid simultaneously closed the distance. With his bare hand, he jabbed at the man''s abdomen. It was a thrust inspired by Rem''s kick, which struck like a thrown spear. Enkrid planted his foot firmly on the ground, propelling his arm forward without incorporating any rotational movement. Relying purely on raw strength, the motion was quick and lacked any telltale preparation. Crack. "Urgh!" Marco''s feet briefly lifted off the ground from the impact. Yet, he never let go of his spear. Suspended diagonally for a moment, Marco flopped onto the ground with a wet thud. His eyes were drained of energy, staring blankly. While he hadn''t completely lost consciousness, he looked dazed, as if his soul had momentarily wandered off. Still holding onto the spear, huh. That thought crossed Enkrid''s mind. If this had been a test, he would have called it a pass. Ultimately, it was a series of simple movements¡ªblocking, evading, and striking¡ªnothing more. Swaaah. The rain intensified, its drops growing heavier. "Grkk." Marco crawled across the floor. Enkrid had controlled his strength, but it wasn''t a light hit. If it had been a proper strike, internal bleeding and broken entrails might have poured out of his mouth. "...What''s this?" "I couldn''t even see it." A few of the trainees muttered. The difference in skill was evident. "Anyone else want to try?" Ropord asked. All the trainees lifted their heads. The meaning in their eyes was clear. What could they challenge after seeing that? Ropord smiled brightly in the rain and spoke. "How about facing me?" It had been a while since Ragna left, and Ropord had been itching for a fight. More importantly, there was something he wanted to show when Enkrid returned. Ropord raised his blade high, taking a high guard stance. Enkrid gripped the gladius hilt and responded. "If it''s a welcoming match like this, I''m all for it." Enkrid was curious about the changed Ropord. Ropord focused. He split the moment and stretched time. His focus burned like a fire, making him forget everything around him¡ªthe falling raindrops, the situation, and time itself. What occupied his mind was the sword in his hand and his opponent. Even after learning from Luagarne, he kept sharpening his skills, continuously rolling with Ragna. This way, Ropord had gained something new. He called it the "Eagle''s Eye." By focusing all his senses on the opponent, it felt like watching them from the sky, as though his vision had expanded beyond natural limits. Enkrid remained still. Ropord watched, waiting for any movement. Then, Enkrid moved. Suddenly, a blade crossed Ropord''s vision. Without any preparation, Enkrid had thrown the gladius. Well, there had been some preparation, but it was so fast that Ropord''s reaction was slightly delayed. In an instant, Ropord swung his sword downward. Clang! The gladius bounced off. Zing! The world seemed to shake. Ropord felt it, and at the same time, sparks flew in front of his eyes. ''Huh?'' Why was the world spinning? Ropord collapsed to the ground. "You should be mindful of your opponent before charging." Rem''s voice came from the platform, calming down from the excitement. "Now, that was interesting, but there''s still a long way to go." He continued in a bored tone. "Ah." Ropord let out a brief exclamation as he slumped in the mud. He had thought he''d caught up a little. After seeing Ragna strike the trainees earlier, he had thought he might be able to match the opponent with his sword, but it was utterly impossible. "Trying to catch up to a genius is this hard." Ropord said. Ah, so that''s how it is. All the trainees watching agreed with his words. Ropord shook his head. His head still rang. Enkrid, throwing his sword, closed the distance, then followed up with a high kick to the chin with his left foot. Everything happened at an absurd speed. Ropord was still feeling the impact of the blow. The trainees fell silent. As for Enkrid, he had nothing to say to the label of "genius." Neither pleased nor displeased, he simply felt indifferent. If someone viewed him that way, so be it. Ropord knew that the term "genius" or "talent" couldn''t encompass everything one had built over time. "I''m going inside first." After landing a hit on the squire, Enkrid gathered his things and passed through the training ground. Behind him, Ropord''s voice rang out loudly. "Hey, if we work hard, we might one day be able to do that!" Ropord had quickly turned into a man full of determination. "Big dreams." "Not everyone can be like that, which is why the world is unfair." Rem and Luargarne spoke in turn. "Did you use to laugh at others'' dreams?" Enkrid asked, looking at Rem. "Didn''t you know? I laughed when the commander said he wanted to be a knight for the first time." It had been funny. "If there are those who give dreams, there must also be those who remind others of reality." Luagarne spoke like a hermit hiding in a back mountain. Typically, those hiding in such places weren''t wise but scammers. Nonetheless, Luagarne''s words weren''t wrong. If a dream could be broken by such words, then so be it. Enkrid walked on, and his unchanged quarters came into view. After dropping off his bag and washing up, it would be good to eat something proper, not just another field meal. He opened the door of his room. Blue eyes, long black hair, and still some of her skin showing through her robe¡ªa mage sitting in an antique chair caught his attention. She looked at him as he entered. "You''re back?" She spoke as if they''d seen each other just yesterday. Next to her, there was a fairy with an even more ridiculous office desk than an antique chair. She put down the carving tool she had been using on the desk and looked up. "You''ve returned, my fiance?." The usual fairy-style joke. Esther only spoke those words, but Shinar didn''t turn her head. Her eyes were clear and focused. Shhh. The pouring rain and the door closing softly behind him. The fire in the center of the room crackled as Shinar asked. "Where''s my gift?" Enkrid wondered what kind of gift she was talking about, as he hadn''t been on a trip. He set his bag down and almost said he didn''t bring anything, but then stopped. He realized there were things he had picked up for everyone. For Jaxen, a hidden blade dagger. For Esther, some magic items he had accidentally brought. And for Audin, a broken relic. ''Can I really call this a gift?'' Probably not. Nevertheless, he gave something to the fairy who had been discussing presents. "It''s a dagger that prevents misfortune." A sacrificial dagger that might not be useful to him, but could be to someone else. Shinar, after glancing at the dagger, tucked it into her coat. "Something''s changed. When the rain stops, let''s spar." She then chose the words that would please Enkrid most. In these ways, the fairy was quite thoughtful. "That''s not a bad suggestion." Enkrid cleaned up, ate, and tidied up his things. Still, the feeling of being back was somewhat hollow. It was because everyone who should have been there was absent. They would return soon, but for now, it felt a bit empty. ----------------------------------- Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 501 - Spark Chapter 501 - 501 - Spark Chapter 501 - Spark Esther ran her hand through her black hair, smoothing it back. As the strands settled, they cascaded down like an ebony curtain. Through the curtain, her lips parted, revealing a soft, pink expression as her voice escaped. "Gift?" Though he hadn''t explicitly called it a gift, Enkrid gave a vague nod. His demeanor was neutral, yet Esther''s eyes sparkled like stars fallen from the heavens. For some reason, a sense of euphoria seemed to ripple through her. Was she in a good mood? Sometimes, people simply felt that way¡ªlike waking up to an exceptionally refreshing day. Enkrid began laying out the items he had brought from his backpack. Killing the Apostle had yielded quite the haul¡ªartifacts and relics among them. Some were clearly magical in nature, though several pouches tied with string had not even been opened. "Poisons, or something close," he muttered. Thanks to Hira''s guidance, Enkrid had intended to leave these behind in the western lands. However, he had been advised that a mage would find them valuable, so he had brought them along. Some items were intact, but many were damaged¡ªlike a cracked pearl necklace, a halved ring, a handkerchief embroidered with a weeping woman shedding blood-red tears, and the teeth of some monstrous creature. Among them were treasures of considerable worth, which Esther recognized instantly. The Apostle Enkrid had encountered in the western region, though unable to fully resist, had been a formidable mage prepared to rival even Count Molsan. In magic, preparation could create an overwhelming advantage. Enkrid''s sudden assault had backed the Apostle into a corner, highlighting the mage''s comparative lack of adaptability. The Apostle had dedicated their life to transforming ordinary lands into magical domains¡ªan obsession of a lunatic necromancer. Such madness often masked genius, and this necromancer''s ambitions were nearly realized before fate intervened. Unluckily¡ªor perhaps as someone''s karmic retribution¡ªthey encountered Enkrid and Rem. Esther''s slender, pale fingers untied one of the pouches. As she began carefully storing the items Enkrid had spread out, she commented, "Not bad." Her eyes were already assessing the artifacts'' values. Mages were relentless in their pursuit of knowledge. Anything that could aid their research or spells was inherently desirable. Still, she wondered, where had Enkrid acquired such rare objects? Talisman fragments capable of deflecting curses and other malevolent forces, talismans imbued with western magical energies¡ªit was as if he had looted a mage''s hoard. No, he must have done exactly that. Enkrid''s calm reply confirmed her suspicion: "The advice on dealing with mages was useful." "I see." Esther packed everything and returned to her seat. Though she appeared idle, she was anything but. Recently, she had discovered that some of the curses she had been afflicted with in the past had permanently corroded parts of her magical realm. Just as a stitched-up doll would bear visible scars, so too did the corruption mark her magical world. For a mage, one''s magical realm had to be flawless. But if the caster themselves felt their constructed world was flawed? It was akin to playing chess without a knight and a bishop. Over time, the corruption would not heal but spread further. Esther now faced two choices: attempt to repair her corrupted world or dismantle it and create a new one. The first option, while not impossible, would be like a swordsman fighting with missing limbs. Worse, if the corrupted parts were unintentionally used, it could lead to her own destruction¡ªor worse, transform her into an abomination neither alive nor dead. The second option was far more difficult: to rebuild her magical realm entirely. Instead of patching the doll''s torn fabric, she would have to deconstruct it and craft something entirely new. An ordinary mage wouldn''t dare to attempt such a feat, but Esther saw a path forward¡ªand the artifacts Enkrid had brought would play a key role. "Enki." Esther called out to him from where she sat. Enkrid turned to see the black-haired beauty speaking again. "Welcome back." Though the artifacts he had retrieved were remarkable, what mattered more was that he had returned safely. His presence solidified one of the paths she had been contemplating, like divine guidance from the gods of magic. Esther might not have fully realized it, but seeing him made her understand¡ªshe had been waiting for this man. "Instead of agonizing over the decision, I''ll take a single step forward," she thought. Choosing the harder path didn''t matter. Enkrid, through his actions and life itself, always conveyed a simple truth: If you believe in your path, hardship is irrelevant. Esther smiled faintly. Enkrid tilted his head slightly, puzzled. Were the items he had brought truly that valuable? Esther''s smile quickly faded as she closed her eyes, immersing herself in the task of reconstructing her magical realm¡ªa journey only she could undertake. Night deepened. Shinar had left after receiving her gift, and Esther, eyes shut, began her solitary endeavor. Meanwhile, Enkrid settled into his spot. Beside him, Rem perched on the bed, drying his hair. "Seems like those bastards ran away." "...Sleep." Rem grumbled twice more before lying down, and Enkrid soon drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep. *** "Your greatest strength might be your adaptability," remarked Luagarne at dawn as Enkrid practiced the Isolation Technique. The rain had stopped, and the air was crisp and refreshing¡ªa perfect morning for training. Not that weather ever deterred Enkrid from his routine; it wasn''t about comfort but discipline. "Wherever you are, you eat, sleep, and move as if it''s home," thought Luagarne as she observed him. Even during their western expedition and now in the newly renamed city of Oara, Enkrid had been consistent. Luagarne watched him, finding the sight both enjoyable and remarkable. Though she had seen and trained many individuals, few had been as fascinating as him. She had little patience for so-called prodigies who squandered their potential, and she wished she could show them Enkrid''s example: unwavering and tireless, even with a stone pillar resting on his shoulders. "See?" she mused. "Even if the sky falls tomorrow, he''ll remain the same." Enkrid''s strength wasn''t just in his physical endurance but in his unyielding desire to improve. Recognizing this, Luagarne decided to teach him more about tactics¡ªfighting not just with strength but with strategy. "Tactics are about knowing what you want before the fight begins," she said. "Why do you think that is?" "To calculate and act toward the goal, rather than charging in blindly," Enkrid replied without hesitation¡ªa response born of reflection and experience. "Half right. The other half is to avoid becoming intoxicated by your own sword." There is a saying: To be consumed by the blade. Enjoying the act of killing makes one nothing more than a murderer. Yet surprisingly, many talented martial artists succumbed to becoming such monsters. "So, stabbing someone makes them fall limp and die? What happens if I slash their neck? Maybe next, I''ll try cutting their legs." As their skills advanced, a morbid sense of curiosity often followed. From Luagarne''s perspective, Enkrid now seemed more like one of those moments than ever before. Everyone''s peak comes at different times. Lua believed this was Enkrid''s prime. Despite knowing he wouldn''t lose himself to his blade, Lua still offered words of concern. "Understood." Enkrid replied simply. He had dreams and purpose, and for that reason, he wouldn''t falter. Both Lua and Enkrid knew this. Yet, Enkrid nodded in acknowledgment, understanding why Lua had said such things. "Such a beautiful man." Who could dislike this man? Luagarne suddenly felt as if the camp''s unique atmosphere now made sense. Here, everyone spared no time in honing themselves, pushing forward without hesitation. No other barracks or knightly order could foster such an environment. In most places, rivalries, pettiness, or overconfidence led to ruin. But not here. Some soldiers knew how Enkrid had reached his current level. Even those unaware could see it¡ªthe man with exceptional skill and the rank of General was always the first to rise in the morning. Yesterday, a raw recruit named Marco witnessed it. Marco, still battered from his first harsh training, had just finished his final guard duty outside the General''s barracks. Ready to return, he felt a presence and entered to investigate. His pupils quivered at what he saw. "Didn''t he just come back yesterday?" Such exertion should lead to fatigue, rendering the effort inefficient. Yet for some, this was the best method. For Enkrid, resting felt more like poison. Movement restored him. This was also a testament to the effects of his Isolation technique. Marco, unintentionally transfixed by the sight, stared. "Brother, you''ll need to squat deeper than that." The voice startled Marco, making him spin around. There stood a towering figure he''d somehow failed to notice¡ªa man so massive Marco had to crane his neck to see his face. Not a giant, but a human. How had he gotten so close without detection? Audin passed Marco with a smile, heading toward the General. Enkrid, carrying a stone pillar on his shoulder, greeted him warmly. "Audin." "Have you achieved success with your striking technique?" "Try hitting me and see." Enkrid set the pillar down and greeted Audin with a gesture full of camaraderie. Behind Audin came Teresa, a true half-giant. She brushed past Marco without a word. Marco looked back at Enkrid and¡ª BANG! Marco''s eyes widened in shock as Audin delivered a punch to Enkrid''s side, seemingly without warning or agreement. What was happening? Why the sudden attack? "Oh!" Audin exclaimed in admiration. "How was that?" Despite being struck, Enkrid smiled. Were they all insane? Or did one have to be mad to fight like this? The training instructor Ropord had claimed yesterday that anyone could achieve such heights with enough effort. "Nonsense," Marco thought bitterly. He knew he lacked the talent to reach such heights. But did that mean he should quit, go back to his old life of preying on weaker men? He refused to accept that. Determined, Marco asked, "Why did you hit him?" Nobody told him to leave, so he stayed. That silence felt like permission, but Marco knew he would''ve asked regardless. He desperately wanted to understand. "That''s training," said a voice. Marco jumped, startled to find a red-haired man beside him. With his cold, chiseled features, the man exuded an icy aura. Without sparing Marco a glance, he walked forward. "Something''s changed," the red-haired man noted. His name was Jaxen. "If you''d like to test it, anytime," Enkrid said, extending a hand to take a sword from the Frog. It was a sharp blade, undoubtedly a masterpiece. Even Marco could tell at a glance, his experience as a drifter sharpening his eye for fine weapons. The moment Enkrid assumed his stance, Jaxen vanished. One blink, and he was gone, like smoke dissipating into the air. Then¡ª THUD. A gray-haired beast of a man struck the ground where Jaxen had been. Marco could only piece together what happened from the cratered earth and scattered dirt. The beast grinned, speaking in a voice brimming with exhilaration. "So you''ve come, stray cat!" Jaxen reappeared beside Enkrid, holding two daggers. An axe and two daggers¡ªbeast and phantom stared each other down. The gray-haired man smirked, while Jaxen remained expressionless. The air was tense, like the eye of a storm, until Enkrid interjected. "Keep it reasonable." At those words, the two clashed. CRACK! CLANG! Their blows were invisible to Marco, but their positions had reversed. "Mess around, and I''ll skin you alive," said the gray-haired man, Rem, now standing where Jaxen had been. Jaxen inspected one of his daggers, half of its blade shattered. Despite the weapon''s quality, the disparity in skill was undeniable. The broken piece of metal lay embedded in the ground. "A few beatings, and you''ve awakened?" Jaxen asked. "Damn right. A few beatings, and I woke up," Rem replied with a deeper grin. After exchanging a few more sharp words, Enkrid stepped in. "My turn now." It wasn''t the most typical way to mediate, but it worked. Marco witnessed everything and walked away with a newfound understanding. "I was in a well." To escape that well, he would have to roll forward, push beyond his limits. Luagarne, observing Marco''s departure, couldn''t fully read his thoughts but saw the resolve in his steps. "Another one," Lua thought. Enkrid''s magic was at work again. His presence made stagnation impossible. He compelled others to surpass their limits. "How does one surpass their limits?" The answer was clear: train earnestly and with all one''s might. To achieve this, one needed a spark¡ªstimulation. Enkrid was that spark, whether he realized it or not. ------------------------------------------------ Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 502 - General Store, Inn, Mercenaries, Trading Company Chapter 502 - 502 - General Store, Inn, Mercenaries, Trading Company Chapter 502 - General Store, Inn, Mercenaries, Trading Company During the sparring session, Audin became aware of Enkrid''s current state. "Not a knight, but not a semi knight." What was clear was that Enkrid''s skill had improved¡ªand it wasn''t just a little improvement. His movements were more precise, his judgments swifter, and his reflexes sharper. But there was something else as well. As Audin exchanged blows with him, his gaze drifted to Enkrid''s eyes. Even in normal circumstances, those eyes radiated a kind of fervor¡ªa will to push forward toward goals like becoming a knight. Yet now, there was something more, a certainty that resembled the confidence of a man who had finally found a clear road after wandering aimlessly. And that wasn''t the only surprise. Smack, thunk, crack! While Audin was deep in thought, Enkrid''s punch came barreling toward him. Audin blocked it with his elbow, then countered with a sweeping strike of his hand. Enkrid deflected it with a shake of his arm and thrust his fist forward, which Audin caught in his palm. Enkrid didn''t stop there; he shifted his footing constantly, aiming for advantageous positions mid-exchange. Was fighting just about raw strength? If it were, giants would reign as the strongest on the continent. But battles weren''t like that. Combat involved numerous elements working together, like how understanding accuracy and leverage was far more effective than relying on brute force. The Valah martial arts style had originated as a means for the weak to subdue the strong. Audin had added his own insights to it, making mastery of leverage and technique essential. Was Enkrid naturally skilled at this? Not really. He had been far below average. Yet now, not only did he grasp the essence of technique, but he also adapted and applied it creatively. He used his fists to distract, shifted to secure a superior position, and subtly twisted Audin''s forearm, attempting to disable him. Instead of overpowering him, Audin pushed off the ground and flipped in midair, performing a somersault. Though his massive frame resembled a bear or a giant, his agility was more like that of a squirrel. As Audin descended, Enkrid lashed out with a whip-like kick aimed at his shin. Thud. This time, Audin couldn''t deflect it and had to endure it head-on. His solid muscles were like armor that couldn''t be breached by a single kick. Still, what amazed him was how Enkrid had developed to this point¡ªhis understanding of leverage, his strategic instincts, and his ability to dive deep into the core of techniques. "Are you enjoying this?" Audin asked, noting Enkrid''s broad grin as he lunged forward. "Yes," Enkrid replied with a nod. A bead of sweat dripped from his brow, landing on his chin. Audin chuckled and stepped back. If he fully committed to grappling techniques, he could still hold his own, but in terms of striking, dominating in a short time had become difficult. What if Enkrid picked up a sword? What if he fought with everything on the line? "I''d lose." Audin admitted this to himself without resistance. Of course, in a life-or-death battle, outcomes could vary. Everyone here understood that much. But as far as their current abilities were concerned, it was undeniable that Enkrid had surpassed him. Audin found this both astonishing and satisfying. Not far away, Rem persistently teased Jaxen, while Luagarne trained with a whip and a sword. Teresa, spinning her shield idly, observed the sparring session with interest. Her turn was next. "I''ve learned a lot from Brother Audin," Teresa said, holding her shield. Enkrid exhaled deeply and nodded. "I''ve improved a bit too." A bit wasn''t accurate. He''d improved immensely. They fought, rested, and fought again. Ropord stood off to the side, marveling at the sight. Meanwhile, Fel, who had been watching from the corner of the training grounds, was shaken to his core. "What... is this?" Never before had Fel been disheartened by another''s skill. He had always believed himself to be the most talented. He prided himself on his ability to assess not just the present but the potential of the future. With time, he thought, he could surpass anyone here. "I''ll start with the leader." He even devised a plan, deciding to target the gray-haired one next. Seeing Ragna become a knight had almost broken him, but he had overcome it, advancing to the next level. Fel thought he had escaped the mire of despair. He believed he could do it too. Yet here he was, staring at Enkrid, feeling his confidence crumble. To predict defeat from the outset of a duel¡ªwhat did that mean? Fel''s keen eyes assessed Enkrid''s overwhelming skill: the power in his strikes, his tactical acumen, and his swift reflexes. "Could it be that my talent is worthless?" A crack formed in Fel''s self-belief. It had started with Ragna and was now splitting further. His face grew rigid, unknowingly, to the point where even the funniest jokes couldn''t make him smile. "Fiance?, are you going to spar with me too?" Sinar now stood before Enkrid, her emerald eyes and golden hair shimmering. Even Fel noticed the exquisite beauty of her inhuman features as she tied her hair back. The golden strands cascaded like a silken waterfall, captivating everyone''s gaze. Enkrid turned to her with a smile but couldn''t help glancing at the despondent Fel, who sat in a pit of his own despair. If you''re a shepherd of the wilderness, aren''t you someone who takes on tough challenges by nature? "Is that all you got?" Though his instincts didn''t activate, tracing the flow of events often revealed the bigger picture. Enkrid''s eyes gleamed with clarity. "Going forward, you might want to avoid calling me your fiance?." Though he had become a general and occasionally spoke informally in urgent moments, he still preferred to maintain formality with Shinar. Shinar, tying her hair mid-motion, tilted her head in curiosity. "Why?" "It''s just better that way." "What if I don''t want to?" "Well, there''s nothing I can do about that." If she didn''t want to comply, what could he do? Forcing her through brute strength wouldn''t change her mind. Shinar''s stubbornness might be unrivaled among the people he knew¡ªperhaps even more so than Rem, who endlessly sent Jaxen challenges for duels. "You should visit a temple," remarked Jaxen, glancing at Enkrid knowingly, as if understanding his peculiar statement. There he goes, missing the mark again. Jaxen''s gaze flickered between Enkrid and Fel, accompanied by a faint grunt. "Someone sheds tears over even a single word," Enkrid commented to Shinar again, showing he cared in his own way. Even during training, he could spare this much attention. Fel, meanwhile, stared blankly into space, mumbling incoherent words¡ªshop, inn, mercenary, trading company¡ªlike a broken record. "Brother, why don''t we spar instead?" Audin proposed cheerfully. Enkrid agreed. This was as far as he could intervene. Silently, he rooted for Fel. After all, Enkrid had always respected those who dared to dream. "Hang in there, Fel." To him, nothing in the world was truly impossible. Rem, Audin, and Jaxen had a fair idea of Fel''s state. He was overwhelmed by a sense of inadequacy, unable to measure up to someone superior. Among those present, no one understood that feeling better. They had witnessed such breakdowns countless times. Back in the west, Rem had seen several individuals fall apart in similar ways. He had tried consoling them at first but eventually gave up. Some managed to overcome it; others disappeared entirely or gave up their lives as warriors or shamans. Jaxen had faced countless challengers aiming to prove themselves by killing him, only for them to meet their end. As a result, no one dared linger near him for long. Audin had attempted to mentor everyone he could, but his efforts often ended the same way as Rem''s. Anyone could fall, but there were two kinds of people: those who stood up again and those who didn''t. That was all there was to it. And none of the three believed Fel would crumble. Feeling defeated by Enkrid? That might be the initial reaction. But after a week? A month? Enkrid wasn''t someone you could wallow in comparison with. He was insane¡ªobsessed with swords and relentless in training. Observing Enkrid would naturally inspire Fel to rise again. Yet there was a possibility, given Fel''s snake-like mindset. His envy might consume him, leaving him unable to recover. Not that it mattered to the trio¡ªit wasn''t their concern. Rem, however, had an amusing thought about Fel. "Surprising," he mused. "I thought shepherds from the wilderness would tough it out, but here he is, floundering without much resistance." It was like watching someone drown in a shallow puddle. In contrast, Ropord, who seemed delicately raised, showed a different side. "Teach me, please!" Ropord shouted eagerly. Even now, he pushed himself forward, relentless. When Ragna had been around, Ropord had charged in recklessly yet survived. Not only that, but his skills had improved, and his determination to grow hadn''t waned. The difference between the two? Rem neither knew nor cared. It was their personal struggle. Instead, he turned his attention to Shinar and Enkrid''s sparring match. Shinar had recently ventured into the forest, returning with energy brimming in her veins. No one knew the details, but it had been a life-risking endeavor. "If you don''t like ''fiance?,'' how about ''betrothed'' instead?" Shinar teased. "Have you improved your skills?" Enkrid replied habitually. That single phrase brought a faint smile to Shinar''s face, as if enchanted by its magic. "Be cautious with your smiles too." Why he suddenly said that, she didn''t know. But she didn''t care. Picking up her sword, she prepared herself¡ªit was time for action, not words. The elven sword, shaped like leaves, partially obscured her face. Everyone, including Jaxen, was well aware: Shinar had ascended to the rank of knight. She was now an elven knight. The duel ended in Enkrid''s defeat, yet his expression was brighter than ever. He had learned something valuable. He had blocked the energy sword he couldn''t before and exploited gaps to apply wrestling techniques. In close combat, Shinar moved faster than ever. The greatest strength of an elf was their light, agile body. Shinar proved this beyond doubt. As she circled Enkrid with swift footwork, her movements left behind afterimages. For a moment, there seemed to be twelve Shinars. From the sidelines, Lua the Frog puffed her cheeks indignantly. Coincidentally, Shinar''s sword struck Enkrid at the same time, leaving no room for error. Among the twelve sword leaves, none were fake. Only those at a knight''s level could discern subtle differences in timing. Enkrid could see one step ahead now, but he couldn''t block it. He saw it, but his body couldn''t keep up. "You''ve unlocked foresight," Shinar observed. Jaxen and Audin exchanged surprised glances, then looked at Rem. "Bet you knew this from your time in the west?" their gazes implied. "Damn, he''s improving so fast now," Rem muttered, equally astonished. It meant even Rem had not known either. Everyone present¡ªexcept for Fel¡ªknew they were witnessing Enkrid breaking through to a new level. Enkrid was evolving by the day. "Captain!" At that moment, Krais returned, as expected. "You''re late," remarked Enkrid, seated calmly. Krais, wearing a cloak and hood, smiled broadly. Behind him were Nurat and eight armed escorts, each of them elite warriors. One even seemed like a squire knight. But what stood out the most was the change in Nurat. "It''s been a while," she greeted, bowing slightly. Her presence was markedly different from before. ------------------------------------------ Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 503 - Shall We Head to the Training Ground? Chapter 503 - 503 - Shall We Head to the Training Ground? Chapter 503 - Shall We Head to the Training Ground? "Are you really that good at fighting? Follow me to the training ground." Nurat had once been the deputy to the commander of the Green Pearl. ''What was that commander''s name again?'' Enkrid tried to recall but couldn''t remember. All that came to mind was that the man was good at composing poems and singing songs. Some things inevitably faded from memory over the repetitive cycles of his days. No matter how strong his memory, perfection was unattainable. Still, Nurat stood out in his recollections¡ªa dark-skinned woman with a broad heart, springy muscles, and Krais'' lover. These overlapping memories had built a clear impression over time. It dawned on Enkrid anew that even the talent-assessing gaze of Frogs wasn''t infallible. No matter how discerning their eye, it couldn''t always be correct. Yet, as he watched Nurat''s posture and gait, it was clear she had reached a certain level. Unless she''d picked up some exaggerated mercenary swordsmanship, like the boasting swagger of Valen-style, Nurat seemed to have surpassed a barrier. "You''ve improved," Enkrid remarked nonchalantly. "Me? Well, I have been training hard. Do I look a bit better now?" Krais flexed his biceps as he spoke, but Enkrid didn''t even glance in his direction. Instead, his attention remained on Nurat, who planted her left foot with precision, pressing the sole firmly against the ground. More than that, she was evenly distributing her weight, ready to react in any direction. Such a stance allowed for quick responses, whether left or right. Even Rem muttered a small "Oh" of admiration, and Luagarne rolled her large eyes in wonder. Even Luagarne, with her sharp intuition, recognized Nurat''s exceptional talent. Her body was naturally different from the start¡ªelastic muscles and a physique that would rival any beastkin. On top of that, hard work and relentless training had built a peak structure, brick by brick. Enkrid stood up and dusted off his pants. The overcast sky hung low, and it was one of those days when rain came and went. "Nurat is my lover, you know," Krais interjected, noticing Enkrid''s gaze fixed on Nurat. Ignoring the nonsense, Enkrid spoke again. "Not bad." Though his words could easily have been misunderstood, Nurat didn''t take it that way. Krais, knowing better, had only been teasing after seeing Nurat again for the first time in a while. Nurat gave a slight bow, a simple military salute. Both Rem and Luagarne understood the situation. They weren''t just impressed by Nurat''s sudden improvement but had an inkling of what had driven her to grow. In the end, it was likely the influence of a certain monster whose presence inspired everyone around him. Enkrid himself might not realize it, but his existence was a powerful motivator. His dedication to training had elevated not just Nurat but the skill level of the entire unit. Some people simply had that effect. Their actions and words made others question if they were doing enough with their own lives, stirring a drive to push themselves further. Enkrid, through his attitude and life choices, naturally spurred others to find their motivation. ''Come to think of it, I''ve worked pretty hard myself.'' Rem thought this to himself. His recent intense training and discipline, though partly fueled by a desire to smack some sense into his subordinates, were ultimately inspired by watching Enkrid toil day after day. This effect wasn''t unique to Rem. It was a ripple effect. The very reason knight orders were established was similar¡ªto provide a role model, a beacon for others to follow. Of course, knights often became symbols of despair or disillusionment due to their overwhelming talent. Few among them, however, were as utterly obsessed with swordsmanship as Enkrid. "Anyway, welcome back," Krais said with a smile. "Let''s grab breakfast," Enkrid replied. He was hungry after all that activity. As they wrapped up training and dispersed, they made their way to the dining area attached to the barracks. The spacious dining hall had a private room where staff bustled to serve meals. The centerpiece was a well-roasted whole pig barbecue, sliced into pieces and drizzled with lime juice. Rem and Jaxen squabbled with their forks over the meal, prompting Enkrid to sit between them. Watching their antics was nothing new. While Enkrid and Luagarne remained unfazed, Shinar showed no interest from the start. However, the escort unit that had followed Krais was visibly on edge, seated stiffly at the adjacent table. "Who are they?" Enkrid finally asked, noticing their tense demeanor. One of the escort soldiers immediately stood up from his seat. "Sir! My name is Illan Bates from the Luabang region!" It wasn''t a name or style Enkrid had heard often. Illan Bates had fair skin that seemed to have tanned from exposure to the sun. Standing straight, he looked at Enkrid with shining eyes and added, "I respect you greatly, sir." Half of the escort unit seemed to consist of people like Illan, drawn to Enkrid''s reputation. The other half appeared to be mercenaries there just to do their job, but even they showed respect. "Where do you find people like this?" Rem asked. Krais, chewing a piece of barbecue, answered casually, "You keep getting challenged, and this happens." "What kind of challenges?" Though Rem appeared straightforward, his sharp mind was always at work. Considering the city''s size and the king''s favor, there wasn''t anyone who would dare provoke Krais. This was someone who even had the city''s criminal guilds under his control. Had he lost that power somehow? "It''s nothing serious. Just some nearby nobles upset about how much the king favors Border Guard lands." Governance required maintaining harmony among people, soothing their grievances instead of suppressing them with brute force. Even with Krang''s efforts to stabilize the kingdom post-civil war, some rebellious nobles continued to emerge. Enkrid understood the situation well. "Just one more fool picking a fight." As Enkrid chewed his food, pondering the politics, the juicy meat distracted him momentarily. Meanwhile, Krais, ever the strategist, had grand plans of his own. "City growth comes with its challenges," Krais remarked, drawing lines on the tablecloth to illustrate a new network of roads connecting Border Guard to the capital and beyond. ''Ending it as just a city of pleasures would be a waste,'' Krais thought. With grand salons established across cities, connected by safe routes, the dream was to build a network of convenience, trade, and leisure. The name? "Krais'' Happy Bathhouse." A bold vision for a prosperous future Adopting a defensive posture would still be seen as an offensive act by Aspen. In truth, Aspen was careful not to provide any excuses for conflict. They were gradually extending their borders, keeping the walls at moderate heights while avoiding unnecessary provocation. Listening to all the stories shared, it was clear that Krais had endured significant hardships. Yet, Krais himself didn''t see it as suffering. He mentioned that he had a full purse now and had enjoyed the experience. Although having an escort was somewhat inconvenient, he admitted it was necessary due to the frequent troublemakers he encountered while moving from city to city. "As long as I move in a group like this, most people don''t dare to start anything. So, there''s that." For the most part, Nurat handled minor confrontations. However, Krais found dragging out unnecessary battles a waste of time, so he opted to travel with a large entourage instead. Amid these challenges, including frequent conflicts and troublesome issues, he had even established a new military division. In every sense of the word, Krais was a genius. What he created was a cavalry unit called the Recon Interception Squad. Training cavalry was no easy feat. The mere process of raising warhorses was extremely arduous. A horse capable of charging onto a battlefield wasn''t simply born to run; it required careful nurturing to overcome fear and develop resilience. Krais managed to start horse training by recruiting skilled horse breeders, but what about the cavalry itself? Cavalry soldiers needed to handle their mounts as extensions of their own bodies. Assembling a proper cavalry unit within a short time frame was an impossible task¡ªit wasn''t something achievable in just a few months. Did Krais give up? Of course not. Instead, he thought outside the box. He began by selecting individuals who were skilled riders from all the divisions and brought them together. After rigorous training to enhance their combat capabilities, some dropped out along the way, while others, who seemed more suited for banditry, were dismissed. The remaining group was small. As a result, they were not a traditional cavalry unit but rather specialized for interception. This unit, now led by Nurat, was known as the Green Pearl Cavalry Recon Squad. The name was an alias, according to Krais. Hearing this, Enkrid was reminded of Enri, a friend he''d met in the west who had transitioned from hunter to merchant. There were resources that Enri might bring with him. Though the journey''s original purpose was to use the safe trade routes established by the Border Guard, some items could potentially be purchased here. "Wasn''t there an obsidian spear among the items from the west?" Obsidian spears weren''t common tools on the continent. The brittle nature of obsidian made it effective as a throwing spearhead but too fragile for melee combat. However, the Border Guard''s cavalry relied on bows and throwing spears as their primary weapons. This cavalry wasn''t overwhelmingly powerful, but facing them would undoubtedly be troublesome. Riding across the battlefield, striking here and there, would be immensely irritating. "That would be annoying." Even so, the Recon Interception Squad held sufficient value just as they were. "Let''s call them the Black Spear Cavalry." "Pardon?" "The name." "Hmm, because the spear shafts are blackened?" Krais guessed at the intent behind the name, looking for its significance. Names carried power. A well-chosen name could inspire fear or boost morale before a battle even began. Aspen''s Grey Dogs had earned their nickname, "Relentless Lovers," because of their deadly reputation¡ªthey would stop at nothing to kill their targets. The Black Spear Cavalry wasn''t a bad name. As Krais muttered over it, Enkrid mentioned a few items expected to arrive from the west. "That sounds promising." Thus began the cavalry unit armed with obsidian-tipped throwing spears. It was a combination of resources from the west, horses born on the Green Pearl Plains, Krais'' ingenuity, and soldiers who had endured grueling training. Despite all this, the unit remained merely a Recon Interception Squad. "What about the other reconnaissance units?" "Finn leads them. She''s aiming to turn all her soldiers into Rangers," Krais replied. The specialization of troops was part of Krais'' extensive reorganization plan for the military, which Enkrid had approved. Equipment was standardized, and units were divided into swordsmen, spearmen, archers, shield bearers, cavalry, and mounted archers. Even in his absence, everything was proceeding smoothly. As they left the dining hall after their conversation, a wild horse with mismatched eye colors snorted and attempted to charge at Enkrid. Placing his palm on the horse''s head, Enkrid absorbed the force with ease. It was clearly a playful act¡ªa gesture akin to greeting an old friend. "It''s been a while, hasn''t it?" Enkrid greeted the beast, a friend who also carried the blood of monsters. Grasping its mane and shaking it, the horse whinnied excitedly. The city felt too small and confining for the creature, so it often roamed outside. It had encountered someone that accompanied its friend and had brought them back to this place. As Enkrid patted its mane, he noticed a shadow blocking the sunlight. Behind him stood a man carrying a black sword over his shoulder. He had blond hair, red eyes, and wore a thin leather outfit speckled with blood. He hadn''t even donned armor. "When did you arrive?" The man greeted him casually, as if they''d seen each other just yesterday. Enkrid smirked and replied, "It''s been a while." "Must''ve come while I was out for a quick walk," the man muttered. Judging by the blood on his clothes, he hadn''t just wandered aimlessly; he''d been in a fight somewhere. He looked disheveled, as if he hadn''t eaten or bathed for days, but that was typical for him. "Let''s fight, you barbarian northern swordsman who can''t even find his way around," Enkrid teased. "Why are you calling me that? Save it for savages," Ragna replied, stiffening momentarily before responding. The provocation, though playful, unsettled him slightly. "Are you really that skilled in fighting? Follow me to the training grounds." Ignoring his reaction, Enkrid finished with a smirk. Chapter 504 - Is That It? Chapter 504 - 504 - Is That It? Chapter 504 - Is That It? Ragna arrived, having wandered aimlessly without eating or washing, but Enkrid, despite giving everything he had, couldn''t bring him down. The lazy man''s sword, now heavier and swifter than before, moved in arcs too daunting to counter. Watching the massive blade curve as if bending itself, Enkrid couldn''t muster the courage to block it directly. Yet, he managed to defend against Ragna''s sword nine times¡ªblocking, parrying, and deflecting it¡ªwhile slipping in what could be called the knight''s strike, a piercing thrust. Ragna merely twisted his body and evaded it. From Ragna''s seamless movements, Enkrid recalled one of the knightly principles Luagarne had spoken of: "Time." Wasn''t it said that they exist on different timelines? In the time it took Enkrid to swing his sword once, Ragna had already twisted his body and extended his blade. Such movements and timing were only possible because Ragna''s reflexes, athletic ability, and strength far surpassed normal limits. Yet, his skills weren''t lacking either. Ragna was no mere chimera knight; he was a true knight. How could a knight cut down a thousand enemies? The answer lay right here. "If a soldier can thrust a spear once, but a knight can thrust it ten times in the same span, such feats become possible," Luagarne had explained, and once again, Enkrid felt the truth of those words. The fact that Enkrid even recognized this was impressive. It was thanks to his predictive ability, the so-called "eyes that see a step ahead." Not that he was satisfied with his current level¡ªfar from it. A relentless desire and ambition burned within Enkrid''s piercing blue eyes, urging him to go further. Seeing those mad eyes again after so long, Ragna couldn''t help but feel entertained, even though he hadn''t eaten properly or slept for days. "That all you''ve got?" Thus, Ragna repaid him for earlier, towering over the fallen Enkrid and delivering a single taunt. Enkrid didn''t get angry; he simply chuckled. For some reason, the stronger his subordinates became, the sharper their tongues seemed to grow. "Cut in line? Obviously, it''s my turn first, right? Huh? Huh? Aaagh?" Rem, furious that Enkrid had faced Ragna first, erupted in anger. When Enkrid, stepping forward, declared it was his right to go first, he nearly hurled his axe at him. But to his credit, he didn''t interrupt their duel or attack him from behind. His pride wouldn''t allow it. Ragna, meanwhile, quietly observed the returning commander. From a single duel, he could tell that Enkrid had overcome a wall and reached a certain level. For Ragna, concepts like junior knights, knights, or squires didn''t exist. Why? There was no reason¡ªthey simply didn''t matter to him. In truth, his genius prevented him from setting such standards. Setting standards meant creating limitations, and limitations constrained combat. In battle, anything could happen. A moment of complacency could lead to being killed by the awl in a child''s grasp. Of course, if it were Ragna, even if an assassin disguised as a child thrust an awl at his heart, he''d react the moment it grazed his skin. Such feats were within the realm of possibility for a knight. Now, Enkrid seemed capable of something similar¡ªable to dodge attacks, even if it meant letting them graze him. Compared to before, his improvement was staggering. Even so, some areas still lacked refinement. Reaction time, decision-making speed, and physical limits¡ªthese shortcomings stemmed from his incomplete mastery of Will. Ragna instinctively recognized this. Yet, he offered no guidance. Words meant to help could instead create constraints and traps. Thus, Ragna simply watched in silence. Jaxen, observing from the sidelines, was equally astonished. The commanding presence Enkrid displayed while facing Ragna stood out starkly. "Pressure." It was the natural aura of intimidation that came from someone at a knight''s level. The wandering swordsman overwhelmed the commander with sheer presence, but instead of succumbing, Enkrid responded with his own force, effortlessly repelling it. Not with the Will of Rejection, but through sheer, natural resolve. It was a striking realization¡ªEnkrid was no longer the man he once was. "You bastard!" Unable to hold back any longer, Rem launched himself at Ragna, who hadn''t had proper rest. Their fight was fierce but oddly anticlimactic¡ªa battle of equals running parallel courses. At some point, Enkrid saw their weapons collide at speeds beyond his perception, sparks flying as the heat from their blows radiated outward. Yet, neither was truly serious. As raindrops began to fall, the heavens unleashed a sudden downpour. "I went easy on you, lazy wanderer." "And I see you''ve picked up some tricks on how to flail about." Though they continued to snarl at each other, their weapons lowered. The rain made further fighting pointless. "Let''s wash up," Enkrid suggested. Before long, even Krais had joined them, and they all found themselves in the bathhouse. The place hadn''t changed much¡ªsteam thickened the air, and the exuberance of the middle-aged caretaker remained unmatched. "Come on in!" Her greeting was as sharp and refreshing as a knight''s strike. With unwavering confidence, she ushered the mud-covered group toward the bath. "Strip down and get in! Give me something to admire for once!" Though her words suggested interest, it was clear she cared little for the sight of men''s bodies. Stripping down, Enkrid, Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, Audin, and Krais entered the bath. Only Luagarne and Theresa opted out. Though much was the same, the bath had its changes¡ªthe most notable being a massive stone tub. A skilled stonemason must have carved and polished the large slab into a communal bath. "A gift from Lord Graham," Krais explained as they sank into the warm waters, their muscles relaxing. Bathing was a cultural export from the Empire, now widespread across the continent, including Naurilia. Though absent in the West, Rem found himself quite fond of it¡ªthe soothing warmth eased his restless mind. "I let you off easy, wanderer." "Say your prayers tonight. You''re lucky to still be alive." "Oh, brothers, let us not quarrel. The gods are always watching." "Idiots." As they bantered, the bath seemed to grow hotter, though their words were only half-serious. This was their way of expressing camaraderie. Compared to their first meeting, when hostility had nearly led to bloodshed, their relationship had improved immensely. Satisfied, Rem seemed content¡ªnot because he had avoided a beating, but perhaps because he liked the bath''s temperature. "Where''s the beastkin sister?" Audin asked. Enkrid glanced at him, thinking the question came surprisingly quickly. "She''s visiting the East." "I see." And that was the end of it. Respecting another''s decision¡ªa trait they once lacked¡ªhad become second nature under Enkrid''s leadership. "I heard you gave gifts to Commander Shinar and Esther. What about us?" Krais asked, his body submerged up to his chin. Enkrid had something for them, though it wasn''t a gift per se. "It''s in my pack back at camp. I forgot." Had they been present when he arrived, he would have handed it out naturally, but the group had been scattered. Without a central figure, they had naturally drifted apart. Krais alone sensed this shift. "Still, this is better than the old days, where they fought like madmen," he thought. Even scattered, the group lingered nearby, held together by an invisible thread of loyalty. It reminded Krais of celestial bodies, something he''d once learned from an astronomer: The world wasn''t centered around this land but revolved around the sun. *** After getting cooked, Enkrid began rummaging through his backpack, pulling out items one by one. "Picked this up along the way," he said. First was the Carmen Collection, a jeweled dagger encased in an ornate scabbard. Whoever the previous owner had been, they certainly had a taste for embellishment. Enkrid tossed it to Jaxen, who caught the handle midair. Shing! Jaxen partially unsheathed the blade. Though the sound rang clear, the blade itself was invisible. His eyes, rare to widen, did just that. "The Carmen Collection?" He muttered to himself, running his fingertips along the invisible blade. Its presence was unmistakable to the touch¡ªthough unseen, its form and sharpness were evident. "Was the road littered with treasure? How do you come back with something like that?" Krais blinked his large eyes, posing the question. "Well, you''re not wrong," Luagarne interjected, nodding. She explained briefly¡ªapparently, a deserter had carried it, and Enkrid had taken it from him. "That''s a rare weapon, isn''t it? Maybe luck was on your side." Perhaps so, Krais thought, though he didn''t get the chance to finish his musings. "This seems like it''s for you," Jaxen said, tossing the jeweled scabbard to Krais. Catching it, Krais appraised the scabbard quickly. "Not top-grade, but not bad either," he concluded. While the jewels weren''t particularly valuable, the weapon itself was far better than most dungeon relics. Plus, it could fetch a good price if needed. A useful addition to their spoils. "I''ll use it well," Krais said, acknowledging the gift. Jaxen seemed genuinely pleased, even nodding his thanks to Enkrid. But that wasn''t all. "There have been several assassination attempts," Jaxen said nonchalantly. "On the lord, and a few on Big Eyes too." Krais blinked in surprise. "When? I didn''t notice anything." Of course, he wouldn''t have. While Enkrid was away, Jaxen had taken charge, punishing disobedience and reshaping the remnants of Geogr''s assassins into a force that suited his needs. They weren''t perfect, but they''d become capable enough to establish a foothold in the city. Jaxen''s men had set traps across the city, catching skilled assassins as they entered. While a few might slip past their nets, none so far had been noteworthy. Most were low-grade, mercenaries working for mere coins. Krais blinked a few more times, piecing it together. Considering himself and Graham, they were prime targets. And there was no shortage of people who''d want to kill them¡ªjealous rivals, scheming nobles, and even Aspen''s agitators hoping for the Border Guard''s collapse. "Ha, that''s just too much," Krais grumbled. If someone poisoned their food, they could be taken out in an instant. That''s why he always carried a silver needle and used silver utensils¡ªsilver being the best material to detect poison. As for valuable gifts, the Invisible Blade was the highlight so far. Next, Enkrid produced a tainted holy relic. Audin instantly recognized it. "Sinner, you shall pay for your blasphemy. Father, do not forgive them," Audin declared, stepping forward dramatically. He reached out his large hand for the relic. "An item to be handled with the utmost reverence. Hand it over," he demanded. Well, he seemed capable enough, so Enkrid handed it over without protest. Despite the relic''s strange aura, none of those present were tempted by it. "Gin, isn''t it?" Krais remarked. "Correct, Brother Big Eyes," Audin affirmed, securing the relic in a small pouch at his waist. The Sacred Church had once stolen holy relics indiscriminately, even sacrificing lives to acquire them. Those stolen relics caused disasters wherever they were taken¡ªsuch as the endless undead uprising that once required intervention from the Holy Knights. The relic Audin now carried was one of those infamous items. Purifying it was a mission of great importance to him. If Jaxen''s Invisible Blade was a material gain, Audin felt as though he''d regained something invaluable. As he prayed over the relic, Theresa joined him. Now a devout follower of the God of War, she understood its significance. There was no greater mission than restoring such an object to its rightful state. As the two immersed themselves in their prayers, a snorting sound came from outside the tent. It was Cross-Eye. Enkrid casually pulled out the Lucky Fish he''d carried and tossed it through the open door. Cross-Eye extended his head, caught it midair, and began chewing. After a few bites, he looked at Enkrid and gave a nod, apparently satisfied. With his bag nearly empty, Enkrid dusted off his hands. At that moment, Ragna, who had just finished devouring two sandwiches, spoke up. "Is that it?" Chapter 505 - A Rainy Night Chapter 505 - 505 - A Rainy Night Chapter 505 - A Rainy Night Rain fell deep into the night. Enkrid nodded, though he hadn''t intended for there to be gifts; somehow, there was nothing left to give to Ragna. Krais believed the jeweled scabbard and the upcoming merchant guild themselves were gifts enough. Sitting to the side like a painting, Esther held one of the items Enkrid had given¡ªa beast''s fang. "I received it," she said, though no one had asked, just as Shinar entered the tent. "That dagger you gave me¡ªcan I consider it an engagement gift?" she joked in the faerie tongue. Ropord and Fel hadn''t received anything either, so Ragna didn''t feel particularly slighted. "Come out, savage. I''ll tear your head off." Ragna simply thought that some barbarian must have pulled a stunt in the middle. Whether he became a knight or not, bad feelings were bad feelings. Swordsmanship didn''t turn a man into a sage or a saint. "Fine, come at me you directionally-disfunctional bastard." Neither of them actually left; it was just their usual bickering. "So, where were you?" Enkrid asked, steering the conversation. Ragna shifted his gaze from Rem and answered without much care¡ªhe wasn''t truly upset. "I went for some air. On the way, I saw a lost weird-eyed horse and brought him along." "Who''s brought who along?" Rem scoffed from the side, and Luagarne nodded in agreement. Rem was right. Jaxen stayed silent, and Audin was still deep in prayer. Krais yawned, as if growing lethargic. It was peaceful. Amidst the sound of the seasonal rain pouring down, Enkrid posed a question he''d been holding onto for when everyone was gathered. "If you were dropped in a desert, how would you get out?" This wasn''t just a casual question. As knights, what would they do if their physical capabilities changed? Enkrid had escaped the desert, but he believed luck played a role. Without luck, how would one escape? The first to respond was Ragna, whose skill at navigation was well-known. "By finding my way using the stars," he said, lying blatantly but not entirely wrong. "What you have is a sickness, you idiot. Also, you wouldn''t see them¡ªthe skies there are blocked," Rem retorted, and Enkrid nodded. Ragna calmly added, "Then I''d rely on my instincts." It was madness. Enkrid had no expectations of Ragna to begin with. Rem muttered something about a crazy man with no sense of direction before sharing his own thoughts. "Pick a direction and keep walking. No matter where you are, there''s always an end." Rem''s words reflected an understanding of deserts. Unlike legendary labyrinths, deserts weren''t mazes¡ªthey were just land. So walking persistently was enough. If things got desperate, he planned to summon the guiding bird of wishes to find Enkrid. "I could go a month without eating or drinking, but there''s no need. I''d just run." His solution was viable due to his shamanic abilities. Rem''s words implied that by invoking the spirit of Belopter, he could run for days. Next was Audin. "I would ask God and listen for His guidance." With divine power, Audin could perform miracles, healing the sick and injured. To him, asking God and receiving answers wasn''t absurd¡ªit was his reality. If such a situation arose, divine revelation would guide him. Enkrid knew Audin spoke with complete sincerity. Jaxen, instead of answering, posed a counter-question. "You said there''s no way to orient oneself. Was that really the case, no matter what you tried?" It''s impossible to change the past, but reflecting on it can prevent repeated mistakes. Enkrid had asked with that in mind, along with a desire to gauge their thoughts. Jaxen''s question pointed out a critical detail: was there truly nothing he could''ve relied on to guide him? "Did you hear any sounds? Wind? How was the western wind?" Rem thought Jaxen''s question fit him perfectly¡ªlike a sly desert cat. Rare though they were, some guides existed even in the western deserts. While they couldn''t necessarily locate people, they spoke of following the wind. Only those with extraordinary senses could do so. "Wind direction, scent, everything becomes a trail or a clue. You can''t get lost." Jaxen could even navigate labyrinths. His sense, born from Will, was one of the tools that elevated him to his current position. He didn''t earn titles like Master of the Dagger of Geogr or the Dawn Dew Owner over card games. "An interesting topic," Shinar chimed in. She understood deserts¡ªa world opposite of forests. But that didn''t mean deserts lacked vitality. To see vitality was to see spirits. Shinar had a natural affinity for such energy. Even in the desert, spirits or traces of their presence would exist. "Deserts aren''t devoid of energy. I''d follow the paths of vitality," she said. "But do we really need to get lost in a desert to begin with? It feels like a situation I''d avoid altogether," Fel remarked. "Don''t say something stupid. This was hypothetical from the start," Ropord interjected immediately. Fel countered, and Ropord responded with a sharp smile that seemed stiff. "I''m saying I''d avoid it entirely." "That''s why your premise is flawed. Shepherds don''t get lost; they find their way out. And I always carry a few days'' worth of provisions." "So don''t go in the first place." This time, Ropord wasn''t smiling. "That''s a stupid argument." Fel crossed his arms. "You want to get punched?" "The Idol Slayer doesn''t discriminate. You know that, right?" "So I just have to avoid getting hit. Easy." When had it started? It might have started when the crack formed between Fel and Ropord. Their relationship was strained, reminiscent of the chaotic past of the Madmen unit. Perhaps it was because their ideals diverged. Ropord emphasized calculation and strategy, while Fel believed in the importance of split-second decisions. Their differing perspectives on swordsmanship turned their skills into the ultimate argument for their beliefs. Additionally, Shepherd Fel had no tact in choosing his words, and Ropord, a knight under the order, lacked the experience to handle someone so blatantly disrespectful. For various reasons, their animosity grew intense. Enkrid, watching them quietly, eventually spoke. "Enough." That single word sufficed. Both men immediately suppressed their tempers and ceased glaring at each other. In this regard, they were oddly similar¡ªthey didn''t waste energy on unnecessary things. Fel stifled the bubbling frustration inside. The cracks in his heart could crumble as they would, but he still wanted to bash in the head of that prim-and-proper swordsman, Ropord. There was no reason it couldn''t be done. Catching up to someone who had been lucky enough to get ahead wasn''t impossible. Ropord had similar thoughts. That shepherd had no manners and lacked respect for others. He needed a lesson. To win against someone like Fel, one only needed to live daily like Enkrid did. With Ragna back, there were more opportunities to spar and hone his swordsmanship. Somehow, Ropord had already forgotten his original intention to return to the order. Enkrid observed the two and thought how nice it would be if Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxen could follow orders this well. ''Not a chance.'' He asked questions and got answers, understanding that everyone had a different way of thinking. Some would push forward with raw determination, while others would rely on their unique abilities. ''Could I also sense the wind''s scent?'' Jaxen had once told him to rely on scent if he couldn''t hear. While he couldn''t see the energy or spirits like Shinar, had his instincts truly detected nothing? He wasn''t sure. Perhaps there had been something. "If I had studied and known beforehand, it might have helped," he murmured to himself, recalling Luagarne''s earlier comment. Knowledge was power, and every piece of insight they shared had proven useful. Thinking back, he remembered the soldier who had charged at him in the camp. That soldier¡ªMarco¡ªhad wielded Will. What method had he used? The soldier bolstered his mental strength by refusing to retreat. He fortified his resolve by warning his opponent and established a psychological edge with a decisive first strike. Even if he didn''t win with a single thrust, he could leave a lasting impression of his spear''s lethality. Every stance, movement, and strike had been part of a strategy. Enkrid reflected on this, understanding that each person had their tactics, and there was always something to learn and internalize. "There''s not just one way." He spoke softly to himself. "With an abundance of Will, even physical stamina changes," Ragna had once said. It was true¡ªsince taking that final step in the desert, every step he''d taken had been imbued with Will. Enkrid carefully organized his thoughts and carved the lessons he''d gained into his mind. The Eastern mercenary king, Anu, had always said to experience as much as possible. Why? Because Enkrid saw differences in everything he observed and experienced. And not just differences¡ªhe saw commonalities too. Emerging from the desert, what he had learned, what he now understood, and what he had gained from asking questions were all connected. It was like moonlight¡ªvisible but intangible, as if a missing piece was still needed. There was no rush, for clarity wouldn''t come just by pondering. "Since we''re all gathered here, let''s hear your story, fiance?." Shinar, sitting with one knee pulled up on her chair, spoke casually. Her words made Enkrid look up. "What did you do to earn titles like the Savior of the City or the Pioneer of the West?" Her question came again, her expression more relaxed than usual¡ªor so it seemed to Enkrid. Unbeknownst to him, the deeds he had accomplished had earned him several nicknames. Since there was no reason not to share, he began his tale¡ªfrom slaying demons to becoming a savior and pioneer. He spoke well, and before long, everyone was utterly absorbed, swallowing nervously as they listened. "You should''ve been a bard instead of a knight," Krais quipped, his tone playful. "Not a bad idea," Luagarne added, puffing her cheeks slightly. Though she had experienced those events herself, hearing them from Enkrid''s lips made them even more fascinating. Not that he was the continent''s greatest bard¡ªapart from Krais, his companions'' storytelling skills were generally terrible. However, Krais''s well-placed interjections enriched the tale further. The most shocking revelation was about Rem''s wife and child. "Trash," Krais spat in disgust, his tone biting. Many children had been abandoned by their parents in their youth, Krais included. He despised parents who abandoned their children. "Want to die?" "To leave your wife and child behind...." "Ayul is a strong woman. She also knows what she wants," Rem replied. In truth, Ayul had urged Rem to leave. She was a remarkable woman who supported her partner''s big dreams. "Marriage? Did you threaten her?" Ragna asked. Rem''s answer was a silent swing of his axe. Jaxen scratched his ears repeatedly, as if he''d misheard. When an axe came flying his way, he dodged effortlessly. Audin offered a prayer of blessing. "As they say, even a bat without wings finds its mate. Surely, this union is divinely blessed." Though it sounded more like personal opinion than a proper blessing. "Damn it, how is that a blessing?" Rem grumbled. They talked until dawn. Shinar, uncharacteristically, shared tales of the Forest of Energy. Her story ended with a demonic domain. "If you fall into it, you die. Every single one did." It had started as a peaceful tale about the forest, but her storytelling skills were evidently lacking. Audin recounted Teresa''s journey of faith. Teresa couldn''t forget her past, but she had learned to look to the future instead of dwelling on yesterday. As he spoke, his gaze lingered on Enkrid, filled with warmth and determination. It was not affection but gratitude and the competitive spirit of a student toward his teacher. "Cultists should be killed on sight," Luagarne declared. Even Ropord and Fel joined in the conversation eventually. Fel shared tales of shepherding, and Ropord spoke about the rarity of true knights even within the order. He looked around the group, noting there were three people here capable of fighting at a knight''s level. Jaxen''s story, related to the Carmen Collection, sent chills down their spines despite the lingering summer heat. It was a harrowing tale of a person''s relentless revenge. Surprisingly, Jaxen spoke eloquently despite his usual reticence, proving himself capable when the occasion called for it. "Met a few who were decent with a sword while out for a walk." Ragna summed up getting lost in that one line. Beyond that, his days had been filled with training, sleeping, and lazing about, leaving him with little else to say. The very reason he''d gone out on that walk was because Enkrid wasn''t around. Feeling his drive dimming and slipping away, he''d forced himself to go out in search of some stimulation. "Are you out of your damn mind?" Rem chimed in, earning himself a punch from Ragna this time. Naturally, Rem dodged it, tilting his head aside. From his seat, he then threw a punch of his own. Caught between the two, Audin intervened from his seated position, physically stopping them. As expected of a master in close combat, regardless of rank or title, he handled them with ease. Between laughter and conversation, a few soldiers brought over bottles of alcohol and food. It was on Krais''s orders, and everyone partook, eating and drinking together. It was an impromptu feast. For Enkrid, this finally felt like truly coming home¡ªunimportant jokes, stories, and each person speaking their mind. They talked and bantered, letting the night deepen. Eventually, the scuffling stopped, and only real conversations remained. "A Beelrog, huh. A troublesome foe." Ragna said this midway, after hearing Oara''s tale. It was naturally assumed that Enkrid was going to kill the Beelrog. Not a single person suggested giving up or voiced concerns about the danger. If it was something that needed to be done, they would do it. That was what all of them believed. "Not right now." Enkrid responded in kind. Krais let out a sigh in the middle of it. "Would you guys at least try to stop him? A Beelrog, seriously?" To the average person, a Beelrog was the kind of creature they might never even hear of in their lifetime. What? It wields a flaming whip and a sword wreathed in fire? A hidden deity of the Gnoll within the Demon realm? Stories passed around¡ªtales of the Demon realm, Holy Church, childhood memories, the time in the West meeting Jiba and her mother, the man who loved her. Fragments of what Oara had left behind made their way into the conversation. The night wore on. Rain fell. Drinks circled among them. The crackling fire drove away the dampness just enough. ---------------------------------------------------- Please support my work and read more Chapters by heading over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 506 - Greetings Chapter 506 - 506 - Greetings Chapter 506 - Greetings Traveling from Martai to the East was not as arduous as Dunbakel had expected. While it was inevitable to encounter magical beasts, their numbers were noticeably fewer than before. This wasn''t surprising. Guard posts had been erected from Border Guard all the way to Martai, with soldiers rotating shifts to both kill magical creatures and defend the posts. Interestingly, there was no rise in banditry, a common phenomenon elsewhere on the continent when magical creatures retreated. As travel increased due to the safer routes, bandits typically filled the void. However, this region was different. "If you''re caught stealing, you lose a hand. If you''re caught robbing, you lose your head." The Border Guard commander, now the lord of Martai, ruled with the same harsh measures as before. This ensured that criminal guilds couldn''t gain a foothold in the region. Occasionally, Miellun, a Frog, would visit for entertainment, taking pleasure in brutally thrashing mercenaries and swordsmen causing trouble. "If you think this is unfair, come to the Border Guard," Miellun would say. Miellun''s new hobby of venturing to Martai for a "stroll" stemmed from the increasing number of strong warriors in the Border Guard. It was even rumored that those who foolishly took up his challenge were forced into grueling training by the musclebound warrior. Dunbakel had heard similar stories along the way and nodded in agreement¡ªthey sounded credible. As the Border Guard trained strong soldiers and invested heavily in arms, Martai followed suit. "Shall we let the reputation of the Border Guard falter?" Torres relentlessly drilled his troops. He refused to allow the famed Border Guard to lose its standing under his command. As part of their training, Torres assigned units to man the posts, and, as Krais envisioned, Martai began constructing its own outposts. With safe roads connecting the Border Guard to Martai, merchant caravans frequented the path, transforming it into a bustling trade route. Martai, already a gateway city for rare relics from the East, flourished. The goods and artifacts from the East were valuable, and while the Rockfreed trading guild could have monopolized this trade, they wisely refrained, taking only what they needed and leaving the rest. By not meddling with Eastern relics or peddlers, they created an environment where merchants could travel freely as long as they paid tolls. As a result, merchant guilds across the continent saw Border Guard as the essential trading hub, creating a boom in commerce. Although Martai lacked distinct specialties and Green Pearl''s fertile lands were still under development, the thriving trade naturally bolstered the flow of krona. This newfound prosperity explained the city''s bustling activity. Dunbakel found Torres as instructed by Enkrid and secured the necessary supplies. "You''re heading East? Dangerous. But you''re with Enkrid, right? Do as you please," Torres remarked, adding, "Should I have a bath drawn for you?" Dunbakel''s disheveled appearance made it clear she hadn''t bathed in days. "No need. I''m leaving right away." Still grimy, she departed Martai, heading eastward. The vast wasteland greeted her initially, and soon she left behind the areas devoid of magical creatures and bandits. New magical beasts appeared¡ªsuch as a two-headed lizard, with one head creating sparks by snapping its teeth while the other exhaled gas. Together, the heads produced bursts of flame. These creatures, remnants of the legendary fire-breathing salamanders that once descended upon the continent, were considered a subspecies, aptly named flame lizards or, more crudely, double-headed lizards in some regions. They weren''t common sights. Killing magical beasts as she traveled, Dunbakel pressed on. The journey to the East was long, and as boredom set in, her thoughts began to wander. "The Chronicles of Dunbakel''s Journey to the East." Perhaps she could craft a tale of her exploits. A subtitle like The Tales of Bees Drunk on Flowers came to mind. Everyone, including Enkrid, would inevitably fall for her charms. "Should I leave Rem out of it?" He was married, and Ayul was a kind soul who had once taken care of her during her stay in the West. On the way to the Eastern frontier city, Dunbakel narrowly escaped death twice¡ªa long yet short tale in itself. When she finally met the ruler of the East, Mercenary King Anu, his first words were: "Hey, is that bastard missing his fingers? Why hasn''t he replied to my letters?" Anu was complaining about Enkrid''s lack of response to his letters. Warm greetings were absent, but that hardly mattered. Had she ever been welcomed warmly? "Not my problem," Dunbakel replied indifferently. The king eyed her. "Why are you here?" "To relax." Her casual remark made the king''s attendants tense. Was this half-witted beastkin mocking them? Dunbakel, undeterred, declared confidently, "Take care of me." *** Meanwhile, Krang was fed up with politics. Look at the current situation: "It seems there are many eyes on Enkrid," someone said. "Why? Are they worried I''ll take their land and give it to Enki if we get along?" The Marquis of Okto chuckled. "What can you do? Strengthening the monarchy makes nobles uneasy." Krang drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair. Why did leeches always resurface, no matter how many he eradicated? Like summer mosquitoes, these pests kept appearing. Some landed nobles from the frontier grumbled about Enkrid''s territory being too large, with a few even threatening to seize parts of it by force. "Are they mad?" If they wanted to died trying, so be it. Krang dismissed their complaints, warning that any damage from armed conflicts would be their responsibility. Some nobles, perhaps driven by a suicidal urge, agreed. Of course, meddling from neighboring nations also played a role in stoking these flames. But what more could be said to those hell-bent on their doom? "Well, it can''t be helped. Aspen seems restless, don''t they?" As autumn began with seasonal rains, Krang looked out at the leaves slowly turning red. "We''re monitoring all routes and gathering information. My judgment is that, yes, they''re preparing for war," replied the Marquis of Baisar, seated beside the Marquis of Okto. Across the table, Marcus Baisar ate quietly. It was both a breakfast meeting and a feast, albeit a modest one with steak, roasted broccoli, and mashed potatoes. Krang despised waste, a sentiment born from his childhood, witnessing people starve to death across the continent. He believed that reducing the royal table''s extravagance could save dozens, even hundreds, of lives. While some nobles disliked this approach, seeing it as an encroachment on their privileges, Krang didn''t punish them outright. Instead, the royal family led by example, fostering a culture of responsibility and care for the people. Still, dissent persisted¡ªcomplaints about his favoritism toward Enkrid, inadequate knight training, and so on. And now Aspen was making its move. Should they pull knights from the southern border to fight? Could they afford to divert troops from Oara? Knights would be critical in the upcoming war, which would undoubtedly escalate beyond skirmishes. Aspen would stop at nothing to claim Green Pearl. But what gave them such confidence? If Krang were Aspen''s king, he would bow his head and bide his time. Yet their actions suggested they had something to rely on. Perhaps, like Enkrid, they saw failure not as an end but as an opportunity to try again. "Are you saying that if Aspen crosses the line, Enkrid should stop them using only the forces of the Border Guard?" Some nobles were stirring up trouble, trying to undermine General Enkrid''s authority. They were spreading rumors that he should fulfill his duty as the lord of a city built to guard against Aspen and as the overseer of the region. It seemed these people had no conscience left. Had they forgotten that he was hailed as the Hero of the Civil War and the Demon Slayer? Well, perhaps the provincial nobles hadn''t fully grasped Enkrid''s achievements. Even now, their unified voice was largely driven by these local lords. Among them were those displeased with Count Molsan''s territory being practically managed as a royal domain. Some of these fools believed that parts of the count''s land would become theirs once Molsan passed away. Krang asked, and Marquis Baisar nodded. "At most, they''ll only need to hold out for a month before the royal forces can provide reinforcements." These reinforcements might include knights. Just a month¡ªit would suffice to make it look like they were putting up a fight. A fac?ade, yes, but enough to show that the Border Guard was fulfilling its role and that Enkrid deserved his position. "Just in case, I''m considering sending Viscount Andrew''s troops. He should be of sufficient help." Marcus gulped down a piece of meat and spoke. Andrew was the lord of a city near the capital, one whose forces were rapidly growing stronger with royal support. As Marcus suggested, he would indeed be useful. Krang nodded, realizing it was time to personally write another letter. "Is that guy busy or what? Why hasn''t he replied?" Krang himself had sent over ten letters, yet there was no response from Enkrid. If he had returned, shouldn''t he reply? Surely some time had passed since his return from the West. *** "Does he not think at all?" Or perhaps, despite being a skilled fighter, he was just not very bright. Enkrid thought this as he read the Mercenary King''s letter. It urged him to send a reply, though the content wasn''t particularly important. Why was he so insistent on a response? The Mercenary King might have been able to send letters through his own men, but for Enkrid to send a response from Border Guard, it would require at least a squad of soldiers. Up to now, he had left replies with Martai, relying on Eastern messengers to deliver them back. Timing had to align for any correspondence to succeed. Enkrid had been preoccupied moving between the city of Oara and the West. Yet this man grumbled about not receiving a reply? Even if he didn''t know the circumstances, it didn''t seem like a matter that warranted urgent letters. Enkrid meticulously sorted through the pile of correspondence that had accumulated in his absence. Most were from the Mercenary King Anu and Krang, though a few were entirely frivolous. There were letters professing love, some claiming to have fallen for him at first sight, and even ones from nobles suggesting meetings with their daughters. Excluding letters from two kings, half were marriage proposals, a quarter questioned whether his reputation was deserved, and the remaining quarter were from merchants and organizations seeking his favor. "Bribes seem to come pouring in too, huh?" As Enkrid skimmed through the letters and penned brief replies, he asked Krais. "Yes, quite a bit. Would you like some?" "No." He didn''t need anything. While he planned to buy a new set of armor, he could easily tap into Krais''s funds if necessary. In fact, custom gear, including gambesons, chainmail, and plate armor, had already been prepared for him. Among them, one gambeson was dyed a deep navy blue with a golden sword embroidered on it. Whoever had designed it seemed to have left their sense of aesthetics in some abyss. But it was sturdy¡ªlined with the fur of a wolf-turned-monster and stuffed with owlbear feathers. A bit heavy, but not unmanageable. After drafting and organizing responses, Enkrid donned his armor, strapped the sword Aker to his side, and secured three throwing knives to his chest. He stepped out of his modest office, and Krais asked, "Where are you headed?" "To pay a visit." "To whom?" "A noble." Krais immediately understood what Enkrid intended. There was a noble who had sent clumsy assassins after him and frequently caused trouble. This noble''s domain lay between the Border Guard and Count Molsan''s territory. It wasn''t a small estate, but neither was it especially powerful. Recently, the noble had adopted a son, claiming the boy had been trained by a martial arts master who now resided in the estate. Ever since, the lord had grown increasingly audacious, speaking as if parts of Count Molsan''s lands rightfully belonged to him and dismissing Enkrid as a mere lucky swordsman. "Are you going alone?" Krais stood, prepared to follow. He''d been armed and ready at his desk, clearly planning to leave. Was there any need to bring more people? Enkrid thought not. This was no different from a casual outing. Enkrid set off for the noble''s estate. Finding it boring to go alone, Rem decided to tag along. "Let''s go together. I''m bored." Ragna dismissed the idea and went back to sleep, while Luagarne had been focused on training since returning from the West. Fel remained somewhat down in the rain, while Ropord was his usual energetic self. Deep nights of seasonal rain, conversations during downtime, and relentless training routines marked their days. After several days of rain, clear skies and cooler temperatures finally arrived¡ªideal for walking and moving around. "Are you planning to kill him?" Rem asked on their way out. "Don''t cut off his head straight away," Enkrid replied, as they began their journey at a leisurely pace. The estate was too far to walk directly, and a carriage was offered, but Enkrid declined. He wanted to walk, to clear his mind of the faint yet elusive clues about the path ahead, as well as any idle thoughts. For about ten days, they took their time walking, training, and hunting along the way. Eventually, they reached the noble''s domain. As luck would have it, the noble had just gone out on a monster hunt. At the border of the estate, Enkrid encountered the noble, accompanied by his son and twenty retainers. Enkrid stood there with only Rem by his side. --------------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters early check out my ko-fi using the link below :) www.ko-fi.com/samowek Thank you for supporting my work :) Chapter 507 - The Black Witch and the Golden Witch Chapter 507 - 507 - The Black Witch and the Golden Witch Chapter 507 - The Black Witch and the Golden Flower "Take my disciple as your adopted son." Baron Philip was the lord governing this region, yet he lacked remarkable qualities. However, he wasn''t entirely devoid of ambition. "Someday." He dreamed of becoming a lord with a vast territory. But this ambition bordered on delusion. Things changed after a man named Lorenzo, who claimed to be a swordsmanship master, appeared. Lorenzo suggested that Philip adopt his disciple, and Philip agreed. To outsiders, it seemed the adopted son had been assigned a swordsmanship instructor, but the truth was different. The disciple was a genius spearman. Wielding a spear in one hand and a shield in the other, he could annihilate over a dozen ghouls in an instant. "Remarkable." The words escaped Philip''s lips as he watched. He had never witnessed such a skilled individual before. Not a single soldier under his command, no matter how capable, could compare. Lorenzo, the mentor, was even more skilled than his disciple and adoptive son, Cavin. Both pledged their allegiance to Philip. "I''ve admired your benevolence and righteousness from afar. I saw your domain as a suitable haven for a wanderer without a home. If you wish us to leave, we will comply." These were the words Lorenzo spoke when he first approached Philip. With civil war raging and turmoil spreading throughout Naurilia, rumors abounded of skilled individuals seeking masters to serve. Philip considered this his opportunity. "Why not me?" Philip believed he was no less capable than the famed Enkrid, who had made his name during the chaos. Enkrid wasn''t even of noble birth¡ªjust a lucky mercenary who seized an opportunity. "A mere wandering swordsman." Enkrid had risen to fame by exploiting the civil war, and Philip envied him. Yes, he envied him deeply. But envy could be dealt with¡ªby taking that fame for himself. He subtly gathered nearby nobles, made threats, and eyed the rich spoils of the Border Guard, salivating at the prospect. Philip took action. The result was this encounter. "He smells of nobility," said Rem, once notorious as a noble hunter. His nostrils flared as if imitating Dunbakel. While it was unlikely he could literally smell nobility, the man''s feathered hat, puffed-up shirt, and leather boots were unmistakable. Rem''s comment was clearly meant to mock. "Who are you? This is the domain of Baron Philip." Three of the newcomers sat on horseback, towering over the others. Enkrid, standing below, tilted his head upward to respond. "Enkrid of Border Guard." The introduction needed no embellishment. Baron Philip blinked several times. Who? Whether admired or despised, there was no one in the region unfamiliar with the name Enkrid. Even those who sought to belittle his achievements couldn''t deny their significance. "An impostor, perhaps?" The baron''s suspicion was voiced, but Enkrid ignored him and spoke again. "Are you picking a fight?" "...What?" Did that man just ask if he was picking a fight? "I asked if you were picking a fight." Even a noble deserved respect only to a point. Enkrid was well aware of his intangible power. Noble? Baron? Ridiculous. He was already recognized as the hero of the civil war, granted lands surrounding the nearby territories, and held rank surpassing that of a general. A noble''s name could be challenged with a single letter. Any issues that arose would end with Marcus. Moreover, Krang''s letter had hinted that it wouldn''t hurt to deal with a few troublemakers¡ªit was almost as if he wanted him to. "You insolent¡ª!" The baron erupted in fury, his trembling finger pointing at Enkrid as he roared atop his horse. "Cavin!" Lorenzo''s shout signaled his adoptive son, who dismounted. Cavin squinted, gripping his spear and shield¡ªhis ever-present weapons. Scanning his opponents, he didn''t think them easy prey, but neither did he believe he would lose. He was determined to kill. This was his purpose from the beginning, exploiting the chaos within Naurilia. But he had chosen the wrong target. As soon as Cavin''s killing intent surged, Rem reacted. "Tsk. What a nuisance." Rem muttered, his foot shifting slightly. The ball of his foot pressed down while the rest lifted off the ground. Then, he vanished from Cavin''s sight. It was less a fight and more an execution. Before Cavin could thrust his spear or lift his shield, Rem closed the distance and swung his axe. The speed was beyond Cavin''s perception. Cavin attempted to raise his shield, but Rem''s axe cleaved his skull before he could react. Thud! Cavin''s head cracked open. "Cavin!" Lorenzo''s belated shout came as he leaped from his horse. But by then, Rem had already reached him, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him into the ground with monstrous strength. Lorenzo''s head struck a protruding rock with a sickening crack. The human skull was no match for stone. Blood and brain matter oozed out as Rem tossed the lifeless body aside and dusted his hands. Neither had warranted the use of his axe. "Good thing I brought this hand axe from the forge," thought Rem. Using his heirloom weapon on such fools would''ve been a disgrace. The baron''s jaw dropped. To Baron Philip, Cavin and Lorenzo had seemed like formidable warriors, nearly unmatched outside the knightly ranks. He didn''t realize there was a higher realm he couldn''t comprehend. His petty ambitions, too feeble even to be called dreams, crumbled like a collapsed stage. "Did you pick a fight? Or hire assassins?" Enkrid asked again. None of the baron''s soldiers dared to move. They were frozen as if winter had come early. "...Pardon?" The ambition and delusions in Baron Philip''s heart vanished, replaced by raw survival instincts. Thoughts of his noble status fled. He faced the Demon Slayer. "Let''s just chop his head off. It''d be quicker," the hulking barbarian beside Enkrid suggested. "No need to. I''m not a murderer. If I kill every troublemaker, they''ll call me the Demon General." "Spare me!" The baron begged, mustering every ounce of courage. He didn''t trust the soldiers behind him¡ªa wise choice, as they had already discarded their weapons and knelt. They had no fault in this. "From now on, you''ll till the fields yourself," Enkrid declared. Judging by the soldiers'' appearances, they weren''t doing this because they were well-fed and idle. The baron''s lands were neither destitute nor abundant. This whole scheme had rested on Lorenzo and Cavin. The baron nodded. After all, his domain had begun with him tilling the land. Just looking at Enkrid was enough to make one''s legs tremble. It was natural¡ªfear would inevitably seep into anyone who opposed him. Even though Enkrid moderated it, the presence of his Will subtly influenced his surroundings. For those who confronted him, it could feel as though they were teetering on the edge of a cliff. "Thank you." Baron Philip bowed his head. Becoming a subordinate territory under a powerful lord wasn''t something to be mocked. "There were a few more, weren''t there?" Enkrid casually asked, ignoring Philip''s reaction. "Are you going to visit all of them?" "While I''m at it." The exchange between Enkrid and Rem took place in front of Philip. The nobles who had picked a fight with Krais weren''t limited to Philip. Enkrid decided to meet them all, as if embarking on a tour. Some nobles had accomplices like Lorenzo, while others had simply followed the trends, aligning themselves with influential peers. No one had expected Enkrid to intervene directly, but those who knew him might have seen it coming. Krais, at least, had a rough idea. Thus, Enkrid went through the ranks of the nobles, weeding out the irredeemable ones¡ªthose who stole wives or daughters of their subjects¡ªgiving Rem a justified reason to sever their heads while incorporating the rest. Even though the nobles had challenged him, and Krang had approved, cutting off their heads indiscriminately would have caused a massive uproar. But plausible pretexts weren''t hard to come by. "You dare insult my honor!" Local nobles, when confronted, always spoke aggressively at first, often lashing out in near-desperate outbursts. Hearing such claims, Rem would pick up an old, discarded glove and throw it in the noble''s face. Throwing a glove was a traditional gesture symbolizing a challenge to a duel. "Yes, I''ve insulted you." Thwack. Some nobles ended up with a bloody nose from the soaked leather glove, while others erupted in a stream of curses. "Your mother is a ghoul!" Remarks like these flew, but Rem didn''t care. What good was arguing with the dead? "Fight in my stead!" Then the noble would call forth a champion. "If your champion loses, your life is forfeit. I''ll wager our commander''s head in return." Naturally, the commander in question was Enkrid. Whether he revealed his identity or not, the process largely followed the same pattern. Without such excuses, Enkrid couldn''t simply go around decapitating nobles. The kingdom had its own structure and laws, after all. What Enkrid and Rem were doing was essentially taking advantage of the informal combat tribunal system within those laws. This was just a brief outing. The main result was that Rem''s reputation as a noble killer, which had been fading, rose to prominence once more. Not that it mattered to Rem¡ªhe paid no mind to it. Back at Border Guard, Enkrid resumed his usual routine. Some days, he played with the wierd-eyes. Other times, he roamed the city or sought out his unit members to ask questions. With certain troublesome nobles removed, the Border Guard''s reputation had soared. This brought new challenges¡ªparticularly from women of noble rank. A group of well-dressed ladies, known locally for their beauty, launched an unrelenting campaign to court Enkrid, their "big catch." "Once he meets me, he''ll be captivated!" "Do you think any man can resist my face?" "If anyone can succeed, it''s you, Rowen. If he doesn''t fall for you, he''s no man at all." Encouraged by parents and relatives, the ladies faced two unexpected barriers. The first was Esther, a black-haired, blue-eyed beauty currently delving into human understanding through observation. Her elegance left some ladies blushing. "Black Flower Esther," someone had whispered, a nickname that quickly spread. "I''m giving up..." "I''m going home." While some retreated, others persisted, believing they might have some advantage over Esther. What awaited them next was Shinar, the golden-haired fairy knight. "The Golden Flower," they murmured. Her ethereal beauty silenced any claims of superiority. Why was a fairy even here? Unbeknownst to Enkrid, these events transpired, leading to rumors that the Border Guard commander had a witch on one side and a flower on the other. As a result, the influx of love letters noticeably diminished. Enkrid was indifferent to such trivialities. What mattered was far more significant. He reflected on his actions, ensuring those who dared provoke or harm his people were thoroughly warned. The deed was done, bringing him a sense of peace. "Leaving now," Krais announced. "Alright," Enkrid replied, remaining seated and returning to his meditation. He was pondering the words of his subordinates. "How do I use sorcery?" The first to ask had been Rem. "It''s not complicated¡ªjust use it. If there''s anything different about my method, it''s this: Invocation usually means letting a spirit''s energy reside in your body. For example, a bear''s strength or a wolf''s agility. Most people draw on it when needed, but in my case, the spirits are always present within me." Enkrid recalled Rem''s smile as he spoke. After returning from the west and battling Ragna, Rem had ascended to a new level of understanding. Jaxen avoided clashing with him, while Audin admitted defeat. "Fighting now would be meaningless, brother. I would lose," Audin had said, emphasizing the word now, which made it sound less like an admission of defeat and more like a challenge for the future. Enkrid had asked Shinar something similar and received her explanation. "There''s a flow to the world. Align yourself with it, and let part of your body follow." This was how she became a fairy knight. "It just happens." Ragna''s explanation, though chaotic, was also helpful. The mercenary king of the east had spoken of diverse experiences, which could mean finding both differences and commonalities. When knights used their Will to intimidate, Rem used something akin to it¡ªa shamanic art called fear infusion. Were they different? Yes. But also the same, as the effects were indistinguishable: both crushed their opponent with pressure. Thoughts scattered, coalesced, and grew firm again. Oara had mentioned that there was no need for special techniques; simply swinging the blade would suffice. How was that possible? If Will infused the intent, then even a swing could become an unstoppable strike. Muscles trained through discipline, techniques sharpened, a steady heart, and unwavering focus¡ªsuch things flitted through Enkrid''s mind. What made a knight''s Will different? Seated on a tree stump, Enkrid felt the breeze, listened to the chirping of birds, and the distant shouts of soldiers at drill¡ªall while fixating on a single thought: "Not something to summon when needed, but always in an open state." It was like a door¡ªa door normally opened only when required. Strong winds outside made it so. After all, it wasn''t a door that could stay open without being held by hand. So, how to keep that door perpetually open? A method surfaced in his mind. Enkrid opened his eyes. Luagarne was staring at him absentmindedly. The two eyes that opened were calmer than before, as though something had fallen into place. "I''m headed to the dining hall. Want to come?" Rising lightly to his feet, Enkrid posed the question. Luagarne shook her head. "Not in the mood." Enkrid made his way to the dining hall. It was time to eat. Chapter 508 - Unwavering Voice Chapter 508 - 508 - Unwavering Voice Chapter 508 - Unwavering Voice "Meat." "How much would you like?" "A lot." Enkrid single-handedly devoured enough food to feed twenty people in one sitting. While he was known to eat quite a bit, this time, it was excessive by any standard. His focus was on calorie-dense foods: beans, meat, thick sauces. Several soldiers watched with wide eyes as he ate. "Is this some kind of training?" "Seems like it." "Should we try it too?" "Don''t bother." Vel, now their commander, casually thumped one of his subordinates on the head as he spoke. Imitating Enkrid would only lead to an early death, and Vel knew that all too well. When did he first realize that? Was it the time Enkrid saved Vengeance? Vel had always known Enkrid wasn''t ordinary, but from that moment on, he started to see him as truly remarkable. Saving someone in the heat of battle might happen by chance. But rushing into a burning barracks to save a comrade, knowing full well he might die¡ªand a comrade who disliked him at that? That was beyond Vel''s capabilities. Unperturbed by the murmurs around him, Enkrid ate just as heartily for dinner, and the next day as well. His meal portions were absurd. Sitting nearby, Rem shot him a bewildered glance and asked, "What''s with this? Trying to out-eat an ogre or a giant?" Ogres were notorious for their voracious appetites and cannibalistic tendencies, while giants were simply known for consuming vast quantities of food to sustain their massive bodies. But Enkrid was neither, so the remark was understandable. "Just feel like eating heartily." "Going somewhere?" "No." What''s he up to now? Rem gave him a suspicious look but let it go. If he wanted to eat, who was Rem to stop him? Enkrid continued like this for four more days, eating well, relieving himself, sleeping soundly, and keeping his body meticulously clean every morning and evening. "You don''t have a fever," Shinar remarked at one point, placing her hand on his forehead. Her observation stemmed from the fact that he wasn''t sparring or engaging in intense activity but instead focused on eating, resting, and light training. Of course, what he considered "light training" seemed grueling to the average soldier. Compared to his usual routines, which no one dared to imitate, this regimen looked relatively mild. It seemed like Enkrid was preparing for some kind of ritual, eating and resting as though bracing for a monumental challenge. He looked like a lone warrior readying himself for battle. During that week, autumn winds began to blow, sweeping away the lingering summer heat. Enkrid sat on a tree stump, waiting for dinner, and let his mind wander to the west, specifically to the practice of shamanism he''d encountered there. "Shamanism is founded on prayers." However, he wasn''t preparing for shamanic rituals or invocations now. He simply found that cleansing his body and mind before a task helped him focus, never hindered. This was more about settling his resolve than anything else. There were many watchful eyes on Enkrid. Rem thought the man had finally gone mad but couldn''t help being curious about what he planned to do. He seemed on the verge of something monumental. Meanwhile, Rem hummed a tune, sharpening his axe with a top-grade whetstone he had somehow procured. The whetstone, more expensive than most Valerian steel, didn''t faze him in the slightest as he used it. Ragna observed Enkrid and felt something akin to solemnity. While Enkrid appeared to be enjoying a simple daily routine, he also seemed like a swordsman about to practice a solitary dance with his blade. If he suddenly drew his weapon and charged, it wouldn''t feel out of place. Audin, meanwhile, offered a silent prayer. "Father above, bless the actions of my small brother." He didn''t know what Enkrid was planning, but it was clear he was preparing for something. Audin prayed with all his heart, yet he couldn''t shake a faint sense of unease. "Why? I don''t know," Audin thought. Yet it felt as though the Father above was warning him that his small brother was about to do something reckless. "Father above, my brother has always been like this." There had never been a moment in Enkrid''s life that wasn''t fraught with boldness. If a god of battle and conflict descended to deliver a revelation, they might very well scream in exasperation. Though no divine intervention came, Audin simply continued his prayer, pouring his support into it. "Guide him." A sense of calm washed over Audin. His Father would help. He concluded his prayer with a blessing. Nearby, Jaxen leaned against a tree, holding a dagger in his right hand and a book in his left. His posture was so casual that no one would suspect he was armed. The dagger, the same one he''d carried on his first mission, held no extraordinary magic but brought him comfort. While the mission had ended with a single upward kick rather than the use of the dagger, it remained a meaningful keepsake. "Death." Jaxen''s instincts, honed by countless encounters with mortality, told him that whatever Enkrid was doing carried significant risk. "Why?" Even Jaxen questioned his own intuition. From the outside, Enkrid seemed to be leading an unremarkable routine. Yet, the unsettling feeling persisted, compelling Jaxen to keep a close eye on him, even at the expense of other tasks. Enkrid''s actions¡ªeating, drinking, resting, and cleaning himself¡ªseemed ordinary. But the intensity with which he approached these activities made it look like he was fighting for his life. Shinar sat a few steps away, observing Enkrid with her sculpted, composed expression. To an outsider, it might look as though she were admiring him. "Fiance?, come back soon," Shinar said suddenly. It was a comment reminiscent of her own inner journey when she communed with the forest spirit. It was a dangerous journey with low survival odds, but she had believed in her success. Perhaps it was her way of acknowledging that Enkrid seemed to be embarking on a similar venture. If he brushed it off as a joke, so be it. Enkrid smiled at her in response, his eyes soft and his lips curling upward. Was Shinar''s smile rare to him? It was the same for her¡ªthis gentle smile of his felt like a first. "Don''t worry. I''m not going anywhere," he replied. As the sun began to set, the black witch Esther approached. Her nickname as a witch seemed more fitting than ever, though she didn''t mind the strange moniker. Life in the world came with its quirks, and she wasn''t one to waste time on trivialities. She knew her priorities and focused on what mattered. Watching Enkrid was not a duty but something she wanted to do. "What are you waiting for?" Esther asked, gazing at him. Though whatever he was preparing for seemed irrelevant, his demeanor suggested he was waiting for something. "The sunset," Enkrid replied. "Why?" "Because I want to see it." Fair enough. Esther nodded. From behind her, Wierd-Eye approached. Without standing, Enkrid reached out and stroked the beast''s mane. Wierd-Eye lowered his head to meet the hand, circled Enkrid once, and then quietly sat nearby. From a distance, Teresa began singing, her voice a mix of roughness and clarity. The hymn she had recently learned resonated, transcending mere melody and delivering something deeply stirring to the heart. Teresa''s song worked a magic akin to that of instruments, wielded effortlessly by her voice. Luagarne, refraining even from the urge to puff out her cheeks, didn''t blink an eye. Ropord swallowed hard, sensing the weight of the atmosphere. Fel felt a crushing sense of defeat at everything about this moment and wondered why he was even there. Everyone''s eyes were fixed on Enkrid. As the sun dipped below the western horizon, the world began to bathe in hues of orange. From the cloudless sky to the earth, the twilight painted everything. The glow reached Enkrid''s face. He drew a long, steady breath, exhaled slowly, and began to move. Something was about to happen. Everyone reached the same conclusion. A brief moment passed. The rhythmic sound of Rem sharpening his axe came to a sudden halt. The precious whetstone, brought all the way from the southern region, fell to the ground with a soft thud. "What?" Rem muttered, breaking the silence as Ragna rose to his feet. Audin''s pupils dilated as he stared at Enkrid, while Jaxen quietly moved to stand beside him. Enkrid, who had been taking slow, deep breaths, now appeared utterly still. Jaxen''s hand moved to his upper lip. He had already sensed something had happened within Enkrid, though he hadn''t foreseen it ending like this. "He''s dead." Jaxen''s words broke the spell. A death that defied reason. Sudden. Without explanation. And thus, the day came to an end. *** Just before everything began, after completing his preparations, Enkrid waited for the sunset. It was his favorite time of the day. The sun tilted westward, turning the world into shades of orange. Surrendering himself to the breeze, Enkrid sat on the stump beside the barracks. Nearby, Rem was sharpening his axe, Jaxen was reading a book, and Ragna sat slouched in a half-dazed manner. Shinar watched him from a short distance away, while Weird-eyes gazed at the sunset alongside him. Esther nonchalantly glanced over before settling herself on the ground in a casual sprawl, reminiscent of a countrywoman resting by the roadside. Though her appearance was akin to that of a duchess, her demeanor was far more grounded. Audin offered prayers, and Teresa sang a hymn. Her voice was as mesmerizing as any finely tuned instrument. "Lord, Lord, my father does not retreat in battle but aids in judgment. Lord, Lord, my father does not bear injustice but aids in judgment." Listening to Teresa''s voice, Enkrid summoned his Will, channeling it down to his toes. Rem, Ragna, Shinar, and Jaxen had all risen to the level of knights. It was only natural to question whether growth could come so easily. Their progression was a complex mix of environment, natural talent, and the inspiration drawn from watching Enkrid, a catalyst for their efforts. However, this intricate interplay wasn''t something Enkrid could fully grasp, nor did he care to. He only sought answers to the question: how? Rem credited his innate constitution, saying he had sensed its difference from a young age and expanded his abilities in handling sorcery as a result. "It just came to me," Ragna said simply. Shinar mentioned a short journey, during which he came to understand energy and spirits. It wasn''t a physical voyage but a mental one¡ªa state of disconnection from the world while maintaining his sense of self. And Audin? Though he had not yet reached the level of a knight, he seemed to understand now. "Your vessel is different," he thought. A vessel already complete. He too harbored secrets, ones that, if revealed, would allow him to fight like a knight. When pressed, Audin only answered, "I merely followed the revelations given by my father." Even with such answers, the methods often seemed incomprehensible. As for Oara, who might have held a clue, she was no longer of this world. The mercenary king? The knights of Aspen? Each would have their own ways, likely supported by innate talent. It simply comes to them. One must be born with it to tread such paths, to progress along them. To be born with it¡ªthat is talent. Enkrid knew he lacked it. At least, he wasn''t made to become a knight. He was acutely aware of this fact. So, would he give up? Succumb to despair and stop here? Accept a patched-up dream, frayed and weathered by reality? "I know." He knew better than anyone that he lacked talent. He had long understood that the words spoken by his first sword instructor¡ªa lame mercenary in his youth¡ªwere far from truth. Perhaps he had already sensed it back then, but the harsh truth had been too much to face. Still, he had never believed the path to knighthood would be easy. From the beginning, his road had always been blocked. If he were to stop at every dead end, he would have given up long ago. Yet, Enkrid had not stopped. All the time and effort he had endured had forged within him a resolve. "If I lack talent, is there no other way?" He considered alternative paths. Becoming a chimera knight or relying on sorcery? Those options existed but felt wrong to him. Instead, he sought another solution. His method was simple: if one cannot naturally open the gate to Will, then force it. And so he did. Drawing Will from his toes, piece by piece, he made it dwell within his body. Through practice and accumulated experience, he learned the lessons of a knight''s strike and applied them. Every thrust, every repetition, had brought him here. As Will filled his body, an unseen force gripped his heart and brought it to a halt. It was a quiet death. A death unmarked by great pain, yet one that revealed the insurmountable wall of talent. That death spoke to Enkrid. "You''ve built this wall yourself, yet it is one you cannot overcome." When he opened his eyes, he saw the ferryman. The ferryman repeated the death''s words. "Is that so?" And as always, Enkrid replied without hesitation. His voice was unwavering. Chapter 509 - Reflection of the Ferryman Chapter 509 - 509 - Reflection of the Ferryman Chapter 509 - Reflection of the Ferryman "... This is the wrong path. In the end, this is where you''ll stop." The ferryman spoke. It was as usual. Enkrid looked at him, thoughts swirling. The ferryman had gray, cracked skin, eyes devoid of pupils, and a mouth like a bottomless abyss of darkness. Every time he spoke, it seemed as though shadows leaked from his mouth, whispering despair, urging surrender, begging for defeat. It was irritating, like a child throwing a tantrum. Even a four-year-old wouldn''t whine this much. "Such irreverent thoughts," the ferryman remarked, just as perceptive as Rem. Enkrid remained the same, whether inside or outside of dreams. "No, I''m not," he replied bluntly, denying everything with confidence. "... To end up here, before a wall you built yourself... How ironic." Here he goes again, whining. "Again with the irreverence," the ferryman accused. "Not true." Just because it was a dream, did the essence of things change? No, it didn''t. Enkrid''s skill at feigning ignorance shone even here. The ferryman almost lost his composure but suppressed it, his deep discipline honed over countless years holding firm. "Be careful." "Yes." The immediate compliance made Enkrid even more infuriating. The ferryman missed his old body, longing for the days when he had physical hands and feet¡ªtools to act upon such insolence. "What do you feel, facing an insurmountable wall? One you''ve built yourself, no less." Enkrid tilted his head in response. A single day had passed; wasn''t it too soon to reflect on feelings? That''s what crossed his mind. "Irreverence!" "Yes." "Caution!" "Yes." "Just stop responding entirely!" "..." Enkrid opened his mouth halfway, then closed it. "Go." "..." "Get lost." "..." Placing his index finger and thumb against his lips, Enkrid mimed sewing them shut, nodding solemnly. It was his way of showing respect for the ferryman''s wishes. As he retreated from the dream, the turbulent river and the small ferry faded. The violet glow of the lantern on board flickered as the ferryman''s arm trembled. "Is my heart shaken this much?" The ferryman murmured in a detached tone, gazing at the spot Enkrid had occupied. It was inevitable, he knew. Someday, this would end. No one could endure the repetition of today. Even Enkrid would eventually succumb, his journey ending upon the river. And yet, the ferryman found it fascinating¡ªdelightful, even. Though many of the days were already known to him, some defied even his foresight. New days were born, not by altering the known ones, but by creating those that never existed. This was one of those moments. For countless years, the ferryman had tended to the ferry. Retracing that time, he realized there had never been a case like this. So it was fascinating. So it rekindled forgotten excitement. Despite the irritation Enkrid provoked, the ferryman couldn''t deny a certain sympathy. That, too, was curious¡ªa divergence of intentions he had never felt since becoming the ferryman. A part of him sympathized with Enkrid, another despised him, another sought to obstruct him, and yet another, albeit faint, wondered what would happen if the man truly escaped the endless repetition. It was a pointless question. No matter what happened, the end was already determined. Experience had taught the ferryman that much. Still, what if, by some miracle¡ª ''If he defied all causality and moved forward.'' Could such a thing even be possible, driven solely by human will? And if it were, what then? *** ''Failure.'' Enkrid accepted his failure without questioning the cause. He hadn''t expected success on the first attempt anyway. Instead, he sought to relax the tension unknowingly wound tight within him. He chose dusk for the daily opening of his Will, his favorite time of day. It was his method of unwinding. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled and continued pondering his earlier thoughts. Rising, he stretched with the Isolation technique, ate voraciously, relieved himself, rested, and awaited the sunset¡ªday after day. A knight''s life was an examination of such matters. ''How to slay a thousand men.'' Was it even possible? He thought of the unique methods knights employed to achieve such feats. As usual, he ate well, filling his stomach with enormous quantities of food. Preparation was key, and eating when one could was an ingrained habit. "Something upset your stomach?" Rem quipped idly in the dining hall. "Well-fed strength is part of training," Audin commented, but Enkrid paid him no mind. "Why not spar, then?" Ragna suggested on the way out. Was he that visibly tense today? Perhaps. After repeating this strange new day, Enkrid had resolved to loosen up. Instinctively, his muscles had tensed, his nerves sharpened. Acknowledging this, he resisted the fleeting anxiety that had surfaced earlier. Sparring would have been an easy way to ease his mind, but instead, he dismissed it all. "Tomorrow," he said, postponing their match to a day that might never come. "Did you get hurt?" Lua asked, her concern evident. "I''m fine," Enkrid replied with a smile, continuing his familiar routine. In the midst of it, he resumed his earlier contemplation: the art of slaying a thousand men. Each knight, he reasoned, had their own extraordinary means. Take Oara, for instance. She would wield a seamless, flowing blade, cutting through one, then two, then three, and more without pause. Her blade would only stop when an unforeseen force intervened. And Ragna? His speed might lag compared to Oara''s, but against a tightly packed formation, the story changed. Enkrid imagined Ragna cleaving through a shield wall¡ªa disastrous mistake for any enemy. While Oara''s blade was relentless but could falter momentarily before a wall, Ragna''s sword would smash through any feeble barrier. Which was superior? It didn''t matter. The outcome would be decided in battle, for death by steel was impartial to all. How would the others fare against a thousand foes? Rem, with her leaping strikes and wild axe swings, would likely finish fastest among them. And Jaxen? Enkrid struggled to envision him cutting down a thousand. If asked, Jaxen might reply: "Must I kill all thousand? Wouldn''t targeting the commander suffice?" Such would be his pragmatic gaze, questioning the necessity of the task. It seemed inevitable. As he thought this far, a faint chuckle escaped his lips. "Did you think of something amusing? You can share it with me if you''d like." The voice belonged to Esther. Enkrid opened his lightly closed eyes and gazed at the black-haired, blue-eyed witch. The nickname Black Witch suited her perfectly. Her black hair, lustrous skin, large eyes, sharp nose, and crimson lips¡ªher appearance was striking to anyone. And the glimpse of her cleavage peeking through her robe could easily enslave the will of most men. "It''s nothing," he replied, closing his eyes again. Esther didn''t press further and took a seat on the floor. Watching her withdraw, Enkrid returned to his thoughts. The knight of Aspen weren''t familiar to him, so imagining their capabilities was difficult. The Mercenary King? He wouldn''t face a thousand men alone. What about Audin? Could Audin take on a thousand men? It seemed possible. But what if he were in a situation where he had to block the swords, fists, or weapons of knights? On the flip side, from the perspective of a soldier facing a knight... Pure luck wouldn''t suffice to block a knight''s sword. Even if the goddess of fortune showered her kisses, survival would be the only reward. That must be it. Knights who had slain a thousand foes were rare, yet knights were said to be capable of such feats. They were called calamities. But what made them so? It was Will. The intangible force called Will was the source that enabled one to surpass limits. The sun began to set. It was a day similar to yesterday, but with subtle differences. Weird-eyes had approached him earlier, and Teresa had hummed a tune. Though just a hum today, it was pleasant. Audin had tapped the back of his left hand with his right index finger, keeping rhythm. Audin''s sense of rhythm hinted that he likely mastered at least one musical instrument. "The foundation of martial arts is footwork. Rhythm moves the feet. Never forget this, brother." Those were words Audin had once told him. Enkrid began matching rhythm as if singing, moving his Will. Thud-thump, thud-thump, thud-thump. Drawing out his Will as if drumming, he planted it in his steps. He''d practiced extracting and controlling Will when needed, but now he had to implant it and forget about it. To forget yet retain the Will¡ªthat was the challenge. Can one forget and still maintain it? Yes, it was possible. He''d learned something similar from Jaxen: the art of keeping one''s senses subconsciously open. "Once you master the sensory arts, your ears open up. You may see and hear everything, but does that mean you''ll notice it all? If you try to process every detail, you''ll go insane. Selecting only what''s necessary is essential." Intuition. That''s why something beyond the five senses was needed¡ªa sixth sense. Instead of consciously processing all incoming information, one filtered it through instinct. By engraving the sense of danger into his very bones, he could maintain the sensory arts unconsciously. "Survive a hundred brushes with death, and you''ll just barely take your first steps." Jaxen had said this as if it were an impossibility, but it was the simplest condition Enkrid had ever heard. It was far more appealing than "just keep trying," as Ragna might have put it. That crazy bastard would probably just say, "You''ll figure it out as you go." Enkrid found himself cursing Ragna under his breath¡ªwhat an insane guidez. Regardless, Enkrid had faced countless brushes with death. He''d actually died numerous times. Engraving the intuition of sensing danger into his subconscious wasn''t difficult. By repeating today over and over, it came naturally. Once more, Enkrid began the process of extracting, forgetting, and engraving Will into his subconscious. Soon, the Will filling his body began to rampage. The gathered intangible force formed a flow and pounded against his heart. It felt as though his blood was coursing at multiple times its usual speed. In truth, no such thing was happening¡ªit was solely the movement of Will. Crack. His heart burst once more. On the next day, his lungs shattered. After that, parts of his internal organs burned away. He could use Will briefly and release it, but why couldn''t he sustain it? He didn''t know yet. He would figure it out one step at a time. Enkrid continued his repetitions. "Foolish." Occasionally, the ferryman would appear and comment, but Enkrid merely mimed sewing his lips shut. After about fifty repetitions of today, he changed his approach. Instead of channeling Will throughout his entire body, he concentrated it solely in his foot and tried to sustain it. It wasn''t easy. The Will kept rampaging and dispersing through his body. Could this be solved through perception? What was a straightforward path for Ragna was for Enkrid like clearing every pebble from his path as he crawled along. No, walking wasn''t even an option in the first place. Does it matter? Enkrid crawled instead of walking. Hadn''t he done this before? Was it difficult to regress after feeling his progress recently? Not really. Every path Enkrid had walked so far had been a trial. Overcoming trials wasn''t difficult¡ªit was simply a matter of pressing on. He examined the path step by step, retracing his steps when necessary. That was enough. He could see the way forward. Adjusting and repeating was his specialty. Whether it was activating Will, controlling his breathing, maintaining his mental state, refining his posture, or honing the intangible sense needed to regulate Will¡ªhe tackled them all meticulously. To him, perseverance, resolve, and self-discipline were the only requirements. He took stock of every mistake, retraced his steps, and started again. Repetition required patience. His unwavering resolve prevented him from faltering despite repeated failures. And enduring the agony of Will tearing his body apart required extraordinary mental fortitude. Having faced death so many times, he''d experienced the sensation of his muscles, nerves, organs, and even the tips of his fingers and toes being shredded. In truth, none of this was particularly challenging for him. Enkrid could do it all. He was fine. What he needed was simply an unyielding dream. And he already had one. Once shattered into tattered fragments, that dream had been patched together to bring him this far. For the first time, the Will flowing from his feet found brief stability. Starting with the right foot. The moment joy brought a smile to his face, the Will rampaged again. But perhaps thanks to his brief success, the process of his body being torn apart slowed slightly. "Step aside, brother." For this reason, even as Enkrid lay dying, he witnessed something extraordinary through his barely open eyes. Audin''s entire body began to emit light. It wasn''t a metaphor¡ªa halo formed behind him. The light scattered into visible particles. It was divinity. Radiating this light, Audin bled profusely from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. Whatever the case, it seemed Audin was prepared to risk his life. His body might be sturdy enough to survive, but it was clearly pushed to its limits. As the gathered light neared, Enkrid instinctively moved aside. He realized that using this light¡ªthis divinity¡ªwould either kill or severely injure Audin. Immediately after dodging, Enkrid died. There was no strength left to utter a single word¡ªhe simply passed. Just before his eyes closed, he saw the light touch his body, but there was no miracle. Divinity was miraculous, but it couldn''t bring the dead back to life. Only just before dying... "Rise, brother." Audin''s voice reached him. He spoke, blood pouring from his eyes and nose. When this day ended and another began, Enkrid immediately knew as soon as he opened his eyes. "You insane bastard." As Enkrid rose, he glanced at Audin and muttered. "Did you dream of something good, brother?" Audin replied with his usual smile. Enkrid watched him for a moment, then shook his head and stood. It was time to start another new day. Having succeeded with his right foot, he seemed to have grasped the knack. Letting go of yesterday and embracing today anew¡ªthat was already second nature to him. Wasn''t crawling, walking, and running toward tomorrow the one thing he excelled at? Chapter 510 - A Dreamer Deserves to Make his Dream Come True Chapter 510 - 510 - A Dreamer Deserves to Make his Dream Come True Chapter 510 - A Dreamer Deserves to Make his Dream Come True It was the same day, yet a little different. A day when Enkrid realized that the technique learned with the right foot was applied differently with the left, and then another day of repetition. Sometimes, the ferryman would show up, and Enkrid would still respect his opinion and remain silent. The ferryman no longer got angry over such things. He had accepted that Enkrid was just this way. The ferryman would only speak his mind. "It''s already over." He spoke as a bard singing of despair, a farmer planting the seed of defeat. Enkrid naturally ignored the boatman''s words, focusing solely on recalling how to gather Will in his left foot, just like with his right. He did it the same way despite what was said in front of him. When gathering it in the right foot, it felt like striking the sword straight down, so he tried the same with the left, but it didn''t work. Why? In the end, it was a matter of control. Moving his hands and feet should be enough, but though it came from his own body, it didn''t move as he wished. All he could do was repeat it over and over. The expression on the ferryman''s face subtly shifted as he thought, his eyes widening slightly and his chin lifting. That alone made him look different. With this changed expression, the ferryman spoke in a tone and content different from before. "Shorten it." It was a vague statement. Enkrid blinked, wondering what the boatman meant. Although he sometimes felt the boatman''s personality was not singular, this was the first time he saw him change so dramatically before his eyes. The ferryman quickly returned to his usual self, and today''s boatman seemed to enjoy speaking nonsense. "Go. Go and enjoy today, full of nothing but suffering, with no fun." It was only after repeating today over fifty times that Enkrid finally mastered the technique for gathering Will in his left foot. It felt like learning how to move each finger from the beginning. He could feel it, he knew it was on his body, but he had to focus on each movement, then forget about it to make it natural. To grip the sword at his waist, how should he move his fingers? How to apply force to the third, fourth, and fifth fingers, and hold the grip with his thumb and index finger. It was all about learning from scratch, or rather, learning how to breathe again. What was once unconscious had to be repeated consciously, and then placed back into the realm of the unconscious. It was a completely unfamiliar process, but if it was something he could repeat, it should be easy. Could he throw a boulder like a pebble? That would be easy. He thought about that. While repeating today, Enkrid saw many things. Was it the light emitted by Audin that marked the beginning? "Take it." He had misfired the Will and was gasping for breath when Jaxen offered a strange pill. He didn''t know what it was, but it seemed like a very rare medicine. The pill was about twice the size of a thumbnail, round, pink, and seemed firm on the outside. The scent of the pill was unlike anything he had ever encountered. The moment he inhaled, his head cleared, and everything became sharp in front of him. It didn''t seem like it would kill him, his instincts told him that much. "It''s a medicine that can bring the dead back to life. Forget about the Will." Jaxen said that if he took it, he would become a criple, but at least he could survive. There was a kind of fervor in Jaxen''s eyes, one that hadn''t been there before. He was clearly determined to force the pill into Enkrid''s mouth if he refused. This was Jaxen''s final resort, unable to watch Enkrid die. Enkrid rejected it. He kept his mouth shut and endured. As Enkrid was dying, he saw Jaxen''s face contort. It was a twisted expression, one he never expected to see from Jaxen. That was one of those days. And there were other such days. When Enkrid was moving toward death again, having gained only a brief respite from the pain, it happened. "Come out!" Rem took a rough approach. With Will burning through his intestines, he was close to his final breath. In front of him, Rem''s hair began to flutter. Enkrid couldn''t tell exactly what Rem was doing, but he could feel it instinctively. Rem was doing something similar to what Audin''s light and Jaxen''s medicine had done. He was right. It was a resurrection spell. It was a technique that consumed one''s lifespan, similar to the teleportation magic Enkrid had experienced. In what way? It required luck. Rem failed. Even with his exceptional talent and lifespan, he couldn''t capture the soul of a dying person. Enkrid''s body stiffened again. "Tch!" Enkrid heard Rem''s irritated voice. The wrinkles on Rem''s face appeared in an instant. The three of them weren''t done yet. While Enkrid learned how to send Will to different parts of his body, he died countless times. If there was even a single breath left, they all made similar attempts. "Take it. Stay with me. You can live." Shinar tried to give Enkrid her life force. It was a green, fist-sized light that touched Enkrid''s back but was useless. "Cough." As the fairy''s life force scattered meaninglessly, part of Shinar''s body also disintegrated like dust. Her arm vanished in the process. Still, her expression remained calm. No, she even showed a faint smile. "Go ahead." Today, Shinar showed a sorrowful smile, something that was unlike her usual demeanor. "Father, Lord¡ª!" Teresa sang a chant loudly. "I will carry you within my world." Esther said, her eyes filled with twinkling stars. The stars shone and attempted to carry Enkrid''s barely breathing body somewhere. Esther intended to trap him in her spell world, avoiding the eyes of the grim reaper. It was a trick using a curse, but of course, it didn''t work. "Where do you think you''re going?" The curses were the ferryman''s domain after all. Moreover, Esther wasn''t prepared to cast the spell properly. The spell failed, magic backlash occurred, and as a result of forcing the world into existence, Esther''s two eyes suddenly burst. It looked as though Esther was crying blood today too. For some reason, Fel stabbed his own stomach with the idol killer. It was pointless. Fel only coughed up blood. These days, those days passed before Enkrid''s eyes. They flowed like pieces of cloth dropped into the river, soaked and submerged, disappearing from sight. The days sank, flowed, and vanished. In the vanished days, everyone did something. Enkrid died watching them. Died and died again. "Did you enjoy watching?" The ferryman asked. Enkrid didn''t answer. "Give up. Move on. I''ve prepared a wall for you to climb over one by one. Is this not the path you desire?" The boatman spoke. How many days had passed? He hadn''t counted. It didn''t matter. This day could be escaped from at any time, should Enkrid wish to. But was he still being stubborn? The boatman insisted that the path was wrong, that Enkrid was clinging to a futile pride, unsure of whether it was the right way, asking why he kept going. The boatman was probably right. Maybe his choices were wrong. So what? If he had to go to find out, then he would go. Enkrid did just that. "Do you resent the heavens?" The boatman asked. "Don''t you hate the world?" The boatman asked again. "A god who made you be born into such a world, with such talent? Don''t you hate them?" It''s easy to find something to resent. The boatman constantly encouraged him. Then, in the middle of it all, as before, another personality suddenly emerged, and this was what it said: "Shorten it." What was supposed to be shortened? The brief emergence of this personality disappeared quickly. At some point, the boatman stopped speaking with words. He dug into Enkrid''s memories. The ones he failed to protect appeared in his dreams. A nightmare began. Darkness approached. "You''ll struggle alone in a land where the sun never rises." The boatman said, but it was already a road Enkrid had walked before. It was something he had experienced in the desert. What the boatman wanted to take away were people, values, and meaning, and what Enkrid lost was only comfort. Just because something couldn''t be seen didn''t mean it disappeared¡ªvalues, people, meaning didn''t vanish. "Better to hope for death." He dreamed of an arrow flying and piercing his heart. "Face the darkness within you." Even if one becomes a knight, what can a swordsman change? Can one cross the desert? What''s so great about protecting a few people with a sword? The boatman kept muttering. He constantly shook Enkrid''s resolve. Even if there were no illusions, wasn''t there still a little scorch? Yes, there were scars, wounds, and suffering. But still, Enkrid knew how to move forward. So, he moved on. Enkrid took another step, toward the sun, toward his dream. To gamble your life on something uncertain? For what? Enkrid had seen something in the nightmares, in the repeating today, in the past where he failed to protect someone, and in the boy dreaming of the herb gatherer he once protected. He saw something that could be called light, or flower, or star, or dream¡ªwhatever it was, it became whatever you called it. Repeating the words "light," "star," and "dream," he muttered, and in that moment, his vision widened and he could see himself objectively. It was as though he had caught some flow of energy. It was a sensation, difficult to express in words. "Wrong." Will wasn''t something to be forced. No, it would be more accurate to say that having cleared the way, he now knew which direction to take. The fragments of realization he had gained while crossing the desert connected with past revelations. From the first stabbing learned in his initial today to what was gained in escaping the desert, complexity and simplicity, discarding and mixing. Enkrid couldn''t discard anything he had learned, studied, or awoken to. Though Oara had told him to discard, instead, he mixed it all together. "Shrink it." The ferryman spoke. Shrink what? It didn''t matter. Whether it was will, dream, goal, ambition, or greed, the ferryman was telling him to discard it. But Enkrid had no intention of doing so. He would not reduce or discard anything. What he had dreamed of as a knight, what he had sworn to protect, was everything behind him. He would not let go of a single one of those things. He had sworn to keep that vow, looking up at the stars, the sky, the sun, and the two moons in his childhood. The song of the bard had given a dream to a boy. A single line of the song pierced his heart like a shooting star, leaving a mark. Enkrid had repeatedly told himself that a dreamer deserved to make that dream come true. He believed it. Even if it was blind faith, he would not break his will. He would no longer stand idly by while a child died behind him. "No." Enkrid replied. He would not shorten it; it was a declaration of his will. At that moment, a storm raged within him. It wasn''t forced movement; he had to let it go. What was needed was to hold onto it. Enkrid felt the wind. The wind that passed through his body. He felt the sunlight, the warmth it gave him as it entered his body. The wind and sunlight mixed, painting everything before him in orange light. The today that Enkrid had repeated over five hundred times, though blind and trapped in a maze, he had finally escaped by feeling his way through. "Quite mad." The ferryman''s exclamation faded, and his presence disappeared. When Enkrid blinked, it was his favorite time of the day¡ªthe time when the sunset bathed the sky in its warm glow. The orange hue that filled his sight was the sunset. If he reached out, he could grab a cloud, and with a sword, he could strike anyone down. His whole body was filled with energy. The sensation of omnipotence filled him. Every gaze upon him became crystal clear. Amidst the sensation that he could do anything, Enkrid distinctly and precisely knew what he should do and what he shouldn''t. He also understood how to maintain the will within him, the source of his omnipotence. "I should sleep." Enkrid spoke and closed his eyes. Those who were watching him had no smiles on their faces. One of them came and gently supported his back. "Did he do it?" Supporting Enkrid''s back was Ropord, who had happened to be nearby. The others did not move. It didn''t matter. No one would be injured even if they fell backward. More importantly, they were all too surprised to say anything. During this time, Shinar''s voice rang out. "Did he do it?" she asked. More precisely, she threw the question into the air, toward everyone. "I think so," Rem answered. "Yes," Jaxen confirmed. "Did you help him, father?" Audin asked in surprise. Ragna repeatedly gripped and released his sword hilt. Luagarne puffed her cheeks but remained silent, too shocked to speak. There were two people who didn''t understand what had happened. Ropord and Fel. "What''s going on?" Ropord had no idea, he had simply reacted to the words "just sleep" and moved accordingly. Fel, still gripping the idol-slayer sword out of habit, tilted his head in confusion. Clearly, something had changed, something had happened, but what it was, he didn''t know. Still, the sudden surge of motivation was undeniable. After eating, sleeping, and resting, he had stared at the sunset and then slowly blinked before collapsing. As he looked at the fallen Enkrid, he felt a shiver down his spine. He felt the overwhelming urge to stand and swing his sword. He had to do something. Fel got up and left for the training grounds. He could no longer suppress the feeling of exhilaration. Ropord was in a similar state. He, too, had felt some kind of shiver and had gained something of a realization. Both of them had naturally been influenced by the will that Enkrid had released. Esther, sitting quietly, opened only one eye. She saw a large star in the vision she conjured from the world of spells. ''What did he do?'' She didn''t know. But one thing was clear That man had achieved the dream he always spoke of. "Seeing everything," Rem said. Everyone felt the same way. Jaxen, Audin, Ragna, and Luagarne. The frog, who possessed the talent to discern, felt as though she had just had a dream. It was that absurd. Something impossible had happened. Enkrid had lost consciousness and didn''t wake up until a week later. Several things had happened during that time, but they were not as important as what Enkrid had experienced. When Enkrid awoke, he thought to himself, "Nothing has changed." He had simply taken one proper, significant step forward. The will that naturally remained within him made him think this. Chapter 511 - He Was That Kind of Person Chapter 511 - 511 - He Was That Kind of Person Chapter 511 - He Was That Kind of Person It was right after Enkrid had realized how to handle Will. By leaving Will constantly open in the subconscious, his body trembled faintly. At that exact moment, Enkrid realized that what he needed was rest. More specifically, what was required was a slow, methodical process of building up, but that was essentially the same as rest. The body, after all, had to be forced into a state of rest for now. He had to calm Will, who was causing a ruckus, and tell it to settle down. There was no way to stop the flood of the river caused by the cracks and holes in the dam. The dam Enkrid had built until now was too fragile. On the other hand, the floodwaters that came rushing were twisting, whipping, and pouring down from above and surging up from below. It felt less like a river and more like a storm. The scale was immense, and the internal nature was different as well. ''It''s complicated.'' It was like a tangled knot inside his body, not a simple and straight line. If he tried to gather it all together, his blood vessels would twist, and his internal organs would rupture. Yet, nothing was wrong. Like a child learning to walk, he now knew instinctively. Forcing the body into rest was a part of that. The easy method came to mind immediately. Cutting, reducing, and discarding would work. But if he didn''t want to do that? The vow he had made to himself still burned inside his chest like an unyielding flame. A different approach was needed. Omnipotence helped. The belief that anything was possible brought various methods to mind. Oara had told him to discard the complexity, and Ragna had said to start from the basics. One day, Ragna had told him to eventually abandon the mercenary swordsman style of the Valen tradition. It was all learned in the desperate effort to get this far. Had a lot of things been wrong? Probably not. The shapeless power that filled his body, Will, seemed like it could destroy his internal organs, muscles, and bones and burst out at any moment. So for now, he was barely holding it back. He could endure for the time being. He had learned enough tricks for that. But he couldn''t use it freely. So what now? If it was too much and chaotic, then he would organize it. If it was tangled up, he would stack it up piece by piece. The walls of the frontier villages he had seen in the past, the city of Rockfreed with its name recently, and the Thousand Stones'' walls he had seen in between. The towers rising between those walls, solid and firm towers. Enkrid imagined a tower in his mind and began to stack Will inside his body. Slowly, one by one, little by little, in a calm manner. It became enjoyable as he went on. Of course, it wasn''t only fun. There was also some regret. ''If I had more time, I could have carefully built it up.'' He didn''t want to just hastily stack rough stones; he wanted to cut and shape them precisely and stack them neatly. But to do that, even a year lying down wouldn''t be enough. More than that, he didn''t even feel that it was the right way. Cutting and trimming had to be done together with the body''s training. That was the feeling he had. ''Let''s do that then.'' If there was regret, he could slowly find another way later and redo it. It wasn''t like he was actually building a tower; it was just a mental image. Once he began stacking the stones in a calm manner, it would continue on its own during the week he would spend in deep sleep. Will was meant to be handled this way. At least, if he was to become a knight, it had to be done this way. It shouldn''t be forced; it should be laid out in the subconscious. Even as he slept, a part of his consciousness remained awake, between dreams and subconsciousness. "I told you to get rid of some, but now you''ve made it worse, fool." A lighthearted ferryman appeared halfway through, engaging in conversation with him. If this was between dreams and the subconscious, it seemed like the perfect space for a ferryman to wander. His boat, like a leaf on a calm river, drifted slowly, almost as if it represented total peace. The two sitting on a small bench on the boat seemed to share a kind of intimacy. "No impatience at all?" The boatman asked a question that pierced Enkrid''s inner thoughts. What Enkrid had desired was a delusion wrapped in vows, stars, and dreams. Becoming a knight with his meager talent, living by the sword, and protecting everything behind him. It might all have been nonsense. Yet, he wasn''t impatient. Why? Because he knew there was something more important than just becoming a knight. He wanted to be a knight who could protect what was behind him. He never just wanted to be a knight. So there was no need to rush. There was still a long path ahead of him. Enkrid shook his head. "How does it feel to walk a path that doesn''t require anyone''s permission or agreement?" The boatman asked, and Enkrid glanced at him indifferently. The boatman continued. "Now, open your mouth. Stubborn fool." "It''s just as it is." Enkrid responded casually, as if he would have spoken even without the ferryman prompting him. No matter what, "It''s just as it is" was his honest answer. He believed that nothing had changed. "I bless your stubbornness. At least for today, I will do so." The ferryman spoke, and Enkrid opened his eyes. The ferryman began rowing, and the boat moved faster. Enkrid felt his mind start to fade. It was time to wake up. As the boat and river, the ferryman, and the purple glow disappeared below, Enkrid pondered various things. Would the calculations be correct? He had thought it would take about a week; would it turn out that way? The instinctive feeling that had struck him like lightning just before closing his eyes after the realization. When he opened his eyes again and returned to reality, he saw a pair of gray eyes staring at him. "You slept like a log." A barbarian, sitting with his legs spread, propping his chin with one hand and tapping an axe with the other. "Since your eyes are open, listen up. You might think everything is possible, but it''s not. Understand?" "How long has it been?" Instead of answering, Enkrid asked for confirmation. "A week. But I was wondering if anyone actually sleeps this much during such a time." By "such a time," he was referring to the moment of awakening as a knight. Enkrid had just woken up, and after a few words, Rem considered it might happen naturally. Maybe he would faint for several days? Each awakening moment wasn''t the same. Rem himself had never experienced anything that dramatic. He had gradually shifted his mindset while learning magic and performing rituals. It was like being in a land without boundaries¡ªhe had already broken the barrier of limits without even realizing it. The one with the divine power must have been different. "If you''ve caught the laziness disease, that''s serious." Rem spoke without changing his posture. From the side, Jaxen, arms crossed, looked down at Enkrid. "Shut down your senses. That''s the priority." Enkrid stared at Jaxen. Jaxen shook his head. "Listen carefully." It wasn''t often that someone emphasized a point like that. "You might feel like you can do anything, but that''s not the case. You might think you could reach the East in a single step, but that''s not how it works. There''s a process to finding your way and walking down the path. You mustn''t forget the things you need to do before reaching the conclusion." Enkrid turned his head and glanced at Ragna. He was barely poking his head out from under the covers. His hair was pressed down, giving it a strange look, like a new house. "Mm." The fact that he was yawning after speaking made it clear. He was talking more than usual today, and honestly, it made Enkrid want to clap. Though the example he gave about finding a path wasn''t the most relatable. "A child fetching water asked his father, ''Why do I have to carry the water?'' The father answered, ''You need the water to drink and wash.'' Commander, you must carry the water to drink and wash." Audin was blocking the entrance to the barracks, preaching as if he were a village priest. Of course, if Audin was a village priest, the village would also be a terrifying one, a place where even thieves wouldn''t dare approach, with the ones that do being sent and awaiting their place near the gods. Still, Enkrid understood perfectly. He remained an excellent listener. "I''m fine." Whether a knight or a hero, everyone feels the same during their awakening¡ªan overwhelming sense of omnipotence. The task was to distinguish what was possible from what wasn''t. Was everyone waiting for him to wake up to tell him this? Or was it just a coincidence they met now? "Are you awake? Don''t overdo it. Fiance?e." Even Shinar had arrived. A gentle warmth was felt right next to him, and when he looked, it was Esther, transformed into a leopard, her paw lightly brushing his hand. "I''m fine." Enkrid repeated the same words once more. "Just saying you''re fine doesn''t mean you actually are." It was Luagarne who spoke, standing beside Audin, with Teresa right next to him. Was it just an illusion, or did it seem like they were all waiting for him to get up? It couldn''t have been just an illusion. They must have been waiting for him to rise. For a moment, the faces of everyone who had fallen flashed in his mind: The aged Rem The twisted face of Jaxen Audin spitting blood Shinar with her arm fading Esther who had lost both her eyes and Fel who had stabbed his own stomach Those were the faces from the day before. Enkrid slowly lifted his upper body, planting his feet firmly on the ground, and stood up. He lowered his head and stretched his hand, clenching and unclenching it. He was testing his body''s condition. It felt light. He had never felt this light before. That didn''t mean he could wave his arms and fly through the air. That was impossible. However, he could walk, and after that, he could use the Isolation technique. "Huh? You really are fine?" Rem, sitting, spoke up. There was no trace of him being intoxicated by omnipotence, no signs of madness. Though there was something strange, he seemed to be truly fine. "I told you, I''m fine." Enkrid said it again and walked out. He felt fine, but it was different from before. The sunlight that seeped into the barracks, the breeze that brushed against his cheek like a thin thread, the scent of the burnt wood that had turned to charcoal overnight, the feel of his shirt against his body¡ªeverything was clearer than before. The wind felt like it could be grasped in his hand. Of course, the wind couldn''t be caught. But he could walk with it. He wasn''t going to do it now, but it was something naturally learned. Running like the wind, swinging a sword like the sunlight¡ªthese were things he could do with his body, with Will. He walked outside, testing his movements. He confirmed that he was up after a week. Now, it was time for the next step. ''Is my body really in place?'' He was confident. He could feel the omnipotence, but it was natural to want to confirm it. Even though he had enjoyed the repetition of today to achieve what he longed for, confirming it was still necessary. The time and experiences had led him to this point. As he performed the Isolation technique to loosen up, Will naturally followed his movements. He could acknowledge it, but he didn''t need to look at it¡ªit moved on its own. "Knight." Luagarne came outside and spoke. The others followed. "Really. No clumsy tricks or anything of the sort." Rem spoke again. When Enkrid had collapsed earlier, Will had erupted from him like an explosion. Shinar, with the sensitivity of a fairy, was the first to sense Enkrid had crossed a threshold, but everyone realized it when they saw him moving on his feet again. "It''s really true." Rem murmured. When had that been? Was it when he had asked to be shown the heart of a beast? Rem had mocked him, calling it ridiculous. He had really thought it was impossible. But Enkrid had done it. A man with humble talent and an ordinary body¡ªhe had always said that was just the condition. A madman who had dreamed of becoming a knight. And that madman had become a knight. "Ha." Enkrid took a deep breath and exhaled. The day was nice. The wind was cool, and the sunlight was warm. As the morning dew dried, it felt like the day was destined to be a bright and beautiful one, as if the sky itself was saying so. The ferryman had once said that his path needed no one''s permission or approval. That was exactly how it felt. He had never set out on a path to seek permission or approval from anyone. "Now, are you going to find all those who mocked you and give them a good punch to the head?" Rem asked. If he became a knight, what would he do? Well, there were some debts to settle, so why not repay them? There had been people who criticized him, who insulted and laughed at him. Wouldn''t they be so surprised they might even fall into a seizure? It might be fun to watch. "Really?" Enkrid responded, twisting his wrist. The sound of cracking filled the air. His body had become quite stiff over the week. "Wouldn''t that be understandable?" Jaxen spoke, dropping the honorifics. His words were sharp, as usual. Resentments were meant to be repaid, as the master of the morning dew would say. Back in the past, when he had begged to learn swordsmanship, everyone had laughed at him. Yes, there had been such times. Did that mean he should have given up, despair, cry, and curse the gods? Enkrid hadn''t, and that was why he was here now. "Not really." Enkrid shook his head, showing that he had no such intentions. He was different in his judgment and his steps. He wasn''t a typical person. "Then what will you do?" Ragna, who had come out late, asked. "Training." Enkrid answered, clenching his left index finger with his right hand and pulling it back, stretching his muscles and tendons, causing them to stretch and relax. He applied force, and the muscles gently stretched and loosened. Was it true that when Will dwells in the body, it changes the body itself? It seemed like it. No, it was so. "Training?" "My body''s stiff." This was his current self, and this was the path he would walk, so that''s what he would do. Nothing special. That was all. Anyone could tell he was a person walking a different path. But even so, it was impossible not to be surprised again. He had become a knight. That knight he had once cried out for. And yet, he remained unchanged. That was why everyone followed him. ''I can''t beat him.'' Jaxen thought to himself. If he had to face Enkrid, he could kill him, but he didn''t feel like doing it. That was the kind of person Enkrid was. Chapter 512 - Unfading Chapter 512 - 512 - Unfading Chapter 512 - Unfading Ragna, Rem, and Jaxen exchanged looks and nodded. It was a silent agreement. Sitting in front of them, Luagarne, crouched down, also nodded and spoke. "There will be no trickery." "As long as no tricks are pulled." Rem said, sharpening his axe on a whetstone, pressing firmly as he spoke. "Just throw it already." Jaxen, holding a wooden piece in his left hand and a dagger in his right, followed up. Every time the dagger moved, it scraped against the raw wood, slicing and carving it like butter. "Sometimes, when I lost my way, I''d roll the dice to decide." Ragna added. The blonde genius was limbering up, not even bothering to sheath his sword. He seemed to be waiting for something, clearly with intent. "That''s how you get lost." Ragna''s absurd remark was met with Rem''s response. "Who?" Ragna casually retorted, not understanding the question at all. His tone and attitude irritated Rem''s nerves. "You." Swish. The opposite end of Rem''s axe, the blade, pointed toward Ragna. As Rem spoke, he focused his magic, releasing an invisible pressure. Ragna slightly turned his hand holding the sword, directing the blade toward Rem. The pressure exerted by Rem''s spell was cut by the will embedded in the blade. It wasn''t really a victory or defeat¡ªit was more of a harmless game. Although, for those watching, it wasn''t just a joke, but rather a skillful exchange. Anyone able to recognize this would probably shake their head at their childishness. "If you''re envious of my pathfinding talent, then the only answer is training." Ragna said. "... Yeah, it would have been over long ago if we were supposed to kill each other." Rem responded without taking a breath. "If killing was the plan, it would have ended a long time ago." Jaxen spoke, placing two carved pieces of wood he had made on the ground. The figures, with their half-cut neck, resembled two people: one oddly like Rem, the other strangely like Ragna. He had the talent to succeed as a sculptor. His training in handling sensory awareness and finding weaknesses in various species, along with his years of sculpting for fun, made him capable of this. It wasn''t just about talent. As the tension in the air grew even more palpable, Lagarne slammed her palm onto the ground. The bulging palm of a frog struck the earth with a resounding thud. "Focus." At her command, the three calmed down. If they weren''t seriously considering killing each other, it was probably best to let the frog decide the outcome. The three of them lowered their energy, and Lagarne gave a slight nod before placing her hand on the cup sitting on the ground. The best way to test both skill and luck in a duel¡ªwhat could it be? The traditional game of rock-paper-scissors was often difficult to judge. Each of them kept shifting their hands as they broke down their motions, continuously trying to alter their hand shapes in real-time, resulting in various tricks and deceptions. In the end, Rem''s comment proved to be the deciding blow. He made a hand shape that was neither rock, paper, nor scissors¡ªan exaggerated shape with only his thumb and index finger extended, while the other three fingers were bent back, exposing his palm. "This is a unique technique of our clan, a scissors-rock-punch hybrid, forged with steel." It was an excuse. "My fist breaks anything it touches." Ragna added. "Isn''t it only natural that scissors can cut rock?" Jaxen chimed in, and the argument seemed endless. In the end, they agreed to find a referee for their game. That referee was Luagarne. The game would be decided by dice, and now the frog was holding the cup with the dice inside. Whoosh! But, as with most plans, things didn''t go as expected. Luagarne''s slippery skin caused her to lose grip of the cup, and only her hand remained. The three men, still brimming with energy, observed as oil dripped from her hand. "Ah, it''s slippery." Perhaps it was the wrong referee or maybe the wrong game. "You seem to have plenty of time on your hands." In the meantime, Krais approached and took the cup from Luagarne. His past work in a gambling hall showed in his deft movements. No one could stop him, and no one even had the intention to. Whoever it was, they were going to shake the cup and reveal the dice. The three sets of intense eyes said as much. Krais gripped the cup and began shaking it. Clatter, clatter, clatter! The dice rattled within the wooden cup. There were six sides, two large numbers chosen by Rem, two medium numbers by Ragna, and the remaining small numbers by Jaxen. Shing, thud. Krais''s hand stopped, and the dice hidden in the cup finally settled on the ground. "But why are we even doing this?" Recalling his old habit of building tension before opening the cup, Krais paused, pretending to hesitate, then spoke. "Just open it, brother, or you might die." Audin''s kind advice followed. Despite the swords drawn before them, the three pairs of eyes were far more menacing than any dagger or blade. Krais lifted the cup. The number on the dice was five. "I knew the Mother Bear would help me." Rem laughed, Jaxen shook his head, and Ragna stared at the dice. He was considering just smashing them and starting over. "That''s probably enough." Enkrid, observing from one side of the training hall, spoke. Ragna gave up on his thoughts. If he broke the dice, they''d have to start over, and he had already made Enkrid wait for too long. It was only yesterday that he confirmed Enkrid had become a knight. "Let me just refine it for a day." Instead of proposing a duel, Enkrid shook his head, and Audin joined him in the refinement process. "Hit me." They began a training exercise called the strike method. A light punch at first. Thud! Later, a punch filled with more intent. "If it gets too hard, you should say something, brother." Audin said, and Enkrid didn''t stop taking hits until evening. Audin was drenched in sweat, and Teresa watched him with wide eyes. ''Is it really okay for him to take those punches?'' Despite being a knight, it was amazing how he could endure. Audin had changed his stance and delivered a punch with rotational force from his ankles to his knees and waist. Even more impressive was that Audin''s fists were as tough as steel. After years of training, they had hardened to the point of resembling solid iron. It was the equivalent of enduring a full force blow from a mace. And yet, Enkrid didn''t even grunt. He took dozens of hits, not showing any sign of pain. "Armor-clad." Luagarne, who had been watching, couldn''t help but marvel. The sound of the punches echoing through the room was more exciting than hearing rain after a long drought. "How does he do it?" Luagarne muttered. She wasn''t asking Enkrid. It was just to herself. She judged that she needed to observe Enkrid directly before she could ask him any questions. If she found something worth asking, she''d do so then. For now, she would just watch. Enkrid had plenty of elements that piqued her curiosity. What had once been mere expectations had now become something more. The unfolding events were continuously surprising her. Luagarne didn''t want to satisfy her curiosity with just a few words. The Frog''s way of fulfilling desires was somewhat peculiar, but Enkrid simply thought it was to be expected. He, too, had a lot on his plate. As part of the verification process, he was trying various things. He spent the entire day like that. "Isn''t it tough?" Teresa, who had been watching, was concerned, but Enkrid was unfazed. A light sheen of sweat, his body bruised here and there. The bruises were nothing more than that. The tool that created those bruises was Audin, the punch attached to a body created by the gods'' mistake. "It''s not bad, really." Enkrid answered, looking deep in thought, though Teresa didn''t notice. What was happening right in front of her eyes was simply too fascinating. "If you collect your Will and endure with your body, you''ll get stronger, Brother." Audin said, sweating more than Teresa had ever seen anyone sweat. He had swung his fist with great focus. What was even more surprising was that Enkrid sweated less. Even after taking those punches. After being hit by that fist, he was like that. It was no wonder Teresa was surprised. Thus, Enkrid spent the day, and the next morning, Rem, Jaxen, and Ragna fought over who would be the first to take a sparring partner. After some rock-paper-scissors, things turned into a mess. Since there hadn''t been rain lately, the ground was dry, and the dust scattered with even the slightest breeze. Swoosh. A few grass leaves fell to the side and were blown away by the wind. Krais, who had been rolling dice in the corner of the training field while squatting on the ground, moved aside, and the space naturally opened up. Enkrid stood holding Aker. "How deep do you want to go?" Rem cut to the chase, but Enkrid understood perfectly. If he were to speak of sincerity, how deep would that go? "Five." Enkrid replied. If they fought sincerely, one of them could die. "It''s hard to control myself. Be careful." Enkrid said, and Rem smiled. "Who are you talking to? The lost one? The stray cat? Or maybe the youngest bear who''s now sulking alone?" Rem, who called Audin "the youngest bear" after they returned, had no trouble praying for the mother bear''s help. Well, "mother bear" and "youngest bear" were different after all. Rem''s specialty was making distinctions. That was why it was fine for him to live with magic from a young age. As long as he learned how to make distinctions properly, he would never do something foolish, like getting drawn to spirits. On the other hand, if he couldn''t distinguish, he might accept a demon into his body and end up spitting out nothing but ghosts in some stupid manner. "My weapon is a relic weapon. So, it won''t break against a half-baked magic sword. It has its own ego." "Ego weapon" was a term for weapons with a will of their own. It was something that appeared in legends or distant historical texts, but it existed nonetheless. Rem''s weapon had emotions. Because of this, the strength it emitted could vary depending on the intensity of those emotions. Of course, there were both pros and cons. The drawback was that there was a variance when used as a medium for magic. The advantage was that when it erupted, it went wild. At such times, he honestly believed that even the three knights wouldn''t stand a chance. Though, he was talking about knights he knew within his common sense. Not all knights were the same. If there were people like Oara, then there were people like the knight of Aspen as well. Both might have reached the rank of knight, but when you looked at it coldly, there was a difference. Well, you never really knew until you fought, so there was no need to give a definitive answer. Lost in thought while presenting his axe, Enkrid said something strange. To Rem, it sounded like nonsense. "You too?" "What do you mean, ''you too''?" "My sword talks." "It talks?" Isn''t a sword that talks supposed to be called a cursed sword or a divine sword? Was that a good thing? Rem wasn''t sure, but luckily, it wasn''t a cursed sword or a divine sword. Enkrid had already realized through a conversation with his sword, Aker, that it was a rather unusual weapon. "Well, it''s kind of nonsense, but..." Hey, nonsense? Do you know how rare it is for a sword with the lingering spirit of a former knight to talk? At that moment, Aker hummed, and the words, only audible to Enkrid, reached his mind. "We''ll talk about it later." Enkrid muttered. Regardless of whether it was a cursed sword or not, right now, he was about to spar with Rem. "True enough." Rem agreed with Enkrid''s statement to his sword. With that, he also shook off his distractions. When fighting, you had to focus solely on the fight. Worrying about how to escape, or what to do next, only meant that you wouldn''t even show half your true strength. Facing the leader who had awakened the Will, there was no room for carelessness. Let''s see how much you''ve changed. Without any words or signals, Rem swung his axe. Enkrid also raised his sword to meet it. Rem''s axe was slightly faster, but Enkrid was just as quick. Even if someone was watching carefully, it was hard to tell the difference in their speed. Clash! Sparks flew where Aker and the axe met, and Enkrid''s blue eyes drew a sharp line in the air. He closed the distance with a step, raising his sword in a follow-up strike. A series of rapid attacks cut through the breaths between them. Rem also struck with his axe at the exact same moment. Clash! The second collision occurred, and from there, Aker and the axe met countless times, parting and reuniting. It was like a capricious lover. After dozens of such encounters, Rem took a step back. ''What is this?'' He was once again surprised. Enkrid''s shoulder twitched slightly. Rem deliberately pushed their weapons together, clashing harder. There was intention behind it. If it had been Ragna or Jaxen, they likely would have done the same. It was good to control the omnipotence, but there was a concept more important to grasp afterward. That was seeing the limits of Will. When does exhaustion set in? The key was to adjust and control it. Rem saw that as the next step. Magic worked similarly. But then... "Are you tired?" "Already worn out?" Enkrid''s body was screaming, but the Will inside him remained as strong as ever. It felt like an endlessly flowing spring, as though water would never stop rising. Chapter 513 - Mastery of Will Chapter 513 - 513 - Mastery of Will Chapter 513 - Mastery of Will "Someone like you handling Will is kind of fascinating." Rem muttered as he flicked his axe. The purpose of the sparring had been clear, and there was no need for more. It was over without deciding a winner, simply weapons clashing non-stop until the end. The others, including Rem, who had been vying for the order of the spar, shared similar thoughts. ''No exhaustion?'' Jaxen thought silently to himself. "It should be harder than this," Ragna''s words carried the same sentiment. When someone awakens to Will and starts circulating it through their body, the first sensation they feel is omnipotence. The feeling that anything is possible. Some even imagine they could shape clouds into a sword, as if they could pull them in and mold them. Of course, it''s nonsense, something that couldn''t possibly happen, but for a moment, it feels real. It''s that sensation of limitless potential, and when intoxicated by this omnipotence, the exhilaration can be several times stronger than any drug. That exhilaration triggers action, and before long, they end up recklessly expending Will, moving without realizing they''re tiring. This sense of overwhelming power can make it hard to distinguish what works from what doesn''t. But Enkrid had already learned that distinction. "Oh? This works, that doesn''t." He had realized that to cut someone''s neck, he had to be within range of his sword. A distant gesture couldn''t sever the tree in the distance. It was like learning to walk all over again, this process of mastering omnipotence. But what happens if someone wastes their Will? Exhaustion sets in. They burn out, their energy spent until they collapse. If they continue moving in that state, their body breaks down. Of course, with time, they''ll recover, but if the exhaustion is induced repeatedly, recovery will be shortened, and the body or mind might suffer lasting damage. ''It doesn''t seem likely, though,'' Rem scratched his cheek, thinking. Still, isn''t this strange? Ragna and Jaxen had taken up the challenge to help Enkrid control his Will. It was a rare move for Jaxen to join a spar, but it made sense¡ªthis was the moment for Enkrid to learn control. They hadn''t thrown the dice for no reason. Yet here they were, with Enkrid still going strong. "I''m still fine," Enkrid said, drenched in sweat but showing no sign of tiring. He was still the same as when he started. "Truly amazing," Rem remarked, while Audin just chuckled softly. He had already expected this outcome from yesterday''s experience. He hadn''t watched them closely because he knew the spar wouldn''t be as fun if he did. But seeing Enkrid now, standing tall, it was clear this wasn''t normal. He should have collapsed by now if he was truly exhausted. "Let''s move on," Rem waved his hand, dismissing the thought. There were no obvious answers to be had. There were all sorts of strange things in the world, and Rem knew well that anything could happen. The same went for Ragna and Jaxen. Rem decided to move on with the spar. If exhaustion wasn''t going to be induced, what was next? Mastery. Once someone learns to handle Will comfortably, they begin to refine their usage. They might use it more sharply or, conversely, more heavily. For Rem, who also used a kind of Will through his sorcery, it wasn''t unfamiliar, although he used it differently. However, even that felt a little ambiguous. How to describe it? For all his skills with a sword and his improved sense and boldness, Enkrid was still somewhat clumsy when it came to using Will. In fact, his use of it was more awkward than before. It wasn''t that he had regressed; it was just that his technique felt heavy. While that didn''t mean he had gotten weaker, it made it hard to see any defining characteristic. His strength had increased, and his reactions were faster. Still, his usage of Will seemed rougher and messier. His lack of exhaustion was likely the most noticeable trait. That clumsiness was something Rem understood, but it was something that would be harder to explain to others like Ropord or Fel. There was a significant gap between Enkrid and them. What should he do if his technique was clumsy, rough, or disorganized? ''Does it matter?'' It didn''t matter. No one could predict how things would turn out. No one knew what would happen in the future, and yet no one thought this was a problem. In the past, many had wondered how someone like Enkrid would fare as a knight. What would happen if the strength of his Will grew alongside his oath? If the intensity of his oath reached a height that touched the sky, what would that mean for his Will, that formless power? Could anyone even comprehend that? The answer was clear: no one could fathom it. Enkrid stood before an unknown path. He had taken a step into unfamiliar territory. Was it the right direction? He didn''t know. Was this the uncertainty of not knowing where to go? No, it wasn''t. Enkrid smiled, realizing his path wasn''t a barren field without signposts but a wide road where signposts weren''t needed. So, he just kept walking. "Your smile''s nice," Rem remarked, laughing along with him. Jaxen showed a faint smile, and Ragna, too, grinned. ''It seems like I need to get a little more skilled.'' Enkrid seemed to know exactly what to do after the spar. It was something he would have never imagined before. Before, he would have swung his sword blindly, running and charging up a mountain with his bare hands to increase his strength. None of it was useless, but he hadn''t known what he was doing. Now, though, he knew. It wasn''t that he didn''t appreciate his past, but he recognized that he no longer needed to seek a mentor as he once had. ''Mastering the use of Will.'' It was like developing a new sense, and learning to manage it was a challenge. Normally, that wouldn''t be so hard, but for Enkrid, it was difficult because his Will was so immense. His capacity was different from others, and it wouldn''t come all at once. He already understood that, but it didn''t bother him. "Phew." He felt the sweat on his skin as the wind blew away the heat, and then¡ª "Can I ask you something? Fiance?" Sinar suddenly approached and asked. Enkrid''s gaze met hers, recalling how her arm had turned to dust in an instant. It wasn''t just her. He remembered the wrinkled faces of Rem, the twisted expressions of Jaxen, and Ragna, who looked at him in disbelief. He remembered Audin''s face, glowing with light even as he bled from every orifice. All those memories, faces, expressions, and actions were his to hold. "I''ll admit it took longer than expected, but I''m happy," Enkrid said as he looked at Rem, Jaxen, Ragna, and Audin. Ropord and Fel had already left their spots. Esther stood quietly in the back, and Weird-Eyes was there too. Enkrid''s gaze swept over both of them, acknowledging them as well. Everyone''s eyes were on him. It was an absurd joke. He said it because he knew that it was thanks to these people that he was able to stand here. He knew they understood that. Shinar rarely showed a faint smile. Enkrid''s smile, full of joy and excitement, was incredibly pleasant to see. "Damn it." Rem chuckled lightly, and Audin muttered a prayer. Jaxen sighed and let out a half-hearted laugh, while Ragna raised his sword. It was his turn for the next duel. Enkrid got back into position. There was no exhaustion. He didn''t get tired. He wasn''t intoxicated by his omnipotence. His fighting style was clumsy, but that was something that would improve with time. Ragna simply wanted to fight. Watching wasn''t enough to satisfy him. Jaxen took a step back, lost in thought. ''He''s tough to handle.'' If he could find an opening, he could land a blow. Poison might give him an edge. However, both techniques felt awkward to use in a duel. If his opponent were a barbarian, he could just unleash them recklessly. Jaxen had many techniques that were tricky to use in a duel. That''s why he stepped back. He saw that Enkrid wasn''t exhausted, so there was no need to wear him out with a duel. He thought it would be better to handle it himself rather than leave it to a barbarian or a fool. Lost in these thoughts, Jaxen grabbed two daggers and stood in line. His thoughts and actions were at odds. "Next is me." And that was what he said. Watching the leader, this cold-hearted assassin, he felt a strange heat rise in his chest. Enkrid was still smiling, or rather, he was wearing a smile full of anticipation. No one knew. Watching Rem and Ragna fight, Enkrid had often dreamed of standing in their place. Now, that dream had come true right here. He raised his Aker and got into position. Hey, that guy can fight. It was the influence of Will that rippled across his entire body. The sword carried Will and conveyed its meaning. The hum of the blade vibrated and turned into language that entered his mind. Enkrid ignored it and focused. Soon, the sword descended silently like a bolt of lightning from above. Even though his sixth sense, his future vision, allowed him to see a fraction of a second ahead, the sight and the blade''s arrival were simultaneous. Enkrid''s Aker also erupted in white light and soared upwards. Clang! The two swords met, tangled, and scattered. After several exchanges of blows and footwork, everything was at the level of knights. The duel was won by Ragna. After Ragna, Jaxen stepped in, and the result was a draw. Jaxen withdrew first, acknowledging that it was difficult to catch Enkrid''s footwork. If Ragna or Jaxen had fought until the end, the outcome might have been uncertain. Next, Rem picked up his axe and charged. The duels continued until the sun set, but Enkrid''s Will never once ran dry. "You''ve become a monster." Rem''s words were spot on. Everyone nodded in agreement. Among them, the gurgling Luagarne was practically oozing oil from her entire body. She was simply too moved by the sight. *** "I trust you." The owner of the throne, draped in red carpet finished with gold threads, spoke from atop three steps. The man standing before him lifted his head, which he had bowed deeply, and spoke. "I will retrieve the lands of Aspen that were unjustly lost." The man who raised his head had a nose as dark as coal, his ears were similar to a wolf''s, and his pupils were distinctly different from those of a human. He was a wolf beastman, naturally. "Then." The wolf beastman general turned his body. Once honored as the guardian of Aspen, he had now been relegated to a lowly position. As he left the hall, two humans and a Frog were waiting for him. "What about Abnaier?" As soon as he stepped out, the wolf beastman asked. Something seemed to bother him, as he snorted and sniffed the air. He had left the hall, yet even though the throne was only one door away, he acted without restraint. Those who knew his nature remained silent. Even the attendants acted as if they didn''t notice. "It''s better not to mention that name within the royal palace." The answer came from a neatly-dressed man. Although he held a knight''s rank, he knew better than to speak rudely to the beastman in front of him. His tone was thus respectful. Not all knights were the same, and this knight knew the lesson well. The knight of Aspen, particularly the one who had once took a swing at Enkrid and Ragna, understood that lesson even better. "If you''re just going to throw away honor and everything else, why not just kill him and be done with it?" The beastman growled. Was that really what he wanted? Half of it was right, and half was wrong. If that action had been taken, he should have been proud of it, but instead, he had left it as a stain on his soul. He was criticizing it for that. "Because of the oath..." "You''ll die because of your excuses and justifications. Haven''t I taught you that a knight who doesn''t protect his honor is marked with shame, and that shame leads to ruin? Have I lived too long to forget this? Huh?" The wolf beastman cut him off and launched into a lengthy lecture. The man felt a brief flare of anger, but he didn''t dare to retort. If he spoke more, all he would receive was nagging. And excuses? It wasn''t an excuse; it was the truth. The oath had made it unavoidable. Honor or not, his sword was still strong. Its features were clear, and it wasn''t weakened by the oath. Even though the man remained silent, the wolf beastman read his thoughts. "Tch." Not pleased, the beastman clicked his tongue and turned his gaze elsewhere. "Don''t overdo it. If you fight while intoxicated by omnipotence, you''ll die. There are many strong fighters in the world." "Yes." The answer came, though it wasn''t a genuine acceptance. That was the type of person he was. Even now, he exuded overconfidence. With such conviction, his Will subtly spread through the air. To think that he couldn''t control his own Will, tsk. The last person was the Frog. It was the same Frog that had kicked Enkrid in the side before. "Are you ready?" The wolf beastman nodded and asked, and the Frog returned a nod. "Almost done." Though the Frog might be at a disadvantage against a knight, in a war, the knight wouldn''t matter. Battles and wars were entirely different things. The wolf beastman understood that difference well. So, he wouldn''t discuss strategies and tactics. What he needed was Abnaier. Abnaier had once been called a genius strategist. He had been blamed as the reason for their defeat. Was he to be killed for that? Those who disliked Abnaier''s noble status said so, but the wolf beastman only requested his death on the surface, while secretly recruiting him into his ranks. Abnaier, after failing to kill a human, had secluded himself, but with a few strikes, the wolf beastman had forced him to come out again. Hmph. The wolf beastman snorted again. His breath was so strong that the curtain by the window fluttered. "Let''s go." The beastman led the way, followed by the two humans and the Frog. Their steps were so large that the passage seemed narrower than it actually was. When they exited, two more subordinates were waiting for them. Under the clear sunlight, the two lowered their heads in respect. One of the two subordinates, though conditionally, could be considered a knight. The wolf beastman had personally raised him. So, aside from the Frog, four knights stood in the party. ------------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters early check out my ko-fi using the link below :) www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work if you have the means :) Thank you! Chapter 514 - The Difference Chapter 514 - 514 - The Difference Chapter 514 - The Difference "Winning the war before it even begins¡ªthat would be ideal." These were words Abnaier had once spoken, and the beastkin general had agreed with them. With four knights and a Frog, it seemed like victory was already halfway assured before the fight even started. If that weren''t the case? Then they''d simply have to win the battle. Abnaier wouldn''t take the field himself, but he''d deliver his insights from the shadows. The general''s role was to act as both a formidable warrior and a brilliant tactician, obliterating the Border Guard and seizing Green Pearl in the process. Along the way, he planned to finish off the enemy Abnaier had previously failed to kill and, perhaps, a few of their allies as well. "Four knights," he thought. How could anyone stop them? This was why Aspen had resolved to go to war. Through fortune or effort, they had managed to produce two additional knights. Abnaier, who owed his survival to the wolf beastkin general, reflected on the situation: Ultimately, they couldn''t rely on strategy or intellect to win. Sheer power had to tip the scales. He didn''t consider defeat a possibility, not with the forces they had amassed. However, Abnaier''s longstanding habit¡ªand compulsion¡ªof never leaving anything to chance drove him to formulate a solid strategy. Fortunately, the supreme commander was a generous individual who took his counsel seriously. "We''ll make so much noise that the entire continent will hear us, boldly shouting for battle on the frontlines." "That would lead to excessive troop losses, wouldn''t it?" Hadn''t they already borrowed supplies from here and there for this endeavor? War resources didn''t grow on trees, and losing Green Pearl in a prior defeat had strained the nation''s reserves. This was hardly a time of abundance. The beastkin general had a keen eye for the practicalities of war. Wars were won less through battles and more through logistics and marching. Preparing for these necessities consumed a great deal of coin¡ªan enormous amount. Could they afford significant troop losses with the nation''s coffers already stretched thin? "No, which is why we''ll only make noise." "Only noise?" "Draw their attention, then send in a small, elite force." Abnaier traced a line across the strategy map, pointing to a path that would be impassable for most but manageable for knights. It was a route through the Pen-Hanil mountain range. Even better, the enemy had recently cleared the mountain range of monsters, doing them a great favor. "And once we''re in?" "We''ll strike at the head, separate from Green Pearl''s stationed forces. Take the city." This wasn''t a prolonged war but a decisive battle to end the conflict in a single move. Abnaier presented a plan that maximized their available strength. The wolf beastkin dismissed notions of honor. While he might lecture his former human knight disciples, he ultimately believed that as long as there was no guilt in the heart, any action was permissible. Crossing the Pen-Hanil range to strike the enemy''s leadership wasn''t dishonorable but intelligent. Once they reached the gates, they could boldly announce their intentions to occupy the city. Honor wouldn''t be tarnished¡ªthe enemy would simply appear foolish for being caught unprepared. His rationalizations complete, the beastkin nodded. "Good." "There''s a recent incident we can use as a pretext," Abnaier suggested. "Two junior knights were killed." The Royal Knights of Aspen had suffered casualties while scouting routes into the mountain range. It wasn''t monsters or beasts that had felled them, but a deadly swordsman who had made no effort to cover his tracks. Even after a ranger unit pursued the culprit, the entire unit had been annihilated. The swordsman eventually retreated beyond Green Pearl to Naurilia, making him a convenient scapegoat. "We''ll accuse them of sending an assassin first," Abnaier concluded. The narrative was already complete in his mind, from beginning to end. Even if Naurilia sent its knights to assist, they wouldn''t be able to stop Aspen. With Green Pearl secured, Abnaier would reclaim his position and launch another campaign, targeting Naurilia''s capital next. ''The Red Cape Knights will intervene then,'' Abnaier thought. That would lead to significant losses. Aspen didn''t possess overwhelming strength, so pushing that far was risky. Still, with time to prepare... Knights couldn''t be trained overnight, but the wolf beastkin general had already trained four. Once, Aspen had pursued an integration policy with non-human races, and the general was its finest result¡ªa wolf beastkin fiercely loyal to Aspen. Now, as a mentor, he had become even more valuable. Having once fought to defend the border before losing interest and withdrawing, he had returned as the blade of Aspen: Barnas Hurier. A beastkin adopted into the Hurier family. With him on their side, anything was possible. Four knights. Who could stand against such a force? Though Abnaier never let his guard down, he was confident. Even if other forces matched their numbers, no one else could concentrate their knights so effectively. By the time Naurilia realized what had happened, Green Pearl would already be lost. ''We''ll make good use of your walls and city.'' Even the recent clearing of the Pen-Hanil range would be used to Aspen''s advantage. It wasn''t about revenge¡ªthough giving them a taste of their own medicine wasn''t entirely unwelcome. *** Krais''s daily routine was simple. He spent his mornings exercising and training, ate his meals, attended to minor tasks, and read books. Reading was one of his hobbies when work was slow, and his interests spanned history, philosophy, and novels alike. From the outside, Krais''s life seemed leisurely, and to some extent, it was. His body wasn''t busy, but his mind never rested. Most of Krais''s work involved thinking, predicting, and imagining. One of his recent thoughts was: ''If I were Aspen, what would I do?'' This question had occupied him lately, and he had even discussed it with Enkrid. From here, however, it ventured into the realm of conjecture. Why would Aspen provoke them again? ''Because they want Green Pearl.'' The answer was clear. If the border with Aspen crumbles, it won''t just be about losing Green Pearl. What happens if Aspen destroys the Border Guard and wins? If it were me, I''d push even deeper. That''s why they couldn''t leave it alone. But Enkrid was here¡ªa demon slayer and the king''s trusted ally. For better or worse, if Aspen invades, the Border Guard must stop them. Naturally, Enkrid was fully briefed on the matter. After hearing everything, including the imagined scenarios, the commander''s response was unforgettable: "War?" A single word. "Yes," Krais replied. "If they attack, we fight." Watching Enkrid respond, Krais couldn''t help but feel something stir inside. A knight, huh. Krais glanced at Rem, who had once challenged Enkrid to a duel. Though Krais''s vision couldn''t distinguish much, he knew one thing clearly¡ªRem was a knight. He''d heard that word, knight, plain and clear. Krais''s daily routine often revolved around speculation and imagining potential disasters, but he also indulged in pure flights of fancy. One of them involved Enkrid. What if the commander became a knight? Such idle thoughts. When people gain power¡ªwhether physical or political¡ªthey change. Would the commander change too? Not likely. From the moment he blocked Krais''s path with no better skill than his own, Enkrid had always been looking forward. Even when he said they''d fight if attacked, his calm blue eyes betrayed no agitation. What was he seeing? Despite gaining power and hearing the word war, was he not tempted to unleash it? Krais didn''t fully understand the concept of omnipotence, but he did understand people. When they have power, they want to use it. But Enkrid was still Enkrid. Unchanged. The things he looked at were invisible to Krais. Protecting something¡ªsure, he could understand the idea. But why? That was the mystery. Is it Krona? Or is there some benefit involved? Is he leveraging people''s praise for his own ends? Not at all. He simply acted on his instincts, and Krais couldn''t wrap his head around it. Not that he needed to. Krais had decided to follow the man who had once stood in his way and was doing so now. A gust of wind ruffled Krais''s hair again. Brushing it back from his eyes, he pondered further. Thanks to Enkrid''s parting instructions, he was currently holed up in the office, organizing his thoughts. "Gauge the timing and map out the battlefield¡ªwhere and how we''ll fight." It was a succinct order, but Krais understood it perfectly. "...Me?" "Who else?" Enkrid replied, briefly glancing sideways. That glance landed on individuals overflowing with combat prowess¡ªthe Madmen Unit. Rem, Jaxen, Ragna, Audin. Add Teresa, Luagarne, Ropord, and Fel to the mix? It wasn''t just comparable to a knight order It surpassed most. But entrusting them with war? Impossible. Enkrid knew that too. Tactical thinking and orchestrating a war were entirely different beasts. Enkrid was skilled in many areas, but crafting a war plan wasn''t his forte. "I feel like someone was thinking something annoying just now, so I''ll take over this time. Big Eyes, you stay out of it." Rem slung his axe over his shoulder, grinning and scowling in his usual manner. He was the type to respond to logistics questions by saying, Take what we need from the enemy. "War? You go out, swing your sword, and it''s done. Better me than leaving it to barbarians." Ragna chimed in, eager to lead the charge. If he didn''t get lost along the way, that is. Even then, he''d probably charge headlong at the sight of an enemy banner, spilling blood, and not just drop by drop but in torrents. With Ragna leading, victory might be possible, but at what cost? If nothing else, the enemy would struggle to predict his actions. After all, just the other day, Ragna had gone out for a "walk," only to slay two Aspen squires and an entire ranger unit before returning. Aspen used the incident as a pretext for war. Not that they lacked excuses without it. "Get it done." Enkrid''s steady gaze returned to Krais as he spoke. "Yes," Krais replied, nodding. There was nothing to add. No complaints, either. Without Enkrid around, Krais wouldn''t be able to utilize even half his capabilities. But that scenario would never happen. If it does, I''m out of here. Enkrid made the decisions, and that erased Krais''s anxiety, allowing him to operate at full capacity. Doom-laden thoughts crept into his mind, drawing out every possible scenario, plausible or not. Once a burden, those thoughts now served as a weapon. Four knights. Ragna, Rem, Shinar, Enkrid. Jaxen was knight-level, but Krais didn''t know that. If all four are tied up? When Abnaier confidently claimed their four knights could counter any threat, Krais imagined the scenarios where even they wouldn''t be enough. It was a talent he was born with¡ªimagining dread and painting futures from it. That was the difference between Krais and Abnaier. And where before he might have been paralyzed by such thoughts, now his mind sought answers. How do we ensure they don''t get tied up? Experience fosters growth. Just as Enkrid forged ahead, Krais had changed too. His perspective broadened, his thoughts deepened, and his knowledge expanded. Countless ideas swirled in his mind, forming a singular vision. He was crafting the blueprint for war. Though the battle wasn''t imminent, it was inevitable. His thoughts roamed, shaping strategies and methods to counter the looming threat. Nurat observed Krais''s glinting eyes, considering a rare thought. For all the talk of Enkrid''s piercing gaze, Krais''s own eyes now sparkled in a similar way. Enjoying this, aren''t you? Nurat wondered silently but didn''t need a verbal answer. The star-like shine in Krais''s eyes said it all. -------------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters early check out my ko-fi using the link below :) www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work if you have the means :) Thank you! Chapter 515 - Everything Has Changed Chapter 515 - 515 - Everything Has Changed [Hey, guys, TL here with another shameless plug <3 Check out the other novel I am currently translating, "How to survive in a Fusion Punk", you can find it on my page. It''s a cyberpunk combined with martial arts combined with magic shit show, i think you guys will enjoy it, I sure do. Now that the shameless plug is over enjoy a bonus Chapter] --------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 515 - Everything Has Changed Rem thought about it many times after spending time with Enkrid. "It''s too rough." Having trained Enkrid before, Rem knew that the commander didn''t change easily. More precisely, this man always gave the impression of being at his limits, no matter how much he achieved. That hadn''t changed even now as a knight. He seemed to have consumed everything within him, completely spent. The fact that he had come this far was already remarkable. But would this man stop here? That seemed unlikely. "But can he really change?" Even though Rem''s foundation was sorcery, he understood the concept of knighthood. From his perspective, the Will that Enkrid possessed now felt dull. Could something so blunt become sharp again? "It won''t be easy." Not that Enkrid was someone who would give up, but there was something nagging at Rem. "Has he become complacent?" There was a subtle shift in Enkrid''s demeanor. He was someone who had always sought more, but was that still true? Was the fire of his desire still burning as brilliantly as before? His gaze was as steady and forward as ever, but could it really be said that his yearning was the same as it used to be? To Rem, the answer was no. It was admirable that Enkrid hadn''t fallen into arrogance or complacency. His Will, like an unending spring, was equally commendable. But that wasn''t all there was to being a knight. Knighthood wasn''t just about awakening Will; it was about mastering it. Rem didn''t bother to explain this in words, as it wasn''t something that could be taught verbally. Instead, he conveyed it with his axe, facing Enkrid time and again. From here on, it was up to Enkrid. Ragna also saw something similar in Enkrid. Unlike Rem, Ragna didn''t analyze it as deeply. "He seems sluggish." It was like watching someone walk when they could run. Why? It was just a feeling. But Ragna was a genius knight, so it wasn''t entirely baseless. Did it warrant a comment? For someone who had lost their way, what was needed was the will to find the path again. With that will, they could eventually reach their destination. But without it, they would remain lost forever. To Ragna, Enkrid now resembled someone wandering without a clear path. Jaxen saw something similar. "Are you perhaps satisfied?" he asked. Enkrid only blinked his blue eyes at the question. "Satisfied with what?" Jaxen clarified, "Do you feel satisfied just because you''ve become a knight?" "I do not," Enkrid replied firmly. Becoming a knight had made him equal to his unit members and brought him closer to the moment he had always dreamed of. But did that mean he was content? No, he said, he wasn''t. "I see," Jaxen responded indifferently. Enkrid''s journey to knighthood had not been a typical one. Things that came easily to others might have been difficult for him. Conversely, he could accomplish things others could not. To put it simply, if he and Enkrid were to duel head-on right now, Jaxen believed he would lose. In a life-or-death fight, the result might differ, but in a straightforward duel, Enkrid would have the upper hand. If someone were to ask whether Jaxen could kill him, the answer was yes¡ªtechnically speaking. But that only highlighted how different Jaxen was from ordinary knights. Therefore, careless advice wasn''t necessary. He simply felt uneasy about it. Normally, Jaxen wouldn''t ignore such feelings, but this was Enkrid. Somehow, Enkrid would figure it out. He would surprise him yet again. It was trust, built through countless experiences together, that allowed Jaxen to leave it alone. Audin, meanwhile, prayed as he watched Enkrid. "Father, have you predetermined the end for this elder brother of mine? You once said no one''s fate is sealed, and I believe those words, O Lord." Audin knew that his current limitations, bound by his own restrictions, prevented him from stepping forward. He couldn''t convey his thoughts through words or actions in his current state. Despite that, he said nothing. He also trusted Enkrid. "He hasn''t faltered, but it''s curious," remarked Luagarne, who had the ability to discern talent. Though Enkrid continued to spend his days training and dueling, those observing him shared a similar view. Yet no one told him anything. Words wouldn''t change him. If he showed signs of truly stagnating, they would step in, but for now, they all agreed to simply watch. Aker was a sword imbued with a knight''s Will. "Why was I created, you ask? Even I don''t know. I simply awakened under certain conditions." The sword''s vibrations conveyed its thoughts directly to Enkrid''s mind. It was fascinating, though that was all it was¡ªthere was little to learn from it. Why had a sword been given a consciousness? It didn''t cast spells on its own or perform any grand feats. Its awareness merely existed to maintain the Will infused within it. Aker''s awakening had three conditions: Learning the swordsmanship created by the knight Aker. Awakening one''s Will. Fully claiming ownership of the sword. "Who determines whether these conditions are met?" Enkrid had asked. The sword had answered, "By wielding me, it is recognized. Awakening your Will sustains me. The recent degradation of the blade and the draining of power are inevitable. When I am dormant, I do not consume Will, but once partially awakened, I draw upon it. For now, I survive on what you supply, but the sword''s lifespan is nearing its end." At best, Aker could remain active for a month. But it did not express regret or fear of vanishing; it simply accepted it as natural. Enkrid also understood and moved on to the next question. Regarding ownership, the sword had said, "With your Will now at the level of a knight''s, you must already know. Your weapon is influenced by your intent. Ownership means using the blade roughly¡ªwhen the blade shows signs of wear, it signifies full ownership." Aker answered all of Enkrid''s questions dutifully. As a construct of thought left behind by the knight Aker, it was meant to teach. But Enkrid had little to learn. Everything Aker tried to impart, Enkrid had already engraved into himself¡ªthrough years of experience with Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, Audin, and most recently, Luagarne. "You''re diligent," Aker remarked, observing Enkrid''s rigorous daily routine. From the isolation technique that meticulously trained specific muscles to the steel-hardening techniques, Enkrid covered every basic and advanced method. Even Aker found it monotonous to watch, but Enkrid seemed to enjoy it. Between all of this, he dealt with visitors, read and wrote letters, and now made his way to the city''s central market, specifically to a forge on its outskirts. The grip of his gladius had loosened, Aker needed adjustments, and he also intended to acquire a few daggers. "Should I look for new armor as well?" It wasn''t a bad idea. Enkrid walked slowly, unhurried. "Should I accompany you?" asked Shinar as he prepared to leave. Enkrid declined. He occasionally wondered what the fairy remained here for. Becoming a fairy knight meant she could have returned to her hometown and no longer needed to fight for Naurilia. Was she loyal to the country? ''No way.'' Even so, she stayed. Of course, only a handful of people knew that Shinar was a fairy knight¡ªjust himself and a few members of the Madmen unit. Even Graham, the lord of Border Guard, probably had no idea. At first, she stayed like a mercenary, holding her position, but now she remained naturally as a soldier. Considering her connection to Krang, she must have some sort of agreement with the royal family. ''A reward?'' Was that why she stayed? Enkrid didn''t really care. Even if he asked, she likely wouldn''t answer. "If you think you''ll get lost, I can guide you. It must be confusing to return after so long." Ragna also offered to accompany him, but Rem stopped him. "This crazy bastard really knows how to get on my nerves." Even if Ragna hadn''t said that, Rem wouldn''t have held back. He was always looking for an excuse to fight. Fortunately, the two didn''t leap at each other to kill. Being a knight and understanding the nature of their fights, Enkrid knew that if they seriously clashed, one of them would likely die. That''s what battles involving Will were like¡ªunless there was a clear disparity in skill. "Wolf Spirit." Rem invoked a spirit summoning. Using the enchantment etched into his body as an offering, the strength of the wolf''s legs imbued his own. "With legs strengthened, pin my opponent." Things were serious today. Leaving behind their quarrel, Enkrid set off on his path. Jaxen excused himself, saying he had urgent business, and Krais was genuinely busy. Preparing for war, perhaps. He seemed to have plenty to do. Though everyone spoke of war, the next few months might only involve observing the situation. It wasn''t an immediate battle, or so Enkrid believed. In any case, he walked alone. The sunlight warmly embraced the earth, and a gentle breeze danced in the air. Birds sang in the distance. Though the sun and wind were the same as ever, they felt warmer and fresher now. The wind seemed to pierce through his chest and flow out behind him. The sunlight filled his body entirely before leaving again. The concept of knights had shifted from a position of nobility to a demonstration of strength. Enkrid realized how much everything had changed. The sunlight felt different, the wind felt different. ''I''ve changed in how I perceive them.'' Everything was different. He could now see the path his sword should follow and knew how to move. Hearing the wind and the chirping of birds, Enkrid walked. It was a bright, sunny day. He enjoyed every step on his way to the market, savoring the present moment. It was almost enough to wish this leisurely stroll, which could be called a walk, would last forever. ¡ªYou seem to be enjoying yourself. Aker spoke to him. Was that so? Enkrid responded casually and kept walking, passing by a few soldiers he knew who saluted him. "I want to be like you!" One soldier boldly exclaimed. Becoming someone''s idol¡ªit would be a lie to say it wasn''t enjoyable. "How can I achieve that?" As the soldier''s question continued, Enkrid noticed their commander glaring sharply at them. Judging by their uniform and discipline, this group was well-trained. Still, the soldier had recklessly spoken to Enkrid, likely knowing that physical punishment disguised as training awaited him afterward. Enkrid looked at the soldier, brushing aside trivial thoughts. As always, there was only one thing he could say to those who asked how. "Find your own motivation. While comrades may share your work, no one can resolve themselves or make decisions in your place." Behind the fiery eyes of the soldier, even the commander''s irritation softened, and his eyes gleamed. All ten soldiers marching in formation had eyes that sparkled like that. It wasn''t a bad sight. "The flower of war is..." "Infantry." Parting with the group after their common chant, Enkrid neared the bustling market. The city had grown, the market had grown, and even Vanessa''s Pumpkin Soup Inn had expanded. Yet it was still filled with people, maintaining order amidst the crowd. The streets allowed no carriages, reserved only for pedestrians. The dirt roads had been replaced with neatly laid blue stones. Some buildings stood over five stories tall, rising with sturdy masonry. They said war with Aspen was imminent, and even among merchants, such rumors spread. No one knew where the talk began, but most accepted war as inevitable. Some doubted it, but those who understood the situation saw it as a certainty. Years ago, whenever the word "war" circulated, merchants would vanish, turning Border Guard into a ghost town. Now, it was nothing like that. --------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters early check out my ko-fi using the link below :) www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work if you have the means :) Thank you! Chapter 516 - The Giant Who Sells Goods Chapter 516 - 516 - The Giant Who Sells Goods Chapter 516 - The Giant Who Sells Goods In the past, whenever news of war would transform cities into ghost towns, Krais often grumbled. "Why is it so hard to get anything around here?" Still, his complaints had earned him a profit. When goods were scarce, their prices naturally soared, or so the saying went. Compared to those times, the city now was entirely different. Shops had increased in number, and one area was crowded with merchants laying out their wares on the ground. Zones were clearly divided, with soldiers patrolling in between. Among the crowd, Enkrid spotted a familiar Frog. What was his name again? "I''m not here to fight." The Frog, with a scar across his face, raised his pale palm and spoke. Digging into his memory, Enkrid recalled the name. "...Miellun?" "Yeah, that''s right." Miellun had apparently joined Krais''s subordinate Gilpin Guild. He seemed to enjoy city life and had grown visibly healthier and more comfortable, with his cheeks almost glistening. Healthy Frogs supposedly had shiny cheeks, a remark once made by the parched Luagarne in the arid climate. "See you around." Passing Miellun, Enkrid observed that among the humans were occasional beastfolk, elves, dwarves, and Frogs. He even spotted a Giant. Though called beasts of crimson blood, not all Giants were alike, just as not all humans or elves were the same. Some among them sought pursuits beyond battle. This one seemed to be such a type. A Giant, carrying a large bundle of black cloth over his shoulder¡ªmistakable for a club¡ªwalked by. When their eyes briefly met, the Giant''s gaze was unlike the ferocity expected of his kind. Instead, it reminded Enkrid of the serene, unwavering eyes of a cow he had once seen in the West. "Greetings," the Giant said, nodding briefly before moving on and taking a seat in the area where the street vendors gathered. While some merchants nearby appeared unnerved, others remained unbothered. One merchant even addressed him familiarly. The Giant seemed more like a traveling peddler than a warrior, a plausible assumption given that peddlers often needed to know how to fight. "You''re late," the merchant said. "Got my hands on something good," the Giant replied. From the way the Giant casually interacted with the human merchant next to him, it was evident that this wasn''t his first time at Border Guard. Even the patrolling soldiers showed no reaction, confirming as much. Curiosity piqued, Enkrid approached. The Giant untied the bundle of cloth he had been carrying. Inside were massive items¡ªbags large enough to hold an entire human, logs seemingly cut into makeshift furniture, and other odds and ends. A Giant peddler. Not a common profession for their kind. "Browsing?" The Giant''s deep, resonant voice felt as though it originated from the depths of a cave. He looked directly at Enkrid, who simply nodded in silence. The Giant appeared unaware of who Enkrid was. While a few patrolling soldiers might recognize him, fame didn''t necessarily translate to instant recognition in a bustling city like this. Unless someone''s appearance was particularly distinct or their gear stood out, being recognized was rare. "I heard you found something good," Enkrid repeated the Giant''s earlier words. The Giant opened one of the large leather bags, pulling out several items: raw gemstones, uncut stones, and a few bundles of rolled leather. What qualified as "good"? As a mercenary and swordsman, Enkrid had a decent eye for materials, but nowhere near the expertise of a merchant. Judging by the assortment, the Giant appeared to deal in raw resources rather than finished goods. One of the rolled-up leather bundles caught Enkrid''s eye. Compared to the Giant''s size, the bundle wasn''t particularly large. Its surface was dark brown, thick, and appeared heavy at a glance. "You''ve got an eye for things," the Giant remarked, though his tone carried no friendliness or attempt to court a sale. He seemed uninterested in typical merchant behavior. "Maybe," Enkrid replied, shifting his gaze to meet the Giant''s. "Ever heard of the Black Leather Guild?" Of course he had. Anyone who wandered the continent would inevitably come across certain well-known names: the Shepherds of the Wilds, the Glacier Rangers, and the Black Leather Guild, among others. The Black Leather Guild was reputed as the continent''s finest hunters. "This leather came from them. I don''t know what creature it''s from, but it''s tough and light," the Giant said, holding the bundle delicately between his thumb and forefinger. "It''s expensive," he concluded. Price wasn''t an issue for Enkrid. Extending his hand, he accepted the bundle as the Giant placed it in his palm. Unrolling it revealed a well-treated leather sheet. True to the Giant''s claim, it was incredibly light¡ªnot because of his strength but inherently so. Though not feather-like, it was noticeably lighter than it appeared. There was no foul odor, and its width was just enough to wrap around his forearm. "Unusual," Enkrid remarked. "It''s rare." "You''re unusual, too." "Does that matter?" "You caught my attention." The Giant remained unresponsive. So what? Are you buying it or not? To him, that was all that mattered. "I''ll take it," Enkrid said. The item intrigued him. He could already envision how to use it. "Twelve gold coins." It was a steep price. Oddly precise, too. Why twelve and not ten? Considering its size¡ªbarely enough to wrap around a wrist or forearm¡ªit was exorbitant. For Audin, it might only cover his fist. "Fine," Enkrid agreed without bargaining. He didn''t see the point. But there was a problem. Patting his waist and searching his pockets, Enkrid realized he hadn''t brought any money. Don''t you ever plan ahead, you fool? Aker, his sentient sword, grumbled in his mind. Enkrid ignored the remark, preoccupied with continuing his search. Unsurprisingly, there was no clinking sound of coins. The Giant''s eyes narrowed suspiciously. A thief? A robber? It was absurd. This was Border Guard, a place where thieves lost their hands, and robbers were practically nonexistent. Yet, the Giant crossed his arms, his gaze drifting toward two nearby guards. Should he call them? After a brief hesitation, the Giant decided to give him a chance. "Get lost if you don''t have Krona." "...I''m a friend of Leona." Enkrid spoke quietly. It was the truth. Twelve gold coins weren''t a problem; he could procure them quickly. He was about to do so, but then another merchant, his cheeks plastered with greed, interrupted. "I''ll buy it for seven and a half gold coins." What the hell? Enkrid felt a slight surge of anger. Was it not obvious that he was already negotiating for the item? He restrained himself from unleashing Will, as it might be seen as a threat, and simply glared at the merchant. The merchant met his gaze, tilting his chin in defiance. "What?" What are you going to do about it? Border Guard was a haven for merchants because of its strict security. Swindlers, robbers, and pickpockets found it nearly impossible to operate here. The illegal guild Gilpin even took it upon themselves to act as nocturnal watchmen, while the Border Guard''s militia ensured justice during the day, remaining impartial even for a few silver coins. The system was well-maintained, although it had taken a lot to reach this point. "I''ll be right back with the coins. Could you just wait a bit...?" Enkrid said, his tone slightly desperate. "Listen, if you don''t have the money, step aside. I''ve got no time for this," the grumpy-cheeked merchant interrupted, cutting him off. Enkrid''s hand twitched. The merchant''s tone reminded him of Krais, but while Krais''s remarks were bearable, this toad-like merchant''s attitude ignited a murderous impulse. Even though he knew appearances weren''t everything, they certainly influenced his emotions. Enkrid took a deep breath. This wasn''t worth losing his temper over. "And you claim to be a friend of Leona Rockfreed? Ha! Then I''m General Enkrid''s uncle!" Should I kill him? Wouldn''t it be fine to kill just this one guy? After all, I''m a general, right? The atmosphere grew tense as two soldiers approached. They didn''t recognize Enkrid. "If you fight, both parties will face consequences. It won''t end well for either of you." "Just so you know, the lord of Border Guard doesn''t take sides." The fairness was harsh. It was a well-known adage displayed in Border Guard''s courthouse, a warning not to escalate matters unnecessarily. This entire setup was Krais''s doing. Trials required manpower and often demanded his personal involvement. While he couldn''t ignore cases of genuine injustice, frivolous disputes handed over to the city courts resulted in heavy taxes being levied under the guise of trial fees. This system ensured only those with genuine grievances came forward, deterring others from exploiting their authority. And when true victims appeared, their fees were often waived. It was a system that had faced much criticism initially but had since become well-established. Enkrid, however, was unaware of this story. Surely, they''ll take my side, he thought. After all, he was higher up than the lord. But if he revealed his status now... Wouldn''t that damage my honor? ¨CHey, if you reveal your identity here, you might as well bite me and jump off a cliff. Aker, his sentient sword, offered an apt piece of advice. Enkrid decided he''d rather throw this sword off a cliff than repair it. The blade was already losing its sharpness, and the sword itself was becoming nothing more than a hunk of metal. ¨CDon''t even think about it. Let me enjoy my remaining month. Ignoring the sword''s grumbles, Enkrid turned to the giant merchant, attempting to convey trust through his gaze. "What?" "...Never mind." The giant shifted his gaze to the toad-like merchant and spoke firmly. "I won''t sell it to you either." "What? Charging twelve gold coins for that leather is highway robbery!" The giant''s declaration angered the merchant, though Enkrid could tell it was a ploy to gain leverage in negotiations. But even without realizing the tactic, the giant shook his head. "I''m not selling." "Aren''t you with the Rockfreed company?" "So what?" "I''ve been trading with Rockfreed for years. This could cause trouble later." Was this a threat now? The soldiers, apparently viewing this as mere haggling, stepped back. Enkrid didn''t intervene either, feeling his position too ambiguous. Any action could make him seem like a robber. And without Krona, wouldn''t he have to rely on force? "Not my problem." The giant remained unmoved by the threat. "You bastard." The toad merchant, now genuinely angry, stormed off in frustration. There was no point in causing a scene when the guards were still watching. Besides, going against the giant would only end badly for him. After the merchant left, Enkrid asked the giant, "Are you sure you''re okay with this?" "Why wouldn''t I be? I may work with Rockfreed, but what I sell and at what price is my choice." "I see." "Exactly. I sell good items at prices I set. That''s my way of doing business." Enkrid found himself liking both the leather and the giant merchant. Especially the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of "good items" and his principles of trade. Could his path as a merchant have been easy? Surely not. And yet, the giant merchant stood firm in his place. "Do you have a dream?" Enkrid asked. "Why do you care?" The giant''s consistent attitude was oddly appealing. Enkrid decided he needed to fetch Krona. Perhaps Krais could help... No, he''d ask Graham instead. Just as he turned to leave, a familiar voice stopped him. "Shopping?" It was someone he knew¡ªsomeone who''d been busy since dawn. "The black witch," someone murmured. The newcomer''s robe didn''t reveal much, but her skirt''s slit exposed her pale legs. Several people, men and women alike, found themselves staring at her legs, which held a captivating charm. "Don''t gouge out their eyes just for staring," Enkrid muttered. "Why would I? Are you feeling unwell?" Esther replied with a blink, seemingly amused. Enkrid decided to let it slide. It was her past behavior that prompted his comment, but he''d accept his own frustration this time. "How much is it? I''ll pay." The situation felt surreal to Enkrid. Here was Esther¡ªsomeone who could be mistaken for a witch or a sage¡ªhanding over gold coins while he just stood there watching. She counted the coins meticulously before handing them to the giant. "Pleasure doing business," the giant said with a rare smile, handing over the leather. Esther then passed it to Enkrid. "A gift. I''m busy." It was a chance encounter. Esther turned to leave, but before she could, a well-dressed man approached, kneeling before her and presenting a bouquet. "Black Witch, my love!" he declared dramatically. Esther glanced at him briefly. Enkrid decided that if things went south, he''d protect the man''s eyes. But Esther simply replied, "I''ll think about it," and walked away without a second glance. "Aren''t you leaving? You''re in the way of business," the giant merchant said, snapping Enkrid out of his daze. He resumed his original path toward the forge. Today feels... strange. That thought persisted even as he arrived at the forge, where an unusual sight awaited him¡ªa human, a dwarf, and a Frog seated together. The human blacksmith recognized Enkrid. He was a royal craftsman sent by Krang. --------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters early check out my ko-fi using the link below :) www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work if you have the means :) Thank you! Chapter 517 - Rotten Eyes Chapter 517 - 517 - Rotten Eyes Chapter 517 - Rotten Eyes Esther''s previous spell realm was born from observing nature. She originally lived in the mountains and wandered through the forests. Though she often hunted monsters, fought magical beasts, and faced off against mages, those battles were fleeting moments in a life that was otherwise steeped in nature. Now, however, Esther found herself fascinated with observing people. Even after parting ways with Enkrid, she continued to explore the marketplace: people bargaining, porters carrying loads, noblewomen wearing wide-brimmed hats to avoid the sunlight, children running and laughing in the sun, their parents scolding them, and a man inside a newly opened cafe? pulling at his hair over some beverage he was concocting. It was all observation¡ªa process of discerning their thoughts and intentions. Interesting. To her surprise, watching them proved to be quite entertaining. Even the process of getting here had been amusing in its own way. Esther understood that to purchase anything in the market, she needed Krona. She chose the most rational method to acquire it: quietly and persistently following Krais around while simply staring at him. "...Nurat, what did I do to deserve this?" Krais whispered, glancing at Esther, and Nurat tried to assess what she could do against a powerful mage like her. Relying on her intuition as a woman, her instincts as a warrior, and her familiarity with Krais, she chose the best course of action she could think of. "Apologize to her." "That''s probably the quickest solution." Krais nodded. For now, he decided to admit fault. After all, no matter where he went, the witch''s eyes seemed to follow him. It was a recipe for nightmares. To Krais, Esther was no longer a beautiful woman; she was a witch. Perhaps she was still upset about the time he targeted her claws back when she was in panther form. "Yes, I was wrong," Krais said aloud. The head of the construction guild, who had been standing nearby to ask Krais for a favor, blinked in confusion. "Pardon?" "Not you," Krais clarified. At that moment, Esther glided toward them as if she were sliding over the ground. Thud! "Ugh!" The construction guild leader fell backward in surprise, while Krais, though startled, managed to keep his footing¡ªa testament to the resilience he''d developed during his time with the madmen unit. Esther approached without saying a word, her gaze locked on him. She thought to herself What would happen if she kept following and staring at this man, who feared her and carried a pouch filled with Krona? Especially a man as perceptive as Krais? "...What do you want?" Krais asked cautiously, trying to understand her intentions. Was this some strange influence from Enkrid? Though Enkrid had his admirable qualities, Krais often thought his commander seemed completely unhinged. "Do you need something?" Krais pressed. "Ghost!" The construction guild leader, still on the ground, shouted in fear. "No, she''s not a ghost... She''s a member of the Madmen unit, under the command of General Enkrid," Krais corrected him. Hearing this, the guild leader blinked again and finally noticed Esther''s striking appearance¡ªher pale skin, black hair, blue eyes, long legs, and subtly revealing attire. A flower blooming beside a demon slayer. "Oh." Ignoring the guild leader''s reaction, Krais turned back to Esther. "Do you need Krona?" Esther extended her hand without a word. Looking at her, Krais wondered what he was supposed to do with someone as eccentric as this. If she needed something, couldn''t she just go to the quartermaster? Still, he couldn''t picture someone like Esther going to the quartermaster and asking for a few silver coins. Reluctantly, Krais handed her a pouch containing over a hundred silver coins¡ªmore than enough for her needs. But Esther didn''t withdraw her hand. "Give it in gold," Nurat advised. Following her suggestion, Krais handed over gold coins instead. That day, Esther ended up with three more pouches. Reflecting on the incident, Esther found the experience oddly enjoyable¡ªthe reactions of her target, her own actions, everything about it. Then why did I let Enki go? Recalling the moment she saw Enkrid leaving earlier, Esther felt a strange pressure in her chest. It was a sharp and aching sensation. What was the source of this feeling? Why did her heart feel so heavy? Should she have followed him? Was she worried about his carelessness in not carrying even a single gold coin? She didn''t know. Perhaps it didn''t even matter. There wasn''t a clear answer, and maybe that''s what bothered her. Still, this sensation was a part of who she was, and Esther never ignored the voice of her own heart. Observing Enkrid, she had noticed something subtle¡ªhis eyebrows. The front part seemed slightly raised, giving his expression a hint of weariness. The shift in his demeanor, Esther believed, reflected a change in his state of mind. That was what her observations told her, though she saw no reason to address it. From a distance, she watched Enkrid''s back as he disappeared beyond the market. For now, this life of observation and spell reconstruction was enough for her. Someday, if he needed her strength, she would lend it¡ªnot out of obligation for freeing her from a curse, but simply because she wanted to. Esther focused on her task: observing and rebuilding her spell realm. For now, that was all she needed. *** "You''ve come?" The owner of the forge, a seasoned artisan, recognized Enkrid immediately. Even from a distance, his distinct appearance was hard to miss. The forge, located on the outskirts of the city, had recently been established by the artisan, who had brought his own tools and equipment. Though he was originally supposed to return to the capital, he had decided to stay in the Border Guard. The reasons were unknown to Enkrid, but he assumed there was no issue with the arrangement. And he was right¡ªboth the artisan and the guild master in the capital had accepted it without complaint. The artisan preferred the simplicity of his work in the Border Guard. The area, known as a haven for merchants, provided ample access to rare materials. Focused solely on forging weapons, the artisan took no apprentices and rejected mass production, sticking to his own standards. Despite these quirks, the Border Guard supported him, ensuring he lacked for nothing. Thanks to Krais''s efforts, the artisan supplied weapons to the military barracks, ensuring a steady stream of work. "Sometimes, I just want to make what I want," the artisan had told Krais, who respected his independence. This was the same craftsman who had forged weapons for Rem and Ragna using iron from the Lewis Mountains and dark gold. Even Krais, a man of few words, had praised the quality of his work. To Krais, a weapon''s craftsmanship directly reflected the skill of its wielder¡ªa belief echoed by the madmen unit. It was this reputation that led Enkrid to the forge, now an official supplier for the Border Guard. Among the artisans working there were humans, Frogs, and dwarves. As the three stood there silently, the blacksmith asked if they needed something. "I need to get a few things taken care of," Enkrid replied. While he was speaking, a young apprentice with a towel wrapped around his head stepped out from the back of the forge. "Oh! The Demon Slayer!" the apprentice exclaimed. "Good to meet you," Enkrid replied with a nod. The apprentice quickly lowered his head in apology. "Ah, I''m sorry!" He realized he had addressed the visitor too casually in his surprise. Enkrid waved dismissively. "It''s fine." "So, what do you need?" the blacksmith asked. Enkrid began unfastening his weapons one by one, placing them on the counter. "This one''s joints are loose, and I''m not sure if this other one can even be repaired. Also, if you could sharpen the blades, that would be great," Enkrid said. "Is that... Aker?" The sword hummed faintly, causing the blacksmith to remove his hand from its grip in astonishment. The trembling blade had startled him. The blacksmith had once worked on royal armory maintenance and had seen Aker before. Much like how a young man might never forget the face of an extraordinary beauty even decades later, the blacksmith remembered Aker vividly. "It is," Enkrid confirmed, standing casually. The apprentice, sensing the need, fetched a short-legged stool, the type used in their work since there weren''t any chairs for visitors. Enkrid sat down without a fuss. "How did a royal treasure end up here?" the blacksmith asked, incredulous. "They gave it to me," Enkrid replied. "This? They gave you this?" Enkrid nodded. Though a few people knew about the sword being gifted, the majority didn''t. If word got out, even the Marquis of Baisar might question Krang about it. Not to reclaim the sword or insist it couldn''t be given away, but certain formalities demanded at least a gesture of protest. Krang had quietly handed over the blade, ensuring most wouldn''t know. Should the issue arise later, he likely planned to deal with it then. "I can''t touch this blade. The fact it remains sharp at all is a mystery. I don''t know how to forge weapons with magic," the blacksmith admitted honestly, glancing toward the dwarf sitting nearby before returning his attention to the gladius. Picking it up, his eyes sparkled with anticipation at the challenge of improving it. However, his expression suddenly stiffened. He set the sword down and turned to Enkrid. "Allow me to introduce Argan," the blacksmith said, gesturing toward the dwarf with his finger. "Nice to meet you," Argan said, his breath reeking of alcohol. "The Demon Slayer and Border Guard General, huh? You''ve got some luck," Argan added, his boozy breath mingling with the smell of spirits. Despite the lively conversation, the Frog seated nearby didn''t glance their way. Enkrid, unfazed, asked calmly, "What luck?" "I''m about to forge something remarkable here in this smithy," Argan said with pride. Enkrid looked back and forth between the confident dwarf and the human blacksmith, beginning to understand why the latter had stepped aside. He turned to the human. "Is he better than you?" "Yes," the blacksmith admitted without hesitation, showing no signs of wounded pride. "Hah! That''s an understatement," the dwarf interjected with a belch. "There are some conditions, though," Argan continued. "Get me some good booze and a decent house to stay in. Oh, and cover my tabs back in Martai. I''ve got some debts there." He ended with another belch, accompanied by the smell of cured meat. Dwarves were said to be children of fire and steel, naturally gifted in working with both. Not every dwarf shared this affinity, of course, just as not every giant was a merchant. But this particular dwarf clearly excelled in his craft, likely surpassing most blacksmiths by a wide margin. "I''ll vouch for his skills," the blacksmith said, still shaken by Aker earlier. Enkrid nodded, then handed his gladius to the human blacksmith. "I want you to handle this," Enkrid said. The dwarf, who had been reaching for the sword, froze in disbelief. He had assumed it would naturally be entrusted to him. "I don''t care how skilled you are or what you claim. I don''t entrust my sword to someone with rotten eyes," Enkrid declared. The Frog, who had been busy with its task, finally raised its head and glanced in their direction, its large eyes rolling lazily. The blacksmith looked at the gladius thoughtfully, while the dwarf let out a heavy snort. "Rotten eyes? What did he just say?" --------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters early check out my ko-fi using the link below :) www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work if you have the means :) Thank you! Chapter 518 - Those with Dreams Helping Others with Dreams Chapter 518 - 518 - Those with Dreams Helping Others with Dreams Chapter 518 - Those with Dreams Helping Others with Dreams Becoming a knight could bring about change. To those who knew Enkrid, some things had already changed, and more could change in the future. Yet, amidst this, there were also things that would never change. Since the first time he held a sword, there was a saying he''d heard so often it was etched into his ears: "A guy who doesn''t take proper care of his weapon will one day find himself holding a broken sword, getting cut down by someone weaker than him." It was something a mercenary who first taught him swordsmanship had said. While oddly specific, the meaning of the words was clear to Enkrid. He had heard similar advice countless times after that. "A sword is an extension of your hand. Would you skimp on care for your own hand?" Even a weapon merchant once said that. The merchant had a way with words, and his rhetoric often emptied the pockets of would-be swordsmen looking to purchase weapons. Enkrid, however, was not easily scammed. Yet, he agreed with the sentiment. Could he entrust a sword¡ªhis lifeline¡ªto just anyone? Certainly not. It was unthinkable to hand over his weapon to someone blind to its worth. To Enkrid, this was only natural. "Are you doubting my craftsmanship?" The dwarf said indignantly. Was it the stubbornness of a craftsman? It didn''t seem that way. The clouded, murky greed in the dwarf''s eyes was all that was visible. He had claimed to be from Martai and even mentioned something about unpaid debts. Perhaps he hadn''t outright killed anyone, but skipping out on payments was another matter altogether. "Can you call in one of the passing soldiers?" Enkrid addressed the dwarf''s apprentice instead. "Huh? Oh, yes, right away." The atmosphere grew tense. The dwarf stared at Enkrid and said: "I''m more skilled than him." "Not to my eyes," Enkrid replied coldly. "You insolent¡ª!" The dwarf burst into rage like a furnace. However, with a simple gesture, Enkrid cooled the fiery outburst. In an instant, and with speed invisible to anyone present, Enkrid picked up a gladius with a loose connection between the grip and blade. He pointed its tip at the dwarf. Though the hilt wobbled due to the poor assembly, there wasn''t even a sound. The slightly dulled tip now aimed directly at the dwarf''s chest. Even then, Enkrid noted the blade was well-oiled and maintained¡ªa minor consolation. "I''m not certain, but it seems I''d have the authority to carry out an execution if needed. Martai is a sister city to Border Guard, and if you caused trouble there, the general here might hold you accountable." Stating the facts calmly, Enkrid fixed his gaze on the dwarf. The dwarf blinked several times, his expression indecipherable. For a brief moment, silence reigned, and no one dared to speak. The dwarf glanced around nervously, his eyes darting. Finally, he asked Enkrid: "Why will you not entrust the sword to me?" Enkrid replied without hesitation: "Your eyes." "My eyes?" The dwarf asked, puzzled. Enkrid locked eyes with him. "Even though you claim your skills are not lacking, your demeanor and gaze tell a different story." Just as certain things were fundamental to Enkrid, some things were equally innate to the craftsman. Acknowledging a lack of skill reflected a clear view of the present. However, it didn''t mean that would remain true in the future. The craftsman sent from the capital had no intention of stopping here. He faced the forge daily, hands blackened, arms sunburnt. The soot-covered forearms testified to his resolve. By contrast, the dwarf''s bloated belly, alcoholic stench, and audacity to demand a house painted a starkly different picture. To Enkrid, the dwarf was garbage. If the dwarf had asked for women after demanding a house, Enkrid would have beaten him half to death. In Border Guard, female soldiers were not uncommon. Had the request been made, Enkrid could have entrusted the dwarf to them for a thorough "lesson." Natural talent might grant one the ability to work steel, but what about the will within? This wasn''t a knight''s perspective on wielding Will. Even without considering Will, Enkrid would have treated the dwarf the same way. Some things could change, but others remained immutable. The craftsman''s pupils quivered. What was this man talking about? Did he know something, or was it just blind confidence? Enkrid, still holding the sword in his left hand, asked the blacksmith from the capital "Do you have a dream?" The blacksmith blinked¡ªthree times, slowly. Though something seemed to shift within him, the trembling in his eyes ceased, and he opened his mouth. "Call me Eitri," he said suddenly, introducing himself with a formal tone. "Enkrid of Border Guard," came the knight''s steady reply. "Then I will call myself Eitri of Border Guard as well." Eitri hid his emotions well, but he was moved. For the first time, someone had asked about his dreams while looking directly into his eyes. Enkrid''s blue gaze made it seem possible to say anything¡ªeven foolish hopes that would invite ridicule. This era was full of those who viewed smithing as a mere means of survival. Few held onto true craftsmanship, and even they often abandoned their pursuit of excellence once reaching a certain status. Dreams? Those who pursued them started bold, but time weathered even their hearts. Eitri, however, still clung to his dream¡ªone he''d shared with no one. That dream had driven him to forge a solid axe from Mount Lewis Iron and a massive black-gold greatsword. "I want to craft an Engraved Weapon." Engraved Weapons were the personal arms of knights¡ªcrafted only once in a knight''s lifetime. For a craftsman, making such a weapon was the highest honor, but it required both talent and luck. Without these, the opportunity was unattainable. Even across the entire continent, there were no more than three known craftsmen capable of forging Engraved Weapons. Perhaps hidden talents existed, but the pursuit was shrouded in uncertainty. For now, if one sought a proper Engraved Weapon, the best choice would be to visit the White Flame Guild near the Demon Lands. Known for working with white fire, this guild had experience crafting such weapons. Still, even that path was fraught with challenges. Yet, forging an Engraved Weapon remained the dream of an aging smith who had spent his life shaping steel in fire. "You said you couldn''t handle magical weapons." "I''m studying and researching. Would you let me make your weapon in the future?" The request was earnest. His apprentice stood frozen, holding his breath, astonished by his master''s demeanor. Enkrid answered with a single word: "I''ll wait." Eitri''s composure faltered slightly, but he regained it. "You mean as a knight?" he asked. "Exactly," Enkrid replied simply. Eitri blinked again, caught off guard by the response. Then, comprehension dawned, and his expression shifted from surprise to a calm determination. Even the dwarf seemed stunned, unable to grasp what had just transpired. However, when he tried to edge away, Enkrid shifted the sword''s tip toward him without even glancing, forcing him to abandon the thought of escape. "Still here?" Enkrid asked, his tone indifferent. At this, the apprentice quickly excused himself, leaving Eitri and Enkrid alone to continue their discussion. "If you get caught while running away, you''ll lose your legs, but if that''s necessary, you might as well have a go at it." Enkrid spoke while observing Eitri''s work. "I''ll stay still." The dwarf''s voice had noticeably quieted compared to earlier, and no one paid any attention. Eitri lifted a hammer and chisel, tapping the part of the Gladius blade that held it in place, then held the blade at eye level, inspecting the horizontal alignment and the edge''s condition. "I''ll heat it up and straighten the edge. Do you tend to use your weapons roughly?" "Many tough opponents." Enkrid answered plainly, without arrogance. Eitri focused on his work. Whoosh. When Eitri stepped on the bellows, flames leaped up. The heat blasted out, raising the temperature inside the forge. The air grew so hot that it was difficult to breathe, pressing against the lungs. Even though Enkrid was uncomfortable, Eitri and the Frog sitting next to him were unfazed. Both of them remained composed. Enkrid watched Eitri, sitting in his chair, for a moment. Then, nonchalantly, he pulled out the leather he bought earlier to show the blacksmith. "I''ll take care of that too." Eitri glanced at it and nodded, replying that he could make something out of it. "That Frog doesn''t seem like a guest." The Frog, whom Enkrid had briefly glanced at earlier, had returned to its original posture. It sat in a chair higher than Enkrid''s, arms resting on the desk, absorbed in something. "A friend who''s here to learn how to make accessories." Eitri explained. Enkrid found it more surprising than seeing a giant turned into a merchant. "The Frog?" The question slipped out involuntarily. Frogs were born with slippery skin, which oozed oil according to their emotional changes, so they fought using hooked weapons. They were known to wield swords or axes with loops or hooks for gripping. The slippery skin was a significant advantage in battle, as it allowed them to slip out of most blades. Without handling Will, one had to be an expert in weapon handling to fight a Frog. However, trying to craft delicate accessories when their hands were prone to dropping things due to their slippery nature seemed like an impossible task. Anyone could see that it would be exceedingly difficult. Frogs were not meant to take up such professions. "Why? Can''t I do it?" The Frog spoke up. Enkrid looked at it quietly. There were sharp protrusions on its hands, nails driven into them. It was an aid to compensate for the slippery palms, and those nails were fixed by its regenerative powers. "Do you think Frogs don''t feel pain?" Even without Lua''s words, it was clear that the Frog, like any other, could feel pain. The nails embedded into its skin were a sign that it endured pain. Those nails must have felt like another set of hands to the Frog. "Why? Do you want to stop me?" The Frog spoke again. Enkrid stared into its eyes. He had spent a long time with Lua, but he still couldn''t completely tell the difference between the Frog''s eyes and Lua''s. However, the gaze was unmistakable. It was a passionate, burning look, one that even Lua sometimes displayed. It was a fire that burned even more fiercely. "I won''t limit myself either." Lua had once said that. Enkrid had not only seen such eyes in Lua. He had seen them earlier too¡ªeyes that shone with the fire of determination, eyes of one moving toward something. "No." Enkrid spoke. As always, he supported the dreams of others. Even now, he did the same. "I''ll let the city administrator know. If you need anything, just say so." Enkrid said. "Nothing." The Frog replied, returning to its focus. Without even giving a name, it took a carving knife to shape the wood. "I''m making the necessary tools for you." Eitri spoke from behind. Those with dreams help others with dreams. These were people who never stopped yearning, never stopped walking toward their goals. Enkrid could see that in their eyes. --------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters early check out my ko-fi using the link below :) www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work if you have the means :) Thank you! Chapter 519 - If you’re his daughter, you’ll receive the stepmother’s jealousy Chapter 519 - 519 - If you''re his daughter, you¡¯ll receive the stepmother¡¯s jealousy Chapter 519 - If you''re his daughter, you''ll receive the stepmother''s jealousy Enkrid stood up from his seat. "Then." "Please come in three days." Eitri spoke without even turning his head. "Understood." Enkrid wasn''t someone to care about formalities and certainly didn''t expect a send-off, so he casually left. The moment he stepped out of the smithy, the air felt notably cooler. The intense heat and passion that filled the smithy seemed to linger and intensify inside. As he turned back, Enkrid passed through the market once again. He could have used the regular carriage service on the outskirts of the market, but he chose to walk instead. He wanted to walk, and he also consciously reminded himself that he had not a single coin in his pocket. It would be ridiculous to introduce himself as "the general of Border Guard, the demon slayer, and the king''s friend" just to ride a carriage. More importantly, the images of Eitri and the Frog lingered in his mind, making his heart thump faster. That''s why he wanted to walk more. The market was still crowded, and the giant selling goods was still there. "If you can''t pay the price I set, then leave." Several merchants in front of the giant were angry, but none dared to step forward. That would be expected if they had any brains. No matter how skilled the Border Guard''s soldiers were, they wouldn''t be able to intervene faster than the giant could crush someone''s skull. The giant''s fist was much closer than the guards. Was it brave to get angry? Or was it just foolishness? Probably the latter. The merchants probably thought of the giant as just a merchant, and if this was outside the city and they were meeting alone, they would never dare provoke the giant. Aside from that, the giant merchant didn''t seem particularly wise in business. He ignored all attempts at negotiation. "Why are you being so stubborn?" As Enkrid passed by, he asked. The giant, watching the merchants leave, glanced at Enkrid. What was this person doing wandering around in the middle of the day? Was he one of those hosts who prey on women''s pockets? The giant stopped his thoughts and spoke. "I bring goods that no one else can get." Enkrid could hear the pride in the giant''s voice. Enkrid waited for the giant''s next words, and naturally, he relaxed his posture, staring into the giant''s eyes, listening calmly. This was something that affected the giant''s mood. It wasn''t common for people to listen so seriously and attentively. "I don''t have the skills to make things, but I can get what''s needed to make something special. I give proper items to proper people and take proper payment in return. That''s my job." The giant''s eyes shone as he spoke. His brown eyes reflected the sunlight, making him seem like more of a merchant full of ambition rather than a monstrous beast. He didn''t get angry when merchants cursed at him or when someone tried to provoke him. Now, though, he seemed slightly more agitated. Why? Because he was finally speaking of what he truly wanted. ''I will become a knight.'' Enkrid had said the same thing once. There was a boiling, irresistible urge inside him that had shaped his path. His blood boiled. He saw himself in the giant''s words. "We''ll meet again." "Bringa Krona with you next time." "Definitely. Next time, my big-eyed friend that carries Krona in a backpack, not just in a pocket, will be with me." It was sincere. "Do that." The giant chuckled. Enkrid nodded, turned around, and headed toward the barracks. As he walked, his pace slowed little by little. Dreams, desires, enthusiasm¡ªthose things tumbled in his mind like tangled threads. But why did he feel this way? While sorting out his thoughts, he noticed a small child sitting by the side of the road, staring directly at him. It was an inevitable gaze, one that caught his attention. The child looked as though their head barely reached Enkrid''s chest, with a delicate build and ragged, torn clothes. The child stood far away from the guarded gates. Maybe fourteen? Fifteen? The child didn''t seem that old. The face had freckles, and the hair was dull and a dark red color. If properly cared for, it might shine a bright red. The child''s eyes were a light brown. The child stood up without brushing off the dirt on their bottom, still staring intently at Enkrid. "If this is luck, then the god of alchemy must have helped. Otherwise, it seems my efforts have finally paid off." Enkrid, still walking, casually met the child''s eyes as he spoke. The child''s voice was thin and high-pitched, and Enkrid could immediately tell the child was a girl. He had known from the body shape earlier, though. Enkrid stopped walking. The voice was bright, clear, and carried an energy and determination that didn''t match the child''s frail appearance. "Do you know who I am?" Enkrid asked bluntly. "You are the lord of Border Guard." The child answered. Perhaps a more pleasant title than "demon slayer." Most importantly, the fact that the child recognized him immediately¡ªan assassin? It didn''t seem like it. There was no killing intent, and just looking at the child''s build and posture didn''t suggest they had learned any lethal arts. Not to mention, there was no hint of magic in the air. Was this all some trick? Perhaps, but Enkrid''s instinct told him it wasn''t. This child had come looking for him. "You were looking for me? Why?" The child, thinking she had been lucky, never expected to meet him by chance. If luck was on her side, she might have the chance to speak to someone of power, so she had positioned herself here. She had lingered near the barracks but clearly didn''t think she would be allowed inside by the soldiers. She knew from experience that the disciplined soldiers here wouldn''t be swayed by tricks. In fact, she didn''t have any tricks to use. Not wanting to give up, she had collapsed on the ground and was wondering what to do next. Through long conversations, she had made her way here. Searching for hope, this was the only path left. In simple terms, she had gambled her life and soul on this, and luck had been with her so far. Among the merchants heading this way, it wasn''t easy to find one who would pity a poor girl like her. With the help of the giant merchant, and a few other events along the way, she had made it here. "I''ve come to seek revenge for my master''s death." Originally, she had planned to kneel and beg for help. She had thought of that at first, but now, standing face-to-face with Enkrid, these words came out instead. Her natural temperament played a role in this, but the reason the words came so easily was because Enkrid, the lord of Border Guard, had stopped at her words, looked her in the eye, and listened intently. Some days she felt like she might burst into tears; other days, she thought living as things came might be better. But in the end, she had come this far. Thank you, gods. The child silently offered her thanks. Without the gods'' favor, she would already be a corpse, rotting somewhere in a desolate corner of a wasteland or valley. Her ragged appearance proved how difficult her journey had been. Her nails were broken, her shoes worn out with holes near her big toes. She stank of old sweat and unpleasant odors, but the girl didn''t care and said, "I know you killed the alchemist Lavan." "Who?" Enkrid didn''t recognize the name. Even if he had heard it before, it was long forgotten by now. The girl explained, and Enkrid listened. The reason he didn''t dismiss her? Her clear, strong voice, her confident attitude, and the surprisingly neat manner in which she spoke caught his sensitive perception. She didn''t look like an ordinary child. As she continued explaining, Enkrid realized who the alchemist Ravan was. A madman who once conducted human experiments under the command of the Black Blade. But a skilled madman. Enkrid added to that the fact that he was a madman who also trained several disciples. In reality, the girl was destined to become Lavan''s concubine when she grew up, but Enkrid, who changed that fate, became her benefactor. Although the girl was only sixteen, she understood enough to know that Enkrid was her benefactor. However, the untimely death of her master caused her immense suffering. Most painfully, she couldn''t finish the studies she had been longing for. "I''m meant to be the best healer, but now I have no krona and no one to teach me, so I''m about to sell my body. Do you have any thoughts on looking after me and taking responsibility?" The girl spoke with confidence. Enkrid noticed the freckles on her face and her poorly wiped skin, likely from a recent wash. The dirt on her neck and elsewhere suggested that she hadn''t been able to clean herself properly, but he didn''t think it was something dirty. Instead, what caught his attention was the girl''s eyes. They weren''t captivating because of their beauty, but because they burned with desire, with a longing flame. "I can be an excellent healer. I don''t mean to handle the divine, though." The girl lifted her chin and spoke directly, her glowing brown eyes staring at Enkrid. "Explain." "...You really want me to?" They were on the street. There were no chairs or refreshments, and one side looked disheveled, while the other had complicated emotions tangled up. But that didn''t matter. "Yes, explain." The girl raised her head and began speaking. What a healer truly was, why she was necessary, what she would do in the future, her goals, and what benefits Enkrid could gain from it. Some parts were clumsy, but others were remarkable. Enkrid was struck by awe. The girl spoke passionately, and it felt like her enthusiasm was infecting him. The moment he felt that, it was as if a lightning bolt struck him. Her shining eyes, the eyes of someone moving forward. He had seen such eyes before. Not long ago, he had seen them in the Frog, and just before, in the artisan Eitri. Enkrid recalled those who had once looked at him with such eyes: the boy who dreamed of being an herbalist, Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, Audin, Ropord, Fel, Esther, Dunbakel, Teresa. They too, at some point, looked at him with such eyes. And that brought to mind Aishia. "I had almost given up. My brother and I were just getting by, eating one meal a day. But that didn''t seem right." She had said that while looking at Oara''s back. How were Aishia''s eyes back then? The eyes of the knight with orange hair burned with the same desire, full of zeal. A renewed determination to move forward filled her. ''And me?'' What about him now? Had he ever felt satisfaction, even for a moment? No, that wasn''t it. He hadn''t been satisfied. But having become a knight and gained sufficient skill, he had unwittingly felt content. He didn''t think this was the end, but his dream seemed fulfilled for now. He had achieved what he once only dreamed of. Was he content to have reached the same level as Rem and Ragna? Was he satisfied because he could now protect those behind him? Was he relieved that he could now give strength to those who spoke of dreams? The small tremor within Enkrid began to stir his entire body. A tingling sensation started from his toes and rushed up his body, through his chin and to the crown of his head, like lightning, piercing through him. At some point, he had closed his eyes, but now he opened them again. He realized that the sunlight, the wind, and everything was different. Yet, some things remained unchanged. There was also the Ego Sword that had pushed him to become this way. Aker''s words flashed through his mind. You''ve already learned everything from here and there, so there''s no fun in teaching anymore. I could teach you tactics, but where did you learn them first? Are you receiving lessons from another knight? Was I unlucky? You''re already a finished vessel. Will will be handled better with time. Every word suggested that he had overcome limits and achieved results. He clung to this realization. It wasn''t a holy sword; it was a cursed sword. The conclusion was clear. "Aker, this bastard." Enkrid muttered. Hey, it''s a misunderstanding. Aker''s voice echoed. It was a sword imbued with will, not meant for idle chatter. This, too, must have a purpose. If not, he would throw it into the deepest valley. The eyes of the giant merchant, the blacksmith Eitri, the jewel crafter Frog, and the girl with the clear voice who wanted to become a healer, all of them. And all the others he had met. Enkrid felt as though he had broken through a tough shell and tasted freedom. "Pardon? Aker?" The girl, unsure whether the man before her was truly Enkrid or just a madman, questioned. "Just talking to myself. I''ll take responsibility, though. But don''t try to get me to marry you." "...You dream big. Do you think just because you''re good-looking all women will fall for you?" "That''s enough." Enkrid said as he turned, but the girl spoke again from behind. "My name''s Anne. What should I do if you just leave me like this?" "Follow me." Anne followed Enkrid as he entered the barracks. He handed her over to Shinar, who was waiting inside. "Find someone to feed and wash her." "You brought your daughter and immediately handed her over to me?" "Cut the fairy jokes." If Esther could see Enkrid''s expression now, she''d probably say his eyebrows had returned to their original form. Indeed, Enkrid''s relaxed eyebrows returned to normal. Shinar sensed the unique atmosphere Enkrid emanated. It was like a lifeless tree that had turned into a blazing furnace. "Be careful with fire." Shinar said, but Enkrid, already walking away, didn''t pay attention. There were more urgent matters. Shinar, seeing this, spoke up. "Who are you? If you''re his daughter, you''ll receive the stepmother''s jealousy." Shinar jokingly spoke to someone other than Enkrid, sensing a slight joy. When Anne realized she was alone, she questioned whether it had been a mistake to head toward Border Guard. "Aren''t I a bit too old to be called a daughter?" "I see." Shinar nodded in understanding. "Then a concubine?" "Absolutely not! I prefer men who are a bit more relaxed. And I don''t like them unless they''re blonde." Anne, though young, had clear preferences. "Welcome." Shinar said sincerely. Not all women would fall for Enkrid, but it was still a warm greeting. --------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters early check out my ko-fi using the link below :) www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work if you have the means :) Thank you! Chapter 520 - The Next Victim Chapter 520 - 520 - The Next Victim Chapter 520 - The Next Victim Enkrid stood in the training grounds, gripping Aker. From the side, it looked as though he was awkwardly standing in a corner of the training grounds, holding the sword''s grip while muttering to himself. t wasn''t exactly the behavior of someone who appeared composed. It was a matter of little importance, as no one came to the training grounds unless they were part of the Madmen unit. Even if someone were watching, Enkrid would likely act the same way. His eyes blazed with the same fiery intensity as always. "Speak. You''re not staying here just to chatter, are you? Show me what you''ve got. I''ll give you my review of what the former knight left behind." Enkrid spoke quickly, the excitement causing his pace to quicken. As soon as he thought there might be something to gain from Aker, he couldn''t contain himself. He was determined to learn what was hidden within that sword, even if he had to break it. His energy was such that everyone in the camp turned their eyes toward him. The yearning and zeal Enkrid exuded were the same as when they first met him. "I wonder what I was worrying about." Rem, sitting on a stump sharpening his axe, let out a brief, hollow laugh and muttered to himself. "Did the guide''s bring you back on the path?" Ragna, who had been napping in the shadow opposite Rem, lifted his head to speak, though his eyes were barely open. The energy had jolted him awake, but after blinking a few times, he went right back to sleep without even wiping the sleep from his eyes. Jaxen simply leaned against a pillar, silently watching. Though he never spoke of it, he secretly agreed with the barbarian''s words. Was he worrying about Enkrid losing his longing? About whom? That man had not changed. He was the same as when they were first assigned to the squad or when he learned the art of sensing from him. "Same as ever." He was a man shaped by his passion and yearning. "You''ve returned, brother." Audin said with a smile as he continued his lessons with Teresa. The scriptures said that those who desire would find opportunity. Teresa repeated the words in her mind. "An unyielding wind." She had learned that from Enkrid, both then and now. But was it really just persistence that was enough? To her eyes, Enkrid seemed more excited now than when he had first become a knight. He enjoyed the journey of becoming more than the end result. He yearned for the learning process more than completion itself. So where did this yearning come from? It came from hope. The anticipation of joy, the thrill of expectation. That was the kind of yearning Enkrid was experiencing now. Teresa, gaining a small insight, began to pray quietly. "My yearning, my joy, my bliss, I offer them all to you." As she prayed, a faint light flowed from her shoulders. It was a small glimmer, so subtle that unless seen up close, it would be easily missed. The light quickly vanished. No one noticed it, not even Audin, whose gaze was focused on Enkrid. However, Audin, being divinely attuned, sensed the change in Teresa. Audin''s gaze shifted back to Teresa, who was now focused in prayer. He had witnessed a miracle up close. The Holy Spirit had left a trace on her, a giant hybrid and once a cultist. "Today, the Lord has shown great mercy." Audin said. Teresa nodded. She couldn''t pinpoint exactly what had happened, but she felt she had received something. There was no need to rush or question it. She would slowly come to understand it in time. She had always been patient, but after finding true faith, her patience had deepened. "Have you seen the light? Then run toward it." Lua, who had been training with greater dedication than ever before, spoke. Her whip lay limp on the ground beside her. She had been swinging the whip here and there, but had stopped when her body began to sweat too much. Now, she looked at Enkrid and spoke. It was also something she was saying to herself. She was among the older frogs. In human years, she would be considered middle-aged. Though, since frogs and humans were different species, comparing their ages in the same way was meaningless. But there was one similarity. At her age, should she still be training? Aging comes for everyone, she thought. As a frog, the signs of aging were now upon her. It was no longer an age for training. She might have added, "What''s the use of training when the end is already clear?" Frogs were naturally battle-hardened species. Their strength was exceptional, and their skin made many weapons useless. Clumsy swordfighters wouldn''t dare face a frog. Most frogs simply repeated what they had learned in combat. That alone was enough, and their natural talent allowed them to know their own limits well. But if someone were to continually, truly continually, break through the limits? Lua had never felt anything like this in her life. The desire to teach wasn''t what she felt¡ªit was the desire to grow. She was enjoying the moment, no matter what came next. She had learned this from Enkrid. Lua''s arm muscles trembled from the exertion. She savored that sensation, puffing her cheeks as she did. As always, Enkrid, when caught up in the sword, shut out everything else. He was completely absorbed, obsessing over the blade. His earlier image¡ªswinging the sword while drooling¡ªcame to mind. So, when Enkrid stood still, he ignored the others and focused entirely on Aker''s voice. A low hum echoed. The sword shuddered, conveying its will. ''You''ve fulfilled your fourth condition.'' The lack of an excuse was what pleased the sword. ''Shall we talk face to face now?'' Before Enkrid could speak, the sword conveyed more intent. As soon as the first message was delivered, the second followed. Enkrid didn''t blink as he watched green and white light flow from Aker''s blade. The light spread outward, clearing everything in its wake. Then, the wind blew. Ssshhh. The wind swirled, shaking the grass that rose to his ankles. It was a field, stretching endlessly. The sun was high, around midday. The shadow at his feet barely stretched outward. It wasn''t too bright, nor was it too hot or cold. The sunlight was slightly sharp, but the breeze brought a pleasant coolness. "First time meeting like this, huh?" Then, someone stood before Enkrid, just five paces away. They had Aker slung over their shoulder, and their appearance was plain. Bright brown hair, brown eyes. Nothing about them seemed extraordinary, yet their presence didn''t feel mundane. The sword on their shoulder was ready to be drawn at any moment. Their posture was solid, showing no obvious weakness. "Who are you?" "Aker." Aker narrowed his eyes. Enkrid''s hand dropped, gripping a sword identical to the one his opponent held. There was no armor, no throwing knives. It was the same for the ghostly Aker. Two swords, two people¡ªno, one person and one ghost. That was all. "That look in your eyes feels unpleasant." "Not at all." "You''ll probably regret it. I''m inside your consciousness, and I share part of your emotions." The ghostly Aker raised his left hand and tapped his temple. "That feels a bit underhanded." "Don''t worry. It''s only slight emotional recognition." The ghostly Aker said, pinching his fingers together and winking. "What worry?" "I''m saying this because we need to prepare for a fight." Aker smiled. The breeze blew. The grass swayed. The ghost sneezed. But his stance remained flawless, with no openings. What if I strike now? Enkrid thought briefly, considering the possible outcome. His opponent wouldn''t dodge, but would swing his sword down. Then he would try to predict Enkrid''s next move. Enkrid considered closing the distance while thrusting, but he couldn''t do it. The opponent wouldn''t dodge¡ªit would be a sword clash. Two futures flashed before his eyes. But that wasn''t all. Instead of a simple clash, if their swords met, Aker would instantly close the gap, using his fist to strike the sword. Though the sword wouldn''t break, the moment of disruption would cause Enkrid to lose his rhythm. "Mm?" Enkrid saw his opponent respond in three different ways at once. And then he noticed a fourth and fifth response as well. The options kept multiplying. Despite his stance not changing, the responses kept shifting with each passing moment. "If I said, ''let''s talk face to face,'' I wouldn''t expect you to speak first, would I? How does that feel? Interesting, isn''t it? Some people dismiss grappling, but it''s served me well when I was alive. If you know how to use Will, something like this is possible. It''s a way to seal future sight." Will is the power of the mind. The formless strength shaped by one''s will can also create momentum. For example, if you have the intention to strike someone''s head in front of you, your body will unconsciously adjust to take the position for the strike¡ªtwisting your shoulder, raising your hand to make the movement easier. In response, the opponent will unknowingly prepare to block the strike. Future sight is the insight that reads actions and momentum. What Aker''s soul body did just now was to weave the will in various ways, twisting the momentum and showing it to the opponent to distort their insight, their ability to see the future. While Rem unintentionally renders future sight meaningless by swinging his axe, Aker divided his consciousness into dozens of branches, presenting them to the opponent and affecting their senses. "It''s not easy," Enkrid muttered. "Did you try to take it all at once? You''ve got no conscience." Though he murmured quietly, Aker, the wraith, caught his words and replied. "Could you explain it simply?" "Do you expect me to just tell you everything?" "Won''t you tell me?" How shameless is this guy? Even his eyes are full of pure desire. Was he looking at me with those same eyes when he threw himself off the cliff? I don''t know. It may be awkward for Aker, but Enkrid could do much more than this when it came to learning. "I''m already annoyed with the three conditions, and there''s the hidden fourth one. Has anyone passed that? Of course not. So, you''re the first. I have a lot to say, but you want the technique without listening to me? Ugh, no thanks." Aker, forcing a smile, spoke proudly. Enkrid had prepared himself to listen. The first thing was to confirm whether the blindfold that blocked Aker''s future sight was effective. There was no choice. He had just seen four pairs of blazing eyes. The giant merchant''s eyes, the artisan Eitri''s eyes, the jeweler Frog''s eyes, and the eyes of the little one who wanted to be a healer. Enkrid''s inner flame had never truly extinguished, but now, it was stoked even further. His flames roared. He wanted to learn anything, do anything. Whether through sparring or training. "Test my skills. Watch my sword. I can learn anything. Teach me." Enkrid''s presence grew clear and distinct, pressing down on his opponent. It wasn''t the kind of pressure that made someone feel like they would die if they moved, nor the kind that threatened to cut them down if they advanced. It was a pressure born from a desire to learn. It felt more like a cheer for his opponent''s will to fight. It was the kind of energy that made someone want to fight. The moment Enkrid thought that Aker was hiding something, he naturally moved to close the gap and confront him. "Really." Thud! "I don''t like this." Enkrid held his breath, swiftly raising both arms. His sword pointed to the sky, and then, with his left foot as the pivot, he thrust his right foot forward and slashed downward with a firm, straightforward diagonal cut. Aker chose one of the movements he had seen through his future sight. He raised his sword to block it at an angle, moving sideways. As their swords met with a clang, Aker spoke as he fought. The wraith Aker''s round shadow stretched sideways as he swung his sword. Enkrid''s gaze followed Aker''s feet and sword. Enkrid lifted his foot and thrust his sword forward. His blue eyes left a long trail, leaving an afterimage. It was the speed that only a knight could display. For an ordinary person, they would be sliced or stabbed before they could even see the afterimage. However, even in this illusory world, Aker was not harmed. Despite being a soul body, in this world of consciousness, he was a knight. Aker had always been a weapon imbued with such power. Future sight showed dozens of possible outcomes. Enkrid predicted that Aker would choose one, but Aker shattered that expectation. With his right hand on the sword grip, Aker used his strength to block Enkrid''s sword. Clang! Two identical swords collided, creating a shockwave. Leaves spun in circles, lying flat, then rising. The rustling sound of leaves was loud and chaotic. The sword that Aker had used to block Enkrid''s strike stopped, thanks to Aker''s defensive stance. "Instead of relying on future sight, you''re fighting with instant ingenuity? Not bad, but who are you trying to imitate?" Enkrid immediately copied the technique that Aker had used, trying to fight like Rem, but it was blocked. Aker spoke next. "This is a world created by the sword. If you want to leave, there''s only one way." Aker predicted that Enkrid would ask what would happen if he couldn''t escape. After all, the instinct to preserve one''s life is universal. "What happens if I can''t leave? Will I die? What then?" If Enkrid asked that, Aker was eager to mock him by responding. But as Aker shattered Enkrid''s future sight, Enkrid''s response shattered Aker''s expectations as well. "Ah, right." Without even pretending to listen, Enkrid gave a casual answer. His eyes were already filled with madness. "Hey, open your eyes properly." "Ah, right." Is he crazy? Aker realized that he had just now fully understood the thoughts of everyone who had ever faced Enkrid. In the desert, Enkrid had observed the surroundings as if through sleepy eyes, and now, experiencing his madness for the first time, it felt different. If Rem had seen this, he would have chuckled and said "Yeah, next victim, come again." --------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters early check out my ko-fi using the link below :) www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work if you have the means :) Thank you! Chapter 521 - Greed Pushes From Behind Chapter 521 - 521 - Greed Pushes From Behind Chapter 521 - Greed Pushes From Behind Long ago, the knight Aker, in moments before his death, lamented that his swordsmanship would vanish along with him. "It''s not just the swordsmanship¡ªit''s the understanding I''ve gained that I can''t bear to lose." Though he had often tried to teach others, he never succeeded in properly passing on his skills. Like many geniuses, Aker found no enjoyment in teaching. Yet, he felt an undeniable desire to leave behind his techniques, including his swordsmanship. Near the end of his life, a bold idea struck him¡ªone that most would deem insane. "What if I could store my thoughts in the sword?" Aker''s specialty was transferring Will into weapons. "Will is strength of intent. Could I perhaps embed my thoughts into that intent?" His engraved weapon was the first sword he had ever wielded, reforged into a weapon uniquely suited to him. A tool he had used throughout his life, Aker''s sword was ideal for his experiment due to its bond with his Will. Of course, a bit of luck helped as well. With the assistance of a magician, Aker succeeded. He embedded his thoughts and intent into the engraved weapon. "There are four conditions." Aker set conditions for awakening the sword''s consciousness. The first three were simple: The wielder must have learned Aker''s swordsmanship. They must have unlocked the power of Will. They must be the sword''s rightful owner. The fourth and hidden condition was more challenging: even after becoming a knight, the wielder must yearn. This yearning was both the most difficult and the most essential condition. For what point was there in teaching someone unwilling to learn? Yet knights, having already carved their own path with their sword, rarely retained such a desire. Most had moved past their need to struggle for understanding. Finding someone who met this condition would be nearly impossible. But Aker didn''t care what others thought of his endeavor, dismissing their remarks of futility. To him, it was enough to have created what he envisioned. And thus, the Ego Sword Aker was born. Over time, this story became distorted, leading to the creation of the cursed sword "Tutor." A foolish magician stole the visions of the one who had aided Aker and used them to create a cursed sword that trapped human souls. This was the Tutor¡ªa weapon that had inflicted mental destruction upon Enkrid. While the Tutor was a flawed counterfeit, it wasn''t mere coincidence that fragments of Aker''s swordsmanship ended up within it. Such was the ripple effect of history. The knight Aker was content to die, having created the Ego Sword that bore his legacy. Yet, beyond the story''s end lay something else¡ªregret. His lingering will, embodied in the sword, had not yet dissipated. But could such a will remain intact? Could regret-laden thoughts avoid corruption? Trapped spirits, like those in the Tutor, often turned into vengeful wraiths. For Aker''s lingering thoughts, madness was a possibility after centuries confined within the sword. But they endured, untainted. The purity of the will he left behind, combined with the resolve that had once protected the founding king of Naurilia, safeguarded his sanity. His unyielding sense of purpose, though not lofty, kept his mind intact. Even so, Aker''s lingering will harbored a simple desire: "Let me pass on what I must, fulfill my purpose, and ascend¡ªwhether into nothingness or some higher plane." When someone at last fulfilled the fourth condition, the Ego Sword Aker rejoiced. Even if the person seemed slightly unhinged, his joy was undiminished. The waiting had been far too long. This joy explained why Aker offered unprompted advice, ensuring his pupil didn''t push themselves too hard. Though he wished to tease, he refrained. After all, this person was his savior¡ªthe one who would free him from his lingering regret. "If you ever want to stop, just tell me. You can rest and come back later." There was no need to die for this. Resting was an option, something the Tutor could never offer. Kneeling with his head bowed, the man before Aker slowly raised his gaze. "...You''ll get burned under the sun like that." Aker muttered, his blue eyes blazing with intensity. What had forged the man before him into such a figure? Aker neither knew nor cared. All that mattered was that his purpose would be fulfilled. Yet, a flicker of worry lingered in his thoughts. "Isn''t he overdoing it?" Even if he continued to challenge endlessly, Aker would not grant him the mental death inflicted by the cursed Tutor. Still, Aker worried about the toll on the man''s mind. Mental strength, after all, could erode without rest. "Hey, give up for now. You can come back later." But the man before him showed no signs of retreat. "Not yet." Though he didn''t complete his sentence, Aker understood the unspoken words. "It''s only for a month." Enkrid rose, steadying his sword as he spoke. "Now that he cleared the fourth condition, I might have some time to spare." Aker''s lingering will didn''t demand that all his knowledge be imparted. His focus was on fostering a mental foundation. Once the basics were set, the rest could be learned and developed independently. But Enkrid thought differently. "One month is all I have." He intended to make the most of that time. Against opponents like Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, or Shinar, Enkrid couldn''t risk everything. Even if they surpassed him in skill, fighting with lethal intent was too dangerous¡ªsomeone might die. But sparring with the Ego Sword Aker carried no such risks. Already, Aker''s blade had pierced him eight times, yet he hadn''t perished. The pain was dulled, as if numbed by medicine. Compared to the agony of death, it was manageable. "Doesn''t it hurt?" Aker worried that the repeated injuries might scar Enkrid''s mind. But to Enkrid, this was nothing. It wasn''t actual death, nor did it leave lasting mental wounds. "Overexertion can be harmful." "I''ll handle it." "You''re insufferable." Though Aker grumbled, his complaints carried a hint of affection. This begrudging fondness finally prompted him to speak again. "If I leave you alone, you''ll never stop, so here''s a tip: you''re making too much noise." What did that mean? Enkrid silently raised his sword toward Aker once more. "You''re yelling too much. Who wouldn''t know when you keep screaming ''Right!'' and charging in like that?" Rem described Enkrid''s way of manifesting Will as bluntness. Ragna called it chaos. Jaxen, noise. "When did I ever?" Though he spoke, his posture and breathing remained steady. More than anything, Enkrid was reveling in this moment. Why wouldn''t he? He had become a knight. Beyond the sense of omnipotence, it was natural to want to pour out everything he had. That desire was being unleashed to its fullest. What would happen if you handed a water bottle to someone who hadn''t had a single drop in three days? So even as he questioned Aker''s remarks, his body moved naturally. "You crazy bastard, listen before you charge in." Bang! Grass shattered, and the ground caved in. Enkrid surged forward, faster than the squire''s charge he had seen back in Green Pearl. He tightened his grip on his sword, his shoulders and elbows loose, adjusting to the forward momentum as he swung his blade. Swoosh! To eyes of knight-level perception, his blade seemed to bend. Aker raised his sword vertically to block it. Their swords clashed, and several more exchanges followed. When Enkrid tried to overpower Aker''s sword and kick at his heel, Aker pulled back his leg and attempted to jab Enkrid''s hand with his pommel. If he stayed still, he''d get hit. Should he withdraw his hand? Or could he take one blow and land one himself? Here, he could afford that. His judgment was instantaneous, his actions without hesitation. "What good is quick judgment when you keep shouting everything in advance?" Aker neutralized all of Enkrid''s maneuvers, he leaped backward to create distance. Enkrid halted his fist, which had been aimed to leave a pretty bruise on the wraith''s face. Only now did Aker''s words truly sink in. "Will is intent. Sure, it''s overflowing, but what happens if you scatter it carelessly? If your opponent is on a similar level, they wouldn''t even need foresight. They don''t need telepathy when your intent is so blatantly obvious." Then Aker continued. "Is that what you meant when you said I''m yelling?" "Yes." Aker nodded. He was a mental construct of a genius. Naturally, Aker in life hadn''t been the best at explaining things. "Just do it like this. Why wouldn''t it work?" That was how geniuses often taught. However, the construct Aker had time to reflect on how to pass on what he knew. It made his explanations relatively decent. "Compared to Rem, he''s a saint." Enkrid nodded, blinking as he replayed and chewed over Aker''s words. Standing still, he began analyzing, reorganizing his thoughts. He focused so intensely that he temporarily forgot the current situation. "You''re seriously going to stand there and think this through? Hey, you... Are you insane?" The construct was baffled. In the middle of combat, Enkrid closed his eyes halfway in contemplation. He remained like that for quite some time. Eventually, when Enkrid reopened his eyes, he spoke. "I think I get it." "What exactly?" "The meaning of what you said." After taking so much time, shouldn''t he have understood everything? Aker had practically spelled it all out. But no. "Again." Enkrid charged once more, forcing Aker to pick up his sword to face him. They exchanged blows, fighting with their full strength. During the process, Enkrid gradually learned how to handle his immense Will, or more accurately, how to manage the colossal force he possessed. If it''s too heavy to wield, what should one do? Should he use it piece by piece? Enkrid didn''t. Instead of breaking it down, he chose another path. Instinctively, he knew that fragmenting it would ruin him. This might not be the right answer, but wasn''t the right path the one your heart believed in? Life was a journey of choosing one road and walking it. Repeating the day didn''t mean you could reverse every decision. Even if he could return to his childhood and start anew, life''s choices would remain singular. So all that mattered was giving his best to the chosen path. There was no point in regretting past crossroads. That''s how Enkrid had lived, and that''s how he lived now. Swinging his sword steadily, stubbornly. The massive chunk of Will inside him stretched wildly, but he controlled it, piece by piece. "You reckless idiot." Aker meant it sincerely, but Enkrid carried on. How much time passed? He didn''t know. Eventually, he felt he had broken through a wall. By the time they had sparred over a hundred times. "What I''ve taught you is the basics. Predicting foresight is about insight. By showing false intent, you plant complexity in the opponent''s mind." "Is that it?" He had roughly grasped the knack, so he asked. Aker wiped away his smile and replied. "It''s not over, but go rest! No compromises!" Aker was firm. Even he could see that while Enkrid''s mental strength was exceptional, no one could endure without eating or sleeping. The mind was no exception. No matter how strong it was, wear and tear were inevitable. Recognizing the need for rest, Enkrid nodded. "Then again." The word "rest" was missing, but the intent was clear. "Yeah, again." Aker expelled him from the created world. Outside, perhaps not even an hour had passed... Yet Enkrid returned to the mental world soon after. His black hair and flame-blue eyes wide open. "Why are you back already?" How much time could have passed? Yet here he was again, as if he had quickly mastered the technique. "I''ve rested enough." Instead of being shocked or flustered, Aker nodded. One can only be surprised so many times. He was beginning to understand Enkrid''s strength. "That enormous chunk must''ve been given because of that willpower." Though a construct, Aker had the experience of a knight and a discerning eye. "Aker liked spiders." At the sudden comment, Enkrid swung his sword. Talking and fighting weren''t mutually exclusive. "You crazy bastard, listen before charging." "Time''s precious. Fight and talk." Enkrid spoke as he subtly picked up on how Aker maintained perfect posture and unbroken breathing in any stance. His desire burned anew, and he resolved to take everything he could. The hunger to grow surged, spurring him onward. Go further. Don''t stop. And Enkrid didn''t resist that hunger. --------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters early check out my ko-fi using the link below :) www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work if you have the means :) Thank you! Chapter 522 - No Regrets Chapter 522 - 522 - No Regrets Chapter 522 - No Regrets As Enkrid emerged from the conscious world crafted by Aker, he felt the wind ruffle his hair. Judging by the time, the sun had yet to dip behind the western mountains, so not much real-world time had passed. His heightened senses, akin to a biological clock, confirmed this. It hadn''t been long. "It felt like ages inside, though." Despite his perception, reality was different. The world he had traversed was one of pure consciousness. But did that render everything he learned meaningless? Hardly. Although it would take time to adapt and implement the lessons with his physical body. Opening his eyes, Enkrid observed himself, still standing in the same position as before¡ªgripping his sword awkwardly. "I''m not hungry," he thought. He felt no need for food or rest. Despite prolonged focus, he experienced no dizziness. His body felt fine, even though he''d stood gripping the sword the entire time. Not a trace of fatigue clung to his limbs. "Every time I see you, you''re doing something bizarre." Rem''s voice broke the silence. Approaching with his axe slung at his waist, arms hanging loosely, he gave Enkrid a curious look. Through his sorcery, which had elevated him to the level of a knight, Rem could glimpse parts of the strange interaction between Enkrid and the sword. Watching Enkrid suddenly grip his weapon, close his eyes, and move subtly, Rem realized something unusual was happening. Using sorcery, he probed to understand. Thus, Rem, and everyone else in their unique ways, kept their attention on Enkrid. Aware of their gazes, Enkrid glanced at them briefly and spoke. "I was playing with Aker." "That''s what it looked like to me," Rem replied. "Yeah. I''m heading back." Releasing the sword, Enkrid stretched his legs to loosen his muscles and moved to a nearby stump in the corner of the training yard. Normally, entering the world Aker created required the deliberate lowering of one''s consciousness, akin to sinking into water. But Enkrid, having dealt with countless situations involving ferrymen of consciousness, had become adept at such transitions. Not that he ever desired these experiences. Navigating the boundary between dreams and consciousness was nothing new to him. Without Aker''s invitation, Enkrid re-entered the world of consciousness. "I suppose this is the moment I''m supposed to be surprised. But I won''t be¡ªwasting time isn''t my thing." Aker paused mid-combat to mutter this. Normally, a flurry of questions might follow. Did I ever teach you how to enter the conscious world? Do you understand how your Will flows like an unending spring, making it harder to control? How did you return so quickly? Doesn''t your mind fray from overuse? I can tell you''re as unyielding as steel, but how''s that possible? Have you struck a deal with the goddess of fortune after narrowly escaping death a hundred times? These were the types of inquiries one might expect. But Enkrid was the sort of person who defied explanation. He couldn''t be defined by logic or reason. Recognizing this, Aker opted for silence. No questions. No distractions. Why? Because matching wits with this man had ignited something within Aker himself. "I won''t go easy on you just because it''s tough." Clenching his teeth, Aker acknowledged the resolve stirring within him. "Thanks," Enkrid replied nonchalantly, his tone somehow grating. "This bastard..." Aker chuckled. At least he wouldn''t need to teach him psychological warfare. Despite being an incorporeal presence, a fragment of memory and intent, Enkrid had managed to spark something deep within him. For the next month in the real world¡ªbut what felt like eons in the conscious world¡ªthey sparred. Aker poured every ounce of knowledge into teaching Enkrid, driven by his lingering attachment to this existence. "If you can refine your technique here, what''s your plan? Just grasp the methods. You''ll have to relearn everything physically when you return." "Got it." Enkrid continuously challenged Aker, absorbing techniques as fast as he could. He realized there was no need to pant or catch his breath in the conscious world¡ªhis body wasn''t truly engaged. But he still mimicked physical exertion, treating it as if it were real. "Honestly, you''re kind of slow." "What happened to that knightly training? Why are you learning at a snail''s pace?" Aker could have thrown such barbs, as others often had at Enkrid. But he didn''t. One month was a short time, and Aker, driven by a desire to leave no regrets, prioritized pouring all his knowledge into Enkrid. No unnecessary questions. No fretting over talent. Just instruction. "Show me your swordsmanship. You must''ve learned something from Knight Aker''s techniques." Since Aker''s fragment was distinct from the original Knight Aker, he referred to himself separately. Enkrid nodded, demonstrating his evolved and personalized swordsmanship¡ªcombinations like "Mind Games," "Precision Strikes," and "Nameless Sword." He also displayed methods to conceal his intent, generating a flurry of movements to confuse opponents. "You think I''m some greenhorn? That trick only works on amateurs." Aker countered Enkrid''s strikes effortlessly. In his era, knights were more numerous, and battles more frequent. The chaotic landscape of that time demanded warriors with sharper skills, not those hampered by hesitation. Strategies like Enkrid''s might have worked on lesser foes, but not against veterans. "You''ve improved," Aker admitted. "Still, you should learn the later stages of the Nameless Sword." Enkrid, though busy fending off attacks, managed a nod. He treated each bout as though his physical body were at stake, pushing himself to exhaustion even though he knew it wasn''t necessary. A sudden flash of insight illuminated his mind, sharpening his focus. He remained attentive as Aker explained. "This technique''s original name is Aker''s Spiderweb. Aker loved spiders, even kept some as pets." As the month progressed, Enkrid immersed himself in mastering these techniques. Outside, he alternated between rest and training, devoting every waking moment to Aker. Every meeting, however, comes to an end. Aker''s time was drawing to a close, and Enkrid sensed it each time he returned to reality. The once-sharp blade grew dull, the solid hilt softened, and even Enkrid''s grip felt like it could crush the now-frail weapon. What remained was no longer a masterpiece, but a relic on the verge of crumbling. One ordinary day, in the conscious world, Aker''s form began to fade amidst the grass. "Well, I''m off." Enkrid nodded silently, watching as Aker''s face began to dissolve into radiant particles. Cheeks, hair, then his entire body disintegrated into a cascade of tiny lights. It was a strangely beautiful yet cruel sight¡ªthe disappearance of an existence, no matter its form, felt poignant. Still, Aker smiled¡ªa serene, untroubled expression devoid of regret or sorrow. "Thank you." Aker spoke, though the two hadn''t had much time for deep conversation. Aker didn''t share much about himself but occasionally threw in a few light stories. However, there was no room to discuss regrets or goals. Instead, the two wielded their swords. That alone was enough for Enkrid to feel what Aker wanted. Yet, there wasn''t much else to say. The human form of the thought-body blurred and disappeared. Particles of light scattered, spiraling skyward like a miniature tornado. Simultaneously, the grassy field and the sunny sky split apart. From the fissured heavens, light burst forth¡ªflashes of brilliance, like hundreds or thousands of meteors streaking past. It was an illusion, a flickering journey across the boundary of consciousness and unconsciousness, leading Enkrid back to reality. As he awoke, Enkrid opened his eyes, letting his head drop slightly. Rustle. Aker, who had been in his hand, scattered like dust. Looking ahead, the sun in the sky shone through the thin clouds, as if challenging anything to block its rays. It was a clear day, the sunlight brightening the surroundings. "A mid day field. Aker''s favorite place. This was his homeland." Those were Aker''s words. Though he claimed he didn''t talk much about himself, he had shared more than enough. For someone who claimed to know nothing as a thought-body, he had turned out to be quite chatty. "Did you also learn Valen''s swordsmanship?" "Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship?" "Why would that man be a mercenary?" "Wasn''t he?" "He was a knight. One of the top ten in the ranks. Do you think his swordsmanship is just trickery? It''s trickery, yes, but if you dig deeper, you''ll find it has a different flavor. It''s a style created with wielding Will as its foundation." The revelation caught Enkrid''s attention enough to perk up his ears, but he didn''t have the mental space to dwell on it at the time. He had too much on his plate. Aker''s teachings were valuable, but Enkrid had his own realizations to chase. To pursue them, he tirelessly wielded his sword and threw himself into battle. In any case, what Aker left behind had fully passed on to Enkrid. Now, there were no lingering regrets. And the fact that Aker had departed without regret meant that the knight''s unfulfilled desires had been resolved. Thus, Aker, the royal treasure, had fulfilled his role¡ªno, he had done more than that. What was more than his role? Enkrid had realized that his approach to wielding Will was clumsy. To fix it, he would need to face his limits repeatedly. That was why he fought Aker, again and again, breaking through his Will in the process. While fighting in the realm of consciousness, Enkrid also reinforced the metaphorical bricks he had laid before, replacing them with sturdier stones. ''I should''ve been the one to say thank you.'' Enkrid thought as he gazed at the falling sunlight, silently addressing Aker. *** By now, autumn had come fully into its own. Autumn, the season perfect for both fighting and waging war. The heat had waned, making it easier to preserve food supplies. Forests and fields nearby offered additional resources for foraging. The cool breeze brought refreshing clarity rather than the bite of cold. It was a season of scant rain, with the sky often clear or adorned with thin clouds. The high, open skies provided excellent visibility. The battlefield was set in Green Pearl. If the plains were the stage, it was a poor environment for tricks¡ªan open confrontation seemed inevitable. At least, that''s how it appeared. As Enkrid spent a month assimilating what he had learned from Aker, Aspen declared war. "If you give us half of Green Pearl and two of your newly fortified cities, we can avoid a fight." This was the envoy''s message to the royal court. "You wouldn''t say that thinking I''d agree, so let''s see for ourselves what Aspen places its faith in." Krang, seated on the throne, neither scolded nor raged but instead displayed his majesty through calm words. The envoy, representing the Ekkins family¡ªa symbol of administration and governance¡ªretreated, thinking the Naurilia king''s composure to be impressive. Aspen moved noisily, as if to announce their intent. This clamor reverberated across the continent. They exploited rumors to the fullest. "This battle will be Aspen''s victory," some claimed. At first, it was the gossipy merchants. Then, even the leaders of major trade houses began predicting the outcome of the war. Among them were those who bet on Aspen''s victory, having witnessed the massive army they had raised, draining their kingdom to its core. By contrast, Naurilia''s response seemed subdued¡ªat least outwardly. Their intention was to defend Border Guard first and move their forces later. Naurilia refrained from revealing their full strength too easily, while Aspen made no effort to conceal theirs. It was as though they were daring their opponent to try and stop them. Amidst this, Krais put his strategic plan into action. "We''re ready to march." The big-eyed man, whose future included managing countless salons, spoke while surveying the assembled troops at the training grounds. Everyone had finished arming themselves. Enkrid, in place of Aker, had acquired a solid blade made from steel of the Valeri Mountains, once again carrying three swords. In addition, he slung a throwing spear diagonally across his back, bringing his arsenal to four large weapons. He wore a blue gambeson embroidered with gold over a drake-scale leather cuirass. Instead of a gauntlet, his left wrist was wrapped with leather straps connected by clasps¡ªa custom wrist guard made by Eitri using leather from the giant merchant. Enkrid''s infamous Madmen Unit gathered on either side of him. Rem, wielding an axe Ragna, with a greatsword slung over his shoulder Jaxen, standing with arms crossed and eyes downcast Shinar, expressionless, standing directly behind Enkrid. "This is both unsettling and reassuring," Krais muttered, watching them. According to his plan, Audin, Teresa, and others would remain here. The rest of the forces, however, would move out. "We only march together for a while before splitting up, right?" Enkrid confirmed, and Krais nodded. Thus, the beginning was set. --------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters early check out my ko-fi using the link below :) www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work if you have the means :) Thank you! Chapter 523 - What Is Honor? Chapter 523 - 523 - What Is Honor? Chapter 523 - What Is Honor? What is the meaning of honor? Why do we wage war? It would be a lie to claim that such questions had never crossed one''s mind. Why must we kill? Why must we die? "If you chose to live by the sword, isn''t it natural to be ready to die by it? Thinking only of saving yourself¡ªnow that''s what makes a person lack honor." That''s what a mercenary with a sense of camaraderie once said. "If someone wishes to meet their god, I simply help them on their way." So said a priest of the War God. Everyone has their own perspective. Some fight thoughtlessly, swinging their swords without purpose. Others obey simply because it is an order. "There''s nothing I can do but swing a sword." Such words could come from a monstrous talent. On the other hand: "I do it for the money. No need for pretenses." Said one, shaping coins with their thumb and forefinger. "To prove myself through slaughter. I don''t need any other reason!" Once, a giant shouted these words on the battlefield. "There''s a heat that rises in the heart of war. That heat is the only proof that I''m alive." Who said that again? Ah, yes¡ªit was a Frog. Frogs are a species known to chase after something, though it''s unclear whether it''s a desire or a goal. It suited such a saying. "They come at me, so I fight." There was even a beastkin who faced battles with such passive reasoning. Enkrid had encountered many people, fought by their sides, nearly died to them, and, thanks to the curse of repetition, truly died a few times¡ªonly to come back and kill others in turn, eventually arriving at the present. So, why do we wage war? He didn''t know. From a ruler''s perspective, the purpose might seem obvious. Perhaps it''s to expand their land, to gain more wealth. The continent, shaped by the threat of monsters and beasts, became increasingly urbanized. As populations grew, they faced ever greater challenges¡ªlack of resources, shelter, and space to live. Rulers had to find solutions. They needed fertile lands, rich with water and suited for farming. But when they stepped onto such lands, someone would say: "Hey, that''s my land." And so, the ruler, in need of that land, had to ask: "Since when?" "Since my grandfather''s grandfather''s grandfather." "Well, I never heard that." "Not my problem¡ªit''s my land." "Hmm. How many punches do you want to take before you back off? Or would you rather just back off quietly?" "Oh, you want a fight?" "Yeah." "Bring it on, you bastard." Though the exact words might differ, the essence of such exchanges was likely similar. So, when war breaks out, is it the one cursing and shouting who dies? The king or noble wielding power? ''Of course not.'' The ones who die are the soldiers¡ªthose under the command of the rulers. Should they then resent the ones who initiated the war? Enkrid didn''t know. What he did know and deeply understood was this: once you pick up a weapon, you must also prepare to die. If you dislike that truth, you could always shave your head, become a monk, and spend your free days sneaking glances at women while hiding behind the temple, secretly sipping wine in disguise. And if that didn''t appeal, you could quietly take your place among the exploited. ''But wouldn''t being exploited eventually make anyone want to fight back?'' Perhaps that was inevitable too. In any case, understanding the reasons behind every event in the world was impossible. That''s why Enkrid held a sword. Not knowing the answers, he could only dive into the fray. When words failed, fists had to follow. ''A knight of the end.'' When the bard''s song pierced his ears and settled in his heart, it became a dream. And now, part of that dream had come true. So, what did he want to do after realizing his dream? Certainly not cheer on soldiers as they were driven to the frontlines to die en masse. Then how should one fight? Enkrid pondered ways to minimize sacrifice. War and battle were inevitable, but he refused to be a pawn dragged around. It wasn''t about avoiding death or hesitating to kill. Even if he couldn''t deliver a blow that would end all conflict in one stroke, wasn''t it right to strive toward something close? He still didn''t know if this path was right or wrong. Even after walking it for a long time and looking back, judging the righteousness of one''s journey was no easy task. That''s the nature of life. Even the past doesn''t always yield clear answers about right and wrong. But since there was no chance to walk a different path, one could only press forward after choosing. Enkrid, too, had to do so. And he wanted to. "Aspen won''t advance so easily." Before departing, Krais laid out all his plans, explaining every detail. It was strategy¡ªthough Krais himself called it mere trickery to deceive the enemy. "How?" Enkrid asked. A lamp, its oil nearly spent, emitted smoky fumes. It was evening, in an office seldom used. "What if, while walking through an open field, a wall suddenly appeared in your path?" "I''d jump over it, break it, or go around it." Krais fell silent for a moment. Right¡ªthis was who his commander was. A lunatic who would always find a way, no matter the obstacle. "Normally, people stop. Especially if the wall is thick and solid, and if they know it can punch them when approached." "And if they know that?" "They''ll stop in their tracks. They''ll either glare at it or pretend to, all while thinking hard." Did Krais really need to explain something so obvious? No, he didn''t think that. Enkrid wasn''t oblivious or pretending not to understand. This was just a form of engagement¡ªa way to keep the conversation going. Krais, aware of this, continued without hesitation. "Once they stop, we buy time." "And then?" "The main force flanks them." A map lay spread across the office desk. It detailed the Pen-Hanil Mountains and several key cities and strongholds. Krais traced a line across the map with his finger. The lamp''s glow stretched his shadowy outline. "To circle around and attack their rear?" Most would think so. But Krais knew otherwise. Beyond Green Pearl lay a foe as cunning as any trickster. Based on the intelligence gathered, Aspen''s reactions, and the current circumstances, Krais had pieced everything together in his mind, kneading it like dough. The freshly baked loaf of insight told him: "Aspen has someone who employs similar tactics. That much is certain. While we haven''t formally agreed to stall for time, an unspoken rule seems to have formed between us." When asked if they''d strike the rear, Krais'' response left Enkrid staring at him, bewildered. The large eyes reflected in the lamplight carried a sense of unease. Krais was always like this. Even when relief was in sight, he never allowed himself to relax fully. For him, unease was like an extra finger or toe¡ªsomething ever-present and intrinsic. Fear and anxiety loomed, replaying the worst-case scenarios automatically in his mind. This time was no different. What if I''m wrong? What if the enemy doesn''t act as expected? What if everything falls apart? Even if they follow the plan, what if we lose? What then? Could we flee? Though he''d prepared means of escape just in case, "Do you think it''s cowardly?" When digging several burrows like a rabbit on a night from a few days ago, Krais asked Nurat that question, thinking it was fine to receive criticism. "Not at all." Nurat shook his head. "Why not?" "Because when it truly matters, you''re not someone who will run away." "I''m telling you, I''ll run." "Sure, prepare for it. It puts your mind at ease, right?" He was planning to run. But Nurat didn''t even acknowledge those words. Krais, momentarily recalling past events, erased them from his mind and spoke again. "Interception." "Interception?" "This is the unspoken rule. While we talk about fighting, we avoid full-scale war. Instead, we pit our main forces against each other. Whoever wins is the victor, plain and simple." Though his eyes betrayed unease, a peculiar intensity emanated from Krais as he spoke. His anxiety was just a mask. Beneath it lay a certain conviction born from eliminating as many variables as possible. It wasn''t about winning or losing but a prediction of how events would unfold. Well, it might turn out wrong, but Enkrid fundamentally trusted Krais'' predictions or foresight. So, he asked: "Do we just need to win?" Interception meant meeting and fighting the approaching enemy. "Yes. But if¡ªif¡ªif¡ªif you think it''s too disadvantageous or feel endangered, retreat into the mountains." "And into the Pen-Hanil Mountains, not knowing what monsters might be lurking?" The path Krais had drawn on the map circled around the Pen-Hanil Mountains¡ªa treacherous, top-tier danger zone no ordinary commander would enter. Although he had marked an outer path, he even suggested retreating deeper if necessary. "Finn and the ranger unit have secured several relatively safe routes. Of course, it''s not an absolute guarantee of safety, but¡ª" "But?" "In the worst case, survival comes first." Krais had always been like this. His compulsive need to prepare for the worst was a fundamental part of him. "Alright." Enkrid''s response was light, carrying no particular weight, no different than commenting on the marmalade he ate the other day. That calm demeanor was both unsettling and somewhat reassuring. A man who wouldn''t run in critical moments¡ªKrais knew it wasn''t himself but the man before him. Enkrid wasn''t the type to flee or avoid danger. Honestly, it was a miracle he was still alive. Even when their skills weren''t far apart, Enkrid had likely risked his life to protect the front. Krais, unconsciously inspired by this, had begun to act similarly. Nurat noticed because she was closer to him, but others failed to see this change. "The enemy strategist''s name¡ªwas it Abnaier? It seems he''s back in play." Krais, realizing the limits of what he could achieve solely by strategizing from the safety of a desk, had ventured into the Pen-Hanil Mountains himself. "Shinar, I need your help!" He mobilized the fairy company commander, Shinar, to lead the ranger unit with Finn. "Do you know which forge the commander frequents? What''s been his recent interest?" Even for someone who prioritized swordsmanship and training above all, there were always subtler areas of interest. "Interesting." Shinar easily nodded. Thus, Krais baited the "big fish" Shinar with the "lure" that was Enkrid. Together, they secured paths and analyzed terrain within the Pen-Hanil Mountains, ensuring safety despite the dangers. Krais even went as far as Greenpearl, envisioning a new fortress city. Initially planning for three cities, the strategy had shifted. Now, Greenpearl would become a great city, protected by three fortresses. Over time, it might even be called "Greenpearl, guarded by three swords." The concept aligned with Naurilia''s symbolic traditions, leaving not only practical strength but also a profound impression on its people. Three swords guarding the royal family. Three cities protecting Greenpearl. It had a certain resonance, didn''t it? When Krais mentioned inscribing protective spells at the three fortresses, Esther had told him something: magic and spells gain power through collective belief. Her words alone sparked the idea of restructuring the city layout. But all of this was for later. For now, stopping Aspen''s attack came first. "The enemy''s elite must be eliminated. They''re likely knights." Krais'' eyes were still filled with unease as he spoke. His anxiety couldn''t be dispelled with words, nor would he expect them to. His compulsions were not so easily erased, Enkrid thought. "Understood." He grasped the reasoning for killing knights and intercepting. Despite bluster about full-scale war, small elite forces were being sent to fight discreet battles. There would be no spectators, no songs sung by bards, yet that didn''t make it dishonorable. Pushing aside his conversation with Krais, Enkrid issued marching orders and now stood at the edge of the Pen-Hanil Mountains. Looking at the mountains, Enkrid contemplated the path ahead. "What is honor?" It is defined by one''s convictions. If sacrifices could be minimized for this cause, that alone would be honorable. Moreover, Krais'' strategy¡ªfocused on reducing losses¡ªresonated with him. Krais guided the enemy''s thoughts in a specific direction, subtly leaking information into their territory. "See? I''ve figured out your intentions. Come and face me." *** Krais spoke of information manipulation, and Abnaier, of course, caught wind of it. Should he twist the situation further and consider another path? No chance. The route passed through the Pen-Hanil Mountains, cleared of monsters to make the journey easier for the enemy. Then, what should they do? Originally, the plan was to outmaneuver their opponent''s strategy. But if the plan had been deciphered? Anger wouldn''t change the situation; they''d need to adapt to the new circumstances. "The enemy seems to be coming out to meet us." Abnaier calmly relayed to the beastkin general and added: "Please, win." Words carry power. Some words possess magic. Abnaier''s words carried trust and confidence, contrasting Krais'' anxious demeanor. One side showed unease, the other belief. Who would be right? Naturally, the victor would decide. "Yes, this feels right." The beastkin general smiled instead. He was curious about the so-called demon slayer¡ªor the mad noble killer. If he had to choose, he was more eager to meet the lunatic who crossed the border and killed two squire knights. What kind of face would such a man have? He was eager to find out. --------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters early check out my ko-fi using the link below :) www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work if you have the means :) Thank you! Chapter 524 - Step Forward, Brother-in-Arms Chapter 524 - 524 - Step Forward, Brother-in-Arms Chapter 524 - Step Forward, Brother-in-Arms "Yaaawn." Ragna stretched his mouth wide open, releasing a deep breath that clearly signalled his boredom and sleepiness. Watching him, Enkrid couldn''t help but ponder. Should I be surprised that he can sleepwalk like this? Or should I admire the complete lack of tension before what might be a life-threatening battle? Or perhaps I should learn from his ability to treat the Pen-Hanil Mountain Range as if it''s just a backyard trail? Even now, he yawned and dozed off while walking. Was this strength, or simply madness? Let''s just call it a strength. After all, even I''m not trembling with nervousness, so it''s probably better for my sanity to view it positively. "The air feels heavy, devoid of the mountain''s natural energy," Shinar commented walking besides him. Enkrid nodded, continuing to walk. Their pace resembled a leisurely stroll, yet this was no backyard. It was Pen-Hanil Mountain Range. The mission was to intercept the enemy, but to do that, they first had to locate them. This was no casual hike¡ªas they were advancing cautiously, scouting for any signs of the enemy. Ahead of them, a ranger unit led by Finn was already paving the way. "Been a while, huh?" As soon as they entered the mountain range, Finn approached with a sly smile. Finn had once been the scout captain who he met on a mission. Later, she briefly served with the Madmen Unit, but now she was under Shinar''s command. A deep scar marred her left cheek, but her expression remained bright as ever. "You seem to be managing well," Enkrid remarked. "Not too bad." "Don''t die." "I''d rather not, but don''t worry. I''ve practically lived off this mountain range. Trust me, general." Finn saluted and stepped ahead, leading her unit further ahead into the mountain range. Soon, she disappeared beyond their sight, her position traceable only by faint sounds, which eventually vanished as well. Shinar, having watched the exchange, turned to Enkrid. "A bit of a flirt, aren''t you?" "Who are you talking about?" With a neutral gaze, Shinar stared at Enkrid before launching an unexpected barrage. "Surely, I wouldn''t mean Big Eyes managing the territory back home. Or the self-proclaimed devoted husband of a fighter. Or maybe the swordsman who might someday get lost in the continent''s demonic domains. Lastly, there''s Jaxen¡ªeven though he could be a flirt, he is loyal to one partner. Did you know his lover runs a shop right in the middle of the city?" Enkrid couldn''t dodge Shinar''s swift and precise attack. He realized anew how well Shinar understood the quirks of every member of Madmen unit. "Getting lost in the continent''s demonic domains? You should learn to navigate by starlight, barbarian runaway" Ragna interjected, waking up from his stupor to scold Rem. "...Captain, do we really need someone like him?" Rem asked, one hand resting on his axe while the other gesturing towards Ragna, his expression sharp. From Enkrid''s perspective, it seemed like Ragna made such remarks deliberately to provoke reactions out of Rem. "Jaxen''s lover owns a shop?" Enkrid asked, shifting the conversation to avoid escalating the tension. "Teahouse, a small one" Shinar replied. Her overly detailed response prompted more questions, but Enkrid chose not to pursue the matter. The shop''s existence and Jaxen''s fidelity were surprising enough. The group fell silent again. Rem hummed a tune, Ragna struggled to stay awake, and Enkrid kept them in line. Shinar and Jaxen moved silently, their footsteps barely audible even to Enkrid, whose senses had sharpened since unlocking his Will. "If he truly tried to hide his steps, I wouldn''t be able to hear them at all," Enkrid mused. Jaxen''s silence came from deliberate training, while Shinar''s was an innate trait of fairies¡ª being naturally light-footed and nimble. Soon, they spotted a marker left by Finn''s unit. "White," Jaxen noted, pointing to a thin cloth tied to a branch. White indicated a discovered trail, Blue signalled enemy contact, and Red meant battle or casualties. If combat had occurred, they would have sensed the tension in the air. Still, Enkrid''s sharpened instincts whispered a warning¡ªthe enemy was moving faster than they expected. Though intuition guided him, it was backed by rapid calculations. The party had barely entered the Pen-Hanil Mountains, expecting to encounter the enemy midway in two or three days. Yet signs of their presence had already surfaced. Perhaps the enemy had hoped to catch them off guard or disrupt their chain of command. "It''s not just one path." Enkrid muttered. In addition to the white cloth on the branch, two bird-shaped markers made of folded cloth lay on the ground. One pointed left, the other right. This meant the enemy had split into at least three groups¡ªsomething even Krais hadn''t foreseen. No time for hesitation. Enkrid quickly issued his orders. "Jaxen, join with Finn''s reconnaissance. Ragna and Shinar, take the main path as the rear vanguard. Rem head left. I''ll cover the right." Without pause, they dispersed. Jaxen leapt into the trees, his movement as silent as an owl''s wingbeat. Enkrid glanced at the direction Jaxen vanished, reviewing his decision. If the enemy had divided their forces, should they split too? Or was it a trap? If so, they could always retreat after confirming. The enemy had closed the gap much faster than they had expected. Were they hoping to cause confusion and disarray? Such tactics might have had worked against a regular unit, where differing opinions would have caused frictions in making decisions. But the Madmen Unit followed a single command without question. "Don''t overdo it." Rem said, breaking into a jog. "We''ll clean this up quickly." Enkrid turned towards the right path, while Ragna and Shinar quickened their steps forward. Their pace had doubled. *** "Could they have been scheming something else?" Krais felt a deep unease bubbling within him, rising from his core like a fountain. Despite that he maintained his composure, outwardly. He drank tea, smiled, joked, and carried on with his tasks. As a person in his position, showing unease would have consequences. He could not afford to betray his inner turmoil. When alone, he would be nervously shaking his legs, but if anyone was watching he had to pretend to be unshaken. "Don''t fight too hard." Those were Enkrid''s words towards the soldiers at the departure ceremony. Really? Was that something to say to soldiers heading into battle? Though internally he screamed in disbelief, Krais skillfully turned Enkrid''s remark into his advantage. "It means we will win even if we go easy." he told his troops, passing the message through the commanders rather than addressing the soldiers directly. After all, the one speaking was the Demon Slayer, the master of the Border Guard, the King''s friend, the Savior of the Western City, and the one who silenced the Grey Forest. Even if Enkrid had barked a single "Woof," it would have boosted the morale. In the eyes of his soldiers, even nonsensical words carried weight when Enkrid spoke. "We!" "Will win!" "Even if!" "We go easy!" The chant rang loud and clear. Krais watched the departing troops, smiling wryly at the rallying cry the commanders had crafted. Meanwhile, he busied himself with other tasks, though the unease continued to press against his mind. "Did those Aspen bastards schemed nothing else?" Since there wouldn''t be a full-blown war, but no protests or not even skirmishes? Surely they''d planned something. "And if they break the agreement?" Then what? It all boiled down to this: the winner gets to dictate the truth. Implicit agreements meant nothing if they aren''t honoured. So Krais, in his way made a few subtle moves of his own¡ªthough what seemed small to him might feel quite different to his enemies. Both armies gathered at Green Pearl, stationed a good distance apart. They arrived at similar times, but Aspen''s troops formed ranks first, boasting over 5,000 soldiers. The Border Guard''s forces numbered only 3,000 at best. But they were no ordinary 3,000. Krais had poured enormous resources into building this force, focusing on quality over quantity. The result was a lean, elite army. "Advance the troops!" At the front stood 500 heavy infantry. A small force, perhaps, but not insignificant. Each soldier wore standardized equipment: steel plate armor, chainmail underneath, and gambesons as padding. In most wars, uniformity in equipment was rare, especially among heavy infantry many of whom had to acquire their own gear. Ragged mismatched armor was common. If their armor was at least the same color, then it was considered fortunate. But the Border Guard''s heavy infantry were all uniformly equipped. That alone spoke volumes. Maintaining a military force is a constant drain, like a voracious pig devouring resources. Soldiers do nothing but eat and fight, but their true value shines on the battlefield. Knowing war was imminent, Krais spared no expense in preparing his troops. "They were forged with my precious kronas." Krais muttered to himself. Even their weapons appeared uniform, despite variation in material, creating the illusion of identical equipment from a distance. This wasn''t the result of a single forge''s effort but months of steady production and stockpiling. On either side of the heavy infantry stood pikemen and archers, evenly split. Their equipment too was uniform: blue gambesons and snug leather helmets. These troops had undergone gruelling training, starting under Audin and continuing under Ropord''s relentless regimen. In the center, on a makeshift platform, stood Graham, the lord of the Border Guard and its highest-ranking commander. He drew in a deep breath, puffed out his chest, and roared. "Formations! Prepare for battle!" Drums thundered in response. Orders rippled through the ranks as the army began to move. Drill and discipline defined a military''s strength. To gauge a force''s quality, one need only see how well they maintain their ranks. The Border Guard soldiers demonstrated this perfectly. Their movements were precise, their lines unbroken. Not a single soldier muttered or wavered as they stepped forward in unison. From afar, they looked like a single living organism. By contrast, Aspen''s troops, though grouped by unit, lacked this level of order. The Border Guard had formed a wall¡ªa testament to Krais''s preparations. The sheer sight of such a disciplined army was enough to make Aspen''s commanders gulp. What''s with these guys? Why are their lines so perfect? Even Aspen''s assault units hesitated. Among them, a captain who prided himself on leading such charges realized he had faltered and opened his mouth to shout. "What nonsense! Lining up well doesn''t mean they fight well! Forward! Charge!" He roared, swelling his courage, and his men echoed his cry. "Forward!" Hundreds shouted in unison, their voices spreading like wildfire until the entire Aspen army was yelling. The noise echoed across the battlefield, creating an illusion of energy gathering above them. Graham watched, his face devoid of amusement, as he raised his left hand. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Five drumbeats. A signal to count to five before unleashing a shout. In stark contrast to Aspen''s chaotic yelling, the Border Guard responded as one. "Even if!" The commanders led the chant. "Even if!" The soldiers followed. "We go easy!" The commanders continued. "We go easy!" The soldiers thundered in reply. "We will win!" "We Will Win!" Their collective roar was like a crack of thunder, silencing Aspen''s scattered cries. The organized shout conveyed a clear message, obliterating Aspen''s any semblance of morale. The ground trembled. The air quivered. Hearing this thunderous cheer, Krais deemed the start of the battle favourable. Yet his unease remained. "Audin, it''s your turn now." He muttered a silent prayer to a god, he only turned to when needed. Audin, Teresa, Ropord, and Fel were all stationed here, deliberately left behind to counter any surprises that Aspen might throw their way. Despite this, Krais couldn''t shake off his anxiety, prompting him to take subtle precautions. Abnaier had sent troops ahead, ensuring that Naurillia wouldn''t anticipate an ambush. Meanwhile, Krais had fortified the potential battlefield. "Warriors, come forth!" From the Naurillia ranks, a towering priest on a massive brown horse emerged: Audin. They had agreed to avoid full-scale war, but not duel altogether. If Aspen pushed forward, what harm would it do to kill a few and bolster morale first? At least, that''s how Krais saw it. Of course, Abnaier would have never agreed with Krais''s thoughts. --------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters early check out my ko-fi using the link below :) www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work if you have the means :) Thank you! Chapter 525 - Four lunatics Chapter 525 - 525 - Four lunatics Chapter 525 - Four Lunatics "Indeed." Abnaier immediately received a report on the enemy''s trickery. Currently stationed far to the rear, he was operating under the guise of a puppet commander at the forefront. In a genuine, full-scale war it would have been Barnas Hurrier leading as commander. However, the outcome of this battle would not be decided on the front lines but rather from the sides. ''Is this similar to the previous battle?'' In that fight, the main front was pushed due to the influence of smaller battles along the flanks. Having every battle against Naurillia etched into his mind, Abnaier recalled past experiences. This skirmish bore a resemblance yet started with a different form. Back then, the side conflicts were auxiliary, but now the engagements along Pen-Hanil Mountain Range would decide the victory. Abnaier sipped his tea. He had just finished a hearty meal. After all, a well-fed mind functions the best. Even now, he ate well and rested soundly his sharp intellect dissected the enemy''s intentions. Although to be honest, even someone other than himself would have noticed the enemy''s aims. Even the puppet posing as the commander at the front lines would likely have discerned their intent. Thus, Abnaier had to look beyond what was obvious. What was the enemy''s overt and transparent intention? It was a probe an attempt to gauge their strength. They were demanding to see what forces remained in the main camp. It was a question: Could this be a feint to prepare for an actual full-scale war? From their maneuvers, Abnaier sensed a compulsion in the enemy. They were not merely testing the waters but were the kind to scrutinize when, how, and by whom the bridge was built, verifying its sturdiness before setting a foot on it. ''They''re checking whether any knight-level forces remain on our side.'' While they were at it they might as well undermine morale and secure a slight advantage in the event of a full-scale engagement. Their intent was obvious. However, just because it was obvious didn''t mean it would be easy to counter. "Send out someone confident enough to crush them," Abnaier ordered swiftly. "Winning isn''t mandatory, but they mustn''t fall easily. Oh, and make it clear¡ªthey are not facing an easy opponent." Abnaier rapidly consolidated his thoughts as he spoke. What card the enemy might play? Assuming the worst, he concluded: ''A semi-knight, perhaps?'' If so, they merely needed to respond with an equivalent card of their own. Abnaier didn''t know the exact identities of those they faced. To be honest, he doubted the enemy had deployed anything too formidable. The real battle, after all would unfold in the Pen-Hanil mountain range. Abnaier still believed that this conflict would end in Aspen''s victory. There was no certainty, but his faith in the outcome was strong. They had hidden knights¡ªassets capable of tipping the scales of war. Three of the four might only be at the entry-level of knighthood, but a knight was still a knight. How would the enemy counter such a force? Naurillia likely had hidden assets of its own. ''At most, they might field two knights.'' One had already appeared at the Aspen border, taking down two squire knights. Add in one more, an unforeseen addition. That made two. ''Let''s assume there are three, just to be safe.'' Even so, the outcome wouldn''t change. The wolf beastman general stood as a symbol of strength, equal to Cypress of the Red Cloak Knights. Furthermore, among the knights he could confidently guarantee victory in a duel. While the latter''s "Will" had weakened somewhat due to breaking a past oath, it was hardly a liability. ''It won''t be an issue.'' Even excluding those two, two more knights remained. This calculation didn''t even include the Frog General. Yet even the Frog General was actively leading troops. Victory was inevitable if they clashed. With a battle being this favorable, they had even initiated an advance to claim the psychological edge. That slight edge could be the factor that decided victory. As all knights agreed, the one shaken even slightly would inevitably falter. This was the answer to the question: "What is the decisive factor in a battle between knights?" Abnaier recalled the wolf beastman general tapping his chest as he gave that answer. The memory of the Frog General''s pouting face as he witnessed the gesture came to mind. Abnaier had finished his calculations when the second messenger from the puppet commander arrived. He had just started his dessert¡ªa fruit-topped pie for an afternoon snack. The sugar would keep his mind sharp while delighting his palate. Just as he lifted his fork in anticipation, the messenger arrived. Abnaier waited for him to speak, his fork still poised mid-air. The messenger, sat at the table before him, panting heavily. "In the direct duels, four of ours have fallen." "Four?" "After the first, Naurilia kept demanding for more duels." Abnaier was aware of the auxiliary forces within his ranks. He had mercenaries stationed as hidden blades and squire knights from the Royal Knights Corps deployed. ''Four had fallen?'' "Did we send squire knights?" "Yes." "And they still lost?" Unexpected. But acceptable. They only needed to avoid collapsing easily. The real fight lay beyond, at the Pen-Hanil mountains. "Morale is at rock bottom. All of them were overwhelmed, and the second to fall described the opponents as madmen." Abnaier''s thoughts faltered. The messenger''s words disrupted his reasoning. One by one, the enemy''s actions and intentions began to piece themselves together in his mind. "...bastards." The enemy had diverted some of their forces. Hadn''t they agreed to avoid a full-scale battle? Yet they shifted their forces, willing to risk even a fake skirmish at the front? What was there to gain? ''Was it to buy time for the Red Cloak Knights to intervene?'' No. Even without the knights, there were still troops left at Border Guard. They were only stationed there out of Krais''s over cautious nature. "How many?" The messenger caught on quickly. "Four have stepped forward." "Four? What about this madness?" "All of them... they were like lunatics..." The usually articulate soldier, chosen as Abnaier''s messenger was unable to describe the duels. It was clear something bizarre was unfolding at the front. Abnaier set the fruit pie aside. "Pass the order¡ªno more fighting." Regardless of the shattered morale, combat was to cease. This was his judgment. He assumed the talk of madness was merely a ploy to erode morale. It was a misunderstanding. Neither Krais nor Abnaier could have predicted what was truly happening. *** "Are you trying to pick a fight based on your size? I''ll take care of this." Just as Audin had started causing trouble, a prominent figure from Aspen stepped forward. The commander had just heard a message from Abnaier''s messenger. The one who stepped forward was also a person skilled in martial arts. "Defeat is unforgivable." The person who stepped forward was part of Aspen''s Royal Knight Order. Though not one of the top few, he was still a semi-knight. "Hey! You''ll pay the price for your arrogance!" The semi-knight, mounted on a horse, charged forward. Audin dismounted and seemed to be enjoying the sunshine in silence. He tilted his head toward the sunlight closed his eyes and hummed a little tune. Seeing this carefree demeanor, the semi-knight''s anger only grew and without dismounting he swung his mace. From his position on the horse he added speed to his strike and channeling his Will to swing the mace diagonally downward. The strike became a black line in the air, almost like the scythe of death descending. Audin hearing the galloping horse and the furious shout of his opponent spread his legs and took a stance. He then raised his head and precisely observed the black line flying toward him. Calculating the speed of the charge and the timing of the strike in an instant, Audin extended his left hand. The rough steel gauntlet on his left hand reflected the sunlight. "Clang! Thud!" The two loud noises hit the soldiers'' eardrums. The sound erupted at the intersection where the Aspen knight and Audin the unarmed fighter collided. The Will imbued in the mace was a forceful determination to break Audin''s defense. However, Audin did not engage in a contest of strength. Despite appearing strong Audin''s specialty was technique. He extended his hand to intercept the mace with the gauntlet''s back redirecting its course and in the same motion, his right hand which had been idle became a weapon striking his opponent''s waist. The duel was over in an instant. Though the semi-knight was wearing a thick gambeson and chain armor, it could not block the strike of Audin''s right hand. The flesh was torn and the waistbone shattered along with some of the internal organs spilling onto the ground. The semi-knight had not been careless; he had trusted the hardness of his armor and intended to use his mount''s advantage to wear Audin down. His strategy was a technique often used in battle: cutting away at the opponent''s flesh. But Audin shattered this tactic with a single strike. The difference in their skill was stark. Audin brushed his hand through the air, then spoke. "Any more brothers who can fight?" "Ugh..." Before the words could even leave his mouth the Aspen semi-knight, still on his horse vomited blood and fell to the ground. His foot got caught in the stirrup and as his body tipped forward the frantic horse neighed loudly and reared up on its hind legs. The body of the now-dead man swayed with the motion and all that remained were the gruesome sounds of death. "What the hell was that?" one of the soldiers in the front muttered in confusion. The majority of soldiers watching the scene didn''t understand why the man on horseback suddenly collapsed dead. It all happened too quickly; the man ran out and dropped dead. That was all they saw. The spilled innards were not visible and instead they only saw the monster calling for the next opponent. A huge creature resembling a bear or giant appeared in the midst of the battlefield filling the soldiers'' line of sight. Despite the overwhelming display of power, Audin remained composed. That in itself was terrifying. So, was the next fight going to be against something like that? The Aspen semi-knight''s death might have seemed unfair, but his opponent was undeniably formidable. Audin had reached the level of a knight and without divine intervention was capable of facing semi-knights. As for the semi-knights of Aspen, they were no match for him at this point. Perhaps Audin had unknowingly grown frustrated with Rem''s return. Maybe that had contributed to his excessive display of strength today. But the emotions in his heart were his own and he didn''t shy away from them. Rather, he wanted to embrace them to give himself a reason to fight. "I will not discriminate against my brothers and sisters. Please come forward." He shouted with a calm tone a promise that anyone who came forward would be treated to the same fate as the fallen semi-knight. The challenge echoed through the battlefield. A response came from the allied side. "You better hold back; even I wouldn''t want to fight you." Fel, who had walked up spoke with a troubled look on his face. He continued. "Step aside. If you stay here, no one will dare challenge. It''s more effective to win one fight at a time rather than taking them all out at once as our big-eyed friend suggested." Audin nodded, though he felt a slight disappointment. "Understood." He realized that, perhaps, he should have held back a little longer. But the moment his opponent spoke, his body had already moved on its own. It was instinct¡ªsomething in that ''hey'' reminded him of his barbarian brother''s way of speaking. But, of course this was not about venting his frustration. "Well then." Audin stepped back, and Fel took his place. "Next." Fel''s voice rang out. Though Audin left, there were still several warriors from Aspen who were ready to fight. They had been held back by the commander, who was under orders from Abnaier to endure as long as possible. The thought of them dying in one strike was unsettling. The commander''s thoughts swirled. Were their own forces weak? Was Naurillia''s army stronger? Was there something more to the opponent than it seemed? "Let me go." A menacing figure approached the commander, who turned to see the charging officer. "If we charge now, our forces will be split. We need to take down at least one." The officer who always led the charge understood that they would not gain any ground by waiting. If they kept fighting in this way they would be pushed back. The commander had the same thoughts, but he also knew something crucial; without Abnaier''s approval, no charge could be made. A full-scale battle was out of the question. Nonetheless, they could not just stand idly by. "Go ahead." "Understood." The charge leader sprinted forward. Fel, however, remained still, calmly waiting. He wasn''t accustomed to mounted combat, so he stayed on foot looking up at the sky and feeling the breeze, though the scent of blood had filled the air. The question in Fel''s mind though was not about the battlefield¡ª rather it was a deeper question about his own abilities. ''Maybe I''m not as talented as I thought.'' He recalled when he had first seen Enkrid''s rapid growth and thought to himself that he had never seen someone with such talent before. Back then Fel had considered himself a more talented fighter. He had believed he could soon catch up to Enkrid. It was similar when we met again. But now, Fel''s belief in his own strength was beginning to crack. So what''s left? ''The idol killer remains.'' Is one magic sword everything to you? Is it everything that represents you? It was what the swordsman Ropord had said. Fel was lost. There were no stars in the dark night sky, only darkness. And in that darkness I felt a single spark of flame. ''I want to do something.'' I want to swing a sword. It was a moment of overwhelming motivation. Encred''s Will had an influence on him. A question arose from the depths of that motivation. ''Isn''t it okay if there is someone more talented than me?'' Ironically, Encrid became a knight. He awakened right in front of me. And even after that, he never stopped training. "A shepherd is someone who can get killed by his sheep at any time." That''s what a shepherd is like. It''s the same with a swordsman. Fel had once asked the village elder why anyone would become a shepherd when the job was so dangerous. The elder had answered him with a smile, though he didn''t remember the exact words the elder said. Should I say, ''Because someone has to do it?'' Or, ''Because it''s fun?'' Or, should I say, ''Because it''s a promise, so I have to keep it?''" ''The answer is within me.'' Fel no longer looked around. Instead, he focused on what needed to be done now and what would come next. Right now, he would fulfill his duty as a warrior and after that he would chase after his goal. "Aren''t you too young? How old are you?" His next opponent had dismounted and as he did, asked the question. The charge leader known for his more unorthodox fighting methods was sizing him up. Fel narrowed his eyes. --------------------------------- In order to get more Chapters early check out my ko-fi using the link below :) www.ko-fi.com/samowek Please support my work if you have the means :) Thank you! Chapter 526 - Older Brother, Younger Brother, and Older Sister Chapter 526 - 526 - Older Brother, Younger Brother, and Older Sister Chapter 526 - Older Brother, Younger Brother, and Oldest Sister The charge leader of Aspen released several trump cards, starting with poison sand. Poisoned darts, throwing knives, and cleverly scattered caltrops all followed. A caltrop made of sharp iron spikes rolled under Fel''s feet just as he was about to plant them on the ground. Fel managed to avoid it by stepping only on the ground with his toes, not the soles of his feet. He had to dodge the poison sand, darts, throwing knives and caltrops causing him to lose his balance. The moment his feet touched the ground, he wobbled and tilted slightly to the left. ''Got him!'' Seizing that moment, the charge leader pulled out a short sword and aimed the blade at Fel. It was a single strike, but one that could still catch even a knight-level warrior. It was a magic sword inscribed with a spell. The incantation hidden in the pommel activated, causing the short sword''s blade, as long as a forearm to shoot out from the handle tearing through the air with a loud whoosh. *Boom!* The deafening sound rang out. Just as the blade was about to mark Fel''s body, he suddenly became horizontal with the ground leaping into the air. Had Jaxon been there, he would have realized that the thundering sound that came from the sword had been slightly slower than the sound of Fel''s feet hitting the ground, but no one present had that kind of keen hearing. Crack! The magic blade shot from the handle, grazed Fel''s side but it didn''t touch his skin. Instead it ripped through his beige gambeson sending the stuffing of fabric and cotton scattering onto the ground. Ironically, the cotton and fabric remnants from Fel''s gambeson covered the intestines of semi-knight from Aspen who had just been killed in the earlier fight. Grayish fur from the gambeson served as a blanket for the deceased semi-knight. Thud. Fel landed, immediately standing up and bringing his sword in front of his face. Had he been pretending to lose balance all along? Seeing his secret move blocked, the charge leader thought that the opponent was far superior. Why did that thought occur to him? ''I couldn''t have avoided that.'' Whether it was from reflex or calculation, the enemy could do what he couldn''t. Of course in a fight where life was on the line, skill was just one factor not the entirety of the outcome. The charge leader lowered his stance and reached for the axe tied at his waist. "Hah." Meanwhile, Fel sighed and gazed at the sky. His eyes weren''t on the charge leader. He looked at the sky once, then the ground and sighed again. "Hah." The charge leader had planned to attack when his opponent would charge, but the sudden sigh and the words that followed were unexpected. "Did you know?" ''What could I possibly know?'' "I understand everything, but breaking the past one''s shell is not as enjoyable as one might think." As Fel spoke, his gaze returned to the sky. He had come this far and made up his mind about how he would live from now on. He had been born in the wilderness and raised as a shepherd, but why was he here? What had brought him to this battlefield? These were the questions that he had been answering on this journey. ''I have to move forward.'' He saw someone moving forward stubbornly without thought. There''s a saying that if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss also gazes back at you. Fel had looked at Enkrid, and beyond despair and frustration, he had reached this point. There had been times when he believed he would quickly catch up with talent alone. "The world has many things in it. And as we live, we often face things we never expected." There was no moonlight, the sun was blazing hot and it wasn''t dawn, but sometimes people become intoxicated by something. Though he had found the answer, Fel became somewhat lost in reflection. He had resolved to forget his past and welcome his future. His mind was set, but he knew it wouldn''t be an easy path. "...Did you eat something wrong?" The charge leader muttered as he subtly shifted his steps. He couldn''t help but think that Fel was mad. Fel, having been struck by the words earlier lowered his head and looked at the charge leader. "It seems so." He agreed. "What?" "Well, it''s the air. I think it''s the air that''s wrong." "Damn, what are you talking about?" The charge leader, feeling fear at the unexpected situation was thrown off. He would rather be struck by a blade than hear such crazy words from someone who was skilled in battle. Fel thought about this place, about what was different here compared to others. ''The atmosphere here is different.'' How? Enkrid had an aura that permeated the air around him. What had changed the atmosphere? The air. "Ah." Fel exclaimed in realization. "...Stop your nonsense. I won''t die by your hand!" The charge leader threw the axe he had been holding. It was his weapon of choice for many years. Fel sidestepped and caught the axe. He pondered. Was it really the air? The realization quickly faded. It didn''t feel right. In the end, the opponent in a panic ran off as if his backside were on fire. He ran towards his horse throwing away some secondary weapons mounted on the saddle and fled. Clop! Clop! Clop! Clop! The sound of hooves hitting the ground kicked up dust, clouding the vision. Fel had no intention of chasing him, so he didn''t even draw his sword. His actions were observed by the soldiers of both Border Guard and the Aspen. "You''re not even drawing your sword?" The soldiers at the frontlines of both armies muttered the same thing, but of course it wasn''t something they could hear from each other. After defeating the charge leader, Fel returned to the road, where Krais having rushed from behind asked: "Wouldn''t it be better to kill him? Was that intentional?" "It just happened that way." Fel''s demeanor had changed. His earlier lost expression was replaced with something different. He had shed his old self and was reborn, now with a playful glint in his eyes just like when he first met Enkrid. There was a pure, shining brightness in his gaze. That playful glint moved Fel''s tongue. "Ropord, if you die out there, you can call me ''big brother'' for the rest of your life." "I''d rather die on the battlefield." Ropord, a rival with whom Fel had a bitter relationship responded and with that he prepared to leave. "Anyone, step forward! I''m Ropord of the Madmen!" Krais, observing this felt reassured. He knew that while it matched Abnaier''s prediction, it was more of an attempt to relieve the anxiety than anything else. Krais had two paths to choose from. One was relatively safe with fewer threats and variables, but would require sacrifices. The other was far more dangerous, full of uncertainty and risk. If it went wrong everything he has built might fall apart. But still, Krais chose the second path. ''General, will this be alright?'' Krais wondered to himself. The choice was not his to make. If it were up to him, he would have chosen the third path. He wouldn''t fight; he would give up the city, go into exile and leave only with his people. Well, that''s what he would say. But Nurat had seen it clearly. Krais had no place to retreat anymore. He had many familiar faces, people he had grown attached to. Could he abandon them all? Krais couldn''t answer easily. Before Enkrid left, Krais had offered two paths and asked him. "Is it okay to act like a greedy man?" Krais asked, "Hasn''t it been always the case?" Enkrid replied, In a situation where no one could laugh, Krais spoke with a forced grin. "Not something I should say to the general, but bring everyone back alive." Enkrid smiled faintly and responded with a playful face. "Yes." It was with a joke, the usual military formality. Krais trusted his commander so much that he left Audin, Teresa, Ropord, and Fel behind here. If it weren''t for that trust, he would have chosen the first path. He would have sent them all down the path where the main enemy was coming. ''No, not just them.'' He would have thrown in all the remaining Ranger forces to drain the enemy''s strength and then started the fight that way. That would have been the best choice. That was probably the strategy the enemy would have chosen. Beyond Krais'' thoughts, he saw Ropord knocking down an opponent. "Call me the older brother!" Ropord roared after winning. "You crazy bastard, just because you won doesn''t mean I''m the younger brother!" Fel yelled from their side. Krais wondered why these madmen were acting this way. After Ropord, it was Teresa''s turn. "Brothers, now it''s my turn." There was a desire for combat flowing in the half giant''s veins. She had bound it with faith, but when such an opportunity came, Teresa still found it hard to resist. Moreover, she had been inspired by Enkrid recently, so it was even more difficult to hold back. When a warrior as large as Audin emerged, the Aspen forces became restless. Was everyone who was supposed to come out, is finally here? But that wasn''t the case. If they kept going like this, it wouldn''t just affect the army''s morale; it would seem like they were losing before the fight even started. To prevent that, an elite from Aspen stepped forward. A true fighter who was ready in case the battlefield twisted. Teresa was facing a much stronger opponent than what Audin had faced. "Are you a mercenary? Bound by a contract? How pathetic, it seems like you have giant''s blood. Yeah, dying here is better." He was known within Aspen as '' Emmel The One Who Sentences Fates.'' He declares the fate of his opponents. It wasn''t something he did all the time, but only when he was sure of victory. Audin started first, and Teresa was the fourth to face off. This fourth battle was the second shortest followed by Audin''s. Teresa took the brunt of Emmel''s sword with her body and struck his body with her shield. Teresa, using the technique of blade avoidance she learned from Audin, suffered a severe wound as her opponent''s sword was quite sharp. Blood splattered on the ground. Her flesh was cut, and it wasn''t a small wound. Still, Teresa didn''t stop. Red blood splattered into the air. Amid their clashes, Teresa was the only one bleeding, but because of that she seized the opportunity to strike with her shield. Emmel reacted quickly, stepping back with his foot to break free and create distance. As this wasn''t the distance he was comfortable with. As Emmel retreated, Teresa timed her move and let go of her shield. She had never secured it tightly around her arm, only holding it with her hands so it was possible. It was a strange thing to fight with only one hand holding this heavy shield, so it was not something that one could be easily predict. Of course, Emmel didn''t expect that either. "Ugh!" The shield''s rebound force weakened, and Emmel''s attack fell short. He barely managed to take two steps back. Teresa moved forward without a smile on her face. Their bodies collided in mid-air, and the sound of bones cracking were heard throughout the battlefield. Although only a few heard it, it was enough to inspire loud cheers. "Victory! Fight on!" The Aspen soldiers, thinking their guy was overpowering Teresa, shouted louder. Meanwhile, the Border Guard troops maintained disciplined cheer. The flags moved as they shouted in unison. "Bear siblings!" "Teresa!" "Giant Goddess!" "Teresa!" If Teresa had heard it, she would have smiled and asked which person came up with that cheer, but she couldn''t afford to roam around her own ranks during a fight. Teresa closed the distance and performed the Valah-style martial art, "spine-breaking." This technique, required great strength, and could only be performed by someone like her and it flourished in her hands. It wasn''t a complex technique¡ªsimply grabbing the head with one hand and hitting the shoulder with the other to break the neck. Emmel didn''t give in easily. As his head was grabbed, he tried to stab Teresa''s neck with his sword. Teresa twisted her neck to avoid it, but blood still gushed out. Instead, she captured a broken vertebra as a trophy. The sight of her own blood, the heat of battle everything fueled her. It gave her the strength to unleash the giant''s primal nature, and she let out a roar. "I''m the oldest sister!" Though influenced by Fel and Ropord, her cry resonated through the battlefield. The armies watched in silence. Aspen soldiers, seeing that their side was being overpowered, became more aggressive in their shouting. But the Border Guard''s disciplined ranks remained composed. Krais nodded inwardly. Look at this. These guys usually fought against knights like Rem and Ragna. Did the Aspen soldiers face knights daily? ''Not a chance.'' This was a foreseen outcome. Even though he had been uneasy, seeing the results before him relieved some of his worry about the battle. Above all, this had been the backup force prepared in case of unexpected events. By showing strength in formation, they would demoralize the enemy before an all-out war. Now, the enemy couldn''t risk a full-on confrontation. This was what Krais had aimed for. *** ''That bastard!'' Abnaier, having been thoroughly outplayed, couldn''t help but think of the strategist on the opposing side. He must have been an experienced, middle-aged man. The way he acted, it seemed so. But that wasn''t the case. The enemy was a young man, youthful with large eyes. But that didn''t matter. It was just a natural association. "Damn bastard." Abnaier couldn''t suppress his admiration. But this was just the beginning. He had to remember that even though they won the duels, and sacrifices had been made. Abnaier focused on the true battlefield, where the real battle would unfold. There, the glory-filled warriors would be. Everything was for the sake of victory. And Abnaier''s plan had been effective. Everything had fallen into place at the exact time and place he had prepared. *** Enkrid had left after the forces were advancing, but his pace wasn''t fast. On the other hand, the wolf beastman general, Barnas Hurrier had already been traveling through the Pen-Hanil mountains when Aspen had announced their declaration of war. He had familiarized himself with the terrain. And then, before the troops formed he had "preemptively" left. He had seized the advantageous terrain and planned to fight on his terms. Perhaps giving the enemy a taste of confusion. Even using decoys to keep the enemy''s spies occupied, Barnas worked in the shadows. Abnaier had prepared for everything. Then, it hit him. ''Could preparation be considered strategy?'' ''It could be.'' Victory would make it so. If they lost, he would be a traitor. But if they won, he would be a hero. Such was the nature of bold strategies. ------------------------------ If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Many thanks to 47thdemigod for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 527 - The Ordinary Finn Chapter 527 - 527 - The Ordinary Finn Chapter 527 - The Ordinary Finn Finn had discovered traces of the enemy and realized they had split into three groups. She decided to pursue the one that seemed the largest. The distance from Enkrid''s Madmen unit was more than half a day''s travel. It was an ambiguous distance¡ªneither too close nor too far. If she really pushed herself, she could probably close the distance in less than half a day. But that is if this weren''t the Pen-Hanil Mountains. Unfortunately, this place was not unlike the Beast''s Lair, a cradle full of monsters. Unless she were a human who could hide her presence like a ghost and sprint at full speed, half a day''s distance would remain half a day''s distance. ''This is bad. Really bad.'' Had she been unlucky, or perhaps had she let her guard down? It seemed that way. She could imagine Captain Shinar would tell her to go die if he saw her now. But Finn couldn''t help it. Once she spotted the traces, she had to watch and follow them. The enemy couldn''t be allowed to diverge on a different route and miss the chance to cross paths with their allies. That was her mission¡ªto ensure the enemy met their forces here. She had stayed true to that mission. Now, thinking back, she wondered if the enemy had deliberately left the traces for her to find, to lure her in. ''I''ve been played.'' She didn''t want to admit it, but given the situation, it seemed to be the case. The enemy had left traces just faintly enough that she thought she could slip past the enemy scouts without being detected. ''We''re trained by the fairies, after all.'' And that training was hellish. The fairies didn''t let you laugh, telling you to keep running or rolling, with no room for confidence to grow. Most importantly, Finn and the other scouts had passed through Audin''s grueling physical training. "Audin." "Ugh!" There had been a time when just hearing those three syllables could make you jump out of bed. Having survived that, they were now trotting around the Pen-Hanil Mountains, not exactly treating it as a playground but managing to stay mostly unharmed. Surviving was impressive enough. She wondered if this confidence had affected her judgment. It might have. But whatever the case, she didn''t want to think of this as a mistake. This was her duty, and if she lacked the skill to carry it out, then that was all there was to it. She hadn''t truly lost due to lack of skill. The enemy had overrun them with sheer numbers, and unless you were one of the chosen few, numbers usually guaranteed victory. Just being beside Enkrid didn''t mean surpassing one''s limits. Finn was, in that sense, an ordinary person. At least, that''s how she saw herself. Of course, from a broader perspective, she was a skilled warrior, an excellent soldier, and a fearsome ranger. ''I thought I was being cautious.'' She was tempted to sigh. Knowing her own limits, she wasn''t about to rush into reckless actions like Enkrid. Being an ordinary person, she wouldn''t rush headlong into battle armed with just a sword, trying to protect her back. The terrain ahead wasn''t in her favor either: a slight slope behind her, a small clearing ahead, tall trees to each side, and coniferous forest overhead. Some trees with broad leaves stood above the needle-like ones. The sunlight filtered through, casting light across the clearing and the surrounding area. It was early morning, the blue dawn was giving way to the rising sun, revealing the landscape. Despite the Pen-Hanil Mountains being cursed, life thrived here, with trees growing, insects buzzing, and birds chirping. As she walked here, she often heard the sounds of insects and birds. But then, suddenly, the sounds stopped. That was when Finn realized the situation had grown perilous, and she crouched low under the shadow of the trees, her posture alert. If you didn''t look closely, you wouldn''t be able to detect her. ''Is this where I die?'' Finn wondered as she tucked her chin and took slow, deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling. She hadn''t started running yet, so she wasn''t gasping for breath. Through training, she had learned to walk fast without tiring. Her breaths, though warm, should have been unnoticed unless an enemy with heat-sensing eyes was nearby. She wore boots lined with cotton, muffling the sound of footsteps. The group was small, too, so there was no unnecessary noise. There were only ten of them, three of which had been left behind. Three were at the front, four in the middle, and three at the rear. The column was long, but only the three at the front were truly in position. Finn, at the head of the line, clenched her fist, and the two soldiers who saw her hand signal also paused and focused on controlling their breathing. That was the situation just moments ago¡ªwhen the soldiers stopped and she fell into thought. Finn had two scenarios in mind. The first was to stay put and let the enemy pass without engaging. If the enemy didn''t want to risk drawing attention from their main forces following behind, it could work. The second scenario involved combat¡ªunexpectedly meeting face-to-face, testing the waters before attacking. But both assumptions were wrong. The enemy was already prepared. Abnaier hadn''t sent just knights. His policy of integrating different races had yielded not only genius beastmen but also others. Krais had predicted many things, but like any other commander, he couldn''t foresee everything. Not even he could have anticipated an unknown enemy unit. Predicting everything on the battlefield was impossible. When something unexpected happened, it was up to the field commander to make decisions in the moment. Suddenly, a rustling sound broke through the air. The tall grass, which had been hiding their forces, now swayed as the enemy began to move through the field. The rustling shook Finn''s concentration. ''They''re numerous.'' It was hard to estimate their numbers, but there were definitely more than she expected. ''I''m being surrounded.'' She had to make another decision. If she delayed, the remaining seven in her group would survive, but she would die. There was no question about it. If she charged, they would all die. As a soldier who lived by the sword, she had always known this kind of death could come. Hadn''t people died during her time as a scout under the Cross Guard? Of course, they had. This time, it was just her turn. Finn signaled. She would buy time, so the others could fall back. But then, an enemy signal sounded. It was a bird-like whistle, one she knew the deputy would use. The deputy was capable of mimicking the sound of birds to perfection. The answer came from behind, followed by a series of horn blasts. "Are you insane?" Finn muttered under her breath. The horn had already given their position away. The approaching enemy also raised their heads from the grass. Finn frowned, but quickly composed herself. She recalled something Shinar had once said. "Anyone can fight anyone, but if you meet a fairy squad in the woods, don''t fight them. It''s a losing battle." That memory flashed in her mind. She had suspected something was off, but now she knew for sure. "It''s a losing battle, huh." She said, her eyes scanning the enemy''s numbers. There were at least twenty. Twenty-five, perhaps? "Isn''t there any choice?" Her deputy muttered behind her, probably wondering why Finn wasn''t running. "Shut up. Disobedience means execution." "Anyway, we''re dead." Her two cheerful subordinates kept their light-hearted attitude, even in such a dire situation. "We won''t go down easily." Finn said, letting her left hand drop. The other scouts did the same, mirroring her actions. ''If they''re going all out, we should too.'' Maybe they should have brought the entire force. But that was just a passing thought. Dead men couldn''t eat bread. What was done was done. Regretting having entered the water while the waves were approaching was an idiotic move. The fairy''s skin, which emerged from the grass, was blue, and a bluish hue also shimmered in her hair. Just as humans have white or black skin, fairies too had different types. This one belonged to the Moonlight Fairy Tribe. "Can you understand me?" "No." The voice came from slightly above. Looking up just a bit, a human appeared¡ª a woman crouching on a tree with a quiver of leather arrows strapped to her back. Her balance was so good that sitting on a tree seemed as stable as standing on the ground. Her build was small, and she held a long bow that seemed out of place for her body, making it clear she was no ordinary person. As they exchanged a few words, one by one, fairies holding crescent-shaped swords began to rise and approach. Though Finn and her subordinates would laugh in the face of ghouls, these fairies were a different matter. The fairies'' eyes were devoid of emotion, and their steps made no sound. They seemed like ghosts approaching. Although she couldn''t afford to show fear or die without fighting, even Finn found them unsettling. ''I''ve left a mark behind.'' At least she had done what she needed to do. Even if she died, the enemy''s location was marked. She exhaled deeply inside. Finn knew well the importance of striking first. It was an age-old truth¡ª whoever strikes first has the advantage, whether facing ghosts or any other threat. "You understand me, huh?" Finn spoke, extending her left hand. Seeing the gesture, the entire scouting party followed suit, extending their left hands in unison. "You''ve come too close. All of you." As Finn spoke, a sound echoed from inside the armor covering her left hand. Fwoosh! It was the gear issued to every member of the scouting party. It was something Krais had modified, originally obtained from a thief they had encountered. A small crossbow mounted on the back of her hand. An arrow flew through the air, striking six fairies who had been sneaking up like ghosts. Though there were ten arrows in total, Finn aimed at overlapping targets since no specific instruction had been given. The fairies died without a scream. Only a faint groan was heard. That too was unsettling, but the battle had begun. "Struggle all you want." Just as the words reached her from above, the group of fairies started charging. The sound of footsteps filled the air. The blue ghost-like figures swung their swords. Above them, crescent-shaped blades fell like the full moon. The sharply curved blades aimed at Finn''s head, and although she wore a helmet that could hold, there was no reason to test the durability of her helmet against the enemy''s weapons. Finn fell backward and rolled away. "Survive, each one of you!" "Ugh!" Her subordinates responded with a rally cry they had learned during basic training. In the ensuing fight, Finn didn''t hesitate to risk her life. She had told them to survive on their own, but when her subordinates were in danger, she rushed in without a second thought. ''I''m just an ordinary person.'' This was beyond her. ''I''m not Enkrid.'' Still, her body moved instinctively. Thud! She deflected a blade with her shortsword and thrust it forward with strength. Her physical strength was superior, but the problem was the curved swords of the fairies. Most attacks were absorbed and deflected by their structure. Enkrid might be behind her, but he was at least half a day''s travel away. Even if he were to come, it wouldn''t be now. They were in the Pen-Hanil Mountains. Even Shinar couldn''t reduce the distance that quickly in this area. If her subordinates had backed off earlier, they might have survived. "So, are you giving up?" It seemed like Enkrid was asking. ''Damn, no.'' Finn silently answered as she closed in on the owner of the blade that had just swung past her and thrust her sword into his belly, pulling it back. Crunch. Though the fairies looked slightly different, they all wore armor made of wood. The wooden armor was stiff, making it difficult to pull the sword out after thrusting it in. But she had certainly created a hole in the fairy''s belly. It was a fatal blow. As blood poured from the wound, the fairy''s eyes lost focus. Seeing the fallen body, Finn raised her sword once more. Having killed one fairy, Finn''s shoulder took a hit, and she felt a burning sensation there. ''Was it a deep cut?'' She moved her left arm and felt a sharp pain. Still, her arm moved. ''Well, that''s enough.'' Finn took another stance. The sword she wielded was a guard sword, a weapon with a wide blade and a somewhat shorter length. With this sword, she had barely killed one fairy. They were no pushovers. "Come on, come at me." She took two steps backward, guarding herself, and as she was about to lean against the tree, she suddenly rolled forward to dodge a thrust aimed at her back. Whoosh! These crazy fairies. The blue light flickered between the trees. Even if she fought head-on, her chances of winning were slim. These fairies, one by one, hid their bodies and moved like true ghosts. If she lost track of them, the blades seemed to come out of nowhere. "I told you, no." A small voice came from above. "Wait your turn. After these, it''s your turn." Finn threw herself into the fray, but no one believed that statement. "Fine then." The woman above spoke, and the fairy''s ambush, Finn''s defense, and her subordinates'' struggle continued. Thud! She swung her sword, deflecting blows, throwing daggers at those who left an opening. Then, she tumbled on the ground, and through her blurry vision, she saw that none of her subordinates had fallen. They all looked exhausted and covered in blood, but they were all alive. Then, she realized how bright the sunlight was. The sky was so clear, and the warmth of the sun felt soothing. Was this the perfect day to die? "We won''t die." Finn spoke again, though no one believed her. "Of course not." The response came, but it was not from her subordinate. There was no presence, no sound. Finn looked up. The voice came from above her head. But the owner of the voice had already appeared behind Finn. A man with reddish-brown hair stood there, holding two short swords dripping with blood. Blood, whether from humans or fairies, is always red, and the blood dripping from those swords was a deep crimson. The reason Finn and her subordinates survived wasn''t just luck. While Finn was struggling, someone had silently attacked the fairies from behind. Without sound or warning. *** "To fight fairies, you need to be at least an elite-level assassin to have a chance." Shinar spoke and added one more thing. "But there are those who disregard everything I say." *** Jaxen Benshino. Master of the Morning Dew. The master of Geogr''s Dagger. The best assassin in the continent, unmatched by anyone. He had been ordered to join Finn and had carried out the pre-mission instructions. "No one dies on this battlefield." Enkrid had said that, and Jaxen intended to make sure it was true. ------------------------------------ If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Many thanks to 47thdemigod for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 528 - Sacrifice Chapter 528 - 528 - Sacrifice Chapter 528 ¨C Sacrifice "Damn it, this is a scam." Sacrifice in war is inevitable. It is something beyond one''s control. It''s like playing chess¡ª sacrificing the knight to capture the bishop, sacrificing the bishop to capture the rook, and sacrificing the rook to capture the queen. A victory without sacrifice was always a distant dream. Therefore, Finn had entered the mission with her own sacrifice in mind. That''s what her role was in this battle. No, she believed that''s what it was, and she thought it was only natural. ''If a wandering bard were to turn this into a story, what would I become?'' There would be many fallen soldiers, but the victory of the battle belonged to their side. Would she be one of the dead in the sentence, "The fallen soldiers were many, but the victory was ours"? A storyteller skilled enough might have drawn a more detailed picture of the ranger unit''s achievements, but one thing was clear. Finn had accepted her death. Sacrifice was unavoidable, and someone had to take on that role, and this time was simply her turn. Having made this resolve, she recognized the inevitability of her situation. That was when it happened. ''Huh?'' Suddenly, she was left speechless. Finn blinked her eyes. If any attack had come, she would have reacted. Her training was ingrained in her body. But her mind was frozen. What was this? Something impossible had occurred within her understanding. Was it a dream? No, it wasn''t a dream. The pain from the wounds scattered across her body confirmed that she was in reality. The blade that had cut across her shoulder caused blood to stream down her arm, stinging and burning with sharp sensation. The sense of reality was undeniable. ''So, what was this?'' Naturally, her gaze turned to Jaxen. Her subordinates also looked the same way. At some point, the group of fairies they were fighting had disappeared, and in their place stood a lone, madman-like soldier. ''Reinforcements?'' It didn''t seem like just one person. But this didn''t make sense. They were on Pen-Hanil Mountains. To travel half a day''s distance at full speed would have caused a great disturbance. Monsters and beasts would have been following relentlessly, like chasing after someone suffering from paranoia. But it didn''t end there. The subtle malice that the fairies had been emitting had vanished entirely. If they hadn''t suddenly fallen in love with peace and love, or if they hadn''t reconciled and left quietly it was clear they were now meeting with the God of Death, having a chat. ''Did he kill all of them in such a short time?'' The very enemies that they struggled to handle? Finn didn''t even realize when it had happened. It wasn''t just the ability to kill the fairies¡ªthis quiet, efficient handling of everything was impossible to believe. It should have been loud, chaotic and messy. That was her calculation, based on her abilities. But this person, whether they had fallen from the sky or emerged from the earth, had suddenly appeared and quietly cleaned everything up. They appeared out of nowhere and swiftly cleared the area. Finn stopped swinging her sword, exhausted her limbs were trembling. If she had kept moving she wouldn''t have had time to think. But now that she wasn''t moving, her eyes started to absorbed visual information, and her mind began processing it. She felt a sense of cognitive dissonance. But Finn overcame it. A well-trained soldier always does their job, no matter the situation. If that wasn''t the case, how could they charge to the front line knowing they would likely die? After years of training, particularly the hellish training under Audin and Shinar, Finn''s mind accepted reality as it was, and she immediately deduced what was needed in this situation. ''So, is this bad?'' That couldn''t be right. "The enemy commander had a bow, and the fairies fought in an unfamiliar way. I believe this group is not all there is." Finn spoke the necessary words. Jaxen remained silent. He stood quietly, his breath so soft that it was barely audible even to her, his gaze fixed forward, but strangely it felt as though he was looking at her, even though from Finn''s position she could only see the back of his head. "I hope no one on our side dies." Enkrid had said, and Jaxen didn''t find it hard to accept that request. If it was impossible there was nothing that could be done, but they could at least try. If a small elite force could win without a full-scale battle, it would be possible. If they fought at the right time in the right way, they could minimize their side''s casualties. Calculating that way, it made sense. Of course, saying they wouldn''t lose a single person was probably a bit excessive. "It''s war, after all." Jaxen couldn''t help but respond with a retort to such an unrealistic goal. "Well, if it doesn''t work, it doesn''t work," Enkrid replied in a light tone. Though his voice was light, the determination behind it wasn''t. In other words, he wanted no one on their side to die in war. How absurd was that? And yet, he intended to make it happen. Even if it wasn''t him, Enkrid would still try to make it happen. There was resolve in his words. ''He''s always has been reckless, so it''s not surprising he''d come this far.'' For Enkrid, this would be no different. Jaxen however found it strange that he, an expert in killing would one day be the one trying to save others. But then again, hadn''t he already changed his mind when he had to modify Geogr''s dagger? "Can''t we just act like greedy bastards? Win without killing anyone? Why? Why can''t we do that?" This was something Enkrid had said before heading out. Teasing, Enkrid asked repeatedly, and Jaxen didn''t answer with words merely shaking his head. Deep inside he had already given his answer. "The mad-headed knight... what do you think? It seems like a fitting nickname." Rarely, the barbarian next to him said something he actually liked. At any rate, Jaxen was acting according to Enkrid''s wishes. He had killed the moonlight fairies that had been seen trailing them and was now searching for the archer who had disappeared as soon as Jaxen began his work. The enemy was good at hiding their presence¡ªno sound, no trace. Jaxen had purposefully revealed himself. He hadn''t done things like this before, but that didn''t mean he was sloppy. It was a new experience, but it wasn''t something he couldn''t handle. He had once used himself as bait to kill a target, but this was different. While all of this happened, Finn spoke up, and although Jaxen heard her, he didn''t react. He had already assessed the situation and made his own decisions. He wasn''t the type to fight recklessly or to rush blindly into battle. He was calm and deliberate, and that''s how he prepared for his next move. "Don''t move." Jaxen spoke again. Finn and the reconnaissance team held their breath. If necessary they could even stop breathing, but there was no need for that. The archer wasn''t a knight, but a tricky opponent. Jaxen had a strange feeling, as though he had encountered this archer before. ''Falcon''s claw?'' The name popped into Jaxen''s mind. When was it? Back when their captain had been kicked by that Frog in the battlefield? Could it be that archer? No, it seemed like someone higher up. His instincts told him. Jaxen didn''t know it, but the archer known as Falcon''s Claw had already met his end at Rem''s axe, crossing over the Black River long ago. The one hiding now was the master of Falcon''s Claw. Her blood was half fairy, half human. By activating the talent embedded in her blood and instincts, she had hidden herself. None of this was something Jaxen needed to know. No matter how it happened the opponent was hiding, and he just needed to find them. That''s how assassination works. All you had to do was stick a metal stick into a person''s body, but finding the target is the tricky part. Well, if the target were a Frog, one strike with a knife wouldn''t end it. They are a safety-first species who wear their armor on their heart even while sleeping. In fact, the Frogs are sensitive to the word "heart" from the start, so that''s normal for them. If it weren''t a Frog, what''s the most troublesome part of an assassination? It''s finding those who hide. Some would burrow like moles, and others would sleep in different rooms of their mansion every night. Geogr''s dagger were skilled in gathering intelligence, and there were times when he used the information to locate a target, but to Jaxen when such a situation occurred he would make up for the lack of information with his own abilities. He used the talent he had to do so, and once a former master who had once taught him said this: "Damn, that''s cheating." It wasn''t cheating, though. Cheating was something you say when you see someone like the captain. ''Endless Will?'' That''s what makes a fight unfair. Was it just Fel who was shocked when he saw Enkrid awakened? Jaxen was also stimulated by it. Because of this stimulation, he might have agreed to the unreasonable demand to save everyone on his side. ''Even if the sky turns its back on you and talent is nowhere to be found, one can still become a knight.'' "Why can''t I say that I won''t let a single one of my comrades die on the battlefield?" Enkrid''s words lingered in his ears. Small thoughts overlapped, and concepts merged to form will, and that is Will. To Jaxen, who had sensitive senses from a young age, Will was also something that could be felt. While the fairy Shinar discussed Will through vital energy, and Rem accepted it as part of his magical power, to Jaxen it was simply something he sensed. Just because it''s invisible doesn''t mean it''s not there. Jaxen visualized his senses and embedded his will within it. He shrank the large circle he had spread around him and deepened its color. Some used Will to cut through anything with a blade. Others moved Will to send invisible blades flying. Jaxen didn''t have such skills. Instead, his talent taught him how to put Will onto his five senses. The sharp leaves of a tree shading his head through the sunlight, the dark shade, a shadow lighter than the shade, the scent in the air, the direction of the wind. The five senses combined, opening the door to sixth sense Intuition. With Will layered over his sensory techniques, Jaxen could perceive everything within the visualized circle. The anxiety of his comrades behind him. The presence of an archer, who had already nocked an arrow on the bow atop a tree. *Thwip* Despite the distance, the sound of the string being pulled was heard first. Then, the arrow transformed into a beam of light and flew toward them. The arrow was aimed at Finn, not Jaxen. In the meantime, the archer had used his mind to target Finn hoping to exploit a gap in defense. Jaxen grabbed Finn''s wrist and pulled her to the side. With a thud, the arrow embedded itself in the dirt, and a nearby stone bounced away. The stone landed with a light thump on the ground, and Finn who was pulled away by Jaxen''s grip felt the force on her wrist vanish for a moment, which was when Jaxen disappeared again. Like smoke vanishing, he was outside of Finn''s field of perception. At the same time, the archer also lost track of Jaxen. Ateroz''s mother was a fairy, and her father was human. Her father had abandoned both Ateroz and her mother, but Ateroz was fortunately accepted by fairy society. Around that time, a transformation was needed in fairy society and she was fortunate enough to contribute to the formation of the Moonlight Fairy combat squad. After going through various experiences and gaining power, she set a goal. ''Let''s kill my father.'' Every man who recklessly spread his seed was her enemy. After killing her own father, she set an even greater goal. She would kill those who fathered bastards. To achieve this, she sought the power of Aspen and killed her father. In the process, she made several oaths and formed a combat squad with some of the Moonlight Fairies. When part of the fairy squad was attacked, Ateroz immediately hid and took up her bow. Then she shot an arrow at the woman who seemed to be the commander among the survivors. ''The gap.'' What she hoped for was a chance to see a terrifying monster suddenly appear. But no such thing appeared. When the arrow flew and missed its target, Ateroz hid her presence again. Since childhood, she had entrusted herself to the shade and shadows that had protected her, but now she felt the touch of a blade on her back. Instinctively, she tried to swing her bow to strike but the blade first sank deep between her shoulder blades. Her opponent was someone specialized in killing. Every death has a story. The hybrid fairy who had sided with Aspen also had a story. But death is the end. Thus, one of the hybrid fairy who had once been obsessed with killing the men who fathered bastards was now dead. It wasn''t the time for sentimental thoughts. ''Was she the bait?'' As soon as he killed the archer, Jaxen could feel a gaze directed at him. His senses told him that this wasn''t the end. Beyond that, he felt a presence similar to the hybrid fairy he had just killed. This presence was three times stronger than the previous opponents. Dozens of fairy sword fighters. ''She must''ve been the bait.'' By seeing their allies fall, the enemy had altered their tactics making the archer the bait. Jaxen revealed his position again to kill the archer and also demonstrated some of his abilities. He twisted his wrist and loosened his joints. Earlier, it had been a warm-up, but now he intended to use real strength. The fairy sword fighters didn''t rush in. Instead, they began to disperse into groups, which Jaxen recognized as a tactical formation. Even if the archer had been bait, who was it that made him into bait just now? The movements of the fairy sword fighters indicated that there was a proper commander among them. Jaxen recognized the existence of this commander and located their position, but he judged that charging in directly would be difficult. The fairy sword fighters formed a barrier in front of the commander. This meant that the time had truly come to show his full strength. The enemy had likely underestimated Jaxen as someone who just sneaks around and makes a few cuts. Naturally that was a misjudgment, a big misjudgment. ------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Many thanks to 47thdemigod for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 529 - Because Peace Lasted Too Long Chapter 529 - 529 - Because Peace Lasted Too Long Chapter 529 - Because Peace Lasted Too Long "The Moonlight Fairy Corps is quite a reliable force," remarked Barnas Hurrier abruptly. His adjutant turned his gaze toward him, curious about the sudden comment. "I was just thinking it''s a bit of a waste to use them like this," Barnas added, smacking his lips. The so-called ''final weapon of Aspen'' spoke casually, yet the undertone was clear. "Still, we managed to show the enemy scouts only what we wanted them to see." This implied that even the enemy''s movements were being manipulated as part of their plan. "Well, yeah. Even if it''s a shame, you use what you must. Hoard something for too long, and it becomes worthless." Barnas chuckled. Why was he bringing this up? The adjutant had no idea. As he stared blankly at Barnas, the man grinned twisting his largemouth upward, then casually struck a sharp-leafed branch blocking his path with the edge of his hand. The solid, living branch of the tree cracked sharply and broke. It was an incredible skill one the adjutant could never hope to mimic. He wasn''t even close to the level of a junior knight, so it wasn''t surprising. His talents lay not in physical strength but in commanding troops against unconventional forces. In essence, he was skilled in withstanding knights¡ªnot defeating or killing them, but surviving. Facing knights was akin to surviving a disaster, not truly countering it. "I hope they make it back alive," Barnas murmured again almost to himself. According to his calculations, the Moonlight Fairy Corps faced high odds of perishing¡ªeither clashing with the enemy or bypassing them only to engage with their knights. Even so, Barnas had sent them fully aware of this. The commander leading the Moonlight Fairies didn''t know this truth. After all, not everyone on the battlefield was driven by a sense of duty. The Moonlight Fairies, being closer to allies than subordinates, were treated with little regard for their value. The adjutant, carefully watching his step replied, "I don''t quite understand what you''re saying." Of course, they would survive. The Moonlight Fairy Corps wasn''t a mere scouting unit but a valuable military asset. If they were wiped out, it would be a significant loss for Aspen, not to mention damaging their relationship with the Moonlight Fairies, who had lent their aid. As he pondered, the adjutant trudged forward almost shoving the ground away with his steps. Traversing this untouched wilderness was arduous. While Naurillia had cleared away magical beasts to allow passage, the path was temporary and far from well-trodden. This wasn''t a path for hunters traveling through the Pen-Hanil Mountain Range. There were no small trails to follow, only the occasional signs of magical beasts or animals passing through. The terrain consisted of jagged rocks and steep slopes, draining their energy even before combat. The adjutant silently thanked the daylight. Even the best-trained troops would struggle to march these paths at night. A sprained ankle in such conditions wouldn''t just be inconvenient¡ªit could jeopardize the entire unit. Gradually, the rough terrain began to ease. The jagged stones and sharp inclines diminished signaling they were nearing their destination. "It''s just a thought," Barnas commented offhandedly, breaking the silence. The adjutant glanced at him. Barnas Hurrier was a man of contradictions¡ªsometimes cruel and heartless, but other times, strangely gentle. People, after all, couldn''t be defined by a single trait.Perspective mattered. Barnas Hurrier was such a man, and so was Abnaier. A benefactor to refugees, a supporter of orphanages for children who lost their parents to war and even a figure who respected monks and prayed devoutly. He would work tirelessly, sacrificing his health for the kingdom''s benefit. Yet for this war, Abnaier had devised a strategy that demanded victory built upon sacrifice. Aspen wasn''t moving with a small elite force alone. "Wasn''t this originally a force prepared to challenge the empire?" Barnas had dispatched Aspen''s knights¡ªthe kingdom''s core strength to where they were most needed. Now, only the adjutant, the commanding officer and a small fraction of their allied troops remained with him. "So I''ve heard," the adjutant replied flatly, devoid of emotion. Barnas clicked his tongue displeased but not enough to press further. Abnaier had outlined the plan and Barnas agreed to it. They would be sacrifices charging recklessly to inflict any wound on the enemy. How many knights would Naurillia send? Abnaier wanted an assured victory, and for that they prepared sheer numbers¡ªentire armies to accompany the knights. These forces would die and Barnas would carve the word ''victory'' over their deaths. This was Abnaier''s strategy. "Don''t you trust me?" Barnas suddenly asked. "I only hope you can ease my unease," the adjutant replied, shaking his head. The battlefield Abnaier envisioned promised a decisive victory. He had brought forth all the forces and prepared even before Aspen''s prior defeat at Green Pearl¡ªa hidden trump card meant for later conflicts. This time, no traps or schemes to weaken Enkrid existed. It would be a pure clash of strength. Abnaier''s stance was clear he would sap their strength before engaging head-on. This wasn''t an ordinary fight¡ªit was a gambit of fate, an audacious investment. Deceiving their own allies and sending them to die on the battlefield? It was madness¡ªa strategy most wouldn''t dare imagine, let alone execute. But Abnaier wasn''t just anyone. Heroes who earned praise and fools condemned for defeat were often separated by a razor''s edge. If victorious, no one would question his audacity. "Nice weather today," Barnas remarked, as if shaking off the heavy thoughts while reaching the destination Abnaier had chosen. Fifty heavily armored infantrymen stood ready, armed with solid steel spears. They busied themselves preparing for battle as Barnas casually ate dried meat and bread, ignoring the tension. Armor clinked as they geared up¡ªchainmail, plates and reinforced arming doublets secured with chain-reinforced joints. Could a knight endure if struck repeatedly by these soldiers empowered with Will? Barnas doubted it. He was confident he could fell one knight per strike if necessary, slicing through them with ease. But if a veteran wolf-beast knight suddenly attacked them from behind. "Wow, I''m pretty petty." Barnas muttered to himself with a grin. He didn''t see this as dishonorable. It was strategy, plain and simple and he embraced it with unshakable resolve. "Don''t you ever wonder why we fight like this?" Barnas asked, dragging the adjutant back into conversation. The adjutant wasn''t oblivious. He understood the events unfolding but lacked insight into just how coldly pragmatic Abnaier could be. Or perhaps he did and followed anyway. Barnas didn''t press further¡ªknowledge or ignorance changed nothing now. At the rear, their troops stood ready. For now, Barnas indulged his curiosity as the adjutant spoke, answering for his stubborn yet respected superior. "Because Border Guard grew too big." It sounded ridiculous, yet wasn''t entirely wrong. Of course, Border Guard was a city and had no voice to object though if anyone would dispute it, it would be Krais. While skirmishes persisted across the continent, large-scale wars had long been rare. Decades of peace or what passed for it had stretched on. In the meantime, nations like Naurillia had grown complacent, their internal divisions worsening. Count Molsan''s achievements had showcased the kingdom''s strength, but cracks were beginning to show. For decades, they prepared¡ªwaiting for the storm that would inevitably ignite the continent in flames. No one knew whether the beginning would be a demonic realm or some other country or perhaps nothing would happen at all. Nevertheless, preparations had been made. "The nations have stockpiled their power. By power, I mean..." "Right, I''m not the only one raising knights, am I?" Barnas served as an excellent listener, nodding in agreement. His adjutant also nodded, a helmet with a metal visor that could conceal his face hanging at his side. "Of course, the major southern nations and even Kairos and the Holy State, would have advanced to the center of the continent if Naurillia had fallen." That was the commander''s prediction. Neither Barnas nor the commander were prophets who could divine the future; they merely perceived the facts with clarity. And yet, Naurillia¡ªexpected to be ransacked, fragmented and ruined at the hands of Count Molsan¡ªhad turned the tables repeatedly. Its beginning was the Border Guard. Its finale, the Demon Slayer. They had displayed power without reservation, and through that, Naurillia birthed an exceptional king. Sure, there were schemes and meddling from other nations in between, but regardless Naurillia endured and survived it all. Those who had wished for Molsan''s success now placed their next move with regret. Had they remained idle, Border Guard would have taken Green Pearl as well and their momentum would have been lost. Thus, there was inevitably a weakened nation. Who else could it be but Aspen? It was only natural that Aspen acted now. Those who had fervently prayed¡ªwhether through spells, faith, or sheer will¡ªfor Naurillia''s downfall were still united in a single cause. As such, it was almost certain that the South would provoke their yearly conflicts again, ensuring that the Crimson Cloak Order couldn''t withdraw. Kairos, in the northwest of Naurillia would likely make similar moves, while the Holy State might lodge some protests as well. Some threats would be minor nuisances or mere verbal challenges, but even these were enough for Barnas to consider himself to have gained another advantage. ''Especially now that all their forces are exposed.'' The forces that Naurillia had supposedly kept hidden¡ªat least from an outsider''s perspective had proven their worth. Their capabilities were made clear through their achievements. Yes, they fought well. That much was obvious. But they had revealed themselves too clearly. From Aspen''s standpoint, their enemy lost their mystery while they themselves had learned much about their foe. This was why Aspen''s strategy shifted¡ªfrom gradual probing strikes meant to chip away to an all-out strategy. Admittedly, Aspen had been dealt a heavy blow and lost Green Pearl, which also played a role. Here''s the question: What happens after they crush Border Guard? Naurillia would then hastily dispatch the Crimson Cloak Order. By that time, Aspen would have claimed Green Pearl entirely, patting their full bellies in satisfaction. Struggles, wars, and chaos would follow. "We''ve been far too peaceful for too long." Barnas casually uttered a remark that would provoke curses from anyone who had lost family, friends or lovers to war. Still, from a continental perspective, he wasn''t entirely wrong. After all, the skirmishes between Aspen and the Border Guard weren''t considered large-scale wars. As they bantered and filled their bellies, a rustling sound of wind slicing through foliage arose from the opposite thicket. Leaves and twigs fell to the ground with a rustle, creating a gap in the forest. Light seeped through the opening penetrating the eyes of those watching. The light refracted through the lenses of their eyes allowing them to discern the figures before them. "Just the two of you?" Barnas asked upon noticing the newcomers. Their destination was clearly a battlefield. It wasn''t exactly an open area, but it was a space cleared enough for combat with trimmed vegetation creating a makeshift arena. Two figures entered. A fairy and a human. The human was a blond man wielding a black greatsword. His appearance seemed vaguely familiar. "It''s you, isn''t it? That crazed murderer?" The human turned his head slightly toward the fairy beside him. "Have you been killing indiscriminately?" "He''s not talking about me. He means you. How dense can you be? Deserved to be scorned by the barbarian." "Me?" Shinar ignored Ragna''s light jab and turned her gaze forward. Before them stood a middle-aged beastkin who resembled a dog. Beastkin youth was known to last a long time, so he might have been old rather than middle-aged. "An old mutt?" "Quick with your tongue, I see." Barnas dusted off his rear as he stood up retrieving his weapon and slipping it over his hand. Three sharp claws adorned the back of his hand attached to his wrist by straps and extending to elbow-length gauntlets. "I damaged my claws fighting as a child." Although he used to fight barehanded he had lost two fingers to Cypress of the Crimson Cloak Order ten years ago. Since then, Barnas had adopted the claw as his weapon of choice. Embarrassed by the switch Barnas muttered this explanation though no one present paid attention to his bashfulness. Not that it mattered. "Full squad, to arms!" Barnas''s adjutant shouted. The human and the fairy both snapped their heads forward, their gazes fixed firmly on Barnas. Their joking demeanor vanished replaced by sharp, unwavering stares. Before them stood a heavily armed enemy unit, their spears aimed skyward, led by a wolf beastkin who appeared to be a knight. "A knight, is it?" Barnas asked, thinking fortune was on his side. If there were only two here, the rest would be an easier fight. The crazed murderer gave no reply, raising his sword instead. Had this guy ever answered any of his questions from the beginning? No, he hadn''t. "This bastard." Barnas muttered with a grin, feeling the rising irritation that came with facing such a character. ------------------------------------ If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Many thanks to 47thdemigod for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 530 - Uncertainty and Conviction Chapter 530 - 530 - Uncertainty and Conviction Chapter 530 - Uncertainty and Conviction Barnas Hurrier, contrary to his savage appearance was a man capable of meticulous calculation. Though he might look like a dog salivating at the sight of a battlefield¡ªand being a wolf beastkin didn''t help with that impression, but inside he was a serpent keeper, harboring dozens of cunning snakes. When he saw the two knights standing against him, he swiftly made his calculations. "Victory is mine." Why such certainty? Because Barnas already had a rough estimate of the number of troops Naurillia would send into the Pen-Hanil Mountain Range. Even if every soldier who entered the mountains was a knight, the numbers worked in his favor.It wasn''t that hard to gauge their forces. His side commanded a fairy unit adept at navigating the terrain and they had already employed lures to test their enemies'' reactions. If their foes had blindly charged into the Pen-Hanil Mountain Range en masse, Barnas would have judged them to be led by a cowardly commander with few knights at their disposal. But the enemy had split their forces, almost as if they''d seen through his intent and two knights had been sent to this position. Still, Barnas was confident even if he had to face the pair alone. Why? Even if he had fifty heavily armored soldiers as a shield, wouldn''t he still outnumbered them in a one-versus-two situation? That perspective was naive. People who thought that way understood only half the equation. Barnas, alongside Abnaier had been relentless scattering bait through every diplomatic and political channel they could reach including the Ekkins family renowned for their administrative influence. They had scurried around like dogs to ensure that none of the knights from Naurillia''s Red Cloak Order would make it here. "Not all knights are equal." Those who saw all knights and thought that they were the same, were clueless. That was as absurd as believing all soldiers were identical. Even among knights, the gap between their abilities was vast. This disparity wasn''t visible to the untrained eye, but for someone who had reached the level of a knight, it was undeniable. The differences were apparent in judgment, spatial awareness and how they wielded their strength. This was why Barnas was confident¡ªso long as Cypress the strongest of the Red Cloak knights wasn''t among his opponents. Had another knight joined the two before him, Barnas still wouldn''t have been worried. Even if an equally skilled knight were added to the mix, Barnas would still have predicted his victory. In the end, only two knights had come. From that fact alone, Barnas could deduce the broader situation on the battlefield. "So, this is how the game is set up?" The battlefield was divided into three fronts, a strategy designed by Abnaier but executed by Barnas himself. Why three fronts? The obvious reason was to divide the enemy forces, but there was a deeper purpose: to maximize the performance of their own troops. "Knights aren''t suited for fighting in close formations." Barnas had learned this from experience. Knights didn''t become stronger when grouped together. More often, they got in each other''s way. Unless their enemies overwhelmed them with sheer numbers, it was better to deploy superior, smaller units. Cooperation among knights didn''t multiply their strength¡ªit often diminished it. "Of course, if they''ve trained together for years, that''s a different story." Like twin knights, for example. But that was rare. Most knights with overflowing talent were too busy honing their individual skills to waste time practicing joint techniques. The same was true for the eccentric junior knight under his command, who had openly declared his ambition to surpass Barnas within the next decade. Barnas didn''t see this as a flaw. Quite the opposite¡ªhe believed that fostering a competitive environment would continuously push his subordinates. He deliberately set up rivalries among those who had the potential to become knights. But Barnas always remained at the top, standing firm like an immovable pillar. This was how he trained his prote?ge?s. Given this dynamic, spreading his forces out was the optimal choice. Especially since Abnaier had allocated troops to wear down the enemy on other fronts. Full-scale battle? It wasn''t necessary. Barnas knew his other fronts would hold. "That guy won''t lose." Among his subordinates was a warrior who excelled in one-on-one combat, a man whose blade Barnas trusted second only to his own. Barnas considered every angle. What if the enemy abandoned one of the fronts or tried to retreat? "Oh, please do." If they lost control of just one front, this battle would be over. Even if the enemy forces converged and became a larger unit, it wouldn''t matter so long as that wasn''t happening here. The enemy wouldn''t abandon any of the three routes. Barnas knew this because he wouldn''t if he were them. Letting one path fall would expose their rear and while Barnas had ruled out a full-frontal clash losing their rear meant losing everything. "A strategist would never take their opponent''s words at face value." Barnas held one front. A vain subordinate and a newly rising knight held another. The third, led by a knight bound by a vow was supported by General Frog¡ªan adept commander who knew how to synchronize perfectly with a knight in combat. "That third front will be the toughest." But it didn''t matter. Barnas, moments before the battle muttered to himself. "This is going to be fun." *** "There will be many knights." Krais''s voice boomed with certainty. "I estimate there could be five. In such a battle, is it right to be so greedy? Even if luck is on our side and our numbers match theirs, how will we handle the other unpredictable factors?" Krais spoke with conviction, cutting off Enkrid just as he was about to express his ambition. His warning carried weight, emphasizing the potential dangers of their situation. Krais knew the inherent variability of knights, how some could far surpass others in strength and skill. Even among knights, not all were created equal. Enkrid knew this too not just through observation, but through personal experience. Through battles fought alongside Rem, Ragna, and Shinar. Against the Eastern King, the demon fragment of the Grey Forest, and Aker. Time and time again, he had pushed past his limits and grown. Victory was never a certainty in battle. That was the rule. "I see." Yet, Enkrid''s simple response was frustrating. Even with his wealth of experience he seemed unmoved by Krais'' argument. This left Krais deeply uneased. *** While Barnas calculated and Krais nervously shook his legs, elsewhere on the battlefield others destined to meet finally encountered each other. "Why do humans hate one another?" Rem listened to the brat blocking his way and scanned his surroundings, tilting his head from side to side. There were a lot. Through the dense undergrowth, a sinister killing intent pricked his skin. It was intimidating enough, though not strong enough to cause even a scratch. ''It''s not as bad as when Ayul gets mad.'' The one blocking the path was a knight of Aspen. The figure, resembling an indigo-maned beast kept his gaze down as he continued to speak, regardless of what Rem might be thinking. With melancholy eyes and a deep, composed voice, he seemed intent on appearing profound. His head tilted at an angle, chin raised just enough to aim his gaze toward the sky. Rem wondered, ''What the hell is this idiot looking at?'' Doesn''t it hurt his eyes? "That is likely the trial the world has given us," the knight declared. "And we must overcome it." Rem placed a hand on his axe handle and shifted his weight onto one leg. He felt like yawning but wasn''t particularly sleepy. After all, he had rushed here upon hearing Enkrid''s words, only to meet these clowns. To an outsider neither side seemed particularly eager to fight. "What about the ones hiding nearby?" Rem asked in his usual slouched posture. "The Swamp of Monter." The answer came from behind. There were two blocking Rem''s path and the second one standing in the rear behind the first knight, had crimson eyes like rubies embedded in his eye sockets. They didn''t look like ordinary human eyes. Pupil split vertically, they resembled those of a beast and the savage aura emanating from his entire body reinforced that impression. There was even the faint scent of sorcery. Rem was now certain thought back to his suspicions: there was someone in Aspen who was tampering with sorcery. Judging from its origin, it didn''t seem to follow the typical paths of Western sorcery but rather something branching into different territory. The unsettling mist of annihilation in the previous battle had hinted at it, and now this peculiar figure had appeared. Who could be responsible for such sorcery? Rem scratched his head with his thumb as he mused. ''The Madman of Immortality is dead.'' That guy was a brawler by nature, not one to delve deeply into sorcery. Yet he had claimed he would achieve immortality a pursuit as ridiculous as it was impossible. The strange aura surrounding this red-eyed fellow, however wasn''t likely a relic of that lunatic''s experiments. Then what was it? As the fool in front spewed poetic nonsense, Rem quickly sized up the situation and the enemy''s tricks. ''Possession?'' It was a type of sorcery that used the body as a medium. It resembled Rem''s own talents, but what would happen if someone without natural aptitude attempted such a thing? Beyond shaving years off their lifespan, they''d likely fall deathly ill after every use, that''s if they were lucky. No, there must be some sort of safeguard in place. The aura was more disciplined than expected. It wasn''t an undeveloped technique. They were using it while managing its side effects or drawbacks. The whole thing piqued Rem''s curiosity. The source and origin of that sorcery in particular. After all, he had a vested interest in the subject. ''Still, it''s more refined than that idiot Molsan''s crap.'' Compared to crafting knights through chimera research, this approach seemed far more sophisticated. That was as far as Rem''s assessment of the enemy''s strength went. The front man, pretending to recite poetry was a barking knight. The red-eyed one who had risen to knights through sorcery. And about a hundred bugs. Surrounding him was the Swamp of Monter, an assassination guild. If the Dagger of Geogr had a reputation spanning the entire continent, the Swamp of Monters was restricted to Aspen''s sphere of influence. Formed from assassins funded by Aspen''s king and nobles, they could be seen as illegitimate offspring of the monarchy. Neither naturally formed nor fully integrated into the kingdom''s forces, they remained a hybrid force. Like bastards being accepted into a household during dire circumstances, they had been absorbed into the kingdom and restructured over time. Each assassin was armed with poisoned daggers, darts, toxic sand, nets and grappling spears, all eyes trained on Rem with menacing gazes. Even without seeing them individually, Rem could feel their presence. Though assassins didn''t necessarily fight with emotionless precision, the tension in the air was palpable. But as usual Rem couldn''t care less. "I am sad, deeply sad. To think I must kill another chosen by the gods born with such talent." And the bastard in front of him was equally indifferent. It was clear from his arrogance that he was certain of victory, looking down on Rem and possibly high on something. His ramblings were annoying. When something annoyed Rem, he spoke his mind. "Have you been dining with ghouls? What the hell did you eat to mess yourself up like this?" Trained under Enkrid, Rem''s sharp tongue lashed out. -------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Many thanks to 47thdemigod for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 531 - Not All Knights Are the Same Chapter 531 - 531 - Not All Knights Are the Same Chapter 531 - Not All Knights Are the Same "...To kill or not to kill, that is the question." The man hesitated for a moment but then spoke again in the same tone as before. The poetic knight of Aspen had wavy, deep indigo hair, a high nose bridge, and deep-set eyes framed by slightly recessed cheekbones. Overall, he was reasonably handsome. Not as much as Enkrid or Krais of course. Regardless of his looks Rem decided to mock this idiot. "Huh? What did you say? Hard to hear a guy who''s been fooling around with ghouls." The term fooling around is typically used for animals mating and ghouls, being sexless creatures couldn''t engage in such acts. Even if they could no one in their right mind would do such a thing. Thus, this was a step beyond asking if someone''s mother was a ghoul a sharp jab meant to provoke. "What did you say?" "Quite the peculiar taste you''ve got there." "What nonsense are you spouting?" "Huh? Can''t hear me? What, got bad ears? Ghoul, fool, hooked up, ate each other, you freak." Rem kindly broke the words down syllable by syllable, and the man dumbfounded listened silently. ''What the hell did that lunatic barbarian just say?'' It didn''t take long for the words to travel from his ears to his brain. The man, confident in his appearance prided himself on his soulful eyes and poetic flair. It was all pretension. Rem''s words made veins bulge visibly on the forehead of the knight of Aspen''s Royal Knights Order, who aspired to be nicknamed the Poet-Knight. The veins were so thick and pronounced it was surprising they didn''t burst. His bare head, devoid of a helmet made them even more noticeable. "Do not be swayed by a madman''s words," a red-eyed figure said from knight''s rear. "Ohhh, he did get hooked up with ghouls, you say? Hooked up!" Rem, childishly sticking out his tongue, spat nonsense. The Aspen knight knew this was immature. He also knew he should ignore it. The problem was that the man taunting him radiated a presence that couldn''t be dismissed. Worse he seemed genuinely relaxed. Even as he stood surrounded by the assassins from Monter''s Swamp, he showed no tension even picking his nose. His words, demeanor and appearance none of it sat well with the knight. "You like that?" Rem chuckled, asking with a smirk. The indigo-haired knight decided then and there to tear apart this barbarian''s foul mouth with his own hands. "Your tongue is vile, barbarian." Had anyone ever treated him with such disdain before? Perhaps not. No one had ever mocked him this thoroughly, at least. This mockery awakened the devil within him or so he thought. The knight, a new recruit to Aspen''s elite order lacked true mental discipline. And why wouldn''t he? He had never once been outdone or left behind in his entire life. He was born with talent, honed it with effort and was supported by a favorable environment. The genius of the Ekkins family, Corwin Ekkins was his name. Corwin placed his hand on his sword. Ting! The blade shimmered as it caught the light. He had named his sword Fate. If spoken in full it meant Predestined Fate. "You, barbarian devoid of rhythm and romance. I shall claim your life." A natural-born genius, Corwin had the ability to glimpse the future from a young age. He could always see his opponent''s attack trajectory and predict their next move. Thus, his sword Fate, became the weapon that decided the destiny of his enemies. And since he had never lost a life-or-death battle, he had unshakable confidence in his blade and his skills. Corwin spoke once more as if reciting poetry, but Rem responded nonchalantly picking his ear. "Sure, go ahead you ghoul-loving freak. Give it a try." "...I told you not to engage him," the red-eyed figure added from behind. In terms of verbal sparring, Rem had already won. Corwin''s veins thickened further, his sword pointed forward emanating an imposing aura. As the tension built, Rem shrugged it off but the red-eyed man two steps behind Corwin suddenly dug his toes into the ground and kicked forward. Thud! A mound of dirt flew toward Rem with a loud noise. Rem lowered his chin, raised both arms and blocked the dirt. The motion was swift taking place in the span of a single breath. In that fleeting moment, one of the assassins from Monter''s Swamp fired a silent dart gun. The sound of earth scattering, the distraction of overwhelming pressure these were all calculated tactics. A nearly silent needle flew through the air toward Rem. With a casual wave of his left hand, Rem swatted it away. To the untrained eye, his hand seemed to move in a blur flicking up and down twice in rapid succession. Whoosh! A gust of wind followed and the needle veered off course and fell to the ground. At the same time, a net with attached weights fell toward Rem''s head and blades shot up from beneath his feet. The assassins from Monter''s Swamp thought they had spotted an opening in their target''s defenses. Of course, it was an intentional trap. Rem stood still for a moment, then suddenly grinned swinging an axe he had somehow drawn unnoticed. To Corwin Ekkins, all of this played out in slow motion burning into his mind. Thwack! The axe moved. Thwack-thwack-thwack! It moved continuously, demonstrating its purpose with every swing. Each motion drew a line in the air crushing the assassins like overripe fruits. Without even using the axe''s blade, he had smashed and pulverized their heads. Seven assassins who had charged him met the same fate skulls split, crushed, and shattered. The net too, was torn into six pieces mid-air. All of this happened in the span of a single exhalation. "...May your spirit dwell within me," murmured the red-eyed man as he began chanting a spell. It was a possession ritual, summoning the spirit of a high-ranking demon. His body trembled, drooled and transformed as the demon''s essence merged with his own. When his eyes opened again his entire aura had changed exuding a menacing presence. This was the forbidden art of embodying the spirit of a demon a practice feared even among sorcery. Meanwhile, Rem leaned casually on a nearby tree with one hand speaking nonchalantly. "The Big-Eyed guy who set up this ambush seemed pretty worried. I couldn''t figure out why, honestly. Looks like this is an easy fight for me." Even as he spoke, three more assassins lunged at him using the same tactics as before. This time, darts and poisoned sand rained down. Rem leapt aside, leaving the tree he had been leaning on. The tree now severed began to tilt and fall. The assassins hiding near or on the tree scattered like ants hit by raindrops. Rem briefly scanned the chaos, then kicked a rock into the air and smashed it with the flat side of his axe. Clang! By adjusting his strength at the moment of impact, the rock flew faster than an arrow, striking an assassin''s head and causing it to explode. Pop! Blood and brain matter sprayed in all directions. Rem, unaffected continued speaking resting his axe on his shoulder. "And the leader, you said you wouldn''t sacrifice your allies? Then just do it, right? What''s the point of talking? Just kill anyone who attacks. Simple, no?" The knights of Aspen briefly exchanged glances, then spread out to reposition. Their combat styles were different. But Corwin Ekkins'' Fate allowed him to foresee the future. Thus, Corwin could coordinate effortlessly with his allies even if he despised it. Rem watched them adjust their positions around him. The red-eyed man''s body briefly dissolved into red mist before reforming. This was the work of the demon he had summoned¡ªa vampire lord. But Rem, unfazed muttered to his axe still on his shoulder: "Are you feeling good today?" The question wasn''t directed at an enemy. It was my axe asking me that, echoing its own sentiments back to me. My Descending Weapon had just conveyed that it was in a good mood today, eager to play. Assassins regrouped, surrounding us in a formation. Having faced Jaxen before, Rem didn''t even find Monster''s swamp remotely impressive. Neither did the other two. Amateurs¡ªcripples, even. As Barnas Hurrier had confidently declared, not all knights are created equal. "Have you ever fought someone whose Will never runs dry?" Fel had been provoked, spewing nonsense about the air feeling different as Enkrid ascended to another level, consumed by madness. Jaxen, too seemed shaken stealing glances at Enkrid. And Rem was no exception. A knight was not the endgame. Enkrid communicated this with his actions and presence and it resonated deeply with Rem. "Do you know how hard I pushed myself, training like crazy all because of that guy?" As Rem spoke, he let his left hand hang loose. It was time to show his true combat style, something he''d never revealed to allies. His hand brushed against his waist, soon gripping the end of a thick leather strap. At the end of the strap was a leather pouch, just the right size to hold something in his palm. A sling. The strap was crafted from tiger sinew and twisted owlbear leather, all handmade. The pouch was reinforced with scales dismantled from a Drake''s armor, a modification that once made Krais smack his forehead. "Do you have any idea how much that''s worth?" "Should I care?" "No, just live in ignorance." Krais never intended to convince Rem. He spoke out of sheer exasperation, unable to let it go. Even if he were beaten within an inch of his life, Krais couldn''t have held his tongue. It was similar to how Enkrid couldn''t sleep a single night without training. Rem had scoured riverbanks collecting dozens of rounded stones and even had the blacksmith forge metal projectiles of a similar shape. The sling, now unwound, trailed down to Rem''s feet. Its length was absurdly long, but it suited him perfectly. In his right hand, the axe; in his left the sling. This was Rem''s ultimate combat form, the same he had used to kill the cannibal warrior long ago. "Man, it''s been ages since I used this. Consider yourselves honored, you ghoul-loving bastards." Rem sneered at his foes as he spoke. Corwin no longer reacted to his words. He discarded any pretense of pride or vanity. As an Aspen knight who had survived countless battles, his instincts whispered a terrifying truth. The gray-haired beast before him was more dangerous than anyone he''d ever faced. For a fleeting moment, Corwin even thought this opponent seemed greater than his master Barnas Hurrier. "Nonsense." He quickly dismissed the thought. Allowing an enemy to take root in his mind was the fastest path to defeat. A knight must sharpen the blade of their resolve. "I will win." Corwin reaffirmed his determination. Opposite to him, the red-eyed man coldly assessed the situation. He too recognized the need to fortify his resolve. Through sorcery that infused intent into his body, he had become a knight. Unconventional yes, but not dishonorable. Even Barnas Hurrier had acknowledged it. "Hmm? That''s an interesting technique. So what if people mock you for it? Why should you care? As long as you''re confident, that''s all that matters. Besides, in the end you''ll meet everyone on the same path¡ªit''s just a matter of method." With Aspen''s greatest knight validating him, the red-eyed man steeled his mind for the one he believed in. Hooong, hooong, hooong. Rem began spinning his sling. A circular blur soon formed above his head. Wheeeeeeee! The sound alone was enough to overwhelm the surroundings. Without hesitation, Rem extended his left arm and released the sling proving that the sound wasn''t just for show. Bang! The projectile struck an assassin''s skull, scattering blood and brain matter in a radial spray across the ground. The remains splattered against a large tree trunk nearby, leaving marks akin to smashed ripe tomatoes. The dead assassin and the tree stood more than ten paces apart. Whiiing, hooong, wheeeee! As soon as one projectile was launched, the sling spun again. "Next one''s coming." Without missing a beat, Rem prepared his second shot. Corwin, sensing the trajectory of the projectile activated his ability: a vision of fleeting futures. Seeing no point to remain passive, Corwin slashed through the air with his sword surging forward and bringing his blade down in a vertical arc. As the sword neared Rem''s back, an axe appeared deflecting the blade with a loud clang. At that moment, the red-eyed man descended from above, clawed fingers outstretched aiming for Rem''s head. But Rem''s axe wasn''t just for show; it batted away all ten of the incoming claws as well. Clang! Clang! Clang! Sparks flew and for a moment the air grew hot. Hooowooom! With a swift motion, Rem swung his axe and released his second sling projectile at an angle before it reached full speed. Ping! Bang! Another assassin fell, killed instantly. It was an unpredictable attack timing, momentarily freezing the group of assassins. "Attack all at once! Those who hesitate will face a punishment far worse than death!" The red-eyed man''s shout spurred the assassins back into action. Still, none of this registered as a threat to Rem. Even against two knights he felt no pressure. ''These guys are easier to deal with than that directionally-challenged idiot or the stray cat.'' More than anything, sparring with Enkrid was far more fun. That was Rem''s honest opinion. --------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Many thanks to 47thdemigod for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 532 - The Pressing Sword Chapter 532 - 532 - The Pressing Sword Chapter 532 - The Pressing Sword "Though I expected you''d amount to something big, are you really the Demon Slayer?" The speaker was Knight Jamal, a name even Barnas Hurrier wouldn''t easily overcome in a duel. Jamal, however had a history with the blue-eyed man with black hair standing before him. Once, under a pact with Abnaier, Jamal had tried and failed to strike down this man. That failure left a deep impression on him. How could it not? "It was heavy." Jamal''s blade had trembled as it parried the man''s blow which was far from light. That moment etched itself into Jamal''s memory. He hadn''t anticipated his opponent would withstand the strike. In fact, "unexpected" would be a better word for it. Even their brief exchange afterward left a mark. The man had spoken of honor, calling it a rare privilege to face a knight''s blade in battle. "Such a shame." Jamal muttered, clicking his tongue. There was a tinge of regret. Meeting under such circumstances dampened the memory of their encounter. "Do you know him?" The question came from General Frog, standing beside him. Jamal nodded lightly and Frog scrutinized the man closely. Certain faces stick in memory forever and Frog prided himself on remembering faces especially those of striking humans. "Ah, that''s where I know him from," Frog murmured. He recalled the man now a soldier killer. The one who had slain one of his men in a battlefield skirmish where Frog had intervened for sport but failed to kill his target. And this man turned out to be the Demon Slayer? Frog, too possessed a knack for appraising potential. Back then, this one hadn''t even seemed noteworthy compared to the gray-haired ax wielder whom Frog found far more threatening. Frog had withdrawn from that field, unable to guarantee victory. He remembered now kicking this man aside, certain he would die in battle sooner rather than later. But here he was not only surviving Jamal''s blade but now was also Aspen''s most dangerous enemy. "Something doesn''t add up." Frog muttered, raising three stubby white-tipped fingers. Some Frogs might attempt artistry with such fingers pursuing impossible dreams but Frog had mastered his practical talents. As a frontline commander, he hadn''t reached a knight''s rank but was recognized as a sub-knight capable of leading troops effectively. At his signal, the soldiers around him moved. Twenty crossbows were aimed forming a half-circle around Enkrid each bolt loaded and ready. It was a sight to behold: twenty crossbows targeting a single man who stood there seemingly unfazed. The scene played out in an artificial clearing, carved from the forest of the Pen-Hanil mountains. Frog had orchestrated this advantage clearing the terrain to fight on favorable ground. The enemy wouldn''t have seen it coming. The general had scouted tirelessly, sending patrols in teams of five to survey the surroundings. His conclusion: "Their commander is an idiot." The jab, of course was directed at Krais. Enkrid stood alone his right hand resting on his waist, his left hanging loosely. He glanced around casually. "You''re serious about this?" he asked suddenly. "Serious? What kind of question is that for a battlefield?" Frog replied smoothly, skilled in psychological warfare. Meanwhile, two more squads moved behind Enkrid assembling long spears to aim at him. Now, twenty crossbows faced him from the front, twenty spears from the rear and twenty soldiers with swords and shields held the front line. Each was a well-trained soldier personally prepared by Frog himself. Teeth were gritted audibly as some soldiers clenched their jaws. This was a perilous operation yet they volunteered for it driven by hatred¡ªhatred for Enkrid the man from Border Guard. "I am Enkrid of Border Guard," the man introduced himself. "We know," Frog answered, placing his hands on the two loop swords at his waist. Thick-bladed, heavy weapons¡ªthey were his weapons of choice. "Are you really serious?" Enkrid asked again. "Is pointless chatter your specialty? Or are you scared? If so, I understand." Frog replied, his calm voice exuding confidence. A leader assured of victory. He knew his tone would bolster his troops'' morale. "Fire!" he commanded. The twenty crossbowmen made as if to release their bolts, but Enkrid remained unmoved. "Really?" he asked again, this time almost mockingly. "That bastard," one soldier growled through gritted teeth. But the crossbows didn''t fire. Instead, the twenty spearmen behind Enkrid lunged. Their thrusts were unnervingly fast, precise and lethal. This was a hallmark of Frog''s rigorous training regimen. Frog anticipated that Enkrid would dodge sideways. Predicting this, the crossbowmen adjusted their aim in advance. When facing a knight-level opponent reacting too late spelled death. But Enkrid didn''t dodge. Instead, he swung his sword downward pressing against three spear shafts at once. It was not a swift movement, but a crushing on as though a massive boulder had slammed into them. The sheer weight of the strike drove the spearheads into the ground, while Enkrid deflected others with a leather wrist guard or sidestepped their trajectories. It was a display of mastery reading every attack and responding with overwhelming power and precision. Not a single soldier died, but three spearmen collapsed trembling from the shock. Frog''s cheeks puffed out in frustration. Even the spear shafts Enkrid struck had not shattered merely driven into the earth. Yet, the men who held them were quaking on their knees. "Ha." Jamal let out a sound of pure admiration as he witnessed the scene. Among those present, only he grasped what had just occurred. "Again!" General Frog shouted, though the command was for a different formation this time. "Waaaaaah!" A group of soldiers armed with swords and shields charged forward with loud cries, while crossbowmen split to the sides firing their bolts. Thududududung! Neither Abnaier, nor Barnas Hurrier, nor General Frog expected their current forces to defeat a knight or even inflict serious harm. The strategy was merely to scratch, distract or cause some minor inconvenience enough to tip the scales in favor of their allied knights. These soldiers were effectively sacrificial pawns. But they hadn''t anticipated this level of futility. ''Was I arrogant?'' thought Frog. What is a knight? A calamity. The man before them embodied that truth. He brought his sword down three times, each stroke carving an afterimage into the air. Though his movements appeared slower than the arrows that flew toward him, every one of those arrows fell harmlessly to the ground. Clink, clatter. The sound echoed as the arrows broke or bounced away. "How...?" the frog general muttered, unable to comprehend the sheer impossibility of it all. When the spear phalanx made its move, Enkrid countered with another downward strike of his sword snapping four spear shafts cleanly in two. The sturdy shafts, crafted from heavily treated birch wood broke like brittle reeds. The jagged edges resembled the fangs of a wild beast. With a casual swing, Enkrid swept the splintered remains aside as another volley of bolts came for him. He brought his blade down once more scattering them like dust. Then came the squad of desperate soldiers armed with swords and shields their faces contorted with grim resolve. Their clenched jaws visible beneath their helmets betrayed their desperation. These men were prepared to die if it meant so much as tearing the hem of their enemy''s clothes or at the very least forcing him to expend his secondary weapons. Yet Enkrid''s sword fell upon them. The soldiers in its path raised their shields, as if the swing had been slow enough to meet them on their terms. The result was the same as before a crushing blow that broke through shields, sent blood spraying from arms and left many soldiers staggering to the ground unable to recover from the sheer force of the impact. "Urk!" "Ugh!" The unfortunate few whose arms snapped under the blow screamed in pain. "A crushing sword?" Jamal murmured to himself. Enkrid nodded, acknowledging the observation. "Ha!" Jamal let out another cry of admiration. This confirmed everything he had suspected. The young man he once knew hadn''t just become a knight¡ªhe had returned as someone far greater. "You''ve become an interesting one." If Enkrid had been a rookie knight drunk on his sense of omnipotence, perhaps the reckless tactics employed by the sacrificial units might have worked. Even a single scratch would have been advantageous. A well-trained unit, after all was intimidating by mere presence. The physical toll of a prolonged battle could leave even a victorious knight vulnerable to a final bolt fired at an exhausted opponent. But Enkrid was no ordinary knight. Though newly appointed, he carried the experience and cunning of a seasoned warrior. He responded to provocations not with words but with decisive actions. From the start Enkrid had dismissed General Frog''s provocation as insignificant. As evidence General Frog had swung his two heavy looped swords at Enkrid, but he had shattered Frog''s twin swords with a single strike and kicked him aside. The sacrificial charges, spear thrusts and relentless volleys of crossbow bolts were meaningless. They were fighting a true force of nature, a disaster¡ªa Knight. "Good. Very good," Jamal muttered aloud, unable to contain his excitement. There was something about Enkrid that stirred the blood. The crushing sword a technique Jamal remembered vividly. Years ago, he had asked Enkrid how he had managed to block his attack. "A crushing sword," had been the answer. It was now clear why Enkrid had chosen to face the entire formation on his own. He was calling out to him. Jamal resolved himself and stepped forward. The refined Will emanating from him weighed heavily upon the battlefield pressing down on Enkrid. Yet Enkrid rejected the pressure as naturally as he breathed. "I never liked Abnaier''s methods," Jamal said. In a knight''s duel, there are things more important than victory principles and honor. Why should a knight bear even the slightest shame to his honor? The purity of their resolve is what gives their strength its true form. "Sir Jamal?" General Frog called, retrieving his broken sword. "Step back. If you stay too close, and you''ll die," Jamal warned his gaze fixed on Enkrid. At last, Enkrid gave a faint smile. Recognition flashed in his eyes as he regarded his opponent. Memories surfaced¡ªof battles fought, of comrades lost. The image of Ragna, slain by his blade burned brightly in his mind. "Are you ready to die?" Enkrid asked. "Ha, arrogant brat." Jamal smirked. Both men grinned, their mutual anticipation palpable. Was this a contest of equals? Perhaps not. Jamal, a knight of many years was polished and well-versed in his craft. By all accounts, he should triumph. Yet Enkrid had long abandoned thoughts of victory or defeat. The sheer exhilaration coursing through him was enough to ignite his very being. "Fun, isn''t it?" Enkrid asked, his voice carrying the manic edge of a man fully immersed in the thrill of battle. Jamal, too had once burned with that wild fervor. Now, faced with Enkrid''s raw, unrestrained energy he felt that fire rekindle within him. "It will be," Jamal replied firmly. In an instant, the space between them collapsed as their swords met. Whoom! Jamal swung his vibrating blade in a wide arc. Enkrid intercepted the strike with his gladius, the two swords clashing with a resounding metallic clang. Sparks flew as the two warriors traded a single strike, crossed paths and turned to face each other once more. "Not bad," Jamal remarked, unfazed despite his opening strike being deflected. Of course, this was not his true specialty. -------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Many thanks to 47thdemigod for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 533 - Plunder Chapter 533 - 533 - Plunder Chapter 533 - Plunder Knight Jamal wielded his Will, making the sword in his right hand hum. Wooong! The sword vibrated again, resonating with intensity. Enkrid saw the trembling blade create afterimages. It seemed as if the sword had multiplied into dozens, perhaps hundreds of blades, resembling the rapid wingbeats of a bee. Unless that sword was a chatterbox like Aker, this had to be Knight Jamal''s swordsmanship. "Try taking this one." Jamal swung his sword. There was no sound of his feet striking the ground nor the blade cutting through the air. When a knight at his level swung a sword with intent it moved beyond ordinary perception. The speed surpassing limits, silenced even the sound. This phenomenon was called the moment sound dies, a term coined by a bard attempting to describe it. In reality, it was nothing more than a sword swung faster than sound. To the average person, the motion seemed to mismatch the sound entirely. But for those who dwelled in this realm within the space where sound itself died¡ªit was all the same. Using foresight, Enkrid anticipated Jamal''s attack a step ahead, yet simultaneously realized it was nearly impossible to evade. The trajectory was difficult to avoid. No, it was a strike aimed not to be dodged but to demand a block. It seemed like a move to settle the duel in a single blow rather than through successive strikes. Dodging would concede the initiative to his opponent. Enkrid decided to intercept the incoming trajectory, pouring all his strength into an upward slash. "Deflect it." The moment his Will took form, it solidified into a weighty force coursing strength through his legs, abdomen and then right arm. The Heart of the Beast naturally came into play. Boom! The clash of their weapons produced a thunderous explosion. This time neither moved past the other. Their blades struck and both were forced two steps back. "You''re crude," Jamal remarked. Enkrid responded with a slight tilt of his chin, signaling you''re cruder. Wooong. Jamal''s sword continued to hum, the vibrations creating consistent waves which in turn enhanced the power within his strikes. Knights harnessed Will to exceed the limits of physical strength. With waves incorporated into his strikes, Jamal''s blade could cleave even refined steel effortlessly. That was the nature of the strength imbued in Jamal''s sword. On the other hand, Enkrid had blocked purely with brute force. The Isolation technique had tempered his body like never before, while the Heart of the Beast amplified the strength within it. This ensured that the force of their clashing blows was nearly equal. That was why Jamal had called him crude. Though Jamal employed technique, his opponent seemed to rely entirely on raw Will, like a blunt instrument. Was it wasteful recklessness? Or was it simply overwhelming natural strength? "Taking on waves with sheer force?" As Jamal observed, Enkrid switched his sword to his other hand and shook his right hand to disperse the impact. Seeing this, Jamal immediately thrust his sword forward. Though his tone was casual, the stabbing motion streaked toward Enkrid''s heart like a bolt of light. Blocking a slash with raw power was one thing, but how would he handle a precise thrust? Ting!Tatatatatatatatata! Enkrid deflected the thrusts with his sword, parrying each one. But he didn''t just stop there. As he deflected his sword twisted and flew toward Jamal''s neck like a noose. Jamal leaned backward pulling his extended sword back while bending at the waist. The blade narrowly skimmed his chin too fast for even a drop of blood to spill. The sword, now aimed downward fell toward his abdomen. Jamal, still bending backward pulled his weapon with greater force. The length of Jamal''s weapon gave him an advantage. He judged that instead of retreating a slash would give him the upper hand. The instantaneous decision was effective. Enkrid had to hurl himself sideways to avoid exposing his neck while dodging the thrust aimed at his abdomen. Whoosh! Jamal''s sword sliced through the air where Enkrid had been moments ago. By then, Enkrid had already shifted a step and a half to the side. Jamal quickly regained his stance and smiled. "So you''re not just about brute strength, huh?" Realizing his opponent''s skills were formidable Jamal felt a flicker of envy. How many years had it been since he became a knight? The man standing before him, who had survived his sword had only recently reached the level of a knight¡ªbarely a year, if even that. Yet both his strength and technique were comparable to Jamal''s. Would Cowin despair if he saw this? That guy had always been intoxicated by his own talent since childhood. His arrogance and enjoyment of that talent were also part of his genius. But judging by raw talent alone the man before Jamal seemed equally exceptional. A refined blade, Enkrid resembled a sword forged through countless strikes of the hammer, molded and tempered with relentless effort. Satisfied with talent alone, or carving a path through sheer effort? Jamal was mistaken, though it wasn''t his fault. It wasn''t mere effort; Enkrid had broken through limitations again and again. But Jamal couldn''t have known that. Having reached the level of a knight, who would dare question Enkrid''s potential now? Mistake or not, the reality remained unchanged. Jamal raised his blade once more scrutinizing his opponent. Waves won''t work, huh? Then what should he try next? Jamal transitioned to his next move. Though he excelled at waves, it wasn''t his specialty. No matter who his opponent was, Jamal never revealed his full hand immediately. He enjoyed unveiling his techniques one by one. Barnas disliked this aspect of Jamal''s personality, yet this approach aligned perfectly with Jamal''s abilities. Thus, this was Jamal''s best effort. The next move was Orthodox Blade Techniques. And in this situation, Jamal felt exhilarated. How long had it been since he experienced such a thrill? From the moment he first picked up a sword, there were few who could rival him. The first time he truly felt his life was in danger was when he faced the monster known as Barnas Hurrier. That man was, in every sense, a beast. Since then, few opponents had managed to give Jamal even a fraction of that tension. In recent years, such moments had become rare. Knights weren''t free to roam as they pleased, meaning opportunities to face enemies in combat were limited. And now, of all things the opponent giving him this long-forgotten sense of exhilaration was a fellow knight. Jamal outwardly expressed his delight, while Enkrid¡ªthe source of his excitement remained calm, his face unreadable. "I''ll be serious now," Jamal said. With that, he swung his sword once more. It was a straightforward, honest attack devoid of the hesitation of a novice. The speed was relentless, leaving no time to think. Fast, and then even faster. The moment Enkrid perceived the motion of Jamal''s blade, he was forced to react. When Jamal''s sword abandoned its subtle tremors for sheer speed, it moved like a streak of light. Enkrid responded. He had no choice¡ªfailure to react meant death. When Jamal''s blade surged upward and descended, Enkrid parried the strike twisting his sword into a counter-thrust. Jamal evaded, retaliating with a horizontal slash. Clang! Ting! Clatter! Sparks flew between the two, the air between them ablaze. Anyone capable of following the fight could see that it was impossible to determine who held the upper hand. Jamal appeared to falter at times but always extended his blade. Stabbing and slashing he made sure their swords collided repeatedly. Even the trajectory and speed of Jamal''s sword, far beyond the threat posed by the ghouls in the gray forest were harrowing. A blade no ordinary swordsman could hope to evade. Countless strikes rained down on Enkrid, but he received them all. Gradually, as Enkrid adapted to Jamal''s speed he began to mix his defense with counterattacks. It was then that Jamal spoke. "I''ll tell you my specialty." Catching his breath, he continued. "It''s better for you to know and die than to look at me with those resentful, clueless eyes." Clang! Their swords collided again, sparks flying in brilliant bursts of blue and red illuminating the space between them. A searing heat pushed against the sunlight, and the Will coursing between them became an invisible force repelling their surroundings. The soldiers watching were awestruck, their mouths agape. One unlucky onlooker was struck by a pebble flung by the combat''s ferocity crying out in pain. From an outsider''s perspective, it was as if a storm had erupted between the two combatants. None could discern how the blades moved or in what way they collided¡ªit was beyond comprehension. Amidst it all, Jamal''s voice rang out. "The name of my sword is Plunder." Jamal''s engraved weapon lacked the overwhelming strength of Oara''s blade or the featherlight swiftness of another''s. It was a long sword, unremarkable in appearance. However, the Will imbued within it absorbed and dispersed the Will of his opponents. In essence: "With Plunder, I don''t tire." When one grasps Will and ascends to knighthood, the first lesson is understanding one''s limits. Jamal had learned and pondered those limits, eventually arriving at a single question: ''What if I could take from others?'' The reason for this ability''s manifestation? Perhaps it stemmed from a life spent taking what belonged to others. Jamal had stolen his sibling''s position, usurped his father''s house and claimed ownership of a noble family despite being born an illegitimate child. Had he misstepped, he might have been nothing more than a skilled bandit with a knife. But he had become a knight accustomed to a life of taking. That was Jamal. At its core, Plunder wasn''t a weapon designed to absorb Will entirely; it scattered it instead. The Will taken from his opponent didn''t become his own¡ªWill didn''t function that way. But it gave the illusion of doing so. Wave Sword techniques, orthodox forms and blinding speed¡ªall of it was a means to this end. Clashing with his blade drained his opponent. For every unit of Will his enemy expended, they would need three to match his. ''How long can you endure?'' Jamal grinned confidently. Enkrid, however hadn''t been listening to Jamal''s words for a while now. He had taken the insights gained from his consciousness world with Aker and embedded them into his physical training, turning knowledge into instinct. Now, he simply unleashed it all in real combat repeatedly showing what he had learned. Why? ''This is maddening.'' It was exhilarating. A type of excitement Enkrid had never felt before. That joy set his spirit ablaze. -------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Many thanks to 47thdemigod for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 534 - Walking the Path Without Walls Chapter 534 - 534 - Walking the Path Without Walls Chapter 534 - Walking the Path Without Walls Jamal judged time to be on his side. He saw no need to exhaust himself by swinging his sword with full force. His engraved weapon, Plunder would steadily drain the strength of his opponent. The first time this happened to anyone, their expression always changed dramatically. At first, they wouldn''t notice anything. Plunder worked like a mouse gnawing away at cheese, bit by bit. Then, at some point their legs would give out all at once. That was the moment their face would turn pale. Watching that expression wasn''t a source of joy for Jamal, but he couldn''t deny the satisfaction. After all seeing that face meant victory was at hand and it was only natural to feel relief mingled with a tinge of delight. And when the opponent was strong enough to send chills down his spine and make his heart race, yet the battle''s outcome was already set in his favor. How could that not be thrilling? "Now, it begins." Jamal muttered, preparing himself while explaining his weapon Plunder. It was obvious. Once the opponent realized their strength was waning they would have only one choice: Kill before being drained. Moreover, Jamal wasn''t alone. Around him were soldiers armed with crossbows and a Frog who was as skilled as a squire. The burden of the fight wouldn''t fall solely on Jamal. In anticipation, Jamal adopted a defensive stance gripping his sword tightly and preparing to hurl the shortsword at his waist if an opportunity presented itself. His strategy was simple: endure the opponent''s fierce attacks without giving them room to breathe, pushing them further into desperation. The harder they pushed themselves, the faster they would reach the limits of their Will. They would feel their strength wane much earlier than they expected. Fierce attacks required greater Will, making it inevitable. Even explaining his weapon Plunder, had been part of the strategy. Jamal had deliberately poisoned his opponent''s mind with the urgency of despair. He lowered his center of gravity, planting his feet firmly on the ground and raised his sword. From within his armor he activated a palm-sized scroll, a protection spell that would block a single attack that is strong enough to reach his armor. There was no harm in being cautious. Jamal employed every resource he had doing what his survival instincts had taught him over the years. In his mind''s eye, he imagined shackles binding his opponent''s feet growing heavier and heavier until lifting a foot from the ground would become unbearable. Fully prepared, he moved forward but the situation that unfolded was far from his expectations. Enkrid didn''t unleash a furious assault. His swordplay, compared to moments earlier had slowed significantly. His strikes were deliberate, descending straight from above in a controlled arc. While the speed had lessened the oppressive aura around his sword made the air thick and stifling, crushing Jamal from all sides. "What''s he playing at?" Jamal used his Will to shake off the oppressive force and deflected Enkrid''s descending blade with a smooth motion of his own sword, avoiding any sparks from the collision. Ring! It was a graceful deflection, a masterful use of the flowing sword technique. This was Jamal''s ultimate weapon¡ªredirecting an opponent''s frenzied strikes. The technique caused his opponents to gradually fall victim to Plunder, crumbling under the poison of desperation. It was both his greatest tactic and his most effective weapon. Even Barnas had considered him a troublesome opponent for this reason. "To defeat you, it''s absolutely necessary to end it quickly," Barnas had once grumbled. Failing to achieve a quick victory meant their strength would be drained. And Jamal''s flowing sword technique was exceptional, even among knights. Combined with his variety of defensive tools, like the scroll. Jamal''s defenses were practically impenetrable. If needed, he could even throw daggers or circle his opponent endlessly to buy time. He was fast on his feet, knew assassin-like tactics and exploited his opponent''s impatience. But this... this was different. "What the hell is this guy?" Jamal didn''t show it outwardly, but he was deeply perturbed. Enkrid wasn''t panicking, gasping for air or showing any signs of distress. Since earlier, he had been striking with an unchanging expression. His only noticeable change? "His face?" It wasn''t exactly a smile, but to Jamal, Enkrid seemed utterly focused almost as if enjoying himself. Upon closer observation, it became undeniable. "What''s so enjoyable?" It reminded Jamal of a boy wielding a real sword for the first time completely absorbed in play. Watching that face made the thrill Jamal felt earlier seem petty and hollow. Though his victory seemed certain, Jamal couldn''t help but feel his elation cheapened in contrast to Enkrid''s pure enjoyment of the moment. The thought angered him. "Are you insane!?" Jamal roared, swinging his sword furiously. His weapon Plunder, collided once more with Enkrid''s Valerian steel blade. Bang! The sound was quieter than before. The air didn''t tremble, nor did it split with violent force. Instead, Enkrid''s sword faintly glowing blue, moved like a snake, coiling around Plunder and slipping through Jamal''s defenses to pierce his shoulder. Thunk. Realizing he had been struck, Jamal quickly retreated. The wound wasn''t deep¡ªjust a shallow stab to his shoulder blade and skin but the sense of defeat stung deeply. "Damn it." Jamal knew he had fallen for a psychological trick. Enkrid had seized the upper hand in that moment and Jamal had shown an opening. Though the wound was minor, it was a symbolic loss that tipped the scales against him. Bracing himself for Enkrid to press the attack, Jamal was again surprised. Enkrid didn''t rush forward. Instead, he slashed at the air a few times before calmly sheathing his sword and drawing another weapon a sharp, needle-like blade. From a gladius to Valerian steel, and now to a fairy-forged blade called Spark. Holding Spark in front of his face, Enkrid thrust it forward with a motion faster than sound. Jamal reacted with superhuman reflexes. For even with all his faults, he was still a knight. He twisted Plunder upward to block, all the while retrieving a wide, defensive shortsword imbued with magic from his back. It resembled a cooking pan, broad and flat but in the hands of a knight, it was a shield fortified by enchantments. Jamal was determined to endure. And endure he did, as Spark struck Pillage delivering a rapid barrage of precise and relentless thrusts. The assault demanded all of Jamal''s concentration. His flowing sword technique, designed to conserve his Will, was now being pushed to its limits just to fend off Enkrid''s relentless attack. The fight escalated into a storm. Bang! Clang! Clang! Their clash sent shockwaves through the air, splitting it apart and creating unnatural currents that radiated outward. The ground cracked, trees splintered and rocks shattered as the battle raged on. "Fall back!" The Frog general barked the order with wisdom born of experience. Staying too close to the duel meant courting death. At this point, survival required retreat. He didn''t even entertain the thought of firing a bolt from his crossbow to intervene. What would he aim at to shoot? Should he trust his luck and shoot blindly? And what if it hit an ally''s back? Honestly, neither option seemed likely to succeed. As the soldier retreated at Frog''s command, the two combatants'' weapons clashed relentlessly, colliding and probing each other''s bodies. Amidst the sharp sounds of repeated strikes, a resounding metallic clang! echoed, followed by a deafening explosion. Fragments flew over the soldiers'' heads along with the explosion¡ªpieces of armor. No matter how Frog looked at it, those fragments didn''t seem to belong to the enemy. Enkrid showcased his Gladius with overwhelming pressure, then utilized Spark for quick thrusts and concentrated strikes. He also demonstrated techniques emphasizing force and suppression using his Valerian steel sword. That wasn''t all. He gripped the blade and swung the sword like a bludgeon, incorporating unorthodox moves. Additionally, he introduced the Valen Mercenary Sword Techniques. Mixing in irregular breathing, he sowed confusion in his opponent''s rhythm and revealed the feint technique known as Deceptive Breath. Feigning exhaustion caused Jamal''s eyes to glimmer momentarily. Enkrid spotted it, immediately returning his breathing to normal. Jamal''s eyes widened, filled with wild confusion. His gaze conveyed what words could not: "You bastard!" With no time to speak, Jamal busied himself blocking the flurry of attacks. Enkrid intensified the pressure by wielding the Valen Mercenary Sword Triad Style. Feigning with Spark in hand, he suddenly dropped the sword hurling a Whistle Dagger instead. Jamal flinched in surprise, twisting his body like a startled worm. Enkrid followed this by throwing a second Whistle Dagger at Jamal''s waist. The knife-throwing technique he learned from Jaxen exploded into action. Whizz! Just before the dagger could strike Jamal''s waist, a sudden flash of light burst forth deflecting it away. A protective spell imbued in a scroll had done its job. This fact remained unknown to Enkrid and he had no need to know. He was simply reveling in the moment. Enkrid unleashed additional techniques, such as Shadow Thrust and Double Draw. Thud! Clang! Jamal managed to block the Double Draw, but he noticed that Enkrid now held a sword in each hand. It was the Valen Mercenary Sword Dual Rhythm. The two blades moved with different tempos and patterns. The Valerian steel sword in Enkrid''s right hand bore down heavily, employing slow, deliberate strokes. Meanwhile, Spark in his left hand darted forward with swift, piercing thrusts. Jamal, holding his breath blocked blow after blow with his makeshift shield¡ªa sword. "I''m losing ground." Jamal realized this grim truth. Meanwhile, Enkrid was still enjoying himself. Why wouldn''t he? "Everything is going as I planned." Every strike, every move, every insight born of his honed instincts¡ªit all aligned perfectly. His opponent could do nothing but defend, every reaction falling within Enkrid''s expectations. There was no reason for his hands and feet to falter when everything unfolded as envisioned. This was a first for him. In the world of swordsmanship Enkrid had experienced stumbling, falling and clawing forward were the norm. The swords he learned and trained with were forged in the crucible of suffering and relentless progress, no matter the odds. But this time, it was different. Everything he''d learned and practiced flowed effortlessly, every move executed as he initially intended. For the first time in his life, Enkrid walked a path unblocked by walls. A path free of brambles. A path unscorched by the blazing sun. A path unassailed by biting winds. How could he not enjoy this? As a knight, Jamal was not a master of any single art. Rather, he possessed a broad but shallow grasp of techniques making him a perfect sparring partner. Unleashing all he had learned, Enkrid lost himself in the moment wholly immersed. Starting from what he''d gained in the ritual world created by Aker, he reversed through his experiences one by one, leaving wounds on Jamal''s body. Jamal''s armor fractured and burst under the strikes he couldn''t block. Amidst the storm of pressure the two created, fragments of Jamal''s armor scattered outward. The blade he used as a makeshift shield chipped at the edge, cracks forming along Stronghold. These cracks symbolized the faltering of Jamal''s resolve. "You damn monster... why don''t you ever run dry?" For Jamal, this was an unprecedented experience. His voice brimmed with frustration. "An unyielding Will?" Wasn''t that the stuff of legends? Yet, the man before him embodied that very legend. Enkrid used his Will relentlessly. Even when Plunder drained it, his reserves remained unexhausted. It was as if he''d only just begun¡ªno, he seemed even more invigorated. Jamal foresaw the end. Enkrid saw it too. Both had the same insight into the inevitable outcome, leaving no room for uncertainty. Enkrid ended his Dual Rhythm, setting aside the two swords he had retrieved. In their place, he gripped Spark. Jamal discarded his shattered guard sword, gripping Plunder tightly with both hands. Enkrid extended his left foot, boldly stepping into Jamal''s range. His feet crossed as his body shot forward like an arrow. It was a lunge step¡ªan arrow step, a modified foundational move in swordsmanship. Just as Plunder came within inches of splitting Enkrid''s head, the blade in Enkrid''s hand pierced Jamal''s neck. Thwack! The tip of Spark tore through flesh and bone, protruding from the back of Jamal''s neck. The red-stained blade retracted as swiftly as it struck. Whump. Jamal''s sword fell from his powerless hands, dropping feebly to the ground. By then, Enkrid had already sidestepped evading Jamal''s final attack completely. The knight known as Jamal toppled forward, collapsing with a heavy thud. Until the body hit the ground, no one among the onlookers could find words. Was this an overwhelming difference in power? More likely, it was a matter of poor compatibility. But who among the witnesses could understand that? All they knew was the suffocating pressure that radiated from the man called Enkrid. -------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Many thanks to 47thdemigod for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 535 - If It Seems Possible, Do It Chapter 535 - 535 - If It Seems Possible, Do It Chapter 535 - If It Seems Possible, Do It "...Retreat, everyone!" The Frog General struggled to overcome the overwhelming pressure and finally gave the order. Knight Jamal was dead. Could they kill that monster with the remaining forces? The reason knights were often referred to as calamities was etched deeply into General Frog''s being. Within her breastplate, it thrashed violently. "What? Want to go for more?" Enkrid withdrew the pressure he had unconsciously released in his excitement and spoke. Before him, the Frog gripped her weapon tightly, standing frozen. If he attacked, she would be cut down. But he didn''t look like he would. It wasn''t just her five senses; her heightened intuition and gut feeling told her as much. Enkrid relished the moment, believing that his fight with Jamal had allowed him to grow further. He was elated. The duel with Knight Jamal had been decisive, and there was no need to kill the rest of these soldiers. A knight who could slay thousands singlehandedly wasn''t meant to chase down every soldier and slaughter them one by one. Such a knight would simply be a blood-crazed lunatic. "They say the blood-drinking knight will take you." A phrase often used by parents to frighten unruly children¡ªsimilar to warnings about monsters or ghouls snatching them away. Aker once mentioned in passing that the blood-drinking knight was real. A madman who had indulged in bloodshed, slaughter, and killing for sport. "Giants have a satisfying crunch, humans are tender and soft, and Frogs are tough, making it interesting." That''s what the madman supposedly said. Enkrid had no intention of becoming like that. Was the fight born of necessity, or was it for the thrill of bloodshed? The distinction mattered. Behind the Frog, who was sweating profusely with tension, Enkrid sheathed his sword and picked up Jamal''s weapon as well. "I didn''t even use the throwing spear," he mused as he retrieved the spear he''d leaned against a tree before entering the clearing. "Not bad." Training with Aker had made handling Will much more comfortable for him. Jamal''s inability to use his ability to its full potential was understandable. The Will contained within Enkrid was comparable to the legendary Uske¡ªan inexhaustible lake and an ever-flowing wellspring. Thinking he could win by wearing it down with his ability was madness. If Jamal had known Enkrid better, he wouldn''t have fought this way. He would''ve aimed for a single, decisive strike instead. Was the lack of information his downfall? Enkrid habitually began analyzing the battle in hindsight. "If you grow stronger and faster, you must also learn to use that power more efficiently, no?" It was advice given by Luagarne. Enkrid''s sparring partners weren''t limited to Ragna and Rem. He remembered the moment she had lightly jabbed his stomach despite his superior strength and vision. Was it her tactical skill? Or did he underestimate her because she wasn''t a knight? Neither. She knew how to fight. She knew how to make the most of her abilities. A Frog''s body could regenerate, so losing an arm or two didn''t matter much to her. Luagarne had shown him Frog''s fighting style¡ªsacrificing flesh to take bones. It wasn''t a fatal blow, but the fact that she landed a hit mattered. Efficient combat meant utilizing terrain, revisiting the essence of battle, and refining personal tactics. Enkrid hadn''t stopped learning just because he''d become a knight. He was doing so even now. He likened his current thought process to the unit-level tactics he had just faced. Forg''s strategy, perhaps? Sacrificing bones to take flesh, determined to claim even the smallest advantage. "Go on." Enkrid spoke to Forg, who was still glaring at him warily. "...Just go?" "Is there a reason you must die here?" If not, wasn''t leaving the better option? The frog hesitated, suspicion evident in her rolling eyes. Could she really leave? Doubt filled her mind. Enkrid allowed her to go. Killing the Frog wouldn''t change the outcome of this battle. "If this was part of Krais'' plan, keeping the sharp ones alive might be better." Krais, that peculiar Big-Eyed bastard, had even prepared for what came next despite his anxieties. Was it right to kill the Frog from that perspective? "I''d rather not." Enkrid appreciated the Frog''s decision to stay behind alone after sending her men away. That, coupled with her demeanor, didn''t suit someone who should die here. "So, I''ll let her go." Half of it was impulsive; the other half was a calculated decision to support Krais'' plan. To be honest, though, it was mainly because the Frog''s actions had softened Enkrid''s resolve. With a knight already dead, Aspen had suffered a heavy blow. The Frog surviving wouldn''t suddenly rally an army against them. Waging an all-out war now would only result in pointless losses. It was a decision made through a mix of intuition and analysis. If Krais had been there, he might have asked, "Aren''t you just doing whatever you feel like?" Enkrid had once been kicked in the ribs by the Frog, but he''d long since forgotten that. There was no lingering grudge. With his weapons in hand, Enkrid began walking towards the other units. But someone moved before him. From the shadows of the clearing emerged a man with dark red hair, exuding an ominous presence. To Rem, the man seemed shady and sinister, though others might see him as a strikingly handsome figure. "Is it over?" the man asked. "On my end." "Hm." Normally, he might have suggested moving on to Rem or Ragna, but Jaxen, wiping blood off his dagger, said nothing. Enkrid offered him an encouraging remark. "Let''s go. Let''s see how much of a beating Rem and Ragna have taken." "Sure." As they moved, Enkrid listened to Jaxen recount his encounter. "Moonlight fairies?" "Yes. They''re adept at ambushes. The scouting unit is unharmed." Before long, Finn and the scouting party approached. "That was a close call," Finn remarked, her gaze flitting to Jaxen. The memory of his fight was fresh in her mind. The Moonlight Fairies specialized in silent assassinations, plunging daggers into unsuspecting backs. Despite their agility and training, they had fallen one after another when facing Jaxen. Finn had witnessed many battles, even those fought by junior knights, but this was a first. Was it incredible? She wasn''t sure. All she knew was that enemies dropped like flies. The scouting unit had done nothing but retreat and watch in awe. At some point during the chaos, the fairy commander fell with a dagger lodged in his forehead, thrown so silently no one had noticed when it had been released. The ground where he lay became his coffin, as if by natural order. Just as the silent dagger seemed to vanish into the air, so too did the reaper who wielded it, disappearing without a sound. The fairies, no matter how emboldened they had initially been, couldn''t ignore the shift. Especially after their commander fell. The battle ended sooner than expected. The fairies scattered and disappeared like a receding tide. And then the man returned to the scene. Finn, to be honest, was a little afraid. Was she supposed to feel relieved that this man was on their side? He looked like someone who could slit her throat at any moment without a second thought. No words of reassurance came from this dangerous man either. "We''re moving," he said, taking a step forward. "Are you sure he''s one of us?" one of her subordinates asked from behind. Finn nodded, realizing only then that she and her scouting unit had unconsciously taken a few steps back. Why did it feel more terrifying than reassuring when he killed their enemies? His overwhelming strength was part of it, but it was more about the sheer lack of emotion in his blade work. It wasn''t rage, nor vengeance¡ªjust cold, mechanical precision, as if he killed because it was something that needed to be done. That was what scared Finn. "Uh, right..." Finn struggled to find the right words as her thoughts lingered on what had just happened. Enkrid nonchalantly jabbed Jaxen in the side with his elbow. "You''ve got blood on you." "...What was that?" Jaxen asked, his brows furrowing. He had a right to ask¡ªEnkrid had just outmaneuvered Jaxen''s keen instincts to jab him in the ribs. It was akin to slipping noise into sound. By creating a mix of distractions¡ªa feint toward his neck, a subtle foot sweep¡ªEnkrid had concealed his real move. Jaxen could have stopped it if he wanted to, but he let it happen, as if playing along. It was their peculiar form of banter. "Won''t your lover in the city complain about the smell of blood?" Enkrid teased. "Unlike some people, I keep myself clean," Jaxen shot back. "Well, some people might end up in an unmarked grave in the East." "That beastkin woman isn''t likely to die so easily." "You''re giving Dunbakel a lot of credit." "Not just anyone could survive under a savage like Rem." So, was he praising Dunbakel for surviving Rem? Did that mean everyone under Rem had to die? Enkrid dismissed the idle thoughts and turned his attention to Finn. She was a ranger, someone who had practically lived in the Pen-Hanil mountains for the sake of this battle. She should''ve been better at navigating than he was. But why was she just standing there? Finn''s mind was in turmoil. Watching Enkrid casually joke around with Jaxen, the same man who seemed like death incarnate just moments ago, unsettled her. On top of that, she couldn''t ignore the fact that it was Enkrid who had sent Jaxen here in the first place. With his abilities, wouldn''t it have made more sense to deploy him somewhere else? Perhaps alongside Enkrid himself? Good results didn''t justify everything. War always demanded sacrifices. Finn knew that all too well. And this time, it had been her turn. Was she happy to be alive? Yes. But that happiness was mixed with fear, relief, and an overwhelming sense of confusion. Her complex emotions finally found their way into words. "Why did you do it?" Her voice was tinged with frustration as she asked the question without even realizing it. "What do you mean?" Enkrid replied. "This is like sending an entire infantry battalion to kill a single ghoul. No one summons a knightly order to deal with a single beast." Surely, there were others on another battlefield who had to fight under worse conditions because Jaxen had been sent here to save them. Finn''s argument was logical¡ªby all conventional reasoning, she was right. Krais himself had once said there was no such thing as a battle without sacrifice. Enkrid''s response was simple, though laced with an honesty he hadn''t even shared with Krais. "Because I thought I could." "...What?" "I thought I could win without losing anyone from our side." To someone unfamiliar with Enkrid, it might have sounded like nonsense. But Finn had seen him in action. She had seen the signs of battle and the destruction Jaxen had wrought under his command. "...You thought you could?" "Yeah, I did." It wasn''t arrogance¡ªit was confidence. Not recklessness, but calculated assurance. Since his training with Aker, Enkrid had been pushing both Rem and Ragna relentlessly. "Savage, if you stay where you are, you''ll fall behind." "Me? Fall behind who? The captain?" "No." "Then who?" "Ragna. His blade''s grown heavier." "...Shit. Pick up your sword. That provocation was just the push I needed." And to Ragna, Enkrid had said: "Getting lost is fine. But seeing you cry after getting beaten by Rem wouldn''t be enjoyable." "Cry? Who''s getting beaten by who?" Though Enkrid mentioned Rem, Ragna didn''t hear it. Instead, his somewhat relaxed aura sharpened like a freshly honed blade. "Wanna try me?" "Better be ready. You might get hurt." It wasn''t hard to motivate them. Before, even passive training had been enough to stir their spirits, but this time Enkrid had gone out of his way to stoke their ambition. Why? "Keep fighting. Keep testing yourselves." It was advice from Aker. Through relentless battles with Aker, Enkrid had gained something irreplaceable. It wasn''t a gift Aker had prepared for him¡ªit was something Enkrid had seized for himself. First, he had learned how to wield Will. Moving an immovable boulder by leveraging its weight, gathering flowing water into cupped hands¡ªsuch things weren''t achieved through brute force but through a knack for balance. This Will was something unique to him, something no one else could teach. Enkrid instinctively understood that this was where he needed to focus. And so, he had. He also gained experience through sparring with knights, not as a student but as an equal. "Fighting a hundred weaker opponents isn''t as valuable as one match against someone on your level," Aker had told him. Enkrid took that to heart and felt the truth of it with every strike. Until the eve of the war with Aspen, Enkrid trained with Audin in Valaf martial arts, practiced Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship on his own, sparred with Rem and Ragna, and played knife-throwing games with Jaxen. The confidence he carried now came from all of that. The ability to calculate their forces, their chances. ''We can do this.'' Sure, sacrifices might be necessary in some battles, but not this time. Above all, his comrades weren''t the type to fall easily. Would Rem risk his life to kill an Aspen knight and die in the process? Not a chance. They would hold the line and strike back. Because they could. And if it didn''t work, they could reassess sacrifices then. "What''s the plan?" Krais asked. "First option," Enkrid replied. Krais muttered something about how wanting a battle without sacrifices was madness, but what could he do? Words couldn''t build trust in situations like these¡ªonly actions could. And Enkrid was proving his words right now. His will shone like a guiding light¡ªidealistic, perhaps even delusional to some¡ªbut unwavering all the same. Those who followed him, those who had seen him fight, believed in him naturally. And this was the result. -------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Many thanks to 47thdemigod for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 536 - Barnas’s Dream Chapter 536 - 536 - Barnas''s Dream Chapter 536 - Barnas''s Dream Barnas Hurrier never claimed to be the continent''s strongest or its best, but he also never thought he''d be defeated by some nameless knight. "Does this even make sense?" Lying on the ground, he glanced at his opponent who stood with a heavy black greatsword embedded in the ground watching him silently. Half of the greatsword''s blade was missing, and one side of its guard was broken. All of this was Barnas''s doing, having cut through it with his own technique the Wave Blade. Like Jamal, who had learned the precise sword stance by watching Cowin. Barnas''s Wave Blade had its own origin. This technique was his specialty. Despite not crafting a personal engraved weapon for a long time, he had once used his claws as weapons until Cypress broke them. Only then did he forge a claw weapon, his first engraved tool. Even so, he felt stronger now than before. The principle of the wave was vibration a force amplified through oscillation. While transmitting his Will to the claw weapon was more challenging than with his claws, it allowed him to channel a far greater intensity. Previously, to imbue his claws and flesh with the wave, he had to use Iron Body simultaneously which wasted Will. The new method, without relying on Iron Body allowed him to unleash overwhelming power. This meant that the current him was stronger than his former self. In truth, the weapon was just an excuse. After being defeated by Cypress, he''d been consumed by fury, grinding his teeth and training relentlessly. That was likely why his skills had improved. Regardless, his techniques had reached a higher level. "I thought I could hold my own against Cypress now." Barnas could feel the strength draining from the muscles around his severed left arm. He had also lost a leg, and his left eye was slashed rendering him half-blind. "Is my eye damaged?" Living as a one-eyed man wouldn''t matter¡ªif he could survive. That was the problem, though. His current circumstances offered no guarantees of survival. "What a monster," he muttered, replaying the recent battle in his mind. *** "Charge, everyone!" At his subordinate''s command, fifty armored pikemen closed their ranks, forming an impenetrable wall of pressure. Barnas charged alongside them. Crunch! Of course, he activated his beast transformation. While he didn''t look exactly like a wolf, his fangs grew sharper, his ears perked higher and his whiskers and body hair stiffened into steel-like strands. His blood burned with the instinct of the hunt. Even as he tapped into his primal instincts he never let them control him. He didn''t attack recklessly instead allowing one of the pikemen to take the first strike. A precise thrust it wasn''t ferocious or overly fast, but it was solid and lethal. It was easy to dodge, but evading it would create an opening. Barnas could exploit such an opening, even turning it into a killing blow. Yet, despite the spear being aimed at the opponent the man with the greatsword never took his eyes off Barnas. Even as Barnas darted left and right, leaving afterimages his gaze never wavered. "Sharp eyes." In an instant, the greatsword moved. The air seemed to collapse under the force of the swing, its speed so absurd it swallowed even the sound with its motion. The black blade didn''t simply slash at the spear; it shattered it with a short, decisive stroke. Clang! The greatsword struck the spearhead, splintering it into shards that scattered like raindrops. "Ugh!" The soldier holding the spear grimaced as his reinforced leather gloves tore apart, exposing his bleeding hands. Before the blood even hit the ground, Barnas stopped his evasive maneuvers and lunged straight at the opponent. Pivoting on his left foot, he halted abruptly then launched a direct charge. His abrupt movement caused an optical illusion, making his figure blur as though spreading out sideways. Only a beastkin''s agility could pull off such a move. The opponent, however didn''t hesitate. He kept the momentum from shattering the spearhead and brought his sword down in a seamless follow-up, as if the spear had been nothing more than a slight interruption in his original motion. "A genius with the sword." Many could deflect a spear''s thrust while remaining aware of a charging foe, especially knights. But this man went beyond that. "Did he use the rebound force from the strike?" The power behind the swing seemed to amplify from the spear''s impact. The speed of the descending blade confirmed it. "Ha!" Barnas couldn''t help but shout in exhilaration at his opponent''s cunningness. Ziiing! Barnas''s claws vibrated as they slashed the black greatsword. Drdrdr, clink-clink! The sword recoiled, scraping against his claws and bouncing to the side. The wave-induced vibration reverberated through the opponent''s grip, affecting his muscles and posture. Most would have stepped back to recover their balance. But the crazed killer didn''t retreat. He pressed forward, swinging the blade again despite his disrupted stance. "Whoosh!" Barnas caught a glimpse of the man''s face, lips pursed as he exhaled steadily. Boom! The third clash forced Barnas to pull back, giving the pikemen a chance to close ranks. This was the rotational strategy they had rehearsed. Naturally, Barnas orchestrated every movement of the soldiers. Ordinary men couldn''t hope to fight a knight on equal footing. However, Barnas''s Wave disrupted his opponent''s rhythm reducing their speed and power. "A direct hit would rattle your insides." The fairy assisting the enemy seemed to understand this but made no move to shield the lunatic killer. Instead, she darted behind an armored pikeman, evading confrontation. "She knows how to think." Splitting up would have been a disadvantage, but she didn''t hesitate. Barnas rushed toward her, confident he could take her down in three or four strikes. "He''s mine." he declared. But the lunatic blond man charged at Barnas''s exposed back, ignoring the spear that grazed his cheek spilling blood. "How reckless." Barnas frowned, certain that the Wave would leave the man trembling and unable to move properly. Boom! Their third clash revealed something startling. Instead of the Wave disrupting the opponent''s internals, it collided with a similar vibration canceling out its effects. "I see the trick now." What nonsense is this? Barnas furrowed his brow. Even Jamal, who excelled at mimicking techniques had taken months to grasp part of the Wave. Now, Barnas found himself in an increasingly unpredictable fight. The blond man held his ground, while the fairy knight began dancing amidst the armored pikemen. Tat-tat-tat! Barnas''s lieutenant shone in his command, transitioning the formation from a broad front to a compact, defensive posture. Nevertheless, deaths and injuries were inevitable one after another. However, the fairy didn''t rush to kill them all. She attacked and defended appropriately, merely toying with them. Even so, casualties continued to pile up. Originally, Barnas was supposed to face two enemies while the armored cavalry applied pressure. At first, it seemed to proceed that way. But then the one wielding the greatsword changed the course of events by catching his claws barehanded. Barnas didn''t panic. His opponents were knights; it wasn''t unthinkable for them to demonstrate such skill. Deflecting the shockwave by the third strike was remarkable, but what could he do? It had already happened. Not every battle went as one predicted and Barnas was experienced enough not to be shaken by such things. More importantly, he had the means to overcome this situation. A genius who had mastered enduring shockwaves? Then how about this? Barely three clashes in, the fairy''s sword tore through the head of the third armored lancer. The battle had only just begun. Barnas decided to reveal his secret technique slightly earlier than usual. Wooooom. The vibrations of the claw, which had trembled like a hummingbird''s wings abruptly ceased. The accompanying noise vanished. Ragna tilted his greatsword diagonally and focused on the claw''s tip. To his eyes, it seemed the trembling blade shaped like claws had stilled. This was the essence of the shockwave sword. A vibration too subtle for even a knight''s eyes to see, producing unparalleled cutting power. The same vibration now coursed through Barnas'' entire body, allowing him to strike with greater speed and ferocity than before. The claw descended towards Ragna''s head. Ragna bent his left knee halfway and raised his sword to intercept it. Claw and greatsword met. To the average onlooker, it was an exchange occurring in a fraction of a second, but to them it was a deliberate encounter. Through their insight, one chose to cut and the other to block; it was practically an agreement. The moment the two metal pieces collided, a sound like ripping leather echoed through the air instead of the clash of steel. Ragna watched as the middle of his blade tore. The claw shredded the metal, the tremor in its beast-like blade delivering unprecedented cutting power. It was the mystery created by a perfectly tuned vibration. Barnas felt assured of his victory at that moment. Meanwhile, Ragna saw the extent of his capabilities in a flash. The talent he had relied on to become a knight now reacted more keenly than ever. But this awakening wasn''t due to Barnas. Ragna knew he could have defeated this trembling beastkin without taking any risks. This transformation was born from the shock delivered by that monstrous entity, Enkrid before the war had even begun. His talent had witnessed the immense will within the man, so solid it seemed unbreakable even if chipped away. "How could I possibly overcome that?" It was the first time Ragna had truly pondered over such a question. A great will that didn''t tire. If such a presence were equipped with skill and a battle dragged into attrition... "I''d lose." Ragna''s talent had already determined the outcome. Even with ten or twenty years of training, the result would remain the same. Endlessly defending would still leave Enkrid triumphant. Continuing like this wasn''t an option. "Is that your limit? Is that where you decided to stop?" Those words were from long ago, when he had first learned the sword. "So you''ve judged that your potential is as far as it goes. Then it must be as far as it goes." As a child, Ragna had envisioned his path and seen its endpoint. A predetermined road, a fixed destination. But now, jolted awake by the cold splash of Enkrid''s presence, Ragna called forth his talent anew. It was the stride of one who was forced to forget about limits. "Vibrations, trembling." That tremor created destructive power. Claws that could cut through anything. What enabled that? Vibration. And what made the sword tremble? Will. He only needed to grasp it with his senses. Ragna moved his will, creating a vibration. "Tremble." When moved by intent, it became will. The broken remains of Ragna''s greatsword resonated with a low hum. Wooooom. "...What are you doing?" Barnas asked. Moments later, he felt a sense of relative deprivation and cursed his own arrogance. "I thought I stood at the center of the continent." Barnas had believed he might not end the wars but could ignite the fire that would engulf the continent. The knight who would lead change, Barnas Hurrier. Or so he had thought. But was he wrong? What Barnas envisioned was a newly formed knightly order¡ªone that fostered knights and developed them beyond what existed before. He believed this would change the power dynamics of the continent, to change the map of the continent. His hopes crumbled before he could even face Cypress. But would he yield so easily? Barnas unleashed everything he had. He fought the lunatic blonde by throwing dirt in his eyes, spitting and even biting. The insane knight didn''t perfectly replicate his shockwaves but managed to withstand them. "And you do this without an inscribed weapon?" Even so, Barnas broke one of his opponent''s legs, dislocated his shoulder and left three fingers shattered. The half-broken greatsword was now entirely useless. But his opponent survived. And Barnas knew himself would not. "Sir Barnas!" The surviving commander''s voice called out to him. Lying on the ground, Barnas stared at the sky. The open canopy of trees framed a high, blue expanse. "A knightly order of over ten knights... it wasn''t just a dream." It had been a near-reality. Knights were few, but Barnas believed he could shatter that perception. A collective of knights operating in perfect unison. It had been a dream. But now, it would die within the chest of a beastkin. "Well fought." the crazed killer said. Had the goddess of fortune simply chosen to favor the other side? Or had his belief in being at the forefront of change been misplaced? "What''s your name?" Barnas asked. "Ragna." "That all?" The mad blond paused before answering. "Ragna Yohan." "Yohan family?" "You know it?" "Only by name." With that, Barnas closed his eyes gazing at the sky one last time. Hearing the name of a family near-legendary as his final opponent wasn''t the worst way to go. He might have had regrets, but thinking back perhaps his dream hadn''t been sincere. "If I truly meant it, shouldn''t I have passed something on to someone?" But he hadn''t. He had wanted to achieve it himself and without that, it would have held no meaning. It wasn''t a dream¡ªit was greed. This was the clarity that came moments before death. For this reason, there was no need to die with eyes wide open. Barnas exhaled his final breath with his eyes closed. "We die here." The commander confirmed Barnas''s death and hesitated briefly before making a decision. He ordered the fifty armored lancers to charge. Perhaps they could kill the near-dead knight. If they lost Barnas, it was only fair for the enemy to lose a knight as well. Even if everyone here perished, it would be worth it. "You underestimate me far too often." the fairy said, blocking their advance. The commander''s gaze remained fixed beyond the fairy, towards the vulnerable knight. If they could just land one spear. But standing in their way was another knight, much like Ragna. Shinar spoke without a trace of humor, raising her leaf-blade sword. Though she preferred not to spill blood unnecessarily, if the enemy refused to retreat her options were clear. With a swift movement, her blade struck the neck of one of the lancers three steps away. Clang! Chains wrapped around the man''s neck shredded, leaving a red line in their wake. "...What was that?" one of the soldiers murmured in terror. "A blade forged of lightning." Shinar explained calmly. -------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Many thanks to azuring for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 537 - Corruption Chapter 537 - 537 - Corruption Chapter 537 - Corruption Shinar glanced at Ragna. Assessing his condition didn''t require the keen senses of a fairy. "He''s not dead." Ragna was leaning on his broken sword as if it were a cane, standing with one foot planted on the ground to support his weight. His eyes were open, but they still appeared somewhat unfocused. "If I try to kill him, he might still manage to black a few swings of her sword." Even if projectiles came his way, Ragna could likely block one or two. Of course, if an enemy with nothing left to lose hurled themselves at him, the outcome might be different. But that was a matter to consider only in dire circumstances. Unspoken, they had decided who would handle the enemy commander. The commander had chosen to target Ragna first, effectively dividing their roles. "Since he''s alive, he should just rest." If Ragna had died, Shinar would have been next to step in. Knights didn''t double their strength by fighting side by side. The proper way to fight was to adapt to circumstances. Although Ragna appeared to be on the verge of death, he was still determined to survive. As for the enemies before her, they posed no significant threat. The enemy commander, however, rolled his eyes and made his move. "No surrender! Kill them all! We will carve our names into the Hall of Honor!" In Aspen, the Hall of Honor stood as a monumental structure at the heart of the capital. To have one''s name engraved there was a prestigious achievement reserved for the dead who had sacrificed themselves for the nation. Families of the honored received annual compensation, making it both a matter of glory and a means of ensuring their descendants'' welfare. Driven by these motives, the enemy soldiers retrieved pouches hidden in their armor and poured the contents into their mouths. Some of the powder spilled onto the ground, but most of it mixed with their saliva and entered their stomachs. Veins bulged on their temples and foreheads beneath their helmets. Though the substance couldn''t grant them the ability to use Will, it dulled their pain, suppressed fear, and temporarily doubled their strength. This was "Fury," a black-market drug designed to evoke pure rage and force out latent potential. "For the homeland!" One of the soldiers, brimming with patriotic fervor, shouted. Blood vessels burst in his eyes, and crimson tears flowed down his cheeks. Others began bleeding profusely from their noses. Five of them collapsed, trembling violently, unable to withstand the drug''s effects. The rest, however, charged forward, spitting blood and saliva, their eyes bloodshot with madness. Ordinary people would quail at the sight of such frenzied attackers. Even the bravest might feel a chill. Knights were not devoid of emotions, so feeling at least some discomfort was natural. But Shinar wasn''t fazed. She remained calm and analytical. "I can''t catch him." Her gaze shifted to the retreating commander behind the charging soldiers. "Hyaaaa!" As one of the blood-fueled soldiers charged at her, Shinar swung her leaf-blade. The aura emanating from her weapon decapitated the soldier before the blade even touched him. Though Shinar had the skill of a knight, she knew it didn''t make her immune to physical forces. If she allowed those brute-force charges to close the gap, even she might fall and sustain injuries. But such an outcome was impossible. Not even fighting with her eyes closed would lead to such a mistake. With a leap, Shinar soared like a butterfly. Her blade, resembling a leaf in motion, struck true, slicing necks and splitting skulls. She moved with precision, expending just the necessary effort to eliminate her targets. Meanwhile, the drugged soldiers charged at Ragna, only to fall before reaching him. Leaving Ragna behind to pursue the fleeing commander was an option. "Should I?" Shinar dismissed the thought. She couldn''t afford to leave Ragna alone, even if he wasn''t one to go down easily. His condition was critical. If the wound above his eye wasn''t treated quickly, he might lose the eye entirely. Pragmatism and efficiency dictated her actions. One by one, Shinar slaughtered the frenzied soldiers while the commander escaped. *** "I''m going to die." Korwin had been gifted with an extraordinary ability for insight since childhood. It was almost a supernatural talent. After a few clashes, his intuition crystallized into one conclusion: He would die. No matter what he did, his death was inevitable. Resisting any longer would only delay the predetermined outcome. Korwin saw his fate, unchanging and fixed. His response, driven by terror, was to flee. It wasn''t a calculated decision. Against Rem, strategies based on foresight failed entirely. That failure filled Korwin with dread. His tactics worked against Barnas¡ªwhy not against Rem? The reason was simple: Rem didn''t think before attacking. He fought on instinct, making split-second decisions to always find the optimal path. That was his way of fighting. As the sling in Rem''s hand whirled and the sound of splitting air intensified, it smashed the head of an assassin who had foolishly revealed themselves. Even this move eluded Korwin''s perception. "How is this possible?" It was. Rem didn''t calculate trajectories or strategies. He simply threw the sling, aiming as the situation demanded. There were no elaborate plans¡ªonly immediate, instinctive judgment. Such an approach should be riddled with errors. Humans couldn''t always make the right choices under pressure. Rem was no exception. But when the red mist of a cursed dagger closed in on his back, Rem, without thinking, raised his weapon to split Korwin''s skull. Korwin barely managed to deflect the blow, reading Rem''s intent in the fleeting moment before impact. At the same time, a red-eyed figure lunged at Rem, thrusting a cursed, curved dagger toward his back. The blade, imbued with a deadly poison, never reached Rem. A spectral wolf, white and legless, intercepted the dagger by biting down on its blade. "I never said I was fighting alone." Rem murmured. It didn''t matter if his choices weren''t perfect. He had something to fill in the gaps. The red-eyed figure immediately released the dagger, twisting the hilt. The blade glowed crimson, charged with energy, and was about to explode. "Eat it, Cloud." At Rem''s command, the wolf swallowed the cursed dagger and darted away. A distant explosion followed. The wolf dissipated briefly but reformed, slightly smaller than before. It moved like a cloud, floating rather than walking, and its ethereal presence drew the attention of both Korwin and the red-eyed figure. Taking advantage of their distraction, Rem flung his sling, drove his foot into the ground, and swung his axe downward. The sling shattered the skull of another assassin, his stomp broke the clavicle of an underground ambusher, and the axe cleaved toward the red-eyed figure. Each movement flowed seamlessly into the next. Though the axe swung last, it reached its target first, slicing through the red-eyed figure''s head. Korwin, watching from behind, had the perfect opportunity to strike Rem''s exposed back. Yet, instead of attacking, Korwin fled. "I''ll handle the front!" Even his retreat was accompanied by a pitiful deception¡ªa feint to mask his cowardice. It was a being formed entirely of sorcery, a raw manifestation of it. Confronting it with more sorcery would have been a mistake. "Man, that guy is something else." Even as Rem tried not to lose track of the fleeing figure''s presence, it was pointless. He hadn''t expected such a sudden retreat. All the vigilance and preparation felt like a waste. But there was no helping it. What''s done is done, he thought as he turned back toward the crimson eyes. "Even with a favorable match-up, the result would have been the same." Rem had analyzed the source of his opponent''s strength and considered the sorcerous dynamics at play before speaking. However, the crimson-eyed knight, who had barely risen to knighthood by awakening and pacifying a sealed ancient spirit, couldn''t comprehend the principles Rem referred to. ''Curse that bastard Korwin.'' Instead, watching Korwin flee led the knight to a stark conclusion: the situation was as hopeless as a ghoul''s reproductive organs. In moments like this, life or death came down to a single decision. ''Leave it to me.'' The voice that had tempted him all this time echoed again, a whisper from the ancient spirit within. Under normal circumstances, he would never heed such words. The ancient spirit was a type of vampire, driven by a singular desire¡ªblood. It was a being consumed by insatiable hunger. But when standing idle would only lead to death? "They said never to do this..." Though warned against it by Barnas, the crimson-eyed knight believed there was no other choice. He mortgaged a fragment of his soul to the ancient vampire. Still, he didn''t intend to go down without a fight. He aimed for a partial contract, sacrificing just enough to survive while preserving the rest. It was an arrogant gamble. He had once dreamt of subjugating the vampire''s soul, eventually becoming an unprecedented knight who wielded the power of multiple ancient spirits. "This body is mine now." But the vampire''s will took over his body in an instant, needing only a brief opening. "So, this is the present world." The vampire''s voice rang out, speaking in a language Rem had never heard before. Naturally, it made sense¡ªthe language of the vampire''s era had long since faded into obscurity. Not that it mattered. The vampire''s crimson eyes shone brilliantly, radiating an eerie allure. It turned to Rem, commanding with an imperious tone: "Kneel before me, that we may see eye to¡ª" Thwack! Crunch! "What nonsense are you spouting?" The vampire realized too late that its charm spell had failed. And just as it processed this fact, a massive axe cleaved its head in two. The split head began to knit itself back together in grotesque fashion, sinews and blood vessels writhing to restore what was lost. It was a nauseating sight. "You insolent wretch!" The vampire raged even as its head was still reassembling. "How many pieces can I cut you into?" Rem spoke coldly, swinging his axe again. Thwack! The axe struck before the vampire could even raise its arm¡ªa response far too slow. The ancient vampire, even at full power, was only on par with a knight. Having just seized control of a new body, it lacked mastery over its movements. It needed time to adapt. But even if it had fully adapted, the result wouldn''t have changed. The gap between them was simply too vast. As Rem''s axe danced through the air, the vampire couldn''t utter another word. Its sharp tongue and fangs were shattered to pieces. Fragmented into dozens of pieces, the vampire''s remains writhed briefly before releasing a puff of gray smoke and dissipating. Rem wiped his axe clean in the empty air and muttered, "Foul thing." Fortunately, his axe seemed unbothered by the ordeal. Turning his gaze toward the direction of the fleeing figure, Rem considered his next move. One had escaped, but the job was done for the most part. It was time to decide¡ªpursue the runaway or regroup with the commander. -------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Many thanks to azuring for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 538 - The Unseen Defeat Chapter 538 - 538 - The Unseen Defeat Chapter 538 - The Unseen Defeat The world was filled with more idiots than expected. While Barnas had pushed Ragna into a half-dead state with great effort, Cowin had fled for his life in order to save his own skin. "Wow, you really are something." The barbarian''s voice could be heard from behind, but Cowin ignored it and ran. He didn''t look back even once. If he turned around now, it felt like the gray monster would chase after him with an axe in hand. It was like an ostrich burying its head in the ground or a pheasant hiding its head in the brush when it senses danger. But unlike the ostrich or a pheasant, Cowin had legs honed to the peak with the use of Will. Of course, the ostrich wasn''t just being dumb, as it had keen hearing, and the pheasant wasn''t hiding its head aimlessly but using its sharp sight to avoid danger. But still, it would look dumb from the outside, much like Cowin did now. Cowin squeezed every ounce of strength he had and ran like mad. He didn''t even notice the saliva dripping down his chin. He activated his legs with the use of Will and pushed them to their limits. He didn''t care if he reached his limit or not¡ªhe used up everything. There was no time to even sweat. His stomach twisted with cramps, and he felt the urge to urinate. But luck was on Cowin''s side. What were the chances of encountering an ally who was in the same predicament as himself while fleeing for his life? It wasn''t exactly a coincidence; it was more of a certainty. Cowin instinctively retraced his steps and came across a subordinate who had been with Barnas but would now turn to seek refuge with another knight. *** Among them, two knights had gone to a specific place. ''If I go to General Frog, it''s a dead-end.'' He wouldn''t be forgiven for abandoning his subordinates and coming back. So the choice was clear. There was only one path left. Leaving the Pen-Hanil mountain range alone wasn''t an option. Thus, the encounter between Cowin and the commander couldn''t be dismissed as a mere coincidence. ''This is all for preparing for the future.'' The commander tricked himself into thinking that. He needed somewhere to psychologically lean on, so he rationalized his actions. He gave himself a vague reason for abandoning his whole unit¡ªhe needed to let his people know the enemy''s strength. So this wasn''t running away; it was a strategic retreat for further advancement. Of course, it wasn''t. With a little thought, it became clear. Barnas was the last hope left in Aspen. Could a country without its knights maintain its position against foreign enemies? No. Aspen had staked everything on this fight. Of course, if Barnas was the only one who died, it might have been another issue. But the fact that the most trusted knight in Aspen had been defeated couldn''t be changed. It would be wise to assume that the situation on the other fronts was also grim. Unless your own life was on the line. Unless you hadn''t seen the most trusted knight die right before your eyes. Had the commander remained calm, he might have faced the situation more rationally. The commander might have even called out for his country and charged in, if he''d had the right mind. But that wasn''t the case. What mattered now was the choice he had made. Time had passed, and there was no turning back. Only reality remained. And it was in this moment that Cowin appeared before the commander. "Cowin." It was strange that Cowin was here, and his expression clearly showed that something had gone wrong. "Why are you here?" The commander asked. Cowin appeared to be in a state of panic, but he too was a knight. He still had an unbroken will within him. Of course, Cowin had become a knight in his own unique way, and his Will wasn''t anything extraordinary. He''d awakened his Will thanks to his innate insight since childhood. But even so, there had been no lack of effort along the way. Everything Cowin had built up was for those he loved. Arrogance and false fame didn''t matter¡ªeverything was important because of the people he cared for. Therefore, he could not die. "What about Barnas?" Cowin asked in turn. The commander bit his lip, his expression filled with pain, as if even speaking the words was difficult. "He fell in battle." Cowin blinked twice. Who died? To Cowin, Barnas had been another monster. He had learned from him, so he knew. The waves created by his Will couldn''t be blocked¡ªif it was your first time facing them, it would be normal to be unable to block them. "Fell in battle?" Cowin asked again, bewildered, unable to hide his shock. His emotions were too clear to conceal. "Yes." The commander grit his teeth as he spoke, clearly frustrated. It almost seemed like he was practicing that very expression of frustration. To Cowin, this all seemed like a ridiculous play. "What do you mean he fell in battle?" He asked, dazed. "A monster was on the other side." The commander answered with blank eyes. "So, you ran away too?" Fleeing recognizes fleeing. With a dazed expression, Cowin nodded. Fleeing? Yes, he had fled. "Damn! And you still call yourself a knight? What did you learn from Sir Barnas?" If it had been any other time, the commander wouldn''t have spoken so harshly to a knight. He, too, was in a state of confusion. After all, he instinctively knew he had made a mistake, and he needed someone to blame. And who better to blame than a knight and a deserter? It was as if someone had appeared to take all the responsibility for him. "You need to explain why you''ve survived on your own. You''re also responsible for the defeat." Had the commander been a bit more rational, he wouldn''t have said such things in this situation. At the very least, this would have been something to say later, in a military tribunal. Why? Because even though they were both deserters, one of them had the overwhelming power. Cowin''s bleary eyes focused. Was it right to go back now? Was he to live with the stigma of being a deserter? There was no need to shine his eyes with the burning determination of someone with nothing left. "For now, return to what you saw... Kkh." Cowin raised his sword and lightly thrust it forward. Despite being battered, both physically and mentally, his sword moved well. If his opponent hadn''t been a knight, his sword would still have been impressive. "Why?" The commander realized how foolish he was as he asked, but knowing that didn''t change anything. Thunk, thunk. After two thrusts, the one struck tried to grab the blade. But it was a futile gesture. After making three holes in his body, Cowin made sure his opponent was dead and spoke. "It''s not really a defeat yet." No, even if it was a defeat, it shouldn''t have happened like this. "Blame for the defeat falls on me?" That''s nonsense. Cowin''s feet, which had been fleeing instinctively, now moved with a clear purpose. He pictured the map of the Pen-Hanil Mountains in his mind as he moved. His destination was the main army. It wasn''t the rear, nor was it the place where the two armies were facing off. He cut straight through the mountains, and though he was delayed by a bear monster midway, whether by luck or misfortune, he managed to find his way and arrived at the main force. Covered in black monster and beast blood as though he had taken a bath in it, Cowin entered the main camp, where two soldiers on guard raised their spears. "What''s this? Where did you come from?" "Who''s this guy?" Taking a deep breath, Cowin opened his mouth. "I am Cowin Ekkins of the Royal Knights. Immediately, guide me to the commander''s tent." "...Eh?" At the soldier''s confused response, Cowin''s hand twitched. He wanted to cut his throat right then, but he held himself back. "Should I show some kind of emblem?" Cowin drew his sword. The knight''s sword was a symbol of who he was. He presented his engraved weapon and even showed the gloves bearing the knight order''s insignia. The soldier, wiping the blood off the steel gloves on the ground, finally saw the insignia. "Ah." "Please follow me." The soldiers, who had been watching with little interest due to the morale being crushed by those who had challenged the duel only to be decisively defeated, turned their eyes to Cowin. Of course, there weren''t many looking. Everyone was focused on the front, wary of an enemy attempt to exploit the situation. Because of this, Cowin quietly entered the commander''s tent. The general, who had been stationed there by Abnaier''s orders, stood up when he saw Cowin. "Sir Cowin?" They were familiar with each other. Coeyn''s gaze shifted to the general and the two adjutants beside him. Abnaier had mentioned these two adjutants before: one was hardworking but not particularly bright, while the other was clever but overly self-interested. ''Another way of saying that is they have ambition.'' The tent was quite large, but only three others were present besides Cowin. There was no immediate need for a strategy meeting since they weren''t about to fight, and they had only lost in the duel. These men had been waiting for news of an allied victory. "What''s going on..." The commander faltered when he saw Cowin''s disheveled state. Had they lost? Was the flank battle a defeat? He couldn''t find the words as many thoughts crossed his mind. Cowin, eyeing the more ambitious one with narrow eyes, spoke. "From now on..." Swish, swish. Before he could finish his sentence, Cowin swung his sword, drawing blood from the general and the earnest adjutant''s necks. The black blood on the blade made the color of the cuts appear dark red. The heads rolled off with a sickening thud. "You''re the supreme commander now." "Ah." The adjutant trembled, his lips quivering in fear. Despite his ambition, he wasn''t particularly formidable. He was clever, but his capacity was small. "Will you follow my orders?" If he didn''t, he would die. There was no need to read the situation; it was obvious. The adjutant, though clever, understood the gravity of the situation immediately. "Yes, I understand." "Good. Now, send the whole army to advance." The adjutant swallowed nervously. "Don''t stop until we win. We will capture the enemy city." Normally, one would say this sort of thing while claiming to be at the forefront, but Cowin had no such intention. Instead, he gave the adjutant the words he needed right now. "I''ll watch from behind." If he didn''t obey, he would die. Cowin, the knight, stood behind him with his sword raised. The adjutant knew that even if he gave orders, they wouldn''t be carried out without Cowin''s approval. What would happen then? The cold red blade would plunge into his heart. ''What should I do?'' The decision came after much thought. A letter from Abnaier lay next to the dead general. Even now, the battlefield was under orders from higher-ups. But if there were commands more authoritative than Abnaier''s? "Please, give me a dagger. Something that symbolizes the command of Sir Cowin." "Take it." Cowin handed him the dagger, a gift given to members of the order, with jewels embedded in the hilt. This would suffice. The adjutant went out and called the commanders together. In an urgent attempt, they met outside the tent, claiming they had no time to wait inside. After all, two bodies awaited them there. "Urgent orders came from the main army. The general has returned. We will advance before nightfall." At least there were some capable commanders among them who raised their eyebrows. "Where to?" "That way?" "Won''t this put us at a disadvantage?" "Are we going for a chaotic fight?" The adjutant lacked the charisma to sway them. Instead, there was the sword given by the knight. "Sir Cowin of the Royal Knights has commanded. The order has won. We will capture the enemy city." It was too late to turn back now. You can''t unscramble an egg after it''s been broken. ''I don''t know either.'' If they advanced, there would be casualties on both sides. They would kill, and they would die. Could they break through like this? ''I don''t think so.'' It was clear just from looking at the duelists and the assembled enemy forces. "The knights won? Does that mean there was another battle at the flank?" "I don''t know. That''s all I heard." Since it was a lie, there was no point in elaborating; it would only reveal a weakness. "So, the knights are attacking from behind the enemy?" "I noticed some of their forces weren''t visible." The perceptive commanders understood. With the knight''s sword lending authority, the others followed suit. Aspen prepared to advance. While that was happening, Cowin washed up in a nearby lake, pondering his next move. ''I''ll use the full-scale battle as bait.'' Caring about who dies was beyond his concern. ''But I will take the lord''s head.'' Even now, his mind wasn''t focused on facing the knights; it was on finding a vulnerable target. His eyes were set on Lord Graham of Border Guard. There was no logical reasoning behind it. *** Aspen''s forces began to move, and watching this, Krais couldn''t help but feel disbelief. "Why are they doing this?" The morale had been shattered, and the outcome of the flank battle was still uncertain. Yet, they were now starting a full-scale battle? What strategic movement were they planning? The enemy didn''t even send a flanking unit to disrupt their formation. Even if cavalry were sent, it wouldn''t change much. Border Guard''s defenses were already impenetrable. So this move made no sense at all. "We must fight, brother." From the enemy''s momentum, it was clear whether it was genuine or not. Audin spoke. Krais understood. The line he had drawn was now crossed, and enemy forces surged forward without hesitation. "Uwaaaa!" Aspen''s shock troops screamed. It didn''t feel like a battle cry. It was more like a desperate flailing. However, to stop them, countless lives would be lost. The enemy commander''s intentions were unclear, but this was the worst possible choice. Krais had a feeling, but now it was certain. There were, indeed, many fools in the world. He had seen enough of them. ''What if one of the higher-ups made a rash decision and just went ahead with it?'' This was the kind of stupidity that could lead to a pointless battle. "Crazy bastards." Krais knew the war would descend into chaos. It would be a slaughter. To stop it? There was no way at the moment. Fighting back was the only choice. -------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Many thanks to azuring for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 539 - The Knight Who Stops a Thousand Chapter 539 - 539 - The Knight Who Stops a Thousand Chapter 539 - The Knight Who Stops a Thousand "Pathetic bastard. Go die. Crawl here if you must." In a gathering that seemed almost arranged, Rem used his tongue instead of an axe to push Ragna into a corner. "Cough." Ragna, who was about to say something, coughed, raised his hand, and showed his middle finger, returning the insult with an ancient curse that had been passed down through generations on the continent. Rem nodded, as if he had made up his mind. "Boss, now''s the time. Slash his throat. At this point, we could take him down with little effort." He mimicked the motion of striking his neck with the edge of his hand as he spoke. From the sound of it, it seemed like Enkrid and Rem had made a pact to kill Ragna. As soon as Rem arrived, he began insulting Ragna without even listening to the situation. Jaxen chuckled upon hearing this. He even made a deflating sound, clearly intending to mock Ragna. "Let''s kill that bastard too." Rem urged Enkrid to kill them all, but naturally, there was no way Enkrid would listen to him. "Finn, go ahead and assess the situation. We''ll join up with you after we see what''s going on." "Yes, sir!" Finn half-listened to what they were saying and forgot all about the fear or confusion regarding the current situation. Why? Because the people before her were in the process of writing history. It might even be the moment of a legendary birth. Barnas Hurrier was a knight whose name Finn had heard before, and he had slain enemies alone. Cypress of Naurilia. Barnas of Aspen. Just twenty years ago, mentioning their names alone was enough to convey the military power of both countries. Finn, on a reconnaissance mission, knew that Barnas, the knight, might appear on the battlefield where they were. But that didn''t mean she sensed defeat. "If luck is on our side and at least two mad knights join forces, maybe we have a chance." It was impossible for Finn to gauge the strength of knight-level forces, but she had entertained such thoughts. Ragna, however, had already slain him. He was wounded but had won. The body that lay before Finn was enough evidence of the brutal, fierce battle that had occurred. Even without the Aspen Royal Knight Order''s emblem etched into the various equipment on the body, the ground was cracked, and blood splattered everywhere, revealing how savage the fight had been. "A monster." That was what Ragna was. The same went for Jaxen and others like him. "We can still fight." These lunatics, look at what they''re saying. "Barbarian runaway, come at me." His innards were damaged, and blood spilled from his mouth, but the words he spat were those. "You bastard, I''ll spare you this once." It was a good thing that Rem wasn''t swinging his axe in his madness. Was it because Enkrid was subtly between the two? While killing Barnas alone was impressive, it wasn''t the only achievement. There was also the man who single-handedly wiped out a whole fairy warrior squad, and Rem had taken on two knights. And leading them all was Enkrid, who had slain a knight as well. These were people who didn''t speak empty words, even if they do say insane things. Every casual remark they made was truth. Finn, hearing Enkrid''s order, moved out first. They had tried everything to stop an all-out battle, but to truly end the fighting, they needed to be present. So, Finn put thoughts of fatigue aside and quickly moved her feet. After Finn left with his subordinates, Enkrid pointed with his finger along the rugged path crossing the mountain range and said: "We will join the main forces." Enkrid suggested taking a slightly rougher path to join the main force, and the reason was simple. If someone asked, he would have no other explanation but to say it was his intuition. It was good to return quickly, but crossing the mountain range on the shortest route? "That one needs treatment." Shinar said. It was obvious who she was referring to. Rem and Jaxen turned their gaze to one side. "Is it me?" Ragna murmured. "Maybe we should leave him here and come back to look for him tomorrow." Rem responded. At times like this, their teamwork seemed to match well. If the two of them joined forces in actual combat, how would things play out? If Rem fought mercilessly following his instincts, Jaxen could patch up the gaps with his sense of timing. It might actually be a good pairing. Ragna started glaring at them with his good eye "That eye has an ominous aura." "Unpleasant glare." The two of them responded simultaneously, and when Enkrid''s gaze landed on Ragna, he spoke. "Apply saliva, and it will heal." His knees, shoulders, and even his internal organs were damaged, and one of his eyes was hurt. If applying saliva could heal such injuries, there would be no need for divine intervention. Therapists might as well quit their research and studies and just spit on wounds and walk around instead. "Help him up." Enkrid squatted before Ragna and said. "...Do I have to?" Shinar asked, thinking it wasn''t an urgent situation. "There''s no harm in going quickly." Enkrid responded lazily. "Do we have to?" "Really?" Rem and Jaxen both added a remark, clicking their tongues at the wounded Ragna. "I now understand that killing these two and burying my sword here is the right path for the peace of the continent." Ragna spat these words, brimming with rage, but he knew that it wasn''t the right time to physically fight back. "Get him up." What else could be done? Enkrid was the kind of man who would push if it was his will. Shinar picked Ragna up and placed him on Enkrid''s back, and Enkrid, carrying him, descended the mountain. The Pen-Hanil Mountain Range was dangerous, but it was nothing to them. "Where''s the one that escaped you?" Enkrid asked as they descended. "Ha." Jaxen let out a sigh, and Rem shot a sharp look at him before answering. "Well, he probably shriveled up and run away, didn''t he?" Enkrid didn''t ask about what had shriveled, but Shinar muttered something from behind. "His balls, huh?" It was a modified fairy-style joke, spoken by Jaxen in a manner meant to be barely audible, testing Enkrid''s reaction. It was meant to fluster him, but Enkrid remained unmoved. He only heard the noise that irritated his ears, and the reason he heard it before the fairy did was simple. It was his intuition, and he activated his Will to listen more carefully. "Jaxen." "I''m going ahead." The ground rumbled, the air trembled, and faint shouts were heard from a distance. Jaxen, upon hearing this, dashed ahead. His figure quickly disappeared among the trees. Enkrid, breathing out through his nose, said. "Clear the way." The air around them carried the scent of beasts and monsters. Rem stepped aside for a moment, beginning to swing his axe. Thud, thump, crack! The noise of bones and muscles cracking, splitting, and breaking echoed in Enkrid''s ears. Shinar stopped mid-run, narrowing her eyes. The sun was dipping low in the west. It wasn''t quite the time for the sunset yet, but the setting sun was casting long shadows. As they descended the mountain range, the situation became clear. "Uwaaa!" The enemy was charging forward. Shinar could already foresee what would happen. Blood would pool and flow, forming rivers that would turn into a flood. Thousands would die, and in the center of the battlefield, blood would run like a river, sweeping everything away. The battlefield would require madness to keep going. Aspen filled the void left by a fallen morale with madness. "Yahoou!" As part of the interspecies integration policy, the beastmen assault unit from beyond northern Aspen began their charge. On the other hand, the allied forces didn''t rush forward to meet them. However, the clash of both sides was inevitable, like the passage of time, unchangeable. As certain as the transition from today to tomorrow, it was a constant. Enkrid put Ragna down. "We''re at the base of the mountain. There are no monsters, so hold on." "My sword will be needed." "No, stay still. I''ll come for you." Enkrid spoke and looked ahead. Why was the enemy charging head-on? He didn''t know, nor did he need to know. It wasn''t ordered by anyone, nor was there a clear answer, but Enkrid knew what he had to do. "Shinar!" He called, and as he began to run, his pace rapidly increased. Boom! Boom! His feet didn''t hold back; the ground cracked and the earth and rocks flew up like fountains. His charge was wild and reckless¡ªan unmistakable sign that an unnatural force was coming. Behind him, Shinar followed with quick, graceful movements. Shortly after, Rem, having split the heads of beasts and monsters, joined the charge. "Jaxen!" "You''re late!" Enkrid''s shout was met with Jaxen''s response. Though his name was all Enkrid said, Jaxen understood the implied question. Could they stop the enemy? Enkrid ran, pondering for a split second as his left foot left the ground. In that brief moment, blood flowed to his brain, accelerating his thoughts. Could they stop the charging army? If the forces were evenly matched, they could be stopped. Even with fewer troops, with the right training, it might be possible. But many would die. ''Any other options?'' What if it was overwhelming violence? A knight is a monster who faces thousands alone. If there were not just one, but three such monsters? That might be enough to deter them. This action wasn''t the result of some grand calculation. All Enkrid saw were the countless deaths of those who had no reason to die. No honor, no glory, no fame¡ªjust slaughter. Only the song of steel would welcome them, and at the end, they''d flounder in a black river. If there were those who welcomed death and killing, they''d cheer for such slaughter. But Enkrid wasn''t one of them. Death and killing were meant to decide the outcome of a battle, but this was just meaningless death. The war was already over. Then, regardless of where it began, he would stop it. His will became a belief, and that belief became strength, surging within him as Enkrid felt the flood of will. "Audin!" He shouted, but his voice wouldn''t carry through the chaos. Audin, caught in the confusion, couldn''t hear him. Enkrid inhaled deeply again. Then, with the overflowing will, he shouted once more. Let it echo, loudly, reaching everyone''s ears. "A-U-D-I-N!" Lacking finesse, Enkrid filled the gap with raw willpower, his voice a storm of energy. As he uttered those three letters, their owner appeared from one side. "Yes, brother, Audin is here!" "Stop them!" Enkrid saw glowing dots, scattered across the battlefield. They weren''t literally glowing, but it was his intuition responding to the surge of will. What were they? The points where the enemy had to be stopped. It was at the far right of the battlefield, between two spots where the two armies would soon clash. "Teresa, help!" At his command, Audin and Teresa took their positions at that point. How would they stop the charge? The answer was overwhelming violence. Audin, suppressing his desire to awaken his divine power, clenched his fist and struck. Boom! No one could ignore this at point-blank range. Two people were sent flying into the air by the sheer force. If Audin had wanted to kill them, he would have crushed them, but he deliberately sent them flying to draw attention. Audin followed Enkrid''s intentions, and Teresa did the same, swinging her shield with force. The shield struck the enemy, sending them flying, their bodies landing like pebbles tossed aside. Had they done nothing, the two armies would have met and chaos would have broken out in no time. "Rem!" "Did you lose your hearing?" "Over there!" Enkrid pointed to another glowing point, a line leading from Audin''s position. By showing overwhelming destructive force, they needed to stop the enemy''s advance. "I see what you''re trying to do." Shinar, always quick-witted, was one step ahead, rushing to where she needed to be. She was positioned opposite Audin, beyond the battlefield. After Shinar took her spot, she spoke. "You may only come this far. Otherwise I''ll make them shrink." It seemed like a joke, but it was Shinar''s way of expressing her confidence. This wasn''t a moment where her body would disintegrate into dust; she still had energy after having faced Barnas and his forces before. "Jaxen, Ropord, Fel! Over there!" Jaxen wasn''t someone who could stop a large army on his own, so he needed backup. Two more were added to hold the line. Still, a huge gap remained in the front¡ªone only Enkrid could see. If they didn''t stop it, blood would pour through the gap. Enkrid ran and shouted, taking a deep breath to steady his pulse, then stopped. Behind him was his army; in front, the enemy. Some, with puzzled looks, were halting their charge, while others were running straight ahead, heedless. Normally, this was the moment where a knight would show what it meant to be one. Enkrid had planned to cut through the enemy, showing them what it meant to stand alone against a thousand. But now, his thoughts had changed. ''What stops the feet of men?'' His thoughts flowed rapidly, and in that instant, he knew what he had to do. He could distinguish clearly between what he could and couldn''t do. What he once thought was impossible, now felt within his grasp. The overflowing will granted him the power of omnipotence. What stopped their feet wasn''t violence, but fear. If fear was needed, he would give it. Enkrid poured his will out, like breaking a dam, flooding everything. A wall appeared behind him, and he drew his sword, slashing it against the ground. Crack! A long line appeared where his blade had struck the earth. ''Cross this line and die.'' With that, he infused the line with his will. The line became a manifestation of his will. The overwhelming pressure behind him turned into a wall. It wasn''t a deep chasm, but it was wide. A wall formed by overflowing will and pressure. Enkrid had faced similar walls many times, and now he was showing the enemy the same pressure. Anyone who saw the wall wouldn''t dare cross it. Madness faded, and in the face of fear, their feet slowed, their hands dropped. A wall? There''s a wall? If they charged forward, they''d die. Don''t cross that line. Enkrid''s invisible wall spread across the battlefield, overwhelming the enemy with fear. Some, trying to push forward despite the pressure, were overwhelmed by Enkrid''s madmen unit. "That''s enough." Enkrid spoke, and the scene unfolded like a painting. The advancing enemy froze. "Ah." Whether they saw the fear or something else, the soldiers at the front dropped to their knees, one by one, as did dozens, then hundreds, until the battlefield was littered with kneeling bodies. The sun, dipping to the west, gathered its last rays and illuminated Enkrid. The light poured from his body as he stood, sword in hand. Though it was simply the sun setting behind him, to the soldiers watching, it was a mysterious, almost divine halo. A knight could cut down a thousand, but no knight had ever stopped a thousand. "Enough." Enkrid finished speaking. The war was over. -------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Many thanks to azuring for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 540 - The End of War Chapter 540 - 540 - The End of War Chapter 540 - The End of War Clement, a member of the Border Guard''s light infantry unit saw the back of a figure. The figure''s back gradually grew wider, filling her vision until it became a wall that blocked her way. The wall between the enemy and the allies appeared like an illusion before her eyes. Clement knew it was an optical illusion, but she couldn''t help but perceive the wall. It was a barrier against the enemy, becoming the stronghold for her own side. Beyond the illusory wall, she could see enemies kneeling one by one in front of the allies. Had they seen the same thing as her? She didn''t know, nor did it matter. The events around her and even her location seemed irrelevant. As the illusion began to fade, the only thing left was the man who stood motionless in front of her. Clement suddenly recognized the nickname of the person who had appeared and blocked the space between her side and the enemy. The Demon Slayer. She also learned his name. Enkrid. She knew his rank as well. He was the lord and general of the area known as the Border Guard domain. He spoke, saying it was over. To stop. And with that, the battle ended. The day was still bright, the sunlight casting its rays on the land. The light made everything around her so vividly clear. It was as if the end of the battle had been etched into everyone''s mind, like the clarity of the surrounding light. "End of the war." Clement muttered to herself. Why? The old song often sung by minstrels about the knight who ended wars without drawing his sword came to her mind. She, too knew the song of the knight who brought an end to war without a weapon. In the lyrics, there were those who ended battles without drawing a sword. What had just unfolded in front of her seemed like something straight out of a minstrel''s ballad. A chill suddenly ran down Clement''s spine, causing her whole body to shudder. The hairs on her skin stood on end and she found herself unable to tear her eyes away from the figure before her. "Knight of the End?" Her muttering didn''t form into words. In fact, no one around her made a sound. Even the wind seemed to gently encircle him and the sunlight seemed to support his presence as it bathed him. Without realizing it, Clement stepped forward leaving her position in the ranks and tripped injuring her ankle in the fall. Blood stained her knee. The pain was sharp yet she didn''t feel it. The shiver of her spine was still coursing through her body. Her heart burned and she could feel something bubbling up from deep inside her. Kneeling with one knee on the ground, she raised her head wondering what she was feeling. She didn''t know. It didn''t matter. "Enkrid!" She simply uttered the name of her hero. It wasn''t just her. The entire army shouted the name of the man who had stood in front of them. Enkrid! His name had halted everything¡ªdeath, steel and blood in this land. *** It wasn''t just Clement. Many of the enemy soldiers also had similar moments of revelation. Among the few commanders who had realized something was wrong in the middle of the battle, one muttered to himself. "Crazy bastards." He cursed the higher-ups who had let things unfold this way but the battle had already begun. Even if they rebelled now there was no turning back. Seeing the disciplined forces of the Border Guard right in front of him realization hit him hard. "We''re going to lose." Not just lose but suffer a crushing defeat. The bodies would pile up and most of them would be soldiers from Aspen his own men. But the arrow had already been fired. The water had already spilled and the leaves had already fallen. Most of the commanders and soldiers who had charged into the enemy ranks, driven by some kind of madness had regained their senses. In reality, it was fear that slapped them awake forcing them to recognize the gravity of the situation. "If you charge, you''ll die. so calm down." If this moment were to be expressed in crude terms, it would likely be this. Rem might have said something like this. At first, the commanders had believed that the allies would arrive and win when the battle began. But now, in this unavoidable moment of combat even the enemies of Aspen couldn''t help but respect the man who had stood in their way. They didn''t know it yet, but later when they reflected on this moment they would inevitably respect him. That man had stood in the way, preventing useless bloodshed. Had the battle continued, it would have been a loss for Aspen. If a slaughter had occurred, whose blood would fill the field? The answer to that question was clear. "Wow." One of the shock troops in the front lines muttered in awe. "Hey, it''s over." The observant leader of the shock troops spoke openly. The momentum had been broken and charging forward now would only result in annihilation with no harm done. No matter how foolish the commander was no one would dare charge in this situation. And so both Aspen''s commanders and soldiers all stared at one person. The one who had stood alone and blocked the army. A knight is said to be someone who can cut down a thousand men. What should a man who stands against an army of over a thousand be called? "The birth of a hero." A commander muttered instinctively and without resistance laid down his weapon. This marked the end of the war, though what came after the surrender remained to be seen. Behind the scenes, a man who had been watching the battle and had witnessed his superior''s death now found himself as the new supreme commander. He had seen one man appear and stand alone against an army and in that moment, he felt something inside him collapse. "Not killing... but stopping?" It was like stopping a horse in full gallop with nothing but the reins. It was astonishing enough to stop a horse with sheer force, yet in such cases the horse should fall, breaking its legs or its neck, right? "Shit, is this even possible?" But the horse was fine and the man was unharmed. From a distance, it looked as if one man was holding off the entire army. As he stood in the middle of the battlefield, bathed in sunlight the man''s chest was filled with fear. What was collapsing? It was his future and everything he had built until now. Perhaps it would have been better to fight and lose. If they had fought until the end, even if it meant building a mountain of corpses he could have said he did his best. Even if he faced disadvantages, it wouldn''t be a mortal sin. But what would happen if they stopped here? If the battle ended like this who would take responsibility for it? Even if everything was revealed it would cause problems. The knight was one issue, but the one who obediently followed his command was sure to face consequences as well. Fear gripped him and his mind froze. He quickly attempted to flee. Forget about making amends; escaping seemed like the only sensible option. The most important thing in the world was his own life, wasn''t it? "I need to survive first." There are always those who choose duty and responsibility and those who choose to save themselves. And so, he turned to flee only to meet a cavalry unit coming from the other side. Unable to avoid them, he stopped and right then, Abnaier appeared confronting him. "What happened?" The fleeing man blinked, out of breath unable to answer, only staring at Abnaier. Why was Abnaier here? Abnaier hadn''t received the regular report from his previous general and his intuition, constantly nagging at the back of his mind led him to the battlefield. He trusted Barnas, yet a lingering anxiety drove him to come. He hoped nothing was amiss but the situation had turned in an unpredictable direction. "Uh, well..." The man began to make excuses though they were weak and unconvincing. Abnaier, seeing his shifty eyes sensed he was hiding something and spoke coldly. "From now on, if you lie. I''ll cut off your wrist." His voice was calm, devoid of aggression yet his words had weight. The man knew well that Abnaier would keep his word. "Where''s your commanding officer?" Abnaier asked. "He... he''s dead." The man caught his breath as he spoke, his back drenched in cold sweat. As the truth came out, Abnaier closed his eyes. "We''ve lost." He may not have understood every detail of the situation, but one thing was clear: they had lost. If they hadn''t, why would an enemy knight appear in the midst of a battle? ''Ha.'' Not even the Red Cloak Knights, but to be stopped by the Border Guard''s standing army. What does this imply? It''s proof that the Border Guard''s military power surpasses that of the entire Aspen Duchy. If you were to break it down by the number of soldiers or other factors, it might not seem so but the truth remains clear. ''Knight.'' The force known as the Disaster. Abnaier briefly looked up at the sky: the clear blue, the white clouds drifting between the rays of light shining through the gaps. The wind blew, ruffling his hair. Removing his helmet, Abnaier nodded. "Kill him." "...Why!" The commander tried to flee. It was a foolish act. Fleeing now? Where could he go at this point? Defeat? That could be forgiven. Losing the commander due to some insane knight going rogue? That could also be forgiven. But abandoning the remaining army and fleeing alone was unforgivable. The absence of the highest-ranking officer could lead to a massacre. Crack! One of the guards threw a spear. The man trying to escape hurriedly turned, only for the spear to pierce his back. "Crack!" The one hit by the spear collapsed face-first into the ground. Without so much as a glance at the dead man Abnaier and the guards moved forward. "Have we lost?" In response to the guard captain''s question, Abnaier recited what needed to be done. "We will return, saving as many as possible." Would the enemy let the retreating army go unchallenged? Who could possibly halt the battle like this? It was time to see and do what needed to be done with their own eyes. Upon arriving at the battlefield, Abnaier observed the entire situation. He saw a man standing alone, blocking the enemy. Abnaier recognized his face and name. He was someone he once targeted for death, no doubt about it. A man with black hair and blue eyes, standing alone as if carrying sunlight. He was a knight now, no doubt about it. Even if Abnaier didn''t fully grasp his abilities, the situation made it clear just how powerful he was. "The Demon Slayer." Abnaier spoke the man''s most famous title. So, what should be done now? Abnaier was determined to save his army, even at the cost of his own life. "Everyone, return." "We began together and we will end together." The captain of the guards did not heed the command. Abnaier had no time to convince him. If the Border Guard''s standing army started a fight now the entire army would be wiped out. Moreover, there was a knight on the enemy side. Just as Abnaier was about to step forward, the enemy spoke first. "Fall back." "Just leave?" The words were barely audible. Abnaier muttered to himself. It was unbelievable, but it was true. The man stopped the battle, plunging the battlefield into silence then turned Aspen''s army around. There was no need for promises not to chase. His words themselves were proof of trust. Even more so, he turned his back first. As Abnaier watched Enkrid''s back, he reflected on everything he had observed. He understood why Enkrid had turned away. ''Unnecessary bloodshed.'' The battle could continue. The outcome could be determined. People could die and others could be killed. That''s what war was and taking up a sword or spear meant an agreement had already been made. But if it was deemed unnecessary, it would be stopped. It seemed as if he had heard Enkrid''s words. Even Abnaier felt a shiver down his spine. It was a greater thrill than those who had witnessed the wall of Will and pressure. ''Could someone like that truly exist?'' Abnaier had seen many people. While he hadn''t seen any true legends, he had seen kings, imperial knights and knights from southern kingdoms. The king from the east, who was called a hero, was no less than these but how did he compare to the man before him? At least in Abnaier''s realm of judgment, it didn''t even come close. He felt unqualified to judge him. His ideals were lofty, their convictions firm and their will stronger than ever. "Let''s go back." It was time to return and stand before those who would ask for accountability for the war. General Frog had saved his men and returned alive after intending to die. The commander who had abandoned his men in the mountains and fled had been killed by a knight. The new commander, who had ordered a full charge in panic had only tried to save his own life before dying. Abnaier, having failed again was prepared to either face a lifetime in prison or meet his death. That was the end of this battle and the peace Aspen had achieved or would achieve. -------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Many thanks to azuring for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 541 - The Unyielding Knight Chapter 541 - 541 - The Unyielding Knight Chapter 541 - The Unyielding Knight "You''re the lord, I assume?" Graham turned his gaze to the figure suddenly standing before him. ''A lunatic?'' The man looked like he might start drooling at any moment. His appearance was utterly disheveled¡ªa gambeson torn in multiple places an old, battered scabbard and a dented helmet. On the surface, he seemed nothing more than a deranged vagrant but Graham instinctively raised his sword and shield, readying himself. The madman''s bloodshot eyes blinked a few times as he exhaled a wheezy breath escaping him. "I''m busy. Let''s end this quickly." His tone was calm, but the murderous intent laced within was undeniable. Before Graham could even fully process his words, a roar erupted in the distance. "Waaaaaah!" It came from the battlefield. Amidst the clamor, he thought he could make out someone shouting a name but it was too far away to discern clearly. Graham was in the process of regrouping his forces, including the rear units to mount a full defense. Regardless of their chances of victory, every soldier counted when it came to minimizing their losses. But then, this man had appeared from the brush beside their camp blocking the path. There were hardly any soldiers around their focus was on the frontlines, leaving supply units and support personnel scattered. Srrrng. The bloodshot lunatic drew his sword, twisting his neck to either side as the blade wobbled slightly in his unsteady grip. Whatever he had endured, his body and mind were far from sound. His balance was skewed his stance disorganized. Still, the words he muttered sent a chill down Graham''s spine. "The lord''s head will earn me the greatest glory, won''t it?" What nonsense. Yes, Graham was the lord of Border Guard, but everyone down to the youngest child¡ªknew who truly represented this land. Demon Slayer, the King''s Friend¡ªEnkrid. Graham''s title was largely a formality and he knew it. But Graham, an aging warrior viewed serving beside Enkrid as an opportunity, a blessing. He had honed his skills while watching Enkrid closely, refusing to grow complacent. And this man, as unhinged as he appeared was not ordinary¡ªGraham could tell by the way he carried himself. A simple madman wouldn''t have made it this far. Even his Frog companion, Luagarne an observer with keener instincts than most humans¡ªmuttered a warning. "Knight." That single word was enough. One of the guards nearby furrowed his brow and started to step forward, but Graham stopped him. "Stand down." "Sir?" "I said, fall back." Graham was not a calculating man, but neither did he turn a blind eye to the obvious. If his guards engaged this opponent, they would die. Graham had no intention of sending someone he''d fought beside, shared meals and trained with to their death just to test the enemy''s strength. ''Am I destined to die today?'' He didn''t know how or why an enemy knight had ended up here in such a state, but if this opponent was truly as deadly as they seemed even surviving a single strike would be a monumental challenge. Despite the odds, Graham gripped his sword firmly. ''If you fight, you fulfill your duty. But kneeling to die quietly isn''t your role.'' Straightening his posture, he declared "I am the lord of Border Guard." Before Graham could finish speaking, his opponent''s sword disappeared in a blur. He didn''t even have time to shout. What saved him was the relentless training he''d undertaken after witnessing Enkrid''s strength. Out of habit, he angled his sword diagonally, bracing his legs to absorb the force and attempting to deflect the strike. Clang! Screeeeech! He couldn''t entirely redirect the blow. At best, he managed to partially deflect it. Still, it was enough. The edge of his Valerian steel sword, the pride of his arsenal¡ªwas serrated like a saw, nearly ruined. His hands throbbed as though they might burst open and he suspected some skin had already torn. ''I held on.'' Even if it was partially luck, he''d survived. Against a knight, no less. Of course, his opponent Corwin was far from normal. Exhausted from the battlefield, bloodied and consumed by rage, the knight was running on little more than sheer willpower. His goal was simple: Kill the lord and leave. Logic or survival had no place in his mind. Had it not been for Luagarne''s whip snaking around Corwin''s ankle, Graham might not have survived. The Frog''s presence was a precaution, courtesy of Krais who feared a flanking attack. No one could have anticipated an enemy knight''s assault. "Frog scum." Corwin hissed, his bloodshot eyes gleaming with malice. Luagarne tightened her grip on the whip, but Corwin''s brute strength was undeniable. With a sharp yank, he pulled her off balance forcing her to adjust her stance. Luagarne gritted her teeth, her thoughts racing. ''He''s incomplete.'' There was no doubt Corwin was a knight. But compared to figures like Enkrid, Rem or Ragna, his skills were embarrassingly unpolished. ''We can hold out.'' Perhaps only that. Defeating him was a far cry from reality. Luagarne''s resolve solidified. She puffed out her cheeks, steeling herself for action. This wasn''t the time for despair it was time to act. Meanwhile, Corwin advanced his murderous intent sharpening the air. His blade descended with terrifying speed, but Luagarne managed to parry predicting his movement. By her side, Graham countered with a desperate strike of his own his battle cry echoing through the camp. Reinforcements were arriving, drawn by the commotion but Corwin remained undeterred, eyes wild and bloodshot like those of a beast. The knight swung again, relentless and savage as Graham endured, even as his armor shattered and his arms bled. He wasn''t the same man he once was. His time training with Enkrid had pushed him to the brink, transforming him into something more¡ªa warrior capable of surviving even the deadliest onslaughts. Of course, it shouldn''t have been possible for him to block the previous strike. That was reasonable. But it was blocked. If one were to analyze the reasons, first it was due to Corwin''s disrupted Will while fleeing, without regard for the damage to it. Second, Luagarne''s whip had wrapped around his ankle repeatedly hindering him. Lastly, it was also because Corwin had chosen to confront his weakness instead of leveraging his specialty. Rather than a precise, insightful strike he had opted for a brute-force attack. "Uaaaargh!" Corwin''s scream, devoid of any composure carried only his negative emotions. It was a sound that made everyone uncomfortable just hearing it. Most of the surrounding soldiers frowned. Still, there wasn''t anyone who could step forward. Whoosh. Corwin''s sword once again sliced through empty air. Despite his earlier blunder weakening his Will, he was still a knight. Even if this blow decapitated Graham, no one could blame him. Besides, Graham had just ordered his escorting troops to withdraw to avoid their deaths. Thud! Yet again, Corwin failed to achieve his goal. His sword had indeed cut through something, but it wasn''t the lord''s neck. Flop, flop. One of the Frogs'' arms, severed and bleeding flapped on the ground like a fish out of water. "How many times do you think you can stop me?" Corwin growled, exhaling a sinister bloodlust. At this point, Corwin seemed to regain a shred of calmness¡ªsomething close to self-control. Though this was more of a fleeting hope on his part, given enough time even this sinister aura might have been sublimated into Will, opening new doors for him. Even if it meant a life defined by slaughter, like that of a mad knight. But that was only if he survived. Corwin had already broken Graham''s shield, shattered his fingers and severed Luagarne''s leg, but he had failed to kill them. The crucial point was that enough time had passed, and the unhinged Corwin failed to grasp this fact. "Wow, this bastard made it all the way here? What brings you here?" A voice brought the battle to a halt. Light and refreshing, yet it carried authority. Even so, Corwin still tried to cut down the lord in his last act, but his movements no longer followed his intentions. Something flew through the air with a whoosh and passed between Graham and Corwin. Instinctively, Corwin retreated. Graham, slower to react, flinched in surprise. Whatever it was, it was several times faster than Corwin''s sword had been. Boom! With a deafening noise, the flying object struck the ground kicking up dust before settling. It was a hand axe. Its flight had been so swift that Graham himself had failed to see it properly, and to the soldiers it seemed as if lightning had struck. The small throwing axe had embedded itself into the ground, its blade entirely buried. It was a demonstration of overwhelming might. Corwin''s head snapped around. His eyes widened to the point of tearing, and blood-red veins burst leaking tears of blood. "You... why are you here?" Death had returned. The monster with grey hair stood before him. Behind him was a man with black hair and blue eyes, and next to them a red-haired figure wearing a stoic expression. Nearby, a female soldier gasped for air¡ªher name was Finn. Finn had returned during her report and, seeing the unfolding situation had swiftly brought Enkrid. For this, Graham would later owe her his gratitude. As Corwin reflexively attempted to flee, something flew toward the path he intended to take. He twisted his body to dodge it¡ªit was a leaf-shaped sword. The sword''s wielder, a golden-haired fairy with an unforgettable appearance spoke. "I will not let you escape, shriveled one." What nonsense was this? Corwin thought as he scanned the people surrounding him. "Brother, it is time for you to meet the lord." The speaker was a bear-like giant who stood silently to one side. And those words were fulfilled. "Uaaaah!" Corwin let out a scream mixed with a battle cry and desperately used every strategy he had to escape. His extraordinary insight allowed him to glimpse into the future. But the future he saw showed an unavoidable strike severing his neck. "No!" Those were his final words. Thwack! The knight Corwin''s head flew through the air. Rem, who had swung the axe almost struck the fallen head again but decided against it. What was the point of cutting up a dead man''s head? "Crazy bastard." Rem spat on the ground. Corwin was unpleasant in every way. Only then did Graham and the armless Luagarne let out deep breaths. Enkrid supported them both. "Limbs can grow back." Luagarne said as soldiers rushed to reattach her severed parts and bandage her wounds. "What''s the situation up ahead?" Graham asked. "We drove them back." Enkrid replied. Enkrid, who always showed Graham respect had chosen his words carefully. It was thanks to this that there were no casualties in this battle. Enkrid''s calm demeanor was evident and some soldiers in the vicinity stared at the so-called Madmen Unit that had just eliminated the knight of calamity. There weren''t many onlookers. Even as Aspen retreated allied troops had to hold their positions. Still, a few had witnessed what Enkrid had done. "An Unyielding Wall." Someone muttered the words, and they seemed to replace Enkrid''s most famous nickname. The moniker Unyielding Knight was born. "You''re late." said Krais, the big-eyed man as he emerged from the crowd of onlookers. Beside him was Esther in her panther form, her blue eyes fixed on Enkrid. If Aspen''s war marked its downfall and despair, then Naurillia''s victory heralded the birth of a hero. There were many witnesses on the battlefield, ensuring the story would spread quickly. Thus, after Graham was saved and Luagarne''s severed limbs were attended to evening came. There would be no celebratory toasts or indulgences for the next few days; the first priority was to recover the battlefield. After all, Aspen might attempt another reckless act so vigilance was essential. As the soldiers washed, ate, and chatted through the night, Enkrid finally felt a sense of emptiness, that he was forgetting something. That emptiness revealed itself late at night. "We found him by chance." "He was heading toward Aspen, using a greatsword as a staff!" The scouts and soldiers patrolling the area had brought Ragna back. "Ah." Enkrid sighed softly. He had completely forgotten about him. "Well, thanks for finding me." Ragna, muttering nonsense entered the tent and fainted on the spot. Naturally, he was sent to the medical tent. Chapter 542 - Now, Speak Chapter 542 - 542 - Now, Speak Chapter 542 - Now, Speak "Tsk, what a pity. Should''ve just left him behind." "Hmph, survived, huh?" "The Lord has yet to welcome you, Brother." "Hmm, I almost forgot." "Your arms and legs seem intact. If they''re not cut off, you''re fine." "A frog and a human are not the same. Are you really okay, Sir Ragna?" These were the words Ragna overheard just before losing consciousness. As he mulled over who the last two speakers might have been, he concluded they were Luagarne and Ropord. The one who said he forgot must have been Enkrid. As for the first two, the barbarian and the stray cat, perhaps? Skipping over his thoughts, Ragna opened his eyes and muttered, "One hand is enough." If the omitted context were to be filled in, it meant that even if all of them came at him together, he could handle them with one hand. It was also an invitation, disregarding his injuries. "There''s really no need to cut off an arm." He thought he had only blinked, but that wasn''t the case. The unfamiliar ceiling and a woman staring intently at him confirmed that. The woman, Anne, who claimed to be a healer, was calmly grinding herbs in a wooden bowl as she spoke. "Rest. For the next few days, eat well, rest, and take your medicine diligently." Her firm tone was met with a nod from Ragna. Looking down at his limbs, he noticed they were tightly bandaged. The pain lingered, but he felt much better than before he had collapsed. "Where am I?" "This is the infirmary, though it''s a bit lacking. The medics here in the camp know little about medicine, and the alchemists making treatments are either self-taught charlatans or cling to a handful of crude recipes passed down as family secrets. Still, the good thing is, if I ask for anything, it magically appears." Anne''s words flowed effortlessly as she prepared the medicine. Before the war, Anne had been assigned to the infirmary, a decision Enkrid had delegated to Shinar. Shinar, of course, couldn''t look after her directly, leaving Anne as the lone commoner amidst gatherings of noble offspring. It reminded her of an old fairy tale¡ªsomething about a commoner with magical powers attending a party and fighting back with a shoe after being humiliated. The details were hazy, but that thought crossed her mind. At least, among the people staring at her, there was no one looking at her with malicious intent or lustful eyes. Even her brief status as a "commoner among nobles" lasted only a couple of days. "Who did you say you were?" "Anne." A man with large eyes, likely Krais, had come by asking about the girl the commander had brought and had made arrangements for her. When he asked if she needed anything, Anne had confidently replied: "A room to myself, tools and equipment for research, books on alchemy, and if there''s an alchemist in the city, I''d like to meet them." Krais had asked, somewhat incredulously, what she was. Anne had replied boldly, "A healer." From that point, Krais began to take care of her needs. Krais, being no fool, was well aware that most of the so-called alchemists either in town or among their guests were half-baked at best. But rather than dismiss them outright, he supported them, hoping their research would eventually attract genuine talent. Investing in Anne felt like another gamble, but he decided it was worth a try. Her confidence and background as the disciple of the renowned alchemist Raban made her stand out. Not long after, Anne received her own private laboratory and a treatment facility. Her skills were recognized quickly. While she was proficient in surgeries, bone setting, and healing, her main focus remained alchemy. Anne understood her good fortune but also recognized her burning desire to advance her research and study. It was this ambition that prompted her to speak so openly to Ragna. Ragna, though the most gravely injured, was the only soldier in the infirmary. Others were either lightly injured or celebrating the victory in town. As Anne casually chatted with him, Ragna opened his eyes halfway, his response indifferent. "Got it." It was a reply that screamed disinterest. "Uh, yes... I see," Anne stammered, slightly flustered. She had expected some reaction¡ªmaybe even a spark of interest. But Ragna merely closed his eyes again. Anne watched him, feeling a strange sense of curiosity and irritation. Who was this man who seemed utterly unimpressed? *** "Now, speak." The flickering lantern light cast deep shadows across Shinar''s face, making her expression unreadable. "Is it Will?" Enkrid glanced at the figure sitting in the shadows beside her¡ªthe sly stray cat, Jaxen. Only his glowing eyes were visible, giving him an almost ghostly presence. "You sneaky bastard. Would it kill you to light a fire on your back?" "I''m also curious about how you called my name, Brother." Following Rem, even Audin posed a question. Beside them were Teresa, Ropord, Fel, and Luagarne. Not far from their lodging, Krais stood with his mismatched eyes, while Enkrid sat stroking Esther''s back. Naturally, she was still in her panther form. Esther let out a low growl. Lately, she hardly reverted to human form, as if she had decided to fully embrace her identity as a panther. So, was this considered downtime? The war was over, and their days were spent drinking, feasting, and indulging. Rumors of the nickname "The Unyielding Knight" had been making the rounds. It sounded slightly better than "Demon Slayer," didn''t it? As stray thoughts filled Enkrid''s mind, he responded curtly to their questions. "What about it?" "Playing dumb now, huh? You''re quite the sly one, aren''t you?" "They mean the time you earned that nickname." "Didn''t you use some kind of special trick when you called out to me, Brother Duckfoot?" Audin had a peculiar habit of playfully changing the title he used before calling Enkrid "Brother." Enkrid pieced together their questions. While some, like Rem and a few knight-level individuals, seemed merely curious, others, like Ropord and Fel, had a sharper intensity in their gazes. Luagarne, despite missing one leg, had taken a seat with a determination that suggested she would have crawled over if necessary. Her eyes gleamed¡ªnot with the usual Frog''s stare but with the wild glint of a giant. They shone as if too much oil filled her sockets, spilling over into her gaze. Enkrid recalled the events in question and replied, "I raised a barrier and infused it with intimidation." It was all he could explain about the surge of Will, the heightened emotions, and the overwhelming omnipotence that erupted in that moment. All he did was pour out his Will until it reached its peak. "Damn it, is that even an explanation?" Rem grumbled, clearly frustrated by the vague response. It wasn''t exactly easy to understand. "Hm, is that all?" Jaxen chimed in. Even Enkrid, whose composure surpassed that of most knights, felt a flicker of irritation bubbling up instead of Will. Criticizing him for being unable to explain it? Especially from Rem and Jaxen of all people? The nerve on these guys. "How did you call me, Brother?" Audin pressed further. Not only had he erected the barrier, but he had also summoned Audin using a similar outburst of Will. What could he even say about that? "I infused Will into my call," Enkrid replied in a more measured tone. "I see," Audin said with a stiff smile, his expression forced and his eyes strained in an unnatural curve. The reaction, whether it was Rem''s mockery or Audin''s forced understanding, was all the same to Enkrid. "That''s all I can explain," Enkrid added. For a moment, he unintentionally felt how Rem, Jaxen, Ragna, and Audin must have felt when explaining their techniques. Something that came naturally to them, but explaining it? That was a different matter entirely. Understanding this, he also recognized their attitudes as reasonable. So Enkrid did as they often did. "So, what do you want me to do about it?" "Haha." Surprisingly, Shinar burst into laughter at that. Ropord and Fel appeared deep in thought, while Luagarne began muttering to herself in a dazed tone. "With Will as plentifull as Uske''s, one could block a road even if they couldn''t build a wall alone." Her words, in their way, captured the essence of what had happened. It was, quite literally, the overwhelming scale of Enkrid''s Will that had forced the situation into submission. "Is it like casting fear over an enemy like spreading the shadow of Grime''s wings?" "Or like raising dozens of blades to threaten your opponent?" "There''s no need for multiple shields, Sister. You only need one to block the way. But that shield must be large, thick, and sturdy. Of course, the wall the Commander built was a bit softer than expected." As Jaxen, Audin, and Rem shared their interpretations, Rem added, "Well, that''s true." "A bit dull, though," Jaxen chimed in. Each of them interpreted Enkrid''s words in their own unique way. In short, it was the domain of geniuses. Audin even took the time to explain it to Theresa amidst the discussion. Enkrid smiled as he regarded them, offering a blessing with his words. "You''re like offspring of four-legged beasts with human faces." In simpler terms, he had just called them the spawn of human-faced dogs¡ªa creative insult. With that, Enkrid rose to his feet, brushing himself off. Despite gathering here, he had other matters to attend to this evening. He had come to see Shinar, but the meeting had taken this unexpected turn. "It''s time to go. Jaxen." "Yes." He wasn''t leaving alone. Jaxen rose silently as well. "Shinar?" "My fiance?e who never ceases to amuse me with his laughter, yes, let''s go." The nickname "Demon Slayer" might have been preferable to the titles they threw around now. As the three stood to leave, Rem declared he was heading to bed, and Audin left for his prayer time. The others soon dispersed as well. Once outside, the trio donned black cloaks, their appearance blending seamlessly into the shadows. "Fits you well¡ªthree stray cats, huh?" Rem sneered as he left. Heading out at night in such attire wasn''t planned, but it wasn''t as though they could stride out in flashy, gem-studded armor. That would only attract attention, not to mention beasts or monsters that were drawn to shiny objects. This was, after all, a classified mission. Enkrid, Jaxen, and Shinar made their way to the outskirts of the city, specifically in the direction of Greenpearl. There, a black-painted carriage awaited them. Inside sat someone who waved through the window as they approached. The three climbed aboard, and the masked man inside asked, "How is it?" "It suits you," Enkrid replied indifferently. The carriage began moving, its destination the border near Aspen. Chapter 543 - A Night Stroll and a Meeting Chapter 543 - 543 - A Night Stroll and a Meeting Chapter 543 - A Night Stroll and a Meeting Enkrid was aware of his tendency to take bold actions, and the masked man standing before him was no less daring. "What do you think?" The masked man, whose name was Kryanaht Angius Naurilius, asked. He was the king of the nation to which Enkrid pledged allegiance. "Is it really necessary to cover your face while traveling in a black carriage under the cover of night?" "It''s a matter of mood. Purely mood." Krang the king, replied as he lowered his mask. His arrival here had been preceded by a series of events, but the most decisive factor was Krang''s own will. Chronologically, the first notable event was the report reaching the capital about the progress and victory in the war, accompanied by the astonishing news of zero casualties. "Does that even make sense?" Some, especially those who envied Enkrid, scoffed at the notion. Even before rumors of his title The Unyielding Knight had spread, the idea was baffling to most. "Wouldn''t it make more sense to claim that four soldiers from the Border Guard became knights, formed a new order and launched the attack?" One commentator unintentionally struck close to the truth, though the gossip remained within their circles. Meanwhile, the royal palace dispatched an envoy¡ªa modest delegation of about ten members, which included Andrew Gardener. "When the full-scale battle broke out, I was supposed to join as reinforcements. So, why was it already over when I arrived?" Andrew''s expression betrayed a complex mix of joy, curiosity and disbelief. Along the way, he had heard of Enkrid''s growing renown, particularly the nickname The Unyielding Knight, which now echoed across the region. Enkrid''s fame had long been celebrated within the Border Guard, where every noblewoman vied for his attention, traders sought his favor, and even some wandering swordsmen pledged allegiance to him. However, the current rumors far exceeded those prior accolades. It was said that if Enkrid declared himself king tomorrow, people would flock to his banner in droves. Among the tales, the most sensational was this: "He single-handedly stopped an entire army?" Not by slaughtering them, but merely by glaring at them until they froze. Some claimed a wall emerged behind him, halting the enemy, while others said he drew a line with his sword, unleashing a radiant light that created a barrier to stop the advancing forces. As with most stories, exaggeration crept in leading to absurd embellishments¡ªlike an angelic army descending with flaming swords to defend the land. But hidden among the tall tales was one undeniable truth: Enkrid had, indeed single-handedly stopped an army. "Is it true?" Andrew had wanted to abandon his unit and rush to the front himself but had to first ensure the logistical stability of his forces. Supporting an army was no small expense and leaving the costs to the Border Guard, who had already spent lavishly in preparation for war, would have been unreasonable. Instead, he restructured his unit and sent them back while receiving an official request to join the royal delegation. Overjoyed by the opportunity, Andrew eagerly complied. "It''s true." Enkrid replied simply, nodding. Andrew''s eyes widened, his pupils trembling as he struggled to process the confirmation. "How?" "By creating a forest of energy." Shinar, who had accompanied Enkrid offered the explanation. Of course, it was incomprehensible to Andrew. "For your valor, the message is that you should depart from the Border Guard in a month and make your way to the capital." one of the royal envoys cautiously conveyed. Enkrid nodded in acknowledgment, marking the end of the delegation''s official duties. However, one member sought him out later that night accompanied by Andrew, of course. "Are you insane?" Enkrid asked his unexpected guest bluntly. A brief exchange followed, but the core of the matter was clear: "I''m not insane. No one will know I was here. Besides, with the famous Unyielding Knight by my side, what danger could there be? Aspen is too busy opening diplomatic channels and addressing internal turmoil to pose a threat. I''d bet five silver coins on it." "For a king, that''s quite a paltry wager." "The treasury''s tight. Asking for more funds is partly why I came here." Beside him, Andrew rolled his eyes fully convinced of the absurdity of the situation. What kind of king faked illness to visit a former battlefield? This, however was not the end of Krang''s eccentric plans. Upon hearing the details, Andrew realized they might even surpass the legend of Enkrid''s impenetrable defense in audacity. ''This is not normal.'' Finding himself among the five individuals privy to this secret, Andrew decided to forgo rational thought and simply comply. Others aware of the king''s actions including the Duke of Okto, who had fainted upon learning of them, the royal guard captain and Marquis Marcus Baisar¡ªhad been left with little choice but to relent. "My absence from the palace would raise suspicion. Instead, I hope you''ll guard me in secret." Krang had persuaded his royal guard captain, who reluctantly agreed. The king''s visit served two purposes: negotiating peace with Aspen and lobbying for increased taxes to replenish the royal treasury. "I can''t publicly demand money from the Border Guard for their efforts. So, I''m asking for tax increases instead." "Even so, Your Majesty, this is no task for a king." Krais interjected from behind Enkrid, ever the voice of reason. "If I come personally, they might be so moved they''d weep with gratitude." Krang joked. "I''ve long since dried up emotionally." Krais retorted. "Are you the sand type, then?" The sand metaphor referred to a popular trend on the continent comparing personalities. A moist soil type was emotionally attuned and empathetic, while a sand type was cold and logical. "Yes, I''m pure sand." Krais said flatly. In the end, Krais agreed to send the requested taxes, reasoning that maintaining good relations with Naurillia capital outweighed any grievances. Additionally, Naurillia''s internal instability following its civil war made financial support a prudent move. Still, Krais sought to secure his own interests in the process. "Do you know about salons?" Krais asked, referring to a growing social trend. He suggested that Krang visit his future establishment as a gesture of goodwill. "Of course." Krang replied with a smile. If filling the treasury required personal sacrifices, he was willing to do anything even dancing naked if necessary. "So, you''re going to Aspen? Planning to reignite the war?" Jaxen, who had joined the conversation, asked bluntly. "No." "Then what?" "I told him to come out." "Who?" "The king of Aspen." "And if he doesn''t?" Krang smiled, "We''ll see." While his actions seemed impulsive, Krang had calculated the potential outcomes focusing on the results rather than the process. Though provoking Aspen might seem reckless, he believed the ultimate benefits outweighed the risks. ''Even if I could destroy them, I won''t.'' To bring Aspen under control, the Border Guard would need to take the initiative and attack. However, such actions could ignite a war across the continent like wildfire. Even without that, annihilating an entire nation was no easy feat. So, what about taking hostages and turning Aspen into a vassal state? The pride of the Aspen people was unlikely to crumble so easily. "Won''t the sparks of rebellion ignite in various places?" Some nobles might align themselves with this side, but others certainly wouldn''t. Stable governance would become an unattainable dream. The real problem was that Naurillia lacked the capacity for such endeavors at the moment. Suppressing them by force might be possible. Normally, that would have been out of the question, but with Enkrid and the presence of the Madmen unit it became feasible. However, perfectly subjugating Aspen was an entirely different matter. If preparations were complete, it might even be worth considering taking over a neighboring nation, but Krang believed that was not a wise idea nor the right time for it. "The best outcome would be if Aspen''s king handled things on his own." And preferably in a way that aligned perfectly with their goals. To achieve that, a meeting would be necessary whether it ended in threats or negotiations. By personally taking action, Krang intended to align matters with Aspen behind the scenes. In politics, what could be better than feigning ignorance outwardly while scheming in secret? There was nothing better. Thus, Aspen was secretly approached with a proposal to meet. What if Aspen set a trap? Then it would be a disaster¡ªnot for Krang, but for Aspen. If Krang even slightly changed his mind, Aspen might be wiped off the map. While personally taking such risks was dangerous, Krang had determined it was worth it. "If things go south, I''ll just kill the king and leave." He had no intention of taking unnecessary lives. However, the king bore responsibilities simply by sitting on the throne. The crown carried duties and the throne bore accountability. It was a common notion regarding kingship. Thus, Aspen''s king had no right to complain even if he died simply for holding that position. The blame for a defeat, the deaths of knights¡ªif one followed the chain of command, all responsibility ultimately rested with the king. This was Krang''s worldview and in essence people lived according to their beliefs. Krang was no different. If Aspen''s king were to die, the nation would inevitably descend into civil war. Even if the Hurrier and Ekkins families joined forces to install a puppet king, chaos would still ensue. Such times of turmoil were inevitable. If genuine dialogue were possible, such outcomes could be avoided. Although the meeting was covert, it was being held in Krang''s name and the weight of that promise could not be disregarded. Krang''s plan aimed for all of this. Bold action, ambition and a conversation with Aspen''s king. The potential gains were far from trivial. "It would be best if we could communicate properly." If civil war broke out in Aspen and some fool decided to attack recklessly, war would immediately follow, resulting in unavoidable casualties for their side as well. Of course, if necessary they would fight. If necessary, blood would be spilled. But now was not the time, nor was there any need to suffer from the desperate last stand of a defeated nation. Krang didn''t share all these thoughts. Enkrid likely wouldn''t care much about them anyway. Thus, Krang expressed his intentions succinctly. "I just want to see his face. I''m curious about the bastard who keeps coming at us." It might sound crude as a reason for negotiating peace, but Enkrid agreed. He knew Krang never acted without careful thought. Thus, a team was formed: three wildcards¡ªShinar, Jaxen, and Enkrid. To prevent assassination attempts or trickery, Jaxen and Shinar would accompany them. And of course, Enkrid, the hero of the recent battle would also attend. This was also at the request of Aspen''s king. "If the one who stopped the army at the end of the battle comes with you, I''ll meet with you." That was the message they had received. For the coachman, Andrew Gardner joined the party. There was no need for Rem or anyone else to accompany them. Aspen also agreed to send only five individuals, including their king. The key to this operation was simple: meet secretly, remain unnoticed. "Then." After traveling some distance by carriage, the group left Border Guard to the west and pressed on. They passed signs of where an army had been stationed, killing a few monsters and beasts along the way under the cover of night. Finally, they saw a distant light¡ªthe meeting place. Even Enkrid found himself curious about Aspen''s king. What kind of man loved war so much as to keep pursuing conflict like this? -------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek I am also introducing a new membership tier, a cheaper one. For 10$ you will recive the next 50 Chapters every month. Many thanks to azuring for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 544 - The Fervor Chapter 544 - 544 - The Fervor Chapter 544 - The Fervor Crackling, crackling. Next to the large bonfire stood two chairs, crafted with meticulous skill. A middle-aged man sat in one of them, while behind him stood a young man in light leather armor, a middle-aged woman, another man who appeared slightly younger than her and a Frog¡ªthe very same Frog Enkrid had spared in the war. When Enkrid casually acknowledged him with a glance, the Frog gave a slight nod. The light of the fire illuminated the face of the man sitting in the chair¡ªthe King of Aspen. As Enkrid approached, his eyes scanned the king from head to toe. Despite some visible bulk, his physique showed clear signs of training. Veins stood out prominently on the back of his hands, and through his thin shirt, the well-developed muscles of his chest were evident. His face didn''t carry the harshness or sharpness one might expect; instead it was lean, with slightly hollow cheeks. To Enkrid, he seemed similar to how he had felt upon first meeting Count Molsan¡ªthough, unlike the count this man didn''t seem prone to madness. In summary, there wasn''t a hint of him being a war-madman. Perhaps he seemed slightly stern, but then again there was no set look for someone obsessed with war. The king lifted a leather flask and spoke. "Would you care for a drink?" His tone wasn''t gentle but neither did it harbor malice or hostility; it was more like the unyielding surface of a stone. "Gladly." Krang replied without hesitation. He neither rushed forward eagerly nor approached timidly, but walked naturally to the chair and accepted the drink. Holding out one hand while supporting his wrist with the other, he performed the gesture with a sense of ease. Then he took a sip. Watching this, Enkrid wondered if it was safe to drink, but he couldn''t intervene. His thoughts wandered to the conversation they had shared during their journey here. *** "Do you not wonder why I''m doing all this?" Krang had asked. Enkrid had blinked slowly in response before answering, "Would you stop me if I tried to take on an army?" "No." "Why not?" "Because you''d figure it out yourself." That was trust. "You''re the same, aren''t you?" Enkrid replied, expressing his belief in the king and friend before him. And that had been the end of it. Jaxen didn''t seem curious and Shinar didn''t care. If Andrew had been in the carriage, he might have muttered something like, "Everyone here seems insane." but he''d been too preoccupied gazing at the moonlit scenery and listening to the rhythmic clatter of hooves and wheels. When Krang had appeared and stopped the army before, Andrew''s face had gone from shock and disbelief to a near-vacant stare, like that of a ghoul. "I plan to win over the King of Aspen." Krang had said, to which Enkrid had simply given a look that said, ''Do what you want.'' "Am I bothering you?" Krang had asked, sensing Enkrid''s apathy. "Not at all." Enkrid had replied, using a standard evasion tactic. "Good, let''s leave it at that." From there, their conversation had shifted to mundane topics: Dunbakel''s trip east, recent battlefield events, the knights they had fought and killed, and even stories about reshaping the royal training grounds. Jaxen had mentioned killing some moonlit fairies during a battle, but Shinar had remained unfazed. If humans drew lines and fought amongst themselves, why wouldn''t fairies do the same? It was just the way of things. "Everyone lives by their will. If rest is what awaits them at the end, it''s not necessarily a bad thing." Shinar had remarked. Krang had seemed ready to respond but thought better of it, falling silent. Now, as the conversation turned to more serious matters Krang mused aloud, "The southern empire stirred up trouble, the Holy Kingdom made their moves and yet in the end everyone seems to be siding with Aspen. So, I thought what should I do? Argue about fairness? Doesn''t seem to be worth it." Enkrid had merely nodded along, knowing full well that politics was not his realm. Even before he became a knight and especially after, his focus had always been singular¡ªswordsmanship. What to pursue, and for what purpose to wield his blade? Politics, to him was an unwelcome distraction. When they reached their destination, the King of Aspen looked at Krang with an unyielding expression, as if to say ''What''s so bold about drinking a little?'' Amidst all this, Enkrid felt a sharp gaze on him. A young man was staring at him intently, his eyes clear and direct. While it wasn''t a glare with bad intentions, Jaxen seemed displeased regardless. In a low, calm voice Jaxen said, "Our unit has a panther that plucks out the eyes of those who stare rudely. I wholeheartedly support and endorse its actions." The quiet yet threatening words were far more effective than any blunt intimidation. In situations like a secret meeting after a victorious battle, such restraint carried weight. "I mean no offense." the young man replied, his voice clear and unwavering despite Jaxen''s warning. Was it sheer determination or youthful naivety? Either way, he was undeterred. The middle-aged woman frowned, disapproving of the young man''s forwardness while the Frog remained emotionless. The last man, with a suave demeanor offered only a slight smile and said, "Best not to provoke him." "I only wish to speak." the young man continued, his gaze still fixed on Enkrid. "Are you The Unyielding Knight?" Before anyone could react, the young man had posed the question. Enkrid studied him but didn''t recognize the face. Still, he seemed neither familiar nor entirely unfamiliar. The young man continued, "My cousin was the first to teach me the sword. His name was Mitch Hurrier." The name struck a chord in Enkrid''s memory¡ªMitch Hurrier, the opponent he had clashed with twice. "I quickly surpassed him, and soon I gained a godfather: Barnas Hurrier." the young man said. "I am Illode Hurrier, his godson." Barnas had died at Ragna''s hands, and Mitch by Enkrid''s. Illode stood before the man responsible for his cousin and godfather''s deaths. Yet, his gaze carried no hatred. Bowing his head, Illode spoke. "First, I wish to thank you." Though he had reasons for vengeance, Illode also understood the greater good. Enkrid''s intervention had saved countless lives and Illode had come to know this through both Abnaier''s words and his own investigations. Enkrid, who had stopped an army was worthy of respect¡ªeven if Illode''s gratitude would complicate matters upon his return. Despite everything, Illode felt compelled to acknowledge the knight who had saved thousands of soldiers, even if that same man had slain his kin. "One day, if I am strong enough, I will challenge you to a duel." Illode concluded. He was a man driven by justice, uncompromising in his principles. "Do as you wish." Enkrid replied. Enkrid nodded. While he couldn''t fully grasp the other party''s intentions, he could tell that Illode''s words weren''t spoken out of malice. More than anything, there was sincerity in what he said. And perhaps even more importantly, Illode was a person he liked. To act according to one''s convictions¡ªwasn''t that quite similar to the way Enkrid lived? Although, admittedly Ilode wasn''t as perceptive as he was. "Are you insane?" The middle-aged woman glared at Ilode and interjected, making it clear that his actions weren''t prearranged. As she spoke, she glanced at Enkrid as if wary of what might happen if things went south and swords started clashing. Her caution was understandable; she had no confidence in stopping him if things escalated. Illode, however, remained unfazed which seemed to irritate the woman even more. The deepening wrinkles on her forehead were evidence of her rising frustration. Regardless, the conversation ended there. Illode straightened his gaze, while Jaxen subtly released his grip on the dagger he had been toying with. Meanwhile, of the two kings present Krang listened to their exchange with curiosity, while the king of Aspen remained impassive. "What an interesting fellow." remarked Krang. "One who doesn''t know how to hide his intentions." came the reply. The two exchanged these brief comments, then took turns sipping from a leather flask. For a meeting between kings, the setting was rather modest. There were no fine crystal glasses or exquisite dishes¡ªhardly the scene one would associate with royalty. In fact, the very idea of a king traveling this far for such a meeting was sheer madness. On this continent, the notion of kings from different nations meeting was nearly unheard of. Without cities or fortifications, the dangers of magical beasts and monsters were ever-present and maintaining farmland often required substantial military support. For a king to cross borders and meet with another sovereign was an unprecedented gamble. And yet, Krang had gone to extraordinary lengths to make this happen. Enkrid stood by as a silent escort. He sensed nothing unusual, no ominous aura or threatening presence in the vicinity. While Krais had questioned the necessity of the king making this journey himself, he had also assured Enkrid that there was little to fear. Of course, true to fault Krais had grumbled about the risk. "Why take such unnecessary chances?" he had asked, exasperated. But Krang had merely laughed softly and dismissed the concerns with a casual, "Because it''s fun." Even if the king of Aspen had attempted some sort of scheme, it wouldn''t have been an issue. That was why Jaxen and Shinar were present. As Enkrid idly observed, the conversation between the two kings began. And their exchange turned out to be far more unexpected than anyone could have anticipated. The king of Aspen waited for Krang to speak first¡ªperhaps to demand retribution for the breach of the non-aggression pact or maybe to insist on unconditional surrender. ''Or is he here to make us a vassal state?'' All such outcomes were things he had resigned himself to face. In truth, the very act of agreeing to this meeting was strange in itself. ''Is he planning to kill me?'' Could all of this have been a ploy just to take his life? If so, surely a more sophisticated method would have been employed. That didn''t seem likely. No, what Krang desired must be submission¡ªhumiliation. He wanted to force Aspen to acknowledge its inferiority. Stand before me. That''s what this was about: establishing dominance so that Aspen would recognize its place. The king of Aspen was not so proud as to sacrifice his soldiers or his people out of stubbornness. He understood what needed to be preserved. But that didn''t mean he would simply roll over. So, he spoke first. "What if I were to summon hidden forces and strike you down here? How could you be so confident as to meet me?" It was a declaration of defiance, a statement that he would not bow easily even in the face of pressure. Krang, in turn, responded with a calm smile. "Do you have such hidden forces?" Was he mocking the king, knowing full well that Aspen''s knights had been decimated? The king of Aspen looked at Krang, seeing in his face the devil himself. How much had this man laughed at him before arranging this meeting? Beneath that smiling mask, was there a sense of triumph? ''Fine.'' If he wished to bask in his shallow victory, so be it. He might even kneel and lower his head. But it wouldn''t last forever. Ten, twenty, thirty years from now, Aspen would rise again. If he couldn''t, then his son would. His son, leading a revived order of knights would ensure Aspen stood once more. The king clenched his fists, suppressing his rage. Now was a time for patience and composure. While it appeared that Aspen had initiated this conflict, the real cause was their competition over Green Pearl. Aspen sought to stockpile food there, while Naurillia feared the military buildup that would follow. Aspen''s ambitions of surplus food¡ªwhether to feed its people or sell for military funds, clashed with Naurillia''s need to maintain the balance of power. Green Pearl was land of immense potential and Aspen''s dreams of utilizing it were now at risk of being reduced to vassalhood. Despite his resolve, the king couldn''t fully prepare himself for Krang''s unexpected words. "If that is my fate, then I must accept it." The response caught the king off guard. It was an answer to the hypothetical threat of hidden forces¡ªa willingness to accept death if that was destiny. As the king pondered its meaning, Krang continued his voice clear and cheerful. "Clinging to life in the face of death is only natural. But simply surviving isn''t always enough. If the heavens¡ªor the gods decided that I, as I am now, am no longer interesting and thus must die, then so be it. Without power, I would have no choice but to accept my end." With that, Krang raised a single finger toward the sky. Under the dark expanse of the heavens, dotted with stars and two moons his gesture seemed to touch the celestial canvas above. The king of Aspen recognized that Krang''s words were calculated, but still he found himself captivated. "Are you mocking me?" he asked. "If I were, I wouldn''t have snuck all the way here groaning from exhaustion. Do you have a dream? I have one¡ªa small but fulfilling one." Krang stood, his movements as slow and deliberate as when he had sat down. Of the four guards stationed behind the Aspen king, three flinched while those on Naurillia''s side remained steady their eyes fixed on Krang. In the faint glow of moonlight and the campfire, Krang seemed to radiate a light of his own. "My dream." he said, "is to rid the world of demonic realms and cultists, hang those who commit outrageous acts on gallows, and then in a gathering of all people, declare an end to all fighting." What nonsense. Demonic realms couldn''t be eradicated. And an end to conflict? Utterly absurd. Yet, Krang''s words and gestures carried a strange, magnetic power. "All races, humans included, have never truly united have we? Isn''t that the case? The same goes for Naurillia and Aspen." In the stillness of the night, Krang''s impassioned speech drew every gaze. "Utter nonsense!" The king of Aspen shouted, his face flushed. Yet Enkrid observed his reaction and thought: He''s halfway convinced. After all, such a response wouldn''t come from someone who wasn''t listening seriously. -------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek I am also introducing a new membership tier, a cheaper one. For 10$ you will recive the next 50 Chapters every month. Many thanks to azuring for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 545 - Not All Kings Are the Same Chapter 545 - 545 - Not All Kings Are the Same Chapter 545 - Not All Kings Are the Same Not all kings are the same. Aspen, since its earliest days has been deeply influenced by religion. This relationship afforded Aspen recognition as a city-state by the Holy City-State and their support when needed. However, it also meant constantly treading carefully to appease the temples, making autonomous decisions nearly impossible. But the Holy City-State wasn''t Aspen''s only challenge. Had it been, the king might have managed to maneuver around them while still asserting his will. No, religion wasn''t the sole obstacle. Looking back through history, the Duchy of Aspen began as a territory granted by the Empire¡ªa nation established under the Empire''s approval. Digging deeper, one might see it as the Empire''s ploy to bind an extraordinary hero to the land, a plan that worked brilliantly. However, to those living in that era, Duke Aspen the founder, would have been nothing short of a hero among heroes. After all, the hero who founded a nation couldn''t have been an ordinary figure. Given these beginnings, Aspen''s ties to the Empire were tenuous at best. It was essentially, a separate kingdom disguised as a duchy established with the unspoken agreement, "Here''s the land just don''t cause trouble." Over time, Aspen evolved into a kingdom in all but name. Yet, asserting that status outright was not feasible, especially now. "Do you mean to say you wish to reject the Empire''s assistance?" Every year, envoys from the Empire would arrive in Aspen bringing grains to the mountainous nation where arable land was scarce. The Empire''s support was not exploitative; Aspen was treated fairly, paying reasonable costs for the supplies. However, even at fair prices Aspen''s limited resources left little room for stockpiling or stability. Aspen''s challenges didn''t end with the Empire. Another major power loomed large: Lihin-Stetten, the Southern Nation. Unlike the Empire, which provided Aspen with food, Lihin-Stetten acted as a buyer purchasing metals and other resources produced in Aspen. In this delicate balance, Aspen became trapped between two giants¡ªone a supplier, the other a consumer. This left Aspen hesitant to engage in trade with the southeastern coastal trade cities for fear of upsetting either party. ''What an utterly wretched situation.'' Argius Bona Aspen, known as "The Chosen of the Gods" sat upon the throne deeply dissatisfied with the state of his nation. ''Must we truly remain a nation that survives only by extending hands in all directions?'' And not just to one, but to three? The Temple of Abundance had established itself within the royal palace, constructing a temple within its walls. They preached that the teachings of their god were necessary for the people''s stability. Naturally, in a land where food scarcity was the norm, many in Aspen turned to the god of abundance for solace. While some priests genuinely prayed for the people, others were corrupt to the point of stench. Yet, they couldn''t simply be cast out. Killing even a single low-ranking priest would provoke an outcry across the land. The king himself lacked the power to act freely against them. This inability to separate church and state was one reason Argius longed for secular governance. Why did the people of Aspen so devoutly believe in the god of abundance? Their poverty left them no choice but to seek refuge in faith. Is relying on belief as an escape truly the answer? The king understood that escapism provided only fleeting comfort. Still, he knew his people were not all like him. He wanted to lead Aspen out of this predicament and he saw an opportunity on the horizon. ''Green pearl.'' Just beyond the border to the southeast lay fertile lands¡ªpotential granaries that could solve Aspen''s problems. Expanding the border slightly southward to claim these lands could provide the answers Aspen needed. If they secured these fertile lands, they wouldn''t need the Empire''s aid or to rely so heavily on selling their metals to the south. With full bellies, even the devout might turn away from the temple allowing the removal of corrupt priests. All Argius needed was to show the people that their king had accomplished this transformation, reducing their reliance on religion. Argius had long dreamed of this¡ªa dream of Aspen not as a duchy, but as a fully independent kingdom. A kingdom that stood on its own without aid, a limping nation walking steadily forward on its own legs. Many dismissed him as a dreamer, but some had followed him believing in his vision. They had failed. Now, a young king over a decade his junior, stood before him spouting grandiose claims that bordered on madness. "Why is it impossible?" "You think removing the demonic domains is possible? Peace on the continent? Ending war? Uniting the races to fight together? You think all that makes sense?" Argius felt his frustration boil over. His voice rose and his emotions seeped into his words. He wanted to shout: Do you even understand what you''re saying? Why are you uttering such absurdities? "Have you tried?" "...What?" "I asked if you''ve tried." If no one had walked the path, did that make it impossible to tread? Once, Argius had thought the same. His dream was to walk a path unfettered by the influence of others. While many had dismissed it as impossible, Argius had simply seen it as a path no one had yet taken. "If no one has stepped on the land, does that mean it''s uninhabitable?" The young king gave voice to Argius''s innermost thoughts. But their capacities were different. Just as not all knights are equal, not all kings are the same. "Will you abandon the attempt without even trying? Is that the dream you chase? Then why did you cross Naurillia''s border? Enkrid, strike down the King of Aspen and rally the troops to slaughter everyone in this land!" Krang''s voice was calm but carried an edge that made his words land like blows. His tone shifted only slightly, but its weight was palpable. Even Jaxen glanced at Enkrid to gauge his reaction. Enkrid, knowing Krang''s words weren''t serious, remained silent watching the situation. Others in the room reacted instinctively. Aspen''s representatives unconsciously stepped back while Illode, the young man who had introduced himself earlier, placed a hand on his sword''s hilt. Yet, no one dared make a move. Krang''s aura had convinced them all his words were genuine. "Is that what you truly want?" Krang asked. Argius looked at the young king. Behind him was the night sky and further back, a knight stood firm ready to act at his command. Argius knew his life could end with a single gesture from the man before him. Yet, in that moment, all Argius could see were Krang''s eyes¡ªeyes brighter than the moon, capable of outshining the stars. The eyes of one who carried a dream burned brighter than anything else in the world. "Your racial integration policy succeeded because of fairness, didn''t it? Care to share your secret?" Krang''s words were devoid of malice, spoken with a sincerity that felt disarming. Yet, Argius found himself drained by the exchange as if each word sapped his strength. ''The difference in our capacities.'' Argius felt the weight of this truth. The man before him was larger than life, broader in vision and depth. "Why have you come here?" This time, Argius asked without anger seeking only understanding. "Does it matter?" Krang smiled and Argius let out a hollow laugh. Not all kings are the same. Argius finally understood. The man before him carried a vision too vast for him to fathom¡ªa vision of erasing the demonic domains and ending the continent''s wars. "And how will you achieve all that?" Argius asked again. Though his words lacked a subject, their meaning was clear. "How will you bring peace to the continent? How will you confront the demonic zones? How will you eradicate the cults?" Each question alone seemed like folly. Krang smiled once more, his expression radiant as if his words carried magic. "Let''s figure it out together." Argius laughed. Starting with a hollow chuckle, he soon threw his head back in genuine mirth. Argius recalled the vassals who had opposed his decision to stand alone. ''A dreamer.'' Compared to him, the man before him was a madman who dreamt with his eyes wide open. Yet. ''I''ve lost.'' Not a single expected word had been spoken. The King of Naurillia hadn''t mentioned any of the concerns Arguis had feared. He had only shown the difference in their capacities. "You will need a granary district. You will want to free yourself from the Empire and the southern powers and there''s also the religious issue." ''At least his mind seems sharp.'' Argius remained silent, simply listening to what Krang was saying. "I can''t give you the entire land. But here''s what we can do. If we add this, you''ll secure the farmland." Krang pressed his palms together as he spoke. ''Even if this is just a delusion, so be it.'' Argius thought to himself. Krang was offering to merge the borders. To divide the agricultural land between them without conflict, proposing peace instead of war. Though the idea sounded simple, in reality it was far from it. The two nations, once divided by the entire Green Pearl territory had fought countless times. How could old grudges be ignored? ''Would the Empire and the southern powers simply stand by?'' It was as if Krang had been waiting for this very question. "If anyone objects, well, just say you were forced into this by this friend of mine. There''s a knightly order capable of wiping out a capital city like Aspen and we''d threaten them with swords, so they wouldn''t dare oppose." Krang gestured casually with his thumb toward the back, clearly indicating Enkrid. Enkrid uninterested, nodded briefly. "Is he your vassal?" "He is my friend." Enkrid remained impassive as he heard Krang refer to him as a friend in front of another king. Arguis couldn''t help but wonder about the relationship between them, though it wasn''t important at the moment. "Is that really possible? You''re at war with the south and they won''t just let it slide." "I''m not the one fighting, but yes. My people, those who share my dreams will defend it alongside me." "I see." Argius''s tone fell flat. Yet, his eyes began to sparkle. They weren''t the defensive, resigned eyes Krang had seen when they first met. They weren''t eyes that spoke of despair or surrender. They held something different now, something that sharpened his focus. Krang''s next words continued to ignite the spark of realization in Arguis. "You''ll receive the farmland out of goodwill, but you can''t let the remaining land go to waste. Isn''t that just what the God of Prosperity would want?" Such childish thoughts, Argius thought. What kind of foolish talk was this? The rabbit living in the cave couldn''t understand why others lived outside. Why go out where it''s dangerous? You can survive by eating the grass inside the cave. Argius had never seen beyond his own cave. The man before him wasn''t simply asking for help or inviting him to share his dream. He was clever. Krang understood the situation clearly and articulated it with precision, forcing even those who would argue against him into silence. Everyone has their turning point in life. For Enkrid, it came with the words of a second-rate mercenary swordsman. You''re a genius. It also echoed a line from a ballad sung by a wandering minstrel: The knight who ends the war, the knight who ends the battle. Now, the King of Aspen had experienced a similar revelation. Krang smiled and continued speaking. "What are you afraid of? Death? Failure? If not, then why not dream with us?" No answers. No alternatives. But a dream. Krang was a dreamer, and Argius wanted to reach out to that dream. What must be done first to make that happen? Drunk on the young king''s words, Argius realized that the person who had made this moment possible was Enkrid. As everyone else became intoxicated with the conversation, Enkrid remained calm and steady. His name was Enkrid, The Unyielding Knight. It was he who had made this meeting possible. Argius smiled, realizing that he was indebted to the one who had spared his people from shedding blood. The King of Aspen stood up and laughed. "What should I call you?" "Krang." "I am Argius. Before it''s too late, I intend to do what I want. Will you allow it?" Not what must be done, but what he wanted. A king who understood the weight of words had spoken it correctly. "Do as you wish." Krang responded, and Argius looked at Enkrid. "I am remiss in my manners. Sir Enkrid, The Unyielding Knight. Thanks to your efforts, my wife will no longer cry herself to sleep, the children who nearly lost both parents now can smile and the elderly parents who sent their child off to war can breathe a sigh of relief. For all this, I thank you." The king bowed his head. He hadn''t forgotten that it was the legendary hero who had held back the army and made this meeting possible. -------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek Become a member and receive the next 50 Chapters for 10$. Many thanks to azuring for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 546 - It Will Be Fun Chapter 546 - 546 - It Will Be Fun Chapter 546 - It Will Be Fun What the king of Aspen said now also implied that he would accept Krang''s proposal. The small details were tasks for the officials, and although the relationship might change in the future, the beginning was promising. This was something no one expected, but Krang had aimed for this very situation from the start. What if the Empire, the South, and the Holy City-State all sided with Aspen? ''Then I can just have Aspen on my side, can''t I?'' It was a much faster method than breaking down each of those three factions one by one. Of course, it might not work. If the king of Aspen turned out to be the biggest fool in the world, there was nothing to be done. ''That''s impossible.'' Looking at the attitude Aspen had taken so far, Krang could see that they had tried to assert their will despite various pressures. And the king''s current behavior showed his worth. The king of Aspen expressed his gratitude, and Enkrid nodded before speaking. "Doesn''t that sound just like the words of a charlatan?" It was a joke directed at Krang, and anyone from Naurilia, including Andrew, knew that Enkrid enjoyed making jokes. Of course, no one expected it in this situation. "Didn''t you say you two were friends, one a king and the other an ally?" The king of Aspen, Argus, seemed briefly flustered but quickly responded with calm. "I feel deceived as well." "Why do you say that?" "Because this friend of mine says he''ll do something, but there''s no plan. Just saying ''I will do it'' without any responsibility. What kind of reckless statement is that?" Enkrid''s words made Krang, Jaxen, Shinar, and Andrew all stare at him intently. "Is that something you should be saying?" Krang couldn''t hold himself back and interrupted. It wasn''t surprising. There was a man born with little talent who, despite that, had declared he would become a knight. What did anyone expect? There was no need to ask what would happen. He had shown with his actions that he had chosen a path. Every single day, not a moment was wasted without swinging his sword, even cutting down sleep and eating time. He lived like a madman. A plan? For someone like that? "Still, it will be fun." Instead of answering Krang''s remark, Enkrid turned to the king of Aspen. Fun? It seemed a distant idea to Argus, the king of Aspen. But hearing those words now made his heart pound. It would be fun, he thought. Yes, it would be fun. He had been born into the royal bloodline, given the title of the chosen one. But had he ever truly acted like a chosen one? He had dreams, but fulfilling them was a duty. He never felt joy from it. He simply thought it was something he had to do. But now, hearing the ambition of the king of Naurilia stirred something in him. It felt like going back to the time when he first fell in love, feeling the passion again. Talking to Enkrid made that happen. His energy surged wildly, something he hadn''t felt before. "When I go back, I''ll boldly declare that I''ve rejected the vassalage proposal and secured part of Green Pearl. Will this affect your reputation?" Argus asked as he looked at Krang. Krang, looking at Enkrid with a dumbfounded expression, quickly returned to his usual demeanor and smiled before answering. "Do I look easy to deal with? I don''t think so." The two kings, without hesitation, reached out their hands and shook them. "If I die, all of this will be meaningless." The king of Aspen said. "Don''t die. Eat well and live long. If you think you''re going to die from a sword, at least ask to be saved." Krang retorted. While the two kings exchanged blessings or curses, Enkrid silently called for the frog. The middle-aged woman and man from Aspen were whispering to each other, overwhelmed by the atmosphere and Krang''s charisma, unable to say anything, feeling awkward. "Abnaier, what happened to him?" Enkrid asked. "Why do you ask about him?" "Will he die for the defeat?" Krang had said something before they arrived. "That''s not for you to concern yourself with." Frog responded, maintaining a formal tone, as Abnaier was someone deserving of respect. Honestly, no one in Aspen who was capable of thinking would dare speak carelessly about the knight who had blocked the army. Especially Frog, who remembered how Enkrid had sent him back. In fact, some of the hero stories of Naurilia that had spread to Aspen had been spread by Frog himself. It was a somewhat funny story, but even some Naurilian nobles, who only heard the rumors from afar, still believed that the incident had been exaggerated. Enkrid''s reputation was even higher in Aspen than in Naurilia. He had personally faced his enemies, so they understood his value. That was something Enkrid also applied to Abnaier, the man he had faced. "Is there something I can request in exchange for victory?" Enkrid asked while looking at Krang. Krang nodded. This was a request granted with the king''s permission. Everyone turned their attention back to Enkrid. They wondered what nonsense he would say next. "Go ahead," Argus said. "I know that Abnaier is the main culprit who started this war. Once the two nations reach an agreement, such an unruly man can''t just be left alone. Therefore, I suggest that we immediately escort him to Border Guard. He must be held accountable." Krang listened to Enkrid''s words with a stiff tone, feeling something unfamiliar. Why did it feel so? He realized that Enkrid had clearly memorized these words. The middle-aged woman and the priest from the temple behind Argus frowned. Abnaier had been imprisoned for his defeat and would probably not survive. He was someone they did not want to keep alive, having always been a schemer in support of the king. Previously, they couldn''t kill him due to Barnas, but this time they intended to finish him off. He was always the one proposing that the kingdom stand alone. Enkrid''s words, though blunt, were also in stark contrast to the previous conversation, making his intent clear. "You want him dead, don''t you? If you send him, we''ll deal with him." No one here misunderstood Enkrid''s meaning. "What''s this!" The priest tried to intervene, but Argus raised his hand to stop him. "Let it be. That man was a hawk who pushed for the war relentlessly." It was not true. Abnaier was moderate. But what did that matter now? This was the magic of Krais. "If Aspen does not make any sudden moves and maintains decorum, we might request the strategist''s capture. Why? Because, if left alone, he will surely die. If Your Majesty is set on making Aspen your ally, it would be wise to take that man with you. If there is chaos in Aspen due to internal struggles, he will definitely die. If we want to save him and protect him, it will only worsen your position. It would be better for us to take him." They say a wise man recognizes another. Krais may not have been a sage, but he was aware that Aspen''s commander was no ordinary person. He had predicted this situation, and perhaps even if it wasn''t like that, he knew that the king of Aspen would reject this request on his own. More importantly, bringing Abnaier with them had two benefits. Enkrid could see that much too. First, without him, Aspen''s best strategist would be absent, making it harder for the war to reignite. Second, if Abnaier were brought to Border Guard and treated well, it might ease the antagonism between the two kingdoms over time. They could just bring him to Border Guard, feed him, give him drink, and let him sleep. ''What a strange man.'' Enkrid was amazed by Krais, who had anticipated several moves ahead. Krais, though, had once been in awe of Enkrid when the knight had blocked an army, exclaiming, "Can a knight really do such a thing?" But to Krais, Enkrid was the more impressive one. "Well then." With that, the meeting ended, and they returned the way they came. The moonlight still shone on the ground, and the stars proudly displayed their beauty. It was as though the moon and stars were dancing in the night sky. As Enkrid briefly glanced out the window, he saw a shooting star streak across the sky. "Shinar Kiraheis, do you still hold to your duty?" Inside the returning carriage, Krang casually started a topic Shinar did not want to address. Enkrid gazed at them both. Shinar, still expressionless, answered. "I have never forgotten my duty." Enkrid didn''t know, but Shinar had been a great help to Krang even before he became king, and there was an oath between them. Krang didn''t ask because he wanted to avoid his own words. Seeing Sinar stay so close, it seemed unnecessary, which is why I spoke up. "Is that so?" "Yes, it is." Enkrid, watching, then spoke. "What is that? The task." "It''s not something my fiance? needs to know. Every woman needs at least one secret to maintain her mystique." If we''re talking about mystique, wasn''t Esther second only to Sinar in Boder Guard? Her beauty, otherworldly and unparalleled even among fairies, was a subject of awe in the city, especially since she always appeared with an expressionless face, adding to the mystery that spread far and wide. "It''s something like a fairy''s duty." Krang answered instead. It wasn''t really an answer, but there was no need to press further if they didn''t want to speak about it. Enkrid let it slide as he always did. The black carriage continued on, returning to Boder Guard, and only then did Andrew finally relax a bit. "Phew, I''m alive." Andrew, the head of the Gardner family and a key figure among the royalists, couldn''t help his tension when dealing with a madman. And there was one more madman here. "Your body seems stiff; how about a spar?" It was early in the morning before the sun had risen. Instead of resting after the long journey, Enkrid suggested a spar. "Is this normal?" Andrew asked, and Enkrid responded in a serious tone. "If not when everyone else is sleeping, when will you swing your sword?" "I''ll swing it after waking up." Though Andrew was a training enthusiast in his own family, even he wasn''t keen on this idea. Enkrid didn''t press him any further. He just said it to get Andrew moving, seeing his body stiffened from the journey. The next morning, Krang called for reinforcements from one of the Duke of Okto''s estates in the city of Zaltenbuck, located beneath the capital. Boder Guard''s own guards went out to meet the Zaltenbuck escort on the way, easing Andrew''s burden. "See you at the palace." Enkrid nodded in response to Krang''s farewell. In about a month, when Boder Guard''s repairs were completed, they would head to the palace to receive recognition for their battlefield contributions. After Krang left, the busywork fell to Enkrid''s subordinate, Krais. "We can''t afford to fight over the border, so we need to set up at least something resembling a wall." Krais spoke, and immediately set to work. A wall was built between Boder Guard and Aspen, but it was barely higher than a grown man''s waist. "Is this really a wall?" The commander from Aspen''s border defense remarked, looking at the makeshift structure. He was positioned just far enough away that he couldn''t touch it but could reach it with his feet if he stretched. The commander from Naurilia raised his shoulders and replied. "Yes, that''s what they say." It was the situation where everyone pretended not to know the reality. They''d say they drew the border and that they''d live on their own lands, farming peacefully. But if irrigation and a new village were built right beside it, what would happen? Young men and women, eyes meeting, would inevitably arise, and during tough times, mutual aid would occur. Of course, this would take time, but for now, both Naurilia and Aspen had bought time in this negotiation. A few days later, the transport carriage carrying Abnaier crossed the border. Since it was a prisoner transport, he was locked in a cage, but there were blankets and food to show he wasn''t being mistreated. When he arrived at Boder Guard, his situation hadn''t changed much. Well, a little bit. He was no longer in a filthy prison but locked in a proper room. Was it a relief to be alive, even if he had to give up his life for the peace agreement? ''What kind of man is he?'' Abnaier couldn''t help but admire the actions of Naurilia''s king while wondering about the face of the person who had orchestrated his escape. He could already tell from the situation how clever the person who had taken him was. Two days after arriving at Boder Guard, Abnaier overheard two stoic soldiers greeting someone at his door. "Did you come?" "He''s inside." The lock on the door, designed to be locked from the outside, clicked open. The guards and the visitor exchanged a few more words. "Why was it locked?" "Isn''t he a general from the enemy country? We were told to lock him up." "Let him be. Anyone who can escape from here isn''t going to be stopped by a lock." A young voice spoke, and the door squeaked open with the sound of ungreased hinges. Abnaier barely raised his head, sitting comfortably on a soft sofa. The young man, who looked no older than a younger sibling, entered the room, followed by a woman with a strikingly attractive appearance. "I''m fine, thank you." It was the first meeting with the man who had repeatedly given him trouble. The man, who Abnaier didn''t yet realize was Boder Guard''s strategist, continued speaking. "You''re the strategist?" "Ah, it''s nothing special. I just did what I could because I was worried." The conversation was short, but Krais''s tone remained friendly. After revealing he was the strategist, Krais simply said he came to see Abnaier''s face, and before leaving, placed his hand on the door handle and looked back. "Are you planning to escape?" "...I have nowhere to go." Abnaier realized that Krais was probing his emotions with the sudden question. He could tell Krais wasn''t just anyone. The two exchanged a brief laugh. Abnaier thought some small trust or sympathy had formed between them. He had no other choice¡ªreturning home meant death, so where else could he go? After Krais left, the guard outside increased. "Didn''t you say he wouldn''t escape?" Nurat asked. "Yeah, I said that, but you never know." Krais, with his paranoid nature, was always anxious. He didn''t see a reason to trust anyone, so he kept Abnaier locked up for his own peace of mind. Though Abnaier noticed that after their conversation, the guards around him increased, he knew there was nothing he could do. Krais was just being Krais. Even if the situation had turned in favor of peace, it didn''t mean Krais would trust anyone right away. Abnaier was helpless. As for Krais, he would continue to keep a close watch on him to alleviate his unease. -------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek I am also introducing a new membership tier, a cheaper one. For 10$ you will recive the next 50 Chapters every month. Many thanks to azuring for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 547 - Fallen Clemen Chapter 547 - 547 - Fallen Clemen Chapter 547 - Fallen Clemen In distant lands, such as Naurillia, there were nobles who didn''t believe in Enkrid''s legendary reputation. Or rather, they thought his feats were exaggerated, sprinkled with a bit of bluster. When minstrels sang about the "Ballad of the Impregnable Wall" or the "Song of the Knight Who Stood Against a Thousand" it all seemed implausible. Stories of him drawing a line in the dirt with a burning sword and raising a wall of fire seemed too fantastical to be true. Though some minstrels had tried to detail Enkrid''s exploits more accurately, exaggerated tales were the ones that spread the fastest. Such stories needed a touch of the extraordinary to capture people''s imagination. In an era where public executions were considered entertainment, these tales served as welcome diversions. Some distant listeners believed only half of the tales or even less. The gullible believed he truly wielded a flaming sword. But within the ranks of the Border Guard, Enkrid''s reputation soared to unthinkable heights. These were soldiers who had fought by his side and their families spread his name far and wide. To them, it was as if they had witnessed the birth of a legend. While slaying a thousand foes alone would be monstrous, standing against them to bring peace without shedding a single drop of blood was something else entirely. Those who had been present during his feats could not stop chanting his name. "I''m going to become a knight like the "The Unyielding Knight" someday!" The streets were filled with children shouting such aspirations. Given this atmosphere, how did the soldiers view Enkrid? Fighting alongside him was an honor in itself. So when the hero declared his intention to join their training, the soldiers were both tense and exhilarated. A knight¡ªa renowned knight at that joining in the soldiers'' routine drills? And not just any knight but The Unyielding Knight, the general of a Border Guard territory? To top it off, he was accompanied by the infamous "Madmen Unit." Even those who had trained with Enkrid in the past momentarily forgot his history. And no one, not even those who ground their teeth at Audin''s name, expected Enkrid to push them with such relentless determination. Reputations often cast a haze over people''s perceptions and this was no exception. But what no one could have anticipated was how it all began¡ªwith Clemen, a soldier who had joined the army only after Enkrid had departed for the west. Despite there being no large-scale battles, she had twisted her ankle in excitement. She didn''t feel embarrassed about it, though. At the time her focus was entirely on Enkrid¡ªhis back, the wall he formed and the halted enemy. Everything else was a blur. Until the day, that very hero approached her and said: "I heard you were the soldier who fell alone." Clemen''s heart raced as she snapped to attention. "Ah, yes, sir! Infantry Corps, Clemen reporting!" "Oh, is this the one? The soldier who scraped her knee in a battle that ended with no casualties?" "I heard it was a twisted ankle." said Rem, chiming in. Audin joined in, his tone almost amused, "So you injured yourself by falling? Sister, is there something wrong with your ankle?" Jaxen, following close behind added with a smirk, "Is that even possible?" Then Fel piped up, "I can''t take her side on this one. Twisting your ankle alone during combat? Really?" Clemen''s head swirled as Ropord, looking incredulous remarked, "I''m afraid I can''t defend this, either." It was as if her world tilted. Was she being ridiculed for falling alone? No one had ever said anything before now. Enkrid took it in stride and spoke decisively: "She lacks endurance. From today on, we''ll begin mountain running drills." The expressions of the surrounding soldiers, especially the veterans, shifted dramatically. They remembered. Enkrid had always been a training fanatic not just for himself but for everyone around him. From that day forward, the standard running course which would have taken them across the training grounds or the fields near the city, was replaced with a path through the Pen-Hanil mountain range. Although they didn''t march through the heart of the mountains, the idea of running into a forest teeming with magical beasts and monsters seemed reckless. Recently, rumors had spread that the monsters in the mountains had formed colonies to defend themselves against the relentless Border Guard forces. "Not running yet? Are all of you suffering from ankle issues like Clemen?" Enkrid''s sharp words sent the soldiers sprinting. It marked the beginning of a gruelling run, without rest breaks across rugged terrain. "Don''t stop. Stopping means death." Enkrid barked as magical beasts and monsters occasionally emerged from the underbrush, only to be swiftly dealt with by the knights. Audin, a former drill instructor showcased his destructive power that discouraged any attempts to escape the gruelling training. Some soldiers found it educational to watch knights fight up close, but their fascination was fleeting. After running from dawn to dusk, they wondered if this was even sane. Clemen in particular, was mentally exhausted. "Do you all want to fall like Clemen?" Enkrid''s voice thundered. "Or perhaps you''d like me to separate your ankles temporarily, Brothers?" Audin''s booming voice echoed behind him. Every time they thought they could catch a breath, another shout would come: "Don''t get injured from lack of endurance! Clemen, keep running!" Ropord, the former drill instructor chimed in without missing a beat: "Do you know why Clemen fell? It''s because she lacks talent!" And finally, Fel, the most irritating of all declared, "She doesn''t even have the talent to stand properly. If you lack talent, then work harder. Effort, people. Effort." Clemen held back her frustration and persevered. She understood that this wasn''t about singling her out but using her as a catalyst to push the entire unit harder. Though she was humiliated in front of her comrades, many officers treated her well in private. Ropord in particular, made sure to look after her, understanding that the training''s purpose wasn''t just to punish but to elevate the entire unit. Enkrid''s vision extended beyond individual improvement; it was about bolstering the army''s overall strength. As Krais once explained, "The quickest way to strengthen an army is through specialization. Separating units by their skills takes effort, but it pays off when you create balanced, cohesive groups." This gruelling regimen wasn''t just about physical endurance; it was about refining their abilities, forging unity and preparing them for the challenges ahead. Fel felt awkward during group training. He was a shepherd, not a soldier. That''s why he declined to join any direct unit and Enkrid never insisted. Why force someone to do something they didn''t want to? This perspective hadn''t changed since the time Enkrid first became the madman unit commander, nor had it changed now. Perhaps this was why people naturally admired Enkrid. Didn''t Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, and Audin know how incompetent Enkrid had been when he first struggled to get by? Had Enkrid really changed since then? Of course, there were some changes but the fundamentals had stayed the same. Even now, when he had become a knight and his skills had more or less reached their level after the war with Aspen, this fact remained true. Jaxen, overwhelmed with managing those under his command, opted out. Shinar, whose original role was to lead the reconnaissance team turned them into her direct unit. But the most peculiar case wasn''t present here: Esther already had her own direct unit. She had selected and trained soldiers with talent in magic, and Krais had even gone so far as to name them the Magic Infantry Unit. For some reason, Esther taught them diligently and now their numbers had grown to nearly twenty. "Run." As Enkrid gave this command, he scanned a few individuals. They clenched their teeth, unwilling to even show signs of exhaustion. He didn''t care about skills or talent¡ªhe only judged their attitude. Everyone had their own standards after all. One day, two days, three, four days passed. Some members of the Border Guard''s standing army gave up on continuing. It couldn''t be helped. "This is madness." Why endure such grueling training? Surprisingly, none of the people handpicked by the madman unit members for their direct units quit. Maybe they had a good eye for people. Though in the case of those picked by Rem, it was likely that they couldn''t quit even if they wanted to. "From today, you''re the Axe Unit. Everyone, use axes." Rem had started with this declaration. "Why are we using axes? Damn it, I''ve used a spear my whole life." "Talking back when you can''t even fight properly?" Rem was forceful but led by example. Axes were short-range weapons, shorter than swords and far shorter than spears. But within the range Rem favored, their destructive power was exceptional. The people Rem recruited were all temperamental, the kind who charged headlong regardless of what weapon they held. If they were going to use spears but charge recklessly like that, what was the point of wielding spears at all? Rem wasn''t the type to explain patiently. Instead, he beat them senseless. "Just do as you''re told." Anyone who tried to run? There was no way Rem would let that slide. "Run, and I''ll kill you." When he said this and even showed killing intent, everyone kept their mouths shut. There was no one to complain to about the oppressive training. In truth, most of them secretly agreed with Rem''s methods. When they held axes and followed orders, their skills noticeably improved. "Hey, want to learn some curses too?" Rem even got a bit ambitious, thinking it might be good to teach them a few spells. But this led to a problem: not everyone could learn like Enkrid. It wasn''t common to find people willing to keep at something with blind determination. "All you have to do is this. Why can''t you get it?" On top of that, Rem wasn''t particularly skilled at teaching. Krais, observing the overall situation wished for more competent talent. "Ropord''s good at this." Compared to others, Ropord was ideal. Though, from an outsider''s perspective even he seemed to push his troops too hard. Some soldiers grumbled, questioning why they needed such rigorous training when there was no immediate battle. But Krais, as if anticipating this, drove them into the Pen-Hanil Mountains. "Why not use the perfect training ground right behind us?" There was no reason not to. Although they were busy negotiating the treaty with Aspen, Krais understood better than anyone that nothing would go smoothly without proper preparation. This was especially true for building up the military. Even if the soldiers were equipped with the finest gear, it would mean nothing if their mental fortitude or leg strength faltered, leaving them to collapse like Clemen. Drills and basic training were one thing, but in actual combat the outcome would hinge on the unit''s training and the soldiers'' capabilities. By this point, Clemen had become something of a household term. "Fall behind, and you''ll be the next Clemen!" This kind of remark became common. And Clemen, clenching her teeth, kept training until she was selected for Enkrid''s personal guard. "Ugh, once I get promoted, I''m going to beat them all to a pulp." Clemen had developed grit and determination. A month flew by. In truth, it had been spent solely on training. After the war ended, there had been a brief festival-like period, but that was fleeting. "Well, I''ll leave them to you while I''m gone." Before departing, Enkrid entrusted his personal guard to Fel. Fel had acted like his deputy throughout the training, so this felt natural. It was finally time to head to the palace. "Safe travels." Enkrid, Rem and Audin set off together with Graham and Krais seeing them off. Ragna couldn''t join due to injuries and Jaxen shook his head, unwilling to come along. Shinar seemed engrossed in training her unit, while Esther''s intentions remained a mystery. Thus, the three of them began their journey to the palace. The atmosphere on this trip was vastly different from their last journey to the capital. This was thanks to the safe roads established by Krang and Krais in the meantime. -------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek I am also introducing a new membership tier, a cheaper one. For 10$ you will recive the next 50 Chapters every month. Many thanks to azuring for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 548 - Uncle Chapter 548 - 548 - Uncle Chapter 548 - Uncle Krais was practically living under a mountain of work. He knew this hectic period would persist for some time and had a rough idea of what lay ahead. For instance: "Could I get by with just six more months of putting up with Aspen?" If left unchecked, their relationship would likely stagnate indefinitely like an uneasy truce between strangers. But Krais had already put measures in place to ease that tension. Things might not go as planned. So what? If nobody ends up dead, he figured it was worth trying. The only real variables were the potential invasion of another country or a breach at the boundary of the Demonic Realm. "But those are beyond my control." The border near the Demonic Realm was something he couldn''t address even if he worried about it. As for foreign invasion, Krang had already made his move. How effective Krang''s plan would be remained uncertain, but other nations would likely bide their time and observe for now. Naurillia and Aspen had chosen to join forces instead of setting the continent ablaze. "War? What war? We''ve reconciled!" That''s essentially the message they sent to the entire continent. Handing over half of Green Pearl territory symbolized this union. Furthermore, Border Guard had already proven its strength. While only a select few understood the full implications of Aspen losing all its knights, those who did grasped what it signified. "It''s evidence that Border Guard wields considerable power." This meant no one would attack recklessly without thoroughly assessing their military strength. In effect, it was like Aspen had doubled Naurillia''s Red Cloak Knights. Even those who anticipated some increase in Border Guard''s forces would have been taken aback. Despite the songs celebrating the Unyielding Knight and the madmen unit, pragmatic minds would have calculated Border Guard''s capabilities with cool precision. "Rem and Ragna are too sharp and wild to keep hidden, after all." The information was likely already out. The union between Aspen and Naurillia may have been hasty, but it meant that Border Guard''s knightly force combined with Aspen''s resources, was now a significant asset. In other words, the southern nations and empires were unlikely to attack just because they didn''t like the current arrangement. They would spend time analyzing Border Guard more thoroughly before making any moves. "What else could there be?" Factoring out wildcards like cultist uprisings, a tentative period of peace seemed plausible. "And with that peace, there''s no reason for mercenaries, bandits, or rogue swordsmen to stir up trouble." When a nation was weak, even a renowned mercenary company could destabilize it. In the past, a small country in the southeast was overtaken by a mercenary group. Similarly, a trading city-state in the southern region, once defenseless endured repeated extortions from mercenaries. Eventually, that city pitted rival mercenary bands against one another and used its own trained force to annihilate the survivors¡ªa well-known incident referred to as the "Merchant''s Blade Massacre." The trading city controlled mercenary groups unimaginatively named Gold, Silver, and Bronze Companies. Though lacking creativity, the names stuck. It was also said that the city had connections to the continent''s foremost assassination guild, and their mercenary bands occasionally stirred up trouble in other towns. "Would that trading city have any reason to antagonize us?" As far as Krais was concerned, the trading city was a stubborn and tenacious entity. They didn''t care whether they dealt with empires, the south or Naurillia¡ªtheir only focus was commerce. Leona Rockfreed, the head of her merchant guild had once mentioned receiving a marriage proposal during a chaotic period of transition. "At least it wasn''t some slimy toad of a pervert. But still, why should I give away my guild as a dowry?" The trading city had made its intentions clear: they wanted to absorb Rockfreed''s operations through marriage. The experience Leona gained by traversing the continent was invaluable and her guild had established trading ties even with groups like the Black Leather Guild and Glacier Rangers. While merging with the trading city might have simplified expansion for Rockfreed, it would have also diminished Leona''s control over her guild. When you start a business with someone else''s money, you inevitably face strings attached¡ªinitial smiles can turn into demands for repayment, followed by claims on your assets. But Leona was sharp and knew exactly what she wanted: full ownership of her guild. "So much work." Krais muttered, taking a sip of tea. The tea, a gift from the royal palace, came with a letter from Marcus expressing gratitude. "If we''re not at odds with the royal family, we might as well get along." Drinking the tea, carefully chosen by Marcus, seemed to clear Krais'' foggy mind. Maybe this was why people paid for premium tea leaves. "Perhaps I should stock some of this in the salon I''ve been imagining," he mused. Not just as a place for idle chatter, but as a venue for meaningful discussions and networking. Currently noble gatherings served that purpose. But with coffee houses gaining traction in cities, salons might easily take their place. While salons were currently stereotyped as places for young wives of old nobles or debauchery-driven nobles, Krais believed their nature depended on how they were managed. "Nothing much happening at the palace, I hope?" "Don''t worry. I''ll be there." Rem had said, causing Krais'' stomach to churn. Would the nobles at the palace obediently recognize their general? Surely some would grumble about empowering Border Guard. Well, that was the captain''s problem to handle. Rem might be a concern, but only Enkrid could effectively rein him in. "I''d love to retire to a salon." Krais briefly entertained the thought of becoming a reclusive sage. Overwork and burnout made escaping to the mountains for a life of forest bathing seem oddly appealing though there was always the risk of becoming a monster''s meal. But the reality was clear: Krais disliked responsibility, not the pleasures of city life. His thoughts turned to Abnaier. Having someone with that level of intellect would make work far easier. Yet the idea of working with him left a sour taste. Perhaps he would consult Enkrid on the matter later. With that, Krais finished his tea in one gulp. It was time to return to work. Allocating the trained forces, organizing their equipment, and screening questionable individuals entering the city¡ªthere was no end to the tasks. Though he delegated responsibilities and planted trusted people throughout his operations, there were never enough hands. Still, whether or not he fully belonged in this role was irrelevant. For now, work demanded his attention. *** When they set out, the sun was shining but now the sky had turned gloomy. The gray expanse overhead reminded Krais of Rem''s hair. "Looks like it will rain. It''ll start pouring soon. Let''s find shelter." Rem remarked after glancing skyward. He had always been adept at predicting weather changes. "How do you do that?" Enkrid asked. Though tedious, the roads between Naurillia and Border Guard were mostly well-maintained, at least to the major cities. The paved routes included watchtowers at half-day intervals¡ªthree-story structures designed for defense against monsters. Arrows could be loosed through the slits, though they were less effective against flying beasts like griffins or wyverns. For such threats, large ballistae were mounted atop the towers. These ballistae had been constructed using materials like beast hides and hair¡ªwomen had even sold their hair to fund the project. Rumor had it that some made a small fortune during this period. Thanks to these measures, the roads were safe and devoid of monsters or bandits. It was a peaceful journey, allowing for steady travel without interruption. *** Esther, who had returned to her human form after a long while, tended to soldiers who seemed to be either her disciples or subordinates. She appeared to be thoroughly enjoying herself. "Lower your gaze. If you dare wander with your eyes, I''ll pluck them out." She greeted the unit with such harsh words, but even before she spoke every soldier had already cast their eyes downward. Whatever had occurred before must have made them remarkably obedient. Each soldier carried a fist-sized crystal orb, polishing it constantly while murmuring something. To an outsider, they might have seemed like a mad group themselves. *** "Why don''t we spar for a bit after a short rest, brother?" Audin interrupted Enkrid''s thoughts with a suggestion. "Let''s do it," Enkrid nodded. "Count me in," Rem added eagerly. While the sparring sessions weren''t overly serious¡ªintended more as a way to loosen up. An outsider would still be wide-eyed at the ferocity. Their journey followed a repetitive pattern. If rain seemed imminent, they sought refuge in nearby cities or caves. If a beast or monster emerged from the cave, the three of them without hesitation, would spring into action. Audin would pummel it with his fists or Rem would split its skull with his axe. Any beast or monster capable of surviving such attacks would''ve already turned this land into a demon''s domain. As they journeyed, they passed merchant caravans and groups, sparred again, rode on horseback and shared jokes. Before long, they were on the outskirts of the capital. Typically, when a lord of a major domain traveled to the capital, they brought along a retinue of attendants. Count Molsan and other nobles had done so in the past. But Enkrid had arrived with just two people. He saw no need for a large entourage. And though they were merely three, two of them were knights. Who would dare challenge them? Not that anyone was likely to recognize Enkrid. It was normal not to know his face, despite his fame. After all, one had to have seen it to recognize him. But the captain of the guards at the city gates had no excuse for ignorance. He had seen Enkrid during the capital''s civil war. At the crowded gate, Enkrid calmly waited his turn in line. When the captain noticed him, his reaction was immediate. "What? W-wha¡ª" Pointing at Enkrid, the captain stammered before finally managing to shout, "The Demon Slayer!" It seemed that nickname still carried weight in the capital. Audin''s massive frame had already drawn attention and now all eyes turned to Enkrid. "Is it him?" "It''s him, you fool." "Oh, that''s him?" "The one?" "Lord of Border Guard?" "The king''s friend?" "The Demon Slayer?" "...Why is he so handsome?" A flurry of murmurs rippled through the crowd, but Enkrid remained unfazed. Such scenes weren''t new to him. He had experienced similar attention in noble gatherings before gaining renown. "I am Enkrid of the Border Guard, summoned by the royal palace. May I enter?" There was no need to present any badge of identification. "Of course!" The captain personally grabbed the reins and escorted them inside. Enkrid had visited before, even rolling around in fights here so the terrain was vaguely familiar. The only changes he noticed were the increased number of children playing and the slight reduction in the size of the slums near the city walls. Krang must have been busy since becoming king. As Enkrid was about to dismiss the captain, the man stopped and said with a bearded, earnest face, "I respect you." The captain, who had learned Enkrid''s legend in song, had been born and raised in the capital and deeply loved his homeland. For someone like him, a hero who had protected his city, country and family was nothing short of divine. To him, Enkrid was a living faith. There were many in the Border Guard who felt similarly. When Enkrid acknowledged the captain''s reverence with a nod, the man''s expression brightened. The capital greeted them with a clear autumn sun, its air cool and refreshing. The smells of manure from the stables and urine from the alleys filled the air but it wasn''t unpleasant to Enkrid. The road ahead grew noisy. "Don''t pick a fight. We''re just passing through." "Hmph, I only offered a fair price." To Enkrid''s surprise, the voices were familiar. "Eh?" Rem, who also recognized them, called out first. "Twins? What brings you here?" One of them was Enri, a former hunter turned merchant. His short-cropped hair and clean-shaven face made him look sharp. Although Rem didn''t know the other person, Enkrid did. It was a merchant¡ªwhat was his name again? Ah, Malton. This was the man who had once mocked Enkrid in the Border Guard, claiming that if he were friends with Rockfreed, then he himself must be Enkrid''s uncle. "Uncle?" Enkrid called out to him cheerfully. Malton squinted at him, tilting his head as if trying to recall. He clearly didn''t recognize him right away. How unreliable Enkrid thought, amused. How could someone forget their own "nephew''s" face? -------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek I am also introducing a new membership tier called ''Squire''. For 10$ you will recive the next 50 Chapters, with 30 new ones the following month. Many thanks to azuring for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 549 - A Knight Is a Calamity Chapter 549 - 549 - A Knight Is a Calamity Chapter 549 - A Knight Is a Calamity Enri set off in a wagon loaded with obsidian and talismans¡ªspecialties of the western region along with a few other practical and sellable items. He had anticipated the journey would be challenging, but the reality surpassed his expectations testing his resolve at every step. He never thought of giving up, but the gnawing anxiety remained, drying his mouth and tightening his chest. Still, he pressed forward knowing better than anyone that this was a rare opportunity. "Captain." Gripping the bow given to him by Enkrid, Enri resolved not to let this chance slip away. For the journey he needed transport for goods and himself. Since the belopters, suited for the west were useless outside the region, horses were a necessity. But Enri''s funds were insufficient. He ended up buying donkeys and carts instead of horses, managing to cobble together ten wagons. Though the load wasn''t insignificant, the humble appearance of the donkeys and those accompanying him painted a bleak picture. "Don''t worry." "We''ll be by your side." Fortunately, the twin warriors from the western tribe had agreed to act as escorts. With their strength, the group wasn''t lacking in combat capability. Additionally, Enri recruited a few hands from a nearby oasis village to assist. "When we reach the destination, will the reward be generous?" "You''re covering meals and shelter along the way, right?" The questions were all too familiar. "To be precise, if this trade expedition succeeds. I''ll ensure you''re compensated well enough to settle down wherever you choose. But success isn''t guaranteed." Enri replied. The participants in his venture included individuals fleeing persecution some unjustly accused of crimes. Among them was a man traveling with his family. While he didn''t appear skilled in combat he exuded trustworthiness. Enri handpicked such people, his experience of heartbreak and hardship had sharpened his ability to judge character. And if his judgment failed? "It will be fine." he told himself. Even if a few turned their blades against him, the western twins'' presence would deter any treachery. The expedition was as much an adventure for the participants as it was for Enri. They wouldn''t be paid upfront and had to wait for profits at the end of the journey. This arrangement drew individuals with more responsibility or simpler motives rather than the cunning or greedy. Though grueling and arduous the work seemed cleaner than life in the oasis villages. Hunting gem-studded beasts sounded worse than this venture, at least. Thus, the trade expedition began. Troubles weren''t limited to monsters and beasts¡ªrain alone made their progress arduous. With no funds left after buying the donkeys and wagons, the group camped under the stars for the entirety of the journey. Enri''s experience as a hunter guided them, helping to find decent routes and safe camping spots. The twins handled combat when necessary. Even on this route, brigands occasionally appeared. Surviving as a bandit in this land required the strength to fend off monsters and beasts, so they often came in groups and included skilled fighters. Yet, none were a match for the twins. Among the group was a child who had come along with his father and displayed a knack for slinging stones. By the time they caught sight of Naurillia, everyone was thoroughly exhausted Enri included. "We''ll need to sell some goods here before moving on." he announced. However, the first merchant Enri encountered in the capital tried to haggle aggressively. "Western goods? How do I know they''re authentic? Talismans? Who guarantees their efficacy?" Enri recognized the ploy for what it was¡ªan attempt to drive prices down by spreading rumors. The twins bristled at the insult, ready to act but Enri stopped them, knowing that drawing weapons would bring the city guard down on them. Their shabby appearance as western outsiders would only work against them in such a situation. Enri had seen this scenario play out too many times to be surprised. "Hold back. We need to endure this." he urged. Frustrated but unwilling to risk trouble, Enri decided to forgo selling in the capital altogether. The constant provocations from pig-like, toad-faced merchants made it impossible to get a fair deal. If they could just reach Border Guard, Enkrid''s guarantee would smooth everything out. Still, Enri had tried to sell here in Naurillia for good reason, the journey ahead would perilous. But how could they survive in the capital with no silver? Sleeping near the slums risked attracting countless thieves. Could he fend them all off? The thieves'' guild would retaliate if its members were harmed and inside the city, they couldn''t fight without spilling blood and causing trouble. "Hah." Enri sighed deeply, resigning himself to leave. But just as he was about to depart a fat, toad-like merchant picked a fight one last time. Enri''s hand instinctively moved toward the bow Enkrid had given him. ''If we meet outside the city, you''ll have an arrow in your head.'' he thought grimly. Then, as if on cue Enkrid appeared, smiling brightly as he called the toad-like merchant "Uncle." The merchant, caught off guard tilted his head in confusion. Not everyone in this world lived righteously. Among the wicked, there were all kinds. Enkrid didn''t see them all as villains, but this situation was something else entirely. Understanding the scene at a glance, Enkrid dismounted with a casual leap the dry dirt puffing under his boots. The cobblestone road, recently repaired contrasted starkly with Enri''s gaunt, weary face. Opposite to him, the merchant¡ªMalton stood plump and glistening with sweat. "Uncle, why pretend not to recognize me?" Enkrid teased, walking toward them. The city guard captain hesitated, stepping closer to Enkrid. "Uncle? You have an uncle here?" "One I gained recently." "...What?" Rem chuckled softly, realizing this was one of Enkrid''s peculiar pranks. "Why act like you don''t know me?" Enkrid lifted his arm, showing off the leather bracer made from the hide of a giant. "Oh, oh... you''re that guy?" Malton stammered, pointing a trembling finger at Enkrid. "That guy?" the guard captain echoed, his sharp gaze turning toward Malton. The merchant''s bulging eyes darted nervously. Why was the guard captain suddenly favourable towards this man? Why did this "random swordsman" exude such authority? "Uncle." Enkrid addressed him again and Malton''s earlier words echoed painfully in his mind: "You''re friends with the Rockfreed merchant guild leader? Ha! Then I''m Enkrid the General''s uncle!" Friend. Uncle. Rockfreed. Enkrid. The words jumbled together, a face emerged from memory and Malton reached a chilling realization. "The Unyielding Knight?" The infamous moniker spilled from his lips. He hoped, prayed it was a lie, a misunderstanding. "Impressive, Uncle. You even know my nickname." Enkrid said with a sharp grin. Malton''s world crumbled. This can''t be real. Why is he the Unyielding Knight? As Enkrid took the lead to exchange a few words, a moment of conversation began. "Seems like you''ve had a tough time, huh?" "More than that, that bastard..." From behind, Rem was already listening to the twins'' story. "Hey, did you really call the Western amulets fake? Said their magic was a scam?" Malton had indeed said those things. But wasn''t it all because of the greed of the noble standing behind him? Malton glanced at the viscount. ''Please, save me.'' The plea in his eyes was clear, but Rem wasn''t the type to hold back in such situations. With a casual flick, he grabbed his axe and strode forward with determined steps. "Apologize or die. If you''re wrong, just say those words and nothing terrible will happen." Rem''s tone was calm yet charged. Whether it was his nature, his character or the memory of first stepping onto the continent and witnessing a noble bastard delighting in harassing women and abusing his own people¡ªit didn''t matter. Rem detested these kinds of people. Sensing the sharp menace radiating from him, the three guards behind the noble furrowed their brows, preparing to intervene. But then the captain of the guard opened his mouth. "Know when to step in and when to back off. Don''t you recognize him? Black hair, blue eyes, an axe, gray hair, a bear-like build. You really don''t know?" Rumors about the people who defended Border Guard had started spreading, even without including Enkrid. "The Noble Slayer." A madman who, after losing his parents to nobles in his childhood, supposedly split the skulls of every noble he encountered with an axe. It was untrue, of course¡ªjust another rumor. "A bear beastkin who splits people in two for fun." One of the guards muttered under his breath. "...Is that supposed to be me?" Audin, unable to hold back, asked with a wry laugh. He was neither a beastkin nor someone with such hobbies. "Ah..." The three guards promptly closed their mouths. Rem had stepped back slightly, considering Enkrid''s presence. Otherwise, he would have beaten the man to a pulp before even bothering to talk. "...I''ll apologize. I was wrong." Overwhelmed by the aura before him, the viscount caved. There was no need to even employ Will. The guards refrained from stepping in and the rumor of the Noble Slayer rang loud in his ears. He felt an urgent need to relieve himself. The viscount fled the scene, leaving behind a merchant who looked as though he was about to cry. Enkrid turned to his uncle and spoke. "Give me some spending money." "...What?" "Not going to?" As Enkrid pressed him, the captain of the guard also shot a menacing glare from behind. Judging from the situation, it was clear that merchant had done something wrong. And it had been his decision to let that man in. Worse, the merchant had dared to try and deceive a person he respected. I''ll kill him. Definitely kill him. You''re dead. Even without mastering Will, the captain''s sheer determination made his murderous intent almost tangible. His eyes alone seemed capable of taking a life. "I-I''ll give it! Of course!" The merchant hastily loosened his pouch. "Not much," Enkrid remarked after a glance. Though the pouch held more than twenty silver coins and even a gold coin, if Enkrid said it wasn''t much then it wasn''t. Malton immediately sent a servant to the bank. Major cities always had at least one large bank, typically run by citizens of trading hubs who traveled for business. During the previous civil war, they had fled but recently they''d returned, reopening their banks. Clink, clank. A satisfying exchange of pouches followed, a lovely sight to behold. Enkrid took it all and handed it to Enri. "Sell the donkey, get a horse. Replace the cart, take care of yourselves, rest well and start fresh. The road ahead should be smoother from here." "Thank you." Tears threatened to fall as Enri bowed his head, remembering their hardships. The captain of the guard, watching from behind spoke up. "I will personally escort you to Jaltenburg. Please don''t refuse¡ªI want to do this." "I was about to thank you for the offer." Enkrid replied, nodding. "Then please wait a moment," the captain said, exhaling deeply. He placed a hand on Malton''s shoulder and dragged him aside. Enkrid waved his uncle off with a goodbye. Among the people accompanying Enri was a young boy, about thirteen or fourteen, following his father. In the boy''s eyes, Enkrid and his companions were towering figures, far greater than any king. Such thinking among children were not uncommon. To them, the name Enkrid was not just that of a heroic swordsman but a true protector¡ªsomeone who had saved them in person, unlike the distant kings. It was a small, incidental event, one of many. "See you at Border Guard." Enkrid bid farewell to Enri and in the meantime, had Rem assign tasks to the twins. Then they rode toward the outer roads leading to the royal palace. It was the same path he had once raced along on his one-eyed horse. At the palace, they stayed for a night. With no pressing duties in the evening, Enkrid rented a training hall to spar. Soon, people arrived asking to learn from him. "Anytime." Enkrid said. Among the crowd were familiar faces, including Rearvan who had recently joined the Royal Guard and even Matthew who was supposed to be by Krang''s side. The captain of the Royal Guard, donning a dark-gray helmet, briefly stopped by as well. Without saying much, he acknowledged Enkrid with a nod before leaving¡ªa man of few words. To Enkrid, this camaraderie was familiar and endearing. Watching people eagerly discuss techniques with him brought immense joy. Even Rem seemed to enjoy it. After two days of rest, attendants and maids took Enkrid''s measurements and swiftly tailored a formal suit for him¡ªnot a tight shirt to constrain his muscles, but a well-fitted, elegant outfit. Neither Rem nor Audin was brought along. "Not interested." "Neither am I." Audin agreed. They wouldn''t have come even if invited and Krang knew that. The previous night, Enkrid had suddenly asked Audin why he had come along. After all, Audin usually disliked leaving Border Guard. "I thought I''d try breaking free from the prison of lingering regrets." Audin had replied. It was a cryptic response, one Enkrid didn''t fully grasp but Audin didn''t seem inclined to elaborate. Respecting his comrade''s boundaries, Enkrid let it slide. Audin for his part, seemed to appreciate the respect, smiling in his usual quiet way. "Hero of the nation, friend of the king, Demon Slayer, The Unyielding Knight¡ªGeneral Enkrid of Border Guard!" As the attendant''s formal introduction rang through the hall, Enkrid stepped into the audience chamber, his gaze falling on Krang seated on the throne. They exchanged the usual pleasantries. "Welcome." "I came as summoned." No sooner had the greetings ended that Marcus began speaking about the honour of knighthood. Among the noble assembly, dissenting voices rose. "While it''s only natural to bestow such an honour upon Sir Enkrid, we must consider whether the same should apply to others." one eloquent noble remarked. Behind him stood the toad-like figure Enkrid had seen the day before. "Your Majesty, have you heard the term Noble Slayer?" The noble stroked his mustache as he spoke. What did the royalty and nobility fear most? Knights or calamities¡ªbeings who could overturn a kingdom with a single sword if they so wished. To guard against such threats, royal houses implemented measures. For example, Naurillia''s Order of Restriction had served a similar purpose. Knights swore loyalty to the crown during their initiation¡ªa vow taken even before becoming knights. But Enkrid and his Madmen unit had made no such oaths. Could Naurilia stop them if it came to it? Perhaps not. Thus, the noble questioned whether it was wise to elevate individuals of questionable integrity to the status of knights. Enkrid found himself agreeing with much of what was said. After all, it was hard to imagine Rem pledging loyalty to the royal family. But soon, his thoughts wandered elsewhere. That pastry I had yesterday was delicious. The bread had been excellent, too. The noble continued his impassioned speech, boiling down to the point: how could they trust someone nicknamed Noble Slayer? This matter required reconsideration. Had there been a rustic commoner present, they might have applauded the noble''s rhetoric. But, naturally that didn''t happen. "Are you finished?" Krang, wearing an incongruously gentle smile, addressed the noble. -------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek I am also introducing a new membership tier called ''Squire''. For 10$ you will recive the next 50 Chapters, with 30 new ones the following month. Many thanks to azuring for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 550 - The Madmen Knight Order Chapter 550 - 550 - The Madmen Knight Order Chapter 550 - The Madmen Knight Order Some nobles had never seen Enkrid in person and to them everything happening at the Border Guard felt like a distant tale. Green pearl? They''ve captured that land now? He stopped an army by himself? Not killed them, just stopped them? Does an army just stop because someone told them to? Does that even make sense? Some rumors sounded utterly ridiculous, while others seemed plausible but irrelevant to their own concerns. He had ended a civil war and earned the title of "Demon Slayer", but many couldn''t truly grasp what that meant. Among them were those who genuinely worried about the royal family, those who wanted to keep Enkrid in check and those who were simply there out of obligation without much thought. Yet all of them fell silent at Krang''s words. Just because he was smiling didn''t mean he was favourably disposed toward them. Krang rose from his seat, silencing the room with just a single statement. Krang could have lashed out at everyone watching. "The hero who ended the civil war and protected our borders¡ªhow dare you speak of him like this? I''m so ashamed I want to drown my face in the water I use to wash!" Or he could have tried persuading them one by one. "Enkrid is not that kind of man. He is my friend and the sword that protects the royal family. I vouch for him." Alternatively, he might have sought to ease their anxieties. "I understand your concerns, but rest assured. My vision remains clear and I won''t let personal matters distract me." If Krang had been a shrewd merchant, he might have promised the nobles rewards in exchange for their silence. But Krang did none of these things. He neither soothed anyone''s concerns, nor did he lash out or attempt to persuade them of the legitimacy of the matter. He simply enjoyed the moment. He recalled a time from the past, back before he sought the throne when they had met in a barracks. That moment was where it all began for Krang. "What do you want to become?" He repeated the same question now, word for word. Enkrid blinked once and then smiled. The memory felt like an old tale, yet seeing Krang brought it vividly back to life. The throne stood seven steps above the ground. Looking down from the stairs, Krang naturally gazed down at Enkrid. Enkrid who had just finished paying his respects in public by kneeling on one knee, had risen. Their eyes met. One looked down from above and the other looked up from below. Yet both of them, for a moment forgot their current positions and drifted into the past. When Enkrid had spoken with Krang back then, he had wondered aloud whether dreams were nothing more than faint remnants left in the heart. But he had quickly dismissed the thought, answering himself that he was still moving forward. And now Enkrid gave the same response as back then. "A knight." Back then, he was a mere third-rate soldier with only the rank of squad leader yet he had dared to dream of standing atop the hierarchy of those who wielded weapons. It was an absurdly ambitious fragment of a dream for someone of such a lowly status and mediocre skill. Yet Enkrid had said it. "A knight, huh." Krang''s words overlapped with what he had said back then. Much time had passed since that day, but Krang remained the same. He had not scoffed at the notion but had instead given weight to his words, showing that he had taken them seriously. He had listened earnestly and wholeheartedly. "And now, have you figured out how to live your life?" Enkrid reversed the question Krang had asked him back then, causing Krang''s lips to tremble before he broke into loud laughter. "Pahahaha!" "Yeah, this is how far I''ve come. But have you achieved your dream, my friend?" Royal decorum? Maintaining dignity in front of everyone? He didn''t care. This moment, right here and now was one Krang had longed for. The man standing before him reminded him of a dream he had forgotten and tried to bury. How could he not cheer for him? How could he not wish for this man to fulfill his dream? To rise above and truly become a knight. Back then, Vengeance had mocked them from the sidelines, but now no one could. The one who had once spoken of knighthood stood here with a patched-up dream and the man who hadn''t mocked him had found his path to the throne. "Partially." Enkrid, still ambitious admitted his dream wasn''t fully realized. Krang nodded, for he felt the same. "Everyone, leave." Still looking at Enkrid, Krang gave the command. "Pardon?" A half-bald noble with sunburnt skin asked in astonishment. "I will receive the knight''s oath." Krang intended to officially appoint Enkrid as a knight of Naurillia right then and there. "The commander of the Crimson Cloak Knights is not present." Marquis Barna said, barely hiding his dismay. He had mentioned earlier that the king could not arbitrarily induct someone into the Crimson Cloak Knights without the commander''s approval. Barna was correct and Krang knew Enkrid wouldn''t join even if he told him to. "I know." "Then what do you mean to do?" The Duke of Okto chimed in. Marcus, having grasped what was happening remained silent. The king had yet to explain, but by now the picture was clear. The two high nobles weren''t stupid; it was simply difficult to imagine such an unprecedented move. ''How bold.'' It was audacious, but for someone with accomplishments like Enkrid''s nothing else would have sufficed. And given his strength, it was inevitable. "My friend will become the commander of a new Knights order." What did he just say? The Duke of Okto blinked and exchanged glances with Marquis Barna. They both seemed equally bewildered. "Leave us. The oath will be taken privately." The proper procedure would have been for the oath to be sworn in front of all the nobles, but none of them could sway Krang now. His loyal guards tapped the floor with the ends of their spear handles. "Please, this way." The guards led the nobles out. As Marcus left, he clenched his fist at Enkrid in a gesture of support. He too had always cheered for Enkrid''s dream. Once the room was empty, Enkrid felt something burning inside him. It was similar to what he had felt when he first became a knight. If this were light, it was light. If it were a flower, it was a flower. If it were a star, it was a star. If it were a dream, it was a dream. Will surged within him, burning brightly and filling his entire being. Krang stood before him. A knight''s oath was a vow bound by Will and breaking it dealt a fatal blow to one''s Will. It was therefore natural for kings to receive a knight''s oath. Every kingdom on the continent followed this tradition. "This is your dream. Do as you desire." But Krang disregarded all that. If the man before him ever turned his sword against him, that would simply mark the end for him. A gamble? No, it was trust. As a king, he had to see and believe in people. This was no gamble but faith, a belief he showed to someone he trusted. Shing. Krang drew his sword and placed it on Enkrid''s shoulder. Enkrid did not kneel, nor did he bow his head. "I appoint you as a knight of Naurillia." Krang spoke as Enkrid felt the weight and texture of the sword on his shoulder. He remembered those who had deceived and exploited him, but he also remembered those who had planted the seed of a dream in his heart. Some he sought had cursed and pushed him away, but others had patted his back. What did he wield his sword for? I wanted to protect a farmer who should have never lost his leg. What am I moving forward for? I wanted to save a child whose dream was to become an herbalist. And so, I pieced together that shattered dream and became a knight. Except for a select few, no one expected anything and no one was certain. There was no reason to stop just because of those who criticized and mocked me, so I didn''t. Arrows flew and struck. Blades cut through flesh and struck bone. Even when the wall before me grew larger and waves of despair crashed over me¡ª "Waves, walls, despair¡ªno matter what comes, I will overcome them and protect everything behind me." The vow was brief, but it didn''t matter. Convictions held in the heart mattered more than words spoken aloud. And Enkrid had proven that through his actions until now. Krang lifted the sword from Enkrid''s shoulder. Normally, knighthood ceremonies involved many formalities but everything had been condensed into a simple affair. "What name do you want for the Order?" Krang''s tone shifted. Once he set aside his seriousness, he sounded like a typical young man from the neighbourhood. Well, perhaps not entirely typical given his striking looks. "Isn''t that something the king usually decides?" "Ah, the Crimson Cloak Order was named after the fur of the Sunbeast, wasn''t it? How about Unyielding Wall then?" The Unyielding Wall Order. Not a bad name, but Enkrid thought about the identity of his group. Did it suit those under his command? Though the nickname had stuck, he felt he was someone more suited to moving forward than merely enduring. "How about the Blue Cloak Order?" And so, he casually blurted it out. "...Why are you so serious while making such ridiculous jokes?" Krang laughed as he responded. While he usually tried to maintain an air of refinement, his current tone was as casual as could be. Honestly, did the name of the Order even matter that much? Enkrid, however found himself reflecting on something that had crossed his mind earlier. It was, in a way an unexpected realization. Everything must have contributed to it: the duel with the Aspen knight, the battle where he pushed himself to the limit, the continued sparring, training, pondering and reviewing. Moments ago, Enkrid had felt his surging Will course through him like waves crashing within. There was a reason the word "waves" had appeared in his vow. He wondered how it would feel to swing his sword in harmony with those crashing waves. If it worked as he envisioned, should he call it Wave Blade? It wasn''t only prodigies who created swordsmanship by mastering every nuance through innate talent. Though Enkrid wasn''t a prodigy, everything he had achieved through effort was blending and converging into something tangible. And that was the essence of swordsmanship. At its core was the concept of a flowing blade combined with a righteous strike. He even incorporated the defensive technique shown by Knight Jamal, designed to block any attack, as well as elements from Aker''s Spiderweb Swordsmanship. Lost in thoughts of swordsmanship, Enkrid decided to leave the Order''s name as it had always been. "Let''s stick with Madmen''s Order." "Are you serious?" "That was our unit''s original name." "Oh, Lord please fix this guy''s head because I think he''s serious." That sounded like something Audin would say. "My head''s fine." Krang repeated the name a few times before nodding. Did a grand name really matter? Likely not. But how would neighbouring nations react upon hearing about an Order named Madmen? ''First, they''d ask if it was serious. Then they''d curse, wondering if we''re truly insane.'' That was Krang''s thought. Enkrid, on the other hand wasn''t too concerned. If he were the type to be swayed by others'' opinions, he wouldn''t have made it this far. Besides, he believed the name would naturally evolve over time. Hadn''t his own nicknames changed similarly, from Demonic Squad Leader Charmer to Demon Slayer to Knight of the Unyielding Wall? "Make sure you attend the banquet. It''d be disappointing if the main character didn''t show up." The founding of an Order. A single kingdom now had two Orders. Such a thing hadn''t occurred across the continent in nearly a century. A banquet was inevitable. After parting with Krang, Enkrid returned to his lodgings, passing by Marcus and the two stunned high-ranking nobles, while receiving salutes from the royal guard. Upon entering, Rem jumped to his feet. "Did you hear about it?" The Order''s name was already spreading? Enkrid pondered as he asked back. "Hear what?" "They''re saying one of us is a noble butcher, another is a bear beastman who tears people apart, that another is a bloodthirsty killer who stares people to death after getting lost in the woods, Esther''s a witch and the fairy holds the blood of demons. Yet somehow, someone got no nickname." Rem gestured passionately as he spoke, his seriousness evident. As Enkrid removed his coat and touched his shirt, a frightened maid and servant approached to help him undress. While such treatment was customary in the palace, Enkrid still found it awkward. As he tossed his clothes aside, Rem seemingly tireless, continued with a single breath and then spoke again. "Does that even make sense?" "You''re talking about Jaxen, right?" "This is a conspiracy." Perhaps Rem was simply bored. Or maybe he had genuinely grown closer to Jaxen. After all, excessive familiarity often led to playful insults. Of course, voicing that aloud would likely send Rem rushing back to the Border Guard to swing his axe at Jaxen''s neck. "That''s true. The holy texts say not to accept unfair circumstances as fate." Even Audin chimed in, suggesting that someone conspired. While they didn''t seem to care much about nicknames, the fact that someone had been excluded clearly bothered them. "There''s a banquet tomorrow. Will you be attending?" The talk of Jaxen was likely just banter. Enkrid wondered if he should use the opportunity to clear up the small misunderstandings about them. To let everyone know that Rem wasn''t a madman who split noble skulls at first sight and Audin didn''t have a hobby of tearing people apart, nor was he a bear beastman. This would be the Madmen Order''s first official appearance. He didn''t care about public opinion, but since his comrades did giving them a chance to change perceptions didn''t seem like a bad idea. "It might be good for us to attend together." And yet, if they refused there''d be no helping it. But to his surprise, Rem nodded. "Sounds good." "I''ll join as well, brother." Audin didn''t decline either. The reasons well based on Rem''s earlier remarks, didn''t need much guessing. "There should also be a rumor about a mad stray cat who flirts with all the women in the Border Guard, only to get rejected and skulk around at night." Enkrid briefly wondered if taking them along was the right choice but didn''t dwell on it. Right now, he wanted to focus on the waves and sword techniques he had momentarily forgotten. -------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek I am also introducing a new membership tier called ''Squire''. For 10$ you will recive the next 50 Chapters, with 30 new ones the following month. Many thanks to azuring for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 551 - Why the Ferryman? Chapter 551 - 551 - Why the Ferryman? Chapter 551 - Why the Ferryman? Splash. A black river, a ferry, a purple lamp, and the ferryman seated atop it. It had been a long time. Waking in a dream, or the world of impressions itself, was a rare occurrence. Naturally, Enkrid''s gaze fell on the ferryman. This time, the figure wasn''t as blurry as before; the ferryman''s visage was relatively clear. Beneath the hooded robe was skin cracked and parched like a drought-stricken earth. His eyes, clouded with a milky haze, gazed directly at Enkrid. "Did you hope I''d disappear since we haven''t met for a while? That won''t happen. You, mortal, who dares to dream of immortality." Enkrid, meeting the ferryman''s eyes after so long, leaned against the edge of the ferry. There was no chair today. "You could claim the throne by killing just one person. Don''t you feel any temptation?" Was it because it had been so long since they last met? Or had the ferryman decided to change his ways? Rather than urging him to stop here, the ferryman probed at the core of human greed today. "If you killed him, you could be king. Damage to your Will? That can always heal. Besides, even if your Will were slightly damaged, it wouldn''t matter." Instinctively, Enkrid knew the ferryman''s words were wrong. Will didn''t operate in such a way. If Enkrid acted on those impulses, the endless Will that he drew from might disappear. Of course, it might not. After all, no one could predict the future. If Will could vanish due to a single mistake, then Aspen''s knight Corwin would''ve lost his Will when he fled. But that wasn''t the case. While the ferryman''s words provoked many thoughts, Enkrid neither argued nor questioned him. "The moment will come when a perfect today is necessary." Perhaps this was the ferryman''s main point. His detached voice pierced Enkrid''s mind¡ªor rather, it directly imprinted itself on his consciousness. After all, this was the world of impressions. Unlike the time he had warned of a coming curse, the ferryman''s tone carried a different weight. It wasn''t a warning of imminent disaster but a statement of inevitability, like the rising sun tomorrow morning. Enkrid, who had been half-lowered, lifted his head at those words. This scene seemed oddly familiar, but he didn''t dwell on it and opened his mouth. "It''s not a Wave Sword, but a Wave-Blocking Sword. That seems right." The ferryman wasn''t as caught off guard as before. He already knew the guy was lost in thought. "A sword that blocks crashing waves instead of striking like them, huh?" With ease, the ferryman picked up Enkrid''s words and added his own thoughts on swordsmanship. "That''s right." "Blocking alone? Then a shield would be better." Indeed, the ferryman had a point. It was the same dilemma that had haunted Enkrid before bed last night. As he worked to refine the shape and flow of his swordsmanship, he found himself developing a style not of crashing waves but one that blocked them. Wouldn''t it be better to wield a shield instead? No, that wouldn''t do. Enkrid already had a technique, after all¡ªthe Snake Blade. A move that didn''t just deflect but countered the attack. What if his blade could transfer a kind of recoil instead of merely blocking? "Polished like a mirror reflecting sunlight, it could become quite useful." A mirror doesn''t stop light; it reflects it. Not holding back the crashing wave, but blocking it while advancing to strike back. Abstract ideas began to solidify in his mind. He felt like he might get somewhere if he tried it in motion. "Don''t you ever tire of it?" The ferryman asked. Enkrid stared at him blankly, unsure what he meant. Tire? Of what? "No, never mind. Go." The ferryman''s tone shifted subtly, but that was the end of it. He added one final remark, but it was inconsequential. Awaking from the dream¡ªor the world of impressions¡ªEnkrid stepped off his bed. At his movement, a faint cough came from the servant waiting outside the door, who announced, "It''s dawn, my lord." "Light," he thought. His body felt unusually good. Not that he had felt unwell recently, but today, it was exceptional. Was it the dream''s influence, the result of last night''s deliberations, or the ferryman''s favor? Right before waking, the ferryman had remarked that no matter what kind of today awaited, he would have to face it. And that fate was inevitable. Enkrid brushed the words aside. Paying heed to such things would only hinder him from doing what needed to be done. "I''ll fetch water for washing," the servant said. Enkrid lightly rolled his neck and wrists before shaking his head. "Later." With that, he stepped outside. There was a training ground within the palace. It used to be exclusive to royal knights and the royal family, didn''t it? Krang had called it an "interesting spectacle" and overhauled it entirely. Now, it was a place for anyone who wanted to sweat to gather. A crisp blue, a vivid darkness¡ªif he were to describe the moment, it would be like this. It was early morning, the air tinted with a bluish hue, as though hinting at the approaching light. A cool autumn breeze swept through, filling his lungs with its brisk clarity before leaving again. Thunk! Before the training ground came into view, his ears caught the sound of someone''s presence. The communal ground, formerly reserved for royalty, was encircled by a small stone wall. Soft earth, filtered of stones, filled the floor, while sparse grass grew at the edges. "Do they have too much time or too little to waste? They build a training ground, yet leave it unused by those who need it," Krang had once grumbled during their travels through Aspen. Someone within the grounds was already warming the cool autumn morning. Enkrid vaulted over the wall without touching it, landing inside. The person swinging a heavy wooden practice sword turned their head. "Rievart." Enkrid greeted him first¡ªa figure from his past. Seeing the faint sheen of sweat on him, Enkrid spoke out of habit. "Spar?" A smile broke across Rievart''s face. "Gladly." Seeing someone who never stopped moving forward brought joy. Enkrid felt that way. Looking at Rievart, he couldn''t help but think: ''Was this the ferryman''s doing?'' Had the ferryman''s words last night been advice, even assistance? But why? Did he enjoy watching Enkrid''s progress? The ferryman? That seemed unlikely. After all, he had ended their meeting with a pseudo-curse. It didn''t matter now. Enkrid picked up one of the wooden swords neatly stacked on the side. Rievart, who had been wielding a stone practice club, put it down and switched to a wooden sword, giving it a few experimental swings in the air. "Up early?" "I didn''t sleep. Came straight here after duty." Fair enough. Not that he cared. Enkrid gripped his sword and faced his opponent. He adjusted his strength and speed to match Rievart, focusing instead on deflecting and countering strikes. Rievart''s blade came straight down¡ªa technique he was confident in. Likely one he had honed to reduce preparation time and movement. But it posed no threat to Enkrid. Clack! The wooden swords clashed. Rievan frowned. ''What?'' Though he had swung with full strength, he wasn''t new to handling a sword. What was this? The unexpected impact left his wrist faintly throbbing. It felt as though he had struck something harder than rock. ''Harder than stone¡ªlike solid metal.'' Or perhaps even tougher than that. Rievart had swung a wooden sword several times during his training, so he had a rough idea of its strength. Yet, as he swung once more, a crisp crack echoed as their practice swords crossed. This time, instead of a full clash, the blade merely grazed past the other. Rievart swiftly stepped aside, utilizing a hit-and-retreat footwork technique. However, as soon as he executed the movement, his wrist began to tremble. Brrrrr. His wrist throbbed with a dull ache. That slight graze had done this? "It works," said the knight with piercing blue eyes, standing just a sword''s length away. Had this been a real battle, a single thrust would have ended Rievart''s life. But Enkrid, the owner of those blue eyes, chose not to pierce his throat. Instead, he twirled his practice sword a few times in the air before commenting. "But this weapon won''t hold out much longer." The middle section of Enkrid''s wooden sword was twisted and splintered. At this rate, it might shatter even without the use of advanced techniques. "What... is this?" Rievart asked, his voice filled with genuine awe. It was the first time he had encountered such a technique. In truth, even Rem would find it remarkable. "The Wave-Blocking Sword," Enkrid replied. The name implied a sword that could block even surging waves, but in reality, it was a sword technique that absorbed and redirected the force of an opponent''s strike, leveraging the rebound energy. It was a step above the Snake Blade. While the Snake Blade relied on pure skill without invoking Will, this technique used an endless reservoir of Will as its weapon. Even if Ragna saw and tried to mimic it, he would likely choose not to use it. It was far too inefficient, wasting Will recklessly to envelop the entire body in energy just to deflect attacks. The simplicity of its structure also came with drawbacks: striking a solid rock with a blade often results in either a dulled edge or a broken wrist. Without immense physical conditioning, speed, or timing, the technique was useless. But for Enkrid, it was an ideal match. Not only that, the technique still had room to grow. As Enkrid spun his wooden sword through the air a few more times, he eventually tossed it aside and began practicing his Isolation Technique. "Train yourself," he said. Rievart''s lack of wrist conditioning had made him an easy target, but how would Rem or Ragna fare? Even against Audin, the technique likely wouldn''t work so easily. Still, it was undeniably intriguing. The experience of conceptualizing a technique in a single night and executing it the next morning was new to Enkrid. His body moved exactly as he envisioned it. The sheer joy of training made his face light up with a smile. Enkrid had always enjoyed wielding a sword, but even he had moments of doubt, despair, and frustration. Now, there was no room for doubt¡ªjust a grin plastered on his face. From the side, Rievart watched, his pupils trembling. "Does one need to be mad to achieve this?" That thought naturally crossed his mind as he observed Enkrid lifting and squatting with a large stone from the training yard, all while smiling like a lunatic. The Enkrid Rievart had once known had never been normal, but this version seemed downright unhinged. Yet, watching him stirred something within Rievart as well. Had it not been for Enkrid, Rievart wouldn''t even be training like this after a day''s duties. He wasn''t extraordinary; he was diligent, yes, but he also enjoyed a drink after work and took his rest when he could. The difference between himself and Enkrid wasn''t talent or opportunity but the willingness to do. Enkrid spent every moment this way, while Rievart did not. Smack! Rievart slapped both cheeks with his hands. "All it takes is determination!" he shouted, loud enough for Enkrid to glance over. "I''ll train," Rievart declared. If Rem had been present, he might have remarked that another soul had been led astray. Enkrid spent the early morning hours training alongside Rievart before demonstrating the Wave-Blocking Sword to Rem as well. "Not bad," Rem said, unusually starting with praise. The technique had proven to be quite formidable. Even with minimal contact, his wrist felt the strain. ''How does it work?'' Rem pondered. After some thought, he concluded it was a wasteful technique that expended Will excessively. By channeling explosive bursts of energy, it bent the opponent''s wrist angle through sheer force, utilizing timing, technique, and strength in harmony. But wouldn''t a vibrating blade be more efficient for that purpose? Rem assisted Enkrid with his refinement, recalling how an Aspen swordsman once shattered a vibrating blade with a crushing strike. ''No, that''s different.'' Vibrations could be countered with finesse, but Enkrid''s technique would evolve and adapt to the opponent. That made it more dangerous. If avoiding contact entirely was the only counter, was that even feasible? Perhaps summoning a spirit wolf from afar to attack? But if someone used such spirit arts on Enkrid, he''d likely charge straight at the caster, ignoring the wolf entirely. After considering all this, Rem summarized, "You seem unhesitant in your progress, brother." Audin, joining in, added, "Agreed." Later that evening, as the trio prepared for the royal banquet, a servant arrived with tailored formalwear for each. After some deliberation, Audin donned a light blue jacket that ended at his waist, while Enkrid wore a deep purple velvet vest. Rem opted for a gray waistcoat. Despite the general uniformity of the formal attire, the three looked striking once dressed. As servants spent hours perfecting their hair and appearance, neither Audin nor Enkrid lost their temper¡ªa fact that Rem found particularly remarkable. Moments before entering the grand palace hall, a herald hesitated, gritting his teeth as he consulted with his superior. Then, steeling himself, he shouted with determination: "The Madmen Knight Order have arrived!" The once lively hall fell silent as dozens, then hundreds of gazes turned toward the trio entering the banquet. -------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek I am also introducing a new membership tier called ''Squire''. For 10$ you will recive the next 50 Chapters, with 30 new ones the following month. Many thanks to azuring for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 552 - Viscount Harrison Chapter 552 - 552 - Viscount Harrison Chapter 552 - Viscount Harrison When Enkrid and his two companions entered, the entrance to the banquet hall seemed narrow, and for a brief moment, the room felt overwhelmingly full. Some nobles saw a radiance emanating from them, while others felt an unsettling foreboding. Couldn''t the one standing there kill everyone in the room if they really intended to? Moreover, wasn''t one of them rumored to be a "noble killer"? Of course, such anxiety was felt by only a few. The majority were merely astonished, captivated, and awestruck by their presence. Would it be an exaggeration to say that their steps carried power? Probably not. With each step they took, it felt like the world shifted. Perhaps this was the aura of heroes who had changed the balance of the continent. In truth, they were simply walking, but their already remarkable presence combined with their appearance made them seem even more extraordinary. Enkrid, Rem, and Audin had done nothing more than enter the hall. ''So, they''ve arrived.'' One noble clenched his fists upon seeing Enkrid. It was a moment that seemed to call for resolution. The man was bald, with lean, sun-darkened muscles, and nails blackened at the tips. Dressed in an old but intact evening suit, his appearance could easily be mistaken for that of a farmer if not for the attire. Yet, his presence in this venue, wearing even such worn garments, confirmed his status as a noble. Feeling the coarse fabric against his skin, the noble adjusted his collar. ''The Madmen Knights.'' The name still struck him. This bald noble had been among those denouncing Enkrid in the royal court, advocating for limits to their excessive use of force and the necessity of restraint. Since Enkrid entered the hall, this noble''s eyes had never left him. In truth, no one else''s had either. Several ladies, particularly those unmarried, seemed mesmerized, their gazes clouded. Was it natural? It seemed so. Enkrid drew every gaze toward himself the moment he stepped in. Appearance could indeed be a weapon, and this was the moment when Enkrid''s greatest asset shone. His black hair gleamed as if oiled, reflecting the light from the chandeliers despite its dark hue. Aesthetic judgment varies from person to person, but when faced with exceptional beauty, opinions often converge. Such was the case with Enkrid''s face. His high-bridged nose, bright blue eyes, and well-proportioned features harmonized perfectly, as if a god had descended to mold him with divine care and blessing. The bald noble shared the sentiment. "Truly handsome," he thought. "Ah." A woman holding a glass two steps away gasped softly. Her companion on the other side reacted similarly, their eyes vacant as if they might soon drool. "Is that... a moving sculpture?" Some murmured absurd remarks. Several others stared silently, forgetting to speak altogether. At least half the ladies in the hall were now experiencing the kind of love-at-first-sight encounter that happens only once in a lifetime. It was as if Enkrid had cast a charm spell to enchant everyone. "Magic, perhaps?" Such words came out naturally. Even those not smitten found it difficult to look away. The noble reflected on this. Even when he had seen Enkrid in the royal palace, his remarkable appearance was evident. But now, with his hair neatly styled, his evening suit immaculate, and his features fully groomed, his allure was inescapable. Even male nobles couldn''t summon competitive thoughts; his presence was simply too overwhelming. Among the attendees, even a female Frog stood out for her boldness. She stepped forward and addressed him directly. "Do you know any Frogs here?" Her question disrupted the spell over the room, breaking the collective silence and replacing it with murmurs. "Who is that?" "The Madmen Knights, aren''t they?" "Oh, the Demon Slayer." Words flew around. In the capital, Enkrid was still better known as the Demon Slayer than the Unyielding Knight. The title "Demon Slayer" seemed more familiar, though it was ironic, as Enkrid had never actually slain a demon. If a real demon were present, it would find the situation absurd. Even if one confronted him, Enkrid would likely shrug it off. He had never asked to be called that, after all. "That Frog... Luagarne, wasn''t she in the royal palace before?" The answer to the Frog''s question came from a nearby figure with gray hair. The bald noble recognized him immediately despite slight discrepancies from what he''d heard. Gray hair wasn''t common, and it could only be one person. ''The Noble Killer.'' Though his reputation painted him as a noble-hating brute, the man''s indifferent tone and behavior as he addressed the Frog betrayed none of the violence. The noble had never fully believed the rumors. Could this man really attack every noble on sight and regularly execute them? While many had died by his hand, none without cause. Had he been truly consumed by hatred for the privileged, he would not stand beside Enkrid, a hero. Still, his nickname was no accident, and among those present, he was undeniably the most dangerous. Yet, even standing next to the dazzling Enkrid, his unique charisma did not fade. Like a sweet potato distinct from a potato, he exuded his own appeal. The gray-haired man''s appearance¡ªhalf-tied hair framing a sharp jawline¡ªheld a rugged, masculine charm. While Enkrid''s exceptional beauty overshadowed him, he was still undeniably striking. "Dear sister, the competition is already fierce. You''d best restrain yourself," interjected a towering man nearby. His frame was immense, his biceps likely thicker than the corseted waists of the women present. His presence was as imposing as a mountain. ''The Bear Beastkin.'' Yet rumors were just that¡ªrumors. Despite his epithet, he bore no traits of a beastkin. Instead, his enormous build and muscled physique, from shoulders to fingers, exuded an overwhelming physicality. For some in the hall, he was the second most captivating presence after Enkrid. "I''d like to be held by him," one lady murmured. "His arms could hold me up," whispered another. "Look at those thighs!" Though spoken softly, the man heard every word. Standing alongside Enkrid, his raw, formidable presence remained unshaken. Each of the three had their own unique aura. As they entered and took their places, the hall shifted from silence to murmurs. The bald noble, watching Enkrid, found himself lost in memories. Ever since opposing Enkrid, he had prepared for this day to be his last. Such thoughts naturally led to reminiscence. "What''s the most important thing in this world? Land," his father had said. He had lived by that principle, managing his territory with care. ''Why land first? Because it feeds the people. Knights don''t live without eating or relieving themselves, do they?'' For him, the kingdom existed to protect his land and his people. He held no ulterior motives. He knew Enkrid as the hero who had ended the civil war. ''If I told him I meant no harm, would he believe me?'' Though he had never met Enkrid, he knew people. No one appreciates being ostracized or treated with hostility. Resentment is inevitable. Some rare individuals, however, rise above such treatment. He had seen it once¡ªin the king he served with unwavering loyalty. The noble slipped his hand into his pocket, feeling for something hard. He concealed it in his sleeve and stepped forward cautiously. "It''s unfair. If someone fights well, they shouldn''t look like that. At least have a rugged face, small eyes, and a crooked nose," muttered Marcus, the king''s confidant, as he observed them. Despite such grumbles, the banquet soon returned to its usual clamor, with chatter and merriment resuming all around. The bald noble stepped forward from the crowd of onlookers, his gaze fixed on Enkrid. His hand remained tucked into his sleeve. Sensing the stare, Enkrid turned to look at him. He would not have forgotten the face of someone who had openly criticized him in the royal palace. "I have something for you." The noble spoke as he approached. Marcus and the others nearby turned their eyes toward him. "Viscount Harrison." Andrew Gardner, one of the king''s aides, recognized the man and spoke sharply, as if interrogating why he was here. Viscount Harrison ignored Andrew''s gaze and took another step closer to Enkrid. With a swift motion, he pulled his hand from his sleeve and thrust it toward Enkrid''s chest. The speed was surprising¡ªunnatural for an ordinary person. *** "Don''t hate him too much." "Who?" Krang''s words came right after the oath had ended. Enkrid blinked in surprise and asked again. "That noble from earlier. He didn''t act out of malice." "Who are you talking about?" Enkrid had never felt any animosity toward the nobles. The nobles? He figured they were just acting as nobles do. He even vaguely understood their circumstances. Being called a demon slayer or whatnot, it was natural for people not to believe such things without seeing them firsthand. In this era, it was no wonder. If every rumor were to be trusted, there would also be tales of priests winning arm-wrestling matches against giants. Such stories always carried a layer of exaggeration. Of course, in Enkrid''s case, many had witnessed his feats firsthand, so the rumors were harder to dismiss. Opposing him was no small matter. To stand against Enkrid was, on a smaller scale, to oppose the nobles who supported him¡ªand on a larger scale, the king himself. Yet despite the risks, some nobles still argued against the knight, emphasizing the danger he represented. Did they act out of simple disdain? It didn''t seem that way. While some of them were fools, others stood there with purpose. Enkrid, who knew what it was like to live chasing dreams, ambition, and light, could recognize it immediately. Some of those nobles were prepared to risk being struck down by swords or falling out of favor with the king, just so they could say their piece. When Enkrid jokingly asked, "So who exactly are you talking about?" for the third time, Krang laughed and said: "You''ve managed to survive this long, haven''t you? With that way of speaking, you should have been killed dozens of times over." Enkrid nodded. Though he had never died because of his tone, he had been killed thousands of times over in other ways. "Why are you nodding? Anyway, among those nobles, one of them is desperate to work with Border Guard. They want to use their savings to carve out a safe route." Krais had constructed two major safe routes. One led to the capital, Naurilia, and the other bypassed Martai. If the Martai route extended further south, it would greatly benefit the lords of that region. Especially those whose territories encompassed trade cities. Yet there was one who wanted it even more: a noble who had long dreamed of cultivating land outside the city. That noble''s name was Harrison. Cultivating land and creating settlements had been Harrison''s lifelong goal. The idea of securing the land with outposts and military presence immediately captivated him. *** It was inevitable. Even as Harrison approached, Enkrid sensed his presence. Seeing him again after the royal palace, nothing much had changed. The man stood out with his worn, weathered clothes and severe expression. Yet despite the faded fabric, his garments were clean and neatly arranged¡ªa sign of a life accustomed to frugality. Enkrid didn''t know where Krais'' safe route extended or what exactly this man wanted. Their eyes met, and Enkrid simply stared back. Something in Harrison''s gaze reminded him of a solid, unyielding stone. Would a person''s will be useless if they could not wield Will itself? Could someone without talent only ever meet a predetermined end? Should they stop everything they were doing just because others said it was impossible? Were they supposed to give up on what they chose, based solely on others'' opinions? As Harrison thrust his hand toward him, Enkrid''s sharp vision caught the object immediately. It was no weapon. Nor was it an assassination attempt. The object fit snugly in the man''s palm¡ªa glass bottle sealed with a cork and wrapped tightly with string. Enkrid simply let him place it in his chest. "I was rude earlier. This is an apology," Harrison said. Enkrid didn''t ask what the viscount had given him. Instead, he asked another question. "Is there something you want?" Harrison appeared to be at least twenty years older than Enkrid, though it might have been the bald head adding to the impression. He blinked a few times, then finally spoke. "As a bribe¡ªno, well, it is a bribe. Can you direct the safe route toward our land?" The viscount''s tone was devoid of shame. It carried the stubbornness of age. Ordinarily, it would have been Enkrid''s turn to ask "Why?" or demand something in return. But Enkrid did none of that. "Alright." He simply nodded, catching Harrison completely off guard. "...You''re not even going to ask why?" "I''ll listen if you tell me." This was Enkrid''s way of judging people¡ªbased solely on their character. Their eyes, their posture, their clothing, everything. If it turned out to be a poor decision? Life was full of choices, and no choice was guaranteed to be right. Enkrid knew that truth well. So there was no fear in his choices. To be paralyzed by fear meant standing still, and if he were going to do that, he would have stayed trapped in the happiness others defined for him long ago. And in the man before him, Enkrid saw a similar nature to his own. Though surprised, Harrison quickly regained his composure and replied in the tone of someone who had spoken these words many times before. "I''ll cultivate the land." -------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek I am also introducing a new membership tier called ''Squire''. For 10$ you will recive the next 50 Chapters, with 30 new ones the following month. Many thanks to azuring for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 553 - The Youngest Gone Mad with Blood Chapter 553 - 553 - The Youngest Gone Mad with Blood Chapter 553 - The Youngest Gone Mad with Blood Harrison was a noble who cultivated his land with his own hands. Even as his skin darkened under the sun and his hair receded, he upheld his life''s purpose. Why? Because he loved the land, found joy in his work and had a clear goal in life. So it didn''t matter if someone mocked him for being bald or called him a miser. Was he not living a life of luxury? On the contrary, he enjoyed greater indulgence than a king. Who got to taste the finest wheat, grain and fruit from his land first¡ªthe king or himself? Himself. There was no greater luxury. He was both noble and farmer. "Is it really just the safe route you need?" Enkrid asked again. Harrison found his counterpart''s reaction unusual. He had never met someone like this before. Usually, people would demand something in return for such help or at least ask him to join their faction. It wasn''t strange for a noble to serve under another noble. Wasn''t the Duke of Okto also surrounded by a group of subordinate nobles? But Enkrid didn''t seem to want anything. He just offered to help. "Why are you being so kind?" Harrison asked. After all, he had obstructed Enkrid and challenged him despite knowing his reputation. Even if Enkrid had threatened to cut off an arm or a leg, Harrison wouldn''t have been able to complain. Not that he would have offered his limbs without a fight, of course. "Just because." Enkrid didn''t bother explaining himself. That''s just the kind of person he was. Naturally, Harrison found it perplexing, having never encountered someone like him before. At that moment, the gray-haired noble slayer stepped forward, holding a wine glass in one hand and remarked surprisingly well-suited to the scene: "That''s just how he is. I''m sure there''s a reason, but don''t bother trying to understand it. It''ll only give you a headache. Instead, have you heard about the blackened stray cat burned by heartbreak from countless women?" Rem had been spreading Jaxen''s nickname for some time. Harrison ignored Rem''s rambling and looked at Enkrid who spoke as if reading his thoughts: "Cultivate your land, if that is your dream." "See? No reason at all." Rem said. Harrison was struck speechless, as though he''d been hit by lightning. A dream? Did he even understand what he was saying? Harrison had tried to establish a local militia similar to a safe route within his domain, but it was easier said than done. The time and costs were no joke. Hiring mercenaries wasn''t much different from letting bandits into his land. What if mercenaries decided to seize the territory? Or caused trouble? Or, worse, accidentally killed one of his people and called it a mistake? Did he have the power to punish them? Ultimately, he needed trustworthy people to form a militia, but swordsmanship talent wasn''t exactly common. He could build walls for defense, but cultivating an entire force to protect the farmlands was far more difficult. Moreover, while Harrison excelled at raising farmers, he wasn''t skilled at nurturing warriors. A few wandering swordsmen seeking stability had lent their strength, helping him hold out so far. Still, Harrison dreamed of reclaiming all the dead land and protecting the farms. Based on his knowledge, it was possible. He knew it wouldn''t be easy¡ªfar from it. ''But I have to do it.'' For the sake of his descendants, for his land to thrive and for a better future, he had to. Yet whenever he tried, those around him always tried to dissuade him. "You''re already doing fine, so why push it further?" "Why expand the land?" "People dying to monsters is natural. There''s no need to invite death intentionally." No, it wasn''t natural. He didn''t seek to expand the land at the cost of lives to monsters. He wanted to cultivate safely, protect those who wished to work and offer them a better life. Wasn''t that the duty of a lord? That was how Harrison saw it, even if others mocked him. A miser living off the land¡ªthat''s what people called him. And now, here stood Enkrid: the leader of the Madmen Knights, a hero of the Border Guard, The demon slayer and The knight of unyielding wall. Enkrid who could have dismissed him with even harsher words, was telling him this: To cultivate the land and fulfill his dream. Harrison thought of his wife waiting at home. "Wouldn''t the god of prosperity send a message when they need you?" Why was that memory surfacing now? Was this the moment? He didn''t know. But even if it wasn''t the gods, Harrison chose to believe this was it. While gods gave life, it was a being''s will that made them live it. With that will, Harrison made up his mind. He reached into his coat and pulled out a glass bottle. "Give me the one you handed earlier. Let''s trade." Without asking why, Enkrid handed it over. The glass bottles exchanged hands. Dozens of pairs of eyes were watching them. Among the spectators were Marquis Varnas and Duke Okto. Even Krang had taken a seat. When kings entered a banquet hall, it was standard to announce their arrival loudly, but Krang had stopped them. Clearly, something interesting was unfolding, so he decided to enjoy the show. Harrison was a well-known figure. He was a noble who stubbornly farmed and harvested his own land. In his domain, it was mandatory for everyone to study and research ways to increase yields. Even the lord himself led by example, and experts were employed to specialize in such matters. Whether by divine whim or not, a miraculous blessing had touched his land ten years ago. It wasn''t a bountiful harvest or anything mundane; it was an actual divine event. A small spring had bubbled up, leaving just enough water for a single sip before vanishing. At dawn, Harrison, pitchfork in hand, discovered the spring and carefully scooped the water into his palms. Strangely, not a single drop fell. He bottled the water in an expensive glass flask, one he would never have used otherwise. It became the famed holy spring water. Priests and merchants had tried to claim it, but Harrison had refused. He even carried other potions to dispel the rumors. "Holy spring water." Now, he had taken it out. The very water he''d denied having. Enkrid took the flask without a second glance, tucking it away without questioning its authenticity. He accepted it simply because it was given to him. The holy spring water was priceless. It couldn''t be exchanged for gold, no matter how much. "Hah!" One of the watching nobles gasped. He gave that away? Enkrid, sensing the reactions asked, "It seems valuable. Why give it to me?" Half-joking, he threw out the question. Harrison, for the first time since the tournament smiled¡ªa rough, genuine smile. "Just because." "I''ll put it to good use." "Do so." And that was that. Harrison didn''t tell Enkrid to keep his promise or demand anything. To most people, this was beyond strange. Some muttered questions: "Why give him that?" "What''s going on between them?" "Because he''s handsome?" Some uttered nonsense, but it was simply a matter between the two of them. "Puh, you watched without even breathing." When Krang spoke among the onlookers, those who recognized the king stepped back. "Ah, Your Majesty." "Oh, when did you get here!" "Carry on as you were. Don''t mind me." After saying this, Krang approached Enkrid. "I told you not to hate him, but did you torment him instead?" Although they were friends, in public Krang was still the king. But since this was a banquet hall, it wasn''t exactly an official occasion. "Who tormented whom?" It was a joke asking if Enkrid had bullied someone to snatch a precious item. Enkrid quickly caught on and replied. "As long as it''s not true." That was Krang''s opening line. "I heard you''re still alone. Why is that?" The Duke of Okto suddenly butted in. "Do I need a reason for that?" "Not at all. I heard Kin secured a position at the Border Guard. Did you know that?" Then the Marquis of Baisar chimed in. It was as if they had been dying to talk to Enkrid all along. "I doubt he knows, Marquis." Kin Baisar, who had also recently returned to the capital for some business, was nearby. She spoke to the Marquis of Baisar then turned to Enkrid with a slight bow and said, "You''ll remember my name by now, won''t you?" While there were many who were captivated by Enkrid''s face and aura, Kin Baisar wasn''t one of them. She kept a suitable distance. She was beautiful, but Kin was not foolish enough to set her heart on a man uninterested in her. "It''s not a name easy to forget." Enkrid greeted her smoothly. What followed was the banquet. Eating, drinking, and enjoying themselves¡ªthat kind of banquet. But no one was reckless enough to get drunk and cause a scene in front of the king. And besides, they were all busy greeting Enkrid and leaving an impression. Some young nobles were jealous of him, but there were far more who respected or admired Enkrid. Of course, part of that envy was due to his looks. "With a face like that, what are we supposed to do?" Such comments were whispered around. Even those who envied him acknowledged Enkrid''s abilities. Now and then, nobles known for bloodshed wandered about, exchanging bits of gossip. Despite rumors of him being a madman, he was surprisingly clean-cut¡ªparticularly regarding women. "Your name is Rem, correct?" A widow who had lost her husband early gently touched Rem''s arm as she spoke. It was a signal¡ªa subtle way of expressing interest. "I have a wife." With one sentence, Rem firmly rejected her. Such incidents happened more than once. Yet, Rem continued conversing politely, showing no signs of displeasure. There was no force or violence in his words, nor any chilling aura. He simply talked while sipping wine and eating dishes, bread and desserts. It was a scene commonly seen at banquets. He didn''t discriminate by status or gender. He even spoke to bodyguards who had accompanied the guests, some of whom were clearly stagnant in skill. Rem offered them all advice. "Hey, you should focus on consistent training first. Complaining about talent with that belly fat? Want me to split your head with an axe?" At times, his words sounded brutal, but everyone speaker and listener alike¡ªtook it as a joke. And that was enough. His closing comments, however, often sounded similar. "Have you heard the rumors at Border Guard? About a stray cat wandering around every night because he keeps getting dumped by women? Think it''s nonsense? What? You''re saying I''m not that kind of person? Sure, I''m not. But that cat is real. His name is Jaxen. Don''t forget it." Such words flowed naturally. He would talk to attendants, semi knights, nobles¡ªanyone, young or old. In contrast, Audin, who had previously been misunderstood as the "bear beastman" merely observed the surroundings. Some people approached Audin to talk and he did respond, but not with the same energy as Rem. Even so, Audin still said what needed to be said. "You mean the sly stray cat? Yes, he''s real. Oh, and the bloodthirsty maniac? Yes, he enjoys seeing blood, but he''s bedridden right now he broke his leg. That''s what happens when you neglect training. The youngest¡ªah, that''s a inside nickname in the knight order. Don''t mind it. Oops, I misspoke. Lord above, punish my unworthy lips." "So the bloodthirsty maniac is the youngest?" "That just slipped out. Please forget it." While Rem spoke to anyone and everyone, Audin used a far more refined method. When you ask people to spread rumors, they keep silent. But if you ask them to forget, they''ll spread it even further. Thus was born the tale of the bloodthirsty youngest. Though, of course no one realized it just yet. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek I am also introducing a new membership tier called ''Squire''. For 10$ you will recive the next 50 Chapters, with 30 new ones the following month. Many thanks to azuring for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 554 - It Was a Confession Chapter 554 - 554 - It Was a Confession Chapter 554 - It Was a Confession Inside the banquet hall, Rem dashed around like a shepherd dog, while Audin played the part of a hunter spreading rumors, lying in wait with a trap. Enkrid couldn''t care less about any of that. Too many people were looking for him. The crowd pressing in was dense¡ªso many faces. It felt like he would have to use Wave-Blocking Sword here. Because people were truly surging toward him like waves. Enkrid greeted a great number of nobles. Some of them were vaguely familiar, but the majority were strangers to him. Ah, there was one amusing person in the mix. It was the same guy who had been scheming behind a merchant when they entered the capital. "I won''t ever do that again." This noble apparently ran a few small trading companies under his command. He had no city under his charge and stayed in the capital without holding any particular rank within the royal palace. Occasionally, he made a name for himself as a legal representative in court cases. The capital was full of nobles like this. Some of them, having lost everything, skulked around other nobles'' banquets. Others abused their status to conduct schemes that bordered on fraud. Krang couldn''t clean them all up, but he ensured a degree of self-regulation to keep things under control. The idea was to let the nobles live in a way befitting their status. ''Didn''t he say the royal family secretly bought titles?'' They bought titles from those who failed to live up to their status and turned to crooked paths. Using force would have caused an uproar, so they resolved it with silver and gold coins. It was something Krais had suggested, so when Enkrid had asked about it, Krang had laughed. "Big Eyes said that if a problem can be solved with Krona, it''s the easiest way to handle it." Krang had laughed as he said this. "I agree," Enkrid had nodded. It was part of a conversation they had had while traveling between Aspen and Naurilia. No matter how much gold you have, you can''t make someone withdraw the sword at your throat. If a problem could be solved with Krona, it truly was the easiest way. Krais''s words came to mind. The noble who ran the trading company wasn''t at the level of selling his title. He seemed to have some skill at managing things. His methods might have been questionable, but his overall intentions weren''t entirely rotten. Given the royal palace''s constant lack of funds, Krang still needed Krona donated by such nobles. "If you''re caught pulling such a stunt again, you''ll lose one of your four." Enkrid''s offhanded comment turned the noble''s face pale. His face drained of blood, which was quite satisfying to see. "One of my four?" the noble asked. "An arm or a leg." "Oh... those four." "Yeah, those four." Ignoring all pretense of noble decorum, Enkrid had spoken his mind. The noble backed off, his legs trembling slightly, though he didn''t collapse. This noble wasn''t some monster or great villain. So this wasn''t anything significant or worth fretting over. After all, this was a world where some lords killed everyone who entered their lands and took all their possessions. At least in Naurilia, such things had disappeared after Count Molsan''s death. Rumor had it that if you went to the southern border of a large nation, you''d find plenty of lords who were indistinguishable from bandits. Enkrid had personally seen plenty of them during his time as a mercenary and guide. Compared to that, swindling a few traveling merchants almost seemed cute. Of course, if it happened again, he would indeed claim one of the man''s limbs. Enkrid wasn''t one to make idle threats. If he said it, he would follow through¡ªhe always had. As soon as space opened up around him, another noble approached. The pattern repeated itself, and Enkrid responded with a few perfunctory words. It was dull but not exhausting¡ªneither physically nor mentally. He had once spent an entire night at a banquet, clinging to the arm of a noblewoman like an accessory. This was better. By far. Of course, it would have been even better to spend the day swinging his sword from morning till night. "I''ve fallen for you!" Here and there, a few brave noblewomen declared their feelings. "I''m not interested." Enkrid shut them down without hesitation. With Kin Baisar¡ªthe self-proclaimed most beautiful woman in the capital¡ªby his side, few ladies had the courage to approach him. "The reputation of Kin Baisar, the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, isn''t unwarranted." "...Don''t say things like that." Enkrid didn''t even remember when he and Kin had started speaking so casually. But it felt natural¡ªboth their conversations and their actions. Recently, Kin had devoted herself to running a workshop in Border Guard, which had led to a peculiar trend: young noblemen from the capital frequently visited the garrison. But after seeing Esther or Shinar... "Ah, so that''s true celestial beauty. An angel has descended upon us." It was the reason why their nicknames¡ªBlack Witch and Golden Flower¡ªhad spread even to the capital. Kin hadn''t sought such titles, but young men who visited Border Guard often said such things about her. "Kin may be the capital''s most beautiful, but the kingdom''s most beautiful are the Black Witch and the Golden Flower." While Enkrid didn''t particularly care, the remarks were still irritating. And it didn''t help that both were frequently seen near him. As Enkrid caught a breather from the tiresome exchanges, he spotted Rem blending in surprisingly well with the banquet crowd. "Did you know? If you mention women in Border Guard, there''s a crazed stray cat who goes wild¡ª for human or beastkin alike." Rem''s confident demeanor and casual chatter, drink in hand, suggested he had done this many times before. His motives were obvious, but at least he wasn''t breaking anyone''s neck in the middle of the banquet. Enkrid''s gaze naturally sought out Audin, who had stationed himself in a corner, wearing a soft smile as he reassured a group that he was not a bear beastkin and did not have a hobby of tearing people apart. He then followed up with comments about a pair of gloomy stray cats in Border Guard, their blood-crazed youngest, and how unfortunate his "indiscreet mouth" was. Enkrid was perceptive, and neither Rem nor Audin were hiding their intentions. Their antics were obvious. At that moment, at least, Rem and Audin were of one mind. It wasn''t a bad thing to witness. At the very least, the banquet''s atmosphere was lively. Krang had said he was sorting through which nobles were worth keeping around. When discussing Aspen''s downfall, he had summed it up neatly: "In an environment where you must rely on religion, with two powerful houses to keep the king in check, you can''t do anything freely." "And you''re different?" Naurilia''s royal family, too, had long been influenced by the Holy Church and the balance of the state religion. Krang''s response had been striking. "I am different." When asked how, his answer had been memorable: "A friend and knight who shares my goal is on my side." At such moments, Krang''s words were shamelessly confident, yet true. Enkrid was a knight, and their goals aligned. Krang gestured to the nobles. "Take it easy on him. Otherwise, he''ll start hating the word banquet." A young, clean-cut noble stepped forward, full of flowery compliments, and asked: "Your Majesty, what will you do next?" In Naurilia, there were the emerging noble faction, nobles who covertly supported the royal family, and the overtly loyal royalists. All of them were ultimately Krang''s people, though on the surface, they appeared divided. Krang placed his goblet on the table with a deliberate thud. Since the banquet followed a standing format, there were no chairs¡ªeveryone stood. Drawing the nobles'' attention with his natural magnetism, Krang smiled and announced: "For the time being." For the time being? Enkrid turned his gaze toward him. Rem and Audin, noticing the relative hush, also looked on. With all eyes on him, the royal bloodline smiled as he spoke: "My goal is to live well and eat well." Though the statement seemed out of place, those with sharper minds understood immediately. It was time to consolidate their foundation. As they ate, drank, and observed, a group entered the banquet hall. They were draped in flowing robes adorned with large grapevine patterns¡ªpriests of the God of Abundance. "Enkrid of the Border Guard." "Who doesn''t know that name in this land?" The priest spoke with the same smile, but Enkrid didn''t particularly like his face. Still, he didn''t spit on the smiling priest¡ªhe simply let it be. However, when he saw the clear, long scar of a blade on the priest''s exposed forearm and the way he walked, it was clear this was no ordinary priest. The traces of training were evident. "May the light of abundance rest upon the hero." The high priest, offering his respects, marveled at all Enkrid had accomplished before withdrawing. The priests following him quickly departed in a group. The banquet continued late into the night and ended quietly. The next day, strange rumors began to spread¡ªrumors about a fugitive heretic. It was the story of a priest who betrayed his god, abandoned someone akin to a father, and fled. Heretics, in some ways, were persecuted even more harshly than cultists. It wasn''t hard to figure out who was at the center of the rumors. The heretic supposedly gained the strength of a bear through misguided faith and had the bulk to match it. Someone seemed to be spreading the word with deliberate intent. Yet Enkrid, uncaring whether rumors spread or not, set out for the Border Guard. "Don''t mind it. It''s all nonsense." The captain of the guard, who was fanatically loyal to Enkrid, personally came to see him off and spoke those words. Having already exchanged greetings at the banquet, there was no need to see anyone else, so he left quietly. The captain, holding the reins, spoke again. "That merchant scum won''t pull something like that again." "What? Did you kill him?" Rem asked from behind, and the captain merely smiled without answering. Even if he hadn''t killed the man, it was clear he''d made him suffer¡ªthere was no need to ask. "Make way! The Unyielding Knight of the Madmen Order is departing!" There was no need to announce it so loudly, but the captain shouted, and the crowd parted in response. Everyone in the capital watched as Enkrid departed. From demon slayer to the Unyielding-Wall Knight. A supreme hero born of Naurilia. Despite the noble faction''s opposition, to the common citizens of the kingdom, Enkrid was a hero beyond compare. "Blessings on your journey!" Someone said it, and soon the crowd repeated the words. People wearing coifs or straw hats removed them and bowed their heads. Enkrid had entered quietly, but now, as he left, nearly the entire capital watched him. There was no space for rumors to reach his ears. Thus, on his return journey, the sound of horses'' hooves clattered, and the afternoon autumn sunlight enveloped the entire group. Just as they were leaving the city, Audin spoke to Enkrid. "I am that heretic." It was a confession. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek I am also introducing a new membership tier called ''Squire''. For 10$ you will recive the next 50 Chapters, with 30 new ones the following month. Many thanks to azuring for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 555 - Do Not Forgive My Sins Chapter 555 - 555 - Do Not Forgive My Sins Chapter 555 - Do Not Forgive My Sins In a land where polytheism¡ªthe belief and worship of multiple gods was acknowledged, being labelled as heretic meant being forsaken by all gods. Simply put, in a society where faith formed the foundation a heretic was treated as less than human. Thus, those branded as heretics had nowhere to live. Where could someone go if they were cast out of cities, which were the backbone of life? They would either turn to banditry or flee to places like the oasis towns of the west or the eastern frontiers. Of course, such a journey could never be easy; it was a matter of risking one''s life. A scholar who once acknowledged this harsh reality claimed that witch hunts and the persecution of heretics were the root causes of banditry. However, he too was branded a heretic and burned at the stake, proof that even when truths were known, it was easier to turn a blind eye. Being branded a heretic essentially meant opposing the central faith of the continent and worshiping idols. In other words, cultists were those rejected by all gods and religiously defined as enemies, the truest form of heresy. Truthfully, any heresy beyond cultism was merely arbitrary a tool used however convenient. Anyone who wasn''t fanatical in their beliefs or naively innocent already understood this reality. Ideally, heretics should have been rare outside of cults. But since when has the world ever been perfectly just or straightforward? The term "witch hunt" didn''t come about for nothing. How many people on this continent had the courage to kill those truly deserving the title of "witch"? Mages were already exponentially more dangerous in their own sanctuaries. Even if someone dared to try, they would likely die before succeeding. No amount of courage would keep such a fool alive. And really, why kill witches who remained in their sanctuaries content to spend their lives in magical research? Of course, not all witches were so benign. Some cultists still performed horrifying rituals, such as consuming the hearts of children yet the Church failed to deal with them. Because when it came to the Church, any excuse could be used to justify inaction. Seeing the true nature of the Church''s witch hunts would be enough to make one sick. Although such things happened less often now they were not entirely unheard of. The world was inherently unjust and that injustice always struck the weak the hardest. It was this injustice that branded Audin a heretic. ''Has my Father abandoned me?'' Audin had asked himself this countless times, even considering abandoning his faith. Yet the gods had never taken away their proof of love from him. The blessing given by the God of War¡ªthe divine power remained firmly within Audin, even when he was cast out of the Church. Even now nothing had changed. If he had truly been a heretic forsaken by the gods, his divine power would have disappeared first. But it had not. The divine power remained intact. Even the Church, for all its authority could not erase what existed. They could only seal it as taboo. Thus, when the Church declared Audin a heretic, it was for reasons entirely separate from the teachings of the gods. The stigma of heresy often served the Church''s political interests and power. Audin was simply a symbol of that injustice. A man with extraordinary talent who refused to fulfill the duties of an inquisitor and ultimately stood against the Church. While speaking to Enkrid, Audin lowered his gaze staring at the hands holding the reins. He could almost see blood dripping onto the ground¡ªa vision of the wrongs and sins committed by those hands. The hands that imprisoned and struck down the innocent. ''Do not forgive my sins.'' He silently recited the opening line of his dawn prayer¡ªa prayer that had remained unchanged since he abandoned his position as inquisitor. Enkrid, who had been lost in thought the entire journey finally raised his head at Audin''s words. With his shoulders relaxed, his posture atop the horse was casual yet composed a clear sign of exceptional riding skill. The horse trotted lightly, the autumn breeze pleasantly cool though the sunlight felt somewhat harsh. Golden grass stretched across the land, trampled under the horse''s hooves. "What is this land called?" Audin idly wondered, but before his mind wandered further Enkrid spoke. "Do you want me to curse at you? Fine, I''ll grant it." At first glance, his response seemed indifferent almost dismissive. Here was Audin, sharing what could be considered a lifelong confession and this was Enkrid''s reply. "Curses? I''ll handle that!" Rem chimed in, as if seizing the opportunity. "So, big guy, what kind of curses do you want?" Audin fell silent for a moment. He had anticipated Enkrid''s reaction. "I know. Fine. So what? What do you want me to do?" Audin had expected such a response acknowledging the rumors but brushing them aside. Yet the words he received were different. Curses? Why would he say such a thing? "Didn''t you say you wanted to be cursed?" Enkrid''s voice broke through his thoughts again. In that moment, Audin realized something. A lightning bolt of understanding struck him. ''Did I want to be cursed?'' Surely Enkrid had a rough idea why rumors surrounded him and why Audin stayed in Boder Guard. Yet Audin had confessed to being a heretic. Why? Had he wanted someone to judge his sins? To punish him? The gods had not punished him. Thus, in Audin''s mind he had received no retribution. With his pure and severe faith, Audin truly believed he had yet to be punished. "Self-flagellation is not a healthy habit." Enkrid''s tone remained calm and detached. "What''s self-flagellation? Just curse him already. That''s what he wants!" Rem added enthusiastically. "Hey, you bear¡ªhow about you choke on honey you stole from a tree and get stung in the eyeball?" The attempt was at best, uninspired. "That doesn''t seem right." "Yeah, even I don''t think so." Audin ignored the barbarian''s nonsense, his thoughts fixated on Enkrid''s words. The man was right, what he had been doing was self-flagellation. The scripture said not to defile the body gifted by the Father. But did that only refer to the flesh? What about the mind? The soul? Audin had always trained his body rigorously but had neglected his mind. He had whipped himself ceaselessly, repeating his past sins, tearing his soul and heart to shreds. Why? If asked, he would have said, "Because it must be done." To reveal his sins to the Father and plead for punishment. It had been an unspoken cry¡ª"Punish me." "Aah." Audin exhaled deeply, a low rumble escaping him. Once again the Father had taught him a lesson. Self-flagellation stood opposite to the teachings of the scripture and led only to ruin. ''I will never unleash my divine power.'' At least, not for himself. Even in death, Audin would remain steadfast. It was not a matter of seeking forgiveness for he did not dare to hope for such a thing. The divine power sealed within him stirred violently, a light trying to burst free. Audin calmed his heart, suppressing it once more. ''I will not use this power for myself.'' Above them, an eagle soared its cry cutting through the air. "Is that supposed to be a confession? If so, I''m a Westerner." "Then I''m a man of the continent." Enkrid replied dryly. Audin smiled faintly. Both men knew Audin had been exiled as a heretic but also knew he wasn''t truly one. It was a clumsy but genuine gesture of care, even from those savage brothers of his. "Kyahhh!" The cry of an eagle was quickly followed by the roar of a beast. The resonance was distinctly different. One was clear, even awe-inspiring while the other was unstable, an unpleasant cacophony. In the distance a few harpies flapped their wings, the figures hazy but discernible. It wasn''t too far, but it wasn''t particularly close either. Near the capital or around Border Guard it was difficult for beasts to rampage, but in areas where safety routes were not yet firmly established sightings of monsters and beasts had increased. When monsters or beasts were driven into one place, colonies sometimes formed clusters of those driven together gathering into groups. There were only a few harpies, but leaving them unchecked might prove troublesome later. Besides, it wouldn''t take much effort to handle them so there was no reason to ignore them. "I''ll go." Rem spoke up and Enkrid nodded. To ordinary travellers or merchants it would have been a significant threat, but not to Rem. As the western barbarian kicked his horse into motion, the thudding of hooves against the dry ground sent clouds of dust billowing into the air. It hadn''t rained for days, leaving the land dry and parched. As Audin watched the swirling dust particles for a moment, he opened his mouth. "I used to be an inquisitor." If spreading rumors about himself was an act of self-harm, then this was a true confession. "I see." Enkrid''s response was the same as always. Audin shared his past with him¡ªa brief story, simple and stripped of embellishments. Orphaned, raised by a priest he regarded as a father, the doubts he gained while judging heretics and the life he led after leaving the church. He left out the reasons for coming to Border Guard or any revelations he gained along the way. Enkrid thought Audin had no talent for storytelling. "Hmm." He offered no empathy, nor did he pass judgment. He simply accepted it for what it was. After all, who was he to say anything? What could he do by dredging up someone''s past? Tell them to live better? Warn them not to repeat the same mistakes? What right did he have to say such things? As an inquisitor, Audin had sent some people to the church''s prison. Revealing this he wondered to himself: Were they truly sinners? Now, he didn''t think so. Then, for what purpose had he captured them? As he talked, he felt as though his thoughts were settling into place. It was a strange thing. Enkrid, while offering no comfort listened intently. Without negligence or dismissal, he listened earnestly and that alone helped Audin feel a little better. "The church being rotten probably isn''t your fault." Enkrid stated it as a fact, neither comforting nor empathizing. Audin didn''t respond by saying he thought so, too. Whether the church was corrupt or not, his sins wouldn''t vanish. It was similar to the way Enkrid approached life. Everyone said it was impossible, but since he decided to become a knight he simply lived that way. Audin''s heart was the same. He followed what he believed. Everyone''s perspectives differed and so did the values they placed on life. Enkrid never tried to fix or blame someone''s way of thinking. If he forced his way onto someone, would it really be right for them? Who could say? It wasn''t his place to force anything. Everyone lived by their own will. Of course, Audin wasn''t so easily swayed by a few words. If he were, he wouldn''t have reached his current level of skill. Resolve, will, determination¡ª Without those, overcoming walls and advancing would have been impossible. As he spoke with Audin, Enkrid resolved a dilemma he had been grappling with in his swordsmanship. ''Strength of will.'' To remain firm and unyielding. Had he become hasty after glimpsing a shred of talent? Had he been intoxicated by seeing others support him? Lately, he had struggled with his technique Wave-breaker Sword, which added a counterforce. With his experience in many sword techniques, his instincts urged him to find a way around the problem. He had sworn to resolve it before reaching Border Guard, but now he realized that wasn''t the answer. Rushing ahead wasn''t always the correct path. ''The method itself isn''t wrong.'' It simply wasn''t the right approach for his current self. For someone else, finding a detour might be appropriate. Each person lived in their own way and the Wave-breaker Sword would find its own path, too. Refining techniques was something he always did. Under the autumn sun, their return journey was uninterrupted by rain or the need to rest in caves. Along the way, they stopped by Jaltenburg. In a tavern, Enkrid sparred lightly with a mercenary eager to test his skills and nobles and merchants swarmed him after someone recognized him. "You won''t cut off my head, will you?" One noble, trembling at the sight of Rem asked nervously. Rem had tried hard to improve his reputation, but rumors persisted. A madman who splits the heads of nobles with an axe after losing his parents to one. "Dammit, why would my parents be killed by nobles? I''m a Westerner¡ªthere''s no concept of nobility where I''m from." Rem was frustrated, but he didn''t vent his anger on the nobles before him. While there were no bandits, sightings of monsters or beasts gathering couldn''t be ignored. Whenever they appeared, Rem took the chance to stretch his limbs. "I send you to the Lord!" Audin occasionally stepped forward to fight and Enkrid learned a few aspects of his martial arts from him. It wasn''t a bad study. Having real combat and skilled teachers around was invaluable. Rem grumbled at him from time to time, but it was part of their routine. "A proper knight should understand with just one word. You''re hopeless." In terms of dueling, it was hard to say who would win but Rem said what he felt he needed to. And he wasn''t wrong. Through these experiences, they finally returned to Border Guard where Enkrid resumed his usual days of training and sparring. As Krang had advised, it was time to eat well and build strength. Then, Enkrid formally announced the founding of a knightly order in Border Guard. "''Madmen Knights''? Why would you name it that..." Krais shook his head, but it was too late¡ªthe official name had already spread. The news travelled faster and farther than they had expected, across the continent. The founding of a new knightly order? It was an event people hadn''t heard of in a long time. Rumors of Border Guard''s growing strength also spread, thanks to the efforts of Rem and Audin. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek I am also introducing a new membership tier called ''Squire''. For 10$ you will recive the next 50 Chapters, with 30 new ones the following month. Many thanks to azuring for proofreading the Chapte Chapter 556 - Strolling Through the City Chapter 556 - 556 - Strolling Through the City Chapter 556 - Strolling Through the City "Why is the Madmen Unit called that?" When the merchant, who was both a peddler and a trader, asked the question, his companion quickly replied. "Well, it''s because there really are only madmen in it." "Is it okay to talk like that out loud?" "What''s the big deal? Everyone already knows." At the entrance of the bustling market at the center of Border Guard, two peddlers were chatting. The one with the thinner lips, and the looser tongue, did most of the talking. The conversation might have sounded like ramblings of fools, but in reality, it wasn''t any great secret. These were stories everyone already knew. Besides, the subject of their gossip wasn''t even present, and it''s human nature to badmouth even kings when they aren''t around. "Can I hear more about that?" Suddenly, a new voice chimed in, and the merchant flinched, his shoulders tensing as he turned to see the speaker. His expression quickly darkened as he looked at the source. It was an old, white-haired blind man who had somehow approached without a sound. The elderly man, hunched over and wrinkled, leaned on his cane as he stood there. "What do you want?" Startled by the man''s quiet approach, the merchant stiffened for a moment, but when he got a good look at the old man, he relaxed and replied. "Why are you eavesdropping on other people''s¡ª" Before he could finish, the old man held out a silver coin, and the merchant''s demeanor changed instantly. "Well, it''s something everyone''s talking about..." The merchant trailed off, staring at the blind man. Seeing him, the merchant felt it would be heartless to swindle a helpless, blind old man, so he promised to explain as much as he could. After all, he''d been paid. A true merchant delivers value for what he receives. "Alright, listen up. There are five madmen in total." The first was a madman who lost both parents to a noble and now split noble heads with his axe whenever he saw one. "They say he''s dangerous, so be careful if you run into him. If you see gray hair¡ªwell, uh, never mind." The merchant stopped himself abruptly. That wasn''t something you said to a blind man. He quickly redirected the conversation and began distinguishing rumor from fact, talking until his mouth was dry. His attitude had grown noticeably more enthusiastic. He wanted to make up for his earlier slip. Then there was a half-bear beastkin who ripped people in half, saying it was divine justice. Another madman who supposedly drank blood every three days¡ªa sword-crazed lunatic and the youngest of the unit. And lastly, there was a perverted murderer who found pleasure in stabbing people in the back after being heartbroken by a woman. "But rumors are just rumors. If you talk to the people in the city, they say it''s all exaggerated." In reality, they might be rough around the edges, but they didn''t kill for sport. "Rumors spread, but you gain nothing by badmouthing them in Border Guard, so don''t go repeating this elsewhere." The merchant decided he had earned his silver coin. Sure, you could find this out by wandering around the city, but getting such detailed information wasn''t so easy. The old man didn''t seem destitute, but he wasn''t particularly well-off either. A blind man probably couldn''t go around picking up stories easily. "No, your story''s a little wrong." Just as they were about to part ways, a man with a menacing look approached. The merchant instinctively raised both hands as if to shield himself. The man looked ready to throw a punch at any moment. But whether the merchant flinched or not, the man simply spoke his mind. "The axe-wielding madman? He''s just plain crazy." There was weight to his voice. It carried an intensity and conviction that only came from personal experience, as though every word was etched into his bones. Even the merchant could tell that this man wasn''t just talking; he had lived it. The blind old man turned his milky-white eyes toward the newcomer, as if examining him. Though blind, his gaze seemed almost perfectly directed. The man placed both hands on the merchant''s shoulders, and the merchant shivered. Even through his thick clothing, he could feel the heat radiating from the man''s hands. "Remember this. That guy is truly insane." The man was one of the soldiers under Rem''s command. Normally, he wouldn''t have left the barracks, but Rem was willing to give occasional leave to those who earned it. It was a brief reward for those who stood out in training. Of course, escape wasn''t an option. "Run? Go ahead, try. I''ll hunt you down, and your punishment will double." Double what? Probably the training. If not, it''d be a beating. Rem had said it without a hint of humor, and the so-called "Axe Squad" soldier realized in that moment that he''d been trapped. Life was unfair. So he decided to make the most of his brief outing before returning like a man walking to his execution. But hearing someone defending that madman was just too much. He couldn''t hold back. "Sigh." With a deep breath, the man pulled his hands back, turned around, and muttered: "That lunatic deserves divine punishment." He walked off with heavy steps, his gait lacking energy. Even though the man had already turned away, the merchant nodded instinctively. "Not everyone seems to like them." The old man asked slowly. "Oh, that¡ªhe''s probably a soldier. I hear it''s like that during the early days of training." The merchant shared what he''d heard from a guard before. The old man nodded a couple of times, then turned his head toward someone else¡ªa figure wearing a hood. For a moment, the two locked eyes. The old man''s milky, clouded eyes seemed to meet the hooded man''s piercing blue gaze as though cutting through the air between them. But the old man was blind. The hooded man frowned and asked, curious: "Can you see me?" "No, I can''t." "I see." It wasn''t much of a conversation. The old man nodded again, as though it were a habit. "Well, we''re busy here." The merchant left, and the old man began walking again, tapping his cane against the ground. He moved deftly through the crowded streets of Border Guard, which was at its busiest in recent memory. The hooded man¡ªEnkrid¡ªwatched the old man for a moment. He walks well. Not many people recognized him, but when they did, it was always a hassle, so he wore a cloak and hood in the city. Fortunately, plenty of people dressed similarly, so no one gave him a second glance. Still, something about the old man nagged at him. Even though he was blind, it felt as if he had looked right at him. There was something odd about him. His presence was faint, yet unmistakable. His body seemed trained, but then again, maybe not. It was strange. But Enkrid had come to the city for a reason, and he intended to get on with it. All he had to do was wait for the old man to pass out of sight. The less crowded streets would be a better route anyway. At first, he''d thought to go through the city center, but it was just too noisy. "Now, about this leather! What is it, you ask? This is crocodile beast-hide!" "This stone is a lucky stone! It came all the way from the West, blessed by dozens of shamans..." "Firewood for sale! Firewood!" Voices screamed from every direction. Makeshift stalls filled the gaps between buildings, merchants shouting to advertise their wares. There wasn''t even room for carts here. And to make things worse, construction workers were bringing in supplies, dragging donkeys and carts through the chaos. It was more warlike than an actual battlefield. No one was bleeding or dying¡ªat least, not usually. "You bastard, I told you this is my spot!" "There''s no such thing as your spot here!" Two grown men swung punches at each other, clearly untrained but plenty angry. A young man watching from the sidelines jumped into the fray, and chaos seemed imminent. And in the middle of all this, the blind old man was walking straight into trouble. Enkrid, who had been watching, pushed his way through the crowd, grabbed the old man''s sleeve, and said: "I wouldn''t go that way if I were you." The noise in the market was deafening, and Enkrid wondered if the blind man had lost his sense of direction because of it. "You''re a good person." The old man said without even turning his head. It seemed he knew who was talking to him and who was holding his sleeve. Enkrid found that particularly fascinating. And that was truly the end of it. The old man changed direction and began walking again, and as commotion broke out, guards came rushing in. Piiiiiik! A guard blew his whistle and shouted. "Stop! That''s enough! You, put the stone down! If someone dies, you''re dead too. If you don''t want to be dragged to the courtroom, knock it off." The approaching guards efficiently broke up the fight and restrained the situation. There were three well-trained soldiers, fully armed, leaving no room for clumsy brawlers to interfere. Once the fight was over, all that remained was frustration. "Some drifter from another city." "Oh, so you''re a local of Border Guard, huh?" The two merchants continued to grumble angrily, seemingly unable to let go of their frustration, while a few young men standing behind them looked much the same. Enkrid recalled something Krais had mentioned a few days prior. It was about the usual things that happened when people gathered in one place: conflicts tied to factions. One side consisted of those who had settled in Border Guard long ago, and the other side was the recently relocated newcomers. Their relationship wasn''t particularly harmonious. Some stuck together based on their origins from the capital, while a few southern nobles from Naurilia had also crossed over into the city and formed their own group. All this factionalism caused quite a headache. When people flock together on a small patch of land and fight desperately to secure profits, such things inevitably happen. Then there were those who ignored the factions entirely, some who kept a distance and merely observed, and others who exploited the divisions for their own schemes. ''Not exactly scheming, but someone like Vanessa seems to be doing just fine.'' Vanessa, a native of Border Guard, had recently expanded her inn, opened a new restaurant, and even set up a cafeteria. Word had it that the pumpkin beverage she served there was especially delicious. Enkrid hadn''t tasted it yet himself. The line was always too long. Not that he could just declare, "I''m the madmen knight general of Border Guard," to skip to the front. He had ways to get a taste if he really wanted, but Enkrid wasn''t particularly gluttonous. He liked good food but wouldn''t chase it down relentlessly. In any case, when people gathered, it was natural for various issues to arise. What had just unfolded before his eyes seemed to be one of those problems. ''If left alone, it might fester.'' Who knows? Enkrid himself had never seen a city this bustling before. Border Guard had grown at a breakneck pace, pulling ahead significantly compared to nearby cities. Skilled bakers from Martai had already migrated here, and even people from the Aspen''s border city were beginning to trickle in. With the city developing so quickly, oppressive lords in neighboring territories no longer had a foothold. So what did they do? Some nobles naturally sought to come under Enkrid''s jurisdiction in Border Guard. When they were rejected, they opted instead to become direct subjects of the kingdom. In short, it strengthened the royal family''s power. Still, Border Guard''s gates remained open, welcoming anyone who wished to come. From what Krais said, Green Pearl hadn''t yet filled its need for labor either. After briefly recalling these stray bits of information, Enkrid watched the guards responsible for maintaining public order before heading down a quieter path. The situation earlier hadn''t been particularly pleasant, but there was no reason for it to sour his mood. Enkrid exited the central area and passed through several alleys. These alleys, which once reeked of filth, were now clean and spacious thanks to recent urban renovations. Along the way, he saw a few individuals who looked like members of the Gilpin Guild. "Where do you want this moved?" A human man, with three scars on his face that somehow made him look ruggedly handsome, carried a crate of fruit. Judging by his appearance, attire, and the dagger at his waist, he was indeed from the Gilpin Guild. A black square emblem engraved on the dagger''s hilt confirmed it. Recently, the guild had established a standard crest that all members carried with them. These were the ones who, along with Border Guard''s standing forces, ensured the city''s safety through the night. When Enkrid stepped into the alley, a few sharp-eyed guild members briefly turned their attention to him but merely observed him without causing trouble. Emerging from the alley, Enkrid found himself on a wide, open road. He strolled along the solid stone-paved path and looked up at the brilliantly blue sky. Not a single cloud marred the view. It was the kind of day that made walking while gazing at the heavens feel worthwhile. The breeze was cool, and the sunlight warm. Enkrid walked unhurriedly, his footsteps sounding softly on the road. Giving his all in everything didn''t mean rushing around, panting for breath. In that sense, this was a road worth walking. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek I am also introducing a new membership tier called ''Squire''. For 10$ you will recive the next 50 Chapters, with 30 new ones the following month. Chapter 557 - A Mighty Battle Chapter 557 - 557 - A Mighty Battle Chapter 557 - A Mighty Battle The central part of the city was bustling with activity, but the area Enkrid moved to was almost deserted. Despite the contrast in atmosphere, Enkrid enjoyed the peace of the moment. A butterfly with red wings fluttered by, and nearby, a long flower bed stretched out, with yellow and orange flowers in full bloom. The flowers were known as Holy Gold, or the Flower of the Virgin, not for being sacred in nature, but for its symbolism. It was said to be the flower that blessed the beauty of the world, representing not only the Virgin but also saints and holy figures, as those who carried divine blessing were seen as holy. In front of the flower bed were a few maple trees with their red leaves scattered on the ground. It was a pleasant walking path, newly paved on the outskirts of the city, with no commercial facilities in sight. Instead, one could see construction guilds or artisans working on buildings, which seemed to blend naturally with the surroundings. It was peaceful, almost idyllic, as though the only purpose was to enjoy the present. A road built on a scale rarely seen in rural towns, perfect for a leisurely stroll. Enkrid continued on and reached his destination. Thud! Thud! Thud! The rhythmic sound of a hammer striking echoed through the area¡ªit was the blacksmith''s workshop. Enkrid crouched to enter through the small entrance, and immediately, the scene inside came into view, with the heat of the forge pushing back the cool breeze. The space had expanded since the last time, but much of it remained unchanged: grey ash, black soot, and a glowing furnace alongside a bellows. People who seemed to blend into the scenery worked in the heat. "Aetri," Enkrid called out as he greeted the blacksmith. "Ah, you''ve come," Aetri responded, turning his head to meet Enkrid''s gaze from where he sat in front of the forge. "How is it?" Since the battle with the Aspen knights, Enkrid had retrieved the weapons of the fallen knights, selecting only the engraved ones. These weapons, crafted from rare metals and intricate forging techniques, were obviously valuable. Enkrid had brought them to Aetri for research and experimentation. "Right now, I can''t make any engraved weapons," Aetri said, his tone firm. "That''s fine." Enkrid wasn''t concerned. He had already decided to entrust his weapons to Aetri, a man with dreams. He was stubbornly determined in his choice. People around him had already known that about him, and even Shinar would likely agree. "Then, will you share with me what you''ve learned?" Aetri asked, his curiosity piqued. He wanted to know about the insights Enkrid had gained during his battles¡ªabout the use of will, mindset, and the changes that had occurred. As Enkrid shared his experiences, he also noticed that Aetri had impressive martial skills. The two spoke and answered each other''s questions, and Enkrid realized Aetri had trained with various weapons as part of his forging process. Aetri, though talented, had only learned the minimum necessary skills. "Do you train separately?" Enkrid asked. "No, just enough to meet my needs," Aetri answered. Aetri''s method was shaped by necessity¡ªhis talents were put to use in the forge, where heat and iron brought forth the results he desired. Engraved weapons required a specific process, but this didn''t concern Enkrid much. He trusted Aetri, regardless of the outcome. His faith was unwavering. "Do you believe in it?" Aetri asked after a pause, sensing the unspoken thoughts between them. "I don''t know," Enkrid replied honestly. The two men continued their work, with Aetri staying composed despite his inner anticipation. Enkrid, equally unfazed, continued to speak about his insights, and soon, the Frog sculptor joined them. It was clear that this sculptor, too, was dedicated to his craft, training and honing his skills. The three of them spent the rest of the evening in conversation, with Enkrid learning even more from the exchange. As night fell, and Enkrid prepared to leave, Aetri handed him a short sword. "Use this instead. It would be better to stop using the gladius," Aetri suggested. Enkrid didn''t ask questions and accepted the sword without hesitation. Aetri''s apprentice handed him the weapon, its blade slightly thicker than the gladius, with a shorter length. It felt heavier in his hand, and Enkrid noticed the weight balance shift. "It''s mixed with mute metal," Aetri explained. "I''ll use it well," Enkrid said, already knowing the cost had been taken care of by Krais. With Aetri''s encouragement and the support of those who understood him, Enkrid stepped outside into the clear night. The full moon shone brightly overhead. He reflected on the conversations of the evening, revisiting the day''s events in his mind. The thunderous realization he had hoped for did not strike him. "Was I driven by an obsession to give my best every day?" Enkrid thought to himself. As always, he picked up his sword again, continuing his relentless pursuit of mastery. He walked through the city, reflecting on the letters and duties awaiting him, including one from King Anu in the East. It seemed the rumors had spread that far. "Unyielding Knight? Is that you? What have you done? Write me in detail. Oh, and the one you sent is still alive, but maybe not for long. And the Madmen Knights? Nice name. Sounds like a bunch of lunatics." It wasn''t entirely wrong. The knights Enkrid led were all, in some sense, mad. After reading the letter, Enkrid quickly wrote a short reply. "Things just happened that way. Dunbakel isn''t someone who dies easily." He finished writing and returned to training, preparing for the challenges ahead. Rem, who was carefully cleaning his axe blade at one end of the training ground, asked, "So why did you name it ''Madmen''?" Enkrid didn''t believe all the rumors. However, he didn''t think the people under his command were entirely normal either. It was the same as when he subtly responded to Anu''s letter. When Rem asked, Ragna, Jaxen, Audin, Teresa, Ropord, and even Fel all turned their attention to him. Even Luagarne, who rolled her large eyes, tilted her head with curiosity, as if the Frog''s innate inquisitiveness had been piqued. Luagarne puffed out her cheeks and said, "Yeah, I was curious too." Enkrid briefly pondered on whether it was right to blatantly call someone crazy. It wasn''t. Therefore, Enkrid couldn''t bring himself to answer honestly. "Because he fight like madmen." His voice was a bit weak, but the meaning was clear and conveyed. Rem nodded in acknowledgment. "That''s true." As Enkrid had said, Rem and everyone else nodded. It seemed like the right explanation. Afterward, they practiced with swords, meditated, moved their Will, and tried various things until the sun set. It was then that Krais arrived to speak with Enkrid. His face seemed to carry many thoughts. At least, that''s how Enkrid saw it. *** Krais''s face was marked with the traces of deep contemplation. Krais had come to a crossroads. ''Alright, let''s think this through.'' He had two paths in front of him. One was to continue living like this, and the other was to abandon everything and escape to some remote part of the empire. What did it mean to live this way? ''It''s a life where you could die from poison, or get shot by an arrow at any moment.'' Then what about running away? ''You''d hide somewhere and live a quiet life until you die.'' Honestly, the second option wasn''t exactly what he desired. But the danger was far less. Would Nurat follow him? No, she wouldn''t. In other words, he would have to leave behind everything he had. ''That''s the way to go.'' By doing so, he''d significantly reduce the chance of dying. There would be no more headaches like the ones he had now. That was enough. Living a short and intense life was foolish. Life should be lived long, comfortably, and with a moderate amount of enjoyment, wasn''t that right? He could live in a quiet corner of some city, open a salon, and live well. Krais was different from others. He knew this better than anyone. ''I''m perfectly normal.'' The name "Madmen" didn''t suit him at all. That was why. ''Time to give up.'' Krais could already foresee some of what would happen on the continent. Fire, iron, blood, and the boundary between life and death. Monsters and beasts. In the end, he would lose his mind due to the anxiety. Could he keep finding ways to survive by calculating every situation? ''It might be faster for Ragna to travel across the continent.'' The world would be drenched in blood. It was inevitable. However, it was too late to tell Enkrid to go easy and focus on living well with just the few of them. ''Would I have a place here?'' There would be a place for him. There would always be things for him to do. But that would also mean becoming close to death. In the end, he might have to leave for the faraway world beyond the river, hand in hand with his friends. A firm decision took root in his heart. The same resolve Enkrid had when he built the wall with Will. Krais hadn''t been able to speak to Nurat first. He had spent days contemplating, and once his decision was made, he sought out Enkrid. "Captain." It was dusk. The orange light of the setting sun faded behind the mountains, leaving a darkening sky. It was almost like the final struggle of the sun scattering its light, creating a blue darkness. In the midst of this darkness, two blue eyes, straight and unwavering, looked at him. The owner of those eyes would never bend his will, no matter what happened. Krais knew, looking into those eyes, that his own resolve remained unchanged. ''A man like me doesn''t belong here.'' The continent would burn. The war with Aspen wasn''t the problem. Until this point, he could manage it somehow, but no longer. Krais felt that the problems of the city, internal strife, factional disputes, and countless other issues were beyond his ability to solve. It didn''t make him sad. It was simply that his capabilities had limits. Actually, perhaps he was a little sad. He was curious to see how far Enkrid would go. But Krais knew that his own life, his own dreams, were more important than that. Nothing was more important than that. ''This is the end.'' Enkrid had become a knight. He had achieved his goal by continuing without stopping, and Krais felt no regret in the end. "Do you have something on your mind?" Enkrid asked, and Krais shook his head before answering. "I don''t think it''s a concern." The matter had already been decided. His eyes were cloudy, and his voice rough. He didn''t look neat either. Enkrid had noticed how Krais had been burdened with an excessive workload recently. Some of it was work Enkrid himself should have taken care of, and some of it wasn''t something Enkrid could resolve by stepping in. At times like this, shouldn''t he offer support? "I heard from Krang about his ambitions while we were passing by." Ambitions? Krais wasn''t particularly curious, but since he was already hearing everything, he would listen and say what he needed to. "The Empire and the great kingdoms were all part of Krang''s plan." Magic realms, the Empire, the great kingdoms, and the nobility. Even if the scale was huge, it felt too large to even fathom. ''As expected, this isn''t a place for me.'' His resolve still didn''t waver at all. "Imagine, even in the Empire and great kingdoms, you could build salons." Enkrid said, and Krais experienced a sense of shaking. It wasn''t his body shaking, but his heart. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek I am also introducing a new membership tier called ''Squire''. For 10$ you will recive the next 50 Chapters, with 30 new ones the following month. Chapter 558 - Festival and Guest Chapter 558 - 558 - Festival and Guest Chapter 558 - Festival and Guest Thump. The organ that had quietly been pumping blood throughout his body suddenly announced its presence. His heart was pounding. It beat loudly, as if to say, I''m here. In truth, there was something more important to Krais than dreams, life, or even survival itself. How should one describe it? A preparation for the future, a tangible, graspable symbol of value. In other words, Krona. To him, the future, the symbol of value, the dream, and life itself all converged into Krona. What would he do after earning piles of gold coins by running a salon? He didn''t know. He''d just live doing whatever he wanted. Even if he didn''t know what he wanted to do, it would be enough to have his pockets filled with gold coins. That was how Krais envisioned his future. And now, Enkrid whispered dreams and the future to him. "If it works out, you''ll make an unimaginable amount of Krona." For a moment, Krais saw a mountain of gold coins appear before his eyes. It was an illusion. He hadn''t even taken any drugs, but there it was. "Building the city of pleasure you mentioned on the border of the Empire and the southern great nation wouldn''t be a bad idea." Krais''s eyes grew hazy, as if his mind had already traveled to that distant future. Recently, he''d heard that Anne, while developing a remedy, had failed and accidentally created a substance that glowed at night. They were now using it to construct lighthouses with glowing water to illuminate Border Guard''s nights. If they refined it further? A few alchemists had joined Anne since then, so it wasn''t impossible. They could create a giant sphere in the center of the city and fill it with glowing water. If they erected it as the iconic centerpiece of the city of salons? The construction guild, known for their skilled building techniques, could easily make it happen. In his dream, Krais climbed the tall walls built along the southern border. "Look here! This is the city of pleasure!" Spreading his arms wide, he would introduce the city to dozens of nobles. As they turned their gazes in the direction of his hand, a luminous city appeared¡ªshining even in the dark of night. It was a literal city of pleasure, glowing on its own. The mere thought sent an electrifying thrill from his toes to the top of his head. No, that wouldn''t be enough. It should move. They could build a contraption to rotate it side to side. Couldn''t they implement a magical power device to make it move automatically? "Behold! This is the shining city, Salon de City!" The city wouldn''t just glow; it would scatter its light outward, as if sprinkling it over the surroundings. The name rolled off his tongue, and though it was improvised, it somehow felt right. Krais hadn''t realized it, but the moment he decided to give up, his mind had stopped engaging in deep thought. In other words, he had stopped thinking. That was why every problem had felt insurmountable, like an unscalable wall. It was a lack of willpower and a heart that had drifted away. But now, Krais''s mind, once like hardened bread, softened and began to whirl like warm soup. Enkrid watched as Krais''s vacant expression suddenly shifted, his eyes lighting up. Why is he acting like this? Enkrid didn''t know. Honestly, he didn''t particularly care. He simply cheered Krais on as always. This was, after all, the dream Krais had always talked about. Krais himself had forgotten it for a while, but Enkrid hadn''t. A large-scale city of salons, the piles of Krona it would generate, and the mountain of gold coins he would accumulate. Krais had once said he liked the idea of the salon city and the Krona. That''s why Enkrid mentioned it. As he spoke, Enkrid found himself suddenly curious about his soldiers''¡ªno, his knights''¡ªgoals. What were they all fighting for? He could roughly guess, but he had never asked. Until now, there had been no need. But things were different now. They had officially become a knight order. Just because he had ambitions, did that mean Rem and the others had to follow him blindly? They had a formal knight order name, but he hadn''t explicitly called them knights. Rem might follow him to erase the demonic domains, but what about the others? As Krais rambled on, Enkrid decided that he would have to go around and ask them, one by one. He would also need to define the knight order''s size and structure properly. Until now, Krais had handled all matters related to the order, but while Krais was momentarily distracted, Enkrid had been the first to think of these things. "Are you sick?" Enkrid asked, seeing Krais''s eyes spinning in their sockets. Maybe he had a fever. "No." Krais''s lifeless eyes, like those of a dead fish, regained their shine. He wasn''t sick, apparently. For a brief moment, however, it seemed Enkrid noticed Krais'' contemplative state and began to chatter again. "You''ve been worried about the tension around the borders with Aspen, right? Plus, all the factions and other issues in the city must have been a headache." Actually, it hadn''t been that much of a headache. The truth was, he simply didn''t care much. If a problem arose, he''d solve it. But for now, he couldn''t just cut everything down with his sword, so wasn''t it better to leave it be? Enkrid was clever enough to recognize the issues, but his approach had always been simple: if something festers, cut it open and remove the rot. However, the scale of the territory was too large for such crude methods, and while there wasn''t outright discontent, many people felt stifled. The city itself was functioning well. There was surplus food and plenty of krona flowing, and yet... Things couldn''t be perfect, no matter how good they seemed. What was the answer to this situation? Until recently, Krais hadn''t known either, but now he had an answer. "I have an idea." At some point, the only thing left in Krais''s mind was a rolling contraption. One that poured out gold coins in real-time. Risk? Giving up? Weren''t those the things one had to endure to achieve results? Hadn''t their commander done exactly that? Krais decided to forget his wavering heart. Resolving to overcome it wasn''t enough¡ªhe would erase it entirely. "This year, we''ve stockpiled plenty of food. I''ll use it." They had started cultivating Green Pearl, built secure trade routes, and expanded the surrounding farmland. They had also focused on herding and hunting. Ranger training included monster and beast hunting as well. Border Guard''s role as a trade city had grown even more significant. Recently, the Enri caravan had arrived from the west, potentially opening trade routes with the western regions. One of the resulting benefits was an abundance of food. If this sounds like Border Guard was already wealthy, the problem was that none of this belonged to Krais personally. He couldn''t take it all for himself, nor did he want to. Watching Enkrid move forward with integrity had taught Krais the same lesson. He would move forward and build the shining city. Krais made up his mind. "Alright." "Yes, then." Krais turned and left. "What was that all about?" Rem asked, toweling his wet hair as he emerged after a wash. "No idea." Enkrid answered honestly. "I thought he was busy?" "Yeah, exactly." Enkrid brushed it off as just another one of those things. The next morning, he heard that Krais had convinced Abnaier¡ªhalf a prisoner at this point¡ªto join him. When asked why, Krais simply said: "I''ll put him to work." And when questioned about trust? "I don''t trust him. I don''t trust anyone, actually. I just make sure no one knows what anyone else is doing." Moreover, Krais limited Abnaier''s responsibilities strictly to trade and diplomatic stabilization. "There''s no time for anything else. Not for armies or military affairs." Abnaier dove into his tasks with focus. When Enkrid finally visited him, Abnaier was buried in paperwork, his head on the desk. He wasn''t asleep. He was simply too busy. "Who''s there? Put the documents below." Enkrid left silently, feeling his visit had been pointless. With Abnaier managing trade and other tasks, Krais could breathe easier. In his spare time, he created a city-wide festival. It might have seemed sudden, but it was what the city needed most. Why? Because people needed an outlet. Border Guard had defeated Aspen and claimed victory, but now they were neighbors. Not everyone was pleased. Some had lost family and friends to Aspen. Not that there were that many people like that. It was rare for a large-scale battle to occur while fighting against Aspen. Still, some dissatisfaction existed, and unsettling rumors circulated here and there. On the other hand, Aspen was the same. They had suffered far worse. Aspen attempted to resolve the issue by relocating those who hadn''t lived near the border to its vicinity. Of course, it was Abnaier''s handiwork. That was the reason for the massive migration within the principality. In such a situation, they needed something to unite everyone. That was the memorial day¡ªa festival. Krais added a few features to it. "Shall we call it the Order''s Foundation Day? Or the Day of Border Guard Protection?" Enkrid didn''t care about either, but since the Order hadn''t yet gained everyone''s approval, he thought the latter would be better. Thus, the Day of Border Guard Protection was established, and a festival was held. It was a three-day-long event of eating and drinking, culminating in a martial arts tournament on the final day. Preliminaries were held within each unit, while the finals took place in the city of Green Pearl. Anyone who wasn''t affiliated with a unit could participate, so excitement spread far and wide. The knights only observed while their unit members competed. The winner was given a pouch full of gold coins, and if they wished, they could even be honorably discharged. As a result, Rem''s unit members went wild, competing so fiercely during the preliminaries that those who advanced to the finals limped onto the arena. "Will there even be a fight, brother?" Audin asked, seeing this. The opponent was a martial artist personally trained by Audin and Teresa. "Who needs a leg anyway?" Rem snorted, but the victory went to Audin''s holy infantryman. "Woah! I am a bear!" For some reason, the shout of triumph was a little strange. "Want me to teach you a Frog war song?" Hearing this, Luagarne offered, but Audin declined. "I can sing quite well myself, Frog Sister." After recovering fully, Luagarne had wandered the mountain ranges like a crazed Frog, but lately, she stuck close to Enkrid. "Next is... oh, it''s Stumbling Clemence?" Clemence had practically become a proper noun at this point. She stepped forward with a short wooden sword, and her opponent was from the sword infantry unit led by Ragna and Vice-Captain Ropord. What ridiculous names, Enkrid thought as he watched the fight. As he always did, regardless of the skill level, there was something to learn from everything. For that reason, Enkrid enjoyed watching every fight starting from the finals. The fight was one-sided. Clemence wasn''t skilled in swordsmanship but in fighting itself. She tangled up the opponent''s sword, dashed in, swept their legs, and struck their throat with the edge of her hand. Her movements and use of strength were impeccable. "She''s good." Luagarne nodded as she watched. Stumbling Clemence had followed Luagarne around and learned a few techniques, but she had also sought teachings from others indiscriminately and trained like a madwoman. She didn''t even need sharp eyes. Enkrid could feel the flow of Will from Clemence. It was like an intuition, a kind of insight. While fighting, it was as though she foresaw the future; Enkrid saw traces of someone advancing within Clemence''s movements. "She''ll become a Semi Knight." Like any Order, there was a Squire stage before becoming a Semi Knight. Clemence had risen to the level of a Squire. She had started as an ordinary soldier, but her talent and effort had led her here. "We''ll say that winning will grant entry into the Order." Hearing this, Krais added another prize for the tournament. Enkrid nodded. It wasn''t a difficult thing to do. Of course, any soldier with sense wouldn''t want to join the Order. Enkrid was the one who showed them what true relentless training looked like. From afar, he was a heroic figure inspiring respect and awe. Up close, however, he was just a crazy bastard¡ªa training maniac. It wasn''t called the "Madmen Order" for no reason. Even the Hurrier family in Aspen joined the martial arts tournament. The atmosphere was electric, and the winner came from Enkrid''s direct unit. "Kaaahhh!" The victor roared into the air as though they were a giant hybrid. The winner was a female soldier with her hair braided in a single plait¡ªStumbling Clemence. She requested to become a Squire of the Order, and so it was. And thus, the three-day festival came to an end. Once the festival concluded, the city''s improvement projects surged forward like a runaway carriage. It was reminiscent of when Enkrid returned from expeditions only to find new walls had been built. After the festival, there was a reorganization of the city''s layout. The outer ring road was established right next to the walls that had been expanded earlier. The inner area was divided into an inn district and a commercial district. Artisans were grouped with artisans, and merchants with merchants. All of it was Krais'' handiwork. It was around this time. While training, meeting Eitri, and attending to various tasks around the city, Enkrid was on his way back to the barracks. "The festival was so delightful I couldn''t take my eyes off it." He heard the nonsense of a blind old man standing before the barracks. What did it mean for someone blind to say they couldn''t take their eyes off something? It was like a joke a Fairy would make. It was a clear autumn afternoon. Enkrid''s hand unconsciously rested on the hilt of his sword as he gazed at the old man. "Don''t let your guard down." Jaxen''s voice came from behind him. Jaxen had approached with deliberate steps, so Enkrid wasn''t surprised. It seemed their timing had coincidentally overlapped. "Why?" "That old man... is strange." Coming from Jaxen, the word sounded unusual. If there was danger, he would say it was dangerous If it was annoying, he would say it was bothersome. But ''strange''? It was an expression Enkrid had never heard from Jaxen before. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek I am also introducing a new membership tier called ''Squire''. For 10$ you will recive the next 50 Chapters, with 30 new ones the following month. Chapter 559 - The Blind Man Chapter 559 - 559 - The Blind Man Chapter 559 - The Blind Man Clink. Plates were placed one after another on the table. While one might not be picky with food, no one truly disliked delicious meals¡ªand Enkrid was no exception. This was a dining hall built separately from the barracks, reserved exclusively for the knights. It had been created when Krais expanded and renovated the barracks. While the knights usually ate the same food as the soldiers, serving proper dishes when guests arrived was considered a form of courtesy. It was a cultural norm, originating from the Empire and neighboring kingdoms, to warmly welcome guests with food. In the West, if one wished to show respect, they would cook something themselves, even a small dish, or serve food made by their family. In the central continent, however, the culture was like this. The old man had requested an invitation, and Enkrid, with a nod, had accepted. Jaxen had remarked earlier how the man''s presence felt faintly strange. The man could deftly deflect even the faint killing intent that Jaxen had tested on him. Through this exchange, Enkrid felt a vibe similar to King Anu of the East¡ªmeaning the old man likely fought at a knight''s level. Strangely, however, when face-to-face, Enkrid sensed nothing of the sort. It was baffling. In fact, he hadn''t felt anything remotely like this before. He was peculiar, this blind old man. That was all Enkrid had thought of him until now, but today, something felt different. Luagarne, too, seemed to feel the same, her large eyes rolling about as she observed the man closely. What would a Frog''s discerning gaze see? Curious, Enkrid glanced at Luagarne. She opened her mouth. "Nothing." So even she couldn''t see it. The discerning eye of the Frogs wasn''t infallible. "Why are you staring at me?" Luagarne puffed her cheeks slightly under Enkrid''s gaze. "You look pretty today." "You can distinguish Frog appearances?" He could. Whether they were beautiful or not was another matter entirely. Enkrid had always been observant. Shinar turned at this comment and spoke. "Do Frogs suit your tastes more than fairies?" "Let''s eat." If he entertained this topic, Shinar''s jokes would dance across the table, something Enkrid didn''t particularly welcome. So, he steered the conversation away. "Right, the food comes first," the blind old man said. Seated at the table were Enkrid, Jaxen, Shinar, and Luagarne¡ªno one else. Ragna was asleep, and Rem had taken his unit into the mountains for training, armed with nothing but an axe and without proper supplies. It seemed more like he was tormenting his subordinates than training them. Then again, those who endured such torment emerged far stronger than before. The twins from the West had also joined as training instructors. These twins had originally been part of the western merchant group led by Enri. They had followed the caravan to the Border Guard before deciding to remain here. The Border Guard and Rockfreed Trading Company had cooperated in escorting western goods, which was only natural. It wasn''t simply due to Enkrid and Enri''s relationship. Krais and Leona had realized the immense value of the trade route stretching from the West to here. The two had already named the route the Stone Road. Its primary goods included obsidian, among other valuable rocks. The plan was to establish secure paths with fortified roads and temporary cities at major junctions. Of course, this wasn''t a task that could be completed in a day or two, or even in a year. Despite the advances in construction techniques, building roads and cities¡ªat least ten of them¡ªwas no easy feat. It wasn''t enough to throw money at the problem and hastily build cities; people needed to live there for it to have meaning. It was a long-term project, one that required careful dedication. The fact that they had eagerly embarked on it showed just how enormous the potential benefits were. Krais and Leona both understood well that expanding trade routes could multiply profits exponentially. It had already been proven elsewhere. To the southeast of Naurilia was the continent''s largest trade city-state, whose prosperity stemmed from its waterways. Of course, waterways alone weren''t enough. The shipbuilding technology to create cargo ships and swift vessels, as well as their skill in building cities at key points, had enabled their current success. At any rate, Ragna was absent, and Rem was in the mountains. Audin had also taken Teresa somewhere for a ritual, supposedly to awaken her talents. Enkrid hadn''t listened to the details. Ropord and Fel were around, but both were too busy training. The two constantly spurred each other on. Whenever one of them realized something and began to train like a madman, the other would naturally follow suit, adopting Enkrid''s insane training methods. In other words, the two didn''t care who came or went. Esther was in the barracks but had taken her panther form. She hadn''t explained why, but she mentioned something about needing to stay as a panther for the week to accumulate natural power. And so, only Shinar, Luagarne, Enkrid, and Jaxen were seated here. The chef who had laid out the plates stepped back. "Hm." The white-haired old man tilted his chin and sniffed left and right, as though savoring the aroma of the food. Soup, dried fish drizzled with a rich sauce, and tender cuts of pork paired with steamed vegetables were the main dishes. Asparagus, carrots, and leafy greens accompanied beautifully sliced pork that drew everyone''s eyes¡ªexcept the old man''s, as he was blind. Yet, it felt as though he could see with his nose. "They used pork. The fish... it seems dried," the old man said, correctly identifying the dishes by scent alone. It was an impressive feat. "It looks as good as it smells," Enkrid added. Beside the main dishes was a plate of halved marinated tomatoes. The dish delighted with its aroma and vibrant color. The old man tapped his fork on the table, finding the plate naturally, then speared a piece of pork and vegetables to bring to his mouth. Despite his blindness, his movements were fluid and effortless. Anyone observing might not even realize he was blind. How can that be? Enkrid watched quietly, lost in thought. From his observations so far, he could tell one thing, the old man''s actions were always flawless. He never seemed flustered and always appeared to know his surroundings. Even now, no one had guided him to his plate or utensils. He had located them on his own, without hesitation. After tasting a bite, the white-haired old man nodded toward the empty air and spoke. "Do you know what I value most?" "What is it?" "The doneness of the vegetables," the old man replied, holding his thumb and forefinger slightly apart. Then, spreading his hands wide, he continued in a serious tone, "They''re neither too hard nor too soft¡ªperfect. Excellent. Even the texture from the knife work is remarkable. It''s food prepared with care for the eater. What''s in this sauce? The flavor is excellent... is it pork liver?" His sense of smell wasn''t the only thing that was extraordinary. His palate, too, was as sharp as one of the finest on the continent. With pinpoint precision, he had deduced the cooking process and ingredients. "Yes, that''s correct," the chef replied, sounding thrilled. "Good. It''s delicious," the old man repeated, focusing again on his meal. Enkrid found himself naturally following suit. As the old man had said, the food was truly exceptional. He couldn''t have dissected it as meticulously, but the perfectly cooked pork and the smooth, rich sauce made from mashed potatoes and pork liver were deeply satisfying. "Were you a chef?" Enkrid asked after filling his stomach. The old man smiled faintly and said, "I lost the joy of sight, but gained the joy of taste." He waved the fork in his hand, and Jaxen, in turn, gripped his knife tightly, ready to throw it at the slightest provocation. If Enkrid sensed it, then surely the old man did, too. Yet, the old man merely continued speaking, unfazed. "Without such pleasures, there''s no joy in living, wouldn''t you agree?" It was a natural tilt of the head, so fluid it almost seemed like the gaze was meeting theirs¡ªeven though the man couldn''t see. "It''s an honor to meet you in person. Just as I''ve heard, you''re quite the handsome man." "Hmm." Shinar reacted to the statement. What do you mean, ''handsome''? You can''t even see. Shinar tilted his head in confusion. "Just a joke." The old man laughed at his own words. "In my youth, when I could see, my wit alone caused many ladies to suffer lovesickness." "Did you perhaps learn that joke from the fairies?" Enkrid asked seriously. Shinar''s eyebrow twitched at the remark; it was an annoying question. "No, it''s a natural gift. And, actually, I''ve never been able to see. I was born blind." Ha ha ha. The old man laughed after his words, but no one joined him. Instead, they all thought the same thing This old man is truly strange. "Has he lost his mind?" Luagarne questioned the old man''s mental state, while Jaxen remained silent as always. The old man took out a clean but worn handkerchief and wiped his mouth. "Well, I''ve enjoyed the meal, so I suppose I should pay for it." It was a matter-of-fact statement. After all, it''s not like he would just eat and chat with anyone for no reason. "Let''s spar." Enkrid responded as though he''d been waiting for this. He had eaten well, had a conversation, but the old man''s affiliation? Position? Reasons for being here? None of that mattered. He wasn''t curious yet. Everyone sees the world differently. It was simply a difference in perspective. This was Enkrid''s second time seeing the old man. The first time, he hadn''t seen what he now saw. This old man can fight. And fight very well. It was a gut feeling. Why was it so hard to gauge the old man''s skills? Was this why Jaxen found him odd? Why Luagarne couldn''t assess his abilities either? What the blind old man had shown thus far was, to Enkrid, brimming with potential. Who cares about affiliations or motives? The burning flame ignited in his chest and spread through his body. His will rose instinctively as he expressed his intent. He wanted a fight. He didn''t know what the old man possessed, and that unknown thrilled him. After all, there had to be a reason why they had been brought here and well-fed. "Do you enjoy beating up blind old men?" The old man asked. "You don''t look like you''ll take a beating quietly, will you?" Enkrid countered immediately, and the milky-white eyes curved softly. "I can''t win against you in a war of words. Even when I joke, you don''t laugh." "That''s because I''ve already been trained by someone else." "Well, that someone isn''t me, isn''t that right, fiance?e?" Shinar interjected suddenly. Enkrid knew that in difficult situations, staying silent was the best option, so he pushed his chair back. Scrrrape. He pushed the chair back with his thigh, stood, and said, "Let''s go." Without waiting for a response, Enkrid headed outside. Shinar watched him go and muttered under her breath. "We''ll have to discuss this later¡ªfiance?e." It was a quiet voice, but her sharp-eared fiance?e would''ve heard it all. The fairy contemplated for a moment before standing as well. She wasn''t as eager as Enkrid, but curiosity did spark her interest. That old man wasn''t from the Forest Tribe, yet he demonstrated assimilation better than her kin. Assimilation was a technique that allowed one to blend completely with the environment¡ªmelding into the forest, water, or surroundings by aligning their energy with it. Many trained knights who wielded Will could perform this technique, but its origins lay with the Fairy Tribe. In that sense, the old man was peculiar. Even to Shinar''s senses, his presence was faint, as if he had melted into the environment. "Well, it''s only natural to pay for what you eat. That''s the way of the world." The old man said as he rose, tapping the floor with his cane before heading outside. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek With the squire membership for 10$ you will recive the next 50 Chapters, with 30 new ones the following month. I''ve also introduced a new item in the shop that costs 50 and will get you everything I''ve translated to date, up to Chapter 710 Chapter 560 - The Old Man and the Question Chapter 560 - 560 - The Old Man and the Question Chapter 560 - The Old Man and the Question The knights'' exclusive dining hall also served as a reception room and, quite naturally, was located right next to the training ground. The layout of the buildings was designed for Enkrid, by Enkrid. Everything revolved around the training ground. The old man, having stepped outside, gripped the handle of his cane without hesitation and pulled. Sreung! A blade gleamed as it was drawn. Enkrid, standing opposite him, unsheathed his Valerisan steel sword. Srururung. The sound of the blade scraping against the scabbard was sharp and refreshing. Enkrid let go of the rest of his equipment, wielding only his sword. Without a word, they faced each other, both holding live blades. Though it was a sparring match, it could easily turn deadly. After all, there were no promises or agreements between them. Then, the old man clicked his tongue inside his mouth. Tak! The sound rippled out like a wave. Enkrid''s sharpened senses, refined through Jaxen, allowed him to feel the sound waves as if they were physical vibrations. Some waves passed unimpeded, while others struck his body and bounced back. The vibrations carried information directly to the old man. It was a technique called Echolocation. Using sound, one could identify the distance and shape of objects in their surroundings. The old man raised his sword handle beside his face, its tip pointed forward, his eyes closed. His milky-white eyes were no longer visible. The old man spoke. "Be careful." With those words, he moved. This time, there were no vibrations, no sound¡ªonly a blade falling straight from above. A knight''s speed was far too fast for the ordinary eye to follow, mysterious and almost miraculous in its swiftness. Of course, no one here would fail to perceive the old man''s strike, and everyone watched closely. Luagarne puffed out her cheeks unconsciously, her eyes darting about. She had been training to develop her dynamic vision since first picking up a sword, and now she saw the results. The old man''s slash seemed as though he had folded space itself to fly forward¡ªa rapid strike she could barely keep up with. It was certainly not all the old man had to offer, but the fact she could even see the knight''s movement proved how effective her training had been. It was a slash from above. If Luagarne could barely perceive it, Shinar and Jaxen¡ªstanding a step back¡ªhad precisely understood the old man''s motion. He crossed his feet to gain momentum, dust scattering beneath him without a sound, his steps silent and secretive. At first glance, the strike didn''t seem to contain Will, either. Under everyone''s watchful eyes, Enkrid moved. With instantaneous reflexes, he responded to the old man''s blade. He lowered the tip of his sword ever so slightly from its central stance. Strength gathered in his trained muscles and poured into the blade. Like an eagle snatching prey, a surge of blue light shot upward from below. When the upward swing of the Valerisan steel sword met the old man''s cane-sword blade, the old man''s weapon bent like a snake. Ting! The resulting sound was surprisingly faint for clashing metal. The slender blade, flowing along Enkrid''s steel sword, looked almost like the Snake Blade technique Enkrid himself used. In that fleeting moment, Enkrid made a decision and moved. Though the bending blade threatened to slice his arm, Enkrid''s step advanced instead of retreating. The sword that had been about to strike vanished as the old man leaped back to gain distance. And then¡ª Tak! He clicked his tongue again. Though he was blind, his swordsmanship was far from defensive. His movements were aggressive, and even as he stepped back, he changed his stance. Crossing his feet, he brought his blade to his cheek, a position that signaled his attack. With echolocation pinpointing Enkrid''s location, the old man stepped sideways. Swish, swish. His steps skimmed the ground before rapidly shifting into quick strides, his soles pressing down as though memorizing the terrain beneath him. He walked in a circle around Enkrid, his movements creating an illusion¡ªhis figure multiplied as though there were many of him. It was a technique that deceived the eyes through controlled changes in speed. "Shuffle Drive." Jaxen muttered under his breath. It was an advanced assassin''s technique. Shinar recognized it, too¡ªshe had faced something similar before. Though many could attempt Shuffle Drive, few refined it to such a level. As the afterimages of the old man multiplied, his figures surrounded Enkrid. The old man''s blade slashed, retreated, thrust, and twisted, his myriad stances targeting every inch of Enkrid''s body. Anyone else would have panicked, but Enkrid was used to such tricks. He had already learned and mastered similar techniques through the wraith imprisoned in his blade, Aker. If the Will could be used to pressure the opponent with illusions, Enkrid could wield something similar¡ªperhaps even more. In that instant, he felt it¡ªan intuition that he would gain something more, move forward. Enkrid''s blue eyes gleamed brighter than ever. Though his eyes emitted no actual light, they appeared to glow. The old man, too, sensed that Enkrid was doing something. And indeed, he was. Enkrid was a madman who enjoyed grueling, near-abusive training. What was needed for progress in such moments? Talent? Effort? Both were important, but readiness when the moment arrived was far more critical. In that sense, Enkrid was ready every day. Aker''s Web. Will was Willpower. To press an opponent with Will? That was intimidation. If slightly transformed, it could be used in other ways. Having trained himself to project an iron wall behind him, Enkrid now grasped another realization. It was an opportunity presented to the prepared, and he seized it. Enkrid adjusted the positions of his shoulders, toes, and sword tip in response to the old man''s illusions. Some movements were too subtle to perceive, while others boldly swung the blade. All of them controlled the flow of speed, mirroring the old man''s movements. "Hmm." Jaxen let out a faint groan, surprised. What would it look like if one faced Enkrid''s sword now? Though impossible to understand fully from a distance¡ª "It''d be stifling." Shinar''s words were the truth. The oppressive weight of Enkrid''s Will, previously like a solid wall, had transformed into countless movements pressuring his opponent. The old man stopped, clicked his tongue again, and retreated. Tak! ''What else do I have to show?'' The old man, contemplating, returned his sword to position. Enkrid pursued him, sensing the tide had turned. There was no reason to retreat. Bang! Finally, their blades collided fully. With a strike from his monstrous strength, Enkrid sent the old man''s body flying sideways. Or rather, the old man propelled himself in that direction. Sensing this through his sharpened senses, Enkrid chased after him, smoothly rotating his ankle as he flowed into another attack. His blade again targeted the old man''s neck. Bang! Their blades met once more, sparks scattering in the air. Veins bulged across the back of the old man''s hands¡ªhe was exerting his full strength. Through this exchange, Enkrid was surprised by three things. First: ''No presence, no Will.'' Though it was clear the old man was using Willpower, there were no signs of it to detect. Second, his mastery of silencing sound and presence was exceptional. If Enkrid lost sight of him for even a moment, he would be hit. Third, the old man was weaker than expected. Though he had reached the level above knights, not all knights were equal. Enkrid seized his moment. With a horizontal slash of overwhelming force, he pushed the old man''s blade aside and held his own sword to the man''s neck. "Is this your best?" Even in defeat, the old man smiled. "You''d think I wouldn''t last a single move in a contest of strength, but I lost." "One more time?" "Are you trying to kill an old man?" It wasn''t something an elder with the skills of a knight should be saying. However, the strength emanating from the old man felt different from his own. If he had to compare it, it seemed similar to Jaxen''s type. "What''s your name?" He was only now asking for the old man''s name. "I''ve forgotten." It wasn''t that he didn''t want to say it; it seemed to be the truth. Is it only fun when you clash swords and force against each other? No. For Enkrid, everything he did with a sword belonged in the realm of enjoyment. "How strange, strange indeed. You find this fun?" Though the old man couldn''t see, or perhaps because he couldn''t see, he spoke as if seeing through Enkrid''s psyche with more clarity. In truth, everyone would know. Who couldn''t tell when Enkrid''s eyes gleamed with excitement, his face practically screaming with exhilaration as he fought? "Yes." Enkrid replied and raised his sword. The second sparring match, too, ended with a decisive victory. As Enkrid fought, he thought, even if they sparred ten times, he would win all ten. Meanwhile, Jaxen, observing from the side, thought differently. He recognized the danger in the old man. ''How terrifying.'' From his movements, decisions, and the trajectory of his blade, Jaxen could tell¡ª if the old man chose a different kind of battle instead of a head-on duel, very few would survive. And if Jaxen compared himself? He wouldn''t know until he tried. For the first time in a long while, tension surged, quickening his heartbeat. ''When was the last time I felt this?'' It must have been since he took on the role of Geogr''s dagger. That old man was of the same breed as him. *** Clack! "Oh, so you can hear sounds and figure out positions and get a rough understanding of the surroundings?" Rem asked, sitting across from the old man, who had demonstrated echolocation. "That''s right." "Really?" "That''s how I know you just rolled the dice in secret." "Wow, it was a test, a test! You really can see it, huh." The old man naturally stayed in the city even after sparring with Enkrid. He didn''t eat or sleep at the barracks but stayed at an inn in the city, occasionally visiting. At first, the soldiers at the barracks tried to stop him, but once they realized Enkrid had allowed it, they left him be. No one told him to leave, and no one scolded him for staying. Some members of the Madmen unit didn''t care who came or went. Others thought it better to have the old man within their detection range. "He''s not a new member, is he?" At one point, Krais came to ask, and the old man shook his head. "I''ve forgotten my name, but I have work to do. I can''t stay here for long." In other words, even if they tried to recruit him into the knights, he wouldn''t join. Knight-level skills, was it? Then what exactly did this man do? Krais regarded him with suspicion. Knight-level skill? How common was someone like this across the continent? Absolutely not common. Even if the entire continent was scoured, there would be fewer than a hundred. Moreover, the neighboring country of Aspen probably didn''t even have one now. Wasn''t it strange for such a figure to suddenly stay in Boder Guard? It was very strange. Enkrid simply let it slide, so the others did too. ''Even if Gilpin investigated, no one knows who he is.'' Given his knight-level skill, if he had any fame, gathering intel would usually reveal his identity. But there wasn''t even a rumor about this old man. A blind man wielding a cane-sword should be famous, yet he wasn''t. "Alright, alright." Krais let it go for now. It wasn''t something he could do anything about. That didn''t mean he stopped completely; he continued using people to investigate the man''s identity. The old man smiled with his cloudy, white eyes, as if silently saying that no matter what Krais did, he would never uncover his identity. "What is it that you do?" What would happen if he asked directly? Uncovering secrets through conversation was one of Krais''s specialties. Wasn''t he once renowned for his skill in uncovering hidden truths from noble ladies? "I can''t tell you." "Then what organization are you from?" "That''s a secret." The old man gave a wink. Despite being blind, he somehow managed such gestures. Faced with Krais''s direct questions, the old man just as directly refused to answer. If he shut his mouth so firmly, there was no way to pry anything out of him. "Leave him be." Enkrid interjected at the right moment, pulling Krais back. It was as if he was saying he would take responsibility for the old man. Krais nodded. After that, the old man spent his time mingling with the soldiers. Ragna wasn''t interested, while Rem enjoyed playing games with him, laughing as the blind old man repeatedly caught him cheating at dice. Apparently, that was fun for Rem, and he spent several days playing with the old man. Jaxen always stayed in a position where he could keep the old man within his field of view. He did so naturally, even during meals or bathroom breaks. Watching this, Enkrid found it fascinating. For Jaxen to do that meant aligning his entire schedule with the old man''s patterns, yet he did so seamlessly. Unless someone paid close attention, no one would even notice. "You still haven''t left?" Whenever Shinar ran into him, she''d scold the old man, but he would only smile. The old man''s routine consisted of going back and forth between the city inn and the barracks. Enkrid paid him little mind and went about his usual business. He focused on training and honing his skills as always. He knew that not a single day should be wasted, as today existed because of that effort. To others, he might seem like a training fanatic, but that was simply his way of life. About ten days after the old man arrived, on a bright moonlit night, the temperature had dropped, making the air chill as night fell. The cold wind made the moonlight feel even colder. Enkrid was heading to his quarters. On one side of the training yard, Jaxen stood silently, sharpening his dagger, while the old man sat on a log bench opposite him. It was quite late, yet he hadn''t returned to the inn. But for that old man, day and night probably didn''t matter. After all, his world was always dark. As Enkrid walked across the stone-paved ground, the old man''s voice rang out. "Can I ask what you plan to do from here on?" It was sudden, but the weight in his words froze Enkrid''s steps. The moonlight behind the old man cast his shadow forward. Though the man sat in darkness, the shadow looked darker still, as if it were the very essence of the void. The shadow''s head moved, as if turning toward Enkrid. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek With the squire membership for 10$ you will recive the next 50 Chapters, with 30 new ones the following month. I''ve also introduced a new item in the shop that costs 50 and will get you everything I''ve translated to date, up to Chapter 710 Chapter 561 - Dream to Erase the Troubles of the World Chapter 561 - 561 - Dream to Erase the Troubles of the World Chapter 561 - Dream to Erase the Troubles of the World "Where is this coming from all of a sudden?" "I''m curious now." Enkrid still didn''t know who his opponent was. But he had a sense of why they were here. It was something felt in the realm of instinct and intuition. The old man was sizing him up. So, Enkrid let it be. He had nothing to hide or conceal. There was nothing to gain by hiding anything. Everyone knew the truth. Krais, Jaxen, and Rem all knew. So, Enkrid left things as they were. There was no smell of blood coming from the old man, nor any signs of preparing to kill. Would he push him away now? The old man might become an enemy, but it wasn''t about prophecy or foresight¡ªit was just a feeling. So why not send him away? ''If the opponent sees me, I can see the opponent as well.'' That''s what Luagarne had taught him. While observing, Enkrid sensed that the old man, too, harbored something deep within his heart. It was likely similar to Enkrid''s own, and perhaps to Krang''s as well. A great, hard-to-achieve goal. People sometimes called that a dream. The cynical ones called it delusion, but whatever it was, if it was part of the process to achieve it, it could not be dismissed as mere delusion. "When I was young, I wanted to change the world." The old man spoke first, but it sounded like a lie. The desire to change the world was true, but the statement about his youth was not. It was a lie to speak as if that was his mindset from the past. He still wanted the same thing now. The direction and shape might be unclear, but the will was definite. It wasn''t the faint will of the past; it was a clear and determined will rising up. Behind the old man, something seemed to push away the moonlight. In the land of night, watched over by the moon and stars, he expressed his intent. Enkrid knew better than anyone that this was his true feeling, and so, he stopped walking. "Can you tell me what you''re trying to do?" If his vow was to protect whatever was behind him, then the dream of becoming a knight was something else entirely. Since there was nothing to hide, Enkrid disregarded the old man''s lie and spoke plainly. "I plan to erase war from the continent." Enkrid said it in his usual calm manner. It wasn''t a speech, nor a resolve. He simply believed that he would do it, and that was all. He didn''t raise his will to add force to his words, nor did he respond to the sincerity the old man showed. His tone wasn''t just calm; his attitude and heart were the same. Enkrid spoke plainly, as if saying he would eat bread and soup the next morning. It seemed so natural, like something that was already decided. "That''s something I hear all the time." No one was ready to sleep yet. Though it wasn''t particularly cold, Rem had already thrown a heat leather cloak around his shoulders like a cape and opened the door to the shelter. The old man ignored Rem''s words. He also ignored Jaxen, who subtly showed hostility. Instead, he raised his cloudy eyes to look at Enkrid and continued speaking. "Do you really think that''s possible? Do you truly believe it can be done?" The old man asked again, and Enkrid stared at him silently. Even though he was curious about the old man''s identity, he didn''t ask. Even if he did, the old man probably wouldn''t answer. There was much about the old man that was secretive, but Enkrid had learned things by observing and watching. The old man was very skilled at handling will. Enkrid had observed him for days, sparred with him, and learned many tricks. The old man was quite good at answering questions, too. From Enkrid''s perspective, it didn''t matter who the opponent was or where they came from. Starting with the techniques of will he had learned from the counterbalance position, he had gained much from various skills. The old man had also been observing Enkrid, and seemed to have many questions to ask now. Or perhaps he had many things to share. "You must be stronger than both the well-known monsters or disasters, as well as the unnamed monsters lurking in the Demon Territory. Do you think you can do that? Truly?" This time, Enkrid silently looked at the old man without answering. The old man, as if spitting out his words in fervor, continued speaking. "You must be cautious yet bold, intelligent yet perfect in power. A hero like something out of a storybook. Can such a person even exist?" Would such a person exist? Enkrid didn''t know. But he could give an answer: such a person wasn''t needed. "I''ll do it." His tone remained calm. "...Why do you think that?" The old man tilted his head, pausing for a moment. His cloudy eyes, reflecting the light of the lighthouse, glowed red. The old man asked the reason, but the answer was simple. Enkrid had never seen anyone else willing to do it. "Because I''m the only one who will." Enkrid responded. It was a grand and foolish dream. The old man thought so, but he also realized that he couldn''t ignore what this man, Enkrid, was saying. Having observed him for days, the old man knew¡ªthis man wouldn''t stop. If he was going to break his will, the only way was to kill him. Though he didn''t show any intention to kill, the thought briefly crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. In the end, Enkrid''s dream was similar to his own. Though the direction was different, the result was the same. It amused the old man, who laughed softly for a moment. "I was curious. I heard you''ve caused quite a stir, so I wanted to talk to you directly." "Did you have fun?" Rem cut in and asked. "Ah, you kept bothering me all the time I was here." The old man smoothly responded to Rem''s words. "You were giving off a strange smell, so that''s why." Rem answered, resting his axe on his shoulder. He looked like he''d split the old man''s head open if he tried anything funny. Jaxen had sensed something odd in the old man''s demeanor, but Rem had sensed it on a primal level¡ªhis foul scent. Ragna, Luagarne, Shinar, and even Audin could sense the same. But they let it slide because of Enkrid. He hadn''t intervened, and the old man hadn''t harmed him. Moreover, he had been teaching Enkrid something. "This friend keeps watching me. They''re an interesting bunch, really." The friend in question was, of course, Jaxen. Jaxen kept silently observing, whether the old man called him or not. The old man spoke and turned his back. His steps were those of someone leaving. "We''ll meet again." As the old man turned to leave, Jaxen thought about using his hand, but he didn''t act on it. "Leave it." Enkrid sensed it instinctively. The old man had never fully revealed what he had. But there was much to learn. Where did the old man belong? He didn''t know. But he was certain the old man wasn''t an ally. "I must erase the troubles of the world. That''s my dream." In his youth, the old man had cried this out, and had done many things to achieve it. And that journey was still ongoing. "It''s fun. It''s truly fun." Life is to be lived for a long time, to truly see. The old man, one of the apostles of the Demonic Holy Church, thought this way. Having lived so many years, now waiting only for death, he found joy and amusement in Enkrid''s will. When he saw Jaxen use his skills and react, he realized that Jaxen, too, was a technician of great skill. The old man walked away from the Border Guard. He left as the night turned to dawn. Not everyone in the church was on the same path. Though his journey differed from the church''s teachings, the destination would likely be the same. That was the difference between the church and the old man. And that difference was simply the value the old man placed on his life. ''Dreams belong to those who dream them.'' It felt as though the words the old man had once shouted in his youth echoed back to him. The old man walked through the night, spreading the resonance technique. In front of him was nothing but darkness, making no difference whether it was day or night. Eventually, he saw a cart coming from a distance, a group of hardworking merchants. As he walked, the people around him gradually increased. The old man rubbed his cloudy eyes with his hand, and white powder fell from them. At the moment when he crossed paths with the merchants, the old man disappeared. Whether he ascended to the sky or sank into the ground, he vanished in an instant. *** "I missed him." Among the assassins of Geogr''s spear, there were a few skilled in tracking. Two guild members, acting on the orders of Jaxen, shook their heads. There was no trace of him, and he did not appear within their sight. Just like that, the old man had disappeared. *** Flap. "Why is he drinking this?" Enkrid asked in disbelief. Weird-eyes just shook his head with a flap. After the old man left, he and Weird-eyesplayed for the first time in a long while, but suddenly, this guy pounced on him. He thought it was meant as a playful gesture, but to his surprise, Weird-eyes man pulled out a glass bottle filled with holy spring water from his robe, broke it, and drank it. "...You shouldn''t swallow glass shards." Enkrid didn''t think it was wasteful. He didn''t even know what use the spring water had. But he was curious how Weird-eyes had known to drink it. ''It''s nothing important.'' Though it was strange, Enkrid didn''t think much of it. After meeting Weird-eyes, he patted his back, feeling that his spine was slightly protruding. He was worried it might hurt, but judging by how the he was running joyfully, it didn''t seem to be a problem. In fact, it seemed like he was running even better than usual, as if his feet were barely touching the ground, striking the earth faster and harder than before. "Yee-haw!" Weird-eyes drank the spring water as if it was his goal all along, smashing the bottle and gulping down the liquid. After leaving only the broken shards of glass behind, he went on his way again. "You didn''t even come for water." Well, it was just one of those things. After training as usual, and meeting Weird-eyes, Enkrid returned to his quarters and found a letter waiting for him. It had been left by the old man. I am the Apostle. The letter contained a confession from the old man. He openly proposed him to join The Holy Demonic Cult . Would you consider joining me? Seeing you reminded me of my youth, especially your face. So, I say this ¨C I don''t wish to be hostile toward you. Thus, I ask you to join the Holy Demonic Cult. "Such nonsense, carefully written." Rem casually approached and glanced at the letter. "An apostle?" Luagarne showed a brief flash of anger. Jaxen muttered, "I''ll kill him." Enkrid didn''t think much of it. He hadn''t expected an apostle to make such a proposal, nor did he think someone like him would get one. But this was just the beginning. With the change in reputation and the remarkable things Enkrid had done, guests started arriving to prove it. "I''m Bianca Conti. You may call me Countess." A matchmaker from the Empire arrived. The next day, a guest bearing a letter appeared discreetly. "I''ve come to deliver the message and letter as instructed." The merchant had a sharp, intelligent look. Whether he was of noble birth wasn''t clear, but his clothes were luxurious, and his speech reflected high status. What he brought was a letter and message from the King of the Southern Kingdom. The merchant was from the south and seemed to have a purpose similar to that of a matchmaker. Additionally, invitations had come from trade cities. They mentioned a commemorative event in autumn, asking to come before winter. It seemed to follow the Border Guard Protection Day created by Krais. And then Enkrid asked. "A request?" Normally, the Border Guard was a kingdom''s direct territory, and its military was under direct control. But practically speaking, it had become Enkrid''s command. The Madmen Order was even more so. Krang had never applied any force to the knightly order. Instead, he left them to act on their own. In return, when they needed something, mercenary soldiers were used. This time was no different. Krang had made a request. "A Saint?" Enkrid asked again after hearing Krais. It was a continent-wide commotion. The saint had been kidnapped, and they were asking for her rescue. The request had officially come from the Holy Kingdom, saying that the saint and the kidnappers had entered Naurilia. There were political implications involved, and technically, this wasn''t something Enkrid had to involve himself in. Krais thought so. But Krang had specifically requested the Border Guard. "I''ll go." Enkrid stepped forward, and Audin followed. "I''ll come with you, brother." Whether it was curiosity about the saint or something else, Enkrid didn''t stop Audin from coming along. "Don''t get beaten up while I''m not there." Rem was busy with unit training, but he clearly found it amusing, so he quietly withdrew. Next, Ragna tried to join, but it was impossible to take him along. "Do you need a guide?" "Rest." That was one refusal. "If you leave me behind, I''ll be cutting you off." Then, Shinar joked as she joined in. She didn''t specify what she was cutting. And so, while the guests from the Empire and the southern kingdom were causing a commotion, Enkrid made his escape. "Really? Just leaving? Hey, captain, you need to deal with those two before you leave." Krais grumbled, but no one was around to hear his complaints. The guests from the Empire and the south were not happy. But what did that matter? Enkrid didn''t care. "Excellent handling." Hearing the situation, Shinar supported Enkrid''s decision. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek With the squire membership for 10$ you will recive the next 50 Chapters, with 30 new ones the following month. I''ve also introduced a new item in the shop that costs 50 and will get you everything I''ve translated to date, up to Chapter 710 Chapter 562 - There is no Vice-Captain? Chapter 562 - 562 - There is no Vice-Captain? Chapter 562 - There is no Vice-Captain? Bianca Conti''s face betrayed her frustration. She had arrived unannounced but had displayed proper etiquette, staying in the city for days while waiting to be summoned. Yet her host had ignored her, vanished without a word. If they harbored animosity toward the Empire, saying so outright would have been understandable. But this silent avoidance? It was a first. Vanishing without even a "shall we meet or not"? "My apologies. The captain is away on a mission," Krais said. "Wasn''t he here just yesterday?" The brown-haired man with large eyes sighed, shaking his head slightly, his gestures effortlessly natural. It was as if even he was a victim of circumstance, sharing her bewilderment with a faint smile. Bianca, an Imperial noble and an emissary, had encountered countless people hiding behind masks in the Empire''s social circles. Even so, it had been a while since she had come across someone who could so flawlessly conceal their true intentions. To anyone else, his tone might have seemed genuine enough to inspire pity. "Well, as you might guess from the name alone, the captain has... quirks," Krais said, tapping his temple lightly with a half-curled index finger. Krais knew that Enkrid had no intention of mingling with an imperial envoy or entertaining talk of matchmaking. Revealing a fragment of truth about the captain''s eccentricities wasn''t a big deal. Bianca, however, didn''t let anger cloud her judgment. Losing composure in any situation was the mark of an amateur. A seasoned go-between in the Empire''s social circles, Bianca wasn''t about to fall for such transparent tricks. Ridiculous, she thought. Krais''s demeanor and acting were so impeccable that she almost wanted to put him on an imperial theater stage. But Bianca focused on the circumstances, not his words or actions. He avoids me despite my messages, claiming business, then leaves for an "assignment"? He was clearly dodging her. Why? Because she was from the Empire? Did he find that intimidating? If that was the case, she could simply approach things differently. Bianca hadn''t come under anyone''s orders. She had hoped to claim the man at the center of the rumors spreading even to the Empire''s borders as one of her triumphs. "I''ll wait," she declared. Clack. The teacup in her hand met the sturdy rosewood table with a deliberate sound. Bianca believed that if she could just have a conversation with him, winning over a man whose life revolved around swords wouldn''t be difficult. Such men were typically exceptional in their field, having dedicated their lives to training. But they often lacked understanding of other aspects¡ªlike power, influence, or what they could truly seize for themselves. No bear hates honey. No merchant despises gold coins. No man resists women. This was Bianca''s philosophy. Exceptions to the rule existed, of course, but she knew well how rarely anyone strayed from the logic she understood so deeply. And she knew of the Black Witch and the Golden Flower. But her proposal wasn''t just about a simple union. "That''s up to you, of course," Krais replied, trailing off, "but the castle is undergoing renovations right now, so there aren''t any suitable accommodations..." With drooping eyelids and a subtle tilt of his lips, Krais conveyed both the honor and inconvenience of the situation. "That won''t be a problem," Bianca said decisively. She figured she could always stay at an inn. Krais''s eyes flicked between Bianca and the man guarding her. Behind him stood Nurat and Luagarne, acting as escorts. The Empire, huh. Obtaining information about the Empire from this side was difficult. Bianca Conti, a countess from the Empire, wasn''t someone who resided in the Imperial Capital or the royal court. Between the Empire and the kingdom lay the towering Gigant Mountain Range, a barrier so vast it was nicknamed the "Wall of the Gods." The range influenced the local climate, blocking winds and clouds. Legends said that one of the ancient gods molded the mountain range and placed it on the land, causing rain to nourish one side while leaving the other parched. This was a poetic explanation for how the mountains acted as a natural barrier. Krais''s thoughts briefly wandered into myth before snapping back to the present. "What do you think?" Krais asked, looking ahead. His question wasn''t about whether the woman was an imperial envoy or a matchmaker. "The woman shows no signs of training, and her escort is a semi knight," Nurat replied. "Agreed. She has five escorts, all of similar skill and temperament," Ruagarne added. "Temperament?" "It suggests they were trained by the same person. Their techniques show signs of long-term practice in the same martial discipline," Luagarne explained. Krais, while trained enough to handle himself, wasn''t on par with Semi knights or higher. Frankly, given the caliber of people around Enkrid, he knew his head could be lopped off with a single stroke. Not that he intended to let such a situation arise. Luagarne puffed out her cheeks thoughtfully, blinking a few times as she reflected on her observations. While escorting Bianca, she had sensed a refined form of Will emanating from the group. "If someone had formalized the process of understanding Will and developed a training regimen around it," she began after a pause. "And?" Krais prompted, an excellent listener. "Then people like those escorts could emerge," Ruagarne concluded. The Empire wasn''t just a strong nation; it was unique on the continent as the only one ruled by an emperor. Why was the Empire so powerful? There were countless reasons. But Krais felt as though he''d glimpsed one of them. Even a minor noble wandering at will could afford to bring along five semi knights as escorts¡ªan implicit demonstration of the Empire''s might. And these weren''t official imperial knights. If they were, their presence alone would be an act of aggression. Instead, they likely belonged to a unit stationed in a city near the kingdom''s border. No imperial knight of such caliber would be relegated to guarding gambling dens. From this lone envoy, Krais could infer much about the Empire. The fact that they didn''t feel the need to conceal their power was telling. He shivered momentarily as a chill ran down his spine. For a brief moment, his courage wavered. But Krais took a deep breath and steadied himself. No backing down now. *** "Take this and start running." "What''s that?" Enkrid couldn''t help but ask, his curiosity piqued by the object in plain view. Rem held what resembled an axe, but it was a training tool without a sharpened blade, and its weight distribution seemed haphazard. Where the axe blade should have been, there was a crude chunk of iron, and even the handle was made of solid metal. When he picked it up, it wasn''t unbearably heavy, but its weight was no joke. It seemed like a good tool for arm muscle training, but its chaotic balance made it less ideal for that purpose. Could carrying such a thing and running really count as training? ''Hmm, not bad.'' Rem''s technique of recoil-less chopping came to Enkrid''s mind. Its essence lay in wielding the axe''s weight entirely with raw strength. Not every swing could be recoil-less, but if one could manage it once or twice in a critical moment, it could be a life-saving technique. What if an entire squad could chop like that? It would require both talent and effort, but if it worked, Rem''s unit would turn into a group of fearsome warriors. "Not bad at all." Enkrid voiced his thoughts, mixed with a hint of admiration. He reflected on his own training, Rem''s approach, and what the future might hold. Rem''s sincerity in training was clear, and this method seemed well thought-out¡ªnot something conceived overnight. It felt like a training regimen imbued with genuine care. Enkrid mused that he might adopt a similar routine for himself later on. Of course, if Rem''s soldiers overheard this, they would likely call their "esteemed unyielding knight" a conscienceless ghoul and come at him with axes in hand. Turning his attention away from the training tool, Enkrid asked again. "Is getting rid of the Demonic domain all there is to it?" In the West, there was the Silence Demonic domain, and Rem was intent on erasing it. But was that all he wanted? Would it truly end there if he achieved just that? Did joining the knighthood truly reflect Rem''s aspirations? "What are you getting at?" Rem tilted his head in confusion. Enkrid often, no, frequently, said bizarre things. This time was no different. The gist of it was this: Enkrid was implying that while Rem had a place in the knighthood, if he had deeper desires, he was free to leave and pursue them. "What nonsense are you spouting? Ain''t I the vice-captain?" Rem retorted, utterly baffled by the notion. Enkrid paused for a moment before responding. "There is no vice-captain." Other than the position of captain, no other ranks existed. There was no avoiding it. Creating such a role would inevitably lead to discord¡ªno, it would spark catastrophic flames of chaos. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek With the squire membership for 10$ you will recive the next 50 Chapters, with 30 new ones the following month. I''ve also introduced a new item in the shop that costs 50 and will get you everything I''ve translated to date, up to Chapter 720 Chapter 563 - Why Stay in the Order? Chapter 563 - 563 - Why Stay in the Order? Chapter 563 - Why Stay in the Order? Make Rem the vice-captain? "I request the immediate withdrawal of this improper appointment." Jaxen would say this. "If it is not permitted by the gods, then I shall personally carry out father''s will." Audin would step forward, fists clenched in determination. And Ragna? ''Wouldn''t he just start slashing without a word?'' Thus, the idea of Rem becoming vice-captain was dismissed outright and ignored entirely. After a bit more conversation, Rem revealed what was on his mind, speaking as if he had nothing to hide. "Once we wipe out the Western Demonic Domain, everyone will figure out how to live their own lives. By then, the captain will have done whatever he wanted. As for me, when I''m old, I''ll probably just smack my wife''s behind, get a few hits in return, and spend my time watching my kids play around." Rem, unusually, envisioned a peaceful retirement. "Not planning to die halfway through or anything?" Enkrid asked with curiosity. Based on Rem''s behavior in battle, he didn''t seem like the type to care much for tomorrow. His aura didn''t suggest otherwise either. But his true feelings were different. Rem dreamt of a future, a dream of closing the Demonic Realm and spending time with a wife and children. Enkrid suddenly realized that, despite appearances, Rem probably wanted to see his wife again, to meet his yet-to-be-born child. Was there something Enkrid could do for him? Surely, there was. With an idea forming in his mind, Enkrid looked at Rem, who responded to his half-joking question. "Die? Who? Me? Don''t be ridiculous. Of course, I''m not dying." Rem''s smirk, full of confidence, almost made it seem certain. He wouldn''t die. That self-assuredness manifested in his Will, radiating his determination. Although Rem''s power stemmed from sorcery rather than Will, the effects were similar in Enkrid''s eyes. Even Rem had once said that sorcery and Will shared similarities in enhancing the body. "Well then, I''ll head out." "Go on. Why are you wasting time talking?" As Rem grabbed training equipment and headed toward the smithy, Enkrid reminded him not to overwork Eitri. "Do I look like someone who''d bully others for fun?" Not nodding in response would have meant discarding his conscience, which Enkrid wasn''t willing to do. Humans who remove their guts inevitably die. Enkrid still had much to do, so he couldn''t afford to. "Sure." Thus, he nodded decisively. "Annoying." Seeing Rem''s sulky demeanor, Enkrid moved on to Ragna. He asked a similar question. What did Ragna want? Was the Order the right place for him? Ragna was a genius, more talented than anyone Enkrid had ever seen. That talent had fully blossomed, and now Ragna had found his path. While he often seemed directionless, his sword knew its purpose. A mere sparring session made that clear¡ªRagna''s blade carried no hesitation or doubt. Ragna answered with conviction. "I intend to go as far as I can with my sword. For that, I need strong opponents. It''s tedious to go out and find them, but if I stay near you, they''ll come on their own." Was he serious? Most likely. Ragna wasn''t one to lie or speak without meaning. "That''s why you stay in the Order?" Because it''s tedious otherwise. This wasn''t shocking. Ragna had always been like this. Afterward, Ragna mentioned becoming vice-captain, much like Rem. Even if Enkrid was the Order''s centerpiece, someone had to step forward to guide the way. Ragna spoke passionately about this, which didn''t suit him at all. When told there was no such position, Ragna''s response was devoid of hesitation or annoyance. "Then I should be the First Blade, the leading sword." With furrowed brows and a serious tone, Ragna proposed creating a nonsensical title for himself. "There''s no such thing." "Why not?" "Because it doesn''t exist." "Understood." Getting Ragna to give up was easy. He wasn''t the type to put much effort into things anyway, yet his sudden enthusiasm was bewildering. After all, a madman his their name for a reason. When Enkrid approached Jaxen with the same question, the response was simple. "It''s fun. That''s all." And that was the end of it. Though Jaxen might have hidden deeper thoughts, he wasn''t one to express them. After answering, he merely cast an enigmatic glance that seemed to say, Why ask such a thing? "Everyone has their reasons. I can''t force anyone to stay in the Order." Enkrid spoke candidly, hiding nothing. "Indeed." Jaxen responded with a faint smile. Enkrid merely shrugged. If he possessed some mind-reading ability, he might have found Jaxen''s thoughts puzzling. Jaxen had considered wagering his entire Carmen collection if even one person left the Order. From an outsider''s perspective, it was all too clear. The Order revolved around one person, but each member expressed their own desires and will. Because the central figure had the capacity to contain them all, no one wanted to leave. That was Jaxen''s conclusion. Instead of revealing his thoughts, Jaxen made a subtle request of Enkrid. "I don''t need a title, but if you wish, I can take on the role of vice-captain." "No, there''s no such position." Had they planned this? Why did their answers feel so coordinated? After reiterating that there were no titles other than captain, Jaxen merely replied, "I see," as if he''d expected that answer. Later, Enkrid spoke with Audin and Shinar, who were heading off together with him, and eventually met with Ropord, Fel, Luagarne, and Teresa. Between training and dealing with people sent by the Empire or other nations, Enkrid''s schedule was packed. He dismissed those outsiders without a second thought, as their intentions were predictable. They all offered rewards for him to come to their lands, just as the blind old man had written in his letters. Amidst this, the next person he met was Teresa. "I like it here." Was there a need to ask further? Teresa answered unprompted. "I enjoy singing. I find fighting exhilarating. I discovered these joys here. I''ve also come to understand the teachings of our Father anew." And all of this was possible because of you. She didn''t say the last part, knowing he would understand. Enkrid nodded, sensing that this was the time to nod, acknowledge her words, and give her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. It''s not as if Enkrid could know Teresa''s true intentions¡ªhe wasn''t a god, after all. He could only assume. But she certainly seemed to be enjoying herself. Honestly, among those who stayed by his side, Teresa appeared to be one of the happiest. Whether she was spending time with Audin, praying, singing, or wandering the city, it was evident that she found joy in all of it. "I am a shepherd of the wilderness. That will never change, even until my death. But for now, I want to hone my lacking abilities here," Fel said. Fel had grown polite over time, speaking in a tone that almost seemed to plead to stay. His change in demeanor wasn''t a turn for the worse. On the contrary, he seemed more earnest, putting more effort into everything. His camaraderie with Ropord reflected this, as they competed and got along. "Alright, go ahead," Enkrid replied with a nod. He saw no reason to oppose it, and someday, if Fel chose to return to his life as a shepherd in the wilderness, Enkrid wouldn''t stop him. "It''s an honor," Fel said. Ropord, naturally, nodded in agreement. "Aren''t you officially a member of the Crimson Mantle Knights?" Enkrid asked. "Oh, I''ve already left them," Ropord replied, grinning. It seemed an odd thing to say with such cheer, but Ropord''s smile remained bright. To him, Enkrid, Ragna, and the others were figures he deeply admired. Being among them was a privilege. For Ropord, the time spent at Border Guard had been some of the most meaningful of his life. "If I''m to be expelled, then I''ll stay on as a squire. If not, even as a common soldier, I''ll remain," Ropord declared. Enkrid responded matter-of-factly, "Stay with the knights. As a Semi knight." Ropord had talent¡ªhe''d advanced to squire in the Crimson Mantle Knights. Enkrid found it surprising that someone so capable would speak so humbly. Next was Luagarne. "It wouldn''t hurt to have a Frog around, would it? Especially a beautiful one," Lagarne remarked. Enkrid couldn''t gauge Frog beauty, but he nodded. Hadn''t Luagarne herself claimed to have become more beautiful? "Yes, a beautiful Frog knight. Not bad at all," Enkrid said. Do Frogs even have knights? Rarely, if ever, though there were historical records of such cases. After consulting everyone he needed to, Enkrid made an unprecedented decision. "You''re part of the knights now." The recipient of this declaration was none other than a horse¡ªWeird-eyes. The horse neighed loudly, rearing up on its hind legs as if in celebration. "What the hell?" Enkrid muttered, dumbfounded. He had only spoken because the horse had been staring him down with an intense gaze. Had it been waiting for this? Ever since drinking from the sacred spring, the horse had become even more human-like. Its intelligence went beyond mere cleverness¡ªits actions showed a calculated understanding, sometimes even toying with its enemies before dispatching them. "Alright, just make the most of what you''ve been given," Enkrid said. The horse''s mismatched eyes glimmered, as if emitting a palpable "Will." It seemed to say, I won''t let you down. "It was just a passing remark," Enkrid thought to himself, baffled by the intensity of the reactions around him. "You may call me the magic knight, Esther," came Esther''s voice. Unlike the horse, Esther could communicate, so Enkrid questioned her reasoning. "Why are you staying with the knights?" Esther was a witch, and it was clear she had no obligation to remain. Loyalty to the kingdom wasn''t her priority¡ªfar from it. Few in the group were bound by such allegiance. "A mage is one who explores. For now, I find satisfaction in exploring you and the world through you. Thus, I have no intention of leaving. If you fear I might, we can establish a pact or contract," Esther offered, her tone unwavering and genuine. "No need for that," Enkrid replied. He believed that forcing someone to stay through external means was pointless. Only those who remained willingly could truly dedicate themselves to their roles. "Very well, then I shall stay. A magic knight I shall be," Esther said, chuckling softly. It was a rare sight¡ªEsther smiling. Her laughter was light, her shoulders shaking slightly, and it almost seemed unfamiliar, like the sound of a squirrel''s chittering. He considered suggesting she try transforming into one, but refrained. Her smile was too precious to risk ruining. "Well, in any case, I''m off," Esther said, murmuring about what it might be like to be a magic knight wielding a black flower as she walked away. And so, the composition of the knight order was settled. Enkrid as the commander, with Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, and Audin as its core members. If Dunbakel returned and wished to stay, she''d be included as well. Teresa and Audin made a pair, while Ropord sought to train under Ragna. Jaxen preferred to work alone, and Luagarne and Fel were part of Enkrid''s personal guard within the order. Nothing extravagant was needed. Basking in the autumn sky, with its winds, clouds, and sunlight, Enkrid organized his thoughts before turning to the last two individuals walking beside him. "Will you join the knights?" Enkrid asked, addressing Shinar, who walked silently nearby. Her green eyes met his, steady and unreadable. Unlike the others, Shinar had her own ultimate purpose, a goal Enkrid had overheard her discussing with Krang. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek With the squire membership for 10$ you will recive the next 50 Chapters, with 30 new ones the following month. I''ve also introduced a new item in the shop that costs 50 and will get you everything I''ve translated to date, up to Chapter 720 Chapter 564 - The Final Outing Chapter 564 - 564 - The Final Outing Chapter 564 - The Final Outing There was no need for pretense, no intention to beat around the bush¡ªonly a straightforward approach. Shinar blinked her signature green eyes. The wind blew, pushing and tossing her golden hair about. Her hair scattered into the air like delicate strands of gold, only to gently settle back in place. Even on ordinary days, she was often described as possessing inhuman beauty. But now, looking at her, it seemed unfathomable that such a breathtaking face could exist in the world. Even among fairies, beauty like hers was likely a rarity. Despite the comfort of their journey, it was impossible for cleanliness to be a priority, yet her skin bore not a single blemish. Enkrid himself had naturally flawless skin, but hers seemed to emit a glow. In fact, her skin even reflected sunlight. If Krang captivated people''s attention with his speeches and Enkrid with his swordsmanship, Shinar could undoubtedly draw gazes with her beauty alone if she wished. She gazed at Enkrid with a thoughtful expression before speaking. All three of them¡ªEnkrid, Audin, and Shinar¡ªcontinued walking as she spoke. The sound of their steady footsteps was joined by her voice, which alone felt like the melody of a finely played instrument. "My name is Shinar Kiraheis. A fairy knight born and raised in a noble fairy family. Yes, I wish to join your knight order." Shinar did not elaborate on how her life was limited or how she might one day be forced to leave the order, nor did she mention the weight of the responsibilities before her. Watching Enkrid, she had learned not only to dream but also to never give up. What else had she learned from him? This man never made premature judgments about the future. Instead, he lived fully in the present moment, in the now, in today. Shinar embraced this lesson wholeheartedly. She chose to savor the present, the moment, the here and now. At that moment, she couldn''t bear to be away from Enkrid''s side. "I don''t need the Vice-Captain position. My current position is sufficient," she added. There was no room left for Enkrid to tell her she could leave if she wanted. Shinar had spoken her desires plainly. There was no reason for the knight order to refuse her, and Enkrid felt the same way. The fairy who enjoyed her playful jokes, Shinar, had once been reduced to near dust yet still tried to save him. When she had activated her Will and faced death that day, Enkrid knew he would never forget her. Recalling that moment, Enkrid made a silent vow: If there was ever anything she desired, anything within his power to give, he would repay her for all the help she had given him¡ªboth then and now. With that resolve came a sudden realization. "Wait, what did you mean by ''current position''?" What other role could she be referring to besides Vice-Captain? "The commander''s fiance?e, the mother of your future children¡ªthat''s more than enough, isn''t it?" Without a hint of a smile, Shinar''s playful jab landed perfectly. Beside them, Audin let out a soft chuckle. Enkrid wanted to scold him as a commander¡ªwho dared to laugh at him?¡ªbut held back, for he too found himself letting out a small laugh. "It''s good to see you smile," Shinar said. A faint smile appeared on her face, and it seemed as though that alone could bring some men on the continent to their knees. They wouldn''t merely fall for her¡ªthey''d succumb to a lovesickness so profound it might be termed an epidemic. Afterward, Enkrid turned to Audin and asked him the same question: "What is it you want?" Audin clasped his hands together briefly in prayer, as if seeking guidance from his Father above. Then, turning his gaze to the distance, he spoke: "I wish to spread the teachings of the Holy Father. To protect the unfortunate. To bring happiness amidst sorrow. To care for orphaned children. To meet those whom I must guide to the Father''s side. How about that? All of this, I believe, is possible if I stay by your side, Captain. That is why I am here. It is the will of the Holy Father, after all. Above all, I believe I am fulfilling my duty in my current position." The way Audin spoke, with such eloquence and conviction, made it clear he might very well be the most articulate member of the entire unit¡ªexcluding Krais and Enkrid himself. Speaking of Krais, he too had joined the knight order, ostensibly for easier protection and more straightforward affiliations. "Pleasure! Salons! Cities! Ladies! Gold!" Krais summed up his reasons for remaining in the order in just five words. His dreams were both clear and unabashed. The knight order traditionally accepted only those who proved themselves through strength. Yet exceptions had been made¡ªlike the one with strange eyes, who wasn''t even human. Or the witch they had taken in. Enkrid saw no reason to adhere to convention. "Fine, understood," he said with a nod. Thus, the knight order grew even more peculiar, but it didn''t matter. They hadn''t formed the group for appearances anyway. The Madmen Knights Order The name, at least, was well chosen. Enkrid resumed walking, leading them across open plains and up mountain trails. After the talk of dreams, Audin seemed unusually talkative. "The weary, the downtrodden¡ªthey will find strength in the Father when they seek Him. Just as you do for those behind you, Captain." It sounded remarkably similar to Enkrid''s vow to protect those who stood behind him. "Why did you follow me?" Enkrid asked. Audin gave a sheepish smile. Even if he had aspirations, there was no compelling reason for him to tag along. Unlike the time they had traveled to the capital, this seemed more like a deliberate choice to escape some unseen prison of despair. Whatever the reason, his determination to join had been clear. And now, his reluctance to answer revealed there was indeed something he was hiding. Enkrid didn''t press him further. There was no point in forcing someone to reveal what they didn''t wish to share. They continued northward for two days, the journey growing slightly monotonous. Training and sparring passed the time, but no monsters or beasts appeared. The path they traveled wasn''t officially secured, but strangely, there was little to see. Audin eventually broke the silence, sharing part of what had been on his mind. "Do you know what defines a Saint?" "In the Church, they''re a symbol of sacredness," Enkrid replied. "Such cynicism, Captain." "Is it wrong?" Shinar chimed in, agreeing that the Church had its fair share of corruption and decay. "Saints are those truly born with divine grace. Men are called Saints, women Saintesses. The Church recognizes them accordingly." There were indeed a few such individuals within the current Church. "I once knew a boy called a Saint." It was a story that piqued their interest, perfect for passing the time during their journey. Audin began recounting his tale. *** "My name is Fildin. And you are?" It was autumn then, too. Under a tree, whose fallen leaves had formed a soft seat of brown, sat a boy. The boy didn''t need a second glance to reveal how weary he was. Audin had returned to the monastery after a long time. It was a secluded corner, a place he had often retreated to as a child for solitary prayer and contemplation. There, he encountered the boy. The boy''s dark brown hair appeared almost black, and his dull brown eyes were strikingly lifeless. The exhaustion in his gaze made him seem far older than his years, like an old man battered by life''s hardships. His casual and abrupt manner of speech somehow didn''t feel out of place. Audin replied gently, "My name is Audin Fumrei." "Oh, you''re from the monastery?" "I stayed there for a time..." "Are you a martial artist monk?" It referred to the individuals commonly called monks. It was a natural question, as the monastery where Audin had stayed also trained martial artists. Looking at Audin''s physique, it was a question bound to arise. "Yes, I was." "Not anymore?" "I now work as an inquisitor of heresy." It was a brief leave, a journey taken to soothe an uneasy heart. "To catch heretics? Ah, I see." "And what do you do, Brother Fildin?" "Me? I make medicine." He wasn''t an alchemist. Anyone could tell that. He didn''t give off that kind of aura at all. "I spend all day underground making medicine. It feels like I''m dying, but that''s how I live." Fildin was a saint affiliated with the Temple of Abundance, which symbolized the Earth Mother. When the god of the scales, who governed the sun and moon, split into Radiance and Divine Light, and Darkness of the Underworld, the god of Abundance embraced the Underworld. So the teachings of the holy texts said. And the god of Abundance, said to preside over fallen fruit, always cared for orphans. Separate from that, eight-tenths of the divine power potions supplied across the continent came from the Temple of Abundance. While priests of the war god dismissed potions as unnecessary¡ªbelieving a mere spit could heal wounds¡ªthe priests of Abundance thought otherwise. They produced and supplied countless potions. Incidentally, the war god''s apostles weren''t actually taught to use spit for healing. Their doctrine was about tempering the body so it could heal itself. That philosophy birthed the art of regeneration. "You don''t seem happy," Audin noted. "Happy? Why would I be? It''s not even fun," Fildin replied, conjuring a glow of divine light at his fingertips. It was truly remarkable. To manifest divine power so easily and visibly with just a simple movement. "Hmm." Audin let out a quiet sound of surprise. Then, from afar, came voices calling, "Brother Fildin! Brother Fildin!" Someone was looking for him. "You''d better go back," Audin said. "I don''t want to be a saint." That response carried an air of dissonance, like a broken instrument trying to play, but at the time, Audin paid it little mind. After all, he had once hated monastic life too. It had been stifling and suffocating. That was when he was about twelve or thirteen. He couldn''t explain why, but he just wanted to escape. Not that he disliked the holy texts, the teachings, or the monastic life¡ªthey were all fine. It was just a vague feeling. Was Fildin feeling the same way? And even if he wasn''t, what could Audin do about it? Nothing. As an inquisitor and a mere believer, he couldn''t question or criticize anything. At this time, Audin hadn''t even mastered divine power. Fildin, on the other hand, wore pristine white robes made of fine cloth. His hair was neat, his body well-nourished, though he looked tired. He seemed slightly frail, but if he picked up some stones and trained, he''d likely grow stronger. That, however, was none of Audin''s business. "Wouldn''t it be better to just die?" Audin dismissed it as the impulsive words of a child. He chose to think of it that way because, at the time, standing against the doctrine was unimaginable for him. Soon, those looking for Fildin arrived and scolded the saint gently, warning him not to wander off and to stay put. Audin watched from a distance, then turned away. Their encounter had been brief, but it may have been the seed of Audin''s later distrust toward the church. Later, Audin heard news about the boy named Fildin by chance. "Saint Fildin is dead. They say he died while treating a plague." A plague? Where? Audin had never heard of such a thing. Apparently, it had struck a rural town, and Saint Fildin had sacrificed himself to eliminate it. At the time, Audin was returning from capturing someone suspected of heresy. Struggling with questions of right and wrong, he decided to visit the town Fildin had saved. But when he arrived, no one there knew the name Fildin. "A plague? Oh, a few people got sick, but they recovered quickly." That was the end of it. Fildin''s story didn''t exist there. Should Audin have pursued the matter further? He should have. Does he regret it? He does. But the dark despair that engulfed him at the time had kept him from acting. Still, one doubt gnawed at him like a storm in the darkness, tormenting him over and over again. "Why did you pretend not to know? You knew I would die. That the divine power would drain me until I withered away¡ªyou knew." He had dreamed that nightmare countless times. In it, Fildin wept tears of blood and resented Audin. Now, in the present, Audin stared at Fildin''s apparition, visible only to him, and spoke. "I don''t know if that boy''s death was an accident or something else, but with the doubts that have grown into monsters within me, the Saintess''s appearance feels far from coincidental." Enkrid spoke, borrowing Audin''s words. "You think it''s a revelation from the Lord?" Audin replied with a faint smile. Even now, he could still see Fildin''s specter. "Yes, I do." Audin wanted to stay by Enkrid''s side, but he had no intention of breaking his vow. "Since you abandoned me, why bother upolding the vow now?" Fildin''s phantom accused him. Even if that weren''t true, Audin would not break the vow. If this mission required his life, if even a small contribution was needed, he would gladly give it. Unlike Enkrid, who had joined with a light heart, Audin was profoundly serious. At this moment, Audin was confronting his faults, his failures, and his sins. No matter how it ended, Audin resolved to act according to his beliefs. "Let''s go," Enkrid said. Enkrid felt the weight of Audin''s determination. What could he do for him? Nothing. But if what Audin suspected turned out to be true, and their enemies stood in their way, Enkrid wouldn''t hesitate to draw his sword, no matter who or what they were. There was no need for him to summon great resolve or even mentally prepare himself. That was just how Enkrid lived and had always lived. This was who he was. Audin knew that well, which was why he had come along. If anything went wrong, Enkrid would protect him. And if the time came, Audin might have his own role to play. When he first arrived at Border Guard, he couldn''t even imagine stepping out into the world again. Yet now, he had left the capital twice. Once to fight, and once to escape the prison of despair he had built for himself. Audin walked, savoring the scent of autumn all around him. If this were to be his last outing, he wanted to enjoy it to the fullest. Chapter 565 - The Field Where the Saint Stayed Chapter 565 - 565 - The Field Where the Saint Stayed Chapter 565 - The Field Where the Saint Stayed "The child crying on my land must be saved¡ªthere is no other reason." That was the justification written in Krang''s letter. More precisely, it reflected his inability to overlook any wrongdoing he came across. Krang, for instance, tolerated no banditry anywhere within the kingdom''s territory. Of course, there might have been those who resorted to banditry out of desperation. Some might have turned to it because of oppressive lords. Could such cases exist? Certainly. But those were very rare¡ªnearly nonexistent. Surviving as a bandit in lands infested with monsters and beasts required extraordinary confidence in one''s abilities. Thus, anyone working as a bandit or highwayman in Naurilia wasn''t just desperate¡ªthey chose thievery and plunder because they preferred it. And nowadays, no high noble would secretly sponsor bandit gangs to invade another noble''s territory. Such schemes were relics of the past. "Living as a thief or highwayman means stealing and plundering for a living!" To declare such a thing was akin to openly praying for death¡ªan earnest plea for someone to sever their head. In truth, if Krang even suspected banditry, he''d mobilize forces from the kingdom''s direct dominion to crush it. If necessary, he''d even deploy the capital''s security forces. Over time, this had all but eradicated bandit or marauder gangs roaming the kingdom''s vast lands. What remained were the crime guilds parasitizing cities. Even those, if caught engaging in vile acts like human trafficking, faced certain death. No excuses or bribes could save them. And now, kidnapping a child and fleeing to Naurilia? Could such a wretch be left unpunished? That was the essence of Krang''s message. "Agreed." Enkrid promptly aligned himself with Krang''s sentiment. This was why he had gotten involved in the first place. That was the entire reason. ¡ªThe empire and its prominent guests were already forgotten in his mind.¡ª Overlaying that was Audin''s past, adding layers of meaning. At first, his resolve had been moderate, but it had grown more resolute. Enkrid extended the thoughts he''d been mulling over during their journey. Every problem began with a question: What is necessary to wield a sword effectively? Adequate strength. Thus, he had trained his body first. He sought answers to his questions and acted accordingly. Even now, he began with a question to resolve the matter: Where should I start? This wasn''t his first time dealing with such a situation. "It''s been a while since I worked as a bounty hunter." While he was pursuing kidnappers this time, the task wasn''t too different from chasing criminals with bounties on their heads. In both cases, once the target was on the run, the process was nearly identical: Should one move unseen? Yes. Should one avoid being recognized? Yes. If suspicion arose or instincts warned of danger, should one flee? Yes. If things went south, should one eliminate all witnesses and move on? Yes. See? The same principles applied. Thus, Enkrid figured he should approach this task similarly. "So, my thoughts are... hmm." He trailed off, glancing at Audin and Shinar. Seeking the input of his companions was the prudent thing to do¡ªperhaps they had better ideas. "Feel free to share your thoughts. We know nothing about the kidnappers or the saint''s appearance. Our tracking conditions are the worst, but if you have any suggestions, speak up." Audin responded first. "I await the guidance of our Lord Father." He clasped his hands together in prayer and smiled serenely. His words required no further contemplation. "This bastard is telling me to figure it out myself." Enkrid quickly accepted this. Having heard parts of Audin''s past, he now understood. Audin had experience capturing heretics but lacked any history of crossing continents to track someone. His heretic hunts had mostly involved locating hidden culprits within city corners. Once found, his primary task was interrogation¡ªconfirming whether they were truly heretical. In essence, Audin could be a master of coercion, but calling him a skilled tracker or hunter would be a stretch. "So without divine guidance, shall we leave it be, go home and wait for a sign?" Enkrid double-checked, just in case. Certainty never hurt. "Isn''t our leader here with us?" Audin''s honesty was disarming. In some ways, he was even more carefree than Ragna. The man would bare his soul, exuding gravitas, only to delegate all tasks to Enkrid. Yet, lazy wasn''t the right word¡ªhe prayed, trained, and fulfilled his duties without fail. Audin seemed deeply committed to his own words about waiting for the right time. If that moment arrived, Audin would surely be the first to act, regardless of what he stood to lose or gain. Seeing that resolve, Enkrid let it slide and nodded before turning to Shinar. "Are you asking me?" Her voice carried no trace of humor. The autumn sunlight was warm, the breeze cool, and wildflowers dotted the ground. Even while walking amidst such scenes, Shinar, attuned to her finely honed senses, detected Enkrid''s gaze and spoke. "If it''s just about finding tracks, tracking them down shouldn''t be hard." Not all fairies were naturally swift or skilled trackers, but Shinar was. The problem lay in the process leading up to finding those tracks¡ªsomething she had never considered. In short, Shinar excelled at short-term pursuit but lacked the means to locate a target in the first place. How could one track without a starting point? Her abilities were clear: tell her to begin tracking from a specific spot, and she would be the swift fairy and master tracker she was. But in this situation, she was practically useless. "Just as I expected." Honestly, Enkrid hadn''t been counting on much, so there was no disappointment. He remained composed. The silver lining was that he himself had dealt with many similar cases. Meanwhile, Shinar remarked on the flowers, identifying their symbolic meanings, and Audin chimed in about the bees and butterflies tirelessly flitting for their nectar. Both seemed to have lost interest in the mission and had started chatting instead. Unexpectedly, there seemed to be some unspoken connection between Audin and Shinar. "You don''t seem to desire the nectar yourself," Shinar commented. Enkrid, still preoccupied with planning, overheard the conversation. The exchange struck him as profound, like a burning brand in his mind. "Nectar belongs to the butterflies and bees. If every passing bear-kin claimed it, there''d be nothing left," Audin replied. "Bears prefer honey hidden in tree hollows." This exchange resembled a "koan"¡ªa dialogue aimed at uncovering truths. To outsiders, it might sound nonsensical, but to those seeking meaning, it held profound insights. Enkrid regarded their exchange as a near-koan, initiated and guided by Shinar. It was an unusual sight¡ªa fairy seemingly uninterested in others taking the role of teacher to Audin. In the midst of their dialogue, they walked through a field of Holly Gold, its blossoms radiant under the clear skies, as if sunlight had kissed the earth. The field was said to be where the Saint once stayed. "Indeed, bears seek honey stored in trees," Audin mused, his eyes unfocused, his steps never faltering. "Give the nectar to those who desire it," he murmured again, perhaps quoting scripture. "Those who hoard the honey are tainted by evil. Scold the greedy ones harshly and send them to the side of the divine." In this context, being sent to the side of the divine was synonymous with death. In other words, it meant killing such people. It was said that three years as a servant to a noble would naturally ingrain proper dining etiquette into a person. Enkrid himself was the perfect example of that. After hearing Audin''s incessant ritual prayers so many times, he could roughly make sense of their meaning. "But such deeds should be done by someone qualified," Audin said, his tone devoid of emotion, like a puppet utterly bereft of feeling. Then he fell silent. Shinar had likely not spoken out of any sense of responsibility. She didn''t seem to care about Audin''s reaction and simply let the matter drop. Instead, her attention turned to the flower field before them. "My fiance?, that field of flowers looks like a bed prepared just for us," she remarked with a farie-like jest. "Perhaps you should take a nap," Enkrid replied absently, intent on finishing the thoughts swirling in his mind. There was no use trying to decipher Audin''s emotions or thoughts at this moment. What mattered now was doing what needed to be done. So that''s what Enkrid did¡ªhe walked through the flower field, his thoughts focused on what was necessary for the pursuit. ''The most important thing is information,'' he mused. Yes, information¡ªwhere the target was, their condition, appearance, and the like. The commission had been received, but the pursuers from the Holy State hadn''t provided any of that essential information. That was, to some extent, understandable. To be honest, those people probably hadn''t truly intended to ask for help in the first place. So, how should he obtain the information he needed? The solution Enkrid devised came partly from his own experience but also incorporated Krais''s input. After all, they had discussed this before setting out on the mission. "I gathered some tidbits through the Gilpin Guild," Krais had said. "Remember that town you visited before? The one where you told me to threaten the village chief or headman or whatever? The village where they wanted to name the town walls after the captain?" Though the events felt like they had happened a lifetime ago, they were hard to forget. How could anyone forget the gnoll colony created by those cultists? "What about it?" "The kidnapper was reportedly heading toward that village." Their first destination after leaving the Border Guard was thus set. Even so, Enkrid still had no information on the kidnapper or the saint''s appearance or age. But was there really no way around this? No, there was. If he couldn''t identify the pursued, he would follow the pursuers. It was a method he had learned early in his bounty hunting days from a senior hunter. "Hey, people like us, where do we get our intel and plan our moves? You think we can afford to keep paying the information guild? Forget that nonsense. Instead, memorize the faces of the famous ones. If you spot one of them, just stick to their tail." It was a revolutionary tracking method. Any highly coveted target would always have pursuers. And if the target was completely hidden? Well, those kinds of people weren''t the ones to chase in the first place. "Also, if you''re chasing alone, are you sure you can take them down?" What kind of person becomes a fugitive with a bounty on their head? Could a weakling survive the dangers of traversing lands crawling with bandits, monsters, and magical beasts? Of course not. It was an obvious conclusion. A fugitive with a bounty was likely an expert, almost certainly so. "Our role is to pick up the scraps. If you want to live long, stick to the hunter''s code." Such teachings were part of his early lessons. Not that Enkrid had ever adhered to the hunter''s code or intended to. But the rules went something like this: Don''t stake your life on a hunt. If you can''t win alone, work with allies. Even if the target is visibly bleeding, start with a crossbow or throwing dagger. These and similar principles made up the code. The first senior hunter Enkrid had met had been a good person. The ones who followed, however, were the opposite¡ªpeople who pushed him forward, saying things like, "If you catch them now, I''ll give you seventy percent of the bounty." Such individuals didn''t know the first thing about tracking and relied solely on their brute strength, betraying anyone who became a liability. It was, of course, a lie. The moment he got injured, it was clear they''d try to kill him immediately. "Sorry, sorry, I was just in a hurry," one such hunter had said while pointing a dagger at him after he''d been wounded. Drawing on those early experiences, Enkrid decided to apply what he had learned: if he couldn''t identify the target, he would track the trackers. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 30 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 25 -s 650-720 + 30 latest Chapters every month [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - Latest WN-720 Chapter 566 - Why Chapter 566 - 566 - Why Chapter 566 - Why The method of pursuing the pursuer instead of the target proved far more effective than Enkrid had initially thought. Things had changed significantly compared to the old days, when he would chase down rumors alone and investigate on his own. Krais had established a network of information while breaking through safe trade routes and dabbling in commerce. It wasn''t anything grand¡ªhe simply gathered local stories through cafeterias set up in various cities. The owners and patrons of these cafeterias, wandering merchants, storytellers, and others brought new tales in exchange for a few copper coins. Although copper coins weren''t a significant reward, telling a story wasn''t a particularly burdensome task either. Moreover, the structure of the information circulation was so simple that the speed at which stories spread was remarkably fast. To add to this, the agents dispatched from the Holy Nation were distinctive in appearance, making them relatively easy to locate. They didn''t even bother hiding their identities. "Who would even think they''re being pursued?" Probably no one. Naturally so. Why had they requested a search for the Saintess from the Kingdom of Naurilia? Or rather, why had they not requested but merely notified them? "We''re heading into your kingdom and will be roaming around, so cooperate, will you? No? Are you out of your mind? Do you want no more potions? Or do you not need them anymore? Fine, then we''ll stop selling them to you. Open your borders quietly and let our forces pass through, and no one gets hurt¡ªeveryone stays happy." When you boiled it down, that was essentially the message. Not that they would have said it so blatantly, at least outwardly. "We simply hope you''ll assist us in fulfilling the revelation bestowed by the Mother of the Earth." They probably even presented a neatly packaged set of a dozen potions as a gift. High chances they did. Enkrid''s prediction was spot on. The envoy from the Holy Nation had indeed delivered a beautifully wrapped box containing ten potions, which Krang promptly accepted. And with it came the statement: "We will be sure to lend our strength." The specifics of the gift didn''t matter. What mattered was the Holy Nation''s expectation of this charade. They didn''t require a grand welcome or fully opened borders¡ªjust basic compliance. If needed, checkpoints could be opened upon request. From Naurilia''s perspective, the Saintess was nothing more than a young girl. Would the kingdom go so far as to mobilize its forces for her? At most, some warnings about unusual activities in cities would be circulated. Deploying troops for such an event? That was unheard of. It shouldn''t happen. Typically, it wouldn''t. But Krang had made the request, and Enkrid had accepted it. As for Krang''s intentions? One letter sufficed to explain: "A child is crying, and I want to help." And so, here they were. But from this point forward, things became increasingly unsettling. Chasing? Sure, that was doable. But the details were puzzling. It was rare for Enkrid to feel such intense curiosity¡ªakin to a broth simmered for days, extracting every ounce of flavor from pig bones. "How are they managing to escape?" Even if the kidnapper was one of the few knights on the continent, this made no sense. The Holy Nation''s strength wasn''t to be underestimated. Its reputation as a powerhouse wasn''t for show¡ªthere was even a saying that the Empire, which rarely intervened in central affairs, deferred to the Holy Nation. Stealing away a child¡ªno less, a Saintess¡ªfrom such a power? Even more baffling was how they managed to evade capture while traveling with an unwilling companion. Were there other collaborators? Enkrid tried imagining himself in their shoes, but he couldn''t muster much confidence. "It doesn''t seem easy." Audin''s words alone shed light on the difficulty. The Saintess was an immensely valuable resource. There was no way the Holy Nation''s priests would leave her carelessly managed. While ordinary soldiers might complain of fatigue when assigned three-shift rotations, devotees armed with faith would gladly take on the duty. Could someone really abduct the Saintess from such a heavily guarded environment? And even if the ones protecting her weren''t just ordinary followers, wouldn''t the thought of abduction be unthinkable? So how was it accomplished? And how had they remained uncaptured? "I''d really like to catch them." The questions were mounting. Yet, Enkrid had no intention of being a passive observer. Too much was bothering him. Audin''s words weighed heavily on his mind. He had spoken of the past, and Enkrid had listened. But was it just a recounting of old events? Nothing more than regret and remorse? No. The bear-like man''s words carried not only faults, reflections, and regrets but also determination and resolve. Enkrid had seen that same spirit before¡ªin the past, during the process of understanding Will. He remembered Audin radiating light as blood poured from every orifice in his face. The energy and demeanor Audin displayed when speaking of the past mirrored that moment. The only difference now was that he wasn''t dying, bleeding while shining like a beacon. What Audin''s intentions were or what thoughts he held, Enkrid didn''t know. He wouldn''t have received an answer even if he asked. But one thing was certain¡ªhe wasn''t going to just sit back and watch. If the child truly had been kidnapped, and if that was all there was to the story, Enkrid had every intention of treating the kidnapper''s skull like a roast to be split apart. With those thoughts and a head full of questions, Enkrid arrived at his first destination. The city whose Wall was named Mad Wall Enkrid. As soon as he entered and sought out the mayor, the man bolted out barefoot. The sight of him sprinting across the dirt path, dust flying up in his wake, was remarkable. "Welcome!" The man''s shout greeted Enkrid enthusiastically. This scene unfolded the moment Enkrid asked for the mayor''s residence and revealed his identity. The overly enthusiastic welcome raised suspicions. The man before him had a rugged face, a well-trained body, and a missing eye¡ªa man who clearly knew how to fight. His posture betrayed a preference for heavy weapons, and his calloused hands and muscular build confirmed his prowess. His hair was cropped short above the ears but longer on top, and his face bore several scars. Though unfamiliar, Enkrid recognized him. He couldn''t recall the man''s name no matter how hard he tried. He had seen this face during one of the many loops through the day. "Long time no see. You''re..." As Enkrid trailed off, the man filled in the blank. "Deutsch Pulman." The man smiled as though it was only natural for his name to be forgotten. This city had once been home to a mad architect who named the walls after Enkrid. Why name the walls? Because Enkrid had shattered a gnoll colony created by cultists while repeating the same day over and over again. Although the walls had been named after him, the moniker didn''t catch on. Instead, people preferred to call it "gnoll''s lament." Enkrid, too, thought that name was more appropriate. The frontier town was now known as Felheim, a name derived from the surrounding terrain. According to legend, during the age of myth, a fire-breathing divine beast had once lived here. Felheim meant "City of Flames." No matter how intimidating someone''s face may seem, a sincere smile can make it look pleasant. That was exactly the case with Deutsch Pulman''s face at that moment. "Yes, that''s how it turned out." This man had now become the most powerful figure in Felheim, recognized by the kingdom. Despite that, his attitude remained respectful. Was it due to his reputation? That may have played a part, but more than that, the impression that Enkrid had left on the city when he erased the former colony still lingered, especially for Deutsch Pulman. "Please, help yourself!" Deutsch led the group into the sitting room. As the maid glanced at Enkrid before serving tea and snacks, Enkrid asked. "I have a question. Did people from the Holy Kingdom pass through here?" Deutsch paused for a moment, recalling, then replied. "They did, but they left almost immediately." "I see. Do you know where they went?" Deutsch answered promptly, as one who had been a hero and benefactor. "No, I don''t. But there was something strange about them." "Strange?" Enkrid inquired. "There were three individuals more skilled than me." Was that such a big deal? Enkrid thought to himself, but he barely restrained himself from saying it out loud. Instead, the words came from another voice. "Is that really a big deal?" Enkrid hid his thoughts, but Shinar was not so reserved. Though it could have been a subtle insult, Deutsch did not dare respond to the fairy''s face. After all, he was traveling with Enkrid. "Brother, the world is wide, isn''t it?" Audin chimed in as well. After hearing them, Enkrid adjusted his perspective. ''A mistake.'' Audin and Shinar, being naturally gifted, wouldn''t know, but Enkrid, who had climbed up from humble beginnings, realized that Deutsch Pulman''s abilities were not average. Surrounded by so many monsters, he had momentarily mistaken him. Deutsch Pulman might not even make it as a knight''s squire, but he could still be called a skilled person. "Three, you say?" Enkrid responded appropriately, his words measured. Deutsch couldn''t get angry nor could he press further, so he nodded in agreement as soon as Enkrid spoke. "Yes. One of them seemed really angry, but they didn''t say a word. The atmosphere was... how should I put it?" "How should you put it?" Though he had become a knight, Enkrid was still an excellent listener. He nodded as if signaling Deutsch to continue, indicating that anything could be said. His gesture reassured Deutsch, making him feel comfortable enough to speak his mind. "It felt like they were going to scold a child who had done something wrong... that sort of vibe, I guess? It seemed strange to me." Deutsch Pulman had been a mercenary for a long time, meaning he had survived for years as a swordsman. What that implied was that his sharpness in perception was likely more valuable than any martial skill. Otherwise, he wouldn''t have risen to become the mayor of the city. He had good instincts. This meant that his feeling about the atmosphere could very well be accurate. Moreover, since he had no reason to spread false information and clearly felt goodwill, his intuition was likely on point. His eyes were sharp. This made Enkrid pause again, filled with questions. ''How strange, really.'' Somehow, she or he had managed to kidnap the saintess and, through some miracle, had obtained her agreement, making the escape smooth. Yet, despite all this, something still felt off. "Why kidnap her?" And here came another question. There was no reason to kidnap the saintess at all. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 30 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 25 -s 650-720 + 30 next Chapters that are yet to be released [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - Latest WN-720 Chapter 567 - Alone Chapter 567 - 567 - Alone Chapter 567 - Alone The tea had cooled. He had no desire to drink it. Nor did he touch the snacks. Enkrid sank into deep thought. Krais had once said that Enkrid was excellent at coming up with strategies. "Huh?" Deutsch, sitting across from Enkrid on the worn but soft sofa, blinked in confusion, then asked again. It was likely because he didn''t understand why Enkrid was asking about the reasoning behind abduction. "Can a saint make potions or something?" Enkrid asked. Deutsch blinked and replied, somewhat perplexed. "...You''re asking me?" "Yeah." Why was he asking this? "I do not know." Despite his confusion, Deutsch answered faithfully. "Is there anyone who can do that sort of thing beside the Saintess?" "...I doubt it." Common sense dictated that no one knew the potion-making methods created by the church. It was clear that it wasn''t part of alchemy. Not everyone with divine power could become a saint or a saintess, either. This was a conclusion Enkrid reached by thinking from the perspective of an abductor, drawing on knowledge of the past he''d heard from Audin. Was the abductor dreaming of making potions by kidnapping a saint? If that were the case, it would be better to study and research alchemy. If not, perhaps the person was suffering from a terminal illness and wanted a cure? Even then, it didn''t make sense. ''I''d never do that.'' If he had the ability to abduct a saint and was terminally ill, what would he do? It would be far more difficult to overcome the multiple layers of defense around the temple to abduct a saint. In that case, it would be far easier to rob a few noble estates. That would be quicker, simpler, and more effective. With the money from such a heist, he could immediately make a donation large enough to secure a cure. It was a much easier, faster, and simpler method than kidnapping a saint. "Then why would they do it?" There was no gain. It wasn''t a murder¡ªit was an abduction. Abduction was a clear act with a purpose, meaning they intended to gain something. But right now, there was no visible gain. Was a rival church abducting the saint out of jealousy? To bring her back to their church? If they were caught, it would result in a war like the Holy Sword War. The Holy Sword War was discussed even in history books¡ªit started when a sacred sword was discovered in an ancient ruin, and the church that found it claimed it was a relic of their god, causing a war. It was said that over ten thousand people died in that war. Though the exact figures were unclear due to the passage of time, the number of deaths was significant. The churches reconciled afterward, merging all the factions to prevent such a tragedy from occurring again. Although each church had its own god, they became united as brothers and sisters. Initially, this unity might have been superficial, but with time, it had become genuine. "It wasn''t abduction." Audin knew more about the church than Enkrid. Having witnessed it both from the inside and outside, he reached the conclusion quickly. "Probably." Enkrid also came to the same conclusion without any surprise. "I don''t understand what you''re saying..." Deutsch, unable to comprehend the situation, hesitated as he looked at Enkrid. Enkrid, instead of explaining further, decided to ask only what was necessary. "Did the people from the temple just leave?" A question borne from experience. If you''re chasing someone, and they keep evading capture, what should you do? ''If it were me, I''d just expand the search.'' It''s hard to do something alone, but with two people, it becomes doable. With ten, it becomes much easier. Therefore, the solution is simple¡ªjust increase the number of people following the orders. But where would one find people who would follow orders without asking questions? In this world, there are always people willing to fight for a few gold coins. It was rare for the Holy Kingdom to spend gold on such things, but it wasn''t impossible. "Huh? Oh, yes. They asked to strengthen the city''s security." "And?" "Uh, they also asked if there was an information guild in the city." It seemed like one of the pursuers from the Holy Kingdom had a reasonably sharp mind, thinking to increase the number of people, just as Enkrid had. Enkrid raised his head. "Where and who?" Deutsch, quick to catch on, seemed to sense something was amiss. He had a feeling that he was getting caught up in something troublesome. Enkrid, sensing his concern, spoke before Deutsch could say anything. "There won''t be any harm." Deutsch looked slightly pale but shook his head. "Even if there''s harm, I''ll bear it." There was no intention to retreat. His resolve was clear. Having witnessed a man heroically defend the city from the gnoll attack, Deutsch had been inspired to improve himself and strengthen his resolve. Since then, he had lived for the city, remembering the heroic deeds he had witnessed. Deutsch had been a mercenary for many years, and a mercenary with quick reflexes tends to survive longer, but a mercenary with loyalty lives even longer. "If there''s something you need, I''ll see to it." Deutsch''s words were not something Enkrid was inclined to refuse. "Information, people''s movements... Does the information guild only deal with information?" The answer came. Deutsche replied. "It''s a brotherhood. A group formed by a few criminals." "I want to know everything they''ve heard from those who left the temple and everything they''ve been doing." "Everything?" "Just tell me the location, and I''ll take care of it." "No." Deutsch shook his head, and Enkrid realized he couldn''t sway the man''s determination. When someone offers help with sincerity, how could one refuse it? Even in terms of efficiency, it would be far better to rely on a local like Deutsch, who was both the mayor and someone who had shared in the city''s founding. "It''ll be done in half a day. If you haven''t eaten, please do so." Deutsche bowed toward Enkrid, then left. Enkrid, watching him leave, requested the meal. "Yes, yes." The maid, nervous, answered twice before bringing out various dishes. Meanwhile, Enkrid drank the now-cold tea in one go to quench his thirst and looked at Audin. Audin''s eyes didn''t sparkle, and he seemed indifferent, but Enkrid wasn''t fooled. He was pretending to be calm. Though his heart wasn''t wildly unsettled, he was likely on edge. "We''ll rescue her." Audin said. "Of course." Shinar added. If it were an abduction, the child''s will wouldn''t have been involved. But if it''s a defection? That''s different. What should one do when seeing a child suffering from persecution and abuse? What if that child''s sacrifice, the abuse they endure, is for the peace of the continent? I don''t know. I don''t care. Honestly, I think the idea that the peace of the continent depends on a single child is nonsense. Therefore, I will save the child. If all of this is a misunderstanding, a mere mistake, and the child was actually kidnapped, then that''s fine too. By saving the child, I''d be owed a debt by the Holy Kingdom. But if it''s really a defection, then if that''s the case... It wouldn''t matter if they were from the Holy Kingdom or anyone else. *** Roge was the leader of the largest brotherhood in Felheim. He had a brother who had been with him since childhood, and after settling in the frontier city, he had built an organization. Bang! The headquarters of Roge''s brotherhood, located on the outskirts of the city, had just had its door smashed open. "Damn, what''s going on?" Roge clenched his jaw and grabbed the handle of a dagger. The face of the person at the door, silhouetted by the light behind them, appeared dark. The midday sun shone from behind them. Roge narrowed his eyes. The figure''s build seemed familiar. He could see a long weapon in the person''s right hand. It was a spear with a blade at the tip. ''Glaive?'' The person in the shadow spoke. "Subdue them. If they resist, kill them all." At those words, soldiers poured in. They were clearly the Felheim direct guards. The patrols and core forces of the city. These were not people a small criminal guild could face. "Wh-what?" The brotherhood members were confused. Should they fight? They all just gripped their daggers, but none of them drew them, hesitating. "Jake?" One of the brotherhood members recognized the soldier and called out, but the soldier ignored him. "Stay still. Drop your weapons." Jake, the soldier, spoke. The spear in his hand seemed to promise no jokes or playful remarks. The spear slid through the air and stopped right before the stomach of a familiar brotherhood member. Jake''s eyes were cold, and his tone was harsh. "Drop your weapons." Roge had always thought they were like the cleaner birds for the city, scratching at its itchy spots. He had never met Deutsch Pulman directly, but he had thought that they were considered partners, responsible for the day and night of the same city. Deutsch Pulman had never commented on those words, and up until now, everything had seemed fine. It was a relationship built on mutual respect, or so he had thought. But now, what was going on? "You should have come in person." Deutsch Pulman spoke, his scarred face looking more vicious than ever before. The frontier city was a place where dangers were always present, and naturally, rough individuals gathered. Even after Enkrid had razed the gnoll colony, there had still been many incidents in the city. Deutsch Pulman had started as the captain of the guards and eventually became the mayor, solving countless problems in a manner that reflected his competence. One of those was ignoring the petty provocations from those who dared challenge him. If the problem wasn''t significant, he''d let it slide. That attitude made enemies underestimate him, and when the time came to act, the targets were reduced to mere blinking fools. It was a tactic any general would use, but those who didn''t understand it always suffered. And it was happening right now. "Hey, what''s your name again? Roge? Luge? Should I just cut off one of your ears and talk after?" Deutsch Pulman moved forward, as gracefully as ever in solving the matter. His grace always came with overwhelming force. If he didn''t act, he''d give a subtle warning. But when he did, it was decisive. If he didn''t, those who killed people and dumped them in alleys would continue flooding into the city. He wouldn''t tolerate that. Though there were other reasons for Felheim''s good order, it was widely acknowledged that Deutsch Pulman''s glaive played a part in maintaining it. "Speak up now. There''s nothing good coming from bloodshed." Roge felt humiliated by Deutsch''s words and immediately drew his dagger. Sleek. The blade reflected the light. Roge clenched his teeth. Then, he gently placed the dagger on the ground. The tip of the blade pointed towards himself, laid down in an obedient, respectful manner. "Yes, my lord." What''s the harm in feeling a bit of shame? What matters is surviving. He muttered. There was really no secret to it. An Inquisitor from the Holy City had given the request, and according to it, the task was to find a girl traveling alone among the strangers entering the city. It wasn''t a difficult task, and the reward was generous. He had even placed the request with bounty hunters who specialized in tracking people. "Alone?" In the middle of the story, Deutsch Pulman asked again. "No, continue," He urged, signaling for him to proceed. Roge answered with a "Nay" and then recounted everything in detail. Deutsch, being a sharp man, quickly pieced things together. From the flow of the story, he understood why Enkrid was here. There had been a previous message from the Kingdom. But if an Inquisitor or a Paladin from the Holy City had requested it, why had they gone to the trouble of involving Krona, using the parasitic brotherhoods in the city? Could that order, a group that had rumors of secretly selling black salt, really be behind this? ''There''s something off about this.'' The fact that the girl was alone also raised a red flag. Deutsch Pulman, having learned the information from Enkrid, began dispatching forces while he gathered intelligence on the whereabouts of the Paladins and other priests. "They''ve already left the city." A subordinate quickly approached with the update. Deutsch Pulman, walking, inquired, "Which direction?" "East." Having learned all he could from Enkrid, Deutsch Pulman shared his findings and suspicions. Enkrid, repeating the same question, asked again, "Alone?" "Yes, alone." Enkrid nodded, deep in thought. It wasn''t a kidnapping, but a defection, just as he had predicted. And Audin had also overheard. "Did you say alone, Brother Mayor? Are you certain?" "Yes." Though there was no concrete proof, the circumstantial evidence was strong. Enkrid decided to modify the mission. Instead of helping the Paladins recover the saint, the priority would now be on rescuing the fleeing child. Yet, one question still remained. ''How has she not been caught yet?'' During his time as a bounty hunter, Enkrid had memorized the names of the top hunters, three of whom were considered the best in the field. Two of them had died, and the third had retired, but interestingly, all three had come from the order. When Enkrid asked how this could be, the mentor who had trained him explained it like this. "The order is the best at chasing people down. That''s for sure." When asked why, the mentor smiled and replied, "Why? Because they''ve done it a lot." Hunting wasn''t about talent but experience. Those labeled heretics often fled, and the more they chased such people, the better they got at it. Now, the girl, once a victim of abduction, had become a specialist in evading such trackers. It was a mystery more fascinating than any spell could weave. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 30 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 25 -s 650-720 + 30 next Chapters that are yet to be released [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - Latest WN-720 Chapter 568 - How much did they offer? Chapter 568 - 568 - How much did they offer? Chapter 568 - How much did they offer? When something beyond curious, bordering on the mysterious, occurs, there''s always a corresponding reason. "Does the saintess have an ally?" The answer was no. In that case, there was only one possibility. The runaway or fugitive saintess was somehow managing to evade pursuit entirely on her own. But does that make any sense? She''s just a child, after all. It''s said that saints and saintesses manifest their powers at a young age. If Audin said it, then it must be true. Enkrid imagined a child in his mind. Oddly enough, the image of Anne in her younger days came to him. It was hard to associate someone being chased and on the run with the other strong companions he knew, like Esther, Shinar, or Teresa, who all left powerful impressions. Anne, on the other hand, fit the description of someone who might be pursued. This was merely a product of his imagination. But consider it¡ªsuch a child exists, even if not with red hair, running with their hair bouncing, evading their pursuers? And yet, it was a clear fact that this child had escaped the grasp of some of the most skilled trackers on the continent. If that isn''t a mystery, then what is? "Could she be a magician?" That didn''t seem likely either. After all, she was called a saintess. So, the conclusion was this: The child possessed such extraordinary talent that she managed to create the current situation. The likelihood of this theory being wrong wasn''t high. Because otherwise, it simply wouldn''t make sense. "She''s alone." Enkrid reflected on the three main ways a fugitive might evade capture based on his own understanding and experience. "If someone has allies scattered across the continent who can hide them, it''s possible." Someone who could rely on organizations or acquaintances in any city wouldn''t be easily caught. Next would be having exceptional disguises. "But the people from the Holy Kingdom wouldn''t overlook such tricks." So, were the first two options viable? That seemed unlikely. The pursuers weren''t ghouls playing chess and losing every time¡ªthey were certainly capable of critical thought. What does that entail? Tracking the target''s family, friends, lovers, and acquaintances is fundamental. And disguises? Would merely obscuring one''s appearance with mud and paint make them someone else? Sure, let''s assume extraordinary talent allows someone to conceal themselves flawlessly. But could they live their entire life in hiding? Eventually, there would come a moment when they''d need to prove their identity. Or if there were flaws in the backstory they created alongside their disguise? What if someone became suspicious? Could they hide in some remote mountain village where no monsters or wild beasts roamed? But where would such a village be found? Even if one existed, the smaller the community, the harder it would be to maintain secrecy. In tightly-knit villages, where a couple''s argument is known to everyone the next day, hiding wouldn''t be easy. Thus, people often resort to living in cities, which are surprisingly strict about verifying identities. Even if they managed to create a fake identification badge... "There''s no such thing as an eternal secret." Living a life of perpetual suspicion is hardly living at all. Moreover, seasoned bounty hunters in cities rarely neglect to investigate strangers of unknown origin. That''s why information guilds and bounty hunter guilds exist in the first place. In Border Guard, the standing army patrols during the day, verifying people, while guilds like Gilpin Guild handle such tasks at night. Each city still has individuals who engage in these activities. Even now, other guilds are beginning to establish themselves in Border Guard. So, fugitives often hide in city slums. Pursuers, upon losing a trail, usually start searching the slums first. It''s not for nothing that bounty hunters glare at vagrants the moment they arrive in a city. And what about staying in an inn to eat and sleep? Doing so would be no different than praying to be caught. Hiding perfectly in a city was nearly impossible. Avoiding human eyes is one of the hardest things in the world. Of course, some people manage to disappear without a trace. But such individuals are exceedingly rare. Honestly, Enkrid believed most of them likely ended up meeting their end quietly in the slums, unnoticed by anyone. The sound of jingling coins alone would attract at least ten thieves on any given night. That leaves the third option, which was both practical and the most logical alternative: "Minimize contact with cities, resolve rest and sleep entirely outside walled areas." One would avoid people, instead dealing with monsters and beasts while traveling. Rather than merchant routes, they''d take animal trails, mountains, forests, or open fields. But even here, problems arise. No matter how skilled a fighter, humans need to sleep and eat. How would they find food? What about rest? Thus, sheer martial skill alone wouldn''t suffice to make a good fugitive. A knight with recognized strength among the knight orders might manage to an extent. But even for someone of that caliber, escaping the reach of the Holy Kingdom would be a daunting task. So, what would it take? Becoming an exceptional ranger or a skilled hunter. If one were to choose the profession most likely to survive after being dropped anywhere on the continent, rangers or hunters would top the list. They knew how to live atop trees and prepare beast meat for consumption¡ªthough taste wasn''t a priority. Enkrid''s thoughts reached this conclusion. "A born hunter? Does such a thing even exist?" He asked aloud while walking. His steps weren''t hurried. Tracking those being pursued often required waiting for the fruit to ripen, so to speak. The pleasant autumn sunlight and the scenery he passed by left no impression as he focused intently on his thoughts. As he climbed a gentle slope, Shinar shielded her eyes from the sun and spoke. "No such thing could exist." Coming from Shinar, who had directly trained ranger units, her words carried weight. Enkrid agreed with her assessment. Hunters must learn the terrain and understand the habits of beasts. Without training, experience, and practice, hunting is impossible. Which makes this all the more mysterious. This enigma would unravel upon meeting the target. If questioned, answers would surely come. For now, it was enough to continue the pursuit. Enkrid had a strategy in mind. After all, he''d turned down Deutch Pullman''s last proposal for a reason. Seeing the severed head of a dog-faced creature sprawled in front of the boulder, it bore marks that seemed like it had been relentlessly burned with a branding iron. "This is the work of the Holy Crusade Division," Audin said, halting to inspect the monster corpses. He knelt on one knee and examined one of the lifeless bodies. "A nasty piece of work, someone with a cruel streak," Shinar added. Killing was one thing, but this was done with cruelty, as though tormenting them was the goal. It wasn''t hatred for monsters or beasts driving this; it was someone with a sadistic hobby. Enkrid nodded in agreement and gave Shinar a pointed look. "I see my help is required. Very well, I shall rise to the challenge for the sake of my betrothed''s difficulties," Shinar remarked with her usual impassive expression and began examining the traces of battle as directed. Her expertise in such matters far exceeded Enkrid''s own. Still, Enkrid wasn''t idle. He scanned the footprints and broken branches, following the trail. Among those being pursued, several seemed to move exceptionally quickly, as evident from how they smashed through paths blocked by living tree branches. "Impressive skill," he thought, observing the cleanly severed branches. The cuts showed precision, done in a single stroke, not through clumsy hacking. However, he felt it fell slightly short of the skill level he would expect from the Holy Crusade Division. The cut ends were somewhat uneven. Shinar, who had been sniffing the ground and inspecting it closely, suddenly raised her head. Enkrid immediately asked, "Which direction?" "This way. We''re not far," Shinar replied promptly. At her answer, Enkrid and Shinar moved quickly, with Audin following behind. From here, even if Deutsch Pulman himself were to join them, differences in mobility and stamina would soon become apparent. It was only natural that they hadn''t brought soldiers unfamiliar with the terrain. If they intended to cover this area within half a day, they needed to maintain this pace. Enkrid advanced, cutting through a few branches with the shortsword given to him by Aetri. The weapon felt like an extension of his arm¡ªits grip fitting perfectly into his hand, its blade as if it were a part of him. Although Aetri had lent it temporarily, it was clearly a custom weapon made for one person alone. "A blade like this is a joy to wield," Enkrid thought, listening closely. In the distance, he heard what sounded like human voices. Shinar''s earlier claim that they were close was being validated. The sound was faint and unclear, but they were approaching rapidly. "Let''s pick up the pace," Enkrid said, kicking off the ground. His movements were fluid, lightly leaping forward while avoiding sharp stones and uneven terrain. Although his steps didn''t disturb the earth, his body surged forward like a shadow, leaving afterimages in his wake. Viewed from above, his form might resemble a long, sinuous snake. The path had been cleared somewhat by the group ahead, making it easier for them to follow. Behind him, Audin, despite his large build, moved adeptly, his bulk only slightly hindered by low-hanging branches. Shinar, unsurprisingly, excelled the most. She darted through the forest like a fish in water, occasionally leaping along tilted trees with the ease and grace that could only come from a fairy. Though none of them were pushing themselves to their limits, they moved faster than squirrels. In moments, the three of them reached the source of the sound. Ahead, two men and a woman were clearing a path. This was the first pursuit party they had encountered. Hearing the approach, all three turned their heads, alert at the sudden presence of Enkrid''s group. Suspicion was evident in their expressions as they regarded the newcomers warily. Enkrid, observing their reaction, decided to satisfy his curiosity. "How much are they paying you?" he asked. How much could the Holy Kingdom be offering to attract this many self-proclaimed tracking experts in such a short time? It wasn''t an important question, but a trivial curiosity that had lingered as they traveled. After all, he couldn''t help but wonder about the spending habits of the notoriously frugal clergy. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 30 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 25 -s 650-720 + 30 next Chapters that are yet to be released [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - Latest WN-720 + 30 future Chapters that are yet to be released Chapter 569 - Born Hunter? Chapter 569 - 569 - Born Hunter? Chapter 569 - Born Hunter? The Holy City-State was notorious for its frugality, refusing to waste money on trivial matters. "Ha-ha, may blessings express gratitude for your efforts," they would often say, resolving issues with mere words. It was a well-known tale. Be it believers or not, they rarely spent Krona¡ªthey hoarded it. Most problems were solved internally. If one were to rank the nations least liked by guilds, the Holy Nation would undoubtedly top the list. And among the upper echelons of trade, they were the most despised. Leona had once expressed her thoughts on this matter. "I respect priests, but I won''t work with those religious fanatics." This sentiment was universal, whether one referred to pious or corrupt clergy. The Holy Nation preferred to rely on their own Crusader Monks for mercenary work, Inquisitors as guides, and their own merchant companies for trade logistics. "Amazing, isn''t it? All this just to avoid spending Krona," Leona had commented. Enkrid agreed but believed there was another layer to it. ''It''s about not giving outsiders a foothold in their sacred affairs,'' he thought. Sure, they disliked leaking Krona, but their real aim was to ensure that no external influence disrupted their church''s operations. Thus, this situation was rather peculiar. How much must they have offered to hire these bounty hunters for a church matter? Bounty hunters, notorious for their mercenary nature, wouldn''t move without advance payment. This indicated they had already received a significant amount of Krona, which was surprising in itself. Enkrid was curious enough to ask earlier, but the exact amount didn''t matter. What intrigued him more was the boldness of the Holy Nation''s actions. The hunters had likely been hired as soon as the group crossed into Naurilia, with information brokers spreading the word. While hiring through such networks incurred fees, the church didn''t seem to hold back. Clearly, they had prioritized capturing the Saintess over conserving their resources. It wasn''t about the kidnapper; understanding their intent was far simpler than dealing with a non-existent culprit. ''Profit,'' Enkrid mused. Capturing the girl, now a Saintess, offered far greater returns than sparing a few Krona on trackers. Noble intentions? None to be found. Both the atmosphere and unfolding events screamed otherwise. "Who are you?" The three pursuers lacked the insight to recognize their new company. They wore light leather clothing, sturdy enough to act as armor in emergencies. Their gear prioritized mobility. "You haven''t found the trail yet, have you?" Enkrid noted, realizing the first group was a bust. He had no further use for them. "Judging by your appearance, you must''ve joined on a whim. This isn''t a job for amateurs," one woman spat, her tone both hostile and uneasy. The sudden appearance of three strangers¡ªnone of whom looked ordinary¡ªhad clearly unnerved her. Audin''s massive frame alone created unease, amplified by the presence of a fairy and a strikingly handsome man whose blue eyes gleamed like enchantments. Still, she didn''t blurt out an admiring "handsome" in the middle of her growing anxiety. From her words, however, Enkrid deduced that the Krona being offered wasn''t insignificant. This wasn''t a standard church operation; such bold expenditure was unprecedented. "Audin," Enkrid called out, moving toward the man on the group''s right. He moved with a sudden burst of power, his frame appearing larger to his target as he surged forward. Without stomping or theatrics, he drove forward with steady footing and focused Will, closing the distance in a blink. The man''s face morphed from wariness to shock as Enkrid''s knife-hand struck the back of his neck. With a single, fluid step to his right, Enkrid swung his left arm like a whip, landing a precise, devastating blow. Thud! The man crumpled with a gasp, and Enkrid gently laid him down. Beside him, Audin handled the other two with equal efficiency. One was downed with a hammer-like fist to the crown of the head. Boom! The man''s eyes rolled back, leaving only the whites visible before he collapsed with a groan. The other was subdued with a firm chokehold, gasping futilely as his feet left the ground. Dirt and dried leaves scattered from his kicking feet, but that was all he managed before losing consciousness. Thump. Audin lowered him carelessly to the ground. They wouldn''t stay unconscious for long, but there were no nearby beasts or monsters to endanger them. "Let''s move," Enkrid said, resuming the chase. Tracking became easier from this point¡ªfootprints, broken branches, scents, sounds, traces of slain beasts, and logical paths all guided their way. Soon, they came across a familiar face: a bounty hunter Enkrid had encountered before. This man had once offered to pay Enkrid 70% of his bounty upfront if he fought on his behalf. A scoundrel, a kidnapper, a wretch. Enkrid had lured beasts toward him back then and made his escape. To see him alive now was surprising. With his muscular frame, he resolved most situations through brute force, wielding a bloodstained iron mace as his symbol. Nearby, two female bounty hunters lay dead, presumably his victims. "Did greed over Krona drive you to kill them first?" Enkrid asked, assessing the scene. The man didn''t recognize Enkrid, nor did his two companions. Even with rumors of the "Knight of Unyielding Wall," few would identify him on sight. Audin''s massive build might have evoked memories of the Bearkin of Border Guard, but most would dismiss him as a half-giant at best. Looking at the corpses, Shinar remarked, "Ambushed from behind." Clearly, the man had persuaded them to cooperate, only to strike from behind with his mace. "What do you want?" The bounty hunter radiated confidence, as he had before. It wasn''t misplaced; his skills justified it. But that was then. This was now. "You''ve gone too far," Enkrid said, drawing his sword without bothering to introduce himself. Enkrid drew his sword and advanced, each motion fluid and seamless like an elegant line. This was the unyielding sword of the knight who protected the city of Oara. The sweeping arcs of his blade traced unpredictable patterns in the air, leaving long, comet-like trails that then shot straight as streaks of light. The transformed comet descended upon the enemy''s head with unerring precision. There was no chance for the mace-wielding foe to react¡ªit was inevitable. Clang. The steel helmet resting atop the enemy''s head was effortlessly cleaved apart by Enkrid''s blade. The technique of cutting through steel, once a skill honed with hours of training, now came naturally to him. The resistance he felt in his hand was negligible compared to before. The force of his strike, the angle of the cut, and his unwavering Will all combined into a perfect result. Splatter! With the helmet split, the enemy''s head was likewise bisected, spilling blood and brain matter onto the ground. The sheer speed of the strike left the blade nearly clean. The mace-wielder collapsed beside the bodies of the two female hunters Enkrid had slain earlier. The reddish-brown earth turned black as it soaked up their blood. As the mace-wielder fell, two others¡ªlikely his comrades¡ªattempted to flee. "Ah¡ª!" "No!" Their escape was swift, likely a move they had prepared for from the start. Such was the iron rule of hunters: if the situation goes awry, retreat. This too was part of their survival code. However, their misfortune was palpable. What were the odds that a knight would appear suddenly and execute justice upon them? Such an encounter was as rare as divine punishment itself. And while meeting a knight could often spell death, the improbability of either event placed them in the same league. Enkrid locked onto the two as they darted in opposite directions, his senses capturing their movements in their entirety. What followed was merely the realization of the future he foresaw through his instincts. With a motion like unfurling wings, Enkrid spread his arms and drew two daggers. Then, with a flick of his wrists, he launched them in opposite directions. The daggers flew through the air with a sharp whistle. Thwack! One dagger struck its mark, piercing through the nape of one fugitive and pinning him to a tree. The other lodged itself into the skull of the second, embedding deep enough that only the hilt was visible. The man stumbled forward, crashing face-first into a tree before sliding lifelessly to the ground, leaving a trail of blood. "May the gods await your arrival," Audin murmured, offering a brief prayer for the dead. That he refrained from mentioning the god of war might have been a kindness. According to the creed, the god of war greeted the deceased with beatings before anything else. Knowing this would render Audin''s farewell less a blessing and more an ominous jest. Yet Audin''s tone carried genuine sympathy, and if asked, he would likely respond: "Well, if they deserve punishment, they should receive it, no?" A fair point. With this group dispatched, the party continued forward, Enkrid following his own moral compass to decide who would live and who would die. To Shinar, it seemed that Enkrid operated by a distinct set of principles. His decisions were clear-cut. Those who merely pursued their tasks were spared, but those who acted out of greed or crossed moral lines met swift retribution. This wasn''t about justice; it was simply Enkrid following his heart. Watching him, Shinar began to sense the essence of Enkrid''s Will. He acted without hesitation, his judgments grounded not in others'' perceptions but in his own beliefs. To Shinar, that radiance of conviction was striking. The group continued to encounter hunters, some of whom surrendered information willingly despite not realizing the nature of Enkrid''s party. "The tracks led into the forest, but for a child to enter alone is suicide. We were just trying to recover the body while avoiding the monsters and beasts in the area." The hunter''s voice faltered as he swallowed hard. He had likely heard rumors of a manticore dwelling in this forest. Now, that very creature lay in six neat pieces at the feet of the slender fairy among Enkrid''s group¡ªa sight enough to humble anyone. The clean cuts through its bones and muscle spoke of a single, decisive stroke, an image that inspired respect and caution alike. Most notably, the hunter couldn''t ignore the possibility that they could have been the ones facing that manticore. "Anyway, do you know the Crusaders'' current position?" "They didn''t enter the forest. We arranged to signal each other if we crossed paths," he said, shaking an arrow tipped with a glittering pouch of powder. Enkrid gave the arrow a brief glance before moving on. It was possible they could locate the child before the pursuers from the Holy Kingdom. ''But there''s barely any trace at all,'' he thought. Erasing tracks was certainly within the skill set of a seasoned ranger, but this level of concealment was extraordinary. "Shinar, these tracks¡ª" He didn''t need to elaborate. The fairy responded quickly. "Yes, they''re strange indeed." It was odd, though no alternative path was apparent. They knew the target had headed east, and there was no better place to hide than this forest. Enkrid decided to adjust his approach, adopting a more aggressive strategy. Since neither monsters nor beasts posed much of a threat, he chose to cut straight through any obstacles as they searched for signs of the child. Following this method, they tracked down and dealt with fifteen more pursuers. Yet not one could identify the whereabouts of the lone fleeing child. ''This level of evasion is beyond even the greatest rangers. It defies explanation,'' Enkrid thought, halting abruptly. "Ha." One of the fundamental rules of tracking was to follow a line, not just points. By predicting the target''s psychology and movements, one could trace the path they were likely to take. Enkrid recalled a question he''d pondered upon leaving the city. ''Could this be the work of a born hunter?'' Surveying the forest, he saw faint traces¡ªnot enough to follow reliably, but present nonetheless. The pursuers had also seen them, which was why they ventured into the forest to begin with. A young girl had entered the forest alone. Her chances of survival were slim. At best, they hoped to recover a body, whether whole or reduced to bones by the beasts. Even that was unlikely; many creatures here devoured bones as well. The manticore Shinar had slain was a prime example¡ªa predator that tracked prey by scent and relished chewing through bone. While its reaction was likely due to their noisy passage, the point remained. Survival in this forest seemed implausible for a lone child. "It feels like we''ve been played," Enkrid muttered. Not by the Crusaders, but by their target. The Saintess had left them chasing phantoms. With this realization, Enkrid began to retrace the Saintess''s steps in his mind. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 30 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 25 -s 650-720 + 30 next Chapters that are yet to be released [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - Latest WN-720 + 30 future Chapters that are yet to be released Chapter 570 - Traces in the Forest Chapter 570 - 570 - Traces in the Forest [[TL]: I am saddened to announce that ERK has been turned into a Monday-Friday serialization in Korea. Following this, in order not to get caught up with the raws we will follow their lead here. I am just as sorrowfull as many of you regarding this topic, at this point reading ERK has become something of a ritual for me so getting two less Chapters a week is disappointing to say the least] Chapter 570 - Traces in the Forest Failure doesn''t mean the end. "They left traces heading into the forest." This tactic would direct most of the pursuers into the woods. The forest is not an ideal place for tracking, which would delay their search. Perhaps this maneuver would buy at least half a day before the traces were rediscovered and followed. It was clear: the pursuers were being led here, while the so-called "Saint" had taken another path. An astonishingly clever move for someone so young. Either the child was exceptionally intelligent, or someone had trained her rigorously for such scenarios. Then came the lingering question: "Why is a Paladin involved directly?" From what Enkrid had gathered, the pursuers from the Holy Nation were from the Paladin Corps¡ªa select force within their military. But why deploy such a group for a single child? What significance did this pursuit hold? The presence of Paladins necessitated notifying the kingdom, which suggested a situation beyond mere pursuit. After a brisk reconnaissance around the forest''s perimeter, Enkrid came to a singular conclusion: the Saint''s gambit failed to account for a force capable of shredding through both terrain and opposition without delay. Enkrid''s effort to circle the forest had proven fruitful. If he had pursued step-by-step, meticulously following the traces, he might never have discerned the Saint''s ploy. The pursuers were concentrated in the eastern forest of Felheim. The traces abruptly ended at the forest''s edge but indicated movement deeper within. "Alright, I''ve unraveled this puzzle. But what about the Paladin Corps?" Had they anticipated this scenario? Perhaps they had, given their familiarity with the Saint and their persistent pursuit. They would not have fallen for the same trick twice without preparing countermeasures. "So, is that why they increased their numbers?" The Paladin Corps had dispersed kronas, not merely to form a net but as bait to provoke a reaction from the Saint. Yet even in this tactic, their frugality with kronas was evident¡ªalmost laughable. Listening to accounts confirmed this: the Paladin Corps operated knowing their hired hands would not succeed. They minimized advance payments and even invoked their god''s name as collateral, an audacious and creative display of exploitation. While bounty hunters pursued one trail, the Paladins likely took another. From a distance, their strategy was apparent: drive the target like a rabbit, using hunters as hounds to flush her toward the traps. "They''ve outmaneuvered me," Enkrid muttered. No one is infallible. Winning and losing in pursuits had always been a coin flip, even now. His knighthood had not changed that. Enkrid was not trained as a master tracker but had honed his instincts through experience. Was he late? Perhaps. But that was no reason to stop. In the past, being captured never meant the end, and missing a lead didn''t signify failure. Success often came from persistence, not perfection. "We return to the city. Keep pace with me," he ordered and took off running. The ground shattered with a loud crack as Enkrid surged forward, holding nothing back. Grrrraaaa! A ghoul blocked his path. Enkrid didn''t even draw his sword. Passing by in a flash, he snapped the creature''s neck with his hands. The Valah martial arts style shone through. The ghoul''s spine protruded grotesquely as it collapsed lifelessly. Enkrid dispatched every beast and monster that crossed his path, pressing forward relentlessly. Reaching the city, Enkrid filled his lungs, then bellowed: "Deutsch!" The resonating cry startled a boy feeding a donkey, who fell over in fright. A carpenter building an inn accidentally smashed his hand with a hammer, howling in pain. "Ow!" Ignoring the commotion, Enkrid sprinted toward his target. Soon, a figure appeared, shoeless as always. "What''s going on now?" the startled Deutsch stammered as Enkrid''s glowing blue eyes locked onto him. "Do you know the Paladin Corps'' location?" He did. Deutsch had continued gathering information even after Enkrid''s departure. "They were spotted near the northern outskirts." The Paladins weren''t adept at hiding their movements, making them easy to track. However, that was the extent of the lead. North? But where exactly? Once again, Enkrid resolved to compensate for incomplete knowledge with sheer effort. "Let''s run," he declared, shaking the city with his booming voice before sprinting off. "See you around, brother!" Following behind was a towering bear beastkin. "Indeed. My thanks, on behalf of my betrothed," quipped a peculiar fairy. The three dashed to a manor, arriving and departing as quickly as they had appeared, leaving Deutsch feeling like he''d seen a ghost. Enkrid always brought chaos and unpredictability. After catching his breath and returning to the manor, another visitor soon arrived. "Do you know where the members of the Holy Order went?" The man had a benevolent expression with downturned eyes. Likely in his mid-to-late forties, he wore armor that suggested a formidable presence. The most striking feature was his eyes: silver pupils. If there was one more thing worth noting, it would be his apparent age. He seemed older than he looked, though it was purely a feeling. "If it''s inconvenient, you don''t have to answer, but I''d appreciate it if you would. I assure you, no harm will come of it. Brother." The man spoke, and Deutsch realized he couldn''t carelessly refuse. The air, the demeanor, and the tone¡ªall of it made it clear that this man possessed extraordinary power. Even so, should he act solely out of self-interest here? No, he should still speak. Whatever the man''s intentions, Deutsch could follow up and address any fallout. Despite his earlier intent to withdraw from the tangled situation, Deutsch made a decision. "Let''s go together." He resolved to face the complications head-on. The silver-eyed man smiled broadly. "Then, thank you kindly." *** The first thing the girl who would become a saint ever held was a bow. The first thing she ever made was a trap. A crude snare with a stick propped against a rock, a strip of leather stretched taut, and a small stone balanced precariously on top¡ªmeant to fall with a "thud." It wasn''t even good enough to catch a mouse, but it was her toy, her game. That was the childhood of the saint. Now, as a fugitive, she had decided to shake off her pursuers here. ''Felheim.'' She muttered the name of the city under her breath, as if out of habit, while memorizing the surrounding terrain. If she left traces near the edge of the eastern forest, she could lose most of her pursuers. It was something she had learned through experience. ''They''ll be careless, won''t they?'' To those chasing her, it might look like she was running in a panic. She made it appear that way deliberately. However, regardless of what they thought, the saint had no intention of venturing deep into the forest. She knew, even if this wasn''t where she grew up, just how dangerous forests could be to humans. ''Unless it''s just one or two ghouls or man-faced hounds.'' In the open fields, her keen eyesight was an asset that reduced danger. But in the forest, that was no longer true. Even with heightened senses and the ability to remain half-alert while resting, death felt much closer. She knew this instinctively. ''Don''t die.'' One couldn''t enter a forest unprepared. One couldn''t scale a mountain unprepared. Her grandfather''s teachings and her own experiences had taught her that. Thus, she wouldn''t enter the forest¡ªnot really. But she could make them believe she had. Hadn''t she already risked her life three times to move in ways no ordinary person could fathom? By choosing an improbable route, she could force her pursuers into a single line of thought. ''Leave footprints here.'' She deliberately left traces leading into the forest. Breaking a few branches would make it seem like she had fled in haste. After creating just enough clues, she tied a rope around her waist, attaching a blunt, elongated rock to its end. Whoosh, whoosh. Swinging the weighted rope, she hurled it at a branch. The sturdy fabric absorbed the rock''s weight, looping around the branch several times before holding firm. Climbing the tree, she moved horizontally along the branches, leaping from one to another. This created a "tree path," tricking anyone following her trail on the ground. She would circle the forest''s edge and then return to the outskirts. To do this, one needed a specific skill: the ability to move through trees as effortlessly as a flying squirrel. She had that skill, so she used it. Of course, she remained vigilant. If she sensed any aerial monsters, she would need to flee immediately. The sound of wings or a presence in her sensory range would mean danger from unpredictable creatures. This too was a risk to her life, but it was one she calculated to be minimal. At this time of day, neither specter-like abominations nor large flying monsters would likely appear. The greatest threat might be an owl-beast, but it was daytime, so the chances of encountering a nocturnal predator were slim. This was precisely why she chose to flee now. Her planning and execution had brought her to this point. ''Not bad.'' Her grandfather''s teachings, combined with her own insights, had carried her this far. Naturally, it hadn''t been easy. Escaping from the Holy Kingdom was never going to be simple. To get here, Seiki had to rely on the compassion of some and the sacrifices of others. There had been a priestess who had cared for her like a nanny and a monk who ultimately risked everything to help her escape. ''They''ll be branded heretics and killed.'' She hadn''t understood at first, but after eight months of being trained to become a saint, Seiki had come to understand the truth. She now knew what the church intended to do to her. ''Why is making holy water or potions so important?'' The teachings claimed to prove divinity, but it felt more like brainwashing. She had hidden her doubts, maintaining a calm facade. She had no other choice. For now, Seiki pushed those thoughts aside and focused. While finishing her so-called "tree path," she pressed her feet against the trunk of a tree, gripping a branch to steady herself. Few would be able to follow her trail this far, but she wasn''t taking any chances. "Whew." Taking a deep breath, Seiki bent her knees and launched herself. With a solid kick against the tree trunk, she soared briefly through the air like a flying squirrel. As her body angled downward, she braced for the inevitable fall. She tucked her shoulders, rolled on impact, and rose to her feet in a seamless motion. Thanks to her impeccable landing technique, she emerged unscathed, save for a slight ache in her wrist¡ªnothing that wouldn''t heal quickly. She unwound the rope from the tree and tied it securely around her waist. Now, it was time to circle back near the city and bypass it. As she moved, Seiki recalled how this ordeal began. That day had been utterly chaotic. She hadn''t realized it then, but in hindsight, it was clear. Perhaps, if she had handled things differently that day, she wouldn''t be on the run now. But then again, who could say? The church would never have relinquished its hold on a saint so easily. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 30 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 25 -s 650-720 + 30 next Chapters that are yet to be released [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - Latest WN-720 + 30 future Chapters that are yet to be released Chapter 571 - Saint Seiki Chapter 571 - 571 - Saint Seiki Chapter 571 - Saint Seiki "You have the qualities of a saint." "...Who does?" What? A saint? At first, Seiki felt nothing but suspicion. In her hand, hidden beneath her cloak, was a short hunting dagger with a blade sharpened to perfection. If some clumsy con artist tried anything funny, she was more than ready to relieve them of a few fingers. And if they approached her with less honorable intentions, she wouldn''t hesitate to remove something more vital. That was how Seiki lived her life. On the surface, she looked like a small, frail girl¡ªan appearance that made her an easy target for swindlers or aggressors. However, such an image didn''t help much in her life as a hunter. Monsters never hesitated when they saw her; if anything, they underestimated her, making her job easier. Was this man just another fool taking her at face value? Or did he have some ulterior motive? She couldn''t tell, but her experience from a year ago lingered. Back then, a storyteller had tried to charm her with deceitful words. When his real intent became clear, Seiki made sure he would never pull the same stunt again by separating him from a rather crucial body part. Through her experiences, Seiki had learned that sometimes, showing a glimpse of her strength was the quickest way to resolve things. ''He doesn''t seem like the type to comment on my looks given my current state.'' Seiki evaluated herself critically. Even without a mirror, she had a good sense of her appearance. She hadn''t bathed in a while, leaving her face streaked with grime. Her woolen hat, pulled low, covered her ears. The man who addressed her claimed to be a priest from a temple. His platinum blonde hair was neatly combed, and he carried an ornate object that resembled a golden cluster of grapes with seven beads. Seiki didn''t know, but it was a sacred symbol representing his faith and position within the church. ''A weapon?'' It didn''t look like one. He didn''t seem dangerous, either¡ªnot his robes, his demeanor, or the setting. They were in a corner of a small town market, not some desolate field or mountain trail where ambushes might occur. And, beyond appearances, her instincts didn''t detect any threat. On the contrary, the man''s presence exuded warmth, almost as if he bore endless goodwill toward her. Their meeting wasn''t planned; she had simply sold some pelts and bought supplies when he approached her. Out of the blue, he stopped her, whispered something about her being a saint, and then began to speak earnestly about divine blessings and joining the church. Normally, Seiki would have ignored him. But this time, something was different. She paused, lost in thought. ''Will you spend your whole life gutting beasts? Broaden your horizons. See the world.'' Her grandfather had said something similar before leaving three months ago. She wasn''t thrilled by the idea¡ªwhy would she? She didn''t care for gods or saints. To her, getting killed by a monster wasn''t a matter of divine punishment or fate but of poor preparation and lack of skill. But her grandfather was usually right. So perhaps this was worth considering. "What happens if I become a saint?" she asked. The priest smiled warmly and replied, "You''ll have everything you could ever desire. Anything the church can provide will be yours, Saint Child." The church often referred to saints as the "Children of God." "My name''s not Saint Child. It''s Seiki." Thirteen-year-old Seiki knew the ways of the world but hadn''t mastered them. And so, she was fooled. Was the priest a bad person? No, he wasn''t. He was genuinely overjoyed to meet her, sincerely believed she was a blessing, and truly thought her happiness lay within the church. Even if she had refused to go with him, the Holy Kingdom wouldn''t have let her live in peace once they learned of her existence. Eventually, Seiki found herself in a monastery. It wasn''t in a city but perched on the outskirts of a mountain ridge. The priest who guided her there blessed her with tears of gratitude before departing. "Oh Lord, you have shown us your favor. The harvest is yours, and all abundance is your gift." Seiki only half-listened as she entered the monastery. Within two days, she realized she was a prisoner. "Where are you going?" There was always someone stationed at the doors. The so-called priest of abundance monitored her every move under the guise of teaching her the ways of a saint. While she could move freely within the monastery, any attempts to leave were forbidden. She was trapped in both body and spirit. A prison. Seiki had spent three days in a jail cell at the age of twelve for causing a commotion with her blade. Her grandfather had sold a valuable pelt to bail her out. This was no different. But was that really a problem? Yes, it was. Sensing something off about the monastery, Seiki began exploring under various pretexts, taking note of its layout. "What''s that place?" She discovered an underground cavern beneath the monastery with traces of human activity leading inside. She hadn''t gone down¡ªthere was neither the opportunity nor the time. "It''s a chapel for fasting and prayer." They claimed it was for devout meditation without food, but Seiki detected faint traces of food smells, along with breadcrumbs and small animal droppings. What did that imply? ''They''re keeping people down there.'' "What does a saint do?" she asked innocently, feigning ignorance. The answers she received varied in usefulness, but she pieced them together to form a picture. "A saint can create holy water and potions. The divine power of saints and holy men is vastly different from that of ordinary believers. It''s a power to share and give. That''s why you, Saint Seiki, must train further to perfect your abilities." That was what the abbot, Shilma, told her. ''Underground. Food. Captivity.'' Saints could create potions. That meant her current value lay in her potential to produce these items. If she mastered her divine power, what would she be forced to do? Most likely, spend her days churning out potions. Otherwise, there would be no reason to keep her confined. Seiki wanted to experience the church and its ways for her own reasons, not to be trapped. She certainly hadn''t come here to live as a prisoner. But even if she said, "I don''t want to be a saint anymore. Let me leave," they wouldn''t let her go. Seiki had been observing her surroundings from the very beginning. She studied the buildings, memorized their structures, and noted the layout. It wasn''t difficult for her. Since childhood, she had memorized the placement of traps in the forest just by looking at its shape. Failing to do so would have meant death¡ªsomething she had long accepted as natural. Compared to where she grew up, the distinct features of the buildings, the moss-covered shadows, and the ivy-covered walls made them easy to identify. A structural map began to form in her mind. But it wasn''t just the terrain. Seiki included everything¡ªpassing people, weapons, and movement patterns¡ªinto her mental map. She could even track those moving in real-time. It was one of the many skills her grandfather had taught her, a skill that was both her greatest asset and her sole possession. She meticulously organized this knowledge without anyone noticing. After completing the mental three-dimensional map, she arrived at one conclusion: "I can''t escape without help." Seiki''s first escape attempt was also her last¡ªit succeeded. Her breakout began during a theology class when she held a knife to the teacher''s neck. It was a dining knife, but its purpose mattered little when it came to threatening someone''s life. Up until then, she had feigned obedience and pretended to be incapable, so no one could have predicted this moment. The room was small, containing only her and the teacher. Using her understanding of the monastery''s routines and environment, Seiki moved decisively. She utilized everything: the placement of windows, the underground storage inherent to monasteries, paths frequented and avoided by people, areas populated by individuals capable of subduing her with a single punch, and their likely routes. Feigning escape, she scattered traces everywhere, ultimately hiding in the room of a young monk who had taken pity on her. "Thank you." "...Lord, punish and correct the sins of the Order." The young monk acknowledged the absurdity of the situation in his prayer. But there was little he could do beyond helping the pitiable child before him. All Seiki asked was for a place to hide briefly, just enough time to catch her breath. That was enough for her. She even told him that if he couldn''t, he should at least explain why she was being imprisoned for life. There was no reason for her to remain confined. Therefore, the monk could not refute her words. Not a debate, but truth spoken plainly. In the end, he granted her wish. It was the best he could do under the circumstances. Why? Because pointing out such injustice openly would result in his own swift execution by fire. He was a remnant of conscience within a decaying order, and Seiki had recognized his nature. In hunting and chasing monsters, she had learned to utilize everything around her¡ªand she did just that. The monastery resembled a fortress more than a place of worship, and while it housed believers and monks, not all of them were despicable. After hiding in the monk''s room for half a day, when the pursuers realized they had been misled, she donned the young monk''s robes and ventured outside. She fabricated a plausible story about accompanying a priestess who had cared for her¡ªa figure akin to a nursemaid. Two allies. Without them, escaping this fortified monastery would have been impossible. Passing through the colonnaded cloisters, past the statues of seven martyrs and the sculpture of seven grapes symbolizing their god, she left the prison they called a monastery behind. "Thank you," she said. The middle-aged woman who had posed as her nursemaid responded with a smile that softened her eyes¡ªa truly warm expression. "Live as you wish." "Won''t my departure put you in danger?" "A child like you wouldn''t stop for such worries, would you, Seiki?" The woman exuded kindness and compassion. If a divine being or its incarnation existed, it would surely resemble her. Seiki nodded as she recalled the theology she had barely studied. "Sorry, I have my own desires, and I intend to live by them." Stopping here out of pity wasn''t an option. She stepped out of the sanctuary and walked, ran, and hid through the city and beyond. Along the way, she avoided monsters and magical beasts but had to pull off some daring feats when she noticed pursuers tailing her. Once, she even traversed a swamp teeming with dozens of lizardmen unarmed, a route no one would have dared to take. Despite losing her trail, she was forced to enter a city, where she knew her pursuers would eventually follow. It wasn''t a mistake¡ªit was necessary for her to prepare for the next stage of her escape. She sold a silver candlestick stolen from the monastery and bought essential items: a hunting knife, sturdy boots, a cloak, and spare clothes. The moment her pursuers arrived in the city, Seiki disguised herself as a hunter''s child joining a hunting party and left. Walking tirelessly, using every skill her grandfather had taught her, she evaded danger and continued north. She avoided hills, caves, and mountain ridges, keeping her senses alert to any movement. Eventually, she reached Felheim, intending to shake off her remaining pursuers once and for all. "Persistent bastards." In the city, as she was about to leave, their numbers suddenly grew. What felt like fewer than ten earlier had now become dozens. They spread out wide, casting a massive net to capture her. Even knowing she was being chased, Seiki deliberately headed into a dead-end: the forest. It was the best route to escape, even if it seemed like the worst. "Not the end of the world." Though injured, her innate divine qualities allowed her to recover from wounds quickly. She didn''t understand how to wield her holy power consciously, but her body healed unnaturally fast. "Are you a Frog hybrid instead of an Elf hybrid?" "Frogs lay eggs. Did they pull me out of one? Only my grandfather would know." "Your mother is my daughter, you brat." Her grandfather''s exasperated words still echoed in her mind. Since childhood, her rapid recovery had been treated as extraordinary but left unexplained. After half a day of running without pause, she finally reached the mountainous region known as North Felheim. It was part of the distant Gigant Mountain range, a place infamous for its dangers¡ªhome to monsters that could breathe fire. Despite this, Seiki planned to venture further north along the treacherous ridges. That plan crumbled when figures appeared before her. "Saint Child," said a woman with a warm smile standing at the center of the group. "My name is Seiki," she declared, asserting her identity. She was no holy child. She was simply Seiki. The woman, however, was none other than the one who had once congratulated her on becoming the saint of the Order¡ªa title she rejected. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 30 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 25 -s 650-720 + 30 next Chapters that are yet to be released [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - Latest WN-720 + 20 future Chapters that are yet to be released Chapter 572 - The Reason for Running Chapter 572 - 572 - The Reason for Running Chapter 572 - The Reason for Running Five individuals were sent from the Holy Kingdom to track the Saintess. The key figures among them were three: the Paladin Alma, the Priestess Shilma, and the Inquisitor Bert. The actual combat duties were handled by Alma and his two disciples, with Alma''s strength being overwhelmingly powerful. Naturally, the strongest representatives of the church were the Paladins. They were considered to possess the same level of strength as the knights of the continent. That said, the Holy Paladin Order was not weak either. Within their ranks, there were individuals whose abilities rivaled those of knights. Moreover, they had the backing of the Church itself. This alone meant that the Holy Paladins would be well-regarded wherever they went. However, not all Paladins were like that. In the Order of Prosperity, if one did not prove their strength, they were not given a name, merely referred to as someone''s disciple or an apprentice warrior, like Alma''s disciples. The reason they were nameless was because once they pledged themselves to the Church, they were considered like fallen fruit or leaves¡ªthose who abandoned everything in the material world to dedicate themselves entirely to serving the divine. Therefore, gaining a name meant receiving the baptism of Prosperity, a sign that divine power had descended upon them and a testament to their abilities. As such, the Paladin named Alma could stand proudly among those who revered him, wherever he went. And it was Alma who had been sent on this tedious chase. The reason was to prepare for the possibility that force might be required in case of unexpected situations. *** "So, where is the Saintess?" Alma''s brow furrowed deeply. His scowl was a clear sign of his displeasure. In truth, he was very unhappy. He resented the fact that he had to personally involve himself in such trivial matters, and it further irked him that they had to cross the border and come all this way because they couldn''t resolve the issue quickly. "Did you not know that the Saint Child had such abilities?" A priestess, standing about three steps away from Alma and his disciples, also spoke up. Her name was Shilma, the head of the recent monastery. She didn''t particularly like Alma''s impatient temperament, but she was equally in a hurry, so she shared the same feeling now. She was eager to capture the Saintess quickly. The man who would answer the question was Bert. Although he had an ordinary appearance, Alma and Shilma were listening intently to his words. Bert''s combat abilities were not exceptional, but he was a specialist in chasing people. He alternated between looking at Alma and Shilma as he spoke. "Yes, Brother Alma. I believe we will catch her by today. Priestess Shilma, after the incident, we discovered that the Saintess had been raised alongside an independent ranger from a young age." Alma''s brows twitched at that statement. Nothing had been to his liking, and now hearing something he didn''t know about added to his discomfort. His two disciples observed his reaction. They knew well that their master had been unable to satisfy his desires for several days now. If the runaway Saintess were caught, it was unlikely she would return with her limbs intact. They knew their master''s tendencies all too well. His favorite thing was to deal with heretics who resisted. More specifically, he liked beating those who defied him. His hobby involved breaking bones and crushing bodies. Bert quickly added a brief explanation as he noticed Alma''s frown. "They are also called independent rangers..." The term "independent rangers," or self-reliant combatants, was a term used by some who had knowledge of them. Some scholars called them Highlanders, as they believed their lifespan differed from that of ordinary humans, considering them a different kind of being. In fact, most people simply referred to them as Highlanders or Mountain People. The name likely stemmed from their tendency to stay within their territory, rarely leaving. Regardless of their origins, their existence was quite unique. Even in a world full of monsters and beasts, they lived alone or in small groups, rarely more than a few. They did not desire work, nor did they have anything they particularly wished for. What they wanted was simply to continue living on their land. "Are you talking about Highlanders?" Shilma interjected during the explanation. "Yes, that''s correct." Bert responded, rubbing the brooch on his chest. It was adorned with seven grapes, a symbol of the god of prosperity and a tribute to the seven martyrs. Holding it seemed to ease some of his anxiety. If this mission failed, while death might not be an immediate risk, there would certainly be significant losses. "Highlanders have skin as white as snow, and their eyes resemble those of beasts, don''t they?" Shilma recalled reading that Highlanders, having lived in the wild for long periods, had undergone a form of convergent evolution, resulting in features resembling those of beasts. Their eyes were said to pierce through the darkness, seeing even without light. Shilma had been close to the Saintess for several months, and she noted that her eyes were just like any normal human''s. "The Saintess doesn''t seem to be of Highlander blood. It seems another Mountain Person raised her, and trained her as well." Bert''s conclusion was just that. While still a guess, it was likely close to the truth. Highlanders were experts in the mountains and masters of tracking. They were nearly impossible to catch within their own territory and were not the type to be easily pursued. They were skilled in setting traps and creating snares. After gathering information, Bert had shifted his focus on the Saintess''s origins. He, too, was an excellent tracker. Like Enkrid, he could trace the movement of someone not by points, but by the line they moved along. "Is she just running aimlessly?" Highlanders were individuals who laid hundreds of traps in their territory and memorized their locations. To chase someone blindly was foolish. If one only followed the traces left behind, they would surely fail. That''s why Bert had directed his people to push her into a corner, predicting where she would move next. Until now, he had been in the dark about her nature, but now he understood. The Saintess was like a monster from the mountains, capable of remembering the location of every stone after spending just three days in one spot. "What if we still miss her?" The fear of failure added to Bert''s unease. If that happened, there was no choice but to go back to the place where they first discovered the Saintess and search again, but in that case, Bert knew his position would no longer matter. He had to catch her here. "It''s better to finish this here, if possible." He had no desire to enter the mountains where the Highlanders lived. Those who fought with traps, arrows, and poisons would be virtually unstoppable within their own territory. It was said that the famous Glacier Rangers, known as the Guardians of the Glaciers, had learned their techniques from the Highlanders. If Bert went that far, it would mean the end for him. He would have failed the mission, and would have to report the failure to Alma. The thought of that consequence filled him with dread. Therefore, Bert was determined to finish the task here, no matter what. Fortunately, he had the support of cronies and enough strength, as well as information on the Saintess''s movements. With that, he had hired several local hunters familiar with the area to guide them, bringing along Shilma the priestess and Alma the Paladin. After passing through Felheim and setting up camp near the northern woods, Shilma used divine prayers to conceal their presence with a sacred spell. "The Lord watches over us, so please shield us from the sun''s gaze for a moment." The incantation darkened the color of the shadow that had been protecting them. That darkened area was now the zone of the spell. "If we stay within this, they won''t notice us right away," Schilma said. It was an invisible barrier, but it existed. Alma waited with a dissatisfied look on her face. The battle with the monster they had encountered earlier had not satisfied her at all, and her anger was still unresolved. Bert, on the other hand, was contemplating where the Saint might have gone if she had escaped. He would need a self-defense strategy in case the worst came to pass. Time passed, and even while holding in his need to relieve himself, Bert continued to wait. Then, at a distance, he spotted a shadow and let out a sigh of relief. The shadow drew closer, revealing the figure beneath. The shabby cloak reached her calves, and even without seeing her face, Bert knew exactly who it was. It was the Saint. ''Thank goodness.'' Bert felt truly grateful to the Saint for coming. He no longer needed to prepare excuses, and since it wasn''t sunset yet, he assumed they could have dinner inside the castle that evening. The pursuit was the main issue, but once they met, the problem would be solved. "Saint Child," Schilma called, and as she did, the black curtain that had hidden them began to fade and disappear. Alma and the two other disciples, including Bert, now realized what had been in front of them¡ªsomething they had not noticed earlier. It had only been a slight sense of unease until now. The spell had been lifted, and with it, Schilma had recognized their opponent. The Saint responded, and a standoff began. Alma, who had no intention of waiting, swung her battle hammer with a casual grip. As predicted by her disciples, she intended to break the Saint''s legs and take her away. The Saint''s divine power would heal her, right? Alma thought the whole ordeal seemed far too easy for someone who had caused so much trouble, much like a frog. The crime was far too great. Enkrid had simplified the situation in his mind. North, pursuers, Saint. With only these three pieces of information, he quickly formulated his next steps. "Run." He ignored the rolling hills, monsters, and anything else in his way, running in the autumn sunlight. Finding traces would be helpful, but luck wasn''t on his side. As they say, ignorance makes your feet suffer. Enkrid readily accepted that he was ignorant. His heart and organs were burning from the exertion as he ran, and soon, sweat began to drip. Just because he had become a knight didn''t mean he had transcended human limits¡ªhe was still sweating and gasping for breath like everyone else. However, compared to ordinary people, he could run for much longer and breathe far more deeply. Some knights trained in the art of breathing could stay submerged for over an hour. With strong legs and an unwavering stride, Enkrid zigzagged across the terrain. For now, he didn''t need to hold his breath for long. He just focused on running, feeling his speed increase as he exhaled freely. Boom! Each time his feet struck the earth, it shook, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. He didn''t care about the direction. When something was missing, he would simply hit it with his feet. "I''ll be tired out when I need to fight," he muttered. In fact, Enkrid knew a far easier way. If the paladins who had captured the Saint were headed somewhere, it would probably be to a nearby city. After all, they couldn''t go on a long journey without supplies. When that happened, it would be much easier to ambush them. But he didn''t want to do that. His gut told him that it would be wrong. It was like when he had split the monster''s skull and seen the remnants of the battle. "There''s a nasty piece of work involved here." Schinar had said something similar before. Just from looking at the traces of the fight, Enkrid could tell. Someone stubborn and vicious was involved. There were also witnesses. Deutsch had said that someone looked particularly angry, and the others seemed to be wary of that person. The one who was angry and belonged to the order wasn''t likely to just grab the Saint and walk away, he thought. So, he ran, driven by the certainty that if he ran a little further, he could lessen someone else''s suffering. A faint sound from a distance caught his attention. "Here." Schinar pointed with his right index finger, having found the source of the noise and the traces of movement. Beyond a short stretch of faded yellow grass, the towering peaks of the Gigant Mountain range rose in the distance. Above them, clouds lingered, and below, the remnants of the battle were clearly visible. "It''s the mark of divinity," Audin remarked, furrowing his brow. Enkrid wasn''t concerned with Audin''s thoughts. Instead, he pressed forward, acting instinctively as his feet pounded against the ground. Boom! The earth trembled as Enkrid continued to run, pushing past his limits and closing the distance, ignoring everything but the Saint. When he reached the location, he saw the Saint, her right leg broken, wielding a small dagger with determination. In the split second that followed, the dagger missed its mark, and a man stepped back, sneering as he watched her futile attempts. All of this unfolded before Enkrid in a flash. With a thunderous crash, he skidded to a halt, kicking up dust that obscured his vision. Through the dust, his blue eyes locked onto the five figures standing before the Saint. In front of them stood a girl with a grim expression, her broken leg clearly visible, yet she held the dagger in a reverse grip without so much as a scream. Enkrid took it all in. Without hesitation, he moved forward, making a sharp, fluid motion. A man with furrowed brows raised his hammer, and before he could swing, Enkrid grabbed him by the face and with a swift kick, sent him crashing into the ground with a resounding thud. The collision was brutal, the sound of it echoing through the air. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 20 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 25 -s 650-720 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - Latest WN-720 + 20 future Chapters that are yet to be released Chapter 573 - Punishment is Necessary Chapter 573 - 573 - Punishment is Necessary Chapter 573 - Punishment is Necessary Upon being asked, "Who are you?", Enkrid knocked a man out. It was a rather violent gesture for a first greeting. Isn''t it better than just slicing the neck off? Enkrid thought so. As long as the person didn''t die, it was fine. If it was a misunderstanding? Then, it could be resolved with an apology. So, he didn''t kill him. That, in Enkrid''s mind, was a considerate act. But... ''Hmm?'' He was honestly a little surprised. Boom! The man who had his head slammed into the ground swung a hammer as he fell. Didn''t knock him out? Enkrid released his grip on the man''s face and stepped back. He straightened up, his body springing back to an upright posture, and the hammer swung past him. It was the hammer of the man he had just knocked down. "You insane bastard!" The man, who had been knocked down, burst out angrily. He seemed to be in a rage. His face turned red as he huffed through his nose. "Do you know who I am!" He said again. Enkrid wiped the sweat off his forehead and calmly walked towards the child with the broken leg, opening his mouth. "Kidnappers?" Everyone stared blankly at him. They were too stunned to react. Alma, who had been watching Enkrid''s actions, suddenly sprang up. Enkrid observed Alma as he rose, trying to figure out how the man was still fine. A faint glow emanated from his body. That glow had absorbed and neutralized the impact. While will manifests in various forms depending on an individual''s traits, divinity is a singular ability. Divinity was a force that made the body incredibly resilient. Though, even with that, Alma was bleeding from his head. Shilma blinked. She couldn''t believe what she was hearing. Kidnappers? Was it possible to have such a misunderstanding? It certainly wasn''t true. This made no sense. Didn''t that person see the clerical robes? Yet, he called them kidnappers? But if one were to see it that way, there was little argument. If someone insisted on it, there wasn''t much to say. Shilma let out a sigh as she watched the situation unfold. "You." She couldn''t bring herself to say more. The person who had rushed over had effortlessly subdued the paladin Alma, without even using a weapon. Shilma spotted the sword hanging from his waist¡ªthree of them, in fact. Additionally, she noticed several throwing knives on his chest. He clearly wasn''t someone who specialized in unarmed combat. Yet, he had taken down the knight Alma with his bare hands. Shilma wasn''t skilled enough to recognize the abilities of a knight, but her instincts suggested a rough estimate of the man''s strength. ''He''s toying with Alma.'' This man hadn''t recognized the clerical robes? That seemed like a cowardly excuse. But could she call him out on it? What if he simply denied it? If one were to argue that lies lead to divine punishment, only a naive person would believe such words. If divine retribution worked that way, how could corrupt clergy exist? "How dare you!" While Shilma couldn''t speak further, Alma once again exploded in anger. He felt the sticky fluid dripping from his head, and that only fueled his rage. "Are you trying to disrupt the Order''s work!" Alma shouted. "Do you think I''ll believe you just because you pretend to be part of the Order? Damn kidnappers!" The man immediately responded, without taking a breath, and Shilma couldn''t help but admire the way he spoke. He said "damn kidnappers" with such clarity, almost as if declaring, ''I''ve labeled you as kidnappers, so from now on, you are kidnappers.'' What did that tone and those words imply? ''He''s not backing down.'' This was truly unexpected. The problem had always been tracking and finding the Saint, but never did they expect someone to block their way. How dare they obstruct the Order''s actions? Even if the King of Naurilia were here, this would be unthinkable. At least, that was what Shilma believed. Not everyone would think so. If Krang had been present, he would have done as he pleased, no doubt. Alma, though angry, believed he couldn''t kill the man standing in front of them. There was a clear difference in skill. Alma considered his opponent to be at a knight level. Shilma stepped forward. It wasn''t the time to solve things with brute force. "My name is Shilma, a priest representing prosperity and fruits. Do you require proof of my status?" "These bastards are well-prepared. I won''t be deceived." The man with blue eyes glanced at the child''s leg before wiping the sweat from his neck and scratching his nose. His attitude was full of nonchalance. "Dammit!" Alma exploded again, but as expected, didn''t charge. Shilma continued to observe the man in front of her. His words and attitude seemed out of sync, and it was incredibly provoking. Wasn''t he signaling that he wouldn''t listen to anything they said? "Why are you doing this?" Shilma couldn''t understand. Despite being the Saint, this was just a matter of capturing a single child. It seemed strange that both Alma and herself had to intervene directly. If the Saint hadn''t shown any signs of running away, this situation wouldn''t have happened. After all, it was just a child. There was no reason for them to be involved in blocking the way. "Unyielding Knight!" Suddenly, Bert shouted out. He had been deep in thought earlier, and his outburst came as a surprise. He had connections to the information guild that dealt with selling intelligence. ''Black hair? Blue eyes?'' The man caught his superior''s attention. Even other men couldn''t deny his handsomeness. Then, with his insane behavior and ability to defeat the Paladin Alma, a name naturally came to mind. Shilma furrowed her brow at Bert''s shout. She still couldn''t comprehend the situation fully. The Unyielding Knight? I''ve heard of him. In fact, it''s hard to find anyone in the continent who hasn''t heard of Enkrid''s reputation by now. But why is the Unyielding Knight appearing here? ''Did the king send him? Why? Does it mean anything?'' There''s no reason to interfere with the order''s event. None. No matter how I think about it, there''s no reason. So why is she acting so aggressively? Sending someone called the Unyielding Knight as well? "I just happened to come across traces of the kidnappers while passing by, and as a knight of Naurilia, I can''t just ignore it. So, let go of the child and surrender quietly." Enkrid responded flatly. Emphasizing that it was a coincidence really irked me. "Why exactly?" Schilma asked the same question again, and in the meantime, Alma also recalled the other party''s reputation. "Crazy bastard. Truly a madman." Alma thought that the guy wouldn''t be able to kill him. If he had intended to, he would''ve slit his throat when they first crossed hands earlier. So, this person must also be watching the order''s response, which allowed her to act more arrogantly. "Brother!" In the brief exchange, another shout came as a giant-sized man and a fairy smaller than him approached. They were following the reckless Enkrid. Audin approached Enkrid''s side and looked around. Even without anyone explaining, the situation was clear. "They are the kidnappers," Enkrid said. Shinar responded with sharp perception. "Kidnappers disguised as a priest?" "That''s right." "I see. This is unforgivable. Pretending to be God''s child." They conversed like a comedy act. Bert recognized one of them. "Audin Fumrei?" Though not a frequent colleague nor someone he worked with consistently, Bert knew the name and had exchanged words a few times. It was hard to forget, given his distinct appearance and nickname. Wasn''t he the child of the war god''s love for humans? Bert recognized his face. This was a crisis. The enemy thought they were kidnappers, not members of the order, but since Bert recognized Audin, it was a sign that their identities were now going to be revealed by him. Schilma, Alma, their two apprentices, and Bert all looked at Audin. If his next words confirmed it, it would be the end of the matter. So, speak. Everyone looked at him with expectant eyes, and Audin''s lips parted. "...Who are they? This group of kidnappers seems to be scheming. Brother, they need to be punished." Audin turned away from Bert''s gaze, nearly speaking the word "brother" as a habit. Bert, stunned, could only gape, his jaw slack for a moment. Was he pretending not to know? Was he going to pull a fast one with that huge frame? "Hmph." Audin cleared his throat awkwardly, then bent down to check on the fallen child. Seiki, observing everything, still couldn''t understand. Who were they, and why were they protecting her? They couldn''t have been sent by her grandfather. Her grandfather spent most of his life in the mountains and had no friends. Like most Highlanders, he was similar. Would he even step forward knowing the danger? She wasn''t sure. Her grandfather had always said she should take care of herself. Before Seiki, a seemingly threatening figure bent down, casting a massive shadow as he turned his back to the sun. The shadow engulfed her. A person of such size kneeling before her wasn''t threatening at all. In fact, it oddly brought a sense of relief. But did that mean she should trust him right away? No, that wasn''t the case. Seiki raised the dagger she held in reverse, bringing the gleaming blade before her face. Even within the shadowed area, the blade gleamed eerily, as if representing her current predicament. Should I trust you? No, that''s not the case. The dagger spoke. Audin''s eyes narrowed. Truly, nothing could be sadder than this. Why was the order involved in this? Why force sacrifice upon such a child? Is it right to save someone using the creation of the so-called Saint, the Holy Child? Why has the Church become so corrupt? "I''m sorry." Aoudin spoke. Seiki had never seen such a painful expression filled with guilt before. In that moment, Seiki''s talent bloomed, though it was strangely inappropriate for the situation. She was born with divine powers, enough to be called a Saint, but she had no idea how to properly use them. To share her light with others, to show compassion and care¡ªthose were the ways to use her abilities. But Seiki had never learned such things. She had only learned how to survive alone¡ªhow to eat, sleep, and stay alive since childhood. Just like the Highlanders, she had lived that way. And now, for the first time, Seiki felt the emotion of pity. What crime did this man commit? Why did he look at her with that face? The large man looked at her with the same expression. Seiki felt pity and the blooming of her talent, but, as she had been taught, she still held her dagger. "I''ll stab you." Even if the dagger pierced his heart, the man wouldn''t evade it. She didn''t know why; she just knew that it would be so. The two who had helped her in the monastery had reasons for their actions. They were cleaning up the mess they had made. Seiki used their conscience to her advantage. It had been calculated. But not now. Seiki pushed the dagger, piercing his heart, but as the blade sank into his clothing, he only smiled, his face full of sorrow and pain. She felt the blade cut through the leather. He would die like this. Seiki let go of the dagger, which fell to the ground with a soft thud. With empty hands, she gently caressed his face, and the voice of the broken Saint echoed. "Why are you crying so miserably?" At that moment, light radiated from Seiki''s hand, surrounding Audin''s face. The light spread silently, growing like a wildfire in a dry field, then scattered in all directions. The light burst from Seiki''s entire body. What had started as meaningless radiance soon gathered into a single point, forming a pillar that reached the sky. There was more than one pillar. It spread horizontally, forming a ring of light around Seiki. Seiki felt her own leg heal instantly. At the same time, she felt something fill her body and then leave it. A feeling of exhaustion followed, as if her strength had drained. Her vision began to darken. Then, Seiki lost consciousness. The last thing she heard was the voice of Shilma, the monastery''s head priest. "Holy pillar!" Shilma opened his eyes wide. It was the first time in his life as a priest that he had seen a pillar of light of such size and intensity. That pillar was literally formed from pure divinity. Could such power reside in a single person? Yes, she had seen it now. It stretched all the way to the heavens, and not just one but seven pillars of light. "Release the Saint!" Shilma shouted, her eyes glaring. This wasn''t just any Saint. This was a true child of God, one with the power to create holy pillars with their divine gift. She could no longer let her go. Even if she knew it was a foolish act, he believed that her father, the Lord, was speaking through her. She had to do his part now. Shilma knew what he had to do. "Holy Paladin Alma, listen. We must save this child!" Shilma felt the heat rising within her body. She was deeply moved by God''s direct message, and his mission to save the child became a fiery passion within her. ''No matter what it takes!'' Shilma made a firm resolution and felt her blood boil, her head growing hot and his eyes bloodshot. It was fanaticism. Audin was part of the same Church that had turned a blind eye to such actions. They believed their way was the right one, even when they oppressed others in the name of their faith. For them, what they believed was God''s will, no matter the cost. "You must do this?" Aoudin, having quietly laid the fallen child down, stood up and asked. His eyes were filled with sorrow, but Shilma couldn''t see that. "That child is destined to be the Saint," Shilma said, his voice rising in confidence. She believed with all his heart that what he was doing was right. The bloodshot eyes burned fiercely. It was fanaticism. Aoudin turned away from the Church''s misguided path. "It''s not too late. Step back. Will you become an enemy of the Church?" Shilma said again, urging him to back down. In the entire continent, no one could afford to stand against the Church. Its power was vast. And all they had to do was give up one child. It would be nothing. But Enkrid was not that easy. "Why not just kill them all and leave? No one will know." His voice was calm, almost too calm. It was a tempting offer. Even as a disciple of the God of War, Audin would never indiscriminately kill people¡ªespecially not fellow members of the Church. Audin''s ears perked up. Enkrid''s words were like a devils. He was talking about killing them all, but his words sounded so sweet. It felt as though the illusion of Fildin was watching him in disappointment. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 170 Chapters] Latest WN-730 + 20 future Chapters that are yet to be released [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 20 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 25 -s 700-730 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released Chapter 574 - The Prophet Overdier Chapter 574 - 574 - The Prophet Overdier Chapter 574 - The Prophet Overdier Killing them all and leaving? This statement wasn''t impossible in itself. It was simply a reflection of reality. Including Enkrid, with Shinar and Audin, the three of them could easily kill the five in front of them. Even if one of the five was a knight, they didn''t seem threatening at all. Enkrid alone could easily dispatch each of them without missing a beat. At Enkrid''s question, Alma''s eyebrows twitched. Kill them all? Who? Me? Wasn''t I spared because of the Church''s influence? "What?" Alma blurted out in surprise but couldn''t continue speaking. The same applied to Schilma. In her bloodshot eyes, the sense of divine mission burned brightly, but even she was stunned by what was said. She never imagined those words would come out. It was completely unexpected, far beyond his assumptions. To threaten to kill a member of the Church to silence them. Especially when the person standing before them could kill them all in an instant if they decided to. Enkrid didn''t show any sign of intimidation. He simply spoke in a calm and even tone. However, the weight of those words was different. With his reputation as the "Unyielding Knight" and his current demeanor, his words carried more weight. When he spoke, he would deliver on it, and if he couldn''t, he wouldn''t speak at all. The way Enkrid conducted himself overwhelmed the room. Shinar casually placed her right hand on the grip of her sword. If needed, killing a few people wouldn''t be difficult. In the midst of this tense atmosphere, a distant roar¡ªwhether it came from a monster or beast¡ªechoed in the distance. Audin exhaled and shook his head. He hadn''t fallen for the devil''s whisper. Enkrid probably wasn''t serious about his words. It was just a threat. A warning of what they were relying on. Obviously, Schilma, Alma, and the rest of the five trusted the Church. If you considered the influence on the continent, the Church was more powerful than any bank. While banks were only in the major cities, the Church''s temples and monasteries were spread throughout the continent. So, what could the Church do now? That was what Enkrid meant. Audin knew Enkrid was more resourceful than he appeared. In doing so, Schilma, with her bloodshot eyes, and Alma, who relied on his strength, had been silenced. And with this, the atmosphere had almost completely shifted. The first to react was Shinar. She moved her pointed ears. While Audin''s ears had twitched earlier due to his mood, Shinar''s ears moved for real. The tips of her ears twitched and turned in one direction. Enkrid''s head turned toward the direction her ears pointed. A moment later, Audin''s gaze followed as well, and everyone''s attention turned to the path they had come from. Someone was approaching from there. It was still a distance away, but if one could wield Will as a knight, it wasn''t that far. "Plated armor, steady steps, a metal rod at the waist." The pattern of seven grapes embroidered on the clothing was visible. Without anyone saying it, they knew. It must belong to the Temple of the God of Abundance. And the person wasn''t someone easy to deal with either. Unlike the feeling they got from Alma, an unsettling sensation stirred in Enkrid''s mind. The person approaching had a steady pace, neither too fast nor too slow, walking down the small hill the group had passed. After watching them take five steps, Enkrid had a strange vision. That vision of the person suddenly jumping up, grabbing their neck, and slamming them into the ground. Was it just an illusion? Enkrid, in that split second, judged that this was some form of Will. That meant it was a vision of something soon to happen, something his insight had pierced through, and he reacted accordingly. Bang! The sound erupted at the same time. The person in white armor seemed to tear as they zoomed toward Enkrid. The owner of the plated armor reached Enkrid in an instant, their leg whipsawing toward his calf. It was a ruthless dash followed by a low strike. Enkrid observed the entire motion¡ªhis exceptional eyesight picking up every detail of the fast-moving leg. As his thoughts accelerated, he felt time stretch out, as if everything was slowing down. "Fast." Should he evade? No, it was better to endure. In that brief moment, his will supported his movement. Enkrid bent his knees, focused his strength in his ankles, and summoned his Will. His reaction speed had grown significantly compared to before, and with a snap, his leg was struck, but his balance wasn''t greatly disturbed. At the same time, another hand came toward his neck. Enkrid angled his fist and struck out. In the style of Valaf''s martial arts, he used a short, powerful punch, twisting his waist and rear leg to add weight and power. Bang! When the hands collided, the air compressed and exploded with a loud sound. The sharpness of the impact was followed by the sound of retreat. Just after the vision, every action took place in the span of one breath. The opponent was fast and decisive, without hesitation in their movements. "That was impressive. You really know how to block," the opponent said, seemingly in admiration. Enkrid wasn''t one to accept defeat easily, but there was a strange sensation left in his leg, the one that had been kicked earlier. Though his muscles and skin were fine, the tendons and ligaments inside were sore. Even after using the technique called "Iron Plate" to block, it still had an effect. Even a giant wouldn''t cause such a sensation if they kicked with full force. This meant the opponent had used some skill, something Enkrid couldn''t even begin to guess at. The same skill that had created that strange vision. Enkrid''s leg hurt, but he lowered his hand as if nothing had happened. The hand hovered near his sword''s grip, ready to draw it at any moment. Despite learning Valah''s martial arts, Enkrid''s true strength showed when wielding a sword. Shinar, lowering her leaf-shaped sword, asked, "What did you just do?" She too had insight and should have sensed whatever the opponent did beforehand. Her sensitivity should have caught the movements even if they were a bit slower. After all, Shinar was sensitive enough to track assassins or play tag. But she hadn''t felt any signs when the opponent approached, kicked, and struck with their hand. What did this mean? Did it mean the opponent was superior, far above her own skill? "No, that can''t be. But still, I barely sensed it." Then what? The opponent had done something, of course, using Will to pull a trick. That much could be understood from the brief clash just moments ago. The opponent was a knight. And as if to confirm this, Alma, the crusader who had just been struck by Enkrid, shouted. "Lord Overdear!" Is that name unfamiliar? It was to Enkrid. Then, the inquisitor Bert added with a further explanation. "Prophet!" Prophet. That name, Enkrid had heard before. A key figure in the Holy Knight Order. A person who had lived for such an extended period that his age was hard to guess. He appeared to be a middle-aged man at first glance, but in reality, he was said to be a monster who had lived for more than a hundred years. Blessed by the divine, his aging was slow. His nickname was Prophet. A prophet. His prophecy only applied to those who opposed him. He had the ability to engrave the image of his defeat onto his opponent by using Will, more precisely, the divine. It was no different from imposing a forced future on his opponent''s will. Since the future had never strayed from its path, the title "Prophet" had stuck. In his left hand, he held a metal rod, and there was another one at his waist. His eyes drooped in a soft expression, but with silver pupils, his gaze had a mysterious aura. Those mysterious silver eyes opened as he spoke. "I had doubts when the vague vision came to me, but truly, there is no mistake in the will of the Lord." The Prophet Overdear spoke. As he spoke, he took the second metal rod from his waist. With a rod in each hand, these two rods were his engraved weapons. He crossed them in front of him, clearly signaling his intent to fight. "They seek to oppress us and take the Saint away!" Schilma shouted as if she were about to collapse. "Vision?" Enkrid suddenly reacted to Overdear''s words. Overdear did not respond to Schilma''s words and looked directly at Enkrid. Perhaps he found Enkrid more interesting than engaging with Schilma. Or perhaps he simply could not look away. As he spoke, Enkrid''s momentum continued to grow, pushing against Overdear with an increasing pressure of will. Naturally, it wasn''t enough to overpower him, but if he wasn''t bothered by it, that would be a lie. Overdear''s gaze also turned toward Enkrid. "Yes, I received the vision." Overdear replied calmly, his posture unchanged. Enkrid thought of the boatman who had appeared in his dreams recently. "You will face only hardship and trials ahead." "Is there more to say about swordsmanship?" "You will wish for nothing more than to be trapped in today." "How about this? Instead of wave-blocking, how about this?" "You will become an immortal." "When your opponent strikes, receive the blow with your blade and close the distance like this." When the word "immortal" came up, Enkrid, balancing himself on a swaying boat, demonstrated. It was a memory he had recalled while traveling the continent, learning from Krona, and then explaining it to the boatman. Surprisingly, the boatman seemed knowledgeable about swordsmanship. The tips he casually gave often turned out to be surprisingly helpful. "...I will not curse." The last time he met the boatman, he had spoken his mind, but that was true for both of them, so there was no one to blame. Thinking of that boatman, Enkrid now found himself with a strange question. Looking directly into the prophet''s silver eyes, he asked, "By any chance, did the one who gave you that vision happen to be riding on a boat? With gray skin, cracked skin, maybe even holding a purple lamp?" It was a completely random question, almost nonsense. No one could grasp the meaning behind it. Audin or Shinar were just as puzzled. Enkrid didn''t care about that. He didn''t care what they believed. Perhaps it could be said that he had no preconceived notions. He didn''t curse the fanatics, nor did he criticize those who, believing in gods, took bribes and walked the path of corruption. As long as they didn''t cross the line he set, he could tolerate it. He had that mindset. He just had the thought that perhaps there might be other voices slipping into their faith. In reality, he might have been unknowingly denying the existence of the god they believed in. But he hadn''t really thought that deeply. Still, the question remained¡ªif the god they believed in existed and was just, why were certain children trapped in the name of saints, while fallen priests or worshippers were not punished? For that reason, Enkrid didn''t believe in gods. Not believing allowed him to say such things. If Overdear had understood this, perhaps even his century-old composure would have been slightly disturbed. But Enkrid''s thoughts were beyond his reach, and Overdear had learned long ago that it was best not to answer meaningless words. He did just that. "The vision was given only by my Lord." In other words, he wouldn''t listen to Enkrid''s nonsense. Enkrid wasn''t really expecting an answer to his question anyway. He had asked it half in jest. The boatman appeared only in dreams or illusions, so he didn''t press the issue in this conversation. Enkrid had also wondered if the boatman had played a trick on him, but after asking, he realized that probably wasn''t the case. And in truth, none of this mattered that much. The boatman had spoken of hardship and trials, of a life destined to face endless walls. Would he truly become an immortal trapped in a loop, repeating today? Enkrid didn''t truly consider such things. Life, by nature, had its trials and challenges, and when a wall came, one simply overcame it¡ªthat was all. It was the same now. A prophet or a holy knight had appeared. Whether the boatman had summoned him, or if he had truly appeared by divine will, or whether it was just a coincidence¡ªit didn''t matter. All that mattered was that his heart was racing. "Strong." Just one exchange, and I could already sense it. The boldness in the grip and the strength in the physique. It was a fighting style different from Audin''s. The two metal rods in the hands of the so-called prophet caught my attention. Ting. He crossed the rods and tapped them together. Sinar raised her leaf blade at an angle, aiming at the opponent. "Paladin Alma says, that man there is a heretic and a fugitive!" Alma pointed a finger at Audin. Audin casually glanced to the side. Of course, there was no one. He tilted his head and, pointing to his chest, asked in return. "Me?" His tone was as sly as Enkrid''s. After all, he had learned something over the years. It was an acting skill worth admiring. He could easily handle five or more puppets in a puppet show, directing them with great skill. If a true monk had seen him caring for orphans, they would have thought the same. At that moment, Alma, who had made the remark, could only curse inwardly at Audin''s cheeky response. "Of course, it''s you, who else would it be!" Alma couldn''t hold back and shouted in anger. It was a relief he didn''t add any swear words. His insides were boiling, ready to explode like a volcano. His heart was burning as though someone had set a fire in it. The extreme anger had risen. He had been beaten and insulted, losing all his dignity, and after that, he couldn''t even speak back when Enkrid said he would kill everyone. What could he say? He had to shut up. The self-loathing and wounded pride only fueled his fury. Of course, he was also angry that things had turned out this way. And now, hearing what Bert said about Audin being a heretic and fugitive, it only added to his ire. A sinner, wasn''t he? Prophet Overdir''s gaze shifted over to Enkrid, Audin, and the fallen saintess. "Hmm." Overdir only let out a short cough. His face gave no indication of his thoughts. Enkrid, tired of the little skit, subtly moved to a different spot. The sun was just setting, and with a small shift in position, the glow of the sunset from the mountain range hit his eyes at an angle. Perhaps due to the Gigant Mountains, or some other reason, today''s sunset was more purple than orange, a mix of pink and purple hues. Despite the sunlight hitting his eyes, Overdir didn''t move from his position. His gaze simply followed Enkrid. "I won''t kill you. It wouldn''t be right, you''re not entirely at fault." Overdir said. Ah, so that''s how it is. Enkrid responded with a strike instead of words. Kicking off the ground with one foot, he closed the distance in an instant and swung down at Overdir''s head. It was a fast, heavy strike, almost identical to Ragna''s swordsmanship. Clang! A loud sound erupted. The sound came from the collision of the rod and the blade. Sinar didn''t intervene. This was a duel. There was no winning by stabbing someone in the back. That would go against honor and beliefs. One had to keep their word. Enkrid would never tolerate interference. For this reason, Enkrid stepped forward alone, and though he lost, he didn''t die. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 170 Chapters] Latest WN-730 + 20 future Chapters that are yet to be released [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 20 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 25 -s 700-730 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released Chapter 575 - Between an Imperfect Tomorrow and a Perfect Today Chapter 575 - 575 - Between an Imperfect Tomorrow and a Perfect Today Chapter 575 - Between an Imperfect Tomorrow and a Perfect Today Sinar also stepped forward but lost again. Of course, she didn''t fight with his life on the line or in a fierce manner. It was something like, well, there was a very bad compatibility between them, or you could say there was a difference in skill level. Enkrid never believed his abilities were exceptional among knights, but it was truly surprising to encounter someone clearly superior. Moreover, the opponent didn''t even try to kill him, so he had no choice but to admit defeat. Overdier defeated both of them, but no one was severely injured. Afterward, Overdier''s gaze turned to Audin. His eyes resembled those of a fairy¡ªexpressionless and indifferent, like eyes painted in monochrome. "I''ve heard of this heretic Audin," Oberdiar said. As a disciple of the War God, with his divine abilities, his name couldn''t possibly be unknown. Even Oberdiar, who had inherited the name of one of the Seven Martyrs of the Church, knew it. A short silence fell, blending with the sunset, muffling any sound. The distant sounds of beasts also stopped, leaving only the rustle of the wind and the chirping of insects. *** Caw¡ª! For some reason, Rem, Ragna, and Jaxen were all gathered in front of the barracks training ground when crows flew above their heads. Caw! Behind them, magpies followed like a chase. The birds seemed to be having a coordinated training session, causing a ruckus above their heads. "How many times has this been?" Rem muttered, looking at the sky. The twins from the west bent their fingers and replied. "Third time?" "Seems like black birds are more frequent today." Rem mumbled again, feeling an ominous sense. Crows were known for their intelligence, often used for delivering messages. However, training or handling them wasn''t easy, so there weren''t many trained crows. Often, they''d wander off for their own business during training. Given their high intelligence, if there weren''t proper trainers or druids, they''d just eat their food and leave. The crows flying above them didn''t seem like well-trained ones. There was no urgent message to deliver to Border Guard right now. "Tsk." Rem clicked his tongue. There was a superstition in the west that when crows flew at dusk, it was bad luck. He knew the origin of this superstition, so he didn''t really believe it. Long ago, a shaman who scattered curses had used crows to bring a plague over the heads of the western tribes. That was the entire reason. Still, hearing this tale since childhood always made him uneasy. With that unease, he looked at the gathering group and wondered if there was something more to these birds¡ªmaybe they were unaware or pretending not to know. But then again, the chances of that were as low as a lazy, directionless crow going out on its own and returning at the right time. Still, it was a possibility. "You guys know the captain''s weakness, right?" Rem casually asked. Jaxen, who had been carving wood with a knife, glanced at Rem but didn''t respond. It was at least a response in some way; usually, he would have been completely ignored. "Where did you lose your tongue? Hey, little bloodthirsty runt." Rem muttered, tossing a reprimand at the alley cat, then called on someone else. Ragna, unsurprisingly, didn''t respond. He might not have even realized he was being called. The problem was that the way Rem addressed him was wrong, so Ragna''s ears probably filtered out the words automatically. Right now, he was fully immersed in a rare, proper training session. To explain, he had recently been teaching Ropord¡ªor more precisely, beating him up¡ªand in the process, he had come to some new realization, which he was now reflecting on. Huh, huh. Ragna absentmindedly made cuts with his sword up and down. Rem felt a vein pop on his forehead. "That bastard." Should he just chop off an arm or curse him? He seriously considered this for a moment. Jaxen finally spoke up, as if muttering to himself. "He''s lacking in the technique of adding force in a single strike." It was a brief but solid opinion, precise too. However, Rem didn''t like his tone or attitude. "Do you want me to find you a speech teacher? Did you forget how to speak politely?" Just because they had reached knight rank didn''t mean Rem, Jaxen, or Ragna had changed. The same went for Ragna. "It''ll probably take a while," Ragna finally spoke, putting down his sword. He only listened to what was necessary, filtering out what wasn''t. What he said was standard. Didn''t they all know that by now? Enkrid, regardless of the speed or method, always moved toward his goal. It was always that way. Slow or fast, he never stopped walking toward what he wanted. He had awakened his Will, become a knight, and progressed beyond recognition in swordsmanship. It had all grown to the point where watching him was a pleasure in itself. Luagargne, who was with him, didn''t follow this time, saying she''d probably get too distracted by watching and miss her own training. This showed just how much Enkrid''s abilities were improving. Compared to when he first came as a squad leader, it was incomparable. However, that didn''t mean he was satisfied. Why? Because he was wasting potential. The Will inside him was a powerful force, capable of making him forget exhaustion, but even the finest steel would be useless without a proper edge. Without sharpening it into a long form, it would be difficult to wield effectively. For Rem, Jaxen, and Ragna, Enkrid''s weakness was clear. While he had an overwhelming amount of Will, he didn''t have enough force concentrated in one strike. That was something that could only be fixed with experience and technique. Rem knew this already; he just asked to confirm. Thankfully, there was nothing new to learn. "Rather than talking to you guys, I''d rather teach a ghoul to speak," Rem said. Rem muttered a prophecy toward the two and turned away. It was just a chance meeting where words were exchanged. It was something everyone knew but no one directly addressed, and besides, Enkrid would not have failed to notice it. A man who was constantly swinging his sword and revisiting past events wouldn''t have missed it. He would certainly know. *** Audin knelt before the saint, his gaze directed ahead. He had watched the battle between the prophet Overdir and Enkrid, and just before it began, he had predicted its outcome. ''This is bad.'' There was a fact known to him, Rem, Ragna, and Jaxen alike. Enkrid had a well that never ran dry, but the bucket to draw from it was small. The amount of water that could be drawn at once was determined by the size of the bucket, and that was Enkrid''s situation at the moment. Overdier''s staff suddenly emitted light, and Enkrid, constantly parrying it, was pushed back. It was likely a disorienting and awkward experience for him. The monk, called the Unarmed Master, learns a technique called "Divine Penetration" after reaching a certain level. It allows them to bypass an opponent''s armor and strike inside. Holy knights and paladins learn the art of iron armor before becoming knights. Since everyone focuses on mastering and honing this skill, it''s only natural that they would also research how to break it. The unarmed monks were those who studied and perfected this technique. So, it was inevitable that they would eventually find and refine ways to break or ignore iron armor. ''He still hasn''t learned it.'' Audin thought to himself. Divine Penetration caused the limbs to creak and stiffen. While it wasn''t a devastating blow, it was uncomfortable. In a fight between knights, if one''s body becomes unnatural, victory or defeat is quickly decided. If it were Rem or Ragna, they would likely expel their Will or magical power to push back the divine energy. Enkrid did something similar, but the opponent kept repeating the same thing. They made something uncomfortable accumulate on his body, making his movements more difficult. The more they clashed, the more disadvantageous it became. The divine energy would interfere with his physical movements. Still, Enkrid didn''t easily succumb. "It''s amazing." "That''s true." In the midst of this, they spoke and laughed while swinging their swords. The sword was fierce, sturdy, and fast. If he hadn''t attained divine awareness himself, he would have found it hard to match the speed. The precision was such that if he missed a single movement, from the ankle up, he would miss the strike entirely. However, that was where it stopped. The balance between the trained body and the expelled Will didn''t quite match. The strength increased, but the Will was insufficient. It was still quite a lot compared to an average person, but the opponent was too formidable. Overdier was a fully realized martial artist. He wasn''t outmatched in speed, strength, or technique, and his divine energy struck Enkrid repeatedly. He could hold on, but he couldn''t win. That was Audin''s conclusion, and it was the same outcome. It didn''t look like Enkrid was fighting with his last strength. Overdier wasn''t doing so either. Then Shinar stepped in, but she wasn''t at all well-suited for this fight. Her strike could have been deadly to Overdier, but only if she could find a gap. However, creating that gap was difficult. ''Attacks won''t work on someone wrapped in divine energy.'' Her specialty, the energy blade, was in direct opposition to divine armor. If divine energy wrapped around the entire body like an iron armor, it would be as tough as divine armor itself. Most attacks would be ignored. The subtle light around Overdier''s body proved that. Though the energy blade struck, Shinar''s energy blade shattered with a loud crack. The light that enveloped Overdier''s body flickered for a moment, but the blade shattered and disappeared, and the divine energy around Overdir returned. It was a battle of strength, but right now, Overdier''s divine energy was much stronger. It was hard to even compare. Therefore, Shinar had to retreat. Of course, she didn''t use her trump card either. Even if she had, victory couldn''t be easily guaranteed. So, both of them lost. "Did you come to save the saint?" Overdier asked. Before the violet sunset had fully disappeared, a breeze swept through, tousling his hair. The traces of the ground and dust from the surrounding area were evident. Broken stone fragments lay scattered around. While they hadn''t tried to kill each other, a knight''s battle had taken place here. It would have been odd if the surroundings were intact. Those who had been chasing the saint had long since retreated. Among them, Aundin had been watching him closely from earlier. Would Enkrid and Shinar team up to fight now? Or would he be invited to join them? That might give them a chance to win. No, if one of the three sacrificed themselves, they could win. There was a way to ensure victory if they truly wanted to kill the opponent. But would they choose that path? The leader wouldn''t. Would they retreat? No, that wouldn''t happen either. How would it go? Audin, at this point, had already made up his mind. ''If necessary, I''ll take the saint''s place.'' Even if it cost him his life and he was tortured for the rest of his days, he would live like that. It was something only he could do. He would do it. Enkrid wouldn''t retreat, no matter what was said. He was that kind of person. Therefore, Audin would not allow that. "Now, please step back." Overdier spoke again. What was interesting was that Enkrid was not the type to meekly follow such a command after being defeated once. "Once more?" Enkrid said. Whether it was a sparring match or a battle, he wouldn''t back down now. His Will flared, making his blue eyes shine brightly like a raging flame. Overdier, in that moment, felt an instinctive realization. This man would not give up, no matter what was done to him. ''Not easy.'' Naturally, Enkrid knows his own weaknesses. The moment he deployed his wall, there was time. If he had preparation time, Enkrid could draw out his Will far beyond what was necessary. The technique of the wall proves that. However, this time was different. In that brief, fleeting moment of wielding his sword, he had to push that amount of Will into it. Naturally, he was trying again and again, but it wasn''t working. ''Hmm.'' Enkrid quietly gathered his thoughts and adjusted his grip on the sword. Is this a crisis? It seemed so. After repeating today, this might be the greatest crisis yet. If death were to approach, and the opponent showed such resolve, then he could die and repeat. But what if the opponent had no such intention? What then? That was the problem at hand. Overdier, the paladin, didn''t intend to kill him. Thud! He dodged the swing of the sword and was struck by the staff, but it didn''t shatter him. So, Enkrid could only endure. In Enkrid''s mind, there was no thought of joining forces with Shinar or Audin to kill the opponent. Was it because someone''s sacrifice was involved? No, it was because the opponent stepped forward alone and stood proudly, so Enkrid did the same. Therefore, he wouldn''t join forces to kill the opponent, even if it meant his own death. So, what was left? "Stick your head out." The voice of the boatman echoed in his mind. "Go ahead and stick your head out, die, and repeat." The voice of the boatman continued. What he suggested was the easy path. It was the easiest path possible. "Die like that. Then you''ll get today again, and you can start over." Enkrid heard those words as if he was being told to throw away today for tomorrow, to not live the best today but to take the second-best option. The same words he had heard in his dreams for the past few days, and now the hallucinations. If Overdier didn''t intend to kill him, then he should open the door to repeating today by his own action. Then he would have the chance to surpass Overdier. But in return, he would live an immortal today. "Ah, I really don''t want that." Enkrid muttered again as he was struck by the staff on his shoulder and forced back. "What are you talking about?" Overdier asked, but Enkrid shook his head. "Just talking to myself." If someone were to ask why he was choosing the hard path despite knowing the situation, Enkrid would answer like this. If there was an imperfect tomorrow and a perfect today, he would always choose the imperfect tomorrow. "It doesn''t change with stubbornness." The voice of the boatman echoed over him. "There''s no change by being stubborn." Overdior''s voice overlapped. But didn''t he know? In truth, it wasn''t stubbornness, but determination, and it was closer to belief than determination. Of course, Enkrid was just doing things as usual. Without retreating even an inch, he stood there holding his sword. Nothing had changed. He had lost, but he wouldn''t back down. "Why are you doing this?" Overdier asked. Enkrid simply stated the truth. "I heard the church locks up the child and drains the holy power from them." He didn''t mince his words and went straight to the point. Enkrid''s words made Schilma flinch. What was this man saying? That''s when Overdier''s gaze shifted from Audin''s back to the fallen child. ------------------------------------------------------- Some people asked for the discord server. Here it is :) .gg/snCZVX3mr4 ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 170 Chapters] Latest WN-730 + 20 future Chapters that are yet to be released [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 20 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 25 -s 700-730 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released Chapter 576 - You Will Be Chased Forever Chapter 576 - 576 - You Will Be Chased Forever Chapter 576 - You Will Be Chased Forever Audin heard Enkrid''s words as he swung his sword through the air. It was a straightforward jab, at least in terms of swordsmanship. After speaking, Enkrid continued to swing his sword in the air a few more times. Since his body had been moving uncontrollably during the battle earlier, it seemed like he was checking his own condition. It was something Audin had taught him: always make sure your body is functioning properly, no matter the circumstances. Fighting without knowing your physical state was foolish, and maintaining peak condition was essential. Audin had always stressed the importance of eating well, sleeping well, training hard, and understanding the limits of your body. Enkrid had followed those principles up to now. You are my best disciple. Audin muttered to himself as he lifted his head. It was now his turn to speak. He would confess that he would return to the church to face punishment and offer his life in exchange. He would urge Enkrid to stop fighting. He would ask Overdier to spare the saintess, saying that he would take the blame for everything. I will offer my remaining life. Audin whispered this as he raised his head. Before him stood the holy knight, emanating holy light. This was the man who stood where Audin had once hoped to be. Audin could tell from the pure white light that this was not the light of a fallen one. A fallen priest''s holy light would have been dimmed, a sign of their corruption. That''s why many priests who lost their true connection to the divine could no longer use real holy magic. The holy man in front of him had pure light, untouched by corruption. This was the true saint. The one who wandered the continent, a saint who bore their title despite being shunned by the church. Audin had once wished to meet such a person, a man whom he had personally known. A man who had lived hiding his identity from the church, a master of deception. But it was just a passing thought. It was a fleeting reflection as Audin weighed his options. Meanwhile, Overdier asked. "Who says that?" "Apparently, they pretend not to know," Enkrid answered nonchalantly, stopping his swordplay and now twisting his ankle as he lifted his leg. He still didn''t seem ready to give up. His stance alone made that clear. "Can you prove that?" Overdier asked in a restrained, respectful tone, though his words sounded somewhat stiff. It seemed he had intentionally fixed his tone. "Hm, maybe?" Enkrid tilted his head, not fully committed to the answer. "Are you insulting the church based on assumptions?" Overdier continued in his somewhat disjointed manner. Pausing, he raised his finger and pointed it at Audin, asking, "Tell me, holy knight Alma, is this man a heretic?" Alma hesitated before nudging Bert, the inquisitor, to speak for her. "Prophet Overdiar, this man is Audin Fumrei. He is known to have killed my father and abandoned his duties as an inquisitor. Despite his early recognition for his exceptional talent, he even betrayed the priest who raised him." "And why was he never caught before?" "Recently, his whereabouts were discovered. He was seen in the capital of the Naurilia Kingdom, and there was a priest there who knew the face of this heretic." Bert spoke desperately, piecing together the words. Despite the image of an inquisitor chasing and killing heretics, their main duty was to create logical justifications. No matter how powerful the church, they couldn''t simply ignore the opinions of the public when accusing someone of heresy. Only after public validation could they execute or imprison them, though this didn''t apply to the powerless. A twisted priest, recognizing Audin''s talents, had pushed him into this position¡ªa place where they could oppress and kill the powerless. Indeed, Audin''s defection from the church was due to the unbearable situation. He could not withstand it any longer, especially after having killed a bishop''s child. The hatred of the archbishop played a significant role in that decision. But that was the truth that no one here could dispute. "Is that so?" Overdier spoke simply, and then returned to his staff. Enkrid raised his sword in response. Their fight was far from over. With a flash, Overdier''s staff shot forward, cutting through the violet twilight, while a green blade, the sword, rushed to meet it. Boom, boom, boom! It was a battle between two knights. The shockwave from the clash of staff and sword rattled the air. Unseen waves of force spread, pushing away both wind and light. Sparks and blood flew between them. Sizzling. Enkrid, who had sensed the impact through his sight and intuition, felt his arm move too slowly. His muscles, ligaments, and tendons seemed to creak, but he couldn''t retreat just because of a small injury to his earlobe. He ignored the pain and regripped his sword, adjusting his stance. If his movements were slow due to physical limitations, then minimizing his movements was the solution. He adopted a more compact form, minimizing the range of motion. He applied everything he had learned from his various experiences¡ªAker''s web, Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, Audin¡ªand streamlined his movements, simplifying them. He also invoked the "Will of Rejection" repeatedly to push the divine power out of his body, though it took time for the effect to manifest. Meanwhile, Overdier''s staff relentlessly attacked, stabbing, swinging, and thrusting. As this continued, Enkrid began to see numerous illusions. The impending visions. It was Overdiar''s specialty: using divine power to implant illusions into his opponent''s mind. He focused his will on creating images that only one person could perceive. What made this technique terrifying was that the opponent''s own insight would help support Overdier''s ability. Enkrid, with his sharp sight, was particularly vulnerable to this. In the midst of their dance, Enkrid saw a future where he would be struck in the thigh by Overdiar''s staff, and that future soon became a reality. Boom! Thwack! As Enkrid''s sword was deflected, Overdier kicked him in the thigh. The strike wasn''t heavy, but it was fast, and Enkrid couldn''t avoid it. This kind of repetition could easily lead to despair. It would seem as though the entire battle was being manipulated by Overdier''s will, and that was exactly why he was known as a prophet. But Enkrid didn''t give in. If he had been the type to surrender or despair, he would have long since resigned himself to the immortal, stagnant existence where time had no meaning. He wasn''t that kind of person. He simply needed a bit more time. "Hm." The pain shot through the area he was struck. Though no weight was applied, there was enough force for the divine power to penetrate. Even so, Enkrid didn''t back down. "Ha!" Instead, he let out a battle cry and struck down with his sword, condensing his Will into the blow. Twisting his ankle, he added speed to the strike. The blade accelerated more as it curved downward, reaching an even greater velocity midway. It was double acceleration. Enkrid had mimicked one of Ragna''s specialties. Clang! Crack! Overdier received the blow with force. A crack appeared in the middle of his Valerisian steel sword, but it wasn''t broken yet. The sword he held had been worked on by Eitri once before. Though it wasn''t a magical weapon, its resolve was evident. It wasn''t a weapon that could easily snap. Enkrid thought the same, so naturally, the same resolve filled him. He swung the sword once again. Overdier knew his opponent would not easily retreat. This left him with no options. He had said he wouldn''t kill, and he would keep that promise. A knight''s word held that kind of weight. Instead, he felt the need to break a limb or two. "I''ll see how long you can last." "There''s no need to last." Overdier spoke, his voice layered with that of the seer. Enkrid knew. There was no need to endure. But without doing what was needed, nothing would be accomplished. To achieve what he wanted, to fulfill that one desire. Enkrid decided to engage in a meaningless struggle. He had wandered the continent, seen and met many people, and experienced much, which led to this realization. "A knight alone accomplishes nothing." A knight could not be the end. And so, he chose not to make that the end. To him, becoming a knight was just the beginning. "A knight? That''s truly ridiculous." Among those who mocked him, he couldn''t even speak of it as the beginning. Yet, he had eventually reached the top of what they had mocked¡ªthe knight''s position. So, he would live as he believed. "Foolish." Overdier''s staff struck his shoulder amid the seer''s echo. Enkrid twisted his body in the way Audin had taught him to avoid a blow. Engaging his abdominal muscles, he twisted his waist, adjusting the angle of his shoulder. The point was deflected and scattered. Thud! A sound indicating something wrong with his bone echoed, but it didn''t seem to be broken. Enkrid swung his sword, enduring the heat rising as the pain was momentarily forgotten. He repeated this action. Overdir''s staff continued to strike his body. Enkrid endured with only his Valerisian steel sword, and then, in a single moment, he twisted his body and pulled out a hidden thrust with his left hand. "Nice!" Shinar shouted as he observed Enkrid''s movement. However, before the words ended, Overdier blocked the thrust with his staff. The sparks flew as the flame-like strike passed over the angled staff. The two weapons collided, sending sparks flying into the air with a ringing sound, only for them to resume the clash. The blade brushed against Overdir''s cheek and arm, blood splattering. It was a sign that Enkrid''s strike had cut through the divine armor. This was also because Overdir''s defenses had weakened. Overdier, gritting his teeth, gazed at the opponent before him, who now had blue flames rising from his eyes. He had no idea what his opponent was thinking. He only thought that he couldn''t ignore the opponent before him. Thus, the divine power imbued into his staff thickened. As their strength collided, it was as though a storm was raging around them. Amid the crossfire of weapons, Audin''s heart seemed to shatter. "Why is he enduring? For what reason?" Why? For what? Audin felt pain, as if his father himself were chastising him. No, if he were to receive punishment directly, he would endure it. But this was different. Watching it unfold with open eyes was too much. His head was spinning, and his insides felt like they were being shaken. And yet, he couldn''t stop watching. What was it that kept the man from retreating? The question rose within him, and in that moment, Audin realized the answer. That was why he had decided to act. So why, now, was he hesitating to intervene, standing by and watching the fight? "Enough." Audin muttered, but neither of them heard. Or perhaps they didn''t want to. In the meantime, Enkrid, who had been rolling back, had now risen. He had used the momentum to stabilize himself. His forehead was bleeding, but the sword he held had somehow not broken. Overdir spoke again. "I told you, I won''t kill you. But I''ll take a limb, at least." The subtle awkwardness in the seer''s voice no longer bothered Enkrid, who had no strength to care about such things. He could feel Audin''s insight¡ªhe knew Enkrid would lose, but not die. He would lose a limb or a leg. "Shinar, over there." In the meantime, Enkrid spoke. Had he noticed the approaching danger? Behind Audin, a man with a hammer, his eyes gleaming with malice, was creeping closer. The murderous intent radiating from his gaze reached Audin. It was the look of a fallen man. Shinar stood in front, readying his leaf-blade sword, preparing to strike if the man advanced. Audin''s face twisted for the first time since he had met Enkrid in the barracks. Even when he had nearly decided to leave the Order, he hadn''t shown such an expression. But now, he couldn''t hide his feelings. "Don''t do anything. Let him be. Let him die, just like you did to me." The illusion of Fildin spoke. Audin, with blurry eyes, continued to watch the fight. And Enkrid continued to take hits. Crack, thud, bang! Sometimes he blocked. Then, he was hit again. Throughout the entire process, Enkrid never once took a step back. Why? Why was he doing this? If he retreated, Overdier would stop chasing him. "Enough, you can leave me and go, Captain." Audin spoke, but no one heard him. No, it seemed Enkrid did hear. He wiped the blood from his eyes. Overdiar paused, likely taking a breath, and stopped swinging his staff. A hint of fatigue showed on his face as well. Enkrid spoke softly, yet loud enough for everyone to hear. "I do not agree with a future created by others, and if I know something that has been forced upon someone is wrong, I will not ignore it simply because I lack the power to resist it." By speaking his conviction as a knight, he knew that failing to uphold it would damage his Will. Now, Enkrid declared not only through his actions but with his words: There would be no retreat. ''Ah.'' Audin fully understood the meaning of Enkrid''s words. Overdier speaks through force. He says not to interfere with the Order''s matters. And not to dare interfere again. And Enkrid would never tolerate that. After the sword and actions, Enkrid''s words pierced Audin''s heart. It was reckless, but that will shone like the sun. To Audin, it seemed as if divine light was shining upon him from the violet sunset. It was an illusion visible only to him. "Stop." Fildin spoke. The face of the vision became clearer than ever. The lord of his nightmares spoke more clearly than ever before. Audin briefly turned away from the pitiful child he could not save and looked at the back of one person. It was the back of someone who lived entirely by their own will. At that moment, Audin felt as though his life was a continuous cycle of salvation and punishment, life and death. He died, then came back to life. He came back to life, then died again. It felt like he was repeating today over and over. If Overdier was punishment, then Enkrid was salvation. Audin''s hands trembled. Then the shaking stopped. What Enkrid was doing now was stopping the Order''s activities. It wouldn''t make sense to kill them to silence them, so it would lead to a complete war with the Order. Not yielding to Overdier''s will meant this. Audin looked at the blood-stained floor and spoke in a deep, heavy voice. "You will be chased for the rest of your life." Becoming an enemy of the Order meant this. Then Enkrid responded with a sound that seemed indifferent. The thud, the thump, was his answer. So what? It seemed to say. ------------------------------------------------------- Some people asked for the discord server. Here it is :) .gg/snCZVX3mr4 ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 170 Chapters] Latest WN-730 + 20 future Chapters that are yet to be released [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 20 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 25 -s 700-730 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released Chapter 577 - The Light of Will Chapter 577 - 577 - The Light of Will Chapter 577 - The Light of Will "Even if it''s not a big deal, you could still die." Audin said, lifting his head while kneeling on one knee. A little later, Enkrid responded. Bang! The sound of the sword and staff meeting echoed. "Who?" Enkrid didn''t speak the words, but Audin knew that this was what he would say. "A knight is not an immortal being." Audin''s mouth moved again, words spilling out in disbelief. It was a message: even as a knight, one couldn''t bear the power of the Order. "I don''t expect to." The answer came indifferently. "In the end, you will not achieve your desires." It was too difficult to pursue a dream while being chased by the Order. There was no reason to walk that path. If he abandoned himself, that would be enough. If he only gave up on himself, that would be enough. But Enkrid would not do that. Even knowing that. Audin''s conviction was slow to form. He had to face his past, his mistakes, and abandon the guilt he had accepted. Yet, he still opened his mouth, asking questions endlessly. This was the final question. "Are you still going to stand with us?" It was a difficult and arduous path. Audin thought of it not as a dream, but as his responsibility and duty. However, he had turned away from it because he believed it was impossible to achieve. And Enkrid had scolded him for that. "Is there anything in this world that can''t be done?" There was nothing that couldn''t be done. The one who proved himself said those words. Boom! An enormous sound rang out. The Valerian Steel Sword broke, and Enkrid''s body was sent flying, twisted at an unnatural angle. Audin instinctively caught him. The body landed with a thud in his arms. Audin didn''t waver in the slightest. His hands didn''t tremble, his posture remained straight, and his gaze was clearer than ever. Even sitting, his presence felt immense. "You will have to give up on your dream." Audin spoke as he held Enkrid in his arms. "Why should I?" The response came in a real, not illusory voice. Enkrid had been listening to Audin muttering to himself. Audin smiled. That was right. His captain would say that. Audin''s mindset shifted from before. One man''s will shone so brightly that it became hard to ignore. And more than that, it was a path Audin also believed was right and desired. "Walk the difficult path. Pass through the narrow gate. Walk the narrow road, where your will resides." With those words, Audin rose. Behind him stood his captain, whose arm had been broken, a man who had once abandoned everything, including his life, and had shown him a new way to see the world. And behind them was the child who would likely face the same fate as Fildin. Audin had made up his mind to protect both of them. Even if this was where his journey ended. Even if he could never escape his past sins. Even if this was not what his Father desired. ''Right now, I just wish for this. My Father, please.'' The Golden Seal couldn''t be forcibly undone. If he tried to break it all at once, there would be a backlash. That backlash could lead to his death. So, what would he do? Audin pondered the words his captain had said. The chains in his mind shattered and broke apart. The Golden Seal had been placed by him in the first place, so no one else''s permission was needed. Audin briefly lifted his head, which had been bowed in prayer. His eyes had become white. A light, far brighter than Overdier''s silver eyes, began to spread from within him, enveloping his entire body. It was divine light. And once again, he showed the miracle that Saint Seiki had shown him earlier. Whooooosh! The light rose into the air, forming a pillar around Audin. It was much thicker than the one Seiki had shown, piercing the sky. The light illuminated all around. The God of War once said "With my light, I will support your will." Even if those words hadn''t been spoken exactly like that, Audin now chose to believe it. That was faith. The light embraced Audin. Audin embraced the light. Born and raised in the Holy Kingdom, possessing a talent no one had ever dared to covet, he now released the divine power he had cultivated. Blood mingled with the light as it flowed down his cheeks. The backlash from breaking the Golden Seal didn''t matter. ''So what?'' To achieve what he desired, he was willing to risk his life. This wasn''t about saving the continent. It was simply about saving the girl known as the Saint and carrying on his captain''s will. That was what Audin wanted now. Even if others didn''t think it was that significant, it didn''t matter. If you believe in something, why listen to others and ultimately fall to the whispers of demons? If you prove your faith and move forward based on it, the words of demons will be nothing more than noise. As the Golden Seal unraveled, the words of the Temple constantly echoed in Audin''s mind. In the light, he opened his mouth. This time, it wasn''t the Temple''s teachings that he spoke, but something he had learned under his captain. "Return to the order, or die." Audin smiled and raised both fists. The surging divine light briefly enveloped Enkrid''s arm and chest. It wouldn''t heal the wounds instantly, but it would help them recover to some degree. The divine light, which had been dormant for years, erupted with explosive force. The light that had formed a pillar now descended and enveloped Audin''s entire body. Instead of dissipating, it surrounded him in thick layers and stayed in place. "Divine Armor?" Overdier spoke, his mouth opening in surprise. Indeed, he was right. Using divine power, one could create an invisible armor. When the divine light coated the body, it became an armor. And with the ultimate technique, one could envelop the body with an even thicker layer of light. That was the technique known as Divine Armor. To achieve this, one had to train the body to an almost ignorant level, making it a rare technique that only a few could accomplish. The density of the muscles changed, and the skin''s strength, having been trained into a true metal-like quality, had to be honed before attempting this technique. Along with training the body, one had to handle the divinity within themselves like their own body. It was a skill that involved bursting the divinity and then receiving it back into the body. As the muscles and skin harmonized, a faint white light lingered over the entire body. The massive figure''s body was cloaked in this light, as if it were armor. "I couldn''t achieve this even after a century of training?" Overdier spoke. "It''s the difference in talent. How about starting with a single blow?" Audin said, dismissively mentioning the prophet''s talent as if it meant little. Even though he had been watching Enkrid, he might have felt a little frustration at seeing someone else take a beating. And in truth, Audin wasn''t one to live so comfortably. He was the type to hit back, not to offer the other cheek when struck. With a swoosh, light left behind a mere afterimage. The giant, often called the bear-man, moved, extending a fist. Overdier countered with a staff. Boom! The fist and the staff collided, and the divinity clashed, scattering light in all directions. Enkrid, still on the ground, struggled to open his eyes. Shilma and the others instinctively squeezed their eyes shut. The tremendous noise sent light spiraling upward and scattering in all directions, briefly turning the surroundings as bright as midday. The purple twilight vanished without a trace. It was a true divine mystery, with light raining down like tears, as if the heavens wept. Audin, like a candle with only a stub left, poured out everything he had. He overwhelmed Overdier, using his bare hands to strike the opponent''s engraved weapons, the two metal staffs, away. "Just one hit." Audin pushed his divinity out with a punch. A heavy blow struck Overdier''s shoulder. Crash! The divine armor shattered with a loud noise, and the light trembling over Overdier''s entire body flickered. "If something doesn''t break, then it means my power is insufficient. If I can break it head-on, then penetration useless!" Audin''s cry echoed. Enkrid, having endured such a blow, surely understood the technique the opponent was using. Audin wanted to make it clear that he didn''t need to learn this technique. Instead, it was enough to use his Will to break through. That was the proper approach. Penetration was a good technique, but unnecessary in this case. He''d leave it as a final lesson. With an overflowing Will, one could fight accordingly. The two continued to clash. "Excellent!" Overdier shouted in the midst of their battle. The reason he hadn''t faltered until now was the superiority of his weapons. His two staffs, filled with his divinity, didn''t easily give way even to Audin''s blows. The light exploded, scattering like rain, creating a spectacle. Those who watched might feel a sense of divine presence emanating from the precious divine light as it spread across the battlefield. Of course, it wasn''t the kind of light meant for healing or comfort¡ªit was the light full of intent to harm the opponent. "Lord Father, I come here in your name," Audin chanted, his voice turning into a song. As his chant continued, divine light surged from his body. Overdier, too, tried to squeeze out his own power. Audin condensed the divine light. Blood poured from his eyes, nose, and ears. He had reached his limit. At just that moment, something unexpected happened. From behind, Shilma began chanting a divine spell through prayer. Whoooom! The sound came first, and then, in front of the priest Shilma, a cluster of light turned into a bolt that shot toward its target. This light was a dull, murky hue, quite different from the shining divine light seen from the two knights. It was a light bolt made of impure light. The bolt was aimed not at Enkrid or Audin, but at the saintess herself. No one had expected this. The bolt of divine light, composed of the pure power of divinity, was as powerful as a boulder. If it hit the young girl, it would shatter her body to pieces. Eight glowing bolts sped toward her. Shinar was the first to react, splitting his blade and unleashing a sword of energy that cleaved five of the bolts. Enkrid, still lying on the ground, threw spark and the short sword. His two thrown weapons broke two more of the bolts. Crack! The murky gray divine light shattered in the air, scattering. At that moment, Enkrid realized the danger he was in. He had hoped to pierce through the side bolts as well with his short swords, but failed. One bolt remained. That last bolt was blocked by someone''s back. It wasn''t Audin. He had just unleashed his divine light upward, moments away from firing it off into the air. He couldn''t move, even if only for a moment. Audin directed his divine light upward, and it shot like a meteor, breaking through the sky. The light soared high above, shining with the intensity of a new star. The final divine bolt was blocked by a figure who turned around. The strike itself shouldn''t have hurt them, but due to the beating he had already received from Audin, blood trickled from his mouth. His innards had been damaged. It wasn''t a mortal wound, but it was severe. "Priest Shilma, what is this?" Overdier asked, looking at Shilma. "Why did you stop that?" Shilma exclaimed angrily. Her eyes narrowed. This was a situation where the thief was accusing the saint, so to speak. The one who had done wrong was now blaming the one who had done no wrong. It was all a result of her blind actions, walking down a wrong path. "Priest Shilma?" Alma called to her. "Paladin Alma, they''re exhausted. This is the chance." Shilma''s eyes were clouded. She didn''t fully grasp the situation. No one here would retreat, especially not Overdier. "This is a mess." OverdIer muttered, his eyes scanning the room. No one dared speak. Audin dropped to his knees, his light flickering as something was clearly wrong. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 170 Chapters] Latest WN-730 + 20 future Chapters that are yet to be released [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 20 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 25 -s 700-730 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released Discord server - .gg/snCZVX3mr4 Chapter 578 - Four Hundred Forty-Eight Chapter 578 - 578 - Four Hundred Forty-Eight Chapter 578 - Four Hundred Forty-Eight Enkrid approached Audin''s side. Blood was flowing from his eyes, nose, and ears. Enkrid exploded with holy light as he remembered the dead Audin. He recalled Audin appearing from behind when they faced the Duke. He remembered Audin teaching him the technique of Isolation. He recalled Audin praying towards him. Enkrid thought back to the past Audin had told him. "You''re tormented by guilt?" Can it truly be blamed on that large and pure person? Really? Audin trembled again, and blood flowed from his mouth. He was dying. It was obvious to anyone who saw it. "Tell me what you want. I''ll do it for you." He was once his teacher. Enkrid wanted to fulfill Audin''s wishes. Audin smiled and looked at him, even laughing despite the blood flowing from him. "Do you want to change everything? Do you want to cut away the rotten parts?" Do you want the church to go on the right path? I will make it happen. For the Audin I remember, yes, Enkrid could dance the dance of death if needed. Just as Audin didn''t let his own death slide away while bursting with light, Enkrid could do the same for him. "Then say it." Audin still had a smiling face. His lips, still smiling, parted. "Punish those who possess false divinity. Whether they''re paladins, templars, or priests, if they walk the wrong path, punish them. Don''t let them use the word ''heresy'' to threaten people. Let the hearts of true believers find peace. Make the church a place to help the poor and the needy." This was likely what Audin truly desired. He paused for a moment, then continued. "Forget everything I''ve said until now. And, as the Captain brother wishes, fulfill your dream. That is what I truly want." Audin did not try to pass on his duties and responsibilities. With that, he closed his eyes. And then... Flash. He opened his eyes again. He seemed reluctant to leave. "Ah, tell the barbarian brother and the other brothers that, when I meet them in the sky, I''ll give them special training." If this were his last words, they would be quite amusing. "I''ll deliver it." "Tell Sister Teresa to keep going as she believes." "I''ll do so." "When Sister Dunbakel returns, don''t scold her too much for not cleaning. Honestly, doesn''t she smell fine?" "She does smell a bit." "Don''t let the Shephard brother use his talents to scold others. That wouldn''t be good for him either." Just from hearing these words, one could tell how much Audin cared for those around him. Enkrid quietly waited for the death of his teacher, his comrade, and the central figure of his order. The fight that would honor him would likely be rough. He would fulfill his wishes, even if it meant burning the entire church down. That was also how Enkrid would fulfill his own dream. When Audin died, he would publicly declare it right here, and would later show it in his actions. So, he waited. "The weather''s nice." "Because it''s autumn." "When winter comes, please steal Brother Rem''s heated leather and hide it for fun." "That''s too much of a joke." Rem hates the cold with a passion. If they suggested climbing a mountain in the winter, he''d probably swing an axe at them. "Brother Ragna will find the right path." "Just hope for what is possible." Audin was kneeling. He knelt on both knees and clasped his hands together. Was this really the end? He began a prayer, whispering it silently in his heart. Perhaps it was a prayer asking for the Father above to meet him. After a short prayer, Audin spoke. "It hurts." "It would." Enkrid stayed by his side until the end. Huff. Audin exhaled. Enkrid blinked a few times. But he felt like Audin was saying too much for someone about to die. Was that a blasphemous thought? Was it wrong to think this about someone who had been his teacher and comrade? It still seemed excessive. In the meantime, Shinar also approached and spoke. "Isn''t he too fine?" Everyone was just staring blankly. The scene of Audin dying and Enkrid watching over him was so tragic. Enkrid was almost radiating a presence that warned others not to interfere. Even Shilma, who was half-mad, dared not speak any further. But then... "Mm." Audin raised his hand and wiped his eyes. Though blood tears had flowed, they had stopped now. His body ached all over, but it didn''t seem like he was about to die. His hand''s trembling had stopped. Most importantly, after the burst of holy light, he had felt weak all over, but now, a little strength had returned to his body. He couldn''t burst with light like before, but he didn''t feel like he was dying either. He clenched and relaxed his hand a few times. He could clearly tell that the regenerative powers were working, and his body was starting to heal. It wasn''t like his limbs were growing like a Frog''s, but the injuries he had should heal. "Mm." Audin let out a small groan again. Why was he alive? There must be a reason. When he lifted the taboo, he had been prepared to die. The taboo he had set was something he had created himself, but since it had been in place for so long, if he truly intended to lift it, he would have had to peel it away carefully, layer by layer, like removing a thin cloth. If he had torn it off violently, it would have had an impact on what was contained within. Even if he hadn''t died from the backlash, at least half of his body''s functions should have been damaged. "Huff." Audin inhaled deeply and exhaled. Though a little uncomfortable, his breathing seemed fine, meaning his lungs were intact. His stomach ached a little, but he didn''t feel like he was going to lose control of his bowels. So, everything was fine. Was there anything different from before? Audin naturally felt around his waist, and there was a reason for that. ''Fake holy relic.'' It was something Enkrid had brought from the west. Audin had put in great effort to remove the curse tied to it. There was only one method... I transferred part of the curse onto my own body and burned it away. I had to endure the pain of having my body seared with a branding iron during this process, but since I wasn''t in a position to send it to the Church, I endured it, considering it as penance. In the process of removing the curse from the fake holy relic, a portion of my own divine power naturally attached itself to the relic. When I released the divine power earlier, the burden was partially absorbed by this relic. It wasn''t a huge impact, just a small one, but it was enough. My sturdy body was more than capable of handling the rest of the burden. ''Is this really happening?'' Was it by coincidence or fate? "As you give, so shall it return to you. Fortune returns from what you''ve sown," the goddess of fortune would say. I felt a deep sense of embarrassment. I had thought I would die, but I was fine. I felt Enkrid''s blue eyes shift from the relic to my face. "Hmmm." I cleared my throat awkwardly. The gaze remained fixed on me. It seemed I had to speak properly. "It seems the lord wants me take care of the Church matters myself." Enkrid continued to stare at me. "There''s no need to delay the training with Brother Rem and everyone." "Ah, so you survived?" Enkrid spoke flatly, and I smiled awkwardly. I had to laugh since I felt embarrassed. Enkrid stared at me for a moment before nodding. Honestly, Enkrid was just relieved he was alive. It was absurd, but it made Enkrid genuinely happy to be able to say so. "Just don''t go killing everyone in the Church." Considering the divine light I had just shown, even a slight touch would probably cause any priest to explode. "I won''t do that." "Alma, Brother!" At that moment, Shilma shouted, and the stalled clockwork of the scene began moving again. Alma glanced around before lifting his hammer high as if making a decision. "Everything is for the glory of the Church." He had given rings to his two disciples, which they wore. These rings were the opposite of divine relics. They were made and forged by demons. Was there any reason to secretly take items from the demonic realm and give them to his disciples? There was. The rings his disciples wore quickly absorbed their life force, transferring that energy to other rings. Through this, Alma could briefly surpass his limits. There had been a time when his disciples went missing; that too had been for the same reason¡ªborrowing power. Why? It wasn''t because Alma was frustrated by his own limitations, but because he had always chosen the easy way out. He lived by the opposite of "choose the difficult path." And because of this, his divine power had already lost its radiance. Despite being a knight-level paladin, he was still involved in such underhanded tactics. "Wha¡ª?" "Eh?" His disciples screamed, their voices filled with terrible pain as they screamed out loud. Enkrid turned his gaze from Audin to Alma. Clearly, the mark of demonic power was evident. This wasn''t the first time I had seen such a thing. It was nothing to be surprised by. I had already witnessed something similar with Count Molsan. And so, I briefly wondered to myself if playing with demons had become a trend nowadays. It was a trivial thought, but I couldn''t help it. Compared to the demon powers I had encountered before, this one seemed weak. Alma''s disciples, at squire-knight levels, shriveled up and turned into dry twigs, their light fading as they crumpled to the floor. Their final screams were their last words as they fell. Alma, leaving his fallen disciples behind, opened his mouth. He didn''t even look at them. It was clear he was thinking only of himself. "Can you still draw the strength of the knights when you''re exhausted?" The light he emitted was murky, filled with dark specks floating in it. It was the price of a soul bound to a demon. Despite my exhaustion and injuries, I knew I wouldn''t lose to someone like Alma. Most importantly, Shinar was still fine. The only potential threat could be Overdier. "What a tragic sight." He shook his head as he muttered. But that wasn''t all. "Move aside." He added another command. I thought he was telling Alma to move, but it wasn''t. Bert, the Inquisitor, reacted to those words, moving aside as though fleeing. Shilma, who already knew Alma''s secret, wasn''t surprised. She believed that as long as the demonic power was used for the right purpose, it was the correct path. "You fools." Overdier''s tone had changed significantly. Gone was his polite manner, replaced by a more casual one as he picked up two rods. The direction was clear¡ªthey were aimed at Alma. Enkrid kept his gaze on the scene, and realizing he couldn''t convey this without speaking, he added one final word. "Hey, Count Molsan already did that." I was letting him know I had already encountered this fake-knight bullshit before. Of course, Alma wouldn''t know who Molsan was. "What are you talking about!" Alma yelled angrily. I understood his reaction. Feeling omnipotent like that, anyone might want to act on that sensation. But it was just a feeling, nothing more. Even as he had been beaten by me, the hundred-year-old man was still wielding his rod. "You should''ve stayed a martyr." It was a bitter comment. To summarize the conclusion of this matter, Alma, the so-called knight, was struck twice with the rod, and his head exploded. Shilma tried to hide her divine power with a spell, but her leg was severed by the energy blade that Shinar swung. "Thank you, little fairy." The hundred-year-old man, who had changed his tone, expressed his gratitude. "My age is four hundred and forty-eight. Don''t call me little, human." Shinar retorted. And with that, the situation was resolved. "I see," Overdier spoke, his voice now slightly lighter. The only one remaining was Bert, a man who had stood silently until now. "It seems we need to talk." The hundred-year-old man seemed momentarily taken aback by hearing Sinar''s age. He spoke as he wiped off the blood and brain matter from the staff, which had splattered from Alma''s head as it had been struck down. Enkrid, though not outright hostile, watched the elderly man with caution. He knew that the old man, if pushed too far, would not hesitate to drag everyone into the same perilous situation. Thud. A few raindrops began to fall. The atmosphere around the holy knight, Overdier, shifted completely. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 170 Chapters] Latest WN-730 + 20 future Chapters that are yet to be released [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 20 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 20 -s 700-730 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released Discord server - .gg/snCZVX3mr4 Chapter 579 - Not a Revelation, but a Plan Chapter 579 - 579 - Not a Revelation, but a Plan Chapter 579 - Not a Revelation, but a Plan The rain started to fall suddenly, but no one suggested stopping to take shelter and continue the conversation. The dark clouds covered the moon, and the surrounding area grew dim as a result. It had been full of light a moment ago, with radiant beams and gleaming rays, but now the atmosphere seemed unusually dark. However, nobody seemed to have the leisure to brighten the surroundings with light. In such a moment, the voice of the paladin, Overdier, broke the silence. "It was probably around that time." The falling raindrops dampened the old paladin''s hair and eyebrows. His silver eyes seemed to drift, staring into the empty air, as if reminiscing about the past. The rain that had once erased the sunset now took on the role of darkening the surroundings. The shadows were creeping in, and it wouldn''t take long before the darkness would soon envelop everything, growing even denser. Amidst the encroaching darkness, the soft glow of Overdier''s eyes created a mysterious atmosphere. "It was when I felt I had fully become a warrior. When I looked back, I saw that the apple tree I had nurtured throughout my life bore not fruit, but poisonous fruit instead. Do you understand how I felt then? Can you even imagine it?" When I first saw him, Overdier seemed middle-aged, but in this moment, his tone made him sound more like an old man, reminiscing about the past. That alone made him appear much older. It was a strange thing¡ªthe way someone''s age could seem so different through their tone and demeanor. The raindrops began to fall heavier, and while it wasn''t yet the season for snow, the rain was cold enough. "At that time, I realized I couldn''t even pull out the roots of the apple tree. I felt that the power of this small order was truly insignificant." The paladin, the very one who had caused my defeat, was the one making these statements. Enkrid couldn''t help but think about it as he watched. Overdier didn''t stop speaking. He went on about how, after that moment, he decided to wander the continent, unable to distinguish between well-grown fruit and poisoned ones, and thus, feeling powerless. His words, however, had a few glaring flaws. At least, that''s how Enkrid felt. He certainly didn''t let himself be swayed by Overdier''s remorse. In fact, there was something awkward about Overdier''s behavior, almost reminiscent of Krais when he was fawning over Crona. It wasn''t that Overdier was lying, but his sincerity seemed lacking. That''s why there were holes in his story. For example: "The continent is overrun with monsters, and someone needs to deal with them. So, this old man had no choice but to step forward." These words stuck with him. Originally, Overdier had been part of the holy kingdom, guarding part of the demonic domains. If he was going to leave that position and wander, that meant he abandoned his post. His excuse sounded good, but the reality was that he passed his responsibilities onto a new paladin and walked away. "I embarked on a pilgrimage to cleanse the continent." It sounded nice, but in reality, Overdier had just been wandering about at his own whim. Enkrid didn''t feel the need to point that out. Anyone who paid attention would understand the hidden meaning behind those words. If someone wasn''t interested, they would miss it, but those who listened carefully would know what was being implied. As for Audin, he was silent, taking deep breaths, while Shinar seemed disinterested. Enkrid wasn''t sure, but Shinar had probably realized that they could now overpower Overdier if they had to. But that seemed unlikely. They had just fought fiercely, but now both sides had relaxed their animosity. Only a race like the fairies could detect such subtle changes in atmosphere. Shinar instinctively knew the fight was over. In reality, neither side had been fighting out of pure hatred. One side, Enkrid, acted according to his own principles, while the other side, Overdier, had acted out of necessity. The former was driven by personal beliefs, while the latter had simply done what he felt was necessary. Swords and weapons had clashed, hands had been exchanged, and they had been struck fiercely. During that process, Enkrid had sensed something in Overdier''s gestures and attitude. ''He was definitely planning to strike back if something went wrong.'' But there was no malice involved. "This old man has been waiting for the revelation." At this point, Overdier''s words didn''t carry much weight. He had spoken of waiting for a revelation, but why had the inquisitor not suspect bert and make him one of his own? And why had he placed him between priests and us? The intention behind this was hard to decipher, but one thing was certain¡ªit had a clear purpose. "And now, the revelation has led me here." This man was like a cunning serpent. The old paladin continued speaking with a smile, saying he had been following the revelation and would continue to do so, offering his life''s final spark for the purification of the order. While the details were vague, the overall sentiment was not lost on Enkrid. Overdier had clearly been meeting with people across the continent, likely to bring them under his influence for his own purpose. His reasoning? Purification of the order, as he had already stated. By this point, Enkrid thought to himself: ''This seems less like a revelation and more like a plan.'' If he was being honest, Enkrid realized the situation wasn''t much different from his own. Overdier had sent spies to monitor the order''s members, testing them, and when they failed, he had crushed them. ''Didn''t he do something similar to me?'' Indeed. He hadn''t killed Enkrid, but he certainly intended to make him a cripple. The intention had been clear, even though it had vanished by now. It seemed that Overdier had a habit of testing people. Whether it was through their status or occupation, he didn''t trust anyone completely. ''And what about the saint?'' Overdier had never mentioned the saint. From his mannerisms and speech, Enkrid sensed there might be a plan, but at this point, it seemed Overdier had given up on that idea entirely. ''It looks like he''s completely abandoned it now.'' There was no need to dwell on it any further. What was clear was that the purpose of purifying the order was genuine, and that much was unmistakable. Whenever Overdier spoke about it, there was no room for deceit in his eyes. In a way, it seemed similar to Audin''s intention. The path might be different, but the goal was the same. Swish. The rain had become significantly heavier now. The sound of the pouring rain was different, and even a knight couldn''t block the raindrops. That was true for even the holy knights. Enkrid wiped his hair that clung to his face from the rain and spoke. "How about we find some shelter and talk?" His tone was raised. It was hard to define the person as an enemy, especially since he was said to be over a hundred years old. "Sorry, but I have to go right away. A new revelation is waiting for me." In other words, there was another plan in motion, and there wasn''t enough time to stay. "You''re quite busy, then." Shinar muttered, but it wasn''t said in a friendly tone. It seemed like she was implying that if he was so busy, why come here to stir things up. Of course, Shinar wasn''t trying to start an argument, but rather expressing his displeasure over the recent clash with the sword. Overdier, on the other hand, still had a smile on his face. "I just live as the revelation guides me." So, it seemed he had a lot to do in terms of church purification. Enkrid understood it that way. Overdier, who seemed to value manners, continued to speak respectfully to Shinar. "That''s why, I''d like to ask for your help, both of you." After asking, Overdier didn''t wait for a reply and immediately shared part of his plan. Of course, he framed it in terms of the revelation. "Because the revelation wouldn''t allow me to leave him be." To sum it up briefly, he was planning to kill a high-ranking bishop who was a master of sacred magic. He mentioned how the bishop''s sacred spells conflicted with his own, and there was a misguided order of knights following him, though he couldn''t just kill them all. "You''re telling us all of this?" Bert, who had been listening, blinked in surprise and muttered in shock. Overdier waved his hand to silence him and finished his explanation. In the end, he was plotting an assassination. "The revelation guides me." At this point, it was no longer just an assassination plan but a divine command. It seemed fair to say it was the latter. "Brother Captain." Before Enkrid could say anything, Audin, who had been silent until now, called out to him. "May I take a short leave?" Enkrid noticed a light rising from Audin''s body. He also recalled what Audin had said to him before, about wanting to break free from the prison of illusion. What did that light represent? Was it the shackles that once bound him? Had Audin truly escaped his prison? Had he stepped foot in the real world? What was the first thing Audin would do after escaping? It was all just idle thoughts. Enkrid nodded. "Sure." "It won''t be long, Brother. So, when you return, please let the barbarian brother and everyone else know." "What should I let them know?" "I will share teachings with them when I return, so prepare. Thern we''ll have to decide who is the elder brother, brother captain." So, he was proposing a sparring match to determine who would be the elder brother, whoever won. Enkrid understood and nodded. "Alright." The same response came twice in the same tone. Enkrid was unflustered. It wasn''t what he had expected, but he accepted it calmly. Overdier found this quite intriguing. A man who was known as the Unyielding knight seemed to have a different disposition altogether. That thought crossed his mind. "Let''s go together, you old holy knight brother, who knows what''s hidden inside." Sometimes Audin couldn''t hold back his thoughts. It was a common trait among the mad knights. ''A person should learn to hold back sometimes.'' Enkrid occasionally worried about this side of him. Naturally, he himself didn''t have that trait as strongly as others. The incident with Alma, who had just died, was a different matter. That was a conversation he simply couldn''t keep to himself. Count Molsan had been playing with the idea of making knights through experiments, and that had to be shared, even if the other person wouldn''t understand. "Are you alright?" Overdier wasn''t bothered by such words. If he had to endure a few insults to sweep away the church, he''d gladly do so for a few years. "I''ll be fine once I walk a bit. But what about you? Are you alright? I was worried you might be in worse shape, being old and ill." Audin had a surprisingly long memory, so every word he spoke seemed to rub Overdier the wrong way. Asking if he was alright after striking him was almost a provocation. But the seasoned old holy knight accepted it with ease. "That''s fine. Even though I''m old, I can still walk without trouble." Just as the conversation was wrapping up, a loud shout interrupted. "Uo! I, Deuch Pulman, will join the battle!" With a battle cry, Deuch Pulman, the city''s leader and a man of honor, arrived with ten soldiers. Everyone had already sensed someone approaching through the sound of the rain, so it wasn''t particularly surprising. Only Bert, the inquisitor, flinched and shuddered slightly. Through the rain, which had thickened and obscured the moonlight, a dozen soldiers charged without torches. Shinar, with her fairy-like vision, recognized them right away, and the others, with their heightened senses, also quickly understood the situation. However, Deuch Pulman, lacking such abilities, just charged recklessly. Despite the thick rain blurring his vision, he rushed forward, possibly worried that his benefactor might be in danger. Of course, he knew his own strength was insignificant, but he still hoped that his presence might turn the tide of the situation. Though unlikely, he couldn''t ignore the chance that it might make a difference. It was the thought of wanting to help. "I''d like to commend that bravery," Overdier said first, and Enkrid followed up. "The situation is resolved. But what I really want now is a hot bath, a meal, and a place to rest." While Deuch had risked his life, he wasn''t eager to die, so he was relieved when the situation seemed to be ending well. He glanced around, noticing the shadows but unable to see much. "Ah, yes, of course," Deuch replied, lowering his weapon. As he did so, Audin placed a hand on the shoulder of Overdier''s agent. "Did you say your name was Inquisitor Bert?" "Yes? Yes, that''s right." Bert stiffened. He knew that the hand on his shoulder could easily end his life if the man wished. And if it was Overdier he was dealing with, Bert knew that saving him wouldn''t be guaranteed. If Overdier was aiming to purify the church, killing a few people would be no issue for him. "Have you ever seen someone recently who was gravely ill or severely injured but recovered quickly?" Bert raised an eyebrow at the sudden question. His job was to gather information as he traveled across the continent, so he thought for a moment before responding. "Yes, I have heard of such cases." "Could you find one of those individuals for me based on the latest rumors?" "Whom are you referring to?" "Look for a wealthy person who suddenly recovered from a serious illness and who might have been robbed of a handful of gold coins. While I don''t know their name, I suspect they could be in a city. If you find that city, go to the largest inn there and ask for ''Audin''s Father''. If you don''t find someone who has been robbed, go to the slums. Though he''s called the ''Ragged Saint,'' he probably won''t be wearing rags." "...What?" Bert was confused, tilting his head. Even Enkrid, who had been listening, didn''t quite understand. Did he just say ''father''? ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 170 Chapters] Latest WN-730 + 20 future Chapters that are yet to be released [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 20 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 20 -s 700-730 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released Discord server - .gg/snCZVX3mr4 Chapter 580 - If I stand on his side, wouldn’t that be enough? Chapter 580 - 580 - If I stand on his side, wouldn''t that be enough? Chapter 580 - If I stand on his side, wouldn''t that be enough? "If you do that, the person will find you. When that happens, just mention my name,Audin Fumrei, and ask them for help." The girl had awakened her divinity. If left alone, she would be pursued by the church for the rest of her life. Though her exceptional abilities might keep her from being caught easily, it would be better to hide her properly than to have her chased forever. Moreover, she would need to learn how to control the awakened divinity before she fainted again. Audin knew the right person for such a task. "Who is it?" Audin had mentioned his father, but no such person existed. Curious, Enkrid asked, and Audin replied, "My foster father, who is rumored to have died." The one who raised Audin was a figure who had once risen to the rank of Pope of the God of War''s church. Though he claimed to be blind, he was said to have the ability to glimpse the future. Audin was well aware of his foster father''s true nature. The man could barely distinguish things close to him due to poor eyesight, but he was not blind. However, he frequently pretended to be, as it gave him an advantage when others underestimated him. His poor eyesight was reportedly a result of reading books by candlelight as a child. He was branded a heretic and faked his death by enduring a public stoning. But the place where he was "stoned" was a corner of the city of Legion, where he was born and raised¡ªcoincidentally, the same city where his own father had grown up. "Do you have the heart to take up God''s shield?" Audin could almost hear his father''s voice. His foster father was likely alive and well, thriving off his prophetic insights and divinity after faking his death. Rescuing children shunned by the church and fugitives branded as heretics¡ªsuch was his way. Audin''s foster father remained devoted to God and lived by his teachings. He was known as the Abandoned Saint or the Ragged Saint, a figure who wandered the continent. ''I''m a bit late, aren''t I?'' Audin spoke silently to his father. He resolved to seek forgiveness when they met someday. Even so, his father would not rebuke him or tell him he was late. That was the kind of man he was. He would simply say, "Come, it''s good to see you again." Now that Audin had broken free from the shackles and stepped out of the prison of delusion with his own hands, he was ready. From the side, Fildin''s apparition watched him. His gaze, initially sharp, soon softened into a warm smile. "You should have done this sooner, shouldn''t you? Why would I ever resent you? It wasn''t like that. Can I make one request, though? Please don''t allow them to create more children like me. You can do that, can''t you?" Was this Fildin speaking, or was it merely a figment of his exhausted mind? Perhaps it was a divine revelation. In truth, it didn''t matter. Audin had decided to act on his own will, just as Enkrid, his commander, would. "I will make it so," Audin replied to the vision. Though it was the first time he had spoken to it, his words carried a will strong enough to manifest a fragment of divine light, illuminating his form in the darkness. The light seemed as though God Himself was cheering him on, and his will turned into divinity, radiating from his body. Enkrid thought it was a sight to behold. In the end, Enkrid took responsibility for the Saintess. There was no mention of the girl in Overdier''s prophecy, which meant she would be difficult to protect if taken along. Without resting, Audin quickly departed with Overdier. Enkrid, carrying the unconscious Saintess, turned back. "The child will need more rest before she awakens," Audin had said, and indeed, there was no sign of her waking. "Then I''ll seek out the Ragged Saint and contact Border Guard," Enkrid replied. Bert also left, and the remaining group returned to the city. Naturally, Deutsch Pulman offered his place for them. After soaking in a hot bath, Enkrid politely declined the maid''s offer to scrub his back. "But I can do it. I want to. I''m capable of it," the maid hesitated, repeating herself several times before Shinar intervened and pushed her aside. "No need. That is my task," she said firmly. "Is it true you''re over 400 years old, Shinar? Your age..." Enkrid asked. The fairy smiled¡ªa rare expression¡ªbut curiously, only her mouth smiled, with no mirth in her eyes. Enkrid recalled the saying that asking a lady her age was nearly a sin. When had he heard that? Perhaps during one of the parties he''d attended while escorting noblewomen. "You can''t even recognize a fairy''s joke?" Shinar teased. "That was supposed to be a joke?" "Of course." "Then how old are you, really?" If the claim of 448 years wasn''t a joke, even with the differences between fairy and human lifespans, wouldn''t it be fair to call her a grandmother? "Older women are always captivating," Shinar replied, sidestepping the question and walking away. What was amusing, though, was that Shinar''s words carried an energy, a will that made her conviction visible¡ªdeclaring the allure of older women with such resolve. ''Quite a talent,'' Enkrid thought. Shinar was impressive, not just for her age but for her confidence, which made her seem genuinely charming. As he pondered, he relaxed in the hot water. The Saintess, meanwhile, was reportedly being bathed by several maids. Later, at the dining table, Enkrid enjoyed a warm soup and tender, perfectly roasted pork. "It melts in my mouth," he commented, prompting the attendant to relay his praise to the chef. Enkrid''s presence in this city was as renowned as it was in Border Guard. "It''s an honor that you''re eating it," the chef said, stepping out briefly. His attire¡ªa white hat and matching clothes, accented by a purple cloth tied at the front¡ªsignified his status as a guild-recognized culinary expert. Shinar dined nearby, savoring a dish of finely chopped greens and fruits, enhanced by crushed almonds, cashews, and a flavorful dressing. It was good enough for her to nod approvingly. Deutsch assigned Enkrid and Shinar the finest guest room he had, ensuring they had a comfortable night''s rest. The next morning, as they prepared to depart, Deutsch, ever the loyal comrade, saw them off with a word of assurance. "Come back anytime." Enkrid replied in kind, the weight of mutual respect evident in his voice. "If you face any trouble, contact me through Border Guard. I''ll do what I can to help." Deutsch did not refuse Enkrid''s offer. To him, the simple fact that the so-called Unyielding Knight owed him a favor was more than enough satisfaction. With that, Enkrid and Shinar boarded the carriage Deutsch had arranged for them. "Let''s head out," the coachman called. As the carriage rocked gently along the road, passing through a meadow brimming with vibrant marigolds, Shinar, the unconscious saintess, began to stir. *** Overdier, the son of a noble orchard owner, had crossed paths with countless individuals on his journey to his current station. Among them, there were only a handful he truly admired, regardless of morality or alignment. Yet even among these, Enkrid was a singular experience. People who remained steadfast in the face of threats and blades? He had seen them before. But someone so utterly consumed by madness? Never. The Madmen Knight Order¡ªthe name was no exaggeration. "Unyielding." That''s the impression Enkrid left¡ªa fortress, impervious to collapse under any circumstances. Overdier questioned whether he had held back when facing him. No, he hadn''t. Yet Enkrid showed no intention of retreating, his resolve unshaken. Anyone witnessing such unflinching determination would be struck with awe. He seemed like a man utterly devoid of fear¡ªof death, failure, despair, or defeat. "He''s remarkable, that brother of yours," Overdier murmured, the words slipping out almost unconsciously. Audin, walking alongside him along a serene forest path, answered with a nod. "If you''re speaking of our captain, yes. He certainly is." The two men were making their way down a mountain trail, each moving with practiced ease. Though Overdier bore his own injuries, walking at this pace was hardly a challenge. Audin, as expected, showed no sign of fatigue. As they trudged through fallen autumn leaves, Overdier broke the silence. "When will you return?" The question was direct, driven by Overdier''s growing interest in Audin after witnessing his display of divine power. Overdier was tempted to keep him nearby, perhaps even mold him into a successor. But Audin''s response was immediate, his conviction unshakable. "Yes, I will return." Overdier sighed inwardly. He recognized that no offer or persuasion would sway Audin. He briefly entertained the idea of deceiving or coercing him but dismissed it. Forcing such a man against his will would yield nothing but resentment. ''Standing against Enkrid would be a mistake,'' Overdier thought. The idea of opposing the Unyielding Knight filled him with unease. Though he could likely defeat him in combat, he had no desire to become his enemy. There was a purity to Enkrid''s fiery blue resolve that would have made him a perfect prote?ge? in Overdier''s mind if only circumstances were different. ''What if I could harness that madness?'' It was a tantalizing idea but one fraught with difficulties. ''Perhaps I could bring him into the fold?'' Overdier mused idly, envisioning ways to recruit Enkrid. Marriage came to mind¡ªa common tactic among both the militant and the prosperous orders. The image of Shinar''s ethereal beauty crossed his thoughts. A saintess of extraordinary grace, even among the fair folk, she was a tempting candidate. Yet even this plan seemed unlikely to succeed. Enkrid was not a man easily swayed. ''Still, there''s always another way,'' Overdier thought with a grin. If he couldn''t bring Enkrid to his side, there was a simpler solution: join him instead. It was a stark realization, but it made perfect sense. If he aligned himself with Enkrid''s ideals and goals, they would naturally end up on the same side. As they walked on, Overdier decided to test the waters. He turned to Audin, whose unwavering loyalty to Enkrid might offer insights into the man''s character and purpose. "Good," he said aloud, earning a curious glance from Audin. "What''s good? If you''re plotting something underhanded, Brother, I''d suggest you drop it. At your age, it''d just seem desperate." "Haha, nothing of the sort. Let''s keep moving." Audin''s blunt words held no malice, and Overdeer took them in stride, laughing lightly. Despite their differences, they held a measure of mutual respect. Overdier saw in Audin the potential to reform the church, and Audin, in turn, found in Overdier a rare glimmer of purity within its ranks. Their paths had crossed by chance, yet both recognized the gravity of their encounter. Though they had no desire to clash, they were prepared to do so if necessary. In time, their collaboration bore fruit, resulting in what the continent would later call the Reformation of the Church. But that is a story for another day. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 170 Chapters] Latest WN-739 + 20 future Chapters that are yet to be released [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 20 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 20 -s 700-730 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released Discord server - .gg/snCZVX3mr4 Chapter 581 - The Awakened Saintess Chapter 581 - 581 - The Awakened Saintess Chapter 581 - The Awakened Saintess The saintess opened her eyes and immediately curled her body like a wary cat. However, she didn''t lash out or have a violent reaction. While her demeanor exuded caution, her calm and composed gaze revealed her true nature. "Where is this, and who are you? And who''s that giant over there?" A sharp and observant child, Enkrid thought as he answered her questions one by one. The child didn''t dwell on things she couldn''t understand but clarified her understanding with follow-up questions. "So, a holy knight came, and the person chasing me was killed by him, meaning I won''t be immediately captured. But it''s still dangerous." When Enkrid nodded in affirmation, the next words from the child caught him off guard. "Can we part ways here? I still have something I need to do." It wasn''t a plea to run away immediately. The girl seemed to grasp the situation perfectly. She understood that the Church wouldn''t stop chasing her if she were alone. Enkrid, who had learned that the child was a Highlander¡ªa person of the mountains¡ªknew that even she wouldn''t escape the Church''s reach easily. The only exception might be if she could return to her domain in the mountains and hold out. The Church might abandon its pursuit, or it could escalate to burning the mountains to capture her. The future was unpredictable, but for now, Enkrid''s side was undoubtedly the safest place. And yet, she wanted to part ways? "What is it you need to do?" Enkrid asked out of genuine curiosity, and the girl, Seiki, answered without hesitation. Her posture had relaxed a bit, and she now sat calmly. "Someone is in trouble because I escaped. Also..." She hesitated, as though debating whether to continue. "And?" Enkrid prompted gently. "I think there are others still imprisoned there." Seiki confessed her thoughts entirely. "You mean you want to return to the place where you were held captive?" "Yes. I didn''t know anything at the time, but now I understand the layout and situation inside. I don''t know why you saved me, but I can''t just ignore this. From the beginning, my plan was to go back once I regained my strength." There was no need to ask why. The answer was obvious¡ªto save others. Her reasoning mirrored Enkrid''s own when he had saved her. "That''s not right," Seiki added. Her tone carried an unshakable conviction that caught Enkrid''s attention. Shinar, who had been observing quietly, looked at Enkrid with a meaningful gaze. "Why are you looking at me like that?" Enkrid asked. "I''m admiring my fiance?''s face," Shinar replied sarcastically. The truth was simpler: the child''s words echoed sentiments Shinar herself often expressed. Enkrid''s jaw moved slightly as he considered her words. She was right¡ªit wasn''t right to ignore such a situation. If Audin were here, he''d be nodding fervently in agreement, moved to tears by the girl''s conviction. "My grandfather once said, whether you live alone or with others, walk the path you believe is right," Seiki added with unwavering resolve. Her sincerity struck a chord with Enkrid. They walked the same path, and he had no reason to refuse her. "You remember the location, right?" "Yes." "Then let''s go together." "Thank you. I appreciate it." Seiki immediately agreed, aware of the reality of the situation. Watching the exchange, Shinar commented, "You seem weak to women and children." Enkrid glanced at her and replied, "I''m definitely not weak to older women." "...You little..." Shinar rarely glared, and Enkrid laughed at her rare display of irritation. The late autumn rain had cooled the morning air. Enkrid spoke to the coachman. "Turn the carriage around." "Pardon?" "We''re heading back to the city." The coachman obeyed without question. As they traveled, Enkrid reflected. While the saintess had been saved, her unfinished business remained. Could it be done? He believed so. *** "We''ll sneak in to rescue them," Seiki explained as the monastery came into view. She shared part of her plan, which was both reasonable and well-structured. It accounted for drawing attention, freeing the captives, and escaping afterward. Having been unconscious during her escape, she hadn''t seen Enkrid''s skills. Living in the mountains and then confined in the monastery for eight months, she had no knowledge of knights. Shinar, who had grown fond of the girl, clarified kindly, "Sneak in? That won''t be necessary." "Isn''t that dangerous?" Seiki had seen the monks'' daily routines. They were martial artists who spent every spare moment training. With over twenty of them, they were formidable. Though she hadn''t counted them directly, she had deduced their numbers from traces and provisions. She was sharp and practical, not one to charge blindly into impossible odds. Her original plan had included avoiding the monks entirely. But now, her careful planning seemed unnecessary. The monastery was near Naurilia''s western border. After dismissing the carriage midway, the group had traveled on foot. Enkrid and Shinar, as well as Seiki, who was adept at walking, made steady progress despite being slower than a carriage. Watching Seiki walk, run, and move, Enkrid understood how she had managed to evade capture for so long. "Quite the talent," he thought. Her origin as a Highlander wasn''t for nothing. Arriving at the monastery''s entrance, two stern-faced monks glared at them. Seiki, uncertain of what was happening, observed a deep trust between Enkrid and Shinar. Trusting them, she decided to follow their lead. Enkrid strode confidently to the entrance. The heavy wooden door, entwined with iron vines, and the gray stone walls covered in ivy stretched out on either side. From afar, it could have been mistaken for a peaceful place where wine was brewed. Many monasteries made their living through wine, bread, soap, or jam. "Who are you? This is the land of a sacred order, and no one enters without an invitation," barked one of the monks. His thick arms suggested he relied more on fists than words. "Guests," Enkrid replied, his pace unbroken. He approached the guarded entrance. "Is he just going to walk in?" Seiki whispered incredulously. As the monks reached out to stop him, Seiki heard only faint swishing sounds. Without so much as a groan, the monks'' eyes rolled back, and they collapsed forward. Enkrid theatrically bent his left knee, extending his arms to catch their falling bodies. The monks lay unconscious, their heads slumped to the side. "What just happened?" Seiki asked, bewildered. Shinar, unusually talkative and somewhat giddy, explained. "He struck their throats and jaws simultaneously." To be precise, Enkrid had used the web of his hand to silence them with a blow to their throats, then twisted his arm into a fist to strike their jaws. His speed was remarkable, but his control was even more impressive. Neither monk''s jaw was broken; they were merely knocked out. A knight was, after all, someone who surpassed human limits. From an ordinary perspective, their feats could seem unreal. What Enkrid displayed now was one such skill. "Let''s go," Enkrid said. Storming a monastery, even a corrupt one, was tantamount to declaring war on the order. Others might shake their heads at such recklessness. Was it worth making enemies of the order just to save a few people? The answer seemed absurd. But Enkrid cared little for such concerns. Audin''s words still echoed in his mind from their last confrontation. "You''ll be hunted for the rest of your life." So be it. If his actions led to pursuit, he would accept it. If it aligned with his beliefs and what he deemed right, he would continue forward. That had always been his way. "You''re lucky to have survived this long," Shinar mused, guessing at Enkrid''s past. Seiki, though silent, observed and acted. Unremarkable though she seemed, she did her part, deducing where those who had helped her might be imprisoned and guiding the group toward them. "Who are you?" "What do you want?" More monks emerged but proved no match. "We''re here for a visit," Enkrid quipped, dispatching them effortlessly. Though his body wasn''t in peak condition, it hardly mattered. He wielded a makeshift club in place of his broken sword. One monk, however, wielded a uniquely long sword, two spans longer than an average blade, and his strike was both swift and precise. Enkrid met the attack with his shortsword, drawing it in a single upward slash. Holding the club in his right hand, he swung it back while his left hand deftly drew his blade. With both hands crossing mid-motion, a blinding arc of light sliced through the air. Clang! The sword forged by Eitri sliced cleanly through the monk''s blade. Strength, skill, and the quality of the weapon had combined seamlessly. That was the end of it. The monk, pale-faced, admitted defeat. "I yield." With that, the others bowed their heads, and soon, they found those Seiki sought to rescue. *** "Why did you do it, brother?" The question, simple and rhetorical, required no explanation. "Do you really need an answer?" The saintess had fled, and he had hidden her. Wasn''t that answer enough? His retort implied as much. "Did you want to be the sole virtuous one? Are you satisfied now?" The man, who once seemed like his brother, chuckled bitterly. Should he be condemned? Even with the ability, such things cannot be done. For he deemed himself unworthy. There was a punishment. Hot wax was dripped into his eyes and ears. Because though he had eyes, he could not truly see, and though he had ears, he did not truly hear. The monk, subjected to punishment, had all his hair shaved clean, leaving not a single strand. The martial monk overseeing the punishment mocked him. "All you had to do was stay still. Tsk." Hot wax fell into his eyes and seeped into his ears. "Grrhhh..." Instead of screaming, he rolled on the ground like a beast. The pain was excruciating. The agony consumed his body. Yet his spirit was not torn apart. To whom should I attribute guilt? The monk did not believe he could blame the one who inflicted this punishment upon him. For that person, too, was merely following orders. Then, who bore the guilt? The monk decided that guilt should not be assigned. What mattered was simply moving forward. Thus, he prayed to be allowed to move forward. Before assigning blame, show us the hope of salvation. A belief in change was essential. What if a messenger of the gods descended? That would be ideal. If that messenger, in righteous anger, destroyed everyone, perhaps there would be those who learned and were enlightened by it. The monk''s gaze shifted to one side. He saw a woman crouched by the moldy stone wall. She was a middle-aged priestess known for her fine needlework since her youth. But now, it would be impossible for her to handle a needle and thread again. By tomorrow, her hands would be severed. Because of the hot wax dripped into her eyes, one of her eyes had gone blind. The world now appeared only halfway to her. In a dream, someone asked, "Do you regret it?" No. I do not. Even if the entire order reviled and spat on me, it was wrong to leave that child as she was. The monk had freed Saeki and, while at it, had attempted to rescue another child confined in the underground cells, though it was an impossible task. O God, send forth a messenger. Not to punish sin, but to teach those impoverished in spirit. "Approach, and he will die!" Amid his half-asleep prayers, someone grabbed his neck. He felt someone''s breath on the back of his neck. The one behind him yanked him close, holding a short dagger to his throat. The voice was familiar. It was the loyal servant of Shilma, the one who had overseen his punishment. Huff, huff. He could feel the labored breaths, mixed with fear and unease. Through his blurry vision, the monk saw a figure beyond the prison bars. A shadow entered first, followed by the light of a torch illuminating the figure from behind, making his face indistinguishable. The light surrounded the figure like a halo. "If you kill me, you will make the order your enemy!" The trembling voice of the one breathing fearfully exclaimed. The lips of the figure surrounded by the halo parted. "That doesn''t matter." With those words, the light trailing from his back extended forward. To the monk''s eyes, it appeared that way. As the light, which he saw as a halo, filtered into his damaged eyes, part of it brushed his face. From behind him, warm liquid, imbued with heat, spilled onto his back. The warmth spread through his body, which had lain cold on the prison floor. Between the warmth and the light, the monk asked with blurred vision, "Has the messenger of God arrived?" The figure promptly answered, "No. My name is Enkrid. I come from Border Guard. What I have done today was my own will, and if you wish to hold me accountable, I will not avoid it." Even with just one eye, the monk could see the figure before him clearly. To his eyes, the man was like a rock that stood unshaken, whether battered by waves or besieged by storms. He was not a messenger of God. Rather, he was a hero who declared he would not flee from the consequences of his actions. To the monk, at least, he was indeed a hero. A hero sent by God in place of a messenger. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 180 Chapters] Latest WN-739 + 20 future Chapters that are yet to be released [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 20 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 20 -s 700-730 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released Discord server - .gg/snCZVX3mr4 Chapter 582 - Even If Hidden, It Cannot Be Concealed Chapter 582 - 582 - Even If Hidden, It Cannot Be Concealed Chapter 582 - Even If Hidden, It Cannot Be Concealed Enkrid believed the religious order had erred and thought it irrelevant if they chose to stand against him for not acknowledging their mistakes. However, things did not turn out that way. To be precise, it was the one-eyed monk who had once saved Seiki who ensured it didn''t. "I will take responsibility for the monastery from today onward," the monk declared. Enkrid freed the child who had been confined underground. The child, having lived in captivity from a young age, appeared more terrified of the current situation. The boy, trembling and speechless, could only gaze at Enkrid''s group with wide, fearful eyes. From any perspective, Enkrid and his companions were the ones who had seized control through violence. Enkrid could do nothing about that perception. Neither Shinar nor Seiki seemed like they''d be the type to comfort the child. The boy only trusted the one-eyed monk, who had occasionally tended to him while he was imprisoned. As for the woman who had helped save Seiki, she remained unconscious, still recovering from the beatings she''d received. Although it wasn''t torture, it had been akin to it, punishment dealt to "absolve" her sins. It wasn''t fatal, yet it left her teetering on the edge. Even so, Seiki''s divine essence bestowed her with a faint white glow that helped restore some vitality. Though not skilled enough to instantly heal injuries, it eased her breathing, a sight everyone witnessed. As Seiki observed the child clinging to the monk''s leg, she commented "I think he''ll take good care of the kid. There''s no need to worry about that child, is there? That monk risked his life to help me, after all." Seiki''s detachment reflected her pragmatic nature. She acted by her own principles, caring little for the aftermath¡ªa habit born from her upbringing. The monk gently patted his bald head and adjusted his worn-out robes before stroking the boy''s head. The child peeked from behind the monk''s thin legs, revealing half of his face. The boy seemed no older than seven or eight. He wasn''t yet a miracle worker or alchemist; he was merely a child with talent, groomed by the Order to one day become a saint. This alone revealed the Order''s true nature¡ªthey were breeding children with gifts. Allowing such a practice to continue was unacceptable. "We should probably kill them all before leaving," Shinar suggested, addressing the new head of the monastery. It was rare for her to show interest in others'' affairs. Typically, she was indifferent. Both Enkrid and Shinar had killed few during their confrontation. The only casualty had been a man who, in desperation, had attempted to take hostages¡ªa move born of sheer panic. Enkrid had concealed his intentions, choosing to act through sheer force. While he had left room for fugitives to escape, no one did. Later, the one-eyed monk addressed the gathered crowd. His calm demeanor, even in such a precarious situation, was striking. Though he had lost an eye, he had gained the opportunity to act as the messenger of divine retribution. If the Order sought to reclaim its path and follow the light, the monk knew precisely what needed to be done. He also understood that many within the monastery were merely blind followers of their superiors, not inherently corrupt. Despite the corruption at the top, there were still those in the Order who remained righteous or sought redemption. "Humans make mistakes," Enkrid reflected. He himself had arrived here through a series of errors and failures. He decided it was futile to dwell on their past mistakes, especially when the monk, now the new head, wished to move forward. "My name is Noah," the monk introduced himself. He calmly summarized the events: "The messenger of God came and rebuked us. I have accepted this truth. The former head, Silma, repented for her sins and atoned with her life." Though it sounded preposterous, the Order would have no choice but to accept it, given the monastery''s collective declaration. That didn''t mean the Order would remain passive, and Enkrid worried about the repercussions. "Blame it on me, Enkrid of Border Guard," he suggested. If Noah claimed responsibility, the Order might retaliate with force. Noah, however, smiled and refused. "Are you vying for recognition, brother? Even so, I must decline. I lost an eye saving the saint. That is my testimony." Despite his words, he made it clear that he intended to shoulder the responsibility. Enkrid, respecting Noah''s resolve, left him with a promise: "Contact Border Guard if trouble arises. If I hear the name Noah, I''ll send reinforcements." It wasn''t a casual promise. Both men understood the weight of those words. "May your path always be abundant, so hunger never finds you, and may prosperity guard your heart against despair." Enkrid nodded in acknowledgment. Noah, meanwhile, outlined his plans for the monastery, intending to fortify it as a stronghold. "You''re bolder than I expected," Enkrid remarked. Noah chuckled. "Not as bold as you, brother." After their exchange, Noah extended a warm invitation for Enkrid to return anytime. "When you visit again, we''ll serve you good tea," Noah promised with a smile. As Enkrid departed, several monks, cowed into submission, muttered their blessings: "May the toil of gathering the fallen fruit be rewarded." Enkrid moved swiftly, aware of the long journey back to Border Guard. Since it was a path they had traveled before, Seiki stepped up as the guide. She chose the shortest route to minimize detours, regardless of potential monsters along the way. "You''re really good at fighting, huh? I don''t think even the monsters where I used to live could stand a chance against you." "What kind of monsters were there?" "They breathed fire." It seemed to be a type of fire lizard monster that had settled in this land after the summoning of the salamanders. "Alright, if the opportunity arises, I''ll kill that one for you too." Killing monsters was always a thrilling task. "No, I''ll take care of that one. Later. So, I''d appreciate it if you didn''t touch it. But if you insist, I won''t stop you." As Seiki replied, Enkrid found himself thinking that the more he conversed with this girl, the more peculiar she seemed. She clearly had her convictions and insisted on handling her own matters, yet she was surprisingly accepting of things outside her control. "Alright, then you can kill it." "Oh, by the way, could you teach me how to use a sword?" "Sure, why not?" Enkrid firmly believed in the saying, "You learn by teaching." Moreover, he considered himself quite talented in teaching. It wasn''t a baseless assumption, either. He had clawed his way up from the bottom to become a knight. It was unlikely there were many others who had advanced step by step, experiencing each stage so thoroughly as he had. Spending considerable time mastering and repeating each level of skill was a rarity. They said Rionezis Oniac had refined his swordsmanship through rigorous practice¡ªperhaps one day, Enkrid might create a systematic training regimen for knights. He wasn''t just cautiously walking an untrodden path; he had metaphorically touched, sniffed, and even tasted the soil of that path as he advanced. But that was a matter for the distant future. For now, such thoughts didn''t even cross Enkrid''s mind. Just pressing forward, inch by inch, was exhausting enough. Becoming a knight wasn''t the end; it was a new beginning, with much more to learn, practice, and discover on his own. "You really are soft on young women, aren''t you?" Shinar commented, having overheard their conversation. It was a lighthearted jest. "Sure, let''s go with that." Enkrid brushed it off easily. Hearing this, Shinar added, "Once you fall for the charm of older women, you''ll never recover." "Well, if by ''older,'' you mean over a century, that''s a bit more than just older, don''t you think?" "You fool, that was just a joke." Enkrid almost asked how old Shinar actually was but decided against it. Then, Seiki, without a hint of humor, asked, "You''re not popular, are you?" Enkrid paused for a moment, shaken. It was the first time anyone had said such a thing to him. But should he explain to this child just how handsome he was or recount all the people who had pursued him? That would be an absurdly petty response. So, he figured it was best to focus on the task at hand. "Let''s start with the basics of border guard training." Enkrid spoke gently, his tone carrying a subtle expectation, and a faint smile appeared on his face. "Alright," Seiki agreed, her eyes sparkling as she nodded. Watching Enkrid fight had piqued her interest, and she thought she might genuinely enjoy learning. "Bend your knees halfway, let your arms hang down to the ground, and walk like that. Hold your breath to engage your core so your upper body doesn''t sway." "Huh?" "You''ll feel it in your glutes. Spend the entire day walking like this." "But that''ll slow us down." Would it matter if they were a bit late to the border guard? Training was far more important. After all, the lower body was the foundation of all martial arts. "Begin." Enkrid picked up the monastery staff he had kept, fortunately not having discarded it yet. He used it to tap her shoulders and lower back, correcting her posture as he spoke. "Don''t lose your form." Watching this from behind, Shinar smiled. She imagined how fun it might be to teach a child this way, a thought that made her smile even more. Of course, it was a near-impossible fantasy. Whether she had feelings for Enkrid or not, it wasn''t a matter of concern. "What a fine day," Shinar said. Rumble. Just as she spoke, the sky grumbled ominously. "It looks like it''s going to rain," Seiki remarked. Enkrid nodded and responded, "Your posture." Rain or not, the lower body was paramount. Seiki, through her time in the monastery and her past experiences, had learned to choose her words carefully. However, her straightforwardness, born from her upbringing in the mountains, still revealed her honest thoughts. "I guess I was wrong. You''re not unpopular. Your face is decent enough." "This has nothing to do with that." Enkrid quietly explained the importance of the training, emphasizing that a strong lower body was the foundation of all techniques. Shinar continued to smile. When the rain finally came, Enkrid remained steadfast, refusing to abandon the training Soaked in rain, Seiki had no choice but to continue the relentless lower-body training Enkrid had imposed. Step by step, they trudged towards the Border Guard on foot. Despite her awkwardness with divine powers, Seiki managed to channel light towards Enkrid''s wounds. Though clumsy and ineffective in actually healing, it was a start. Unable to guide her further in divine techniques, Enkrid instead encouraged her to focus on physical training, leaving the mastery of her powers to time and effort. For himself, he revisited his battle with Overdier, replaying every detail in his mind as they marched. Some days, this process led to sparring with Shinar. Other days were spent teaching Seiki the basics of weapon handling. She took to it with remarkable skill, though her interest seemed less in swordsmanship and more in the strength Enkrid had cultivated through years of rigorous training. When asked why she wanted to learn, her response was simple: "Being able to fight well is just useful, isn''t it?" While her reasoning was vague, her efforts were anything but. Seiki absorbed lessons quickly, grasping techniques like blade clashes and wrestling moves after only a few demonstrations. Her natural talent reminded Enkrid of Ragna in his youth, though her focus on Enkrid''s physical conditioning rather than his combat techniques was peculiar. ''Audin would love this,'' Enkrid mused as they walked. In battle with Overdier, Enkrid had calculated every variable¡ªthe possible and the impossible, his opponent''s moves, his own reach, and even Overdier''s likely responses. Yet, in a decisive moment, he had failed to strike. Was it due to Overdier''s divine defenses, or was it a shortcoming in his own skills? Perhaps his inability to release his Will explosively at critical moments was the root of his defeat. But it wasn''t just that. ''Overdear was flawless.'' Strength, technique, and willpower¡ªthere was no crack in Overdier''s armor. He was the epitome of a holy knight. Yet the experience forced Enkrid to examine himself. What was his defining strength? What could he improve right now? With tireless introspection, aided by Shinar''s sparring sessions, Enkrid found his answer by the time they arrived at the Border Guard. The solution lay in increasing the volume of Will he could emit in battle. Though it would take countless repetitions to perfect, the mere discovery of a path forward filled Enkrid with determination. When they finally entered the Border Guard''s stronghold, Krais greeted them with a weary, sarcastic laugh. "You''re insane, you know that?" Krais said, his voice a mix of exasperation and relief. His laughter carried not only joy but also a hefty dose of reproach. Enkrid shrugged in response. "Are you really going to pretend nothing''s happened? The Church, the Holy Nation..." Krais''s words hung in the air. Despite their best efforts to keep certain matters hidden, there were always things that could not be concealed. The ripples of Enkrid''s actions were impossible to suppress. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 180 Chapters] Latest WN-739 + 20 future Chapters that are yet to be released [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 20 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 20 -s 700-730 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released Discord server - .gg/snCZVX3mr4 Chapter 583 - This is a Truly Madman Chapter 583 - 583 - This is a Truly Madman Chapter 583 - This is a Truly Madman The Church of Abundance revered seven martyrs, passing down their names through generations. Among them was one who oversaw the cult''s trade in wine, jams, and potions: Apostle Mu?l. His name came from a martyr who, in an act of self-sacrifice, cut flesh from his own legs to feed the starving before succumbing to starvation himself. Mu?l, now a portly figure, stroked his ample belly¡ªa habit born from the discomfort he felt whenever something displeased him. His substantial girth seemed at odds with the name of a martyr who had perished emaciated, but did it truly matter? No, not at all. Carrying on the martyr''s spirit was what counted, regardless of physique. That was what Mu?l often said. What the original martyr might think of him was another matter, but Mu?l saw himself as a man of integrity. A man now deeply frowning in irritation. Someone had dared to attack a monastery under the church''s jurisdiction. "This is a madman," he muttered. It was an honest opinion. To Mu?l, only a lunatic would commit such an act. The statement came in a reception room, its long table and eight sturdy chairs a space for both dining and meetings. Present were Mu?l and three priests in somber robes, standing in a row to his left with hands clasped respectfully. The foremost among them spoke with utmost deference. "Abbott Noah has declared that they have found their own path and intend to leave the church to pursue their studies independently." In the Church of Abundance, "sects" referred to ideological factions interpreting the scriptures differently. Historically, the "church" was considered a subset of these sects, but in modern terms, it encompassed all followers of the deity. The factions, however, reflected splinters born of diverging scripture interpretations¡ªor, more cynically, differing power bases. Though masked by piety, the truth was clear: these divisions were fueled by the pursuit of influence, not belief. Mu?l knew this well. The cult comprised three major sects the traditionalists preserving old teachings, the innovators advocating for progress, and the centrists striving for balance. Sects outside these were often scorned as irrelevant chaff. For an obscure abbey under Abbott Noah''s leadership to declare autonomy? It was preposterous. Who did they think had supported them all this time? "Cut off all aid to that monastery. If they change their minds, have the abbot bring us his own leg flesh as an offering." It was a punishment befitting their arrogance. "Understood," replied the priest. But this wasn''t the end. Recently, there had been another affront to the church¡ªan act so bold it was nearly laughable. The "Unyielding Knight"? The "Madmen Knights"? Ridiculous. Mu?l was incensed by their opposition. If they thought defying the cult would go unpunished, they were sorely mistaken. "Was it Border Guard?" he asked, his voice steady as his anger simmered beneath. "Cease all trade with them and withdraw our personnel from their defense." Mu?l''s hand left his belly. His irritation hadn''t completely dissipated, but this action would serve as a clear warning. He ordered all priests stationed in Naurilia, tasked with suppressing heretical movements, to return immediately. It was an open invitation for heretics to wreak havoc. If the church''s presence was withdrawn, the chaos could be monumental¡ªproof of the church''s essential role. Would they still deny their mistakes then? Mu?l thought not. He didn''t stop at mere withdrawal orders. A stern letter of protest was to be sent, warning of the church''s unrelenting resolve. Let them recognize the magnitude of their error. "Write to the king as well," Mu?l concluded, his mind racing ahead. The King of Naurilia would have to make significant concessions to the Holy Kingdom because of this. All of this had transpired while Enkrid was en route back to Border Guard. "This is driving me insane," muttered Krais. Enkrid offered no excuse. He didn''t need to. The situation could have been worse if not for the monastery''s deliberate declaration of independence. Without that, the cult might have acted even more aggressively. But even now, their response was anything but restrained. Their message was clear: Why are you interfering in our affairs? This level of reaction was uncharacteristically mild for the church, known for its blunt use of force. That they hadn''t resorted to outright violence spoke to their caution. After all, this was no ordinary opposition. This was Enkrid and the Madmen Knights¡ªan unstoppable force at the heart of Border Guard''s military might. Any clumsy show of strength could backfire spectacularly. While some still underestimated Enkrid''s capabilities, those attuned to the continent''s shifting power dynamics no longer doubted him. Even the cunning strategist Abnaier acknowledged this harsh truth: Who would dare to openly disrupt a sacred ceremony? They''re truly mad. The Kingdom of Aspen wasn''t weak enough to be coerced by the church. Its military might might not rival the entire Holy Kingdom''s, but it was more than capable of negating their influence. Still, Aspen had refrained from direct opposition¡ªwhy? Because rejecting the church invited severe repercussions. Trade disruptions would be the first blow. Wine, soap, and jam¡ªgoods primarily produced by monasteries¡ªformed the backbone of this trade. While private merchants had started producing some of these goods, monasteries still controlled the majority. Losing access to these supplies would be just the beginning. The real threat lay in the diplomatic fallout. Nations allied with the Holy Kingdom would sever ties, and larger southern powers would eagerly side with the church. Aspen would face boycotts and obstructions at every turn. Challenging the cult was like provoking ghouls¡ªmindless creatures that attacked indiscriminately, whether their target was human, Frog, or giant. ''There''s already a mountain of urgent matters to resolve, and this is outright foolishness.'' Instead of solving problems, this only created more. Immediate issues? Abnaier understood the significance of the Apostle of Abundance, who influenced the continent, and could even predict their actions. Back when Aspen was thriving, hadn''t he considered countless times what might happen if the rotten priests were rooted out entirely? Pressure through trade routes. The trade routes controlled by the church were utilized by countless merchants. That would be the starting point. One of the greatest strengths of the church was its monasteries. Though not cities, these monasteries independently defended against beasts and magical creatures. Merchants often used them as intermediate bases. Even if one overlooked that, what would follow? Of all the looming issues, the most significant one stood out. ''The Paladins would be withdrawn.'' The Paladins, tasked with suppressing heretics, operated under the church''s directives. This applied both to the Order of Righteous Justice and the Heretic Extermination Order. These two Paladin orders traversed borders, relentlessly pursuing and killing heretics. They were known across the continent as unparalleled hunters and assassins of heretics, striking fear into their enemies. Although their numbers were not vast, each member dedicated their life to eradicating heretics. If they ceased their work? The balance of power would crumble. It was because of the Paladin Order''s vigilance that heretics couldn''t act with impunity. While heretics couldn''t be completely eradicated, the tenuous balance ensured they couldn''t run rampant. This balance was one of the church''s key achievements since the Mad Cult of the Demon Wastelands successfully summoned the Salamander long ago. Even when Naurilia had appeared as a tempting fruit to surrounding nations, heretics had been active within the kingdom. This was possible because the church redirected the Paladins''s attention elsewhere. Now, the church would do everything in its power to pull the Paladins out of the kingdom, leaving the heretics to flourish like fish in water. "That girl is the Saint?" "Hello, I''m Seiki." When Krais saw the child Enkrid had brought, he asked incredulously. Seiki answered cheerfully despite her haggard appearance¡ªdark circles under her eyes, an air of exhaustion, and trembling legs. Her voice, however, remained bright. ''And they brought the Saint here?'' Abnaier, uncharacteristically, nearly slapped his forehead in disbelief. Why had they brought her? Rescuing the Saint was a problem, attacking the monastery was another, yet they had gone so far as to bring the child at the center of it all. The Cult of Abundance''s main focus was the potion trade. And they had calmly taken away its key resource? ''Madman.'' The epithet fit perfectly. Abnaier now fully grasped its meaning. Yet, despite the absurdity, Abnaier felt something other than shock. Though it was nonsensical, infuriating, and foolish, there was a certain thrill in it. "Hey. I need a new suit of armor, something easier to move in. Find someone good at making that kind of thing. Aetri keeps calling himself a weapons expert, but even blacksmiths have specialties, right? And since he doesn''t want to deal with it, let''s find someone else. We''re keeping Aetri''s forge stocked with everything he needs, right?" As Enkrid casually listed his needs, Krais responded immediately. "Oh, you''re killing me. Should I nag the old man about not taking on more work? And is armor something you just replace every time you come back from a fight? The commander has a habit of replacing gear after every battle." "Do I?" "The church... what on earth is your plan? They''ve already sent a letter demanding the Saint''s return, and it arrived before you did." "Ignore it." "Understood." "Any problems with that?" Problems? Plenty, thought Abnaier. But Krais''s response was nonchalant, his demeanor calm and composed. "There are many. We''re calling a meeting. Please attend this time." "All right." Enkrid nodded, and Krais sighed again. There was no sense of urgency or life-threatening gravity in their conversation. Was it because the danger wasn''t immediate? Impossible. Krais was a genius, unmatched in his strategic thinking. He wasn''t someone who lacked a sense of reality. If anything, Krais was far more attuned to looming threats than Abnaier himself. Was that why? Abnaier didn''t know. But something about the exchange sent shivers down his spine. His skin prickled, and his body''s hairs stood on end. The church''s corruption? True enough¡ªeveryone knew about it. Rotten priests abusing their divine authority? Rarely did anyone remain unaware of their existence. Even common farmers recoiled at the mere mention of the church or heretics. Yet no one acted against them. Thinking about it was one thing Taking action was another. It brought no personal benefit. But that man considered it natural, doing what must be done. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, acting as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. To Abnaier, that was electrifying. A sensation like exhilaration coursed through him, leaving him unable to suppress a grin. "Ha, hahaha." In the past, back in Aspen, how often had he wanted to disrupt the church''s grand ceremonies? He had dreamed of causing utter chaos, yet even he hadn''t imagined something like this. Kidnapping the Saint and attacking a monastery? Though he didn''t know the full details, watching Enkrid act with total disregard for the church''s authority brought him endless amusement. Hearing Abnaier''s laughter, Enkrid glanced at him, then whispered something to Krais. Whatever it was, Abnaier couldn''t hear it. All he could understand was why the word "hero" suited this man so perfectly. What was impossible for others was natural for him. What others only dared to imagine, he executed. And for those who followed him, such extraordinary feats had become the norm. "Let''s talk for a moment," Krais said, approaching Abnaier. Abnaier stopped laughing and nodded, ready to hear anything. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 180 Chapters] Latest WN-739 + 20 future Chapters that are yet to be released [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 20 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 20 -s 700-730 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released Discord server - .gg/snCZVX3mr4 Chapter 584 - A Child’s Words Chapter 584 - 584 - A Child''s Words Chapter 584 - A Child''s Words "Did we overwork him so much he''s lost his mind?" "Ah, how much work could he possibly have done? Why would he go mad? Besides, I can understand feeling so absurd that you can''t help but laugh." These words referred to none other than the leader of a city, the ruler of the Border Guard territory, and the master of the knight order¡ªwho had just gone and pulled a fast one on the Church. When Enkrid asked his question, Krais answered while looking at Abnaier. Neither of them could truly understand the emotional turmoil inside Abnaier. He simply seemed insane, laughing suddenly like that. After sending Enkrid on his way, Krais approached Abnaier. There was no point trying to stop Enkrid¡ªit wouldn''t work anyway. Krais hadn''t been able to voice his misgivings to the commander, but deep inside, an intense unease had taken root. It was a familiar feeling. He always imagined the worst-case scenario, no matter the situation. If things keep heading this way... As his anxiety spiked, Krais''s sharp mind raced even faster. If the Holy Nation doesn''t resort to violence, what''s their first move going to be? What could they do to obstruct, sabotage, or harass? If it were him, he''d do whatever it took to influence the region. Nightmarish scenarios swirled through his mind, each more chaotic than the last. At the same time, Krais began formulating plans to counter these possibilities. He sketched out a rough outline, though confirmation was necessary. In moments like this, having a strategist more capable than himself was a comforting thought. "Abnaier, could you check if this seems right?" Krais outlined his plan, speaking non-stop. He left no room for interruptions. He had been preparing for this for some time, anticipating the chaos Enkrid might stir up. Among his preparations was a contingency for how to provide support in case a demon descended and a full-scale battle erupted. Enkrid might pick a fight with a demon and come back. Isn''t that possible? While demons from the Demonic Domains rarely ventured to the continent, Krais still deemed it plausible. It was one of the ten worst nightmares he had ever envisioned. "Dreams are something you weave with such detail, aren''t they?" His lover, Nulath, often remarked on how dramatic he was, but Krais prepared anyway. Compared to demonic descent, a conflict with the Church seemed almost manageable. Admittedly, it was madness¡ªbut manageable madness. "So why are you asking when you''ve already decided?" When Abnaier spoke up mid-explanation, Krais scolded him. "Focus, will you? Does this look like someone else''s problem to you? This is about everyone''s well-being. What happens if the Church stirs up trouble, leaving people starving and desperate? Hmm? Does Aspen benefit from that?" "No, I didn''t mean it that way..." Why talk about sincerity when you''ve already made up your mind? Abnaier tried to defend himself, but Krais kept chastising him before letting out a deep sigh. "Anyway, that''s what we''re doing." Abnaier listened to Krais''s plan, roughly remembered it, and then asked the real question on his mind. "Don''t you resent him?" Despite his rising anxiety, Krais kept doing what needed to be done. It was oddly admirable¡ªand puzzling. How could he handle such a situation without complaint? Was there anyone on the continent who openly opposed the Church and lived to tell the tale? Even the southern monarchs wouldn''t dare, let alone the emperor of an empire. Krais answered with an indifferent air, neither laughing nor crying. "No, I''m used to it. Honestly, the original name of this knight order was the ''Troublemakers Squad.''" Abnaier thought that name oddly fitting. Still, the "Madmen Knights" must have sounded equally absurd when first introduced. "Troublemaker" was not a term anyone would seriously use for a knightly order. "We''re holding a meeting in a few days. You should attend, Abnaier." With that, Krais briskly walked off, clearly busy with a long list of tasks. His stride betrayed some irritation, but no resentment¡ªjust a sense of duty. It seemed the entire city shared that sentiment. Plenty of people had heard about what happened, but few expressed concern or worry. The sentiment was remarkably subdued. "He''s back." "Is training starting again tomorrow?" Some worried about the intensity of training sessions under the Unyielding Knight.freewe?nove?l.co? "Vacation. Vacation. Give me a vacation. I''ll sell my soul." Others, looking half-dead, only begged for time off. "Spar with me!" Some even asked to duel the knightly order''s commander, who was also the lord of the region¡ªa veritable hero. "You''ve returned, my lord!" Even the city''s ruler greeted him warmly. It was said that his skills only truly shone in his later years. For a semi knight, that''s hardly common. Though semi knights were not common, the times were changing. The Unyielding Knight stood at the center of that change, spurring everyone around him forward. His mere presence inspired those who didn''t give up or fall behind. In a way, it was like witnessing magic¡ªsomething extraordinary yet real. Perhaps this explained why no one questioned what Enkrid had done. There was only one reason for their faith: Everything he had done so far proved his worth. "Ah." Abnaier finally accepted with his heart what his mind had already understood. It wasn''t simply a lack of strength that had led to his defeat. This was something he already knew, but seeing it with his own eyes and experiencing it firsthand engraved the truth deeply within him. "I lost." Despite the loss, Abnaier felt neither despair nor discouragement. Instead, his heart raced with excitement, and he looked forward to tomorrow. "What are you saying now?" As soon as Enkrid returned, he immediately relayed Audin''s words to Rem, Ragna, and the others. This was something they needed to hear quickly. "He said that when he gets back, he''s going to beat each of you black and blue." Enkrid repeated his earlier statement in a concise manner. "Who''s beating who? That bear cub rookie thinks he can beat me?" "If you call him a rookie one more time when he comes back, I think he really might try it." At Enkrid''s remark, Rem chuckled, hefting his axe. Who could possibly beat who? Even if Audin was given the chance to fight up close, he wouldn''t stand a chance, not even half of one. Against someone at Rem''s level, it wouldn''t even come to close-quarters combat. Those who''d reached the mastery of experts, let alone knights, wouldn''t easily allow others into their chosen range of engagement. There was no way Audin, that bear cub rookie, had any chance. He was just a solid and annoyingly tough bear of a man. "What nonsense," Rem muttered. His confidence stemmed from countless sparring sessions, which made Audin''s limits glaringly clear. "To me, that bear cub is already a step ahead of you." Shinar chimed in from the side. Fights were unpredictable until you actually faced off. But even then, you could still see certain things. The divine energy Audin carried instead of Will, its concentration and depth¡ªthese were factors to consider. Of course, that didn''t guarantee victory or defeat in a life-or-death battle. But in a spar? In a situation where they couldn''t go all out with their axes? Shinar''s words made Rem''s eyebrows twitch¡ªa clear sign he didn''t like what he''d just heard. Was the fairy lying? The odds were slim. And Enkrid wasn''t the type to joke about these matters either. "Really?" Rem asked again, just to be sure. "Really." Enkrid nodded firmly. Rem had a gut feeling it was true. Especially since Enkrid, when it came to swordsmanship or martial arts, was deadly serious. He wasn''t someone who''d lie about such matters. Beside him, Ragna''s usually narrowed eyes widened slightly as he asked, "Who?" "Audin," Enkrid replied patiently. "Who?" Ragna repeated in the same tone. "He said he''d be here in a few months at the latest." Enkrid spoke calmly, knowing only those who wanted to listen would hear. And he was sure these guys had already noticed what he had: That Audin was hiding something. Even Fel and Ropord had figured it out. In fact, everyone was aware to some extent. On top of that, Audin was the type to take secrets to his grave rather than reveal them. They''d learned this after countless sparring sessions disguised as bullying attempts. So, had that guy finally broken out of his shell? Even after Enkrid''s words, Ropord, Fel, and Luagarne didn''t show much reaction. Neither did Jaxen, who had a neutral relationship with Audin¡ªneither good nor bad. They respected each other''s space in their own ways. But Rem and Ragna were different. They''d teased Audin endlessly and made him play the little brother role for a long time. While rumors of the "mad youngest brother Ragna" had recently begun spreading, before that, they''d mercilessly mocked and pushed him around as the "bear cub youngest." Rem gripped his axe and stood up. Had he been slacking in training, playing with his new favorite toy¡ªhis subordinates? Maybe a little. That would change now. "Don''t look for me for a while." Thankfully, the timing was convenient. Recently, he''d found traces of a strange monster in the Pen-Hanil mountain range. It was an irregular, malevolent spirit-like being. If he could figure out how, it might even be repurposed for sorcery. He didn''t know how yet, but that was a problem for later. He''d initially planned to take his time, but now, urgency pressed him forward. In the west, they had a saying for such situations "trying to catch the sun as it sets." It was similar to saying the fire was already at their feet. "Tell Big Eyes that our unit''s on leave for now!" Despite the cold weather, which usually discouraged movement, Rem packed heated stones and thermal leathers to show his resolve. Enkrid, watching him, nodded and asked, "Sparring later?" "In a few days." Going alone into the Pen-Hanil mountains might have sounded crazy, but this was Rem. "If you die, I''ll make sure your body is buried properly." Enkrid raised his hand and spoke, prompting Rem to chuckle softly as he responded. "Been hanging out with those religious types, huh? Did you pick up blessings now? Why don''t you offer me a prayer too?" "If it''s necessary, I''ll do that as well." "Ugh, get lost, will you? Can''t you see I''m busy?" It wasn''t exactly convincing, coming from someone who had been oiling his axe and basking in the warmth of a campfire in his quarters just before Enkrid arrived. Meanwhile, Ragna quietly grasped his sword and stood up. He moved to a corner of the training ground and began swinging his blade. Swish. Swoosh. Whirr. Each swing of the sword produced a different sound. Watching them both seemed to stir something within Enkrid. He felt a surge of energy, eager to try out the insights he had gained during his time away. As always, upon returning, he immediately immersed himself in his usual routine¡ªswinging his sword, training, and honing his body. "Do you bring back a girl every time you leave the camp? Is this some kind of collection? Should we blame your face for this?" Esther, now in her human form, had approached and teased him. "The sorrow of a man without charm wells up inside me. It''s not about my face¡ªshe just needed a place to stay." Enkrid responded calmly, in a way Esther couldn''t quite understand. Even though he thought he had moved on, Seiki''s words had left an indelible mark on his heart. Seiki, for her part, had quickly adapted to the Border Guard and was now frequently seen following Shinar around. She occasionally suggested training together but seemed particularly exhilarated by the sight of the surrounding mountains, plains, and new terrains. Was it typical for Highlanders like her to find joy in discovering and exploring new landscapes? Or was Seiki simply unique? Enkrid''s thoughts drifted back to something Seiki had said on their way to the city. "I want to live my whole life in the mountains. It''s not that I dislike people or anything¡ªI just think that''s the best way for me to live. Hunting, eating good food, sometimes counting stars, basking in moonlight, and drinking¡ªthat''s the kind of life I want." It was a way of life she had learned from her grandfather. She wanted to live out her days, repeating mornings and evenings in that manner, and eventually die of old age. Could such a life hold profound meaning? Probably not, but Enkrid could feel the sincerity in her words. Should simplicity be dismissed? No, it shouldn''t. Must every dream strive to change the world? Not at all. Should every dream involve insurmountable obstacles? Of course not. Does every dream need to revolutionize one''s own life? Not necessarily. "I know my desires could change someday. My grandfather often told me that I lack experience and knowledge. Maybe my dream of dying as a highlander is just the nai?ve wish of someone too young to know better. But if my thoughts change, I''ll deal with it when the time comes. Right now, this is how I want to live¡ªexactly the way I said." Her words were those of a child who loved the moon and stars, mountains and rocks, waterfalls and streams. She cherished the freshness of spring, the warmth and heat of summer, the coolness and abundance of autumn, and the cold and pristine snowflakes of winter. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 180 Chapters] Latest WN-739 + 20 future Chapters that are yet to be released [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 20 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 20 -s 700-730 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released Discord server - .gg/snCZVX3mr4 Chapter 585 - Meeting Chapter 585 - 585 - Meeting Chapter 585 - Meeting Enkrid gleaned a new understanding from Seiki''s words¡ªinsights about the small cycles governing the world. It was a flow, much like the turning of seasons: spring giving way to summer, and autumn yielding to winter. This realization bridged the gap between his swordsmanship and his weaknesses. "What if I stopped forcing my Will and instead felt the flow naturally, letting it push gently outward?" Facing the prophet Overdier had provided him with a vague sense of direction, and now, it felt like he had learned how to walk that path. Still, Enkrid refrained from overreacting. After all, nothing was certain without firsthand experience. "Go ahead," Seiki had said. "Are you cheering me on?" "That''s right." "Thanks." Their exchange was simple, yet revealing. Seiki wasn''t particularly articulate, but she never hesitated to express herself. This straightforwardness could be a strength but might also create challenges in social situations. Still, within Border Guard, such traits wouldn''t be a problem. The city, was filled with people wilder and more unhinged than her. It wasn''t called the Madmen''s Order headquarters for nothing. "Sometimes, I''ll have to look out for her," Enkrid thought, seeing himself as the stabilizing force in the Madmen''s Order. "Everyone here is insane, after all." Despite their eccentricities, Enkrid believed that people shine when sharing their dreams and aspirations. He never dismissed Seiki''s words as childish, even if her goals might change someday. As long as her desires were genuine, he''d support her. One thing was clear Becoming a saintess wasn''t her ultimate dream. "I don''t particularly enjoy meeting people," Seiki had admitted. She preferred solitude, and Enkrid left her to her own devices. Shinar, however, took it upon herself to guide Seiki to a place she might enjoy. The fairy, with her love for crafting secret havens, claimed it was a hobby. Whether or not that was true, Seiki seemed content, so Enkrid nodded in approval. Amid these reflections, Esther broke the silence. "Popular?" Her question stemmed from Enkrid''s earlier self-deprecating comment about being an unpopular man. "No," he replied dismissively. It was a trivial conversation, easy to brush aside. For several days, Esther observed Enkrid closely. No one could guess what the witch was thinking. The only noticeable change was the addition of a few soldiers at her side¡ªmages armed with short wands adorned with small gemstones. These tools, called wands, helped channel magic, and their expense likely upset Krais, given the gems'' high value. "Ugh, it''s freezing!" Rem exclaimed, returning to their quarters after three days. Though winter hadn''t arrived yet, he complained about the cold, his body covered in minor injuries. "What were you up to?" Enkrid asked. "Exorcising some evil spirits," Rem replied curtly, showing no interest in elaborating. During Rem''s absence, Ragna took to swinging his sword, a rare display of discipline. True to form, though, his training sessions were brief¡ªmorning, noon, and evening. Continuous, rigorous practice didn''t suit Ragna''s nature. Between sessions, he sparred with Ropord or meditated, half-asleep. Yet even this irregular routine yielded noticeable improvements. "Unbelievable," Enkrid muttered during a sparring match, accidentally praising Ragna. Though familiar with Ragna''s techniques, Enkrid found them faster, sharper, and heavier than before. "Just swing faster and with more force when you see an opening," Ragna explained, his words akin to telling someone to study by reading books. As vague as his advice was, Enkrid couldn''t entirely dismiss it¡ªit reminded him of the unexplainable nature of his Iron Wall technique. While Enkrid painstakingly progressed step by step, Ragna''s skills advanced in leaps. Still, neither Ragna nor Rem hesitated to support Enkrid''s training. When asked for advice, their responses were consistent: "Exert your strength all at once." ¨C Rem. "Focus when swinging your sword. Why can''t you do that?" ¨C Ragna. Even Jaxen chimed in, saying, "You need to cultivate a sense for Will." "What does that even mean?" Enkrid wondered but chose to quietly absorb their advice. He realized their guidance wasn''t unlike his own cryptic explanations about the Wall he created. With the right direction, effort would eventually yield results. As five days passed, Krais called for a meeting. "Church! Danger! Trade! Accidents! Security! Disruption!" Krais''s scattered words hinted at the agenda. Enkrid, unconcerned about any perceived "trouble" he might have caused, attended with ease. The atmosphere was far from tense¡ªfew in the city, let alone those around Enkrid, considered such issues crises. The meeting''s oval table placed Enkrid at its head, with Graham, the seasoned warrior, to his left. Surprisingly, Rem sat across from him, with Ragna beside him for "fresh air." Esther and Luagarne, now Enkrid''s unofficial observation duo, sat near the wall, focused on him. "Quite the prime spot," Enkrid remarked as Shinar joined them. With a fairy, a Frog, and a human woman observing him intently, the scene was peculiar, though no one dared comment. While Graham paid them no mind, others couldn''t help but steal glances. Still, Enkrid said nothing, leaving the unusual gathering unchallenged. As they gathered one by one, the room filled with notable figures: Graham and the lord''s faction, Krais, Nurat, and Abnaier representing the working group, alongside the key forces of the knights¡ªRem, Ragna, Jaxen, and Shinar. Even Vengeance, now the captain of the city''s security forces, was present. When Enkrid entered the conference room, Vengeance stood at attention, placing a hand on his waist and bowing respectfully. "Now a captain?" Enkrid asked. "That''s correct," Vengeance replied with a faint smile, a peaceful expression symbolizing contentment. The jealousy that once blinded him was gone, replaced by a calmer demeanor. Having married and with a child on the way, he now viewed Enkrid''s recent actions with concern rather than resentment. Though curious about the outcome, Vengeance knew his position didn''t allow him to voice objections. "We''ll begin the meeting to prepare for the Church''s movements," Krais announced, his clear, melodious voice resonating through the hall. The large table couldn''t accommodate everyone, leaving many standing, though the room remained quiet and orderly. The chill in the air was combated by several braziers, one of which drew Shinar''s muttered caution about fire safety. Amid this atmosphere, Krais began outlining the situation. "The Church oversees several trade routes, handling food and goods distributed across the continent. Recently, their merchants have started rejecting shipments, and in response, trading cities are subtly refusing deals." It was a grave issue, but Krais delivered it concisely, hitting the critical points. Enkrid, disinterested in unnecessary delays, interrupted with a question. "The Stone Road?" The Stone Road was the name of the trade route connecting the western regions to their current location. Leona Rockfreed, a member of the working faction, raised her head. Enkrid''s question implied: Isn''t Border Guard already independent of the Church''s trade system? "It''s operating smoothly, without any need for the Church," Leona replied. Even in a formal setting, her tone toward Enkrid was respectful, though they were friends. Her face showed no trace of anxiety. The Rockfreed trading company, founded on bold ventures, thrived under Leona, who was more adventurous than her predecessors. For her, this was an opportunity. Establishing an independent trade network via the Stone Road would free them from foreign pressures. Displeased with other trading groups bowing to the Holy Nation''s influence, Leona appreciated Enkrid''s actions, which aligned with her principles. "Good," Enkrid said, a tacit approval for her to proceed. Leona''s eyes sparkled as she nodded. Pressure on trade routes? Rejected deals? Petty defiance from a few merchant groups? None of it concerned Enkrid. As long as the western routes and Border Guard remained stable, trade would not suffer significantly. To Leona, his broad perspective was natural, but it demonstrated Enkrid''s growth. His ability to analyze problems and propose solutions impressed her. This insight wasn''t new for Enkrid, however. His experience had sharpened his ability to identify obstacles and find resolutions. "Blocked paths." Throughout his life, Enkrid had encountered countless barriers¡ªwalls that seemed insurmountable or rocks too heavy to move. Yet, he had never given up, and this situation was no different. His determination, coupled with his strength, allowed him to envision solutions others could not. Krais had identified the issue, and Enkrid offered the answer, his words resonating with the strategic minds present. Even Abnaier, whose loyalty remained uncertain, found the discussion intriguing. Enkrid spoke again. "If we open trade with the west, what do we lose? If trading cities find themselves in need, won''t they think twice before acting rashly? Can''t Rockfreed Trading handle this? What do you need? Spears? Swords? Or something else?" His blunt yet calculated remarks struck a chord. While trade disruptions would cause some inconvenience, the solution was clear, and the means to implement it were within reach. Leona nodded, signaling her determination to take responsibility. "Let me know if you need anything," Enkrid concluded. "Understood." With that, one matter was resolved. Enkrid''s broad judgment outpaced Krais''s, though the latter excelled in finer adjustments and execution. Much of the groundwork for this meeting, including problem-solving, had already been laid by Krais, leaving Enkrid to refine and expand on the solutions. "Protest letters have also been sent to the kingdom," a royal envoy cautiously interjected. Having spent several days at Border Guard, he sought to participate in the discussions. "So?" Enkrid asked, turning to him. "Did the king hold me accountable?" The envoy hesitated, his gaze meeting Enkrid''s piercing eyes. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 180 Chapters] Latest WN-739 + 20 future Chapters that are yet to be released [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 20 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 20 -s 700-730 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released Discord server - .gg/snCZVX3mr4 Chapter 586 - The Emblem of the Border Guard Regular Army Chapter 586 - 586 - The Emblem of the Border Guard Regular Army Chapter 586 - The Emblem of the Border Guard Regular Army The messenger, meeting Enkrid''s gaze, shook his head. There was no such content in the letter. The reason the messenger remained here was to convey something verbally rather than in writing. It was a message that everyone around had prevented from being put into words on paper. Even though someone from the church was present and could potentially relay the message, the messenger felt a fiery surge rising within him. Say it if you must. Enkrid''s attitude stirred his boldness. Whether it concerned the church or anyone else, wasn''t it fine to walk the path one believed to be righteous? What did it matter what others thought? Wasn''t that what the man sitting at the center of the assembly appeared to say? Who was the person speaking from that position now? A hero of the nation. A close friend of the king. A demon slayer and the knight of the unyielding wall. Whether it was right or wrong to obstruct the path he walked, he would remove any obstacle in his way. Feeling the urge to bellow at anyone blocking the hero''s way, the messenger finally spoke. "To strike the Unyielding is to strike me. Do as you wish and say it''s my will." This was Krang''s message. It was a statement promising unconditional support, no matter what action was taken. "Oh, and if things get dangerous, let them know I''ll come to help," he added. Enkrid responded immediately. He didn''t think meetings were unnecessary, but he had no intention of wasting time on formalities or on matters that didn''t warrant deliberation. "There have been unsettling movements of monsters, beasts, bandits, and cultists. Especially in the southern regions..." Krais reported. Since the civil war, the areas surrounding the Border Guard had stabilized. The vicinity of the capital was much the same, but the southern kingdom still had many unresolved issues. Recently, rumors had spread about a new, infamous bandit group. "Send troops for live combat training," Enkrid decided without hesitation. Krais stared at Enkrid. This was a topic that hadn''t been discussed beforehand, yet the response matched his own thoughts. "Do you think such a hole in security is likely?" When Enkrid''s gaze turned toward Vengeance, the latter saluted and answered resolutely, "Not at all." Krais immediately followed up. "We''ll strategize and dispatch them accordingly." "If there''s a problem, I''ll handle it myself," Enkrid declared earnestly. If the new bandit group caught wind of this meeting, they''d probably disband and return to civilian life. "Well, I''ve got free hands. So do the ones I''ve trained," Rem added casually. "I can handle it alone," Ragna chimed in. "I could drop by myself," Jaxen remarked. "Next." Enkrid nodded and moved on. Though nodding didn''t mean he''d let Ragna go alone, it wasn''t the time to nitpick. Problems abounded, but none were insurmountable. That was Enkrid''s stance, unchanging from his days as a squad leader to now. Krais understood that all the answers were already apparent, yet he couldn''t shake his unease and had called the meeting. As always, Enkrid didn''t fault him for it. Instead, he made his position clear for everyone to hear and see. "I will be the sword in the king''s path, and anyone who obstructs the path I walk will be cut down. The church exploited children, so I rescued them. If it happens again, I''ll act as I did before." Children called saints or holy ones within the Abundance Church were rare. The church''s desperation to capture Seiki showed just how urgent their need was. Enkrid''s actions had already dealt a significant blow to the church. While the priests of the Abundance Church fumed at Enkrid''s audacity, Overdier and Audin were undoubtedly executing their plans in the background. Though Enkrid''s actions ultimately benefited them, he didn''t dwell on such details. But Krais did. Krais knew what Audin was plotting. Through conversations and unfolding events, he had pieced together the strategy at play. It was an attack, plain and simple. "To strike the church," he thought grimly. More accurately, this was a move against the Holy Kingdom itself. If Audin failed, it would mean facing a formidable enemy. Reports even mentioned that a holy knight had joined Audin''s cause. Judging by the flow of events, success seemed more likely than failure. Still, the stakes were high, and Krais wrestled with the implications of failure, driving himself to think of solutions. "But what if they succeed?" In that case, they''d gain an extraordinary ally. Even if the church didn''t become an outright enemy, that alone would be a victory. What role did the Border Guard need to play until then? No matter what the church attempted, they had to endure. Open conflict or war with the church was the worst possible outcome, and Krais was determined to avoid it. "We must endure. If direct clashes or religious wars erupt, winning or losing won''t matter; the cultists will only benefit," Krais concluded. Next to him, Abnaier, the genius strategist of Aspen, spoke. "We must endure and act as though nothing is amiss," Abnaier added. "Precisely. But behind the scenes, everything must be prepared," Krais agreed. "What''s the greatest threat here?" "Any direct harm to neighboring territories or allied domains." The rampages of monsters, beasts, bandits, and cultists fell into this category. Preventing damage entirely would be a great success, but how feasible was that? "You might think it''s not easy. I see it differently. Even if the forces are spread thin, it will be sufficient," Abnaier stated confidently. Abnaier''s superior assessment of troop capabilities and his confidence in success set him apart from Krais. He saw a bright and promising future, and his conviction eased Krais''s unease somewhat. "They''ve all been worked to the bone," Krais thought wryly. These two geniuses exchanged remarks that few others could grasp. Thud. Enkrid lightly struck the table, the sound silencing the room. The conversations subsided as everyone turned their gaze to the one who defended this land. In the center of their attention, Enkrid spoke with a casual air. "Then I''m off." It was a succinct farewell and a declaration that the meeting was over. He had said what he needed to and rose to leave. The knights, led by Rem, followed him. Among those present were Shinar, the Golden Flower, and Esther, the Black Witch. Yet no one spared them a glance, their focus solely on Enkrid. They had seen the path shown by Enkrid, accepted the intentions revealed, and listened only to the future he spoke of. When Enkrid and his group withdrew, only those captivated by his spirit and momentum remained in the room. "Very well. Vengeance, summon a platoon leader meeting, excluding the minimum number of troops required to guard the city. Lord Graham?" Krais began addressing minor details. With the grand direction decided, it was now time to handle the finer aspects. "Speak." "We request full armament by distributing proper equipment." This was not about training gear but about preparing the troops as if for war. "Inform the merchants and all others. To the neighboring nobles, say that the Border Guard''s forces will be mobilized upon request, with costs to be settled afterward." If help was to be offered, it would be done properly. Deploying forces between territories was a sensitive matter, but the Border Guard''s involvement carried a different weight. Enkrid''s reputation ensured that no one would misunderstand their intent as territorial ambition. And if they did? If that misunderstanding led them not to ask for aid? That would be their choice. But those who sought help would be saved, without exception. That was Enkrid''s will as well. "This will work. It must work." Beside him, Abnaier spoke again. ''Not bad.'' Krais finished several calculations in an instant. All of this was, in fact, an act of expanding influence in the region. If Krang, the king of Naurilia, had tried to check Enkrid''s movements, this plan wouldn''t have even started. Instead, Krang officially supported and pledged to assist it. Thus, there were no obstacles to the Border Guard''s actions. That didn''t mean all anxiety had vanished. ''I''m trembling.'' If things went wrong, the troop losses would be staggering. This single decision could send people to their deaths. Krais had a weakness for this kind of responsibility. The thought of people dying in droves because of a single gesture unsettled him. It wasn''t something he wanted to do. But if it had to be done, he would do it. He had learned that from observing Enkrid. ''I''d rather run a salon, relax, and live peacefully.'' In truth, Krais''s aspirations were only possible in an era of peace. Hosting revelry for people across the continent in a city of indulgence¡ªa far-fetched dream. But ultimately, his dream wasn''t so different from Enkrid''s. Krais steeled his resolve. A gesture might cause death, but it was an unavoidable reality. And everyone involved was making their own choices. "Those who remain in the military without understanding that are risking their lives for nothing." That was what Enkrid always said. If one raised a weapon with the intent to kill, one must be prepared to die as well. Without that resolve, even the basic training of the Border Guard was unbearable. "Now, let''s get moving." Krais, having braced himself, gave the order. For the time being, everyone would be relentlessly busy. This all happened before the church could properly begin their schemes. In the southern kingdom, Viscount Harrison was shouting with his face flushed red to the scalp. "Absolutely not!" "But at this rate, we could all die. I propose implementing a scorched-earth strategy and holding out." The scorched-earth strategy involved destroying resources and food supplies to prevent them from falling into enemy hands. The suggestion was to burn all the fields the viscount had cultivated so far. The proposal came from the leader of the vigilante corps, a former mercenary now serving under the viscount. The viscount knew it was the right call. Yet surrendering the land meant sacrificing the future as well. Losing land and crops, burning and ruining everything¡ªit would make recovering the land an insurmountable task. And the aftermath? Likely a lifetime of exploitation on a small parcel of land. The enemy was a newly formed bandit group, and somehow, they were summoning monstrous boars. Hundreds of these beasts, over a hundred bandits, dozens of skilled archers¡ªsuch were their numbers. The viscount''s vigilante force consisted of fifty spearmen and thirteen archers. Even with considerable investment in military funding, this was all they had. The bandits'' numbers were more than double. Viscount Harrison was left with two choices. One, abandon the land, hold out, and fight the bandits. Two, stay and protect the land, risking death. Both options were unacceptable to him. Sweat dripped from his brow as his temperature rose, winter approaching notwithstanding. He felt as though he might collapse from the stress. Suddenly, a member of the vigilante corps who had been standing guard outside came rushing in. "Uh, reinforcements have arrived." "...Reinforcements?" The corps leader asked, bewildered. No reinforcements were expected. The entire southern region was in chaos with monsters and beasts. There were even rumors of heretics appearing. "What reinforcements?" "Let them in!" Reinforcements, no matter who they were, were a glimmer of hope for the viscount. "Greetings." A soldier entered, unfamiliar in appearance. But the soldier revealed his cloak, displaying a distinct city emblem. The emblem¡ªa thick horizontal line symbolizing walls with staggered lines below¡ªwas unmistakable. It was the new insignia bestowed upon the Border Guard by the king of Naurilia. Even without being a herald, the emblem was widely recognized. The Border Guard¡ªthe indomitable force that had consumed the enemy nation of Aspen¡ªwas here. "Reporting the arrival of a platoon under the standing forces of the Border Guard." The soldier spoke calmly. The numbers weren''t vast, but to Viscount Harrison, it was a spark of hope. What happened afterward was entirely unexpected. "Boars? Excellent. We''ll handle them. Keep your vigilante force guarding against any potential ambushes." The reinforcements, after confirming the monstrous boars, declared they''d fight alone. The viscount was dumbfounded. But after witnessing their battle, he was left speechless. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 180 Chapters] Latest WN-739 + 20 future Chapters that are yet to be released [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 20 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 20 -s 700-730 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released Discord server - .gg/snCZVX3mr4 Chapter 587 - Do It Well Chapter 587 - 587 - Do It Well Chapter 587 - Do It Well Viscount Harrison rubbed his eyes with a raised hand, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Rumble, rumble, rumble. A sound like thunder roared, and the earth trembled as if struck by an earthquake. It was as if a thousand cavalrymen were charging, and the reason for the deafening sound lay before his eyes. Beyond the land he had cultivated, an unprecedented number of boar beasts gathered, kicking up a cloud of dust. It looked as though they had formed a colony. The dust they raised wasn''t a mere coincidence; it acted like a veil, almost as if they were cloaking themselves with magic. As a result, their numbers were difficult to estimate. The only silver lining was that they were charging across an open plain, giving at least some time to prepare. Yet, the reinforcements who had arrived marched on two legs to face the beasts head-on. They had insisted on fighting alone, refusing outside interference. This meant that without knowing how many boar beasts there were, these lunatics were willingly running out to meet the oncoming storm of dust. If this wasn''t insanity, what was? Viscount Harrison rubbed his eyes again, but the scene didn''t change. He could still see the backs of those who had hopped over or bypassed the spiked barricades and moved forward to confront the beasts. At first glance, they seemed disorganized, but their movements were coordinated and deliberate, with each individual maintaining a fixed distance from the others. But none of that mattered to the Viscount at the moment, as he couldn''t comprehend what he was seeing. "No!" The only word that escaped his lips was filled with disbelief. The rumbling of the earth grew louder with the steady beat of approaching hooves. The Viscount''s hands, which had been rubbing his eyes, clenched into fists so tight that his veins bulged. The sight alone was enough to make his whole body tense. "These lunatics!" Finally, he couldn''t hold back his exasperation and shouted aloud. What made the boar beasts terrifying was their overwhelming charge. Without the strength of a proper knightly order, no one could face such a force head-on. And yet, these madmen had rushed forward without even using the barricades for protection. "What on earth are they doing?" The head of the local militia, a former mercenary, stood slack-jawed. He knew Viscount Harrison had sent out pleas for help far and wide, even to the royal palace. But he hadn''t expected reinforcements to actually arrive. And now that they were here, their behavior made no sense. Why were they wielding axes instead of spears? Why were they wearing leather armor and capes that seemed to match, giving the impression of a well-equipped force? As a mercenary, he had learned that encountering a group with matching equipment meant it was best to retreat. A group well-equipped enough to coordinate their gear was likely well-trained. But even with that in mind, to face the charging boar beasts head-on felt like a madman''s gamble. If the baron or the militia leader had had more time to think, they might have understood why these reinforcements were acting this way. But neither had the luxury. The moment the reinforcements arrived, the boar beasts had begun their charge. There was no time for meals or formal greetings; the reinforcements had simply rushed out without permission. Even when the militia guarding the barricades asked, "Who are you?" they had ignored the question and kept moving forward. Now, those who had crossed the barricades formed a formation, while the boar beasts charged in a scene of utter chaos. The beasts outnumbered the reinforcements several times over. The viscount''s eyelids twitched. The overwhelming pressure and his exhaustion from sleepless nights were taking their toll. If he had to watch the reinforcements get torn apart and disemboweled, he feared he might faint on the spot. "Do it well!" Someone among the reinforcements shouted. Did they have a commander? A messenger had lazily strolled over earlier, making the baron wonder what kind of person their leader might be. He caught a glimpse of gray hair¡ªsomeone without a helmet, casually observing the battle with arms crossed. The figure seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn''t place them. Time flowed as naturally as the rising and setting of the sun, and eventually, the boar beasts met the reinforcements. The baron belatedly realized he should have stopped them. He only now arrived at this thought as chaos erupted. Thwack! On the open plain, the sound of flesh tearing mixed with the pounding of hooves. Blood sprayed everywhere¡ªthick, black blood. It didn''t just stain the air but soaked the ground in abundance. "If any of you bastards die, you''ll die by my hand!" Amid the confusion, the commander''s voice rang out again. The boar beasts lunged with their sharp tusks, ready to crush anything in their path. Their bites weren''t something that would leave mere teeth marks¡ªthey were fatal. But the standing army from Border Guard, the supposed reinforcements, drew their axes and swung. Thwack! The axes tore through the boar beasts'' skulls, crushing and cleaving as the beasts'' momentum carried them forward. Everything had happened so quickly¡ªfrom the initial charge to this moment. "What is this?" The trembling under Viscount Harrison''s eyes subsided as he muttered in disbelief. His question was directed at the militia leader but also to himself. The militia leader had no answer either, only the thought that these lunatics could truly fight. There were fewer than fifty of them, but every single one fought like a madman. Rem had casually named his unit the "Assault Squad," but everyone else took to calling them the "Rem Assault Unit." Thankfully, no one had called them the "Mad Axe Squad," though in truth, they wouldn''t have cared much about what they were called. Each member had undergone rigorous training under Rem''s command, including learning basic curses from the twins. "If only there were a curse to bring us back to life after dying... we''d just kill everything," Rem often muttered. The intensity of their training was self-evident, and Rem was selective about whom he recruited. He only took those who met his standards, with many dropping out along the way. Eventually, the unit was reduced to fifty core members, three of whom showed exceptional talent. One was a brawler with no other skills, while the other two were made lieutenants. The lieutenants led the frontlines, swinging their axes with devastating effect. While Rem preferred to fight with brute force himself, he knew that leaving his men to do the same would lead to unnecessary deaths. His tactics were an amalgamation of lessons learned through observation, experience, and the advice he had wrestled out of Krais. For the first time, Rem thought his unit was finally becoming useful. "This is better than those monkey beasts hiding in trees!" One of the lieutenants shouted, a man with closely cropped hair. The others couldn''t agree more. Compared to the monkeys that silently snuck in at night to devour brains, charging boars were far preferable. It was true, this was a playground. The Pen-Hanil mountain range, once a training ground and now their battlefield, proved far less intimidating than the beasts that dwelled within it. Their strategy? Cut, slash, and strike down anything that dared attack. And they did just that. Axes swung over the spiked palisade as their foes charged forward. These wild beasts may have been terrifying in their speed, but their movements were predictably linear. For these soldiers, reacting and evading came naturally. Each of them exhibited a boldness akin to the Heart of the Beast, their fearlessness molded by none other than Rem. The Heart of the Beast had undergone refinement since Rem first taught it to Enkrid. Now, with his improved skill, Rem had honed the technique to make learning it more efficient. While it didn''t render one completely unshaken by a blade flying at them, it allowed them a measure of calm even in chaos¡ªa quality perfect for already audacious recruits. Rem''s shock troops, hardened through relentless training, displayed their mettle with pride. "Woohoo!" One soldier predicted the trajectory of a charging boar. Calculating its speed, he pivoted his body and brought his axe down diagonally. The boar impaled itself on the blade, its own momentum driving the weapon deeper. Crunch! The soldier twisted the axe''s angle, bracing against the overwhelming force of a beast many times his weight. His target? The back of its neck. With a precise lift and a twist, the axe tore through flesh and hide, spraying black blood into the air. The technique was as much about power as it was finesse¡ªa testament to their rigorous training. The charging boar-like beasts fell one by one, some felled instantly with shattered skulls, others hamstrung and left to collapse under their own weight. The carnage drenched the battlefield in black gore, leaving even the hardened Harrison Viscount, militia leaders, and their watching men slack-jawed in astonishment. But for Rem, it wasn''t enough. "If you do well, I''ll leave and not come back. But if I hear about any accidents or complaints, I will return." His words of encouragement were peculiar but effective. The troops lifted their heads, determination blazing in their eyes. Even as they split boar skulls, they hung on his every word. Especially the two deputies leading the charge¡ªthey were the most desperate to succeed. "Yes, sir! We''ll do our best!" Rem nodded, turning away to survey the surrounding area. The recent unrest caused by bandits piqued his interest. Without a word of farewell, he left the battlefield, heading off to track the bandits'' trail. Tracking remnants of human presence was one of Rem''s specialties. These particular bandits had a camp two days'' journey from the Viscount''s city. Their base, with its wooden palisade and shoddy huts, appeared pitiable¡ªbarely sustainable unless someone was backing them. But Rem didn''t care. Whatever the circumstances, today would be their end. The camp lacked any watchtowers, and the archers standing guard gawked in confusion. What had they just seen? Their arrows had barely left the bowstrings, yet the target¡ªa lone figure¡ªhad seemingly teleported to the palisade. Rem, under the effect of the Feet of the Panther spell, moved faster than the eye could track. Boom! He kicked down the wooden barrier, sending splinters flying as he bellowed, "Listen up! Your days are over. If you value your lives, run now. Got it?" As debris scattered, Rem swiftly dispatched the two archers, leaving their throats split. Startled, the bandits poured out of their huts, shouting indignantly. "What the hell is this lunatic saying? We''re the Blood Brotherhood!" Their leaders¡ªfive sworn brothers¡ªpuffed up with bravado, proclaiming their loyalty. "We live together!" "We die together!" Their unity earned a wry grin from Rem. "Fine. Then you can all die today." The bandits had a trick up their sleeve¡ªa flute used to control beasts. At its sound, a massive boar-like creature, twice the size of its kin, burst from a pit in the center of the camp. Sporting two horns and red, ravenous eyes, the beast charged directly at Rem. Whistle! As the monstrous boar leaped through the air, Rem casually reached for his axe. In a single vertical swing, he cleaved the beast clean in two. The carcass fell on either side of him, spilling blood and entrails across the ground. The bandit leaders froze, the sheer impossibility of what they''d just witnessed sinking in. Rem murmured to himself, fingering the axe handle. "What''s that? Not feeling great today? Yeah, me neither." To the bandit leaders, he seemed utterly unhinged¡ªa madman conversing with himself or perhaps a second, unseen self. Stories of the "Madmen Knights" or "Knights of Madness" had reached far and wide, but few had seen Rem in action. Those who had, never forgot. "I told you to run if you don''t want to die," Rem said, resting the axe on his shoulder. Four of the five brothers fled, leaving behind only the slowest, who hesitated with a spiked club in hand. As his brothers vanished into the forest, the lone bandit swung clumsily, panic etched across his face. Rem easily deflected the blow, severing the man''s arm with a swift counterstrike. "Ahhh!" Rem wasted no time pursuing the others, cutting them down one by one. "You called yourselves brothers, huh?" The remaining bandits, numbering over a hundred, witnessed Rem''s deadly precision. He caught arrows mid-flight and hurled them back with lethal accuracy, leaving the survivors too stunned to act. Thus ended the terror of the southern bandit group, their beast-manipulating tactics crushed by a single knight. Few would have expected a knight to storm their camp singlehandedly, let alone leave no survivors. It was an outcome no one could have foreseen. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 180 Chapters] Latest WN-739 + 20 future Chapters that are yet to be released [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 20 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 20 -s 700-730 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released Discord server - .gg/snCZVX3mr4 Chapter 588 - Turn Back Chapter 588 - 588 - Turn Back Chapter 588 - Turn Back Rem handled the situation and returned to Border Guard, leaving Viscount Harrison, who had nearly lost his land due to so-called "scorched earth tactics," sighing with relief. "There''s still a lingering threat, isn''t there? It looks that way to us, so we''ll stay and guard you for a couple of months." Even reinforcements from Border Guard had stationed themselves there. Initially, Harrison was uneasy. Could this be a move for Border Guard to quietly seize the land? It wasn''t unheard of in these times for territories to be taken over under such pretexts. Beyond that, having such a sizable combat-ready force lingering around created its own problems¡ªfeeding, housing, and clothing them were no small matters. However, the troops pitched tents to establish their camp, brought their own provisions, and even received supplies directly from Border Guard later on. Despite his unease, Harrison found it hard to refuse their support. Among the supplies was a letter from Enkrid. "Are you cultivating the land well?" Holding the letter, Viscount Harrison froze, momentarily rendered speechless. The head of the local militia watched him uneasily. Was Border Guard planning some deceitful move after all? But would that Unyielding Knight even need such underhanded methods? No matter how fertile the land of this viscountcy might seem, it was nowhere near as valuable as the Green Pearl, where over a decade of fallow fields promised bumper crops simply by sowing seeds. The letter puzzled the militia leader even more. Harrison, however, thought back to the sacred springwater that the had given to Enkrid. Some had criticized his decision as wasteful, but Harrison didn''t regret it. He had already received what he sought: encouragement and trust. That was enough. The reinforcements were another unexpected blessing. Harrison hadn''t placed much hope on his request for aid, knowing Border Guard was already entangled in numerous issues. Yet here they were, protecting his lands. "If their intentions are questionable," Harrison thought, "then I''ll pluck out my own eyes for misjudging them." It was only later that Harrison realized the full scope of Rem''s involvement. News trickled in about Rem taking down a band of thieves on his way out, and Harrison came to recognize the man''s infamous nickname: "Noble Killer." Upon re-reading Enkrid''s letter three times, Harrison let out a long sigh and raised his head. It seemed Enkrid hadn''t forgotten their conversation at the banquet. That memory helped Harrison steady his resolve, reigniting his passion. "Ah..." His chest felt warm, heat rising from deep within him. Someone had listened to his aspirations, remembered them, and supported him with genuine goodwill. "I will repay this kindness," he murmured aloud, his heartfelt promise surprising even the militia leader. Meanwhile, the stationed troops, despite their rough manners, maintained strict discipline, avoiding trouble except in battle. Their presence reassured the viscountcy. This outcome wasn''t accidental. According to Krais, if the reinforcements received complaints about their behavior from the landowner, they were to return immediately. None of them wanted that. Training under Rem had sharpened their skills, teaching them new tactics and fighting techniques. However, anyone would naturally want a break from the relentless grind of training. That explained why they volunteered to stay in Harrison''s lands. Unbeknownst to Harrison, Border Guard had sent reinforcements elsewhere as well. As the Holy Order withdrew their forces, trouble erupted across various regions. Cultists emerged in some areas, while in the south, a deliberate surge of magical beasts created chaos. This "beast-lifting" tactic involved driving magical creatures toward other territories, forcing local lords to deal with them. While the southern knights held the line, breaches were inevitable. Clearing out stray magical beasts or cultists became part of Border Guard''s workload. Krais, under the pretext of Naurilia''s mercenary policies, deployed Border Guard''s standing forces aggressively: eliminating bandits, hunting cultists, and suppressing magical creatures. Their effectiveness shocked everyone, particularly the nobles within the royal palace, who had underestimated them. The Border Guard''s prowess even rivaled the famed Red Cloak Knights. Naturally, some expressed unease over such a powerful force, but key figures like Count Marcus dismissed these concerns: "Worried? Why not follow Viscount Harrison''s example and focus on farming?" The Duke of Okto added with a laugh, "If they come for me, I''ll hand over my land and even my daughter." And the Marquis of Baisar noted dryly, "If they wanted to overthrow the crown, would the Unyielding Knight be wielding his sword out there? I''d be the King''s Guard Captain by now if I were in his shoes." Even skeptics had to acknowledge Border Guard''s undeniable strength. Their success extended beyond military feats. Cities like Rockfreed were completed, trade routes with the west established, and ambitious agricultural projects launched, reshaping their overall standing. Their swift and precise responses to various challenges highlighted their capabilities, leaving little room for doubt. Amid all this, Krais remained pragmatic, prioritizing tasks and ensuring critical matters were handled first. "Where?" Enkrid asked after Krais mentioned yet another issue¡ªcults and disturbances. "Cross Guard," Krais replied. Cross Guard lay northeast of Border Guard, beyond the gravel fields and the Pen-Hanil River. While the situation wasn''t dire, cultists and criminal gangs seemed to be stirring up trouble. Hearing this, Luagarne, the Frog, immediately perked up. Her disdain for cults was well known. With Esther sitting in human form, four teacups were on the table. "They''re holding secret gatherings, causing unrest. The local lord even sought help from the temple but was ignored," Krais explained. Though officially adversaries, recent interactions between Aspen and the Green Pearl suggested an unofficial alliance. Both nations had even begun exchanging resources and expertise, gradually bridging their divide. All of this had been running smoothly since the festival Krais had orchestrated some time ago. However, despite their internal harmony, it was impossible for Cross Guard to openly request aid from Border Guard. The two cities were supposed to be as close as brothers, but in reality, they had been adversaries, blades drawn against each other, for far too long. "Even if the temple ignored the issue and tried to appeal for help from the mainland, they wouldn''t have the resources to do so. The lord of Cross Guard must be deeply troubled. I heard they sent some people through the guild, but the communication''s been cut off. That''s how things are." Krais didn''t bring this up because he sought help or expected anything in return. His tone suggested he was simply reporting the state of affairs. Enkrid understood that the guild Krais referred to was none other than the Gilpin Guild. If their communication had been severed, it was safe to assume they were facing significant internal troubles. Enkrid had heard that the Gilpin Guild had recently started functioning as an information guild and had even invited Jaxen as an instructor to conduct various training programs. The fact that they couldn''t even send a letter indicated a serious issue. "I''ll go. It''ll be a good opportunity to stretch my legs," Enkrid volunteered. "I''m coming too," said Luagarne. Enkrid had intended to go for a change of scenery, while Luagarne''s hatred for the cult made her participation an obvious decision. "Is that necessary?" Krais asked, tilting his head in mild curiosity. While Cross Guard hadn''t officially requested reinforcements, they had subtly conveyed their hope for assistance through Abnaier. Krais was aware of this and had already begun to take action. But even so, it wasn''t a matter significant enough to warrant the involvement of the Unyielding Knight or the Madmen Knight Commander. "There''s no harm, is there?" "No, no harm at all," Krais replied. This wasn''t a matter of any grand importance. Yet, with things turning out this way, Krais thought it might be beneficial to make it known that Border Guard was taking action. Internally, they were allied nations, but whether it was Cross Guard or any other city of a former enemy, the cult''s activities posed a threat to the entire continent. It was an excellent opportunity to highlight this fact. Moreover, it gave them a justification to respond promptly if the cult caused further trouble. Such justifications were always worth having in abundance¡ªyou never knew when they might come in handy. "As you wish," Krais said as Enkrid prepared to leave. "I have a bad feeling about this. Don''t hesitate to run if it feels like too much," Esther said, handing Enkrid a small mirror. "This mirror will let you see my face for a while. Looking at it might give you strength." "...Why would looking at your face give me strength?" "Isn''t it natural to feel empowered when gazing at the face of a beautiful woman?" Esther, ever the pragmatic witch, seemed to genuinely believe in her logic. Enkrid, however, responded with concern. "Stop hanging out with Shinar." It seemed fairy-style humor had rubbed off on her. Esther merely snorted and chuckled softly. Compared to when they had first met, she now showed a much broader range of expressions. Enkrid replaced his broken sword with a new one infused with black iron. He also donned the scale armor Krais had specially procured for him. While packing a sword belt, a light backpack, and enough provisions for the journey, Luagarne brought along her insect pouch. Frogs like Luagarne rarely carried much when traveling, thanks to their regenerative abilities and resilient skin. They could easily go without food for a couple of days. The two set out for Cross Guard without delay. The newly built docks along the Pen-Hanil River made ferry crossings convenient. Calculating the journey, they estimated they''d have to sleep outdoors for three or four nights¡ªa trivial inconvenience. Enkrid, walking briskly and conversing with Luagarne, kept a steady pace. At one point, they encountered a group of traveling merchants who, at first startled by the duo''s appearance, soon nodded in recognition. "You''re traveling alone? Well, I suppose it''s fine if you''re a Frog. Anyway, this area''s been safer lately, thanks to Border Guard''s forces wiping out the local monsters. Long live the Unyielding Knight!" The merchant, unaware of Enkrid''s identity, blessed him with a cheerful smile. He went on to express his gratitude, lamenting the actions of the Holy Nation while assuring them he wasn''t a heretic. "I''m not a heretic, I swear! I donate to the monastery every month," the merchant added hastily. "We''re not reporting you. I''m not exactly on good terms with the church myself," Enkrid replied casually. The merchant warned him not to speak so carelessly, mentioning that even criticizing the Holy Nation''s priests could invite retaliation. Yet, he continued smiling as he departed. "Times are good these days," he said optimistically. As the merchant left, Luagarne commented, "The talk of peace and ending the war must be for people like him." "It''s a good thing to see," Enkrid replied. "Indeed, it is," she agreed. They walked until dusk, stopping to rest just as the twilight turned to night. Despite wearing layered clothing and warm furs, Enkrid found the cold biting. Luagarne, seemingly unaffected by the chill, sipped water constantly, irritated by the dry air. Frogs were known for their resistance to temperature changes, and she was no exception. Enkrid lay down, eyes shut, ready to sleep¡ªa habit ingrained during his mercenary days. But before drifting off, he opened his eyes to take in the night sky. Stars filled the black expanse, and two blue moons cast their glow, creating a scene of breathtaking beauty. "Beautiful," Luagarne remarked. "It is," Enkrid agreed. The two exchanged lighthearted remarks before Enkrid slipped into slumber. Almost immediately, he felt himself shaking and woke to find himself no longer beneath the starry sky. Instead, he faced dark waters rippling under a violet lantern''s glow. "Are you ready to embrace eternal life?" A boatman, seated across a stone table on a long, narrow skiff, asked him. Enkrid gazed at the ferryman, whose face was clearer than before. His gray skin resembled cracked earth, and his pale, lifeless eyes seemed to be part of a mask. "What eternal life are you talking about?" Enkrid asked. "Life without death¡ªthat is eternal life," the ferryman replied. "Being trapped in the same day, never dying?" "Precisely. That is your eternal life." Naturally, Enkrid wasn''t convinced. He stared at the ferryman, who didn''t blink or twitch but suddenly spoke again, this time unexpectedly. "Turn back. I shall show you a new path." Enkrid wondered what this could mean. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 180 Chapters] Latest WN-739 + 20 future Chapters that are yet to be released [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 20 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 20 -s 700-730 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released Discord server - .gg/snCZVX3mr4 Chapter 589 - Concerns and Worries Chapter 589 - 589 - Concerns and Worries Chapter 589 - Concerns and Worries "Is something ominous coming?" Enkrid had never disregarded the warnings given by the Ferryman. He always listened carefully, never ignoring the man''s words. As usual, Enkrid was serious. "Is it really coming this time?" The back-to-back questions made the Ferryman give him a long, silent stare. Enkrid wasn''t oblivious; if the man''s gaze were laced with curses, he''d understand. However, today, the Ferryman''s eyes held no emotion. The Ferryman appeared grayer than usual¡ªan emotionless doll or a mask carved from stone. The purple lamplight illuminated his face from below, casting shadows that split at his nose and shaded his forehead, making his features seem haunting, as if plucked from a nightmare. But to Enkrid, fear based on appearance alone was meaningless. Whether this was a dream or reality, his approach remained unchanged. He spoke honestly. "Really?" It was pure curiosity. He couldn''t discern if the Ferryman was genuinely warning him or simply attempting to scare him again. Normally, such a reaction would crack the Ferryman''s facade, if only slightly. But today, the man was unshakable, like a boulder. The Ferryman ignored Enkrid''s question entirely and spoke. "I''ll give you two choices." He said only what he intended to, and Enkrid listened intently¡ªhis specialty was serious listening. He never felt embarrassed by a lack of response. The Ferryman placed the lamp on the table, extending two gray fingers with dull, milky nails. The lamp''s glow cast shadows between his fingers. Folding his middle finger, he left his index finger extended. "One option is to find any rock right now, bash your head against it, and die." What did he mean by that? It was reminiscent of his previous advice when dealing with Overdier: stop and savor the present moment. Naturally, it was advice Enkrid had no intention of taking, so the Ferryman continued without pause. "By doing so, you could live as an immortal being, enjoying abundant days like today. Travelers would praise you, the sun and wind would be your companions, and you could sleep under the stars and exchange jokes with your comrades. It would be comfortable and peaceful." Enkrid didn''t counter with remarks like, If I wanted that kind of life, I wouldn''t have come this far. The Ferryman already knew that, and Enkrid''s silent gaze was answer enough. Without waiting for a reply, the Ferryman continued. "The second option is to turn back. Go back and prepare to face the wall. Not this wall, but another, later. Not now." Was this advice? A warning? Something akin to both? The Ferryman spoke with double the gravity he did when discussing swords. Enkrid stared into the Ferryman''s colorless eyes. Were they akin to those of a monster? No, not quite. If he focused intently, he could see faint hues of dull gray, with distinguishable pupils that carried hints of emotion¡ªconcern, if his instincts weren''t betraying him. Still, this was a dreamlike world, and the Ferryman showed only what he chose to. Enkrid recalled the Ferryman once mentioning that the events of dreams wouldn''t linger in memory. Yet Enkrid had remembered every significant conversation they''d had. That''s why he knew today''s Ferryman was different. Usually, there wasn''t a trace of concern in his demeanor¡ªjust purposeful words. But now, the Ferryman wasn''t telling him to stop entirely but to face another challenge later. It was a suggestion for a wiser course. "Move forward, and you will regret it." The Ferryman''s gray lips moved soundlessly in this dream world, where meanings were conveyed without vibrations in the air. The Ferryman offered a fork in the road, two choices, and even guidance. But for Enkrid, the Ferryman''s concern or correctness didn''t matter. It wasn''t pride or stubbornness. Life was uncertain, and that uncertainty made it beautiful and enjoyable. Enkrid didn''t believe in an endless, repetitive today. That was the fundamental difference between his and the Ferryman''s views of the world. So he wouldn''t follow the Ferryman''s advice. Even if it stemmed from foreknowledge, even if the future seemed harsh, he would remain resolute. That was how Enkrid had lived his life so far. "Thank you for the advice." With that, Enkrid woke. The sound of winter rain pattered softly as morning broke. A light mist greeted him, and the air was noticeably colder than the previous day. He blew out a breath, watching the white vapor drift away. "Cold? Shall I hug you?" Beside him, Luagarne spoke as she kicked at the damp campfire. Enkrid blinked a few times, processing the words before replying. "Have you been spending too much time with Shinar?" "Exactly as the fairy predicted. She said you''d respond like that." Luagarne puffed her cheeks in laughter. Traveling together was turning out to be unexpectedly enjoyable. Though their journey wasn''t long, the Frog had said so herself. Enkrid didn''t mind; it was, in its own way, pleasant. The Ferryman''s words? If he were to live burdened by concern, he might as well stop today as the Ferryman suggested. But he wouldn''t, so he would simply forget and move forward. As he exchanged a few words with Luagarne, Enkrid found himself marveling at Shinar. Even in her absence, the fairy''s jokes managed to reach him through others. What an incredible talent. It wasn''t a widespread trend or infectious humor; only Esther and Luagarne shared Shinar''s brand of fairy jokes. She had wanted to come along, but recent cult activity in the forest had kept her busy. That was why she wasn''t here. She always took her responsibilities seriously¡ªwhether as a company commander or during the mission to save Krang. She never left a job half-done. Was she a reliable ally? Undoubtedly. Enkrid considered himself fortunate. The people around him, though eccentric, were genuinely good. He just didn''t realize that his presence was the reason they stayed. "Let''s get moving." With that, Enkrid resumed his steps toward Cross Guard. The rain soon ceased, revealing a picture-perfect blue sky. By midday, the sun shone warmly. The warmth reminded him of Audin, though today''s sunlight felt kinder than divine radiance. The pair walked diligently, reaching Cross Guard by nightfall. The sight of its battlements and walls brought back memories of their last visit¡ªthe Vine mage, Finn, Torres, and the pack of werewolves. At that time, he had to exert all his strength to climb over the walls. Today, however, the path opened up simply by repeating the act. Now, merely walking was enough to open the gates. Thunk-thunk-thunk. The oiled wooden gates reinforced with iron bands creaked open to both sides, revealing a group of soldiers operating the pulleys inside. There was no moat, but the walls were thick. Looking at the battlements, Enkrid thought that with his current physical capabilities, scaling those walls would be much easier than before. However, he noticed something different. Sharp, spike-like protrusions were installed atop the battlements. "Blade-tipped battlements now, huh?" It was a precaution taken after they had suffered at his hands before. Enkrid knew this modification was Abnaier''s doing. "There''s a saying that raising barricades after being attacked is like locking the barn after the horse is stolen. It''s an obvious notion, but if you don''t even raise the barricades afterward, aren''t you essentially inviting another attack?" This was Abnaier''s reasoning, and Enkrid wholeheartedly agreed. If you fail to act even after being attacked, nothing will ever change. Whether early or late, action is what matters. Entering through the open gates, Enkrid scanned his surroundings. Certain details caught his eye. Among them was a group of robed figures standing amidst a haphazard array of tent-like huts within the walls. He could sense a distinct wariness emanating from them. After advancing in his knightly rank, Enkrid''s intuition had sharpened significantly, and now, he could discern such things merely by observing. "Wariness." The apparent owners of the huts also came into view. They were all dressed in rags, thin and impoverished, looking this way with vacant expressions. Their gazes carried a different emotion. "Anxiety." Scattered among them were several armed individuals, some of whom stared openly. Their gazes carried another clear message. "Curiosity." Or perhaps a desire to test their strength. Wariness, anxiety, and curiosity mixed in the glances directed his way, along with a faint smell of tobacco wafting through the air. A few individuals stood by the gate itself, smoking their rolled leaves. "Welcome." Enkrid turned his gaze to the man greeting him. He had narrow eyes and a snake-like appearance¡ªthat was Enkrid''s first impression. Krais had intentionally spread the word that the Border Guard''s standing army was heading to Cross Guard due to cultist problems. It was a deliberate act with multiple intentions, the primary one being to establish justification. The message was that dealing with the cultists was an issue that concerned the entire continent. Even if nations were officially enemies, there was merit in presenting a bold front publicly. Perhaps the snake-eyed man had heard the news for these reasons. In any case, the snake-eyed man had come out to greet Enkrid and introduced himself as an administrator working directly under the mayor. His three guards, armed swordsmen, were unremarkable in skill. Enkrid assessed their level at a glance. "How did you know to come out and greet us in advance?" Enkrid asked politely. The snake-eyed man responded with a smile. "I was told to be informed immediately if someone arrived from the Border Guard." By whom? Perhaps those stationed atop the walls? While there were a few archers on the battlements, they didn''t seem particularly alert or competent. Ultimately, it didn''t matter where the information had come from. "It''s an honor to welcome you, Sir Knight." Enkrid did not reveal his identity. Though his reputation had spread widely, it was still difficult to identify someone by appearance or attire alone. There had been no detailed portraits of him, only vague descriptions of his features. Moreover, traveling and camping often left even the most distinguished face looking scruffy, and Enkrid was no exception. Adding to the confusion, he frequently replaced his armor, making it hard to recognize him by his gear. This time, he wore a navy-blue cloak over a gray scale armor, with the shoulder guards removed because they restricted his arm movements. The only constant piece of equipment was the leather gauntlets he wore, which were highly durable. He had purchased them from a giant merchant at the Border Guard market, and Aetri had refined their shape, praising the excellent quality of the materials while doing so. "You seem to know who I am." Enkrid subtly probed. "How could one not know of the black-haired, blue-eyed knight?" The snake-eyed man replied with a grin. Enkrid nodded. He didn''t particularly like the man''s obsequious behavior, but it wasn''t enough to call him out. zAfter all, you couldn''t go around reprimanding everyone who irked you. "I''ll guide you to the manor." "No need. An inn will suffice for us." Enkrid declined politely. As he looked at the snake-eyed man, the latter readily agreed and began walking to lead the way to an inn. He neither seemed flustered nor questioned why, simply changing direction without a word. His three guards followed suit without protest. The inn he led them to wasn''t shabby, but the musty smell was pungent. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 180 Chapters] Latest WN-739 + 20 future Chapters that are yet to be released [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + 20 new ones the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 20 -s 700-730 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released Discord server - .gg/snCZVX3mr4 Chapter 590 - Six Guests Chapter 590 - 590 - Six Guests Chapter 590 - Six Guests "There are four inns in Cross Guard, and this one is the cleanest," said the innkeeper. Luagarne nodded in agreement. Frogs, with their dull sense of smell, wouldn''t care much about the cleanliness. Enkrid, despite his keen senses, found the place tolerable. After all, there had been times when he wandered the mountains for days, drenched in the blood of beasts. Compared to that, this was not a palace but closer to a modest manor. Not ideal, but sufficient. He had no desire to travel to the manor that the administrator mentioned. "Give us the best room," Enkrid said, slipping a few coins to the innkeeper. The ground floor of the inn doubled as a pub and was bustling with activity. As the group entered, a few patrons glanced their way. None had clear, sober eyes; they were either bloodshot or intoxicated. After a fleeting look, they quickly returned to their own business. It wasn''t even twilight yet, but gambling was already in full swing. Six tables occupied the floor: three were hosting card games, and two had dice games underway. Enkrid noticed a lingering gaze from one of the tables¡ªthe last unoccupied one. At this table sat a one-eyed man, a dagger lodged diagonally into the wood in front of him. He stared unblinkingly at Enkrid. Normally, someone missing an eye would cover it with a patch, but this man left his scarred face bare, the marks of past injuries crisscrossing his skin. It wasn''t a pleasant sight. The man''s companion leaned close and whispered something into his ear, too softly for Enkrid to catch. Only fragments reached him¡ªwords like "sleep," "night," and "guest." "The Sacred Ground sect often abducts people during the night," Snake Eyes whispered while the boy innkeeper went to prepare their room. "So everyone''s a little on edge." Enkrid nodded and ordered a rum. While he enjoyed tea and milk, he doubted those would be drinkable here. The bartender filled a tarnished tin cup with amber liquid. The cup itself didn''t inspire confidence. Still, Enkrid took a sip. He didn''t care much for alcohol, but this was beyond bad¡ªa cheap, watered-down rum. "What a fascinating city," Luagarne commented, her eyes scanning their surroundings. Her words weren''t sincere. The atmosphere was rough and hopeless, a gloom that blanketed the entire city. "Perhaps you should reconsider and stay at the manor," Snake Eyes suggested deferentially. Enkrid shook his head. "No need," he said. He needed to gather information about the missing guild members. Staying here allowed him to remain in the thick of things. If one wanted to hunt a ghoul, they needed to carry fresh, dripping meat. Similarly, if one wished to catch a beast, one had to venture into its den. Besides, he doubted anyone here posed a significant threat to him. His instincts told him as much. "Then I wish you success in dealing with the Sacred Ground sect," Snake Eyes said, his tone quiet as he took his leave. Enkrid pondered why the man''s eyes seemed so serpentine. The answer was clear They were as unreadable as the ferryman''s eyes from the previous night. Compared to the ferryman, though, Snake Eyes seemed far more human. After Snake Eyes departed, the boy innkeeper brought their meal: mealy apples, eternal stew simmering in the corner of the inn, and roasted pork. Enkrid avoided the stew entirely, opting instead for the apples and pork. The meat, though gamey, was edible. He wasn''t picky about food, not like Ragna. After eating, he headed to the room, which was cleaner than expected. There was no bed, only a pile of blankets for sleeping. The inn was a three-story building, and their room was on the top floor at the far end of the hall. While it had a faint odor, it was better than sleeping under the stars with only a cloak for warmth. "Can you prepare some water for washing? A tub or bath would be even better," Enkrid asked as he surveyed the room. "We have a tub," the boy replied eagerly. Enkrid flipped a coin through the air. The silver glinted as it landed in the boy''s hands, drawing a gasp. It was a sizable tip, and the boy quickly tucked it into his pants, glancing toward the stairs. "You must be wealthy," he murmured, awestruck. Grateful for the tip, the boy diligently prepared everything. After eating and washing, Enkrid ended his first day in the city. Recently, Cross Guard had seen few travelers or merchants. Life was already hard, and the presence of the sect had made things worse. This explained why there was no sound of activity from the neighboring rooms. Though the inn had over ten rooms on the third floor, it seemed only their party was staying there. "I didn''t like that man''s eyes," Luagarne said. Enkrid nodded in agreement. She took a sip of the water provided by the inn and grimaced. Even Frogs, who could go without washing, were particular about the water they drank. They preferred it clean and clear, and murky water brought them considerable discomfort. "There''s nothing decent about this place," Luagarne grumbled. Her complaint stemmed from the water quality rather than the accommodations or food. The nearby Pen-Hanil River ensured that Border Guard had an ample water supply, and the mountains provided many natural reservoirs. Yet here, the water was poorly managed. Perhaps it was due to losing the war or the incompetence of the lord. Or both. Enkrid nodded at the thought. "True enough." After a brief, inconsequential exchange, he closed his eyes and drifted off. In his dreams, the ferryman appeared again. Enkrid felt an abrupt pull as if being yanked somewhere against his will. The ferryman spoke, his words arriving without the movement of his lips: "How dare you compare me to the likes of that?" This time, the ferryman seemed familiar, his tone lighter and more playful. Such a fickle personality. The oarsman''s initial anger wasn''t hard to decipher; it stemmed from Enkrid comparing his eyes to Snake Eyes'' earlier in the day. Somehow, the ferryman had overheard his thoughts. But was this really worth getting upset over? "Just an observation," Enkrid said, shrugging. "Presumptuous." Apparently, the comparison itself was offensive. The ferryman snorted and continued, his tone a mix of exasperation and amusement: "It''s not too late to turn back." Enkrid started the conversation with a question similar to yesterday''s. "Do you sense any foreboding?" The ferryman hesitated, as though about to say something, but then closed his mouth. Though it was just a speculative guess rather than reading emotions, the ferryman''s demeanor suggested a clear unwillingness to engage in conversation. "I''m not mocking you," Enkrid defended himself. "Hah. Mocking me? Bold claim. What nonsense," the ferryman replied, his voice carrying a trace of laughter without the actual expression to match. He conveyed his intent purely through his will. Enkrid suddenly realized that the way the ferryman communicated bore similarities to the methods of handling Will. It was an unexpected insight, akin to stumbling upon a silver coin on a dirt path¡ªnothing immediately transformative but still a fortunate find. Reflecting on this newfound understanding, he spoke again. "Conveying intent resembles manipulating Will, doesn''t it?" The ferryman scoffed, but this time his response was more deliberate, both in gesture and intention. "Didn''t I tell you from the start? You won''t fully grasp our conversation. Do you know why? It''s because this entire exchange is conducted purely through Will." However, Enkrid could recall their conversation. The reason for this recollection was beyond his understanding at the moment, though he deemed it insignificant for now. "Communicating through Will... infusing it naturally and smoothly." Enkrid mulled over the lesson he gleaned from their interaction. The ferryman had laughed and expressed anger earlier, and these seemed to be feats performed entirely through his Will. As Enkrid murmured to himself, the ferryman silently observed him for a moment without even a scoff. After a brief pause, the ferryman conveyed his intent again. "...I told you it''s not too late yet. Don''t forget that." And with those words, the ferryman began to fade like mist. What now? Had this happened before? It felt different this time. Then, Enkrid caught a pungent, acrid smell. Had he ever smelled anything during his interactions with the ferryman? No. This wasn''t part of the vision; it was his body reacting physically. This wasn''t a dream¡ªsomething was happening. "Go," came the ferryman''s final words, along with Enkrid''s realization. He jolted awake, his eyes snapping open. The room was filled with an acrid odor. Identifying its source wasn''t difficult. It came from the brazier used to heat stones and charcoal for warmth. Something had been burned in it¡ªa substance emitting a sleeping scent potent enough to knock out an average person for two days with just a whiff. Enkrid rose and opened the window slowly. Luagarne was already awake, and when Enkrid pointed at the brazier with a finger, she immediately understood and muttered, "Such thoughtful care to help us sleep?" Since learning about the cultists, her cheeks puffed out a few times in what seemed like steeled determination. The current situation was no different. Pulling such a stunt as soon as they arrived in the city? It was obvious to her¡ªcultists. Luagarne approached the window while holding her breath. Enkrid, however, wasn''t ready to jump to conclusions. It was premature to assume the cultists were behind this. For now, he focused on assessing his own condition. "Was poison mixed in?" He leaned out into the cold air and took a deep breath. No, it didn''t seem like it. He hadn''t inhaled enough of the scent for it to affect him, though even Enkrid would''ve succumbed to sleep had he fully taken it in. It was his heightened senses that reacted immediately upon detecting the smell. "Jaxen said it, didn''t he? Always rely on your nose first when staying in an unfamiliar city," he thought. That advice rang true now. Senses, Jaxen had claimed, were the best warning system. Breathing in the cool night air, Enkrid felt his lungs expand. "No abnormalities." His grip strength felt normal, and there was no sense of drowsiness. Leaving the window open for ventilation, he became aware of a presence. His sharpened senses, a blend of hearing and intuition, pinpointed it. By attuning his awareness to the faint sounds, he deduced the approximate locations and numbers of those present. "Two on the roof, two in the adjacent rooms on either side." Six in total. Were any of them a significant threat? Judging by the sloppy way they left traces, it didn''t seem so. That much was evident from what he could feel. Raising his hand, palm downward, Enkrid tapped his chest with his thumb and pointed upward with his index finger before gesturing to Luagarne. The signal was clear: he''d handle the rooms, and she''d take the roof. Without even a nod, Luagarne placed her hands on the windowsill. There was no need to coordinate further or worry about timing¡ªthe power disparity between them and their assailants was too great. The Frog leapt to the roof in a single bound, while Enkrid calmly moved to the door and opened it. Creak. The rusted hinges groaned. No sooner had the sound subsided than the doors to the adjacent rooms opened. From the left room, a figure stepped out of the deep shadows and into the dim lamplight, speaking. "You should''ve just stayed asleep. Why make things difficult?" The scar on his face and his overall appearance identified him immediately. He was one of the men Enkrid had seen on the inn''s first floor earlier. A one-eyed man, not bothering to cover his blind eye, accompanied by the gamblers he had noticed in the evening. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 180 Chapters] Latest WN-749 + daily Chapters from monday to friday the following month [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + daily Chapters from monday to friday the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 20 -s 700-730 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released Discord server - .gg/snCZVX3mr4 Chapter 591 - Lawless City Chapter 591 - 591 - Lawless City Chapter 591 - Lawless City "Cult?" Enkrid asked nonchalantly, causing the one-eyed man to furrow his brow. "What are you talking about?" Maybe not? It didn''t seem like it. If it were a cult, they wouldn''t have been so careless in their actions. Moreover, Krais had said that those performing important tasks within the cult would surely know him. "Think about it. If there''s someone always getting in the way whenever something happens, it''s only natural to find out who they are. It would be strange not to attempt an assassination." Those were Krais'' words. If one looked more closely, there had been actual assassination attempts, but they didn''t know about them. There had even been requests sent to Jaxen. Other assassination attempts had been stopped or resolved by Jaxen along the way. Once, a Disciple of the Curse had shown up, but it was hard to truly understand the backstory. How could anyone know that the gruesome person who suddenly died was a Disciple of the Curse? Anyway, had Krais not said that even just hearing their name would make someone gnash their teeth? Therefore, the likelihood that these attackers were cult members was very low. This was Enkrid''s conclusion. "Human trafficking?" Enkrid asked again, without drawing a weapon, causing the burly men to feel that something was off. Did they just touch on something he shouldn''t have? Should they back off now? But, they couldn''t do that either. Enkrid didn''t know, but Cross Guard was becoming a lawless city. The influence of the market or the administration was minimal, and groups like the Thieves Guild or Brotherhoods held power. The group that had ambushed Enkrid was also a strange one called the "Needle Brotherhood," which implied they would strike if provoked. This group was notorious for avenging their own, but the problem was, they didn''t even know who they were dealing with. These people had just seen a traveler recently arrive and noticed that he was guided by the administrator, yet they were only interested in the Krona he carried. The leader was an idiot. The ones who had survived this long were the ones who had managed to be resourceful. "Kill him!" The one-eyed man shouted, and those around him unsheathed short, dagger-like swords and rushed forward. The narrow hallway was not ideal for swinging large swords, so they opted for short, pointed daggers. They were well-coordinated, at least. They didn''t rush all at once but moved in pairs, attacking simultaneously. However, they wouldn''t stand a chance against a squire. No, even a decent soldier from the Border Guard''s standing army would have been enough to handle them. Enkrid made no move to draw his weapon. Instead, he moved one step to the left, then to the right, and extended his hand. Naturally, the attackers couldn''t react to his speed. The shadows on the walls, cast by the lamplight, rose and fell dramatically. It looked as if a blackened specter was devouring the shadows of people. The Needle Brotherhood members, under attack, could have easily felt the same way. At a speed they couldn''t even react to, Enkrid twisted the wrist of the first attacker. Crack! "Ah!" A scream followed, and as soon as the wrist was twisted, Enkrid immediately dislocated the man''s jaw. A special skill of Audin''s. By pressing a finger under the jaw and pushing downward, the joint would pop out. "Ughhh." The dislocated jaw caused unbearable pain. The man, now unable to scream properly, drooled and shed tears. The one-eyed man hesitated for a moment, then attempted to fight back, but as soon as he turned around, Enkrid wasn''t going to just stand by. The dagger dropped from the first man''s hand, but it was already in Enkrid''s possession. He quickly gauged its weight and threw it. The dagger whistled through the air and lodged itself into the one-eyed man''s thigh. Thud! "Ugh!" He stumbled and tumbled down the stairs. Enkrid hadn''t intended to kill him, but if he died from this, it was unavoidable. All of this transpired in less than the time it took to exhale. The remaining attackers froze. Those who had awkwardly raised their swords and attempted to strike were now wide-eyed, frozen in place. In the meantime, Luagarne had already finished dealing with the two on the roof and was descending. She had even jumped out of the window and was climbing up from the first floor. Enkrid, of course, wouldn''t let anyone escape, but if anyone attempted some trick to flee, he was prepared to catch them. It was just a habit of Luagarne''s to fight while assessing the terrain and situation. Enkrid had learned this from her, which is why they sometimes split up to handle enemies. Everything had been set up to block any escape routes. They hadn''t exchanged many words, but they could sense what each other intended. There were still two attackers standing. Both were holding daggers but were frozen, not daring to move. "Did you kill them all?" Enkrid asked, ignoring the surroundings and looking down. Luagarne, stepping up the stairs, replied, "Yeah. Only one or two are left. The innkeeper seemed to know something. It looked like someone might have intimidated him." Luagarne was quick with her hands. In the meantime, she had even taken a good look at the innkeeper''s face. Enkrid nodded as if it didn''t matter much. Did the innkeeper turn a blind eye just to make a living? That might be considered wrong too. If one benefits from witnessing wrongdoing, that could be considered a crime as well. But Enkrid wasn''t interested in judging. People have to live in accordance with their circumstances, and if they were willing to target the innkeeper, threatening him would have been easy. "Do you want to do more?" Enkrid asked casually. The two thieves knelt obediently. To them, these two were monsters. That wasn''t a lie. To an average person, both Frogs and Knights were monsters. They had relied on Sleep Scent and attacked, but when that didn''t work, the result was obvious. Enkrid shrugged and brought the Sleep Scent incense burner outside. "Change the burner." "What?" "Switch the burner." It didn''t seem necessary to change rooms yet. Looking at the atmosphere, it seemed like nothing would change, even if they moved. They had clearly seen the administrator guiding them, but if they were trying something, it meant one of two things. Either the administrator, Nari, knew and chose to ignore it, or the administrator might have been backing them. Enkrid thought about this and searched the thieves'' belongings, finding a thick rope. ''Human trafficking.'' If they were trying to catch people to sell, they would likely have tools for binding them. And indeed, they did. Enkrid didn''t intend to kill anyone. He bound the thieves'' hands and feet and set them in front of the door. "Wake me up if anyone comes." In essence, he had created a makeshift alarm system using the thieves. "We should sleep when there''s time." Luagarne nodded in agreement. It was a truth that one should rest when the opportunity arises. Then, they actually went to sleep. The two thieves, tied up tightly, couldn''t even think of escaping. They endured the fear, surrounded by their dead comrades, wondering when those two would come out and stab them. It wasn''t until dawn that the fearsome figures appeared and began untying the ropes. "Clean up." The thieves quickly cleaned up the traces of the previous night''s chaos. Naturally, the bloodstains on the floor couldn''t be fully erased. The inn already had a musty smell, but now it was mixed with the scent of blood. Enkrid dragged a chair without a backrest from the room and placed it in the hallway, sitting down. Luagarne, rubbing her eyes a few times, wrapped her whip around her waist and leaned against the wall by the stairs. She was in the ideal position to react to anything that might happen. "Who sent you?" Enkrid asked. "No one sent us." A thief, who swallowed his saliva, spoke. "When travelers or merchants come by, we just capture them, threaten them, and steal some Krona." The thief continued speaking, and there seemed to be no lies in his words. Unfortunately, the captain, who had rolled down the stairs, was dead, but his cause of death was strange. It wasn''t that his neck was snapped, but his eyes had turned white with what looked like small fragments scattered in them when he died. ''His neck didn''t break, though.'' Even if rigor mortis had set in, the body was strangely stiff and heavy. It felt as though his body was turning into stone. If that wasn''t the case, maybe his organs were made of stone. The corpse was so heavy that it took two strong men to grunt and carry it away. Enkrid thought it was strange, but there was nothing to ask about. Luagarne had seen it as well, but had only mentioned it was odd. "The administrator brought us here, but what are we supposed to do now?" When Enkrid asked the two thieves, they answered that the administrator was a fool, a useless idiot who didn''t care about anything. The city was already a battlefield due to the guild''s civil war, with killings happening almost every day, and the administrator was too busy trying to save his own skin. Enkrid wondered to himself, Really? He had already met the administrator, and that man didn''t seem the type to be worried about such things. The remaining two thieves added that the real powerful one was someone called Wind Blade . According to them, he was hiding here after killing a famous knight. They kept talking non-stop, not even pausing to take a breath. Of course, neither of them wanted to end up on the wrong side of a sword. Enkrid managed to gather a few useful bits of information amidst their rambling. The conclusion? The city was rotten to the core, no matter how you looked at it. What should I do now? ''Guess I''ll have breakfast first.'' Enkrid followed his own instincts. He stood up and ordered food. "Are you really going to eat here?" the innkeeper asked, holding a large kitchen knife. Though he didn''t seem to be preparing for a fight, his face revealed anxiety and worry. "If I don''t eat here, where else can I eat?" "You could go outside and catch some locusts to eat," the innkeeper replied. Luagarne muttered something under her breath, but Enkrid simply tapped the table. The innkeeper sighed deeply and turned away, at which point a young worker rushed over and whispered. "You should run away." "Why?" The child, whose view of the world was shaped by his own narrow experiences, likely had never left the city of Cross Guard. For someone like him, the scariest things were those who normally threatened him¡ªthe ones who never faced consequences no matter what they did. To this child, the criminal guilds were as frightening as death itself. "Some scary people are coming," the child said. The child didn''t think Enkrid was a bad person, which is why he had the courage to speak up, but his warning was ignored. The inn''s first floor served as a restaurant, and despite the early hour, a few customers were beginning to trickle in. Among them, two rough-looking men approached Enkrid''s table. The screech of the chair sliding across the floor rang out as one of the men dragged it over and placed it next to Enkrid''s table. He spread his legs, placing the chair backrest against his chest, and stared at Enkrid intently before asking. "Who are you?" Enkrid turned his gaze and naturally took in the man''s appearance. Two short swords hung from his waist, clearly his primary weapons. The worn leather around the hilts suggested that these swords had been well-used for a long time. Despite the uncomfortable position, the man was clearly ready to draw his weapons at any moment. Enkrid could tell just from the man''s posture. "I''m just a customer waiting for breakfast," Enkrid replied. "That''s not wrong." Enkrid spoke, and Luagarne added on. Cross Guard was ruled by three criminal guilds. The city had decayed to this point after a series of events, but to summarize it briefly, a few guilds had suddenly grown too powerful, and the authorities were unable to control them. There were even cases where the commanding officers of stationed troops were killed in guild wars, and rumors spread that other officers were practically members of the guilds themselves. Over time, the city had become a lawless place, ruled by criminal guilds, where gambling, drugs, and even deaths in the streets were commonplace. The man now approaching Enkrid was a member of one of those three guilds. "Is that so?" the man said, smirking. While his face wasn''t necessarily attractive, Enkrid found it somewhat amusing. The man spoke with a tone of feigned confidence, but his body was clearly tense, with his feet and hands clenched tightly. His intentions were obvious. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 180 Chapters] Latest WN-749 + daily Chapters from monday to friday the following month [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + daily Chapters from monday to friday the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 20 -s 700-730 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released Discord server - .gg/snCZVX3mr4 Chapter 592 - Excessive Hospitality Chapter 592 - 592 - Excessive Hospitality Chapter 592 - Excessive Hospitality The man sitting in the chair noticed two figures kneeling quietly beside the table. They were the two who had been tied up and unable to sleep all night. The two of them dared not meet his gaze, keeping their heads bowed as their eyes only moved restlessly. ''They''ve been beaten by the Frog. Foolish idiots.'' The man was not looking at Enkrid but rather at the Frog, watching its movements. It was clear that these two were acting so boldly because they trusted the Frog. *** They were no different from those who had tried to attack last night. They didn''t even know who their opponents were. People trapped in a narrow well naturally don''t know anything about the outside world. The Cross Guard was preoccupied with internal guild conflicts, and everyone here was too busy tending to their own interests to pay attention to the outside world. Recently, there had been rumors that the Lord was trying to declare independence from Aspen. Could that even be possible? Who knows. They just accepted it as a rumor. They were like birds and frogs trapped in their own little world. It was no surprise they knew nothing. Or perhaps, was it the result of someone''s plan? Enkrid didn''t care either way. As long as the visitor''s purpose was clear, that was enough. "Came here to fight?" Enkrid glanced toward the kitchen before asking. It was still before breakfast. How could anyone be so eager to come before the meal? Maybe they had been at a gambling den all night. The stench of stale tobacco and foul odor came from the man''s breath. His hair was oily, and it was clear that personal hygiene was not a priority. He was even worse than Dunbakel. "Are you trusting the Frog and acting up?" The foul smell spoke as he raised his left hand slightly. Just then, the door opened, and a Frog walked in. Barefoot and making a soft slap with each step, the Frog spoke immediately. "Not dead yet?" The Frog who entered had unusually red eyes. Those red eyes stopped when they reached Luagarne. The Frog, huh? Not much of a challenge. He thought this as he stared at the Frog, but of course, he couldn''t guess what the Frog was thinking. Whether the Frog came or not, Enkrid only had his own words to say. "Let''s eat breakfast first, then fight." "Shall we?" The man who had been sitting in the chair stood up and spoke. Enkrid''s insight made it clear what would happen next. The man would push the chair aside and unsheathe his weapon to strike. Before the man even moved, the one who had been watching from behind shifted his foot sideways. They were planning to strike together. The man, who had subtly moved out of sight, had a weathered axe hanging from his waist. As he moved, his hand was already on the axe, signaling his intentions. ''How should I respond?'' The question was immediately followed by a quick calculation. These two weren''t thinking twice about killing. Enkrid decided he wouldn''t need to draw even a dagger. That was a correct judgment. Clink! Clink! The man who had been sitting abruptly pushed his chair aside and drew his sword, thrusting it forward. At the same time, the other man drew his hand axe and swung it downward, aiming to strike. Both of their ambushes weren''t bad. But they were still lacking compared to soldiers who had completed basic training in the Border Guard. ''Basic training alone would have made them better.'' Enkrid thought idly as his body moved. Though he moved after they did, his superior strength and reflexes made it seem like he was faster. He quickly reached out, grabbing the blade of the sword with his hand and yanked it towards him. The difference in strength was clear. The man had both hands tightly gripping his sword, while Enkrid, using only four fingers including his thumb, managed to pull the sword into his own grip. He yanked the sword, and the wielder let out a short cry of pain as the sword was taken from him. Enkrid used the sword''s guard to strike the man''s head. Thunk! The guard of the shortsword became the weapon as it made a hole in the man''s skull. Naturally, a person with a hole in their head couldn''t survive. "Crack." With a groan, the man who had been thrusting his sword collapsed. The one with the axe had a similar fate. While Enkrid''s left hand dealt with the swordman''s head, his right hand took the axe and drove it back into its owner''s head. Both of them died at the same time, but only one thunk sound was heard, a testament to his skill. The two fell to the ground, bleeding profusely. Meanwhile, the red-eyed Frog, intoxicated by the bloodshed, was already moving. It had long forgotten its natural skills, consumed by the joy of cutting and hacking. Sometimes, these mad Frogs existed. Corruption didn''t discriminate by species. Luagarne noticed the short sword the Frog drew. The blade was short but jagged like a saw. Grind! Grind! A screeching sound came as it was drawn from the leather scabbard. It was a weapon made for the joy of cutting, designed solely for slicing. The Frog kicked the floor, causing debris to fly as he rushed toward Luagarne. His intention was clear, close the distance and slice her up wherever he could. Since he was standing and she was seated, he figured he had the advantage and quickly charged. Luagarne, however, read his path while still seated and whipped her whip in response. The whip hissed through the air as it wrapped around the Frog''s neck, halting his rush. Whip! Even though the red-eyed Frog''s neck was caught by the whip, he merely puffed his cheeks in frustration. Ignoring the pain, the Frog grabbed the whip with his free hand. The barbed whip slipped through his hand, leaving blood in its wake, but he was determined to pull it free. The Frog, known for his strength, thought he could break the whip with his own power. If given time, it might have been possible, but naturally, his wish would not be granted. As he pulled on the whip, Luagarne sprang forward, her chair crashing to the floor with a loud thud. Still, her movements were relatively smooth. While the Frog smashed the floor, Luagarne only knocked her chair over. Between them stood a pillar, but Luagarne feinted left, only to dash right, thrusting her sword forward. A simple trick, but also a seasoned fighting tactic. The red-eyed Frog, trying to parry with his sword from the left, missed entirely. Her short sword pierced the Frog''s abdomen. With a swift motion, Luagarne dragged the sword upwards. Crunch! The blade tore through skin, flesh, ribs, and even reached the heart. The Frog''s breastplate, which was supposed to protect from frontal strikes, split under the angle of attack. The foolish Frog had neglected to protect his abdomen, leaving his vulnerable underside exposed. The Frog died with a grating scream, sticking out its tongue. The long tongue hung limply downward, blood dripping from it in steady streams. The heart had split, causing blood to surge backward. Luagarne drew her sword and wiped the blood off on the Frog''s clothes. Where did such a rotten Frog come from? With the atmosphere of the city like this, it must have seeped in from wandering around. Flies are attracted to rotten meat, after all. Whatever the reason, splitting a heart was no pleasant task. "It''s a mess," Luagarne muttered. Yesterday, she had said that about the taste of the water, but today it applied to the whole city. Enkrid agreed. "Clean it up." At Enkrid''s command, the two members of the Needle Brotherhood, who had changed careers to become cleaners, moved quickly. They cleared the corpse and poured water to wash away the blood, but the stench only grew worse. Meanwhile, the waiter came out with food, his face showing surprise. On the battlefield, one had to fill their stomach even with a corpse nearby. What was different now? As Enkrid tried to dip some white bread into bean pure?e, the child, pale as a ghost, mumbled, his lips quivering. The sight seemed to convey much unspoken, so Enkrid scanned the child''s eyes and body. In those few seconds, Enkrid learned quite a bit. Details that an ordinary person would overlook stood out to him. The faint unease, the subtle movement backward, the change in the child''s expression from when they had been urged to flee. As Enkrid stared at the child, he quickly turned pale. "Please, spare me." It was a whisper, directed at himself. Why? Probably because he had tampered with the food. Seeing the child use sleep-inducing powder, Enkrid suspected that poisoners were involved. "I did it. Kill me instead." The innkeeper, who had appeared without anything in his hands, spoke as the child pleaded. Could they be father and son? It was possible. Enkrid thought, observing the frightened child and the innkeeper, who was too scared to even cry. ''These people react quickly.'' When had they been coerced into adding poison? The commotion had started last night. Just one night, and already poison had been slipped into the food after two assaults. The hospitality had been excessive. Or had it been prepared in advance? Enkrid felt a malicious gaze directed at him from behind the scenes. Having such thoughts made it feel as if something was watching him. Trusting his instincts, Enkrid threw the fork in his hand. Thwack! The fork, flying through the air, stuck into the wall of the inn''s dark corner, vibrating. The innkeeper closed his eyes and pulled the child into his arms. Sweat poured down his face, evidence of his deep tension. "What''s going on?" Luagarne asked. "I think something''s here," Enkrid replied, eyeing the wall where the fork had lodged. There was nothing there. The child seemed even more frightened now, as did the innkeeper. Enkrid stood up, gave the child''s head a few gentle taps, and said, "It''s nothing. Asking you who''s behind this would be difficult, right?" If it was someone from the criminal guild, they would fear retaliation. So, they wouldn''t be answering any questions. There were those who played with food, those who played with beds, and even those who sent assassins like Two Swords and the Frog to test their strength. Was something else waiting outside the inn? The chances were high. And it would likely be even worse than what had happened so far. "Fighting within the city increases the odds of traps being laid." It was as if Luagarne had read Enkrid''s mind. Given the Frog''s experience wandering the continent, it wasn''t far behind in terms of survival. From the way things were progressing, Luagarne understood everything. "This might require some cleaning up," Enkrid responded, showing no concern for the danger Luagarne had mentioned. They had come out to catch a heretic, but it seemed the trash had arrived first. Just as Enkrid made to leave, the door to the inn suddenly creaked open. The administrative officer from the day before entered, flanked by two additional guards. "I heard you were attacked last night. What idiots," the officer said, his tone both rushed and relaxed, awkwardly mixed in a way that Enkrid found uncomfortable. "I apologize. The city''s security is in ruins, all thanks to the Cult of the Dark Saint." The officer repeated, his words sincere but strange. Enkrid had sensed something watching him before the officer came in, but as soon as the officer entered, that sensation disappeared. It was a strange occurrence. "Take these two into custody." As the officer spoke, two soldiers in Gambison grabbed the guild members, who had transitioned into cleaners. "They''re to be hanged." The officer said coolly as they passed by the two. "That was quick." Enkrid finally spoke, asking how they knew. "Some soldiers had been keeping watch. I ordered them to report immediately. Once again, I apologize. It''s regrettable that such an unpleasant event occurred despite having personally accompanied you." The officer seemed genuinely sorry. Enkrid nodded but didn''t add anything about the criminal guild viewing the officer as a fool. "It seems things have gotten complicated. I''ll escort you to my mansion," the officer said before Enkrid could respond. "No, you''ll follow me," a voice interrupted from outside the door. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 180 Chapters] Latest WN-749 + daily Chapters from monday to friday the following month [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + daily Chapters from monday to friday the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 20 -s 700-730 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released Discord server - .gg/snCZVX3mr4 Chapter 593 - Five Sword Strikes Chapter 593 - 593 - Five Sword Strikes Chapter 593 - Five Sword Strikes It was in front of the inn door left open by the administrator. A figure wearing a hood appeared outside. The sight seemed oddly familiar. Upon closer inspection, it looked like one of the people who had been watching him suspiciously when he entered the city. Enkrid looked at him indifferently. The administrator, without turning around, spoke. "It''s not safe. There are many people out there looking to target important guests. Please, let''s go to the mansion now." "Damn you." The hooded figure bared his teeth at the administrator. It didn''t seem like they were on good terms. The man then looked back at Enkrid, but the administrator''s gaze was fixed on him, showing no signs of hesitation. The two sets of eyes locked onto Enkrid, almost as if forcing a choice upon him. It felt like standing at a crossroads. But perhaps it wasn''t really a crossroads after all. Was there a risk of something going wrong if he chose poorly, as the boatman had warned? Enkrid briefly entertained that thought but didn''t hesitate. No matter which path he took, it was his own choice. He was more curious about what the hooded man had to say. Looking at the administrator, however, he felt an uncomfortable feeling. That wasn''t enough to make him act rashly, though. Enkrid patted the administrator''s shoulder as he stepped outside. "I''ll talk to him and come by later for dinner." "General." The administrator called out, his eyes like those of a snake, but Enkrid was already heading outside, with Luagarne following behind. Once outside, Enkrid stood before the hooded figure, who then spoke. "The administrator isn''t worried about the city. He''s more concerned with filling his own pockets." His voice was low, soft enough that the administrator wouldn''t hear it. "Why don''t you say that more openly?" Enkrid remarked. "It''s not the time for that. Follow me." The man quickly turned and began walking, without any hesitation. They entered a narrow alleyway, and even though the sun had risen, the alley was still dark and gloomy. It was winter, so the air was cold, but there seemed to be a chill that came from deeper within the alley. Despite the eerie and unsettling atmosphere, Enkrid followed the hooded figure without hesitation. "Hurry up!" The man urged, and Enkrid complied, picking up the pace. "That way''s dangerous!" The administrator shouted from behind, but Enkrid ignored him and kept walking. After some time, the uneasy feeling returned. It was as though someone was watching them, but the source was impossible to pinpoint. "Don''t you feel like something''s watching us?" Enkrid asked as they walked. His pace was fast but steady. Luagarne puffed up his cheeks and answered. "No." Was it just his heightened senses, or was it the strange atmosphere in the city? It was hard to say. "Damn." The man leading them suddenly stopped. The alleyway widened as they walked, enough for five people to walk side by side. As they passed through this broader path, they reached an open area resembling a plaza. There were a lot of people, and seeing this, the man stopped walking. Enkrid grabbed the hooded man''s cloak and asked. "A trap? Are you perhaps a member of the cult?" The man removed his hood and answered. "I''m a lord!" Why was a lord involved here? The man was in his thirties with light brown hair. He quickly scanned the surroundings. "The situation''s gotten bad. We''ll clear the way. Let''s escape." As the man who claimed to be a lord spoke, two more hooded figures appeared from one side. Both were holding short spears, and their skills didn''t seem bad. If they had proper training, they could probably be recruited into the Border Guard. However, their footing was a bit shaky as they ran toward them, likely due to exhaustion. In reality, these two had been keeping watch over people from the Border Guard for days without proper rest. Seeing the movements of the attackers, they had taken action, but the enemies were faster. The man who claimed to be a lord had been chased away for some reason, but he didn''t want to die here, nor did he want to leave the city. To escape this situation, he needed help from outside, but avoiding the people who controlled the city was no easy task. Somehow, they had managed to build their own power and hold out until reinforcements from the Border Guard arrived. Now, he intended to inform them of the current state of the city and request help in eliminating the culprits behind the city''s problems, including prostitution, drugs, and gambling. But to do that, they needed to get out of the city first, and their legs had to remain functional. Before that, they needed to gain their trust. But just as he was about to make his move, the local criminal organizations had already acted first. He had no idea how they moved so quickly. Upon reflection, it was clear that they had always been one step ahead of him. "You''re a lord, but you''re working with the administrator, aren''t you?" Enkrid said calmly, not knowing the details. "That bastard isn''t on my side!" The man shouted in frustration, his voice growing louder. He pulled out a short sword, looking around. Cling. Could they escape? The situation had gone from bad to worse. "Lord, I''ll buy some time." One of the men holding a spear spoke up. The lord turned around and saw that more enemies had appeared behind them, blocking the path they had just come through. They were surrounded. The number of enemies seemed to exceed a hundred. At the center of the group were three individuals, all exuding an oppressive presence as they stared at the lord and the two from the Border Guard. One was a beast-man with a missing ear, another was a hybrid fairy with a twisted face and crooked nose, and the third was a seated female swordsman. The female swordsman, in particular, stood out, wearing armor that accentuated her full chest. Her red, slightly curled hair and mischievous smile made her appear both charming and hard to look away from. She wasn''t exceptionally beautiful, but her figure and smile combined into a captivating aura. "Lord, where do you think you''re going? That man and the frog over there look like my guests." The beast-man with the missing ear spoke. He was the notorious Wind Blade, a man who ruled the city. He wore a scimitar at his waist, which, when drawn, made a sound like the wind, a name he earned because it could cut through anything swiftly. In this world, it was normal for people to get nicknames once they gained a certain level of fame. The fairy next to him sneered at Enkrid, who returned the glare. The fairy had a twisted face due to using poison incorrectly in his youth. Ever since, he would react with disdain to anyone he deemed too handsome. If he saw someone like Enkrid, he''d probably want to hurt him or poison him to satisfy his bitterness. "Wow, you''re handsome." It was the voice of the woman wearing provocative armor that revealed her shoulders and cleavage. She had learned a peculiar spell as a child, one that used her body and smile to deceive others. Now, she was attempting to weave this enchantment, laying the groundwork for it. All she needed was for the other person to be drawn to her, whether it be her body or face. She noticed that Enkrid was looking at her without much expression. His gaze was somewhat indifferent, but as long as he was looking, her spell would take effect. She was confident in it. "You three!" The lord shouted in surprise as he looked at them. It was no wonder. These three had fought each other fiercely, declaring one another as enemies, didn''t they? They had been engaged in bloody battles for control of the city, yet here they were, now gathered in one place, seemingly waiting for him. "You''re not really my type," the woman said, sticking out her tongue. Despite being an enemy, she found them quite cute. The lord shook his head rapidly, feeling as though his mind was slipping away for a moment. "No, this won''t do. I''ll open a path for you, but return to Border Guard and inform them about the situation in the city. I''ve heard General Abnaier is there. If it''s him, he will know what''s going on here and will not turn a blind eye." The lord spoke with resolve. He was prepared to give his life here, but he would make sure that the filthy bastards who had taken control of this city would pay. His mind was firm, and he drew his sword. "I will die here. This is all I can do with my will. May the goddess of luck aid Cross Guard and show mercy to the people." Lugarne, listening nearby, thought that these people''s intelligence was truly lacking. ''It seems no one knows who Enkrid is.'' Enkrid had a similar thought. The same went for the bandit leaders or whoever they were. None of them knew who the person standing before them was. "You''re not bad at this, are you? Why not stay here? I''ll take you under my wing. From now on, you can call me your master." The Beastkin named Wind Blade spoke. Enkrid regarded him as no more than a squire. In truth, that was a generous assessment. Despite the Beastkin''s unique physical abilities, he still couldn''t surpass that level. The three who had taken control of the city were surprisingly weak. Was there something more to them? Was it just a numbers game? It didn''t seem that way either. There was a man claiming to be a lord beside him, so he could just ask. If everything was stemming from a power struggle within the lord''s faction, he had no intention of taking anyone''s side. However, there had been those who tried to kill him and those who had tampered with the food. He would have to take action against them. Enkrid raised his right hand and asked, "Who was it that tampered with the food and threatened the restaurant owner?" It was clear from his calm demeanor that he wasn''t acting out of fear or tension. The three crime lords controlling the city furrowed their brows. What was he thinking? "So what if I know?" The Half-Elf muttered with a twisted smile, which looked more like a childish pout than a grin. Of course, her appearance was hardly beautiful. "Don''t mess with food." Enkrid spoke, his voice calm but stern. "I don''t want to." The Half-Elf said, waving her hand. From below, a specially crafted needle shot toward Enkrid''s eyes. The needle, though small, was sharp like a blade. The throw was expertly executed, aiming for a tiny target, no easy feat. "Watch out!" the lord shouted. Enkrid quickly unsheathed the short sword that Eitri had given him, swishing it in front of him as if swatting away a fly. Cling. The two thick needles hit the blade and fell to the ground. No one there could figure out exactly how it had happened, but it was simple. The trajectory of the needles was easy to track, and by aligning his blade with their path, he simply intercepted them. There was no need for precise technique or elegance in the move. As Enkrid swiped away the needles, he looked ahead. He saw low buildings blocking his path, and beyond them, the clear blue sky. The weather was lovely, with no clouds in sight¡ªa crisp winter day. The air felt cold, and though the sky was clear, the city itself was anything but. The stench and filth littered the streets. "Have you heard of the Gilpin Guild? A member came here, but we lost contact with them." Enkrid casually remarked as he gazed at the sky. "...They capture people sometimes," the lord answered, cautiously eyeing Enkrid. Enkrid wasn''t troubled by the situation. In fact, he saw it as an opportunity. He had been planning to intervene anyway, and now, with all of them gathered in one place, it wasn''t an unwelcome turn of events. "Lugarne." "I understand. I''ll stand guard." Lugarne would protect the lord, as instructed. As Enkrid began to walk forward, Wind Blade drew his weapon. Swish. The wide blade gleamed in the light. Its speed was its specialty, cutting through the air faster than the wind itself. Enkrid didn''t even give it much attention. He briefly scanned it before turning his gaze outward. The Half-Elf had six poisoned darts, three in each hand, and was preparing to throw them. It was a technique she had honed over her lifetime. The woman in armor, still smiling, stepped forward. She was already activating her enchantment, using her body and smile to captivate her target. This was a technique that had never failed her before, and she approached Enkrid as though to welcome him. With each step she took, her chest swayed, and any man would have found it difficult not to be distracted. "Wow, your face is..." She didn''t finish her sentence. As she stepped forward, Enkrid swiftly swung his sword, and with a clean motion, split the woman''s head in two. At that very moment, the poisoned darts came flying toward him. Enkrid noticed that only the tips of the darts were poisoned. The Half-Elf, proud of her white, slender fingers, never used gloves or equipment for poisoning. She preferred to expose her fingers, taking pride in their beauty, and thus always poisoned only the tips of her darts. Enkrid effortlessly caught the incoming darts, avoiding the poisoned ends. To the naked eye, it would have appeared as though he had done remarkable, but for Enkrid, it was an easy task. Knights were beings who surpassed limits, called disasters. They could slice through anything, even thin air. This wasn''t a fight; it was a massacre. Enkrid snatched the darts out of the air, and the Half-Elf froze, speechless. Wind Blade, reacting instinctively, lunged forward, swinging his sword horizontally. Enkrid effortlessly raised his sword vertically, cutting through Wind Blade''s weapon and cleaving his chest wide open. His heart, still beating, could be seen in the gaping wound. Lugarne briefly turned her head away from the gruesome sight. She had torn hearts out with her own hands before, but seeing a heart still beating was a different kind of discomfort. "Do you want to keep going?" Enkrid asked, after effortlessly dispatching the two. "Kill him!" The Half-Elf shouted in terror. Most of the ones who charged at Enkrid had no idea who he was. Many were also under the influence of drugs. Enkrid swung his sword again. The first attacker had his skull split open. The second had his face crushed by a punch, leaving no trace of his eyes, nose, or mouth. Several more attacks followed, but it wasn''t even a fight. A few drugged fools tried to fight back, but they were no match for Enkrid. The others, scared, began to flee. It took only five strikes to clear the area of anyone who dared to charge at him. Enkrid casually wiped the blood from his blade. The weight of the blade had increased since the last time, and it felt sharper, heavier with each strike. It was a joy to wield now, much improved by Eitri''s craftsmanship. "Now, you said you were the lord?" Enkrid asked, turning back. The man standing there was wide-eyed, almost drooling in disbelief. "Ah, um, yes. I''m the lord," he replied, his face frozen in shock. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 180 Chapters] Latest WN-749 + daily Chapters from monday to friday the following month [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + daily Chapters from monday to friday the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 20 -s 700-730 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released Discord server - .gg/snCZVX3mr4 Chapter 594 - The Wind Blade is Dead Chapter 594 - 594 - The Wind Blade is Dead Chapter 594 - The Wind Blade is Dead "Would you be able to guide me to the place where the person is being held?" Enkrid believed that the person sent from the Gilpin Guild might already be dead. Krais had said the same. However, if they were not dead, rescuing them was the right thing to do. Just before the fight, Enkrid had casually asked the lord of the castle about people being captured, and the lord had said something about it. Having heard that, Enkrid made this his priority. After all, saving those who were caught while doing their work, especially if it was for the benefit of the city he was staying in, seemed essential. "Who are you?" the lord asked, surprised. Enkrid had never hidden his identity, but he hadn''t introduced himself either. After hearing the question, he realized that no one had ever asked him who he was before. "Enkrid of Border Guard." After the brief introduction, the lord couldn''t stop staring and then asked, "...The Unyielding Knight?" No matter how limited the information was, there was no way the lord could not know the Unyielding Knight. The surprise and disbelief in his eyes were fresh, as if asking, "Why are you here?" Enkrid nodded in acknowledgment. The lord''s mouth opened wider. It almost looked like he might drool. Enkrid thought this, but didn''t bother closing his mouth for him. "No, why are you here?" A spearman behind the lord asked, his eyes wide open as well. It seemed they were both wondering, "Why are you here?" Enkrid kindly responded. "I came because there were reports of heretics causing trouble. But it seems there are other, more complicated issues, and I had to take action when I was threatened." Enkrid spoke nonchalantly, which was a bit too calm for someone who had just wiped out three major crime guilds, which were the biggest trouble in Cross Guard. Blood was still dripping on the ground, and the vagrants who had been glancing around were hiding deeper into the alleys. Only a few of them, with swollen bellies, looked around cautiously. What happened here? The lord could answer that question with one word: ''The city''s biggest problem just disappeared.'' But seeing the person responsible for it all act so indifferent made him appear even more impressive, at least to the lord and his group. To Enkrid, however, these people seemed like sparrows living in a cage. The cage was all they knew, and they were arrogant about it, pecking at each other, believing they were the strongest. But when an eagle enters the cage, it''s only natural they don''t stand a chance. Even a magpie could tame that cage. That''s what Enkrid had observed so far. Ominous? Bullshit?'' If he met the scoundrel in his dreams, he''d likely say that. It would be amusing to see his expression. But Enkrid also sensed that this wasn''t the whole picture. The snake-eyed official and the lord were both full of strange things. "Well, the heretics are a problem. They''ve been holding secret meetings here and there. It''s been hard to stop them, especially with the crime guilds causing such chaos. There''s even talk of vampires and sightings of werewolves lately," the lord explained, still a bit shaken. Enkrid understood well enough. It was a total mess. The heretic issue was there, but it was being overshadowed by the crime guilds. On top of that, there were monstrous creatures appearing around the city. Enkrid didn''t bother asking what the militia or the army was doing to protect the city. The answer would be predictable, and he could hear it later. "So, do you know where they''re being held?" Enkrid asked, still focused on rescuing the person. He flicked the blood off his sword and looked at the lord with an indifferent gaze. "The place is guarded by dozens of guild members," the lord replied. Enkrid placed his hand on the sword grip and stared at him quietly. There was no need for words. The lord, recalling how quickly the Wind Blade had been cut down and the three guilds destroyed, spoke again. "I''ll lead the way." Following the lord''s guidance, Enkrid walked through the city. Passing through the filthy ground and winding alleyways, he spotted a tree growing amidst the muck, with white winter flowers blooming on its branches. He followed the flowers with his gaze, looking up at the clear blue sky. When he looked down, he saw drugged individuals collapsed around him, and some unburied bodies. Amidst this bleak scene, the flowers stood out, growing and revealing their beauty. It was quite striking. After a while, the lord led him to an old mansion with stairs slanting down beside it. It was a tomb and a basement. In the past, power figures would bury themselves in such large tombs, but now, seeing the broken and unkempt stairs, it looked like an old tomb long forgotten. "Here?" Enkrid asked. "Yes," the lord replied. The bottom of the stairs was dark, filled with a heavy, oppressive atmosphere. Even someone with poor instincts would feel uneasy and avoid it. Yet Enkrid stepped down without hesitation. Since becoming a knight, he had developed the ability to see through darkness to some extent. Even if he couldn''t see, he could sense the presence of those waiting to ambush him. They couldn''t even hide their breath properly. "What would Jaxen say?" he thought. "Those idiots are asking to be stabbed. I''ll give them one," he mused, but before he could make a move, someone at the bottom of the stairs spoke first. "Hey, what are you doing here? Leave, you''ll get hurt." They weren''t just hiding their breath; they were talking out loud. Enkrid couldn''t help but be surprised. What kind of ambushers revealed themselves like that? What was even more surprising was that they were hiding, yet still worried about him. "You idiot, don''t say anything, they''ll find out where we are!" one of them yelled. "Maybe he just took a wrong turn," another muttered. There was some bickering from below. Enkrid wasn''t sure if they were foolish or kind-hearted, but he decided they were both. He didn''t believe in dividing people into good or evil when killing them, but he still liked to consider these things. He didn''t have the habit of using his hands when he wasn''t feeling it. Was he just doing whatever felt right? Yes, he was. Enkrid didn''t deny it. He acted according to his instincts. Therefore, he decided to ask a question. "Have you ever killed someone who couldn''t fight back?" Enkrid asked. "Uh? No," one of them answered. There was a thud as the person who had answered got a knock on the head. Then, the sound of a flint striking and a torch being lit followed. There were five men guarding the stairs. Three of them looked simple-minded, with faces that seemed too innocent to deceive anyone. Even if they tried, they couldn''t fake their expressions. And even if they did deceive, Enkrid wasn''t someone who would fall for it. "If you''re going to pretend to be dead, what''s the point?" Enkrid thought. One of the five spoke up, "This is the Wind Blade Guild''s territory." Enkrid didn''t reply, but stepped forward, closing the distance between them quickly. "Hey, don''t come any closer!" The man in front of him was startled and tried to draw the dagger from his waist. Enkrid''s hand had already landed on his hand, stopping him. "If you draw it, you die." The unspoken rule in the mercenary world was that anyone who drew a weapon had to be ready to face death, and that applied to everyone holding a weapon. Enkrid''s words carried that weight. One of the five men quickly realized this and nodded. "I won''t draw it." One of them slapped himself lightly on the forehead. The conversation was so absurd that he was left speechless. Yet, it was also a familiar occurrence. How many times had something like this happened before? One of his brothers always acted foolishly like this. Despite that, everyone liked him. He was slow-witted, but his actions always ended well. It was a curious thing. Even now, for that reason, everyone fell silent. With the atmosphere like this, the group naturally looked to Enkrid for his reaction. Judging by his gait and demeanor, he wasn''t an ordinary person. But if they let him through easily, they might end up losing their fingers later. Two of the five had already lost two fingers each, courtesy of Wind Blade. Considering what he had done, they were lucky their necks weren''t severed instead. "If we let you go, Wind Blade will kill us." This one seemed to have a grasp of the situation. He was a wrinkled fellow. Enkrid removed his hand from the hilt of his sword and said, "Wind Blade is dead." The five blinked in unison. What? Their expressions mirrored the same disbelief. The choice was now theirs. Whether they believed him or not, it was up to them to fulfill their duty as members of the crime guild and face death. Would they draw their swords? Four of the five began sweating profusely. What now? Do we just let him go? What if he''s lying? The one they initially thought was a fool turned out to be the leader and decision-maker of the group. "Let him go." He spoke, and the other four nodded. It wasn''t so much about trusting Enkrid''s words; they simply had no other choice. If they made the wrong move, Wind Blade might draw his sword like the wind and kill them all. But what could they do? For now, they had no other option. Smart move. Watching from behind, Luagarne thought the same. For these men, charging in would only lead to death. "Well then." Patting one of them on the shoulder, Enkrid walked past the guards of the underground tomb. "Here." The fool even handed him a torch. Enkrid tilted his head in acknowledgment and accepted it. Once inside, the place was more spacious than expected. The structure also seemed remarkably sturdy. The walls were straight, with barely visible seams. When he knocked on them, there was no echo, suggesting the stones were solid through and through. "This doesn''t feel like a tomb." Enkrid voiced his impression. "It does look that way," Luagarne agreed, adding, "I heard it used to be a trend among wealthy merchants and nobles to build these kinds of hideouts. Something about ensuring their survival even if their cities fell?" It didn''t seem like a bad place to take refuge. Block the entrance, and it would be secure. Enkrid observed the surroundings and noticed a faint airflow, suggesting some attention had been paid to ventilation. Even so, the typical musty smell of an underground stone chamber lingered. The deeper they ventured, the chillier the air became, wrapping around their skin like a cold shroud. With such temperatures, food stored here wouldn''t spoil easily, although summer might pose some challenges. He didn''t explore every nook and cranny of the underground chamber, but it was clear this place would serve well as a refuge in times of war if the entrance were sealed. Though it seemed expansive at first glance, it wasn''t vast enough to get lost in. Based on his estimation, it was about the size of a large mansion with three or four rooms, maybe more if you included a reception area and kitchen. Judging by the craftsmanship, it was no ordinary construction. Could it be the work of dwarves? Perhaps. As Enkrid wandered through the underground hideout, he couldn''t shake a peculiar feeling. Ever since approaching the city, he had felt as though someone was watching him. Whenever he tried to pinpoint the source, nothing was there. It was too subtle to describe clearly. He had even thrown a fork to test it earlier, but found nothing. "Maybe it''s just bad intuition." That could be it. As he walked, scanning his surroundings, he eventually sensed a presence and moved toward it. There, inside a stone chamber, was a man bound in shackles. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 180 Chapters] Latest WN-749 + daily Chapters from monday to friday the following month [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 50 Chapters of ERK + daily Chapters from monday to friday the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 20 -s 700-730 + 20 next Chapters that are yet to be released Discord server - .gg/snCZVX3mr4 Chapter 595 - That’s all it was Chapter 595 - 595 - That¡¯s all it was Chapter 595 - That''s all it was "Who are you?" The man raised his head and asked. His eyes were sunken, and his cheeks hollowed, suggesting he hadn''t eaten properly for days. In this vast stone chamber, there was only one captive. "Gilpin Guild?" Enkrid asked. A breeze from somewhere made the torch flicker, its shadows swelling and shrinking against the stone walls. "Aaaah!" Suddenly, the man screamed. "They''re watching me! Always watching! They know everything I do!" Half-mad, the man''s bloodshot eyes bulged as he shouted. Then, clutching his head with both hands, he slammed it against the floor repeatedly. "Ughhh..." Drool dripped from the man''s mouth onto the ground. "Ugh... They see everything I do. Stop watching me, stop watching!" Enkrid, neither surprised nor shaken, calmly observed the man and checked his eyes and breathing. There were no visible signs of poison, but the man''s breath grew weaker and eventually stopped. He had died, his head buried in the ground, clutching it with both hands. "Lua." Enkrid handed the torch to Luagarne and turned the man''s eyes over. Amid the bloodshot whites, there was a dot, and debris fell onto his hand from the corners of the man''s eyes. Its texture resembled stone dust, something that shouldn''t have come from a human body. The corpse reminded him of someone they had encountered earlier, who had died after being attacked at night and tumbling down a staircase. Whatever was happening, it was unclear where to start unraveling it. For most people, the situation would have been overwhelming. But not for Enkrid. If he tackled the immediate problem, the one behind this chaos would reveal themselves eventually. Sometimes, acting like Krais was less effective than acting like Rem, and this was one of those times. Instead of overthinking, he decided to act. As Enkrid climbed upward, the enemy''s response came faster than he expected. If he could embrace Rem''s direct approach, so could the other side. But was that necessarily a bad thing? ''Not at all.'' The one they were after had taken the initiative to appear, saving Enkrid the trouble of searching. At the top of the stairs, he saw not only the self-proclaimed lord but also two spear-wielders tied up and kneeling. Next to them lay the five guild members bleeding from various wounds¡ªarms, legs, shoulders. It was obvious who had inflicted the injuries: the soldiers gathered here. "What a pity you cause such trouble the moment you arrive," said the mastermind, standing at the center of it all¡ªthe administrator. "I never liked the look of his eyes," Lua muttered. Enkrid approached with his usual calm, scanning his surroundings. Among the soldiers were others with different armaments, likely those who had fled the earlier fight. Spears, crossbows, and short swords surrounded them, with the administrator at the core. Enkrid walked up slowly, his eyes fixed on the administrator, who twitched the corner of his mouth and smirked. "Why didn''t you rest a bit while you''re here instead of stirring up so much trouble?" The scene was clear The soldiers surrounding them, the captives, and the mastermind in the middle. But beyond that, there was the blue sky, and to one side, a tree blooming with winter flowers. Flowers bloom even among filth. That thought crossed Enkrid''s mind. He didn''t know much about the lord kneeling there, but the five guards seemed innocent, and he thought of the innkeeper who wanted to protect her child. There were undoubtedly other unspoiled lives in this city, unseen but existing. Yet this filth would corrupt, uproot, and decay those flowers over time, turning the city into a place unfit for life. Even without foresight or deep contemplation, it was an undeniable truth. That''s just how it was. Pushing aside his thoughts, Enkrid asked the question that had been on his mind "What gives you the nerve to stand against me?" It was an honest question. Numbers, distance, positioning, even their forces¡ªnone of it mattered. "Exactly," Lua agreed. Crossbows or not, they didn''t have the strength to contain Enkrid. "You dare!" The bound lord spat blood as he shouted at the administrator, his bloodshot eyes filled with fury. "Was it you who orchestrated this trickery?" The lord''s voice was filled with fury as he glared at the administrator. The situation was not as the lord had perceived. He had believed the city was under the control of three criminal guilds, and that the administrator was nothing more than a sycophantic lackey clinging to them for survival. In truth, it was the administrator who had set the stage, allowing the three guilds to run rampant within the city. Even before ousting the current lord, the administrator had been orchestrating everything behind the scenes. To him, all of this was merely a game¡ªa source of entertainment. Watching the bumbling lord''s futile rage, observing the guild leaders boast about their supposed superiority, was amusing to him. The effort he had put into dominating the entire city was significant, yet here came the Unyielding Knight to unravel everything he had built. The administrator had no choice but to intervene directly; the "knight" was not someone that others could handle. This was a battle of initiative, and whoever struck first held the advantage. "You should remain quiet. It''s already been exhausting enough keeping you alive," the administrator said, his voice dripping with condescension. Enkrid quickly pieced together the situation The administrator was the power behind the criminal guilds. Yet, this knowledge did not faze him. His instincts told him that no one present could stop even a single swing of his blade. Even if fortune smiled upon one of the soldiers, granting them a miraculous blessing, it wouldn''t matter. A single block wouldn''t suffice. Enkrid possessed an unyielding will, a wellspring of energy that allowed him to cut and keep cutting without fatigue. This set him apart¡ªhis ability to slash endlessly, a skill no other knight could rival. "Fire!" At the commander''s shout, all the crossbowmen pulled their triggers simultaneously. Twing! The taut strings of the crossbows snapped, releasing dozens of bolts. Enkrid moved with blinding speed, unsheathing his sword and swinging it in one fluid motion. Clang-clang-clang! Every bolt was deflected, falling harmlessly to the ground. The arc of his blade left behind a silver and black trail, as if a silver surface had been embroidered with black threads. Luagarne, skilled in adapting to her environment, moved behind Enkrid, ensuring she was shielded. Not a single bolt reached her. The onlookers stood agape, astonished by the spectacle. Among them, only the administrator knew Enkrid''s true identity. Clap, clap, clap! The administrator began to applaud, a genuine expression of admiration. "Remarkable!" he exclaimed. Seeing someone deflect dozens of bolts with nothing but a sword was extraordinary. Even the lord, still bound by ropes, was left speechless. He had already witnessed Enkrid''s combat prowess earlier, but this level of skill surpassed anything he could imagine. "Is this what they call the Unyielding Knight?" the lord thought, recalling the title associated with Enkrid. Seeing the feats with his own eyes was entirely different from merely hearing about them. Without hesitation, Enkrid prepared to strike the administrator. He leaped forward, his sword slicing downward in a seamless motion¡ªa technique he had learned from Oara. The blade''s movement was slow yet uninterrupted, paradoxically creating a sense of speed. Time seemed to stretch as Enkrid felt everything around him blur and recede. This was the sensation of slipping into the gaps between moments, a speed no ordinary human could comprehend, let alone react to. With his target clearly identified, Enkrid swung his blade without hesitation. There was no need to overthink; the act of cutting was all that mattered. Thunk! Squelch! Two distinct sounds echoed. Enkrid had struck and pulled back his blade in a single motion, delivering the full force of both the downward and retracting cuts into the opponent''s head. But something felt off. The sensation in his hands wasn''t right. The target''s head had been tough and resilient, not quite the feeling of cutting through flesh. "Fall back!" The figure Enkrid had struck¡ªits head now split in two¡ªsuddenly shouted. Despite the mortal wound, its mouth stretched grotesquely as it bellowed. A formless pressure surged outward, pushing against Enkrid. A lesser person would have been thrown back, but Enkrid employed the flow technique he had learned from Audin, dissipating the invisible force effortlessly. What seemed natural to him was, after all, astonishing to others. The spell "Invisible Hand" had passed without meaning. "Truly amazing!" The administrator exclaimed again. Looking back at Enkrid, who held his sword lowered, he noticed something grotesque: a new head was sprouting inside the split remnants of the old one. Of course, the administrator had a trump card to rely on¡ªwithout it, he wouldn''t have stepped forward. He began to unleash the hidden power within himself. The newly grown head lacked a mouth, bearing only eyes. Soon, the administrator''s human form melted like wax, transforming into a brown, sinewy mass. A horizontal line bisected the entire body, and it floated in midair. Though this transformation was the result of implanted monster power, to everyone watching, he now appeared as nothing less than a monster himself. Moments ago, he had been human, and now he was a monster¡ªhow could anyone not be shocked by such a sight? "...A monster?" "Evil Eye?" The lord and the spearman muttered in disbelief. Evil Eye, a rare monster even in the demonic domains, possessed psychic powers and a petrifying curse. It was an entity composed solely of a gigantic eye, but having lost its vocal cords during the transformation, it could no longer speak as before. As a byproduct of some experiment, it was gradually losing its sanity. What remained? The strength of the monster. The Evil Eye unleashed psychic pressure, targeting the threats before it. A formless weight hurtled toward Enkrid, but he endured it with sheer strength. The force attempted to push him, but it lacked the power of Audin''s shoves or Rem''s strikes. Although the Evil Eye was a rare creature, the experiment had left it with only half its psychic potential. A true Evil Eye in the demonic domain might have been formidable, but this one''s power was mediocre. "At best, it''s on par with Fel," Enkrid assessed, gauging the creature''s strength. Fel wasn''t neglectful in training his physical strength, but compared to others, he lagged. As such, there was no need for Enkrid to strain himself. The Evil Eye then seized spears from the hands of nearby soldiers. Twenty spears floated midair, all aimed at Enkrid¡ªhead, back, shins, and everywhere else. Psychic power controlled the spears, allowing for simultaneous strikes as if wielded by twenty spearmen at once. Normally, even the best-coordinated soldiers could manage no more than three to five synchronized strikes due to physical constraints. But psychic power removed such limitations, allowing for twenty simultaneous attacks targeting Enkrid''s entire body. And these were spears propelled with Fel''s strength. Enkrid gripped his sword in his right hand, while holding Spark in his left. He didn''t draw the second weapon, merely held it. The spears rained down, their tips descending into the range of his weapons. Clang! Crack! The path carved by the sword given to him by Aetri shattered the spearheads, while Spark effortlessly sliced through the shafts. Both weapons boasted extraordinary cutting power, and wielded by skilled hands, the results were inevitable. "Wow..." One soldier muttered in awe, unable to contain his admiration. The sight was extraordinary, a rare spectacle in any battle. He couldn''t be blamed for his reaction. If psychic power was the Evil Eye''s first trick, it had others. Gathering the remnants of its rationality, the monster transmitted its intent via a psychic wave. Let''s see if you can fight without looking! The Evil Eye''s horizontal slit opened, emitting a gray light¡ªthe curse of petrification. "Everyone, heads down!" Luagarne, who had been watching, shouted the warning. All those around immediately ducked their heads. A man, often mocked as a fool, pushed down the heads of his comrades. Even the lord quickly lowered his own. "Ah... grrk!" Some soldiers and criminals who had hesitated, staring blankly, turned to stone. The sound of petrification filled the air as their bodies, from eyes to entire frames, became lifeless gray statues. Enkrid, too, lowered his gaze. Though he harbored powers far surpassing the petrifying curse, allowing him to look without consequence, he didn''t know this. Did this put him at a disadvantage? Hardly. Fighting without looking wasn''t particularly difficult. "I''ll block without seeing," he murmured. It was a training method of Jaxen''s: fighting blind by sensing only presence. Even when visible, Jaxen''s movements would sometimes vanish unpredictably. Fighting blind was a challenge from the very act of sensing. Enkrid had endured days of such training, savoring the process despite his slow progress. Now, conditions were far easier than back then. Shadows moved beneath the floating monster, accompanied by its scent and clear sounds. For most, the petrifying curse was an inescapable threat. But not for Enkrid. ''No one in the Madmen Knights would fall to this, except perhaps Krais.'' Anything less would make his training a waste. Enkrid tracked the shadow''s movement to pinpoint the Evil Eye''s position. The creature''s gaze spilled its curse, but for those not looking, it was futile. Frustrated, the Evil Eye manipulated scattered blades and bolts, hurling them at Enkrid. He nonchalantly deflected them with his sword, approaching the monster at a steady pace. Reaching his target, he raised his steel sword with both hands, lowering his head as he prepared to strike. The shadow of Enkrid and the Evil Eye stretched across the ground, visible even to the lord who stared downward. To him, the shadow of Enkrid''s sword looked like the blade of a guillotine. And then, the blade fell. Swish. Thud, splat! The enormous eye, the size of a grown man, was split in two, black blood spraying everywhere. Thud. The floating body crashed to the ground, splattering its vile fluids onto the lord''s back, hands, and face. Warm, reeking with a stench that made one flinch, the blood dripped down his back. Yet the lord remained still, head bowed. ------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 180 Chapters] Latest WN-749 + daily Chapters from monday to friday the following month [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 40 Chapters of ERK + daily Chapters from monday to friday the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 20 -s 720-754 + daily Chapters from Monday to Friday for a month Discord server - .gg/snCZVX3mr4 Chapter 596 - Flowers Bloom Even Among Filth Chapter 596 - 596 - Flowers Bloom Even Among Filth Chapter 596 - Flowers Bloom Even Among Filth As Enkrid let his arm fall, the tip of his sword pointed to the ground. Before him lay a monster, split clean in half, now reduced to a heap of lifeless flesh. The black blood pooled thickly across the floor, staining it in dark patches, with chunks of brownish flesh scattered atop. "Anyone else want to try?" The question was delivered with calm indifference. At the sound of his voice, heads turned toward him. "Please... spare me." Clatter. A soldier dropped his weapon¡ªa spear clanged as it hit the ground. Enkrid hadn''t even directed his sword at the man. The sight of the transformed administrator was far too jarring. Not just for the soldiers; everyone present seemed dazed and hollow, struggling to process what had just occurred. Although there might be a time to hold the soldiers accountable for following orders, now wasn''t the moment. Recognizing this, Enkrid shifted his gaze toward Luagarne, who was inspecting the dead monster. "These cult bastards sure don''t hold back with their experiments." Her observation hinted that the cultists had done more than merely convene secret gatherings¡ªthey had delved into depraved extremes. Enkrid''s swordplay had managed to contain much of the chaos, at least for now. The monster at the heart of it all had been slain. Turning his attention to the self-proclaimed lord bowing his head low, Enkrid pondered his next move. Was it time to question the man, to demand answers and set things in order? The man''s shoulders trembled violently. In moments like this, what might someone in a position of responsibility feel? Were those trembling shoulders quaking with relief or suffused with emptiness? Emptiness seemed plausible. This catastrophe had spiraled out of his control, and the resolution came at the hands of outsiders, specifically those from Border Guard. Stripped of pride, gratitude might not be the only thing weighing on the man. Though Enkrid wasn''t well-versed in politics, he had a grasp of human behavior. Relief, however fleeting, often concealed a deep sense of hollowness. The lord raised his head to meet Enkrid''s gaze. Step back. Instinctively, Enkrid shifted his weight backward. Luagarne noticed and followed his line of sight toward the lord. "What''s with his eyes?" The lord''s gaze was unnervingly intense¡ªalmost too intense. "That swordsmanship of yours is truly remarkable, my lord," the man said, his tone brimming with respect. "And you''re not planning to leave just like that, are you?" His voice carried a hint of desperation. "...Isn''t that the logical thing to do once the cult problem is resolved? This is Aspen''s territory, after all," Enkrid replied, maintaining a composed tone. While there was no immediate need to leave, lingering cultist activity still required attention¡ªone of the reasons Luagarne had accompanied him. "Those are dangerous eyes," Luagarne muttered, appraising the lord''s expression. Enkrid silently agreed. That gaze... it resembled the glint in Krais''s eyes whenever he discovered ruins teeming with monsters. The lord, whose name was Louis, now looked at Enkrid the way an herbalist might eye a rare plant, or a starving man might clutch a loaf of bread. "Please, my lord! Now that things have come to this, lend us your aid!" He dropped to his knees. Louis knew his abilities were unremarkable, but his love for his city was genuine. "Kneel! All of you, kneel!" At his command, a simpleton who had been guarding the basement was the first to obey. Soon, soldiers followed suit, caught in the atmosphere. Even members of the criminal guild had no choice but to kneel. "Help us! Everyone, follow my lead!" Louis''s character revealed itself now that the immediate crises were over. He was dogged, unwilling to let an opportunity slip by. His eyes sparkled like those of a merchant who had stumbled upon a priceless treasure or a beggar who had just found a loaf of bread after days of starvation. Yet, surprisingly, it didn''t seem entirely repellent. "Help us!" To Louis, dealing with the cultist remnant took precedence over blaming the command chain or questioning the surviving soldiers. A knight¡ªone who showed goodwill toward his city¡ªhad come, and he wasn''t demanding anything in return. That knight had killed the monster terrorizing them. Should he simply thank him and let it end there? Should he weep tears of joy? Or should he bemoan his own incompetence, lamenting how such a grave crisis had come to pass because of his inadequacies? ''No. That''s not it.'' Louis''s determination was earnest and unshaken. As a child, he had dreamed of becoming an extraordinary knight. That belief had lasted only a couple of months before it crumbled. "A sword alone can only accomplish so much in this world," his father had once said, trying to console him. Louis hadn''t minded. After all, what did it matter if he couldn''t swing a sword well? It changed nothing. He had tried to learn magic and dabbled in various other pursuits, only to realize his talents were painfully mediocre. All he had ever truly desired was for the constant fighting to end. Border Guard and Cross Guard frequently clashed over the Pen-Hanil River, and he wished they''d stop. ''Can''t people live a little more simply?'' A modest life, where the citizens of his city wouldn''t go hungry, wouldn''t freeze in winter, and could earn enough to get by¡ªthat was all Louis had ever hoped for. So, where had it all gone wrong? Allowing a mage into the city? Letting someone who controlled monsters take root? Perhaps it was when a madman who thought burning cities was acceptable for Aspen''s sake had been placed in command. Unfortunate events always seemed to pile up. Around this time, his aging father had succumbed to illness. Louis''s mother had passed when he was young, leaving only a few relatives behind¡ªnone of whom could truly be called trustworthy. Some sought to usurp his position as lord; others aimed to take his life. The newly appointed lord had been one of his father''s half-brothers. Whether they shared any real blood was debatable, though the man''s swordsmanship was undeniably exceptional. Through all this, Louis had clung to one wish: for his people to live without undue suffering. Why? Did he need a reason? If pressed, he''d say it was because he genuinely loved the city where he had been born and raised. "What exactly is it that you''re asking for help with?" Enkrid''s tone mirrored Louis''s formality as he replied. For a man so battered by life yet still calling himself lord, there seemed little reason to conceal himself. And what could possibly remain in this city for him to cling to as lord? "Some remnants still remain. Since you''ve already exerted your strength, could you lend us a little more...?" Louis trailed off, filling the pause with a sheepish smile. His brazenness was evident, but so was his sincerity. If Enkrid''s judgment was wrong, so be it. Before nodding, Enkrid asked a passing question. "Why go to such lengths? You could''ve fled at any time." Leaving the city and heading to Border Guard would have been enough to survive. Why had he stayed in this corrupt city? For what purpose? Was it because he couldn''t relinquish the title of lord? Or was it because he sought something more? The lord spoke with a tone of unwavering dignity. There was no shame, no despair in his words. He had never wished to become a hero, nor had he desired to be a savior. The idea of an angel descending from the heavens to cleanse the city? How wonderful that would be. But the world doesn''t work that way. Instead, perhaps his sword could take the angel''s place. Was this not the time for that? "I just wish the place where I was born and raised could have been a little better," said the lord. "You could have taken your people and sought asylum elsewhere," Enkrid responded, a reasonable answer. Wanting the city to be better was ultimately for the people, wasn''t it? Did he lack ambition? "The peace I desire isn''t one gained by abandoning the nation," the lord replied. "If something similar happens again, would I have to seek asylum once more? And gather the people again? Who would approve of that? Before being a lord, I''m someone who loves this city. I only wish for its walls to protect its people." There was purpose in his heart. Even without mastering Will or wielding a sword, one with clarity of purpose possesses a kind of power. Lord Louis had little talent, but his genuine care for the city was undeniable, and when given a chance, he knew how to fight to seize it. Enkrid nodded in understanding. From that moment, the lord mobilized everything he knew. "You there! Spill where your base is, or this knight will cut you down!" He immediately targeted a nearby member of a criminal guild. "What? Oh, please spare me! I''ll guide you, of course!" The fox clinging to the tiger''s back¡ªa fitting image. "Lead the way!" the lord commanded boldly, drawing a smirk from Luagarne, who muttered, "What an amusing fellow." Before the sun could set, they were on the move. Enkrid visited three guild hideouts in succession. At one of them: "Do you know who I am? I''m the guild''s Second Finger!" The title meant he was the second strongest in the guild. "And who''s the First Finger?" Enkrid asked. "That''d be Wind Blade." "Ah, I see." The man wielded a spiked club, and while his skills weren''t bad, he had a fatal habit¡ªevery time he swung the club with his right hand, his left shoulder would open. Enkrid aimed for that shoulder. Thrust! "Aagh!" Blood poured from the ruptured artery. "Spare me!" With a single thrust, the man''s bravado vanished. "Have you ever spared anyone who begged for their life?" There was no answer. His eyes darted wildly, and his lips quivered. Before he could muster a lie, Enkrid''s sword moved again. After a series of such "cleansings," they reached the mansion where a singing official had taken refuge. "Do you dare challenge the Noble of the Night? Your choice is gravely mistaken!" A vampire, drenched in pretension, stood before them. "I knew you weren''t just some relative!" the lord shouted. He claimed the vampire had suddenly proclaimed kinship and ousted him. The vampire had been preying on women and children in the city, drinking their blood. But it wasn''t just blood¡ªthe creature indulged in other heinous hobbies, delighting in the screams of torture. The corpses of over a dozen victims bore witness to his sadistic tendencies, habits that had persisted since his human days. There was no need for words. Enkrid cut him down. Vampires were no ordinary monsters. A vampire capable of reason and speech was a high-ranking entity. Yet, even such a creature was split in two with a single stroke. "Burn it." Afterward, an experienced Frog stepped forward to assist. He carefully placed the dismembered vampire''s remains into a furnace and diligently burned them. The acrid smell of burning flesh mixed with a metallic tang filled the mansion. Even after this, three werewolves appeared. Grrrr! These creatures had no trace of reason. Enkrid methodically cut them down, corralling the charging beasts to one side using the Spider Web technique from Aker. With precise strikes, he severed their heads. Thuds echoed as their heads separated from their bodies and rolled across the floor. "It''s not just these. There are others that show up in the dead of night." The ever-unfazed lord spoke in a polite tone. Indeed, nocturnal monsters appeared too¡ªagain, werewolves. By this point, it was a marvel the city had lasted as long as it had. Seizing the opportunity, Enkrid swung his sword throughout an entire day and night. During his rounds, he passed by the inn where he had first stayed. A child stood in front of it, staring at him with a hazy expression. "The ones troubling you won''t bother you anymore. Go and tell your father." "It''s my uncle, actually. We''re not related by blood, and to be honest, he picked me up and raised me." The child said this unprompted, then seemed embarrassed, likely flustered by the sudden changes in the city. "Is that so?" Enkrid answered matter-of-factly. Orphans were a common sight everywhere. But those who took care of them? Rare. Especially in a city as destitute as this one. Enkrid scoured the entire city, killing hidden monsters, repelling assassins, and capturing cultists holding secret gatherings. "So, you''re cultists." When it came to dealing with the cultists, Luagarne stepped forward. What might have been a curse to some was a blessing to others. At least to the lord and those trying to live upright lives, Enkrid was a harbinger of salvation amidst destruction. A blood-soaked blade that cut through darkness¡ªa harbinger of hope. Enkrid watched over the city tirelessly, seeing not only its streets but also its people. There were those in the criminal guild who quietly looked out for others. Some adults took in children on the verge of starvation. A retired mercenary died trying to protect others. A lord, who simply wanted his city to be a livable place for all. People who, despite their struggles to survive each day, shared bread and stew with the homeless. Flowers could bloom even in the midst of filth. As dawn broke, Enkrid passed by a tree near the inn. White flowers had bloomed on its branches. Even in a broken city, there were lives worth protecting. Even if these weren''t his people, letting them perish was unacceptable. This wasn''t just about defending one''s own; it was about discussing peace itself. This wasn''t a newfound realization. It was a goal he''d set from the moment he first held a sword and dreamed of the songs sung by bards. It was why he trained instead of lamenting his lack of talent, and why he couldn''t settle for merely existing today. That night, the Ferryman appeared again and spoke. "Are you satisfied? By sparing them all? You''ll regret every bit of it." The Ferryman''s voice was laced with curses, but Enkrid simply replied, Is that so? The Ferryman was seething with rage. ----------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - [About 180 Chapters] Latest WN-749 + daily Chapters from monday to friday the following month [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 40 Chapters of ERK + daily Chapters from monday to friday the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 20 -s 720-754 + daily Chapters from Monday to Friday for a month Discord server - .gg/snCZVX3mr4 Chapter 597 - The Winter Sky, Flowers, Children, and Fools Chapter 597 - 597 - The Winter Sky, Flowers, Children, and Fools Chapter 597 - The Winter Sky, Flowers, Children, and Fools "I''ll see you when you''re looking for a corner to run to, brat." The ferryman ultimately failed to calm himself. It truly seemed as if a devil had possessed that accursed mouth. "Get lost." The ferryman repeated, his voice sharper this time. Enkrid opened his mouth, likely about to spout something equally maddening. And so, the madman Enkrid was thrown out. Left sitting on the boat''s edge, the ferryman stared into the lamp''s light and contemplated the day ahead. "Let''s see how you move forward this time." The words left the ferryman''s lips, surprising even himself. It wasn''t like him to speak of the unclear future, especially when the painful clarity of today loomed so heavily. "Am I hoping for something?" Was it because of what Enkrid had shown thus far? Perhaps. Yet, the ferryman still doubted that the outcome would be good. Why wouldn''t he? He''d seen countless heroes and great figures over the years, some achieving far more than Enkrid had. And yet, how did it end for them? He sought counsel within himself, conversing with the many voices that resided there. Most had similar responses: "Everything will mix into the same end." "Hope? What foolishness." "Still clinging on?" "Persuade him it''s immortality, not this endless repetition." A rare few offered different thoughts: "Wouldn''t it be amusing to see him tremble in agony?" "Do you think he''ll endure this time?" Hope, if it could be called that. Instead of despair or resignation, there was this lukewarm reaction. The ferryman wasn''t a singular being. He was many. That Enkrid often remarked on how the ferryman seemed different each day was no coincidence. The ferryman was many, yet also one. At his core, the ferryman desired a new companion. Yet, the unity that once defined him now showed cracks. A testament to the relentless obsession and madness of one human being. "What are you trying to do? What are you hoping for?" One of the voices asked. Instead of answering, the ferryman¡ªthe one in control for now¡ªsmiled. A sinister curve formed on his dull gray face, creating a grotesque expression. If Enkrid had seen it, he would''ve called it the most ominous smile of all. Enkrid''s work was far from over. In a single day, he dismantled three crime guilds, killed an evil eye¡ªone of the cult''s experimental monsters manipulating the city from the shadows¡ªand slaughtered a vampire and three werewolves who had ruled the city while indulging in debauchery. Yet, the city still bore scars of corruption. "Die!" An assassin group lunged at him. Moving as one, the three were clumsy. Their ability to conceal their presence was amateurish, and shouting a battle cry while attempting an assassination revealed their poor training. Their lack of discipline was apparent. The reason? The evil eye that had controlled the city turned it into a playground for its twisted whims. Crime guilds and would-be assassins had survived not because they were skilled but because the evil eye found amusement in their antics. Watching the would-be assassins charge, Enkrid shook his head. "Jaxen would sigh at this." He unsheathed his sword. With a swift sound, the blade caught the sunlight, and in the same motion, split the three assassins. Similar encounters followed. "O Demon Lord!" At a gathering of cultists, he found them plunging daggers into their hearts in a desperate bid to summon a demon. Unsurprisingly, no demon appeared. Such beings from the Demon Realm weren''t so easily called. Instead, the sacrifices birthed a wraith¡ªan amorphous monster that could become a greater threat to common folk than the evil eye. Luagarne puffed her cheeks as she observed. "Idiots." She muttered, lashing her whip and erasing the wraith in a single strike. Shreeek!Kyaaah! The wraith let out a distorted cry as it tore apart. Its final moments carried a curse, but it was ineffective. Enkrid noticed faint blue marks left where Luagarne''s whip struck. "A magic weapon?" He asked. Luagarne nodded. "Jealous?" "Not in the slightest." Enkrid''s reply was immediate. Normally, he might covet a weapon like hers, but not this time. He didn''t need to. In another cult gathering, he dispatched another group and demonstrated that his own weapon, a long sword infused with Esther''s magic, was also a magic weapon. The sword, tempered with dark-gold alloys, shone with the enchantments Esther had personally imbued. "Arghhh!" The vengeful spirit let out a blood-curdling scream before dissipating into smoke. "Not envious at all," Enkrid muttered. The scene brought back memories of the first time he encountered the Whistle Daggers. Back then, he''d felt a strange, almost obsessive desire to possess them all. As he roamed the city, searching every corner, he encountered a name that sparked familiarity, even in the slums. "Beelrog, the God of Battle, dwell within me!" A deranged cultist screamed, brandishing a rusted sword. The man chanted a spell invoking Beelrog''s name, causing his eyes to glow. One of his arms ignited in flames, morphing into an elongated whip. Beelrog sometimes performed partial possessions through human vessels, lending them fragments of his strength. This wasn''t full possession¡ªjust a small, trivial display of borrowed power. Yet, watching this farcical imitation made Enkrid''s blood boil. "I wish you could hear me. Tell him I''ll come for him soon." Enkrid''s voice carried a hint of his true intent. If he knew where Beelrog was, he''d already be on his way. The cultist, now overtaken by the borrowed power, tilted his head as flames spilled from every orifice on his face¡ªeyes, nose, and mouth. It wasn''t even a genuine fragment of Beelrog, just traces of his power. Such an opponent only needed one clean strike. With a single step, Enkrid advanced, drawing his sword. The blade flashed, carving through the cultist like lightning. Flick. Thud. The man''s head flew cleanly from his body, and the faint trace of Beelrog''s power dissipated along with his existence. Enkrid moved on, cleansing the city of filth over the next two days, leaving no stone unturned. The city lord followed him closely, gaining newfound respect for Enkrid with every action. ''He''s on another level,'' the lord thought. It wasn''t the swordsman''s technique, reflexes, or physical strength that amazed him¡ªthose were beyond comprehension from the start. What truly stood out was Enkrid''s judgment and decisiveness. What might take someone else days of deliberation, Enkrid resolved in an instant. Was it because of the vastness of his capacity? Or simply the extraordinary nature of his abilities? The city lord believed it was the former. Enkrid''s composure was unparalleled. Between decision and execution, there was no hesitation¡ªno second-guessing. It was a quality that bordered on awe-inspiring. What puzzled the city lord even more was that Enkrid never once asked about the city''s future. Did he lack ambition? Surely, anyone else in his position could demand loyalty, even force others to kneel in submission. et Enkrid didn''t. He cut through the city''s problems and nothing more. It wasn''t greed that drove him¡ªit was something else entirely. Unable to contain his gratitude any longer, the lord finally spoke. "My name is Louis. I know this sounds shameless, but thank you." "It was nothing," Enkrid replied sincerely. And he meant it. To him, this had all been little more than an evening''s exercise. But to others, especially to Louis, it meant the world. Now restored to his rightful position of authority, the former lord abandoned his opportunistic demeanor. Instead, he treated Enkrid with deep reverence¡ªa sentiment that wasn''t unpleasant. Enkrid didn''t mind. On the contrary, he found Louis'' earnestness and actions agreeable, even admirable. Over the next few days, Enkrid expanded the scope of his mission. Clearing out cultists wasn''t enough; he resolved to uproot every trace of their corruption. Deeply embedded as they were, the cultists didn''t stand a chance against the knight who wielded relentless strength and the unyielding Will. By the fourth day in Cross Guard, the city''s atmosphere had undergone a complete transformation. It was almost magical how drastically things had improved. "What''s your name?" Enkrid asked a young boy who lingered near him at the inn. "Delma," the boy replied. "What do you want to be when you grow up?" "I''m going to take over my uncle''s inn," Delma said earnestly. It wasn''t greed that drove him but a sense of duty to the establishment. His uncle nodded in agreement, bowing slightly. "I never thought I''d see this day." In a lawless city, where survival was a daily struggle, an adult protecting a child seemed like a miracle. The innkeeper had once turned a blind eye to crimes, hoping only to save the boy and their livelihood. Yet even in those dark times, he had risked his life by signaling to Enkrid that the food served was poisoned. Enkrid didn''t hold it against him. ''Should I blame him for what he couldn''t control?'' He didn''t think so. While not everyone could live righteously, those who struggled to protect something dear deserved leniency. "You don''t have to do bad things anymore!" A loud, cheerful voice declared this, a simpleton''s cry of hope. Those with the potential for redemption were taken by the lord to be trained as soldiers. Others, like the loud simpleton, left, disinterested in fighting. "There''s an opportunity to open trade routes with Border Guard," one man said. "I''m planning to build ferries to cross the Pen-Hanil River." Enkrid listened silently, unsure why the man felt the need to share this. "Thanks for everything," the simpleton added. Enkrid nodded, as unbothered as ever. Later, I heard that despite being members of the criminal guild, they secretly protected the townspeople, sometimes turning a blind eye to certain things. But when their fingers were cut off, it was hard to say they were entirely bad. A few of them were like that. "Eat this." After several days of cleaning up around the city, a familiar face tossed a withered apple at me. Taking a bite, a bitter taste mixed with sweetness, rough on my mouth. It was the kind of flavor you couldn''t even say was good, even in casual conversation. "That''s the last apple." The fruit vendor, missing a front tooth, smiled, and that smile somehow replaced the taste. I knew this city wouldn''t change overnight. The lord would have to struggle to make it livable, and there were still bad people in the city. No matter how much Enkrid was trying, he couldn''t just kill every bad person. Sorting them out was a task in itself. It wasn''t something you could handle purely by intuition. So, he decided to leave it. It was now up to those who remained to take responsibility. They would kill and be killed, cry, get angry, and be happy. That was life. It was the responsibility of those who wanted to protect the place they lived in. "Shall we go tomorrow?" After roaming the city all day, Enkrid spoke while looking at Lua. "Sure." Enkrid replied, and the day passed. The uneasy, ambiguous gaze that had lingered for a while disappeared. It seemed like that Evil Eye had used some kind of spell to peek at me. The next morning, after a good night''s sleep, Enkrid patted Delma''s head, trained as usual, and then leaned against a tree by the inn, gazing up at the sky. A cool, early winter breeze blew and cooled his sweat. Looking up, he saw the clear blue sky without a cloud in sight. Ha ha ha! The sound of children laughing as they played came from a distance. Would it be a little cold if I slept like this? It probably would, but feeling this moment, I closed my eyes. Sleepiness washed over me. It wasn''t a bad feeling. The sound of children laughing, the clear blue sky, the cool breeze¡ªeverything came together in a calm serenity. Perhaps this was why we wield swords, for moments like this. It was still early, not even noon yet, but the people were already busy. The bustle, even, sounded like a lullaby. That was because the wind of hope was blowing through the city. And beyond that peaceful breeze, a fire that would burn everything walked toward the city. ----------------------------------------------------- If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi www.ko-fi.com/samowek [SHOP BEST BUY] - 50 - Every Chapter translated - Latest WN-756 + daily Chapters from monday to friday for a month [MEMBERSHIP TIERS] -SQUIRE - Cost 10 - Next 40 Chapters of ERK + daily Chapters from monday to friday the following month -KNIGHT - Cost 20 -s 720-754 + daily Chapters from Monday to Friday for a month Discord server - .gg/snCZVX3mr4